#the sweat is a paid actor

[excelsior9173]

havent seen this photo on here and i need it on my dash (source)

[kitten4sannie]

ngl this is one of the craziest pics i’ve ever seen of san

[sportsthoughts]

pregame rusty 💦 - 4/4/24

[neil-gaiman]

I'm sorry Neil, although I love your writing and agree with your opinions on most subjects I have to disagree with you on the writers' strike. No-one should have a more privileged life as a result of being clever and creative. I worked from the age of 15 to the age of 65 in low-paid jobs, taking 1 year off to go to drama school and 3 years off to get a fine art degree. I worked in terrible but necessary jobs, labouring, stacking boxes, unloading trucks, running errands, filing, going to work on a bicycle at all hours of the day and night on shift work in all kinds of weather. Even when I was a student I was still working in part-time cleani8ng jobs and even during periods of unemployment I worked in volunteer jobs for charities and social services.

According to Mensa I have an IQ of 160 and according to Plymouth University I have a BA hons in Fine Art but I cannot accept the idea that writers and other creative people should avoid normal jobs like driving an "Uber" or working in an office/shop/factory/construction site. To accept that idea would be to create a new aristocratic class when we should abolishing the old princes and aristocrats.

What we need, I feel sure, is a redistribution of labour so that everybody who can do so would spend some time each year in blue collar work and everybody who can would get higher education and a chance to make art of one sort or another.

The idea of doing other jobs to supplement writing or drawing shouldn't be seen as a terrible thing, a punishment or a suffering. Sharing the jobs around should be seen as normal.

I mean, I've done my half century of sweat labour and it didn't hurt me too much. I'm retired now and still making art of various kinds and I've never asked anyone to pay me for any art piece I've made. making art, writing, drawing etc. is the fun stuff which we get to do in exchange for the blue collar stuff which puts food on the table.

The worst pop song ever written was Sting/Dire Straits song "Money for Nothing" which ridicules the working class from a position of educational privilege.

So what's my question? My question is: What's wrong with a writer doing other jobs to make ends meet? Sounds perfectly fine to me.

Nothing's wrong with a writer doing other jobs to make ends meet. Writers and artists have been doing that since the dawn of time. Actors too.

But by the same token, there's nothing right about assuming that writing isn't a blue-collar job, or that writers and other people who make art can only make it for love and that thus they need other jobs to subsidise their craft.

I like living in a world in which the people who make the things that make the world worth living in get paid for their work. For me, that includes the people who make films and TV, books, art and music and comics.

Having spent a lot of time on film and TV sets, it's a blue-collar world on set, and everyone is working long and hard to make the shows you love. I'm never going to suggest that the riggers or the gaffers or the make-up team or the focus-pullers should drive ubers in order to have the privilege of being on the set and working there.

Or to put it another way, from the most blue-collar writer I ever knew...

[inchidentalmeowmeow]

That sweat drop was a paid actor 🥵

Resurfacing this Max gif cuz wtf

[kremlin]

i actually do know who needs to hear this, it’s most people, in fact, it’s likely you, statistically; we are entering the american election campaign season, and there are caveats i’d like you to be aware of, and to that effect, i am cashing in on my many years of demonstrated knowledge about The Computer.

you indeed cannot trust what you read on the internet. someone will, indeed, go on here and tell lies. this is no shocker to you, you know this, i know this, i know you know this, but i insist you think about it.

you must know my beliefs regarding conspiracy theories fall far, far to one side of the spectrum: i do not believe them. i dismiss them out of hand on principle. axiomatically. and i am here today to tell you the concept, existence, execution, and proximity of paid, phony, engagement-manipulated, political advertisement is not only real, it is the status quo.

would you describe yourself to others as:

A.) smarter than than they think you are

or

B.) not as dumb as they think you are

if you responded with option A, you are more than likely to be greatly more susceptible to these underhanded messages than you think. option B respondent’s outlook is brighter, only relatively. to restate this in a more digestible way, there are two wolves inside you, one takes top-voted comments to reddit posts on face value. the other, takes top-voted comments to reddit posts on face value. you take top-voted comments to reddit posts on face value.

those responsible for such comments are effective in their endeavors, because they think about it. they do not approach their work mystically nor inefficiently. they know what to say to you, because they know what language you speak.

a thoughtless individual would read one of the only proper noun phrases in this post, “american election season”, and limit their perspective to exactly two possible entities to watch out for. this individual has, with a pep in their step and a whistle on their lips, stepped directly on a land mine. maybe this individual was you, if so, don’t sweat it, allow me to yank you away at the last moment by your shirt collar. there's tertiary actors at play, and possibly even more, if only we could invent a word that mean's "the fourth thing" and so on

a very large, very easily guessable country has, for some time now, engaged in organized astroturfing or misinformation or disinformation or whatever-you-want-to-call-it campaigns, to great effect, with their angle being to flood the airwaves with so much conflicting information that you, the individual, feel hopeless, and lose your confidence in discerning truth from fiction.

i use this example not because that country or my country or this election or whatever is a key component here, they're not, this applies to everyone using the internet socially, and if you don't think there are disingenuous actors' words appearing on your computer screen at some regular rate, you're also stepping on a landmine.

you just have to think about things, and maybe, from time to time, turn on an electric stove and put your finger on it to remind yourself that there is indeed a very real, objective reality we live in, and that if you find yourself asking, "how can we see if our eyes aren't real", someone has put rats in your head

it goes beyond just politics though, hell, i would describe all of modern marketing to use essentially these same tricks. don't fall for them! my technique is to just approach any written text found online, most especially "comments", with the same utter hater energy as salieri in amadeus.

and hey, while you're at it, pass this thinking along to kids, they're kind-of the first generation that has to deal with an internet that is mostly ingenuine meaningless bullshit, not like we had it, when it was mostly genuine meaningless bullshit.

[maliciousblog]

Smile for the camera (Eunwoo)

He was binging on your latest drama. You had finally caught your big break as a lead in a successful drama as the main lead.

The drama ranking No.1 in many countries ,shooting you into stardom. Earning you much critical acclaim and praise not only for your talent but also your beauty with a whole new army of fans with it.

Him included he initially admired your talent his guilty pleasure being watching your interviews and saving the cute fan edits that were made of you. His admiration for your work blooming into a little crush for you.  He was taken for your personality and work ethic.

He tried to get his agent to book a project with you but given your sudden shooting up in popularity you were booked and busy.

Music video shoots , runway shows , ad campaigns you name it your face was on it.

Not that you would complain about it.

You loved working the job you had genuinely bought you joy.

As you were able to make dreams a reality through your work you could make art come to life.

You knew you busted your ass to get where you are.

Months of auditions only to be faced with constant rejection and when you finally did land a job it was a minor role not even noticeable to most.

When those countless hours of work finally paid off it was a dream come true a dream you had put your blood and sweat into.

The dream you spent your whole life working towards and you sure as hell weren't about to let these new opportunities pass you by.

So you took them as they came agreeing to every intriguing project your manager bought to you.

Currently you were at the launch of a beauty brand collaboration. You were appointed as the ambassador of the beauty brand star dust releasing a line for makeup inspired by your favourite desserts. The lip  products named after the sweet treats you enjoyed to eat and the eyeshadow palettes inspired by your favourite colours.

To no one's surprise the launch went well and you were back home letting your aching feet get some rest.

Just as you were about to dooze off the shrill ring of your mobile woke you up half asleep your hands reaching in search for your phone.

Picking it up your manager's voice coming through telling you that you had an audition for a drama first thing in the morning you hummed in agreement and tossed the phone across the room. You were worn to the bone this was tomorrow's problem right now you had to rest in order to make your best impression tomorrow.

As you close your eyes in sleep another pair lay open restless at night.

Eunwoo lay awake nothing particularly stopping him from sleeping it was just one of those days.

When the air was stale and the bed was a little too warm to be comfortable.

Maybe a walk would help.

Rustling out of bed he pulled on a black hoodie and a cap. Conceal his face as he aimlessly walked down the city streets in an effort to tire himself out.

Looking into the buildings that lined the streets lit up with bright lights luring unsuspecting customers inside.

That's when he saw a poster of you advertising your makeup line.

He had some time on his hands and wouldn't do him much harm to go check it out.

He was supporting a fellow actor it was the right thing to do.

Birds of the same flock should look out for each other right?.

Before he knew it he was at the counter inspecting the products not that he would get much use out of them he did use makeup while filming but not exactly the sparkling and glittery kind but that didn't really matter now did it.

His desire for coming in wasn't for the makeup it was for you.

He grabbed a box set of your entire collection and headed for checking out.

The underpaid store clerk didn't take too much notice of him.

Monotonously scanning his items and bagging them not forgetting to slip in the complimentary photo cards of you.

Handing the bag to him before turning their eyes down back to scrolling through their phone.

He grabbed his bag thanking the clerk ,heading back to his apartment.

Excitement blooming in his chest wondering which photocard he had gotten.

It felt weird is this what his fans felt like when they bought his merch.

He never thought he would be able to be in the shoes of his fans but here he was in their position.

It felt weird. He couldn't place what exactly it was you barely knew him.

Yet here he was getting giddy at the thought of which mystery little piece of cardboard with a selfie he would pull.

He grabbed some take out on him way back to his apartment.

Placing his food on one side of the table the other side he placed your merch tearing into the packaging inspecting the contents inside admiring it.

Saving the photocard for last it was a selfie of you holding a macaroon. He had to agree it was cute.

Slipping it into his wallet the action seemed so natural to him.

He had become a full on fan boy now. There was no going back.

The following days were spent buying out more of your merch in fact all the merch you had to offer.

Finding its place into his house.

The best of all was when he got a call from his agent that he was given an offer for a drama where you were cast as the female lead.

He agreed to it with a little too much enthusiasm that his agent had to ask him to at least check the script out first.

He replied that he would but for now to immediately inform production that he would accept the job.

He didn't care what the drama was about as long as he got the opportunity to work with you.

Imagine his joy when he discovered that it was a romance drama a sweet collage love story with you as him love interest and him as your leading man. The story was sweet and touching.

It was bound to gather success . the story was good , along with both of your talent and star power it was bound to be a hit.

He managed to rush production into starting filming as soon as possible stating that he would have scheduling issues if they didn't.

You were more than happy to get back into work.

Especially with someone like Eunwoo.

The first day on set went like any other day

The usual outfit fittings and test runs. Nothing out of the ordinary apart from your over enthusiastic costar.

It was endearing at first his enthusiasm to spend time with you.

His insistent demands to rehearse your scenes together before filming.

You couldn't deny them he was your senior and had much more power over production and executives than you did.

One word from him and you could get kicked off set.

You didn't have an option but to go along with what he said and agree to rehearse the scenes over and over again.

You guessed that he was just a perfectionist.

But it didn't end at that he insisted on spending as much time with you as he possibly could giving you the sorry excuse that he was method acting and he was just doing it in order to stay in character to make sure the emotional scenes were more believable and realistic.

In his perspective it was just a crush and he was just doing what he had to do to make sure you were in his sight and eventually fall for him.

Who could resist him.

He knew he had to play it safe with you he had to make sure his moves were precise and calculated.

You were too focused on your career to be dating.

Not that he didn't try.

The constant flirting and dropping one hint after the other.

He got your message loud and clear you weren't interested.

Honestly it was a little insulting and he would be lying if he didn't admit that it didn't sting his ego a little. He knew his worth and knew that he was more than a fine catch.

But you were just too stubborn. Weren't you but that was just a small issue he could easily fix.

You were so perfect together.

Everyone around you saw it.

The staff were head over heels for you both.

Your chemistry ozzed off the screen mostly because you were a good actor.

But something was missing in the plot.

Something that would send your life into a spiral.

Your pair was a little too perfect it would make the story boring to the audience.

Most of the filming was completed over the past 4 months but the story was a little flat. It lacked the drama that was needed to keep the audience hooked.

The writing department had to predictable idea of adding a second lead creating a love triangle.

It wasn't anything ground breaking or new but it was a good way to spice things up and add some drama enough to keep the audience hooked.

You didn't mind the change added to the script.

You could work with it.

But one member on set wasn't as flexible he spent the next few hours arguing with executives on the plot changes but their hands were tied the sponsors had invested too much into the drama for it to possibly not do well.

They had to do what production told them too.

There wasn't anything they could do to change it.

But at least it would only add a few more weeks onto the filming schedule he could work with that.

He knew it was a game of patience.

For now he just had to suck it up and choke back down the bile that raised in his throat each time he saw you and the second lead Yunho film together.

His crush escalated into obsession when he saw the both of you film for the first time.

It looked so natural.

It made his blood boil.

Especially when he heard some of the staff on set say that they were team Yunho. The thought of which made him white with rage.

The worst of it wasn't even when you were on camera.

It was your willingness to spend time with Yunho off camera.

It perplexed him.

You would constantly try to make stupid excuses to avoid spending time with him.

But here you were giggling away at the stupid jokes this boy cracked.

He couldn't see how much his presence suffocates you. Constantly hovering around you using every excuse to be near you.

Adding unnecessary intimate scenes to the show. Stealing kisses from you while on camera to make things seem more "believable".

It was pathetic and you saw right through it at first it was flattering but not it just felt like you were being taken advantage of and the worst thing about it was that there was nothing you could do about it.

It was a man's world and you knew that.

One wrong move from your side to piss off the wrong man in power and poff you would just be another star forgotten by time.

You just had to suck it up for a while longer it was just a couple more weeks of filming and everyone knew you would end up with him.

It was all part of the bigger picture.

Filming went by in a haze and you and him were filming a commercial for one of the sponsors of the show.

It was a perfume brand warranting a steamy little commercial.

It was the first look the public had to your pair and they ate it right up.

Buzz for your show skyrocketed as they couldn't help but to start shipping the both of you.

The chemistry was undeniably mesmerizing.

Which wasn't because you liked him it was just because you were a good actor.

Your dislike for him only grew with how cocky he was about the success of your advertisement.

The interviews and promotion that followed you drama was even more insufferable.

He made it his mission to sell the image of the ideal couple to the public.

It was a trap and you knew it.

He would post you on his social media and be flirtatious and  drop constant hints of your make belief relationship.

He very well knew that if he had the public on his side he could get you to do anything he wanted.

If they believed that the both of you were a couple and began shipping the both of you.

You would have no choice but to be his.

If you broke it off with him the public would brand you a slut.

Breaking the heart of a man that loved you so dearly and sincerely.

How could you be so heartless.

Offers for work would start to drop and he would conveniently drop a cheating scandal on you and then poof overnight your career would be non existent.

It was a sick and twisted trap but one that would surely work.

Once the show aired to no one's surprise it was a hit. The numbers are higher than you had ever seen before.

Within weeks the both of you were being offered roles by big media houses to work together again.

Your agency was pressing you into dating him publicly.

Threatening to terminate your contact and black list you if you denied.

They knew that they would make huge profits off your relationship and were more than willing to squeeze out every last bit of it off you no matter what the price.

It was either that or losing the career you had spent your whole life building up.

You were in your apartment sobbing into your pillow when you heard the door to your room creak open.

There he stood with a beautiful bouquet of spider lilies in hand.

In the low light of your bedroom he almost looked like a statue his beauty was sickening in different circumstances you would consider yourself the luckiest girl in the world to have a man like him.

But only you could see behind his beautiful mask that hid his cruel intentions for you.

He came up to you wiping away your tears.

"You wouldn't have to go through all this if you just said yes.

Not that you have much of an option not to.

I can give you the world.

And you have to be such an ungrateful little bitch don't you."

You felt your scalp burn and he yanked you up by the hair to face him.

"You will go along with whatever I say.

You will do anything I ask of you.

Either that or I'll destroy you and everything you love.

I'm honestly being kind to you I could destroy your career and still have you.

But I'm being kind , agree to be my doting love struck girlfriend and you get to keep your precious little career.

I'm a reasonable man but I'm not a very forgiving man so don't take advantage of my kindness.

It would be unfortunate if I were to leak your family's private information now wouldn't it.

Just imagine what our crazed fans would do to them when they find out you hurt me and our relationship by being a selfish cunt."

You shoved him off you.

'Please just leave them out of this you want me right fine. Ju.. just please leave them out of it I'm begging you.'

You pleaded to him.

"See that's my good girl look how reasonable you are right now.

I would hate to see something bad happen to my in-laws.

So now be a good girl and pick up that bouquet and go post about how amazing of a boyfriend I am and how much you fucking love me alright."

He said as he left a kiss on your forehead leaving you there in shambles.

" By the way. You look really pretty when you beg. I should make you do it more often."

Once the news of your relationship was aired out into the world it has gone just as he predicted it would.

So the both of you had become the No.1 power couple of the entertainment industry.

He made sure you did a convincing job at playing the devoted partner who always supported him and stood by him no matter what.

He made sure to pick out your roles for you making sure you mostly worked with him or did solo lead movies and shows.

Making sure to keep your interaction with men that weren't him to an absolute minimum.

And it did work for a while but that didn't stop men from flirting with you or asking you out despite being in a very public relationship.

Who could blame them you were beautiful and off camera anyone could see your dislike for your boyfriend that occasionally showed on your face.

You always tried your level best to make sure that he would always be happy.

And his happiness was at the direct proportion to how well you behaved.

You soon realised he didn't just want a girlfriend he wanted to make sure you were his forever.

