#things get hot between adam and michael

[babyblue-mind]

my silly, silly boy <3

[superblysubpar]

<- part one | part three -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: The week of the bet begins with a bang.

the song: Bodybag by chloe moriondo

also for your listening pleasure: Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran / The Girl is Mine by Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney / I Can't Go For That by Daryl Hall & John Oates

4,024 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / underage alcohol consumption & mentions / slut shaming from idiot/asshole teens | my blog is 18+

A house on Cornwallis Street - the past

The beat from the drums in the Duran Duran song playing throbbed, the speakers physically pulsing as you passed them. Your heels stuck to the kitchen tiles as you entered the room that had been your sanctuary for the past hour. Once the beer had been moved to the living room and the chip bowls thoroughly destroyed, the sticky vodka bottles and punch that looked like something died in it weren’t visited as frequently as they had been at the start of the night. 

So it was there, forearms pressed to the edge of the sink as you lifted a foot and rolled your ankle, then the next, with a soft and maybe too sensual sigh of relief, that Steve Harrington finally caught you alone. 

“New shoes?”

You spun, forgetting the teeny tiny sticks beneath your heels didn’t really care for quick movements or aiding in the process of balancing. 

He caught your forearm, fingers curled around your wrist as you settled. Like he was reminded he wasn’t supposed to like you, he dropped it, fingers running through the darkening hair he was keeping longer now instead as you lied. 

“No.”

Steve squinted at you, taking a sip out of red cup, mumbling into the plastic with a snort, “Sure.”

Your arms crossed, now acutely aware of the fact that the entire outfit you’d been in all night was much more revealing than anything you’d worn around him before. Eyes focused on the denim cut off a little too high on your thighs and the sliver of skin between the top of the mini skirt and your borrowed pink top as you accused, “What are you doing here?”

Steve took a step closer, white Adidas kicking a forgotten red solo cup as he did. 

“Funny,” he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “Was just about to ask you the same thing.”

As you glanced up, you couldn’t help but notice the dark blue of his polo was starting to get tight around his shoulders and biceps.

Couldn’t help but look at his eyes that were unwavering in their gaze on you. Which all only made your skin hot, made you need to look away and pretend you were looking for something on the counter littered in trash. 

“Where else would I be, Harrington?” 

Steve was right behind you as he hummed, “Anywhere else. Literally, anywhere but a house party.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You spun with the biting accusation, the little black heels now your arch nemesis as they wobbled beneath unsteady ankles again. Steve caught your waist that time, bodies closer together as you fell back against the counter. 

He didn’t let go, his finger resting just above the denim, right against your skin. 

“It means,” he swallowed, exhaling a shaky breath as he leaned in and explained, voice taking on a tone that seemed like he was quoting something. Or someone. “That I thought you were better than stale beer and shitty conversation with idiots.”

A flash of an argument with your friend Robin in the hallway ghosted across your memory, making your lips part, but only a small noise escaped them. 

The movement and sound had Steve’s eyes glancing down, his adams apple bobbing. It had him squeeze at your hip involuntarily, had you wondering if it was possible for skin to spontaneously catch on fire. 

“I love beer,” you finally managed to sputter out while wondering if he always had those two freckles on his cheek and if he did, why could you suddenly not look away from them as they lifted with his smirk. 

“Yeah?” He offered his cup out to you, “Have at it, honey.”

Maybe it was the challenge in his eyes. Or that word, honey, that made you do it - made you aware of how close you were to the boy you’d always hated and how he wasn’t the one you came with. 

You took the cup and kept eye contact as the rim met your lips, kept it while the bitter liquid washed over your tongue. You kept it still, as you wondered if it was the color of his eyes or the alcohol that had your stomach warm and fizzing with something abnormal. 

“For the record,” you whispered after your fingers swiped at your lips, “I do hate shitty conversation with idiots. I came in here for a drink for my boyfriend.”

Steve blinked, like he hadn’t heard anything you’d said since you took the cup from him and that wonderful pride swelled in your chest with the thought that you’d successfully gotten the ball back to your side of the court. 

You cocked your head and blinked innocent eyes up at him, “Brenden Peterson? Junior? I think you’re on the basketball team with him…or well…” you winced, “You’re on the bench of the team he plays for…”

Steve’s hand dropped from your waist as boisterous calls came from the other room, shouting about spin the bottle. Tina’s voice carried over the music that dulled to something quieter, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney singing about loving the same girl. Your name called in her shrill squeal, asking if you were playing. 

“Absolutely!” You yelled, still too close to Steve, “I love spin the bottle!”

You were sure it was the beer on your tongue that made the words slip over it, then out of cherry glossed lips so easily. 

Not the way Steve Harrington was looking at you. That had nothing to do with it. 

Nothing at all. 

Steve finally made a noise, scoffing as you shimmied out from his spot keeping you against the counter, wandering closer to the rowdy boys cheering at your agreeability to the suggested game. 

His jaw pulsed as you sipped out of the solo cup and made eye contact with him over the rim. He hated that something deep in his biology or wherever it came from had him suddenly panicked he’d pop a boner when your tongue darted out to catch amber liquid and foam from a pouted bottom lip. 

He hated that he followed you into that room. 

That he sat across from you in that circle. 

He hated what happened next. 

You were looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed together as a girl named Carol patted the carpet next to her and told you to sit. Brendan wasn’t in the room and as you looked around the circle, you caught Steve looking right at you with a challenge in his eyes not unsimilar to the one you just had in the kitchen. 

So you leaned forward and yelled, “Me first!” 

The circle ooh’ed, Steve looked anywhere but your chest as you crawled to the center and your fingers spun the green bottle. 

You were settled on your knees, blinking down at the slowing bottle and silently screaming for it to keep spinning, keep spinning, keep…

Carol yelled out an “Oh La La!” and boys snickered as the green bottle finally stopped right between Steve Harrington and Tommy H. 

“I-I just spin again, right?” You went to do so, panicking as Tina laughed from somewhere on your right. 

“Nope! Gotta kiss both boys!” 

“But I-“

“Oh, come on!” Carol moaned, snickering, “It’s just a kiss! Or two!”

You hesitated, hating the way Tommy grinned at you and Steve continued to stare at the carpet. 

“Wait,” someone in the circle laughed, “You’ve kissed a guy before, right?”

Another person whispered, “Dude, that’s Brendan’s latest conquest. The one who…in the back of his…”

Your vision got a little blurry, the room suddenly too warm.

“Come on, I don’t bite,” Tommy shrugged, lifting his eyebrows up and smirking. “Unless you want me to.”

Steve’s fingers clenched into fists on his knees, he finally looked up at you and whispered, “You don’t have to-“

His words were cut off as you grabbed Tommy’s collar and pulled him towards you. Lips colliding in a kiss that made the circle cheer, wet lips and tongue and you pulled away with a gasp. Grabbing at Steve who looked shocked but his hand landed on your waist as your noses bumped. 

You took a deep breath, your eyelids started to flutter closed when you heard, “What do we have here?”

Brendan stood to the side of the circle, a tilted head of mussed blond hair. He laughed as he gestured to the circle, “Wow, you really will just do whatever guys ask you to, huh?”

Looking around the circle, everyone snickered into drinks or looked at you then Brendan, waiting for more of the show. 

“I-“

“You what?” Brendan interrupted, eliciting more laughs and your eyes started to burn, cheeks too hot when Brendan nodded at Steve and scoffed,

“Enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and when Tommy started to laugh, “Oh no, she’s cry-“

Steve elbowed him and whispered your name.

You shoved at him and stood, ready to bolt, when you saw the girl standing just behind Brendan with the purple mark blossoming on her neck.

Your jaw clenched as you took a step, then another, Brendan too focused on laughing at you with his buddies to care until he was doused in beer. 

The music stopped, the circle fell silent, and Brendan blinked through foam, swiping at his eyes as he growled, “What the fu-“

“Enjoy continuing to fail freshman level biology, getting kicked off the basketball team, and going absolutely fucking nowhere in your life, Brendan.”

You threw the crumpled red solo cup at his face as you tried to leave the room with some ounce of grace on the stupid heels you couldn’t wait to never see again. 

The slam of the front door behind you rattled the framed photos inside as much as the sob in your lungs did to your breath. Your fingers pressed to your lips as you blinked back the hot tears that wanted to pour out of you. 

“Hey,” a quiet voice from your left called, “You okay?”

A boy was leaning on his elbows in the grass, curly brown hair that was a little too long catching in the breeze, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips. He looked familiar, like you’d seen him in the back of the band room or somewhere in the first few months at Hawkins High. 

He looked you over and shook his head with a grimace, “Yeah, no, that’s not an okay face.”

“I’m fi-fine,” you managed to hiccup out. 

“Well, fine,” he groaned like a person much older than the boy he was as he stood, “I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

A laugh left you, despite the tears still trailing down your cheeks. You swiped at them and told him your actual name. 

Eddie nodded and twisted the toe of a black boot into the cigarette now on the ground. “Still nice to meet you, but far less cool and interesting of a name than ‘Fine’ if you ask me.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Eddie,” you waved a little, hugged your arms around yourself and started down the driveway, only stopping to kick off your black heels and leave them in the grass. As you began again, now barefoot, his voice carried on the early autumn breeze. 

“Hey, Fine!” 

He grinned when you turned, and he held up his hands in surrender as he spoke. “Tell me to fuck off, but whatever just happened inside is not worth your time or energy, but you know what is?”

You sighed, and waved your hand towards him, “I suppose you’re gonna tell me yourself?”

He beamed and held a hand to his chest covered in some sort of skull and snake design, “Well, that probably remains to be seen. I do have a whole presentation on the value of having a Munson for a friend, but, nah, I was gonna say cherry pie.”

That laugh left you again, and Eddie only smiled wider at the sound, a dimple poking out on his cheek. 

You looked at him, then the house behind him, then down at the heels in the grass. 

“Can we stop and get me new shoes?”

“Can we…?” Eddie looked at you incredulously, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t think of bringing you to get cherry pie without sneakers on your feet.”

He waved to a van a few cars down the street, bowing, “Your chariot awaits, ma’lady.”

By the time Steve got outside, bruised and bloody knuckles hung limply at his sides as he watched a van round the corner of his street, then disappear. 

A house on Cornwallis Street - the present

His fingers press the top of the alarm clock at precisely five fifty-nine am on Monday morning, the red glow of clock telling him he’s up too early yet again. 

He doesn’t drive Robin to school anymore, he doesn’t have to be at work till nine thirty, but he’s kind of used to his routine now.

And it’s not like he was sleeping anyways. 

His old Hawkins High swim team t-shirt slips over his head as he sighs, hands rubbing and slapping at his cheeks as he thinks about how he hasn’t really slept all weekend. He’s lacing his sneakers up as he thinks about how he definitely didn’t sleep on Friday. 

Not after he let you inside, and you smiled at him like that. After he yelled about how this wasn’t a fair bet and how Eddie upped the stakes to three hundred dollars then, the ‘arch nemesis’ clause as he put it. 

He holds his ankle in the driveway, pulling his leg up and stretching it, then the other, glaring at the red sign on the front lawn in the hazy morning sun beginning to rise. He starts down the sidewalk, but sees the house on the corner and decides that after an entire weekend of revisiting memory lane, he doesn’t need to physically go down the literal lane of his past mistakes and regrets. 

His feet thump on the ground in time with the Duran Duran song playing in his walkman. 

Family Video - the present

Daryl Hall and John Oates voices abruptly stop when you slam the stop button on your walkman due to the sight in front of you. 

Your feet straddle the baby blue bike, docs pressed to the pavement as you glare at the maroon car idling in the parking lot. 

He has his head leaned back against the head rest, eyes closed. His arms are crossed over the green vest while Tears for Fears plays out the open window quietly. 

Pulling your headphones down around your neck, you slam your hand on the hood of his car and Steve jumps in his seat, blinking profusely and swiping at his eyes before he glares at you.

“What are you doing here?” You accuse, fingers gripping your handlebars.

Steve rolls his eyes then his window up. He yanks his keys from the ignition, the sudden loss of the vehicles noises making the cicadas and frogs in the pond across the street louder. 

He gets out and squints at you as he slams the door. 

“Cute helmet.”

You quickly snap it off, cheeks warming as you shove your bike lock into a wheel and glare at him from your new crouched position. 

“Again,” you snap the lock closed, “Why are you here?”

Steve sighs, leaning against the storefront’s window. “We open at ten, do we not?”

“We,” you laughed, sticking your key into the front door with the shake of your head, “Don’t do anything. You work in the afternoon all week. With Robin. I’m alone in the mornings until we-“

“Find a replacement for Tracy. Yeah,” Steve bites the inside of his cheek, pointing his finger like he’s just remembered something, “Keith said something about that. But, well, I volunteered for extra shifts, to help out while we’re short staffed for summer.”

You pull the key from the lock and narrow your eyes. “You what?”

Steve smiles at you, freckles on his cheek lifting as he shows off perfect teeth. “What can I say, I’m just a nice guy.”

You actually yell out a, “Ha!” with your head thrown back as you open the front door, not caring to hold it open for him. 

“You…you…” you stomp towards the back room as you search for the right words, “Slimy, sneaky…”

“Sexy?” Steve provides, following you.

“No.” You spin with the word, not expecting him to be so close behind you.

He stops just as abruptly as you, face mere centimeters from yours, both of you having the cover of the slow to buzz on overhead lights to steal breaths and find your composure once more. 

Steve sighs, walking past you towards the wall where time cards are kept. “Listen, if it’s actually that terrible to work with me, I can call Keith again. But I really would appreciate the extra shifts.”

You hang your helmet on a hook and push your own card into the machine, skepticism evident in your voice as you ask, “You need the extra shifts?”

Steve faces your profile, and you feel his gaze lingering on your cheek as he whispers, “Well, yeah. I’m about to be out three hundred dollars in a week.”

Turning to face him, you finally take in his appearance. The sincere look in his eyes is almost overshadowed by the circles under them, the frown of his pink lips almost forgotten due to the stubble surrounding them that’s not normally there. 

Your silence seems to mean something to him though, because the frown becomes a smirk, and his head tilts as he asks, “Or am I not?”

“Not what?” 

His smirk becomes a full smile, “Not gonna be out three hundred bucks. See something you like, babe?”

And just like that, it’s gone. 

Your eyes roll as your shoulder bumps his on the way to the coffee pot.

“In your dreams, Harrington.”

He watches you press start on the coffee, sitting on top of the break rooms table with crossed arms over a plain blue t-shirt. 

“Bet you’d like that.”

You fiddle with the cream you’ve pulled out of the fridge, the clipboard of tasks Keith left for the week. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, keeping your tone bored, willing the minutes of this day to go by faster. 

Steve’s voice is quieter, and closer to you as he says, “If I dreamt about you.”

Spinning at his words, cream canister in one hand, coffee mug in the other almost colliding with his chest. You blink at him as he continues, “Bet you’d like it even more if I told you what we did in those dreams.”

Your back hits the counter, not realizing Steve took a step closer as he spoke and there was nowhere for you to avoid how good he smelled or how what he was saying was making you sure there was something wrong with your stomach. Nowhere to avoid the eyes that look at you unashamed, and you could swear dare to seem hopeful. 

Until he’s grinning, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

And doesn’t he?

Steve taps the counter behind you twice with two of his fingers and hums. 

“On second thought, maybe you should take my afternoon shifts. Looks like I’m not the one who’s gonna be needing the extra cash after all.”

He leaves, whistling a song you can’t quite place, but it itches at your skin, demanding to be felt like the burn of his words left on your cheeks. 

You shake your head, and fix your coffee. This is not happening. Despite Robin and Eddie vouching for the new and improved Harrington, you will never, ever, believe it. 

You will never let him win. 

Especially after the first morning shift with him. 

When the store opens at ten, there are three cars in the lot already, families stocking up on weekly rentals. Kids are in and out, shouting about candy and horror movie marathons. Steve and you are both behind the counter for most of the shift dealing with returns and large purchases, arms bumping too many times to count. It’s when his hands land on your hips as you threaten to topple over with the stack of tapes you were desperate to get out on the shelves in the lull, that you both notice you’re finally alone again for the first time in four hours. 

Steve’s breath hits your neck, making you even warmer with a murmured, “You’re welcome,” when you gasp out a thanks. He drops his hands quickly and squints up at the ceiling, then out the front doors. 

The sky has turned darker, gray and gloomy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a typical summer thunderstorm was rolling in. 

Steve leans against the counter, the back of his hand swiping through his hair as the other fiddles with the TV remote. He turns off The Breakfast Club, switching to a cable station. You keep your back to him as he’s surely staring at the news anchor’s chest that most men in Hawkins want to suffocate in, until he mutters, “Knew it.”

“That Lucy Lebrock’s boobs were fake?” You mumble, stacking tapes.

Steve snorts out a laugh and then he gasps, standing up straighter, “Holy shit. Are they really?”

“Honestly, Harrington, look at them.” You spin and gesture to the TV and whisper, “Oh, fuck.”

“I know,” Steve nods, biting the inside of his lip as he glances out the store windows again. 

Lucy points to a map showing a massive storm inching closer to Hawkins, red banner announcing a tornado watch for surrounding areas. 

Steve and you continue to watch, leaning against the counter next to each other in silence as Lucy tells everyone about tornado safety. 

“I cannot believe they’re not real. You’re right. I really am an idiot.” Steve’s whisper finally breaks the silence. 

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand, hiding your laugh but your eyes sparkle when he looks at you. 

And then a loud clap of thunder booms overhead, like the universe itself is warning you of what’s happening, of the danger just around the corner. 

Then the power goes out. 

It all happens quickly after that, and yet, each moment lingers, like it’s making sure you’re committing it all to memory. 

There’s a moment where you grab Steve’s arm and he grabs your hip. 

One where you both jump a part, shouting sorry too loud.

There’s another, that threatens to steal your breath when Steve holds his vest over your head as you squint through rain streaming down your face as you lock the front door, the ‘Sorry we’re closed’ sign swinging behind the glass erratically as you inhale cedar and mint.

Then one, that grabs something inside of your chest and squeezes, when you start towards your bike and Steve slips his fingers between yours and tugs, shouting over the rain, “Don’t be stupid!”

There’s several filled with the splashes of your feet in puddles as he tugs you towards the BMW’s passenger side, unlocking it and racing around the hood himself. 

One that’s silent, save for rain pelting the metal roof, and both of your heavy breaths fogging up the glass. 

Then the sirens start going off, Steve’s fingers shake as he starts the car, swiping water from his eyes with the other. 

“My…my apartment. It’s on the other side of…”

Steve shakes his head, backing out carefully as the wipers work faster than what seems possible, and yet they do nothing to aid in his ability to see out the windshield. 

“Honey, you’re crazy if you think I’m taking you anywhere other than my house that has a full basement and an emergency storm kit Robin made me make with her last summer.”

Honey. 

The word lingers, swooshed away with the sound of the wipers and the Duran Duran song that scratches the itch that lingered all morning spilling out of the car’s speakers. It disappears with the spin of tires on the wet pavement as they take you to Cornwallis Street. 

Tag List - thanks for your endless patience and excitement for this and sorry for the delay in posting today 💛

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[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

Michael is an Asshole

Near death experience

An Angel cries

Chapter 3 < Chapter 4 > Chapter 5

Lucifer was on edge. 

What is Michael doing here? 

Why Michael of all? The one that hates him more than anything. 

Michael was standing in his home destroying the peace Charlie and you had.

The peace you enjoyed so much that he wanted to keep. 

For the sake of you two.

His inner demon wanted to rip Michael limp from limp.

