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bunniesanddeer · 3 months

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Bound to Hell

This is the companion work to "Going Straight to Hell". This is from the reader's POV. Minors DNI

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Violence and sexual assault against a minor is referenced. Revenge, demon deals, etc. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 8,349

You’ve known for a long time that your soul would be bound for Hell. From the moment your mother died, you’ve been slowly corrupted. When you finally realized that no matter what the afterlife looked like, it wouldn’t be good for you, you cried yourself to sleep. You had stared into the mirror the next day, wondering if someone would be able to see it in your face. Would people know at a glance that you were disgusting— that you were a lost cause? Although you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t your fault, the thoughts still swirled in your mind each night.

It was late one evening that you finally gave up. You had long foregone begging to be freed from your living hell, but something in the way your hips ached, and your chest hurt pushed you. When the night finally felt late enough, you curled into the corner of your bed, and you begged. You cried, and wept, and whispered for some higher power to save you. Whatever could you have done for this to last so long? You deserved freedom. You deserved kindness. And so with your heart on your sleeve, already bruised and battered, you called for a savior.

“Please,” you keep repeating, as many times as it takes. “Anyone. I need this to end. I need help.” You sob and pull your knees to your chest. Your skin aches from the way you dig your nails into your arms. You keep doing it anyway; it feels like the only thing keeping you awake. “Please just help me end it. I’ll do anything.”

Then, there is a shiver that crawls down your spine, cold and dreadful. There is a sudden feeling of being watched, and it is something you’ve never experienced quite this way. You sit up, your head whipping around, trying to catch sight of whatever is in your dark room with you. You can’t see much, but that only makes the feeling worse; you are absolutely sure that someone is in the room with you.

“Who’s there?” Your voice is quiet, but in the silence of the room, it feels like you are screaming. You cross one set of fingers, hoping that nothing responds.

There’s a clicking sound, sudden and loud. Then the stereo on your desk flares to life. The radio dial flickers back and forth, static bursting forth. You jump at the sudden noise, and stare at the desk. There’s no way that just happened.

“Hello?” You call into the hopefully empty room. Your eyes flicker around the room, trying to see anything at all.

“HEL-” A voice nearly screams from the stereo, and you shriek.

“What the FUCK!”

You push yourself back so that you’re flush with the wall, and you try to slow your breathing. You don’t need to be having a panic attack at this time of night.

“Hello! Can I speak now?” The voice continues, strange and warbled. The static is thicker than you’ve ever heard from a radio station. It wasn’t often a problem anymore, and it confused you. Not to mention, the man, (although you weren’t sure that it was a man), had an accent that you hadn’t heard anyone have.

“Are you talking to me?” You grab at your knees, swallowing hard.

“Ha! Of course, I’m talking to you!” The voice laughs, and part of you feels patronized. There’s something in his tone that sets your nerves alight. Something is seriously wrong. Not to mention, it feels like you are having a strange dream. “I couldn't help but hear you calling for help, dear!”

You immediately doubt his words. He sounds so fake, as if he was on a TV show. You settle yourself, still subtly looking around the room. You wouldn’t be surprised if this owner of the strange voice is in the room with you.

“You seem to be having quite the problem, and I’d like to offer my services!” His voice trills, his volume nearly pushing them to their limits. You glance at the door, suddenly remembering Richard. God, if he walked in now… “However, I can’t help you unless you call my name with the intention of making a deal. It’s the rules, unfortunately.”

A snort escapes you. What the hell was this? Some children’s book? It reminded you of a cartoon. “Like Beetlejuice?”

“I have no idea what that is, my dear.” He sounded genuinely confused, and it made you want to laugh. Whatever this guy was, there was a good chance he wasn’t human. Something in the way he talked, made it feel like he was positioning himself above you. It was strange, but it was like you instinctively knew something that your conscious brain couldn’t pinpoint.

“Ah,” You mutter. You stay silent, trying to let your brain catch up with everything. Part of you feels like you need to remember all of this. It’s as if a single detail could be the difference, so you stay put and think.

“I don’t know what your name is,” You say some time later. You frown, and glare at the stereo on your desk. If this was a dream, you were going to be annoyed. You wouldn’t put it past your desperate brain, though. Whatever would keep it from blipping out of existence.