He wanted to put a stop to this unwanted male attention that you always drew onto yourself.

It wasn't enough. This relationship was enough it was too fragile it was too rocky.

You always felt like you were walking on thin ice when you were around him.

Trying to make sure you smile didn't falter, making sure the hugs and kisses you gave him felt genuine.

The words of affection you uttered towards him were genuine.

It wasn't too hard to convince him of it , you were an actor after all.

It wasn't too hard to give him the illusion of the perfect life he wanted.

What was hard was for you to accept defeat.

It was all part of his plan after all wasn't it.

The final piece of the puzzle.

He stood at the other side of the room as your sobbing echoed through the walls reaching his ears.

You slid down the walls clutching a positive pregnancy test. Knowing that all hopes of ever leaving him were gone.

There was no leaving him now.

Him baby trapping you would force you to marry him as soon as possible before anyone knew that you were pregnant.

He had it all now.

Successful career.

Loving wife and now a beautiful family.

You were finally defeated.

You were stuck with him now for life.

You loved your children and he did too.

You managed to convince the world that you loved him maybe one day you could convince yourself too.

You were no longer a person just another accessory that he paraded around on his arm.

Show off like a trophy that he had won.

He lived the life others could only ever dream of having. While you were stuck in a nightmare that he had carefully woven for you.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Laurence Olivier (Hamlet, Rebecca, Pride and Prejudice)—Any reference article will tell you that he's one of the finest stage actors of the 20th century and (arguably) contributed to transforming the landscape of live theater in the Anglophone world. But this is the Tumblr hot men poll, where it is arguably more important to know that he was an incredibly charming bi disaster who eye-fucked Vivien Leigh so conspicuously that everyone talked about it, both before and after their marriage. I do not have words for how hot this man was. I once sat under a portrait of him in black velvet and tights in the NPG cafeteria, and let me tell you I remember that so much better than my sandwich. I listened to a recording of him as Coriolanus on stage and got full-body chills. I photographed his copy of Richard III in the Folger Shakespeare Library for the sake of seeing his handwriting and his thoughts. ...okay, so I may have a problem, but the point is. So hot. And delivered one of the iconic pre-1970 lines about bisexuality on film ("oysters *and* snails," Spartacus 1963.)

Harry Belafonte (Carmen Jones, Island in the Sun)—one of my favorite things in the world when I'm sad is kicking back and listening to him and Danny Kaye singing "Hava Nagila" together. Or who can forget this man singing the Banana Boat song with the Muppets?? immensely talented, a powerful fighter for civil rights and humanitarian causes his whole life, if you have any remaining doubts PLEASE look at the following pics [clips and pics attached below]

This is round 3 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Harry Belafonte propaganda:

"Now let me say this about the songs of the Caribbean - almost all black music is deeply rooted in metaphor. The only way that we could speak to the pain and anguish of our experiences was often through how we codified our stories in the songs that we sang. And when I sing the 'Banana Boat Song,' the song is a work song. It's about men who sweat all day long, and they are underpaid, and they're begging the tallyman to come and give them an honest count - counting the bananas that I've picked, so I can be paid. And sometimes, when they couldn't get money, they'll give them a drink of rum. There's a lyric in the song that says, 'Work all night on a drink of rum.' People sing and delight and dance and love it, but they don't really understand unless they study the song that they're singing a work song, a song of rebellion." -Harry Belafonte

Laurence Olivier propaganda:

"THEE actor man. You can't take theater classes and not know about this man. THEE Hamlet. Look at this lil blondie. VERY talented. (we are ignoring him also playing Othello, no he should not have done that) He was a pretty baby"

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

That's the day that Chad and I found out that the show wasn't coming back. Or the, that I'm sorry, I take it back. That the show was coming back just without us. -Hilarie 

Wait, the day you were shooting your flaming Amy's flashback. Tell us everything. -Sophia

Well, we'd shot everything else. Right? -Hilarie

Wait, wait, wait. So you were doing these flashbacks, these like this deep nostalgia episode, not knowing that it was teeing up the exit. -Sophia

I was put in the blonde wig again as punishment for having red hair. Right. And I noticed a conversation with like Brooke and Victoria where it was like, are you really gonna leave the company and ruin the careers of all the people that you've been?  Like such a pointed conversation for you to have to have 'cause we were all in contract negotiations at this point, except me. I had never gotten a phone call from anybody. And so they were making offers to everybody and everyone was trying to hold the line. And all they needed were a couple people to sign on in order for the show to come back. And Chad and I never even got phone calls. So we were seated in that diner booth and we're like, it's our last day of filming. We did all of the present day stuff, we did most of the flashback stuff. And all of a sudden our producer Greg Prange is like, all right, everybody like pause what you're doing, circle up. Just wanted to make the announcement. The show is coming back. We've been picked up for a seventh season. And Chad looks at me and he's like, have you even gotten an offer? And I was like, no. And he's like, I haven't gotten an offer. And so around us, everyone around us is like hugging and high fiving. I mean, it felt like balloons were dropping from the ceiling. Everybody was so fucking pumped. And he and I just kind of sat there and we knew it was coming. We had, you know, Peyton got hit by a car in the last episode. She's on her death bed, you know, and he and I were the highest paid actors on the show. And we knew we were on the chopping block. And so our bosses, Voldemort and other Dipshits were in town. And we said, can they come to set? They were at the production office and we were at Flaming Amy's. We like, can they come to set? It's only, it's two o'clock in the afternoon. Can they come here and just like explain to us what's going on? Is there something, can someone just talk to us? They refused. They would not come speak to us. And instead they took other actors out to dinner that night to celebrate. And so Chad and I wrap work and I gotta take that fucking wig off. and you know, there's a sense of betrayal 'cause you're like, huh, okay cool. We didn't hold the line and so we'll go be the expendable ones. Fuck it. And Chad and I decide for the first time ever in our time together in Wilmington, that we are gonna go out together and we are gonna tie one on. And so Chad and I ended up at the Whiskey, which was like a bar right on the corner of downtown. You know, and like metal bands played there. And Bibis, our friend would play there all the time until two o'clock in the morning. He and I are just like sweating and smoking and drinking and dancing. And Chad's a very good dancer and every college chick in the place is like, oh my God, it's Lucas and Peyton and they're really together and this is so crazy. And it was insane. And so then from two to three o'clock in the morning we sat on, on like a retaining wall downtown and just really discussed like, we're out. We've had this shit dangled over our heads. There's no one here who's fighting for us. You know, the friendships are fake. It's not real. And we're gonna go and we're just gonna do some other stuff and we'll always tell each other the truth. You know? And so he walked me home and I remember that also being kind of weird. It felt like a date. It's the one date that Chad and I went on and it was very platonic. And then I called him a cab. And even the cab driver was like, I'm picking up Lucas Scott from Peyton Sawyers house.  It was crazy. But from that moment on for the whole rest of this season, it was, it was hell. It was really bad. It was really bad. 'cause it was, it was so pointed, you know, I'd been the person to do every upfront, every TCA every advertiser dinner party. I hosted the launch party for the CW  I had been the company girl and it was the biggest fuck you. -Hilarie

But Chad and I had this magic night. We still laugh about it. I mean it was, it was probably the hardest I ever partied in Wilmington. And he didn't really drink, so I remember being shocked. Shocked, That he was drinking his like vodka cranberries or whatever he was drinking. We were both just so blindsided by it.  Like we, we knew it was coming, but until it happens. -Hilarie 

[chestcongestion]

Losing Your Grippe- Ch.4: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

This was way longer of a chapter than I was originally expecting, but I am ultimately very satisfied with how it turned out, I sincerely believe and hope it was worth the wait!

Fic is under the cut as always, I hope you guys enjoy!

Word Count: 9,275

Content Warnings: Contagion, Current events-adjacent disease testing (mentions of rapid tests and antigens and whatnot)

  On the other side of Pentagram City, Angel Dust was reclining in a chair while waiting for his turn on set. 

Valentino had come up with a brilliant idea for a porn where two security guards fuck a jewel thief as punishment for breaking into the museum they work for, but there had been a few setbacks during filming. The usual cinematographers were out sick, and the two burly actors playing the security guards would have been out, but there was no one their size on the employee roster left to replace them. 

“Hn’KtShoo! Mm… I’m sorry, I think I’m holding the wrong script… I’m ‘Guard One’ and you’re ‘Guard Two’,” Axel, a rhinoceros demon with a spike collar neck tattoo and industrial piercings in his ears, said. 

“Shiiit dude, you’re right, we’ve been memorizing the wrong scripts- HDd’TsShihh! HhdD’Tshhhuh!” Hummer, a muscular barracuda demon with translucent neck and back fins, said as he struggled to stay on his own two feet, his nose trickling down his face, in spite of constant sniffling to avoid such a fate.

“Idiots! Pull yourselves together, I don’t understand why you’re both bumbling around when we’re on a schedule… god, for nerds I recycled from Voxxy’s staff, you two are idiots,” Valentino grumbled, folding his arms in between fits of furiously slapping at his copy of the script. 

“I feel hot,” Axel complained, fanning himself off with the script. 

“I feel cold… H-HhDd’TSHhuhh! Hnk’Tschhuh!” Hummer said, followed by a heavy sniffle as he rubbed his upper arms in an attempt to warm his damp skin. 

“Waaah waah waah, excuses excuses, I’m freezing my ass off but you don’t hear me complaining about anything but your piss poor performance!” Valentino shouted into his cupped hands, turning to cough into his fuzzy sleeve after raising his voice irritated his throat, “kHHF! KHFF!” 

“Val… I-ihh…Ih’PsShuu! Ih’PSshuu!- stop shouting… my head hurts,” Velvette complained from her small platform of blankets and cushions next to Valentino’s chair. Her bedroom was being fumigated after a cleaner found two nests of hornets under the floorboards, and because she was too exhausted and feverish to be left alone, Valentino was charged with keeping an eye on her while he worked.  Velvette’s hair was pinned up in a loose ponytail of dense curls, a few flyaways and stray hairs poking out of the style and sweat trickling down from her hairline as she shivered in her fleece button-up pajamas patterned with hearts and swirls. 

“I’m so sorry, pequeñita…I-Ihh’PTsShhEW!- euch- I’ll try to keep it down,” Valentino replied, his voice slightly rough as he took a swig of his cosmopolitan, coughing harshly into his fist after the alcohol stung his raw throat, “Hurry it up and try agai-ihh… IiH’PTSshhhEW! Ih’PTsShhiiiew!” 

Axel and Hummer got back into position and attempted to run through the scene again, Axel grimacing as his joints ached intensely every time he took a step or bent down to grab something. 

“I just checked the… snff!- the perimeter a’d the… SnFFF! Snff!- the back door is ope’d… Hh’hnkk-TsSchoo!” Axel read, his nose beginning to drip until his sniffles became snorts, “SnRK-snrk!- fuck- Did you check the camberas for the back door to see if a’dyode- Snrk!-” 

Before Axel could finish his line, the first line in the entire script, he was interrupted by Valentino throwing a box of tissues at the side of his head.  

“Oww!” 

“If I wanted a bumbling idiot who couldn’t enunciate the letters ‘m’ and ‘n’, I promise there’s meatheads way hotter than you who I could’ve paid a lot less, say your lines right, idiot!” Valentino hissed, squeaking indignantly as his antennae twitched before turning to cough into his fist. 

“Mby ndose is stuffed up- SnRkk!- I ca’d barely breathe,” Axel argued, wilting a bit from exhaustion as a trickle of mess threatened to run down his face before he wiped at it with a balled-up tissue.  

“Hurry up and blow your nose or I’ll punch you in that hunk of ivory in the middle of your face and unstuff it myself!”  

“Val, please,” Velvette groaned, grabbing her pillow and using it to cover her head, whimpering in pain before letting out an aggressive, hacking cough, “Oh for fuck’s sake- KHFFF KOFF khff khhuff!- I need to- KHFFF kHFFF!- take some more cough syrup.” 

“You’ve already had a dose three times, Velvette, you need to save the last  two doses for tonight, you can’t have anymore,” Valentino said, quietly taking the bottle of raspberry-flavored cough syrup out of Velvette’s hands and stowing it away in his pocket, only for the fashion designer to start clawing at his coat in retaliation, “Ow- OW! Velvette, cut it out!” 

“You’re being a prick, give it to me,” Velvette hissed, weakly throwing a punch at Val’s leg only to wilt back into her small nest of quilts, “I… I need it.” 

Exhausted and covered in febrile sweat, Velvette shivered and wrapped herself in a throw blanket, glancing back up at Valentino with a pitiful look in her eyes.  

“You can have some more cough syrup later, I promise… KHhf-khff!” Val promised, moving a piece of Velvette’s sweat-dampened hair out of her face, even as his own eyelids began to droop. 

In the middle of watching all of the chaos during the shoot, Angel felt someone tugging on his sleeve, and turned to see Papermint- Vox’s assistant- standing sheepishly next to him while holding a small vial and a long swab. 

“What’sa matter wit’ you? Whadda you want?” Angel asked, having grown slightly irritable throughout the day due to a mixture of the commotion and a slight headache that seemed to develop out of nowhere. 

“Mr. Angel Dust, I need you to open your mouth,” Papermint muttered, shuffling in place in an attempt to shove down any visible nervousness. 

Angel scoffed, “Oh dat’s rich, for a shrimp like you it’s 50 bucks to see my tongue, 100 for the uvula, and 200 more if ya want me to do anythin’ else while my mouth’s open.” 

Papermint chuckled, adjusting his glasses with the hand that wasn’t holding the swab, “No, no- uhm… because Ms. Velvette was diagnosed with the flu yesterday, company policy dictates that all VoxTech associates undergo diagnostic testing for at least a week as a precaution,” he said, “I have to swab your tongue and the back of your throat, and you should get your results via SMS message in a few hours.” 

Angel sighed, shrugging his shoulders and turning to face Papermint properly, “Alright, if it’s policy I guess I gotta do it anyways,” he said, gently massaging his temple with one hand, grimacing at the dull throbbing pain beneath his skull. 

“Excellent!” Papermint cheered, gently holding the swab in front of Angel’s mouth, “Say ‘Aaah’.” 

“Aaaaah,” Angel droned, his voice straining a bit as Papermint swabbed along his tongue, underneath his tongue, and at the back of his throat. 

“I’m impressed, most people I’ve had to swab have gagged and choked even when I’m only swabbing further back on their tongue,” Papermint said with a warm smile, only to shudder upon realizing who he was speaking to, “Oh… ohhh.” 

“There we go, glad ya figured that one out on yer own,” Angel said with a smirk, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of water from the bottle next to his chair, “How’d I do, shrimp? My throat look nice and pretty?” 

Papermint chewed on his tongue, flushing slightly as Angel batted his eyelashes and winked playfully at him, “A-about as attractive as an individual’s internal cavities can look, Mr. Angel Dust!” he said. 

Angel giggled, “Good answer,” he said, gently cupping Papermint’s cheek in his hand and giving it a few flirtatious taps, “Alright, now get lost, I gotta get ready for my cue if they ever get past the first two lines.” 

“Y-yes, of course, thank you for your cooperation with the testing! I’ll leave a few rapid testing kits near your chair for you to take home, enjoy the rest of the shoot!” Papermint said with a wave. 

Angel waved back, turning to look back at the set and wincing once the shouting and throwing of chairs aggravated his slowly-building headache, “U ugh, I’m gonna be sittin’ in this chair forever,” he groaned, tugging at his eyelids. 

“It cannot be that difficult to get your lines right, we haven’t gotten past the first page of this goddamn script and it’s been two hours!” Valentino screamed, throwing his copy of the script at Axel as his eye twitched. 

“Ow!” Axel whined, rubbing his head after the script made impact. 

“Fuck off! Do better or I’ll… I’ll… i-Ihh… hhh! Hihh-!” Valentino began, scrubbing at the center of his face and sniffling, “Ihh-” 

“HnK’TSHOOO!” Axel sneezed. 

“i-IHH’PshHhue!” then Velvette. 

“I-IhH’PsSHHHiIEW!” then Valentino. 

A flicker of blue static appeared in the center of the studio before Vox took its place, clasping his hands together, his back panel open and an unamused look on his face. 

“Alright, I have seen enough,” Vox sighed, “Shoot’s canceled, we’re done here.” 

Vox turned to address the actors and crew that were still on set, “Filming is postponed until further notice, all of you are free to go home, building staff will hand you a week’s worth of rapid testing kits on your way out, but you are free to leave,” he said. 

A majority of the cinematographers and audio technicians put their equipment away before hurrying out of the studio, eager to enjoy their time off. 

Vox approached Valentino’s chair, gently planting a kiss on the back of his neck and pressing a cool metallic hand against his forehead, “They’re all going home, you are coming with me to get swab tested,” he said, his voice soft as he gently wiped the sweat from Valentino’s face and turned to address Velvette, “and you are going straight to bed.” 

 “I don’t want to go to bed,” Velvette pouted, leaning against Vox’s side after he pulled her to her feet, struggling to stand up straight, “M-my room’s still full of hornetss.” 

“Not your bed, Vel, our bed,” Vox chuckled, hoisting Velvette into his arms and rubbing the hot skin on her neck and shoulder with a cool hand. 

“Oh… alright then,” Velvette sighed, pressing her face against Vox’s chest as he carried her, quietly fading in and out of consciousness as Vox walked through the halls, into the elevator, and back up to their penthouse at the top of the tower. 

