#most places still have old timey radios

[aashiyancha]

Alice and Ares' living room

[allmyocsarebritish]

Domestic bliss <3

Pairing: Alastor X Reader

Warnings (?): Fluff, old timey dancing, the song I imagine they were listening to is linked at the end!!

The soft jazz of Alastor's radio accentuated the cozy atmosphere, as rain pattered against the glass of your window. Streaks of red light infiltrated the room, basking it in a warm scarlet glow. The scent of pine and the taste of fresh, woodland air emanated from the marshland that spread over half of your shared hotel room.

With a short sigh, you rose from the mahogany desk, wandering over to Alastor, who crouched beside the radio, fiddling with the dials. His coat was draped over the back of your classy chair, the sleeves of his button up rolled back and fastened in place, exposing scarred, slender forearms, which faded from his skin tone to ebony black. He reached out a hand to you, soft smile playing on his black lips as he rose from the floor.

"Shall we, my dear?" He offered, to which you intertwined your fingers with his own.

"Of course, love."

He brightened, free hand delicately resting on your waist, testing the waters to ensure you were comfortable. You leaned into his touch, your own arm draping over his shoulder. Together you waltzed and swayed to the gentle rhythm of the song, and, as the music continued you drew closer and closer towards eachother. Alastor's clawed fingers lightly traced grounding circles across your back, sending slight chills gracing your spine at the gentle sensation.

The drawl of Duke Ellington became nothing but background noise to Alastor's rhythmatic and comforting humming. It drew your attention away from the radio, capturing your undivided attention onto him and him alone. Where it belonged, entirely captivated and enthralled.

Slowly and almost tentatively, as if expecting him to jolt away, you laid your head on his chest, feeling the vibrations in time to the song. But instead of pulling apart as you expected, Alastor leaned further into you, hand separating from your own to soothingly stroke at your hair. Your own arm came to rest on his hip, hugging his waist. The two of you swayed in time to the beat, parting on occasion as Alastor twirled you, which left you giggling and flustered each time before swiftly joining back together.

Eventually, when the music began to fade and the song drew to a close, Alastor's humming also ceased, leaving the room feeling still and silent. You sighed your contentment, though your breath hitched in your throat due to surprise as you were jolted upside down unexpectedly, your back folding over his arm in a dip. He chuckled at your shock, and you chimed in upon catching your bearings.

Alastor pulled you back up in a much more elegant fashion, tugging you in close, your still-heavy breathing matching pace. Your cheeks were flushed and eyes were wide, staring admiringly and adoringly into his own, half closed as ever, to which you were met with the smallest foreign glimmer of emotion.

Affection.

To most it wouldn't be remotely noticeable, but to you, it may as well have been a dramatic love confession. Domestic moments such as this with such a powerful overlord did nothing if not secure your love towards the radio demon. The softening of his smile, the way his tail (which was never exposed to anyone else) wagged in contentment, the occasional slight flick of his ears. They were all permanently ingrained into your memory, as cherished as an age-old family heirloom. This was the way you intended to spend the rest of your afterlife, blissful and content with the one you loved.

Song link:

[scenteddelusion5]

Yay requests open? If you don't wanna do this it's perfectly fine I understand!

It's an alastor x Fem reader who was his co-host in life

A Single Radio Wave

Alastor x fem co-host reader

Note: I love this idea!!!

Word count: 1977

The Radio Demon's reputation had spread far and wide in hell, yet it never spread beyond this retched place. Everyone in hell knew of the radio host, knew of his broadcasts and they were scared of him. Demons were intrigued and scared by radio's, they were the cursed items of that demon after all.

But up in heaven everyone looked forward to relaxing at home and listening to the old-timey device. After all, the Radio Angel's broadcasts were the hight of most people's already fantastical days. Everyone adored her, she was without a doubt the most loved angel in heaven; kind, sweet, intelligent, funny, witty, looks. She had it all. And yet, her amazing reputation never spread beyond the golden gates. This divide meant that neither one knew what their love was up to in dead. Still, they both looked back on their days together fondly.

It happened when Alastor's last co-host had been in an accident and they were looking for a new hire, that a knock came from the door. William, his intern opened it to reveal a charming young woman.

"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you but do you mind if I wait out the storm inside?" She asked and as if to help her cause, a thunder bolt struck at the top of his tower.

"Come in." Alastor walked up behind William and let the girl in. " We can't let a lovely young woman like you stand outside in the rain. Would you like a cup of joe? William was just making some."

"If I'm not intruding." She took of her drenched coat and sat down in a chair.

"Of course not." William ran off into the small kitchen while the radio host talked to her. "The name is Alastor, it's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand.

She shook it. "Y/n, Y/n L/n. And it's a pleasure to meet you too."

After William had left, the two were still talking at the table.

Y/n's eyes looked around the room. "So you're a radio host. How do you find it? Do you like it?"

"It's amazing, my dear. We have a few odd hours and I had to train my voice, but I quite like it." Alastor had been looking the girl up and down. She was very beautiful, had a good voice and they had an entertaining conversation. This Y/n had the potential to become his new co-host. "And what about you?"

"I... Was just fired today. My boss decided that a 'sweeter' face would pull more clients in. It's a dinner, what do my looks matter?!"

"The man sounds like a handful."

"Oh believe me, he is," she sighed.

"Hey," Alastor started, "how would you feel like starting a career as my co-host, the position just opened."

This surprised the woman. Female radio hosts weren't unheard of, however, they weren't at all common. There were also a lot of limitations put on them.

"I would love too but I don't think I would be any hood at it." She took a sip of her cup.

"I'm sure you'll be great." Alastor hyped her up. " How about you come in tomorrow for a practice round and if it suits you, you'll become a permanent employee?"

"You know what? Why not? I'll be here tomorrow." Y/n agreed.

" 7 am sharp starts the broadcast, be here at least half an hour before that. I'll see you tomorrow then, dear?"

"Yes, see you tomorrow."

And that's how Alastor had found his new co-host and future wife.

Not everyone was happy with Alastor's new coworker. Either people disagreed with having a female host all together or they were jealous that SHE was his new 'radio partner' as Alastor calls it. The man was considered a fine bachelor after all and girls all across New Orleans fawned over him.

During the first year of her employment, Y/n and Alastor grew closer and closer. Until one day, he popped the question.

"Y/n, I've known you for a year now and you are by far the most dazzling woman on earth. It would be an honour if you would give me the chance to court you." Alastor stared lovingly into her eyes as they lid up.

"Of course I want you to court me! You really know how to keep a lady waiting." She pulled him by the arm into a big hug.

His face adorned a bashful red hue while he brought his hand to pat her head. He truly was in love and it couldn’t feel better.

It didn't take long for him to pop the question after that and the two shared the news of their engagement to the whole city. Walking through the street, Y/n got a few jealous glares while on her way to her newly shared home.

Alastor was waiting on her in the kitchen making his mother's jambalaya. "And what was my favourite radio host up to?" He asked.

His fiancé, god he loved thinking about how she was HIS now, put a bag on the kitchen table and started rummaging through it. "You know that new shop that opened up down the street? I found this." She held up a little yellow romper.

"Dear, isn't it way too early to shop for baby clothes?" He chuckled picking up the small clothing article. "We aren't even married yet."

"I know Ally." She smiled at the very feminine and cutesy nickname she once called him and then just stuck. "But I'm ready, ready for our own perfect little family."

'Perfect'. Oh if only she knew, she knew what Alastor was up to while he was 'hunting'. But no, he will never show that side to her. He couldn’t imagine the look on her face, the heartbreak... No she was perfect and deserved only happiness and he would give her the world if she asked.

Their wedding was beautiful. Alastor cried seeing his wife in her wedding dress. They celebrated into the night and again when they got home. Alas, their marriage didn’t last for long.

During one of Alastor's 'hunt' in the woods he heard a bunch of dogs approaching. He ran and ran, and then, there was a gunshot.

Everything went white, then black and lastly red. Red? It was a sky. Looking around he saw a city filled with demons, he was in hell. Alastor saw his own reflection in a puddle, he looked different. His pretty dark hair and brown skin was replaced with red and grey, on top of his head stood fuzzy ears and antlers? Looking at his new appearance he wondered if Y/n would like it....

Y/n... Would he ever see her again? Probably not, she was perfect, his love would get into heaven while he was doomed to be away in this hellfire pit. But maybe, just maybe there was a chance she would be cast down too and if that were to happen, he had to made sure he was able to protect her. So, the Radio Demon was born. A demon willing to do anything to gain more power.

Years went by and Alastor thought about his wife every single day. Did she find out about his murders? Did she hate him for it? Did she become a cast out because of it?

After decennia of not getting a single sign of ever being reunited with Y/n, he gave up. That was, until the princess of hell got on television and told all of hell about her 'Happy Hotel' and her idea of rehabilitating sinners. It was impossible, still, his got told him to go there. Just in case. To prove to himself that he will NEVER see Y/n again.

Y/n was on her way back home. She was in a hurry knowing that her new husband would be home soon from his hunt. She was planning a surprise, having made custom baby shoes that had their names engraved but she hadn't been able to pack the gift. As she was running through the street, a car swirled. The last thing she remembered was the front of a Ford and screams.

Everything went white, then black and then blue. Looking around, she was on a golden pat that led to a golden gate. Was this heaven? Saint Peter was waiting by the gate and happily led Y/n in.

She had quickly found a new home in heaven; she started up her own radio show, decorated her house and made a few friends. Everything was ready for when her husband would join her but that day never came. Every day she laughed and joked around on the most beloved and popular radio broadcast in heaven and then went home crying about her husband and grieved the small and sweet family she would never have.

One day she was bold enough to visit the seraphim and ask about her Alastor. The answer that was given to her was devastating.

"I'm sorry but he doesn't belong in heaven."

That night, Y/n couldn't sleep, all she could do was cry.

Decennia went by and she had made peace with the fact that she would never see her husband again. That was until the princess of hell came up to heaven with the idea to rehabilitate sinners and the news came out about the yearly exterminations. Winners started to protest, most of them had family down there. What if they died because of heaven's heartless decision?

Y/n was haunted by the same fear. One night, she tried to sneak out to the golden gate and jump down but was promptly stopped by peter.

"Hell isn't a place for a lovely woman like you." He had said.

Y/n wasn't hearing any of it thought. She was determined to find her husband again. So instead, she started messing with her radio station.

"ALLY!!! PLEASE ANSWER ME!!! Please." She sobbed. "Please be, alive! Alastor I love YOU!!!"

That night, Alastor sat on the hotel's balcony reading a book when his microphone started acting up.

"A-..... M.... ase... v.. O!!!"

Strange. If it hadn't been decennia since he last heard her, he had recognized his wife's voice in the glitchy fragment, he, however, didn't. As he was checking his microphone, he got called over by Rosie and the other cannibals that were training for the battle.

It was the next day, Y/n pulled herself out of bed, changed and made her way to her radio tower. She had to use this broadcast to spread more awareness about the exterminations.

Alastor woke up that faithful morning from her microphone. A broadcast came from it, but he wasn't in his radio tower? And it was a female voice? His eyes fluttered open and really started listening to what was being said.

"It's a sunny day as usual here in heaven. A small chance of clouds in the late afternoon but those will be swept away fast."

Alastor knew that voice, he was sure of it. It was his wife, his beloved wife, broadcasting from heaven. He could finally hear his love again.

"On to the news! I think we all heard about it around now, but during the trail with Charlie Morningstar about the Hazbin Hotel, it came out that heaven has been exterminating the human souls down in hell. Your loved ones could be gone... Forever... Winners are demonstrating around the holy palace, come with us! Come down and stand help us stand against this injustice! I'm going and so should you!"

And she was fighting for him. She was probably so scared that he would be dead. He would do anything to find her again and if he had to fight heaven, he would do it.

The Radio Demon gained a new confidence that day from a single radio wave that made it through to hell.

The end

Note: I know that the fragment would be more than a single radio wave, it just sounds cool.

Masterlist/request guidelines

[inuhalfdemon]

You Caught Me At Just The Rut Time

My contribution to a Hazbin Fandom Challenge I created: here

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Rating: MATURE (Smut)

Word Count: 3,193 Words

Summary: You are a female red deer demon. By chance, you happen to meet Hell's great radio demon and the timing could never be more...perfect.

