#the only other time AL came up as well was when one of the interviewers said his mother likes Michael | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randombush3 · 13 days ago

Text

the winner takes it all

alexia putellas x reader

summary: an unexpected invitation throws your world off-kilter

words: 6276

content warnings: it's a bit unfaithful

notes: in this universe real madrid is a proper opponent and rival to barcelona, in the sense that funding and history is relatively equal (so it's basically more like the men's rivalry)

idk where this came from tbh

Amb gran alegria,

Alexia i Olga

T’invitem a celebrar la nostra unió matrimonial.

10 d’agost de 2025

Gran Hotel Mas d’en Bruno

You haven’t read Catalan in years. You squint at the details.

You wish you had forgotten it.

Only Alexia would do this to you, twisting the knife as though it’s a favour, a compliment. Make it seem psychotic for not wanting to go, make it seem like it’s not a big deal.

The invitation isn’t personalised. You are not special in her eyes. You have been allowed onto the guest list, you have no mark in her life. Surely Olga would have objected if she’d known, if she’d been told. Maybe Alexia doesn’t talk about it. Maybe she has heard your name on match reports and team sheets, announcements for captaincy, interviews with Las 16 who called you traidora then and call you traidora now.

As if she knew it was coming, your phone begins to light up with messages from Alba. Apologies, perhaps, in her own Alba way. Stuff like ‘are you coming’ and ‘you don’t have to’ and then more buzzing, vibrating the shitstorm into a phone call.

You don’t speak often. Why would you? But you answer it, listless, really, and unsure what the correct approach to this even is.

“Hola, traidorita,” she says with a nervous giggle, reclaiming your nickname in Barcelona but reminding you of how you are perceived nevertheless. “I don’t know why you are on the guest list.”

Alba is like this: straight to the point, unafraid of her sister and unafraid to tell you what she thinks. They are very different, which is why she is the only one who has your current number in her contacts.

“You told her where I live,” you respond. Your shock makes no room for manners. “Because no one there has my Madrid address, Albi.”

“No one here has it, yeah. But she asked around. Well, Olga did.” She laughs again. Her nervousness is high-pitched and easily detected. “Told Ale that she has to have her childhood best friend at her wedding.”

“Childhood best friend?”

“Estranged childhood best friend?” she tries, and you can hear the smile and the teasing fucking smugness in it. You wonder if anyone else knows you have been invited. Alba because your address was squeezed out of her, sure, but… “And my mother thought it was a good idea too, before you try to murder a woman you have never met.”

“I’ve met Olga before,” you say without thinking, because that’s far easier to focus on than the idea of Eli getting involved in this completely undesired reunion that is about two centuries too early. “When I was going out with, eh, I don’t remember her name. A model. You know what they’re like. Olga’s the one who works for… thingie.”

There’s a sigh from the other end. “So many models yet not one name has been retained. Do you even ask them?”

“We’re not usually doing much talking.”

“Zorra.”

“Coming from you…” You smirk at the thought of all the little secrets Alba’s had you keep, a tradition that started young and became increasingly frequent when you removed yourself from everyone else’s lives. It’s like a journal, only you judge her. “You’re doing a good job of distracting me until I agree to go.”

She hesitates, then. You’re not an idiot and you know why she called. Alba is supportive but she has her own agenda most of the time, and no one else knows the exact time you get back from training aside from your fellow teammates. Even then, most are too intimidated to contact you in general, let alone to ask about being invited to Alexia Putellas’ fucking wedding.

Alba is also very manipulative, a professional puppeteer. And she knows exactly what to say. “It’s been fifteen years. Are you going to let her win?” It’s an infuriating provocation but it hits its target with ease.

…

The first step of preparing for this wedding takes place in the form of the Euros: you’re going to win it and be happy enough to ignore the impending doom hanging over your off-season plans. Going into the competition with heavy medals round your necks makes cockiness the slippiest of slopes, and it is safe to say that most of your teammates are prepared to cruise through at least the group stages.

An unexpected injury rips Jenni’s opportunity to play from her grasp (an echo of her ex-girlfriend, you briefly think), and she is flying back to Mexico before the tournament begins. Montse is a captain down – of course only this kind of disaster could happen to her – and before Patri can even open her mouth to volunteer for the role, you are dragged into a leadership meeting.

You’ve worn the armband before, though it seared and burned and blistered until you threw it in Jorge’s face and demanded someone else absorb the hatred it brought. He went ballistic as you’d said it, you remember, his face going red in the soft glow of your hotel room the night before the World Cup final. He’d leaned forwards, fist clenched, knuckles white and wanting to choke the life out of you.

“You have no respect!” he’d roared, voice splitting like thunder against the thin walls of your hotel room. “Not for me, not for your country, not for anything!” His breath was coming out in sharp ragged gasps. He spat. You’d wiped it off your body. “I thought you had scraped all the Catalan out of you, but here it is!” he’d screamed, loud enough to be heard but so comfortable in his power that it did not seem to frighten him. “Selfish and arrogant. You should have made it Seventeen.”

He’d left in his rage, slamming his door.

You regretted smiling in pictures with him, shaking his hand, kissing his cheek. You regretted the press conferences and interviews, the shaky defence you had constructed, the words of faith and trust you had professed and tried to believe. It had changed you, just a little bit, that incident. Made you think about who you are, where you come from. Made you remember someone you’d tried to forget.

But Irene and Alexia, staring at you with both contempt and confusion as you take a seat at the conference table, don’t know any of this. Why would they? To them, this is the traidora.

“Y/n is going to take Jenni’s place as third captain,” says Montse firmly, if she even knows how to do that. Irene and Alexia share a glance. Their roles have been restored for this competition and they are not prepared for an intruder to take that from them, although Irene will later remind Alexia that it is not your fault Jenni got injured. “I trust you three will come up with a suitable management plan. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

None of you really do know where she lurks, but she is walking off before you can clarify.

“We already have a strategy.” And she says it in Catalan, looking falsely apologetic when she is kicked underneath the table.

“Good job, Alexia,” you tell her, so nauseatingly saccharine that you almost think of the nearest route to a toilet. She’s surprised you’ve granted her a reply though, which is satisfying enough. About to spit out another remark to divide yourselves further, you shift in your chair, stretching out your legs underneath the table.

It is then that her ring catches your eye.

It’s delicate, shiny. A neatly cut diamond set in platinum with slight details that tell you someone thought about Alexia when they had this made and got it all wrong. Or maybe this is what she likes now. It’s not what you’d have given her.

She sees your eyes fall to her fingers, watching carefully as your gaze heats the metal and makes it almost too hot for her to keep on. You don’t really want her to know that you’ve seen it but you’ve made it bleeding obvious and so the predicament spirals and Irene wants, desperately, to leave you two alone – she knows shouldn’t, she’s aware of the health and safety risk.

There is something about the way Alexia clenches her jaw, posture stiffening as she allows herself one flicker from your face to the ring, that tells you she is bracing herself for a bullet. She always did have an uncanny ability to read you, however unwanted it was.

You lean back in your chair, aware of how the bystander is holding her breath, and decide to swallow the words burning on your tongue. You’ve accepted her invitation, and bitter manners are still manners. “Congratulations,” you say, words clipped and brittle, each syllable more venomous than the last.

The chair makes a screeching sound as you stand. Irene flinches but Alexia does not move. She refuses to watch as you walk out of the room.

…

Three hours later, Alexia is off the phone with Olga and knocking on Irene’s door with an embarrassed suppression of urgency. Shoulders hunched and lips downturned, the sight is enough for her to be ushered inside with only the quiet flap of Irene’s arms to beckon her forwards. With this part of the training camp being not quite tunnel-vision yet, Irene’s room is littered with toys and toddler stuff. Usually Alexia would be looking at them in quiet excitement. Right now, she is not so sure.

“Second thoughts?” Irene asks, and Alexia half-jumps backwards in shock, about to furiously shake her head and profess her love for Olga– “I think the plan is good. I don’t think we need to worry about Y/n in the centre, seeing how she’s been playing there this season.”

It slowly dawns on Alexia that Irene has assumed this is pre-tournament nerves, and that she is being shown such a vulnerable side of her co-captain because, well, who else can be? No one wants to see their commander gulp at the sight of the battlefield.

“She still favours her left,” Alexia gets out. “She might drift, leaving a big gap for you to cover.”

“She’s got offers from PSG, Chelsea, and Washington Spirit. It’s in her interest not to drift.”

“She’s good at drifting.”

Irene doesn’t respond to that.

“Since when did you wear your ring to training?” is what she chooses to say instead, asking the question with a healthy fear of getting her head bitten off, taking a small step backwards to put her at a safer distance.

Alexia doesn’t reply immediately, her fingers grazing the ring as she thinks. The weight of it seems heavier now, almost suffocating in the sterile air of the hotel room, as though this is everything she’s been trying to avoid. Her heart thuds against her ribcage. It feels like everyone is starting to notice.

“I didn’t think it was an issue.” Her voice is tight, defensive, but with a subtle, betraying crack. She pulls her hand back from the air, letting it fall to her side. “We hardly did much more than pass the ball today so I kept it on.”

It’s a poor excuse. It comes off for the cameras, not the contact of the game. Irene knows that. But, to her credit, she doesn’t push. She just watches Alexia, eyes narrowed slightly in an unreadable expression. “I just thought you guys were keeping it a bit more… private.”

Alexia turns her gaze to the floor, staring at the scattered toys and items around the room. The simplicity of it all, the domestic innocence, makes her feel even more tangled. She feels an urge to lie, to say that Olga asked her to, worried that you’d misinterpret its absence, but Olga doesn’t even know she has reason to lose sleep. She hasn’t found the courage to explain. She hasn’t felt the need to.

And, really, the truth is right here, echoing between them. Irene would have pieced together the story, as many of Alexia’s teammates have, hearing drunken retellings on nights out from whoever has known the two of you the longest that time. Maybe Alba has spoken to her, revealing everything after a round of tequila shots, as she tends to do. There are a few suggestions the older woman could make to her teammate, wounds she could open and then nurse, but she doesn’t and so she waits.

Until, finally, Alexia admits, “it’s complicated. She has caught me off-guard.” It could mean many things, but it is either your captaincy or the acceptance of her wedding invitation that has done Alexia in. She wonders whether this feeling of dread and uncertainty is the game – or the life waiting for her after she comes back from Switzerland. “Look,” she says abruptly, “I’m not here for advice, Irene.”

“Then why are you in my room?” She doesn’t have an answer for that. Irene sweeps her outside, gently but firmly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” she treads lightly, “but when was the last time you had a conversation with her?”

…

The training pitch in Switzerland is unseasonably hot, the kind of heat that clings to the air and makes tempers run shorter than usual. It’s almost a cure to homesickness but then the team look at each other and are back to hating every minute of this. There’s an undeniable divide. Montse either does not care or has not caught on.

It’s about your twentieth rondo this session, the ball zipping across the wilting grass as it touches Barça foot to Barça foot, the girls obviously enjoying this. You’re only holding back because too much investment will lead to another injury, and you are getting somewhat tired of being called a traitor. The players surround you with a ruthless efficiency that is starting to fray your nerves, and you make a note to talk to your coach about training, knowing that it will be easy to manipulate her into following something akin to what the girls at Madrid are more accustomed to.

Alexia is one of your taunters. Of course she is.

“Just three more interceptions,” she calls out, false strain, false support, false encouragement.

You bite back a retort, instead standing still as Aitana rolls a ball right past you. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feigning exhaustion, but the pretense is only that in name. Everyone knows you are one of the best defenders, the Barça girls especially, with their insane pride for La Masia.

“Lazy,” Alexia mutters.

You don’t respond, focusing instead on the fire in your chest as you forcibly break the circle and march towards Montse. She looks up from her clipboard as you approach.

“We should split training.” She pauses and then nods. “Attack and defence, at least. And don’t let the press hear this, but, my god, Montse, I do not like how they’re all back.”

“We’re a stronger team,” she says, but she’s smiling and you are definitely her favourite. Another deep breath and she is calling a water break.

The girls retreat to the sidelines for ice and hydration, and you reunite with the people you like. Your club teammates prefer you at national camp, because there is something less reclusive about you. It’s as though you’re trying to prove that you get on.

Olga hands you a water bottle, the contents of which you guzzle down in one go. She begins to comment on the absurdity of Alexia’s mandated rondos (“why do they have to keep reminding themselves how to pass a ball?”) and while you agree, your attention is diverted. Alexia is standing a few meters away with Mariona Caldentey. She’s listening to something the forward is telling her, face focused, finger twisting her ring around in circles.

That fucking ring.

You look away before you are caught in such a compromising position, wiping your forehead with your damp training shirt.

“Oye,” Misa’s voice pulls you back, “are you paying attention?” You’re not even sure when she joined the conversation. Your relationship with the goalkeeper has always been overly complicated. You work very closely, what with you commanding the backline and her… also commanding the backline. But she’s friends with people who must have at least once wished you dead, so it’s hard to tell where you stand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, screwing the cap back onto the water bottle and placing it in Olga’s held-out palm.

“You’re never this spacey. You’ve been off since the meeting,” she presses, her voice gentle but insistent. “If this is about the captaincy–”

“It’s not,” you snap, harsher than what was meant. Her eyes widen slightly and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. It’s not about that. I’m fine.”

Misa doesn’t look convinced but she nods, letting it drop. Gratitude relaxes your shoulders but the uneasy silence that follows is punishing enough for you to be eager for training to resume.

Now that the rondos have been left behind until tomorrow, you divide into teams for a scrimmage. The squad is split into four and you throw yourself into the exercise. Every touch, every pass, every run is perfect, and you are unrecognisable from your lackadaisical lull only ten minutes ago. You’re pushing your body and it flicks onto autopilot, driven by muscle memory and determination.

Your head’s not in it. You can’t outrun her shadow. You can’t think when your teams are against each other.