Its craving to use Michael’s blood to paint the town in pure gold with his blood.

Lucifers feather rustle out of anger.

“You would never pay me a visit Michael. We both know that.” After all it was his Fault.

Michael and Gabriel gave him the Idea to begin with.

And in the end they were the one who let him fall into this personal nightmare.

In hell. 

Lucifer almost lost his life because of them.

Meanwhile confusing was written all over your face. 

Brother? 

Michael? The Arch angel? 

Your brain was working on overload. 

Slowly it started to click. You completely dismissed the thought that Lucifer is an arch Angel.

An offspring from God himself. 

The Soulmate bond let you feel Lucifers rage, and his urge to protect you and his daughter.

It pushes you to stay put and to have faith in him. 

Lucifer was still in a protecting pose to protect you.

He didn’t even realize when he was in front of you.

In a blink of an eye, he saw himself protecting you with his wings. Making them larger and covering you.

What was wrong with him?

Was it because you grew close in these last days, or was there more?

Has he caught feelings for you?

It made sense. Common logic.

His train of thoughts were Interrupted by Michaels speech.

“You’re clever as ever. But I do have to disappoint you. I’m not here for you, but rather for that seraphim behind you.” Michael’s gaze moved from Lucifer towards you. 

His pure blue eyes bored into you, you felt almost naked under his stare.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress hoping it will help with your anxiety that started to build up in your system.

You heard an animalistic growl coming from Lucifer. 

“You better get the fuck away Michael.” 

It is terrifying. Lucifer is terrifying. You should be scared, but you aren’t. 

You found this utterly attractive. 

Lucifers horns were showing in all their might and all you could do was looking at them in awe. 

Michael was still staring at you, Ignoring Lucifers threat.

It fueled Lucifers Anger even more, the lights started to flicker in the hotel. 

Sweat pearled down from Charlie’s face.

She’s never seen her father that pissed before. Not even with Alastor nor Adam.

His eyes showing nothing but crimson red. But he remained calm in front of his older Brother. 

It would’ve scared Michael if he was a mere lower-class Angel or a demon in Hell. 

But he was the Arch Angel Michael, nothing scared him except his father God and Gabriel. 

He started to smirk showing his pearl white teeth, and it settled off you.

Lucifer and Michael looked so similar, same hairstyle, same face.

There was a huge difference between these two though. Michael was cold, his aura was dark and with nothing but anger and Ignorance.

Meanwhile Lucifers Aura was warm, like a hot bath that was pure relaxation. His aura was white and pure.

Maybe it was the bond. But you see a foul soul when there's one.

But one thing they had in common, and that's their pride.

You don’t have a good feeling about this.

He wants something, but what?

What can be so special in here that an Arch Angel comes down here and confronts his brother?

What makes you so special that Michael would come down here?

Michael's predatory gaze was following your every movement making you want to run or plead for your life. 

Lucifer widened his wings shielding you from the other Arch Angel.

You sigh in relief; you don’t want to spend any second longer with Michael's stare.

Not with the way he was looking at you.

Like a treat he could eat for breakfast.

“You should leave.” Lucifer’s eyes never left Michael’s.

All what he did was starting to laugh at Lucifer, “Aww, Little Lucifer protecting a fallen Angel How cute.”

In the next moment Michaels wings spread and he flapped them to create a hurricane like wind blow.

Wind blew softly in your face, Lucifers wings helped that you didn’t fly away from the force. 

With a crash Nifty flew into the alcohol bar, leaving a mess with broken bottles. Husk frowned, “Oh great.”

The whole crew hid behind the staircase to take cover from the Arch Angel.

Michael whistled. “You seem to grow a liking towards that girl.” He pointed at him then at you, “what happened with Lilith? Cheating on her?” Lucifer gritted his teeth and took a step forward. 

He wants to crush Michael skull on this hellish floor. Drawing an abstract painting in pure Gold on a red canvas.

“That’s none of your business.” Michael gasps at him, holding his mouth with his hand. Acting all shocked. 

You could swear Lucifer was ready to bounce on him.

His devil tail flicked dangerously from side to side.

That’s what Michaels want. 

He wants to see Lucifer loses control and letting his guard down. 

He wants to piss his little Brother off. And Lucifer fell for it. His pride is taking over not thinking correctly.

Your feet carried you towards Lucifer, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. “Luci, don’t. That’s what he wants.” 

He didn’t look your way but stopped in his track. 

This disappointed Michael.

Deep.

Usually this works, it always worked. Why not now?

He came here to have fun with you and Lucifer, but you ruined it for him.

“You are listening now to a random bitch?” 

This was the last straw for Lucifer. No one talks to you like that.

Lucifer flew up to get more speed when he flew back down to kick Michael in the stomach. That send Michael flying towards the nearest house.

Leaving nothing but ruins from the building.

Coughing he looked where Lucifer was, nowhere to be seen.

Confused he threw stones in every direction trying to hit Lucifer. 

Lucifer laughed at this useless attempt. “That’s what you’re doing now? Throwing stones? Who's the Bitch now?”

His heart started to race out of fear.

He whipped his head frantic searching for his enemy. 

A howling laugh vibrated through hell and a crash followed it. 

Lucifer punched Michael hard into the floor letting Michael see black for a minute. 

The earth shook under the force making you slump down at the sudden ground movement. 

Michael spit out one of his Paper white teeth, it was covered in golden blood.

Michael realized that Lucifer got stronger and could easily get rid of him.

But that can’t be true, that’s not fair.

“Fuck.” He screamed as he heard Lucifers laugh from joy.

Michael panicked; he still couldn’t see Lucifer anywhere.

He was scared to death. 

Sweat covered his injured now dirty white skin. His golden head piece had a slight crack in it. 

How can I get away from here? 

Then he remembers.  

you. 

You were his compass right now and Michael can use you.

Use you to cause mental damage to Lucifer.

Lucifer stepped out of the dark, stalking slowly forward like a predator to their prey.

Michael crawled back. His hand slipped on a small rock making him fall on his back. 

Lucifer took the opportunity and charged forward. Michael dodged his attack just in time, flying towards your direction in 200km/h. 

Searching for Lucifer in the distance, you saw someone flying towards you.

Your eyes widen in excitement, thinking it is Lucifer. 

You walked slowly towards him, only to see that this is not your Lucifer. 

This Aura, so dark and it was scary.

It was Michael. 

You started to run to the opposite direction, you knew he would catch you easily if he wants to.

But you won’t give up without a fight.

Michael’s hair was all a mess, he looked like a maniac who lost control.

Blood all over his white attire and dirt all over him. 

He grabbed your wrist lifting you up in the air. 

You screamed, kicking your feet all around you. 

For the first time in decades, you seem scared of heights.

Not having wings comes with fear from heights. Not being available to fly when you fell. Getting crushed by gravity wasn’t exactly how you planned on dying. 

Your scream was quickly caught the attention from Lucifer, out of panic he teleported his way to you. 

His tail swayed dangerous from side to side as he looked at the disgusting mutt of a brother holding you up with your wrist. 

Pain and fear were written all over your demeanor and for the first time in this battle he felt scared.

Scared that he’ll do something to you.

Scared that if he interferes, you’ll die.

Michael Shaked you a bit to piss off Lucifer more. As if you were a mere piece of meat laid on display in an auction house.

Meanwhile he swung you around your sleeve of your dress slipped down revealing the apple mark on your wrist. 

As fast as you could, you tried to pull the sleeve back up, but Michael stopped you. 

Michael raised an eyebrow at you, what was your plan?

He took a glance at the thing you tried to hide, and oh did he never forget that mark. 

You share the same mark like him.

Like Lucifer. 

“Really? That’s all the fuss why you’re doing all of this?” You looked away in shame. 

Michael was to say at least very confused. You were ashamed of being Lucifers soulmate? He would be too, but you clearly enjoy his presence way too much to hate this. 

Then it clicks, “Ohhh, he doesn’t even know.” You bitt your lip, showing Michael that his speculation was Indeed right. 

Lucifer was standing there at his friendlier form, observing the scenery above him. 

He doesn’t know what? 

You knew this would happen at one point. 

You hid it very well the couple days, even though your heart was aching for that man. To tell him the truth.

But you were afraid. Will he reject you? Or does he even enjoy your presence, when he finds out the soulmate bond makes him feel that.

Michael pulled you in front of his face, you two were so close that you could feel his breath on your lips.

“You’re not better than your mother. To keep a secret that huge and so small,” His hand stroked your mark, it started to burn in your wrist making you scream in terror. 

It felt like someone was burning a piece of iron into your cold skin making your blood underneath boil. 

You felt hot and lightheaded.

You wiggled your whole body, trying to get out of Michaels grasp. 

The tears that fell out of your eye collides on Lucifers face; his clawed fist clenched hard the claws shoving into his palm drawing blood. 

Michael ripped a piece off your long-sleeved dress showing your mark towards Lucifer. 

Lucifers eyes widen, no that couldn’t be. 

He searched in your eyes the answer, but you looked away, ashamed. 

And it hurts him. Why didn’t you tell him? 

He unconsciously rubbed his mark on his wrist which started to itch since Michael touched yours.

Now everything made sense for him. 

Why he felt that kind of euphoric, why he felt so in love. Why his heart ached for you every time you’re not there.

That’s why he was so attracted to you. 

And you lied to him. God knows how long. 

He is mad at you, but he won’t lose you out of his anger. 

You were his last chance, his nemesis. 

He must get rid of Michael before he can deal with you. 

Meanwhile you struggled in Michael death grip on your wrist. Your hand felt numb with no blood getting pumped in it.

“I can’t kill you Y/n. But I can cause you pain which will hurt him even more.” His eyes shifted towards Lucifer smiling from ear to ear. 

His laugh that rippled through his ribcage made you cringe.

 His hands let you fall out of his grip. Before you could relax, thinking he would let you go. He grabbed your hair making you wince. 

He pulled out a little dagger and pressed it against your neck. “Let’s see if your blood is still golden.” 

Lucifer flew as fast as he could towards you stretching his arm towards Michael and you. Michaels words echoing in Lucifers brain. Let’s see if your blood is still golden.

But it was too late.

His knife slashed a cut on your neck, golden blood started to gush out and you started to choke on your own blood. 

“No!” 

It was hard to breath, every time you tried to take the oxygen in your lungs, blood filled them which made you cough and choke every time. 

Michael let you go, disgusted that your blood spilled on his cloths. 

He removed his golden strand out of his face smiling widely at Lucifer. 

“Next time I make sure to you two will never see each other. Farewell.” With that he teleported away leaving a mess in hell behind him.

Lucifer punched into the cement where Michael was standing. 

His heart stopped when he heard you choking from your own blood. 

Ache

Rushing to your side he pressed on your wound tight. “Please, please don’t die.” 

All you could feel was pain, and the warmth of Lucifer by your side. 

And there it was again, the warmth of his powers flowing into your system. 

it was calming. Making you almost forget the pain you’re in. 

Lucifer was on the edge of crying. 

Forgetting that you didn’t tell him that you were his soulmate. 

All he could think about is that you were slowly dying.

He feels useless.

Charlie watched the scene, feeling bad for her dad.

He told her that he has a soulmate, someone who is his other half.

But since he fell, he’d never see them. 

It was sad to see his depressed expression when he thought about it.

But now he found out in the middle of the battlefield that he found her. And now he may lose someone precious. His other half. The reason he still had faith.

She looks at her father saying a mantra all over and over again. 

Please don’t die, please, please Y/n don’t leave me. Please.

He felt alone like he did when Lilith left him, but this is not the same. 

You’ll never come back. Leaving him with an empty void in his heart that cannot be filled. 

He survived the void that Lilith left in him. 

But not you, his soulmate that helped him without even knowing. 

Every night he thought of you. Not even in a sexual way. 

He held the duck he made for you tight to his body to feel comforted in some kind of way. 

And it all makes sense. But it may be too late.

Here you were, slowly dying in his hands. Passed out from your blood lost. 

His tears dropped down on your lips making you feel the salty sweet substance. 

An Angel cries.

Your neck wound started to close making him sigh in relief.

you have lost a lot of blood, and it was still life threatening but the bleeding was stopped.

You have a chance to survive this.

He stroked your cheek softly removing the dirt that was on your face. 

He pressed his forehead on yours in a comforting way.

“Please wake up.”

A/n: 👀 Soooo, how y'all doing? Thank you to all who are writing so sweet comments<3

Hope you enjoyed this chapter❤️

💫

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgates-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober 26

26. Tentacles, Demons/Angels, Crying

You love it when they get their wings out.

It’s such a quiet affectionate thing, a little secret only the three of you share. Especially because both of them go absolutely feral when you dig your hands in their feathers. It’s so delicious to know what drives them wild, and be allowed to touch them so intimately.

At the moment you’re between them on the bed. You’re kneeling, cushioned by the soft duvet, and they’ve enclosed around either side of you. Their wings are out in a deferential and protective cocoon. Here, trapped between their gorgeous bodies, it feels like you’re the only three people in the world.

You kiss Aziraphale as Crowley lines up and presses inside of you. You hum against your angel’s lips as your demon begins to thrust, the head of his cock grazing over and over against that sweet spot delicious nestled in your velvety walls. He drops his lips to your shoulder; you can feel him mouthing ‘fuck’ and ‘i love you’ without him even having to raise his voice.

You reach out and caress one of his primaries. You feel his breath hitch, his Adam's apple bob against your skin. The feather is silky against your fingertips. You skim up and down it and watch the way his wings bristle in anticipation as you get a little higher with each stroke. Finally you touch his alula, and his knees threaten to give out.

“Oh, fuck me, nightingale–”

It seems like a funny pet name to have at this precise moment, but you’ve come to love it all the same. Aziraphale smiles adoringly at the two of you, as you slowly creep Crowley towards the edge. He cups your face in one of his hands, uses his other to guide the blunt head of his cock towards your hole too. It takes a bit of shifting and a delicious stretch to fit both of them inside but god is it worth it.

“There we are, darling,” he mutters, voice thick with lust as he starts to give gentle thrusts inside you. His cock nudges Crowley’s and, between your fingers in his wing and the feeling of his lovers against and around him, you feel your demon release in hot spurts inside you. You feel it dripping out of you, sinfully, onto the bedsheets.

Aziraphale keeps fucking you from where he has you held as Crowley collapses against your back, boneless and spent - you move your caressing touch to the angel’s wings now. He gasps and groans as you walk them across his shoulder blade and along to his scapula.

“There we go,” you chuckle, gently scratching the little downy feathers there. They’re so fluffy and sweet - a stark contrast to the rest of his wing which is solidly built and powerful. You scratch affectionately until you feel the soft skin beneath. 

“Oh gosh, oh…” he moans, fucking up inside you in time with your strokes. His wings begin to shudder involuntarily as you massage them and then, suddenly, flip out to their full length as he comes. He knocks a couple of lamps off their shelves but, honestly, you can fix those later. The feeling of their combined orgasms is enough to beckon your own and the three of you collapse into the bed, sated, interlocked, and loving.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler

@darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

[azrael08]

Hi.

Has anyone done one of those in-depth Midam analysis posts about Jabels hot wings video yet? I feel like I sound crazy but I haven’t seen anything in the Midam tag soooooooo

That vid had so much in it and I know that we all talk about the tags ‘Spicier than your latest fanfic’ and even the goddamn title ‘things get hot between Adam&Michael’ and I understand that, yes. Jake Abel is an insane man for this. But you know what, so am I.

And Guys, I know you’re all absolutely fantastic at cracking these boys wide open in our rants so please please down on my knees begging somebody put that video under a microscope and inspect them and all their talky-talk interactions.

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 41 – The Calm Before the Storm.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 40 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it." / “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not."

Your return back home to Lake Tahoe isn't marked without grudges, resent and guilt from others that you may have already set aside. What was once seeing as attention seeking, insignificant behavior threatens to create a rift between marriage but the truth is yet to be revealed. You want nothing more than to move on with your life, away from your mother and Fredo's death and any possibility increased tensions from rivalling mafia families but from what you believed was done for everybody's good has already sealed your fate.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions & themes of prostitution / Strip teasing / Heavy fluff / Touching & kissing / Nipple play & teasing.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: A new chapter of Moth to Flame is finally here!! 😭❤️ I can't believe it's been about ~2 months since I last updated?! Since I'm focused on fic uploads/writing only at the moment, I'm looking forward to a lot more frequent and back to back updates for you guys. 🥴 Better late than never! Michael and Victoria's story continues, or should I say in this chapter that also means Sonny and Sandra's? 👀 Drama, drama, drama...! It was definitely coming, and now it's going to build into something spiralling completely out of control. We need to focus on baby Vincent and the twins' cuteness above all. 😂😍

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

[ Lake Tahoe Compound, 7:00 AM ]

From the moment you came to rest your head upon your pillow and snuggle up in your own bed next to your husband at home, every thought, concern, and memory of what occurred in Las Vegas has left not only yours but Michael’s mind as well.

From a well-deserved good night’s sleep in pure relaxation, Michael and you have awoken shortly before seven in the morning to start your day and spend it with the family—taking a break from traveling and business.

“Okay, baby,” you run your hands through your hair gently to smoothen it down, moving towards the shower. “I’m going to wake up the children and get them ready for breakfast.”

Michael pulls back the shower curtain to peek his head out; his soaked hair sticking to his temples and droplets of water dribbling down from his lips and chin. “Alright, darling.”

You blush, leaning over and pecking a kiss over Michael’s wet lips. “I’ll see you downstairs in a minute.”

Just from leaning over towards the hot shower, Michael’s having, you can already feel the warm steam from the running water mixing in with the heavenly scent of Michael’s body surrounding you with that kiss.

Michael prefers to shower first thing in the morning on his days off whereas if he has business to tend to or places to be, he’ll do so at the end of his day like you.

It may be a day off for both of you, but the same doesn’t apply to the twins who have half a day’s worth of tutoring and studying awaiting them.

As you walk out of your bedroom and down the hallway, you step into the nursery room to check on baby Vincent first thing.

As you and Esther have left it, the nursery door remains open so you can both easily hear Vincent’s crying or stirring from his sleep.

Taking a quick look in, you see baby Vincent still curled up in his crib sleeping soundly; bringing a smile to your lips.

Moving a bit further down the hallway, you quietly open the door to Niccolo and Verona’s bedrooms side by side with one another before stepping into each one and gently nudging the children’s shoulders before giving them a kiss on the cheek.

“Niccolo, Verona, good morning. It’s time to wake up, you two!”

“Mmmmm…” Verona squirms in her bed, stretching out her arms. “I’m…awake.”

“Sleepy,” Niccolo groans back from his room, sitting up in his bed. “It’s morning already?”

“It is,” you chuckle, stepping back out into the hallway. “Good morning to both of you.”

“Where’s daddy?” Verona pulls herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes.

“He’s showering right now but will join us for breakfast soon,” you gesture to the two as they put on their slippers. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you two washed up and ready to start the day. I think your little brother is…” You squint your eyes, peeking into the nursery room again. “Still asleep.”

“Vincent is very sleepy,” Verona giggles, skipping to the estate’s second bathroom with her brother.

“I say that too and then the next moment, he’s suddenly awake and staring at us,” you laugh to yourself, following the twins.

“Minty fresh,” Verona picks up her toothbrush with Niccolo, smearing a modest amount of toothpaste over it before handing it to her brother and staying by the sink.

“Mhmm,” you pick up Verona’s hairbrush, standing behind her. “And how would you like your hair styled today, sweetie? Any ideas?”

“I really like the pigtails we did last week, mama,” Verona beams, beginning to brush her teeth. “With the red ribbons!”