“I’ll tell you in just a moment! Fret not!” Static pours into the silence. He’s thinking mighty hard about something, and it makes goosebumps erupt on your arms. He’s planning something. “I just wanted to tell you that I could help you with whatever your problem might be, if only you called me. Nothing is too big or small.”

You turn towards the door, and a thought immediately comes to mind. Richard. Your nails dig into your palm, and you grit your teeth. You could have his blood spilled into the tile. If this thing speaking to you is real, it could be done. Something twists at your heart, and suddenly you want it with such desperation. You want to be free. He needs to die.

“What’s your name,” you demand. You keep your voice flat, but confident— you won’t look like a fool, or an easy target for this strange thing’s whims. You want to know if it could be done, but you know you need more information first.

“The name’s Alastor, darling! Who might I be speaking to?” His voice is full of tenacity, as if he knows what you will ask of him. Something he says catches your ear, more than the rest, though.

“Shouldn’t you know my name?” You figured if God or angels, or whatever, were real, that they would know your name. (Some lost memory of someone telling you something about angels flickers in your mind. Aren’t angels supposed to not tell you their name?) Something is wrong.

There is suddenly a surge of tingling across your body, and it feels heavy, oppressive. “No, dear. I am a demon, straight from Hell, here to provide you my services!” His laughing grates your nerves, and the words set your veins on fire.

You can feel your expression fall, as anger surges up. Of course! Of course, when you finally get an answer, it’s from some malevolent force, and not something that actually wants to help you! He will want something from you, you know it in your bones. You don’t know if you will be able to pay the price.

“Why the long face, dear?” He laughs, static popping and crackling as he does. You start crying softly as you hear his joy. There is something so wrong about someone taking the joy in this, as he does.

“I guess I should have known that if there was some higher power, they wouldn’t help me. Guess it would end up being some demon.” A bitter laugh rips from your throat, and you duck your head between your knees. You were never worth saving, it seems. Why bother? What was worse than this? Dread settles on you as you think about how this has just confirmed how little you are worth.

“I’m not just some demon, darling. I’m the Radio Demon! Powerful overlord of Pentagram City!” He sounds angry as he protests your assumptions of his power. You scoff to yourself. So the guy has an ego, big fucking surprise.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” You lie down on your side. This conversation is exhausting, even for something that might not even be real. You just want him to leave. “I’ll think about it. If you’re actually real, and not just some strange thing my mind made up to keep me here.”

“Well then! I will speak to you again, dear! Remember, just call my name with intention, and I’ll appear!” He says it with surety, to the point where you think you will call for him. You hear a click, as the dial for the stereo turns, and then it is silent in your room again. Just you and your far too angry thoughts. Could you do it? Could you call on this demon to help you kill Richard?

You scream, throwing a plate against the wall. It shatters into a bunch of pieces, and you wince. That won’t be fun to clean up, or explain. You sigh, and go to find the broom, ruminating on the morning’s events.

Richard had been especially grumpy, pulling you from your room by your hair. He’d pushed you to make breakfast, complaining on and on about work. You hated him complaining about things he didn’t even let you do, it was ridiculous. He was allowed to do whatever the fuck he wanted, and he threw you around like a rag doll, but some guy misplacing his shit was the worst thing ever? Richard was ridiculous, you were sure. The man had the worst priorities, like trying to break your jaw when you told him ‘no’.

You wanted him dead, you were sure of it, but you weren’t sure how to go about it. You knew the end result would be your life being taken too, but the tradeoff didn’t seem too bad. Richard wouldn’t hurt another soul if you took him down with you. Maybe you could find a way to burn down the house while he was asleep? No, that wasn’t a guarantee, so you needed something else. Stabbing him wouldn’t work unless you were making breakfast. The man kept too close of an eye on you when you were cooking, though. Maybe strangling? Richard often fell asleep for a bit after finishing, leaving him vulnerable. Maybe you could—

The demon! If he was real, he might be the key. You would call on him, as soon as you were done sweeping up your mess.