The ring must have come off now, and she is getting stuck in. She’s relentless and irritating, evading your teammates’ tackles and drawing you into her. It’s almost transportative: back you go to gardens after school or being barefoot on the beach, forced out of your relaxation and into an endless game of ‘tackle me like you mean it’. She has that same glint in her eye, that same goading gleam. You consider it, but crutches at a wedding is a low blow.

And so you lay off. Just on her, and only just enough so that she knows you are not trying. You do not care for petty squabbles. You are not willing to go back to those memories, to that time.

Or at least, that’s the message you hope she gets.

The games slowly wind down, prompted by Montse’s whistle to signal the end of the session. You stay on the pitch longer than anyone else, taking you time to collect the stray balls scattered across the grass. It’s partly an excuse to delay walking into the locker room, where the tension will be thick (you were not the right choice for third captain in the eyes of your teammates), and partly because you need a moment to breathe.

The others slowly disperse, peeling off to the showers or collapsing onto benches. Alexia lingers longer than most, wiping away her sweat with her shirt, abs exposed and tensed. She watches you as you move across the pitch, and though her gaze is subtle, you can feel it blazing hotter than the sun lashing down on you. But, despite her staring, she too is eventually coaxed away. You’re unsure whether she is thankful for the interruption.

When you finally make your way to the changing rooms, most of your teammates are in the showers, and the sound of running water mingled with laughter echoes. You take a seat at the locker you were assigned and let out a slow breath, peeling off sweat-soaked socks with mild disgust. You turn to fling them into your laundry bag, but their flight path is blocked by a blonde who has clearly delayed her own shower to talk to you.

She’s looking oddly pensive. You don’t like it.

“We need to talk.” It’s uncomfortable for Alexia to say and it’s worse for you to hear. You’re not sure you’re okay with her decision to become reasonable and mature. It’s quite the compliment to always be the cause for stoic, rational Alexia Putellas going absolutely batshit crazy.

Driving her up the wall is fun.

“I’ll send you an invitation. No need to tell me which room is yours.” You give her a smile. And, like you always do, you walk away.

…

There’s a charge to the air that is choking you by dinner time. The upgrade to captain allowed for your own room, and it is easy to blow off teammates who want to have plans with you with the simple excuse of needing to talk to your agent. You technically do, since you are going to leave Madrid during the transfer window, but you have no intention of dialling his number until he confirms the best and furthest team wants you.

You’ve spent the evening avoiding the majority of the players, which Montse took advantage of, encouraging you to spend dinner discussing tactics with her and her staff. You feel like the teacher’s pet. You know how angry it is making Alexia.

Collapsing on the bed when you back into your room, you let out a loud groan, sinking into the mattress. Your phone buzzes on the bedside table and for a moment, you think it might be Alba, allowing you no peace and quiet despite her distance. Instead, it’s a message on the team group chat from the strength and conditioning coach about tomorrow’s gym session. A wave of relief washes over you; anything but her.

Still, as you scroll, you catch yourself lingering on the names in the group chat, your thumb hovering near Alexia’s. Your stomach tightens and the memory of her tone, her expression, pulls at you like a tether.

She’s not going to drop this.

It’s no longer a matter of avoidance in the camp. You’ve said you will be present. She must want to ensure you will not make a scene.

A knock at the door, so quiet you are almost convinced it was imagined, breaks you out of your brooding. Your eyes watch the wood as though it will be splintered in a moment, but when you make no move to get up, a more insistent knock sounds. You sigh as you pull yourself off your bed, dragging your feet towards the door. Opening it, you find Alexia standing there, arms crossed and wearing an expression you can’t quite decipher. It lacks her usual burning hatred. She looks exhausted.

You struggle to feel any sympathy.

“What?” you snap. It’s a bit harsher than intended but you don’t let on that that’s the case.

“Can I come in?” You guess that she didn’t pick up the hint when you gave her no invitation. You do not want to talk. You don’t do that to people much anymore.

She expects the door to slam in her face – and you consider it – but it’s your hesitation that tells her she can, and so she slowly moves inside, shoulder brushing yours because you refuse to move out of the way. And then she raises a deliberate hand towards the door, pushing it shut. You ignore the ring.

You lean against the door once it’s shut, arms folded as she wanders further into your room. She looks out of place somewhere so personal to you, standing awkwardly in the centre and trying not to look at the explosion of clothes and books that has been detonated on the floor.

She reads the titles of a few – classics that look dense and boring. Something hungry inside her dulls a bit, because you have not changed in this respect.

“You’re quiet for someone who wants to talk,” you prompt, mostly because the silence is unbearable.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her arms drop to her sides, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves. She tries to meet your eyes, but falters when she sees the cold indifference staring back. You’re looking at her like she’s a stranger. It stings more than it should.

“I didn’t invite you to the wedding,” she says finally. “Olga doesn’t know about us.”

“There’s no ‘us’,” you snap, sharper this time.

Her jaw tightens and for a second, she looks as though she’s been struck. “Don’t lie.”

“There is no ‘us’,” you repeat, your tone icy now. “That disappeared the minute I–”

“Left,” comes her interruption, her voice trembling just enough for you to notice. She steps closer, her shadow crossing yours, and her eyes narrow. “Which was your decision, not mine.”

You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a say in it.”

“I didn’t!” she fires back, her voice rising. There is something raw beneath it – something fractured. “You didn’t give me one. You walked out, and you shut me out like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.”

Her words hang in the air and for a moment, you don’t know whether to shoot or turn away. But her gaze pins you in place, fierce and unrelenting, as though daring you to deny it.

You hold her stare, your throat tightening. “And you didn’t try to stop me.”

The silence that follows feels deafening. Neither of you moves. Neither of you blinks. You’re both standing on landmines and have nowhere to go.

Her jaw clenches, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Her voice, though low, crackles with the heat of restrained anger.

“You didn’t give me a chance to stop you.” And she steps closer, ready to bite. The door presses against your back as you instinctively move away. “You made up your mind before I even knew what was happening.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see it coming.” You shake your head. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to leave, Alexia.”

Her expression darkens, something in her eyes flickering dangerously. “That’s not the point. You didn’t just leave the club. You didn’t just leave me. You left everything. Our family. Our life. Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you walk away as if none of it mattered?”

Your chest tightens but you refuse to let her words land. “You don’t get to make me the villain here.”

“I don’t have to,” she snaps, her voice rising now, accent thickening with her anger. “You were part of my family, part of me. You were at every Christmas, every birthday. My mother adored you. Alba still loves you like you are her own sister! And you just disappeared like none of it meant anything. Like we didn’t mean anything.”

You flinch at the weight of her words but force yourself into steadiness. “I didn’t belong there. It wasn’t mine, it was yours.”

Her face twists in disbelief, voice trembling as it rises again. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You were my family. My first everything. My first kiss. My first…” She pauses, her voice cracking. You swallow hard – you don’t want the fucking itemised list. “My first time. You think I just gave that to anyone? You think that it was just fun and games?”

Your stomach churns as she stokes a fire you’ve tried to smother for years. “It wasn’t nothing,” you agree, although it sounds like you are contradicting her in a way that causes her to falter on her drive forwards. “It was everything. That’s why I left. Because I couldn’t be what was needed anymore. Because I knew if I stayed, I’d only–”

“Only what?”

You gulp.

She’s back in your face, voice laced with venom. “Hurt me? Ruin me? Let us all done? Guess what, you did that anyway. Leaving made it easier? Made it hurt less?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” you shout, voice splitting.

“You stay!” It echoes and it bruises your skin. Her eyes are blazing now, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “You stay, because that is what you do when you love someone. When you love a family. You don’t just walk away from them. You fight.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between guilt and pride. She sees it and it only seems to enrage her further.

Her voice drops, anger so torrid she has to purposely cool her tone. “You know, I thought that my world was ending then. I thought you’d done your worst. But I was wrong. Because your betrayal wasn’t just personal, it was… political. To not see someone you love except for when they are sitting at the feet of this. Corruption’s pet. Pandering to an organisation you hated, while the rest of us fought for scraps.”

Heat rises in your chest. How dare she– “I don’t pander to anyone.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she spits. She’s too close. She’s too inescapable. And her anger is no longer fiery but icy, piercing through your skin. “I’ve seen the way you act around them, bowing your head and playing the loyal soldier while they tear us apart. You think I didn’t notice how he favoured you? Or how Montse magically replaces an irreplaceable member of–”

“It’s not like that,” you counter, but the words feel hollow even to you.

“Then what is it?” she demands. “What is it that makes you stand there and let them walk all over us? Let them divide us? And don’t you dare say it is for the good of the team. The team hates you for it. We all do. You’ve earned every bit of it, traidora.”

The word hits you like a whip, lacerating and making you bleed. Your hands curl into fists so tightly your nails dig into your palms, the sting barely enough to contain the fury surging through you. “Don’t you dare call me that!” The sentence tears out of your throat, rough and jagged. You take a step forwards, the air between you crackling with tension, your voice breaking as you spit, “you don’t get to say that to me. Not you.”

“Why not?” she challenges. “It’s what you are. You left, you betrayed everything we stood for, and then you came back just to make things worse. You made your choices.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her, the anger and heartbreak in her eyes, eviscerating and leaving you hollow. But then, something shifts in the air between you, and you find your voice again, souring from before.

“Is that why you’re here, Alexia? To throw all of this in my face? To let out fifteen years of harboured emotion? Or is it something else?”

Her brow furrows in confusion. Surprise. And then her expression twists into anger. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You take a step forward now, and she is forced to retreat. “Do you not want to marry Olga, Alexia? Is that it? Is that why you’re here? Because you think you can come into my room, dredge all of this up, and make me the reason you’re unhappy?”

Her face pales as she takes a deep breath, hands trembling at her sides. “Don’t,” she warns, firmly enough to signal you need to push.

So you do.

“You came here because you’re scared.” She shakes her head but it’s rigid and forced. “Because you’re not sure you can go through with it and you want me to give you a reason to back out. Well, I’m not going to do that for you. This isn’t my mess. It’s yours.”

She says nothing and you feel sick. Her chest rises and falls with each gasping breath. She opens her mouth but again, you are left with silence, and the expression in her eyes flickers between defiance, confusion, and vulnerability. For a long moment, it feels like everything that could be said has been.

The air between you is charged, but neither of you know which way it will go.

You stare at her watching her waver. And it hits you: she doesn’t know what to do.

All of this, all the anger and the pain, all the accusations and betrayals, has led her here, to this moment. She thought she had an answer, she thought she would be able to end this, but now? Now, Alexia is lost. There is too much here, too much to lose. And for the first time in a long while, you are feeling the same thing. You are both no longer sure if you want to fight.

She takes a hesitant step closer and you freeze. But then, just as quickly, her hand moves – not to strike, not to harm, but to touch you. Her fingers brush lightly over the fabric of your sleeve, almost tenderly, before they fall away, and you don’t know if the motion was meant for comfort or something else.

Her breath is ragged, coming in slow, uneven gasps. Her eyes never leave yours. You don’t want them to.

“I don’t know what to do with all of this,” she murmurs, the rawness in her tone shattering any remaining wall between you. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

How do you respond to that? You want her to leave but the thought is unbearable. You want space but she is not close enough. Something inside you stirs, something you can’t fight; a need to understand her and make her understand you. To make her see how tangled this, how impossible it has always been.

Before you can form the word, before you can even think, she moves in closer, and there is no longer distance. She doesn’t ask for permission. She doesn’t hesitate. And then, without warning, her lips are on yours.

It’s soft, tentative at first, as though testing the waters of something neither of you is sure of anymore. But then it shifts. Her body leans into yours, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as if this is everything that has not been said and has been at the same time. Your heart races, a million conflicting emotions crashing through you. Anger, betrayal, love – it is all here, you can taste it on her lips. It’s fierce, desperate, and it feels like an endless cycle of need and regret, pulling you both back to something raw, something irretrievable.

Her hands find your waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring herself to something that could pull her under. You instinctively respond, pulling her closer, drawing in the heat of her touch, the scent of her skin, the pressure of her body against yours. For a fleeting second, everything else fades away. There’s no past, no future, only here and now.

And then the fog clears.

You pull back, breathless and worse off. You’ve fucked up again. Alexia is crying.

“I’m not the person you think I am anymore,” you say, but it’s hard to meet her gaze. “I can’t be that person for you.”

Her eyes search yours desperately for lies, for deceit. She wants it to be wrong. She doesn’t know why. And she replies, “I don’t care what you think you’ve become,” because she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to her.

You stare at her, heart pounding, and you want to feel like this will be worth it, but nothing comes except cold emptiness. You force yourself to stay upright. “I think the wedding will be good.” She swallows. “You’ll be happy with Olga. I’m sure of it.”

It’s a death sentence.

This time, it is Alexia who leaves.

…

The wedding is beautiful. Blissful sunlight makes the venue seem to glow and it is hard not to be impressed with how they have set this up.

The model at your side is also beautiful, but you remind yourself it is not a competition. You focus on the whispers of anticipation from the guests, the rustle of the dresses as people pass in merry groups, clinking their glasses and finishing their champagne as they take their seats. Everything looks perfect, plucked from magazines and tasteful brochures. This must be what Alexia wanted.

Your date is occupying herself in conversation with the man seated next to you, who might be hitting on her, though you don’t care. She slides a hand over your thigh anyway.

The ceremony begins, although you’re not really concentrating on it. You try to focus, listening as the officiant speaks, but the words have become a dull hum. It’s all so rehearsed, so expected, and it’s boring. You won’t be getting married anytime soon, that’s for sure.

You know the flow of these things: the vows, the promises, the kiss, and the crowd’s applause. It’s a performance, though it’s not quite a farce.

And then, it comes. The moment. The one that feels like a trap.

The officiant pauses, glancing out over the gathering. “Si algú s'hi oposa, que parli ara o calli per sempre.”

