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gladiatorcunt · 3 months ago

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- JOYRIDE / VIII.

i drink the honey inside your hive

cw: kinktober prompt (daddy kink), southern florist president’s secret child!reader x secret service agent!toji, reader has a vagina, tits used to refer to your chest, age gap (toji is 47 and reader’s early-mid 20’s), dad bf type shit, willing to expand on this, hints of political intrigue and fictional plots, toji x your mom mention, implied and eventual betrayal (not of reader), typical politician behavior, parental neglect & it’s consequences, anal & lack of proper anal prep, dirty talk, light pet play, arguable one sided incest role play & possible actual incest, plus sized!reader, gun play mention, underlying mental health issues, mention of itafushi, flower language, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“There. After nearly breaking my back, the seeds are all planted, finally.”

You'd like to be buried under this magnolia tree, it would be a pretty funeral. Black outfits against the white backdrop of rare winter snow. You have big dreams for this sapling, clearly, as unassuming and drab as it appears freshly planted in the soil of your garden. The ones you’re mom took care of are all gone, maybe they got up and walked after her to somewhere on the horizon. If it doesn’t get so hot the state gets put under another burn ban next summer, this little thing should grow into a beautiful thing that obviously showcases how not depressed you are.

Could a depressed person cope with grief by growing a new life? Well, you wouldn’t know, coping isn’t on your to-do list for a long time if ever. What’s the point of getting better when you’re just going to feel bad again?

Whatever, you shake your head and head back into the shop, you have bills to pay and moping around won’t do anything to help with them. Since you live in a pretty small town, it’s a slow day like always. That is until a tough looking man steps in through the door, opening it and making the bell ding.

His loud sports car is still on and roaring outside, a bright yellow Alfa Romeo 4C.

The man notices your wandering eye and smirks, “You like it, doll? Didn’t take you for someone who’d be interested in cars.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s cool. Must have cost you a lot.”

“Nah. I bought it off one of my buddies at work, fixed it up myself. Well, me and my son’s boyfriend that is. You lookin’ to get somethin’ like that for yourself?”

You’re not really on the market for one, no, because it’s loud as hell and practically rumbling in your ear. You rub it off and ask him what he wants, forgetting some of your politeness, but this man doesn’t seem like he’d care if you spit in his face and kicked him in the balls.

“I’m not from around here.” He rasps and adjusts his sunglasses, leaning one heavy arm on the counter and cocking his hip out, “DC, actually. I’m lookin’ for somebody. You could call it confidential business.”

You hum and narrow your eyes, “Unless that confidential business involves a funeral or getting out of the doghouse with somebody, I can’t help you.”

Suddenly you remember your mother telling you about a big shot politician that knocked her up with you, how he hid you both away when she told him she was pregnant. Your mother was down on her luck 16 year old diner girl, and apparently the politician knew all too well how to use and discard her. The money was enough for your mom to give up her dreams and keep you in this town. When you’ve lived so long without what you think you should, you’re fine to obsessively make sure you never go without again.

He’s the president now anyway, even more reason to make sure you’re the bug that stays squashed under the rock.

The man with the mouth scar notices and decides to drop the act, sighing and taking out his gun. He doesn’t shoot you, just scratches underneath his chin with the puzzle and pointedly makes eye contact with you.

“Okay, let’s cut the shit. My name’s Toji Fushiguro, and I know that you’re who I'm after just as much as you know why i’m here, so why don’t ya just appreciate that y’r old man wants you back and come with me?”

You grit your teeth but you know there’s only one way this interaction is going to end is with you getting in the passenger seat of this nutjob’s car. He watches you shut everything off in the shop and leave a message for the only other employee, asking them to take over until you can come back. He’s a gigantic wolf, tall and silent in the corner, keeping his eyes constantly on his prey. Toji’s never let a bunny or prickly house cat out of his sight in his entire career, but in his current line of work it’s at least legal. Essentially.

“Pretty flowers ya got here.” He says, prolonging your unease. “Maybe his office could use some of these, dull ass beige box that it is.”

Your lips quirk up despite the awful situation, “Yeah I guess. The camellias are new, but hellebores are my favorites, I think. Not many people are into flowers this time of year, but I don’t have anything else to do.”

Toji nods, leading you out of the shop with a hand at the small of your back and oddly content to let you stress babble.

“I’m nowhere near good enough to do arrangements for the White House anyway, regardless of who’s sitting all cozy in it.” You spit and bite one of your nails, nipping at a piece of a hangnail. “Probably’d just throw some buttercups, yellow carnations, orange lillies on the floor, a bit of aconite in there too.”

You know that the agent corralling you into his car doesn’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, but he seems at ease the more you relax into the leather car seat.

You make yourself fall asleep when he puts the car into drive and speeds down the street.

You’ve been in DC for about a week now, without ever actually meeting your dad of course but you’ve met plenty of his staff after Toji introduced you. He’s a secret service agent, who was given the special task of watching over the president’s only child, you can tell he’s not that happy about it.

Probably not as much action as there’d be in his usual position, you’re very willing to go with their plans of you laying low and staying inside most of the time. You’re still so confused, none of this makes any sense at all. You’ve lived your whole life without being involved in any of this but it’s only when your mother’s dead and your father can’t ignore you anymore that he wants to claim you?

It’s all another move in the game towards the re-election. At least he’s a better president than a father, but that’s not by much. Promises to address climate change and the country’s oil dependance getting pushed to the side, worsening class issues and trickle down economics, putting up more anti-homeless measures. You wish you felt like you could leave, but the tiny sliver of hope that by some weird miracle you could do something keeps you from being bold.

There’s nothing you could actually do anyway, you’re never going to be a part of the groups that their agendas support. You’ll always be the small town reject who saw meth addicts at the local gas station more than your own father.

You and Toji have gotten closer, by necessity and the sheer oddity of being polar opposites. You’re both equally as prickly though in different ways, birds of a molted feather. He’s there when you wake up, there during your mundane day, and there outside your door when you go to sleep. Even if you wouldn’t have liked your “bodyguard”, and you’re not sure you do, the distance between the two of you decreasing was inevitable.

He delivers you food, opens your jars, fixes the pipes in your penthouse, drives you everywhere you want to go in the city, carries your books for you in a bookstore, kneels down beside you in the dirt so he can help you with weeding out your garden, and keeps an itemized list of period supplies and your favorite things.

Your favorite minor holiday is national cherry day, he puts a reminder on his phone with the help of his son to always stop by the supermarket and get you some.

You feel like Whitney Houston right now, and if late at night you listen to her albums more than your mom did growing up, fantasizing about a 40+ year old man who treats you like a bug he has to keep alive, then no one has to know.

But no other man’s gonna do

So i’m saving all my love for you

You also think he’s going to assassinate your father. Sometimes you’ll hear hushed whispers late at night between Toji and someone on the phone, he’ll break protocol and leave you alone to duck into another person’s office and end up leaving with a grim look on his face.

You’ve seen the logs he keeps of your father’s whereabouts, which he should have anyway. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but you get the most awful storm in your gut when you see them under a gun that’s never been fired, like it has a special purpose.

You only speak to your father briefly, tense hellos and goodbyes exchanged over the bridge of a too tight handshake. You immediately expressed your distaste for being involved in his political career and he accepted that, letting you galavant on your merry way around town with his most dangerous agent. Ahead of Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento, and Sukuna Ryomen, your father’s closest gaggle of hyenas.

You call them that because you could easily imagine drool dripping from their jowls if they felt so inclined to attack, to devour.

They give Toji their own versions of the same look when you pass them in the halls or they need to meet to give security updates, watching and waiting.

They only give you smiles, of every shape and size.

It’s easy to get a closer look at what your father does, the lives he ruins. Peace can only be an option for so long before other courses of action have to be considered. You don’t know Toji’s motives, this could just be another murder for hire paid for by one of your father’s political rivals. You doubt his heart is that deeply invested in those sorts of things, he’s made himself too apathetic, but you can tell that he still cared a little bit. He told you once that he’s had children who grew up starving before he got the job he has now.

They’re your age now, but he’d still do anything to keep it, to support them.

And then you think that maybe someone who’s only ever been abandoned knows what it’s like to hoard any good thing you can get your grubby hands on.

You give him own little bouquet of flowers one day, half because you’re going stir crazy as the weeks go by with Toji being all you know and half because you think you do want him to kill your father.

Purple Orchid.

Red Lily.

Red Anemone.

Gloriosa.

Red Delphinium.

Red Clematis.

Genista.

The next day, he’s barking at you to get packed for a stay at one of the out of the state safe houses. Don’t ask questions, protocol means you heed his warning and hop back in that canary yellow mid life crisis status symbol.

The tension was bound to be cut with a knife, the whole ride to the safe house is filled with sideways glances and slipknot blaring from the speakers. You have the same uneasy feeling that you do anytime Toji even hints at something being wrong, but something seems especially wrong this time. It’s not your job to worry about it though, and the older man tells you as much.

“Shut y’r trap, alright? You never have to get your panties in a twist when y’r with me, sorta.”

The safe house is as boring as expected, something out of a kindergartener's drawing. One story cube shaped, small roof, faded brown door.

You're only in the tiny kitchen for a second when Toji locks the door and comes to prop himself up on the counter, licking his scar.

He chuckles, “You’re a lot different than I thought you'd be, ya know that?

“I could say the same about you, I mean not really, but there are things I was surprised by.” You retort and sort through the cabinets, picking what cereal you’re going to stress eat tonight.

He comes around the counter and his hands slide from the tile to grip your waist.

“Yeah? Like what, doll?” Is cooed right in front of your mouth when Toji leans down.

You’re not immune to the proximity, your heart does a factory reset. “I never knew you could be so sweet, Toji.”