“Ooh, of course,” you step back to open one of the bathroom cabinets, taking two silky, red ribbon ties and slipping them over your wrist. “Pigtails for today it is.”

“Mama, are you gonna tell us about your trip?” Niccolo asks curiously, wetting his toothbrush.

“Ya, like—” Verona covers her toothpaste-filled mouth, “if it’s really fun flying on an airplane!”

“I never thought about it that way,” you smile at the two, styling through Verona’s hair. “Honestly, I haven’t really been thinking of the trip. It wasn’t anything for fun, after all, otherwise, we would have taken you too.”

“Yeah,” Niccolo agrees, looking at himself in the mirror as he begins to brush his teeth. “Daddy had work.”

“And I always get sleepy and tired on plane rides, even if where we’re going isn’t too far away,” you admit sheepishly, tying up one ponytail over Verona’s hair.

“Mama gets too cozy,” Verona laughs, “I would too! Las Vegas is close to home, right mama?”

“It is,” you nod back, “so it wasn’t too bad to travel there. Your father and I just wanted to get home as soon as we could.”

“Why, mama?” Verona continues asking.

You pause for a moment, continuing to brush through her hair. “Because it was dull and boring, all for work and business for your daddy. We had to get it done though, but I won’t say I had fun.”

“That’s fair, mama,” Niccolo agrees. “Maybe it’ll be fun if we come.”

“Maybe,” you tie up the second pigtail over Verona’s hair. “You guys want to go on a vacation soon?”

“Soon, yes!” Verona exclaims, moving to rinse out her mouth by the sink.

“We absolutely will,” you take out a tin of hair gel from the cabinet, moving to style and brush through Niccolo’s hair next. “Your daddy and I were thinking of it. I can’t remember the last time we took you guys to Sicily, you know. You were both just little babies.”

“Yes, please!” Verona giggles through rinsing her mouth. 

“I wanna go too,” Niccolo chimes in, “Grandma and Grandpa always talk about Sicily.”

“You won’t have to wait too long then,” you plant a kiss over Niccolo’s head before combing through his hair. “Your daddy wants to go just as much as we all do, and maybe you guys can remind him today too, hmm?”

“I will for sure,” Verona turns off the tap, grabbing a face towel. “I wanna go and visit!”

“Me too,” Niccolo slowly moves towards the sink so you can continue styling the gel carefully through his hair while he rinses his mouth out. “We all go with Daddy!”

“He’ll be downstairs in just a minute,” you glance out towards the hallway, “let’s both get you dressed so we can meet Daddy downstairs.”

~

Turning off the water, Michael pulls back the shower curtain and gives out a deep breath—letting the hot steam of the shower surround him as he squeezes out the excess water from his hair.

Michael rakes a hand through his wet hair, slicking it away from his face before he steps out of the shower and reaches to grab a body towel.

Wrapping the towel around his waist securely, Michael takes a separate towel to ruffle through his hair as he approaches the foggy sink.

Wiping his hand over the mirror to clear it, Michael notices a bit of his stubble is growing through and opens the cabinet behind the bathroom mirror to grab his razor and a tube of shaving cream.

Standing in front of the sink, Michael begins to modestly lather shaving cream over his cheeks and jawline, faintly being able to hear the sound of you and the children heading downstairs for breakfast.

Carefully yet in swift, quick motions, Michael shaves without a single nick or cut over his skin; rinsing off his face before applying a cooling aftershave balm.

Michael continues to press the towel down through his hair thoroughly to soak up as much moisture as he can before he combs through it neatly and reaches for his tin of hair gel.

Barely being able to tell that his hair is still damp, Michael begins to thoroughly apply the gel and slick his hair back from the middle; keeping it neat without a single strand loose and out of place.

Michael then makes his way into the bedroom, drying himself off with his towel before picking out a pair of grey briefs, a white dress shirt you ironed for Michael the other day with a pair of black slacks, a matching waistcoat, white socks, and a tie. 

Setting aside his suit jacket, Michael doesn't intend to wear it in the comfort of his own home knowing he won't have business or guests to entertain today—no exceptions regardless of how "urgent" others may consider it to be, but Michael's also never been lazy or sloppy when it comes to his choice of attire no matter the occasion or time.

Spraying cologne over his neck and collarbone, Michael walks out of the bedroom and shuts the door behind him, looking forward to spending the entirety of his day with his family and only his family; perhaps limited in interaction with Sonny for now as Michael's internal annoyance and irritation still cool.

Michael especially wishes to spend the vast majority of his time with you and the children more than anything else; missing his children but also knowing he didn't get to spend much quality time with you in Las Vegas either, aside from last-minute lovemaking in the evening.

Michael first approaches Vincent's nursery before heading downstairs, seeing the crib is empty but the sounds of his baby son babbling downstairs from the kitchen.

The scent of Michael's cologne comes down before you even sense your husband's presence or see him; in the kitchen with baby Vincent sitting in his baby seat close to you and by the dining table with his older siblings.

Verona and Niccolo sit across from each other and surround Vincent, smiling and distracting their little baby brother with a handful of toys as you get to preparing breakfast.

"He's so tiny," Verona giggles to herself, handing Vincent a toy he dropped. "Teeny tiny!"

Vincent smiles up at his siblings aimlessly, very receptive to laughter and positive voices surrounding him. 

"He is a tiny little guy, isn't he?" You chuckle, dressed in a burgundy shirtwaist dress with a pair of house flats on; standing by the stove and preparing breakfast.

While you've just picked up on Michael's cologne signaling he's nearby, Michael's taken in the scent of breakfast being cooked while coming down to the kitchen.

In a pan, you sautee together chopped pieces of bacon, Italian sausage crumble, grated mozzarella and cheddar, green pepper, mushrooms, and small broccoli florets.

You reach into the egg carton next to you on the counter, setting three eggs aside. 

Michael leans against the doorway, taking in the delicious scent of the meat and vegetables being sauteed and feeling the warm spring breeze coming from the back door flow into the kitchen.

Distracted, you crack three eggs into the frittata you're making, disposing of the eggshells in the little trashcan next to you and giving your hands a quick rinse in the sink.

Michael gazes at you with intrigue, watching you quickly your wrist moves to whisk in the eggs quickly into the frittata and reach for a carton of cream from the refrigerator.

Michael's eyes admire the way your hips move, how your dress adorns your body, and every inch of you in nothing but pure adoration.

Already having noticed their father from afar standing by quietly, the twins giggle amongst each other in reaction; very clearly aware as to how their father is lovingly appreciating their mother behind her back.

"Good morning," you hear Michael's velvety voice call out from behind; causing your heart to race just like that.

"Good morning, Daddy!" The twins chime in together.

"Aaa," Vincent shakes his rattling toy aimlessly, unsure why the sudden upbeat enthusiasm is coming from his siblings but just happy to join in on it.

"Good morning, darling," you turn around blushing, seeing a small smile over Michael's lips.

"Aaa!" Vincent raises his voice in excitement, waving around his toy.

"I think he says good morning too, Daddy," Niccolo laughs.

"I believe so," Michael walks into the kitchen, leaning down to scoop up three-month-old Vincent in his arms. "Hello, little man. He's awake early."

"He is," you agree, carefully putting the pan into the preheated oven. "He's being so good this morning despite waking so early, though. Not a fuss made, just babbling little conversations to himself and his siblings."

"He likes to talk," Verona points out, waving at her baby brother in Michael's arms.

Vincent aimlessly stares at Michael, sticking out his little tongue before bumping his head against Michael's temple lightly. "Aa...."

"But how old will Vincent be when he can talk to us, Daddy?" Niccolo asks, sitting upright.

"Almost two years old, I'd say," Michael replies, rubbing Vincent's back in lazy circles gently.

"What?!" Verona gasps.

"Two years?!" Niccolo lets out a deep sigh, "That's gonna take forever!"

"Well, what did you think, honey?" You let out a laugh, setting out jars of homemade grape, strawberry, and raspberry jam from the cabinet.

"Sooner?" Niccolo shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, "Maybe it takes one year!"

"Far too soon," Michael shakes his head as you take out three little bowls to put equal varieties of jam in. "Even the two of you weren't talking in a year. Just a few words here and there."

"Really?" Verona's eyes widen with intrigue.

"Really," you smile back at her, "and you both will get to see Vincent grow up right in front of your eyes so you'll understand."

Niccolo looks up to see baby Vincent clutching his tiny grip over the fabric of Michael's waistcoat, distracted by the texture against his skin.

You set out the selections of jam over the dining table, moving back to the stove. "If it's one thing you all share like your baby brother, it's that none of you could stop grabbing and touching daddy's tie or clothes."

"But Daddy wears Italian silk suits, right?" Verona speaks up.

"That I do," Michael answers, walking towards the back door with Vincent to get some fresh air; amused by Vincent's distraction towards his waistcoat.

"So it's very soft!" Verona exclaims.

"Oh, ya," Niccolo adds, "and very fancy."

"Very," you laugh with them, "Vincent is the master of fancy fabrics."

“He knows he likes his suits,” Michael cracks a rare joke, carefully stepping out into the courtyard as Vincent excitedly rattles his toy in his free hand.

You move the mixing bowl containing ricotta pancake batter over to the stove, adding a small amount to the hot pan and watching it spread into shape. “Almost ready for breakfast!”

“Can I help, mama?” Verona hops off her seat.

“Sure, darling,” you gesture to one of the kitchen cupboards. “We have some biscotti in there. Could you please take some out and set them out on the plate here? We can have some with jam this morning.”

“Okay!” Verona nods, doing as she’s told. “Tasty jam. I help Mama.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you smile down at her, glancing up momentarily to see Michael slowly pacing around the courtyard with Vincent in his arms.

Vincent snuggles onto his father’s shoulder, chewing on his rattle toy while peeking around the sight of nature around him.

“We’re almost done here…” Distracted, you flip the pancake over carefully and keep the sizes of the others at a consistent size and thickness.

You glance at the other pan of food still steaming hot on the other side of the stove—Italian sausage and eggs—taking note of everything to get ready.

“Smells so good, mama,” Niccolo looks over to the stove giddily, eyeing the homemade marinara sauce smothered amid the Italian sausage and poached eggs. “My favorite!” 

“A favorite of daddy’s too,” you add, beginning to set the silverware and plates out on the dining table.

Niccolo gets up from his seat, helping his sister reach into the cupboard and taking as many cups as he can with him towards the dining table to help out.

“Perfect, thank you two,” you rub Niccolo and Verona’s shoulders—looking towards the backdoor. “I’ll get Daddy and Vincent in otherwise they’ll be out there forever.”

The twins giggle amongst each other as you step out into the courtyard, taking in a breath of the fresh spring air to see your husband walking around the center of the backyard and kissing Vincent’s cheek.

“Hi, baby,” unable to wipe the growing smile off of your face, you approach both of them.

“Hello, darling,” Michael turns around to face you as you lean up, pecking a sweet kiss over your husband’s lips. 

Michael kisses back, gazing at you. “Is breakfast ready?”

“Mhmm, it is,” you gently squish Vincent’s chubby cheek, gesturing for them to follow inside. “Everything’s ready and we’re waiting for you two to come join us! I wonder if this little man is hungry.”

“I think so, considering how he’s been chewing on every toy I give him,” Michael chuckles quietly, taking your hand with his free one before following you back inside the estate.

~ 

Sitting by herself in her family estate across a small distance from yours, Sandra rests her cheek upon her fist and gives out a glum sigh to herself. The day has practically just started; just the morning after you, Michael, and Sonny’s arrival back home from Las Vegas.

Naturally, Sandra understands how exhausted her husband may be from travel. Sonny’s always felt worn out one way or another with long road trips and plane rides, regardless of how far or close his destination is.

Jet lag has never done any good for Sonny who prefers to rest it off by sleeping in much more than he may normally do when given the chance instead of taking naps throughout the day, and a shot or two of whiskey here and there never hurt to keep his mind sharp throughout it.

No different than any other time, Sonny slumped into bed last night tired and with a pounding headache. The only thing he did before falling asleep just a moment after taking a shot of whiskey and mumbling, “I’m exhausted,” to Sandra.

When it comes to Sonny, Sandra’s more than aware that’s her husband’s normal behavior hence why she didn’t question it.

Come to think of it with Sandra’s mind on nothing else but what a lonely morning she woke up to, she’s come to realize Sonny was rather dismissive and even a little cold towards her.

Still, knowing how much of a grumpy, sarcastic mood Sonny can get in when he’s tired and hungry, Sandra lets it be as it is.

She neither minds waking up alone nor having Sonny sleep in especially after travel, but having the children go off to the governess first thing in the morning and have breakfast by herself after being alone for a few days, the loneliness and lack of companionship hits Sandra hard.

It was after Sandra finished breakfast and began cleaning up that Sonny woke up abruptly and couldn’t fall back asleep.

Instead of letting Sandra know or greeting his wife, Sonny took a hot shower which Sandra overheard then fixed himself a drink of gin and tonic for breakfast which came off as somewhat odd to Sandra.

Sandra’s already guessing something is up with Sonny since it seems as if he’s practically avoiding her but she can’t make any sense of it.

Rising from her seat on the couch, Sandra frowns and looks around the quiet, empty house—wishing she could at least spend some time with Sonny and ask him how his trip went. After all, Sandra knows everyone else is spending time with their families and enjoying breakfast together right now except her.

Feeling left out and alone, suspicion slowly begins to grow over Sandra who begins to approach Sonny’s study, knowing he’s in there from the ruffling sound of newspapers and Sonny setting down his drink.

From the ajar door, Sandra sees her husband sitting over a leather armchair with his ankle crossed over and resting on his leg—reading through a newspaper.

“Sonny?” Sandra places her hand over the door, peeking in with concern over her expression.

Sonny purposefully takes a few extra seconds to react, looking up at Sandra with boredom and slight irritation. “Huh? Yeah, what is it?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to check up on you,” Sandra replies, frowning. “You missed breakfast.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sonny grunts, stretching out his arms. “I was tired.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Nah, I had something to eat already,” Sonny says, returning his attention back to the newspaper in his hands.

Sandra remains quiet, standing by the door for a moment; she knows Sonny has nothing else to say to her nor does he even want to carry a conversation with Sandra right now, but she can’t understand why Sonny’s acting the way he is now.

“What?” Sonny asks after a moment, growing more tense.

“Nothing,” Sandra murmurs, turning around and shutting the office door behind her.

Heading into the foyer, Sandra puts her Mary-Janes on and exits the estate. She makes her way to what used to be Fredo and Deanna’s shared estate, now belonging to Connie and Leo.

Knowing the only one she can confide in over her brother’s behavior that isn’t spending time with family or is occupied this morning is Connie, Sandra hopes to herself that her sister-in-law can ease her overthinking and offer some advice.

If it’s anyone who knows Sonny and his antics well and on a much different level than a brother would, it’s Sonny’s own sister—Connie. Besides, Sandra doesn’t at all feel up to bothering anyone else like you or Theresa whose shy, reserved, and put off by Sonny’s behavior to begin with.

Deanna on the other hand is in Hollywood shooting a film with Johnny Fontane, but her relationship with Sonny is just as limited as Theresa’s.

‘Then again..’ Sandra glances over in the direction of your estate. ‘There’s Victoria.’

Immediately, Sandra’s mind goes back to the events of what occurred in New York whether she wants to remember it or not; seeing Sonny with blood gushing out of his nose, swelling, and puffiness reaching his eyes all bleeding and bruised when Michael confronted him about why he made a move on you.

Like the others, Sandra was also under the impression Sonny went to New York to check on you and the twins. Everyone assumed Sonny would also bring news to Tom or Michael, but only those two and Sonny knew what was really going on and why you left for New York in the first place.

Sonny never told Sandra why you were in New York to begin with as everyone knew how personal the reason was and would prefer to forget it all entirely.

While Sandra doesn’t know the whole story of the whys and hows of New York, she does know that Michael refused to speak with Sonny for an entire month let alone have him remotely near you because Sonny kissed you and attempted to seduce you in New York.

Sandra unfortunately knows she’ll never not be jealous when thinking of everything that happened, but it’s toned down over time and her emotions don’t get as strong over remembering it either.

Sandra also knows you didn’t kiss Sonny back or pull a move on him. She figures as she’s heard from you and your reaction that you must’ve been nothing but shocked and disgusted; Sonny’s your brother-in-law after all and you would never do that to Sandra, let alone ever to Michael.

At that point, time was the only remedy for everything that had happened. You felt somewhat alienated from Sonny as a result for a little while and Sandra witnessed that herself.

Still, despite apologizing to you and hearing your side of the story, Sandra can never truly live down her guilt and shame of how she embarrassed herself by talking down to you at your mother’s funeral.

Sandra swallows her remaining, stinging jealousy down but not her pride. She doesn’t want to talk to you at all regarding Sonny; it’ll do nothing but rouse her imagination the wrong way about her husband.

Instead, Sandra continues to go up to Sandra’s estate with the hopes that her sister-in-law can offer her advice and lift her spirits or at the very least that Connie can tell her anything she knows about the trip to Las Vegas.

Of course, Sandra plans to speak with you later in the afternoon and hear more about how you are and how the trip went, but Sandra’s concern right now doesn’t have anything to do with the actual traveling or Las Vegas; Sandra’s only concern is Santino.

~

It’s not unusual for the gateways, doors, and balconies of individual estates on the Lake Tahoe compound to be left open during the day although high security is guaranteed twenty-four hours a day throughout the entire week. 

It only signifies that your family isn’t busy, away from the compound, or seeking privacy, and is welcome to anyone popping by, hence why Connie’s estate door is left wide open this morning. 

Sandra also knows Leo is currently away in New York at the moment, traveling back and forth from the state to Nevada with and for Connie when time and business permits. 

From the moment Sandra enters Connie’s estate, Connie and Mama Corleone in the kitchen already pick up on the sound of someone’s kitten heels clacking against the mahogany floorboards and she guesses it’s either Sandra or Theresa purely based on shoe choice. 

In the kitchen, Connie prepares a pot of black tea, chatting away with Carmela about her next planned trip to New York with Leonardo just as Sandra enters the kitchen—smiling sheepishly and hugging her own arms. 

“Hi, honey,” Mama Corleone’s eyes light up at the sight of Sandra.   

“Hey, Sandra,” Connie greets, turning to face her sister-in-law. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” Sandra says back, glancing around the kitchen uneasily. “Done breakfast so soon?” 

“Oh, we just finished up a few moments ago. Did you?” Mama Corleone peeks at her. 

“Mm,” Sandra nods, “I had a short one. I just sent off the kids to their studies and that’s that,” she lets out a soft sigh, realizing that if she remains here and talks like this that it invites Mama Corleone to stay and listen too. 

Naturally, Sandra has no issue with Mama Corleone consoling her or giving her advice but at this point, Sandra’s far too embarrassed to talk to her mother-in-law about Sonny again and again. 

“Actually, um, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Connie?” 

“Of course,” Connie agrees, exchanging a glance with Mama Corleone. 

“I’ll see you girls at lunch then,” completely understanding, Carmela smiles at her girls before she begins to make her way out of the kitchen. “Take care!” 

“Bye mama,” Sandra calls back out before facing Connie once more and seeing the concern growing over her sister-in-law’s face. 

“There’s that look in your eyes again,” Connie points out, taking out another tea cup. “Let me get you something to drink first, honey. Go on, have a seat. I already know.” 

“Thank you,” Sandra murmurs, closing the kitchen door behind her before taking a seat at the dining table. 