You dumped the broken pieces into the trash, and put away the broom, deciding you would go back to your room. Something didn’t want you to invite him into the rest of the house. You heeded the feeling, and went to your room. You only had an hour or so until Richard was home, but it would be enough.

The door clicked behind you, and you settled in front of it. You weren’t quite sure how to call, but figured starting with the demon’s name would be right. You closed your eyes, and let out a breath.

“Alastor,” you called softly, peeking one eye open after a moment. Nothing. Maybe you were doing it wrong? Taking a deeper breath, you spoke steadily. “Alastor, I want to make a deal.”

Your room erupted with heat for a brief moment, and it made your eyes pop open. A shadow was creeping unnaturally off the ground, and forming a solid shape. The demon! His appearance sent a shock through you.

Alastor was incredibly tall, nearly seven feet, the little tufts on his head putting him over that. The little tufts were the same color scheme as his hair, and scraped the ceiling. His hair was cut almost into a bob, and was a bright red with red-black ends. His eyes were just as red as the rest of him, (honestly, he was mostly red, which was a strange sight in your drab-colored room), with glowing irises and black slits for pupils. The pupils shift to you as you take in his bright, old-fashioned suit. His hands only have four fingers, and his fingers end in sharp claws. You gulp at the thought of them touching you, they would surely tear your skin with barely a press.

You fall forward just a bit, your hands catching the carpet beneath you. Alastor is definitely a demon. Nothing else could look like this. Your brain feels like it’s melting as you try to comprehend that Hell is indeed real, and so are the demons that come with it.

The demon pulls a strange cane out of thin air, spinning it as he surveys you and your room. The smile on his face hasn’t budged a bit, and it makes you uncomfortable. Then he’s looking at you, cocking his head. The tufts on top shift, drawing your gaze for a moment.

“You’re real,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. You shake your head, and then decide you need some bravery. You push yourself up onto shaky legs, and move a little closer to him. His sharp smile, (man, he has only sharp teeth, how does he chew?) grows as you do.

“That I am, my dear!” He leans his body towards you, and his face gets very close. His eyes look even more alien, up close. There seems to be swirling in his pupils, green flames flickering every few moments. Then, you try to breathe, and your nose burns. He smells awful. You imagine it is the smell of an open grave on a hot day, and it nearly makes you gag. You wince, and take a step away from him.

“Uh, sir, you smell real bad,” you say, trying not to let all of your disgust show. You put your hands up, already surrendering, as his eyes shift. Shit.

“What?” He asks, static heavy in his voice. (You wanted to know how he does the static thing. It was weird, but kind of cool, and it also hurt your ears). He’s definitely annoyed, and it makes you wince again.

“Yeah, sorry. You smell like an overripe corpse. It’s downright foul.” You perch yourself on your bed, picking at a stray thread. Whatever it would take to avoid his eyes. They made you want to squirm in your seat, like a child who got caught doing something they weren't meant to. You finally settle, and glance at him. “Right, uh, sorry. Meant to introduce myself, but that really threw me off track. Hi.” You give him your name, softly, waving a little with one hand. (You want to smack yourself. What is wrong with you? This is absolutely not how you should talk to a demon, who has more power, you think, than you could imagine).

He repeats your name back to them with a flourish of his cane. Something in the way he says it makes you shiver. “Well, hello to you too! I was quite hoping you’d call on me, and now here we are!” His grin widens, something dark leaking into it. “Are you ready to make a deal?”

You shake your head. You want to make a deal, but not yet; you need more details. “No, I wanted to-”

You don’t get even a moment to explain yourself, when he explodes.

Your room is suddenly far too dark, shadows at the edges almost seeming to turn solid. His body grows, the sound of cracking bones making your stomach turn. Antlers stretch across his head, scratching at the ceiling, the gouges deep. Your eyes widen, and you push yourself away from him as his face warps.

If he was a little frightening before, he is downright terrifying now. His mouth is all sharp teeth, opening as if to take a gouge out of you. His eyes have turned black, the pupils changing to an almost dial shape. A bright red ‘x’ forming on his forehead. His claws sharpen, and start to reach towards you. His shadow, that you only just noticed, moves independently, crawling along the ceiling. It starts to grab at you, as well.