You’re not supposed to refer to him by his name, but you can’t let the word you secretly want to say slip out. You’d have to tell the employee back at your flower shop to be ready to claim the insurance policy on it after you go back and set yourself on fire.

But God, the miserable man looming over your bunny-tense figure really is sweet, distantly warm in the way a generally emotionally unavailable father is. But Toji’s the kind that would actually give you something to hold close to your heart over his long stretches of being absent until months go by and he tries to be better again.

You’re glad Sigmeund Freud isn’t an immortal vampire who would still be around to psychoanalyze you to shreds.

“Sweet to you maybe, ‘cause I have to be.”

“My dad couldn’t care less if you beat me silly.”

“I know.”

He never once said it was your father that compelled him to be as gentle with you as he is. A woman he met decades one, shacking up with an up and coming politician who he didn’t even try and pretend to be better then. They hooked up once and then he met his late wife, but months later the woman from his one night stand swore the baby in her belly wasn’t his. He never asked for a paternity test.

He never will, he’s already enough like your Daddy anyway, there’s no point in getting a confirmation or a denial to what his soul (and his cock) knows is good enough for a rat bastard like him.

You come out of your shame spiral as he splays one of his beefy gigantic hands out on the counter so you don’t get cold when he pushes your head down.

“I’d kill your old man if he kept me from this ass pussy, but it ain’t like he could if he tried.” Toji grunts, pendulous balls slapping your ass like a couple of grapefruits with every rough thrust in your puckered hole.

You gave up on being shy as soon as he clamped a hand around your throat to direct the first kiss you’d share. “Daddy- ngh, you’re gonna break me”.

His hand is so warm, your cheek squishes against the grooves and minor cracks in his skin as your head bobs forward. Despite you already being pressed down into the kitchen counter as much as humanly possible, Toji seems determined to force you to become one with it.

He gropes your thick ass cheeks, watching them bounce and jiggle as his burly hips slam against you continuously. Performance art in its truest form, whiney little baby pushing their hips back to take him even deeper in their fat ass. He didn’t have the means to properly prep you, just spit on his hand and massaged it into your already wet rim and called it a day. No condom either, but he can probably save the pussy job and it's obvious consequences until after your old man’s been made to lie face down in the dirt.

“I like the way your cunt sits under your squishy belly, ‘s pouting, baby. Both you and your pussy are clingy as fuck, huh?” He laughs deeply, reaching the hand that’s not under your face to smack your clit.

Your empty cunt gets wetter at the teasing, clenching around nothing because Toji likes to play pretend that he can be halfway considerate to the poor thing until he can’t. You want it too much right now, when you’re all loopy from his mean pounding in your ass is the moment he’ll regretfully have to pull himself out to sheath his hung length in your chubby pussy.

You moan, thought it gets precariously close to a wail the longer it goes on. “Daddyyyyyyy, oh fuck, shit- ‘m gonna tear.”

Your words end in a squeal of delight, your off the cuff rambling driving Toji to speed up his thrusts to piston his fat cock harder into your ass. Like he almost wants it to tear, your biological daddy gave you some nasty emotional scars, let your real one leave you with a couple physical ones. That’s what good daddies do, they take care of their babies and always give them something to remember them by when they won’t like their ancient relic of a father so much.

“Now don’t get mad at me, but- Oh, fuck- i was gonna kill ya, that was the plan. Take ya back, blow your brains out in front of your dad, make ‘im piss his pants because he knows he’s next.” He smiles knowingly when his hand on your clit feels it throb at his dark thinking-out-loud musings, wishing he could scrunch his fingers all up in your scalp and roughly pet you. “You like it like that, baby bunny? Daddy gets you gooey and syrupy sweet when he touches you, huh? Could just gobble you up whole, bones and all.”

Fuckin’ hell, you’re more precious than diamonds or gold or any loot he could’ve swiped from your old man’s crib. He’ll have to remember to slide his cock between your slick girls later, soap them up in the freestanding bathtub and spill his thick off white load all over them. You’ll lick up what you can but cleaning you up is obviously Daddy’s job, slurping up his own jizz like a wolf smoothing his rowdy pup’s fur down, nuzzling his nose in the valley of your tits and in the crook of your armpits.

“Daddy-” Your mouth gapes, little punched out ‘unh-unh-unh’s fly out of your mouth as your ass ripples. A few of your hairs stick to your forehead and you look over your shoulder, flushed and overwhelmed.

He just said he was going to kill you, you couldn’t even say when he changed his mind if he’s even telling the truth. But all you can focus on is that you really hope no other security personnel arrive at the safe house to check on you, whatever the fuck you’re doing definitely isn’t protocol.

Toji leans forward and scruffs the back of your neck with his canines, nipping the skin and leaving a mark as he slams his hips forward again. His grip on your love handles becomes iron clad and binding, wishing on a shooting star for bruises to form. He plunges in to the hilt with every thrust and gnaws at your sloped shoulder, he’s gonna cum and fill your cute little butt up. Pump your backdoor so full of cump it bulges and trickles down your trembling thighs.

You keen brokenly, floating up and away into his kiss. Which is basically more of an affectionate bite, but his tongue is mapping out your teeth and your cherry chapstick lips glide against his cold weather chapped ones. So it can be technically considered a kiss, but it leaves you reeling, someone just smashed a rock into your face and you’re collapsed on the ground unable to walk it off.

You try to squirm away from the earth shattering pleasure.

“What i’d say about givin’ me a chance, doll? Anyway, you were good as dead until I actually laid eyes on ya. Pretty thing, soft heart with a softer touch, ripe for the picking and left all alone…”

He can feel you getting close, you’re humping back against him like a bunny in heat as his thumb does a frenzied dance on your clit. He slides his big hand up your body to strum your nipples, his soft as a butterfly’s wing touch contrasting deliciously with his diabolically rough strokes.

In the fantasy he coos in your ear and asks if you agree that he did such a good job making this body, didn’t he? He twists his wrist on your pert bud, timing his ministrations with the upwards angled stroke of his cock. Your whimpering, his thick tip hitting the sensitive place you’ve never been able to reach with your fingers or your extra large toys.

“Fill me up, Daddy, please.” You beg, tears streaming down your face and sticking to his hand cushioning you. You turn your head the tiniest bit to wetly smack your lips together, kissing the rugged appendage. “It’s so hungry, I need it, give it up to me already. Not goin’ anywhere.”

Your cock-crazed eyes widen in panic whenever he acts like he’s gonna pull out, allowing you only the tip before grinning and sliding all the way home once again.

“Don’t worry, baby. I fixed it, didn't i? Got you all plugged up and owned doll, would sooner ride the muzzle of Shiu’s gun than kill ya now. Y’r soakin’ my balls so goddamn good.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you-“

Holy fuck, you can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe because how can you when all the air in your lungs is beaten out of you by some 47 year olds’s massive cock. The coarseness of his body is so right for you, abrasive where you’re soft and riddled with signs of being battleworn where your body’s only enemy is you. You feel split right down the middle and you’re half afraid that when Toji eventually pulls out, you’ll fall apart and actually become two bleeding halves of a whole fucked out person.

Your clit throbs at the mental image of his hairy swallowing the muzzle of a gun, Toji licks his lips and mercifully lets you reach behind yourself to claw at his rippling muscular glutes as he fucks you. Your ass squeezes his cock in a vice like grip as you shoot your load onto the pale wood laminated floor below. Your ass cheeks jiggle as your hips jump forward, grinding against the air as you get it all out. Riding that lightning off to who knows where.

“Jesus, oh, Jesus- You’re so fucking insane, Jesus Christ!”

At least Daddy will be there, because you’re certain you’re gonna crave keeping him inside and Toji seems like a terrible guy to try to do cockwarming with.

“Shit, baby bunny, this bouncy cottontail is gonna milk me dry, take me for all my money, isn’t that right honey bunny?” His voice is coated with sickenly toe curling condescension.

He roars a guttural groan, his nails forming crescent shaped indents in your hips as he pushes his cock as far as it can go and spurts his hot cum into your ass with a gruff grunt. He can feel your walls spasm around his dick, the sensation hurtles him further over the edge and his hips jerk and the joints begin to creak from the effort.

He’s not the wild and reckless young man who fucked your mother anymore, but you have him all wrong if you think he’s going to roughouse your shit any differently.

When you’ve both calmed down, his salt and pepper stubble gives you beard burn between the fleshy globes, punctuated by a breathless snicker and a barely there peck to your ass hole.

“Sleep in tomorrow, baby bunny” He says abruptly, his tone dropping to become startlingly serious. “I’ll bring back some breakfast for ya, give you a massage. I better come back and find your adorable ass right where I put it to bed, ya hear me?.”

“Yes, Daddy. ‘Said I wasn’t going anywhere.”

He pats your lower back, curling his thick digits around an invisible ball of fur.

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mizu0xox0 · 2 months ago

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Batfamily x Joker!reader

No not the DC Joker it's the Phantom Thief Joker

• So while the Batfamily goes after the usual big villains. Joker!reader is sending calling cards to corrupt politicians, police officers and basically criminals that haven't really been caught by the Batfamily yet.

• Then Batman catches wind of these corrupt people suddenly confessing to their crimes and being taken into custody after their confessions on life television no less or in front of a crowd of people or supporters. But it didn't feel like a confession more of a break down which was odd what made these corrupt people of power suddenly crumble?

• Thats when Batman sends some of the Batfamily members to investigate and then they find the weird calling card and now they learn about the Phantom Thieves.

• They manage to find the connection of the confessions being the calling cards and these Phantom Thieves mentioned in the cards so Batman sends it for some tests only for the calling cards to be just normal paper so something supernatural must be at play for these people to suddenly start confessing.

