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sweetkpopmusings · 11 months ago

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stray kids soulmate aus | s. changbin <3

a/n: finally posting the next skz soulmate au !! i loved writing for sweet baby angel changbin :,,,-) i'm really in my skz feels these days, so hopefully i can write more soulmate aus soon <333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 1.6k | warnings: none! | pairing: soulmate!changbin x gn!reader | requests: open

every month, you send a package to your soulmate, knowing only your names before you meet.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“changbin?” chan called from outside the bedroom, “are you ready yet?”

changbin, half-dressed and digging through his closet, answered, “almost!”

chan peeked his head inside, tilting it in confusion, “is something wrong?”

“it doesn’t fit.”

“what doesn’t fit?”

“the new shirt i ordered. i could’ve sworn i ordered it in my usual size…ugh!”

“oh that sucks, but…can’t you just wear another shirt?”

changbin groaned, “yeah, sure, i can. the whole point was to wear that shirt today.”

hyunjin appeared in the doorway, “do you need help picking out an outfit?”

chan explained the vague situation to hyunjin, and, during that time, changbin settled for a plain black t-shirt and denim jacket that matched his jeans. the car arrived to pick them up, so, with a final loud groan, changbin grabbed his favorite necklace from his dresser and headed out for the day.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

as soon as you opened your eyes, you checked your phone to confirm today’s date. earlier that month, your soulmate, whom you only knew as “changbin,” sent you a custom t-shirt in the mail. when you unfolded the shirt, a cute handwritten note slipped out, telling you that it needed to be worn on a specific date because i’ll be wearing one just like it. it’ll be a long workday for me, so knowing that we’re matching will give me the strength to do well! please take a picture, so, one day, i can see how cute you look~~ thank you for being my good luck charm, my love <3

rolling out of bed, you smiled. you had never heard changbin’s voice, but you imagined he always had a bright tone. his messages were always so sweet. even if he sent you a glamorous gift, you cherished the handwritten note more than anything.

with your outfit completed, photo taken, and your mood at an all-time high, you decided to make the most of your day off. hoping the soulmate airwaves connected you, you thought let’s have a good day today, changbin! i’m rooting for you! as you stepped out your front door.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“all right,” chan sighed, stretching his arms, “i say we move onto the next track, yeah?”

jisung agreed, so changbin checked to see which song they needed to record next, “let’s see…ah, it’s jisung’s song, ‘volcano…’” changbin’s tone dropped, but he spoke again quickly, “who’s up first?”

changbin made a mental note to apologize to jisung later. it wasn’t jisung’s fault that they were recording the song he wrote about his soulmate on the one day when changbin ruined his attempt to have a cute moment with his soulmate. chan, sensing the shift in changbin’s energy, suggested they take a break. even the members who weren’t in a sour mood enthusiastically agreed, all shuffling out of the studio for some fresh air.

“changbin-hyung!” felix chirped, “want to walk with me? i could use some company!”

changbin couldn’t resist the smile that formed on his face. even in his worst mood, felix’s sunshine demeanor would win him over. as they walked, they chatted about the new animation felix was obsessed with, with felix re-enacting the most interesting parts. changbin’s shoulders relaxed, and he was grateful that the evening air and felix’s voice were so healing. standing at the edge of a slightly crowded street, changbin thought that maybe the bad day was behind him.

“what’s been on your mind today?” felix asked.

“it’s going to sound so stupid.”

felix shook his head, “no way! if it upset you, then it’s not stupid.”

“okay,” changbin sighed, “today, i was supposed to wear this one shirt, but i guess i didn’t pay attention and ordered it in the wrong size. normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but i sent y/n the same shirt. we were supposed to be matching today…kind of like a good luck charm.”

felix frowned, “i’m sorry. it never feels good when a plan doesn’t work out, especially an exciting one!” felix paused, and then grinned as brightly as he could, “you’re wearing the necklace y/n got you though! you’ve been doing great in the studio today, so that must be working like a lucky charm, right?”

“yeah, probably. it’s just…” changbin frowned, “hearing jisung’s song made me feel even worse. i’m so happy jisung met his person, but i can’t help that i’m jealous. i see how much better he feels on his bad days after he talks to his partner, and it hurts to know that i can only talk to y/n once a month through handwritten notes. it’s beautiful, and i love every word they share, but on days like today, it feels like it’s not enough…”

changbin’s voice trailed off, turning his head toward the opposite side of the street. maybe people-watching strangers could counteract the tears forming in his eyes.

felix rubbed changbin’s shoulder, “it’s okay to feel sad. i know you’ll meet y/n when the time is right, but that doesn’t make it any better in the present moment. maybe you can write out your monthly message to them tonight, if that would help?”

felix glanced over at changbin when he didn’t hear a reply after a minute or so, “changbin? are you with me?”

changbin stared down the street, captivated by someone wearing the exact shirt he was supposed to be wearing today. though his heart was racing, he doubted it was real. he had to be imagining it since he was thinking about you all day, right?

your eyes searched the crowd in front of you, as you were unable to shake the feeling that someone was looking right at you. you slowed your steps, scanning every face to find one you recognized. you were about to give up, but then a familiar necklace caught your eye. everything stopped when you met the gaze of the person wearing it.

it felt too good to be true. how could you just run into your soulmate on a random evening, in an area you’d only been to once or twice before? besides, he wasn’t wearing the same shirt as you, which he had planned. but that necklace looked exactly like the one you gifted changbin for his birthday. even as you doubted yourself, looking at the man in front of you gave you the feeling that he was the one you had been searching for all along.

you waved at him and asked, “changbin?”

you knew you were correct the second he started giggling and jumping up and down. you laughed, every cell inside you bursting with joy because there he is!

“changbin? what’re you…” felix followed changbin’s gaze, “oh my god! is that y/n?”

felix deciphered a yes!!! amidst all of changbin’s excited noises, so he nudged changbin, “stop waving and go say ‘hello’!”

changbin bounded towards you, unable to stop his smile from growing bigger and bigger as the distance between you two finally disappeared.

“y/n! i’m so sorry i’m not wearing the shirt! i messed up and ordered the wrong size!”

you giggled at the pout that formed on his face, despite the look of pure joy in his eyes, “it’s okay, changbin! you look cute! besides, that would explain why this one isn’t in my usual size.”

“really?” changbin felt relieved, “so i didn’t mess up as badly as i thought?”

“no, not at all,” you shook your head, overwhelmed by the cuteness of changbin, your soulmate, “i can switch with you–since you must have mine in your closet–so we can match next time!”

changbin shook his head, “no way. you look way too cute in that for me to give you a different one.”

“should we share it then?” you joked.

“why shouldn’t we? we’re sharing the rest of our lives, aren’t we?”

you felt heat rush to your face at his words, bringing yet another giggle to changbin’s lips. you heard someone call his name with the news that they had to leave in a few minutes, which prompted changbin to get your contact information. the smile never left his face, even when he started to say goodbye. in his mind, nothing was more exciting than the fact that tonight, he could finally ask you how was your day, my love?

“i’ll talk to you later then, yeah?” you beamed.

“yes, please! i’m so sorry i have to leave right now, but i promise i’ll make it up to you.”

“i do not doubt that, changbin.”

you waved, watching him walk in the direction he came from. after a few steps, he turned around to look at you again.

“what’re you smiling so much for?” you giggled.

“i guess you really are my good luck charm today, y/n.”

you felt butterflies swarm inside you as your laughs mixed, filling the crowded street with pure joy and endless possibilities.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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ahqkas · 1 year ago

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♯ PRACTICE MAKES IT BETTER ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! struggling with the local slang, you feel out of place until you meet theodore nott, the silent slytherin (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 2.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing + lmk !

NOTES! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

AMERICA WAS VIBRANT AND DIVERSE. The music scene was thriving with genres like grunge, hip-hop, and pop dominating the airwaves. To you, it was a place of contrasts and boundless possibilities. It was a land where towering skyscrapers stood next to historic buildings, and where you could find everything from bustling cities to quiet, open countryside. The diversity was striking; every state feels like its own little world, with different cultures, foods, and ways of life. It was a country where you could experience all four seasons, with hot summers, cold winters, and vibrant springs and autumns. The sheer size and variety made it feel like there was always something new to explore, whether it was a national park, a music festival, or just a quirky little town.

Then you moved to England.

Leaving behind the familiar sights and sounds of America, you stepped into a new world of magic and centuries-old traditions.

The first thing you noticed was the climate change. England's weather was full of frequent rain and cloudy skies. You had to get used to bringing an umbrella everywhere with you.

Hogwarts in Scotland was completely different from Ilvermorny, which resided on Mount Greylock. The towering buildings of the castle intimidated you a bit as you were used to the more modern school, but you were excited for the change of scenery.

The stone corridors, moving staircases, and enchanted portraits had captivated your imagination. The castle itself was full of new discoveries. Sure, you missed your old friends dearly, every one of them, but the owls worked hard and you managed to make new friends here.

As an exchange student from America, walking the hallowed halls of Hogwarts was a totally new experience. The ancient castle with its sprawling grounds, enchanted staircases, and hidden passageways was like stepping into a dream. But it wasn't just the magical environment that threw you off balance; it was the British slang that seemed to pop up in every conversation.

During your first week, you found yourself constantly bewildered by the new expressions. At breakfast, when a cheerful Hufflepuff asked if you wanted a "banger" with your eggs, you hesitated, unsure if it was an insult or a menu item. When a Ravenclaw mentioned being "knackered" after a long night of studying, you had to suppress a laugh, thinking it sounded more like a sound effect from a comic book than an expression of exhaustion.

The confusion was endless: "snogging" instead of kissing, "knickers" instead of underwear, "blimey" instead of a simple exclamation of surprise. You did your best to keep up, but the nuances of the language often left you feeling like you were missing the punchline of a joke. To put it simply, you were lost.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the library, poring over a stack of books for a Transfiguration assignment, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Ciao, piccola," Theodore Nott drawled, sliding into the seat across from yours. His presence was effortlessly welcomed, with his cool demeanor and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He was a strange boy at first, never letting anyone, but when you warmed up to him, he was a totally new person.

"Hi, Theo," you greeted him with a smile playing on your lips. Theodore had been one of the first students to approach you, his Italian heritage a surprising connection. He often teased you in his native language, enjoying the way you fumbled with the unfamiliar phrases. A nuisance, that he was.

"Come va la tua giornata?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ("How's your day doing?")

Already hearing this phrase a few times, you learned to understand its translation. With a sigh, you ran a hand through your hair. "It's been . . . interesting. I'm still trying to understand half of what everyone says here."

Theo chuckled, the sound rich and warm to your ears. "British slang getting to you?"

"You could say that," you admitted, leaning back in your chair as you watched his amusement at your misery. "I feel like I need a translator just for conversations."

"Well, if you think British slang is confusing, wait until I teach you some Italian slang," Theo smirked at the idea that appeared on his mind. "It's a whole different level."

Now this got your attention. "Teach me, then. It can't be that difficult from the British slang."

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott became your informal language tutor. He started with simple phrases, weaving them into everyday conversations until you began to pick them up naturally. He taught you how to greet someone with "Ciao, amico!" instead of a formal "Buongiorno," and how to say "Andiamo!" when you were ready to go.

One rainy afternoon, as you sat together in the Great Hall, Theo decided to test your knowledge. The rain tapped persistently against the high, arched windows, casting a muted gray light across the large hall. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside, swirling with dark clouds and flashes of lightning that illuminated the space completely. Despite the dreary weather, the Great Hall buzzed with the soft hum of student conversations, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the rustling of pages.

Theo, seated across from you at the Slytherin table, leaned back casually, a mischievous glint in his eye. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, framing his sharp features. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, the way he delighted in challenging you with phrases in Italian, watching with amusement as you thought through the unfamiliar language. Today was no different, his eyes scanning the hall as if seeking inspiration for his next test.

You had been in the midst of revising for an upcoming Charms exam, your notes spread out around you in a chaotic array of parchment and textbooks. The soft light from the floating candles above cast a warm glow on the pages, making the ink shimmer slightly. As Theo's gaze returned to you, you knew another one of his lessons was coming.

"What would you say if you were really tired?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Theo's questions were always a blend of practical and playful, designed to push you just a little further each time. He spoke with the ease of someone completely comfortable in his skin, his words flowing like the rain outside, steady and sure. His Italian phrases, though foreign at first, began to weave themselves into the mind of your understanding.

Your responses grew more confident, the hesitation in your voice diminishing with each passing day. You found yourself thinking in Italian at times, the language slipping into your thoughts as naturally as your own. Theo's delight was evident, his eyes lighting up whenever you got something right, his praise sincere and heartfelt.

The rain outside showed no signs of letting up, but within the Great Hall, a warmth lingered.

You thought for a moment, then confidently replied, "Sono stanca morta." The phrase rolled off your tongue more smoothly than before, each syllable a small victory in your journey to master his native language. The meaning — "I'm dead tired" — was all too familiar after long days filled with classes and studying.

Theo laughed, the sound rich and genuine, echoing softly in the near-empty Great Hall. His laughter was like a reward, a confirmation that you were getting it right. Silver eyes sparkled with approval, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that made your heart flutter. The warmth of his reaction was comforting against the dreary, rain-soaked afternoon outside.

"Well done!" His voice was filled with genuine pride and delight, making you feel accomplished. His praise was never out of place; it was always heartfelt.

Your heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy. Learning Italian was not just about understanding a new language, but also about bridging the gap between your worlds. Each phrase, each word, was a step closer to understanding Theo better, and a way to connect on a deeper level.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching yours, waiting for your next move. "And if you wanted to compliment someone on a job well done?" His question was another gentle challenge, pushing you to dig deeper into your newfound vocabulary.

"Bravo!" you answered without hesitation. The word felt natural, a perfect fit for the context. As you spoke, you couldn't help but smile, the simple word carrying a world of meaning and mutual respect. Seeing the approval in Theo's eyes, you felt a surge of confidence.

Theo's smile broadened, and his expression softened with pride and admiration. The approval in his eyes was more than just about your grasp of the language; it was about your willingness to immerse yourself in something new, to share a part of his heritage, to make an effort to connect.