Connie pours two cups of steaming, black tea and takes a tiny bowl holding sugar cubes and small stirring spoons over to the dining table, sitting across from her sister-in-law. “I could tell just by the way you walked in here that something had to be wrong.” 

“I wish I could prove you wrong,” Sandra says glumly, “never been the greatest at hiding my annoyances, have I? Thank you,” Sandra pulls her teacup over the table to herself with two sugar cubes. 

“You and me both,” Connie chuckles, letting out a deep breath. “What is it? What’s troubling you? Go on, I want all the details.” 

“I didn’t wanna make it a big deal because I don’t know what’s going on,” Sandra begins, staring at her tea. 

“You always say that,” Connie points out, raising her brows. 

“I know,” Sandra whines quietly. “But it’s Sonny.” 

“What about him? Or do I even need to ask?” Connie rolls her eyes, “what’s he gone off to do this time?” 

Sandra blinks, unable to come up with an immediate response. “It’s his trip. Sonny came back from Vegas with Michael and Victoria…” 

“Mhmm,” Connie nods, listening. 

“He was exhausted when he got home, so he wanted to go to bed right away which is fine—” Sandra shakes her head, “he had a drink before, didn’t talk to me or the children whatsoever, and just went straight to bed.” 

“Huh,” Connie notes, “exhausted, then?” 

“Yeah, he was,” Sandra answers. 

“I didn’t see him as ‘exhausted’,” Connie stares back at her. “That’s a bit of an overstatement now isn’t it?” 

“You saw him last night?” Sandra raises a brow, knowing all Sonny did was barge right into the estate the minute he grabbed his luggage from the car and wasted no time in doing so. 

“Yeah, Sonny barged in here all annoyed and asking for whiskey. I’d say he was more grouchy than ‘exhausted’. He definitely had more than enough energy to march in here like that.” 

“That’s not what I saw or heard,” anxiety begins to spike up in Sandra. “I mean… Sonny told me he was tired and going to bed—I didn’t get another word out of him after that. He finished his drink and went to sleep—whatever. Slept in for two more hours this morning and it’s like he missed breakfast on purpose because I swear to you, just as I finished cleaning up and sent off the kids to the governess, he awoke. Sonny didn’t say a word to me, didn’t come in to eat anything. He just made himself a gin and tonic—I don’t get it. He’s being so cold to me, this isn’t normal. He’s completely disinterested in anything I have to say. It’s like every time I try to approach him, I annoy him.” 

Connie takes a sip of her tea, pursing her lips. “Victoria didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell me what, Connie?” The tip of Sandra’s ears and the nape of her neck prickle hot with brimming anxiety. “I haven’t spoken to her since before she left. I thought I would after lunch today.” 

“I saw Victoria briefly before she went in last night,” Connie tells her, “just made some small talk—asked her how the trip went and if she needed anything because if anyone was exhausted, it was her. I may as well tell you,” Connie shrugs her shoulders, “though I’m not sure if it’ll surprise you or be something you haven’t heard before.” 

“Why?” Sandra’s throat tightens as she mixes her sugar cubes inside her tea. 

“I mean, they went to Las Vegas, Sandra,” Connie licks over her lips, “Sonny wasn’t exactly there for ‘business’.” 

“I see,” Sandra mumbles to herself, looking far more distraught than Connie expects. 

“Okay, you let him off the hook too much, honey,” Connie sighs, shaking her head. “He just goes left, right, and center and he’s been doing that since we were teenagers. Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it.” 

“I never really let him do ‘anything’,” Sandra rakes a hand through her hair, letting out a shaky sigh. “Sonny can barely control himself. It’s how he is, how he always was. You know our marriage didn’t change him and neither did having kids. His dick has a mind of its own.” 

“Yeugh,” Connie fake gags, brushing off the comment. “I know, trust me.” 

“But what does Victoria have to do with this?” Sandra holds back the growing emotion in the back of her throat. 

“It’s not that, Sandra, relax,” Connie lets out a soft laugh, “relax! She’s just as mad as you, honestly. Victoria was scolding Sonny the whole trip. She won’t talk to him, she said. He must have pissed her off real good this time.” 

“Because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself?” Sandra suggests. 

“When it comes to Rita Duvall, definitely,” Connie rolls her eyes with a scoff. 

“Rita,” Sandra repeats. “Rita? Are you serious?” 

“Mhmm,” Connie appears somewhat amused towards Sandra’s irritated reaction upon the mention of Rita Duvall’s name. “Now that’s two negative reactions whenever that woman’s name is mentioned. I guess you know a bit about our favorite dancer and mistress extraordinaire outside Victoria’s personal grudge towards her?” 

“Do I?” Sandra scowls, “I’ve had my fair share of tugging Sonny’s ear about that whore.” 

“Yeah?” 

Sandra takes in a deep breath, only growing much more irate. “She’s a good-for-nothing whore. Everything she does is for attention and on purpose. She and Sonny—they… The fucking chemistry they have—” Sandra’s eyes begin to tear up as her voice shakes. “How could I not fucking hate her? I can’t stand her or her whorish antics, tricks, and shows—whatever the hell she does. She’s nothing but eye candy, a pleaser and Sonny loves it. She’s exactly what he wants, you know?” 

“Sandra—” 

“Sonny won’t fuck an honest woman the way he loves to fuck his whores,” Sandra’s eyes pool with tears, “She’d look me in the eye and do my husband if she could, but that’s not exclusive, right? It’s not that hard to have Sonny head over heels for you, it’s just impossible for me and I’m his wife. It wasn’t impossible for Victoria.” 

“Hey,” Connie interrupts sharply, placing her hands over the top of Sandra’s. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s alright. No, I get what you mean completely but Victoria doesn’t have Sonny wrapped around her finger. Don’t say that.” 

“H-how am I supposed to know?” Sandra breaks down in tears, weeping. “Everyone can have my husband but me! So I don’t have a choice, Connie. I have to suspect everyone and I hate her. I hate Rita and I hate anyone like her!” 

~ 

[ 6 Months Earlier: Las Vegas, Nevada ]

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to welcome the night of your life where filthy sin and heavenly lust collide; where lines of love and arousal blur to please you! This is a night to remember and accept splendor and entertainment with the one and only, Miss Rita Duvall!” 

The glistening silver curtains encrusted in crystals flutter about over the stage, reflecting over the polished, white marble stage to reveal Rita behind—slowly spinning in a life-size bird cage made of solid gold, decorated in the same dazzling crystals and diamonds. 

Wearing silk, red gloves with diamonds adorning her fingers, Rita’s strawberry blonde hair is curled over her shoulders—bringing attention to the sparkling ruby necklace upon her collarbone, the smokey makeup over her eyes, and cherry red lipstick matching the fiery, scarlet shade of red she wears in a sleeveless bodysuit decorated with the same precious gems and rubies. 

Much like a Vegas showgirl’s classic bodysuit, Rita stands out as the star of the show with a mock peacock tail affixed to the back of her costume; real feathers dipped in crimson dye with matching six-inch stilettos over her feet. 

Background dancers dressed similarly to Rita but without distracting away from having her become the center of attention and swirl about the stage, dancing, and grouping together to slide and push the birdcage towards the middle of the stage. 

Gasps from the crowd mesmerized in awe come from around the room, erupting in cheer and applause which Sonny joins; seated in the second row at the very front of the stage with Michael and Leonardo. 

Close enough to practically smell Rita’s perfume, Sonny’s eyes are fixated on her as Rita blows out kisses to the crowd, swaying her hips over the cushioned seat inside the life-size birdcage. 

Michael ignores anything and everything to do with the show entirely, effectively blocking it out while focusing on his dinner and keeping an eye on the time to anticipate when all of this nonsense will be over and his business partner will come to meet him. 

Amongst all of their family, colleagues, and business partners, Michael and Leonardo remain to be the odd ones out with no interest in erotic shows, brothels, or mistresses for their own reasons; Michael’s being quite self-explanatory knowing him. 

Leonardo on the other hand has always been indifferent to it; it’s not so much that he minds such entertainment and opportunities, but he chooses to have nothing to do with them. 

In the middle of a show like this where it’s hard to ignore what’s going on—let alone the performers themselves—Leonardo can appreciate that it’s a form of entertainment enjoyed by many, and that’s all he’ll take it as without making it personal. 

While Michael can hide his dislike and annoyance for anything without effort, Leonardo can’t hold back from having his expression show exactly how he feels. Since Leonardo initiated a relationship with Connie—now his fiancé—he feels all the more disinterested and uncomfortable. 

Performers, dancers, prostitutes, and showgirls like Rita and Rita herself are a hot commodity amongst rich businessmen, politicians, and influential men seeking entertainment and companionship so there’s never a gap in bookings and demand. 

‘It’s not her entertainment skills or whoring that’s her “talent” either. She’s ‘talented’, alright, but in ways you wouldn’t imagine.’ 

Aroused by how little he’s seen already, Sonny eyes Rita’s plump thighs—admiring how the color red matches her vigor and passion on stage. 

Rita grinds her hips, dancing sensually around the bars of the birdcage slowly to show off every inch of her body. 

‘There’s a million Rita Duvalls. Give any cocktail waitress or Vegas showgirl a big enough gig and she’ll do what she does best, but Rita wants more. Nothing is ever enough for her.’ 

Sonny whistles under his breath, momentarily capturing Michael’s attention who looks up at the stage for only a split second to see Rita look in their direction and lick up one of the bars. 

Unphased, Michael immediately looks away once more with zero intention of even glancing up for a moment to the stage again whereas Sonny can hardly hold back his throbbing erection. 

‘I don’t know if she has issues of her own or if she’s a narcissist who gets high off all the attention, but Rita wouldn’t look anyone in the eye who can’t give her what she wants. She can only entertain for so long until she catches the eye of somebody who finds her the most irresistible of the night.’ 

Michael is no stranger to such forms of entertainment. Half the time Michael travels for business or is meeting with his business partners at any time, some sort of similar entertainment is almost always provided. 

Usually, however, the nature of the entertainment isn’t solely erotic or anything like this, let alone with a face Michael recognizes. 

Michael’s aware tonight’s show harbors on pure erotica, but later on in the evening, he’s also bound to discover it’s a sex show later on. 

Sonny wouldn’t miss this level of entertainment for the world, always preferring to mix pleasure with business and never considering himself as dull as his younger brother. 

Michael can and will purposefully miss any shows of obscenity and promiscuity. Nothing gets to him not just because Michael’s interest in such entertainment is low, but rather that it’s nonexistent. 

Michael’s business colleagues would die in the face of boredom if they did business the way Michael did; long meetings face-to-face in silence for hours with nothing but relevant talk. 

‘Rita has the first pick of the best venues. Rita won’t perform somewhere she knows money won’t roll in. Businessmen, investors, politicians—think of the wealthiest, most influential men. That’s why she’s there.’ 

Pleasure in business is seen as a casual thing by most mafiosi; some even talk business at brothels rather than anywhere else. 

None of it particularly bothers Michael to a personal extent, but he can certainly count on his fingers how many mafiosi he knows that don’t indulge in such entertainment: himself, Vito—his father—and Leonardo, his brother-in-law. 

‘Rita knows her audience. Married, usually middle-aged men with a wife and kids at home… Talking about what an honest woman can’t give him.’ 

Rita is all flair and style—what she’s known for better than anyone else in Las Vegas. Using all of her stage props and background effects to dance and sing at the same time, she puts on a show to remember for tonight. 

Interacting with the crowd is just another act Rita intends on doing tonight, something that immediately spiked your dislike for her when Rita first tried it with Michael at a family event with children present; despite being an adult performer, Rita knew what she signed up for and willingly crossed those boundaries after all. 

‘She’s far from being honest and she knows it. She uses these men for arm candy, influence, reputation, and above all—sex and money. They make for the best kind of blackmail. She’s made that obvious enough.’ 

Rita doesn’t have any boundaries and she doesn’t feel the need to either. Rita offers what she does and has a “take it or leave it policy”, asking if everyone else loves it, why don’t you? 

Michael checks the time on his watch again as Rita parts away from the birdcage and begins to dance to the tune of a sultry, slow sogn upon the stage; making sure the feathers on her bodysuit bounce and shake with every move. 

It’s then and there that Michael notices just how absolutely fixated Sonny is on Rita, mindlessly staring at her. 

Michael doesn’t need to look up to Rita to see why, but his brother’s blatant arousal and unprofessionalism are beginning to irritate Michael; all Sonny’s been doing the entirety of the trip is paying attention to nothing but women. “Let me know when you decide to attend business for business one of these days.” 

“Relax, Mikey,” Sonny chuckles, looking away from Rita for the first time since the show started. “I’m enjoying the show, she’s performing, I don’t wanna let it go to waste. I don’t get you two.” 

Leonardo looks up from his plate, biting into a piece of steak. “Why’s that?” 

“Well, never mind, I guess,” Sonny grins, “I’m not saying anything towards you. You’re engaged to my sister.” 

‘She’s no performer, dancer, entertainer, or whatever the fuck she calls herself. We all know what she is. I wasn’t born yesterday. Rita’s a blackmailing whore.’ 

Eyeing Sonny from the table as she performs, Sonny’s lustful and interested gaze on her hasn’t gone unnoticed with all that admiring. 

It helps all the more that Sonny’s seated so close to the stage and with Michael Corleone whom Rita knows is impossible to get a shred of attention or interest from but Rita’s satisfied with luring in one Corleone brother before she aspires to go back to back with another. 

The only positive purpose doing business in such venues, clubs, and brothels serves most mafiosi besides personal pleasure is the fact that if there’s unwanted or hostile presence of police and FBI not on a mafioso’s payroll, it’s much easier to be able to appear as a couple of businessmen chatting and having drinks while enjoying a show than appearing suspicious. 

None can hear nor suspect any illicit business is being discussed or ongoing from music, singing, and distractions after all. 

Michael still refuses to pay any attention to Rita’s show during her second act even when his business partners arrive; consisting of her emerging from an amethyst and diamond-studded, lifesize clam large enough to comfortably fit three people in. 

Completely and utterly in awe as if he’s in a trance, Sonny and the rest of the invited businessmen are thoroughly entertained and their enjoyment and need for entertainment is just a necessary, lesser evil Michael comes to accept. 

If such needs to occur for business to come along smoothly without issue, then Michael has no issues with it although he finds it all negatively distracting. 

Slow jazz music builds up to its climax as Rita fully emerges from the clamshell, causing business discussions at the table to be briefly interrupted as a result. 

Leonardo and Michael look over to see Rita no longer dressed in her peacock-inspired bodysuit but only in a pair of bra and panties made from a lightweight chain and decorated in pearls and diamonds. 

Rita extends out her arms to the tune of the jazz music, throwing her hair back and stepping out the clam barefoot. 

Just as Michael’s about to divert his gaze once more and remind his business partners what the task at hand is, Rita places her hand over her bra and pulls it off with ease—causing the pearls and diamonds to spring loose and around her on the stage. 

‘She’ll curl up in the arms of any rich, powerful man who can give her a night to remember, spoil her and pay for the new diamonds you see on her ears.’ 

More hoots, whistling and cheers can be heard from the crowd and from Sonny himself as Rita remains completely topless; her breasts springing free as she pulls the matching panties down her legs—bending over. 

“Goddamn,” Sonny chuckles to himself, taking in the view. 

Michael sighs quietly to himself, understanding this is now a full-on sex show rather than the other forms of performances and entertainment he’s had the misery of having to attend yet he isn’t surprised. 

‘When she doesn’t want to let go of her arm candy, she’ll just resort to blackmail. Easy to do to politicians who can’t keep their eyes or hands to themselves, to begin with. It’ll give her the big payday she’s looking for and everyone moves on. She craves it just as much she craves the attention.’ 

Michael lights another cigarette, figuring whenever Rita’s done with her jaw-dropping antics, everyone can get back to business even if that means it looks like Michael will have to wait longer. 

Rita’s third and final act of the night consists of the curtains drawing back once more to reveal her sitting naked inside a massive, human-sized cocktail glass that matches the gems of the clam from her second act. 

Rita lets the pink-colored water inside the cocktail glass soak over her skin as Rita rests her arms on the rim of the cocktail glass. 

Rita then raises up her thigh, letting the pink water drip off as she begins to massage and caress the liquid over her body. 

‘She’ll never have to worry about blackmailing Sonny… If she was to, that would mean he’d want to stay away from her for good, right? Right?’ 

[ Present Day, Lake Tahoe Compound ]

Connie frowns, clasping a hand over her mouth as she stares at Sandra. 

“Say something, please,” Sandra croaks—her throat tightening. 

“Sandra, I’m so, so sorry—Sandra! Sandra!” Connie gasps as Sandra bolts from the dining table, almost spilling her tea. 

“SONNY! SONNY!” Sandra shrieks, storming out of Connie and Leo’s estate. 

“Sandra, wait! Oh my God!” Connie jumps up from her seat, rushing after her sister-in-law. “Sandra, no!” 

All Connie can think of is that while Sandra’s emotions, reactions, and outbursts are completely normal and to be expected, she’s guaranteed Vito and Carmela’s involvement in this now by shouting it for everyone to hear on the compound. 

~ 

Back in your estate shortly after finishing up breakfast with your family, you hold baby Vincent in your arms—indulging in conversation with the nanny, Esther as the twins begin their morning lessons with the governess. 

“Oh, it’s definitely been a while,” you chuckle. “My family visits Sicily regularly, but that’s a given for all the business they do. I think I had more than enough opportunity after we moved to New York, but my studies and work always got in the way.” 

“Would that mean you haven’t been there for five years now? Oh my,” Esther’s eyes widen. 

“Mhmm,” you admit sheepishly, kissing Vincent’s cheek. “Not since the twins were just little babies. Funny enough we’ve been to Rome, Venice, and Florence since but not back to the homeland since. That’ll change very soon.” 

“Looking forward to a good trip for you and the family then, Mrs. Corleone,” Esther beams, “all that time gone by still surprises me. The twins were so tiny, just like this little guy!” 

Before she can say anymore, Esther glances over her shoulder to see Michael stepping out of the estate to approach you; the morning sun glistening over his skin as he keeps both hands in his pockets. 

Understanding the need for privacy, Esther gives both of you a polite smile and a small nod before entering back into the estate to leave you two alone. 

“Hello, darling,” Michael greets you by wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Hi, baby,” you blush, “I’m thinking we could spend the rest of our morning out on the yacht together maybe with a cold drink and—” 

“SANTINO! SANTINO!” You’re interrupted by the alarming sound of Sandra shrieking around the compound. 

Michael and you exchange a concerned look with one another before rushing out to the front of the estate where Sandra’s continuous scream-sobbing is coming from. 

Sonny’s the first to his wife wailing, throwing down his newspaper and springing out of his seat from surprise. 

“Sandra?!” You call out as Michael keeps a protective arm around you. “Oh—Connie!” You spot your sister-in-law running over, distraught and confused. “Connie! What’s going on—” 

Connie stops in her tracks to see Sandra rush out from behind her estate to inside, only gone for a split second before the three of you watch her screaming insults and curse words in a mix of English and Italian before shoving Sonny outside. 

“Fucking stop! Stop it, alright?!” Sonny grunts, stumbling out of the estate. “What the fuck are you doing?!” 

“GET OUT, GET OUT!” Sandra screams, pointing away from the compound. “GET THE FUCK OUT!” 

“Lower your fucking voice!” Sonny shouts over top over her, brushing off his wrinkled tank top. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Huh?!” 

Before you can say anything, Michael—who remains completely calm next to you—raises his free hand up to silence you, giving you a reassuring look but also signaling he won’t give involved in the middle of this and doesn’t want you to either. 