Upon finally registering her new surroundings, Velvette yawned and whimpered in frustration when Vox peeled her away from him and set her down in his and Valentino’s shared bed, covering her shivering form with a blanket. 

“Noooo- Khhf khff!- come back, don’t leave me in here,” Velvette whined, tugging on Vox’s sleeve and staring up at him with shimmering eyes. 

“I’ll be right back, I promise, I’m just going into the bathroom with Val, I’ll be right out,” Vox said, gently twirling a lock of Velvette’s hair around his finger before letting go and walking a few paces into the master bathroom, where Valentino was leaning against the sink and grimacing at the swab for the rapid flu test. 

“Papi, where do I stick it?” Valentino asked, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them off with a paper towel before pushing them back onto his face, “I-Ihh’PTsSChhiiew!” 

“Peel the plastic off and then swab the top and sides of your tongue and the back of your throat,” Vox explained. 

“How far back?” 

“This is a swab test, not a blowjob, right around your tonsils is fine,” 

“What the fuck are tonsils? Khhfff-KHFF!”��

“The fleshy round things in the back of your throat that swell up when you get sick,” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Vox rolled his eyes, swiping around on his screen and pulling up his ‘Internals Close Up’ app that allowed Papermint and his technicians to get a better look at his throat using two cameras attached to the roof of his mouth, “Okay, see where the uvula is?” he asked. 

Valentino squinted at the screen before nodding. 

“Look behind it, see those two things poking out behind my tongue?” 

“Mhm,” 

“Those are my tonsils, everyone has them,” 

“That’s trippy,” Valentino said, prying his mouth open wide with his fingers before swabbing his tongue and throat, moaning in satisfaction upon swabbing around his newly-discovered tonsils, “Nghgkk, Koff-khfff!” 

Vox winced, “You alright?” 

Valentino removed the swab, drooling a bit as he took his fingers out of his mouth, flashing a slightly loopy smile, “M mm that felt good, it’s like getting your back scratched but in your mouth,” he sighed, “I wanna do it again, my throat itches so bad.” 

Vox looked down at Valentino’s crotch and rolled his eyes, “Val, for the love of God, it shouldn’t be that easy to get you hard,” he said, looking away and placing the swab inside of a tube of fluid, shaking it up before smearing the wet swab onto the testing strip. 

“It’s not my fault that my dick responds whenever I feel good, Voxxy, don’t be a prude… I-Ihh’PtSchhiEW!” Valentino replied, his flirtatious tone fading after his sneeze, the feeling of the cold bathroom floor against his feet making him shiver.  

Vox squinted at the testing strip, watching as the paper turned blue before quickly turning red, “Yup, positive, you’ve got the flu… how do you feel?” he asked, watching Valentino bracing himself against the water tank of the toilet. 

“Uhmm… not too bad,” Val responded, cleaning off his glasses, with his sleeve, “Just a little tired… and cold… really cold.” 

Vox turned on the hot water faucet of the master bathroom’s tub, switching on the shower and letting it run until steam began to fill the room, “Take a hot shower, I’ll get your pajamas,” he instructed, closing the bathroom door and walking back into the master bedroom of the penthouse, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a pair of yellow silk pajamas covered in purple hearts, the only set of pajamas Valentino owned that covered his chest, stomach, and more than 50% of his legs. 

“Did I- Khff!- get Val sick?” Velvette asked weakly, curled up in her blanket in the middle of the massive bed, “‘M sorry… I-ihh’Pshhuu!... didn’t think I was getting sick, now we’re gonna… KHff-khff-khff!- miss the summit.” 

“The summit’s being pushed back, apparently everyone and their dog is sick at the moment, so there’d be no one in attendance, we’ll all be able to go when you’re feeling better,” Vox said reassuringly, pressing a hand to Velvette’s forehead, “103.” 

“I feel absolutely horrid,” Velvette complained, tears in her eyes, “My head hurts, my back hurts, my throat hurts… I’d rather be on my fucking period.”  

Vox winced, “You must really be miserable if that’s the case… want some medicine?” he asked. 

Velvette shook her head, “Had too much already… can I have some tea? I’m thirsty,” she pleaded, her voice hoarse and cracking before she turned back towards her pillow to cough. 

Vox gently motioned toward Velvette’s large metal cup, magically filling it three quarters of the way with hot liquid, and handing it over to Velvette, who eagerly took a sip. 

“Nghh, it tastes different,” she croaked, “kHFff-Khff!” 

“It’s peppermint, figured it might help your muscles and joints,” Vox said, stroking Velvette’s back as she coughed in between sips, “There we go, does that feel better?” 

“Mhm,” Velvette replied, setting her cup down on the nightstand and curling back up into her blanket, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm, “snff-snff! ‘S good… making my ndose run, though.” 

Vox plucked two tissues out of the box on the nightstand, gently holding them up to Velvette’s face and stroking her scalp as she emptied her sinuses into them until both tissues were thoroughly soaked, “Think you’ll be alright?” he asked. 

Velvette nodded weakly, rubbing her eyes again as she settled against her pillow with a scratchy yawn, “I think so,” she mumbled, “Do mby eyes look puffy?” 

Vox briefly glanced at Velvette’s eyelids, noticing that they seemed normal and inflammation-free, just accompanied by slight dark circles due to Velvette’s lack of restful sleep, “Not puffy at all, you just look tired… but that’s fine, you are tired,” he said with a smile. 

“So tired,” Velvette replied. 

THUMP!

Vox perked up, turning to look at the bathroom door and silently fretting about the possibility of Valentino falling, “I’ll be right back Vel,” he said hurriedly, walking into the bathroom and peeking behind the shower curtain. 

Unfortunately, Vox’s worst suspicions were confirmed, and Valentino was sprawled out on his back in the bathtub, being pelted with comfortably warm water against his unbearably hot and flushed skin. Unable to hoist himself back up, the pornographer simply moaned in pain, staring at his beloved partner with glassy eyes. 

“Val, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?” Vox asked, tugging anxiously on the wires in his neck and ignoring the sparks that flew as a result. 

“Shhh shhh, it’s fine,” Valentino said, his voice hushed and soft as he struggled to his feet with Vox’s help, his legs shaking, “Just got really dizzy all of a sudden, then out of nowhere my legs gave out… I feel a lot worse now, is that s’posed to happen?” 

“Yes, it usually gets worse on an exponential curve and hits pretty fast,” Vox sighed, pressing his palm against Val’s forehead, “102…2.4… 2.6… 2.8… 103… 3.2… 3.5.” 

“I feel hot,” Valentino complained hoarsely as he leaned against Vox for support, “Khh-KHFF! Khfff!” 

Unable to muster up the energy to hold his hand to his mouth, Valentino’s harsh and raspy cough was released into the open air, with particles quickly hitting the sensitive wires and circuit boards that were tucked away in Vox’s back panel- which was still hanging wide open haphazardly. 

Vox was so focused on looking after Valentino that he didn’t even feel the moisture brushing up against his delicate circuitry, and instead just patted Valentino on the back after he coughed, “It’s okay, once you put your pajamas on I’ll bring you a glass of water,” he said. 

“Mkay,” Val replied, sniffling as he slowly struggled to pull on his pajama pants and the accompanying shirt, sighing in relief once he finally finished, before staggering over to the bed and collapsing against the comforter, curling up next to Velvette and smiling at her, “Hola pequeñita.” 

“Hiii,” Velvette greeted weakly before turning away to scrub aggressively at her face in an attempt to fend off a pending itch, “I’m so sorry I got you sick… Iihh’Pshhuue! Ih’psshhuu!” 

“It’s fine… I don’t blame you- snff!- I’m just exhausted,” Valentino mumbled as his eyelids began to droop. 

“Me too,” Velvette agreed, rubbing her eyes. 

The two struggled to entertain one another and keep the other awake by exchanging goofy faces and long stares while Vox was out of the room getting a glass of ice cold water, but eventually their efforts failed, and Velvette fell asleep with Valentino following right behind her. The two snored peacefully outside of the occasional raspy cough, and Valentino unconsciously inched closer to Velvette as the two slept, the two patients caught in a half-hug of sorts.  

A few minutes later, Vox returned to the master bedroom with a glass of water, only to find his life partner and their closest friend fast asleep, their chests rising and falling. 

“Well, sleeping is good, hopefully they’ll feel a little better,” Vox whispered, turning out the lights in the master bedroom and carefully draping a blanket over Valentino’s unconscious form before turning on his heels and leaving to go get some work done in his office. 

On the walk to his personal workspace in the penthouse, Vox was suddenly stopped in his tracks by his frenzied assistant, who was hurriedly tapping through various screens on his touch-screen laptop, “What is it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Sir, I just got a notification from your technician, there’s been a breech,” Papermint explained, showing Vox his laptop that was littered with warning messages and system alerts. 

Vox blinked, suddenly feeling the draft blowing onto his circuits and wires, “Ohhh, that’s just because my back panel is still open, I got sidetracked and forgot to close it,” he chuckled, closing the panel on his head and smiling triumphantly, “There- snff!- problem solved.” 

Papermint adjusted his glasses and scrolled through the message log, only to wince and yelp upon receiving more warning messages, “Uhmmm, it seems that the problem hasn’t been solved, Sir, your system is still reporting a breech, there’s foreign body activity near your processor and your air filtration system is about to malfunction…” he said, biting his lip nervously. 

“Nonsense, I probably just need my sensors adjusted, my air filtration system is fine- Hhn’Kk! Hhnkk! Kxhht!” Vox replied, only to be stunned by his sudden sneeze, a fine spray misting out of the sides of his head from his stuttering air circulation system. Vox sniffled, tapping the side of his head in an attempt to knock non-existent dust loose, “Wh-what else do the system alerts say?” he asked. 

“Organic material has leaked into your system and your software is having a pseudo-immunological response,” Papermint said, rambling as he fumbled with his notification wall and smoothed out his hair. 

“Layman’s terms please, Papermint, I don’t have time to decipher your jargon, I’m getting a headache,” Vox complained, massaging the corners of his screen as his interface glitched and his fans malfunctioned again, “Kxhht! KXHHT! Hhn’kk!” 

“You have the flu,” Papermint said nervously. 

Vox’s eye twitched, “Oh for pete’s sake… khff!- I can’t be sick, all three of us can’t be sick,” he groaned, “What am I gonna do?” 

“I received some experimental immune defense spray from Sloth Pharmaceuticals the other day, and all my swab tests have come back negative, Sir, I could help look after you if need be,” Papermint offered with an eager smile. 

Vox sighed, “Thank goodness for the clowns at Sloth Pharma… Hhn’Kk! KzZXHHT!” he said, wiping up the coolant that was beginning to leak from his air filter with a tissue, “Euch… snff!” 

“Why don’t you put on something comfortable and join Mr. Valentino and Miss Velvette in bed?” Papermint suggested. 

Vox opened his mouth to object, only to realize that he’d rather be relaxing in bed than sifting through licensing agreements, and shrugged, turning on his heels and heading back to the master bedroom, his exhaust fans stuttering and making him cough as they clashed against one another and his liquid coolant system. 

Papermint smiled contentedly, dusting off his hands and heading over to the penthouse’s small laundry room to hunt for the warm mist humidifier and a can of pressurized air to clean out Vox’s air filters. “This will be nice,” he mumbled enthusiastically to himself, beginning to sort through various devices in search of what he needed. 

About forty-five minutes later, back at the hotel, Angel sauntered in through the front doors and walked over to the parlor-turned-quarantine space, leaning over the arm of the sofa to massage the space between Husk’s ears, “I’m back from the fuck factory,” he greeted, kissing Husk’s cheek. 

“You’re back early- Khfff khff! KHFF khff!- fuck,” Husk observed, rubbing his neck and chest and grumbling in pain after his harsh, throaty cough. 

“Eh, Val’s sick so I’ve got the week off, fine by me, I was supposed to do a two-on-one in a contortion pose for ‘dis stupid flick, I’m happy I get to put it off long enough for Val to hopefully forget about it,” Angel said, sighing as he handed Husk his glass of water from the coffee table, rubbing his back as he took eager gulps before setting the empty glass down.

“Happy for you, I can’t even touch my toes, couldn’t imagine takin’ it up the ass with my legs behind my head,” Husk said, chuckling until a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him and he reclined against his pillows, covering his eyes with his palms as he tried to compose himself, “Sorry… room started spinning.” 

Angel inched closer to Husk’s level of the makeshift sofa-bed, kneeling down and resting a cautious hand on Husk’s forehead, “Marone, your brain’s gonna melt and start leakin’ outta your ears,” he said, frowning in disapproval before kissing Husk’s cheek, “How ya feelin’?” 

Husk swallowed, adjusting under his blanket and scrubbing under his nose to stave off a damp sniffle, “Like death,” he grumbled, losing the fight against a violent shiver that radiated up his spine, “I’m so cold.” 

Angel leaned over, wrapping Husk in a tight hug and nuzzling up against the crook of his neck and his shoulder, “My poor baby,” he crooned, kissing Husk’s neck, “This make ya feel any warmer?” 

Husk’s body was wracked by another violent shiver, and he continued to tremble before shaking his head as his vision began to blur and warp, forcing him to brace himself against the arm of the sofa, “Fuck… I can’t see straight… ‘m gonna lie down again,” he said, gently pushing away from Angel and curling back up into his blankets, his sharp teeth chattering, “Khhhhfff- khff khff!” 

Angel pinched the center of his face, gently massaging the skin as pain continued to build behind his eyes, “Goddamnit,” he groaned, hoisting himself to his feet and rummaging through the cleavage separating his chest fluff before pulling out his phone, scrolling through his text messages, “My head’s killin’ me.” 

“E-ehh’PssSCHEW! Eh’PsSCHHEW!” 

Angel turned, seeing Lucifer reclined on the loveseat, noisily blowing his ‘nose’ after his wet sneeze, “You too, huh?” he asked, smirking at Lucifer’s fuzzy socks peeking out from the other end of the blanket. 

“Mm- SnFF!- mmhmm,” Lucifer replied, rubbing at his eyes before tossing his soggy tissue in the trash can next to the loveseat, “I feel awful.” 

“Well, I’m gonna go talk to Vags before I hop in the shower, need anythin’?” 

Lucifer released another pitiful sniffle, “Another glass of apple juice?” he requested, taking another swipe at his tired eyes. 

“You got it,” Angel said, shooting Lucifer a thumbs up before walking out of the parlor and into the kitchen, where Vaggie was chopping vegetables and humming to herself while Niffty- visibly bored- peeled shrimp while sitting on the kitchen island, separating the viable meat and the veins and shells into two separate bowls. 

“You’re back early,” Vaggie remarked, not even looking up from the carrot she was slicing. 

“Yup, shoot got canceled before I even had to read any lines,” Angel said with a snicker, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of apple juice, pouring it into a glass with a couple of ice cubes. Upon filling up Lucifer’s cup, Angel gently shook the bottle of apple juice, looking skeptical, “I coulda sworn this bottle was full this mornin’.” 

“Lucifer and Charlie both basically refuse to eat, so they’ve been chugging it, I’ll have to get more bottles delivered when I order groceries tonight,” Vaggie replied, “Have you seen Alastor?” 

“Nah, ain’t seen hear or tail of ‘im,” Angel said with a shrug, “Gotta go bring King Pipsqueak his juice, I’ll be back.” 

Vaggie waved at Angel as he vanished back into the parlor, when she began to hear the hissing sound of static in her ears, turning around and focusing to try and decipher where the sound was coming from. 

“Hzzhht! Hxhht! HxXhht!” 

Vaggie narrowed her eyelids, waiting patiently and counting in her head as the noise continued, until suddenly it changed. 

“HxXHhht-Shhiew! Hnk’Kzxhht-Chew! HnXxhhT’Shhew! ‘Shhhiew! ‘SHHIEW! ‘Chhiew!”  

A-ha! 

“Alastor, get out of the pantry, I know you’re in there,” Vaggie ordered, watching with a smirk as Alastor slowly stepped out of the walk-in pantry, clutching his handkerchief to his nose and attempting to wipe at his watery eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Snff-snff! You kndow- snff!- I would have cobe out eventually- Hnx’xXHt-CHEW! HnxXHhtiew! ‘Chhiew! ‘Shhew!” Alastor said, blowing his nose and fanning off the red, irritated skin with his free hand. 

Vaggie rolled her eyes, only for her exasperation to screech to a halt upon hearing Alastor’s audible congestion and constant sneezing, “You okay?” she asked.

Alastor roughly cleared his throat, wiping desperately at his nose in an attempt to stop the near constant dripping, “Sindce I ndo longer have the privilege of bei’g discreet with mby… issues, I’b goi’g to be hondest- Snrkk!- a’d say ndo,” he said, his eyes twitching as he felt another sneeze building in his sinuses, “hHihh! H-hihh!! Hhh! HnkXxh’tSHEW! HxXhht-Shew! Hnk’Kxhht-chew!” 

“A shocking but pleasant surprise… I’m not proud of you for being vulnerable, I just like watching you suffer,” Vaggie scoffed, smirking at Alastor and feeling a swell of pride when he opened his mouth to snarl at her, only to sneeze instead. 