You finally yelp, and tears pour down your face. Dear God, what was that? You want to tear your skin off. You grasp at the blanket you had unknowingly pulled over yourself, watching as he shakes his head.

His eyebrows hitch down as he shrinks, and he lets light back into the room. The smile is still fixed in place, but something about it seems tighter, as if it’s more of a struggle to keep. He hums to himself, as if deep in thought, and you can only watch. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.

“Oh dear, I hadn’t meant to frighten you! Merely lost some of my self-control, there, dearest!” He sounds far too chipper, and it grates on your already frayed nerves. You hadn’t meant to upset him, whatever you did, you just wanted info. He did want to make a deal, right?

Alastor places his hands behind his back, the cane disappearing as he does. (‘Still so weird! How does he do it,’ you think). He tilts his head just slightly, and for a moment he reminds you of a puppy. The tufts tilt towards you, and you realize that they’re ears! The thought calms you down just a bit. He looks so strange, but his ears make you want to laugh, and it gives you the calm to speak up.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You stare down at his, admittedly fancy, shoes. “I just wanted to know how a deal would work, so I could make one with all the information I needed.”

Alastor stiffens, and it makes you finally look at him properly. With a wave of his hand, the chair at your little desk pulls back, and plops himself right into it. He looks silly, his giant being stuffed into a tiny, wooden chair.

“Sorry, darling! Hadn’t meant to give you the heebie-jeebies. I got a little ahead of myself!” He props his head up with one hand under his chin, his other hand twirling his cane. “Do you have questions? You can ask away!”

You settle some more, and let go of the blanket you had in a death-grip. “What… what do I have to give you, in a deal?” You feel sure that you know already, but the question just makes his smile grow even larger, somehow.

He leans forwards, his eyes hooded, and he looks hungry. It sends shivers down your spine, and something in the back of your mind starts screaming, “Your soul. And because you’re still living, your life as well, depending on what you want. Your soul would be mine for eternity, and you would serve me in Hell.”

You knew it. Your soul would be the cost of whatever you asked of him, and he would take your life too. Although you wouldn’t mind him doing the deed himself, the soul bit makes you uncomfortable. You just found out you do have a soul, and he is already asking for it? Maybe that’s your fault, you did want to know about deals.

“I was going to kill myself anyway, so you can have it.” You state factually.

“Oh, were you?” He goads, his hands flexing as he watches you move around on your bed. You fix your glare on him as you nod.

“Yes. No matter what happens, I’ll end up dead. If I do it this way, it’s on my own terms.” You can only think of Richard as you tell the demon what you plan to do. If it wasn’t for him, none of it would be necessary. He’s ruined your entire life, and all you want to do is ruin his in return.

“Well, do tell! You can’t just leave me with that! Tell me what’s in that noodle of yours!” He swings his cane at you, looking delighted. “Come on!”

You sigh, nearly fed up with how strange he is. “Fine. I need you to tell me what you can do, first. What are the limits to this deal?” You need anything you can get. Are you going to damn yourself, or let your soul get torn to bits for something useless? No. Not even you are that desperate.

He hums, thinking about his answer. “I can do near anything, dear! Anything your little heart desires can be yours!”

You nod, and huff to yourself. “Fine. I’ll tell you what my problem is, and then I’m gonna tell you exactly what I hope to get out of this.” You sit up straighter, glaring at him as you do, and cross your arms. “It ain’t pretty, though, so don’t go blaming me if you get bored or grossed out by details.” You sneer at him, trying to quell the anger rising in you.

“Oh darling, I promise I have seen and heard much worse. Worry not, your little head!” His grin widens, and you want to hate him. How dare he find some sick form of entertainment in your despair? You want to kick his stupid, sharp teeth in.

“There is a man in my house that I have had the displeasure of living with for several years. I was thirteen when my mom met him.” You stare off into the distance, as too sharp memories prickle at your mind. “He was nice at first, and he was good for my mom. She had been distraught when my dad died. I was the adult in the house for a little while, and then she met Ric- Richard. He had been really nice at first. He helped around the house. He got my mom into therapy. Encouraged me in my classes. He made it clear he wasn’t trying to replace my dad, but he was good for a while. My mom loved him. They got married. He adopted me some time after that. Things were good.” You close your eyes, trying not to cry. You think of how your dad would feel about everything that’s become of you. Would he blame you, or would he gut Richard? Richard always blamed you, and part of you believes him.