Note: This is not aroace Alastor; at least not for the moment. It gets pretty smutty in here...

You are a red deer hind/doe demon. You’ve been in Hell for some time now; but are still learning the in’s and the out’s in surviving this after-life. There’s been a lot of talk and stirring with the events surrounding the Hazbin Hotel following the war with Adam. Charlie Morningstar is hosting a kind of Open House event to welcome any and all potential new clients who wish to tread her planned path to redemption. Having nothing really better to do and seeing on one of the advertisements – scrawled messily in crayon – that there would be free booze, you decide ‘what the hell’ and go to check it out.  

There is a decent turnout; demons and sinners all curious about this new development and wanting to know more. Most – of course �� have nefarious reasons to being here but the Princess of Hell is pleased as punch, just the same. As soon as you are able; you excuse yourself to the bar and order a drink. The bartender – a Hell demon cat with intricate wings - is expertly taking orders and sending drinks out promptly to all the patrons. A little – ‘bug?’ – demon is scurrying about the place; cleaning in a frenzy and collecting empty glasses to take back to behind the bar counter. The bartender quickly pours your drink and with a flick of his feathered tail; he has it sliding right into the palm of your clawed hand before starting on the next in line.

Most of the others are grouped among themselves – conversing – throughout the hotel lobby. Some are meandering or exploring the new building; talking with the current residents. The corner of the bar where you sit is relatively quiet. Stirring your drink with one clawed finger, you amuse yourself by watching everyone.

When someone approaches your part of the room; you are surprised to find that it is in fact Hell’s infamous Radio Demon – Alastor. Despite his wide smile and buoyant attitude; everyone parts from him as if they were the Red Sea, giving him a more than respectable space as he comes to lean over the bar counter near you.

“Husker, my good man.” Alastor calls to the bartender. “A rye, if you would.” His voice crackles in old-timey radio.

Without so much as acknowledging the Overlord’s presence; the winged demon cat uses his tail to pour from a bottle into a whiskey glass containing some ice beside him – his hands busy preparing other drinks. He had seen Alastor making his way to the bar and was ready for the order. Curling his tail around the glass, he set it on the counter and flicked it smoothly to him just as he had for you.  

“I very much thank you, my friend.” Alastor lifted the glass; and sipped. Husker ignored him; focusing on what he was doing.

You watch this interaction with interest; comparing it to how others now were giving your corner of the bar a very wide berth.

Alastor took his seat; sitting at the bar stool just next to yours. He shifts himself so that he is casually watching the goings-on of the grouping of demons and sinners throughout the room; but he has one long ear – the one nearest you – slightly turned and rotated toward you. It is an invitation to engage in conversation…if you wish.

You assess him briefly – wondering if he really, truly is a red deer demon. They are not terribly uncommon in Hell, but some only resemble the form of a Cervidae. It can be tricky to tell; even for those who are. If he is a Cervidae – he’s a very powerful one. And, it’s obvious to you that’s not all that he is. You – yourself - are very athletic, agile, clever and quick due to being the type of demon that you are but he – he emanated a type of power that could never be fully comprehended.

“It’s a good turnout.” You offer; initiating conversation with him.

“Why, yes. It really is. Charlie should be proud.” He replied happily; shifting now so that he is politely engaged with you.

“You’ll have a time…can’t say there are many here that look like they’ll make the cut.” You sip from your drink.

“Oh, I’m fully prepared to deal with some of the riff-raff, believe you me.” He chuckled into his drink. “Have your sights set on high, yourself, darling?”   

“Hm…not really. The thought of redemption really doesn’t interest me much.” You reply, honestly.

“Well, that bodes all too well for me…” He says, eyes firmly fixed on you.

 And, there it is. A hint of…a scent. Cervidae demons – true Cervidae – demons are commonly known for their deer-like tendencies. One very prominent one being that they experience fluctuating periods of cyclic mating periods – termed the rut. There’s a lot that gets rather muddled with this natural occurrence; confusing even for the demons that experience it because each and every individual is different in the timing, frequency or intensity of their own personal mating cycles.

You know that the scent that you caught – be it just a whiff – is a musk. A musk that red deer stags produce when they are…interested. It is a pheromone that only other Cervidae demons can detect. Incidentally, you are aware that you yourself are currently…receptive…and that you are producing your own pheromone that he can easily detect in your response.

Your body reacts to this development rather quickly. A flooding of hormones, cascading and overwhelming your senses. You feel the hair on your head and at the base of your tail bristling, rising slightly. Your mouth has gone dry and your heart rate has sharply increased.

He laughs lightly; reading your response. Throwing back the rest of the whiskey before setting the empty glass onto the counter.

“Do not trouble yourself, Husker.” Alastor called over his shoulder as the bartender reached for another whiskey glass with his tail. “That will be all for me this evening, I think.”

Smoothly, Alastor slides from his seat at the bar.

“I’d very much like to show you more of our amenities here.” He tells you, offering his hand. “If you’d be so inclined…” His musk trailing off of him; becoming more potent.

The message is crystal clear; and he’s offered you an easy out. You are free to politely decline, walk away from this…proposal. Honestly though, you could do with a decent fuck. And, everything this radio demon is promises a rather good one. 

“Aren’t you a little too old for me?” You ask him; though he’s more than fully aware that really won’t pose any sort of an issue here.

“Quite so.” He admits. “I assure you though, I am quite spry.

Throwing back your own drink, you take his offered hand, letting him chivalrously help you down from your bar stool and following him out of the lobby of the hotel. Other demons and sinners move readily out of your way, so intent on ducking and avoiding the attention of the smiling Overlord that no one notices you leaving with him. The other residents of the hotel are so caught up in their own tasks with ensuring that the Open House is a success, they pay absolutely no mind to Alastor’s departure from the event.

Alastor leads you to his room; a lone door standing, eerily placed within the entirety of the hotel’s 13th floor.

He pauses at the doorway with you; considering you seriously.

“You are sure?” He asks you; his musk surrounding you entirely: heightening your arousal. “I can and will stop at any time you tell me.” He says. “But, it has been some time...for me. This could get…intense.”  His eyes are burning; a soft deep green glow penetrating the soft light of the hallway. His antlers had thickened at their bases, points lengthening, widening as he spoke.

Despite everything. Despite his obvious readiness at having you, taking you now; here, at the very peak of his rut… Despite the absolute betrayal that was your own body telling him how receptive you were right now; how ready you were for him. He was giving you this last and final chance…to walk away. You knew what this was; you knew what this would be…and you readily accepted the terms.

If anything, the deal was only made sweeter by his considerations. Most stags are so consumed by the intensity of their rut; they struggle with restraints. Hind/does too.

Struggling with your own senses – now – you swiftly close the gap between you and him. In one quick movement; you leap so that he when he catches you; you are wrapped around him, your legs hugging his waist and your arms winding around his neck. Quick as a whip, he saw you coming and easily pulls you into him. Your momentum presses his back into the doorway. You are kissing him in a desperate way; any thought of reservations melting quickly away. He matches your fervor; his tongue pressing between parting lips and finding yours.

He breaks the kiss briefly and you realize that he is pulling you with him into the hotel room now; the door having opened without you noticing.

“A good little doe…” He muses; carrying you into the room. Stepping inside, he spins so that it is you that is now pressed against the door; it closing behind you as he pushes you firmly against it.

He presses himself against you; pushing you into the wood. You can feel his erection; pressing into you through clothing. You tighten the hold on him that you have with your wrapped legs; moving your hands into his hair, you ball your clawed fingers into fists and begin pulling and biting at his lower lip.

The prod pressing into you starts to become more firm and carefully breaking away from you; he sets you down, steps back and starts to loosen his bowtie. As he slips out of his suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt, you slide out of your own. It lands at a heap on the floor. Looking at him, you briefly register all of his raised and jagged scars – covering his body - but then you suddenly realize that you are standing near a very old and intricately styled mirror. You blush slightly, seeing your aroused reflection looking back at you from its surface.

He chuckles darkly, pressing you back into the door with his long body standing, pushed against you.

“You’re not a shy doe are you?” He purrs into one of your erect long deer ears, one of his clawed hands softly but firmly grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at the mirror.

You gulp, watching the reflection. He is poised over you; a predator enjoying the freezing state of fear he has induced in his prey. Your blush only deepens when he presses into you more; his bare skin touching yours; his member pressing much more sharply into your thigh. You watch yourself reacting to all of this – just as he meant you to – and you are only made more humiliated by the knowledge that all of it arouses you even more.

“You should see how pretty you are when I make you blush, my dear.” He holds your head tilted, making you watch through the mirror as he begins softly kissing, licking and biting at your exposed neck. You squirm and he laughs; soft puffs of breath touching your sensitive skin. Using his free hand, he slides clawed fingers underneath the fabric of your bra; finding a breast. He pinches your nipple and it sends a tightening jolt of pleasure into your belly that sinks lower and lower. Your face flushes deeper, a hint of a sheen of sweat breaking across your forehead.

You gasp and seeing how you do; sends you further into spiraling.

Mesmerized; you watch through the mirror as he releases your nipple – slipping his hand out from your bra - and reaches around, unclasping the hook easily with deft fingers. Still not releasing your face; he hooks the garment in one claw and tosses it aside. Leaning down; he softly kisses your tight, and firm nipples before taking one into his mouth and softly sucking.

“Ahhhhhh….” You breathe, squirming more.

“Hmmmmmm.” He hums, going to the next nipple and sucking again.

You’re quivering now and you’ve started panting. Your pheromone is absolutely pungent and it is making him almost dizzy with each inhale he takes. You see your obvious arousal but you also see his in response; his antlers are stretching, widening….his eyes are flaring a deeper shade of green and casting eerily moving shadows across your skin. Next you feel his erection; jutting from behind the dress pants he still wore – stabbing into you with much more urgency now.

He knows that he would find great pleasure from making you watch yourself – coming undone – by his having you; then and there. But, he also feels his little game overwhelming you now and knows that it really could be just too much. He shifts himself briefly; sliding his hand to the rim of your pants and experimentally pulls at the waistband with one claw. You see this happening through the mirror; a kind of panic grips your heart – knowing where this could lead – and your face jerks slightly as you flinch. This confirms it for him and he immediately releases you; allowing you to finally look away from the mirror.

The shadows move around you and there is a swirling vortex forming a portal just behind him. He steps back into it; reaching his hand out for you to take – if you are so willing – to follow him. Feeling more aroused than you could ever remember – and feeling an incredible adrenaline rush from the mirror play – you readily take it and let him lead you through the swirling dark.

You step onto a soft bed of spring grass, stars and moonlight overhead. Shocked and surprised; you turn all around and assess your surroundings. You were so…distracted…before you hadn’t realized that his room was actually a splitting of dimensions. Seeing the part of the room where the door and the mirror stood just further away now; you realize that he only moved you to a new location within the same hotel suite.

Fireflies skittered about; owls hooted and other soft nightly sounds were drifting from the surrounding swampland. The air smelled of cypress. The entirety of the environment was calling to your demon form; fueling it with an energy and pleasure you had not previously considered. With the scent of the cypress was the sharp scent of Alastor’s musk. Looking at him now, you saw that he was incredibly in need of some relief. Still wearing his dress pants, he was fully erect; his antlers still heavy and long upon his head; eyes flaring but looking at you narrowed and hazed.

Saying nothing, you go to him. Touching his waist, you look up at him – watching his reaction as you undo the clasp near the seam to his pants and slide your hand in. His eyes close and he groans; leaning into your touch. You slide his length out and nearly gasp at how…well…huge he is. It makes you more than a little apprehensive…he’s certainly the largest stag you’ll have ever been with. But, like him, you are fully aroused and are as ready for this as you ever will be.

Releasing him, you quickly start undoing your own pants; shoving them and your undergarments off as he hurriedly does the same for himself.

Knowing it will be the best position for what you both need from this; you kneel onto the soft bed of grass. He takes your face gently in his hand; looking at you with heightened arousal and a kind of…appreciation. Watching you, he moves so that he is stepping around and coming to settle himself behind you; also kneeling.

