#i hate my life i hate this this sucks so bad
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the act of unravelling (part three)
pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader
rating mature 18+
summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.
tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.
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Being in Rafe’s truck again is like being thrown back into a bad dream you can’t wake up from. You remember every detail from that night, the smell of bleach, the ache in your bones.
He parked by the edge of the country club lot, and as he settles in his seat and shuts the door, he wraps both of you in privacy behind his tinted windows.
“What is it?” you ask, your voice cutting through the tension. Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. He seems nervous, a contradiction to the smugness you’ve gotten used to.
“You were right,” he admits. “Cops aren’t even sniffing around yet and people think it was me.”
You meet his eyes, the blue hue bright and striking. The night it happened, you’d only seen him through the dark. Now, in the daylight, he almost looks innocent. But then you remember the loudness of the gun and how angry he looked when he fired it.
“What happened?” you ask.
“Last night,” he begins, “a few of us were hanging out and people were talking about how something might’ve happened to him. This guy had his name in my mouth… said some shit about how they should probably ask me.”
You nod slowly, taking his words in. You expected as much. As someone who openly hated Porter, Rafe’s likely at the top of everyone’s list of suspects.
“What’d you do?” you say.
“I swung at him.”
You exhale defeatedly, looking up at the ceiling of his car. He’s such a loose cannon that for the first time since that night, you worry that he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut.
“Damn it, Rafe,” you complain. “And you were giving me shit for being obvious?”
His temper flares like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline.
“I’m not gonna sit there and let some asshole say that shit about me,” he mutters. “This is why we need to have our story straight, alright? If you even think about ratting me out, you’ll regret it.”
You tense up. So, this is why he so desperately needed to talk to you. You can’t believe you thought you could find any comfort in him.
“You don’t need to threaten me,” you say sharply. Rafe is taken aback by the confusion on your face. You look like you’d never even considered selling him out. But maybe you’re just a great liar.
“We said we’re in this together,” you continue. “Neither of us leaves the other, no matter how messy it gets. That’s the whole point of being each other’s alibis.”
Rafe sucks his teeth. You realize just how on edge he is about this. He was so comfortable the night it happened. Almost careless. Irritated at how anxious you were. Now, it’s like he’s spiraling.
“I won’t let this ruin my life,” Rafe mumbles. He huffs an unamused chuckle, looking out of the driver’s side window. “I’m not going to jail. I’m not…”
He trails into silence. You stare at his profile. The coldness you’ve always seen in him has been shadowed by a deep paranoia.
“I’m freaked out, too,” you admit. He looks at you again. “But this is only going to work if we trust each other. We need to stick to our story so well that even we start to believe it.”
He tilts his head, looking at you with skepticism, a wrinkle between his brows.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about screwing me over, Pogue,” he says. “You could say I did it and scared you into staying quiet.”
“Are you that paranoid?” you ask. “I won’t go behind your back. I promise. Even if it’s just a cover-up, we need to act like we’re friends now.”
Rafe gives you a once-over, the hardness in his face slowly fading.
“And don’t call me that,” you say. “You know my name.”
He breathes a real chuckle this time. Despite your better judgement, your heart flutters that you’ve earned a smile from him.
“You’ll take it to the grave?” he murmurs.
“I will. You, too?”
“Yeah,” he says. He studies you again, realizing that you don’t have a guilty conscience at all. “You really don’t regret it.”
“No,” you state. The agony of reliving what Porter did to you hurts more than any sort of remorse you feel for taking his life.
Rafe is surprised to hear you don’t wish you could take what you did back. You’re as cold-blooded as he is. You might be the only person who comes close to understanding what it’s like being controlled by anger this intense.
“I just hate how I can’t stop thinking about if we left any evidence,” you say.
“Yeah.” He settles back, adjusting in his seat with ease, the tension between you dissipating. “We were rushed.”
You nod as you chew on your lip.
“At least nobody saw us,” you say. “And if the cops check our phones, they won’t find anything.”
“Good thinking to turn them off.”
Your face creases in surprise.
“What?” he says.
“Just throws me off when you’re not an asshole.”
He scoffs, his jaw tensing. But beneath the irritation, he wishes he could undo the way he’d spoken to you when you first got in the car.
It’s like his mind is speaking a different language to him when he feels any sort of shame. He usually tries to shut it up. When he looks at you again, he decides not to.
“I didn’t mean to… threaten you,” Rafe mumbles.
“Yeah, you did,” you say with a humorless laugh. “But I’m on your side here. Don’t forget that.”
You check your phone. You have plans to hang out with the guys after work and after what you put them through a few nights ago, you’d rather not leave them hanging again.
“I should go,” you say. “My friends are waiting on me.”
“Did you tell them the truth?”
“No,” you say. “This stays between you and me only. Trust me.”
Rafe stares at you, longer than he ever has before. It’s not anger in his face. Not worry, either. It’s something new. Vulnerability.
“I don’t trust anybody,” he says.
Your lips twitch into a frown. Even though this is a man who’s relentlessly teased you for your place in the classist system he seems to worship, your heart twinges in sympathy.
“Nobody?” you ask quietly.
He looks out the window again, tense and distant. He doesn’t say anything else.
“I have your back,” you reiterate to him. “To the grave, right?”
“Yeah,” he offers, not looking at you again. You exit his car, the confusing knot in your chest only tighter now.
·········
The police start knocking on doors a day later. When they come to yours, you do your best impression of a clueless nobody who just wants to help.
The lead on the case introduces himself as Detective Brading, settling in your living room like he’s been here before. He’s so confident that it’s intimidating. You can imagine Porter’s wealthy family are doing everything they can to find out what happened. The man staring at you is likely the best of the best.
You’ve rehearsed your story so many times that it feels natural. The two men nod along as you lie to them about how you’d fallen asleep in the bedroom, how you’d woken up to him and Rafe arguing, how you convinced Rafe to leave with you.
Your parents stand close by, arms crossed. This is the most they’ve heard you speak in a long time. They hardly ever ask you anything about your life, so it feels odd to have their attention.
“We think you two might have been the last people to see him before he went missing,” Brading tells you. “Porter didn’t say anything about going anywhere?”
“No,” you answer. “Rafe and I left pretty quickly.”
The detective looks up at your parents with raised brows, asking them to give you a moment. When they leave, he leans a little closer.
“We know he dealt drugs,” he murmurs. “And we know you bought from him. We’re not interested in getting anyone in trouble for that. We just want to know what happened to Porter. Is there anything you didn’t mention about that night in front of your parents? Be honest.”
“I fell asleep because I smoked too much pot,” you say quietly, looking back through the doorway your parents left through. It’s taking everything in you not to cry as you think about why you really lost consciousness in that room. “But I only ever bought that from him. He offered other things. Like cocaine. It’s why he and Rafe argued.”
It’s what you agreed on saying, but it still feels like you’re selling Rafe out. It’d be suspicious if you didn’t tell them this version of the truth, though.
The detective nods, clearly having been told this already. Your chest twists in unease as you think about Rafe’s name in everyone’s mouth, leading the cops to him. And possibly to you.
“How close are you to Rafe?”
“We've been talking more since I started my job at the country club,” you say. “We started hanging out a little bit ago. We’re friends.”
“Do you think he would’ve done anything to Porter?” Brading asks.
You meet his eyes, swallowing hard.
“No,” you say resolutely. “I don’t.”
·········
A man is missing and possibly, at this point, presumed dead. But that doesn’t stop Kooks from wanting to party.
You’re in the passenger seat as JJ drives to the north side of the island while John B and Pope talk in the back. You’re gazing out the window, watching the landscape go from dilapidated front yards to gated communities.
You’re heading to a party that you heard about from one of Porter’s friends and the way the police questioned you earlier today is spinning in your head.
“You good?” JJ asks.
You look over at your friend, flattening your lips together. You can never tell the whole truth, but you can offer bits and pieces.
“The cops told me they think I’m the last person who saw Porter before he disappeared,” you say. You can’t bring yourself to tell them the version of the story that includes Rafe yet. They’d never believe you. They’d judge you. “It’s kind of scary to think about.”
“My money’s on that he went on a bender,” JJ says. “Sampled his own product. Maybe even too much of it.”
“You think he overdosed?” you ask.
“More like Rafe offed him,” Pope chimes in.
“Is that what people are saying?” you ask, blood cold, turning back to look at him.
“It’s what I’m saying,” he answers. “The guy’s unhinged.”
You want to defend Rafe. To say he wouldn’t go that far. But it’d be suspicious. And a complete lie.
“It’s a small island,” John B says. “It’s only a matter of time before we find out what happened.”
You hope that’s not true.
·········
You make it to the house, reminding yourself over and over that you have to live as if you believe your own lie. You want to erase that night from your memory. Erase what Porter did to you.
You chug the first drink you can get your hands on. Your friends rib you for how quickly you down it. You blame it on a rough day at work.
Soon after, you’re at the keg, not even close to buzzed yet, but desperately needing to be. Discussing Porter with the cops today, pretending like he was just a dealer you had a few short conversations with, hearing that his family is concerned for his wellbeing made your pulse spike.
Does his family know what a monster he is?
You have to correct yourself.
Was.
“Slow down,” you hear.
Rafe towers over you, his eyes on your cup.
“What?” you shout over the music and conversations surrounding you.
“You’re on your second drink already.”
You look over your shoulder to make sure your friends don’t see you talking with him.
“I don’t even feel anything,” you reply sharply.
It’s a half-truth. Your sadness and anger are weighing heavy on your soul. That vile man took away your power, but you took it back, so you hate that you’re still so rattled by what he did. You just want peace.
“And why are you keeping tabs on me?” you ask.
Rafe stares at you, his lips just slightly parted. He can lie and say he wants to make sure you’re not setting yourself up to get hammered and potentially admit to someone what you did.
But even he’s not that selfish right now. The truth is he can’t stop thinking about you. And he doesn’t like seeing that look on your face, sad and absentminded.
He knows you hate him. He wishes he could hate you back.
“I need to be sure you’re not a liability,” he lies. “And people think we’re friends now, don’t they?”
You look over your shoulder again, anxious the guys will see you. You need privacy if you’re going to continue this conversation.
“Come on,” you say, dipping your hand in his, dragging him through the crowd. His palm is warm and soft and you don’t know what you were expecting, but the way Rafe feels is the opposite of it.
You open the first door you see, stepping into a narrow closet. You shut the door and switch on a light and suddenly he’s standing right over you, all breadth and intimidation.
Your heart races from the way you’d just touched him, from the way he’s just about pressed up against you right now. Something must be short-circuiting in your brain, because the fear you used to hold for him is entirely gone.
The attraction you’ve always felt is overpowering now. You can’t make sense of your own emotions.
“I haven’t told my friends our story,” you confess.
“What?” Rafe snips, his tone low.
“I can’t handle telling them right now, okay?” you say. You cross your arms. “I just said I was with a guy. Telling them that guy was you is… They’ll be so disappointed in me.”
“Disappointed,” he repeats with a scoff.
“Rafe, think back to every encounter you’ve had with us. All you’ve ever done is insult us. I don’t even want to think about how hurt they’ll be to hear I’m friends with you.”
“Who gives a fuck?” he mutters. “We need to make sure our alibi is solid. If the cops find out your friends don’t know we–”
“I’d tell the truth,” you say. “That I was worried about what they’d think.”
“I can’t believe you.” The thought of you being concerned about someone else’s opinion is ridiculous. “Why do you care so much?”
“They’re the only family I have,” you admit. It comes out before you even realize it. You look down, sighing. “You don’t get it. You’re like… an enemy to us. They know how shitty you treat me when I’m at work. Telling them–“
“How the hell do I treat you shitty?” he interrupts.