The atmosphere around you felt lighter, the earlier tension of the day's studies dissolving into a shared moment of triumph and connection. The Great Hall, with its towering windows and ancient stone walls, seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world of language and laughter.

The candles above flickered gently, casting a warm glow that danced across Theo's features, highlighting the pride in his eyes.

One day, as you walked together by the Black Lake, the cold water reflecting the moody sky, Theo turned to you, his expression thoughtful. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient trees that lined the shore, their branches swaying rhythmically as if in silent conversation. The scene was picturesque, the expanse of the lake stretching out before you, a serene contrast to the bustling life within the castle walls. It was quiet out here, and you liked this spot.

"You know, you've picked up Italian slang faster than I expected," Theo remarked, his voice carrying a hint of admiration and surprise. His thoughtful tone blended seamlessly with the natural sounds around you, creating a moment of perfect harmony.

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree, echoing across the still waters. Nudging him playfully, you replied, "Maybe I had a good teacher." The playful banter was a reflection of the easy camaraderie that had developed between you, a testament to the countless hours spent learning and laughing together.

Theo's smile softened at your words, a tender expression that seemed to light up his face. His gaze lingered on you, the depth of his affection and pride evident in his eyes. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, each shared glance made your knees tremble. Like you were the only girl at Hogwarts.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a warmth that enveloped you. "Or maybe you just have a knack for languages." His words were a gentle compliment, a recognition of your efforts and abilities.

The path around the Black Lake was peaceful, the occasional ripple disturbing the otherwise mirror-like surface of the water. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and damp earth. As you walked side by side, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the rest of the universe fading into the background.

Your footsteps synchronized, a silent dance of familiarity and comfort. The conversations flowed effortlessly, alternating between Italian lessons and shared dreams, each word weaving a tapestry of understanding and companionship. Theo's presence was a constant, steady and reassuring, his thoughtful insights and quiet encouragements a source of strength.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape. The twilight hues painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, a breathtaking sight that added to the magic of the moment. Theo's silhouette against the backdrop of the setting sun was a picture of serenity and quiet strength, a reminder of the stability he brought into your life.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the Slytherin boy took a small step closer, closing the distance between you. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, his proximity sending a gentle thrill through your body. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up your arm.

In that moment, with the golden light of dusk casting a magical glow around you, Theo leaned in. His movements were deliberate, filled with a tender hesitation. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure, unadulterated connection.

The kiss was gentle at first, a soft press of lips that spoke everything you needed to know. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the gentle caress of his hand against your cheek — it all combined to create a sensation that was both exhilarating and deeply comforting.

Theo's hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. The kiss deepened, becoming more confident, more insistent. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The connection between you intensified, the kiss becoming a language of its own, expressing everything words couldn't.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. The world slowly came back into focus, the sounds of nature reasserting themselves around you. Theo's eyes, still holding that mix of affection and awe, met yours. A soft, contented smile played on his lips.

"Grazie, Theo," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude.

"For what?" he asked confused, his brow furrowing slightly.

"For being patient with me. For this. For . . . everything."

Theo's eyes softened, and he reached out, intertwining your fingers in one. "No worries," he replied, his voice just as soft. "I'm glad I could help."

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revelboo · 6 months ago

Note

Merry Christmas!Can we get something for Blaster?

Why not. I do like his Batman antenna. Just a note- I imagine the holomatter avatars look perfectly human. So perfect that they unconsciously freak real humans out. You look at them and your brain says, yep, that’s a human, while your subconscious is all animal instinct screaming that it’s not

Shoot Me In The Smile

Blaster x Reader

• Servos drumming on his console in the uncomfortable aftermath of Megstron’s broadcast, Blaster leans back and glances at Optimus. Listening to Ironhide’s belligerent disbelief that any Cybertronian would frag a human, his optics keep catching on the look their leader’s face. Knows that there’s more than a a few humans in the Ark. He’s seen them being carried about by their caretakers like exotic pets. But now he’s wondering about it. About Jazz sneaking out constantly and returning scenting like human. Of Optimus and Prowl both scenting much more strongly of the little organics than the other caretakers. And the almost pained look on Optimus’s face as Ironhide rants. They all have their secrets, he guesses. And he’s going to be late if he doesn’t go now.

• Putting your car in park, you press your forehead against the steering wheel. Count to ten to get yourself together, shut off the engine, and get out with a smile firmly in place. Pulling the awkward case out of the passenger side, you sling the strap over your shoulder and head inside. Spotting the rest of the band setting up, you throw up a hand in greeting and hear your drummer whoop at you. Making your way backstage, you start changing your clothes. Shedding yourself in favor of leather and glitter. Lining your eyes and painting your face until a stranger stares back at you. Someone who’s not timid, not terrified of crowds and overwhelmed by the noise and heat of the spotlights. The version of you that people actually like and you despise. “You should wear the wig tonight. They love it.” Turning, you smile weakly at your lead bassist, but oblige him. And it really is a stranger staring back now. All of you erased and gone.

• “Again?” Pausing at the door of his habsuite, he glances at Eject as the cassette frowns up at him in obvious disapproval. Because he has no idea how to explain the obsession. He’d found you on a local station, surfing the airwaves out of boredom. And realizing you were a local, that the bar you played out of was so close? He hadn’t been able to resist. Using his holomatter avatar to slip inside just to hear you play. Something about the dissonance in your music had called to him, wedging in his spark and his processor. Music almost frantic, pure rock and roll, but your vocals, ranging from sweet to haunting, are what had snagged him. “I won’t be out late,” he says as Eject vents and exchanges a look with Rewind, worrying about him.

• Lingering just off stage as your heart races, you study the see of faces milling about. And realize you’re looking for your guy. The one whose expression never changes, who just stares at you the whole time you sing making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You almost swear he doesn’t blink. That intense focus of his is unnerving. Fascinating and a little frightening. You can’t tell if he has a crush on you or if he’s deciding where to hide your body. As the lights dim, you blow out a shaky breath and move onto the stage with your band mates. Hand lifting to wave as you smile even though you’re shaking and can’t hardly breathe. This should get easier, right? Except it never does.

• Hiding in the woods outside the bar, he transforms into his alt mode so if he’s discovered while his attention is divided, all a human will see is a boombox, feeling the pull as he mass shifts down past what would be possible for a normal Cybertronian. Draining his reserves every time. Shivering slightly, he focuses on the avatar and it glitches into existence. There’s an errant thought as he walks to the bar. What do you think of his avatar? Do you like it? Generating an ID to show the human at the door, he makes his way inside, focusing to stay solid as he works his way to the front of the crowd. It wouldn’t do for someone to accidentally pass an arm through him and start screaming. And then there you are, guitar in hand, eyes closed as the lights dim and the spotlights bathe the stage in ruddy light. Hands shifting on the strings, your eyes open and unerringly find him as the music swells and you sing just for him. The crowd gone until it’s only you two.

They’re not patient at all

#transformers x reader #IDW blaster #blaster x reader

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chelseaknoo · 6 months ago

Note

Can you please write that the reader is a singer and has insane vocals and is drop dead gorgeous. So Eminem has a major crush on her (in the 2000's). In one of his interviews he openly talks about her and her music (can you take Birds of a feather by Billie Eilish for example. Like pretend she wrote and sung it the same way). He as usual makes suggestive jokes and stuff. But later finds out that the reader reacted to it and shows admiration in a polite but not rejecting way...... pleaseeeee pleaseeee pleaseeeeeee. I love you ❤️

Eminem x reader

In the 2000s, you were a rising star in the music world, known for your powerful voice that seemed to hit notes only a few could ever dream of reaching. The song "Birds of a Feather" had catapulted you to the top of the charts, its haunting melody and intricate vocal runs taking over the airwaves. It wasn’t just the song itself that caught the attention of listeners—it was your vocal range, your ability to hit those almost impossible notes with such clarity and emotion. Critics raved about your vocal technique, praising your strength, precision, and the way you effortlessly weaved through the high notes that left audiences in awe.

The music video for "Birds of a Feather" became an instant classic. The haunting visuals, paired with your soaring voice, created a perfect storm of artistry that had people talking for weeks. You quickly became a household name, a pop sensation, and your songs dominated the charts, always keeping fans on the edge of their seats, eagerly waiting for your next release.

But it wasn’t just your music that drew attention. Your appearance made headlines just as often. You were known for being strikingly beautiful, but it wasn’t just your looks that made you stand out—it was the confidence you exuded, the way you carried yourself. There was something magnetic about you, a combination of charm and charisma that captivated anyone who came into your orbit. People couldn’t help but stop and stare when you walked into a room, and soon enough, the paparazzi knew your name as well as your fans did.

Eminem, already a prominent name in the Detroit rap scene, found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn’t expected. Your song "Birds of a Feather" was everywhere—on the radio, at parties, and even in the background of late-night TV shows. It seemed like your voice was the soundtrack to the city, and the more he heard your name, the more his curiosity grew. The people around him—friends, colleagues, and fans alike—couldn’t stop talking about you, praising your incredible vocal range and the way you had taken the music scene by storm.

At first, it was just idle curiosity. He had heard your music before, sure, but the more people around him mentioned your name, the more intrigued he became. What really caught his attention wasn’t just the sound of your voice or your success; it was the way people spoke about you. There was this undeniable aura around you, a magnetic presence that captivated everyone, even from a distance.

As your song continued to dominate the airwaves, his admiration for you began to grow into something deeper. At first, it was just an appreciation for your talent, but the more he thought about it, the more he found himself imagining what it might be like to actually meet you. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to having a crush, the kind of crush that, for someone like him, was rare—he’d been focused on his own career, his own struggles, for so long that the idea of being interested in someone else had never seemed realistic. But with every new mention of your name, with every new hit that seemed to climb higher on the charts, his thoughts shifted.

Eminem wasn’t one to openly gush about anyone, especially not someone in your position, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about the way you carried yourself, the way your voice soared above the rest, that spoke to him in a way few things did. He admired your raw talent, your ability to command a room, and the way you stayed true to yourself in an industry that often demanded conformity. It wasn’t just about the music; it was the person behind it, and in that moment, he couldn’t deny the growing fascination he felt.

As the weeks went by, Eminem found himself getting caught up in thoughts of you, his initial intrigue turning into a full-blown crush. It wasn’t just the fact that you were an incredible artist—though that certainly played a big part—but there was something about the way your name kept popping up in every conversation, in every corner of his world. He’d hear your song on the radio, and without thinking, he’d start to hum along to the melody, a subtle smile creeping onto his face as the lyrics played out.

It was clear that you were becoming something of an obsession, a constant presence in his mind. The more he heard, the more he wanted to know. He wondered if you were anything like the image people had painted of you, or if there was more to you than the public persona everyone seemed so captivated by. Either way, one thing was certain—he was hooked, and he couldn’t ignore the pull you had on him.

Today was like any other for Eminem—another press day, another round of interviews—but there was something different about this one. The moment he stepped into the studio, his mind kept drifting to you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed inside him, something he couldn’t quite explain. His crush on you had taken over his thoughts in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and now, during this interview, he found himself talking about you openly for the first time.

The interviewer, a young woman named Tara, was sitting across from him, ready to dig into his latest album, his personal life, and everything in between. She had done her homework and knew all the right questions to ask, but today, she had a specific topic on her mind.

"So, Marshall," she began, her voice smooth and professional, "we've been hearing a lot about a rising pop star lately. Her name's been all over the radio—'Birds of a Feather,' it's everywhere. I have to ask: Have you heard it?"

Eminem leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he shifted his focus to Tara. His fingers drummed lightly on the armrest, but his eyes remained intense, thoughtful.

"Yeah, I’ve heard it," he said, the words coming out slowly, as if he was weighing each one carefully. "Can’t help but hear it, really. It’s all over the place. People won’t stop talking about her, so I figured I might as well listen."

Tara raised an eyebrow, noticing the subtle shift in his tone. "So what do you think? You know, of her music?"

Eminem paused, his mind momentarily spinning as he tried to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t expected to talk about you like this. Normally, he kept his personal feelings under wraps, but something about this felt... different. He decided to be honest, but in his own way.

"She's talented, that’s for sure," he said, his voice low but earnest. "Her voice... it’s insane. She’s got these crazy high notes, like nothing I’ve heard in pop music in a long time. She’s not just another singer, you know? She’s got something unique. And I respect that."

Tara smiled, leaning in slightly. "You seem to be more than just impressed. You've been hearing about her for a while, huh?"

Eminem chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I don’t really talk about stuff like this, but honestly, I’ve heard her name so much now, it’s kinda hard not to get curious. And when you hear people saying your name over and over again, you gotta see what the hype’s about, right?"

Tara laughed, sensing an opening. "So, you’re saying you’re a little... intrigued?"

Eminem rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Intrigued? Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it," he admitted, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Look, I’m not used to talking about other artists like this, but there’s something about her. It’s not just the voice, though that’s a big part of it. There’s this presence she has. Like, I don’t know—there’s a thing about her that catches your attention, you know? It’s not just about the music. It’s like... she’s got this whole vibe that makes you wanna know more."

Tara leaned back, eyes glinting with curiosity. "You sound like you’ve been paying attention. Could this be the start of a new... Eminem crush?"

Eminem let out a short laugh, his expression a mix of amusement and a hint of something deeper, more genuine. "I don’t know about all that. But yeah, I’ve definitely been paying attention. It’s hard not to when she’s everywhere, and people keep bringing her up. It’s like... I’m hearing about her more than I hear about anything else right now. And I respect what she’s doing—she’s got a style, she’s got a sound, and she’s owning it."

Tara pressed further, sensing an opportunity to get more out of him. "You seem pretty passionate about her music. What do you think it is about her that’s different from other pop stars?"

Eminem sat back, his fingers resting on the edge of the table as he looked off for a moment, thinking. "She doesn’t sound like anyone else, that’s for sure," he said, his voice steady. "A lot of pop singers nowadays, they all kind of sound the same. But her? She’s not following any trends. She’s carving her own path, and I respect that. A lot of these pop stars are just out here trying to sell albums, but she’s actually got something real to offer. That’s rare."

Tara nodded, impressed. "Sounds like you’re not just a fan of her music, but you really respect her as an artist."

"Yeah," Eminem agreed, his voice softening. "There’s something about her whole approach that stands out. And I think people are starting to notice. It’s hard not to, with the way she’s taking over."