“Uch… I’ve been milli’g about with plague urchins for far too long, and their opportunistic pathogens have got mbe right where they want mbe,” Alastor grumbled, “Hih’KxXHHT-cHHIEW! Hih’Kxhhttiew! Hnk’KxzZHt-Shew!” 

Niffty giggled, climbing onto Alastor’s shoulder and poking his nose. 

“Hh’Xxhht-Chiew! HxXhht-shew! Hhnk’Kxhht-schiew! ‘sCHHiew! ‘Sheww!” Alastor sneezed, his eyes streaming with tears and his nose running hopelessly as he swatted Niffty away, still holding his handkerchief up to his nose. 

“I’m not going to help you if you’re gonna be coy to avoid being embarrassed, say what you mean or you can put a clothespin on your nose and help me with dinner,” Vaggie said, unamused. 

Alastor flushed, turning away and mumbling something through clenched teeth. 

“Huh?” 

Alastor mumbled a bit louder, but ultimately still unintelligible, especially with his handkerchief clasped over his nose and mouth. 

Vaggie placed both hands on her hips, “Alastor, just say it,” she ordered. 

Alastor huffed, balling his free hand into a fist before rolling his eyes and letting the confession spill out, “I thig’k I have the flu!” he exclaimed, sniffling as he swiped at his nostrils with his damp handkerchief, “Happy ndow? H-Hhnk’Kxhht-chew! Hnk’Xxht-shiew!”  

“Not really, it means I’m down a helper,” Vaggie sighed, “Go sit in the parlor on the other loveseat, I’ll be in there after I wash my hands to take your temperature.”  

Alastor gave a weak nod, wandering out of the kitchen and into the parlor, still sneezing. 

Upon Alastor leaving the kitchen, Angel returned, having showered and changed relatively quickly, “Well, looks like ya’ found mista’ happy face,” he said, pouring himself a glass of water and hurriedly chugging it before wiping off his mouth, “What’s up wit’ him?” 

“He thinks he’s getting sick,” Vaggie groaned, “It’s gonna be me, you, and Niffty looking after things, I guess.” 

“Guess so,” Angel replied, only to pause, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his messages, “Damnit, what’s takin’ them so long? At this point I oughtta just take one a’ the rapid tests they gave me.” 

“What are you talking about?” Vaggie asked, washing her hands in the sink before wiping them off with a dish towel. 

“Bunch of people at my job are gettin’ sick, so they tested all of us, and we’re supposed ta’ get the results soon, but they sent us home with a bag of ‘rapid tests’ that take like a minute,” Angel explained, gagging quietly, “I didn’t mind swabbin’ the back of my throat, but that stupid stick tastes awful runnin’ across your tongue.” 

Vaggie’s face brightened, and she grabbed Angel’s wrist, “Well, buck up and get ready for the taste, because the four of us are gonna take one,” she said, leading Angel out of the kitchen by tugging on his arm, “C’mon Niffty.” 

Niffty scrambled to get down from the kitchen island, skipping after Vaggie and Angel only to run back into the kitchen, hurriedly clean the shellfish scent off of her hands, and sprint to return to the parlor, eagerly sitting on the floor between Alastor’s legs. 

Angel pulled out four rapid tests from the plastic bag of them he’d been given upon leaving the broadcast tower, handing one to Vaggie, one to Alastor, and one to Niffty before keeping the last one in his hands. 

Husk and Charlie were both fast asleep, curled up against the base of the sofa from their respective levels of the makeshift trundle bed. Lucifer, on the other hand, was somewhat awake, and watched the four “healthy” hotel residents unwrap their tests in between small sips of his apple juice. 

Angel opened his mouth, scrubbing the surface of his tongue, the underside of his tongue, and the back of his throat, swirling the swab in a circle on the surface of his tonsils, nearly drooling with satisfaction as the sensation of the swab on his throat appeared to be scratching an itch he wasn’t even aware of, “Ngghhkkkk… nghh-ghhkk,” he droned, pulling the swab out of his mouth and struggling to keep a stray hand from gravitating toward his groin, “Hrghht-hrmm! That felt good…I kinda wanna do it again.” 

Alastor rolled his eyes, “Shambeless pervert- snff!- Hnk’Kxhht-Sshiew! ‘Shhiew! ‘Shhhew!” he grumbled, reluctantly putting his swab in his mouth and gagging with disgust upon swiping around his tongue and gagging a bit harder while reaching the back of his throat, quickly pulling the swab out once he’d been scrubbing for the instructed amount of time, “Euch… that was disgustii’g- Iihh…. HnKxXHt-SHEW!”  

Niffty quietly scrubbed her tongue and throat with her mouth closed around the swab, humming ‘Lollipop’ to herself as she worked the swab from side to side and up and down, pulling the swab out of her mouth and giggling after it made the same ‘Pop!’ sound that can be heard after the first segment of the song, “All done!” she cheered. 

Vaggie grumbled, nearly gagging prematurely upon watching the others complete their swabs, “Si vomito, mataré a alguien,” she grumbled, popping her swab into her mouth and hurriedly scrubbing the surface and underside of her tongue before gently inching closer to the back of her throat, sighing with relief when the sensation wasn’t nearly as gag-inducing as she expected, pulling the swab out with a triumphant smile. 

“Okay, now ya hafta put the swab in this tube and shake it around… and then rub the wet swab on the piece ‘a paper in the testing kit,” Angel explained, squinting through his bothersome headache to read the tiny print on the back of the testing kit’s packaging. 

All four participants shook their tubes of testing solution before smearing the sample across the rapid testing paper. 

Vaggie watched as the wet portion of her paper turned blue, “Negative,” she said with a smile, “Phew.” 

“Negative!” Niffty cheered, waving around her blue testing paper. 

Angel blinked, watching as his testing paper turned blue for a moment, only to quickly turn red, “Positive,” he sighed, massaging his temples with one pair of hands, “Explains why my head’s fuckin’ killin’ me.”  

Alastor waited patiently as his testing paper turned blue, and remained blue for a brief period, only to change colors, “It’s…greend- HnkXxhht’SHEW!” he said, cleaning off his monocle with his sleeve before staring at the testing paper, confused. 

Angel looked at the back of the testing kit, “Green is negative for… antigens… but positive for… antibodies, the fuck does that mean? Christ on a bike I barely passed goin’ to Catholic school in the 20s, I can’t read ‘dis shit,” he grumbled, pulling out his phone and plugging the words into a search engine, “Oh for Christ’s sake- I got nothin’ on ‘antibodies’,  but it says that testin’ negative for antigens means ya ain’t sick… I gotta keep scrollin’.” 

Alastor looked puzzled, staring back at his confusing testing paper before sniffling hopelessly into his handkerchief, “The accursed thi’g has to be faulty- HnkXxhht-sCHHIEW! Hnk’Kxhht-shew!- if I was fide I wouldn’t be put through the id- Snrkk!- indig’ndity of all this sdeezi’g… HnK’Xhht-SHIEW!” he said. 

Vaggie walked over to the loveseat where Alastor was sitting, pressing a hand to his forehead and waiting for a moment with narrowed eyelids before pulling it away, “I think it’s right… you feel fine to me, nice and cool,” she said with a smirk, “You’re just being a hypochondriac.” 

“Stop usin’ them big words, I don’t wanna have to look up anythin’ else, this is makin’ my brain hurt!” Angel complained, still scrolling through his phone.  

“You’ve been so worried about getting sick that your brain is doing everything it can to convince you that you’re sick,” Vaggie explained, poking Alastor’s red and irritated nose. 

“HnK’Tshhew! Hnk’Kxzxht-chiew! Hnk’KXxshIEW!” Alastor sneezed, wiping his nose with his handkerchief and letting loose a watery sniffle, “Euch…the’d why does mby ndose still feel so Iiihh…i-ihh…. Itchy?” 

Vaggie stared at Alastor’s runny nose and his watery eyes with puffy, visibly irritated eyelids, before directing her attention to Alastor’s handkerchief, noticing that his breath began to hitch and his eyes watered more when he held it closer to his twitchy nostrils, “Hand me your handkerchief,” she instructed. 

“What? Ndo- snff!” Alastor argued. 

Vaggie rolled her eyes, yanking the cloth out of Alastor’s hands, and watching as the Radio Demon’s twitchy, sensitive nose seemingly calmed down, his watery eyes drying up, and his breathing returning to normal after a few damp sniffles. 

Alastor sighed in relief, wiping the moisture out of his eyes and fanning at his friction-reddened nose, “Oh my goodness,” he said in between panting breaths, leaning his head back against the back of the loveseat. 

“That feel better?” Vaggie asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Very much, yes,” Alastor said with a relieved smile. 

“So it was just your allergies, mystery solved,” Vaggie said, folding her arms, “Wonder what was on this thing that was making you sneeze so much.” 

Vaggie held up the handkerchief so that it was closer to her face, sniffing the air around it and sticking out her tongue in disgust when a heavy scent wafted into her nostrils, “Euchh, this thing reeks of cologne, no wonder you were sneezing so much,” she said, tossing the practically wet handkerchief into a garbage can in the far corner of the room. 

Alastor’s eyes widened, and he turned to stare at Lucifer with an unamused glare lingering in his eyes in spite of his tight smile, “It appears that your sweat practically burned the stench of your repulsive cologne into my clothes after I carried you,” he said through clenched teeth, “I was able to wash the stench out of my coat, but I didn’t think to wash my handkerchief that had been tucked into one of the pockets.” 

Lucifer scoffed, “My cologne smells fine, not my fault you’re allergic to it,” he said, blowing a drowsy raspberry in Alastor’s direction. 

“I wouldn’t put in so much effort to aggravate me when you’re so… fragile,” Alastor said, practically snarling as he flicked the center of Lucifer’s forehead. 

“Oh please- Khff khff!- I can still unravel your skin at the seams,” 

“I’d like to see you try, ‘Your Majesty’, your tiny little skull would be meeting the blunt metal edge of my microphone,” 

“D’aww, I appreciate the flirting, but you’re not my type… I could still give you a big, wet, germy kiss for your trouble if you want,” 

Alastor hit Lucifer over the head with his microphone, clutching the fabric on the chest of his shirt and shuddering with disgust, “You go too far,” he chided, avoiding Lucifer’s gaze by staring at the carpet. 

“Not far enough, get back over here so I can stick my tongue down your throat- Khff- KHFF!,” Lucifer teased, sticking out his tongue and tugging on Alastor’s long sleeve, giggling deliriously. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Vaggie said, pulling Alastor away from Lucifer and pushing Lucifer back into a reclined position in his makeshift bed, “Alastor, leave Lucifer alone- Lucifer, keep your tongue to yourself.” 

Lucifer folded his arms, pouting, “Fiine,” he said, plucking two tissues out of the box in his lap and blowing his ‘nose’, tossing the soiled tissues into the trash. 

“Overpowered garden gnome,” Alastor grumbled. 

“Pretentious loser,” Lucifer spat back. 

“Self-pitying recluse,” 

“Bitter self-absorbed misanthrope,” 

“A bit hypocritical coming from you, you insecure man baby,” 

“At least I can admit when I’m a hypocrite, you delusional megalomaniac,” 

Angel’s head swam as his brain tried to piece through the article on antibodies he was reading, the onslaught of syllables the two men were flinging at one another, and his own throbbing headache and sore throat, “I have no idea what the hell’s goin’ on,” he whined, clutching his sore abdominal muscles as sweat trickled down his face, soaking into his thin layer of fur. 

“Lay-about!” 

“Piss worm!”  

“Callate!” Vaggie shouted, pulling on the back of Alastor’s shirt and swatting at him before sticking a thermometer from her pocket into Lucifer’s mouth to quiet him down, “Both of you cut it out.” 

Alastor and Lucifer’s shouting roused Charlie from her slumber, the princess rolling over and sitting up with a scratchy yawn as she rubbed her eyes, looking around the room, “Mmm… wha’s happening?” she mumbled, trying to shake off the grogginess that weighed down every word that left her mouth. 

“Nice going, jackasses,” Vaggie huffed, turning to stroke Charlie’s feverish cheek with her left hand before kissing her forehead, “Nothing babe, don’t worry about it.” 

“Oh… okay, okay, I trust you- Snff snff!- I need a tissue,” Charlie rambled, blowing her nose into a folded-over tissue before settling back into her blankets with a shiver, “What time is it?” 

“Honestly I don’t even know, Angel, what time is it?” Vaggie asked, looking over her shoulder towards the spider. 

Angel groaned, massaging the center of his face before glancing at the time on his phone in the corner of the screen, squinting at the tiny print making his headache even worse, “6:15,” he said, going back to reading. 

“There you go… it’s earlier than I thought it was,” Vaggie said with a slight smile, running her fingers through Charlie’s hair, “You okay?” 

“Not really, but I’ll manage… H-kHHF! KHFFF!...(gasp)- KHFF KhFF KKHhFF!,” Charlie replied, rubbing her chest after her harsh cough and looking around the parlor, focusing on the swaying image of Lucifer, shooting him a drowsy wave, “I didn’t know my dad made it back home… Hi, Dad!”  

Lucifer waved back at Charlie, humming inquisitively at Vaggie and gesturing to the thermometer under his tongue- which had started to beep. 

Vaggie rolled her eyes, pulling the thermometer out of Lucifer’s mouth and glancing at the screen, “103.4,” she said, wiping off the thermometer with an alcohol wipe before stowing it back in her pocket. 

“Aw, you too, Dad?” Charlie asked, leaning over the arm of the sofa and resting her chin in one hand, “Sorry I got you sick… Eeihh’KsSchiew! Eh’KsSchiew!” 

“No worries, Charlie, I picked this up the old fashioned way…snff! Last time I take the bus anywhere,” Lucifer groaned, swiping at his ‘nose’ with the back of his hand.

“Wait, if both of us are sick, that means neither of us are gonna be able to go to the summit!” Charlie exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes, only for Alastor to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“No need to worry, the overlord summit has been postponed on account of the majority of its attendees being… indisposed at present,” Alastor said with a calm smile. 

“Wha?” Charlie asked, looking up at Alastor with a confused look on her face. 

“If I hear anotha’ word wit’ more than two syllables that nobody knows the meanin’ of, I’m gonna pass out,” Angel snapped, turning away from his phone to cough, tucking his head into his elbow and swallowing against the ache in his throat before going back to reading. 

“Everyone’s sick, so they’re putting the summit off until later, Babe,” Vaggie explained. 

“Oh no, that’s terrible- Eeh’Ktschhew!- sorry… wonder how everyone managed to come down with it so fast… so close together,” Charlie pondered, pulling her blankets up to her chest. 

“Ahhha!- Koff KHFF KHFF! KHHHFFF!- fuck!” Angel shouted, tossing his phone aside and massaging his face, “Finally figured out what the fuck the antibody shit means!” 

Vaggie gestured for Angel to continue. 

“It said on this stupid website… ‘A green test result means that there is no active infection, but that the body has built up a resistance to the pathogen after a past infection, typically a recent one’,” Angel said, leaning back against the loveseat and draping an arm over his eyes. 

“So that means that you aren’t sick now, and you’re immune because you were sick recently,” Vaggie said, turning to look at Alastor with an unamused glare, “Before anyone else.” 

Alastor held up both hands defensively, “I have no recollection of being anywhere near this ill, that’s absurd,” he argued. 

“Not even a week ago, when I heard you down here trying your damnedest not to cough while you made your coffee before you disappeared for four days?” Vaggie asked, tilting her head to the side as she awaited Alastor’s response. 

“I-I felt perfectly fine, I only had a bit of a cold, and I do not appreciate this accusatory tone,” Alastor replied with a huff, polishing his monocle with a microfiber cloth he pulled from his pocket. 

“Alright, what did you do that day after you left, if you don’t mind me asking?” Vaggie asked, leaning over the back of the sofa and stroking Charlie’s hair as she waited. 

“I… I had to go to a sovereign overlords meeting… and then I had to visit the seamstress where Rosie had her dress made in order to pick up the extra fabric for my ensemble, a charming young succubus, I wish I could remember her name,” Alastor began to ramble, nervous sweat coating his forehead as he fiddled with the base of his microphone and averted his eyes. 

Charlie sniffled, narrowing her eyelids, “Did she have purple hair and a star shaped tail?” she asked. 

“As a matter of fact, yes, she did, how did you know?” Alastor replied with a chuckle, only for Charlie to snarl angrily, balling her fists before throwing her pillow at his head, “Ouch! My dear, there’s no need for senseless aggression- Ouch! Hey!” 

Charlie hissed and threw another pillow, “You,” she growled, “You started all of this because you’re too stubborn and stupid to admit- let alone tell someone- when you’re sick- Snff snff!- so you just wandered around town getting germs everywhere. All. Day!” 

“I- I reject the notion, you have no proof!” Alastor exclaimed, feigning a hurt expression as he pressed a hand to his chest. 

“Bullshit, breathin’ is enough to spread it around, not even mentionin’ the kinda trail you leave behind when you’re constantly blowin’ your nose wit’out washin’ ya’ hands… you filthy fuckin’ germ-spreader,” Angel said, folding his arms and furrowing his eyebrows in anger.

“Yeah! Exactly- Eeihh’KsSCHIEW!- Oh shoot- KhHhFF khff khff! KOFF- Khhff- khHff!,” Charlie said, rubbing her chest in an attempt to calm her ragged breathing after her coughing fit. 