Sobbing and practically shaking, Sandra opens her mouth again to cry out but is immediately silenced by Sonny. “What the fuck are you yelling for, woman?! What’s wrong with you?!” 

“What’s going on?” Michael interrupts, speaking up. 

The three of you including Connie begin to slowly approach as you also notice Tom and Theresa slowly doing so from their estate after hearing everything. 

With security and guards on alert, Al Neri and Rocco slowly begin to make their way over whereas Esther rushes into the central family compound to ensure the children don’t hear or step out, but it’s only going to be a matter of time until Vito and Carmela do. 

Vincent stares around aimlessly, confused by all the yelling and overlapping loud voices around him but seemingly disinterested and unaffected by it as he plays with a few strands of your hair. 

“Even if your father’s life depended on it, you wouldn’t be able to stop fucking whoring!” Sandra shrieks, “every time you go ‘on business’ all you do is whore around! That’s all you’ve been doing for years, isn’t it?! Go ahead, tell everyone, Sonny! And remind Michael and Victoria too!” 

Connie remains silent, biting her lip. All of this hits too close to home, reminding her of how many times she was in Sandra’s place herself when she was still married to Carlo. 

Connie didn’t want anyone silencing what she had to say to Carlo then, so she refuses to attempt to silence Sandra now. 

“You—” Sonny begins, but Sandra cuts him off. 

“Don’t you want everyone to know what you did in Las Vegas?! Go ahead and tell the children while we’re at it!” 

“Sandra,” Michael speaks calmly, shaking his head. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Sandra hiccups, facing Michael as Sonny sighs loudly. “It's true when we first got married—” Sandra points an accusing finger at Sonny. “And true before! But Michael, you’re not going to lie to me, are you? What did Sonny do in Vegas? I want you to tell me.” 

“My brother is an adult capable of making his own decisions and thinking for himself,” Michael replies, “I’m not his babysitter. We had business in Las Vegas, yes, but what Sonny did before, during, and after is not my concern nor do I or Victoria witness it.” 

“Thank you!” Sonny scoffs, beginning to turn away before Sandra yanks on his arm and pulls him back. 

“I don’t fucking think so!” Sandra scowls. “I’ll decide that and you’re NOT going to walk away from me, Santino! You can barely control yourself as is and I’ve had ENOUGH!” 

“YOU HEARD HIM!” Sonny yells back, pointing at Michael. 

“Sonny, don’t yell!” Connie frowns, growing uneasy. 

Sonny’s eyes soften momentarily as he looks over at his sister. “I was only there for business.” 

“Victoria,” Sandra narrows her eyes at you. “What did you see? Tell me.” 

You snuggle Vincent to your chest, sighing softly. “Sandra, this isn’t—” 

“Oh no, no.” Sandra glares at you, “you’re not going to tell me how to react, right? If your husband was known to whore around for years, would you really remain quiet? That passive?” 

“Stop,” you stare back at her, unamused. “That’s not what this is.” 

“THEN TELL ME WHAT IT IS!” Sandra screams, causing Connie to flinch. 

“Lower your voice when you speak to Victoria,” Michael warns, hearing the faint footsteps of Vito and Carmela beginning to step out from the central family compound. 

“Tell me, tell me! TELL ME!” Sandra sobs, hiccupping. 

Sonny shakes his head, locking eyes with you; his expression still somewhat hurt from your last encounter with him in Las Vegas.   

“All of New York knows the truth but not me, his own wife!” Sandra points to her chest, “I deserve to know the truth! Tell me!” 

“You do,” Michael agrees, somewhat calming Sandra. “Yes, you do.” 

“Constanzia,” Carmela calls out gently, approaching her and gesturing her away. “Come here, sweetheart. Come, let’s go.” 

You stay put, watching as Vito approaches with a grave look of disappointment on his face—watching his daughter-in-law weep. 

“Papa,” Sandra hiccups, shaking her head. “What have I done? What did I do? Was I a bad wife to deserve this?” 

Sonny bites his lip, embarrassed in the presence of his father and barely able to look Vito in the eye. 

“No, you were not,” Vito answers, scowling at his son. “And Santino does not think so either, does he?” 

“Pop—” 

“Silence!” Vito interrupts. “You’ve caused our family enough embarrassment, you make your wife cry and you speak back to me? Have you no shame, Santino? You treat the mother of your children—your life partner—this way with such disrespect in front of your family?” Vito shakes a scolding finger at Sonny. “I will speak to you alone, Santino, so you don’t embarrass yourself in front of the family any longer, but you owe answers and apologies to your wife.” 

“I want to hear it from Michael,” Sandra sniffles. 

Vito looks over at the both of you, noticing the frowns on your faces. 

“Him or Victoria,” Sandra hiccups again, “they were both in Las Vegas with Sonny. They know. Victoria, tell Papa.” 

You nod, refusing to hold back for Sonny’s sake. “Papa, I didn’t see or hear anything—that’s the truth—but Sonny told me himself he went to spend time with a woman.” 

“Rita, right?” Sandra attempts to catch her breath. 

Michael raises a brow, seriously beginning to wonder how everyone knows Rita Duvall in this family. 

“Aaaaaa…” Vincent snuggles your chest, surprising you by how calm he remains throughout so much shouting being exchanged. 

“Rita, seriously?” Michael stares at Sonny, no longer able to hold back his own disappointment. 

 You press your lips down together, remaining silent and attempting to appear indifferent to the name mentioned. If Sandra knows of Rita, then she already knows about everything else and if her pain lies with Sonny’s affair with Rita, then you can only think of Sandra who’d be happy to hear someone put Rita Duvall out of her misery a few days ago.

The conversation changing to speak of a woman whom you killed recently is no doubt an interesting one between family.

“Jesus,” Sonny sighs, looking away in defeat. 

“Go inside, I’ll speak with you separately,” Vito gestures Sonny away. “Everyone, please give them some privacy. Let us all return to what we were doing, your mother and I will deal with this.” 

Michael gives Sonny one last look before gently leading you away and back towards your estate. “Come on, darling.” 

“YOU WERE WHORING AROUND IN VEGAS WHILE I WAS WAITING FOR YOU AND TAKING CARE OF OUR FAMILY!” Is the last thing you hear Sandra scream to Sonny right then and there before you and Michael enter your estate. 

~

With every step you take until you and Michael are back into the estate with the door shut, you can hear Sandra’s sobbing, Sonny’s disgruntled comments, and Vito’s scolding. 

“C’mon, c’mon, go inside. Get inside, and we’ll talk. Come on, that’s enough. Stop crying.”

“Aa!” Vincent squirms in your arms, only now beginning to grow restless.

“Ah, I’m right here. Right here,” you gently bop the tip of Vincent’s little nose, “hi, baby. Hiiii, look at Mama.”

“Gaaaaahhhh…” Vincent blinks in confusion, beginning to calm down as you give both of his cheeks a kiss.

Michael glances out towards the window, knowing Sandra is sobbing and inconsolable whereas Vito feels disrespected and embarrassed on behalf of the family.

“There, there,” you wiggle a piece of your hair to Vincent, noticing his interest immediately grow. “Mama’s hair is that interesting, hmm? I’m flattered. You’ll grab on daddy’s tie too, right?”

Vincent blathers quietly, holding a few strands of your hair in a loose grip as you turn to face Michael who locks the front door, gazing back at you.

“I…” You take in a deep breath, patting Vincent’s back. “It’s past his nap time. I should put him to bed.”

“Very well,” Michael nods, slipping both hands into the pockets of his trousers. “We need to talk after.”

Strange, cold tension fills the space between you and Michael momentarily towards the matter with Sandra; a lot to consider on Michael’s behalf whereas memories of New York with Sonny come rushing back to you—leaving a mellow taste in both of your mouths

“I know,” you say back, turning around and approaching the staircase. 

“I want you in my office afterward,” Michael watches as you carefully go up the steps.

“I’m tired, Michael,” you say back; whether it’s of today or what just occurred in front of half of the family, you leave it up to Michael to infer.

“I know. I am too.”

You feel the tension in your body begin to ease up as you make your way upstairs with little Vincent in your arms, already noticing how your son snuggles you in a state of sleepiness.

“Let’s get you all cozy and in your bed,” you whisper softly to Vincent, approaching the nursery. “You’re falling asleep on me already. Oh,” you can’t help but smile at how Vincent’s curled up to your chest, peacefully beginning to doze off.

You carefully set Vincent in his crib, tucking him in and minding what position he’s laying in without waking him.

“I need to learn from you, honestly,” you joke, speaking in a very ushered tone as you watch Vincent sleep. “Just look at you…” You sigh in relief, “growing so fast. Three months have gone like that already… I love you, little guy. Mama loves you so much.” 

You make sure to keep the nursery door open for Esther to check in on Vincent if you’re unable to throughout the day and also to hear any crying.

It’s not that you dread returning downstairs to get to Michael’s office or feel anxious about having a talk with him about all that just occurred with Sandra and Sonny, but rather that you feel so burned out from it all that the last thing you want is to be put in the middle—especially if it means Sandra and Sonny’s marriage will be permanently impacted.

None of this is fair to Sandra, but it’s not fair to you either. Then again, you know more about what happened than you’ll ever let on, and Michael knows this too. 

Back in his office, Michael organizes paperwork over his desk—not so much distracted but waiting for you.

You step into Michael’s office, pulling off your hair tie to let your bun unravel free over your shoulders before smoothening it out. 

You don’t even bother to look up at Michael right away who has his hands in his pockets, walking around his desk to approach you now.

Michael can tell you’re not avoiding looking at him directly out of guilt or anxiety, but that you’re tense and a little shaken up from that dramatic encounter with Sandra and Sonny.

Michael approaches you directly, placing both hands over your arms gently. “Relax, darling. You’re very tense.”

Sighing softly, you look up at your husband and frown.

Michael rubs up and down your arms tenderly, gazing into your eyes with nothing but genuine trust.

“Sandra…” You begin.

“I know,” Michael speaks to you in a soothing, calm voice. “There’s nothing we can do about the matter. It must be left between them.”

“And Papa?”

“Pop is disappointed,” Michael nods grimly. “He’ll have his say”

“I’m glad,” you say with a sigh, wrapping your arms around Michael’s shoulders. “Sandra deserves that much at least.”

Michael and you are more than well aware of how Connie didn’t have that kind of treatment from Vito who outright refused to get involved in her and Connie’s abusive marriage.

“I can presume whatever Santino did was as bad as Sandra claimed,” Michael mentions.

“Yes, it was,” you nod back, “Sonny’s lucky. Even with Pop talking to him who I trust will knock some sense into him, he’s still lucky.”

“Hmm,” Michael embraces you, planting a kiss over the side of your neck. 

“If it was my father…” You grimace, “no. He would be in deep shit. Any of my brothers would.”

“That is to be expected,” Michael agrees. “He came and spoke with me shortly after we settled in.”

You blush, gently pressing your forehead against Michael’s. “Sonny did?”

“Yes,” Michael answers, “he came in bitter, entitled, and demanding answers. All he spoke of was you.”

“Great,” you mumble under your breath. “He doesn’t understand what I did was for his own good.”

“I agree,” Michael says, but in reality, he has no idea exactly what you mean. “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not. I don’t. As Pop said, we can’t afford a scandal on Sonny’s behalf after Fredo. Deanna is in Hollywood and has held nothing back to journalists about Fredo and his promiscuity throughout their marriage.”

“Figures,” you rub your temple gingerly, “it’s the last thing we need after all of this.

“And the baby,” Michael kisses your forehead. “I’m more concerned about you and our family than anything else. I refuse to make Sonny’s behavior our problem.”

“I know, baby,” you nod glumly. “I didn’t want Pop and everyone to hear all of that but it was inevitable.”

“Perhaps it was for the best,” Michael offers. “The rest is up to them personally, however… You never told me you hit Sonny.”

“He deserved it,” you look up into Michael’s eyes. “Then and there, he deserved it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You didn’t expect that though, did you?” You ask.

“I understood why,” Michael replies. “You’re not a bitter and malicious person, Victoria, and you certainly weren’t in Las Vegas.”

“I know how he is,” you say back, practically still able to hear Rita’s whiny voice mocking you over her supposed pregnancy.

“And that brother-in-law of yours? His seed is inside me, so? You know what happens next, don’t you?”

You refuse to mention anything about Rita’s pregnancy to Michael for your own reasons.

“Sonny’s still my brother, and I care about him,” you state. “But he has more to deal with when it comes to his marriage. And as to what I did…” You shake your head, “he just needs to get over it.”

“He will,” Michael takes your hand, leading you towards one of the sofas in the office. “It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

“I understand, baby,” you sit next to Michael on the leather sofa, curling up to his side. “I just want my little peace and quiet with you and the babies.”

“Is Vincent asleep?” Michael wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “fell asleep right away. Wasted no time.”

“I wish we could have said the same for the twins when they were growing up,” Michael chuckles quietly. 

“Same here,” you giggle back. “At least they did when they were newborns.”

“A different story altogether,” Michael adds. “Mm, how do you feel?”

“About?” You feel his hand rubbing up and down your back gingerly. 

“Everything, or just about.”

“I’m alright,” you smile back at your husband. “And I know things will be better. I’m not going to let the last few days dictate to me how I should keep feeling.”

“I’m prepared to put the world to a stop if I need to for you, Victoria,” Michael’s hands begin to massage up and around your shoulders. “You only gave birth a few months ago. I want you to relax.”

“I’ll catch up eventually,” you relax in Michael’s embrace. “With this little one.”

“We missed having a baby around,” Michael kisses the top of your head. “The twins… They’ve grown up already.”

“Very fast,” the blush over your cheeks deepens as Michael kisses both of your hands. 

“I’m proud of them and you,” Michael whispers against your forehead before kissing it.

“I love you so much,” you blush back.

“I love you too,” Michael gives your hands a soft squeeze. “You’re an amazing mother, I want you to know that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you feel Michael’s hand beginning to caress down your chest; his movements growing slower and more tender. 

“And an amazing woman,” Michael nuzzles your neck as you find your fingers clutching onto the fabric of Michael’s dress shirt.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head back to feel the warmth of Michael’s lips planting hot kisses over your neck—inhaling in the scent of your floral perfume.

A shiver goes down your spine from arousal as you feel Michael’s nose brush against your skin. “I want to have another child with you…”

“Already,” your breath hitches as you press your body against Michael’s.

“Whenever you feel ready,” Michael’s hands begin to inch up your blouse.

“Considerate,” you tease back—a whimper escaping your lips from Michael’s hands cupping your breasts.

“Your needs come first, baby,” Michael rubs his fingers over your tender nipples—already hardened from arousal. “I can still please you until it’s over.”

You know Michael’s referring to your period which you got in the middle of the night. “Yes, you can…” You writhe in Michael’s lap. “I… I didn’t lock the door.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Michael begins to inch your blouse up. “I want you here right now.”

“Oh, please,” you buck your hips up in arousal, watching as Michael licks his fingertips and continues massaging your nipples.

“You. Are. Mine.” Michael says between kisses over your breasts. “Only mine.”

“Yes,” your eyes flutter shut as Michael slips your blouse up and off over your head.

From where you both lay on the sofa in Michael’s office, you can see your reflections in a small mirror on the other side of the room; watching the way Michael teases and pleases your body.

“Come here, baby,” Michael’s tongue flickers over your breasts as he massages one and suckles over the other.

You moan loudly, tugging over his hair and feeling his hot tongue over your nipple.

Rolling your eyes back from pleasure, you feel you could cum from this alone—feeling just as horny on your period and willing to take all the alone time you can with Michael, right here and right now.

~

Within the same week, Fredo’s infamous brothel in Las Vegas is officially sold and shut down with the new buyer’s intention to tear the entire building and structure down and build anew.

All is well for the Corleone family who anticipated such for a long time coming; now with no need to worry about the physical reminders of Fredo’s legacy and being involved in the prostitution business by affiliation.

The news of the Corleone family now having no official ties whatsoever to any form of prostitution pleases Don Tattaglia who still seeks to have a monopoly over brothels under his family business; something Michael is more than fine with.

It’s not for another five days until the brothel’s managers realize they aren’t able to contact Rita Duvall in any form—has accounted for all the other women who worked at the brothel to move employment to an unaffiliated, new brothel.  

Rita neither answers her telephone nor writes back. Her neighbors cannot remember the last time they saw her enter her apartment which remains eerily silent.

For the sake of formality and to avoid trouble with the law, the brothel managers file an official missing persons case on behalf of Rita, but from the unamused twinkle in the constable’s eyes at the police station, it was easily understood this investigation wouldn’t be taken seriously or as a priority over a missing prostitute.

It isn’t the first time showgirls, dancers, cocktail waitresses, and prostitutes have gone missing before but especially those who are known by the mafia or have curled up to him are almost always expected to go missing eventually.

It’s either a matter of knowing too much, overhearing something, or being under the suspicion one might snitch or get smart-mouthed towards the mafia which causes mistresses to go missing for good.

Rita isn’t the type to run off for dramatics or disappear for a while nor did the news of the brothel shutting down upset her to do so, but neither the police nor the brothel’s managers expect to find Rita ever again.

Still, it would be something to find Rita’s body at the very least and confirm what happened to her once and for all. Rita’s death would have to be covered up by the police and lied about on every report if it was done by the mafia in which one would truly know if it was done by the hands of a made man or a common killer.

Because the death of many others like Rita is common, there’s no special amount of sympathy felt by anyone on her behalf. Only journalists care about these kinds of cases when it benefits their articles and reports.

At this point in time, it’s been a little while since someone like Rita was reported missing or found dead—leaving a gap in time.

Only once a week passes with no information on Rita, nobody able to contact her, and nothing to pinpoint where she may have gone, what may have happened to her or anything in-between does Luciana’s interest begin to spike up.

Luciana already reported on the brothel shutting down, but it didn’t garner as much attention in the media as she thought.

Although she mentioned Fredo’s name in her article which meant the Corleone family by default and expected some sort of public attention towards it knowing how notorious Fredo’s brothels were when he was actively involved and running them, it appeared that the public was tired of the same old story spun in different ways.

Not only does Rita’s disappearance intrigue Luciana, but the fact that the police, her colleagues, and her employers also stopped caring about her almost immediately beckons for a new report.

Without being explicit or defaming, Luciana’s always been reporting on the drama caused by the mafia and every indulgence they have, especially when it comes to debauchery and luxurious lifestyles.

Since mafiosi are seen as wealthy businessmen outside of the underworld of crime, nothing impacts their reputation, family, or payroll so none come to mind but sometimes even appreciate the light of the media on them. The only exception to this has always been the Tattaglia family.

Tattaglia is the only mafiosi—let alone Don—who considers prostitution a lucrative and important business and because such a business is illegal, Tattaglia pats the city police’s pockets well to keep them in their place and their mouths shut.

Despite suspecting or knowing a fair share herself, Luciana doesn’t care. She takes a neutral stance on everything so as long as it doesn’t impact her directly. Some may even call her selfish for how she couldn’t care less what comes of her colleagues; it’s just one less journalist to compete with.

Luciana also couldn’t care less about the hows and whys of what the crime families do. She’s a reporter and a journalist—all she likes to do is get to the bottom of a good story and deliver.

Luciana remains to be the only journalist at her media outlet that cares about “whore gossip” and “drama scandals” to the point where she’s built her career and reputation on it.

After all, Luciana can be considered a nosy, gossipy person, and growing up she was the first to hear, spread and confirm rumors throughout her high school days that never really faded away when she became an adult.