A brief silence hung in the air before Tara asked, almost hesitantly, "Do you think you’ll ever work with her? I mean, you two are both huge in your own right. A collaboration could be... interesting."

Eminem’s lips curved into a sly smile as he leaned forward. "Maybe," he said, his voice low but playful. "You never know. I’m not one to rule out anything, but... who knows? If the right time comes, and the right opportunity presents itself, maybe we’ll make it happen."

Tara grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "Sounds like you’re keeping the door open. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for that one."

Eminem let out a small chuckle, but the glint in his eyes remained. "Yeah, maybe one day. But for now, I’ll just keep listening. She’s doing her thing, and I’m doing mine. Who knows what’ll happen down the road?"

The interview was running smoothly, but Tara knew she’d struck gold when Eminem started opening up about you. He wasn’t the type to gush or openly talk about other artists, so his sudden candor was surprising—and entertaining. She decided to keep pushing, curious to see how far he’d go.

"So, you’ve talked about her voice and her vibe," Tara said, leaning forward with a knowing smirk. "But let’s be real, Marshall. A lot of people talk about how she looks. Do you agree with what they’re saying?"

Eminem grinned, a little embarrassed but clearly amused. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Man, you’re really trying to get me in trouble today, huh?"

Tara laughed. "I mean, you brought her up! I’m just asking the questions everyone else is thinking."

He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to collect himself, but the grin stayed firmly in place. "Alright, fine. Yeah, I’ve seen her. And, uh… let’s just say people aren’t exaggerating. She’s—" He paused, searching for the right words. "She’s got that whole package, you know? Like, she’s beautiful, obviously, but it’s more than that. She’s got this presence. You see her, and you can’t look away."

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. "A whole package, huh? Care to elaborate?"

Eminem chuckled, pointing a finger at her. "You’re slick, trying to get me to spill everything. But, yeah, she’s... I mean, come on. Anyone who’s seen her knows what I’m talking about. She’s got this… uh…" He gestured vaguely with his hands, his smirk widening as he tried to find a way to phrase it without giving too much away.

"Are we talking about her curves?" Tara teased, leaning into the moment.

Eminem laughed loudly, shaking his head but not denying it. "Man, I wasn’t gonna say it, but yeah, she’s definitely got, uh, some… assets. I mean, you can’t not notice. It’s like—damn, alright? She’s got it going on. And she knows it, too, the way she carries herself. It’s confidence. That’s what makes it even better."

"Wow," Tara said, grinning ear to ear. "You’re really laying it on thick, huh?"

"I’m just being honest!" he defended, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "What do you want me to say? She’s gorgeous, she’s got this crazy voice, and she’s killing it right now. I can’t help it if I’m a fan."

Tara laughed, clearly entertained. "A fan? Marshall, you sound like you’re one step away from starting a fan club."

"Man, if I wasn’t who I am, I probably would," he joked, shaking his head. "I’d be out here with posters and T-shirts and everything. But nah, seriously, she’s got that whole ‘dream girl’ thing going on. Like, I’m sitting here thinking, ‘Why does she have to be so perfect?’ It’s not fair."

Tara couldn’t stop laughing. "You’re really fangirling over her right now, aren’t you?"

Eminem leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his hands together with an exaggerated look of defeat. "I’m trying not to, but it’s hard, alright? Like, every time I see her on TV or hear her song, I’m just like, ‘Man, she’s unreal.’ And then I have to remind myself to chill because I’m out here looking like a teenager with a crush."

Tara grinned, sensing there was still more to uncover. "Okay, so if she walked in here right now, what would you say to her?"

Eminem froze for a moment, pretending to look panicked before breaking into a laugh. "What would I say? Oh, man. I’d probably embarrass myself. I’d be like, ‘Hey, uh… so… you’re, like, amazing.’ And then I’d just stand there awkwardly, hoping she doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot."

"Come on, you’re Eminem!" Tara said, laughing. "You don’t get nervous around anyone."

"Yeah, well, she might be the exception," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, what do you even say to someone like that? ‘Hey, I think you’re insanely talented and also ridiculously beautiful?’ That’s not smooth at all."

Tara laughed harder, clearly enjoying his rare moment of vulnerability. "I don’t know, Marshall, that might actually work. You never know."

He smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah, or she’d just laugh in my face and walk away. Either way, at least I’d shoot my shot, right?"

The conversation kept circling back to you, with Eminem dropping more compliments, both subtle and bold. "She’s got this energy," he said at one point, leaning forward again. "It’s like, even if she wasn’t singing, you’d notice her. She’s just got that presence, you know? And when you add the voice and the... other stuff, it’s game over. She’s unstoppable."

"Other stuff?" Tara teased, raising an eyebrow.

Eminem grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. "You know what I mean. Don’t make me spell it out. Let’s just say she’s got all the right... proportions."

Tara burst out laughing again, and Eminem shook his head, laughing along with her. "Man, you’re gonna get me in so much trouble for this interview."

"Hey, you’re the one who keeps talking about her," Tara pointed out.

"Yeah, well, can you blame me?" he replied, throwing up his hands. "She’s out here looking like a whole goddess and singing like one too. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking."

By the end of the interview, it was clear Eminem wasn’t holding back his admiration for you. His mix of humor, flirty compliments, and genuine respect for your talent painted a picture of a man completely taken by someone he’d never even met. And as he walked out of the studio that day, still smiling to himself, he couldn’t help but wonder if, somehow, you might hear what he’d said and realize just how much he admired you.

A few days after the interview aired, the buzz around Eminem’s comments about you was everywhere. The media ran with it, headlines speculating about his apparent fascination. Gossip columns played up his flirty statements, and rumors began swirling that the two of you might be secretly seeing each other. Whether it was a playful misinterpretation or intentional exaggeration, the whispers grew louder with each passing day.

Eminem, for his part, didn’t seem to mind the chatter. He wasn’t one to shy away from attention, especially if it wasn’t outright negative. If anything, the rumors amused him.

One afternoon, he was in the studio with Dr. Dre, who had clearly caught wind of the gossip. Dre leaned back in his chair, casually tossing a sly grin his way.

"So, you and the pop princess, huh?" Dre said, the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to miss.

Eminem glanced up from the notebook he’d been scribbling in, his expression neutral but his lips twitching at the corners. "What’re you talking about?"

Dre chuckled, leaning forward. "Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about. That interview? You couldn’t stop talking about her."

"Man, you’re tripping," Eminem shot back, shaking his head but unable to hide the small smirk creeping onto his face.

"Am I?" Dre pressed, raising an eyebrow. "Because half the country thinks you two are sneaking around now. You got people out here thinking you’ve got a whole relationship going on."

Eminem laughed, setting down his pen. "Yeah, well, that’s on them. I said what I said, and they ran with it. It’s not my fault people can’t tell the difference between a compliment and a confession."

"Compliment, huh?" Dre said, his grin widening. "Bro, you were practically drooling over her."

Eminem scoffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "I wasn’t drooling. I just said she’s talented. And, you know... nice to look at. That’s it."

"Uh-huh," Dre replied, clearly not convinced. "Look, I get it. She’s fine, man. Like, stupid fine. But you didn’t just say she’s talented—you made it sound like she’s the second coming or something. I’m just saying, you’re not exactly subtle."

Before Eminem could respond, Proof walked into the room, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Oh, we talking about the pop star now?" he said, grinning as he plopped down on the couch.

Eminem groaned, shaking his head. "Man, don’t you start too."

"Nah, I’m just saying," Proof said, throwing up his hands innocently. "You’re all over the news right now. People out here shipping you two like it’s their job. You might as well lean into it."

"Shipping?" Eminem repeated, furrowing his brow. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means they want y’all to be together," Proof explained, laughing. "And honestly, I can’t blame them. You were laying it on thick in that interview, man. I was watching like, ‘Damn, Em’s really out here catching feelings on national TV.’"

"I wasn’t catching feelings," Eminem shot back, rolling his eyes but unable to hide his grin. "I was just being real. She’s dope, alright? End of story."

"Uh-huh," Proof said, smirking. "You keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, the rest of us are just waiting for the wedding invitations to roll in."

Eminem threw a balled-up piece of paper at him, laughing. "You’re all idiots, you know that?"

Despite the teasing, Eminem didn’t seem bothered by the rumors. If anything, he found the whole situation amusing. He couldn’t deny that he’d been a little extra in the interview, but that was just how he felt. You were undeniably talented and beautiful, and he wasn’t going to downplay that just to avoid some gossip.

As the days went on, the teasing from his friends continued, but Eminem took it in stride. Whenever someone brought it up, he’d either brush it off with a joke or lean into it just to mess with them.

"So, when are you introducing us?" Dre asked one day, clearly enjoying himself.

"Yeah, let us know so we can start practicing our best-man speeches," Proof chimed in, grinning.

Eminem shook his head, smirking. "Y’all are clowns. She probably doesn’t even know I exist."

"Oh, she knows," Dre said confidently. "After that interview? She definitely knows."

Eminem didn’t respond, but the thought lingered in his mind. The idea that you might have heard his interview—or even just heard about it—made his heart race a little, though he’d never admit it. For now, he let the rumors swirl and the teasing roll off his back, secretly enjoying the idea that people thought there might be something between you two.

You were rushing into a bustling studio for your latest photoshoot, clutching your bag and sipping a quick coffee when a familiar voice called out.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), a quick word?"

You turned to see a young interviewer approaching with a mic in hand, their cameraman not far behind. While you were used to being stopped by press, something in the interviewer’s tone suggested they weren’t just here for small talk. Glancing at your team, who gestured that you had a few minutes to spare, you gave a friendly smile.

"Of course," you said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "What’s up?"

The interviewer grinned, clearly eager to dive in. "So, the internet—and every entertainment column—is buzzing right now about Eminem’s recent interview."

Your brow furrowed slightly, though you kept your expression polite. "Oh? What about it?"

"Well," the interviewer began, holding up a notepad for reference. "He had *a lot* to say about you. I’m sure you’ve at least heard a little bit about it. He called you incredibly talented, praised your voice, and let’s just say he didn’t hold back on how stunning he thinks you are."

You blinked, caught off guard for a moment, before a genuine laugh bubbled out of you. "Wait—he said all that? Really?"

"Oh, absolutely," the interviewer confirmed, their grin widening. "And let’s not forget the part where he complimented your... uh, presence. Some are calling it the most flirty Marshall Mathers has ever been in an interview."

You tried to contain your laughter but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. "Well, that’s... unexpected. But also really sweet of him."

"So," they pressed, leaning in slightly. "The world wants to know—what’s your reaction to all of this? Have you heard the interview yourself?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering your response. You didn’t want to feed into the media frenzy too much, but you also couldn’t ignore how flattering it was. "Okay, I’ll admit it—I did hear about it. A couple of friends sent me clips, and I couldn’t not watch it after all the buzz."

"And?" the interviewer prompted, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"And," you said, tilting your head thoughtfully, "I thought it was... really sweet. I mean, to hear someone as big as Eminem say those things about me? That’s a huge compliment. I admire his work so much, so it means a lot."

The interviewer wasn’t satisfied yet—they wanted more. "And what about the more personal comments? You know, about your looks and all?"

You felt your cheeks warm slightly but kept your composure. "Well, he’s not wrong about the confidence thing," you teased, laughing lightly. "But seriously, I think it’s flattering. He was being honest, and that’s refreshing."

"Honest, huh?" The interviewer leaned closer. "So, are you saying you wouldn’t mind hearing more compliments from him?"

You laughed again, shaking your head. "You’re really trying to stir the pot here, aren’t you?"

"Just doing my job!" they replied with a cheeky grin. "But, since we’re on the subject—what do you think of *him*? I mean, everyone’s dying to know if this admiration goes both ways."

You paused, the smile lingering on your lips as you thought carefully about your words. Finally, you decided to give them just enough to keep things interesting. "I think he’s incredibly talented," you said sincerely. "His music has had such a huge impact, and his storytelling is unmatched. You can tell he’s passionate about what he does, and that’s inspiring."

"And what about on a personal level?" the interviewer pressed, clearly fishing for more.

You gave a small shrug, playing coy but letting a hint of playfulness show. "Well... I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think he was kinda cute. But I’ll leave it at that."

The interviewer’s jaw dropped in mock surprise, and they laughed. "Wow! You just made headlines with that one, (Y/N)."

You laughed along, waving it off. "Oh, come on. It’s not that serious. I’m just giving credit where it’s due."

"Fair enough," they said, nodding. "But seriously, you two are all anyone can talk about right now. Any chance we might see a collaboration in the future? Or maybe... something more?"

You raised your hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Hey, who knows? I’m just focused on my music and projects right now. But, you know, never say never."

"Cryptic, I like it," the interviewer replied with a wink. "Well, thanks for stopping to chat, (Y/N). I’m sure Eminem is going to love hearing your response."

You smiled, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "Thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a photoshoot to get to. But this was fun!"

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about the whole situation. Eminem’s words had genuinely caught you off guard, and now, with the media spinning stories left and right, you wondered what he might think of your reaction. For now, though, you pushed the thought aside and focused on your shoot, leaving the rumors—and the excitement they brought—swirling in the air behind you.

Marshall was lounging on the couch at home, the TV playing softly in the background. Hailie, still young and full of energy, sat beside him, doodling on a notepad with a crayon. It was a rare, quiet moment for him, one he cherished.

He wasn’t paying much attention to the TV until your face appeared on the screen. It was a clip from an interview, and the headline below caught his eye: *Pop Star (Y/N) Responds to Eminem’s Comments.*

Intrigued, he turned up the volume, leaning forward slightly. Hailie looked up curiously.

“Daddy, who’s that?” she asked, pointing at the screen.

“That’s... someone,” he muttered distractedly, eyes fixed on the TV.

He watched as you laughed at the interviewer’s question, your voice light and warm. Then, you said it—the part that made his stomach flip.

*"I think he’s kinda cute."*

Marshall blinked, sitting back on the couch, a grin spreading across his face. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to process what he’d just heard.

“Cute?” he said to himself, chuckling. “She thinks I’m cute?”

Hailie tugged on his sleeve. “Why are you smiling like that, Daddy?”

“No reason, baby,” he replied, though he couldn’t stop grinning.