“This kind of aggression and hostility is quite unlike you, Charlie, I must say I’m surprised,” Alastor remarked, quickly ducking as Charlie threw another pillow at him, “The projectiles are also unlike you.” 

“Oh ffuck you!” Charlie hissed, her horns peeking out through her crown of blonde locks, the same angry red as her nose, “I’m tired, I’m cold, my whole body hurts and I can barely get up to go pee, and you act so grossed out and high and mighty about ‘germs’, I’m allowed to be mad when they’re your germs to begin with! I’m allowed to be angry sometimes! KHFFF-KHff-Khfff!” 

Vaggie gently tapped Charlie’s back, carefully making sure not to rouse Husk from his sleep as she leaned over the arm of the sofa to embrace her girlfriend, “Of course you are, Babe, but try not to get too worked up,” she whispered, kissing Charlie’s feverish neck and smiling when Charlie melted into her touch, “There we go, it’s okay.” 

“Nice going, Antlers,” Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh hush, you have nothing to do with any of this,” Alastor said, waving Lucifer off nonchalantly. 

“Hey, listen Tough Guy-” Lucifer began, sitting up and beginning to gesticulate, only for Vaggie to pull away from Charlie and walk over to Lucifer, pressing her cool hand against his  burning forehead and silencing him as he sighed in relief, “Mmm… that feels n ice.” 

“I bet it does, and if you promise to stop picking fights with Alastor I’ll go get a cool washcloth for you,” Vaggie said with a knowing smile, noticing the eager and desperate look in Lucifer’s eyes, “Promise?” 

Lucifer nodded weakly, “Mkay, I promise,” he said, lying back down and staring at his socks, chuckling to himself as his feverish mind wandered, turning the solid blue fabric into a makeshift sky, clouds drifting across the fabric. 

Vaggie sighed, turning to Alastor and gesturing at him, “Well?” she asked, unimpressed and exasperated with the nonsensical back-and-forth. 

“I… I apologize for unknowingly causing all of this… and for being a bit-” Alastor nearly gagged on the platitudes forming on his tongue, “- impersonal and detached in my methods of engaging with the afflicted, particularly in this instance since your ailments were my fault to begin with, and… I will find some way to make it up to you,” he said with a pained smile, one eye twitching behind his monocle. 

“Awww- Snff!- that was beautiful,” Charlie said, her voice cracking as she threatened to cry, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve before blowing her nose, “I forgive you… I wasn’t even that mad, I just really don’t feel well and it’s making me cranky.” 

“Perfectly understandable, my dear,” Alastor replied, fighting back a shudder and reaching out to stroke Charlie’s scalp, “Nowhere to go from here but up.” 

Charlie nodded, coughing harshly into her elbow before weakly gesturing to her three pillows that were scattered at Alastor’s feet, “Can I have my pillows back?” she asked, pitifully attempting to lean over and reach out to grab them. 

“Of course,” Alastor said, tucking two of Charlie’s pillows behind her to support her back and neck, and placing the third pillow near Charlie’s feet, “Better?” 

“Mmhm… Ehh…E-ehh… EhH’KSschew! Eihh’KtsSChiew! Eehh’KSschheww!” Charlie hummed in reply, emptying her sinuses with a desperate blow before tossing the damp tissue in the garbage, “O h hhh… my sinuses hurt.”  

“I’ll get you some decongestant after dinner,” Vaggie promised, massaging Charlie’s sinuses with her fingertips. As she massaged Charlie, Vaggie looked over and noticed Angel curled up in a half-formed fetal position, shivering, “Are you gonna be okay?” she asked. 

Angel made an indecisive gesture with his hand, wiping sweat from his brow and grimacing as an ache radiated through the muscles in his abdomen, legs, and back, “I ain’t feelin’ too hot… Hh-KHFF! KHFF!- ‘s like I got hit by a truck,” he mumbled, voice slightly hoarse from his sore throat as a hand reached up and rubbed the base of his neck.

Vaggie thumbed Charlie’s cheek for a moment, before walking over to the loveseat opposite Lucifer’s, maneuvering Angel into an upright position and pressing a palm to his forehead, “You feel plenty hot to me,” she chuckled, pulling the thermometer out of her pocket. 

“Ya know what I meant,” Angel huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Mhm, I did, open your mouth,” Vaggie instructed, sliding the thermometer under Angel’s tongue and waiting until it beeped before pulling it out, “102…2.4…2.7.” 

“Shit,” Angel said with a groan, lying back down only for Vaggie to tug him back upright. 

“Ah-ah-ah! Sit up, I’ll be right back with your pajamas, you can lie down after you’ve changed,” Vaggie said, “Where do you keep them?” 

“They’re lyin’ across my bed- Snff! Snff!,” Angel replied, his eyelids threatening to droop as a deep flush covered his cheeks, burning bright enough that it was visible through his fur. 

“Alright, I’ll be right back, Niffty make sure he doesn’t lie down until I come back,” Vaggie said, turning on her heels and disappearing up the stairs. 

Niffty giggled, standing on the back of the loveseat and gently combing Angel’s frayed hair with her tiny fingers, “You’re so sweaty I can use it like moisturizer,” she said. 

“Khhff-khff! Quit rubbin’ sweat into my hair, Niff… Snff!” Angel said, weakly swatting at Niffty only to relent, enjoying the feeling of her tiny hands massaging his scalp, the sensation practically relieved his throbbing headache, “Mmm…” 

Vaggie returned to the parlor with a silk pajama top adorned with pink lace, a pair of fleece pajama pants with button-up pockets, and a pair of large pink socks, tossing them in Angel’s lap and dusting off her hands, “You need help getting to the bathroom to go change?” she asked. 

Angel shook his head, “I got it, I got it,” he insisted, putting on the pajamas and socks, before squirming a bit and adjusting two of his arms, suddenly pulling out his shirt, jacket, pants, and boots from the waistband of his pajama pants, “All’a them years doin’ quick changes finally paid off… hHh! Hahh! Hah’TsShhew! Hah’TsSsHEW!” 

Vaggie folded Angel’s street clothes and placed them in a laundry basket behind the sofa before handing Angel a pink fleece blanket adorned with zebra stripes and a box of tissues. 

“Thanks, Vags… Snfff! Euch,” Angel said, plucking a tissue out of the box and gently pressing it to his face before emptying his sinuses in a heavy blow that sounded closer to a honk at the tail end. 

“Okay, now that everything is all settled, you four are going to stay here and rest,” Vaggie said before turning to Alastor and Niffty, “and you two are going to help me finish dinner.” 

“Of course, lead the way,” Alastor said calmly, resting his microphone in his palm and shifting his weight onto his other foot before following Vaggie into the kitchen. 

“Okey-dokey!” Niffty cheered, skipping behind Alastor and Vaggie, only to scurry back into the parlor and land an open-hand slap on Husk’s chest, rousing him from his deep slumber, before scrambling back into the kitchen, giggling uncontrollably. 

Husk snorted, rapidly shaking his head and rubbing his eyes as his ears twitched, “Hhm? KHFF-KHFFF! Fuck… my chest hurts,” Husk grumbled sleepily, opening his eyelids after a moment of struggle and looking around the room, “Mmm… what time ‘s it? Did I miss somethin’?” 

“Nothin’ important,” Angel yawned, pulling his blanket up to his chest and blowing his ‘nose’, “H-hahh…Hah’TsShew!” 

“Bless you,” Husk said, still a bit drowsy. About seven seconds passed, before Husk’s eyes widened and he whipped his head around in Angel’s direction, “Wait a minute, when the hell did you get here?!” 

Angel snickered, weakly kicking his feet as his snickers devolved into full blown laughter, laughter so intense that Angel began rolling gently from side to side, only to roll off of the loveseat and collapse onto the carpet. 

Husk rolled his eyes, “Real funny, huh Legs?” he asked, glancing over at Angel again with an unamused scoff. 

“Damn right it was funny, it was worth it,” Angel said in between guffaws and coughs, only to groan in pain as the sore muscles in his back throbbed after the initial impact, “Not completely worth it… but it was still funny.” 

Husk sighed, using the television remote cradled in his lap to turn on the TV, before rolling back over to face the base of the sofa, and falling back asleep, his soft but deep snoring filling the room as his ears and tail twitched, the rest of his body completely still and quiet. 

“HrRR’SshOO! HrR’Schuhh!” 

Well, mostly quiet.  

[littlemissthunderstorms]

just some lover

alex turner x reader

angst!

concept- photographing ex boyfriend alex’s show (i’ve convinced myself this is the worst thing i’ve ever written. just so you know i have self awareness.)

———

the crowd roared and cheered as the boys walked on and grabbed their instruments, getting ready for the first song. stage lights glittered and shimmered all across the set, the stage basked in a medley of purples and blues. you stood on the opposite side of the backstage area with your camera, a few other people around you.

your eyes followed the boy as he adjusted the mic. your heart dropped a bit when you saw him, the ache growing as he started to sing. you hadn’t heard his voice in a while, the sick nostalgia of it all making you start to regret your choice.

when you took the job offer you were hesitant, knowing arctic monkeys were in the lineup, but it paid good, so you took it. all you had to do was get good shots of the band, it shouldn’t be that hard, right?

this was the first time you’d seen alex since you two had broken up 4 months ago. sickly sweet longing melted and twisted at your heart, causing your hands to slick with a cold sweat as you held your camera.

memories of him singing to you softly when you were sick, or whenever you’d had a rough night started seeping through the cracks of your mind, memories that you’d hoped to forget starting to re-enter like a film reel. you cleared your throat, raising your camera and taking a few cool shots of the band, trying your very best to distract yourself. you were here for work, to simply take photos of the concert and that was it. nothing else. so stay focused.

for the most part you were pretty good at not allowing yourself to think, but you couldn’t ignore the way nausea twisted at your stomach. you didn’t realize how sentimental this would all feel. in different circumstances you would be backstage for different reasons. not just the photographer. in different circumstances you’d be teasing him about his sweaty hugs when the show was over, staining his cheek in your black honey lipstick. in reality, he didn’t even know you were here.

surely he’d moved on, probably had plans with some other girl after the show. your heart sunk at the thought, realizing you weren’t apart of his life anymore, and how quickly it happened. it just felt off being here like this, like an actor walking onto the wrong set. you caught yourself thinking too much again, bottling up the nauseating thoughts the best you possibly could.

your co workers next to you soon struck up a conversation with you, laughing and pointing at people in the crowd with funny signs. you were deeply grateful for the distraction.

throughout the show, you were mostly focused on getting good shots and conversing with your photographer friends. you assumed the nostalgia and heartbreak you’d endured moments prior was just the usual sinking feeling of seeing your ex for the first time since breaking up and that the immense feelings had simmered down. so, you didn’t think about it for a while, pretending alex was just some rockstar you never even knew.

———

the sun was fully set now, yet it was still sweltering. you were now in your tanktop, sipping cool water and holding it up to your forehead and cheeks. you noticed everyone in the band was now drenched in sweat, their cheeks flushed in the stage lighting.

a crew member came up to you, asking you and another photographer if you could get some shots from right in front of the stage, meaning you would have to go right in front of the pit barrier. meaning there was a high chance alex would see you. nevertheless, you agreed, you weren’t going to let this interfere with your work.

once you were down there, your initial worries of him seeing you simmered a bit. alex’s eyes were shut for the most part, opening only for mere seconds just to close again, getting lost in the melody. and probably a bit of heat exhaustion. you hid your face behind your camera, snapping a shot of jamie on his guitar.

the atmosphere was buzzing in the pit, people were climbing on other peoples shoulders, holding up signs, and dancing together. it was adorable, it helped to take the edge off a bit. yet you couldn’t quite get rid of the sinking feeling that kept lingering.

———

everything was going fairly okay until the intro chords of a certain, very familiar song started to reverberate through the venue. she’s thunderstorms. your heart dropped. you cleared your throat and put a vice grip on your camera.

alex had written this song for you about 11 months prior. you remembered him playing it to you for the first time on his acoustic, the way he shyly mumbled “s’ not done yet, but it’s about you.” you remembered how he fell back onto the couch as you kissed him, telling him it was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you.

you remembered when it came out, how alex had teasingly called you ‘thunderstorms’ a month after. your lip quivered, heart shaky as you held back tears. you took a deep breath, trying to redirect your thoughts as you took a few more shots of the band.

“she’s thunderstorms, lying on her front, up against the wall.”

the tune twisted at your stomach, your shaky hands making most of your shots come out unfocused and blurry. you tried to convince yourself you were just being dramatic to soothe your feelings, it didn’t work much.

as your teary gaze flickered to alex, you couldn’t help but notice the way his face contorted into sadness. what seemed like a tear, that could easily be perceived as a drop of sweat trickled down his cheek. was he really crying? he couldn’t be. but you knew him well. you noticed how he quickly concealed his emotions, running a hand through his damp hair.

your heart sunk. you’d thought all along that alex had moved on quickly. was he actually crying? if he was, it must’ve been a hell of a coincidence that it was during this song. you knew alex had moved on quickly when breaking up with girls in the past. you thought he would have the same habits with you. you were usually the same, sad for a bit but then moving on in a couple of weeks, wondering why you were ever sad in the first place.

but not with alex. when you broke up with him, you were a mess. it was a hard decision, and it was mutual but it tore you apart. four months later and you still couldn’t get rid of the pit of regret that sat in your stomach when you woke up in the morning and he wasn’t there. it didn’t feel right this time.

you two had broken up because your schedules weren’t working. you barely saw him, for he was traveling with the band and writing for the new album. you’d been busy yourself with the new photography program that had you doing a lot of traveling aswell.

you both decided it was for the better, fearing your relationship would fall apart and end on bad terms due to long distance if you hadn’t ended it then. but still, it didn’t feel right. you wondered if he felt that same pit in his stomach. a tiny part of you really hoped he did.

however, a few weeks ago, one of the team managers for the arctic monkeys reached out to you and asked if you wanted to be one of the designated photographers for the band. this meant you would follow them around on all of their tours, basically meaning you would constantly be around alex. the pay was a lot better than your current salary.

she told you that you had a couple of months to make the decision. you constantly debated with it, earning sleepless nights out of the situation. it’s not like you could just call up alex and be like “hey so the initial cause of our breakup has been solved and i’ve actually been asked if i wanted to follow you guys on tour so haha when do you want to get back together.”

it wasn’t that surface leveled. you couldn’t just decide to get back with him just because you would actually be around him all the time. you’d assumed alex had moved on already, not wanting to go backwards.

but deep down, you still held immense amounts of love for him in your heart.

you’d truly felt like he was the one, your soulmate. you couldn’t even believe that you two weren’t together anymore. over the past months you wished and wished your paths would cross again. this couldn’t be it for you and alex, right?

the feeling simmered over you. you felt like you could control the situation and finally get rid of the immense regret you faced every day. a glimmer of hope sat within you ever since you’d gotten the offer. yet a part of you assumed you were just being irrational and that he wasn’t in love with you anymore, it was over for the better.

“you alright?” the photographer next to you questioned, sensing your nervousness. “yeah! i’m good, just a little hot out.” you managed a convincing chuckle. it seemed to work, the other photographer agreed and went back to adjusting their lens.

hurt tore through your heart again. you had to learn to come to terms with reality, you couldn’t keep pretending he was going to come crawling back to you. it was time to suck it up.

“here is your host, sounds as if she’s pretty close.”

just as you thought you were in the clear, hidden enough behind your camera, you looked up and made direct eye contact with alex. shit. the boy stared at you for a long moment, almost as if he was trying to convince himself you were really there. you blinked back at him, in a momentary trance, like a scene from a movie where everything slows down. you nervously broke the eye contact, gulping hard as you pretended to adjust your camera.

when you looked back up, he had his eyes shut again, singing just like before. you couldn’t really read his expression. he looked as if he was in pain but it could be read off as overheating.

once the song was over, the ache in your heart lifted a bit. you took a deep breath, a bit overwhelmed by all the emotions that muddled your mind.

you’ll be alright.

———

it was now somewhere around midnight. the show had ended about 30 minutes ago and you were now helping load photography equipment into one of the vans.

after carrying a particularly heavy bag, you slumped against the streetlamp, observing the void-like quality the sky held. it was an inky black, no stars were out tonight.

you were about to head in to ask your co worker if they needed anymore help when a hand gripped your shoulder. you jumped, a goofy smile and brown curly hair greeting you as you turned around.

“nick!” you slapped his chest playfully. “you scared the shit out of me!” the boy chuckled, pulling you into a hug. “i missed you terribly.”

you hadn’t seen any of the boys since you and alex’s breakup and you missed them like hell. you continued to chat with nick, exchanging greetings and catching up.

as nick talked to you, he noticed something different about you. it was difficult to notice, but he knew you well and could sense the lingering sadness that resonated within you.

“so, how’s the photography program?” you shrugged at the question. “honestly, not well. it’s super stressful and not at all what i’d thought it would be like.”

“i’m sorry, that sucks. i know you sacrificed a lot for that job.” nick looked at you, knowing you both possessed the understanding that alex had been the sacrifice. the love of your life, gone for some shitty program.

you nodded, clearing your throat. screw it, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him. “i actually um, i got an offer to shoot for you guys on the suck it and see tour, i don’t know if you knew or anything. i’ve got a while to make my choice. the pays a lot better but i’m just unsure because of… you know.” you shrugged, looking back up at nick, who had a wild grin on his face.

you furrowed your eyebrows. “what?” he shook his head, still grinning. “nick, seriously what is it.” you were starting to get annoyed. he knew something you didn’t. the boy looked up at the dark sky, and then around you both, contemplating if he should tell you or not.