• Well long story short they decide to start investigating anything suspicious in the city that can give them a clue about these invisible vigilantes known as the Phantom Thieves and just so happens they catch video footage of Joker!reader suddenly disappearing while walking into an alleyway.

• So with that since Joker!reader is a criminal that's being put on probation but living with a guardian of sorts well Bruce decides to bribe the police to get Joker!reader to live with them and it works. Now they'll be under the watchful eye of Batfamily well not that they know that Bruce Wayne and his kids are vigilantes.

• While Joker!reader is in the Wayne manor they are unaware that their every move is being watched except their bedroom of course they still need privacy. Every once in awhile when Alfred goes to clean their room while they're in school if he finds anything like a calling card or a calling card in making similar to the Phantom Thieves one then he'll inform Bruce. From there you'll see some familiar faces in public such as when you're at a unpopular cafe to discuss some Phantom Thief stuff quietly that's when you'll see Stephanie and Tim having some drinks at a table somewhere near enough for you to spot them but far enough to not raise any suspicion amongst you and your group of friends

• Then when you're going to work at the gun shop you're suddenly greeted by Jason who just so happens to be purchasing a gun specifically at your work place odd...

• And one day while in Mementos training with the Phantom Thieves suddenly you see Batman and Robin?! How did they get in Mementos?! And boom the gig is up since you're pretty Batman and Robin were far more skilled than you and your team so you quickly skidadle in the Mona bus. "Wait did that cat just turn into a vehicle?!" Robin says long and you're long gone.

• And ever since that fateful day suddenly Bruce and Damian can hear your pet cat Morgana talking...hell it doesn't take the world's greatest detective to connect the dots that your cat and you are members of the Phantom Thieves and possibly your group of friends.

• Plus they had more than enough proof such as the receipts that Jason had found in the gun shop you worked at for specific blueprints of gun models or other weapon types. An odd app in your phone when Tim hacked into it and just so happens when they clicked the app they were transported to another world and once they were out they could suddenly hear your cat talking. Yeah definitely not a coincidence. Or when Dick sees you going to some shady clinic in the alleyway and just so happens to find a bottle of health supplements in your room that he couldn't find being sold anywhere else. Or how Barbara finds your search history a little odd with the names, news and details of certain politicians plus these were politicians that were given calling cards and suddenly confessed their crimes out of 'guilt'.

• So what is their next move? Do they deem the Phantom Thieves a threat or try to form an alliance with them? After all brainwashing people to confession doesn't feel right even though the outcome justified the means...

I'll probably continue writing more of this since I kind of ran out of ideas for now. Might have plans for a Light Yagami Reader. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed reading this. And apologizes if the characters are a little off since it's my first time writing for DC characters.

#batfamily x reader #batman x reader #batfamily headcanons #batfamily x you #platonic batfam

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thewinchestah · 6 months ago

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"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it.

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form.

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion.

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old.

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance.

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory.

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made. A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you.

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?”

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done.

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred.

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least.

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized.

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far.

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination.

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table. Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many.

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you.

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information.

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia.

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move.

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work.

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless.

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now?

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power.

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm.

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality.

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely.

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes.

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care?

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter.

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face.

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret.

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip.

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face.

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it”

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist.

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved”

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed. Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands.

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen.

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building.

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out.

Mutual destruction assured.

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?”

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words.

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve.

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out.

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too.

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love.

And now he is here.

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you.

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises.

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you. You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble.

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory.

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter.

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks.

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now.

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved.

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do”

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words.

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover.

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld.

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

“Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt.

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.” his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him.

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side.

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you, inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming.

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice.

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand.

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness.

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials.

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through.

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage.

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it.

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make”

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him”

a wrong type of static pricks your lips

“This won’t hurt”

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it.

Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain.

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison.

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal.

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing.

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him.

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought.

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him.

And then he stops.

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret”

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast?

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.”

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance, playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word.

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him.

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you.

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you.

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears.

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

But their machinations are all meaningless.

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

#HEY BUNNY ANON THIS ONE IS FOR YOU I NEVER FORGET A REQUEST I TAKE 5 MONTHS BUT I DONT FORGET IT #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon #hazbin hotel fic

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eugenedebs1920 · 2 months ago

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I’ve been a political junkie since before I could vote. I remember, I was in 3rd or 4th grade, listening to the radio when my mom was driving me somewhere. A news brief comes on and it’s about George H.W. Bush and Desert Storm. When the segment ended I said, “George bush sucks!” My mom got mad at me, not because of the statement, but because of the word suck, saying, “where did you learn that word Eugene?! Do you even know what suck means?” Honestly I really didn’t, but I knew it was an insult.

I have never! Not once, bailed on my civic duty to vote since turning 18. Presidential election, midterm election, special election, local. If I was given the opportunity to voice my opinion, I was about it.

I’ve always stayed pretty informed. Sometimes, like the current moment, far too much. The whole process fascinates me. Both the campaigning and the idea behind a representative , democratic election. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not wearing a light up, goofy hat. Although I did attend a Democratic National Convention once. Not the convention itself but I saw Rage Against the Machine perform for my second time, and the DNC time was free!

My first election I voted for Al Gore. I liked him. I thought he was smart. I liked his stance on the environment. I liked that he had the experience under Clinton that he had. I will also tell you, I didn’t then, nor have I ever, repped hats, or shirts, or flags of ANY president or presidential candidate. A pin or two the day I received em, or on my backpack maybe. Never though have I walked around with my political affiliation, or my affliction to a politician on full display. There were times when it wasn’t hard to tell with long hair, patchwork pants, big beard but.

That’s what has me so perplexed, not the hair and beard thing, but the devotion. I don’t get it. It would be different if it was, I don’t know, not Donald Trump! I mean, who really is that guy?

I saw him on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, a couple times as a kid, thought he seemed smug even then, I missed the whole Apprentice thing, didn’t even own a tv during that time. Was too busy living life. Is that where this follow derives from? I never saw one episode. I heard it wasn’t that good, nor did it have that high of ratings.

He isn’t a very elegant speaker. Go read a quote of his. When he says it, it kinda makes sense, but when you read one, it’s nothing. He says a bunch of words but he doesn’t say anything. It’s actually embarrassing that Trump quotes will forever be part of American history. Here’s an example from a rally when talking about Kamala Harris “back home to mommy. And she goes back home to mommy. ‘Was that you darlling?’ And then she gets the hell knocked out of her. Her mothers a big fan of ours. You know that, right? Her father, her mother. No, you always have that.” Mind you a couple things here. Right before this little snippet I clipped, he was talking about California and “whether you’re a Democrat, Republican, or independent this election is your chance to send a message”. Directly before, the next words are the mommy thing. It doesn’t piece together at all! Also. Kamala’s mom passed away quite a while ago from cancer. What is he even talking about!?

Now compare that to an Obama quote from 2004. “Yet even as we speak, there are those who are preparing to divide us, the spin masters and negative ad peddlers who embrace the politics of anything goes. Well, I say to them tonight, there's not a liberal America and a conservative America - there's the United States of America. There's not a black America and white America and Latino America and Asian America; there's the United States of America. The pundits like to slice-and-dice our country into Red States and Blue States; Red States for Republicans, Blue States for Democrats.”

See. It’s coherent, it has a driven message, it’s passionate. I can get behind that. Not talks about Hannibal Lecter, and electric boats. I don’t get it.

Moving forward.

Let’s talk about his presidency. What bills did he pass? There’s the massive corporate and wealthy tax cut that did very little for 98% of Americans. What else? Anybody? “Well, he built the wall and Mexico payed for it” that is false. There have been small sections built, but scattered, not even one long area. He increased the national debt by over $7.5 trillion. His policies, or lack there of with Covid caused hundreds of thousands of avoidable deaths. Those stimulus checks to keep Americans afloat are the cause of the inflation that we just now got back to normal. When he had to “print” money to give us so we could survive, the value of the dollar went down because there was more capital with no transaction, so with less value the dollar represents, the more things cost in relation to it. Economics is some weird, complicated, almost dogmatic stuff, but it kinda makes sense.

Then there’s the whole not accepting the election results thing. I’ve written and talked about over and over again. It’s exhausting! This is BY FAR the worst thing potentially ANYONE has done to America. More so than the 9/11 terror attacks, Pearl Harbor, Boston marathon, that’s a bold statement. Yet, through his narcissism not allowing him to concede to defeat, and claiming the election was rigged, it is an immensely damaging assault on the very foundation of this whole American democratic experiment. His words have sown doubt into the fabric of democracy with his baseless lies. He absolutely had the right to contest the results, do investigations, recounts, audits, and file suit with the evidence he had supporting his claims. The thing is, he had no evidence, there was no proof of any fraud because, there was none. Thats the end of the behavior that was acceptable. When all those court cases were dismissed for lack of evidence, that should have been it, but no.

All the tweets, all the interviews, all the scheming and plotting, after the court cases and recounts and whatnot, that’s sedition! Thats purposely conspiring against the United States. He knowingly pushed false information to Americans, who believed their commander in chief, and perpetrated the worst assault on our nation’s capital since the Civil War. Thats treason!!

The fact that that wasn’t the end is flabbergasting! The fact he is still in the public eye, let alone running for the seat he so immensely betrayed blows my f*cking mind!!

I don’t care about party affiliation, first and foremost we are Americans. First and foremost our allegiance is to the constitution. First and foremost we abide by the law. This sycophantic groveling to this guy is disgusting! It’s saddening. It’s unamerican.

This upcoming election will, and is saying a lot about us as Americans. The outcome will reflect who we are. I’m not sure I can say with confidence what that is. In the words of 4th grade Eugene, It sucks.