He reached for his phone, his mind racing. He had to talk to you. Now. But how? He didn’t exactly have your number, and showing up out of nowhere wasn’t his style.

“I gotta figure this out,” he muttered, pulling up Dre’s contact on his phone. If anyone could help, it was him.

“Uncle Dre again?” Hailie asked, giggling.

Marshall smirked, pressing the call button. “Yeah, Uncle Dre again. He’s about to help your dad with something important.”

As the phone rang, Marshall leaned back, tapping his fingers anxiously on the armrest. Whatever it took, he was going to find a way to reach you.<3

#eminem x reader #eminem #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers #slim shady #famous!reader #singer reader

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usedtobethelegendcreator · 9 months ago

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Alastor’s most terrifying power

Okay, there are two posts I want to make about this with very different tones, but the same pictures, so I’m just going to combine them.

“Vox can turn into electricity” this, “Valentino’s saliva is an aphrodisiac” that, how about we start being scared and worried about the guy that literally causes glitches in reality? Do you have any idea how terrifying that would be if you were there, instead of just watching it?

Like, imagine you say something impolite to some random guy at the store and he pulls THIS out of his ass:

I don’t know about you, but I’d get the fuck out of there. Yes sir, sorry sir, please don’t kill me sir.

The Vees are fucked. No contest. Vox would threaten the hotel one (1) time before he starts glitching around the edges and he’d fuck right off.

I’ve seen a lot of theories about how Alastor killed those Overlords. Did he have angelic steel? Did he eat them? Did he trap them in the airwaves? Are they trapped in a pocket dimension?

And despite what I might personally think, it’s time to consider that maybe, just maybe…we’ve already seen how he did it.

What am I talking about, you ask?

This. This right here.

He glitched them out of reality. They no longer exist. End of story.

Because, as I stated above…causing glitches in reality is honestly one of the most terrifying abilities ever.

And Alastor has that ability.

And it comes so, so easily to him.

Almost like he’s practiced it.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #the radio demon #hazbin hotel analysis #the vees #vox #sure he can get big #but he can also THANOS-SNAP you out of existence #without even snapping #people that say he isn’t scary haven’t watched the show

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writing-until-i-drop · 9 months ago

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Voice Kink | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader | wc: 1,246

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! dirty talk, make out session, fingering, Rooster being an annoying gentleman, lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

a/n: sorry it's late!

It was the best part of Rooster’s day, hearing your voice over the radio. You were a radio control operator in the tower, the only one who laughed at his jokes, and you would carry conversations with him as best as you could, answering with professional yeses or nos when your boss was in the room, even when he was flirting with you.

“How’s my favorite girl doing on this fine morning?” He knew he was testing it, flirting with you over open airwaves but he couldn’t help himself, wondering what you looked like, sitting in the tower. He’d thought about it so many times, what you would like like, what your voice would sound like without the distortion of the radio, and what you would sound like when he finally got his hands on you. Fuck, now was not the time to get a boner.

“This is tower control, Rooster, please wait, your clearance for takeoff has not come through,” He grinned when you responded in your my-boss-is-here-you-jerk voice.

“Understood, tower control but I’m still waiting for an answer on how my favorite girl is doing.” There was a pause and he wondered if he had blown it but your soft response finally came right before he could offer an apology.

“I’m having a pretty bad morning but if you manage not to scuff up my runway, it’ll be a little better.” Rooster frowned, you were having a bad morning? He wanted to pry but over the radio probably wasn’t the best place to do it.

“You must be thinking of Hangman, sweetheart. I would never scuff up your runway,” Your laugh filled his headset and it helped him relax.

“Tower control to Rooster, you are clear for takeoff.”

“Rooster to tower control, requesting permission to land.” Rooster didn’t have to wait long for your response.

“Tower control to Rooster, you are clear to land. Remember, I want you to put it down smoothly.”

“I can do a lot of things smoothly,” You tried to muffle your giggle but he still heard it. “And I can prove it to you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, let’s see you stick this landing and maybe I’ll wear my new red dress to the Hard Deck.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, get ready for the best landing you’ve ever seen.” Rooster pulled out all of the stops, making sure to hit the first wire, laying down his plane as smooth as possible on the runway. “See you at the Hard Deck, I’ll be the one in the Hawaiian shirt.”

Your friends in the control tower had given you so much crap for planning a date over the radio but as embarrassed as you were, you were also excited. Rooster had to be hot, his voice was all deep and on morning hops it had this rasp to it that had your mind drifting outside of the control tower and straight to the bedroom, imagining what it would sound like first thing in the morning.

“Call me if you need me to pick you up,” Your friend said over the phone while you stood outside of the Hard Deck, gathering the nerve to go inside. “But I really hope I’m picking you up from that pilot’s place and not the bar.”

“Shut up,” You laughed, hearing a car door slam shut in the parking lot. “The first thing you said to me when I transferred here was not to sleep with any of the pilots.”

“Not sure I like that advice,” Rooster’s voice had you flushing pink, heat washing through your body. You hung up on your friend, looking up to finally catch your first glimpse of Rooster and your breath caught in your throat. No one should look that good in a Hawiian shirt. Tall, tan, and a mustache that wouldn’t have worked on anyone else. You felt your knees go a little weak. Rooster smirked, “But I do like that look on your face.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” You leaned against the wall, smiling as he closed the distance between the two of you. “This is how I usually look.”

“I really hope not,” Rooster rested a hand on your waist, looming over you, his spiced cologne filling the air around you. “Because then every man who sees you is thinking exactly what I’m thinking.”

“And what are you thinking?” You hoped he was thinking what you were thinking, which involved moving away from the bar and towards his car as fast as you could. You wrapped your arms around his neck,

“That you’re just as sexy as your voice.” You went up on your toes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips that Rooster wasted no time deepening, pressing his hips into yours. “It’s embarrassing what your voice does to me.” He kissed down your neck, pulling whimpers and gasps from your lips.

“I love it when you flirt with me over the air,” You admitted, slipping a hand beneath his undershirt, feeling the smooth muscles of his back. “Shit,” Rooster nipped at your pulse. You could feel his hardness against your thigh, showing just how much he wanted you. “Please tell me you drove here.”

“Sure you don’t want to have a drink first?”

“Why, is Hangman in there?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Rooster threw you over his shoulder and you squealed, “I’m not letting you anywhere near Hangman in that pretty little dress.” Rooster carefully set you in the back of his car and crawled in after you.

“Possessive is a really good look on you,” You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down on top of you, kissing him hard.

“Good,” His calloused hands ran up your thighs, pushing your dress up to your waist. “Because I don’t share.” Rooster’s fingers ghosted over your panties, drawing out a soft moan. “How are you worked up already, pretty girl?”

“Well, you’re hot,” You nipped at his bottom lip. “And your voice, fuck,” Rooster stroked you through your underwear, “I hear it in my dreams sometimes.”

“Good to know I’m not the only one.” The two of you made quick worth of your dress and underwear, the backseat filled with moans and sweet nothings, whispered between kisses. Rooster had his fun, working you up on his fingers until your toes were curling, “Cum for me, baby. Cum on my fingers like a good girl,” Pleasure washed over you, your body arching, fingers digging into Rooster’s broad shoulders.

“Will you please,” You panted, trying to catch your breath as Rooster lavished your neck in kisses. “Please fuck me?”

“I feel like I should take you out on a date first,” Any other time you would have appreciated him being a gentleman. But not when you were naked in the backseat of his car, feeling just how hard he was pressed against your sensitive core.

“This isn’t your pre-flight checklist, we can do things out of order.” Rooster chuckled,

“I knew you’d sound good like this, so needy for me.” You rolled your eyes, grinding up into him, “Let me take you out to dinner first.”

“Am I going to win this argument?” Rooster’s thumb found your clit, your body jolting at the contact.

“How about this, you come on my fingers for me one more time, then I buy you dinner,” He slipped a finger inside of you, “Then I’ll take you to my place and give you everything you want.”

“Deal.”

Taglist: @wanderingsoul6261 @halflifejess @kyemna @alipap3 @yutangwl @teacupsandtopgun @glenpowellluver @closetspngirl @that-one-fangirl69 @starshinegrl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @sarah-bear706318 @shanimallina87 @atuman @carolina-on-my-mind03 @winelover27 @cherrycola27 @cevansbaby-dove

#rooster x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley is a golden retriever #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bet writes #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #minors dni

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outofconcheol · 9 months ago

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Tune In For Love (KSM x GN!Reader)

pairing: college radio host!Seungmin x co-host!reader

genres/au/rating: sfw, mostly fluff, the mildest of angst, idiots to lovers, pg

summary: When you and Seungmin come up with a crazy new idea for your radio show, a week of chaos and unspoken feelings unfolds. As you learn more about relationships, will the two of you tune in for love? Or decide to shut it down completely?

warnings: swearing, fake exes trope, a playlist of seungmin coded songs mentioned, stupid amounts of pining, mentions of relationship drama, they almost kiss, then they actually kiss, one mild (joking ) threat of violence, Jeongin being the best wingman ever, RAIN, Ningning, Joshua, Cheol, and Day6 all make cameos

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy Seungmin day!! honestly this could have been a whole fic on its own but i'm happy with this cute little drabble! this draws some inspiration from the ex talk by rachel lynn solomon. our boy deserves all the love, i hope you enjoy!

“Okay everyone, this has been another week at The Sound FM, the university’s #1 radio station! ____ and Seungmin signing off!”

Your voice fades out to the tune of the hit that Seungmin had selected for the week, ears perking up at the rumble of the bass and the tick tick tick of the hi-hat. Another Day6 song. Congratulations this time.

“When will you admit that you’re Day6’s number one fan?”

“When you admit that you’re their number two,” Seungmin adjusts his glasses, a devious smirk lighting up his face.

(You were, but you would never give Seungmin the satisfaction.)

“That segment on how to deal with the stress of midterms turned out great! What should we do next?”

You fidget with your pen, tapping it against your notepad, twirling it around in your fingers, before moving to put it behind your ear–

Seungmin’s hands shoot out, fingers clasping around yours for a brief moment, and a shiver runs through you, despite the fact that it was sunny outside with not a cloud in sight.

“I had an idea, actually, well it’s not my idea, Jeongin brought it up..”

For however composed the two of you were on air, you turned into awkward rambling messes when the mics were off. It had always been like that though. You’d been hosting the show with Seungmin for the better part of a year and you still didn’t know why you felt shy around him, or why you’d barely progressed beyond simple acquaintances.

“There’s this girl that uh, he, yeah he wants to impress, so he was asking if our next segment could maybe have something to do with dating advice.”

“That is sooo much better than the segment on recycling tips I was planning,” you nudge him, oblivious to the way his ears turn red.

“Oooh but what if we make it spicy you know? Like approach relationships from a different angle?”

“What angle?” Seungmin rubs at the back of his neck. “As far as I know, neither of us are in a relationship. I mean, right?”

“Right but no one else has to know that! What if we pretend that we’re exes, who broke up? Hindsight is always 20/20, people will eat that up!”

“I thought I was supposed to be the menace here,” Seungmin’s tone is deadpan but his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me Min,” you giggle. “So, what do you say we put your charm to good use?”

“You think I’m charming ___?”

You miss the excitement in his tone, writing it off as enthusiasm for the whole absurdity of this plan.

“Who knows, Min! Maybe we’ll even find people! This is so exciting!”

Seungmin pauses briefly, a choked sound escaping his mouth, but you think you imagine it, watching him straighten and nod.

Laughter fills the studio as you bicker back and forth about what to include and how the next week would go. It was a risk, but you hoped it would pay off — both on the airwaves and maybe even for your stagnant love life. The possibilities were endless.

“Hello, and welcome to Tune in For Love! We are your hosts, ___ and Seungmin, and for the next week we’ll be tackling all your relationship questions and concerns!”

Your voice booms into the mic, echoing throughout the tiny studio, and you take a moment to mute yourself, heart pounding in your ears. Butterflies had begun to bubble up in your chest – you were really doing this.

“You ready for this?” Seungmin’s voice knocks you out of your daze, and you look over to see his lips twist into a lazy smile, running his fingers through his hair.

Fuck. Why did that make your stomach flip-flop?

You give him a shaky nod. It was probably just the rush of trying something new, so different from what you were used to. The simultaneous thrill and terror of dipping your toes into uncharted waters.

Seungmin unmutes the mic, his softer, more melodious voice reverberating into the windscreen. He’d make a great singer, you think. Maybe for your next segment you could convince him to croon on air.

“We’re your resident experts on dating, whether it's still in the early stages of puppy love, the cool cruising of the honeymoon phase, or the bitter sting of love gone wrong. We have all your answers, right here, right now on The Sound FM!”

“Trust me, we’ve had experience with all of those,” you chuckle.

The story just falls off your tongue – a tumultuous end to a relationship that had never existed, one full of angst and heartbreak that even the finest writer couldn’t think of. Seungmin interrupts you spontaneously to respond to your dramatic anecdotes with dry quips of his, and you can’t believe it — you actually sound like a couple. A real couple.

“How was I supposed to know you were allergic to garlic? You let me take you to an Italian restaurant on the first date!”

“As my boyfriend, you should have asked my best friend about my allergies! That’s like standard dating protocol,” you shoot back, making sure to smile so that Seungmin knows you’re not serious.

“Noted, I’ll keep that in mind for the next relationship,” Seungmin grunts, the air becoming thick with a tension you can’t pinpoint.

Clearing your throat, your fingers hover over the buttons of the soundboard.

“How about we take some listener calls instead?”

The line crackles to life, a caller named Ningning groaning about how her girlfriend forget their anniversary and didn’t even apologize.

“It’s an honest mistake,” Seungmin mutters.

“I don’t think so,” you counter, chewing your lip. “It’s important to be considerate of special moments like anniversaries, birthdays. It means you care. I mean Seungmin probably doesn’t even remember mine–”

“October 17th,” he interrupts you, and you go rigid. How did he even know?

I asked Jeongin, he mouths, and it only leaves you more confused. Why would he need to know that? It leaves you more embarrassed that you don’t know his exact day, only that it was sometime in September.

Ningning rambles on, thanking you both for the added perspective and resolving to make things right with her girlfriend. You feel your heart warm at her determination, amazed at the effect that you and Seungmin had already managed to have on your listeners.