For a heartbeat, time slows. The air thickens. Every muscle in your body tenses and the world around you goes still. You catch yourself holding your breath, gaze instinctively shifting to the woman standing at the front of the altar.

Alexia.

Her eyes flicker briefly in your direction – just a flicker, but it’s there, unmistakable. It’s her moment of hesitation, well masked but clear as day to you. But before you can make sense of it, she’s looking away, eyes fixed back onto Olga. Her expression hardens, more composed now, and you know that you are not going to break this silence.

The officiant, oblivious to the storm passing between you both, waits for a beat longer before continuing, his voice echoing in the silence.

And she’s married.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s over now. You’ve let her win.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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liveontelevision · 8 months ago

Text

Suffer Pt. 6 | Lucifer x Reader

(This series is complete! All parts are listed on my master list and are linked below!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

A single anon request and a 56-page Google doc later, this is the last part, my friends. Thanks to everyone who's been so invested in this, this turned into a bigger project than I thought it would lol But! I'm so glad everyone's been enjoying it, and I hope y'all like the ending! I'm sorry for all the cliffhangers along the way haha (not really)

An extra thank you to the anon who requested a simple babysitter fic and ended up inspiring this whole deal!

♡♡♡

It’s almost been a year since you arrived to the hotel. You arrived when the building was in less than pristine condition, and just a few new guests had arrived. It was a few days after you saw Charlie’s interview on the news, that being what brought you in, despite it’s failure. You were just happy to see her face after all that time. Yet, above the cluttered space and the holes in the walls, there was a more malevolent scheme being hatched.

Any soul who might pass the princess’s room would be bombarded by curses, screams, and growls that sounded less than human. So, most the hotel residents decide it best to avoid that corridor. But not our trusty hotelier. His hand reached for the handle, after deciding that making a bold entrance might not be the best idea. His motion was put to a quick halt by a flurry of curses coming from the other side of the door. Alastor didn’t realize Charlie held such a..colorful vocabulary. Despite that, he went on.

He was greeted with a sight that, unfortunately, wasn’t new to him. An intricate web of red thread connected to pins, all scattered across a once pristine wall. It all connects a collage of images, some that he recognized, some that looked like nonsensical scribbles. The view is obstructed by a furiously pacing princess of Hell. Mumbling completely incoherent complaints, she doesn't notice the opening and closing of her bedroom door.

Alastor, being the sadist he is, props his stance with his microphone, his forced smile unmoving. He enjoys the view for a moment before finally clearing his throat to bring her attention to him. She nearly stumbles over her own feet, ready to scold him for materializing into her room, despite the fact that she was just too out of it to see him walk straight in.

“Al! Good! I need another pair of eyes, come here, come here, look!” She approaches him faster than he expects, and he’s ready to reel away, but is unfortunately hooked around the neck with Charlie’s disturbing strength. With an arm around his shoulders, she drags him forward to examine the wall, as if it made sense to anyone other than her. She starts talking nonsense, again. Something about friendship and Heaven, things he never really cared about. Things he usually tuned out whenever they came up. He only seems to partake in the conversation once he heard your name.

“Alastor.. She’s one of our first guests. I honestly can’t believe anyone showed up after that terrible interview I had earlier, I’m worried i’ll mess things up, again! I mean, all of Hell already thinks i’m a joke.. I just- really need this to go well.” Her mood seems to calm, but to a state of despair. Alastor let’s out a symphahetic awe, patting the top of her head.

“Aw, our poor princess. I understand your concern, my dear, this hotel must mean quite a lot to you.” He faines a sympathy that only convinces Charlie because of her state of disarray.

“Of course it does! And she’s already so kind, I’m sure she’s close to redemption! Maybe this will be a quick one! A-and we don’t even know it, right? That has to be it!” She seems to be reassuring herself, only to be met with an unresponsive radio demon. She groans. Dragging her feet as she walks to the edge of bed, She sits down and lets her head fall into her hands.

“I really need this to work. I’ll do anything for this to work..” It was a quiet mumble, muffled into her palms, but Alastor heard exactly what he wanted to hear. His grin twisted, something Charlie didn’t see, as he sits at her side. He gives her a quick pat to her back, in some form of comfort.

“Charlie, dear, I understand how much this little project means to you.. I do. And I want nothing more than to witness you trying as hard as you can to keep it up.” Even if it fails. Charlie looks up to him, the bags under her eyes suddenly very apparent. “How would you feel about a little deal? Just a small one, no souls on the line, I guarantee.”

She’s been warned by Vaggie in the past. Actually, his entire reputation is enough to make her uneasy by the idea. but…

“I-I don’t know. What did you have in mind..?” She asks reluctantly. He let’s out a chuckle that almost sounds sinister.

“Believe it or not, our little guest and I have a bit of a history.” You can barely call it a history. You served him and Rosie on occasion when you were working in cannibal town. “I’d be delighted to oversee her safety and process to redemption! It’s just as you said, she’s already a gem, Heaven is waiting for her, I can feel it. This will be a breeze for the both of us.” His offer comes off as sincere and touching to Charlie. It wasn’t like him to openly mention his relationships with other demons yet, the idea of you having a close friend throughout this process might just be what you’re missing.

“That’s so sweet of you, Alastor, but.. What do you want from me?” She has to ponder a moment before even considering letting this go on any further.

“Well, you’ve given me a roof over my head and.. A tower for my broadcasts.. Hmm..” He taps his chin, as if he’s in thought. “I’m not quite sure I’ll need from you at the moment, since you’ve just been so hospitable already.” He places a hand to her shoulder, the kind words causing her eyes to well with tears a bit in her weakened state.

“There has to be something.. Well, maybe we can both think this over, once I have a clear head.” She sighs her words, standing from the bedside. Alastor takes her hand and brings her to a halt.

“Oh, but I’d love to get to work as soon as possible, if I may be so bold.. I’m not quite sure what you could offer me in this moment… How about we work out the details, later?” He speaks as if he’s coming up with these words on the spot. He’s had this planned since day one, though. Any chance to get a favor from the princess, he’ll take. Charlie turns to him and sees the strange green glow surrounding their hands. She attempts to pull away, but his grasp is tight.

“Well.. I mean…” She’s still hesitant. He watches her rub her eyes. The still relevant exhaustion gives him a bit of hope.

“It’s simple. I’ll do everything in my power to keep our little guest comfortable and on the path to redemption, no acception. In return, I’ll ask of you one single favor when the time comes.” The glow only continues to swell with his words, and it's clearly making her reconsider. “It’s not as serious as you may think, Charlie. Just a favor between friends, really.” Friendship seemed to strike the right tone.

“I guess.. If it’s for the hotel… Okay, Alastor. It’s a deal.”

Back to the dreaded fight just a few months later. You're seeing red.

“Charlie! You made a deal with Alastor?? What were you thinking?” You’re scolding her at this point. The situation barely had time to cool down before your worries began to kick in. Her horns and ruby eyes are still present, she hasn’t even had time to calm herself from the previous display. Lucifer is essentially holding you back, a hand across your front as you try to approach her. It hurts you a bit. Does he think you’re some kind of danger to her?

..Are you putting her in danger?

Alastor is still propped on the ground. He holds a hand around his neck, in hopes of soothing the aggressive collar that had materialized around it just moments ago. You’re all keeping your distance from eachother.

“I-I wasn’t! I wasn’t thinking! It was after the interview! You saw it, you know didn’t go well! I-I had all of Hell laughing at me, laughing at the hotel- He was offering help, I have no idea why he’s acting this way, I swear..! I.. I-” Charlie’s demonic features start to recede when she feels a hand on her back. With heavy breaths, she looks over to Lucifer, who was standing by her side now, ready to comfort her. With a small hiccup, she falls into his arms, gripping his shirt tightly as she did. Her head fell to his shoulder, thoroughly staining his vest with her tears.

The room is uncomfortably filled with her silent sobs. Your heart aches too much looking at the touching display between father and daughter, and your guilt from snapping at her is making you fidget. That’s when you got to thinking.

The deal was for Alastor watch over you until you got to Heaven. For him to do anything in his power to keep you on the path to redemption. To prevent any behavior that might stunt that process..

“Oh.. oh, my god. You’ve been buttering me up this whole time.” You turn to face a still recovering Alastor. The realization grabs the attention of both Morningstars, they raise their heads to look towards the commotion. “The gifts, all the time we spent together.. Was because of this deal? Did.. did you ever actually care about me?” You grip at your heart, ready to rip it straight from your chest. He stands, brushing debris from his entirety.

“I doubt you’ll believe me after such a display of violence, but.. Yes. I did enjoy our time together, despite the requisite of being under my protection. It was quite entertaining before it was… tainted.” His hisses out his final words, contrasting the sweetness of it all. Tainted?

He was kind to you as soon as you arrived in the hotel. Despite the drama, you’ve been inseparable since. Things only got convoluted after..

“Under your protection..? Is that why you’ve been turning me away from Lucifer?! Fuck- it is! You’ve been playing games with me for months! Getting in my head..! H-How could you..” He hasn’t just been physically keeping the two of you apart. From day one, your mind was manipulated into thinking Lucifer never wanted you.

“Well.. not to defend myself, dear, but I was merely considering your redemption. I believe there’s some sort of sin in worshipping the Devil.” Oh, now he’s just trying to make more trouble.

“Oh, fuck you Al, I don’t worship him, I love him!” Your comical response seems to drive a shocked expression or two towards you. But you’re too upset to elaborate. You want to tear him apart. You want to see him experience as much pain as you’re feeling now. Luckily, you weren’t the only one. In a blur of a movement, Alastor was brought back to the ground with a thud.

A foot to his chest, Charlie has him pinned to the ground. Her fists are clenched, the aura surrounding her creates a suffocating heat.

“You took advantage of me, Alastor. You betrayed my friends, my family.. My trust.” Despite the demonic tones underlying her voice, it still sounds pained. You didn’t know she could do this, but her clenched fists become encased in fire. Just like her fathers’.

You’re surprised to see him lurking behind, but not attacking. After all you’ve seen, you were sure he’d have ripped Alastor’s head off at this point. His eyes widen, a display of fear you werent expecting. You follow his gaze to see Charlie holding a familiar angelic spear to his neck.

You hear an unearthly growl come from her chest, and before you can think, your arm is wrapped around hers. You can feel the resistance, realizing you had stopped her right as she was about to put an end to it all. Put an end to him.

“Charlie! Stop!” You yell out. You have to do it once or twice more, your words not quite reaching her yet. Once she turns to you, her eyes are still dripping with tears. “Charlie, don’t. This isn’t you. You’ll regret it, I know you will.. I know you.” You’re begging her to stop. As you feel the muscles in her arm start to relax, you reach for the spear and pull it gently from her hands. She releases her grasp without a fight.

You usher her off, glancing back to Alastor for a moment to see his wound had reopened from that. He had an obvious slash across his neck. You gulped, realizing how close she was to actually killing him. She places her hand over yours, where your arms are still linked.

Charlie let’s out a sigh, looking to her shaking hands, then clenching her fists. She looks to you, then back to Alastor.

“But.. everything he’s done to you… It’s not right, I’m not sure I can forgive him..” She’s speaking quietly to you.

“Well.. You don’t have to forgive him. But he doesn't deserve to die, Charlie.” You state the obvious and it makes her flinch. “And.. you should let him stay.” You hear a collective What? from the room.

“I know I know.. but… this whole place is about second chances. I.. think he can change. And even though, he is being such a dick right now-” Your voice is cracking, as if you can hardly believe your own words. “-I still believe it. You taught me that.” You smile up to Charlie. After a moment you turn your head to Lucifer, meeting his eyes. He looks more in shock than anyone, almost hurt by your act of mercy. You’re surprised by his expression, not realizing Charlie had slipped from your side to approach Alastor.

“She’s right, you know. I can’t forgive you, Alastor. Not yet, at least.. But you’re welcome to stay here, considering all the help you’ve done for the hotel.” She sounds stern, still not entirely convinced this is the right call.

“Yeah, some help you’ve been, you prick..” Those are the first words Lucifer has muttered in awhile. You approach his side to jab him with your elbow and shush him. Despite your scolding action, your presence only reminds him of your previous confession. He crosses his arms and continues to curse quietly, despite his flushed cheeks. Charlie steps closer to Alastor.

“You’re still here, because of her.” Charlie’s voice goes dark as she gestures to you. “That favor I owe you? Is letting you live. This deal is done, Alastor.” She hisses her words out. The intensity and anger radiating from two of the most powerful creatures in Hell is enough to leave even Alastor a bit weary. He nods, still gripping his wound that has been repeatedly opened these past few days. Other than that, he slinks away with barely a scratch. Lucky him.

Once he’s out of sight, Charlie let’s out a groan and falls to her knees. With a unison call of her name both you and Lucifer rush to her side. You place a hand on her back, attempting to keep any displaced hair from her face. She leans into Lucifer’s chest, a heartaching sight of sniffles and apologies.

Before long, she seemed to exhaust herself. Curled up to his chest, Lucifer smiles, despite the circumstances of their closeness. He lifts his eyes just slightly to see yours. You look embarrassed. Before he has a chance to question you, you rise from the ground.

“You should take her to bed.” You say in a hushed tone, gripping your arms and making some distance. “She needs some rest after.. all that.”

“Sure, but.. are you-” He speaks just as softly, opening a portal behind him silently.

“I’m fine. I’m-” You let out a sigh, beginning to move towards the stairs. “She needs to rest, Lucifer.” You remind him.

“Oh- Oh.. Right, yeah.” He rises to his feet, effortlessly lifting Charlie into his arms and stepping through the portal. You try to keep moving. You try to not meet his eyes as the portal shuts, but you find yourself unable to go on. Once they’re gone, you cover your mouth, only making your labored breaths worse, but you’re desperate to muffle any cries. You feel yourself wobble in place, before seeing a portal open to your side. It leads to your room.