And despite only speaking with Rita once to be bribed out of reporting a news story on her, Luciana doesn’t consider herself to know Rita personally. All Luciana figures are that Rita, a very popular prostitute and showgirl on stage and behind curtains but not so much in her personal life has gone missing and it’s going to make a hell of a headline.

Luciana’s aware Rita’s always spent her fair share of time with the Barzinis and Tattaglias, so regardless of how Luciana words her headline or chooses to write up a story, it’ll shine the wrong light on the two mafia families which could easily get Luciana and all of her colleagues killed.

Now that their “star girl” Rita Duvall is officially missing, the last thing Luciana will want is any heat on her without implying Rita’s possibly murdered.

For now, Luciana decides to write up an article that’ll only make it look like Rita’s a bad girl gone rogue until Luciana can dig up and discover enough information on what really happened to write up something proper.

‘Without a Trace: Star Showgirl and Performer Rita Duvall Missing?’ Luciana stares at her typewriter, amused by the witty headline she came up with.

It’s only a matter of time until Rita shows up with a bolstered reputation as if she was starting her second act or with a ruined reputation because she disappeared and none cared to find out why. 

It’s that, or the third option; that Rita Duvall is dead.

[synesindri]

lucifer gender symbolism essay part 9: sexual connotations of “vessels,” stabbing, and holes

masterpost

this section is pretty handwavey tbh, but i’m going to get into it anyway because i think there’s something here. several things, even. it makes more sense than some freudian analysis i've read, anyway, so, let's go.

[cw 1: this section discusses violent metaphors for sexual penetration — although in an abstract way that does not address consent or lack thereof.]

[cw 2: this section uses genital symbolism in some sexual contexts. the symbolism also kind of assumes some connections between genitals, sex, and gender.]

obviously, “vessel” in supernatural signifies that a person has the potential to be filled with an angel. in the world of sexual metaphors, the human has the yonic, receptive (traditionally female) role, while the angel has the phallic, penetrative (traditionally male) role. it’s pretty direct.

the only reason i’m bothering with going “maybe it’s not so simple” is because of the vocabulary used to refer to dean (and, later, adam). dean is michael’s vessel, but he’s also the michael sword — and a sword, as we all know, is a dick! so what does that mean? well, it means they had vessel vocabulary and they had symbolism of michael striking down the devil with a sword and just went “yeah these can coexist.” but if nothing else, i’ve proven by this point that i can and will make a mountain out of a molehill. my molehill mountain here is that michael’s sword represents not only the thing michael fills with himself, but also the thing he uses to penetrate others. 

several directions to go with lucifer, from that.

the first is that sam is formally referred to only as lucifer’s vessel. so the “michael’s vessel” terminology corresponds to the “lucifer’s vessel” terminology, but the “michael sword” terminology either 1) has no equivalent, or 2) also corresponds the “lucifer’s vessel” terminology. the former is what i think is actually right, but the latter is fun to think about, right? michael’s body is a thing intended to be used to penetrate; lucifer’s body is a thing intended to be filled. 

the second direction is that, while sam is only formally described as lucifer’s vessel, he is also informally described as lucifer’s prom outfit. an outfit is, in a sense, something intended to be filled, but it’s not typically a sexual thing between the garment and the body wearing it, so much as it is that someone will wear a prom outfit to a dance to make themself look more attractive. so michael gets a traditionally masculine symbol of penetration, and lucifer gets an ambiguously-gendered (neither explicitly dress nor suit), adolescent symbol of wanting to be hot.

the third direction i have for this isn’t about vessels, but is about weaponry. this isn’t really a feminine/woman/whatever!lucifer point so much as a non-masculine/whatever!lucifer point, but. eh. neither michael nor lucifer ever gets their archangel blade out in s5 at any point. we can probably assume that michael has one that he can access easily; we know gabriel still has his, and gabriel would have less reason to still have his than michael would. also since everyone including michael seems pretty confident that michael will be able to kill lucifer, it seems unlikely that he does not have a blade on him. if nothing else, his vessel is his sword, and he shows up to the stull fight wearing a vessel. lucifer, though…who even knows if lucifer has a blade anymore. lucifer uses his hands and powers to kill most of the time, and he kills gabriel by turning gabriel’s blade back on him. i’m not the first to suggest that lucifer doesn’t have his own blade anymore, that that’s something he lost in his fall, but i do endorse that view. castration metaphor, anyone? 

the last thing i have here is that it is at least implied that michael would take lucifer down by stabbing him. what ends up happening is that lucifer takes michael down by pulling him into a hole. so. there’s that. dick vs pussy ways to end the apocalypse. 

here’s a post i made but it doesn’t really add a ton. 

anyway. 

devil hole. 

part 8: jarpad and mark p's acting styles part 10: villain gender in supernatural, comparisons masterpost

[greenthena]

Competing Harmonies

I've just been pondering the whole "other people's love lives always seem so much more straight forward than our own." Because, here's my unpopular hot take for this morning--I think Crowley and Aziraphale have doubts about their relationship and its trajectory. I think that deep down, they believe themselves to be incompatible. Like, I get it. Soul mates. Twin flames. They were originally written as a single character. But, my dudes, the ineffable idiots don't know this. That's us as the audience having the luxury of scanning the final pages (or in this case, trusting Neil's narrative in season 3, because we have an omniscient expectation for our stories to be satisfying.)

But our angel and our demon don't get to hear the swelling romantic music when Crowley saves Aziraphale's books--that ambient trigger that tells the audience that we are very much meant to view that scene through an explicitly romantic lens (calm down, Michael.) They don't perceive the camera angles and the lighting curated just so we see them reflecting the yin yang, push pull tension of their interactions, so heavily dripping symbolism its like an ox rib trickling fat down your wrist.

We, as the audience of this love story (and I would never argue that Aziraphale and Crowley need to be in an amatonormative relationship for their love to be real) want to believe that all the hesitation and tension are sexually or romantically charged. But I think there are other layers to be peeled back here. Do you ever wonder if Crowley--Crowley whose closest bond to a material object is to his car, a symbol for freedom and a refusal to be pinned down--isn't deeply uncertain of feeling locked in? Contrast this with Aziraphale and his bookshop, which is canonically dusty, and symbolically perhaps a little stagnant. Or with Aziraphale's wardrobe, which dates back at least 180 years. Aziraphale wants things to be sturdy and stable and consistent. These two aren't exactly birds (angels) of a feather.

Crowley is an active energy: questioning God, rescuing Aziraphale, always slithering with movement. Even the confession itself is active. But once the confession is made, the ball is in Aziraphale's court and Crowley just has to.....to be passive and still and wait for a response. That's why the vulnerability is so freaking raw. He's pushed so far from his comfort zone. And he's willing to do it--desperate to do it, even. But he's not certain of it.

Aziraphale certainly isn't passive, but he's rigid. (Stop. Stop that right now.) Crowley constantly tempts him to be more flexible, to experience the nuance and shading that are available when you can see beyond black and white. But that's frightening within Aziraphale's rigid structure (even if he feels it's right.) So when, in his confession, Crowley offers Aziraphale an option outside the binary, a third choice, Aziraphale is pushed too far. Aziraphale thought he'd figured out a way to make the binary work for him--stay on the good side and make it even better by including Crowley in the process.

Of course Crowley's having none of that coloring within the lines. And Aziraphale can't just jump in the Bentley and abandon stability and security. From the inside, this looks like a profound incompatibility between partners, two people-shaped beings so at odds with one another and the future the other wants. But from the outside, from the audience perspective, it appears very, very different.

So here it is....the reason why it's so easy to see the narrative thread when you take a step back and look at someone else's love life or romantic partners in a story. You can see the whole of it. Like Anathema Device trying to detect Adam's aura. She couldn't do it because she was too close. But back away, and the picture is clear as anything. Crowley and Aziraphale aren't incompatible, they're each the exact counterweight to the other. (I mean, yes, they definitely need to get some serious therapy to work through their goddam issues so they stop triggering each other's capital-T-Trauma responses. But that's another post.) During the confession and the whole book shop scene, they're not asking what the other thinks they're asking. Crowley knows Aziraphale needs stability. He's offering a future with himself as that stability. Aziraphale knows Crowley needs freedom. He's offering Crowley the freedom to exist without the constant threat of being punished by Heaven or Hell. But neither of them can see what the other is offering because of miscommunication and misunderstanding. They're not hearing each other because they're not really listening.

And this is the final point: season 2 is all about miscommunication and misunderstanding. From blatant spelling errors (ugrency, no regerts, give us the angle) to "aim for the mouth but shoot past the ear." It's not a lack of compatibility that's throwing a wrench into Aziraphale and Crowley's little 6000 year dance party, it's a breakdown of communication. And the whole season is a reflection of this interpersonal catastrophe.

Fortunately, I'm in the audience--I get to see with my God's-eye view and trace the narrative thread to a satisfying conclusion. And what I see for the future looks something like this. With mutual trust and understanding--presumably accomplished through honest and vulnerable communication (and therapy, lots and lots of therapy--I'm seeing Muriel somehow involved in this), two very different creatures, drawn together by the dance of the universe, can align their equal and opposite energies to become gravitationally bound to each other. This is Alpha Centauri--two unique and individual stars orbiting one another in perfect balance and holding each other steady in the universe. For this to happen, both stars have to share the responsibilities of pushing and pulling, neither one dominating the other. They exist in in harmony but not in unison, each a unique expression, yet infinitely more beautiful in collaboration with the other.

For this to happen, the ineffable idiots are going to have to learn how to communicate--and communication is more about listening and perspective taking than it is about talking. If they can learn to really listen and see one another's points of view, they'll be able to take a step back, to see the bigger picture and the narrative thread. Maybe they'll even be able to hear the celestial harmonies playing in the background.

[the-rad-pineapple]

Survivor's Guilt

It's just Adam and Michael on a routine supply run.

Adam hates Michael.

First off, he wears this dark overcoat thing with these long laced-up boots that make him look like he's trying to be an anime character or something. It definitely doesn't look cool. And he's a little too good at killing that Adam always wonders what he did before. To be fair, Michael is kind of a badass, but it's still strange. Like, who is this guy? Adam's heard every rumor, and asked everyone he could, but none of the stories match or make sense. It's frustrating.

Adam tried to get out of the supply run in every way he could think of. He tried to trade shifts. He tried to sleep in too late. But a lot of their people have a terrible cold, so anyone available isn't well enough to trade with him. And, to top it all off, Michael woke Adam up bright and early. He didn't want them to be late. They have to be on time apparently. Adam isn't sure what for. There aren't a lot of places you have to be on time for anymore.

They have to go through an abandoned mall Adam's been wanting to check out, so that's kind of exciting. Adam's trying to see it as a positive thing. Apparently, Michael's been through there a few times already. So, it should be fine.

Which means it isn't.

There's a breeze in the air, making everything a little cold. They're just on the edge of spring where any day now things will start to be warmer. It brings a buzz of impatience that hums just beneath Adam's skin. They travel on a small, worn path in the dead grass. They're still close to camp, so Adam feels safe enough not to pay that close attention to his surroundings and lets himself fall into the comfortable rhythm of walking. His brain is peacefully quiet. It's a rarity, so he allows himself to enjoy it.

His medicinal pack hangs lightly on his back. He carries it everywhere, so he feels wrong without it now. But he can never get used to his holster. It's strapped to his right thigh and starts to become heavy and annoying almost as soon as they begin walking, so he takes the pistol out and slips it into the back of his waistband.

"What are you doing?" Michael hadn't even looked at him. Adam has no idea how he saw that. Fucking annoying.

"It's comfier here."

"It's more difficult to get to there. Put it back."

As if Michael actually cares. He just likes bossing people around. Sure, Michael can get away with it at camp where he has more of a leadership position (that he's unfortunately really good at), but he's not getting away with it alone with Adam. "No."

Adam watches Michael grind his jaw, but he keeps his lips pressed closed. He still doesn't look at Adam. The small bit of satisfaction that settles in his chest makes Adam have to bite back a smile.

They walk for a few more minutes, and Adam allows himself to relax again, but then Michael says, "You're going to get killed."

Will he just shut up? "Okay," Adam says briskly. He hopes Michael gets the fucking hint and leaves him alone.

Of course he doesn't. Michael stops and spins to look at Adam. His hair swirls at the suddenness of the movement and frames his face. His eyes are sharp and fierce.

Heat builds between Adam's legs.

"This isn't a game, Adam."

Adam swallows. He sighs to try and feign nonchalance.

"Adam."

The way he says that. The situation in Adam's pants is about to be fucking noticeable.

Adam rolls his eyes but takes his pistol out from his waistband and makes a show of returning it to his holster. He looks Michael in the eyes. "There. Happy now?"

"No. But this is an improvement." Michael is always so literal and serious. And it's…okay, it's a little endearing. It levels out the hot intensity he has when he's ordering people (Adam) around. Michael swiftly turns back and begins walking again. Adam follows.

They branch off of the path somewhere Adam's never been to before. His heart flips in excitement at the prospect of something new. He doesn't realize he's walking faster until he's beside Michael. Michael glances at him with this cool, calculating look he has. Michael can do this thing where he doesn't show any emotion on his face when he's taking something in. It's usually the look he gets when thinking up a battle plan. Adam's seen it in action. It's kind of hot if Adam is being honest. …But it's also been a while since Adam had any type of interaction like that, so who really knows.

They keep walking. And walking. And walking. Adam gets bored until Michael slows down a little.

"When we get there, I'll go upstairs, and you'll stay downstairs. Understand?"

Adam frowns. "Why?"

"Because you'll be keeping watch for me."

"But I want to come with you." The second it leaves his mouth, Adam cringes. He sounds like a whiny kid pleading with his mom.

"No. It's more dangerous upstairs, and we both know I'm a better fighter than you."

His words cut, and Adam feels quick rage stab through his chest. "Fuck you. I'm a good fighter."

Michael sighs in exasperation. "I never said you weren't. I'm just better."

"You're an asshole," Adam spits.

Michael stops and stares. He's standing completely rigid. His eyes are cool and closed off again. He's entirely expressionless.

"What."

Michael asks, "Are you done? Because we actually have something to do here." His annoyance fills the air with taught tension.

Seriously, fuck this guy. Adam brushes past him, making sure to clip him on the shoulder.

Bitterly, "You're a child."

Adam continues to ignore him.

Michael catches up to him, and they keep walking in tense silence until they leave the small woods and step onto asphalt. Adam slows.

The mall is huge. It's been a while since Adam's seen a large building. It's sun-bleached. The windows on the front doors are smashed. There are only a few cracks on the outside. It looks relatively untouched. Maybe just a little old and worn. It seems like it should be nostalgic, but it's all so different now that Adam feels nothing.

"Do you remember the plan?"

Adam jumps and immediately feels his face heat up in embarrassment. "Yeah. I stay downstairs."

"Good."

They make their way through the parking lot. Weeds spread out from the cracks. The only car is a burnt Subaru. Adam wonders how it caught fire. He envisions violence and desperation and the forms of twisted bodies devouring fresh flesh. His mom used to drive a Subaru. He tears his eyes away.

The mall casts a large shadow, and it's cold without the sun. They reach the doors and crunch through a pile of glass. The loud sound rings alarm bells in Adam's head, but Michael pays it no mind, so Adam follows.

And then they're inside.

The entire atmosphere is different. It's quiet but big. There's no breeze, and it's warmer in a stuffy, indoors way. Sunlight flows through the doors and the skylights on the tall ceiling. It's serene. It feels as if Adam's stepped into a cathedral.

Michael is close enough that Adam can feel his body heat. Michael shifts and gently squeezes Adam's arm.

Adam stares in alarm. Did Michael hear something? Is something coming?

Michael gives his arm a second reassuring squeeze while pressing his index finger to his lips.

Adam swallows and nods.

Michael nods back before releasing Adam's arm. He's somehow colder without Michael's touch and nearly shivers.

He watches Michael skirt towards the wall. He has one hand on his own pistol. He cautiously looks into each empty store he passes. He's fast and quiet. He rounds a corner, and Adam sees him start up a flight of stairs before he's lost behind a wall blocking Adam's view.

Adam leans against the wall nearest to him and really takes in the scenery. It's been so long since he's been somewhere new. And somewhere from before.

All of the storefronts are broken and smashed. Miscellaneous products are strewn across the floor. There's a broken lava lamp in front of a Holister. A torn BTS poster lays beneath a bench. Purple Victoria's Secret panties are beside Adam's foot, and he nudges them. They're torn. And there's blood on them.

He pushes off the wall to look at something else. He glances up at the skylights and catches a glimpse of the moon. She looks the same as she always has.

Adam keeps his breath quiet and strains his ears for any sign of Michael. Nothing.

Something sparkles in the corner of his eye, and he turns to look. There's something on the floor near a Zale's at the very end of the hall. A ring? A watch? Adam wants it. He pauses to listen one more time. It's silent, so he makes his way towards the sparkly thing.

And Adam knows he's technically supposed to be lookout, but Michael is so quick and efficient that Adam knows he isn't really needed. The only thing he's good for is patching up a wound, and he's not even the best one at that. So he isn't being as quiet as he should be. Unlike Michael. Michael's always quiet. He's always vigilant. Adam never is. If it's his time to go, then so be it. Adam won't stop it. He might even be inviting it.

He definitely is when he's noisily walking down the tiled floor of the mall, his eyes glancing over to the dry fountain in the center. It's surrounded by elevators. It must've been quite a sight when it was fully operational. Even now it's beautiful. Maybe even more so with its emptiness and the cracks filled with green and yellow dandelions. There's a shuffle and a grunt—an unmistakable grunt—that turns Adam's blood to ice. And that's when he spots them.

There's a small huddle of zombies in the Claire's right next to him. They look odd in there. All unclothed, decaying flesh surrounded by purples and pinks and glittery things. There's a fleeting moment where Adam thinks they didn't notice him. But then the one next to the piercing chair snaps its head in his direction. It screeches and bursts towards him. Its horrid screech and thundering footsteps echo through the entire building. The ones next to it immediately follow.

Adam's heartbeat skyrockets, and he runs as fast as he fucking can in the other direction. There's no way he can take them on. They're too quick, and he's too close.

He's running past the Holister when he hears one of their breaths close. And then closer. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It's right there. It's right fucking there. He fucking feels its breath. And this is it. This is fucking it. This is how he dies.

Isn't this what he wanted?

A deafening bang so loud that Adam can't hear.

He keeps running. He doesn't stop. But the noise throws him off so badly that he misses the doors. He isn't sure where he's going, but he spots the stairs and runs up them. He chances a look behind himself and nearly trips.

Michael is somehow behind the zombies, pistol in his outstretched hand. A dead zombie lies by the Holister. It's the one that almost got Adam. The rest of the zombies have turned to the source of the sound. The moment stretches into an eternity until the zombie closest to Michael lunges at him.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Four down. The remaining three are nearly upon him. And then Michael takes out a fucking machete from somewhere in his fucking overcoat thing. He swings, and the first one's head falls to the floor. He dodges the second and manages to swipe as it passes him, beheading that one too. But the third one is close and manages to tackle Michael from behind. Adam's heart stops.

No.

Fuck.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Not Michael.

Oh, god, please no.

Not Michael.

Please.

read the rest on ao3

[batmannotes]

The Fastest Man Alive finally gets his own live-action solo flick with several other superheroes from the DC Universe lending a helping hand. Ezra Miller portrays The Scarlet Speedster who uses his superpowers to travel back in time to change the events of the past, however worlds collide when his attempt to save his family inadvertently alters the future.  