Seungmin closes out the show, the easygoing and carefree chords of Polaroid Love ringing into the mic, and you think to yourself, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As the sun sets, campus comes alive, buzzing with excitement. You glance out the window, watching students filter out of the library, walking towards the commons for a cup of coffee, or hugging outside their dorms. A deep pang of longing hits your gut, not sure whether its from watching them outside or the fact that you’re cramped here in the tiny studio, band posters all over the walls, and Seungmin is playing Love You For A Long Time, Maggie Rogers’ ethereal voice filling the space between you.

“Had to ease you into our next listener call,” Seungmin grins into the mic. “This one is – ouch. It might hit home for some of us, I mean you all.”

“Hi, ___ and Seungmin? I’m Joshua, a senior. I’m calling because I have a dilemma – my best friend Seungcheol just started dating my ex, and I’m not sure how to feel. On one hand I wanna be happy for them, but on the other hand, I’m a mess. What would you do if you found out one of you was dating someone else?”

“Oh.” Seungmin breathes out, and he remains there, lips parted like he’s frozen. An awkward silence falls over the studio, and you’re sure Joshua is blinking on the other end of the line, wondering what the hell just happened.

“I’m not sure,” you shudder, thinking of the hypothetical situation. But it wasn’t so hypothetical. You and Seungmin were free to date people. There was nothing stopping you. But it still felt wrong somehow.

“I would give yourself some space, Joshua. Take time to confront your own feelings about this, and when you’re ready you can decide what to do. Let yourself heal first.”

“That’s a good answer,” Seungmin whispers, and you panic, muttering out a rushed goodbye before cutting the broadcast.

“Wow,” you sigh. “That was, I–, I guess I didn’t think of that when I suggested this.”

“Think of what?” Seungmin’s eyes glimmer with interest, and he leans in closer.

“How shit would get so deep? Like how would I actually react if that happened to me? I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Sometimes this feels almost like we’re not pretending,” Seungmin murmurs, a strained laugh escaping his throat, a mask for the change in his tone.

You’re not sure what you want to say, but it feels like you should say something. The moment hangs heavy in between you two, and you don’t remember how Seungmin got so close, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“Seungmin, I–”

“You had a piece of hair in your face,” he responds, straightening up to stretch his arms. “It’s late, want me to grab you an americano?”

Shaking your head, you manage to muster up a weak response, telling him to go ahead without you. He nods slightly, before throwing his jacket on and slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

An unsettling dilemma dawns on you – this was supposed to be an act, but why did it feel so real?

“You know,” Jeongin’s loud chewing echoes in the dining hall, Seungmin bristling as he watches his friend stuff five french fries into his mouth at once. “I should revoke your roommate privileges for this stunt you pulled. I thought you were grumpy before, but breaking up with ____ has taken it to a whole new level.”

Seungmin scowls, cursing under his breath at Jeongin. Yanking his headphones out of his ears, the lamenting tune of These Days by Wallows cuts off abruptly.

Outside the rain patters, echoing his stormy emotions. Over the course of the past week, his mood had felt like he was on the world’s most nausea-inducing roller coaster ride. The highs were the times he got to spend with you in the studio, cracking jokes and watching your eyes shine as the two of you came up with the next devious plot for the show. The lows were the knot in his stomach every time someone would call in with a question that hit a little too hard.

After this week, he was glad the show would end, and maybe you guys could go back to the way things were before. That easy, comfortable dynamic that always existed between you two.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin sees the way his eyes zone out, like he can read Seungmin’s mind. “I know you, and I know what you’re thinking and it’s absolute bullshit. You’re in too deep, hyung.”

“I’ll fucking punch you,” Seungmin hisses. “What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Just spill to ___ that this isn’t some game for me? That my feelings are real? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Hyung–”

A gasp echoes from behind him, and Seungmin turns to see you behind him. Your lip trembles, and you lock eyes with him, a tear escaping the corner before you’re turning on your heels, running out of the dining hall.

Seungmin stands there, frozen with the weight of what he’d just confessed, heart sinking to his shoes. All of a sudden, he feels a sharp jab to his arm, Jeongin’s fist colliding with it.

“What are you waiting for? Run!”

The rain pelts the back of Seungmin’s neck as he runs, indifferent to the fact that he’s probably soaked to the bone, slipping and sliding along the cobblestone. He can make out your figure storming ahead furiously, like you can’t get away fast enough, and he speeds up, panic in his voice.

“___, wait! Please stop.”

His voice turns hoarse from all the yelling, and he’s about to give up, turn back in defeat (and go sock Jeongin cry into his friend’s shoulder), when you stop under a streetlight, your figure slumping.

Seungmin is by your side in moments, not caring that he takes your hands in his, blowing on them to give you warmth.

“Y-you d-don’t even h-have an umbrella, w-what were y-you thinking?” he chatters, and he watches your lips turn up in a smile. But your eyes remain downcast.

“What about you?” you whisper, and Seungmin cocks his head, looking at you in confusion.

“I left my jacket in the dining hall with Jeongin—”

“No Seungmin, I mean what about you?” your voice croaks desperately.

Seungmin takes a deep breath. There was no use in pretending anymore.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do,” he chokes out.

You take his hands in yours and Seungmin feels dizzy. The cold rain no longer bothers him, warmth filling his veins from the inside out.

“You think?” you sniffle.

“I know. I know I’ve been in love with you, since the day you walked into the studio and pitched your ideas for five-star dorm meals.”

“I really like your hands,” you blurt out, and Seungmin’s eyes widen in shock. That was not the response you’d been expecting.

“They’re warm when mine are always cold, I like the way they look when they’re holding a pencil, or when you bring me a cup of coffee. I like your voice too – the way you sing along to Day6 when you think no one is listening, or your annoying little laugh–”

“It is not annoying–”

You press a finger to his lips, and Seungmin thinks he might just evaporate.

“Not now, Min. I’m trying to say something here. What I’m trying to say is that if there’s anything this whole week has taught me, it’s how much I like you. How much I want to have those crappy problems that everyone complains about with you, how much I want to celebrate birthdays with you, and anniversaries with you, and how I think I might collapse inside if I ever saw you with someone else—”

It’s Seungmin’s turn to interrupt you now, cold lips colliding with yours, the initial shock replaced with heat. Your hands burrow into his hair and he draws you closer, hands weaving around your waist. The startled, frantic sounds of your breathing did nothing to help the pounding of his heart, and he wonders if you can hear it too.

In this moment, Seungmin never wants to let go, holding you steady against him even when you part, your breath fanning in the cold air.

“I just, I, needed to be honest. No more pretending.”

“No more pretending,” he smiles against your lips, nudging his nose against yours.

The wet slap of shoes against the pavement interrupts you both, turning to see the Jeongin behind you, Seungmin’s jacket in his arms. He takes in the sight of you two wrapped around each other, a smug grin lighting up his entire face.

“Hell yeah! It worked!”

“___ and Seungmin signing off, this is Tune in For Love on The Sound FM, and we’ve loved having you this week!”

The air in the studio buzzes with a different kind of excitement – the dreamy notes of Hypnotized by The Weston Estate filling up the room.

“Before we go, we have something to share with you–” your voice wobbles, and Seungmin reaches out immediately, squeezing your hand.

“Please send your email petitions in so our show doesn’t get canceled, but we’ve been faking it this whole time. We’re not actually exes.”

You can almost hear the collective gasp across campus, the soundboard going crazy as it lights up with calls.

“We are, as of yesterday, the happiest, and newest–, couple on campus,” Seungmin beams, his pride echoing through the mic and your heart lurches at how right it feels to be his.

You hit the answer button, the lines flooding with congratulations and well-wishes to the news.

“Congrats!” Ningning’s voice echoes. “I always thought you were the cutest together.”

“You make me want to find someone of my own now,” Joshua says in the background, and the studio fills with you and Seungmin’s laughter.

When the last call goes through, Jeongin gives you both a thumbs up, shutting off the soundboard.

You turn to Seungmin, heart racing.

“I can’t believe we actually did this,” he says, half-laughing.

“Me neither,” you reply, a soft smile on his lips. “But I’m really glad we did. It feels… right, you know?”

“Thanks for being part of this with us,” he echoes through the airwaves, his voice sincere. “We’re excited to see what’s next—together. And while the show may be over, we hope you’ll still tune in for love every single week — no matter the topic.”

“Next – how to cook a five star meal worthy of any restaurant using just your dorm microwave…”

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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gravedwe11er · 5 months ago

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Echoes through the cosmos

My friend @cosmique-oddity had a brilliant idea about mecha AU Coswave and I had to write my own take on it. Make sure to check out his wondeful writing/art for this concept too! We're posting our works in tandem, so by the time you see this, it should be on his blog.

Aaanyway, this was supposed to be a short one-shot. It is not. Part two and three will be coming soon. As always, based on the Mecha AU by @keferon.

When he was a kid, the first book he’d ever gotten was a children’s space encyclopedia.

Secrets of the cosmos, it was titled, and he’d fallen in love with it at first glance. It talked about planets and stars and the possibilities of alien life, and he’d carried it around everywhere for years, so much so that it earned him the nickname Cosmos from his peers. It might have been a little mocking at the time, but he’d refused to take it as an insult - quite the opposite, really, and eventually, it stuck.

On clear nights, he’d sometimes sneak out of his house after bedtime, lie down on the grass and just look at the sky. He’d watch the stars flicker, thinking of distant planets filled with cool alien people. Imagined himself meeting them one day, leaving Earth behind for greater adventures and new friends, and whenever he saw a shooting star, only one wish ever came to mind – “I want to meet an alien someday!”

In retrospect, perhaps he should have wished for something else. Chocolate cake for breakfast, maybe.

Because the aliens came. And unlike in the movies, they came with little fanfare; no dramatic declarations of war, no menacing signals sent over the airwaves or bright lights in the sky. They just dropped down from atmo and started ripping humanity to pieces.

Cosmos, who at that point had been in his last year of college and working an internship at decently large observatory, got pretty much front row seats to the first planetfall. The quintessons hadn’t bothered to hide. Hadn’t needed to, really – they’d had too much of an upper hand to worry much about human defense forces.

Life after that was a bit of a blur. The shatterdomes sprung up in a matter of months, humanity started fighting back and actually winning sometimes. Cosmos graduated and got hired immediately as one of the many, many people monitoring satellite data, watching for any incoming quint dropships.

And while yes, even a few minutes of warning ahead of an incoming enemy drop could save thousands of lives, it was never quite enough. New mecha were being made constantly, but such things take time, and the losses kept mounting. Clearly, something else needed to be done.

Which is how Cosmos finds himself here, orbiting some twenty thousand kilometers away from Earth in a haphazard little shoebox of an observation station, all alone in the void between worlds.

Well, to be fair, the actual scientific equipment of the station is top of the line. It’s just the everything else that his bosses on Earth skimped out on. The interior is cramped, dull and grey, with only the bare necessities needed for his long-term functioning as a glorified space cameraman. His days are fairly monotone too – exercise routines to keep up his muscle and bone density twice a day, interspersed with long hours of going over telescope footage, checking for enemy signals and keeping an eye out for any potential anomalies.

Now, despite his occasional grumblings about the quality of life here, he’s not really bothered by most of it. Besides, he gets it – there’s only so many resources the world can spare. He’s fulfilling his dream and helping save lives in the process, so he can put up with a little discomfort. It’s still better than his old college dorm, that’s for sure.

He is in space. Actually in space. That little detail sort of makes up for a majority of the gripes he has about the station.

All except one.

When he signed up for this mission, he knew he’d be alone up here. He just didn’t know how much it would ache.

For the record, it’s not like he’s completely cut off from others- that’d be a one-way ticket to madness, and even the most heartless of higher-ups know it. They’d given him a fast internet connection and permission to make as many video calls as he needs, as long as it doesn’t affect his work. He has his parents back on Earth, and his fellow watchmen are usually up for a quick chat, but- It’s not the same. It’s not nearly enough.

Nothing can replace seeing another living being with his own eyes, a casual pat on the shoulder or just the simple warmth of a person existing in your general vicinity. The longer he stays here, the more chill seeps into his bones, into his very soul.

Soma days, it’s as if there’s a layer of frost underneath his skin, and he’s not sure how long he can take it before he shatters.

Cosmos is sipping on his breakfast coffee when the main console pings, the custom alert he’s set for this specific anomaly making him scramble for the railings immediately. Floating over, he goes to check the data, and- yeah, there it is again.

These signals have been a mystery for the past month now. As of yet, the only thing anyone knows about them is that they’re not from the quintessons and are seemingly completely random. Mission control stopped caring about them once they figured out they’re not of enemy origin, but he and a few of his fellow watchmen have been trying their best to learn more. Command hasn’t told them to quit it yet, so Cosmos assumes they don’t mind, at least.

Not that they’ve really gotten anywhere. A few times a day, the signal will originate from seemingly nowhere, just barely strong enough to be noted, bounce around a few satellites and disappear. No pattern that they can see, no changes in strength or even any indication as to its purpose. It’s just- there.

So far, it looks like he’s not figuring it out today either. Still, he logs the data into his personal file and straps himself into his chair; might as well get to work, since he’s already here.

The quintesson warships have their drop off point on the edge of the asteroid belt, about halfway between Jupiter and Mars. Same place every time. Scientists down on Earth have been throwing around theories as to why, talking about wormholes, string theory and weak spots in the time-space continuum, but it’s more speculation than anything for the most part. Faster than light travel was supposed to be the stuff of fiction after all, but here they are. One moment there’s empty space, and next there is a warship. Really exciting stuff, really! It would just be a lot better if it wasn’t being used to ruin his home.

The quints’ sub light engines reach some impressive speeds as well, but they’re still slow enough to give the people on Earth half a day’s notice before they make planetfall, provided they’re informed the moment the ships appear. Which is why Cosmos is here, watching both the space around both the planet itself and the drop-off zone, warning of incoming attacks. Or, well, to be more precise- he’s mostly watching over the equipment doing all those things, and making sure it keeps doing them no matter what. The human failsafe, so to speak.