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traegorn · 2 months ago

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hi! i'm a young leftist lives in a moderate household. i just turned 18 this year, so i'm really excited to vote for the very first time.

you popped up on my timeline and i wanted to say thank you for a breath of fresh air. i can't wrap my head around some of the arguments leftists are sharing that imply or outright say that trump and harris are equivalent, that to even choose between the two signifies moral failure. seeing people ignore any political victories and helpful policies democrats have created, suggesting that they won't cement roe v. wade or student debt forgiveness on purpose... i'm no political expert but it's just been a lot.

i hate their specific attack on voting, as if it's the only thing that makes you complicit, and the many products and services we use simply by being americans are morally clean. seeing so many leftist creators promote this idea and pretty much exclusively demean libs and harris, as if trump and the scary things the republican party are doing in certain states don't even exist, has been exhausting. don't get me wrong - we should be critical of politicians - but i'd expect the critique to at least be proportional.

i don't know how people can hear trump say kamala harris is anti-israel and not understand that things can get worse. it doesn't make the suffering happening now any better, but it can get worse. do people really think "oh well genocide is already happening, what more can trump do?"

and to act like caring about minorities and disadvantaged people in america is a privileged, selfish thing to do is absolutely insane. i live in a blue state, comfortably middle class - my life will be fine either way. but i still care about other people! explicitly giving zero fucks about any american at all doesn't seem productive. that's surely going to draw people towards us!

maybe i'm idealistic but voting works - look at everything that's happened after trump's presidency. look at what the republicans and magas, showing up for their candidate, did for them. i know so many moderates who hate trump who still support the republican party in every way they can, in the voting booth and outside, simply because it's more beneficial for their personal gains.

it's cynical, but we can do the same, can't we? suck it up, realize that one of these two will be elected no matter what, and do our best to push the actually reasonable candidate further to the left?

maybe i really am just a liberal, fake leftist lol.

No, you're a leftist. It's the people refusing to vote and actually do something about the real problems in the world who are the fake ones.

I'm glad you get to vote, and that you have your head on right. We're in this together, and we can get it done.

Hell yeah.

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wannab-urs · 5 months ago

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Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 39

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome back to the Spreadsheet Digest! It's been.... a while. In order to make up for that, I have a nice long list of fics to rec. Also, surprise! I'm posting this on thursdays now.

All tags and summaries provided by the authors unless they didn't provide one, in which case I filled it in.

Wildest Dreams a Dave York series by @janaispunk

You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

explicit smut (18+ only, mdni), dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamic (reader becomes very dependent on Dave), dom/sub dynamics, angst, feelings, daddy issues, secret/forbidden relationship, corruption kink, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, Dave doesn’t kill people in this

the hitman’s guide to getting the girl a Dave York seriesby @kiwisbell

It's just another job, until Dave York decides to kidnap an enemy’s wiseass daughter. It’s just another job, until he falls in love.

kidnapping, murder, violence, the world being horrible to women, reader having a very terrible sense of self-preservation, unprotected piv, oral sex (m and f receiving), dave york finding his second calling as a pussy-eating god, pining, possessive sex, jealousy, daddy issues, (stockholm syndrome?), dirty talk, actually filthy talk, hitmen and politicians, revenge, scary man with a soft spot for his woman, philosophical foreplay, tramp stamp worship (you'll see), a little sprinkle of breeding kink if you look hard enough, obsessive behaviour, anal fingering, anal sex, implied age gap, light dom/sub vibes, light bondage

Obscenery a Dave York/Tim Rockford series by @sin-djarin

Dave is worried about the day ahead and Tim offers him some advice.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, edging, orgasm delay, these two come with their own warnings - in particular Tim's mouth and how much Dave really likes it.

Heaven is Hell a Dieter one shot by @inept-the-magnificent

Writing prompt: “I don’t get it,” says the demon, “This person’s lived a perfectly good and virtuous life. Why are you sending them to hell?” The angel nervously rubs the back of their head. “Honestly? We’re pretty sure they’d be happier in hell than heaven.”

demon!Dieter, Angel!marcus pike, mild angst, fluff, mention of drugs, alcohol, orgies, etc. The usual dieter rabble.

Scars and All a Din series by plaidamoosette (AO3)

Hidden away in the desert land of Jakku, you are slowly chipping away at the debt that you and your mother had accumulated following the death of your father to the horrible Denga Niima. But, after the recent passing of your mother, the debt has fallen on your shoulders. Using your skills as a mechanical engineer, you accumulate wealth for your slave master in the hopes that one day you will be free. Free to explore and live as your parents had always wished for you. But things change when you meet a certain bounty hunter when he comes to you to repair his ship. But, nothing is as it seems, and as the lies that were built around your life begin to crumble, you find yourself sucked into a journey of truth, betrayal, and... love.

Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Drama, Deceased Parents, Indentured Servitude, Soft Din Djarin, Soft Dominant Din Djarin, POV Alternating, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, Protective Din Djarin, Intimidation, Male Masturbation, Touch-Starved, Loss of Virginity, MC doesn't know how to take care of herself, Female Masturbation, Burried Trauma, Readers knows how to fight back, Mandalorians (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture & Customs (Star Wars), Some Canon material, A whole lot of other made up stuff

Just Can't Say Goodbye a Din one shot by @saradika

a final night is spent in the arms of your bodyguard, before your arranged union the next morning.

sorta medieval vibes, references to antiquated societal expectations, mentions and references to virginity, arranged marriage, technically infidelity because of said arrangement, light angst, sneaking around, first time, fingering, PiV, creampie

Back to You a Din series by @kyberblade

You’ve been friends with Mando for years, and he drops by your hole in the wall bar from time to time to catch up. This time, however, he’s carrying an extra little green passenger with him. They are on the run, which is unsettling because Mando doesn’t run from things. Things run from him. A tracking fob, a dead body, and a confession later, all three of you set out to help the child find it’s kind. (Aka: a really typical Din x Force Sensitive reader plot, but instead of the going from stiff scary Mando to friendly Mando it’s gonna kinda go the opposite way. Not in a bad way but she’s gonna finally get to see what exactly he was running from all those times he came back to see her.)

Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Angst, Humor, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romantic Friendship, Emotions, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Protective Din Djarin, Good Parent Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Force-Sensitive Reader, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Spicy thoughts, but no smut

Familiar Strangers an Ezra one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

When your boyfriend's band opens for Familiar Strangers, you get the chance to meet the lead singer. A man whose work you've long admired. A connection sparks a flame that may change your life forever.

Rockstar!Ezra, Infidelity, reader's boyfriend is a huge asshole and deserves it though, Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, everyone is consenting but they are impaired by alcohol

Brat a Frankie one shot by @freelancearsonist

You've been torturing Frankie, so he decides to return the favor.

short and filthy lil giflet, unprotected p in v sex, power dynamics kind of

Down the Hall a Frankie one shot by @frannyzooey

Your bedroom, just down the hall from his own, proves too tempting for Frankie to resist - even if he is your mother's boyfriend.

age gap, explicit smut, mom's boyfriend!frankie

All Through the Night a Jack one shot by @baronessvonglitter

after it's made clear that you're not welcome as a Junior Agent for the Statesman organization, Whiskey takes you under his protection for an unforgettable night

18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, mentor/mentee relationship, forbidden relationship, vandalism, nightmares, 'only one bed', first time, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, no use of y/n

Is Joel Okay? a Joel one shot by @djarinmuse

Based on this edit that @/iamasaddie shared, and the tag by @/wannab-urs, thanks Gin for the input "#Joel has a menty b and shaves his head". Reader is there for him. No idea who did the original edit but thanks.

Joel cuts his hair, the utter horror of that alone. No explicit smut but 18+ physical intimacy. Depressed Joel, soft Joel. Established relationship but no background given.

Unearth a Joel one shot by @ezrasbirdie

When your normally strict parents go out of town for two weeks and leave you on your own for the first time with little warning, you're left reeling and afraid of being on your own for so long. Luckily, Joel Miller, your father's best friend, very generously offers to let you stay with him. Your long time crush on him shouldn't be a problem at all.

smut, yearning, Joel is a little manipulative, loss of virginity, dad's best friend, nice big age gap (reader is 21, Joel is 40), liberal use of baby girl, religious trauma of the Christian variety (no denomination noted), reader wears a sundress, shaming of sexuality, bad relationship with reader's parents, insecurity, flirting, trouble orgasming, pussy pronouns (she/her), humping/grinding, masturbation, unprotected PIV, oral sex, references to early 00s media, soft Joel

What it is to grow a Joel one shot by @burntheedges

Joel knows he can't keep running from it – from Her – forever.

angst, hurt/comfort, hope, mentions of the canon depths of Joel’s depression (pills, alcohol, darkness, etc.), canon character death (Sarah), AU with Greek lore/gods & goddesses in the TLOU universe, character study

Birthday Boy a Joel one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Even with a house full of party guests, Joel can't resist when he finds a moment alone with you in the bathroom.

Masturbation, Frottage, light d/s, orgasm denial. Just general Joel Miller filth. There's like a smidge of plot right at the end.

Duality of a Man a Joel series by @wildemaven

A woman shows up at your door looking for your boyfriend

Mentions of food, Mentions of killing, death, birth, birth trauma

Consider it a Favor a Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Your AC breaks in your car and the one person around to help is your neighbor, Mr.Miller.

Age gap (Not specified but I put Sarah in college) DILF Joel mowing his lawn, reader is able-bodied and is wearing a swim suit/coverup, reader has hair Joel can pull, kissing, swearing, (1) blowjob, size kink go brrr, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, baby) facedown ass up, babey, a little manhandling, unprotected penetration (don't look at me okay, the whore in me jumped out), dirty talk, Joel hyping up his ego, pussy ownership, creampie, a little glimpse of aftercare and what really happened to your AC.