“I know that those tips are all a degrading show of how you’re so much richer and better than me,” you say with a roll of your eyes.
“It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like, then? Charity?”
Rafe’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring. Charity isn’t the right word. He hides behind a forced ego, but he’s always wanted you. And through excessive tips and constant teasing, at least he can talk to you without risking the chance of you rejecting him.
You have him all wrong. He doesn’t think he’s better than you. He’s afraid you’re better than him.
“I’ll tell my friends, okay?” you say when he doesn’t speak. “But I talked to the cops today and they seemed convinced. We’ll be fine.”
“They talked to me, too. I can tell they think it was me.” There’s an almost imperceptible tremble in Rafe's voice. “Everyone thinks it was me.”
“Even your friends?”
“Yeah,” he says. If he can even call them friends. Hearing you call yours family made his jealousy flare. Envy is all Rafe ever feels. Like he’s missing the one thing that deems everyone else loveable.
But he’s hanging on how you said they’re your only family. He doesn’t have a family, either. Not really. Not one that cares about him. Maybe you understand him more than he thought.
“Well…” You clear your throat. “They can believe what they want. You can trust me that I won’t ever tell anyone what really happened.”
“Why?” he finally asks. “Why not just snitch on me, Pogue?”
“Because that night, I told you to do it and you did. The world is a better place without him in it. You did me a favor.” You uncross your arms. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”
Rafe clears his throat, giving in, remembering how you’d saved his life and offering a quiet sorry before he says your name.
It’s the gentlest you’ve ever seen him. It’s a shock to your system. You search his blue eyes in the dim of the closet as if you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to make a snide joke.
But he doesn’t. He just stares at you, his breaths shallow, and you rethink everything you thought you knew about him.
He’s violent and aggressive and condescending. But you don’t see that right now. You see a man who doesn’t seem to be able to believe that someone would want to protect him. Is that who he is behind all the bravado?
The world continues to turn on the other side of the door, music blasting, bass rattling, but time has stopped between you. He’s looking at you through low lids. Like he wants you.
You shouldn’t. Shit is already complicated enough. But what’s one more tangle in the string tying you together?
Your fingers are at the collar of his button-up, pulling him towards you, lips meeting with abandon.
Rafe kisses you back immediately, hungrily leaning into you, cupping your face. His heart is racing. He doesn’t know how or why this is happening, but he wants it so bad that it hurts.
Your mouths part and finally, you taste him against your tongue. It feels so right, like you were always meant to do this and were both too stubborn to.
His hands press tighter against your jaw. Fear floods you. You’re back in that bedroom. You pull back.
“Not so hard,” you say.
“Okay,” he whispers, his grip loosening. He stays hovering over you, nose nudging yours. “Just… please…”
You nod, tilting your head to kiss him again, his hunger for you palpable. You’re with Rafe again, not in that bedroom, but here with a man you want who listens to your wishes.
Your head is swimming with bliss as he kisses you, smelling like cologne and desire, every piece of you wanting him. Then, his hands drift down over the curves of your hips, pulling you flush against him.
And it’s too much. You’re back there again. Begging for it to stop.
“No,” you snap, both hands roughly pushing his chest.
Rafe hits the shelves behind him, his head radiating in pain from how hard he smacked against the wood.
“What the fuck?” he mutters. He was just living in a dream. Why the hell are you pulling him out of it?
“No,” you repeat breathlessly. “You can’t touch me like that.”
“Okay,” he groans. “I won’t. Jesus.”
He clutches the back of his head, wincing.
“I’m sorry,” you say, your throat raw. “I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”
“Why’d you even kiss me?” he says. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry,” you repeat. You step towards him, trying to meet his eyes. “You can’t… I need you to ask before you touch me like that.”
His lips are glossy from the kiss, his face pinched in pain. You take a risk, gently placing your hands on his cheeks.
Rafe should be angry at you. But goddamn it, your touch feels so good that he melts. His gaze is heavy on yours, both of you breathing deeply, coming down from the sudden outburst.
“I didn’t mean to,” you repeat softly. “Just don’t take me by surprise. I can’t handle it.”
Rafe searches your face, silently asking for an explanation.
You shake your head, not having it in you to answer right now. Your goal tonight was to forget. Not relive. You pull him closer, and thankfully, he lets you.
Your lips are tender after you part, having lost count of how long you’ve been kissing.
Things just got so much more complicated. But you wouldn’t take it back. Not for a second. Nothing else makes sense right now, but having Rafe the way you always secretly wanted him is the one thing that does.
“Don’t fuck me over,” he says, a note of cynicism in his tone as his forehead brushes against yours. “No matter what happens, don’t fuck me over.”
“I won’t,” you promise.
·········
The next morning, you’re walking through the club hall towards the golf course to start your shift. You still can’t get the way Rafe’s mouth felt against yours out of your mind.
He kissed you like he’s been waiting to kiss you for ages. Like he felt lucky that he got to.
You’re about to step through the glass doors leading outside, but the sound of your name makes ice go through your veins. You know that gravelly voice.
You turn to see Detective Brading, his stare intimidating.
“You have a minute to talk?” he says.
You can tell by his tone that it isn’t a question.
to be continued
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#rafe cameron and reader#rafe cameron and you#rafe cameron and y/n#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron
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Alastor Hands You the Aux Cord - Alastor x f!reader
Anon asked for: Hello! Love ur work :) Alastor x f!reader fluff & heavy smut inspired by the song “soaked” by shy smith???
Honey, you got a lot more than you bargained for, and even then I¨m not quite sure that I did it correctly. Alas! I hope you enjoy it either way. So sorry this took so long, it was an undertaking.
Summary: I suck at these so just be patient and kind. Reader was a radio/sound engineer in life and begins to work with Alastor rather closely.
Dividers by @konatasoup
Warnings: Listen, we all know Alastor is a Bad Man(tm). In this story and many, many others, Fucked Up Alastor is going to say Fucked Up Things. Alastor is a sentient red flag. I would like to kindly remind you that you need to carefully decide whether or not that's too much for you before you begin to read. I'd hate it if you read and got triggered by some possessive or otherwise red flag dialogue/prose! If it’s not for you you can simply block me and avoid my other fanfiction. You're responsible for your own reading experience! If smut is not for you, this is not for you. Other warnings include briskets, sandwiches, p in v intercourse, I don't know, standard fare, Alastor is a deeply jealous and possessive man, colleagues to lovers, Alastor’s fluffy, fluffy ears are an erogenous zone I don’t care lalalalala
Words: 9521
Tell me if you want to be added to the tag list! Requests are open and the guidelines are in my pinned post! I
It would be VERY helpful for your reading experience if you listen to the provided music! If the response is good there will be a part two :)
SMUT
Masterlist
It was the sensible thing to do, and took surprisingly little effort to get him to agree. All you said was that radio lived on in your lifespan, nearly one hundred years after his death. You asked if, in life, he would have happily adjusted to innovations in radio technology, and you remember the way he looked down at his claws, all tightened into fists that slowly unfurled. He begrudgingly admitted that he would have.
“That type of microphone you’ve got there wasn’t invented until after you died,” you pointed out.
Radio had been your life’s passion in the living world just as it had been for Alastor. You began in university as a DJ, then changed your major to reflect your newfound love. You started off with communications engineering in undergraduate studies and moved on to wireless communications engineering. Twelve years of your life, you had dedicated to radio.
You were the perfect candidate, and best of all you could make yourself obsolete by teaching him what he needed to know, so it was a win all-around. Kinda. It remains to be seen what he would do with you once you became obsolete.
You did, however, strike up a friendship. Alastor would admit readily that you were a good sound engineer and constantly upgraded his equipment. He would also admit, not quite as readily, that speaking to you was pleasant. You never batted an eye while he ripped apart souls, which he found surprising at first, but when you pulled out a sandwich to eat whilst he did so it elevated to…cute. He typically hates things that are cute.
Okay, fine, you’re cute.
As time passed, you grew more comfortable with each other. Sometimes you even offer him pre-soul breaking sandwiches, and Alastor eats them simply because they were offered by you. He has no idea what a “PB&J” is, only that whoever created it must surely be living amongst you all in hell. He always eats them, though. Every last morsel.
Then something quite remarkable happened. Alastor sat you down after an unusually long broadcast, took the pistachios that you offered him, and gave you the best gift you had ever received.
“Only one,” he said, poking your chest several times. “One song of your choosing at the end of my broadcast. Do you understand?”
You remember nodding so hard it almost hurt.
You had tried not to seem too enthused, so as not to betray your true excitement to your finicky friend, but shouted joyfully into a pillow when you got to your hotel room. You rolled all over your bed, still screaming into the pillow, and spent the rest of the night curating various playlists for the post-show tunes.
The two of you became inseparable. When you weren’t on air, you were still working together on scripts, advertising campaigns, marketing strategies, even merchandising, a pencil stuck through your hair, sandwich wrappers discarded haphazardly.
‘I got my soul ripped apart by the Radio Demon and all I got was this fucking shirt’.
You’re more excited about this than him by far, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny you a thing. He’s always criticised Vox’s use of petty merchandise to belittle him, but this was different. Entirely.
It had been a rather destructive day in the radio tower the first time you played a song. There were three soul rendings today, so everything but you was covered in blood and viscera. Alastor, with a small smile, offered you his staff, and explained all you had to do was play a song on your phone while holding it.
It felt special. It almost made your cheeks warm, but that crisis was thankfully averted and you chose a tribute to radio itself as your first ever post-show track.
‘Radio, someone still loves you.’
Alastor didn’t look particularly happy with what he’d heard, but he did give you an amused little pat on the head before taking his staff and leaving the radio tower, still covered in blood.
You remember all of that fondly and take a bite of your sandwich. Alastor takes one bite of his and goes feral.
“Calm down over there,” you chastise. “It’s just pastrami.”
He swallows. “You know my feelings about brisket, darling.”
“Well, I’ll bring you more pastrami in the future, then. Maybe I’ll even make you a brisket someday.”
“Yes, you should,” he almost snaps. “And I’ll have no more ‘peanut butter’, by the way.”
“Do you like the almond butter better?” you ask, offering him another sandwich from the basket you brought with you
“…I prefer the pistachio and cashew one.”
“Okay, I’ll find more of that,” you say before passing him a napkin. You sigh and grab the clipboard set to the wayside. “No souls today.”
“Yes, I am aware,” he says.
“Isn’t that less fun for you?”
Alastor ponders over his answer for a moment. “It is more fun to murder. However, not having one or more to murder also means that no one has challenged or crossed me. That is better in the long run.”
“I can see that logic.” You nod, then go back to the clipboard. “Oh, I can’t be here on Saturday.”
His expression sours and his eyes narrow. “And why is that, darling?”
You smile at him, arms up. “I’m going to Lu Lu World!”
“What in the world is that, darling? Wait a moment.” His eyes narrow anymore. “It has nothing to do with that circus freak does it?”
You purse your lips and tilt your head, staring at him. “You’ve lost me.”
“The hell I have. I find it absolutely unacceptable that you would leave work behind in order to prance around in an amusement park.”
“I don’t plan on prancing, so we’re good,” you say. You wrinkle your nose and chuckle a little at his steadily souring expression. “Tell you what. I’ll make you that brisket.”
“Two briskets,” he’s quick to demand. “No, three. Three briskets, and I’m not sharing with the others like you made me do on Beignet Day.”
“That was never meant to be just for your enjoyment!”
“Well, it should have been!” he snaps.