Your long ears flick back; bowing your head so that you can see him in your peripheral. He reaches for you; you expect him to push you down or forward but he pulls you into him so that your back is pressed against his chest. He slides his clawed hand to your neck, tilting your head back against him as he kisses and nips at your skin. His erection is pressed into your back and you can feel it tracing trails of pre-cum against you as he shifts. He wraps his other arm around you; pulling you closer into him as he firmly takes your breast; teasing your nipple into firmness in his fingers.

You can feel a sliding wetness between your legs and know that you are ready. You groan at his teasing and pushing yourself away from him so that you are now bent down; face to the ground rear raised. He follows you down; briefly touching and stroking your tail before positioning it comfortably out of the way from being inadvertently bent or crushed.

He rises himself on his knees and when he enters you; it’s a deep and blissful penetration. He slides himself in slowly; giving you a moment to adjust to his girth. You can feel a seeping of wet touching the inside of one thigh.

He makes a growling purr; deep in his chest.

“You are so…wet.” He groans, pressing his face into your back.

You don’t say anything; you focus on staying as relaxed as you can. He’s not too big but very nearly.  

Slowly, he starts to move – back and forth – and your body responds; adjusting. 

You are flooded with heat; a heavy sweat breaking out all across your skin. His musk is flooding your senses and you begin to moan pathetically….desperately. Your pheromones are affecting him as well; and he remembers telling you that: he could and would stop for you at any time - but he is praying to each and every of the seven deadly sins that you don’t ask him to.  

Your hands make fists in the grass; and you sink down lower.

This angle gives his length more to access and his tip is pressing, pushing and grinding against that oh so sweet spot you’ve got hidden inside. You can fill his shaft stiffening; filling his member curving inside you and it’s about to drive you both over the edge.

He grips your hips; claws digging painful, pleasantly into the skin: as he thrusts himself into you – deeper and deeper; grunting like the rutting animal he is.

Feeling a delicious coiling of tension; you arch yourself into him.

“Ffffffffuck!” He responds to the movement; his hips jerk sharply; jolting one or two more thrusts into you before he comes undone.

You’re already there; chemicals flood your senses as you reach orgasm. You feel his member stiffen; filling you up with its release before it softens again – your walls tightening and releasing all around it. You notice there is more wetness running down your legs now.  

Slowly, carefully, he slides himself out. You collapse into the ground, feeling boneless and weightless. You enjoy this feeling; letting it consume you completely knowing you’ll never have a fuck quite like this one ever again.

[snezario]

Catch Me I'm Falling (Part 3); Vo/x

dipping a bit into Ala/stor's POV. it's also been a while since i've written a fever-induced delirium scene so hopefully readable.

the next part will probably take a while because like i mentioned before, this fic is adapted from a vanilla fic and i used some scenes from it, but this one is diverging a lot now so i don't have anything already written to springboard off of

part 1 / part 2

Alastor sipped his coffee, it was lukewarm now, but the drink’s temperature was of not of much importance to him anyways. He mainly enjoyed the bitterness of it, so he always had it black and sneered at those who had the gall to add cream or sugar to it. checked his pocket watch again. Not that they had agreed on a specific time to meet today but Vox had yet to show up and it was almost noon. How much sleep did a television need anyways?

After waiting for another half hour, he sent his shadow to badger him into dropping by Alastor’s room again. However, when his shadow returned to him in under five minutes looking puzzled and with no silly picture box demon in tow, he decided to pay Vox a visit himself. He faded into the shadows and made his way to Vox’s room.

Rematerializing into the room, he rolled his eyes when he saw Vox facedown, splayed across the bed. He really should not have been surprised to find the Overlord still asleep and proceeded to prod the demon with his staff. When Vox didn’t stir, he approached the foot of the bed only to recoil at the heat radiating from him.

Did Vox always run this warm? He squinted at him suspiciously.

“I don’t have all day, you know,” Alastor said to the unconscious demon. Again he was met with silence. Fine, if Vox wanted to waste the day away by sleeping then so be it. He had other matters to attend to.

The radio demon turned to leave but hesitated, finding himself rooted to the spot. Despite his better judgment, Alastor slowly turned around. After a few seconds, he stepped towards him, looming over Vox’s motionless body. Now that he was closer, the temperature emanating from him was somewhat alarming. He knew more about modern technology than he tended to let on but he most certainly had no clue how to “fix” it.

But perhaps an “old-timey” remedy could prove helpful. With a snap of his fingers, an ice pack appeared in a flash of green light. He proceeded to place it on the back of Vox’s head. As he stared at him, Alastor debated the merits of staying. On one hand, it seemed like a waste of time, after all he had other things to do, more important he might add… but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to postpone his other engagements for a little while.

It had only been about fifteen minutes before Alastor heard Vox stirring. Finally. For just a second, he was afraid that–no, no, of course he wasn’t actually worried about the other demon, he just wanted to make sure that Vox would be able to hold up his end of the deal. Nothing more, nothing less.

Snapping the book he was reading shut, the radio demon approached the bedside once more. He leaned forward, putting his entire weight on the staff.

“It’s about time you… you–Vox?” Alastor trailed off and his brow furrowed when he realized that Vox was still asleep? At least that’s what he thought. Vox’s screen had switched on but it was glitching every couple of seconds and his face was contorted into a grimace.

“What’s going on in that absurd box of yours, hmm?” he murmured.

“Wait!” Vox’s unexpected outburst reverberated in the confines of the small hotel room, causing Alastor to shrink back, startled. Guess he was awake now?

“Well now–”

“Don’t go–” Vox pleaded. After the second outburst, Alastor looked over to see that the demon’s eyes were still closed. His ears flicked back in annoyance. Sleep talking wasn’t that uncommon, he mused and turned away.

“It doesn’t have to be this way! Please stay! We can work this out.”

Alastor stopped in his tracks, his ears pinned to his skull. He heard those words before. Not only that, but it was the tone and cadence with which Vox had said it.

“Alastor… please.” 

The utterance of his name hit him square in the chest, the corners of his smile dropped a fraction. His jaw clenched as the once buried memory glimmered to the surface of his mind, flashes of it coming to the forefront. Alastor forcefully shoved down the memory before it could fully manifest.

He waited to see if Vox was going to say anything else but the television Overlord merely whimpered and rolled onto his side. The ice pack flopped onto the floor. He already melted through it? Must be one hell of a fever. After a beat, Alastor conjured a second ice pack, a slightly larger this time, and snapped the other one out of existence.

Gently placing the new ice pack on his head, Alastor meandered back to the chair and pulled out a newspaper, silently waiting for the demon to awaken.

Lo and behold, his patience was rewarded, a mere two hours of his time.

With a sharp gasp, Vox sat up breathing laboriously, the ice pack sliding off his screen onto the bed, unnoticed. How long had he been out? He grimaced. His entire body ached, it felt like he’d been run over by a truck multiple times. Just as he was starting to become oriented to his surroundings, Vox’s breath caught. Because why wouldn’t it?

“Oh, for fuhh–ck, seriously?–ihh–ihh’KZZHHHhuu! hh…hh’DZTCHhiew! KTSSH! ihhZ̷͕̟̭̓̑̐͛̂͌̎̍̈́͆̔͘͝͝Z̸̖͇̜̝̈́̀̑̌T̵̢̛͉̩͈̓̈͆͑Ç̴̧̭̼͕͖͙̻̣̫̘͎͗͑͊̋͜͜H̸̛̺͋̉͆͗͒̈́͐͌̂͘͠!”

When the lights in his room flickered and one of the bulbs burst, Vox cringed and hoped that it was only his room that was affected. He gently pressed his index and middle fingers to his neck, the last couple really ripped their way out of throat, leaving it feeling terribly raw. There was no denying it now, somehow he managed to pick up a virus.

When it rained, it poured. To be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been ill, or well felt this horrible–from the incessant itch in his head, which also felt like it was filled with cement, to the overall malaise and achy feeling in his muscles. Considering everything that had been going on lately, it didn’t seem too far of a stretch for anti-virus software to malfunction, admittedly it picked a terribly inconvenient time to do so.

He could probably get away with locking himself in the room for the next couple of–

“My my, you really don’t do anything by halves.” Vox whipped his head around at the sound of Alastor’s voice. Bad idea. He squeezed his eyes shut as the room spun in a way that made him nauseous. When was the last time he even ate? When he opened his eyes, he could just make out Alastor perched on the chair in the dark corner of the room, the day’s newspaper in front of him.

“A-Alastor?” Vox croaked, cringing at the sound of his voice. He cleared his throat before continuing, “What are you doing here?” 

“In case you’ve forgotten, I live here,” Alastor reminded him lightly.

“You know what I mean,” Vox said flatly, muffling a rough sounding cough into his fist. Alastor opened his mouth, but closed it, looking puzzled. He couldn’t really pinpoint what prompted him to check on the television demon himself or what compelled him to stay but luckily Vox was overtaken by another bout of coughing so he could shift the focus away from himself.

“Goodness, you sound positively awful,” Alastor abruptly stood up from the chair, approaching Vox with a condescending smirk. He leaned on his staff, looking annoyingly expectant.

“I’m fine. Why do you care anyways?” Vox growled, swiping a hand across his screen. Also, was he just imagining it or did Alastor look a little…perturbed? He had come to recognize some of the radio demon’s eccentricities but the demon was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Aha, I don’t! I just thought it would be fun to confirm my suspicions about your little malady,” the demon exclaimed with a flourish of his staff. 

Fucking asshole.

As he shifted his weight on the bed, his hand grazed the melted ice pack, surprising him. Vox looked down at the object. He definitely did not remember falling asleep with that. As he reached out to pick it up, it disappeared in a cloud of smoke and green light. What was that all about? Then it dawned on him.

Vox slowly turned back towards Alastor. He couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice as he asked “Did… did you do that?”

Alastor looked askance around the room, appearing not to have heard him. And before Vox could stop himself he blurted out the question that had been on his mind since the conversation with Alastor on that first night.

“Do you ever think back to when we first met?” He said the whole sentence in one breath, the words bleeding into one another. Vox worried that the radio demon would simply ignore him again. Alastor tilted his head as he contemplated Vox’s question.

“You mean when you stalked me for weeks before finally plucking up the courage to approach myself and Mimzy at the speakeasy?”

Vox’s screen glowed pink. He had a suspicion that Alastor knew that he’d been tailing him for a while but the embarrassment was quickly replaced by shock. His pupils shrank, what was Alastor talking about? 

“Wait, I don’t remember–”

“Yes, well you were quite intoxicated so I would have been surprised if you did remember that. If I had as much to drink as you had that night, I would have not been able to stand, let alone dance like you did that night,” Alastor’s grin widened at the memory. Vox quickly turned away as the whir of his fans increased, trying to push down his escalating embarrassment. He touched the side of his screen–unfortunately for him, his older configuration didn’t have the memory capacity of his current model and that particular memory seemed to have been lost in the upgrade.

“I can only assume you’re referring to the evening you barged into my radio tower then.”

“I did no such thing,” Vox scoffed, although he couldn’t look Alastor in the eye. To be fair, he hadn’t “barged in” but the radio demon was not known for welcoming visitors of any kind. He merely invited himself over.

“I’m surprised you managed to climb all those stairs up to the booth, with that egregious head of yours,” Alastor said snidely.

His first encounter with Alastor was not a memory he could ever forget.

Alastor was just about wrapping his radio show, and despite showing up at the booth unannounced, Vox at least had the decency to knock on the door. He nearly short-circuited when the door flung open (almost hitting him in the face) and he found himself face-to-face with an understandably irritated radio demon, dark Eldritch tentacles bound him where he stood.

“To what displeasure do I owe this visit, you insolent miscreant?” Alastor snarled, his tentacles yanked Vox from the doorway until their faces were less than an inch away from each other.

“You might want to consider changing up your program,” he managed to breathe out as the tentacles threatened to cut off his oxygen entirely. As he was about to lose consciousness, he felt the tentacles’ grip loosen before he tumbled onto the floor. He coughed violently as his lungs lapped up the oxygen that they had been robbed of and shook his head trying to clear out the stars that were clouding his vision. When he looked up, Vox noticed that Alastor had reverted from his demonic form.

“Apologies, but it sounded like you were criticizing my radio show. I would skin you alive right here, if I weren’t marginally impressed by your brazenness,” Alastor said as he stood over Vox’s crumpled frame. 