Your eyes open, and flick to him. All you can feel is despair slowly corrupting into fiery indignation. You wanted Richard gone. You wanted your skin reclaimed, and cleansed of his filthy sins. Alastor seems to light up at the expression on your face. He leans forward, eyes wide with interest.

“The first time he touched me, I was fourteen. Mom was over at the hospital with grandma overnight. I was home with Ri- Richard alone. It was the first time it had happened. I was in the kitchen, reaching for something in a cabinet, and he came up behind me. He grabbed my ass, and squeezed hard. I remember being too shocked to really say anything. I just stumbled back, watching him as he laughed it off. He didn’t apologize, just said he hadn’t meant to.

“I spent a couple of days trying to decide if I should tell my mom. I didn’t get the chance. She got into a car accident leaving work. Died before we could even get to the hospital.”

A bitter laugh wracks your body as they watch him. “Wanna guess who I got stuck with, because this motherfucker adopted me?”

Alastor stiffens, and you realize he didn’t know what had made you call for him. You figured he knew, and had been drawing it out of you as some sick form of torture. The thin veil of discomfort you can see on his face just slightly endears you to him. Perhaps he didn’t like such a thing?

“Yeah. You can imagine that I’d get to properly mourn my mother, but I never got the chance. He’d crept into my bed that night, using his tears against me.” You wave at yourself with a tired hand. “I’m small, you know? I’ve been about this height since I was thirteen. Five feet and two inches. I’ve got nothing on him, especially because at the time my weight was dwindling because of stress. You can imagine how damn easy it would be to toss me around like a rag doll.”

Alastor’s ears perk forward, and his eyes seem distant. Your face twists. He’s probably thinking about tearing you into pieces, or whatever strange demons did. You shake your head off the off-topic thoughts, and think of Richard again.

“He’s raped me, many, many times. I haven’t experienced a kind touch that wasn’t to trick me since my mom was alive. The motherFUCKER-” You sit up on your knees, hand falling forward to clutch the edge of your bed. A deep desire for violence fills up your entire being. You pant, a growl rumbling in your throat as you imagine what you would do to him. “Has stopped me from going to school many times, so I couldn’t show up hurt. Then that fucking VIRUS happened, and no one could see what was happening to me. I was trapped. Now that things are fine again, I should be able to leave and get a job, but he’s trapping me here. I’m stuck!”

You let out a guttural yell, rolling off the bed and onto your feet. You pace, and shake your hands around. “He’s DESTROYED me. He’s taken and taken and taken from me! I’m fucking done.” You stop moving, and look Alastor straight in the eyes. “I want to keep him from ever doing anything to anyone else. The justice system won’t fucking work. It never does! I want to rip his fucking heart from his chest while he watches. I want to make him beg, and scream like he’s done to me. I want to tear him to pieces over and over and-”

You collapse to the floor in a heap of tears. What has become of you? What bastard decided your fate would be to suffer Richard, and his aftermath? You rip at your hair, trying to pull yourself back. You felt a cool hand on your back, and you raised your head. Alastor was crouched beside you, and it seemed out of place for him. It made you feel weird.

“Oh, do stop that, dear. You mustn’t do that. You want to look your best when we send you off to slaughter the man, don’t you?” His voice sounds almost soft, tinged with something you can’t pinpoint. It makes you frown.

You can only think of your fate, now. Were you ever destined for heaven? Were there any versions of you that could make it? You tug at your lips with your teeth, nearly ripping an old scab as you worry.

“Do you think I’d go to Heaven if I didn’t do it?” You ask, watching him. His smile shifts. He seems to be thinking hard on his answer. You wonder why, briefly.

“I am unsure, dear. Who knows why one gets to Heaven? There are plenty of sinners in Hell for the littlest of things. I want you to know, though, you sure won’t get to Heaven if you kill yourself!” He laughs, and it makes you glare at him, albeit weakly. He stands up, towering over you. Your stomach twists. “You said you wanted him dead, darling! Now is your chance! Imagine all the other little boys and girls he’ll hurt if you let him live.”