You laugh again and fold your hands over the clipboard. “I will miss work on Saturday to be escorted around Lu Lu World by its namesake and you will receive three briskets at a time of your choosing. You’re in for a treat, I make the best brisket. My husband loved it.”
A pregnant silence fills the radio tower.
“I find it equally unacceptable for you to have a husband. No, no more of that,” he says finally.
“I’d like to think I’ll find love again someday!” you say, laughing.
He huffs. “Is it a date?”
“Is what a date?”
Alastor rolls his eyes. “Your petty little outing to the amusement park with the circus freak!”
“He’s the King of Hell, not a circus freak!” you exclaim.
“If he doesn’t want to be called a circus freak he should dress like an adult male,” he says.
At that, you sit up straight, arms folded, and stare at him. “Do you really want to go there? Making fun of how he dresses?”
“My manner of dress is unimpeachable! Everything is just so!” Alastor gestures at his suit, then narrows his eyes again. “You will not marry him.”
“Marriage isn’t on the table, I’m just visiting his park with him. It’s closed for the day, no one but us! Oh, but also you can’t tell me who I can and can’t marry,” you say.
“There will be no marriages at all! We have work to do, important work!” He closes his eyes, touches his forehead, and growls. “Do not sass me.”
You take another bite out of your sandwich. “So I won’t be here Saturday.”
“…Fine. I can go back to the Stone Age for one damn day.”
You groan. “I’m glad no one else knows of your flair for the dramatic.”
“And you’d do well to keep it that way,” he says. He holds up three fingers. “Three briskets. I want them all at once.”
“I don’t have the time to do them today, as you said, we have important-ish work to do,” you say.
He eyes you again. “Three. Briskets.”
You throw your hands up. “Fine! I hope you get a tummy ache!”
“I will not! I will enjoy the briskets and be fine!” Alastor adjusts his butterfly tie and stands up from his chair. “And you will make up for lost time from your Saturday outing.”
“No I won’t,” you say. “I’m under no such obligation to work every single day with no breaks. I just haven’t had anything better to do in a while.”
Alastor’s hand smacks against a panel. “No! You’re to work with me every day, that is the arrangement! Good god, woman, you are so insolent today. All of hell listens to these broadcasts. I do not know how to do what you do. You have made yourself necessary and now you want to cut and run so you can have intercourse with that circus freak in a hall of mirrors.”
You tilt your head back and laugh.
He looks unamused by this. “What? What is it? Why are you laughing?”
“I suppose I’d better fuck him in the hall of mirrors, then, if you think the opportunity presents itself.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and put everything else in the garbage for Niffty to collect.
Alastor’s ears flatten. “I do not like you today.”
“Nah, you adore me.” You look closer at the agenda for today and begin warming up the necessary equipment. You pull on your headphones “Thirty seconds, Al.”
He nods and repeats it back to you. “Thirty seconds, Al.”
By the end of the show, you’ve already got your topical track selection queued up. Alastor stands up and stretches before giving the staff to you and rifling around for more sandwiches in the basket.
‘They come running just as fast as they can ‘cause every girl crazy bout a sharp-dressed man’
You lip sync along, not realising you’re being watched. Alastor smiles to himself and waits for his staff to be given back to him. When it is, he almost remarks about your Saturday outing. Almost.
In your bedroom, you stretch and yawn. It’s late and you need to be with Alastor relatively early, so you go about your nightly routine. Brushed teeth, silky pyjamas, all lotioned up, feeling amazing. That is, until you walk back to the area with the bed. You scream and jump, but your surprise is quickly replaced by anger. Alastor laughs from his comfy position against your pillows.
He points at you. “You are the chicken in this relationship.”
You get in beside him and try to shove him out of the bed, chuckling as he easily resisted. “What are you doing in here?”
He’s still laughing. “I came to collect you! Emergency broadcast.”
You groan loudly. “Absolutely fucking not!”
“Yes!” He wraps an arm around you and drags you up from the bed. “It won’t take too long.”
“Who the hell pissed you off this much that you have to do this right now, at two in the morning?” you asked.
The answer makes your stomach drop.
“Husker!” he says excitedly.
You flail. “No. No! No, Alastor, you can’t do that!”
“I assure you that I can,” he says, now picking you up and carrying you towards the radio tower. “Husker’s soul is mine to do what I want with it, and he knew that before he started making trouble tonight.”
“Alastor!” you shout. “Put me down!”
He looks confused, but carefully sets you down. There are tears on your face that confound him. “What is the matter, my dear?”
“You can’t kill Husk.” You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “You can’t. I know you can in the literal sense of the word. I know that you can, but you can’t, please, I am begging you not to do this. Please, Alastor.”
“Do not mourn for him,” Alastor says. “No one mourned him in life.”
“I think that’s not true,” you say, but take his hands, squeezing them. “Just, just tell me what he did. I’ll fix it. I swear, I’ll fix it.”
Alastor looks down at your hands, so much smaller than his, trying to calm him down. “You really care, hm?”
“Alastor, please, please,” you whisper, squeezing his hands again. “Alastor, don’t do it. I have never asked you for a thing and I never will again if you just please don’t do this. Please don’t kill him, he’s my friend. He’s a soul in the bank for you, but he’s my friend.”
He’s quiet for a very long time, watching your breakdown. You know how it looks. He hates weakness, he hates vulnerability—
Alastor puts his hand on the side of your face and pushes hair away. “Okay, darling. If you want Husker to keep dusting bottles and consuming their entire contents, then that you shall have.”
You feel embarrassed all of a sudden and wipe your eyes. “How about I make you a brisket instead?”
“No brisket is required,” he says. “If you want it then you will have it. I am a man of my word. I will find other means to discipline Husker.”
“Don’t hurt Angel,” you say immediately. “Please. They’re all afraid of you already, you don’t have to do anything to keep them in line. I don’t know what Husk did, but I don’t believe it warrants his death and it definitely doesn’t mean you can do something bad to the only thing he loves more than booze or gambling.”
“Okay,” Alastor agrees.
You blink. “I know it’s not that simple. What do you want?”
“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” he asks.
“Me? Personally?” You think for a moment before shaking your head. “No. But—“
“I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me,” Alastor says. “I have worked with you closely for months now. I do what I say I will do. If you want that damned cat and his spider to live and be unharmed then I will give you that.”
“What do you want in exchange? Don’t say my soul, I’m not giving it.”
“No, not your soul,” he says. “A simple deal.”
You stand up straighter. “A deal? What?”
“I let Husker and the spider go unharmed and you will in exchange never have intercourse with the circus freak.”
Your arms cross. “Alastor, that’s fucked up.”
“I know!” he says warmly.
After a moment, you reach your hand out towards him. He takes it in his and squeezes it, gentle and warm. You’ve seen his power, the green flashes of light.
But there are no green lights. His tentacles remain hidden. The floor doesn’t shake.
It wasn’t a real deal, but you said nothing about that. This was all very strange, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Taking his hand, you give it a pull.
“Come on,” you say. “Let’s go on air anyway. Come.”
He tuts at you. “Rather bossy tonight, my dear.”
“I’ll make sandwiches,” you offer, and he nods.
“Yes, you will make sandwiches—pastrami.”
‘I am just living to be lying by your side but I'm just about a moonlight mile on down the road’
Once Alastor takes the staff from you, he notices that you’ve fallen asleep in your chair. He rides the dark with you in his arms, depositing you safely into your bed.
The next night, for some reason, Husk makes sure your dirty martinis come with two olives and no complaints.
“You will go away from the hotel.”
You look up from your phone, your feet up on one of the panels you’ve been working on. “Excuse me?”
Alastor is stern, serious. His eyes betray no laughter, not a single joke. “You will leave the hotel.”
“No,” you say immediately.
“The Extermination is exactly one week from now, and you will leave the hotel. You will go someplace safe.”
“No,” you say again. “No, hell no, I’m not leaving you all by yourselves.”
“You would be more of a hindrance than help,” Alastor says, and ooph, that one hurt.
“You don’t even know how to defend yourself,” he continues.
“I’ve been doing my best,” you say.
“And that is not good enough, darling.”
Your chest falls and rises. “So you think I have nothing to offer to protect my friends and this hotel?”
Alastor pauses for a moment. “No. I know for a fact that you do.”
“Then what?” you ask. “Why do you want me to leave?”
Again, a few moments pass in silence before Alastor sits beside you. “You would trade something very precious to save this hotel and all of the fools who reside in it.”
”What? What is it? What am I going to give up that’s so special?”
“Your life,” he says. “If you are here, you will sacrifice your life in a trice just as soon as you see someone else is in danger. And I cannot have that. You will leave, this is not a request.”
Your eyes widen and you shake your head. “No. This is my home. This is where I work. This is my family—“
“You will listen to me now and you will listen good,” he says gravely. “I can protect this hotel and kill Adam or I can protect you. Those are the choices. I trust you will not make the selfish one.”
You close your eyes and let out a deep breath. You feel a cry coming on, but head it off at the pass. “What about you?”
“What about me, darling?” Alastor asks. “There is no way for you to help me. You know that.”
“I’m going to look like a coward,” you say.
“I do not care,” he says. “And you shouldn’t either. My priorities are to kill Adam and to protect you. Therefore, you will leave to someplace safe and you will wait for me to come for you.”
You scoff. “Where’s safe? Where’s safe during an Extermination?”
“They are coming to the hotel first and we will not allow them to go any further. You will be safe where I send you and you will stay there.”
Then he does something he’s never done before. Alastor pulls you into his embrace. “You have no idea what I would do to save you. No idea, you stupid, silly girl. You must go. You must.”
“Okay, okay,” you say finally.
“I could give or take almost anyone else in this boring little hovel of a hotel, but I can’t give you. I won’t. It’s very likely this radio tower will need some manner of repair. Who else would do it but you?” He holds you a little tighter.
You close your eyes and lean against him. “I really don’t want to leave you.”
“Because you are an idiot.”
At that, you start hitting him anywhere you can, but the two of you dissolve into laughter.
Eventually, you sigh. “When am I leaving?”
Alastor hums. “Tonight.”
“What?” you look at him again. “Why tonight?”
“I will have time to prepare. I won’t spend days worrying about getting you to leave. It is better that I have this time to focus,” he says. “I will take care of everything. Think of it as more of a vacation than anything else.”
“I won’t, but thank you,” you say. “What will you tell everyone?”
Alastor tilts his head. “About what?”
“About forcing me to leave the hotel because I’m apparently too weak and stupid to fight for it,” you say.
He tsks and shakes his head. “I do not care. Neither should you. But I suppose I will just tell them approximately one-quarter of the truth.”
“Which is what?” you ask.
“That I put my foot down and wouldn’t allow you to die for any of them.” Alastor rubs his face against yours. A confusing gesture, but not altogether out of place, given the tenor of the rest of the interaction.
“I don’t want to die, but—“
“But nothing,” he says. He gives you his staff. “Play one last song.”
You wince. “Okay, grim. No. I’m not playing a ‘last song’.”
He huffs. “The last song until next week, when all of this is over.”
“When all of this is over…” You lean back in your seat, tapping the staff as you think. “Can you…can we hop on the broadcast? For a while? Make it my last proper show until all of this is over?”
You swallow, your throat feeling tight.
“No, darling,” he says. “Not this time. Pick a good song.”
‘Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!’
Alastor stares at you strangely throughout the entire song. He never once tries to take the staff away from you, not even during the repeated profanity—something that was forbidden. He says nothing of it when the song is done and he takes his staff back into his possession.
“Come.” He holds his arm out for you and you take it. You let him lead you out of the radio tower and you become unsettled as you descend the steps.
“Alastor, I don’t like this,” you say nervously.
“And neither do I,” he says as he guides you to your hotel room.