“alex was the one who recommended you.”

STAY TUNED FOR PT.2!!

———

hellooo!! i hope you enjoyed, i’ve convinced myself this is the most boring thing i’ve ever written soooo i’m sorry if it was 🤕

sweet dreams! ⭐️

taglist- @ultragirrl @inmyownfantasywrld @almluv @raven-ql @ohladymoon @yourstartreatment @missbabyjay @andulina567 @blair-s-world @rentsturner

[doubleddenden]

Hey voice actors and animators should go on strike too

I'm not even joking, do it now with the actors and writers

Did you know the voice actress for Paimon from Genshin Impact hasn't been paid for their work since December of 2022?

Did you know that 100 animators for Across the Spider-Verse quit due to terrible working conditions?

Fuck it, game devs should too. Comic artists as well

Make every rich and greedy piece of shit sweat

[shady-tavern]

Deals and Revelry

Warnings ahead of both attempted and implied murder, along with one, early-on instance of non-consensual drug use. Please take care of yourselves.

***

In a city as big as this it was easy to get lost, easy to slip between the cracks. Easy to go unnoticed even if one walked like a severely drunk sailor fresh back on the shore.

You stumbled against the alley wall, woozy and half numb and your vision was just the faintest bit off, the world around you roiling as though the ground itself had become the sea, rising and falling in slow, cresting waves. 

Your breath was fogging in front of your face and you knew it was too cold to be out and about without a cloak, but you hadn't really gotten to grab one. Or shoes. You couldn't really feel your feet anymore.

But you were getting close. Already you could see the lights and colorful banners and decorations on the other side of the alley. You could hear it too, the sound of the Revelry, the biggest entertainment street of this city. A cesspool of backroom deals and unfettered delight.

Music and laughter mixed with the breathy moans of a couple that stumbled into the alley, the women pushing each other against the brick wall, one hoisting the other into her arms. You saw the glint of metal on one of them, the armor of the city guard and the cloak that fell down to her knees, cloth a dark forest green.

Neither paid you any mind when you shuffled down the alley, using the wall as your anchor. At this point it was the only thing properly keeping you up and walking in a straight line. You must look drunk, even if you were anything but.

You barely felt the cold with the numbness and as you stumbled out of the alley, it felt like you were hit by a wall of light and sound and movement. Lanterns were strung all across the street, reaching from house to house and the glass painted or stained, casting a multitude of colors across everything. 

People danced in big groups or on tables, more getting pulled into alleys by one or more people, big grins on their faces. Dancers and musicians performed on the stage by the crossroads that led to the Revelry, while other stages were dotted down the street, showing off other performers. 

Sword jugglers, puppeteers, actors and jesters all put on the show of the night, accompanied by music. Fortune tellers weaved through the crowd, peddlers with carts stood on corners and servers with strong arms brought round after round of drinks and food from taverns. Others lured the drunk or amorously interested towards many of the inns, slipping clever hands into unguarded coat pockets.

You had to take a moment to get used to everything and orientate yourself, to look beyond the street wide revelry towards the main house. Bigger than all the others, a four story building, freshly painted pale green walls surrounded by black wood. 

Through the lit windows you saw more partying, more dancing and someone swinging through the air gracefully.

That was your destination.

You pushed off of the corner you had stumbled against and walked onward, forcing one unsteady step in front of the other. People barely noticed when you staggered past them, some even clapping you on the back and pointing towards inns before they continued on their way.

You passed tables laden with food and drink, tables where people played games, cards and dice and something that needed a knife and quick reflexes. The air smelled heavily of ale and perfume and sweat. 

Coats and skirts billowed, hands clapping and boots meeting cobblestone like muted drums when you passed by a group of dancers.

It felt like it took forever to make your way to the main house, the Revelry that this street, this gathering was named after. A big sign was mounted over the large entrance door, made of dark green wood and gold letters that looked freshly polished, shining in the light.

You shouldered inside, heat and smells greeting you, followed by loud cheers. So loud and from so many throats they seemed to make the air itself rumble.

Past the shifting bodies you got glimpses of a stage that went up to the second floor, of people swinging through the air, colorful figures catching others. 

The crowd cheered loudly once again, tankards getting raised or slammed onto tables in time with the jig the musicians played. Coin clattered and servers maneuvered past patrons like they were made of water, never slowing down, perfect smiles pasted on their faces.

It took you a long minute to spot him, the owner of this place, the founder of the Revelry, Quin. There were many whispers about this man who owned the night and even had the city guard unable to stop his dealings.

Face painted white with black tracks down his cheeks like tears, his lips were stained a bloody red and his grin was just a little too sharp. His canines just a tad too long. For all that he leaned back in his seat, languid and relaxed, he gave off an air of effortless power and dangerous grace.

He was dressed in expensive finery, diamond studded jewelry and silken, embroidered clothes that only the highest ranking noble houses would have been able to afford. Everything was modeled to resemble a court jester, a clear and unashamed mockery of those in power.

There were rumors about him, things you had heard here and there, whispers shared by friends and overheard from chatting guards who wishing to unsettle the new recruit. People said he had stopped being a mortal man before ever coming to this city, that he commanded the shadows and drank blood like wine. 

That he had made a pact with something that should have been left damn well alone. Something older and more dangerous than anything else.

As you tried to make your way towards him, stumbling into strangers who shoved you onward with either laughs or glares, you saw that he was speaking with a nervous looking man.

The man was tall and broad, shoulders tense and posture wary as he gripped his tankard, speaking to Quin about something. You couldn't hear what was being said, but Quin threw his head back and laughed and the burly man visibly grit his teeth, leaning back slightly as though worried.

Quin grinned at him, sharp teeth and dangerous eyes and waved a hand in a lazy gesture. A whip-thin woman melted out of the shadows, dressed in all black and with a blank, white mask covering her face. 

She came to stand at Quin's side and offered him a rolled up piece of parchment. Quin took it and held it out towards the burly man, still grinning.

The man took it after a long second of hesitation and the woman held out a quill next. There was no ink, but the man seemed to be able to sign anyway and you got a glimpse of bloody ink flowing from the dry quill. 

His face was grim when he handed the scroll back and the woman stepped forward when Quin accepted it, waiting and arms loose at her sides. 

The man got up and she followed him and they disappeared into the crowd. When Quin got to his feet, you made yourself move faster. He couldn't slip away. Not when you were so damn close.

You tripped over someone's foot, the person giving you an annoyed shove, but it propelled you forward the last bit. Undignified, yes, but Quin caught you before you could fall to your face.

"Now there, usually I have to put in some work to make people swoon like this," he said with a mocking undertone, pulling you upright with seemingly no effort at all. Before he could let go, you gripped his arms, making him raise his brows.

"Here for a deal," you managed to slur out and for just a moment it looked like he was going to send you away anyway, before he paused and leaned in.

"You are not drunk," he said, a warm finger curling under your chin to tip it up, making your gaze meet his dark eyes. "Tell me, did you intend to ingest a drug?"

Your grip on his arms tightened and a smile curled across his face that managed to be far more dangerous than the one the burly man had gotten. The sort of smile that made it easy to imagine blood being spilled and a last breath being exhaled.

"Now, I don't like that in my establishment at all," he downright purred, moving in a step, head bending down towards you a bit. He was propping you up with his body more than anything else with how close he was and you were glad he hadn't shaken you off. "Why don't you point me to the one who did that, sweetheart?"

You shook your head. It was getting harder to think and you could feel his warmth through the numbness that gripped your limbs. You had no idea how much longer you could fight this off, especially now that you had finally found him and you didn't have to force yourself to keep moving.

You were just so relieved you thoughtlessly leaned into his hold. The only reason you caught the brief flash of surprise in his eyes was because you were so close to him.

"I need a deal," you managed to say, unable to raise your voice much, but with him right there, breath lightly brushing your nose and cheek, he heard you well enough. "Please."

"Why don't you tell me what happened first, hm?" he asked, curled finger still under your chin. His brows furrowed slightly. "You are quite cold, were you outside until recently?" His dangerous grin returned. "I can find out who did this, even if it was down the street, don't you worry."

"My fiancé," you said and the smile fell away as his brows rose. "His mother is going to kill my parents and then me. They will do it after the wedding tomorrow. Please."

"Hm." He seemed curious at least. "Why not go to the city guard? I know I'm never the first resort, only the desperate and degenerate come here." He leaned a little closer still, your noses almost touching, revealing a hint of his sharp teeth as he smiled. "You do know what kind of deals I offer, don't you, sweetheart?"

"They're too rich," you made yourself say. Your tongue felt heavier than before and it was getting harder to keep your eyes open. "They have deals with the captain of the guard."

Quin suddenly sounded delighted. "Is that so? How delightful, I knew Albert was going to slip up one day. Thank you for that one, darling. But why not grab your parents and go away instead of coming here?"

"They arranged the wedding." And you hadn't even minded at first. The wealthy merchant's son had been pleasant enough after all, polite and maybe a bit reserved but not unfriendly.

Neither of you would have married for love, but during the conversations you had shared with the young, admittedly pretty man, it had become clear the two of you could have come to a good agreement. 

Not all marriages were unions of hearts after all and there were plenty of ways to make it work. Plenty of ways to treat this like any old business agreement that both sides could benefit from. You had even thought the two of you could become good friends in given time.

Until you had overheard his mother's plans by accident tonight and had gotten discovered when you had tried to sneak away from her study. Your fiancé had done nothing when your future mother in law had gotten her personal guard to grab you before you could flee. 

Your future mother in law had put some clear liquid into a cup of water while the guard had wrestled you towards her, muttering that you had to keep quiet until the wedding. That your parents wouldn't care about the state you were in so long as you signed the wedding contract. 

She wasn't even wrong. Your parents would never again get the sort of deal the merchant had made with them. Your parents' business would join together with hers and it would make everyone all the richer. But if everyone died after the wedding, then your future mother in law would get to own your family business through her son.

Your parents wanted wealth too much themselves and unless you had managed to prove that your fiancé mistreated you, which he never did, they wouldn't stop the wedding for anything. Neither would they believe you if you showed up with wild sounding accusations such as planned murder out of nowhere.

Your future mother in law had proceeded to shove the concoction down your throat once she had it in the cup – or part of it at least.

It had been nothing but pure luck that you had managed to take hold of the guard's dagger at their hip and draw it. It had been a mad scramble where you had lashed out in a blind panic, the guard falling back with a howl and hands pressed over their bleeding face.

You had stabbed your future mother in law right in the thigh and had run, managing to toss a vase at your fiancé's head. Then you had kept running straight here. The only place you could think of to get help. The only place you trusted would help you, even if you'd have to give up something in the process. 

You just wanted to live.

"I see." Quin tipped your chin up again, your head having slumped down a bit. You met his gaze and there was a red, fiery glow lurking in his dark eyes as though embers had come to life. "Want to me to get rid of your parents too?"

"No." They hadn't been...great, recently, but you wanted to deal with them yourself. "I don't want to die."

"I suppose you wouldn't," Quin murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear him. "Alright then, let's get you situated."

He moved his arm to hold you around the shoulders and bending down to pick you up under your knees. His words registered and you sagged with relief at once, pressing your head against his shoulder.

You felt him pause for just a moment and you felt the shift of muscle along his neck as he looked down at you.

"Aren't you a strange one," you heard him murmur. He was quiet for a second, then chuckled, low and dark. "Just alone to spite you I will do exactly that."

It didn't sound like he was speaking to you and he turned around, walking away from the press of bodies. Even half passed out you noticed it when the air shifted and five people stepped straight out of the shadows. 

They were all masked, blank or painted, their clothes either black or colorful. You moved your head enough to peer past Quin's shoulder and you saw the glint on metal on them, blades and daggers, armor hidden under cloaks and silk shawls. 

They looked nothing like the guards or mercenaries, but each and every one of them felt threatening enough that you half expected to cut yourself on their presences alone.

But most dangerous of them all was Quin. He felt like walking death as he held you, something so dangerous it would have stolen your breath away under any other circumstance. Instead, it made you relax further, one hand rising to lightly grip his sinfully soft silk doublet.

Quin hummed softly and this time, the words were directed at you as he said, "You are very strange indeed."

"Boss?" you heard one of the masked ones ask and when Quinn made a low noise, they stepped past to open a door at the back of the large tavern room. "What's your order?"

"I think we're going to have fun tonight," Quin said, voice light, but if words were capable of dripping blood, his would have, staining his tongue and sliding down his chin, thick and copper-sweet.

Quin carried you down a hallway and another door was opened within a few moments. The sound of the revelry was muffled and almost far away now as he stepped into a room and a couple of steps later you were gently set down on a couch that was softer than your own bed.

"You're not even wearing shoes," Quin mused and paused when you found yourself holding onto his sleeve when he stepped back. "Easy now, sweetheart, we'll take care of that little mess, won't we?"

"Thank you," you managed to slur out and he hummed again, waiting with unexpected patience for you to let go. When you did, he spread something warm and heavy over you. A blanket. "Sleep now. Believe it or not, but you will be safe here."

"I know." And you did believe him. Somehow, despite everything you had been taught and all the rumors you had heard, Quin felt safe. Safe enough that the fear that had driven you to his Revelry finally released it's bruising grip on you altogether.

Warm knuckles brushed your cheek. "You actually do believe it," Quin murmured. "That's a first, I have to admit."

"Deal?" you made yourself ask, because everyone knew that Quin always made deals. He never did anything for free. 

Quin was silent for a long moment. Long enough that you thought he wouldn't answer, until he said, "You already gave me something no one else has. Not in a very long time at least. Let that be my payment. Rest, sweetheart. Your worries will be dead when you wake."

You heard rustling as he shifted and turned around to walk away. 

"My friends," Quin said, voice strong and confident and there was a deep rumble to his words, something just a little too unnatural. No human throat should be able to make that sound.

The last words you heard before you faded into unconsciousness were said with a grin that dripped with malevolent violent, "Tonight we hunt."

*.*.*

You woke up with your head pounding and your mouth tasting the way old, wet socks smelled. Your body ached all over and when you tried to shift, you ended up groaning and burrowing more into the pillow. A pillow that smelled nothing like yours.

"Good morning," an amused voice said and you blearily forced your eyes open and looked up.

There he was, Quin, the founder of the Revelry. Your memories of last were a little foggy, but mostly you recalled his warmth and how safe you had felt. You still felt safe and warm now, bundled beneath a thick, soft blanket.

"Still not afraid, I see," he mused and leaned back a bit. He wore different clothes to last night, something a bit more muted, but the face paint was still there. "I have to thank you, we had quite a bit of fun tracing back your steps and getting to hunt." 

His head tipped and his smile widened into that dangerous grin, showing his teeth. His lips were painted a blood red so vivid you wouldn't have been surprised if he had used actual, fresh blood. "Want a trophy?"

"No, thank you." You winced at how croaky your voice sounded and you forced yourself to sit up, limbs aching. You blinked when an elegant hand offered you a cup of water.

You took it and for just a split second you remembered the way your future mother in law had forced spiked water down your throat, then you shook off the memory. Quin of all people had no need to drug your drink, especially when he had had you drugged and at his mercy just hours prior.

"What do I owe you?" you asked after emptying the cup.

Quin raised a brow and sat down on the other end of the couch, thigh nearly brushing your toes. He leaned back, throwing one arm over the backrest of the couch as he regarded you with dark, curious eyes. "You're not going to ask if we took care of the problem?"

"You always do," you answered. "At least, that's what I heard."

"A business man such as myself takes great pride in a good reputation," Quin mused. "You are correct, they are very much dead. I would not recommend visiting that house anytime soon if it can be avoided."

"Thank you." The relief was still as potent as last night, thought not quite as soul-deep, for the fear wasn't there anymore. "What do I owe you?"

Quin waved you off with a dismissive flap of his hand. "You already paid, don't you worry your pretty little head." Before you could do so much as open your mouth to protest, he got to his feet again. "And now I will be dreadfully rude by tossing you out on your ear. I need my office back, sweetheart."

Blinking, you realized that you were, indeed, in an office. Lavishly decorated, with a rug as black as coal and, very, very faintly visible stains along the hardwood that you were willing to identify as dried blood.

"Of course, I'm sorry for being a bother," you said hurriedly, freeing your legs from the blanket, but the moment you tried to get up, your feet bumped into shoes. Looking down in surprise, you saw simple shoes in your size, a little scuffed but otherwise well maintained.

"I'll pay you for these," you offered and Quin rolled his eyes as you put them on.

"Just bring them back later. Now, please go." He ushered you up and pushed you out the door with a polite smile, gesturing down the hallway to the door that led into the tavern.

Instead of closing the door, however, he leaned against the doorframe and a bare moment later the door to the tavern swung open and the captain of the guard marched inside.

Before you knew it, you had shied back to Quin's side, as Albert glowered at you so viciously it wouldn't have surprised you if his glare had seared your skin like acid.

"No need to be impolite, Captain," Quin said with a smile sharp enough to peel away layers of skin. Albert flinched, just a little and the way he averted his gaze to his feet was all the more noticeable for it. "We're just going to have a friendly chat."