“You’ve already captured everyone’s interest but you have to be able to maintain your audience,” Vox panted as he struggled to catch his breath, “Otherwise, people will move on to the next thing.”

“Oho and what do you know about entertaining an audience, my odd square-headed friend?” 

Vox smoothed down his shirt, stood up, and faced him. Huh, he was about Alastor’s height now that the radio demon had shrunk down to his usual form. “Well there’s this new thing on Earth, called television. It’s all the rage there. In fact, radio has already started to become irrelevant.”

“And what is this visit, you telling me to watch my back? That you are going to one-up me because you’re doing a fine job so far,” Alastor jeered. Vox took a deep breath and stood up straighter. This is why he came all this way. He couldn’t back down now.

“No, actually I had an idea. I believe that television and radio can work together, a mutually beneficial relationship.”

It was subtle but Vox caught the briefest expression of shock on Alastor’s face. They silently stared at each other for several seconds. Just as Vox thought he was able to become the next “guest” on Alastor’s show, he responded.

“Very well, let’s hear it,” he sat down in front of the panel of dials and switches before motioning for Vox to pull up a chair.

“You then proceeded to annoy every Overlord or demon that held an ounce of power,” Alastor said, abruptly cutting through the flashback.

“Oh fuck off, you liked that I was assertive, you liked where things were headed. I pushed the envelope in ways you never would have!” Vox shot back. Alastor’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t push back.

“I will admit that I did grow to value our alliance. At first, I merely agreed to your proposal because it seemed mildly entertaining. And when our combined efforts began to pay off and both our individual shows were thriving. So who was I to put an end to our success?”

Vox blinked, staring down at his hands while Alastor traced his fingers along the microphone part of his staff, which induced sharp feedback sounds that made Vox shudder. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost rueful.

“If things hadn’t gone south all those years ago, perhaps… matters could have turned out differently.” 

He clasped his hands behind his back, turning away from Vox and dissolving into the shadows. The television demon had been rendered silent, his screen buffered as he processed what Alastor said.

That evening...

Staring at his drink, Vox thumbed away the bead of condensation that was trailing halfway down the glass. His thoughts drifted back to the earlier conversation with Alastor and his increasingly odd behavior. Surely the guy had an agenda or some ulterior motive, he always did. He gave up the notion that Alastor could ever care about anyone else, especially him, ages ago. Unless–

“Something bothering you?” Husk’s baritone voice startled him from his musings and he slowly looked up from the glass to see the cat bartender staring at him curiously.

“You could say that,” Vox said with a sigh before returning his gaze back to his glass, “Do you ever think back on a particular memory and wish you could have done it all differently?”

Husk said scornfully, “Who hasn’t? You’re not the only fuck-up in Hell, far from it.”

Vox picked up the drink and took a sip before lowering it from his screen. He gently swirled the glass in his hand, the amber liquid sloshed against the walls of it as he spoke, “Okay, but I’m not talking about forgetting to wish someone a happy birthday or picking up the wrong brand of soap from the store. I’m talking about life-changing interactions.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Husk’s tail flicked back and forth, agitatedly. “Are you going to continue to be vague or are you going to fucking spit it out?”

Vox tensed at his tone but his annoyance died down as quickly as it surfaced. He couldn’t help but smile a bit at Husk’s bluntness. Between all the posturing, smoke and mirrors, and general underhanded behavior that he had become accustomed to dealing with whether it was from dealing with the press or his colleagues, it was kind of refreshing. His mouth became a thin line as he thought about where to start, or rather, what he felt comfortable with sharing.

“I’m not sure if you were aware but Alastor and I used to be business partners before I formed the Vees. I honestly was waiting for him to get bored or kick me to the curb one day but we chugged along for a good while. But eventually I had to go and fuck it up… I wanted to keep pushing the envelope and well, you know Alastor–he was content to stay in the past, relive the golden days. When push came to shove, he wouldn’t budge and we parted ways.”

“‘Parted ways’ huh? You make it sound fucking cordial. I heard you two nearly leveled a section of the pentagram,” Husk snorted in disbelief.

Vox shot him a dry look before staring melancholically at his glass again, “I was putting it nicely. Technically, the initial dissolution wasn’t so destructive or public but uh, we ran into each other before he disappeared for seven years, exchanged some barbs that escalated into well… what you probably saw on the 666 News.”

He lightly dragged a claw on the rim of the glass, his brows knitted together as he frowned, deep in thought. Husk started to turn back to the shelves of alcohol behind him, only stopping when Vox sighed again.

“I’m starting to wonder why I even want to go back to the Vees. I don’t want to lose my Overlord powers or status but I’m not sure I’d be able to hold my own if I try to do a solo act again. Maybe Alastor was right, I am powerless without them,” Vox slumped in his stool. Not usually the type to play into the “woe is me” shtick, he realized how far he had really fallen.

He felt like absolute shit and it didn’t help that he was simultaneously fighting, and losing, to the virus running rampant through his immune system. As luck would have it, he was about to be reminded of its presence. What started off as a ghost of a tickle was escalating into an urgent need. Not again, not here! He blinked rapidly and pressed a closed fist to his screen, a futile attempt of course. This one didn’t even give him a chance to–

“ehh’KTSSHhhuu! ih’DTSHHiew! hh’TSHH!”

“Fucking Christ,” Husk frowned and slid a stack of napkins towards him as Vox lurched away from the bar. He flushed, grabbing a few to muffle the rest of the fit into the handful.

“Kill me now,” Vox grumbled, congestion muting his pronunciation. He snatched up the remaining napkins and proceeded to mop up the ensuing mess.

“You good?” Husk was staring at him, a skeptical brow raised.

“I’m fine,” Vox said icily. Boy he was getting tired of saying that. Husk rolled his eyes, no skin off his teeth if the demon was too proud to admit it.

“You know, I used to be an Overlord too,” Vox raised a skeptical brow at Husk’s admission but stayed quiet. Husk looked towards the ceiling, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it was before your time. Back when we got souls the old-fashioned way, you newer Overlords really have it down to a science. But I had a bit of a gambling problem and it worked well for me, in terms of acquiring souls, until it didn’t.”

Now that Husk mentioned it Vox vaguely recalled the commotion surrounding an Overlord with a gambling habit who lost everything in one fell swoop. He was only a lowly news reporter at the time and the story wasn’t assigned to him. Although, the story hadn’t gained much traction because at the time, there was more clamor regarding the identity of the sinner who was toppling Overlords left and right. Of course, Alastor eventually revealed himself to be the culprit by broadcasting his victims' screams.

“One night, I was on a hot streak and someone I’d never seen in the casino before asked if I wanted to make a wager of a lifetime. Real creepy, mysterious fella. Anyways Alastor–”

Vox choked on his drink and did a double-take, “Wait, you’re on Alastor’s leash?”

Husk’s eyes narrowed briefly before his shoulders sagged and he nodded solemnly. Vox cleared his throat, realizing he had interrupted Husk’s story. He motioned for Husk to continue.

“Didn’t think much of it at the time, but I should have been more careful with all those missing Overlords. ‘Course I didn’t know he was behind it all, none of us did. Pretty fuckin’ sure the bastard cheated somehow but I can’t prove it. At least he let me keep my power but if I could turn back time, Hell knows I would,” Husk grumbled disgruntledly.

Vox let out a low whistle as he processed the information. Vox always knew Alastor was calculating, conniving. In his early days, he had been envious of anyone who knew anything about the enigmatic individual who was taking down renowned Overlords. By the time Vox had met Alastor, he had already made a name for himself as an established Overlord.

They shook their heads simultaneously and Husk took a swig from his bottle before holding it out to Vox. After a beat, Vox accepted the bottle from him and took a large gulp himself. He coughed, ugh Tequila, before handing it back to the bartender. No wonder Husk always looked so miserable, Vox couldn’t imagine someone owning his soul, let alone Alastor of all Overlords.

“Do you miss it, being an Overlord?” Vox rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He’d become so accustomed to the Overlord lifestyle he couldn’t really imagine trying to survive Hell without it. Sure he was known for being a bit extravagant and despite what people probably thought, it wasn’t about the money. It was the power and adoration, god it was intoxicating. He used to worry he’d have to choose between having others fear or respect him but here he had it both ways. Just how he liked it.

“Eh, sometimes,” Husk shrugged, tossing back the rest of the bottle, “But it’s been kinda nice not having to keep up with the power creep and territorial disputes. Don’t get me started on those Overlord meetings.”

When Vox pulled a face, Husk held up his hands. “Look, I’m just saying it's not as bad as you might think. But hey, you didn’t become an Overlord for nothing, wouldn’t you like to prove everyone wrong? Show them that you aren’t some washed-up motherfucker that you’re actually Overlord worth his salt?”

Vox stared at his drink silently as he mulled over Husk’s words before polishing what was left and stood up from the bar. He tugged his blazer down before glancing over his shoulder at Husk, who proceeded to whisk the empty glass from the counter. Before he could respond, Vox gasped and doubled over.

“hh’DSHHH! ihh..hh…ihhh’TZSHH’uhh! ehh..hheH?” If he wasn’t so preoccupied with the stuck sneeze, he would laugh at the ridiculousness of his plight. Vox shook his head trying to coax out the lingering buzzing in his head. “hihh… Motherfuhh–ehhSHHhiew! ZTTCHhuue! eh’Z̵̛̺͉̞̓̽͊̄̏̚͜͠S̵̡̨͇̫̻̦̱̦͇̫̱̐̄́̂H̵̢͈͈̹̣̎͋͐̎͐́̏̆̋̇͋́̂͜͝H̴̢̢̥͚̝̫͓̦̺̽̃̈̇͠ͅH̸̡͇͔̞̪̳͈͖̺̼͚̯͍͂͒̋̄̅̕uu!”

“Maybe you should take it easy,” Husk suggested, eyeing the flickering lights as Vox tried to suppress a couple of staticky coughs into his fist. “Or not,” he said, when Vox gave him a withering look.

“I, uh, thanks for listening, but I’d appreciate it if you could keep all of this between us. I hope Angel knows how lucky he is to have you. Relationships like that are hard to come by in Hell.”

Husk stiffened, taken aback at the mention of Angel, his ears flattened against his head. Vox was more perceptive than he seemed. He raised a finger in defiance, his mouth opening to argue but chose not to follow through. Instead he dipped his head as Vox gave him a knowing smirk before he teleported into the old 1970s television in the parlor.

[terrifiedlimechime]

📺🎀♥𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓬𝓲𝓻𝓬𝓾𝓲𝓽 ♥🎀📻

Hi there!!!

I actually don't ship Radiostatic any more but I spent a lot of time on this. _[ ]_ °•[ -///- ]•°

Vox kicked his feet on his way through the corridor. The Vee Towers were sacred ground in his mind, perhaps solidifying his perception of the man he was about to invite into his penthouse. Maybe not man. Psychopath? Demon? Obsession? All yet to be confirmed. But most definitely, mortal enemy.

It said something about him. Perhaps that he admired the Radio Demon, which was undoubtedly incorrect, he reminded himself. Its wasn't exactly out of the goodness of his heart, he wasn't charitable by any means. But he did a fair bit of facilitating for somebody he hated. Vox knew how much Alastor hated their deal. It irked the deer, having to rely on someone else, and it made him chuckle, before he realized how heartless that made him seem, so he kept it guiltily to himself.

Vox and Alastor used to be close. Regrettably, embarrassingly close. They were so alike, so tragic, so powerful and so deserving of eternal damnation. It was no surprise when they fit together like pieces of a puzzle and placed their undying trust upon each other. Or maybe it was only Vox who did the trusting. But there was a neutral agreement that the enjoyed eachothers presence. They just… fit together. So well that Vox began to help Alastor with his rut.

They speculated that it was part of his punishment. It was cruel, and it was perfect, considering his form as a deer. After all, intimacy had never interested him, so he had no cause to be as obsessed with it as the rest of hell. Not like Angel Dust, and certainly not like Valentino. So Vox had agreed to help. According to their deal, once a month, every month, Alastor would spend a night of…pleasure with Vox. There was no breaking it, they were binded by the soul, and the suffering would have killed Alastor anyway. In public, the Radio Demon and his modern rival would, of course,be presented as adversaries. But in the lustful, dead of night, Alastor belonged to Vox, he was his, and no one's for the taking.