“Where are you sending me?”
He suddenly stops you once you’re inside the room, his clawed hand coming down to grip your shoulder. Hard.
“Alastor,” you chastise.
His grip only tightens. “I made a bargain for this and you will not piss it away.”
The night crashes down on you in the quiet of your bedroom.
“But where? You made a deal?”
“No, not a deal. More of a…trade which does not benefit me at all, save for it keeping you safe.”
“Alastor, where?” you ask, softly yet firmly.
“In an underground bunker beneath Rosie’s Emporium,” Alastor says finally. “No one would ever think to look there, not with all of Cannibal Town at the hotel, stupidly giving their own lives. Those lives mean nothing to me, nothing at all, but yours is something precious.”
“I’m just your engineer, you know.”
Alastor huffs. “No, you’re not.”
You lift a brow. “I’m not?”
“No.” He pauses. “You also make sandwiches.”
With a little laugh, you nod. “Pastrami.”
“Indeed. Pastrami. Now, pack up, darling. I’ll escort you to Cannibal Town. No, no one will try to eat you. You’ll be with my dearest friend, Rosie. You will be safe with her. If I had any doubts I would send you elsewhere.”
“Okay,” you say softly. “It’s going to be boring without you.”
“I, on the other hand, will finally know peace after six months.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”
You laugh far too hard for it to be so late at night, but Alastor is smiling genuinely.
For a tenth of a second something changes. The way you look at each other…
“So,” he says, sitting at the foot of your bed, one ankle over his knee. “Have you been abiding by our agreement?”
You pull a suitcase from underneath the bed. “Which one? There are new ‘agreements’ every day.”
“Intercourse with Lucifer,” he says flatly.
“Oh Alastor, come on. What if he and I were in love?”
He just glares at you, darkness in his eyes.
“I haven’t seen the man in weeks!”
“Aha!” He points at you. “You would do it if given the chance, wouldn’t you?”
You tilt your head. “Why do you care so much, Al?”
“Because I want to separate him from all possible joy,” he says. “There’s no chance of doing that with Charlie, but I will deny him you.”
“You’re so fucking weird.”
“Shut up and pack.”
“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”
Alastor picks up one of your pillows and throws it at you.
The extended visit with Rosie would be nice if every moment didn’t bring you anxiety so crippling that it cramped your stomach. She was kind, a gracious hostess, and she didn’t ask any prying questions, so neither did you. You were curious about the ‘trade’ Alastor had made for you—for you…
You leave every day for food, because you just cannot trust the provenance of anything in Cannibal Town, no matter how kind Rosie is. You listen to Alastor’s sporadic broadcasts and feel vindicated in how shitty it is without you. Gives you a smile. It sustains you to know that this man still needs you.
On your third day of going out for burritos, you receive a text message that makes you grin, fills you with joy you haven’t felt since you were yeeted from the hotel.
‘New ducks, want to see?’
The second you text back yes, a glowing portal opens and a hand yanks you inside.
“Lucifer!” you cry out happily, hugging him close.
He returns the embrace readily, arms tight around you. “I’m so glad you agreed! Here, let me show you the duck workshop.”
You smile and let him guide you. You and Lucifer just..mesh. It’s always been easier to talk to him than virtually anyone else. For as much as you listen to him about ducks, he listens to you about radio, as long as you don’t mention Alastor. That’s always been an unspoken understanding.
Lucifer rambles happily all the way to the workshop and you happily listen. Once inside, he gives you a little tour. The place is quite literally filled with rubber ducks of all different kinds—there was even a set of KISS ducks.
“This is my latest work,” Lucifer says, showing you a row of little ducks. He picks up one. “This one has wings just like mine! Well, you can’t currently see my wings, but that’s what they look like. There’s six, they’re red, that’s…pretty much it…”
He sounds strangely nervous.
“And this one’s Charlie…”
Yes, nervous.
“Maggie,” he says.
“Actually, her name is Vaggie,” you correct him.
“Oh, golly!” He covers his eyes with his hands, his face turning red. “I’ve been calling her Maggie every time and Charlie never corrected me.”
You chuckle softly. “It’s fine, I’m sure it’s fine. Don’t worry about that.”
He peeks at you from between his fingers. “You really think it’s okay?”
“Charlie probably just felt too awkward to correct you. You know how she is.”
“I hope so,” Lucifer says. “This one is the porn star. He shoots webs!”
You laugh when he demonstrates. “That’s so cool!”
“And this one,” he picks up one of the ducks gingerly, “this one is you!”
You gasp at the attention to detail and laugh joyfully. “That’s so cute, a little me!”
“She has a little radio and everything. And—“ Lucifer presses a button on the underside of the duck and the radio starts to play from its mouth. He looks at you with a wide grin and elbows you gently a few times. “Ah? Ah?”
You laugh again and clap. “Bravo, you outdid yourself. I never thought you would outdo the back-flipping rubber ducky that spits fire.”
“I surprise myself all the time,” Lucifer says happily, placing your duck back down beside his. “Do you have time for a drink?”
You laugh. “Honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”
“Good!” He takes your hand and guides you out of the workshop and through the halls until you arrive at a lavish lounge. He gestures for you to take a seat. “What’ll you have?”
“Oh, whatever you’re having, please.”
Lucifer pours two whiskeys and sits in the chair across from yours beside a fire that emits a cool breeze.
“Thank you so much,” you say when he hands yours to you.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Charlie told me…you left the hotel.”
You take a deep breath. “Yes, I did. I’ve been staying in Cannibal Town.”
“Why did you go?” he asks softly.
Now you sigh, hoping to keep all emotion from your voice. “Alastor thinks I’m more of a hindrance than a help and wants me to stay away.”
His diamond pupils constrict. “What an asshole.”
“He needs me to help repair the radio tower, when all is said and done.”
“You’re too good for this, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
Lucifer takes a drink. “I mean you’re too good to work on a show that’s just screams and crappy puns. That guy is a clown. You should host your own show.”
“Oh, I haven’t been on air in like…fourteen years. I don’t even know what I would talk about or play. I like being an engineer. It’s cathartic to me. Alastor might not have the most exciting show around, and he’s absolutely horrible, but it’s…hm, I’ve made it sound really bad, haven’t I?”
“Why do you give that guy your loyalty? Why do you feel so beholden to him?” he asks.
Your focus softens. “I…we have a good time together. I think. He likes the sandwiches that I make him.”
“I can almost guarantee that this loyalty means nothing to him,” Lucifer says. “I’m not saying that to hurt you.”
You sigh. “Yeah, I know Luci.”
“Why do you stay, then? Is he paying you?”
“Actually yeah, in a way he does.”
Lucifer cocks a brow and motions for you to continue.
“Oh, he just gives me things, not money. He doesn’t, uh, properly believe that hell should have a currency system. In his opinion it should all be bartering, like soul deals. Therefore, he barters with me. I give him sandwiches and briskets and engineering services, he gives me…just about anything. Last week he gave me a ruby necklace that must be worth a few thousand dollars.”
“You give him briskets?”
You nod. “Oh yeah, there’s always some brisket action going on. He doesn’t know it yet, but there’s a venison brisket in the works.”
“So you work together, you make him food, he gives you expensive jewellery?”
“Other things too, but yes.” You nod again. “That’s the gist. We have a good back-and-forth, but my favourite is getting to play music at the end of his broadcasts.”
Lucifer smiles softly at you. “Those are the only parts worth tuning in for.”
Your face lights up., a big grin and bright eyes. “You’ve heard?”
He nods. “Yeah. I try to catch it. The last one said fuck a lot.”
You laugh, head back against the chair. “Yeah, it did.”
“I’ll give you a radio station of your own. Be his competition,” he said.
Now you sigh. “I actually do like to work with him a lot. He’s…he’s not all bad. He’s always done right by me.”
Lucifer scoffs. “That won’t last. You can’t seriously rely on that to stay stable. Just as soon as he decides he doesn’t need you, he’ll get rid of you. Somehow or another. He’s just…one of the worst sorts of sinners, and he’s proud to be the way that he is. And you? You’re hardly like a sinner at all. I always seem to forget it.”
It’s hard to hear those things about Alastor, even harder because you know they’re probably in some way true.
You’re lost in thought until you hear him repeating your name. “Oh! So sorry, million miles away.”
“Let me get you another drink. Do you want something other than whiskey, maybe?” he asks, sounding somewhat insecure, a little tremor in his voice. “W-what do you normally take?”
You play with a rubber duck on the table and hope it doesn’t spit fire at you. “Dirty martini, two olives. Sounds weird, giving the king of hell a drink order.”
“Nonsense!” Lucifer comes over with a little drink tray, all cheerful. Sweet. He looks so happy that it warms you.
“I should see you more,” you say. “You’re fun to be around and I love ducks.”
He gives a nervous laugh and sits down, passes your drink to you. “You should definitely see me more! Gosh, that would be terrific. I can make you so many ducks!”
“What are you going to work on next?” you ask.
He winks. “I’ll keep you apprised.”
You wink back, smiling. “I’ll be waiting.”
God, there was nothing you wouldn’t give to be on air with Alastor right now. It hits you, causes a slight tremor in your body.
Lucifer gasps. “Are you okay? Is it the drink? I don’t actually know what a dirty martini is so I…May have poisoned you?”
“No! No!” You laugh and shake your head. “No, the drink is fine. To make a martini dirty you just put a bit of olive brine in.”
“Let me try again,” he says, but you stand and stop him.
“Luci, no, really, it’s okay,” you say. “Promise. See?” You drain the contents of the wine glass he had served the ‘martini’ in. Your lower eyelid gives you away, though.
“Oh God,” Lucifer says, hand covering his eyes.
You pull it away gently. “It’s okay, Luci.”
You stay that way, eyes on each other, for a moment that stretches indefinitely.
By the end of it, Lucifer kisses you. Hesitant, gentle. His hand reaches the back of your neck and by now you’re kissing back. Things are happening quickly. Somehow you wind up on one of the couches together, your back to the cushion, him on top of you…
Oh, no.
You break the kiss and sit up. “Sorry. Sorry, Luci. Sorry.”
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks in rushed voice, a slight shake to it.
“No.” You rub your eyes and smack your forehead.
All you could think of was Alastor. The little promise you made in exchange for Husk’s life. You doubted that he would actually kill Husk if he found out…but you couldn’t handle how…he would react.
“Lucifer, I…” But you couldn’t tell him that Alastor was the one keeping him from getting laid.
“I don’t understand,” Lucifer says. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “I can’t help but notice you’re still wearing your ring.”
“Oh, is that why…? Oh, no, sweetheart, no, I just…Lilith isn’t going to come back to me. I can take it off, it’s just hard to when it’s been…such a long time, being married. I can take it off, sweetheart, don’t worry.”
You squeeze his hand again, gently. “It’s time for me to leave.”
“Oh…Okay,” he says softly. “Yes, of course. You don’t have to stay, just…I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”
You smile at him, trying your best to instill confidence. “You’ll see me again. Show me to the door?”
“No, absolutely not,” he says. “It’s dangerous! I’ll take you back to Cannibal Town. That’s also…pretty dangerous, you know.”
“Not for me.” That you can say with confidence of your own.
“Come on.” Lucifer reaches for your hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do it again. Just take my hand and I’ll bring you back. You don’t even know where you are right now.”
Well, he’s got you beat there. You squeeze his hand one more time. “Okay. Let’s go.”
You close your eyes for this part.
When you hear a whispered goodbye, you open your eyes and you’re standing before the Cannibal Town gates, alone.
“Do you think that you walk freely all throughout hell, not a care in the world, for no reason?”