Quin pressed one warm palm against the small of your back. "Go on," he murmured, leaning closer to you, his warm breath brushing the shell of your ear. "He won't do anything." He raised his voice without moving back, gaze pinning Albert in place the way a scientist would pin down a helpless butterfly. "Won't he?"

Albert said nothing, but he stopped walking and moved over to the side, freeing up as much of the hallway as he could. Quin gave you a small push and you walked on, shuffling past the captain of the guard, feeling like a scurrying mouse.

You glanced back just once when you reached the door. Quin regarded Albert with feigned, gentle politeness as he walked past him into his office, the door closing behind the two of them.

Barely anyone was in the tavern at this hour when you stepped into the large room. Some hungover people sat at the bar, stirring oatmeal or nibbling on dry bread, looking either a bit green or half asleep. 

The place was cleaner than it would have been elsewhere after a night of wild partying. No smashed glass was anywhere, not even spilled, sticky residue from drinks. Everything from the bartop to the tables and the floor looked freshly wiped down.

The air was still cool, but not as cold as last night when you left the tavern, the sky overcast. 

The street outside the Revelry looked cleaned up as well, tables moved to the side, chairs stacked on top, to make for easy passing. A carriage rattled through and you heard someone puke in an alley as you passed by with quick steps.

It felt almost unreal as you made your way home. Your childhood home, not the big townhouse you had stayed in in preparation for your wedding. Your parents were at the kitchen table, greeting you with smiles when you entered.

"Looking forward to your big day?" your father asked as he buttered his breadroll. "Your dress is waiting upstairs for you."

They didn't know yet. You took a deep breath and it filled your lungs in a way it hadn't for weeks. You felt free, you realized. Free of your fiancé and a future you hadn't wanted, even if you would have accepted it with dignity and plans to make things work to the best of your abilities. 

You took another deep breath, marveling at how much lighter you felt. "There won't be a wedding," you said and the words almost made you smile. When your parents looked up, surprised and worried, you added, "They got killed last night."

It was as though your parents saw you properly for the first time. Your nightclothes which were inappropriate to leave the house in, the shoes they had never seen you wear before and your somewhat bedraggled and worn appearance.

"What happened?" your father asked at the same time as your mother said, "What did you do?"

And now you did smile, just a little. It wasn't a happy expression and you probably looked more like you were baring your teeth. "I made sure I lived."

*.*.*

The Revelry was filled with overlapping conversations and the occasional laugh as the afternoon crowd ate their lunch, spread out around the tables. 

Already preparations for tonight's party were in full swing, decorations being pinned in place and some performers were warming up, others checking the trapeze and ribbons to ensure nothing could go wrong.

Quin was at the bar, speaking with the barkeep who listened with an attentive frown. She gave an understanding nod and Quin tapped the bar with his palm, smiling in languid satisfaction.

He then noticed your approach, smiling easily at you as he turned to face you, leaning back against the bar, elbows braced on the bartop. He looked just as confident and in control as a king might on his throne.

"Sweetheart, what brings me the pleasure of your presence?" he asked as you approached. Today his outfit was as blood red as his lips, accented with black and his jewelry glinted gold, the rubies looking like drops of blood that hung from his ears and decorated his neck and hands.

"I'm going to return your shoes," you said and he waved you off when you presented them.

"I don't remember where I got them," he said with a shrug. "Leave them by the door if you like. Someone will pick them up at some point."

"Oh." You were about to step away again, Quin's attention already moving on, the conversation over in his mind, when you paused. You knew he said you had paid already, even if you had no idea how or when or with what, but it didn't feel like enough. "Let me take you out to dinner."

His dark gaze snapped back to you and from the corner of your eye you noticed the barkeeper openly gawk at you.

"Are you asking me out?" he sounded bemused and the faintest bit baffled. Realizing how your offer had sounded, you floundered for a moment, then shrugged awkwardly, waving around the shoes as you gestured.

"Just...I want to say thank you properly." When he was about to speak, you quickly added, "I know, you said I paid already, but I still want to do this. You did more than you had to that night."

The barkeep downright stared at you now, looking gobsmacked that you had interrupted her boss, her gaze bouncing between you two. Quin tipped his head, earrings glinting in the light that fell through the window. Then he smiled and shrugged.

"Alright, why not." He pushed off the bar, gesturing for you to go ahead. "Besides, what fool turns down a free meal? Lead the way, my dear."

You left the shoes beside the entrance beneath the coat rack, like he had suggested. A carriage was waiting outside, the one you had taken to this place and the driver was visibly uncomfortable when Quin smiled at him as he helped you inside with a slightly exaggerated bow.

"Fancy," Quin said with a toothy grin as he sat down across from you and you knocked against the roof, the carriage lurching into motion. "I can't say I've been asked out like this before."

"You did mention having trouble to make people fall for you," you found yourself saying and he blinked, then threw his head back as he laughed.

"Oh, I think I like you," he said, eyes looking even darker than before, his smile sharper. "This might be a fun outing after all. Say, where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise," you answered and he leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees as though the carriage wasn't jostling the two of you around slightly.

"Can I guess?" he asked and at your shrug, he began to list places, starting with some waterholes you had heard the worst kind of stories about and ending with places so fancy and expensive only nobility would have been able to afford them.

You had to laugh at his latest suggestion and the carriage slowed to a stop a moment later. "Alright, we're here."

You got out first and offered your hand with the same exaggerated bow as he had and he grinned down, accepting it with over-the-top aplomb. Then he looked up, face brightening. "Oh my, you have chosen unexpectedly well."

You smiled and led the way inside. It wasn't easy to get a table in this place on short notice, but you had been lucky. A patron had cancelled their reservation just moments before you had shown up.

The server showed you to a table that had a good view of the stage and while he was polite, you noticed that he seemed unable to meet Quin's eyes. 

All the patrons around you seemed uncomfortable, turning tense and quiet as the two of you sat down. You noticed some whispering and two people subtly getting up and hurrying away. If Quin noticed as well, he made no mention of it.

Just after ordering food and drink, the first musician showed up and the strangers around you stopped mattering. There was no need to pay attention to anything else when people sang and played their instruments so wonderfully. Quin seemed more than happy to watch the performances as well.

"I think I have to see if I can poach some of them," he mused quietly during an interlude. He was half done with his meal and you were certain it should have grown cold by now, but it was still steaming slightly.

He turned back to you, looking thoughtful. "Are you trying to butter me up for something? Are you in need of a deal now that your future prospect has been...scattered." He said the last word with the sort of smile that felt like it should drip blood down his chin.

"No." You knew just how damn lucky you were that he hadn't demanded a proper deal from you. That whatever you had given him that night, it somehow had been payment enough. You would not tangle with that again if you could help it. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"Hm." He watched you a moment longer, then cut into his steak again. "I believe you."

The performances resumed shortly after and it was quite a pleasant meal. When at last it was over and Quin and you got up, the other patrons hung back, giving the two of you quite a berth. 

Quin was in high spirits, talking easily about what he had liked and enjoyed, gesturing and there was a small spring in his step.

"I have to say, that has been the best meal I had in quite a while," he said, offering his arm as you approached the stairs. You took it readily and he was still as warm as you remembered.

"I'm glad," you said. "I quite enjoyed myself as well." It had been unexpectedly easy to spend time with Quin. He clearly didn't care about impressing others or bothered to worry about what anyone thought of him and it was rather refreshing.

"Well, if you find yourself in need for a dinner companion again, you know where to find me," he said as he stopped in front of the carriage that had returned in time to pick you up. He helped you inside but didn't follow when you waited for him. "There are some artists I have to speak with. See you around, love."

He stepped back and you knocked on the carriage roof without looking away from him. You found your gaze lingering on him until the carriage rounded the corner. He had stayed where he was as he watched you leave, people still giving him plenty of space, their gazes averted.

*.*.*

Somehow, as the days and weeks passed, you found yourself returning to the Revelry again and again. You didn't always see Quin and sometimes he was too busy to do more than greet you, but that was alright. 

His staff had grown unexpectedly fond of you, greeting you with smiles and offering free drinks on the house. Aside from the artists, you got to know Quin's hunters, as most people called them, rather well. 

The hunters were the ones that wore masks and never showed their faces. The ones that everyone seemed uncomfortable around, though they seemed to find them slightly less unsettling than Quin.

Quin, whenever he had time for you, was excellent company. He made you feel warm and welcome and it was so easy to relax and be yourself in his presence. He made you laugh and let you lean against him, made your dreary days brighter and was well read and well educated.

You had both found yourself debating philosophical questions for hours with him and you had danced in the warm rain as summer began, laughing as he hopped through puddles with you, his make-up never once running.

He had made it far, far too easy to fall in love with him. 

With his sharp blood-smiles and his dark eyes and delighted grins at all the joys the world had to offer. With his danger and confident grace and the good treatment of his employees. With the way he leaned in, breath warm against the shell of your ear, as he pointed things out to you or shared secrets.

"How come the boss doesn't bother you?" the barkeeper asked you one afternoon as you waited for Quin to finish a deal and join you for another outing. "It even took me a while to be comfortable around him and he's been nothing but friendly to me from the start."

You knew what she meant, you had observed the effect Quin had on people for some time now. Quin was dangerous and you weren't fool or delusional enough to not know that. To not know that you could easily have that danger turned on you should you threaten him and his.

But it was hard to forget the way he had caught you instead of letting you fall, that he had immediately offered to take care of a perceived offense that few others would have even bothered to acknowledge. That he had covered you with a blanket and gotten you shoes and hadn't asked you to sign any of the scrolls he handed to virtually everyone else that approached him for deals.

So you just shrugged and the barkeep left it at that.

"Love, how good to see you, thank you for waiting," Quin's voice drew your attention and he approached you, easily throwing an arm over your shoulders and tucking you against his side. "Where to today? The usual place?"

You had visited the academy inn you had taken him to a couple of times since, but you shook your head. "I found a new place. Come on or we'll be late."

"Oh, we can't have that, can we?" he sounded delighted, steering you towards the door and lifting his free hand in a lazy goodbye wave to his employees. "Until later, you scoundrels, don't do anything I wouldn't do," he called out, getting laughter and some hoots in return.

Hanging out with Quin had, faster than you had expected, turned into one of your favorite things. He had an ease about him that was part of anything he did and his presence had the added benefit that no one ever bothered you if you went out with him.

It was easy to tell Quin everything and he was a great confidante. Never once had he shared your secrets with anyone else and he never judged you for anything either. He spoke less about himself, but every little thing he revealed you found yourself hoarding like a jealous dragon who managed to scrape together a few coins.

Today, to your surprise, he ended up sharing more than before. Maybe it was the play you had brought him to, one that turned him quieter and more thoughtful than anything else before.

"I know you know I'm not human, not anymore," he said quietly as he watched the lead act fall to his knees in front of a demon, hands raised in supplication. "But you never ask about it."

"In all honesty, I don't care about what you are," you answered just as quietly. "I like you the way you are."

For the first time since you got to know him, he seemed to have no idea what to say. He reached out, offering his hand and you took it readily enough. To your delighted surprise, he laced your fingers together. 

Then he brought your hand up to his lips and you found yourself unable to look away from him. From his dark eyes that began to glow ever so faintly like embers.

He brushed his lips over your knuckles. "I sold my soul to something far older than this world," he murmured, as though pressing his confession into your skin. "I never regretted it, I lead a life I very, very much enjoy after all." 

He pressed a kiss against your knuckles, lips leaving behind red smears like blood, his gaze heavy. "But ever since I got to know you, I find myself glad for my younger self's foolish recklessness. I don't think I could have ever met you otherwise."

"We would have met," you found yourself answering, quiet but sure, certain in a way you felt in the marrow of your bones. "I would have found you."

You would have crossed paths with this man and you would have seen in him what you saw now. Someone who had shaken off the shackles of society, someone who was close to you in spirit. Someone who understood you in a way so few did. Someone who had grown so very, very dear to you.

"And I would have killed for you," Quin said, brushing one more confession against your knuckles before he let your combined hands sink down to the arm of his chair. "I hope you know that I would promise you what I promised this ancient thing years ago if I could."

You hadn't dared to hope, not when you had worried, just a little, that Quin didn't quite feel for you what you felt for him. But now your heart leaped high and soared and a happy grin appeared on your face. "I know now."

He smiled back at you and while you knew his smiles would never be soft and adoring the way you had seen other men smile at their lovers, you didn't want them to be. You liked his danger and his sharp teeth and the way he at times seemed two steps away from going unhinged.

Quin said nothing else for the rest of the performance, but neither did either of you let go of the other's hand. He held it all the way to the carriage, where he offered another of his playfully exaggerated bows while he held open the door.

You set a foot inside, only to lean over and brush a kiss against his cheek. "I had fun tonight."

"I think that's my line," he teased, looking up at you for once. "I'll take you out next time, how does that sound?"

"I look forward to it," you said and he let go of your hand, silver earrings reflecting the light as they swung softly when he closed the door.

He once again waited on the sidewalk as the carriage carried you away and you waved at him, watching him laugh and sketch another bow. The moment he was out of view, his words seeped back into your mind.

You mulled them over for days and slowly, bit by bit, you managed to tease more information out of Quin when you saw him. He never told you what sort of deal he made or with what being, but that was alright. You had access to a library after all and there was an old occultist that frequently visited the Revelry.

It was easy enough to intercept him one night and pull him aside while Quin was busy making deals. You got the man drunk enough to loosen his tongue and since he knew you and Quin were close, he seemed to have come to the assumption that you knew more than most.

You didn't, Quin had kept you firmly away from the sort of things he dealt with, but that assumption worked well in your favor.

Quin and you went on more outings together and despite his usual unafraid and near greedy claiming of the things he wanted, he hadn't done much more than share chaste kisses with you.

He was very content to take things at your pace and you found that incredibly charming, but you were ready to go further. So the next time you visited him, you leaned in and kissed him, deepening the kiss as he leaned against the bar, patrons and employees alike hooting and hollering as he returned the kiss eagerly.

"I think it's time we take this a little further," you whispered against his lips, knowing yours were stained blood red right now.

He was grinning, eyes glowing faintly when you separated. "Oh, love," he murmured in that low voice that seemed to rumble in the air itself. "You can have me as much as you like."

He kissed you breathless and took you dancing until you felt like your heart had soaked up enough joy and love to grow wings and take flight, the two of you never separating for long. 

The next night you kissed him deeply once more and he led you through a night of delight, leaving you gasping and breathless and grinning as wildly as he did.

"Why didn't you ask for a normal deal when you met me?" you asked him that night when you were half asleep in bed with him, his hand tracing shapes across your back. "What was it that I gave you?"

He was quiet for long enough that you were almost fully asleep when he answered, quiet like it was an important secret, "You gave me trust in a way no one had in far, far too long."

You fell asleep with a smile while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You loved him more than ever and when your parents brought up the topic of marriage again a couple of days later, you firmly told them you had chosen your own partner this time. You were done with catering to their desires and wishes. Never again would you let them control your future like they once had.

Especially when, instead, you could spend it with Quin and the Revelry.

It took you another couple of weeks, summer fading to cold autumn, until you at last had everything ready.

A day later, on his birthday, you tumbled Quin into bed while laughter drifted up from the tavern a floor below. Laughter was caught between your lips as you kissed and he made you sing in the best of ways, curling around you afterwards, sated and delighted.

You were reasonably certain that Quin needed next to no sleep, considering that a hunter had once mentioned that he only went to his rooms to read or when you were with him. He did sleep around you, or at least something like it. He always was a little too still when he did it, his breathing just a bit too deep to be normal, his heartbeat that unsettling extra second too slow.

You waited until he grew still and deep and slow and then you snuck out of bed, slow and careful. He didn't wake, not when you pulled pouches from your pockets. Not when you drew in chalk on his floor, not when you set up candles and lit them and not when you approached him with the dagger, metal etched with symbols that made no sense to you, but you knew were correct.

He didn't even wake when you carefully pricked the tip of one finger, letting a single drip of blood fall onto the blade. That one drop swiftly filled all the carved in grooves and lines and now came the thing that had taken the longest to obtain.

It had taken you days to find people even willing to hear you out, never mind go on the sort of dangerous trip you needed to send them on. 

But a group of slightly wild-eyed, hungry adventurers had taken you upon the offer and they had, after weeks, delivered. Bruised, blooded and broken but victorious, grins wilder than ever and their hunger sated. For now.

The heart looked unexpectedly small, barely bigger than half your palm, but it beat still and it was as black as tar. The last tether the ancient horror had to this world.

You placed it in the middle of the circle, Quin still deeply asleep on the bed. His mind was most likely at another place, maybe he was even with this ancient thing, listening to its demands for souls and years and emotions and whatever else he fed it. It was powerful, no doubt, but you also knew Quin was the only reason it got to eat at all.

He was the only one who had a contract with it, the first and only one in centuries who had stumbled across a half sunken tomb and had figured out enough of the symbols to cobble together a ritual. Even his hunters were only an extension of his deal with the old horror he had found.

He hadn't quite understood what he had done, what he had summoned and bound himself to, but he had whole-heartedly accepted it all the same. Unafraid as he was in everything.

There was no undoing what had been done to him, the occultist had been firm about that when you had asked. Quin had given up his humanity and reversing that would be his end. His soul and body and mind had changed too much already. Furthermore, he liked himself like this. 