It's a bit of a hurry up and wait sort of job. The few days after a drop, it’s constant reports and data being sent back and forth, trying to decipher enemy comms and a simmering worry in his gut as he hopes the pilots down there manage to fend off the quints without heavy casualties. Then, it’s back to long silences and practically twiddling his thumbs, waiting for the chaos to erupt once again.

Which brings him back to the signals. They’re something to break up the monotony, something to occupy his thought on the days when the systems have nothing else to report, like today. Or the past two weeks.

That is why, when a small group of quints suddenly peels off from behind Earth’s mass, heading full speed in his general direction, Cosmos nearly suffers a heart attack. The station’s sensors scream at him, and he may or may not begin panicking a little. He’s a sitting duck here- the station has no defensive capabilities, and no shuttle could get to him fast enough. That is, if they even bothered to try in the first place.

But- as he’s trying and failing to open a last call to his family with shaking fingers, he notices the quintessons slowing down to a stop, still nowhere near his position. Instead, they seem to be targeting - he types a few commands into the sensory array with clammy hands - a communications satellite? It looks like any of the thousands of others like it, ESA make, if he had to guess, so why-

And then the satellite- moves. Parts of it shift around each other, forming what looks like limbs and a head, and- no, okay, what?

The satellite, which is now very much not a satellite anymore, opens fire at the quints. Cosmos watches the scene through several sets of digital eyes, mind reeling as the small enemy platoon is- well, torn to shreds, to put it mildly. Whatever this mech is, it’s incredibly efficient, dodging between enemy strikes and dealing devastating blows of its own. His own? Is there a pilot in there? He doesn’t think so; if such technology was in use, he’d have known about it.

Then again, it could be a prototype of some sort. A secret project, maybe? That sounds slightly more plausible, but still- look, Cosmos is no mecha engineer, but even he can recognize something for being wildly out of human technological scope when he sees it. Which leaves only one remaining option, really.

Whatever this is, it’s not from Earth.

And yeah, alright, shit. That’s- well, it’s probably not a bad thing? Seeing as it just sliced through a bunch of quints like a knife through butter, it’s safe to assume it’s not aligned with them. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? God, Cosmos certainly hopes so, at least.

As the last of the quintessons die, their bodies floating off into the distance, the station’s alarms turn off one by one. All except his custom one, that is. The cheery little chime keeps on ringing, one screen off to the side showing the same odd signal he’s been tracking for weeks now, only stronger. Much, much stronger. Having started the moment the satellite changed shape, the signal keeps going, now recognizable as a multi-layered frequency and coming directly from the alien mech itself.

He's not sure if it’s the adrenaline, his innate curiosity or just plain madness, but Cosmos does something very, very stupid. With still shaking fingers, he tunes into the frequency, puts his headset on, and calls out.

“Unknown craft, this is Cosmos of the Hermes-9, please-“ his voice hitches. Swallowing tightly, he continues, “please identify yourself. I repeat, this is Cosmos of the Hermes-9, unknows craft, please identify yourself. Over.”

For a few moments, the silence is deafening as Cosmos waits for an answer, fear and anticipation mixing in his gut. Then, the mech turns around. Two glowing red optics look straight at him, as if bypassing the hull of his station and piercing through his very soul. His screens black out one by one in rapid succession, words draping themselves across the darkened expanse like stars against the endless void of the universe.

[Designation: Soundwave.]

#transformers #tf mecha universe #tf mecha au #tf cosmos #tf soundwave #coswave #lastwrites

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kenyatta · 10 days ago

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This always happens with new communication technology.

And with similar severity, too!

Twenty-five years ago, media scholar Jeffrey Sconce traced this history in his book Haunted Media, showing how we have consistently linked new communication technologies with the paranormal and esoteric. It’s not a random coincidence or sign that we’re in a “uniquely enchanted” age but rather a predictable cultural response, one we’ve been replaying over and over for hundreds of years.

Spiritualist mediums claimed to receive messages from the afterlife through Morse code. These operators saw themselves as human receivers, bridging the material and astral. The technology that sent messages across continents without physical contact made it easy to imagine messages crossing the veil.

Radio seemed to throw every word into what Sconce calls an “etheric ocean,” a limitless and invisible sea where messages bobbed about like bottles adrift. By the late 1920s, the big broadcast companies tried to “net” that ocean with fixed frequencies and scheduling. Sconce writes about how fiction reflected this taming of the radio waves. The wistful romances of amateur “DXers” scanning the dial gave way to sinister tales of mass hypnosis, government mind-control rays, and Martians commandeering the airwaves.

Television, again, added another layer, perhaps most iconically portrayed in the 1982 film Poltergeist.

Let’s Talk About ChatGPT-Induced Spiritual Psychosis - Default Blog

#ai #spirituality #technology

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zichiwithagun · 8 months ago

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Random screenshots day 71 The 1min Shorts

I feel like this broadcast is really messed up if Wander actually gets destroyed in universe lol

imagine you’re just watching some Saturday morning cartoons and then a random guy interrupts your airwaves with live execution

Oh yeah almost forgot this challenge is finished yippee

#wander over yonder #woy #woy wander #wander woy #wander #screenshots #silly shower thoughts of mine

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 2 months ago

Note

Alastor Shuts Down the Airwaves to Shut Vox Up

Alastor completely shuts down the Airwaves in Hell to prevent Vox from airing his defeat at Adam's hands, the shutdown accidentally affects Heaven, Earth and the other Rings and everything that runs on them.

The only way to restore it that Alastor will agree too, is if Vox deletes all the footage and never mentions it ever again via a binding deal.

Unfortunately for a exasperated Charlie (who has no idea why they're beefing, yet) both Overlord's are giving Lucifer a run for his money in the Pride department.

Lucifer and the Sins are trying to figure out how Alastor twisted the airwaves to his control to the point neither he, the Sins or the Seraphim in Heaven can undo it without asking Alastor directly.

Alastor making a deal with Roo for his absolute got-tier power and control over the airwaves, a separate unconnected fully fulfilled deal compared to his current one with Lilith. Roo didn't expect Alastor to Jailbreak his powers to this extent, she's watching through Hell's eyes with popcorn. She's watching Earth too because Alastor did basically send it back to the radio age technologically, so much entertaining drama!

I've always loved the headcanon that Alastor's radiowaves are the only reason Vox can do what he does. Not sure if him knowing that first, or discovering it when Alastor pulls the metaphorical rug out from under him, is funnier.

"How the FUCK are you doing this?"

"I'm the RADIO DEMON, what do you think that means, your Lowness?"

"Oh f-... you know what? No, I'm not rising to the bait this time."

"Well of course not, you don't have a step ladder."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME SINNER????"

"Dad, deep breaths remember?"

"Oh we're WELL beyond mindfulness Sweetie, I'm wondering if smiting the fucking deer will get our airwaves back!"

Alastor looked thoughtful, but not overtly worried about the threat to his life. "Possible... I've never tried to take control of the airwaves like this before being killed, so honestly I can't imagine the outcome. It's also possible that I could take the airwaves WITH me."

"...well, that's not great. I could always reforge them, if it does go down with the prick, I guess..."

"No, nope, noooooooooo, no killing or smiting or anything. Not in my hotel, not to my staff, and not to my friends."

"I can find you ten nicer overlords at," Lucifer can't hold back the scoff, "'sovereign level', the cute little things think themselves so powerful and what are they? You could kill them with a single hand if you got bored..."

"Oh? Then why didn't our darling Charlotte rip Valentino in half for licking her arm, or more realistically, what he's done to Angel and his other thralls all these years?"

"Who. is. Val?"

"But Al, if I used my powers against him then I lose the chance to help him change..." the King was incandescent with rage.

But Alastor had shadowed behind her, his sharp claws resting gently on n her shoulders in a show of familiarity that heralded he was about to say something that upended her psychological wellbeing for good.

"Hmmm, or if you look at it from another angle... every day he continues to breathe, he is forcing people into acts they do not consent to, beating them without mercy for any sign of defiance, and you have the power to remove that threat. But your own heart stops you... what weight can you place on your own feelings, your own potential guilt, against the perpetual suffering of his thralls?"

"I-... I um... I didn't think about it like that... oh fuck, it's my fault I left Angel with him after pissing him off!"

"Yes... and no." Alastor's eyes haze slightly, as if he's seeing something beyond the room, it's gone in an instant. "Let me tell you something that you may not have seen, given your swaddled upbringing... when someone is in a terrible place, under the hand or heel or chain of someone more dangerous, more powerful, they tend to try their best to shield others. Did not Angel immediately attempt to force you out, which you took as capitulation to Valentino's requests... but in fact kept you safe from anything he, or his smoke, may have done?"

Charlie was starting to shake with horror. "You're right... if I hadn't been so... then he wouldn't have..."

"And what did we learn from the experience?"

"To... try a different approach? Maybe next time I can make an appointment to talk to Valentino and-..."

"Wrong." An audience booed at Charlie, and she gets the distinct impression he was aborting the desire to bonk her on the head with his microphone. "Firstly, no matter how powerful you are my dear you will not be going within 100 feet of either Valentino or Vox without someone else with you... they have ways of taking control of people, and I don't want to imagine what they'd do to you under the circumstances. Exploiting your power would be the iccing on the cake... but the moth is... vile. Your father would tear this realm apart if he saw what the moth would make you do."

Alastor swanned around to face Charlie head on, ignoring the simmering angel in the corner, who seemed to be panicking at this new implication. The floor was melting under his hovering feet.

"Secondly, the moth values control. You are a stronger person coming to 'ask' when he knows you can take... and even if you were not the Princess, you are still someone attempting to remove his toy. No matter how nicely you asked or approached the topic... he would take out his anger and feelings of inadequacy on Angel. And if not Angel, one of the dozens upon dozens of sinners under him... literally, I understand, based on some of the things Angel and his cohort have said."

"Then how do I-...?"

"You kill him. You pull his flesh from his bones until his nerves are raw to the air and exposed long enough for you to set him alight, or start carving meat off with an angelic blade, or... something to remind the moth that this is hell, and he has transgressed far beyond what is acceptable. Especially towards you, and those you care for."

"I can't..."

"Then you will delegate the task to someone who can. I believe Vagatha, Husker and I are more suited to such actions..."

"Is that what this whole overlord tantrum is about? Wanting to manipulate MY DAUGHTER into letting you kill another overlord? Can't you just do that on your own time?"

A whump-whomp noise plays, Alastor snaps his head 180 degrees to face the king. "I promise you, I need no permission to tear him limb from limb... but there will be consequences for the hotel, for hell in general, should the Vees be annihilated from the face of the place. And it would be at least two of them, Vox and the moth are together, he would not allow this to go unchallenged."

Lucifer snorts in disbelief. "The tv? Isn't he the guy refusing to do something for you and that's what set this whole pissbaby fight off? Can you sinners just get your shit together and stop this nonsense already. Some of us have actually important things to do outside of mediate your spats."

"Says the out of touch monarch who hasn't stepped a foot outside his palace in decades... who has no idea how twisted things have become. Tell me, are you certain that the moth's pheromones, or the television's hypnosis would glance off you? Off the sins or goetia? Can you be certain that even if you are immune, those beneath you haven't been secretly primed by subconscious compulsions to slide an angelic dagger between your ribs, or crush some into your meals?"

"I-... what? No one's that powerful."

"Actually dad... even I know that Vox has the power to make people do things against their will. All he needs to do it is to catch you looking at a screen, a tv, your phone, a tablet... I've seen entire crowds of sinners caught by some of the animated billboards." Charlie interjects, looking sickened, as if she's just coming to terms with the reality of it herself.

"Look outside little Majesty... right now they are neutralised, but I want you to really SEE how much of Hell is covered from end to end with technology, with screens, with animated advertisements and spy cameras... do you know how easily Vox can ensnare half the population simply by flashing his eye in their peripheral?"

"...that's not-..."

"Oh but it is, more's the pity. Not to mention the moth's pheromonic controls, his exhaled smoke can dull the senses and make people susceptible to control. And his spittle... well, it has aphrodesiac properties alongside a removal of will, thought and consent. That's how he gets the majority of his contracts, he need only put a drop in a drink or on foodstuffs... I believe he once bragged that he had merely put some on a bracelet he gave a favoured potential thrall, and once absorbed into the skin... he had them. Quite literally too, based on his vulgar discussions."

There's a pause.

"Do you understand, now, the scale of power they have amassed?" Alastor tilts his head, ever the showman. "Ah, but I forget the powerhouse here... I will admit to being less familiar with her abilities, as she operates on the little phones and internet webbing... but from observations and Rosie's networks, I believe that Miss Velvette's capabilities are a power called Influence.

Which has been explained as using something called clickbait, social media and persistent bombardment of her ideas threaded with her own power of suggestion, to take control of minds and beliefs. I am not certain if she can mobilise thralls agaisnt people like Vox and Valentino, but it seems her influence is pervasive... so it's likely."

"She can... Vaggie said that's why people are frantic to sell themslves to her to buy new tacky products and fashion. And how she can flip the public's opinion against someone so quickly. They don't have to think anymore." Charlie shudders, holding herself at the idea of being puppeted by someone else. To not be herself anymore was terrifying. "Angel confirmed it too, said he's seen her do it... her models don't stop eating by themselves, she burrows into their heads somehow and turns off the hunger until they die of starvation, so they'll fit her clothes. Which is awful!"

"Exactly, my dear! The three of them have devastatingly concerning powers on their own, but as a trio this puts us all in quite the predicament around how to manage them without placing greater Pride and possibly other rings, in peril. Don't get me wrong, that would be hilarious to observe... but it wouldn't serve your little dream of redeeming sinners, would it? If you had to kill off potentials because they'd been sent as ineffective brainwashed spies? And the spin that picture box could put on it..."

"You're right. How are we supposed to fight against that sort of clout? They control the media, and... wait, does the broadcast go out to other rings? Could he control the hellborn?"

"No, he shouldn't be able to. They're warded against that sort of thing, I put it in their coding... or whatever it is they have." Lucifer jumps in, frowning. "But... I mean, if they're constantly using the devices or watching television, I suppose it could build up over time... then, maybe. I don't like that."