Your whole body tightens at the sound of his voice. “Have you just been standing there waiting for me to show up?”
“Not quite,” Alastor says. “Answer my question.”
You sigh, eyes rolling hard. “I’m sure it’s because of you.”
“Correct! So you’re at least that smart.”
You trudge out a path set to finally get you the illusive burrito. “Alastor, I’m not in the mood. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and my absence is definitely noticed at the hotel.”
He appears in front of you. “And how do you know that? Who told you, hm?”
You sigh. “You know who I was with?”
Alastor’s claws grab your arm and then you’re in the radio tower. It nearly knocks the breath out of you and you collide with one of the panels.
“God!” You wince as your knee crashes against a sharp corner. “Hey asshole, I thought I wasn’t allowed to be here! I am so sick of being yanked around today! All I wanted—“
“I ask so little of you,” he interrupts.
Your jaw drops. “Are you serious? You? Ask me? For little?”
“The only commitment I have ever asked of you is not to have sex with that fucking man!”
“And I didn’t!” you shout before pulling out your phone. “Here, see? He just wanted to show me new rubber ducks that he made. And you know what? Mine was adorable, and she played radio when you pressed her button.”
“Am I supposed to understand this innuendo?” he asks, his voice rising.
“I didn’t sleep with him, Alastor! I don’t know what else you want me to say! I almost did, I would have, and it’s all your fucking fault that I didn’t. Someone expressed interest in me and I couldn’t act on it because I made some fake pact with you over it. I should have, God knows I need it.”
“Oh do you?” Alastor steps closer, but you don’t back down.
“Yes!” you yell. “Yes I do, but the only fucking thing I ever do is go on the goddamn radio with you!”
“Such a horrible fate!”
You cover your face with curling fingers. “Take me back to Rosie’s. Take me back to Rosie’s, Alastor. You don’t want me here, remember?”
“Of course I want you here, you fucking imbecile!”
Your anger ebbs slightly. “You do?”
“Yes! I want all of the things you do and I want them all the time! I tried to make my own sandwiches and everything! I was self-sufficient before you, you know. I never needed anyone for anything, then you walked into this hotel and insisted your way into my life, wrecking it up as you went!” Alastor takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself, trying to calm himself. “So now that I need you and go to great pains to keep you safe, you tell me that you want to sleep with that little blond gremlin?”
“How were the sandwiches?”
“Dry and uninteresting!” Alastor grabs you by your arms. “God damn you!”
“What? What?” you yell. “What do you want, Alastor? As far as I can tell, you got me out of the hotel, out of your way, right where you wanted me to be. I was going out for a fucking burrito because I can’t trust the food in Cannibal Town!”
“I advised Rosie very carefully about your dietary preferences,” he says.
“Well, hell, thanks,” you say in a much quieter tone. After a moment, you go sit in your usual spot. “Why did you bring me here, Alastor? My name must be mud around here.”
“No, it isn’t.” Alastor sits across from you. “They just blame me, and that is fine.”
“I really think you two should put all this behind you,” you say.
“The two of us? We won’t be putting anything behind us, darling.”
“Actually!” You point at him. “I was talking about you and him. The guy you call a circus freak, a blond gremlin.”
“Ha! No. Try again, dearest.”
You just roll your eyes and rub your temples. “I’m seriously so hungry and so tired. What do you want to hear?”
“I—.” Alastor cuts himself off. “You. And I…it’s your fault, all of this is your fault!”
“Okay! Fine! It’s my fault. Now what do you want to do?” you ask.
Alastor jerks you up from your seat and kisses you, hard. You feel his fingertips fan over the tops of your shoulders, drumming once before holding tight.
It’s so absolutely stunning that it takes a moment to respond at all, but that doesn’t seem to slow him down. Your heart beats so hard in your chest that you can almost hear it, and, oh, damn, this is what had been missing, fulfilling a craving that you had never known. This was what blood was for, what hands were for, why breath existed.
His hands move lower down your body as the quick seconds pass like butterflies all down your skin and to your bones.
You pull away just to catch a breath and his whole body tenses.
“What?” you ask, panting.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks.
You shake your head. “No, Al, not even a little bit. Just couldn’t breathe, blood’s all rushing.”
Alastor’s fingertips trail deliciously above your belly. “Do you know what I want?”
You swallow, lips pressing together. “Tell me.”
His thumb traces down your throat now. “I want to possess you so completely that you forget all but my name.”
His lips follow the path of his hands, surprisingly soft and warm against your neck. “Everything about you was made for me. Everything. I am never letting you go, do you understand me?” His tone was gravely serious, but with an undercurrent of…love. Yes, it was love, yearning and…maybe a bit of uncertainty. He could not hide that, not from you.
“Let’s go to my room,” you say quietly when he pulls away, and in an instant you’re there. Everything looks the same, thankfully. You go to the bed and sit at the foot of it, leaning back on your elbows.
Alastor comes and stands before you, just looking down, watching. When he finally moves, it’s to put both hands underneath your shirt and push it up, every bit of skin revealed covered in goosebumps. He slowly pushes the shirt up and up until your arms lift and it comes over your head.
“Why are you choosing to do this now?” you ask as he works on your bra.
“Because you said that you needed it and I take your needs very seriously,” he responds.
“Whoa.” You grab at my hands. “No, it’s not just me, you have to be into it too.”
Alastor laughs suddenly. “How about I show you how ‘into it’ I am? Kind of you to make certain, darling.”
“I don’t ever want to make you feel like you have to, because you’re…”
He plays with one of your exposed breasts thoughtfully. “You are kind for that, too. Perfect, really. Darling, I do whatever feels good, in all things that I do. This is good, I have simply never felt that way before you and your goddamn radio expertise and your fucking sandwiches and, oh, the briskets.”
Alastor sighs and moves on to the other one. “I have never wanted this before, and that is meaningful to me. It isn’t all I want, but I want you in all other ways so much that it makes me crave you. My hands on your body, your hands on mine. I’ve waited long enough to know that I am certain. Are you?”
“You are a discovery,” you say. “You unlocked things I didn’t realise were there. I want you badly.”
“It’s not just what the spider calls ‘general horniness’?”
You pull him down and kiss him several times before responding. “No, it isn’t. If it wasn’t specific to you, I could just as well bedded Luci. I had every opportunity earlier tonight. But I was always going to turn him down. I did so because I thought of how disappointed and angry you would have been.”
“You’re goddamn right I would have been,” he says as he climbs over you. “So perfect, just for me…”
You like the weight of him on top of you. He’s careful not to squish you, but it feels so warm and solid. There’s a shiver up your spine as he touches you, as this coat and shirt brush against your breasts. You go to card your fingers through his hair and accidentally brush against the base of one of his ears and you can see the physical reaction, the little tremors of pleasure, the moan of an ecstasy promised.
“Okay?” you ask gently, doing it again.
Alastor nods quickly. “Yes, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
You played with his ear while his tongue, lips, and teeth made their way across your throat and neck. The higher you went, the more aggressive he got, leaving little nips and bites everywhere.
You push him when you decide more clothes have to come off—his in particular. He looks confused for a half-second before you’re carefully removing his coat. You place it carefully on a chair near the bed, but almost rip the shirt off of him.
He gives a little huff of laughter. “Eager, are we darling?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” you say, hauling him in to kiss him again.
You love the feeling of your bare chests pressed together. Alastor’s breathing starts to come more quickly than before.
It’s you going after his neck, this time. You can hear something strangled in his throat, the vibrations of it against your lips. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”
“Forgive me, darling. I am new to this.”
“Is it the very first time?”
He hums. “Technically no. Once, when I was a teenager, a very long time ago. I barely remember it at all, but I know it was nothing like this.”
You smile against his neck and nuzzle softly. “Doesn’t matter, you’ll know what to do.”
“I have every confidence in us both. We know each other on a professional and emotional level of intimacy, I doubt physical intimacy will be the thing that does us in.”
“It may be a bit early days, but I hope nothing ever does,” you say.
He cradles the back of your head to keep your lips close to his neck. He huffs. “Early days, my ass. If I was not sure about you I would not have started anything. If any part of you is unsure, I will make it sure. I promise that I won’t be a regret.”
You kiss your way down the side of his neck. “Lucifer would have been a regret. You will not be.”
He huffs. “As gratifying as that is to hear, please do not mention the circus freak during physical intimacy ever again. Or ever again in general, if possible.”
You laugh softly and hold him close. “I’ll never mention him in this context ever again, I promise.”
“I am much obliged, my love.” Alastor tugs at the jeans you’re wearing, but, having no experience with such garments, he doesn’t seem to realise they have to be unzipped first.
You reach between your bodies to help him out.
“Such complicated garments,” he says beneath his breath.
“No more complicated than yours! Your trousers unzip too, don’t they?” you ask.
“It is called a double standard, darling, and as per usual, unfortunately for you, it works out in my favour.” Alastor gets you down to your underwear and plays with the elastic waistband. “I would like to make something abundantly clear to you, darling. I will give you this one last chance.”
“For what?” you ask, kissing down his neck, the tip of his ear between your fingers. You feel it twitch.
“No, no, stop that for a moment, darling,” he says, so you do. When you’ve stopped and he’s got you looking at him again, he continues. “For just a moment, while you listen to this. I am telling you right now that you are reaching the point of no return. Once I have taken you, you will belong to me for eternity. That is not a hyperbole, it is reality. I will never allow you to leave me. Along with that promise, I promise to keep you safe, always, just as I am now, even if it means temporarily being away from me. I promise to love you. I promise you will want for nothing; everything that is in my power to give you, which is exhaustive and far-reaching, any little want or need you have, I will give it to you.”
You smile at him. “I don’t have as much to offer, but I’ll be the best damn radio engineer, the best damn brisket-maker, the best damn friend, and the best damn…”
“Mate,” he supplies.
“The best damn mate, I’ll be that,” you promise.
“You accept?” Alastor asks, and when you nod, he kisses you hard. “You are perfect. So good. And you understand? Completely? You have no doubts? Because there will be no other appropriate time to feel them. This is a permanent arrangement that you should not take lightly.”
“Trying to talk me out of it?”
“Trying not to be a regret,” he says, and it makes your expression warm.
“You aren’t and you won’t be,” you promise. “You were the answer to all the questions I didn’t know I was asking of myself from the moment I met you. I didn’t know, but it was always there, and now, like…I don’t know how to describe it. There’s not a lot of blood flowing to my brain, you know.”
He chuckles once and nods. “Then I will not ask you again. It is settled now, is it?”
“It is.”
“Good.” Alastor hooks his thumb into the elastic of your underwear indelicately and pulls them down and off your body.
You don’t even know how many naked people Alastor has seen. It’s possible he hasn’t seen another person naked since the first time with someone, so many years ago. He seems to know exactly what he’s doing, though.
“Well, now that the matter is settled.” Alastor lifts you up and places your head on a pillow. “There is something I have wanted to do since I met you. It was a strange craving, something that should have warned me of what was to come.”
“What’s the strange craving?” you ask, but rather than answer verbally he rolls his tongue between your leg, right against your clit, and you moan rather loudly with surprise.
Alastor laughs quietly to himself. “Enjoying yourself, darling?”
“Ohhhh God,” was all you could manage.
He licks your clit again before his tongue dips inside you, and when it does, Alastor elongates it—this shocks you, causes a gasp and a full-body shiver. You never thought such a thing was possible, and it’s certainly…a new experience. He rubs at your clit with his thumb while his tongue works inside you. He keeps your legs apart with his broad shoulders, tongue massaging against your walls until he reaches a spot that makes you scream. He laughs softly against your flesh and you’re panting now.