Absolution a Joel series by @pedgito

Moving in with your soon-to-be stepfather under the roof of his brother, Joel, ends up being a turning point of change in your life.

DDDNE - stepcest, religious trauma, parental trauma. addition warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel (reader's mom is engaged to marry tommy) age gap (20/late 40s), inappropriate relationships/behavior, slight dubcon (voyeurism), eventual smut (will tag with specific on each chapter), skewed morals, joel using alcohol to cope with life and loss, reader is in the depths of deconstruction.

Imperfect for you a Joel one shot by @joelscruff

you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby.

age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles

rotten a Joel one shot by @alltheirdamn

Sharing land with Joel Miller has always been infuriating, but when your bad attitude finally gets his attention...things get messy

No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, explicit language, brat taming, semi dark!joel, dubcon elements, degrading, choking, rough spanking, hair pulling, face slapping, throat fucking, touch of dacryphilia, rope/bondage, rough unprotected piv sex, hint of a subspace moment, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, no aftercare because joel is an old, grumpy asshole

Lost Cause a Joel one shot by @Joelalorian

Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree.

Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope

rosemary by the garden gate Joel/Tim Rockford/Dio series by @marisferasiop

(set in an approximate late nineties/early aughts timeline) Shane, turned out by his family after being outed, is sleeping rough when he is abducted by a sex trafficking ring. Joel is Tess' lead enforcer in her gang. His twin brother, Tim, is a highly decorated detective in Major Crimes for the NYPD. Together, they help Tess and her investments navigate both sides of the law. When Shane is given to Joel one evening at a truce meeting between Tess' gang and their rivals, a human trafficking syndicate, he calls Tim to initiate a bust on the opposition. His one request: he wants the kid. Problem is, once Tim meets him, so does he. Most importantly: what does Shane want once his freedom is granted? Or does he even want his freedom, if these two are holding the reigns?

dead dove!! Human trafficking, unhoused gay minors/unhoused gay youth, abuse (physical, sexual, mental/emotional), sex trafficking, sex work, homelessness, food insecurity, stealing to survive, abduction, sex slave trade, gagging/choking (later consensual breathplay), rough oral, "painal" kink, non-con drugging, enemas, forced sex work, bondage for sex and for binding/imprisonment, non-con sex/rape, mafia-esque work and associated unpleasantness (gore and violence), mean but soft Joel, face slapping, spanking as foreplay, caning as punishment, orgasm delay/control, spitting in mouth, body modifications, marking, cum play, all the soft life-affirming gay sex after rescue (Joel and Tim are twins and don't fuck e/o but they do fuck Shane together at one point) a mention of the Meat Rack, the gay sex worker alley where serial killer Des Nilsen abducted his victims.

Win a Date With Javi G + Part 2 a Javi G/Jack Daniels/Reader series by @absurdthirst and @wardenparker

You and your best friend are huge fans of Spanish pop star Javi G, and she managed to convince you to enter a contest to win a date with the singer himself. No one is more surprised than you when you actually win. / Going home with Javi and Jack after the Grammys might be the most important decision you've ever made...

Cursing. Food/alcohol. Pure fluff and flirting. A little dirty talk/dirty flirting toward the end./ Dom/sub dynamic. MMF threesome. *This story features an established MM relationship!* Sex toys, collaring, dirty talk, enthusiastic use of 'Daddy', oral sex (f and m receiving), hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, dom!Jack, sub!Javi, cumplay, rimming, light choking, spanking, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, after care, exploration of power dynamics.

Waffles and Cigarettes a Javi P one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

After you are attacked during a night out, your ex boyfriend comes to your rescue

Attempted sexual assault (not Javi), violence, descriptions of blood and injuries, fingering, spit as lube, unprotected PIV, kinda rough sex, creampie, angst. absolutely feral, protective ex boyfriend Javi

Midnight Rainstorms a Javi P one shot by @thundermartini

Javier is coming home late, escaping from a storm. You’re trying hard not to drown in the incessant rain.

no y/n, female reader, reader is not physically described (except she has long hair), javier and reader are married, mentions of anxiety, mentions of trauma, mentions of guilt, mentions of narcos plot but it’s a blur, nightmare so it may be triggering, grief, no beta.

Crawl a Max Phillips one shot by @proxima-writes

Gym owner Max Phillips offers to let you use the sauna. In return, he uses your mouth.

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), no use of y/n, able bodied reader, dirty talk, crawling, oral (m receiving), no aftercare, semi-public sex.

Dancing Phantoms on the Terrace an Oberyn one shot by @janaispunk

You show up to Oberyn's party

(somewhat) modern!Oberyn, able bodied reader, reader has hair that wind is "whipping through", no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, once again it's all aboard the angst train i'm sorry babes

Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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khalixvitae · 3 months ago

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I never post here anymore due to personal stuff, but I want to reach out on all my socials about this because people need to see it. Can I just say that I am so incredibly disheartened by some people’s responses to what is happening in the South Eastern US/Appalachia? I really can’t explain the level of devastation that is unfolding here under Hurricane Helene. There are people trapped in my childhood neighborhood without power or water because of downed trees and power lines and flooding. I couldn’t get ahold of my family for more than a day because there was a massive cell service outage in my state. Parts of where I grew up will not have electricity for three weeks. My family could be without electricity for three weeks. I didn’t know if my best friend was okay for 12 hours because there was no way to communicate and we live two hours away from one another. I’m entering day 3 of not having electricity.

And frankly, we’re on the luckier side. A town my family has visited every year for the last 20 years is fucking gone- leveled by flooding from a failed dam. Everything including the road is completely washed out, and this is in the fucking mountains. And that’s just what we know about so far during what is still widespread cell service failure. There are entire interstates that have washed out or fallen apart during mudslides- whole towns are gone, and people cannot call for help.

And the number of people I’ve seen, people who say they’re advocating for MY rights as a trans/queer person, who have fully dismissed this in favor of taking to twitter to make comments about how it’s “Trump Country anyway” and how we “deserve it” and “should’ve voted blue to keep this from happening” is brutal. Every time something happens to us down here, out of touch middle class liberals are so quick to blame our collective region of the country for struggles we do not have the time, energy, money, or legislation to prevent. As if we’re fucking stupid and should be purged, like we somehow matter less because our politicians are a breed of fucked up that a whole lot of us disagree with. We aren’t a monolith and we are right fucking here, and mocking us on twitter in the middle of a humanitarian crisis is not going to help your case, I promise.

I cannot explain to you what it’s like to hear somebody with your mother’s accent describe that they can’t pull people out of cars quick enough because the flood water is moving too fast. Everything I’ve ever known is either blipped off the power grid or under water. I’m begging you, please see us as people who are suffering and not as a monolithic entity.

There are trans and queer people here, just like everywhere else. We are suffering at the hands of legislation we don’t believe in, legislation that thinks we should die, and now a mounting natural disaster that we still don’t know the full extent of. There are poor communities, communities that are predominantly BIPOC, disabled people, it goes on. There are a whole lot of us who don’t fit the criteria of the pro trump agenda, who don’t match the bill of what an American southerner looks like in the minds of those who have never been here, who are actively suffering. We ARE voting blue both locally and on the federal level.

But here’s the kicker: it doesn’t fucking matter that we’re here. My life doesn’t mean anything more than my neighbor who might hate who I am to their very bones. Nor am I more deserving of aid than them, even if I hate them right back. The concept of withholding aid or hesitating to help particular regions because of what their government officials believe is heinous. Hell, even if regular civilians believe it too, it’s still wrong and morally reprehensible. Similarly, providing aid with the caveat of “converting those stubborn hicks” to the cause is downright evangelical and fucking evil. This is a humanitarian crisis, and people need help. And truly if you think it would be better if the south couldn’t vote, or that we collectively deserve this on some moral or karmic basis, I really need you to think critically about those exact talking points because they should sound shockingly familiar. Governments should help their people, and that should be a bipartisan priority. I don’t give a fuck what anyone says- people who are ignoring this because of where it’s happening are vile and need to get themselves sorted out. And the people who do think this is some sort of universal comeuppance for this part of the country can- and I mean this truly deeply, from my heart of hearts- go straight to hell.

I’m going to be posting resources to help those in need in the Appalachia region, as well as Florida. I’ll include shelters, food banks, etc. I’ll have them out soon. I don’t use this blog really anymore but this is the least I can do.

#hurricane helene #appalachia #resources #Florida #north carolina #south carolina #humanitarian aid

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desmon1995 · 2 months ago

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Female Warriors, Broadway, and the American Dream.

The Warriors have been out for about 2 weeks now and it's slowly but steadily building up a pretty passionate following.

I think one of the biggest changes that have been rough for some long time over years 79 fans is that the Warriors are now female, which some argue ruins the point of the original and or softens the story too much.

While I do respect everybody's opinion when it comes to artistic criticism, I do think that dismissing the concept album just because it features women is a little short-sighted IMHO.

Regurgitating the original male cast just in musical album form would not only be repetitive but would make it no different than other Broadway show that focus on gang violence like West Side story or now The Outsiders.

We have so many shows that focus on brotherhood, kinship, and just masculinity not even within film but also on Broadway, but we hardly ever see the same for female characters.

The Female Warriors are very rough around the edges, foul-mouthed, violent at times, and in the case of cowgirl, lustful.

They're also different body types, present themselves differently, and are all played by BIPOC.

I've seen a lot of Broadway shows in my 30 years of living, and we just don't get diverse female characters like this a lot if at all.

If any female character had the above traits they would likely be presented as being the less than ideal woman or flat out villainous.

The girls have flaws, but these are just things they picked up because of how rough the world has been to them, and at the end of the day they're not only friends but a family.

That's a big difference between the female warriors and their male counterparts from the movie and novel.