"Starting to see the predicament, now, hmmm? Quite a problem. Easily solved if we kill them, or subjugate them under the right contract... but it would need to be held by someone who has the willpower to maintain absolute control... or someone who cannot be touched by their powers." His eyes slide to Charlotte, and then to the King. "Which of you wants this burden? There's no room for nicities here... and I assume dear Charlotte would be against me shredding their souls across the airwaves to dispel their threat once and for all?"

"That's horrible! Please don't do that, I could try to redee-..."

"No."

"What? It's my hotel, I can-..."

"I said no, my dear, and I would personally murder them if they came to stay here. Do bandage your bleeding heart a moment and THINK properly. Who would benefit most from your safe, protective, heaven-focused ideals and program? Perhaps those who have suffered under the Vees...? Would they stay here knowin you were offering such kindness to the moth? the Doll? the television? No. They would call you delucsional and crawl back into Hell to find a new safe place... likely even worse than the ones they left."

"No, I could... I could make a second hotel!"

"No."

"Hey, this is MY hotel and yes we're jointly doing this, but my say is FINAL!"

"Ah, where was this fire when Valentino showed you his cruelty? Where was the command when Susan challenged you? Does it only come out when you feel a loss of control? When you need to be defensive? Hmm.... could the thralls of the Vees feel the same, when shown you would wetnurse the very snakes who harmed them?"

"I-... I didn't mean to snap at you. You're right, and I hate that you're right... but maybe some people don't deserve forgiveness. They have to earn it on their own."

"That's the spirit!"

"Again, bellhop, is this whole...' Lucifer waves a hand at everything. "...a ploy to force Char Char into agreeing to kill these Wees? Because while I can see the necessity, now that I've heard your petition about this..." he tried to conceal his delight at the deer's spluttered indignation at the idea he had petitioned the throne for aid, "this whole ridiculous mess is attracting heaven's attention and we're royally screwed if they start poking about. Can you please just turn the airwaves back on for anyone BUT the Hees?"

"This was unrelated, actually, for the record. I was reminding Vox of his place, and that the pretty little throne he's made himself is tenuous at best... and easily torn down. I made a reasonable request, which he denied." Alastor shrugged. "Let's imagine that he's had time to soothe his hurt feelings and may be open to negotiation... I'm also inclined to simply kill him."

"But Rosie said you two were friends, why would y-... oh, I wasn't supposed to tell you that she told me that." Charlie deflates slightly as radio dials are aimed right at her. Not afraid, but feeling like she's stepped on a landmine of a topic and not sure how to escape.

"Perhaps we were. Which is why he continues to breathe despite his flagrant betrayals and petty squabbling... why his obsessive stalking has not resulted in his entrails being spread across Pride like Sinsmas decorations. But tolerance can only go so far. Especially if his actions jeopardise everything happening here."

"What does he have on you? Sex tape? Drunken karaoke video? A defeat...?" Lucifer noted the disgust at the first suggestion, the hint of amusement at the second, and the sharp narrowing of eyes at the third. "A defeat, then. Aren't you one of the more powerful overlordlings? Why not just take another swing at the person and set the record straight?"

"Regrettably, they're already double-dead and that rather ruins the novelty."

Charlie, unfortunately, is extremely clever and puts it all together. Her gasp so intense it felt like she removed the entire supply of oxygen from the room. "Was it against Adam? Was that the defeat? But how did he-... I didn't see Vox anywhere on the field?"

"Drones. The picture box has always tried to get others to fight his battles, or at the least, watch them... I believe Angel refers to his obsession as a... 'voyeurism fetish'. I know what the words mean individually but refuse to acknowledge them collectively."

"Pfft, I thought humans had moved away from that prudish nonsense decades ago..." Lucifer snarks back. "And more importantly, YOU faced ADAM? Hah! Got your ass kicked huh? Mr Overconfident?"

"Actually, it was going fantastically until he remembered that damned guitar thing of his. I suspect Adam has never had to actually fight someone who hit back in his entire afterlife. Sloppy."

"Says that guy Adam annihilated... your ancient ass got wrecked by the dick master huh?"

"Please... never refer to it in that manner again." Around the ever present grin, Alastor was clearly scowling in distaste.

Lucifer blinked, and blanched. "Oh... yeah no, I heard it that time. No. That's just... ew."

"Ah, poetry."

Charlie is in front of Alastor now, and he's not sure when that happened. Her hands fist his lapels and ask the taller demon to hinge as she gets into his face.

"YOU. SHOULD. HAVE. SAID. SOMETHING!" she snarls, and her clenched fists are trembling almost as hard as her bottom lip. "I thought you DIED and then we had to keep FIGHTING and you didn't come back for AGES and I thought-... I thought-..."

Alastor's shadow detangles the fingers from fabric, gently and with more care than one would assume. "Clearly, not strongly enough to act on it. For I returned to a room, and not a memorial..."

"Well... well Husk and Niffty said they could feel their connection to you get a bit thin but it was still there so I thought..." A thought strikes, and those devastatingly wet puppy dog eyes turn their full effect on the bewildered cannibal deer. "...did you think we didn't care, because I didn't make you your own memorial?"

Well, he hadn't been aware of harbouring that little grievance before, but NOW... now Alastor realised that was where the weighty agitated feeling in his chest was coming from.

"I'm so sorry Al, if I'd known I would have-... I don't know... I know you dislike having your photo taken or videos, so maybe not a statue but I could have found a way... maybe a record player that had some of your best shows on it? I'm not sure... I'm really sorry you felt ignored, though."

"Sweetie, please calm down, the idiot's alive so it's pointless to even discuss this." Lucifer responded to her distress automatically, pulling her into his arms and not so subtly away from the deer. "And it's not like he actually sacrificed anything anyway, not like Sir Pissyapants or Dazzle... they actually died fighting. He just, what... ran when things got hard?"

"Fuck you."

"You couldn't afford it, even if I was interested, Bambi."

There's a record scratch. "Wait, what?" The bafflement was palpable.

Hah. Lucifer decided to take mental note that sexual innenuendo seemed to flummox the sinner, so he was definitely using that in future verbal sparring.

"Dad, please... he might have been hurt." She turns back to Alastor, oblivious to Lucifer's displeasure at her lost attention. "Are you? Hurt, I mean. I've seen you fight, and there's not a lot that would make you back down. It would have to have been bad to-..."

"Nonsense, I'm perfectly fine."

"Oh? So if I go get box and ask him to show us the video you're holding all of hell and heaven hostage over, then I won't see you get folded like a lawn chair by the idiot of eden? Hmmm?" Lucifer shot back, feeling the moment the barb sunk in deep. Alastor flinched. Actually flinched in response.

"I-..."

"Yeah? Shall I call him or are you going to tell us what happened?"

You could hear his teeth grinding against one another. "Fine."

"Well?"

"The weapon... it broke my microphone, and-..."

"Hah, so you're saying all your cute little tricks are because of your little toy? How did someone like you reach the pinnacle of the heap, you meek little fawn?"

"I can see why they cast you out of heaven, if you were this fucking irritating and self righteous up there!"

"Okay that's it, I'm ripping your face off and using it to feed Keekee, sinner!"

"NOPE! NO! ENOUGH, both of you! It's like babysitting two goetia hatchlings coming into their powers... just, ENOUGH already!" Charlie shouts, horns flaring. "Alastor, that was an awful thing to say to my dad, we don't talk about the Fall... if you do it again, I'll respond by ensuring you have to run the next five weeks of mindfulness pilates classes. And Angel will have a front row seat."

She whirls on Lucifer, "And you, Dad, need to stop trying to compete over everything! Alastor was actually opening up about something he was clearly feeling vulnerable about and you just mocked him! To his face! We don't do that here, at my hotel. So ZIP IT!"

"I wouldn't say vulnerable..." Alastor growled, shadows climbing the walls.

"Oh, so you're not doing a little threat display to protect yourself from having a feeling then?" Lucifer deadpanned back. Gotcha.

"Alastor, I know Dad cut you off before, but would you be open to telling me what happened?"

"I've told you, he broke my microphone with his weapon, which has implications the breadth of which even I am uncertain about. Between the flash of the weapon and the sharp feedback surge of my additional power returning at speed to me... I didn't notice he'd swung again."

"Your microphone was a... battery? Like, you put extra power in it for emergencies?"

"Somewhat... it also helped to regulate the amount I used against opponents, mostly. But yes, if there was a time I had my power drained completely, there was enough in the microphone to supplement a base level of ability... perhaps teleport up to five or six people across a short distance, as needed."

Charlie, eyes wide and wet, chose not to comment on this clearly subconscious admission of some vague level of care towards the others in the hotel. Although, she suspected KeeKee was more likely to be removed to safety over, say, her Dad... but he was nigh indestructable, so presumably the king could save himself.

"I think... I think Mum and Dad had me do something similar when I was little and coming into my powers. I had a special tiara thing that I would have to put excess energy into each day and... I don't think I ever took it back. But if it was to break..." she shuddered, that would certainly sting having all that pure power slam back into her without warning.

"Indeed."

"Well come on, deer, don't leave us in suspense... I hate cliffhangers, so get on with it. Adam broke your foci thing, and then swung at you again. Then what?" Lucifer taunted, dispassionately.

"Well, understandably, it hit and threw me back across the roof. My shadow half decided to force teleportation before the final blow came down. Nothing exactly exciting, but it would put a very large target on the hotel if Vox showed that footage... as I have claimed it as mine, and under my protection. Someone would come to test my capabilities, or take someone hostage, or try to wrest my power for themselves... you know how it is."

"Then just toss him out, Char Char, if it comes to that. And YOU, need to give back the airwaves, we need that to communicate between Rings AND with Heaven."

"No. Not until Vox capitulates, is killed or brought to heel under the contract of a powerful party."

"Stop it, you're falling into a dysregulation cycle again..."

"I don't believe that's the right term. Your lesson plan for next week's classes listed it as a conflict cycle... you may wish to ensure the correct terminology or you will be challenged by guests." Alastor jumped in primly, anything to derail this excruciating conversation.

"Of course, thank you for your feedback... wait, you read the whole planner? Tell me tell me tell me what did you thiiiiiiink?" This level of enthusiasm should, ideally, be illegal.

"A shade more insightful and therapeutically minded than your previous attempts. Not that the trust falls and group hugs weren't hilariously ineffective... but I get the impression that you seem to finally understand that sinners are more complex than your initial ideas believed. Have you received guidance from an actual psychologist? There must be at least one down here, certainly Freud has to be here somewhere... there are wanted posters all over the place for his head... well, either of them, really."

"HAH, no, he's in Sloth because Belphagor called dibs on punishing him for the damage he did to psychology!" Lucifer bursts out, unable to hold that back. "Not to mention the idiot who came up with phrenology, you don't want to know what she's done to him..."

"Intriguing. Do the Sins normally have a chance to call 'dibs' on certain souls?"

"No, not really... but medicine and wellbeing were things she created before she fell, and Bel... hoo-boy, was PISSED to find out about that pair. She did some hilarious stuff to the guys who ran the concentration camps and thers who did horrific experiments on the helpless... and a bunch of other fucked up former humans. Upside of you all being eternally reforming, she can get really ironic."

"I would have thought the sin of greed would reward souls, like that orange fellow everyone is waiting to get their hands on?"

"Mam would HATE having someone like that Trump guy in his Ring, he likes to have all the cash and all the adulation. But he'll torture the guy fantastically, he's had dibs over poor Ozzie for ages... but I'll work out a schedule so Lust gets a chance to teach the creeper consent..."

Lucifer blinks. "Why am I telling you this? None of your business, Bambi... kind of surprised Satan didn't make a ploy for you, or maybe even Beez, she loves her cannibals and bettes."

Those eyes flicker red. "Huh... serial killer, then? Yeah, that fits. Hmm... interesting choice of victims, I get why they had to go but you enjoyed their removal a tad too much. Ate them up too, huh? Oh, Depression era, of course."

"Stop that!" Alastor snarled, feeling far too exposed and unsure how to begin covering yourself from the cosmic gaze of a being reading your soul.

"Dad, this really is a violeation of our privacy and consent rules at the hotel."

"Now, now Sweetie... even you can do this if you choose. It might help you figure out where your souls got broken, in life, how to help. No wonder you're so against those using domestic violence, little fawn, but... still, was murder the only option there? Oh simmer down, I'm kidding. You've been on both sides of the violence, and now you're a big scary overlord who kills off any others who get too dangerous or unhinged. A very fucked up moral compass in here."

"One could say the same for you, little King."

"Oho, short jokes still? Cute. But you know what else I can see? That little love tap you've sewn shut on your torso... it's calling out to me, and anyone with even a trace of Heavenly blood in them. Best hope Vaggie doesn't want to be the next top overlord. I can also see traces of the deal you have with my wife. Tell me... how's Lily doing these days?"

"...I would hazard to guess things aren't going as well as planned, given Adam is dead."

"Oh, and why's that, bellhop?"

"Because her deal with the first buffoon was the only thing granting her entry to Heaven... and now, I assume, it falls into the hands of that little sociopath that targeted our dear Vagatha. She doesn't seem the rational type to simply... let bygones be bygones."

The porcelain pair go paler still.

"Mum's... alive? In Heaven?"

"That little exorcist can't possibly hurt her, they're too far apart in power..."

"Oh? And angelic steel wouldn't hurt you, your Majesty, if it was slid between your ribs? It might not kill you, but there are other things in the clouds that could... flaming swords? Beams of pure holy light or whatever it was Adam was slinging about so willy-nilly?"

"...yes, yes that's up there. How do we get her out? Why did she go up there to start with?" Lucifer is panting, air feeling sluggish and hard to hold onto.

"An... exchange. A promise. No more rebellion, no harm to Charlie. There were other clauses I was not made aware of... but she is her own hostage and assurance."

"Is that why you came here?" Charlie asks. "Did you come here because of something mum said or did?"

"...perhaps. Her powers and abilities cannot breach the two realms, but she can extend protection through those..."

"On her chain?" Lucifer interjects. "And what do you get out of her owning your soul, bambi? Was it Lily who helped you monopolise the airways?"

"Hah, no! I could already do that. She merely stepped in during a rather difficult disagreement with someone else, several someones in fact, and dispelled the situation. Her magic bolstered a natural resistence to something, and I agreed to provide protection to her daughter... and to a lesser extent her bufffoon of a husband, whilst she was away."

"Why the seven rings would Lily think you could protect ME?!"