“Alastor…” Your legs tense up around him, muscles straining. He’s moaning against you as he works your body like he owns it, and maybe he does now. Your thighs tense around him and you…you’re getting louder.
“Is there something you can do about the noise?” you ask, even though you hate stopping him.
He keeps rubbing your clit while he speaks. “I can. But I will not. Louder.”
Alastor goes right back to it, his tongue working you hard, and he forces you to get louder just from the way his tongue moves against your walls.
“Oh, fuck…Oh, Al, don’t stop, please don’t stop…yeah…yeah, like that, like that…” Your breath comes in harder and harder, faster and faster, until you’re screaming, until your thighs are aching, until your pussy is so overstimulated that he pulls back with an enormous grin on his face.
He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, but mercifully only briefly. “Tell me when I can take you.”
“Just a moment,” you pant. “Not a long wait, just a few minutes.”
“Very good,” Alastor says. “I’ll take other pleasure from other parts of your body in the meantime then, darling.”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “You do that, Al. Fucking hell.”
His tongue swirls along your nipple. “Yes darling?”
“You really took that one from the soul,” you say with a soft, shaky laugh. You nudge his shoulder. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“You’re sure?”
You nod a few times. “Yeah, yeah. Ready to go.”
You press your back down against the blankets, your head flat against the pillow. Alastor kneels between your knees and shoves them far apart, making plenty of room for himself. You’re silently grateful that he still seems to know exactly what to do—you’d gladly teach him if you had to, but it was so much better this way. He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock from your clit and down, watches your muscles involuntarily jump slightly, a wide smirk on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his shadow cast upon the wall, the elongated horns, that starving grin.
“I see you’ve noticed him,” Alastor says, entering you all at once. “Keep your eyes on me, dear. Pay him no mind.”
“You consider him separate from you?” you ask, your body adjusting to the size of him easily.
Alastor, however, does not seem to be having such an easy go of things. There is a look of concentration on his face, his lip between his teeth. It takes a moment for him to reply. “I consider him an echo of me. I’ll warn you now, I do not know how conversational I will be from this point on.”
“All the same,” you wink at him. “It’s not your conversation I’m after at the moment.”
It takes almost no time at all to get loud for him again, but this time it wasn’t just you being pleasured. This was a new world for Alastor and he was lost in it, captive to it. His hands grip at your hips as he fucks you harder and harder, the mattress shaking beneath you. Soon the headboard smacks against the wall and you thank God there’s no one on the other side.
“Al!” You hook one knee around his waist. “Al, please, deeper.”
He grabs your other knee and pulls it around him so he can get a better angle. He moves to whisper in your ear. “You feel so soft inside, like velvet. So warm, so hot…like that little pop of heat when you stand with your back to a fireplace…”
You moan loudly, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter around him, the sound slick and obscene. You can hear him curse, how his hips snap faster and faster until he finally spills his seed in you, fucking you through it.
Alastor’s damp forehead connects with your shoulder and you can feel his breath coming harsh against it. His hands soften their hard grip on your thighs and fall away, moving up to your waist, your ribs, one thumb against your nipple.
You play with his hair, with one of his ears, but it doesn’t seem to rile him up again, which was good, because you didn’t want to be told to stop. You turn your head against his and kiss his hair.
“Okay?” you ask after a while.
Upon hearing your voice, he lifts his head and then himself off of you. He crashes on his back beside you, his arm coming up around you, pulling you to him.
“I am so…so grateful that it was you,” he says. “I am grateful to have you. Forever. You and I will create a home next week, here at the hotel. It is well within my power to do. It can be any way you like. You should jot down ideas while you’re at Rosie’s.”
You groan. “I have to go back to Rosie’s, don’t I?”
“Yes, my lovely,” he says. “You will still reside at Rosie’s for the duration of this week until the Extermination is through and we are free to do as we please. We do not have to go straight back into radio. Maybe…we take some time to ourselves. It will be well-earned.”
“You’re going to need a break in general,” you say, pushing sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes. “You’re doing so much for all of us. I can’t believe you’re going to kill Adam.”
“Believe it, my love,” he says softly. “Believe me. This is our future.”
“I do believe you. I trust you,” you say. “And I’m sorry for being so bratty about being sent away. I am effectively useless in any type of fight scenario. I would hold everyone back.”
“You would sacrifice yourself too easily. I never said those things to hurt you, I said them because I feared what would happen to you.”
“I know,” you whisper. “I know.”
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor imagines#hazbin alastor#alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor smut#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin alastor x you#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor smut#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel imagines
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The Blatant Sexism and VA Harassment in The SAMS Fandom.
Not the first Ramble I fully wanted to make on this account, and I'm a little late to the party, but I feel this can no longer be held back as something to keep inside. I have been in the SAMS fandom now since Nexus was first born as New Moon, and in that year and a half since Moon first died I've seen this fandom take some of the lowest falls ever.
I would like to start this simply by saying to Kat (Earth's VA); that I am so sorry the fandom is treating you the way they are, and allow this message from me to at least somewhat help you know there are people in this fandom who respect you and the work you do for us. As an aspiring writer and voice actor myself, you and the rest of the crew are inspiring, and I'm sorry the fandom has thrown so much hate at you for no reason.
To everyone who has been harassing Kat or any other VA; You suck. Plain and simple. These VAs create, write, portray and produce free daily content for you, and you feel entitled to 'good' writing when none of them are professional writers who HAVE to give it to you. These are people with their own lives, and creators do not owe their audience anything, and they are in every right to take it away from us if they feel necessary.
I do have my own issues with the writing at times, but I can look at TSBS for what it is, a simple online show that will have its flaws, plotholes, mistakes, and 'bad' episodes. But it's a show I still love regardless, for the characters and their stories, not the overarching plot. No writing is perfect and the VAs are not professional writers, those who expect movie-quality writing in these shows are not seeing it for what it is
And finally, the blatant hatred towards the female characters in TSBS. Earth, Roxy, Nebula, Pollux, Puppet, Ballora, I've seen so much despisal for these characters for seemingly no reason, and I myself admit I enjoy most villains over them, but that is my own personal love for Villains and NOT a dislike for these characters. They are just as well written as others, flaws and all, as it makes them more human. I will mostly be touching on Earth as she is my biggest point of anger here.
Earth is ALLOWED to be selfish for once in her life, it is not something to demonize her for while you woobify Lunar, someone who has outright admitted he is selfish and by that logic should face the same hatred. Earth is a sweetheart who wants to see the good in people, even those others demonize, like Eclipse, but for some reason, she is despised when she finally wants to do something for herself.
Earth currently is living with chronic pain due to Lunar's rage and selfish (though justifiable) hatred towards Eclipse, and she currently is confused about whether she should forgive him or not, that's good writing, not something to hate her for. The female characters of TSBS are written to be realistic and more human, they are not your punching bags just because you don't like them for some reason.
If you demonize the female characters, yet woobify the villains and claim they can do not wrong, you suck. I admit once again, some of my favorite characters are the deplorable villains (Nexus, Ruin, BloodMoon, etc), but that does not mean I will say they did nothing, they are horrible people but I love them for it. And I love Earth, and the other female characters, for their flaws and the mistakes they make.
In short: Leave the VAs alone, creators owe you nothing, the female characters are flawed and that's okay, you are allowed to like villains despite their deplorable actions, and I hope for the sake of everyone working on these shows our fandom gets better. All of this coming from the perspective of an aspiring VA, Writer, and a woman. Do, Better.
#the sun and moon show#sun and moon show#tsams#the lunar and earth show#lunar and earth show#laes#CandyCrumbles
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remember when i said i was beginning to relate more and more to michael? well,
i think it’s easy to underestimate his character and not really understand who he is, but once you start acting like him, it gives you a new perspective in the whole of solitaire. michael is a very angry individual, i think we all know that. however, he is not portrayed like how angry characters usually are. his anger stays inside, like a lion waiting to attack. michael lives hiding a part of himself, somewhere so deep in his mind that whenever it is able to come out it becomes his worst nightmare ever. unlike most angry characters, the anger doesn’t affect the rest, it affects him.
i think this is so important to talk about, because yes, solitaire is tori’s book, but michael brings very important details to the story. i know most of the fandom likes to talk about him as a silly little guy, and that’s valid, because he also is that. my mind just won’t be at peace until we all realize a bit more how important he is.
anger will bring him down. that’s not something we can argue about, it’s the truth. and yes, it sounds silly, anger, really? that’s the thing that’s gonna bring him down? well, not exactly. anger is the first symptom of losing yourself. you start keeping all the anger to yourself, not really knowing what to do with it or why it’s becoming bigger and bigger. as this continues, you start hating, loathing every single moment of your life that doesn’t go as planned. before you even know it, you’re isolating yourself, afraid of any chance of the anger getting stronger.
if i were to show this with a scene of the book i would choose the one were michael finally explodes at tori. because at that moment, he has been trying so hard to be her friend, and attempt after attempt, she’s just been making things difficult. i say this from an objective perspective, because we know tori wasn’t in the right headspace, but that doesn’t mean michael’s wasn’t bad mentally as well. it’s what i said before, you start loathing everything that doesn’t go your way. and in this case, his friendship with tori wasn’t going his way. it’s a very hard topic to explain because i have been in both ends, mostly in michael’s, and it is extremely difficult to deal with. we know michael doesn’t have friends and probably didn’t have before either, which means he has been carrying this issue his whole life. it’s obvious he was going to explode. he keeps trying and trying and nothing goes his way. he can’t make friends to save his life, oh and look, he also failed the competition of what he is supposed to be great at, perfect!
i guess i just wanted to talk about this because as i said, feeling like this is not great. it sucks. it’s horrible to experience but so normalized as well. people like tori get talked about behind their backs. everyone has a bit of bitterness in their voice when they talk about them, spitting how being mentally ill doesn’t excuse you for being a bad person. people like michael get pitied. the people who keep a smile and don’t stop trying even when they’re dying inside. everyone feels bad for them, but no one cares enough to make a difference.
#guys i’m losing it#sorry for being depressing#and whatever this means#osemanverse#solitaire#michael holden#tori spring#sprolden#.🧃
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Finally got around to playing Mouthwashing and god damn is this gonna be one of the games that sticks with me for a while. because like, what the fuck? (in a good way dw)
Spoilers below the cut! (CW: rape, pregnancy, cannibalism, suicide, Jimmy.)
Honestly the biggest thing that surprised me about my experience with the game and the so far two days since my completion of it, is Curly. Fucking Curly. i have a love-hate relationship with this man. because on one hand i can genuinely believe in his competence as a captain, but on the other... he utterly failed Anya (and the rest of the crew to by extension) by showing blatant nepotism towards Jimmy due to their being friends by not doing anything about him actually just straight up RAPING Anya and getting her pregnant.
Like, don't get me wrong, if Jimmy wasn't the whiny egotistical jackass that he was i fully believe the crew would've completed the journey just fine and gotten paid (even if they where gonna be jobless afterwards anyway due to the company going bankrupt). But this one fucking failure of his, this one fuck up due to a personal fault, singlehandedly doomed the entire fucking crew and condemned him to not only watch, but to outlive all of them by a long time. And by the time he realized his mistakes, it was far, FAR too late for him to do anything. All he could do was laugh as Jimmy picked up the gun.
And this man really stared his failures in the face when Anya took her own life in front of him, and he was the one to tell her that the medbay could be locked no less! And he had to watch Jimmy kill Swansea, and then eventually himself, after forcefeeding Curly his own leg and putting him in the cryopod. Curly essentially paid the price of his own actions, as well as paying the price for Jimmy's (who he is partially responsible for the actions of as his captain, best friend, and as someone WHO KNEW DAMN WELL HE RAPED SOMEBODY).