The Male Warriors are supposed to be seen as what ends up happening when youths get tangled up in gang culture and how it turns them into monsters.

When the police arrest Ajax in the film it's because of how unruly and savage he was acting and likewise Fox getting killed along with Cleon is supposed to be seen as a consequence of them even being a part of this culture to begin with.

I've said it before, but I think while the intentions may be good it's viewing these marginalized groups through a very White and conservative lens.

Nobody wants to be a part of a gang or run away from home but sometimes living in poverty, an abusive household, or just being crushed by the system forces people to do desperate things and more often than not that's banding together with like-minded people.

Another thing is that most of the Warriors in the original film are White and that's largely just due to the fact that an audience back in the 1970s would be less willing to watch something that didn't at least feature several white main leads otherwise they'd be uncomfortable and uninterested.

From a modern-day perspective, a person like male Ajax would likely get away with his sexually aggressive behavior because of the color of the skin ( you can look at a certain orange politician to see that in present day) and we now know thanks to things like BLM that the police do not always operate in good faith nor to protect the people.

I think that's why the concept album is so good and culturally relevant despite having being created nearly a few years ago.

The Warriors consisting of a group of marginalized women that banded together to support one another to conduct a world that really doesn't care for them is a story you really get to hear not just on Broadway but in Hollywood in general.

Luther being a white gang leader and killing a black cultural figure like Cyrus in cold blood to stop any semblance of progress is the tale as all this time and how he mocks the AAVE the non-white groups he surrounds himself with after making life hell for them is especially painful.

Luther and Crosby literally don't have to worry about ever being hounded by the police because of how they look which allows them to get away with literal murder, but it is very telling that he ends up crumbling the moment he's confronted and called out for his misdeeds.

The cops themselves are also completely reworked for the concept album as opposed to them just being the boys in blue doing their job to get rid of the trash that is the Warriors like the original film, they're essentially the biggest antagonist even more so than the Rogues.

Both police officers that appear in the album have a cat calling motif which doubles as sounding like police sirens just to illustrate how dangerous and cancerous they are not just to the Warriors but to the community as a whole.

Captain Victor and Barnes abuse their power and end up nearly subduing the Warriors by killing Fox and sexually a harassing and later arresting Ajax.

In Derailed Victor even tries to kill the warriors with his squadron before they run away to the cemetery and all of this is done because they can.

The fact that these two are portrayed by people from the 1979 Warriors film sort of acts as a double entender because in the original, the Warriors themselves are supposed to be seen as monsters and what happens when kids fall too deep into the sins of the world, so the cops view the women as nothing more than street rats who need to be exterminated .

The Warriors are guilty because they're marginalized women and that's enough for them to be blown away as far as society and the system is concerned.

I think in some ways, the Warriors is basically the reverse of LMM's other work Hamilton because it shows that the American dream isn't really for everybody and that sometimes you have to find another means to live by.

The system very much failed the Warriors so they had to rely on themselves to make it through the world because nobody else would bother with them.

It's for this reason why I'm sort of against the idea that this album needs to be radically changed in order for it to move the Broadway.

Doing things like giving Luther more complex feelings, adding in things to help the predominantly white audience and critics understand how Urban culture works, and rewriting the characters themselves just to be more stage appropriate seems like it undoes what the musical was trying to say.

I think this story as it is is one worth telling and beyond maybe a bit of polish I don't really think it should be tempered with too much.

If Lin and Eisa were to doll the Warriors up too much it would basically be a completely different story altogether and what we would have is just another Broadway musical that allows the audience to digest certain things that they may not understand nor possibly want to hear.

I think we as a society have moved beyond watering down things so that people who aren't even from the community that these stories come from can sleep better at night.

I think that's why this album and the original movie have dedicated fan bases to them because it does speak to a generation of people.

#warriors musical #lin manuel miranda #eisa davis #broadway #musical theatre

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theconstitutionisgayculture · 1 year ago

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Genuinely trying to understand why a gay person would be supporting the party you do.

Not American myself but from what I understand there’s a lot of homophobia there.

It doesn’t look like Democrats are perfect either but at least less hostile to gays?

I'll dispense with my usual "Shut the fuck up European" image response because you do actually seem genuine, so here's my genuine answer.

Yeah, there's some homophobia on the right. Some. It's nowhere near what the media would have you believe. But there's homophobia on the left, too. The left just has the media and their ability to shape a narrative on their side. The worst thing I've had said to me by someone on the right was that they don't support gay marriage and think its a sin. Or that they think gay sex is disgusting. And that's fine. I don't like hearing about certain sexual acts myself and find them gross and weird. I don't need anyone else to approve or support my sex life.

And as for the part about gay marriage, I understand where most of them are coming from when they say that, too. They truly feel that their religious beliefs are under attack and that religious marriage is supposed to be between one man and one woman. But even many of those people will say that they don't really care if gays get legally married as long as there's some differentiation between the religious ceremony of marriage, and the legal institution of marriage, which are two different things. I personally don't need anyone to validate my marriage but me and my husband. I don't care if it's legally recognized. I don't care if it's recognized by any particular church. My marriage and my relationships are my own personal business. And there are a lot of people on the right who feel the exact same way.

So, that's the worst I've gotten from the right. Let's talk about the worst I've gotten from the supposedly gay friendly left. The following is not a complete list, but here's some of the things that I've been told by Democrats and other leftists when they find out I'm a gay right winger, both online and offline:

Kill yourself

Die faggot

You should be gay bashed

I hope you get raped by a closeted Republican politician

I hope your dog dies

Kill yourself

You're a traitor to all gay people

Kill yourself with one of those guns you love

I hope you get cancer and die horribly

I hope your husband dies

You should be sent to a concentration camp

Kill yourself

and basically every anti-gay slur you can possibly think of

That's what I get from the left, from other gay people, when they find out I vote differently then they do. Just based on these anecdotal experiences with the American right and the American left, I think it's pretty clear why I find myself on one side and not the other.

But!

I'm not a one issue voter. Gay issues are mostly meaningless to me. What I care about are personal freedoms, protecting my rights, and the success of my country on the world stage. Currently, the American right aligns with those beliefs way more than the left. That's not to say the Republican Party always aligns perfectly with what I want or believe, but the reality is we live in a two party system. Until enough of us get together and make a nationally viable third party, if the choice in presidential elections is between one party that I almost never agree with and whose stated goals are to violate my rights and destroy everything I love about America, and one party that does what I voted for them to do around half the time, of course I'm voting for the second party nationally.

Locally it can be a bit different. It's easier to effect local elections and policies just by being active, and in geographically close areas the differences between the people running for town council might not be as wide as two people running for president nationally, so I won't just vote the R party line by default. I've voted libertarian locally before. Hell, I even voted Democrat once. But, for the most part, it's the Republicans who I feel will do what I think should be done more than the other parties. And that's why I vote for them, and why I'm a registered Republican. Well, that and I want to be able to vote in the Republican primaries.

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etherealyoungk · 1 year ago

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—⟡ covert desires (teaser)

summary: the mission is simple - infiltrate a high-stakes auction that the top leaders, businessmen, women, and politicians of the world attend every year and steal one of the most highly guarded and hidden-away paintings from the target’s collection. the only downside, you had to work with kim mingyu, whom you absolutely hated. and to make it even worse, you had to pretend to be his wife for this mission to work.

pairing: spy!mingyu x assasin!reader (fem!reader)

themes: spy au, mafia, enemies to lovers, fake marriage, mutual pining, spies, angst, fluff, killing

warnings: suggestive, kissing, use of curse words, weapons, guns, knives, violence, use of drugs/painkillers, blood, gore, killing, death

wordcount: 750 words for the teaser (17.8k full fic) link to full fic here!

a/n: i had so much fun writing this! please note that this is purely a work of fiction!

i'll be posting the full fic when i hit 3.5k to celebrate! teaser under the cut!

you wipe the last of the blood off your hands and carefully move the body, manipulating the crime scene to make it look like it was a suicide. with a carefully crafted suicide scene, the police wouldn’t even blink an eye and just close the case as a suicide, not wanting to bother investigating further.

you just had to leave around the right clues and bait them. once they’d find it, they’d conclude the case without thinking any further and your job was done. you were sure no one would even miss the bastard that you had just sent to hell anyways. after scanning the room, you make sure everything is in place before exiting quietly and disappearing into the shadows.

when you reach home to your apartment, you swiftly change out of your soiled and bloody clothes. the idiot decided had put up a fight, making things harder for himself really. you planned on killing him quietly, but the fight he put up was unnecessary and he wasn’t going to stand a chance against you regardless. you would have finished earlier and your clothes would have been significantly less bloody. sighing, you peel off the clothes and they fall to the floor in a heap as you step into the shower. the warm water offers some sort of relief and relaxation, your muscles relaxing under the hot water. wrapping a towel around yourself, you step out and hear the faint ring of your burner phone fill the room.

“hello?”, you say as you put the phone to your ear.

“did you get the job done?”, the voice on the other side asks.

“yes, you didn’t hire the best for no reason, did you?”, you scoff back, offended he’d have a sliver of doubt in your skills.

“good. we have another urgent matter on hand and it has to be discussed in person. you know where to meet me”, the voice adds.