He didn't want to change, even if he wished he could be free of the contract.

His body bowed like a man possessed when you pierced the heart and a noiseless shriek echoed through the room. It wasn't sound but instead pressure, making the very air itself vibrate, floorboards groaned and walls cracked, windows rattled and shattered and for a second you thought you yourself would break too.

Your bones seemed to try to shrink smaller, your mind feeling like it got squeezed from all sides as fury slammed into you, your ears popping painfully. Fury and fear.

It was that last emotion, that gave you the strength to grip the dagger with both hands and twist it, rending the small, black heart in two.

It was like an outward explosion, as though something as big as a continent exhaled it's least breath forcefully, desperate as it lost its grip on life. The walls and floor cracked to the point where you half expected them to cave and crumble and all at once the candles were extinguished.

In the light from the full moon outside you watched the black heart turn to dust and then it got blown away by a faint breeze until nothing was left.

"What?" Quin's gasping inhale drew your attention and you realized you were shaking and sweating and feeling unnaturally cold.

He sat up in bed, eyes glowing like an entire fireplace full of embers. "Love," he said and his voice rumbled through the air, heavy with new power. "What did you do?"

"Happy birthday," you answered, slightly breathless. "Do you like my present?"

He scrambled out of bed, suddenly frantic and graceless in a way he never, ever was. His knees hit the ground and his hands cupped your face, glowing eyes roving over your face like he had never seen it before. Had never seen you like this before.

"You killed an old god for me," he whispered, his voice on the verge something reverent and awed as he gave off an air of power so much deeper and larger that his previous presence would have looked pitiful in comparison.

"You wanted to be free, right?" you asked quietly and when you smiled at him, you knew you still had his blood-red lipstick on your lips from kissing him previously. You knew it was dark enough with only moonlight in the room that it must've looked like real blood.

He laughed and it was half relief and half astonishment and then he was kissing you, fiercer and deeper than ever before. It felt like he was trying to pour the power you had gifted him into you, filling your veins the way you had filled his.

"I devote myself to you," he said breathlessly between kisses, each one as fierce and consuming and gifting as the last. "My soul, in light and darkness, shall be yours until my dying day."

You could only kiss back just as fiercely, gripping his hips and pulling him closer as he climbed into your lap, leaning over you and kissing you and kissing you until you felt drunk on it and his power.

"Move in with me," he whispered against your lips. "You're already a part of this place. The Revelry loves you. I love you."

"Let's adopt a cat," you whispered back and he laughed, sounding half delirious and delighted enough that it wouldn't have surprised you to hear him shout from the rooftops in a moment.

"A beautiful idea," he said, eyes glowing and blood-red grin just as dangerous as ever, his teeth looking even sharper than before. "I love you."

You couldn't help but grin back. "Neat."

He laughed, wild and free, wrapping his arms tightly around you and swaying back and forth a bit, his weight heavy and grounding and warm in your lap until the last of the unnatural chill was chased from your bones. 

Then he held and kissed you until he got his newly gained power under control and someone knocked on the door.

It were his hunters and for the first time they had taken off their masks, glowing eyes staring at the two of you with barely contained hope and wonder.

"We're free," Quin said, still in your lap and his grin was delightfully wild and on the edge of unhinged. "You are free to stay or go and never again will you be trapped in a contract."

It didn't surprise you when they stayed, fists pressed over hearts and fealty offered but not demanded. Given, not owned. 

"Marevlous," Quin said when they left again, pressing kisses against your face, leaving smears of blood red behind. "Precious, crafty, devious, mine."

You gripped his hips. "And you're mine."

"Until the end of time," he promised, hands still cradling your face and he pressed your foreheads together. His voice grew quieter, intense, a promise he would have never given that old god, no matter its demands, "For this life and all that follow, until this world crumbles to dust and all the stars have died."

A promise better than any wedding vow you could have asked for. "In each one I will find you," you answered his promise, feeling him press even closer, heat and weight and danger and power. "My soul will always recognize yours."

"Thank you," he whispered, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "Thank you, for this gift and for trusting me when you met me. For never shying from me when others didn't even dare to look me in the eye. For giving me everything I ever wanted. For loving me."

You smiled and hugged him back tightly. He already knew that he had given you everything you could have asked for the night he killed for you. All without asking for anything. Without ever taking anything from you.

He had set you free from more than a lethal marriage contract. And now that he had shucked his shackles to an old god, now that he was free and still very much not human, you felt like everything was complete.

You couldn't wait to get that cat and to wake up to love and blood-red smiles for the rest of your life.

[soxcietyy]

Haunted House

Yuta Okkotsu x fem reader

Tw: sucking dick 🤪

Every year a group of students are picked at Jujutsu tech to create a "Haunted house". Usually made from whatever the students could do or create. They were given two weeks to complete it before they opened it. As childish as it sounded it was part of the school’s tradition. This year Yuta, Itadori, and panda were chosen to go all out.

You didn’t want to brag but you, Megumi and Inumaki had the best haunted house last year. Especially because you decided to sneak curse spirits into the place as props. Let’s just say Maki ended up exercising them all.

You weren't quite sure what to expect from those boys. You would see them meet up on campus to plan things out often. Though every time you got near they’d shoo you away. Yuta would refuse to spoil anything because that would ruin the fun. So tonight was the night you would find out if all his hard work paid off.

Taking your uniform off a after a long day at school you decide to switch to something more casual. That being a skirt and a tee. Megumi had asked if you wanted to accompany him through the haunted house seeing how his best friend was hosting it meaning he had no one to go with. Agreeing he asked you to get ready and to meet him at the school entrance by sundown.

By the time you get there you see everyone there. Megumi being in the front of the line, most likely to get this over with. Yuta stood in front of a set of doors to the school building. The other ones seem to be missing but that didn’t matter. Approaching Megumi you link your arm around his stiff one. He wasn’t much of a fan of contact but as a gentleman taking a lady to a haunted house he needed to make her feel safe.

You could see Yuta from the corner of your eye looking irritated. Though he didn’t say anything to you. You could read him like an open book and you could tell he was not pleased by this. A younger tall male that had someone’s girlfriend attached to his arm.

Your lovely boyfriend still had his uniform on but was also damped in sweat from working hard today. You flutter your eyes at him catching him roll his eyes. Obviously you were just messing with your boyfriend though he didn’t find it quite funny.

"We are going to make this where only two people at a time will be able to go in. Shouldn’t take any long, also please do not harm the actors. We can’t have the same incident twice in a row." Yuta said as he directed you and Megumi in first.

Entering you could see much since the windows where covered up. The only light source being the few hallway lights they decided to leave on. The building was covered in spider webs and big fuzzy spiders. You would see some props around the hall not knowing if they were fake or them hiding.

As Jujutsu sorcerer you would think this wouldn’t be scary. You know being used to going to haunted abandoned places and fighting off curse spirits but knowing people are trying to scare you just made you overthink.

Walking down the hall you could see a shadow walk across the hall. You quickly pause and look at Megumi. “Do we really have to go there?" You ask.

"If we want to get this over with quicker yes." He said pulling you along. You could hear the echo of your foot steps the further you went down the hall. You could hear the old wood settling around the building. You could feel eyes being on you.

You hated this time of year. You were the only one that would get scared easily and would run away. You remember your first year you ran out the building crying. You cringe at the embarrassing memory.

Surprisingly nothing has happened yet. The second you were about to open your mouth the door next to you slammed open. You let out a scream as you backed up bumping into Megumis chest. Looking up you saw as a huge body overlooked you. He let out a loud roar as he put his arms up to grab you. Pulling your fist back to punch him you feel your grind grab your arm.

"Calm down it’s just panda." He said.

Letting out a shaky breath you take a double take and noticed it was panda but not panda? He was an all white panda… a polar bear.

"What’s more scarier than a panda? A polar bear, one of the most deadly bear species." He chuckled as he walked off.

You grabbed your chest trying to calm yourself down. Such a simple jump scare and you fell for it. Continuing your journey you decide it was best to stand behind Megumi. He would be the first one to get scared rather than you. You always thought about how trusting people are in hunted houses. How did you know there wasn’t an actual crazy person blending in? How do you know if a criminal didn’t just decided to join just to kill people. What if a crazy person snuck onto campus and is pretending to be a student?

"Megumi I think we should go back and call it a night." You say to him as you follow behind.

"Y/n your older than me, act like it." He said not stopping.

Coming closer to another corner you see something reflect with the light. It seemed to be a shiny piece of metal on the wall. Peeking over Megumi who had finally come to a stop you notice another piece of metal. Slowly three more appears and a face creeped around the corner. Their face was pealing off revealing blood and they wore a hat. You screamed as you saw him fully. It had to be Freddy fucking Krueger.

"Relax it’s probably Itadori in a costume." Megumi said reinsuring you.

He was right plus he was the last one to get pass. Yuta wasn’t wearing a costume when you saw him. Before you could even calm down you heard a loud noise behind you. Slowly turning your head you see a guy in a white button down with their sleeves rolled up, and black pants. They wore a hockey mask and carried a chain saw. Your heart dropped as he came closer to you guys. You grab Megumi’s hand holding it tight.

All of a sudden you felt his tense up. This wasn’t good at all. It was almost as they had a count down because after three seconds of you guys standing there both people from down each hall started running towards you guys. You screamed and ran away leaving Megumi to fend for himself.

Running past Freddy you make a sharp right turn hoping it was the correct way to the exit. You turn around to check if anyone followed you and sure enough Jason was walking towards you quickly with his chain saw running. You regretted looking back, not only because you didn’t like what you saw but because you ended up falling to the ground. You ended up falling and hitting your chin. Then a sharp pain was felt on your knee but you had no time to look at it. Standing back up you ran even faster. You were going to find the exit no matter what. Going down the hall you made it to a blocked off exit. Panic set in as you thought of what to do. Pulling a class room door open you hid inside of it.

This class room was empty but had plenty of cabinets to hide in. Quickly you run to one and fit your body inside. You were panting at this point. Breathing hard to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe you left Megumi. He was so going to hate you from now on. Still feeling pain on your knee and pull your phone out and use the flash to inspect. Taking a look horror washed upon you seeing a thumb tack in your knee. You wanted to let a cry out knowing how painful it was going to be. Before you could even attempt to pull it out you hear a loud door creek. Gasping you drop your phone on your stomach and clasp your hand on your mouth. You could hear as his steps became closer and how our heart pounded.

Closing your eyes shut you felt a sudden gust of wind. You gasped as you felt an arm grab you and drag you out. They dragged you against the cold floor to a corner of the room trapping you. Tears streamed down your face as you begged him to let you go. Coming down to eye level with you he let out a chuckle.

"My poor baby girl," he said taking his mask off to reveal himself. Of course it had to be Yuta. His face was even more damp than before and his hair was a mess. He held your face as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. Looked at you up and down with a smile in his face clearly enjoying the view. "I love seeing tears in your eyes but only when my cock is in your mouth."

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to push his hands away from your face. Though he didn’t budge at all keeping them in the same place.

"Yuta I hurt myself." You say pointing at your left knee. He turned his attention to it, raising his brows at the sight of it.

"Ouch, let me pull it out for you." He said as he tried grabbing but you swat his hand away.

"It’s going to hurt so don’t touch it." You say trying to let Shoko look at it first.

You were ready to go home at this point. When trying to find a way to stand up you see as he slowly boxes you in. Two hands places against the wall and his body covering the sight of the exit. You look at him confused.

"We can’t leave yet.” He said

"Why is that?" You say looking at him.

He didn’t respond immediately but when he did decide to he made sure to look away. "I have a hard on". His face seemed to turn a shade of pink in the dark. Looking at his member you could definitely see it protrude through the pants he wore.

"Can you please suck it?" He asks looking at you with eyes full of arousal.

This was definitely not how you thought this haunted house was gonna go.

Nodding in agreement you felt his hand rest on the back of your head pulling you towards his crotch. Smushing you face right onto his hard member. You could feel the heat of it through the fabric as he continued to rub you on it. Letting go he quickly undid his pants. Pulling his cock out to reveal how urgent he needed this done. You could see how it was leaking with precum.

Grabbing his member he rubbed the tip of it on your lips, glazing them in his juices. He still wore a smile as he did it.

Grabbing his members you spit on it. Coating it in your saliva. Running your hands up and down his shaft. You could see the goosebumps on his arm as you continued. Increasing g the speed of your hands you moved onto his sack. Placing both balls in your mouth. He groaned feeling your hot wet tongue play with them. They felt soft but big in your mouth.

"Open." He says desperate for more.

Slowly you open your mouth for him to use. Looking up at his with your puppy eyes. He bit the bottom of his lip before shoving his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise not thinking he was going to go all in. You let out a gag but that didn’t stop him. Grabbing your hair he bobbed your head back and forth. Throwing his head back he groaned loudly. Letting out mumbles of curse words.

"Fuck, your so fucking perfect."

His cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly. While his balls would smack your chin as he went on.

"Your so fucking good at taking me. Keep your eyes on me baby no looking away." He said as he’s pushing your head all the way to his base. You’re eyes began to tear up. Drool leaked out of your mouth dripping onto the floor. He loved the way you were messy on his cock. The slurping sounds you made, the way you gagged, the way you just looked at him.

With a few final shoves he pulls out and comes all over your face. You looked at him baffled for a minute. He also looked at you shocked not being able to believe he did that. Not only because it was all over you but the fact that students and teachers where outside waiting for them to come out.

[rentumblsstuff]

*watching Santa Claus is Going to High School*

Peter: Why is Noel still okay with going out with him after finding out he’s Santa?! He’s too old for her!

Ruth: Hey, I’d be happy for an older man to put me on his naughty list.

Richie: If I were Noel, I’d immediately ask him if the elves get paid or if he’s running a holly jolly sweatshop.

Steph: Oh, sweat shop for sure! Look at the actor playing Kris Kringle. He looks like he’s done some shit, and he’s dating a girl, like, one thousandth of his age. That Santa has no room to judge anyone.

[pepaldi]

As we chat, the postman rings the bell, delivering packages. Council tree surgeons are working on the road outside. My son needs water, words of comfort, possibly he just wants another good long look at Capaldi. I’ve never interviewed anyone in my own home before and the limitations of the format are becoming apparent. But Capaldi seems to respond well to the setting and its lack of frills. His adult daughter and her family have been visiting, brand new baby in tow. When I apologise for all the noise and interruptions, Capaldi says it’s nothing compared to a newborn.

He and Collins were young parents themselves when his directing career fell apart. Arriving back in London from the disastrous Manhattan trip, “The initial feeling was shock. Then a pragmatic survival instinct kicked in.” Capaldi rejoined the auditioning circuit. “I was a psychiatrist in Midsomer Murders. I was a beekeeper in Poirot – AN Other Actor. Someone else would have turned down these parts first.” Collins, until that point an actor, too, decided to pivot into development and production, a career move that has worked well for her.

*

“This business is full of people who are not the real thing,” he says, “people I perceived to be artists ’cos they had posh accents, but who didn’t have it, they just sounded like they did.” He goes on to tell a tantalising but intentionally vague story about a major star he worked with, someone who revealed themselves through the course of an acting collaboration to be a dud hiding in plain sight. He won’t provide details (“Too easy to figure out. When everyone’s dead I’ll tell you”), but he says the experience changed him professionally, leaving him more aware of his own limitations, but grateful to have a little vinegar and grit in the mix. “There’s a kind of smoothness, a kind of confidence that comes from a good [paid-for] school. That’s what you’re struck by: they seem to know how to move through the world recognising which battle to fight, where to press their attentions. But it can make the acting smooth, which to me is tedious. I like more neurosis. More fear. More trouble, you know?”

*

In the new TV show, Criminal Record, he explores a more mortal kind of ageing, life’s third act, its inevitable professional humblings. Capaldi plays a London DCI in his 60s, coming to the end of a career, already moonlighting as a private security contractor, intimidated by the thrust and purpose of a younger colleague at the Met played by Cush Jumbo. As Jumbo’s character grows in confidence, Capaldi’s shrinks. It is a paradox of experience he can relate to. “I find the older I get, the closer I am to who I was,” he says.

I ask him to explain.

“Like I’m returning to… ‘roots’ is the wrong word. I feel more and more like my mother and father, more and more keenly aware of the values they had.” He provides an interesting example, how he has become all thumbs around the act of tipping in restaurants: “I can be in a complete sweat about that.” He can imagine his parents, both dead now, in a similar muddle. “From the background we come from, you can have a bit of anxiety about coming across as grand. So you have to allay that by making sure you are communicating with everybody, all the time.”

Capaldi shakes his head, chuckling softly. He has finished his coffee. He’s about to put on his big coat, say goodbye to my son, and walk back through Whoville to his home and his family. Before he leaves we return to the subject of actors from privileged backgrounds. He says he feels mean, like he took unfair advantage of them in their absence. “It’s not their fault,” he says. “It’s just that there’s less and less of my lot in the arts.” And this concerns him, he continues, because “people of all backgrounds are sophisticated, are interesting, are equally prone to tragedy and joy. Any art that articulates that is a comfort. Art is the ultimate expression of you are not alone, wherever you are, whatever situation you are in. Art is about reaching out. So I think it’s wrong to allow one strata of society to have the most access.”

He nods, feeling he’s expressed himself better. I agree.

The whole interview over at The Guardian.