But at the end of the day i don't believe Curly is some belligerent psychopath who went out of his way to be just as bad as Jimmy himself, Curly is a person who let his social nature and friendship turn into favoritism and complacency with the status quo, ultimately trying to preserve it much to everyone's detriment.
I genuinely believe Curly cares about his crew, I really do. And i like that about him. But his mentality as a captain to preserve the status quo was a big part in why Jimmy was able to do what he did. It's not like the signs weren't there even not accounting for what happened to Anya, it literally would've been written all over Jimmy's psych eval, Anya herself even points it out to him. The man is not well and shouldn't have been allowed on the ship (though corporate bullshitery was also partially responsible for this as i am not blind to this games anti-capitalist themes).
I think that's about all i have to say though and i suck at concluding long winded stuff like this so TL:DR Swansea should've been captain, He's a real one and actually has a spine.
(i will almost certainly edit this if i think of anything i want to add or correct about my takes.)
#mouthwashing#captain curly#curly mouthwashing#anya mouthwashing#swansea mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#daisuke mouthwashing#yes i believe curly is a bad captain because he's a spineless coward who didn't do anything about jimmy im not trying to defend him here.#I do legitimately love this games writing tho i love that i can hate characters like this while still being able to enjoy the game.
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I know I'm swinging a bat into a hornet's nest, but ever since the end of OnK I've been thinking about why Akane is so popular yet so disappointing as a character.
Akane was really interesting and I enjoyed her being her own character, but after the stage play arc she just becomes an Aqua simp. All her motivations become centered around him to the point of wanting to ruin her life for a boy. She becomes a "submissive Japanese wife" that so many people are obsessed about, completely ignoring that her and Aqua's dynamic would be horrible for both of them. They enable each other's self-destructive tendencies, trying to go to hell instead of climbing out of it.
I hate what they did with Akane at the end. She becomes nothing more than a plot device, and to have her narrate the ending which overshadows every other character (especially Ruby, she deserved so much more) is such a bad move. Justice for Akane, she's a much better character than an exposition mouthpiece for the reader's sake. We don't even get to see her actually analyze any information (aside from researching Ai at the start), she just suddenly has all the answers even in moments where it has almost nothing to do with her. I'm so annoyed at how Akane-centric the ending is, truly putting her characterization into the ground alongside Aqua.
I think the issue re: Akane is that Akasaka kind of accidentally wrote himself into a corner by making her SO smart and capable that if she was allowed to actually contribute to the story then she would end up solving most conflicts before they actually played out on the page lol
Like, to be totally fair, there was always going to be an element of Akane orbiting Aqua because she's very specifically a character not involved in Ruby's half of the plot and with zero interest in B-Komachi. So it makes sense for her to take a bit of a backseat when we switch focus to it but Tokyo Blade going into the Private arc is really good example of how she can still be a present and engaging character even without directly contributing just by letting her... you know, engage and be present with the rest of the cast! But starting with Mainstay, Akane has basically zero meaningful interactions with anyone who isn't Aqua and most of what she does on-page also revolves around him and their relationship. I'm not even really sure why this is because there are certainly places she could've at least been inserted to flesh out her relationships with the wider cast but my best guess is that this would have interrupted or complicated what Akasaka wanted to do so he didn't include her. And Don't Even Get Me Started On The Movie Arc.
There's more issues with how Akasaka uses her as a character but u/uvauva2 on the OnK subreddit did a really good and concise breakdown of them and I'd basically just be recapping their points if I carried on, so I recommend reading it.
It sucks because I've really come around on Akane and I think she's super compelling up through to the end of the Private arc. But past that, it feels like Akasaka had no idea what to do with her as a character so he turned to using her as a blunt force tool of convenience to paper over sections of the plot. She ends up kind of reduced to a mouthpiece for Akasaka to do exposition with and... Yeah, it sucks! Akane was a character with a lot of really interesting potential but it just feels like Akasaka lost interest in fitting her into the story at some point.
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. . .
#i hate small children i hate small children i hate small children#this sucks so bad why'd i have to get stuck taking care of one nearly 24/7#she's not even MY KID i didn't fucking ask for this#i hate this stupid fucking situation i'm stuck in and i can't even LEAVE#because she was born before i could learn how to drive and now i'm forced into a schedule that leaves no time for anyone to teach me#which fucking sucks because i Have family members willing to teach me but i'm never given the chance to take up their offers!#gods as soon as can leave i'm ghosting these fuckers until i can get a proper handle on my mental health#cause my sanity's been down the fucking chute and i never get breaks long enough to properly destress#especially because most of the ''breaks'' i do get i'm still basically ''on call'' during so i can never actually Genuinely RELAX EVER#i hate my life i hate this this sucks so bad#cuz like i finally get to a place in my life where i want to live and have my suicidal thoughts managed but then all This Shit drops on me#vent
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i think it's funny how floofy n beffica are leading that Evil Grumpuses poll cause to me they're two completely different levels of "Shitty Person" lol
they're like this to me
#giant banner under this saying: Beffica is one of my favorite characters ok Ok. she sucks a bit as a person but i love her#with Floofty they're like ''Grr i hate you so much ur sooo fuckin dumb never speak to me again but actually please do talk to me but fuck u#with Beffica she's like ''Heyy bestie let's ruin this person's life for fun okayyy. I know this is bad but i've already ruined my own life-#and i dont really have much else to do sooooo. lol :0P!!''#very shallow reads of them but this you've played the game. you get the idea. these are tumblr tags#bug game
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actually i'm still thinking about the moral orel finale.
he has a cross on his wall. do you know how much i think about that bc it's a lot.
a lot of stories ((auto)biographical or fictional) centering escape from abusive/fundamentalist christianity result in the lead characters leaving behind christianity entirely. and that makes complete sense! people often grow disillusioned with the associated systems and beliefs, and when it was something used to hurt them or something so inseparable from their abuse that they can't engage with it without hurting, it makes total sense that they would disengage entirely. and sometimes they just figure out that they don't really believe in god/a christian god/etc. a healthy deconstruction process can sometimes look like becoming an atheist or converting to another religion. it's all case by case. (note: i'm sure this happens with other religions as well, i'm just most familiar with christian versions of this phenomenon).
but in orel's case, his faith was one of the few things that actually brought him comfort and joy. he loved god, y'know? genuinely. and he felt loved by god and supported by him when he had no one else. and the abuses he faced were in how the people in his life twisted religion to control others, to run away from themselves, to shield them from others, etc. and often, orel's conflicts with how they acted out christianity come as a direct result of his purer understanding of god/jesus/whatever ("aren't we supposed to be like this/do that?" met with an adult's excuse for their own behavior or the fastest way they could think of to get orel to leave them alone (i.e. orel saying i thought we weren't supposed to lie? and clay saying uhhh it doesn't count if you're lying to yourself)). the little guy played catch with god instead of his dad, like.. his faith was real, and his love was real. and i think it's a good choice to have orel maintain something that was so important to him and such a grounding, comforting force in the midst of. All That Stuff Moralton Was Up To/Put Him Through. being all about jesus was not the problem, in orel's case.
and i know i'm mostly assuming that orel ended up in a healthier, less rigid version of christianity, but i feel like that's something that was hinted at a lot through the series, that that's the direction he'd go. when he meditates during the prayer bee and accepts stephanie's different way to communicate, incorporating elements of buddhism into his faith; when he has his I AM A CHURCH breakdown (removing himself from the institution and realizing he can be like,, the center of his own faith? taking a more individualistic approach? but Truly Going Through It at the same time), his acceptance (...sometimes) of those who are different from him and condemned by the adults of moralton (stephanie (lesbian icon stephanie my beloved), christina (who's like. just a slightly different form of fundie protestant from him), dr chosenberg (the jewish doctor from otherton in holy visage)). his track record on this isn't perfect, but it gets better as orel starts maturing and picking up on what an absolute shitfest moralton is. it's all ways of questioning the things he's been taught, and it makes sense that it would lead to a bigger questioning as he puts those pieces together more. anyway i think part of his growth is weeding out all the lost commandments of his upbringing and focusing on what faith means to him, and what he thinks it should mean. how he wants to see the world and how he wants to treat people and what he thinks is okay and right, and looking to religion for guidance in that, not as like. a way to justify hurting those he's afraid or resentful of, as his role models did.
he's coming to his own conclusions rather than obediently, unquestioningly taking in what others say. but he's still listening to pick out the parts that make sense to him. (edit/note: and it's his compassion and his faith that are the primary motivations for this questioning and revisal process, both of individual cases and, eventually, the final boss that is christianity.) it makes perfect sense as the conclusion to his character arc and it fits the overall approach of the show far better. it's good is what i'm saying.
and i think it's important to show that kind of ending, because that's a pretty common and equally valid result of deconstruction. and i think it cements the show's treatment of christianity as something that's often (and maybe even easily) exploited, but not something inherently bad. something that can be very positive, even. guys he even has a dog he's not afraid of loving anymore. he's not afraid of loving anyone more than jesus and i don't think it's because he loves this dog less than bartholomew (though he was probably far more desperate for healthy affection and companionship when he was younger). i think it's because he figures god would want him to love that dog. he's choosing to believe that god would want him to love and to be happy and to be kind. he's not afraid of loving in the wrong way do you know how cool that is he's taking back control he's taking back something he loves from his abusers im so normal
#i had a really big fundie snark phase a year or two ago so that's part of like. this. but im still not used to actually talking about#religious stuff so if it reads kinda awkwardly uhh forgive me orz idk#maybe it sounds dumb but i like that the message isn't 'religion is evil'. it easily could have been. but i think the show's points about#how fundie wasp culture in particular treats christianity and itself and others would be less poignant if they were like. and jesus sucks#btw >:] like. this feels more nuanced to me. i guess there's probably a way to maintain that nuance with an ultimately anti-christian#piece of media but i think it'd be like. wayy harder and it's difficult for me to imagine that bc i think a lot of it would bleed out into#the tone. + why focus on only These christians when They're All also bad? so you'd get jokes about them in general#and i think that's kinda less funny than orel and doughy screaming and running from catholics lsdkjfldksj#i think the specificity makes it more unique and compelling as comedy and as commentary. but that's just me#like moralton represents a very particular kind of christian community (namely a middle class fundie wasp nest)#you're not gonna be able to get in the weeds as much if you're laughing at/criticizing all christians. but they accomplish it so thoroughly#and WELL in morel and i think that's because it chose a smaller target it can get to dissect more intimately. anyway#moral orel#orel puppington#(OH also when i say wasp here i mean WASP the acronym. as in white anglo-saxon protestsant. in case the term's new to anyone <3)#maybe it's also relevant to say that i'm kindaaaaaaaa loosely vaguely nonspecifically christian. so there's my bias revealed#i was never raised like orel but i like to think i get some of what's going on in there y'know. in that big autistic head of his#but it's not like i can't handle anti-christian/anti-religious media/takes. i'm a big boy and also i v much get why it's out there yknow#christianity in specific has a lot of blood on its hands from its own members and from outsiders and people have a right to hate it for tha#but religion in all its forms can be positive and i appreciate the nuance. like i've said around 20 times. yeah :) <3#(<- fighting for my life to explain things even though my one job is to be the explainer)
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Illymation: Don't be a dick to fat people.
The internet: EWWWW SHE'S GLORIFYING OBESITY LET'S DOX HER!!!!!!!