“i swear if it’s another-“

“you’ll love this one, trust me”, the voice says, cutting you short and hanging up as you begin to say something. you curse under your breath; that idiot never had manners. you huff, throwing the phone on the bed, changing into something comfortable before you crash into bed, too tired to complain or think about anything else.

you were an assassin or a hired killer you could say. but you liked to call yourself an assassin - because let’s be real, it sounds cooler. you were trained, skilled, and good at what you did – which was killing people, bad people specifically. when you weren’t out hunting people down, you were working as a barista at a local cafe. it was somewhat therapeutic compared to your other occupation. but you had to if you wanted to survive in this world. if you wanted your life to have some semblance of normalcy. the world was a cruel place and somehow you ended up doing this for a living but hey, at least it paid well.

the next morning you’re sitting in the hall of seungcheol’s fancy office, or what you liked to call the safehouse. “you’re here! let me tell seungcheol”, dino says upon seeing you, flashing you a friendly smile. you give him a small smile as he retreats, making his way to look for seungcheol.

seungcheol walks in a few moments later, and his presence can be felt in the room immediately. no one messes with him – everyone knew that. he was the most feared man in the underground mafia and a threat to the government as well. his connections and dirt on powerful people ran too deep with secrets only he knew and used as leverage. hell, even the government would hire him to do their dirty work so he was practically untouchable.

“what’s this urgent matter that needs to be discussed in person?”, you ask, once he sits down opposite you.

“no hi?”, he prompts, raising his brow as he looks at you.

“no thank you for yesterday?”, you prod back, challenging him. you were really the only person seungcheol let speak to him like that. he’d pretty much raised you and he didn’t seem to mind, especially since you did most of his dirty work.

“we seem to have gotten ourselves another lucrative mission”, he starts off, treading carefuly with his words. “it’s something worth millions if not billions, so this is a really high-stakes operation.”, he tells, observing you. “and we’re getting paid handsomely for it and so will you if it goes well”, he says.

taglist: @daisycheols @naaaaafla @weird-bookworm @fairyhaos @icyminghao @kyeomyun @joshuaahong @idubiluv @slytherinshua @wheeboo

send an ask or drop a comment down below to be added to the taglist for this fic!

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magnetothemagnificent · 1 year ago

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“Orthodox jewish ppl tend to vote for conditions that make your life materially worse bc the republicans pretend to be nice to them” okay. Cool. My life as a trans person is still shit and I don’t really care why they supported the person who wanted to make it shit; they did and that’s what counts.

Have you considered that maybe Orthodox Jews are just like you, voting for people they think will improve *their* material conditions? Have you considered that maybe transphobia isn't the only axis of oppression and that Orthodox Jews are considering their own safety and well-being just as much as you are considering yours? If you voted for an antisemitic but trans-friendly politician (and there are many of them), do you think Jews wouldn't feel the same way you do? We live in a hell scape and we're all trying to survive, and anyway, Orthodox Jews are such a tiny minority and are not the reason for your oppression, and if you think they are, then you're believing antisemitic conspiracy theories that Jews are the root of all the world's ills.

#sighhh #jumblr #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #lgbt antisemitism

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cherrycola27 · 1 year ago

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the darkest little paradise

Series Warnings: Mafia!AU. Language, drugs, alcohol, death, violence, smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Next Part

...........................................

Prologue: The Auction

It had been sixteen years since you'd been home. Sixteen years since you made the biggest mistake of your life and your father shipped you off to boarding school in Italy.

You'd learned a lot in those sixteen years. You redeemed yourself in your father's eyes and helped grow the family business. You were certain that he was going to give you back your birthright and make you his successor once again. Something you had lost that faithful night.

But before he could, he died, tragically, suddenly—suspiciously.

You were sure it was at the hands of your younger brother. He'd always been jealous of you. You were positive that he set you up all those years ago and convinced your father that he would be a better heir to the empire.

You knew that he killed your father to keep him from handing you the business.

You just had to prove it.

You hated being back in the States. But your brother forced you to come back by having your assets frozen. It was wither come home, sell your body, or starve. Honestly, the last two options don't seem so bad now.

Thankfully, you wouldn't have to face him today. Instead, you were making an appearance in his honor at a charity auction at your country club. It was a masked bachelor's auction. Feral men and women with more money than they had sense would bid on attractive men from the community like they were prized cattle. To make it more anonymous, everyone masks. It added to the appeal.

You knew that these auction weren't supposed to end in an R-rated way, but you knew more often than not, they did. That's exactly what you were hoping for.

Your brother was supposed to be one of the bachelors tonight, but he was called away on "business." His right hand and second in command would be stepping in for him. You planned on spending whatever amount it took to take him home with you tonight.

Your brother would kill you if he knew what you were planning, but you didn't care. This was all a part of the long game that you were playing.

You reached into your clutch purse and took our mirror, and checked your reflection. Your red lipstick was still perfect. The silvery- grey mask your wore looked flawless and complimented your outfit well.

You were dressed in your signature color— sapphire blue. The liquid silk gown you had chosen flowed over your body and hugged your neck with a beautiful halter neckline. You had platinum and pearl and sapphire earrings dangling from your lobes.

Your mother's well loved sapphire and diamond ring was snug on your right hand, where it had lived ever since she passed.

Your driver turned into the country club and made his way up the long driveway before pulling up to the front doors where an actual red carpet had been rolled out. You rolled tour eyes at the spectacle that was being made. Sure, the theme of the evening was "Hollywood Glamour," but this felt like a bit much.

Nevertheless, you put your mirror away and grabbed the snow-white fur stole from the seat beside you and draped it between your elbows. It was the same color as the fine powder that you finally was infamous for.

Your father always told people he made his money through a hedge fund, but really, your family fortunate came from the drug trade, cocaine to be specific.

While you personally didn't participate in the use of your family product, you could sell the hell out of it. You introduced it to the upper crust circle of Europe and expanded business ten-fold for your father.

And as much as you wish you could say your family's real business was a secret, you knew it wasn't. Your father had every politician and lawman in his back pocket. You could get away with anything because of who you were.

You sat patiently as you waited for your car door to be opened. Soon, Raphael, your driver opened the door and extended his hand for you. "Remember, pick me up at seven tomorrow morning." You reminded him.

Raphael nodded his head before a tuxedo clad man escorted you to your seat. "Can I get you a drink, ma'am?" He asked you as you settled into your table at the back of the room, away from everyone else.

"Gin martini, chilled glass, lemon twist." You told him without looking up. He quickly scurried away as one of the organizers from the club brought you your auction paddle.

"Good evening, Miss Sapphire." A voice call to you. "Donny." You said as your personal security guard came and took a seat beside you. A black leather breif case tucked under his arm.

"Do you have it?" You asked him as your martini was set down in front of you. "Yes, ma'am." Donny replied. "Good." You said as you took a sip of your drink.

...............

The auction was just as you had predicted. Women and their perfectly manicured nails and men with their expensive cufflinks zealously bidded, all in the name of charity of course.

You bided your time, sipping your martini, waiting for him to come up.

Finally, the emcee announced him. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've saved the best for last, so get your paddles and your checkbooks ready for bachelor lucky number thirteen, or as we like to call him, Rooster!"

A roar of applause went up as he took the stage. And why wouldn't it? Rooster was handsome in his blue suit that he had paired with a red and blue statement dress shirt. The first few buttons were undone, giving the people a peak and the tone, tanned skin underneath. He had a matching blue mask across his eyes, and a pair of Italian leather loafers on his feet. You could see the glint of the Montblanc watch sticking out from under the sleeve of suit, and the thick gold ring he wore on his pinky.

You had to admit, he looked good. Gone was the scrawny half grown kid you remembered your father taking all those years ago. Just be he shipped you off.

He had been replaced by a man, tall, handsome, and brawny with years of heartache behind his eyes.

"Let's start the bidding for a date with the handsome Rooster at twenty-five thousand dollars." The emcee said.

Paddles immediately went up. You signaled for Donny to raise yours. The bidding climbed higher and higher, passing one hundred thousand. "Jump the bid to a quarter of a million." You told Donny. It was a strategy you had learned from your father, jumping the bid normally deterred the competition.

"Are you sure?" Donny asked you. "Yes." You told him.

"Two-hundred fifty thousand." Donny said as he raised your paddled. There was a gasp followed by murrmers from the crowd. The emcee continued with fewer participants. You growled in frustration as the amount climbed higher you continued to bid, having Donny jump it again to half a million. You thought for sure that would win, but a brunette at the front of the room countered your bid.

You were locked in a bidding war with her. It was a battle to see who would give first. Finally, you told Donny, "One million. Bid it. Now."

"Ma'am, I—" Donny stuttered. You shot him a deadly glare. He swallowed before lifting your paddled and loudly proclaiming your bid. The room went silent. "Wow, one million dollars. Do I hear one point one million?" The emcee asked. The brunette shook her head.

"Okay, one million going once, twice. Sold to bidder number six one six." The emcee said as he announced the end of the auction and next steps. You quickly took the brief case from Donny before giving him a hotel key card and a set of instructions to give to Rooster.

You then went to pay your debt. The country club treasurer was quite shocked when you presented her with the million dollars in cash, but was thankful for your "donation." Once your debt was clear, Donny drove you to the Four Seasons. He has an idea of what you had planned, but he knew better than to say anything.

Once there, you made your way in the back entrance and up to your penthouse suite and waited for Rooster.

Room service already had champagne, caviar, and a full bar cart stocked for you.

Thirty minutes after your arrival, Rooster entered the living area of the suite.

"Hello there, Rooster. Can I get you a drink?" You asked him as he made his way into the room. His eyes flitted about, taking in every detail.

"Cognac. If you have it." He said hesitantly. You poured a glass for the both of you before gesturing for him to sit. You stood across from him, watching as he took the drink from you and took a long sip.

You couldn't get a full read on him, but the way his eyes were roaming over your body, you knew you'd be able to seduce him.

You took a seat across from him. Neither of you spoke.

"So— what did you have in mind for the evening?" He asked you. You knew that Bradley was smart enough to know what you had planned.

You didn't answer him. Instead, you stood up and unhooked the top of your dress and pulled the side zipper down. The garment pooled at your feet, revealing the lingerie you had on underneath.

You then sat back down in your chair and kicked your shoes up on the table. The red soles matched your lipstick.