~( •^• )~<

The door opened abruptly, and there stood none other than the Radio Demon. He was exhausted, from a day of running around the hotel with an even faker smile than usual and constant jabs of what felt like electricity through his body. Alastor was visually very desperate, and Vox yearned for his touch. He face planted onto his companions' plush king-sized bed and said, 'My flat faced friend, how I have missed you.' He reeked of pheromones, and Vox knew he would have his work cut out tonight, but even more so tomorrow. He walked over and stroked the deer's tender ears. He shivered at his touch, but groaned in approval. "Thank you."

Vox smiled. 'Rough day, eh?'

'Oh, you have no idea.' Alastor sighed, rolling over closer, till his head lay on Vox's thighs. Vox could feel the vibration of this voice on his lap, and even more so the blush creeping on to his cheeks. The Radio Demon leaned up, and kissed him. Now he was truly flustered, his screen brighter than ever. He panicked astutely, and choked out, "COFFEE.I think I'll have some coffee, Y'KNOW. GET THE CAFFEINE HIT." Alastor looked him up and down, but was in no position to dictate him. He rushed of to the kitchen, obviously embarrassed.

Alastor eyed up a large cushion and pulled it closer to him.He was unsure of himself, he would never act as rash as this, but desperate times required desperate actions. Vox was still in the kitchen, and he hoped he would stay there for the sake of his dignity. He sat up sleepily on the bed, perked up at the thought of what he was about to do. He grinded slowly, at his own, tired pace. His admittedly dashing adversary was coursing through his mind, and he sped up needily. His manhood was growing harder by the second, and he pressed as hard as he could against the pillow, riding it like a mechanical bull. "Voxxxxxx" He moaned, his old-timey voice cracking as he threw his head back. The TV demon watched with a pointless cup of coffee in hand, destined to be ignored. "Oh my days!" Whined Alastor. Vox scooted behind him, beginning to match his thrusts. The two powerful forces collided, both rock hard at the mere thought of the other. Vox grinded hard into Alastor's hips, setting him off, moaning like a fiend, but not begging. He leaned back with a chesire grin and whispered slowly.

"Let me ravage you."

"With pleasure, fossil."

hope u liked this! idk if anyone will ever see this but have a nice day!!

stay tuned~

[sssinful-tophat-lordzzz]

So what are you three into?

"Quite sssorry for the delay. Wass trying to get all set up but I am here now!"

"I! the glorious Sir Pentiousss! As you probably already know am a master of Invention! As well as most other mechanical disciplinesss. But as for other thingss I enjoy. I enjoy classic literature, and drama, baking I found could be fun and ever since I began my residence, I have been trying to entertain the Egg Bois eccentricities, which can be quite enjoyable at times, still not sure how those 'video games' work though..."

"I would start on my taste when it comes to otherss... But Charlie says being more open is something i should strive for. So nevermind i suppose"

"The snake does often give a quite dramatic start doesn't he~? As for I~ I spend my hours overlooking my territory, and decorating it thou could say with... uninvited visitors who make a ruckus~ I also am fond of sewing, and spinning thread, a style like mine takes effort in it's upkeep, especially after all these years~ I enjoy many teas, and favor it over most other drinks. Have also been shown to be able to style someone else if need be, it's quite a time."

"For I am not bound by the princess's flight of fancy, I'm at liberty to speak on my tastes with others. I respect those who respect themselves, who present confidently, but aren't afraid of the truth that no one's made of stone~ Those who accept the vulnerability, are often the strongest, and any sort of strength deserves my intrique I feel. Long as thee doesn't mind some harmless acts for pleasure's sake~"

"Man you two talk weird, any way since these fossils are finished speaking, let's get to the main event shall we? Hey, Vox, sure you know me but still! Media overlord and someone who enjoys control and respect, I don't like my time being wasted as a facet of that. Busy guy, want it to be worth my while you know? Sure you do. I like my buisness when it's booming, like Vark, plus my other sharks, so fucking cool. Also I of course like tech, it's cool, plus lets me get around the place easier. Not radios though, just use Voxify on your fucking phone then some old timey shit. That's the only reason."

"As with people, I'm a talker, so interrupting is pretty uncool. Again I like being respected. Plus, I get people have moods, but please don't fly into a rage at the slightest thing, I deal with plenty of that already... I don't know, respect me, don't go apeshit, and keep old radios off you and we'll be fine, I assure you~ I market to many after all."

[sarifel-corrisafid-ilxhel]

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My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Had a dream where they tried again with the Animorphs TV show, and they made the following changes:

1.) Tobias is just never on screen in bird morph unless it's stock footage. When everyone is in the barn or outside talking, they just look up off screen/into the rafters/ into the conciently placed tree while the Tobias voiceover plays. The bits where Tobias attacks people from above are done with a muppet and fishing wire.

2.) Ax is actually a tiny puppet touched up with CGI and greenscreened in. Same goes for all the other Andalites.

3.) Rachel isn't tall. She's actually only a little taller than Cassie and Marco. She still complains about being too tall for Gymnastics to Melissa, who is an inch taller than her.

4.) Rather than age the characters up to fit the darker themes of the series, they cast a bunch of 14 year olds and then reduced the stakes and focus more on the kids hanging out. They just randomly run into Visser Three at the arcade and the amusement park and at school a lot.

5.) They have a real tiger, and try to find as many excuses to show it off as they can. When they can't figure out a reason for Jake to be in tiger morph, they come up with other ways to shoehorn it in, like the zoo thought it was okay to take a tiger to the mall for people to pet it.

6.) They finally have more than one Hork-Bajir costume to use, but they only have one Taxxon, which is played by two guys crouched under a long worm costume like a Chinese New Year parade dragon.

I think that's all I can remember.

208 notes - Posted March 6, 2022

#4

If you acquired every animal you have ever touched on purpose in your entire life, what would be the coolest thing you could morph into?

Mine would probably be a nurse shark or a boa constrictor. The snake was from when a reptile specialist brought it to my middle school and let us pet it. The shark would be from a Pet The Shark exhibit at an aquarium.

Not gonna lie though, my favorite one (not the coolest, but definitely the most sentimental value) would be the tiny stingray I was friends with when I was 6.

217 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

#3

Idea: The Animorphs get sent back in time because Ax was fiddling with the radio in Cassie’s barn and accidentally caused a Sario Rip. The Animorphs encounter their past selves. The past Animorphs are convinced the future Animorphs are actually Evil Animorphs (tm) from an alternate dimension. Except Cassie, who has a Timey Wimey sense, and Ax, who simply asks the other Ax <What happened this time?>

236 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

#2

I can't tell if I shared this here, but...

[SCENE: Somewhere. JAKE and TOBIAS are waiting for the other ANIMORPHS to arrive.]

Tobias, seeing an approaching osprey: <You've got incoming. It's an idiot.>

Cassie, playfully: <Thanks Tobias. I love you too.>

Tobias: <Oh shit! Sorry! I thought you were Marco.>

Marco, flying in from another direction in his osprey morph: <This is why I keep telling her she needs to get her own bird morph! Merchandising is never going to go for it if we share morphs.>

Tobias: <And there's the idiot.>

242 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Imagine going to a supermarket and finding a Taxxon with a shopping basket hanging off one arm and the Taxxon is weighing five different cantelopes with its other arms.

That is the world I want to live in.

266 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[countlessrealities]

A Heart for a Kiss || Accepting !

@rradiio sent: 😍 - for Vox from Alastor, surprise!

Vox would have never admitted it, but after that drunk night he had been making an effort to avoid running into the Radio Demon. He even purposefully missed the few chance that arose to butt heads from distance, the opportunities that he usually jumped on.

It wasn't because he was afraid of repercussions. If Alastor had wanted to harm him, he would have done at the pub, while they were still face to face. It would have been easy for his rival, with the Media Demon made dazed and reckless by the alcohol in his system. He had been at the old bastard's mercy and he was well aware of it.

It had kind of been part of the point of his impulsive choice, an added thrill he had savour and that still caused his fans to whirl a little faster whenever he thought back about it. It was fucked up, perhaps to the point of borderline masochism, but he loved it.

What kept him away was the awareness that Alastor had been messing with him all along, especially by fulfilling his insane request. The lie had been exhilarating, addictive, but that was one temptation he refused to give into. He had been burnt once, so badly that he still carried around the metaphorical aching scars, and he would not fall for it again.

Still, since he didn't trust himself to remain in control while around the Radio Demon yet, temporarily avoiding him seemed like the most effective solution.

Pity that he couldn't make Alastor keep away from him just as easily, nor he could make sure that the other Overlord wouldn't have noticed how elusive he had been in the last few days.

That considered, he shouldn't have been surprised to see his luck run out and to bump into his rival after carelessly turning a corner. Fuck his life. That was the last time he agreed to run an errand in Val's place.

If he had reacted more quickly, he would have managed to zap himself away, but instead he froze in his spot, for one second too long, enough for Alastor's shadows to catch him.

After that, everything happened too fast for Vox to react or even just to process it until it was over. He was unceremoniously pulled forward, within his rival's arm's reach, and then he was being kissed.

A hing-pitched warning sound blared along his circuits as his screen glitched wildly, error messages flashing over it at mad speed. The memories of the other night, filed away in his system down to the smallest detail, mixed with the inputs he was registering in the present, causing an overwhelming sense of déjà-vu, like an echo being reflected over and over and over.

Sparks danced around the borders of his head, intensifying even more when he was released, after an unknown period of time. His thoughts ran wild, most of them confused and unintelligible, while one was almost loud enough to cover up the rest.

Whatthefuckthefuckwhatthefuck?! Nopenopenope NOT dealing with this.

A nearby camera jerked in their direction as Vox recovered just enough to do the thing he should have done from the start. Get the fuck out of there.

And he did exactly that, disappearing in a zap and leaving behind just air filled with static.

Cursed old-timey motherfucker. He hated him beyond words. Among the other things.

[jumpstartingjack]

Closing Day

I left San Diego on Memorial Day Monday and made my way north up the I-15. I wasn’t in a hurry because I didn’t have to be in Pinedale until the following day when I had a meeting scheduled with our realtor to close on the property. The drive from San Diego to Pinedale is around 15 hours, depending on how much you stop along the way. I decided to take the scenic route since I had two days to get there and after Las Vegas I pulled off the interstate on some smaller roads in Utah. My goal was to car camp somewhere along the way, preferably in a more remote area of Utah. The sun set shortly after Cedar City so I had a few hours of driving in the dark before I found a good spot to pull off. I still remember driving through the Utah mountains east of Cedar City and listening to the Utah Jazz playoff game on the radio. I pulled off somewhere north of the I-70 crossing and crashed for the night. I would have slept inside of the outback but since it was filled full with tools I had to sleep outside. I had my inflatable mattress with me so I aired it up and climbed on top of the car where I slept under the stars. I was so tired I don’t remember much after I closed my eyes!

The next morning I woke up with the sunrise and was ready to hit the road. I had to make it to SLC on time to get to a bank to get a check cut for our closing. We needed 5k of “money in earnest” and it was imperative that I have the check ready when I got to Pinedale. I had a harder time securing this than I anticipated. The money had to be in the form of a cashiers check, which I assumed would be a matter of just walking up to a teller and getting the funding. Of course it couldn’t be that easy. The first Wells Fargo I went to didn’t have the capabilities of doing this for me... what? So they told me about another branch that could do this but it was across town. Okay, no big deal. I drive to that location and they had some weird Covid protocols in place where you had to have an appointment to meet with a banker. I couldn’t believe it. I stressed how important this was, that I needed the money to close on a property and they eventually let me meet with a banker that could help me. There were definitely some stressful moments but I had the check in hand and was ready to drive the 3.5 hours north to Pinedale.

The drive up from SLC isn’t too bad, its a drive we would eventually make more often. You hit the Wyoming border at Evanston and then go north on a two lane road to Kemmerer and eventually Big Piney. Just outside of Kemmerer you see the Wind River Range come into view. Its a spectacular range and to think that we would be living at its base! I got into town, and pulled into the Wagon Wheel lot. I called Chase to tell him that I had the check and was on site and he rode his bike over to meet me. It was becoming a little surreal. My next task was to get the title transferred at a title company which was across the street from his office. Once that was done he handed me a rather large ring of keys, most of which didn’t do anything, and it was official. We were property owners! He met me back over at the motel and we talked in the lobby. I’m not sure what he was thinking, probably that this guy from California is crazy and he never thought it would actually amount to anything! He did bring over a little motel warming gift: some high mountain shirts and a bottle of very good whiskey. 