"You're physically powerful, yes, but your mind and heart and guilt weigh you down so effectively it's a wonder you can stand to keep breathing. It would take nothing for someone to manipulate you, you lost your will to live for a long time there, and only Charlotte brought you back to yourself. She wanted you to be awakened, and kept from rash decisions around Heaven, around Charlie. To protect you from yourself. Which I found preposterous and decided to focus on Charlotte's hilarious venture first... assuming you would arrive at some point."

"You have to defend us? Is that why you went to fight Adam even though he could have killed you?"

"Do stop the weeping, Charlotte, I only have so many handkerchiefs to hand. The roof was strategically chosen as it allowed the widest casting of my shield, I would have been a target whether I chose to fight Adam or not... and perhaps your mother asked me to keep you safe, but the definition is broad, I could have worked my way out of it as needed."

"How? Lily's damn good at deals, she rarely leaves leeway."

"As am I... but her terms were also pressured by Heaven's demands. She could only ask to keep Charlotte safe... that could mean from herself, from emotional harm like losing a friend, from physical harm wherein I could shadow her from the battlefield, from trauma and despair, from heartbreak, from the devastation of seeing what Valentino has done to his thralls today, from societal scorn by keeping her locked away... and so on. Imagine the weight of such an undefined task... and what it would allow."

"Devious."

"Thank you."

"So, your stick... was that what Lily reinforced?"

"No. It was an inherent ability that she strengthened... but my staff had allowed me to make contact with the Queen covertly. I can only imagine she will be frustrated it has been damaged."

"You weren't... forced to take the deal, were you?" Charlie hedges, holding fast to her mental image of her mother as a caring, strong and powerful woman with family at the forefront of her mind.

"No, it was my choice. Her bolstering would not unravel if the deal broke, but the deal allowed her to summon me to her in her new prison dimension. Getting back was a rather terrible drop, but... it's survivable."

"Bullshit! There's no way you've Fallen down here... there's a lot of sound and fire and most people scream."

"Ah, true. But I can go incoporeal as needed and, well... your mother wanted to keep things secret..." The stitches flared right across Alastor's face. "There may have been some feedback through the airways that overloaded a few servers or speakers, but I did try not to cause a ruckus."

"Oh yeah? Well, where did you land? There should be a crater or something..."

"Like I said, I can become intangible as needed, and you could say that I did not impact... more dispersed across an area in a shockwave, rather than striking the ground and burying myself. It took some time to get the more wilful pieces to rejoin the whole, but I managed."

"Is that why you were gone for seven years?" Charlie asked, recalling what Vaggie said to Angel.

"What? No, no, it takes a few weeks at most. And I'm rather good at it now... the Queen has a habit of getting bored and wanting to talk to someone quite regularly now."

"That... doesn't sound right. Lillith fell WITH me, she knows how much it-... how long it took for us to heal and-... she wouldn't just call someone up for a chat knowing that to get 'home' would involve a fall..."

Alastor's ears did a funny little twitch.

"And what, exactly, does that uncertain little wiggle of those fluffy things mean, bellhop?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

Alastor hums in response. Infuriating bastard.

"Al, is there... something wrong with my mother?" Charlie asked, touching his arm so tentatively you'd think she was trying to encourage a sick feral cat to come close enough to be helped. It did make the overlord rankle a little, his dignity had already been dragged through the mud today.

His ears flick again.

"Please, tell me..."

"...it is just a supposition, there is no evidence or proof, my dear."

"Al, you're one of the smartest people I've met down here, especially when it comes to reading people and seeing what isn't being said... if you saw something, I believe it's real."

Alastor's fingers curl as if to play with his microphone, before being forcibly stilled.

"Something has been changing in her majesty... she isn't herself. There's a darkness in the corners of her eyes, a weigh in her gaze and words, a change to her demeanour when we talked... and she started to find enjoyment in suffering. Which, as I understand, is so very different to the Queen whose heart broke for Hell and she led the rebellion to protect."

"Do you know what made her like that?"

"...I have an idea, but do not understand what purpose she would have with Lillith. Especially not when the Queen was in Heaven, it would serve her no purpose to corrupt her in a place where it would be immediately obvious. You may have noticed the feathered fools are ridiculous about their constant use of holy light up there..."

Lucifer looked ill. "If you're referring to who I think you are, then... for one, how the hell do you know here? And two, how can you be sure Heaven isn't doing something to reset Lillith back to her Eden self or something?"

"Oh, She reached out when I was on earth actually... I turned her down and she ensured I was killed for it. She halted my initial fall to demand a deal, and I renegotiated the terms which ticked her off no end... but I rather think she enjoyed the chaos I brought. As for the Queen... well... once you have felt that particular touch of darkness, you can just about taste it on others, like a cloying perfume or... perhaps a brand that can only be sensed in the right light. It's hard to articulate..."

"Who?" Charlie breaks in, getting frustrated at missing the most important clue here.

"She's... something that was here before I Fell in with your mother, my duckling... She likes to go by 'Roo' which stands for the Root of all Evil'. She... was... Eve, but the condemnation of Heaven and the creation of sins led her to become a vessel for all evil, for all darkness and loss in all humanity. It twisted her violently. She tends to reach out to humans who catch her fancy and if they take her deal, they become near supernatural murder machines. Heaven has been blocking her for centuries."

"And... she has a deal with mum?"

"No. I think... I think perhaps it's a sympathetic resonance. Lillith never forgot Eve, she always wanted to find a way to get back to her, to free her from Adam. And when Eve died and became... Roo... well, she would visit her to try and help with her songs. The first centuries were horrendous, only Lily's songs could soothe Eve's agony... physical and mental. I couldn't find a way to heal her. We did what we could."

"That's terrible, how can we help them?"

Lucifer looks lost. "I'm... I'm not sure. I think we need to take this to the council of Sins, and the higher goetia, ask them for theories on how best to assist them both. Some of the Goetia have been stdying prophecies and ancient magicks and the like, they may know something new or helpful."

His eyes flick back to the Overlord. "Okay, first things first... if I throw my weight behind your request and ensure Box removes all videos and never speaks about it, will you give the airwaves back?"

"...yes."

"Good, okay, if I fix your little microphone thing, can you contact Lily with me or Charlie in the room to talk to her?"

"She... will likely not be pleased you know."

"Will she summon you?"

"If she is still able to, I suspect so."

"Okay, what if I put a tracking charm on something you can wear like a cufflink or something, and if you Fall I can portal you safely to the ground again? We can get news faster if you're not reforming from shards of shades, right?"

"...hmmm, I dislike having others' influences on me."

A lightbulb goes off for Lucifer.

"That's the reason you're so pro-Wee Murder isn't it? They tried to use their abilities on you, all at once... and Lily had to step in, right?"

"Technically, yes, but not for the reason you think. Her intervention was the only reason I was able to remain myself... and unmolested."

"Unmol-... no. Don't you guys just kill each other?"

"Vox is obsessed with anything he can't have, or breaking down any No he has ever heard. To be denied something he wanted was too much for him, and..." Alastor paused, thinking how to phrase it. "...he attempted to ensure compliance by 'fixing' something he felt was broken. By any means necessary."

"You weren't interested in him, or just in general?"

"In general. They used to lobotomise or shock people into vegetables for less, in my day... and Vox has never grown out of the mentality that everything is fixable to his ideals if he applies enough money, charisma or force."

"Hmmm, hmmm, hmm... okay, so what I'm hearing is that no one is safe under the Gees and we need to burn down their tower as soon as possible, and no one in this hotel goes near their territory alone if at all possible? Okay? Okay. I have a really awesome hellfireball I haven't been able to use for decades because well, the splashback tends to be a bit messy but..."

"As much as I would love to, it falls into the hands of dear Charlotte here... who I suspect will ask us to spare at least two of them. However, we can always do our best to place them under such intensely written contracts that even a sin couldn't break out of them if they were desperate to do so."

"I... I really feel that we should try talking... but, I know that... it hasn't worked before, and there's a LOT of risks to doing so. But I can't just LET you kill them..."

"Then ask us to manage the Vees, and if accidents happen... they happen. I will endeavour not to drop the moth down an elevator shaft with his wings torn off, but well, after the strike from Adam I'm afraid my grip isn't as strong as it was... ah well."

"Oh, Dad... is there anything we can do about the injury?"

"I mean, sure. I can heal it, but that takes a while. Oooh, I have a thing!" He manifests a duck.

"No."

"Come ooooooon, it's adorable, this is Lady Elizabethrean Nightingale Winthrope-Quacklington the third, and she WILL emit an explosive laser if you aim her at an enemy and think 'Spaghetti Bolognese' so... don't do that unless there's no other choice. BUT, I made her to passively absorb angelic essence from heaven-based wounds. Some of the sins and even Lily got nicked during the first Exterminations before we enforced the sinners-only rule. A few hellborn were really hurt, before that., she really came in handy back then."

"And I should... carry this about like a clutch purse or something? Turn it into a necklace?"

"Pfft, stop being dramatic! Wha-bam! Travel sized!"

The duck, from large elaborate white wig to fancy ruffled purple dress, was now only two inches high. It slipped easily into Alastor's pocket... and clearly started work immediately, because a very subtle set of tension in those sharp shoulders, eased visibly.

"You're welcome, stubborn. Now, let's fix your stick, and we'll go fuck those Vees..."

"Oooh, did I walk in at the right time!" Angel croons, grin nearly wider than Alastor's. "But ya know there's like, pills fer that, you don't need to get the King to... heh, lay hands. But I can if ya'd like."

The waggling of those eyebrows deserved their own censorship warning.

Alastor made a symbol in the air and the halves of his beloved microphone appeared. Charlie took them into her own hands, looking upon the thing with sorrow.

"I'm sorry Al... the day you let me borrow it in Cannibal town, I felt so powerful, so believed in. I know it's important to you... so, if you want, I can try to fix it myself?"

She doesn't see the subtle look Alastor threw at the King, who nodded, confirming Charlie was powerful enough.

"If you wish, my dear."

The shockwave of her attempt took the unsuspecting Angel, Husk and Niffty off their feet. The maid disappeared out the door witha comical Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

"Well done, I knew you could do it." Alastor encouraged, delighted as his microphone's eye opened, focusing on him and tugging a gentle flow of his magical energy, pooling it within itself. "Welcome back."

"You're welcome!"

"Okay, okay, so let's go do the thing with Box... and then, perhaps, we gently persuade them to hand over their souls or be torn to pieces and scattered across eternity as screaming atoms." Lucifer grins, as if he just suggested dessert.

"Sounds like a delightful schedule, musn't keep them waiting... come along, Lucifer." Alastor dissolves into shadows and seemingly heads to where Vox was being contained in the basement.

"Hey, that's cheating!" Lucifer shouts to the empty room, ad disappears in a puff of red sparkles.

Charlie looked delighted and distraught. "I don't... like what they're about to do... but I understand why." The delight wins out. "But did you HEAR that? Al called Dad by his name! AND they're going to overthrow evil overlords TOGETHER! If I can get those two on the same page, it's only a matter of time before we can get someone fully redeemed. Ooooh, I'm going to focus on the GOOD things happening!"

"Er, okay? Cool. They're gonna go piss off the Vees?" Angel has grasped onto what's happening, and seems a little panicked.

He shudders as his phone blinks back to life, and autmoatically starts blaring notifications... even without any way to make it work, Val had been blowing up his phone and alternating between love bombing and threats as usual.

Fuck.

Husk, who had been listening longer than the others in his invisible status as barkeep, was smiling a tad too smug.

"Just wait here. Promise that things'll work out..."

"If I don't go he'll kill me."

"I think that's being handled."

The bar radio clicked on and a horrendous, familiar shriek of pure agony began. The lung capacity was sincerely impressive, honestly. Angel nearly bursts into tears as his collar and chains manifest, fracturing with every scream, slightly softer than the last. The cries of someone who knows there is no end but death.

When it finally shatters, husk has the arachnid wrapped in his arms and wings, as Angel sobs. He's dreamed of this so fucking long, but it always felt like the sort of hope you attached to winning the lottery... it would be nice, but this ain't a fairytale.

----------------------------------------------------

"Sorry to break up whatever this disgusting debauchery is... but if the traitor and her royal slut would look this way?" comes an unexpected voice, as a window smashed open.

A bloodied Vaggie rolled a few feet before forcing herself upright again. "Bad news, babe, the side piecce is here looking for revenge..."

"I WAS NOT HIS SIDE PIECE!" screams the enraged exorcist, who launches herself at Vaggie, weapon out.

Only to be backhanded across the room by a dark tendril of shadow, which pulled back to Alastor's shade. It was frowning at Lute.

"Hey, whoever just bothered my future daughter in law is going to be torn limb from limb when I get over there..." Lucifer interjects over the airwaves and diminishing screams.

"Yes, yes, do you want to spread him into atoms or shall I break him across the broadcast? Do you know scissor, knife, chainsaw little majesty?"

"Er, you do it... I'm going to rip the wings off what feels like an exorcist in my realm without sanction."

"Tch, your loss Lucifer. Now, Valentino... let's fragment the last pieces of 'you' shall we?"

The radio clicks off with a garbled whine.

Lucifer arriving in all his glory ready to kill an angel without mercy.

------------------------------------------------

Ooooh, additional drama if Lute uses this opportunity to try and get revenge for Adam under the guise of 'defending heaven' from someone holding it hostage. Aiming for the beacon of Alastor's wound, because he did kill and trap a number of her sisters. She also heard whispers of bolstering her power through taking powerful sinners' deals/chains onto herself.

Anything to get an advantage... she doesn't realise that normally exorcists can't, but if she could take them on, it would mean she is tainted, and Fallen without having taken on the mantle. Fascinating psychological twist for Lute there.

she intends to go for Vaggie's princess next, to make the traitor watch as the light leaves Charlie's eyes. And then, if the king destroys her... it doesn't matter, because she already won.

Then Lucifer would start a war, and the exorcists could annihilate the whole realm.

Oooh, she could use Sir Pentious as a HOSTAGE.

Which catches Emily's attention, and then Sera's who realise what Lute is doing. Then things get Fucked Up.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #lucifer #charlie #vaggie #husk #niffty #angel dust #headcanon #phoenixwrites

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