You took another sip of your drink as Rooster sighed and raked his hands through his sandy blonde curls.

"This isn't that kind of date, ma'am." Rooster protested.

You leaned back into the chair and brought the crystal glass of cognac to your lips. He watched you, tentatively as you sipped the rich liquid.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I paid a million dollars for a small slice of your time, sir. That's quite a bit of money. More than you're worth. So, this evening is what I say it is, Mr. Bradshaw." You smirk back at him. You tilt your head to the side as if to dare him to challenge you.

"How do you know my name?" He asks you.

"I'm a very powerful woman, Bradley. I belong to a very powerful family. It's my business to know everyone I associate myself with." You tell him.

He stands up and moves closer to you. You give him a wink.

His feet stay rooted in place as he looks you over. He devoured every inch of the sapphire blue lingerie that you were clad in. You could tell he appreciated the way the bustier hugged your breasts and how he was enticed by the bows tied atop the garters you wore.

"Well, Miss—" He trailed off, still not knowing your name.

"Sapphire. You can call me Sapphire." You filled in the blank for him.

"Well, Sapphire, what exactly did you have in mind?" Bradley asked you with a teasing smirk.

"I want you to take off that Armani suit and show me why they call you Rooster." You replied with no hesitation in your voice.

Bradley chuckled as he reached for his cufflinks. He dropped them, and his watch unceremoniously onto the table before sliding off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He twisted his pinky ring a few times before giving you a devilish grin.

Your lips curled as you sat up straighter.

He stalked over to you before planting a hand on each arm of your chair. That's when you knew you had him.

Perfect.

Everything was going according to plan.

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csolarstorm · 2 months ago

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Thoughts on Agatha All Along - Finale!

Well, I've managed to piece together a post from the notes I took after that awesome two part finale. I enjoyed it a lot, so this is gonna be a long one! So follow me, my friend, as I give my thoughts on Episode 8 and 9 of Agatha All Along.

Now this is one of the most interesting character redemptions I've seen in young adult/family media, because it isn't really a redemption!

Agatha's redemption goes just as far as her motherly bond with Billy, but other than that, the show is less about redemption and more about retribution. We thought when Episode 5 said "Punish Agatha", that would be an outlier, a temporary obstacle to the coven coming together. Nope. There's too much red - I mean, purple - in Agatha's ledger. Agatha is who she is, and the show never rewards her for her treachery. In fact, her cynical, callous worldview costs her everything…even her death. Agatha is literally reduced to a ghost because she rejects the literal embodiment of the life cycle. (And she can't face Nicky.)

She's literally "mommy Voldemort"! That is one of the weirdest things I've ever written!

The only thing Agatha doesn't lose at the end of the series is her bond with Billy - and that's even a close one. He almost banishes her! That's a fun inversion of the beginning where he deliberately seeks her out. But in mentoring Billy, Agatha has a sort of second chance at parenthood after losing her son. So she is given that grace.

Okay, technically the show does kind of give Agatha the anti-hero treatment, or else she wouldn't end up Billy's mentor. Clearly Agatha has something to teach Tommy about the nature of power and ruthlessness of the world. Billy's chaos magic is unfathomably powerful - like his mom, he was bound to accidentally hurt people at some point. And Agatha was absolutely right about this: "get used to this feeling if you're going to be a witch". That's unfortunately what being powerful is like. Think of all the collateral damage the Avengers have caused. Heck, Wanda at Lagos. Billy really does take after his mother.

It's the same way in the real world. Any decision a politician makes, money a billionaire invests, has ripple effects the victimize somebody, a shadowy cost to match the reward.

It's one thing to trample others on accident when you swing around your power, but hurting others on purpose actually does actually hurt you, and I think this show expertly portrays that. It doesn't fall into this trap of making Agatha some amoral badass that people idolize for giving them permission to be assholes. The power of virtue is not a metaphor, not just a moral gimmick meant to promote societal adhesion. The callousness of treachery actually affects your ability to form meaningful relationships, which is part of living a satisfying life. Under that facade of bravado and villainy, Agatha is suffering deep inside. Of course, your mileage may vary, only the good die young, yadda yadda. There's plenty of happy monsters and sociopaths in the world.

This show has some really interesting parallels with Loki. You can even argue that Agatha ended up with a parallel but also opposite fate to Loki: a ghost to the world, cut off from life and death. Only unlike Loki, she can still interact with others.

Agatha All Along DEFINITELY follows Wandavision's footsteps when it comes to flipping audience expectations. Only this time it's not as simple as Ralph Bohner or those "devils in the details". Agatha All Along is deliciously character driven, so all the devils in these details are character-related.

The Coven and Sisterhood

Let's start with the biggest "twist": around the middle of the show, the story was about sisterhood: four wayward witches and one familiar setting aside their differences and learning to work together as coven.

That all goes to hell with Agatha kills Alice and Billy yeets everyone into the mud. (In retrospect, that's definitely part of why I was disappointed with Episode 5. I could feel the change in direction in the awkward writing.) Sure, Lillia embraces the coven before her death, but Jen definitely does not find kinship with Agatha in the end. In fact, Agatha screwed her over a hundred years before the show began, and Jen's final challenge is getting away from Agatha's toxic influence.

And then the whole coven plot definitely goes to hell when it turns out that not only was the road not even real, but the legend of the road itself was just Agatha's lie to lure witches into her coven to murder them over and over again! Granted we knew that Agatha wanted to kill the coven from the beginning, but this is a whole other layer of deception.

I know this pisses some people off, because obviously it feels like Alice and Lillia died for nothing now - or at least died for a cause they never signed up for. This was all about resurrecting Tommy, not working together for sisterhood!

Even though the coven didn't last, I think it still matters that it was part of the show, and it was explored. The theme of sisterhood is there. And like Vision said, something is not beautiful because it lasts.

But I know a lot of people wanted to see this conventional story where everyone survives, and Sharon learns analog witchcraft and her skills come in handy in the last trial when she saves everyone from a sticky situation, and the newfound coven of sisterhood teams up to defy Death and save Agatha and Billy.

That's why we have fanfiction. *sigh*

Defied Expectations

Speaking of fan disappointment, there's no moment where all is revealed about Agatha's relationship with Rio, at least not all that the fans wanted to see. Instead, we get an admittedly cute and emotionally compelling flashback to Agatha raising Nicky that shows us exactly how she started the legend of the Witch's Road, and how the ballad started as their song as mother and son. I'm not disappointed that they went this route instead of a more Rio-centered flashback - I think it brings the story full circle.

I could tell people were going to be disappointed when Agatha didn't end up in a fulfilling relationship with Rio/Death. Their relationship had such rich chemistry and it was so intriguing - but to me, the writing was on the wall that it would not be a particularly positive relationship. I don't imagine Marvel would show a relationship between a serial killer and the embodiment of death and make that a happy, healthy relationship. My condolences to shippers who wanted this to be a positive representation of lesbian relationships.

And on that note: I'm not sure why Agatha tells Rio that the truth about Nicky's death is too terrible. Was she absorbing life to keep Nicky alive, and once he refused he finally died? Is that why she says to baby Nicky "You like that? I think we're going to work together just fine." If this is what they were going for, then yeah that truth is terrible enough for me. Obviously Agatha isn't going to tell the coven she needed to kill other witches to keep Nicky alive. There's no use trying to rationalize serial murder, even if it's to support your son.

I like how Agatha's name for Nicky follows the "Namor" rule. Since they changed Namor's origin, instead of his name being "Roman" backwards, they made him "N'Amor - the one without love!" So sure, sure, Nicholas Scratch isn't named after Nick Scratch, an old name for the devil, perish the thought! Agatha names him Nicholas Scratch because she made him from scratch. Aww, that honestly was adorable, name retcons aside.

We don't flash back to Agatha's first coven. The Salem Seven and Evanora originally seem like they're going to be a bigger part in the story, but they're a footnote by the finale. And although I'm glad they chose the story of Nicky and the origin of the Witch's Road, it would have been nice to commit to actually explaining some of Agatha's actual origin.

Did Jen's trauma bind her magic? Nope, Agatha did it. I mean it doesn't exactly rob us of Jen's trauma narrative - it was still there, implicitly, it's just funny that everything in the series really is Agatha All Along, except for that one big time it was Billy All Along.

Oh, and I guess that one time it was Lillia All Along. But that's different, that's Patti LuPone. You have to get Patti Lupone in on the fun.

There are always some editing mistakes in TV shows, but it seems like Marvel needed to go back and tweak some (alleged) discrepancies in the story that don't match the final version of the series, or at stop and clarify things more often. (For instance, how was Rio "torturing Agatha" throughout the years? Was she responsible for all the disasters around Agatha, hoping to break her into finally accepting her death?)

This lack of clarity is a problem with the series overall, to the point that Jac Schaeffer had to keep explaining things that the narrative didn't make clear. But I have to say, the fact that we were so on the edge of our seats wanting to know means that the story was doing its job.

All Roads Lead To...

So in the end, I think that just like Wandavision, the show went in a direction that a lot of fans weren't expecting - but unlike Wandavision, in some ways I think that's to its benefit. The coven may not have lasted, but damn that is a richly emotional character study of Agatha Harkness, and I am excited to see "The Ghost and Billy Kaplan" return in Vision Quest, or maybe Young Avengers.

There were some (alleged) plot holes from Marvel's trademark editing process, and they should have been clearer about some things - but holy triple goddess was this an amazing series nonetheless. Pound for pound, I think it's the best series Marvel has to offer right now.

Follow me my friend, to glory at the end.

#Agatha All Along #Marvel #MCU #Marvel Television #Marvel Studios #Agatha Harkness #Nicholas Scratch #Rio Vidal #Witch's Road #Marvel Cinematic Universe

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