That evening, June 1, 2021, I sat outside the lobby under the carport of the Wagon Wheel Motel as the sun set behind the sleepy little town of Pinedale. I had a glass of Chase’s whiskey in my hand as I looked out over my newly acquired kingdom. The carport had old decrepit flower pots with dead flowers in them. There was a three foot tall decrepit cowboy statue chained to the pole as though it was a priced possession. The wagon wheel sign stood tall along US HWY 191 with a rotting old timey wagon parked beneath its shadow. The parking lot was overrun with litter and weeds and the property itself was just in astounding depths of disarray. As I sipped my whiskey it began to set in... what had we done? Are we insane? Here I am, 1000 miles away from my family, on a rundown property with no job, no income, and a mountain of what ifs in front of me. I felt crazy, I felt alone, I felt scared... but I also felt the weight of adventure and I had an inkling that maybe we could just pull this off. 

[your-daily-desert-weather]

How to know which household creatures are useful:

1. Oven demon- Cute, but not very useful. If you want any baked goods to have cute designs on them, this is the creature for you! 4/10

2. The Milkman- Very useful! Shared between several households and still does a wonderful job. 9/10

3. Shelby- A sink demon that does little except eat any scraps that you toss down the sink. Good for cleaning. 6/10

4. TV static- Very useful! Protects one from the shadow people who want your words. 10/10

5. Wall sludge- Nice to talk to, but doesn't usually answer. Not sure if it's shy or stuck-up. 3/10

6. Cookbooks- Useful for old timey recipes, but constantly changing. Be sure to photograph ones you like. 7/10

7. Bowling Coupons- Nice for cheap fun, but have a tendency to get lost. Be sure to keep them in a box or drawer! 5/10

8. Upstairs windows- Awful. Only show bland and normal things. 1/10

9. Ruth(s)- Very comfortable rug(s), but has a habit of moving to odd places. 6/10

10. Radio- Most useful! You get to listen to your favorite show hosts! obviously/10

[radiomurdeer]

Alastor sat at the bench, feeling wrongfooted. His body faced the playing children but his head swiveled to keep an eye on Vox, even when the angle would have strained anyone else. It hurt his own neck as well, but nerves were silly things not to be relied on or necessarily even listened to. Across the ether the Radio Demon roamed, searching for that small little blip he'd caught a glimpse of earlier. He's not willing to believe in a daughter yet, but no one was allowed to use the radio waves without his permission. He'd spent his time since he'd gotten back between the hotel and hunting down the little pirate radio stations that had cropped up in his absence and bringing them into his fold. When he'd returned he'd expected he'd have to fight Vox for them. A lot of technology like wi-fi and mobile towers utilized radio waves. Any TV used them as well, just on different bands than Alastor had claimed. Vox moving in on Alastor's bands wouldn't have been that surprising. What was surprising was to find them untouched, unmonitored.

"Rosie?" of course he'd had to have her permission to be here. The cannibals guarded their town zealously. It was by necessity as much as sheer enjoyment at gutting trespassers; real estate was a prime commodity in Hell, and the cannibals wouldn't be missed by most. If they didn't band together they'd get walked all over. Alastor laughed.

"You expect me to believe she lets you here every week? What would you even talk about it's not like you're a cannibal or care for any of this," he waved his hand to encompass Cannibal Town, which could easily be lumped into old-timey, not worth a hypermodern Vox's attention. A place caught in time and incompatible with most of Hell which seemed to be racing towards the future. Still, there's something uneasy beneath it. Vox was far too comfortable here, and Alastor didn't like that.

Vox pockets the cellphone again. He’s going to take Alastor even looking at it as a win. He doesn’t particularly care of Alastor beloved him picture alone, that would be expecting Alastor to not be Alastor, but despite that, the picture makes him smile.

Parents talked about their kids growing up too fast, he didn’t think he’d ever understand it, but now… Veronique isn’t a baby anymore. She can’t fit in the crook of his arm like she had, though her spot on his hip remains a favourite. Hellaina said having her had done good for things for him, at the time, he’d doubted as much, but he’s come to think that she was probably right in some ways.

He half turns, checking on the playground. He sees the flash of her blue sweater on top of the jungle gym, and looks back to Alastor.

Vox sticks a hand in his pocket, and nods his head towards the bench. “Couple reasons: Cannibal Town’s got other kids, and it’s healthy to socialize her, so’s the fresh air. The Blue Light District isn’t exactly… the most chid accessible place,” and, the part he’s sure will piss Alastor off the most. “We’ve made weekly visits to Rosie since Veronique was… oooh, two months old? The playground picked up when she was four,”

[thefanficmonster]

Few Too Many

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, In-game violence and death, Suggestive comments

Genre: Protective fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially when the jealous person is armed with a gun....in a game of Counter Strike. At least Y/N’s friend will now know not to mess around and flirt with her, especially not with Corpse around.

Requested by 🐐 Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request but here it finally is! I didn’t want to make it IRL violence to avoid triggering anyone while I also felt it’d be very ooc for Corpse to beat someone up but I still hope you enjoy the fic if you come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey everyone!“ Y/N greets her squad as they all customize their characters while I sit there, observing and unknowing of what I’m supposed to do. “I invited Corpse to play with us today, hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Nice to finally meet you, Corpse. We’ve heard a ton about you from Y/N, thanks for making our girl the happiest she’s ever been.“ One of her friends says, the tone of his voice suggesting he’s only half-joking with the dad like comment he made.

“Nice to meet you too, man. Glad I’m the one she gave the chance of making her happy. That’s all I ever wanna do.“ Though it may sound cheesy, as guys, her friends can probably read into how genuinely I mean what I’ve said.

Dating a girl with only guy friends has it’s pros and cons. Which outweigh which is still up for debate since I’m still researching, but so far so good in my opinion. This is the first time I’m interacting with them directly so I’ve still got a long way to go in terms of getting to know them and the details of their relationship with Y/N better. Regardless, I at least know they can easily understand me and put themselves in my shoes if I ever ‘mess things up’ with Y/N and she goes to complain to them - something that will most likely never happen. I’d never dare make this girl upset. Chances are, if I do, her friends won’t get to me on time - I would deliver my own punishment just the way I think I deserve it. However, there’s also the chance of them getting super protective of her and ganging up on me over something as small as a fight. By the many things and stories Y/N’s shared with me about them, I believe they wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone’s ass for her. They’re not massive dudes - I’ve seen pictures of them - but I for one don’t ever wanna see em angry.

“Ay bro, what’d you do to score our best girl? You must know what she likes. If so please, by all means, do tell.“ One of them, not the one who was previously talking, speaks up, his words making me furrow my brows in both confusion and irritation.

I open my mouth to complain as I slowly start cracking my knuckles when Y/N and her friends beat me to it. Thing is, Y/N’s friend group consists of three guys and her and yet four voices scolded the guy that made that suggestive comment. That being said, this guy probably isn’t considered to be one of her friends, at least not one that’s a permanent part of her friend group.

“Seth, cut it out!“ The guy I was previously speaking to says sharply before softening his tone to refer to me, “Sorry about my brother, excuse his lack of brain cells, please.“

Just then, I also receive a message from someone. Checking my phone, turns out it’s Y/N who by the way is currently in the living room while I’m in the recording room. Her text reads:

Y/N ~ Ignore Seth. I told Leo to not invite him but he’s still here somehow

I send her back a quick reassuring text before answering the guy I now know is named Leo, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“See? The guy can take a joke, you’re all just freaking out over nothing!“ Seth laughs, reminding me and the others of how loud he is compared to us.

Despite acting like it’s no big deal, I can’t help but admit to myself that this behavior of Seth’s has awoken a deeply buried suspicion of mine that’s not only mine but also arises in every guy whose girlfriend hangs out with a lot of guys. It’s not that I don’t trust Y/N - she could literally blindfold me and tell me to walk through a pool of lava, promising it wouldn’t hurt and I’d do it - but we all know about that saying that every guy in a group with one girl has liked said girl at least once.

Disturbing to think these four, including Seth five, dudes could’ve possibly been my competition at some point. It’s nice that they’re all super chill about it, mostly cause some of them have girlfriends as I was told.

Nevertheless, we get over that hiccup and carry on with the small talk and preparations for the game. Since it’s my first time playing CSGO, Y/N, Leo and her other friend Clancy explain the mechanics to me in detail to avoid me getting confused mid-game and getting myself killed. When they finish, we start the round and wait for the game’s algorithm to separate us into two teams which Y/N jokingly refers to as cops and robbers. Unfortunately, the end result of that separation ends up being me getting put in the terrorists’ force with Leo and Clancy while Y/N’s with the FBI, partnered with Seth and her other friend Evan.

“Alright, team, we shall now disperse. Corpse, remember, if you see more than one of them, radio in and lay low, we’ll be with you as soon as possible.“ Leo informs me as he runs off in one direction, Clancy going in the opposite. I confirm I understand and go along my way too, heading for this ancient looking structure that looks like it could belong in an old-timey movie. 

Walking in, I realize the place is way bigger than it appeared on the outside. A quick look up confirms that there are three fucking floors above, not to mention that the ground floor is huge. Luckily, there are many crates and barrels to hide behind if I come across an FBI agent. I sure as hell hope it’s Y/N, I could maybe even try talking her into giving me a second chance at life and pretend she never saw me. Come to think of it though, I’d probably prefer getting killed by her rather than her friends - especially Seth.

Given that we’re in a Discord call, I can hear all the conversation going on. They are all quiet though, I can just periodically hear the mumbles of someone muttering to themselves as they navigate the map cautiously out of fear of running into their opponent unprepared. The silence is put to an end though when Seth speaks up, addressing Y/N.

“Yo, your boyfriend’s with the terrorists, ain’t he? That’s like the universe giving you a sign that y’all shouldn’t be together.“ The fucker laughs at his own joke while I can literally hear Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Have you heard of Romeo and Juliet, Seth?“ She asks sarcastically, almost getting a chuckle out of me but I suppress it to avoid getting caught listening in.

“Yeah, they both die at the end. Fucking boooriiinngg.“ Just then, I spot two silhouettes entering the building. Aiming my gun at them reveals their names - just the people I’m currently involuntarily eavesdropping on. Seth and Y/N don’t notice me though so I quickly duck behind a crate and prepare to radio in when Seth continues verbally torturing Y/N and dancing on my last nerves, “I personally think the friends-to-lovers trope is far more interesting...“

Did this guy just- no, he’s gotta be fucking kidding me

I’m left with my jaw hanging in disbelief at this guy’s audacity. I have no doubt Y/N’s about to put him in his place herself but I just gotta have my own chat with this guy. And by ‘chat’ I mean I mindlessly rush out from behind the crate towards where I saw him and Y/N and open fire on him.  I hear his startled and upset screams with Y/N’s laughter in the background. She doesn’t try to stop me as a teammate of his should and would, instead she just observes the scene unfold, laughing her ass off.

“Yo man what the fuck was that for?!“ I hear Seth’s yell but only faintly since the sound of gunshots is still echoing through my headphones. Yeah, I’m not done shooting this fucker.

“Corpse...Corpse, buddy...“ Y/N manages through fits of laughter she cannot tame, “That’s a few too many bullets, he’s already dead.”

“And that was a few too many comments for him to be let off the hook.” I answer as sharply as I can with the new-formed smile on my face. What can I say, her happiness is contagious.

“Well, you got your first kill in CSGO. Good job, babe! I’m super proud of you!” She cheers for me, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Nah that was my first overkill.“ I quickly add, with a more threatening tone: “And it won’t be my last.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t few too many of these overkills either.“ She snickers.

“That doesn’t depend on me, babe.“ I say smugly, suggestively enough for Seth to pick up the dropped hint. Mother fucker’s officially been put in his place and I couldn’t possibly be happier - with the added bonus of getting a ton of laughter out of Y/N who also decides to walk away, leaving me unharmed but promising to shoot to kill next time she sees me.