After stepping through, you silently approach your bed. Your legs suddenly turn led, and you're hitting your bed with a gasp. Your exhaustion is enough to keep your sobs to a minimum at least.

The feeling you have when you wake up is worse than any hangover you’ve had. With alcohol you can at least forget your troubles. But on this morning, you can vividly remember the previous night. You sit up, your body aching. You only wonder why for a moment, before realizing you had fallen asleep sideways across your bed, your legs still dangling off the side. You still need sleep.

You remove any uncomfortable clothing or accessories that had pressed marks into your body and return to bed. The right way, this time. Your pillows feel like heaven after all that’s happened. Heaven..

You try your best to sleep, you really do. Your body is essentially begging you to empty your thoughts just for a few more minutes. But your mind is sending you tossing and turning, any times you close your eyes, all you can imagine is everything you've done wrong. Your eyes drift open after trying to force them shut, and your eyes spot the radio on your nightstand. You sit silently for a moment, maybe try to close your eyes again..

Nope.

Before you have a chance to process every movement, you’re opening your door and thoughtlessly throwing the radio outside. You don’t care where it ends up, clearly. You were waiting to hear it break, into multiple pieces hopefully, before shutting your door. You’re met with a startled groan instead. Taking a moment to process that you had thrown an old-timey radio at someone, you stand at your door with a yawn.

The panic hits you. It could’ve been Alastor, assuming he stayed. It could’ve been Charlie, who doesn’t need any more conflict. You could’ve taken out Niffty as far as you know. Swinging the door open, your eyes see the radio first. They’re wrapped in your victim’s arms.

“Good catch.” You let out hoarsly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes to clearly see Lucifer.. It could've been worse. He let’s out a breathless thanks, clearly having the air knocked out of him. You definitely didn’t hold back with that throw. And it wasn’t exactly a lightweight radio.

“Er.. Sorry. I meant to say sorry.” You try to recover, your words are followed by another yawn. You watch him drop the radio into a small portal he conjured below his grip.

“Good morning to you, too. I was, uh.. about to check on charlie, but-” He’s ready for a conversation that you aren’t. You quickly shake your head, pulling your door in.

“Nono, I need some time.. To wake up. I’ll see you around, though.” You didn’t expect him to perk up from his words, but he does. His smile is infectious. You watch him give you a little wave before shutting your door. You lean against it, your smile that you had been presenting to him, leaves you almost immediately.

There’s so much on your mind. You scan your room, memories of Alastor popping up no matter where you looked. Every chat you’ve had in here, every moment you’d call him in for advice for clothes or accessories, all the nights you’d fall asleep listening to his voice. Your eyes stopped at your vanity seat. Draped across the back is a bittersweet sight, your gifted red sweater. You finally rise to your feet, quickly reaching for it and holding it tightly in your hands. You hesitate before bringing it to your nose. You’re not sure why. Why would you want to remind yourself of anything involving him? Did you think that same scent that’s brought you comfort so many times would have the same affect? You give it a shot.

Hesitantly breathing in, you’re immediately reeling back, throwing the sweater down to your ground. Your hand covers your nose, that sickenlingly sweet honey scent now smells like rotten flesh. Like road kill. You need some air. Digging out a different sweater, one you haven’t had to use in months, you decide you just need to walk around for a bit. The hotel was big enough that you could safely avoid any unwanted attention. Plus, you were sure Alastor’s pride was too wounded to freely roam the hotel. And his other wound.. You hope he’s okay.

You groan out loud, mentally cursing yourself for your sympathetic thoughts. You make your way down to the lobby, and are met with a surprisingly clean lounge. You scan the walls that were previously cracked, the carpets that should be stained with blood, then wonder where Vaggie’s suddenly conjured spear might have gone. What would have possessed Charlie to choose such a weapon.. an angelic spear? She didnt really want him dead, did she? She's emotional. And extreme. Like her father. You decide not to question it any further. It’s not like you were upset by the erasure of the previous night's events.

A day or two passed. Your mind seemed unwilling to accept the reality you're currently in. You're anxious, and paranoid to any sentence thrown your way. You're constantly looking around corners, checking all parts if your room before locking it for the night. Yet, if someone were to ask what was making you so nervous, you wouldn’t have an answer.

You found yourself taking those little strolls often, though. Keeping your body in motion, with only the sounds of your breathing keeping you company, seemed to clear your mind. It never helped come to terms with any seething pain you felt, but it cleared your mind at the least.

You'd pieced together a few things in the meantime. After passing the bar, where Angel and Husk were chatting, they would smile and wave, ask you join them form a drink, but you’d decline. Neither of them seemed to know about anything. Maybe Niffty cleaned the mess. Maybe Alastor asked her to. Before anyone could see the outcome of his mistakes.

You passed Vaggie in a hall, and she immediately looked concerned. She opened her mouth, an Are you okay? sits on the tip of her tongue. But then she looked at you. Your body only mirrored the fog of your mind, baggy eyed and wrapped in some blanket as you roamed the halls like a damned ghost.

“Hey, um- it's.. it's gonna be-" you held your hand up to her.

“I know. Thank you.” You smile, the action stiff, considering you hadn't used those muscles in awhile. Vaggie knew. That was fair, though. You were glad Charlie had someone to confide with. You walked on after she gave a hesitant goodbye wave.

One night, when your body had taken over and you were wandering aimlessly, you realized where you ended up. Not only were you standing in front of Lucifer's workshop, he had already spotted you through the window on the door. He opened it before you could fully take in your surroundings.

“Hey..” You let out softly. What else are you supposed to say? You didn’t come prepared. You feel embarrassed standing in front of him, realizing how much of a mess you must look. You're not even sure what part of your mind made you end up here.

He doesn't respond at first, another speechless moment letting your mind wander. He opens the door more, offering his space to you. You look at him and he smiles before you shuffle inside. You take in the sight. You haven't actually seen it, considering your circumstances after the hotel was renovated.

“It looks nice in here.” You say quietly, your voice cracking just a bit. You walk through, tracing your fingers along desks and tables, stopping and looking at family photos on occasion. You looked to Lucifer’s smiling face in a picture where he was lovingly holding his wife and daughter. How did you end up like this?

“Oh- um.. thank you, it's more than enough space for me, but, uh.. it's nice.” His voice sounds unfamiliar as it snaps you from your mindset. He moves to his main bench, which is slightly elevated by a platform that connects to the windowed wall. You eventually make your way around, standing near him.

“Are.. you… How are you..?” You listen to him struggle to form such a simple question, and yet you have an equally hard time trying to respond. Obviously, you were crushed. devastated by the betrayal and overwhelmed by everything else.

“I'm okay.” You reply thoughtlessly. It was your go-to answer. You hear a muffled chuckle and look over to him. He's blocking the laughter with his fist in front of his lips. Is he laughing at you?

“Sorry sorry, I just.. know that you're lying. You've done this before, don't forget how much time I've actually spent with you.” You want to scold him for acting so bold, for saying he knows you better than yourself, but..

You're leaning against the table in one moment, and before you know it, you're hoisted to sit on its top. You felt like a relief you didn't realize. Your feet were aching. How long were you walking the in the halls today? The sensation of his hands planted on your waist. to steadily bring you to the counter, lingered after he had removed them.

“I used to see you wandering around back home- at the mansion, I mean. usually after a tough day. But it's been a few days, so I just thought you might be-”

“Why are you so calm?” Your sudden question made him visibly finch. "You were tricked, too, you know. He tore us apart. How can you be handling this so well?” Your voice starts to turn agitated. You weren't sure why you were taking it out on himm, but you both knew in the moment that this was the first time you’ve let any emotion out since the fight.

“It's like some.. malevolent force is constantly tearing us apart. One moment I'm happy, I'm in love, I'm smiling- then the next, you're just gone. and everything else that keeps me sane goes with it.” You feel a flood of tears beginning to well. Tears that you should've been letting out days ago. “Is this some kind of fucking curse? Why can’t things just be easy..? A-Are we just doomed?” You're wiping your face clear, your words becoming sloppy and hoarse.

“Maybe.” Your head lifts to see him, still calm as before, but with a solemn look on his face. “But, we keep finding eachother, right? And all the good times.. they'll stay good, won’t they?” You nod your head reluctantly.

He approaches you, with a hand on your shoulder, he's wiping away tears with the other.

“Honestly? I'm not handling this well at all. You're right, the universe has done nothing but tear us apart and hurt both of us. And I’m just about ready to tear Alastor limb by limb. I want Charlie to be okay.. I want to keep you by my side and never let you out of my sight this time.” You see his emotions range throughout his words, his eyes flashing red for a moment. He calms himself down, running his hand down your arm to hold your hand. You don't resist.

“But, you made some good points back there. And I just thought.. if you're strong enough to let that prick live, after everything, then.. Maybe I-I.. I'm trying to be strong.” He sounds almost embarrassed to admit it, and the comment on your strength leaves you a bit red in the cheeks. “You've always been so strong, darling. I just wish you'd tell me how you're really feeling.. I miss talking to you. Not this.. empty shell.” His words stung and he knew it as soon as they slipped from his lips.

“W-wait, no, I mean..”

“It’s fine, you're not wrong.. Jerk.” You share a little laugh with him, the mood lightening for just a moment. “Lucifer, I'm.. I'm so tired.” You let out weakly. That barely scratches the surface of everything. It's as if your mind was boiling over, with all the thoughts of Alastor turning sour, and the thoughts of redemption suddenly in question, not to mention all those feelings of Lucifer that were repressed until just recently. You want Charlie to be okay. You want things to be normal, but.. you're not quite sure what normal looks like. You wish you could say all this to him.. it’s hard to put it to words. But you're trying. He makes you want to try harder.

You feel a gentle hand holding your cheek, bringing your blurred thoughts to clarity and meeting eyes that left you breathless. When was the last time you've looked in his eyes? A blush forms across his cheeks, your gaze seems to fluster him. He clears his throat, getting his mind back.

“You're not okay. But.. You will be. I promise.” With a wry smile, you let the weight of your head fall into his palm.

Your eyes meet. He leans in and you feel his arms snake around yout waist. Looking back, you're almost embarrassed by the way you leaned towards him, eyes shut, head tilted, your lips just slightly parted. You were startled by the feeling of his head resting on your shoulder. He only pulls you closer after he feels your breath start to deepen, his hands gentle across your back. You finally return his touch, digging your nose into the crook of his neck and gripping tightly at his shirt.

It used to feel like, if you let go, you'll never hold him again. God, how the possibility scares you. But.. it feels a little different this time. You weren’t worried about him disappearing, this time.

You’re so comforted by his presence, you let yourself fully relax to him. You open your eyes just slightly, blinking out some tears that still remained, thoroughly ruining his top. You pull away, meeting his eyes again.

You feel as if you were close to forgetting this side of him, but you recognize this face. You saw it the night you first kissed him. You saw it after seeing him at the hotel for the first time, then when he decided to sweep you off your feet for a little date. You saw it after every little date that followed. You realize he's never stopped looking at you this way.

“I love you, too.”

I had to put that worship the devil in there it just made me laugh so sorry if that seemed out of place lol

And not to fear my friends,

I plan on making a little epilogue about how everyone's recovering, and some sweet, yummy, fluffy goodness to top it off.

Again, Thank you all so much for your support! :)

I'll be working on some requests next, and some more vamp Luci! Kind of in love with that guy ngl

Taglist! (good lord I hope I got everybody )

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness

@misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @the-maladaptivedaydreamer / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest / @wendigonamecaller / @chirimeimei / @sapphireravensworld / @sillywormtrixareforkids

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel fan fiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you

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dcdreamblog · 2 months ago

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Just gonna come out and say it; Phantom Lady's costume is fairly skimpy even by modern standards, how did people react to her back in the '40s?

Poorly. They reacted poorly. A lot of people reacted poorly to superheroines in general in the public sphere but you're right in that she was one of the core targets.

(A VERY popular pinup of Sandra Knight as the Phantom Lady. It's popularity goes without explanation)

They were decried as "unladylike", "harlots", "emasculating to the American soldier". This that and the other thing. Most of this drivel came from the kind of social and religious conservatives one would expect but there was one bastard who took it to the next level.

(The leather bound cover of "Seduction of the Innocent" by Fredric Wertham MD, published 1945)

Wertham was a well known child psychologist in his day who decried the Mystery Man as a poor role model for America's youth. He spent many years during the war "documenting" as much as he could find on as many heroes as he could get his hands on but his treatment of Knight was the worst by far. Just to go over and debunk his lesser arguments.

He claimed the the young wards of older heroes were in fact, pedophilicaly homosexual lovers of their mentors. He insinuates this about all of them but his specific examples are the Crimson Avenger and Wing, Sandman and Sandy, and Star Spangled Kid and Stripesy. (This is, of course, patently disgusting, he had no evidence whatsoever and he conflated homosexuality and pedophilia because of course he did)

He insisted that Wonder Woman's golden lasso and muscular frame, along with her mentorship of the Holliday Girls sorority were attempting to tempt young women into bondage and lesbianism. (Historically he's not wrong about the Amazons, but he frames this as a problem for some reason?/s)

He claims that Mystery Men as a whole are Unamerican and fascistic due to their obvious contempt for the authority of government. (Yes he was accusing the All Star Squadron of being fascists. After several of them had just laid down their lives holding back Nazi domination of the globe because they wouldn't stand aside for the cops in all scenarios)

But his treatment of the Phantom Lady was particularly heinous. When called to speak before congress he ranted for 3 uninterrupted hours about Knight specifically. Her outfit, her hair, her patterns of speech, her "acquaintance" with the mostly male Freedom Fighters. (His point there is very unclear. He seems to imply that BOTH she is promiscuous for hanging so closely with so many unmarried men, AND that she was in a lesbian relationship with Miss America)

And then, at the climax of his "interview" he revealed that he had threatened and/or bribed Knight's doctor. Outing her civilian identity and revealing her pregnancy out of wedlock. Knight had not even received the news herself and was outed on both counts before the world without warning.