#illymation#doxxing#like jesus fucking christ#I felt so bad for her#all she did was make a video about her experiences#bitches hate nuance#At least I found out about a cool new youtuber#noah samsen#he's the goat#yes I know he's been doing youtube for years but I JUST found out about him now#anyways I hope Illy's doing okay#she doesn't deserve this#like probecita she had to move states#I'd probably kill myself if I was in her shoes#hope she's doing good#it was her video on her abusive ex that help me realize I was groomed and encouraged me to get psychological help#I'm not saying she's a saint but no one deserves to be doxxed and harrassed the way she was#also fuck tbys#he can suck my dick#man need to get a life
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tigger and zander have been reunited
huzzah!!
#gacha life 2#gacha community#gacha oc#gacha life oc#i love my ocs#oc stuff#my ocs#ocs#gacha life two#gacha#oc ship#god help me#they suck#like so bad#i hate them#but also#love them
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#some thoughts incoming idk if i should share but i need to put them somewhere#it's hard being in the yr fandom since the finale when you don't share the same vision and opinion as the rest#and people make future wilmon posts or write post s3 fics (which many exist now) they just don't align with your idea at all#and they're not exciting to me at all and the whole concept just makes me upset#i don't wanna imagine Wille as a 'normal' person (not that that's ever possible anyway which the show loves to ignore)#like I'm sorry but i didn't come to the show to watch an ordinary love story and have them lead an ordinary life#the idea of Wille being a future king and them navigating that royal life together is so much more interesting#i hate that that isn't canon anymore and when ppl make posts about them it's not about that or that would only be seen as a negative thing#i don't wanna imagine a life where they are 'normal' that isn't appealing to me at all and it sucks seeing everyone embrace it#and it's like you're not allowed to want something else or think differently bc that makes you the bad person and you're just wrong#i can't be excited about their future (also bc i don't really see them going strong in the future with how they messed them up in s3)#(i also didn't want to know what could possibly happen in the future i wanted that to stay open and just be in the present)#and seeing everyone else excited and happy about it makes you feel horrible and very alone and disconnected in the fandom#i don't wanna take it away from them but i also would love to see other takes but that's basically impossible now#am i the only person who feels this way or are there any other who can relate? pls let me know#i already feel like ppl are gonna attack me for this but it's been hard especially now with Simon's month and seeing so many interpretation#navigating ao3 has also become difficult now#it's hard finding fics to read where wille stays crown prince and you don't have to be scared for that to change#i just can't read any canon compliant fics anymore and i hate it bc i hate to disagree with canon#i normally don't do that bc canon is important to me and i don't want to reject it and create my own fantasy#and that's what's upsetting#anyway sorry i had to write this#personal
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really fucking grinds my gears how my dad knows just how to make me feel fucking guilty for putting up boundaries and saying no
#not even for a major thing!#barely setting a boundary even! just saying i don’t want to do smth!#asking me if i want to go for dinner one evening when he knows i work late most days and have said this for years - in fact said this exact#thing to him last week - so when i say no bc i finish late he just pushes and pushes#until im like this doesn’t work for me AND i hate eating out i dont want to go. just go with my brother that’s fine. and he’s suddenly#blunt as fuck in his messages leaving me on read or guilting me about the hours i work….. like get a fucking grip your over 50 bro#i try to be polite with it but he just gets in a fucking mood like please you are a Loser#i see you weekly (smth HE chose when i was a bairn) like im not making my job and life harder just bc you feel bad that you don’t see me#more often now#also i only hate eating out with him!! because it’s awkward!! i like to be in and out when i eat with friends and we’re all the same about#it bc we’re all very autistic lmaooo but with him he likes to chat and chat and chat which is fine but i don’t.. and he asks more personal#questions than when we’re just at his as if im gonna open up just bc we’re eating thai food 🙄🙄🙄🙄#like you Don’t get to know if im seeing anyone or if im queer or even if ive got fucking plans to go away with friends tbh#like deadbeat dads that try to emotionally manipulate their kids get minimal information actually !! 🤓☝️#stelle yaps#fuck sake#i knew he’d start doing this when my brother was back - he’s always played us off each other and he always gravitates towards whichever is#the ‘easiest’ child at the time which is my brother ever since i became an adult lmao#i just don’t tolerate his shit and i let him know it whereas e will play along#me and my dad are too similar in that we both know how to really cut deep in the other :/#it just all sucks#please please feel free to ignore#i just need to vent like hell bc he winds me up a treat so bad
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depression is really weird actually wdym i spent 2.5 years of my life in bed
#and wdym that lifestyle changed so quickly into being out and about and an active member of the world??#very proud of myself#and i mean it wasn't that quick of a change#it was like 1.5 years primarily depression bedrotting with occasional school -> primarily depression bedrotting ->#primarily depression bedrotting with 3-9 hours of work weekly -> straight into 31+ hours school+9-12 hours work weekly#so there was somewhat of a gradual progression#but still#also wowza i wake up 7-7:30am every morning now. 1pm was an early wake up for a not so insignificant amount of time#i mean of all fundamental growth years to miss out on the ages like what 12/13-15 aren't too bad? they would suck in a different way if i#had been socially involved#anyway it's just. yea i'm proud of myself but it is a crazy lifestyle change#and even when i was deeply depressed in a horrible routine i feel like i learned a lot. how to regulate my emotions and cope well and find#the joy in everything. bc if i stayed in bed all day then i would at least be happy about the sun or whatever#and for the while of being not at school at all i WANTED to be at school i just could not find one bc our school system is so cute like tha#(basically every school is at capacity and the local school that has a guaranteed place for me would have been an all boys or girls 😭)#but i miraculously found and got into this school and miraculously made it work so well for me socially and now academically#it's also a good time to get back into school for my education bc any later and it woulda been pretty bad for all my certifications and uni#ive missed out on so much maths that its not worth it to me to try and catch up but my teacher knows that#but ive always hated maths regardless i only ever understood it for the first half of yr 7 then my attendance dropped#and after my recent exam i decided to try harder at school. but i still got an A on the exam i didn't study for!! academic weapon fr#i'm just idk thinking back to myself in the past few years#and how hopeless it all felt. but i got out of it!! i beat the depression and social anxiety and found a good place and made the most of it#and during the peak of my depression i remember i went out someplace near my old school and panicked so so badly about seeing#kids from my old school. and the friends at the time didnt really check on me when i went to shake and cry in a side street lmao#i kept the best of that friendgroup and have better friends now. but anyway now i take a bus each morning with some kids from my old school#and you see these hands? they look like they're shaking to you?#anyway yeah it's just cool i got to this point :) i really had no hope for so long but now i have a life i'm living and a future i'm build#--ing towards#which is funny i just decided some random day last november after watching some better call saul 'huh actually lawyer would b pretty cool'#and will i get there? we'll see but i do have hope now
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looping echidna beastlife gif from trying to figure out toonboom
#based loosely off the bird who keeps taunting my cats through the window. brown headed cowbird who will sit there#and flap it's wings and yell until the cats show up and then it starts pecking at the window and jumping back and forth in front of them#weird bird.#it's done this for like two years now i think#anyways. sound it makes when it fluffs up is vaguely similar to echidnas birdsong soundboard noise thing. so. yeag#whisp whispers#my art#ALSO. ANIMATION PRECOLLEGE IS SO AWESOME. IM SO. AHRHRHNFMDM GET ME OUT OF HIGHSCHOOL PRLESDRRRE GIVE ME AN ART TEACJER WHO CARES ABOUT ART#it's so awesome here. toonboom access!!!! this is so awesome. guys toonboom is so awesome. not to turn a hobby into a job but like i was#genuinely kind of sad when i didn't get to go to school over the weekend it's so awesome here. who was going to tell me college doesn't suck#miserably all the time. like it's a precollege but still this is so ??? so much better than anything i've done in the past 8 years#<-except for fine crafts one i miss u fine crafts ...... not even a fine arts credit. but it was a nice class#anyways point being. hm. maybe i could animate for a job. i used to think about it but hs art magnet is so bad guys it's so bad .and i#was like hm this sucks actually. also like worst period of my life but that's unrelated . but this is so. nice? and im DOING things and i#feel like i'm learning??? god i hope dual enrollment goes well maybe i will be able to make it through college...#im so. this is so awesome. precollege animation 2-week intensive thing i love you i love you i love you#BTW GUYS DID YOU KNOW ALL AUTODESK PRODUCTS ARE FREE AS LONG AS UR IN ANY SCHOOLING. MAYA. FOR FREE. FOR AS LONG AS ENROLLED IN ANY SCHOOL#AND THEN SOME !!! i don't even like 3d modeling that much but. maya for free??? that's awesome. that's awesome!! anyways#rambling. i think i missed all normal tags. uhhhhhhhhh#beastlife#<-oh no i only missed that one. awesome. guys i love it here this is so. arbrnsnnm i love you figure drawing. i'm having fun!#with charcoal!!!!! i thought i hated charcoal but this is like !!!!! so aweosme ?????? i'm#this is so awesome. this is so awesome. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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I know how it sounds at first, but I really gotta feel bad for the boys that sacrificed edwin; I mean even the term “sacrificed edwin” paints them in a more sinister light than they really deserve– considering that wasn’t really, actually their intention.
they were bullies, they were homophobic (and/or were self loathing gay boys themselves taking it out on edwin, or were equally likely peer pressured into acting a certain way), they planned something stupid and mean to do to an innocent, anxious boy with the goal of scaring the shit out of him, all because he was effeminate and an easy target. but they didn’t know or expect any of the ritual stuff to be real. they were all laughing and joking during the ritual because it was just that to them– a joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.
teenagers can be mean and stupid and they usually regret it as adults and grow out of it / grow from it. they were stifled the chance to grow out of it, at least while alive. none of those boys deserved to be instakilled and sent to hell; they’re really not that much less deserving than edwin himself. they were all just kids, after all.
#random thought but. yeah……#I mean think about if crystal happened to be killed somehow pre-demonic intervention#she would’ve been deemed deserving of hell by the standards we’ve seen. no doubt about it. if the dragon guys were pulled to hell then yeah.#she would be as well. simply put- she was a bully#she was also a teenager. not a fully developed person. a very damaged and neglected teenager at that#it’s kinda like the criminal justice system right. it’s like. hey you really think sending them to be tormented is the most humane and#efficient way to heal these kids of what makes them act out and allow them to grow and improve?#Crystal’s such a good case to look at because she’s. well. to compare to The Good Place which you can probably already tell I’ve watched 800#times and adore with all my heart. she’s kinda the michael of the group#no one knows it at first but she’s actually kind of a terror to people most of the time. but she’s put in a situation where she#suddenly has a support system- people who care about her and want the best for her- she’s given a purpose and realizes how much better it is#to use her powers to help rather than hurt (well. sometimes helping can involve hurting but you get it)#and by the time she’s regained her memories and has a place in the agency it’s much easier to reflect on her life and be like huh!#this system kinda fucking sucks!#not that edwin wasn’t an example unto himself but he was a ‘clerical error’ not a ‘rightfully’ condemned person#with his situation someone could argue that the problem isn’t with the system being wack as a whole- it should just be maintained better so#these ‘errors’ don’t happen and all the good kids go to their afterlives and the Bad Evil Kids go to hell.#yes yes I know they’re not in hell forever (hopefully) but uhh Simon was still there for over a century and for fucking What?#gay self-loathing and catholic guilt? his intentions were clearly not Truly Evil and more than anything he seems to have been punished using#how much he hated himself for being gay and how guilty he felt for it all. like shit aren’t those feelings enough of a punishment? if he had#lived through that ritual and edwin hadn’t– do you think he would’ve been Okay? I think it would’ve crushed him. chronically#man. anyway#this was an especially long ramble huh#rambling#edwin#edwin payne#dead boy detectives
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