I’m ok with that. She could kill me anyday.

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[say-the-name-sebongie]

Stereo Hearts

Synopsis: Silence can drive a person mad which makes radio like some sort of hero. It just takes a while to find the right station to listen to. Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader Genre: fluff, collegeAU!Jihoon Warnings: noneeee Word Count: 1.6k words a/n: pls pretend spotify doesn't exist yet and yes this was kinda inspired by radio rebel

_____ silently thanked whoever created the radio. She thought that she would go crazy from the silence of the room she was in. The fact that her roommate was always grouchy and complained that she couldn't do anything if there were any "annoying" sounds made it hard for her to study in their shared room. She couldn't complain about it because the free dorm room that came with the scholarship was more than she could as for. So that left her to study in the dorm common room, earphones plugged into her phone and its radio tuned on some old radio station nobody listened to anymore.

Unfortunately for her, the songs that played on the radio these days didn't have any essence. They were either about having sex or were just pure electronic noise if they weren't memes. None of which helped her study. Sure there were some good songs but that only came on the radio every few weeks. So she had no choice but to go back to her routine of ever maddening silence.

On her way to class one day, she saw a poster on the notification board at the school entrance about the launch of the university's first radio station.

"I didn't know the university had its own radio station," she mumbled to herself. The bell rang and she left the poster behind, taking note of the station numbers and promising herself that she would check out the newfound radio station after class. Station 5.26.

That night she calibrated her phone radio until she heard a voice crackling in her earphones.

" -again guys to Station 5.26, University Radio. I have to get out of here to give my shift over to DJ Woozi so here's Fly Me To The Moon by good old Frank Sinatra. Good night!"

Old-timey music wafted into her ears as Frank Sinatra sang. The girl smiled. Now there was some good music. She took her books out of her bag and started going through what she had learned that day.

Studying became a joy more than a job when she listened to University Radio. Her favorite segment was the one hosted by DJ Woozi, who she heard was a student in the university. She had fallen in love with his impeccable taste in music, ranging from hard rock and hip hop to orchestral music and old classics. But that wasn't the only thing she had fallen in love with.

Hearing his voice over the crackly speakers of her phone made her feel better. A day hadn't gone since discovering that radio station that she didn't listen to his segment, Simple Radio, all night. Even if it ended at 3am, she couldn't finish her day without hearing him sign off with his signature "Goodbye guys, and may the simplest things make you smile today."

He was her vitamin. And though she had never even seen him yet, one could say that she had fallen for him.

Which is why she was devastated to hear that the station would be offline for the duration of the coming school break.

Over spring break she could think of nothing but going back to school. Most students wouldn't want their days of vacation to end but _____ was itching for the new term to arrive.

After an eternity, the day classes resumed came. As she sat in the back of her father's car, she could barely hear him talk about how he had gotten an email from the university about new dorm arrangements. Her mind was off in another place, some specific radio booth to be exact. As soon as they stopped at the school gate she hurried out of the car, not even bothering to give her bewildered father a second look.

A bunch of students were crowding the notification board, blocking the entrance. When she got to the front of the crowd she saw that the dorm rooms offered by the university were shuffled, including her dorm room.

To: The Students

Re: Dorm Room Assignments

Dear Beloved Students,

The faculty has come to a decision to rearrange the existing dorm rooms from being separated by gender to a co-ed arrangement. This is to ensure that we make the most of the space that is allotted for the dormitory rooms. Posted below are the said room assignments.

Thank you for your cooperation.

_____ scanned the list until she found her name. Room 17, Building B. Under that was another name equating to the same dorm. Lee Jihoon. From an annoyingly sensitive girl to some strange guy she had never met, her dorm life was never boring.

She dragged her luggage to Building B, hurrying so she could turn on her radio again. Heaving a sigh in front of room number 17, she opened the door to reveal a room with two beds and a boy in front of his laptop on one of the desks that were pushed against the wall. He had brightly colored hair buried under a big pair of headphones, his fingers tapping on the desk as he listened to something on his laptop.

As quietly as she could, _____ snuck into the room. She must have been noisier than she thought because he turned around to face her. His surprisingly handsome features gathering in confusion before they softened into understanding.

"You're _____, right?" he said, his hand slightly hesitating whether it should hold itself out for her to shake or not. The girl smiled and nodded before shaking his hand which he finally decided to stretch out. He smiled, his starry eyes disappearing into half-moons. Maybe this guy was better than her last dormmate.

Over the next few weeks, she and Jihoon became friends. Meeting up outside of class and talking about absolutely anything. _____ was glad to not be in the company of someone who hated listening to music. Blasting music in their dorm room was something they both enjoyed. She and Jihoon even shared the same favorite artists so picking which songs to play was never an issue.

There was something about the boy that felt so familiar as if she had met him before. She couldn't deny the fact that she liked being with him. Not even to herself. Being with him almost made her forget about her favorite radio station.

Almost.

On one early Saturday morning, she was alone in the dorm listening to Station 5.26 yet again when Jihoon came through the door from his part-time job. "Hey." she greeted him, not bothering to remove her earphones or even look up at her roommate.

"What are you listening to?" he asked, walking to her side and peeking at her phone screen. _____ turned her phone slightly to show the boy. He turned to look at her, a surprised look on his face.

"You listen to University Radio too?" Jihoon asked her incredulously. Enthusiastic about finding another common thing between them she started gushing about how she found the radio stations and how much she loved it over all the more mainstream stations.

Her roommate just smiled as she talked, silently taking in everything she said as he put his bag down and sat on his bed. The boy stared at her smiling face and blushing cheeks, hands that moved with every word she said, dainty fingers that pointed to nowhere in particular as she spoke, eyes that shone and sparkled and luscious pink lips that he just wanted to-

The boy pinched himself out of his daydream. He couldn't be crushing on his roommate right now.

It didn't take long for her to start talking about Simple Radio and DJ Woozi. Jihoon's eyes lit up when she mentioned it. _____ spilled everything she had kept to herself, from her love for his taste in music to her embarrassing crush on him. It all came spilling out. She felt as if she could trust Jihoon with them. As her secrets came to the light, the boy's eyes became wider and wider.

"Hey, you know I work for the university radio station, you wanna come along to my shift tonight?" he offered her. His roommate immediately agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck and thanking him again and again. His cheeks burned, a reddish tint left on them when she let go.

That night they got ready to go out. _____ could hardly believe her luck. It was almost 9pm, the time for Simple Radio to come on. That meant that when she got to the studio, her idol would be there. And she could finally meet him!

The studio was a dimly lit but cozy place. It was filled to the brim with CDs and records. Several speakers hung from the ceiling and stood at every corner. An empty booth stood in the middle of the floor. Jihoon put down his bag and walked to it, fiddling with some buttons and levers. _____ walked around to inspect the shelves. She found old CDs of famous singers and unknown rock bands. It fascinated her that so much music could be contained in one place.

A crackling came from the speakers, then a voice.

"Hey guys welcome back to Station 5.26 University Radio, I'm your nighttime companion DJ Woozi and this is Simple Radio."

_____'s eyes widened. She looked at her watch. 9:00pm, it said. The girl hurried back towards the booth, expecting to see DJ Woozi. But when she got there it was only Jihoon, headphones on his ears. She watched him, confused as to why he was inside. His gaze met hers through the glass.

"I'm here today in the booth with a person that's very special to me standing outside, watching me. She doesn't know that I'm the DJ Woozi she wanted to meet so bad,"

_____'s mouth gaped open.

"Nor does she know that I like her."

Jihoon smiled at her through the glass, mouth still near the microphone.

"And I hope that my confession today will blossom into something more."

[sweetfirebird]

The 1950s were like 70 years ago. You tend to think you could get along if you could time travel, I mean, roughly. Depending on who you are and when/where you go, I mean. On a purely 'understanding what the fuck is going on' and 'technically being able to maneuver in that world' level, all of us imagine we would at least be able to comprehend what was happening and be able to like... idk scramble through the streets of (in this case) 1950s LA to get to the mad scientist who can send us back (to the future lol. 121 gigawatts, Marty!) But I'm really questioning how well we'd fit in, and I think the answer is more that episode of Futurama where Fry is his own grandfather than Star Trek: The One With the Whales (which I love, but I actually think that even Kirk would be hopelessly fucking lost more of the time. I would get disoriented if I was in 1980s San Francisco and I have been to 1980s San Francisco. He is from the 23rd century.)

Like, so we have recordings of Americans in the late 20s and early 30s and they really did talk at the speed of and in the manner of old timey radio broadcasts would suggest. AND they would be using slang, including ephemeral local vernacular that did not linger long enough to get written down. They would give directions to places that no longer exist in your time, or have different names, or different connotations. All that. Money and its value would be different, even if you had any. Using a telephone involves knowing exchanges or talking to operators... and probably using a public phone in a drugstore or something. (And a rotary dial, which I at least could do. lol)

Then the other issues, race, gender, appearance. The rules of how people could act in public in different times are so wildly different that, for example, some younger people on tumblr now have issues with how older tumblr users act (and vice versa) because of how society has changed over even one or two decades. That's a communication issue.

If you're wondering, this episode of Perry Mason just reminded me of how you couldn't say the word "pregnant" on American television in the 1950s or even show pregnancy or married people sharing a bed (even if they were not in the bed at the time). When the very married Lucille Ball got pregnant while shooting I Love Lucy, it was a whole THING to discuss how to deal with it on the show. (They finally titled the episode Lucy is Enceinte like she was a Regency heroine because they still could not say pregnant. A basic fact of life that everyone was aware of but was forbidden and secret--and for comparison, Perry Mason has shown us burlesque and fan dancers.) I am trying to imagine me operating in such a world (as I struggle to reach the mad scientist waiting outside the clock tower. Or maybe as I wait undercover for a while and have to get along in that time and place) in which me driving at night alone would raise eyebrows (me driving at all not rare but also a Thing), I could not be in a bar by myself at the nicer bars or hotels because they would assume I was a prostitute and kick me out, most men being absolute creeps was allowed and even the non-creeps would be pretty creepy by today's standards. I can only imagine the rules I don't know and the attention I would get even if I was wearing the right clothing. AND I wouldn't understand the nuance of most of what people were saying, even though I would possibly understand most of the words they were saying. Then like... the food. 1950s American food uh... would likely make me ill. (Thinking of that scene in Infamous where Truman Capote walks into the middle America grocery store looking for cheese and can only find... Velveeta.) Everyone on Perry Mason just seems to eat steak or white bread. I'm not kidding. And drink and smoke. Everyone is smoking. I couldn't even walk into a restaurant, I would die.

But of course, I would likely die anyway, probably of polio or smallpox, because we eradicated those so hard since the 50s that no one my age was inoculated against them.

(Or maybe, maybe, the anxiety that white America lived with all the time and denied having would be relatable and they'd be like, atomic bomb, amirite? and I'd be like, climate change, ya dig? Who knows.)

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Shall We Dance?

(Author’s Note: Hey all, I’m back but this time with a Bucky fic!  I just thought this was an adorable idea, and I even found a soundtrack for it.  You could play some 1940′s instrumental jazz in the background while reading this fic to enhance the experience, or not.  Up to you!

Also, this is sort of an AU that takes place after Civil War, but where the Avengers don’t separate yet.  So yeah I’m jumping on the bandwagon of Avengers still living in the tower with Bucky joining them XD)

   “Are you sure about this?” you asked, poking your head around the corner.  Taking note of what the guests were wearing, you immediately felt out of place.  Despite the party having a 1940’s theme, most of the ladies were wearing rather modern dresses that were long and elegant and touched the floor.  Some did go as far as pinning their hair in updos that were fitting for the time period, but even so, you glanced down at your old-fashioned evening gown and perfectly matched shoes with doubt.  It was a beautiful deep blue dress that went almost to your ankles.  The sleeves were a tad puffy at the shoulders before tightening into long sleeves the rest of the way to your wrists.  The outfit was very lovely, but it was most definitely out-dated compared to what the guests were wearing.

   It was a birthday celebration for Steve Rogers- a surprise one at that.  Stark had volunteered a floor of the Avengers tower for the venue, and Natasha and you had the neat idea of making it an old-fashioned party complete with music from the 1940’s to make things feel more like home.  You and Nat had fun researching the sort of clothes worn back then, but apparently not everyone had taken the theme so literally.