Public outcry was instant. All attacks upon Knight in the press ramped up to 11. Christian groups and feminist ones alike picketed outside of the home of her father, Maryland senator Henry Knight. Attempts to picket outside her cousin's home (Ted Knight AKA Starman of Opal City) were stopped hard in their tracks by counter protestors.

Sandra...vanished, in more than one sense. We only know after the fact that her son Walter was born in a home for unwed mothers under the "paternity" of Al Pratt who volunteered to watch over Knight when her at the time boyfriend flaked on her. Unable to bear the thought of her son being raised in the media firestorm her life had become, he was placed up for adoption and Knight very soon after accompanied her teammates to Earth-X where they would remain for decades.

Her son, Walter, would grow up a troubled man, murdering his wife and leaving his daughter to grow up in foster care. That granddaughter of Knight's is current LA federal prosecutor Kate Spencer who has stated in incredibly brief public comment that she and her grandmother have met after Knight's return from Earth X and are attempting to build a relationship with one another.

The treatment of Knight is a cautionary tale. A living, breathing example of why our protectors keep their identities quiet. a damning indictment of the media and the establishment on both sides of the aisle and a reminder that we have no right to uncover, insert ourselves into or pass judgment on the lives of those who already brave every risk in our name. To Sandra Knight and Kate Spencer, I wish them only comfort and happiness in building a family that might have been nearly 70 years ago.

#dc #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #superhero #comics #tw unreality #unreality #unreality blog #ask game #ask blog #asks open #please interact #worldbuilding #sandra knight #phantom lady #kate spencer #manhunter

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phoenixyfriend · 9 months ago

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Suggested Listening: Columbia Protests (as of 4/25/24)

Alright, folks, I've seen a couple different approaches to this situation, and I think there's something to be learned from each of the below. I know some of them have a contested reputation, but all media sources have a bias and I will be including some context on those biases.

The podcasts I'm sharing are:

The Daily (New York Times)

The Take (Al Jazeera)

Democracy Now! (independent radio broadcast)

Global News Podcast (BBC Radio)

It's come up a few times on NPR as well, but not in enough detail for me to include. I will be linking Spotify, but these are all available elsewhere, though official transcripts can take several days.

The Daily - April 25th, 2024: This podcast is a production of The New York Times. The paper is left-leaning, but has a noted bias towards Israel, and has run into trouble on trans issues in the recent past. The podcast is further left, though still more cautiously moderate than something like Democracy Now; the podcast has previously been responsible for fact checks against the more biased NYT opinion pieces.*

Why you should listen to it: This episode provides the most comprehensive timeline to what has happened, in what order, and why certain actions have been taken. It is notably more sympathetic to Columbia University President Shafik than other coverage, though that may just be the natural result of explaining the current political pressures. It is still more sympathetic to the protesters than to her, but I do think this is helpful for establishing a timeline of events. It is not the only one, and I will share another below.

* That infamous article about the alleged systemic sexual violence that Hamas committed on Oct. 7th was put through a fact checker by the podcast team when it came time to do an episode about it, and the inability to substantiate it led to not only the episode being cancelled, but the article itself being (quietly) edited to note that it was not substantiated. The NYT did not handle it well, but I want to make it clear that the podcast team is independent in many respects, and while I've taken issue with some of their episodes, they often have more comprehensive coverage of certain matters.

The Take - April 25th, 2024: This is a podcast from the English-speaking branch of Al Jazeera, a Qatari news organization that, while independent, does receive a certain amount of funding from the Qatari government. By that measure, I do hesitate to place it on a left-right scale due to existing outside the Western political spectrum. As a Middle Eastern, Arab news org, Al Jazeera provides a perspective much closer to the action than others, and one that is generally much more sympathetic to Muslim and Arab voices. It is also, like the others on this list, an award-winning journal. At this time, Al Jazeera is considered one of the most reliable news sources for information on what is happening in Gaza, through their Palestinian correspondents; they have also been banned in Israel as antisemitic propaganda.

I need to make it very clear that I am not in any way denigrating it for having Qatari government funding; the BBC shares many of those factors, just British.

Why you should listen to it: Al Jazeera got a reporter into the student protest encampment in Columbia, and got more direct interviews with some of the students on the ground. This is part two of their coverage of the protests; Part One (April 24th, 2024)provides another perspective of the timeline, which focuses on different factors, generally closer to the events in Columbia than the national factors.

Democracy Now! - April 23rd, 2024: This is a far left/progressive radio broadcast (repackaged for podcast streaming) that has been running since 1996. They often have interviews with people that I haven't necessarily seen other podcasts bring in, and while I would not consider them extreme, I do sometimes find that certain details get left out in pursuit of a more black-and-white narrative.

Why you should listen to it: Cohost Juan González has been in the field of progressive journalism for a very long time, but it's more relevant than ever for this episode: González was one of the original organizers for the 1968 Columbia protests that resulted in one of the largest mass arrests in NYPD history. The 1968 protests were massive, and deeply impactful on a national scale. González's perspective on how this current protest compares to the one he helped organize nearly sixty years ago is a fascinating way to think about the current events.

Global News Podcast - April 25th, 2024: BBC is a very centrist source for journalism, funded primarily by the UK government and advertising. As such, their coverage tends to lean in favor of the current party, though they do not 'toe the party line' as such. They do regularly platform right-wing activists, but they also have correspondents in the Middle East with a more progressive perspective. I would compare them to CNN in the US; ineffective in terms of opinion, and comparatively milquetoast on that front, but capable of getting access to high-level events that smaller networks aren't.

Why you should listen to it: ...honestly, this is just a 'round it out' kind of suggestion, to get an idea of what the international community is thinking of the events at Columbia. I don't think they necessarily contribute much in terms of factual discovery, but it helps with getting the lay of the land.

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ghnosis · 5 months ago

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*rips bong* (this is my bong in case you're curious)

so some of you have asked me, over the course of the 80-someodd interviews I have so far conducted, why I am doing my PhD on Ghost.

tonight a participant asked me in a manner that sort of finally clicked for me - because I assume all of you live inside my head with me and know why I do everything.

Rose, why are you doing your PhD on Ghost fandom?

when I was 12, American Idiot by Green Day came out. I lost my mind immediately. Green Day were my first hyperfixation. I promise if you ask about "Green Day Girl" to people I went to high school with, they would remember me. not only did Green Day teach me about the Iraq War, and American progressive politics in general, they also taught me, a bullied and weird child, what it meant not to give a shit. someone thinks I'm wrong/bad/inferior? cool! I don't fucking care. "now everybody do the propaganda," etc.

if I kept talking about everything I learned from Green Day, we'd be here all night. but. Green Day *also* taught me that music didn't have to sound like pop, or like country. that music could be written because someone felt something. that music could be used to express rage, a thing I felt in spades.

so from Green Day, my door is blown wide the fuck open and I get to learn about Dead Kennedys, about David Bowie, about Nirvana.

the other thing I know I love, back then in 2004, is learning. and teaching.

fast forward 15ish years, give or take (or pack me a second bowl and I'll tell you the middle), and I'm looking, halfheartedly and in a bummed-out manner, for a PhD program. I have my master's, I didn't like the experience, but I want that Dr. I've been presenting at conferences and doing some piddly academic writing on video games and the use of games in education, and I'm on a listserv for other people writing about games. I get an email from someone at Falmouth University about a PhD program there in "Dark Economies." who's listed on the email? none other than Tanya Fucking Krzywinska, my number one academic girl crush (in my subject area. my actual number one is a historian)!!!!!!

so I read this email and it's talking about the intersection of the occult, video games, and heavy metal. as I said, I've been writing about video games. one of the things I'd been writing about was a certain thing that happened in that industry ooooh, 14 years ago now. something in my brain slots into place.

the occult: I know what that is. occult rock, certainly. I maybe could squeeze in some punk or pop punk. the goffik. we got some MCR.

heavy metal. well, I'm a punk girl through and through, but I used to date that guy in the metal band and have seen Slayer et al multiple times live. sure. I can occupy that world. wait a minute. Ghost.

video games. the thing I'd been writing about, specifically the mistreatment of anyone who wasn't a cis guy. you know what that sounds a lot like? sounds a lot like going to metal shows with my ex. WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE. GHOST??? on TUNGLE DOT HELL???

so I log my ass back on to this website and I look at you, at all of you beautiful people I'd been reblogging ass wobbling gifs with for years, and I said "oh my god. are they me? is whatever is going on in there just a bunch of me's, except it's Ghost not Green Day?

are all of you finding the most beautiful thing there is to find, namely, empowerment and freedom, in the goofy Satan band music band? was it the heaviest thing you had heretofore encountered? did it crack open a yawning chasm in your soul? were you hurting in ways you didn't know how to articulate? are you learning what it means to take up space, to demand rights for yourself and for others, to truly let your fucking freak flags fly? are you feeling the stirring in your heart that only comes from religion (read: witchcraft) or from seeing the most important band in the fucking world live, in the flesh, singing TO YOU, sweating FOR YOU? if you are, I think we are fucking important and vital. I think that we can tell our stories and make a bunch of other weird little girls realise that they, too, have rights - including to transition.

cos immediately in doing this research I found out - you're also NOT me, in some really important and specific ways. maybe being AFAB in the US isn't part of it. maybe it's bigger than that. and I feel so lucky, so truly fucking blessed and lucky, to have gotten to speak to over eighty of you beautiful people, to have been trusted with your stories. to learn what makes YOU ache in your soul and how it is different to but also the same as mine. I have to stop now I'm gonna cry!!!!

#getting a phd in ghost #i didn't proofread this #it just came out #i love you all ghesties ok?

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zzzykiek · 9 months ago

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Play it Sweet

2P Alastor (Blueberry) x Diabetc fem!OC Reader

Chapter 2: Done Deal?

(parenthasis indicate MCs thoughts)

*Please dont share without credit*

TW: Creepy Boss, diabetes, coerced kiss

Current chapter is SFW however future ones will not be so Minors please DNI.

The blue deer demon snaps and then is gone from under the table, causing you to startle and scramble out yourself. As you turn, your eyes fall to a pair of unique blue sneakers, your gaze trails up as you stand taking in the sight of who you had to assume to be your new friend (Can I call him that yet?). Blue jeans and a shiny sky blue shirt with a white and blue argyle sweater. His face remains relatively the same, albeit with a more human tone. You note the blue lipstick he now wears. (Never would have expected that to be attractive.) The blue of his eyes is reduced to the Irises only (They are still so mesmerizing.), ears gone, and his blue hair replaced with a platinum blond fringe adorned with blue tipped bangs. He smiles and holds out a hand for you to take, blue painted nails rest gently on the back of your hand as he pulls you up.

“Al, pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure,” There was something oddly attractive yet sinister in his voice as he introduced himself, placing a kiss on the back of your hand leaving a blue stamp of his lips behind. Now it was your turn to blush, you felt the heat burning from your cheeks and down your neck as he looked into your eyes. The glint of mischief and danger made you sigh.

You had to shake that away quickly as you could hear your boss's footsteps approaching.

“Suniffa, where did you get off to?”

You couldn't hide the snarl at your boss's attempted caring tone.

Al raised an eyebrow and somehow you understood, “Clifford,” you whisper.

Al kept your hand in his and jumped into a laugh as if you had just said the best joke. “You can’t be serious; no wonder you wanted me to cover this for my broadcast!”

As your boss peeks into the break room, Al made eye contact with him. “Oh you must be Clifford; you must forgive my late arrival. I intended to make it to the meeting, but my flight from New Orleans got delayed. I don't know why I ever trust those flying contraptions to get me anywhere on time. Suniffa has been just beaming about all the wonderful opinions of the people. I would love to get some interviews. Oh! Do forgive me; I jumped over some important bits.”

Releasing your hand, he moves to fully face your boss, one hand behind his back, the other outstretched for a shake.

“Al, host of the Evening Tea, KMFDM Radio; Pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure!”

He firmly shook your boss's hand. (Was this the same timid deer you just had stuttering under the breakroom table?) You saw your boss light up hearing his position as a media personality. Though you also saw the slight sneer towards Al’s lips and nails. (They were perfect….. Wait, where did that thought come from?)

“Well, I had no idea my Sunni was being so proactive in her new PR role!”

You flinched at his use of that damned nickname.

“You said you wanted to have the opinions of the people fully heard; what better way than the best broadcast for controversial topics in the US! Al has been a friend for a while so when you dropped this project on me, he was the first one I called.” (Where did that random information come from?) Al slid his arm around your waist, you knew he could read right through your boss and see his unsavory thoughts toward you. Though having a demon take a protective stance for you was new. Being able to understand as if you were telepathically connected was also very new…but definitely helpful in this situation.

“And I have been itching for a good community to feature for this quarrel of literary proportions,”

You couldn’t help but chortle at Al’s choice of wording. Suddenly you felt light headed (Oh shit, I originally came in here to boost my blood sugar…and never did). You whimper slightly and Al’s attention turning toward you as your hand shoots up to his shoulder. You try to smile.

“Whoops, Al, I was so excited to see you I forgot why I left the meeting. My blood sugar is running a bit low,”

You saw Clifford make a move forward as if to scoop you up, but Al beat him to it. (Thank Lucifer.)