Oddly enough, with a number of superheroes making appearances, there is only one major super villain in this 2 hour and 24-minute affair, General Zod … a Superman villain. The Flash becomes trapped in a reality in which Zod has returned, threatening destruction, and there is no one to turn to. The Flash is left to coax a vastly different Batman (Michael Keaton) out of retirement to help rescue an imprisoned Kryptonian … albeit not the one he’s looking for, and to save the world that he is in and return to the future that he knows. 

The film starts out with an amazing sequence where the Ben Affleck Batman is in hot pursuit of criminals on his new and improved Batcyle and The Flash is left to rescue babies at a hospital. Watching this sequence of Affleck makes me realize how cool a solo movie with him might have been. Besides a large dose of action, the movie also relies on humor to carry the viewer through a nearly 2 and ½ hour film. Some of the jokes land, but unfortunately most of them don’t. Auspiciously though, the action is enjoyable enough to carry the bulk of this outing. 

After Barry changes the past and returns, he comes face to face with himself, or an 18-year-old version of himself. This eighteen-year-old version of Barry Allen is super too … super annoying. Present day Barry needs his other self to help him resolve the problems that he has created. Ahhh … time travel movies.  

Keaton’s portrayal is both nostalgic and fun. He delivers a couple of legendary lines from his original 1989 Bat-flick while his classic musical motif by Danny Elfman plays in the background during the major events. For a lot of Bat-fans this was a dream come true, although I was left amazed at how spry Batman was at 70-year-old.  

Sasha Calle’s Supergirl was lifeless and with no emotion, very reminiscent of Brie Larson’s unlikeable Captain Marvel. Another female character waisted was Kiersey Clemons’s Iris West; don’t expect any notable love story here. The main emotional draw of this film is the love between a boy and his mother. Barry goes to great lengths for the love of his mom, not realizing one minor adjustment to history has major ramifications throughout time. 

The Flash suffers from two major problems; horrendous special effects and the lack of any real villain. It’s hard to believe that with all the money spent on this flick, the computer animation is flat out cringeworthy in most places. The other thing that really bothers me is how DC has such awesome super villains that Warner Bros. has yet to tap into. The Flash is yet another example of that.  

With all that said, overall, I thought The Flash was still fun and much better than the last couple of DC movie releases (Black Adam, Shazam! Fury of the Gods). Even with the bad special effects, the CGI cameos were nice to see and added to the film’s enjoyment, however, like Barry Allen, this film is its own worst enemy. Instead of squaring up against a legendary villain from Flash’s large gallery of amazing rogues, the Scarlet Speedster is left to battle a timeline that he put into place with another, much more annoying, version of himself by his side.

MOVIE GRADE: C-

4K Reviews:

VIDEO QUALITY 📽️ : A

In my opinion, you won't get a better picture quality than here. The Native 4K (2160p) transfer looks fantastic even with the horrible CGI in place. Colors burst on your screen at home that are equal to, if not better than, that on the silver screen. 

AUDIO QUALITY 🔈 : A-

Although the dialogue is extremely low and hard to understand at times, the action sequences are bombastic and sound wonderful in this Dolby Atmos & True HD 7.1 sound conversion.

EXTRAS 📀 : A-

The extras (listed below) are great! Included with the digital copy of the film are a wealth of enjoyable featurettes. The only minor thing is Warner Bros. is no longer including a regular Blu-Ray copy of the film. 

“The Flash: Escape the Midnight Circus” podcast – Six-part original scripted audio series 

featuring Max Greenfield as The Flash 

The Flash: Escape the Midnight Circus Behind the Scenes 

Deleted Scenes 

Saving Supergirl - featurette 

The Bat Chase - featurette 

Battling Zod - featurette 

Fighting Dark Flash - featurette 

The Flash: The Saga of the Scarlett Speedster - featurette 

Making the Flash: Worlds Collide - featurette 

Let’s Get Nuts: Batman Returns, Again - featurette 

Supergirl: Last Daughter of Krypton - featurette 

Flashpoint: Introducing the Multiverse - featurette 

Available at Amazon.

[illusioneddrawer64]

Custo with his fellow military janitorial and cleanup crewmates on Space Riders spaceships were unfortunately caught in the crossfire between Space Riders’ forces and the Prototype’s cult. The recent intense battle had both parties sustain heavy casualties.

Medical staff unfortunately reported that the wounds that Custo has are intense (not able to use surgery due numerous factors) and will have to wear a special mask (inspired by Joseph Merrick’s Elephant Man mask) to cover his sustained disfigurement.

When it was that time for gala events happen again; Custo wanted to help out to set up (and clean up later) but bit concerned how many will react his current appearance. Yet thanks to the encouragement of Dogday and other Space Riders, he showed up as one of service busboys as he usually do.

As a bonus; he had a bit of heart for music entertainment. With the help of other crewmates, they performed songs as part of charity work for wounded military veterans etc.

Proposed Playlist Songs performed at the Gala:

Defying Gravity, The Other Side, Ship In A Bottle, Magic (Mystery Skulls), HBO John Adams’ Opening Titles (Rob Lane), No More Kings (Schoolhouse Rock), Sit Down John (Sherman Edwards), Hamilton’s Satisfied, Shot Heard Round the World (Schoolhouse Rock), Les Miserables’ ABC Cafe/Red and Black, The Wellerman, Everybody Wants To Rule the World, You Know My Name, Another Way To Die, Skyfall, Writings On The Wall (Sam Smith), A Storm Is Coming (Han Zimmer), Rory’s First Kiss (Han Zimmer), Macrotus (Han Zimmer), Astronomia, Do the Hippogriff, Leta’s Flashblack/Ballroom Dance (James Howard), Hot Chocolate (Alan Silvestri), The Snow Miser Song, The Heat Miser Song, Tunes of Anarchy, Rock and Roll (Gary Glitter), Sandstorm (Darude), Into the Groove (Madonna), City of Stars/Planetarium (Justin Hurwitz), Start a Fire (John Legend), O-Zone (Dragostea Din Tei), Chocolate Rain (Tay Zonday), Resonant Chamber (Animusic), Marble Machine (Wintergatan), Old Town Road (Lil Nas X), Star Walkin, Run (BlackGryph0n), Type 40 (Chameleon Circuit), Song of the Sun (Janice Quatlane), Hated By Life (Hatsune Miku), Art Is Dead (boburnham), Weekdays Beatbox (Adym Evans), Human (Rag’n’Bone), Southern Cross (403 Forbiddena), Northern Lights (403 Forbiddena), Kings and Queens (Ava Max), Drum Solo (Neil Peart), All Good Things (Get Up), Break Time (Madeline Queripel), Deja Veju, Running in the 90s (Max Coveri), Blind Justice Investigation (AlterniaBound), Megalovania (Toby Fox), Big Shot (Toby Fox), My Ordinary Life (The Living Tombstone), Waving Through The Window (Ben Platt), Sweet Victory (David Glen Eisley), Blown Away, Damaged (Danity Kane), Power (Kanye Omari), My Drunken Irish Dad (Seth Macfarlane), The Highway Man (Loreena McKennitt), Galway Girl (Ed Sheeran), A Rose For Epona (Eluveitie), Taixu (lasah), Sihouette (Owl City), In the Name of Love (Martin Garrix), Read All About It (Emeli Sande), Hallelujah (Michael Henry), Counting Stars, Classical Gas (Mason Williams), Safe and Sound (Capital Cities), World of Tanks (Alan Aztec), Scatman (John Larkin), Waiting For A Miracle (Stephanie Beatriz), It’s Alright (Mother Mother), and Proud Corazon (Anthony Gonzalez).

For @onyxonline Space Riders AU.

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: January 12, 2004

Lyrics:

I was so high, I did not recognize

The fire burning in her eyes

The chaos that controlled my mind

Whispered goodbye as she got on a plane

Never to return again but always in my heart, oh

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

And her heart is breakin' in front of me

And I have no choice

'Cause I won't say goodbye anymore

Whoa

Whoa

Whoa

I tried my best to feed her appetite

Keep her coming every night

So hard to keep her satisfied, oh

Kept playing love like it was just a game

Pretending to feel the same

Then turn around and leave again, but uh-oh

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

And her heart is breakin' in front of me

And I have no choice

'Cause I won't say goodbye anymore

Whoa

Whoa

Whoa

I'll fix these broken things, repair your broken wings

And make sure everything's all right (it's all right, it's all right)

My pressure on your hips, I'm sinking my fingertips

Every inch of you

Because I know that's what you want me to do

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

Her heart is breakin' in front of me

And I have no choice

'Cause I won't say goodbye anymore

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

And my heart is breakin' in front of me

And she said goodbye too many times before

Songwriter:

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

And her heart is breakin' in front of me

And I have no choice

'Cause I won't say goodbye anymore

Jesse Royal Carmichael / Ryan Michael Dusick / Adam Noah Levine / Michael Allen Madden / James B. Valentine

SongFacts:

"This Love" is a song by the American pop rock band Maroon 5. The song was released on January 12, 2004, as the second single from their debut album Songs About Jane (2002).

The track is built around a piano-led strut and a repeating guitar sound. The lyrics are based on the band's lead vocalist Adam Levine's break-up with an ex-girlfriend. He revealed that the song was written in the "most emotionally trying time" in his life. He has also described the lyrics of this song as being extremely erotic. "This Love" was critically acclaimed by music critics, who noted the track's musicscape.

The song entered the top ten on most charts, topping several of Billboard magazine's component charts, including reaching the number one spot on the Hot Adult Top 40 Tracks chart. The music video met with controversy, regarding extended intimate scenes between Levine and his girlfriend. "This Love" helped Maroon 5 win the MTV Video Music Award for Best New Artist and was the third-most-played song of 2004. The live version of the song won Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals at the 2006 Grammy Awards. "This Love" is one of Maroon 5's most successful singles.

The song was the second single from Maroon 5's 2002 debut album, Songs About Jane. In an interview with MTV News in August 2002, Levine revealed that he wrote the song the day his girlfriend moved away after they broke up. In another interview, Levine revealed that the song was written in the "most emotionally trying time" in his life. He also added, "I was in a relationship that was ending, but I was really excited on the other end because the band was about to go make the record and I was ecstatic to go in the studio. She was literally leaving town within days of me writing the lyrics to 'This Love', so I was in prime emotional condition to write a song with that kind of conflict.

The song received critical acclaim. In the Rolling Stone review of the album, critic Christian Hoard wrote: "Adam Levine's urban-romantic swoonings work best when his band really gets up on the good foot, as on 'This Love', which uses piano and James Brown-like guitars to create a foundation on which Levine can obsess about beauty (including his own)." Jason Thompson of PopMatters noted that on the songs "This Love" and "Must Get Out", keyboardist Jesse Carmichael "manages to conjure up both the productions of Britney Spears and The New Radicals respectively". Sam Beresky of the Daily Lobo, who was less enthusiastic about the album, complimented the band on "This Love", in which he noted, "…'This Love', is a happier version of the first with a great backbeat reminiscent of Stevie Wonder's 'Superstition'. It might make a foot tap, a head nod or even a booty shake if played at a loud volume."

[brimmingwithautism]

AEW DYNAMITE 7/12/23

Thank you Jasffy, you insane bastard, for already giffing their entrance.

Wanted to put my thoughts on the night in writing, but in short: MJF and Adam Cole are the funniest duo in the company right now, Nick Wayne and Swerve Strickland stuck gold for a third time together, and Kenny Omega gets back together with his boyfriend

- Great showing from Komander, especially in the beginning of the match

- First Match: Komander V Jericho. 3 stars

-  Had a good spot upside down on the turnbuckle which transitioned into a hurricanrana

- great sell from Komander for Jericho forearm

- I am being sports entertained

- insane double power bomb from Jericho - he’s making ambitious spots but he makes em well

- lot of energy in second half of match- very good back and forth between the two. Komander is a well of energy throughout the entire thing

- the catch into the walls of Jericho was a great finish, and I loved that he did entire match alone. great showing from him

- HIGHLIGHT OF THE MATCH: Komander's rope walk into shooting star press pin - in a better world you would have won off that king

Darby Allin & Orange Cassidy VS Daniel Garcia & Sammy Guevara. 4 1/2 stars

- Tension between Garcia and Guevara in the intros is setting up a fun storyline there for the eventual JAS implosion

- fantastic fake out arm drag from 🍊 in the beginning, nice energy to start

- get spun darby. Second time in like a month he's been absolutely rotated

- handshake!! between Darby and Sammy. darby saw Jack Perry turned heel and immediately started turning Sammy into the biggest ol babyface

- looooooong vertical suplex with Sammy and darby fucking christ. men invent complex rituals to touch the skin of other men, etc

-  get walled darby

- 🍊 and Garcia are so good together, same with darby and Sammy. all around strong chemistry between the four men.

-  excellent stun dog to stunner to ddt - incredible and fluid sequence from 🍊 to darby and back to 🍊

- Beach break? more like back break. let my man take a rest week because 🍊 is falling apart

- I know Garcia and Sammy have to advance for their eventual big break from the JAS, but I still hate the match ended in outside interference. At lease Swerve is a fun heel.

- TWO HANDSHAKES between Sammy and Darby. the baby has been faced

HIGHLIGHT OF THE NIGHT: Darby audibly going “SHIT!” right before Swerve jumps in to kick his face off 

MJF & Adam Cole VS Bill Bill & Brian Cage. 3 and 1/4 stars

- their combined entrance is sill the best thing in aew right now

- MATCHING SHIRTS

- it's a wrestling match, Michael, how many push-ups can there be? Seven?

- max has some good theatrics but not a lot of good spots so far. feels so much more performance based than the other matches tonight

- Adam Cole always has THE BEST anger face tho

- LET MJF BITE MORE OPPONENTS! HE DESERVES IT!

- nice three part joke setup for the full body slam on big bill. Again, the three part joke set-up makes the match feel like a skit

- love Cole using mjf tactics as their partnership goes on

- cute chemistry in the promo too. can't wait to see the whole thing explode

- HIGHLIGHT OF THE MATCH: Brian Cage picking up MJF and Adam Cole at the same time to do a backwards toss. Insane machinery 

RUBY SOHO VS SKYE BLUE. 3 stars

- my kingdom for a good women's wrestling match on dynamite

- nice series of kicks from Skye to start things out - her legs are i n s a n e 

- Good idea to kick Ruby’s crew for this one - Skye is already such an underdog going into it that the Outcasts would just get rid of any potential tension

- Ruby is cute when she's sadistic and I should be allowed to say it. I’m not super behind her in-ring style but she really does know how to tear someone apart

- Impressed at skye's showing, and I’m glad they let her do a big second win comeback even with two “shattered” knees

- still not long enough. Tony Khan your days are numbered

HIGHLIGHT OF THE MATCH: Ruby’s pin on Skye was hot and I should be allowed to say it.

Nick Wayne VS Swerve Strickland. 4 1/2 stars

- good flinch moment to start the match. I had my doubts Nick would be able to put up any presence with Swerve in the ring (I have a bias) but doing a fake-out punch on Swerve in the corner was a great opening moment 

- you can tell these guys have wrestled with each other before - just the way they so fluidly transition between pinning and striking shows they know how the other moves. God bless the Seattle wrestling community

- great striking/miss combo between the two. poetry in motion

- insane fisherman suplex from nick considering he’s even skinnier than Hook

- picturesque hurricanrana between nick and swerve off the apron

- Nick's mama VS prince Nana book it Tony

- nice hang off the apron to neckbreaker from swerve

- Darby comes out to support him at the entrance ramp but I need him all the way down ringside. You gotta be this kid’s Sting, Darby. Making you the mentor in a new relationship would be such a good storyline for him

- amazing counter from swerve for the next hurricanrana that Nick tried - excellent way to show that this kid is good but he’s inexperienced in a real match, and can get caught out doing the same thing

- this match fucks severely. even got the crowd to shout this is awesome

- Nick lost, but it’s one of the greatest introduction matches for a wrestler I’ve seen. I know why they signed the kid and I honestly agree. AEW likes younger talent (Hook, Julia Hart) and so far the company seems to be good at nurturing them and letting them grow. High hopes from this showing.

HIGHLIGHT OF THE MATCH: - REVERSE HURRICANRANA TO Wayne's world cutter from Nick on the turnbuckle. fantastic coordination between the two of them

Overall I thought the wrestling in this match was pretty good, but then immediately overshadowed by the GOLDEN ELITE. IBUSHI COMING BACK BABY. Excited for that and in disbelief he finally showed up to hang out with Kenny and it wasn’t even PPV. Mein Gott.

What were your thoughts on the episode? Who do you think will win the Owen Hart cup or the blind tag team tournament? (hint, it probably won’t be Daniel Garcia)

[michaelwavemichaelwave]

I would *love* to know about If Jake Abel Won't Do It, I Will; I am very curious <3

I was waiting for Jake to do and ad for the fry and popcorn seasonings, but he never did. So back in late September I wrote this spoof based off an infomercial. The wording is clunky in some places, and I just wasn't satisfied with how it turned out. But here's the whole thing!

“You want fries that taste good, but don’t want to leave your house,” Adam narrates over dramatic grayscale footage of him sitting on a couch looking longingly out the window on a rainy day. 

An animated speech bubble appears over his head with the first stock photo image of fries that the search engine offers. This image dissolves into a grayscale memory of Adam of eating fries with an unrealistic passion, even for Adam Milligan- the man who was fry-less for a thousand years. 

“A good fry seasoning recipe is so hard to come by. Especially after your father-in-law [Chuck] passed away; taking his only redeeming quality, his fry seasoning recipe, with him to the grave.” 

The video transitions to a photoage of another dismal shot of Adam sitting alone on a rocking chair on a porch in the rain, fry between his fingers like a cigarette. His hair is drenched, as is his fry, and his dreams of enjoying a well seasoned fry. Nobody likes a soggy fry, except for Dean Winchester.

“Homemade fries are ok, but they’re missing something! Where’s the SPICE?” Michael rolls his eyes as Adam pretends to take a bite out of a flavorless soggy fry and shakes his head in disappointment as he rests it in his hands. Allowing the fry to fall to the table in abandonment in parallel to season 5 episode 22 “Swan Song” where he and Michael fell into Hell to be abandoned for 1,200 years. “No fry deserves that fate!”

“INTRODUCING THE OFFICIAL JAKE AND SHAKE ADAM AND MICHAEL FRY AND POPCORN SEASONINGS!” Overlayed by Adam joyfully eating popcorn alone on the couch while watching some show off screen. It’s implied that Michael is sitting next to him, but that remains unconfirmed. Watching a movie alone on a Monday night is a great way to enjoy THE OFFICIAL JAKE AND SHAKE SEASONINGS!

“Are you tired of boring old seasonings? With bottles that over pour seasoning on your fries- ruining both your fries and your bottle of fry seasoning? What a mess!! That’s why the containers of Michael’s Popcorn Topper and Adam’s French Fry Topper contain INNOVATIVE TECHNOLOGY to avoid such a disaster!”

Footage of Adam dramatically falling to the floor in tears plays under Adam’s narration. The ruined bowl of fries loom large in the foreground of the frame as Adam’s small form cries on the floor. Michael stands at the edge of the frame nudging him with his foot. Concern evident in his actions as Adam is inconsolable over his fries. The camera zooms in on an extreme closeup of Michael’s face. He is tired of Adam doing this whenever his fries don’t turn out correctly, but mostly he’s tired of being a sellout for a second commercial. He doesn’t even eat popcorn.

“These seasonings will make your fries so good you can’t get enough of them!” Freeze frame on Adam choking down a large handful of over seasoned fries.

CALL NOW AND WE’LL DOUBLE YOUR OFFER! AND WE’LL ALSO INCLUDE THE OVERSTOCK FROM OUR OTHER PRODUCT- HOT SAUCE- WITH AN EQUALLY LONG SHELF LIFE!