   “You kidding me?” Natasha responded in a low voice, brows furrowing slightly.  “You look great.  Now, let’s get out there and own it.”  A smile crept on your face, and you were glad to have a friend go into the party with, especially someone as confident as Romanoff.  She was dressed in a 1940’s gown too, though hers was a pretty dark green which complemented the red lipstick she wore.  “We were pretty specific about the theme of the party,” she continued.  “Technically, most of these people are the ones out of place, not us.”

   “Good point.”

   “This is for Steve anyway.  I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

   It wasn’t necessarily the guests that concerned you.  Or Steve.  A certain someone would be in attendance, and you strived to be cool as a cucumber.

   “Alright, here goes nothing.”  You stepped out from the hallway and couldn’t help but smile.  The music was jazzy, and the lights made the scene even more charming as couples danced on the floor while others conversed at little tables or the bar.  Natasha walked beside you, eyes scanning the room.  They rested on Bruce, who was talking to Tony with a drink in his hand.

   “You going to say ‘hi’?” you asked, giving her a playful nudge.  She played it off as if she couldn’t care less, but you knew there was something going on between her and the scientist.

   “Maybe later.”

   A waiter approached with a tray, and Natasha gratefully accepted a shrimp cocktail while you decided to take a chance on a pastry.  As you bit into your snack, you looked to your friend.   

   “You look beautiful,” you complimented. 

   She flashed a warm smile, a rare but lovely sight from the secret agent.  “You look beautiful too,” she said.  Then, her eyes seemed to dart to something behind you.  “It looks like someone else thinks so.”

   Your mouth fell open.  “What?”  You snuck a glance over your shoulder in the most subtle way you could before quickly turning away when a pair of dark blue eyes gazed in your direction.  Your heartbeat quickened as Natasha raised a brow.  “It’s Bucky.”

   “Yes, it is,” she nodded, though her probing gaze didn’t leave your face as she took in your expression.  “Something wrong?”

   “No,” you said quickly.  A little too quickly.

   Her eyes traveled to the former Winter Soldier before a hint of a smirk appeared on her lips.  “Oh, so you still have a thing for him?”

   “What?  I never told you that.”

   “Didn’t need to.”  Her smirk grew.  “I sort of read people for a living, and it’s written all over your face whenever he walks in the room.”

   “Well, glad I was being subtle,” you remarked with an eye roll.  “I just get so nervous.  He’s a good friend, and…”

   “And he’s coming over here.”

   “He’s- what?”

   “He’s walking this way,” she mumbled under her breath.

   You followed her eyes to see those eyes fixed on you as he approached.  Though his dark hair was still somewhat long and unkempt, he wore a nice suit and shoes.  His lips pressed together in an awkward smile as he entered the space where you and Natasha stood.

   “Hey,” he greeted with a small wave.

   “Hi,” you said, smiling.  Natasha didn’t speak.  She only observed the interaction as your eyes wandered the room in desperate search for something else to talk about.  “This turned out to be a nice party,” you commented.  “You think Steve is having a good time?”

   “Yeah,” Bucky agreed, looking over to see the Captain having a dance with Sharon.  “It is nice.  I think he’s having fun.  Sure looked happy to see everyone when he walked in.”

   You laughed as you remembered his reaction- your friend and teammate’s look of pleasant surprise and then a big smile as everyone shouted “surprise!”  You even asked that Tony get a picture from the security footage.

   “Definitely loved the look on his face,” you said.  The conversation between the two of you quieted for a minute as both of you looked at your surroundings until Bucky spoke up again.

   “You like the music?” he asked, gesturing with a metal hand to your feet.  You hadn’t even noticed yourself swaying in place to the tune.  The realization caused you to give a sheepish smile and shrug.

   “I think I do.”

   Bucky’s little awkward smile widened, and his eyes held warmth as he asked, “do you wanna’ dance with me?”  Your eyes travelled to that inviting gaze of his, and it was like your heart was doing flips.  You nodded, and he extended his other hand to take yours.  Then, he looked to Natasha.  “Mind if I steal her for a dance or two?”

   Natasha smirked again.  “Not at all.  Have fun, you two.”

   Bucky glanced your way again before leading you toward the dance floor.  You shot a look at Natasha over your shoulder, mouth falling open in shock that this was happening.  She gave a nod of approval.

   Bucky stopped before going too far into the crowded space, turning to put the metal hand at your waist while you put your arm around the back of his neck.  He exhaled sharply in a silent chuckle, glancing down at his feet.  “Sorry,” he said, eyes darting back up to yours.  “It’s been a while.  I haven’t danced with a woman in….well, about seventy years.”

   “Oh,” you said quietly.  An ache grew in your heart at the thought.  He’d spent a lot of time brainwashed and forced to do awful things for Hydra.  Before you could dwell on it much further, you remembered where you were and tried to keep the conversation light-hearted.  “Well I hope I don’t disappoint you.  I haven’t had much experience dancing to this kind of music.”

   “_________,” he said, starting to sway to the music.  You let him lead you in the beginnings of the dance.  “You are far from disappointing me.”  He stepped back to give you a twirl, and you followed through with a smile on your face.  “And since I’m out of practice, we won’t do anything fancy.”

   “Sounds good to me.”

   A warm feeling gathered in your chest, and you were absolutely elated as you and Bucky let the tune carry you both.  The grin never left your expression.  He seemed to be smiling even wider as he got more comfortable.  Hearing this kind of music on the radio used to feel so strange to you.  You’d breeze past it to the next station in search of something more to your taste, something more modern.  But being there in that moment, dancing with Bucky, it felt so real.  So alive.  You could see why people enjoyed it.  From then on, you’d never think of it the same way.

   “You look gorgeous, doll,” Bucky said over the music, drawing your attention from the live band and back to his gaze.  The lights reflected as a splash of glowing color amongst the beautiful blue of his eyes.  “Where’d you find a dress like that?”

   You ducked your head slightly from the compliment.  “Oh, I got it online.  It was Natasha’s idea.  We were hoping everyone would dress up, but turns out it was just us.”

   “Well, I like it.  Love it, actually.”

   “Thank you.”  He gave you another twirl just as the song ended, and both of you pulled away to applaud the band along with the other couples.  Then, the band took a short pause to turn pages and take a breather before playing a slower song.  As the other couples drew closer to dance slowly, you stole a glance at your dance partner, wondering if he’d want to dance this song with you or take a break.  Before you could ask, he offered his hand.  You smiled, uncertainty vanishing, as he gently pulled you forward and put an arm around you.  Your face was inches from his shoulder, and you decided to just go along with it by wrapping your arms around him.  You took your first few steps of the dance carefully, adjusting to the slower tune.  Despite the hair raised on the back of your neck and the way your breath caught in your throat at the sweet moment you had dreamed of many times, it felt so safe there.  So secure.  You didn’t want to leave anytime soon.

   “So I’m impressed,” you said.  “No feet have been stepped on yet.”

   He pulled away ever so slightly to give you a humorous look.  “It’s been some time, but I have danced before, _________.”

   You laughed.  “Actually I was talking more about myself.”

   “Ah.  See, that makes more sense.”

   “Oh, please,” you joked.  “I’m not that bad.”

   He chuckled softly and rested his cheek against yours, like you’d seen in old-timey movies, as he swayed with you.  “No, no that bad indeed.”

   You were stunned into silence again at the contact.  Your steps weren’t a concern anymore because it felt like you were floating across the dancefloor.

   “Is this okay?” he asked.  The question was so quiet considering how close his voice was.  

   It felt wrong to nod and break the contact, so you just uttered a hushed, “yeah.  It’s more than okay actually.”

   How long had you been dancing?  You weren’t sure.  All you knew was eventually the band announced that they’d be taking a break, a well-earned one in your mind.  Everyone at the party applauded, and you and Bucky hesitantly pulled away.

   “Hey, Buck,” a new voice greeted.  “Hey there, _________.”

   “Happy birthday, Steve,” Bucky said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.  “You’re in pretty good shape for being, what, ninety-eight?  What’s your secret?”

   Steve gave a chuckle.  “I already heard that one a few times today.  But thanks, my secret is that I go for a run every day.” 

   “Happy birthday,” you chimed in with a grin, giving him a hug.  “Do you like the party?”

   “Yeah, I really do.  I heard you had something to do with the theme?”

   “Me and Nat both did.”

   That Steve Rogers smile appeared on his face, softening his features even more.  It was the kind of smile that made anyone feel like a million bucks because it was always so genuine.  “Well, thank you.  It was very sweet of you both.”

   “There he is!” Thor called, and the three of you looked over to see him holding up a glass.  “The birthday boy!  Come hither and tell us one of your tales of victory!” 

   Steve hesitated, looking at you and Bucky.  “Ah, guess I’ll be right back, then?”

   “Go see your other guests,” Bucky told him, giving him a nudge.  “We’ll catch up with you later.”  Steve gave one last wave and approached the group, causing them to erupt in cheers.  You and Bucky exchanged looks, laughing.

   “How long do you think they’ll keep him?” Bucky asked.

   “A while, for sure.”  Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Natasha and Bruce conversing casually.  Wanda and Vision walked past, both glancing your way and waving.  They looked so cute together.  With the music gone, all you could hear was quiet chatter and the clinking of glasses and silverware.  It was such a peaceful atmosphere.

   “Want something to eat?”

   You nodded.  “Yeah, I do.”  He stopped a waiter so that the two of you could grab a few appetizers and go find a seat.  You found a few lounge chairs near the window where you could look out at the city lights in the dark.  There was some playful banter, as usual, and some brief talk of superhero work before you settled on a game of truth or dare.  So far, Bucky had dared you to try a new food that you weren’t so sure about, and you had dared him to throw a straw wrapper at Sam just to get his attention.  It was your turn to pick again, and you chose “dare.”

   “I dare you,” Bucky began, narrowing his eyes as he leaned back in the chair in thought.  “I dare you to save me the next dance, and the one after that.”

   Your smile faded at his words while you played with the hem of your dress.  “Hm, okay.”  You paused.  “Truth or dare?”

   “Truth,” he said.

   “Alright, here’s my question: Is there a reason you want all these dances with me?”

   His gaze was fixed on you sincerely as he opened his mouth to reply.  Unfortunately, this happened to be the moment that Steve returned.

   “I’m back,” he announced.  “Sorry about that.”  He halted to observe the way you and Bucky looked at each other so intently.  “Oh, am I interrupting?”

   “Um, no, we were just…”

   “Playing a game.”  Bucky said quickly.  “Truth or dare.”

   Steve nodded.  “Gotcha’.  Hey, was that why you threw straw wrappers at Sam?”

   “It was only one straw wrapper,” Bucky corrected.  “And yes, it was the reason.  If you talk to him again, you should tell him that it was ___________ who put me up to it.  I was just following the rules of the game.”  He feigned innocence with the casual shrug of his shoulders.

   “I bet,” Steve chuckled.

   Just then, you noticed the band heading back to their instruments.  It appeared that their break was over and they were beginning to play again.  Immediately, Bucky looked at you and then his friend.  

   “Speaking of rules of the game,” he said.  “__________ here owes me a dance.  Are you up for it?”

   You smiled, rising from the lounge chair.  “Sure.  It was a dare, after all.”  In reality, you both knew that it was a joke and you didn’t have to comply with the dare if you didn’t want to, but the thing was, you did want to.  You wanted to save all your dances for him.  As he led you to the dance floor again, you didn’t see Natasha walk over to Steve with her arms folded.

   “You think they’re going to get together?” she asked.

   “It’s their business,” Steve pointed out.  “Not our place to get involved”.  Natasha glanced his way with a raised brow, and he sighed in defeat.  “Okay yeah, I think it’s going to happen soon.  Back home, Bucky was never this hesitant when it came to dates.  He’s really taking his time with her. I think it’s because he really cares about her.”

   “That’s sweet, but how do you know he feels that way?”

   “He told me.  We’re best buds, remember?”

   “I thought you and I were best friends,” she deadpanned.  They shared a humorous look as they watched the two of you moving to the rhythm of the jazzy music, big smiles across your faces.  “I just hope it happens soon.”

   “I hear that.”