“Darling! You really need to take better care of yourself.'' He gently sat you in one of the chairs and went back over to the donut box pulling out a headlight donut you knew wasn't there before. (Wait, didn't he eat the last one?) “Headlights are still your favorite right?” he asks, that mischievous glint in his eyes letting you know he was toying with your boss and loving it. (To be honest you were too. It had been a while since you had the attention of someone you wanted it from…The comment about wanting company wasn't all in jest.) He positions himself next to you, half sitting on the arm of the chair handing you the doughnut. You happily accept and bite into it as he engages in conversation with Clifford. You are in no state to engage at the moment, absentmindedly leaning your head against Al’s torso. His hand moves to gently rest on your shoulder bringing your awareness to the position you had taken. (I just got cuddly with a summoned entity without a thought WTF is wrong with me?) You glance up, slightly flushed. His attention is fully on your boss; his eyes are gleaming as he is apparently winning some sort of internal competition he set. You then look over to your boss, whose gaze has moved from Al to the point where his blue nails stand out against your black sleeve, eye twitching at the sight. He clears his throat and obviously changes the subject on Al.

“So, How exactly do you and Al know each other, Sunni dear?” Clifford gives you his full attention.

“Hmm, well I was his fan first and foremost. I always love a good serving of gossip and he was the best one I knew to truly give all sides with no filter.” (Why am I talking so animatedly and excited about a story that doesn't exist…. I hope Al is ok with this.) You glance over to see Al beaming at your response. “I started calling in to contribute to his show, and then when I needed some extra experience for my portfolio, I reached out to see if he could spare a day or two for me to shadow him.”

“Her comments were always most impressive! I loved picking her brain when she rang in. There was no question of helping her gain some experience in my studio! Besides…” Al tilts his attention from Cliff to you, as your cheeks flush with the look of pure adoration in his eyes. “It was the perfect excuse to meet the little sunshine of my show in person.” He flashes his gaze back to your boss. “Best decision of my life! I am sure you feel the same with hiring quite the impressive young lady! Can you believe that was two years ago, darling.” His attention is back on you.

“Has it really been that long? Oh my time flies!” You laugh, the first real laugh you have had in a while, and you can't help but see the flush and flash of desire pass in Al’s eyes. (Is that what that was? My laugh cant be that nice can it?)

“I can't believe it took me that long to come see you, my sunshine! I do wish I had been able to get us together in person again sooner. But I am here now! We have much to catch up on.” He settles back against the back of the chair and gently runs his fingers through your hair as his hand makes its way back to your shoulder, sending light static through your body. It felt so good you had closed your eyes and leaned into his hand. “Are you feeling better now?” He looks back at you with genuine concern. Your eyes fly open.

“Yes, Al, Thankfully the dizziness doesn't last once I get some sweets in me,” you can’t help but giggle at some very inappropriate thoughts that pass through your mind regarding the sweet demon perched to your right. (Where did those ideas come from…?)

“Good, can't have anything dimming my sunshine while I am here,” He gently squeezes your shoulder as he stands.

“Well, Mr Clifford, when would be a good time to arrange for some interviews? I will need some time to observe the library activities and craft some questions and scripts of course.” Al bursts your little thought bubble with his abrupt switch in modes. Your attention is drawn back to your boss who is obviously fighting some sort of internal conflict. You knew his desire for media coverage would win out.

“How about we do Friday? That should give you two days to observe and curate your questions and a day for myself and the other board members to review said questions.”

“Of course Suniffa will review them before I hand them in! I wouldn't think of doing anything without her approval.” Al interrupts him, obviously wanting to cut out the last part of Clifford's plans. You stand up at the mention of your name. “Let's do Thursday at the latest. I was hoping to use Friday to play a little catch up for my two years of absence.”

“Oh Al! That’s so sweet!” You step up and embrace him, wrapping your arms around his torso under his arms, thankful your back was facing your boss so as to avoid the daggers you know he was throwing at you. (Thank goodness Al embraced me tightly in return.) Then you give an over-exaggerated sigh into the crook of his neck. (Did he just shiver?) “I am scheduled to work though…”

Al’s hand finds its way to your hair in a comforting yet oddly possessive gesture, “Well, I am sure, considering all I am putting into your town's broadcast, that your boss can let you free for a day at least,” his words come out in a firm and demanding tone. Lifting your head you enjoy the profile view of Al returning Cliff’s glare ten fold.

“Better have her check her schedule before granting anything, don't want my Sunni to fall behind,”

You break off the surprisingly comforting yet demonic embrace and twirl excitedly to face your boss.

“Friday is the library inventory, which thanks to my new position, I am no longer involved with, so it works out perfectly!” You watch your boss's eye twitch, definitely regretting that promotion now, even if it had put you in the same office area working directly with him.

“Wonderful!” He bites out with a clenched jaw, trying so hard not to explode at the broadcaster about to bring his dreams to life. (So he thinks.) “We will plan for the interviews on Thursday. What did you wish to observe until then?”

“Oh there is no need to waste your precious time with that, I can arrange all that with your wonderful PR representative.” Al gives your hand a covert squeeze. (Don't let him take over.)

“Of course! I do have a drafted itinerary already prepared, a tour will be the first activity!”

“Always prepared, Sunni!” Clifford gently takes your arm, “Where do we begin?”

You take a peek at your watch. “Oh my, time flies when planning such important events! Four p.m. has arrived. I am sorry Al; the tour will have to be first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, not a problem at all! In fact, that is preferred. After all the kerfuffle with my flights, I am quite tuckered out.” Al smooths his sweater as he turns to you with a look that takes you a moment to decipher. (How many of this Boss of your's buttons can I push?) You smirk in answer. (As many as you want.)

“It was wonderful to meet you Mr. Clifford! I look forward to picking your brain tomorrow.” He shakes Cliff’s hand firmly then softly offers his hand to you. “I am so happy you thought to bring me here for such a grand story!” He places another kiss on your hand, ensuring Cliff has a view of his stamped lips left behind on your skin. “Now I must apologize, my sunshine, I wasn't able to arrange for transport or lodging past making it here to you.”

“Al, you don't have to worry about that! I have plenty of room and what hotel could provide you with a recording studio any way?” If your boss was jealous before…he was about to blow his top now.

“I never doubted you wouldn't welcome my company. I will have to make sure we are properly supplied. I do owe you some of my blueberry pancakes after all.”

You'd never felt so excited in your life, and from the looks of it, Al seemed to be just as excited!

“Let me grab my purse and print the itinerary for you gentleman to review tonight.” You walk down the hall to grab your things, and you hear hushed arguing floating down the hall from the break room. (Somehow you didn't doubt Al would set your boss in his place.) A few moments later, you hear footsteps as Al turns the corner to your office, an absolutely manic look on his face. “Cliff said to leave the itinerary on his desk; he needed to get home.” Al suddenly grabs your chin and pulls you to meet his gaze. (How tall is he? Even in human form, he stood taller than Clifford and was at least a foot above you…)

“You're lucky you're pretty and I find this little rivalry fun. I don't usually step in before a deal is made.” (Oh shit…I thought things were going good.) Al then pulls you up to him, making you stand on your tiptoes, and forcefully presses his lips to yours. It's passionate, desperate, yet somehow chaste as it ends abruptly. (Ok… I hope that means he likes me.)

“What do you want in exchange for your help?”

His eyes soften as he thinks for a moment. “Y-you… I-I-I want you.”

You don't even think before the word spills from your lips “Deal.”

A flash of green light and an odd sensation fills you and when you regain awareness, Al’s lips are on yours again. He seems more nervous this time. He breaks the kiss and you see tears in his eyes. He’s visibly shaking. You tightly embrace him. (I know a panic attack when I see one.)

Notes------

2P Alastor originates from the following

#hazbin alastor #human alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel radio demon

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rebellionsuite · 1 year ago

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loki season two is starting to be promoted and here’s your reminder NOT to watch it

the loki show did damage to not only loki’s character as a whole, but to bisexual and genderfluid people as well.

for years, loki has been a comic character that is well known for their bisexuality and genderfluidity. a huge component to this was the ‘loki: agent of asgard’ series written by al ewing (a personal favorite of mine). many queer people opened up their arms to welcome this representation. had i known i was bisexual at the time that mcu loki was my favorite character ever, i just know i would’ve been ecstatic, which i was when the first looks at season one came out.

the first red flag should’ve been when it was revealed that in loki’s tva files, his sex was labeled as “fluid” when it’s actually his gender. i remember people being skeptical and wary about it but continued to hope for the representation that the cast promised in interviews beforehand. (if anyone is able to find which interview this was in, please let me know so i could link it.)

then as the series went on for the next six weeks, hopes of there being representation dwindled. there was the line of “a bit of both” when sylvie asked if loki courted princes or princesses and he assumed it was the same for sylvie, which was SOMETHING at the time! people were happy… for the first few days or so. we quickly realized that this was probably disney’s way of telling but never showing considering their infamous prejudice against lgbt+ rep. it was quite literally the bare minimum — a throwaway line so to say that could easily be forgotten by the average viewer. i recall that lots of people were huge shippers of loki x mobius and thought that maybe, just MAYBE, there would be something more explicitly romantic between them and hey, maybe there will be in season two! but it’s disney. you can understand that there’s not a whole lot of hope.

then comes loki’s genderfluidity. to start off, the whole existence of sylvie is the most damaging. in agent of asgard, loki has confirmed that no matter how she presents, she is always loki. there’s no “female/lady loki”, it’s all JUST loki. so to change up loki’s name, bleach her hair, and contradict whether or not she IS actually loki throughout the show is… questionable.

the line of “have you ever met a woman variant?” was just insane writing. all lokis can identify/present as women if they please!!! their shapeshifting abilities give them an advantage of presentation being easy for them, but all in all, every single loki can canonically identify as a woman. when that line was delivered, all the other loki variants looked confused as if they didn’t know. loki’s genderfluidity was never at the forefront of the writers’ minds, writers that were caught to be fucking weirdos on twitter! you can find what old tweets i’m talking about on twitter… but i digress. why would the loki variants not know such an integral part of their identity?

and the KISS. THE FUCKING KISS. we’re not angry that loki kissed a female-presenting character instead of mobius like many wished, no no no that’s not the big issue because bisexuals should never have to prove their bisexuality to anyone and they can kiss whoever the hell they want. we’re angry because loki kissed a female-presenting variant of HIMSELF. all throughout the first season, the writers went out of their way to try to differentiate sylvie from loki despite sylvie having been born as a loki variant, but there’s literally no way to separate sylvie from their lineage because at the end of the day, that’s who she was born as. no amount of bleach will change that fact. (i hope i made this easy to understand; not a lot of people get why this is an issue.) and regardless of whether or not that kiss was romantic, the fact that it even HAPPENED was a slap in the face to genderfluid fans of loki, and if the leaks for season two are right, that whole thing between the two will be continued since most of the season one writers worked on season two as well.

on top of this awful rep, known abuser jonathan majors will be in season two as another kang variant. i’ve heard that marvel had bigger plans for him, but due to these allegations, they’re limiting his presence as seen in the trailer, obviously meaning that they know.

hence why i ask fans to boycott/simply not tune in for season two if you care about queer people. if you’re desperate to watch, at least don’t use disney+. just because s2d is gone doesn’t mean other websites don’t exist. i also recommend reading ‘agent of asgard’. if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask me and please be respectful; your feelings about the show don’t dictate how hundreds of others feel, especially if their concerns are valid.

#loki #loki show #loki series #loki season two #loki trailer #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #anti sylvie #anti loki series #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #lgbtqia #queer rep in media #lily speaks tumblr edition

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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year ago

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what if barry wheeler-centric fanfic. what then.

Someone had to pick up the pieces.

And that was what he did, right? The real job every agent knew they were signing up for was janitorial.

Alan was gone. It didn’t feel real to Barry, and maybe that was why he was the one in Alice’s kitchen making her dinner when she couldn’t even get out of bed. Alan was gone, but Barry walked by his office and expected to hear him groaning at his desk about a sentence he liked too much and knew he has to cut. Alan was gone, and he even took his last manuscript with him.

Real selfish, Al, Barry thought, don’t you know I’ve gotta eat, too? He knocked on the door that led to what was Alan and Alice’s bedroom. He waited. She didn’t say anything, but the light escaping under the crack of the bedroom door was on, always on. (Not like Barry didn’t keep every light in his home running as well. Alan was still paying for their electricity bills.) He left her plate by the door, like maybe the smell of it would coax her out.

Barry had never liked her. Alice had never liked him much back. They both loved Alan too much, and they had both walked away alive because he hadn’t.

He figured out a new course for himself: the Old Gods of Asgard, who partied like they were half their age and drank like death couldn’t touch them. Repping them was a dream come true. Even when they finally faltered, one last tour while Barry set up funds for a retirement home. He should have made sure the construction was going as planned in person.

He couldn’t. Bright Falls swallowed his best friend whole, and he was supposed to believe it wasn’t hungry for seconds? Not a chance. But that old crazy pair headed back into the maw of the town like they were used to holding it wide open with swords. (He’d been rereading Alan’s books too much. His metaphors took root in Barry’s head. He still has Alan’s voice on talkshows and radio interviews, but his books sounded more like him than anything. With a plummet in Barry’s stomach, he wondered if Alan really did belong on the page, in a story, all along.)

The movies took most of the narration word-for-word. Barry had to fight for that, had to call in more favors than he really had to spare.

What else was he supposed to do, sit on the rights to Alex Casey and let him rot away in those books? Let him die in there?

Alan would have loved hearing the words he wrote on the screen. He would have hated that Barry made them change the ending, even if only a little bit, just the suggestion that his title character didn’t bleed out in a back alley, that maybe the light he saw before his eyes shut for the final time wasn’t hellfire or heaven’s gates, but a friendly flashlight and a person looking to help.

They had cut-outs of Alan at the premiere next to ones of the stars. Barry had thought it was funny when he’d ordered them.

He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d seen Alan’s face like that, so clear and close. The years were passing, and Barry felt every single one. Suddenly, the plan to smuggle one into the back of his car and drive it home seemed a lot less funny with no one else there to laugh about it.

He couldn’t bring himself to go back to Bright Falls, but some nights, Night Springs was on the air. Some nights, Alan’s words came to find him rather than the other way around.