[gravityknife]

Adventures of The 144p Progenitor

The USF Silent Path: Turmoil & Soil

Story #11

"It has been suggested by AI-guidance, and has been unanimously decided by Admiral Alfred, Colonel Zefhris, Admiral Vince, and Colonel McCarthy that we boost our efforts in the rescue process. It's a direct order from all the way up the chain. We intervene with the objective of peaceful negotiations. And we save our fellow USF members. Our warships are authorized to return fire if diplomacy signals fail, on the advisory of Captain Jack. Overall, the objectives are simple. You are to implement search and rescue, and small-scale aerial-to-ground combat strategies and tactics immediately... following our debriefing. You are now dismissed," Lieutenant Colonel Army brawned, exiting the planning room with three other higher ranked officers. The door closed behind them.

"Sooo, f$ck the vote, then?" Captain Dan complained, chuckling.

"Okay!! Damon, Myles, and Ian, we're going to stay with our process here, focusing on getting our frigates in and out. The USF Plaza goes to Damon, USF Retribution to Myles, and the USF Element to Ian. Myles? Get up!!"

"Cruisers are in my command, Natalie, let me know when to move them in," informed Captain Michael, drinking the rest of his space soda then throwing it into the burner (garbage incinerator.) "Aries and I got this."

"Ramon. Dan. With me, we're going to be on comms with command while Natalie and Michael lead in the tactical element. We will watch the strategic display, and you guys notify me if you see anything that could threaten our mission. Communicate with me, guys, you got it?" Jack ordered.

"Yes sir!" Ramon and Dan responded.

"Adam, if you could, be my eyes and ears between operations and command. That's what I need you to do," ordered Jack.

Captain Adam resounded, "Yes sir!!"

Everyone in the SOP (Strategic Operations Planning) room got into their respective positions. They manned displays that showed the frigates' and cruisers' vitals, updated data and news from satellite feeds coming from the warzone, strategic view of the USF Silent Path and the rest of the fleet, geographical and meteorological information around Yakkenden, and other information surrounding the situation.

"Ian, you know how to use that thing, right?" Joked Myles, taking control of his display setup.

"Shut the f$ck up, Myles!" Ian laughed.

"Boys!! Pay attention!!" Natalie scolded.

Dan added, "Yeah, guys? This isn't joke time, okay? I need you guys to focus. I need a heads up display on the frigates' course of action."

Myles and Ian refocused, furrowing their brows and looking through the available intel updates to determine if any changes needed to be made.

"The zone is hot, Natalie, what are you doing?" Asked Jack.

"We're going to steer them towards the mountainside and funnel them up North. Then they can fly straight through to the CS," Natalie answered with slight panic in her tone.

"Sounds right, they'll have cover between all those trees," Damon claimed. "Natalie, I'm getting contacted by the commander of the Plaza."

"Damon, talk," Natalie demanded.

"He's telling me that the terrain looks like it's pushing upward from the ground. They're not able to stay low behind cover, please advise," informed Damon.

"We're getting those readings, too," Ramon said, thinking to himself what the h$ll is that? "We don't know what's going on there, but it shouldn't impede progress, just slow them down and raise altitude. Strategic shows that the Azkonce are retreating West, away from the mountain range."

"Keep them on the route, Natalie," Jack ordered. "Subterranean scans available?"

Dan replied, "Jack, we don't know. Half of these blips aren't even coming up on time."

"Yeah, why are the readings coming in so slow?" Ramon asked.

Jack straightened up, "Not right now, guys, stay on geographical for now. How is weather looking?"

"Doesn't look good," Dan chuckled.

"Michael," Jack prodded.

"Not getting anything from the Raph nor Zogg about it. Manageable is my guess," Michael replied. "Commander Bryson, are you in good standing?"

Commander Bryson informed: Affirm, holding strong at altitude of two-hundred seventy-five thousands meters, weather patterns ineffective.

"Ten-four," responded Michael. "A-Okay, Jack."

"I need to know what's going on, Natalie, talk to me," Jack demanded, scolding in tone.

"Yes, Jack, I know, give us some time. They're still chatting on the comms with each other. Communication is not focused toward us," Natalie defended.

"Yeah, sounds like they're hitting some chop, there, Nat," said Myles.

"There's another windstorm, stronger than the last, about to drop on them, Jack... and it spans all the way across the mountain range," claimed Dan loudly.

"Stabilizers?" Jack prodded.

"No, these aren't the new ships, Jack," answered Ramon. "That's why operations in the Albatross suggested holding position to the Explorer unit."

Aries stirred a tad in his seat. Michael looked up from his display at Jack then back down.

Too late now, Jack thought to himself. "Switch to topological." The strategic display's colors inverted and then the entire map looked like a topological map. "Why is it showing the frigates are so high in altitude? They'd be out of cover entirely."

"That's... hold on," responded Myles.

"Commander, you're being advised to drop altitude," Ian reported.

"There's no point in that yet, guys, hang on," Natalie said. "Theoretically, yes, but realistically, what the f$ck is going on with the terrain?"

"No volcano present, so it's gotta be something else," Myles suggested.

Ian told Natalie, "They're going as low as they possibly can, telling me that based on the rapid movement of the terrain, they'll hit the ground within a matter of seconds."

"Is it really pushing that fast?" Dan asked.

"It can't be," Ramon said. "Not according to what we're seeing now."

Jack asked, "How far are they from the DZ, Nat?"

"They're taking a very long time getting there, but the ETA is two minutes," Damon replied. "Plaza is still up front."

"Wait. Guys? What is that?" Dan reported in surprise. "Switch to heat signature. Jack, look at that. What is that?"

Jack made the adjustment. "Why is it showing vehicular heat signatures on the terrain beneath the frigates?"

"Subterranean!" Yelled Ian.

Michael chuckled, prompting Aries to jolt himself more awake. "I suggest getting those frigates away from the ground," Michael suggested.

"Those aren't animals, those are vehicles," informed Ramon.

Damon replied, "Yes! We know that! And now the commander and his whole bridge is yelling at each other."

"Tell them what's going on now, Damon! Come on! Myles?" Natalie slapped.

Damon looked nervously toward Natalie, holding his headset, then recommended, "Commander of the Plaza, if you are aware of the terrain changes, we advise you to pull up and stay on course. Your cover will be negligible, but we will be guiding—"

"The Element just took a hit!" Ian exclaimed. "Element is dropping. Commander Sheros, do you come in? Do you read me?"

Commander Sheros resounded: Something got through the bottom of the ship! There is something underneath the ground! We are not changing course! Diverting auxiliary power to engine and thrusters! Oxygen levels dropping in lower levels of the ship!

"Myles," prodded Natalie.

"Silent Path to Raphael, get in range and be ready to fire down upon coordinates golf-five-six, echo-three-one, triangulated echo-three-one, papa-two-six, charlie-six-nine, how copy?" Michael began.

A commander from the Raphael responded: That's affirmative, Silent Path, en route, copy safe to engage on your command.

Aries related, sending the same order to the Zoggmendzing Ghost. Another commander confirmed their movement. Both Aries's order and Michael's order went unchallenged.

"Myles, tell the commander of the Retribution what's going on with the Element," Natalie commanded.

"He knows," Myles said, flipping through tabs on his display. "Commander Alapai, do you have enough power to tow the Element? They're breaking away and veering off course due to severe hull and interior damages."

Commander Alapai snapped back: Negative, we'll be down here all day, cuz. We'll go back if we have to—"

"That won't be necessary," Natalie said, overriding Myles's comms. "Don't deviate. Stay on course."

Commander Sheros transmitted: There is something shooting up through the ground! We are circumventing!! High alert!! Captain Natalie, we are losing reserve power rapidly, displays show that our auxiliary engines have been damaged, ma'am!! We can't stay up for long!!

"Oh God," Ramon said, prompting everyone in the room to look at the strategic display. Blips were appearing right underneath all three frigates. "Jack."

"Uhh— Jack. This is bad, Jack," Dan yelled, his voice cracking slightly. "Natalie? Order the frigates out of there!... ? now!... ?"

"Dan," Jack said to Dan in a murmur. "Keep them on course. Natalie, keep the Plaza on course. Adam, tell command what's going on and that we may have to send in that reserve fleet to back off whoever that is. They're attacking us."

Michael guessed, "They must think we're Azkonce. I'm thinking that they're— so—"

"Exaaaactly, that's gotta be the Egrucians, brah," said Aries.

"Ay," Michael scolded with his eyes squinted, "Maintain discipline." He chortled into a serious face.

Aries was grinning, trying not to laugh.

"Strategically, I think they're right, Jack," Dan said. "Azkonce headed West of Yakkenden and all the gunfighting is going on near the center of the city now."

Ramon inquired to Michael, "Are those cruisers ready to hit back?"

"They're ready," Aries responded enthusiastically.

"Yeah. Ready," Michael nodded.

"Still nothing from the Explorer unit?" Asked Dan. "Anyone?"

"Radio silence, Dan," claimed Adam, after he reported to command what the situation had become. "Command is telling me that the reserve fleet is ready for combat, but to pull our ships back. Explorer unit hasn't responded for some time, now."

"Now? There's nobody where the DZ is," Damon informed.

"Now?! They're firing artillery against the mountainside, guys. What the h$ll, get them out of there, Natalie!!" Ramon forced. "Do you hear that?! They're hitting!!"

Natalie reacted, "Oohh, sh$t!! Guys, maneuver them up the mountains, now! Tell them to take cover on the— Jack, are there any units up on the mountain top?"

"It's clear of units but that storm is going to cover the whole f$cking range, Nat," Jack resounded.

Natalie patted her boys on the shoulders.

Myles, Ian, and Damon all gave orders through their comms, telling the commander of each ship to bail out and return fire as necessary. Natalie was guiding each one of them, looking over their displays, and trying not to panic.

"They're going to engage, but it won't be to much advantage," said Myles to Natalie. "There are no visuals below, and the artillery is too far away."

"Wait! That's only going to draw more attention to them! USF Silent Path to USF Plaza!! God, God, hold your fire!!" Damon vehemently shouted, focusing his passion.

Myles and Ian followed suit with giving the orders but it was already too late, as more of the Azkonce units were beginning to fire at the frigates, mistaking them for Egrucian ambushers.

"Cruisers," Dan pushed toward Michael and Aries, without looking at them.

————————

A representation of the hellish battlefield beneath the frigates, the fight between Azkonce and Egrucian forces.

The frigates were weaving back and forth in the strands of heatwaves and cold pressures, heavy rainfall, and thunder storms. The commanders of each ship were pushing their engines at maximum to pull up. The more time they spent down there, the worse off they were, losing fuel and power, as well as taking hard hits from invisible, underground forces, as well as from artillery in the city.

Breaking through the hardened terrain, numerous subterranean vehicles sporting the insignia of the Azkonce were ravaging upward to the surface, finally revealing themselves. Vehicles, termed 'Steel Gophers,' were breaching the force shields and hulls of the frigates with laser-insulated rods, same as they were while still underground. Other vehicles, termed 'Cloud Pushers,' were reaching the surface of the planet and then planting themselves into the ground with long, strong-fibred cables. Then, they unleashed a net-like plasma blanket that would snag the incoming artillery projectiles and use the remainder of its own speedy momentum to send the projectiles directly back to the enemy.

From what it seemed, everything between the Azkonce and the Egrucians was equally anticipated, one tribe never being above the other in terms of superiority.

The frigates were having an extremely challenging time dodging the weaponry of the Steel Gophers. They strayed from their original course and began flying up the mountainside to escape the falling artillery projectiles as well as the AA-battery-like weaponry of the Steel Gophers.

Heavily damaged, the frigates made it up to the peak of the mountains, but they weren't able to keep up in the air. They dropped down onto the flattest surfaces available and remained in contact with The Silent Path.

A representation of the magnificent lightshow that was coming from the laser weaponry, though the sounds of each weapon was far more terrifying.

The Steel Gophers and the Cloud Pushers were followed as subterranean Egrucian vehicles surfaced, faster than the Azkonce's vehicles. They were termed, 'Radio Ants' or simply 'Ants.' They looked like motorcycles without riders, like large drones, and they screeched like banshees. The screech was shrill, constant, and terrifying. They had a head piece that lifted up from itself, revealing a laser ring, and it shot bursts of plasma-covered shells, 10mm in diameter, into the Azkonce vehicles. Some of the vehicles were completely disabled and were left like carcasses.

Azkonce humanoid soldiers were climbing up out of the disabled and broken vehicles, and firing plasma beams that left a liquid trail, falling to the ground and emitting steam. The plasma beams cut through their targets and disabled them immediately. The Azkonce soldiers had helmets with visors that switched from turquoise to deep black. They fired their weapons into the ground, controlling their aim, and explosions could be heard at a subterranean level.

Suddenly, more vehicles burst up through the ground. They looked like shoddily melted together steel plates and beams, and it was difficult to determine if they were Azkonce or Egrucian. Thrusters appeared to melt through the backside of their hull, dropping melted metals into the ground below. They shot themselves upward into the sky, sounding as loud as Earth's ancient F22-Raptors. They headed toward the direction of Yakkenden, and without much pause began firing the same needle-like lasers that the Steel Gophers were firing, only larger in diameter, and the color purple. They were termed 'Death Angels.'

There were literally hundreds of units crawling up from underground in that area, many of them driving over each other or crawling over each other. The sound of the war was deafening, though truly was something to behold. The Azkonce units were seemingly overwhelmed by the Ants, but more and more units kept shoving upward from underneath the ground, knocking other units out of the way, blasting their turrets and cannons wildly into the sky accidentally, as well.

The cruisers, the USF Raphael and the USF Zoggmendzing were flying high above the surface of the planet, though dropped down to an altitude of around 100,000 meters. The deep, infrabass humming sound of their engines was not only bada$$ to hear, but was proving to be an effective crowd control against all Azkonce and Egrucian units.

Some Azkonce and Egrucian units began fighting upward towards the mountain tops where the frigates had inevitably created another CS. Other units were digging back underneath the tundra-like soil and still blasting their weapons at the vehicles above ground.

The Ants were proving effective against the more stationary Cloud Pushers until the Cloud Pushers inverted their plasma cannons into their vessels, causing a transformation. Then, they protruded plasma cannons on its four-sided top compartment. The entire vehicle would reel its dense-fibre cables in, in a snap, and then were being aimed manually by Azkonce crew members inside, shooting out at the Ants like harpoons, then pulling them into a shotgun blast of plasma energy from the top compartment. These units were something that the USF had to respect and fear.

More artillery projectiles were hitting and missing their targets, like an endless barrage. The warzone in Yakkenden thickened, as did the acidic plumes of smoke. The weather worsened as a windstorm passed over the area, as was predicted on the USF Silent Path. The artillery projectiles and the plasma nets were chaotically flying in every direction, hitting every unit and destroying many, and still there were more Azkonce Steel Gophers drilling up to the surface to blast more of the Ants away.

Another murder of Death Angels crowed into the skies, thrusting themselves toward Yakkenden. This time, hundreds of them were blitzing the city. The artillery suddenly ceased against the mountainside, and AA-battery positions termed 'Smokers' began firing long streaming plumes of smoke toward the Death Angels, interrupting their internal drive systems and causing their flights to fail. Death Angels were dodging each other and the smoke left and right with high precision, making the Smokers a very sensible weapon to use against them.

There was no telling how the citizens of Yakkenden felt throughout this war. And if this one battle was of any sign on how battles were on all of the other fronts, merely thousands on each side killing each other by one city, it was that the billions of Azkonce and Egrucian units were going to make the war last. Thousands of units from billions in one battlefront, at that intensity and with that kind of power, was not a good sign at all for the USF. Still, the USF was hopeful... from afar.

[jesuslists]

Jesus’ Top 10 New Year’s Resolutions for 2023

Each year, Dad and the Blessed Virgin Mary get after You to make resolutions to improve Yourself and the mankind You supposedly redeemed through Your crucifixion. Here are Your Top 10 resolutions for the Son of God in 2023. Review last year’s resolutions to see if You followed through.

1. Rehire Katharine Gibbs as Your Personal Secretary. Rosemary Woods was Such. A. Disaster. She was horrible at keeping accurate records of summit meeting between Dad and Lucifer. You will never understand why God the Almighty even asked Richard Nixon for a personal referral. 2. Grant Nine More Lives to Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Instruct Your legal team to draft the memo to Dad authorizing more lives for the President of Ukraine. Remind Him how well the whole nine lives thing has worked for Tom Cruise. Doing his own stunts, are you kidding Me? 3. Release Diego Maradona from Purgatory. Now that Lionel Messi has replaced him in the pantheon of Argentina greats, it is time for Maradona’s final judgment. He was a naughty boy, not the least of which crediting that World Cup goal where he cheated to the “Hand of God.” Clearly a hand ball as well as blasphemous. He could end up in the hot place for all eternity if the tie-breaking vote is cast by St. Peter Shilton, who is set to take the rotating at-large seat on the Final Judgement Committee (FJC). 4. Reset Elon Musk’s Soul After the MOU Expires. The Archangel Michael wagered Mephistopheles over the war in Ukraine with the winner gaining control of Musk’s soul until 12:01 AM (GMT) on January 1, 2023. Michael has always been under the spell of the so-called Russian military might and  prowess, but the dark angel put the fix in with the Russian generals by promising them what Lucifer had promised Me in the wilderness that one time. Maybe once the MOU has expired, Grimes will take Musk back. 5. Get a New Girlfriend. The Blessed Virgin Mary has been after You for 2,000 years to enter into a meaningful, long-term relationship with a nice Jewish girl, but all the women in Heaven are just too nice for Your tastes. You’ve tried dabbling with earthly women, but they end up dying, are too complicated (e.g., Sharon Stone, an older woman fiasco), or like Natalie Portman, married. Your siblings Scott, Rachel, and Joseph, Jr. suggested someone more age appropriate, like Emma Watson. Also, St. Alan Rickman has been whispering in Your ear. 6. Commission a Dramedy About the War in Ukraine. On Spec. Have that New Archangel Abner inspire Adam McKay to write and direct. Antony Starr, who plays Homelander on “The Boys” as Vladimir Putin, Tom Cruise (see #2 above) as Volodymyr Zelensky, and Dame Helen Mirren as Joe Biden. Special appearances by Jonah Hill as Sergey Surovikin, the Russian commander for operations in the war, and Clare Danes as Zelensky’s wife, Olena Zelenska. 7. Flood the Hamptons. It’s been a while since the heavens really flooded the earth and You would like to jump-start the Earthly Climate Change Initiative. Also, You always get a kick out of watching wealthy and powerful people panic and cry that life is unfair. 8. Grant Pay-Per-View Rights for Lauren Boebert v. Marjorie Taylor Greene Mud Wresting Contest to Higher Ground Productions. 9. Designate Diet Mountain Dew the Official Soft Drink of Heaven. You saw this dude’s Instagram account, and now You are hooked. 10. Invent Limbo. Leave it to the morons at the Catholic Church to invent the concept of limbo (here). It’s not real despite Dante Alighieri imagining the virtuous Virgil residing for eternity in its gloom. However, everything the 45th President of the United States touches turns to [redacted] and You don’t want to spoil heaven or hell (or purgatory, because Dad cares). In Limbo, President Voldemort will be sad, and no one will hear his cries and accusations. No gold toilets, gilded thrones, or cheeseburgers. Only arugula salads. He will be instructed that if he completes all his tax returns correctly, he will be granted entrance to Heaven. Good luck with that!