And Barry thought, maybe this time, as the signal on his janky TV fuzzed out and Alan’s old dialogue faded — maybe this time Barry would shut his eyes and when he opened them again, there would be a page on the floor, telling him what he was supposed to do next, telling him he wasn’t holding onto that last sliver of hope in vain.

Come on, Al. How hard was one page for a novelist?

#i have feelings about him okay. he was alans FRIEND. THEY WERE FRIENDS.#barry wheeler #alan wake #no aw2 spoilers here tho. since i havent even finished the game yet to spoil much of anything #fanfiction

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lucienmelaina · 1 year ago

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Name: Lucien "Luc" Melaina Age: Forty-six Gender & Pronouns: Cis-male, he/him Sexuality: Gay Time in Redwood: Two years Resides in: Second floor of the library building Previous occupation: Author Community occupation: Librarian

musings // answered // mirror // wanted connections

An old soul, that’s what they called Lucien ever since he was a kid. And as if in a hurry to catch up with that old soul, the oldest Melaina son walked and talked and read earlier than all other kids his age, impressing parents and teachers and everyone who came to know the little guy who spent his days with his nose stuck in a book. They talked about how he would become a scientist, a politician, a lawyer, half-joking and half-hoping and doted on his every need.

But Luc didn’t share any of those aspirations. Luc only needed his books and his few good friends and his peace and quiet in order to be happy. He never excelled at school the way everyone expected, his mind wandering to far away worlds, or trying to keep his eyes open after having pulled an all-nighter to read just one more chapter. He didn’t get invited to many parties and he never found the appeal in sports, but even though he lived in a different bubble than the popular kids, no one dared to bully or make fun of him.

Even his college years were quiet, his degree in English Literature coming almost easily to him. He spent his hours in the library and next to the sea and in cute little coffee shops with his laptop and his books, reading and writing and daydreaming until he found himself scrolling through pages and pages of his own creation.

His first novel did well enough, especially for a debut. His second one, even better. His third one changed his world forever. Luc doesn’t know how and he doesn’t know why, but it apparently hit the right chord– there was success and money and awards and a movie deal. And there was a thrust into the spotlight that nobody could have prepared him for.

Because Hollywood was very different from the peace and quiet he had always tried to maintain. He tried to be grateful for the kind words and the selfies and the interviews, but he found himself returning home exhausted and empty and with zero energy or interest to turn or write a single page.

When the virus hit, Luc was on a promotion tour for the movie that was set to premier at the end of the year. Every day he put on a mask of excitement and answered the same questions and said the same catchphrases and ignored his true feelings. He did everything the publicists and managers told him– so when they said that this virus was nothing to worry about, he believed them.

They were in Washington, DC when the outbreak became impossible to ignore. The tour and the premiere and everything was ‘postponed until further notice’, flights were canceled, panic spread. Luc stayed in town for as long as he deemed safe, and when everything became too suffocating, he joined a group that fled to the countryside.

He felt terrified and exhausted and completely useless– he couldn’t run very fast, he couldn’t cook very well, and he definitely couldn’t fight. People came and people left and people died and somehow, probably through pure luck, he survived day after day. Months later, he found himself at Redwood, dehydrated and starving and with a broken and infected leg.

And the people of Redwood took care of him. They let him rest and gave him food and water and clean clothes and a place to stay. So he gave back what he could, even if it was just a few kind words, a good conversation and a renovated library– after all, he knew from a very young age that sometimes a few good friends and a few good books are enough to make you happy.

With the understandable shortage of new items coming into the library, he is very strict with return deadlines and demands all the books remain in the best possible condition.

His leg has good and bad days, sometimes he can barely get out of bed, others he can almost forget the pain is there. Still, he always carries his cane with him and leans into it whether by need or habit.

There’s always that one orange cat in the library- Luc calls him Gatsby, feeds him, lets him sit on his lap while he is reading, has him sleep on the foot of his bed, but is not willing to admit that the cat is his at this point.

Before the outbreak, he used to be a vegetarian, but since then he has had meat on various occasions for the sake of survival. When there are other options, he always goes for the vegetables.

He knows that it’s a weird thing to say, but he is happier during the apocalypse than he was before it, getting to enjoy the slow life of Redwood after so long in the spotlight. However, the thought of what is going on outside the walls never really leaves his head, as he knows that if the city falls, his chances of survival are next to none.

#tfh.intro

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scienter · 11 months ago

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Skipped from TVD S3 straight to s6 & Holy shit! That was the Renaissance of TVD.I don't think I have enjoyed any season of Vampire Diaries like I did s6 after s2 and in my mind,they both get the top rank in the list of best to worst.Then,I thought why not give season s7 a chance.This was the first time I rewatched this season since it aired back when TVD was on and now I am most certainly questioning my life choices.🥲Honestly,how did we sit through such abysmal writing for 8 months or so?Were we sired?After the first episode,it felt like someone made me shut my eyes with the promise of feeding oysters only to point and scream "I just ejaculated in your mouth! HA! HA!" Anyway,there are a few things,specific to Caroline Forbes, that I picked up along the way:

1.Candice (& real life pregnancy)and Caroline Forbes-surrogacy: Keeping the non-consensual,gross aspect of the otherwise outlandish plot aside,I do believe with right motivation and willingness,writers could have easily worked around CA's pregnancy and given emotionally intimate scenes to SC that would have made their relationship layered and deeper.They simply chose NOT to. In fact, I noticed how they didn't use Candice at all not just in terms of her relation with Stefan but with regards to the whole Al**ick thing.Writers simply didn't create any compelling narrative that could convince anyone that Caroline was at all interested in pursuing anything with Ric that eventually led to an engagement. In fact, their sloppy attempt to sell motherhood and biology by giving two glimpses of Caroline's apparent growing attachment with the kids implied she saw the twins as an obligation in addition to her considering Ric as incapable of handling two newborns, leading her to Dallas, which basically served the bigger purpose:write CA out for her Maternity Leave. Post time jump,they could have easily removed her from this dynamic and put her with Liam or me and that wouldn't have changed nothing.Once again, they chose not to SHOW and simply explained the engagement as a decision of a heartbroken,abandoned woman by TELLING.I wonder what they would have done with her if TVD hadn't been renewed.Crossover to TO for ratings ploy?

2.Flash Forwards: I have nothing to say about this narrative disaster but I do think they changed their initial plans with respect to the FFs because CA did an interview where she said writers told her they were going three years in the future,right before she left for her ML,so that Caroline wouldn't have to be pregnant anymore AFTER candice came back from her leave.Does that mean they were originally going to go only a few months ahead in time but cancellation jitters made them change track?Guess,we will never know.

3.Future-Caroline character assessment : Plot contrivance aside, Caroline role-playing a doting mother and devoted wife-to-be & her happiness in the seemingly new life she built for herself is a metaphor for her being a victim of prolonged violence(physical and psychological).She was incapable of feeling anything anymore.She was in a wild state of depersonalisation and derealisation.She was an absolute victim.She just didn't care.She was putting up a class-act in that creepy arrangement but hey,as long as Caroline's "bold decision"(in JP's book) ensured M.Davis's employment,we are all good.

LMAO. Oh, yeah, I remember the whiplash of watching season 7 after season 6. Season 6 was one of the strongest seasons. Steroline was written well, we finally got Bamon, and Caroline had a touching story arc having to deal with her mother’s death. Season 7 on the other hand is in the running as the worst seasons.

I agree with your assessment of Ric and Caroline's relationship in season 7. It was awful. Having Caroline become the twins' surrogate is one thing – having her become their primary caregiver BECAUSE Caroline didn’t trust Ric to parent the twins himself . . . that wasn’t Caroline being a control freak – RIC ALLOWED CAROLINE TO TAKE OVER HIS DUTIES AS A PARENT BECAUSE HE DIDN’T WANT TO DO IT HIMSELF*. There’s a name for this phenomenon: weaponized incompetence*

I don’t buy any defense of Ric’s actions here. Ric needed Caroline’s help! He was overwhelmed and didn’t know what he was doing! (1) Most first-time parents are overwhelmed because they lack experience. Parenting is on-the-job training. (2) Ric could have hired a professional nanny or an au pair to help take care of his kids. You know – paid someone to help take care of his kids. He didn’t. He was a selfish prick who took advantage of Caroline’s selfless and caring nature. He got a live-in nanny for free!

I hate that they turned Caroline – one of the strongest characters on the show – into Ric’s unpaid nanny. Ric and Caroline’s engagement was adding insult to injury.

I was so disappointed by the flash-forwards on TVD because I’d seen it done so well on The West Wing. Not that I was expecting TWW-level writing on TVD, but I did expect some level of competence.

*“Weaponized incompetence, also called strategic incompetence, is when someone knowingly or unknowingly demonstrates an inability to perform or master certain tasks, thereby leading others to take on more work.” [Psychology Today]

#ask #reply #ask for ts #reply for ts #tvd fuckery

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grangerliam · 1 year ago

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LIAM GRANGER HEADCANON'S (2/?)

HC: If you're friends with Liam, there's a chance you've seen, at least, one of these movies. If you're close friends with Liam, you've very likely saw majorly, or all, of these films plus some. These would be his top 9 movies, but they are not his only. There's a longer list, some of which involve sequels of the movies mentioned above. -- He also has a crush on Jane Levy because of Evil Dead and Don't Breathe. His first crush was on Jessica Biel as Erin in TCM. OOC Side note: I make my friends watch my favorite horror movies with me, so I know he do, too.

Evil Dead (2013) - A remake to the 1981 movie, and honestly, a damn good one. The main character is a heroin addict, and her friends, and brother take her out to a cabin to help her get clean. One of the friends end up reading from a book that unleashes an evil in the cabin. The main character tries to warn everyone because weird stuff happens and she knows somethings wrong. No one believes her because they just assume she's withdrawing. And it goes about as well as what anyone would expect from there. ---- A royal mention to Evil Dead Rise that came out last year. He also loved that one, and has watched it multiple times. He enjoys the originals simply for that fact alone, they're originals. But he prefers these two.

Don't Breathe (2016) - A movie where neither side is really in the right, and a lot could've been avoided have the main characters not tried to break into a house that wasn't theirs. Nonetheless, a solid movie about three thieves that go up against a blind man who isn't as impaired al they thought. Just cause he can't see, don't his other senses aren't A1. And it's a fight to the death after that.

The Forsaken (2001) - Most people when asked what their favorite vampire movie is, they'd say 'The Lost Boys' or maybe 'Interview with a Vampire'. Liam's is the Forsaken. A underrated movie in his opinion, that takes a interesting spin on the lore of vampires. A film student who is hired to take a car across the country runs into a hitch hitcher who turns his life upside when they both pick up a blonde who seems like she's on drugs outside a dinner. But she was actually bitten by a vampire, and then proceeds to bite the film student when he tries to calm her down. All three are then on a race against time to kill "The Forsaken" which is the head vampire that holds the virus in their blood.

Halloween (1978) - Do I really need to say anything? It's a classic, and it's beloved by just about everyone. Jamie Lee Curtis as Lorie Strode. Arguably #1 Final Girl. Baby sitter, stalker man in a mask who's just trying to stab people. It's a classic.

Nightmare On Elm Street (1984) - Once again, another classic. A very original idea for a killer. Can't go wrong with this sleep traveling demon thing with knives for fingers and a burnt face.

Scream (1996) - Classic, classic, classic. The movie that refreshed the horror genre at its time. A masked killer who calls you and taunts you before he chases you and kills you. A solid story line that follows all 6 movies, without missing a beat. Killer is always human, and always someone you know. Great characters. Sidney Fucking Prescott. He also appreciates the other 5 movies as well.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) - A remake of the 1974 film of it's same name. While Liam respects the OG, he finds that this one is a pretty solid remake, and enjoys it occasionally. Jessica Biel is everything in this movie as well, so you know. A group of friends are road tripping across Texas, picks up a hitch hiker, said hitch hiker unalives herself. The group of friends try to find the cops, but instead come into the family of cannibals that make their trip literal hell.

The Ruins (2008) - Four friends are on vacation in Mexico when they come across another man, who befriends them. This man is on the look for his brother as he went on a sight seeing adventure and never returned home. The five of them don't expect much, and the four friends agree to go with their new friend to a place called 'The Ruins'. When they get there, they are immediately trapped there by town people, who don't speak English. So it's a huge miscommunication trope, but they eventually find out that The Ruins are these poisonous cannibal like vines that once you touch them, you are infected. They try to figure out how to get the hell out of there, but everything's against them at that point.

Vacancy (2007) - If we were to ask Liam (or me), what was an underrated movie in our opinions, this one would be at the top of the list. First off, Luke Wilson is phenomenal in this, which you wouldn't think of him as a horror movie actor, but he's fantastic. A husband and wife are on their way home after a family visit. They take the back roads, but their car breaks down, and unable to get a mechanic in the middle of the night, they are forced to say at this hideaway motel until morning. Well, turns out said motel is a breeding ground for snuff films, and these two must work out their differences (they're going through a divorce and lost their child), in order to survive the night.

#( x. | headcanons. )#horror related tw #( x. | liam's shit. )#//was this for him? was this for me? idk. i like to think it was him tho bc i missed quite a few of my favorites but i dont think liam woul #really be all that hyped about.#i also be living for the headcanoning of stuff ok #i apologize if im annoying.#love me xoxo

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melis-writes · 1 year ago

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"I'll tell you something," he says. He puts down his coffee if he's about to tell me his greatest secret. "And this is a fact. When I was doing Scarface, I remember being in love at that time. One of the few times in my life. And I was so glad it was at that time. I would come home and she would tell me about her life that day and all her problems and I remember saying to her, look, you really got me through this picture because I would shed everything when I came home."

(Source: amp./theguardian./com/film/2004/dec/03/2)

Who do you think he was talking about here? Not gonna lie, I’m crossing my fingers that it’s Diane, because I truly believe he’s the love of her life, but others are saying it’s his other ex, Kathleen Quinlan. I’ve been a loyal fan of Diane and Al since time immemorial (fell even deeper when I read her book… I love Diane so much, she takes my breath away every time and I love everything about her. She is amazing. I want to keep both of them in my pockets) 👀

He’s lying lmao. 😭😭 And I’m not surprised!! Everywhere I’ve cross referenced, Al always says he’s “in love” with every woman he dates especially while he’s dating them and then stands by the claim he’s only been in actual love twice (I believe, I’ll double check sources when I can) in his life. Based on the timeframes given, this lines up to be Jill Clayburgh (1967 - 1972) and Marthe Keller (1977 - 1979) only, basically. Not Diane. 🥺💔

He and Kathleen broke up in 1981 and there was no mention of her during the Scarface days. On the other hand, I can’t find any sources proving Al was in a relationship until 1989 with Jan Tarrant.

Al and Diane have been on and off from 1972 to 1990, essentially. I guess when they were both single around those years they probably continued to be on and off before officially getting into a real relationship in 1985. Diane said they dated for 5 years and broke up in 1990 so that seems to make the most sense.

I absolutely love and adore Diane (died when she liked my comments on Instagram) but sadly it doesn’t line up with what Al said. He does lie a lot though from interview to interview, article to article… He mentioned somewhere that girlfriends he had in the early 70s used him for his stardom but we all know he didn’t become a “star” until The Godfather released and Jill was his only known girlfriend at that time. Their relationship is really well documented in “A Life on The Wire” which confuses me even more. There’s no way he can be talking about her which only makes me think he’s lying for some reason. 🤨

#al pacino

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adultswim2021 · 1 month ago

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Check It Out! With Dr. Steve Brule #3: “Family” | May 31, 2010 - 12:30AM | S01E03

Just like the Squidbillies premiere that preceded this one, this episode is about FAMILY. Isn’t that kinda fun when that happens?

In this one we meet Dorris Pringle-Brule, Steve’s mentally-ill mother who hoards trash and aspires to eventually own her son’s corpse so he can never escape. She wants to straight-up mount his dang head to the wall so she could wink at him all the time. We also meet Brule’s uncle Steve, the aforementioned father of Sunshine Brule (or as-yet mentioned if you are watching this in DVD order. See! It sorta has continuity!). Stan bores Steve with vaudeville talk. Joe Franklin he is not!!

Why isn’t the Joe Franklin estate doing what Letterman, Carson, et. al are doing with their vast archives of interviews and coming up with a half-way decent youtube presence? Sorry. You literally did not come here for this. It’s shocking that you came here at all. Anyway, there’s this Youtube channel but it’s been languishing for years. Oh yeah, he was on Space Ghost once. Joe Franklin was on Space Ghost so I get to talk about him. I’m nice

Okay anyway: We also get Brule being on a picnic with his Daddy (or is he). They cast a very large man and made Brule cuddle with him. I love when they put large men in things and just have them speak in a series of guttural moans. It’s a minor trope that Abso Lutely likes to engage in, and I am an Abso Lute pig for it.

We also get a very memorable bit where Steve talks to his supposed brother Stan, who is the coolest guy ever. He invents a jetpack before, and has a pizza oven in his house. It’s very obvious a split-screen effect, with Stan being played by Steve. It's sorta like that Chris Chan video where she (yes, I am one of those people that honors Chris Chan's pronouns despite... well, everything) pretends to be normal. Steve dramatically pulls the wool from our eyes and wistfully points out that he just wanted to see what it would be like to have a brother, and that he tricked us.

There are a number of very memorable bits in this, like the video of Brule on public access hugging his mom, who is tiny and hangs from his grasp like a dead child. Speaking of dead children, this episode points out fairly plainly that Steve had a sister who was presumably poisoned to death by his mother. Pretty horrific, but this fact is pithily summed up in a bulleted list at the end of the show: “some sisters are buried under your house”.

There’s also a bit from Doug Prishpreed with a sports update. The little clip where the actor portraying him seems legitimately flabbergasted is one of my favorite moments in the show, even if it seems a tad cruel. Prishpreed (real name Foster) is one of my favorite Tim & Eric guys. Everything he says is hilarious to me.

This is a perfectly good episode, and I respect that.

EPHEMERA CORNER:

Adult Swim: Pilots DVD (June 1, 2010)

(video stolen from Bumpworthy)

Available exclusively on the Adult Swim webstore (I think. I am not that interested in actually researching this) is the formally not-available-for-individual-sale Pilots DVD taken from the previously released Adult Swim in a Box box set. That’s that box set that included random volumes of different Adult Swim shows. A veritable taster’s choice (did I say that back when I covered the Adult Swim in a Box DVD? I bet I did. Not linking it!). In other words, this is that DVD now available for standalone purchase. Here’s what it’s got:

Totally 4 Teens

Cheyenne Cinnamon & The Fantabulous Unicorn of Sugar Town Candy Fudge

Korgoth of Barbaria

Welcome To Eltingville

Perfect Hair Forever

Eagle-eyed viewers will note that all but one of these shows did not make it to series. For Some reason they decided to include Perfect Hair Forever’s first episode despite having a whole season attached to it. Could this be an admission of guilt? Are we supposed to imagine a more harmonious version of our planet in which Perfect Hair Forever only stole 11 minutes of our time instead of more than that. All I know is that this DVD is only going for about 20 bucks on ebay used, which is far less than I’d hoped for. Thought I was gonna end this write-up with an ebay auction link. Oh well.

#adultswim2021 #adult swim #check it out! with dr. steve brule

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airadam · 6 months ago

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Episode 182 : The People's Music

"I never did a dance for a dollar..."

- Buckshot

This month we don't shift into high gear in terms of tempo at any point, topping out at around 90, so those of you experiencing actual summer don't overheat! We've got some absolutely fire new releases in the mix alongside some versions that you might never have heard, plus some deep album cuts. We start things off with just such a track - if you don't own the album, I'd be willing to bet you've never heard it...never let it be said this is a show that leans on the obvious records!

Still a few tickets left to see Phat Kat at The Hip Hop Chip Shop on August 4th, plus me playing a special Detroit warmup set!

Mastodon : @[email protected]

Twitch : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Above The Law ft. Kokane : Rain Be For Rain Bo

RIP KMG, who passed away twelve years ago this month. In a season where we maybe haven't had the sunshine we expected, this seemed like an appropriate choice - a downtempo but funky piece from the well-respected LP "Uncle Sam's Curse", Above The Law's third. Cold 187um not only produced the track but also provides the scene-setting first verse, while his cousin Kokane is on the hook, and KMG's second verse builds on the perfect setup. A lot of people were not ready to digest this LP fully when it came out, but if you have time to take a front-to-back listen, especially if you appreciate the West Coast sound, then do - you'll be rewarded.

Tavaras Jordan : Change, Pt. 2 (The Last Thing)

A beautifully smooth instrumental from this talented Hip-Hop and R&B producer out of North Carolina, taken from his short - but very sweet - 2019 "Manifest Destiny" album. Anything with this man's name on is worth a listen!

GZA : Animal Planet

The streets are a jungle, and nature is gangster. Another in GZA's series of themed tracks that started with "Labels" on "Liquid Swords", this grand-sounding Bink and Tyquan Walker-produced cut from "Legend Of The Liquid Sword" allows the Genius to demonstrate once again how he can build a concept track like few others.

Jay-Z ft. Damian Marley : Bam

One of my good friends always plays this track before job interviews, because these people have to "know who they F'in with", to quote Jay-Z! This collaboration with Damian Marley from the "4:44" LP is one of my personal highlights of that release, and the producer No I.D. goes straight to a reggae classic to provide the raw material, the mighty "Bam Bam" by Sister Nancy.

Black Moon : General Feva

The "Rise Of Da Moon" album, Black Moon's first after a sixteen-year layoff, seemed to go under-appreciated by many, but I for one was very pleased to see the Brooklyn legends release that LP in 2019. Da Beatminerz on production of course, for some slow, loping boom-bap that is a little dark for summer perhaps, but perfect for this slide towards some sandpaper-type roughness.

Cut Beetlez x Bronx Slang : I'm Not Chillin

If the last track was raw, this is the cow still wandering around in the field! Finland's Cut Beetlez production team linked up with the always-NY Bronx Slang for a brand new EP, from which this is the title cut. As soon as Jerry Beeks told me it was out I had it in my headphones and even after repeated listens, I knew this was the track to go with right here! The sonics snarl, thump, and grind, and yet you can hear every word from the MCs, who just seem to keep getting better with time and can give you the business regardless of the pace of the track.

[J-Zone] Al-Shid : Fight Club (Instrumental)

He may be a full-time and high-quality drummer now, but I'll always remember the originality J-Zone brought to Hip-Hop production for so many years. There's no-one who sounded quite like him, and this instrumental of a track from Al-Shid's debut single is a great example - some might say quirky, but in terms of quality, very serious.

Conductor Williams & Boldy James : Flying Trapeze Act

Too many people think that street rap and lyrical creativity can't go together, but this song from the "Across The Tracks" LP by Kansas City producer Conductor Williams and Detroit's Boldy James, thankfully still with us after a serious accident, have both in spades. The Conductor's track clearly treats its original sample in a pretty extreme fashion (you can hear the warbling which the processing likely introduced) but then adds the subtlest of kick-snare to quietly drive it along, and the vocals left in just add extra soulful flavour beneath Boldy's voice. As he moves between straight description, metaphor, and simile - especially the last punchy one in the hook that gives the track its title - Boldy James puts in excellent work.

El Michels Affair ft. Raekwon : The PJs (Instrumental/Vocal)

I needed to lead with the instrumental just to provide a nice bridge in, but it's always a pleasure to hear the brilliant El Michels Affair play! This is a re-recording of the track "The PJs" from Pete Rock's 2008 LP "NY's Finest" - no Masta Killa this time, but Raekwon returns to do his verses over with some small changes. El Michels Affair, in turn, base their instrumental performance around the way Pete Rock worked the original sample, but with some subtle flourishes. "The PJs...From Afar" is a 12" single well worth adding to your collection.

Da Beatminerz ft. Black Moon : Anti

Black Moon again, because why not? This time we go with their appearance on the new Da Beatminerz project "Stifled Creativity" (bearing in mind that Evil Dee of Da Beatminerz is also an actual member of the group) for one of the highlights of the LP. Over a slow, reflective, almost funereal take on the groove best known from Souls of Mischief's "93 'Til Infinity", Buckshot speaks on his journey as an independent artist and label owner (Duck Down) in a straightforward manner while maintaining that trademark flow. To maintain a thirty-plus year independent career through the changes in the industry is quite a feat - salute.

O.C. : This Is Me

This is a track I've always enjoyed, but which I think escaped a lot of people's notice. A selection from the overlooked "Smoke And Mirrors" LP, O.C.'s fifth, it's a track where he speaks on his career-long determination to follow his own path and ignore the trends - in fact, it's spiritually very close to the Beatminerz/Black Moon track that precedes it here. Mike Loe takes a late-70s soul sample, turns the speed up a touch and provides an excellent musical backdrop for the lyrics.

MF DOOM : Dead Bent (Original 12" Instrumental)

If you know the "Operation Doomsday" LP but not this, it would sound like an overstatement to say that the version of "Dead Bent" on the album is a "refined" version of anything, as rough-and-ready as the whole release is, but you can hear that this original is even more beautifully unpolished. Self-produced by the late great DOOM, you can find this not only on the original 12" mentioned in the title, but also on some later reissued versions of the album, containing alternate versions, B-sides, and instrumentals - essential for the DOOM fan.

Dubbul O & Cutterz : Stay Gold

Stellar new release out of Manchester, with this familiar duo (and half of Voodoo Black) headlining their new "Stay Gold" EP with this title track. If you've lost someone close, this one will hit you hard, with Dubbul O's deeply personal lyrics coming through strong over Cutterz' production which is somehow both optimistic and moody at the same time. Definitely check for that five-track EP.

Mecca:83, Phat Kat, and Guilty Simpson : Don't Stop

Exclusive! *Sounds airhorn* Manchester's own Mecca:83 blessed me with a copy of this as-yet unreleased track, with his warm and bumping production backing up two giants of the Detroit scene, Phat Kat and Guilty Simpson. Two cities famous for their industries come together for a great musical union!

Dilated People : The Main Event

I'll be honest - of the three tracks on the classic underground "Work The Angles" 12" single, this is the one I play the least, but the Alchemist-produced middle track on the release (also on 2000's "The Platform" LP) definitely deserves respect. Rakaa Iriscience steps all the way back here and makes space for Evidence to get busy on both verses. The samples of some of the Hip-Hop greats for the hook rounds off the whole package nicely.

Nas & Statik Selektah : Dead Presidence

(That's not my spelling, it's what they printed on the labels of "The Prophecy EP"!) Jay-Z and Ski famously sampled the "presidents that represent me" line from Nas' "The World Is Yours" for "Dead Presidents" on the classic "Reasonable Doubt", but on this track Statik Selektah reverses the game and blends the vocals from the Nas track with Ski's instrumental, and while the original is a flawless cut, these two pieces do fit together beautifully as well.

Marco Polo : Ps & Qs (Remix Instrumental)

MPC magic from Marco Polo, from his entry in the "Baker's Dozen" producer series, with clean drums, a live-sounding bass, and guitar licks placed to perfection.

Camp Lo ft. Jungle Brown : Hold On

I've always loved the way this track ends, and as such thought it needed to be played in a position where that portion can be heard uninterrupted. It's not just the closing track here but also the finisher on the 2009 "Stone And Rob : Caught On Tape" album. Jungle Brown is one of the few MCs to make repeated features with the Lo, and he does his thing alongside the legendary Sonny Cheeba and Geechi Suede while also co-producing it with Apple Juice Kid. If you're a fan of the group, definitely seek out this release as there are some absolute heaters on there, including the back-to-back of "On Smash" and "89 of Crime".

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

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