That bastard. You feel called out, but he’s right. What else can you do? Your eyes flicker about as your mind races? What can you do? He offers you a hand as you nod at him. He helps you stand and then promptly drops your hand.

“Now, are you ready to make a deal?” His voice is sharp, the static crackling loudly again.

You sigh, and avoid his eyes. “Not today. I need some time to think about everything. Can you tell me what Hell is like? So I can get an idea of what I’m headed towards.”

If you were going to damn yourself, you wanted to know what you were going to. Would it be worth it to make a deal with him, kill Richard and be his? Or would avoiding Alastor, and just doing it all yourself, be better? Would Alastor even help? Or is he more of a plan for the aftermath? You haven’t decided.

“Now that is a fun topic! Hell is full of vicious sinners; the worst of the worst! And just about everyone else too! Ha ha!” He laughs, and it makes you shiver. He clearly has fun down there. “There’s plenty of suffering! People out on the streets stabbing each other! Swindling each other out of everything they have! There’s even cannibals!”

You grimace. Cannibals were gross. “Ew. That mean Dahmer’s down there?”

“I do believe he has his own little picture show! I wouldn’t know. I find that drivel terribly boring.” Alastor sounds just slightly offended, and it bothers you for a moment. Is— was he a cannibal? The thought makes your stomach wriggle.

You snort, shaking your head at him. “You talk like an old man, demon.” He sounds like he belonged in old movies. Far too much charisma built into his voice, along with a dead accent. “What else is there? You said it was a city?”

“Oh yes! There are other overlords, like myself, who run different parts of the city and of that ring of Hell. Sinners, mortal souls like you and me, reside in the topmost layer of Hell. People have entire lives there; houses, jobs, and all that fun! And then once a year the angels descend to slaughter whatever riffraff they can find on the street! And poof! Gone forever! It’s quite fun to watch.” He sits down in the chair, gesturing with his cane.

You groan, tipping your head back. Why the hell wouldn’t there be capitalism in Hell? You might not get to participate, but the thought of people having to keep working dead end jobs, even after they die, feels cruel. (Although, that’s the point of Hell, right? You hate it).

“There’s fucking capitalism in Hell? God dammit,” you snark, annoyed.

“Exactly, darling! God did damn it, and so it’s in Hell! Ha ha!” His teeth clack together, and his laugh nearly sets you off. Yeah, it was kind of funny. You refused to admit it, though.

You roll your eyes at him, and wave your hand at him, asking, “So you think I’d have a terrible time there? Can I expect to get shivved at the first opportunity?”

“Well, if you made a deal with me, there’d be nothing to worry about, dear! I take care of the things that are mine. The only one you would need to worry about is good old me! Of course, you would only experience my bad-side if you dared to disobey, but you don’t seem the type.” His possessiveness doesn’t surprise you, but something in the way he says it… Your whole body shakes for a second, and then you relax again. How bizarre.

You hum, and then your eyes catch your little round clock. You stiffen up, realize the time. Richard would be home soon, and you needed to be prepared. He’d likely make you make dinner, and you needed him appeased so you could think. “I need you to leave. I should be able to make a deal next time, but I need to figure out how to word it.” Your eyes shift to the door. You start forcing yourself to relax, in that strange way you always do.

“Oh! He’s coming home, isn’t he? Why don’t you make a deal now, and get it over with?” Alastor seems excited, but you readily shoot him down.

“I can’t. I have to do this the right way. I’m giving you my eternal soul, for forever. I need to make sure I don’t regret it. Bye.”

His eyebrows furrow and his smile narrows. You ignore the feeling it gives you. “As you say, my dear. I expect you to call for me soon.” And in a flash of flames, he disappears from your room.

Later that night, your blanket wrapped around you as tightly as you can get it, you think over everything you could ask for. Hell would suck, but if you had protection in a place you knew you were going to go, it might be easier. You could also make sure that you were actually comfortable in your afterlife. It seemed like there were plenty of people there. Not exactly the best place to meet friends, but better than nothing, right? You hug yourself, imagining any other arms than Richard’s, and plan your words.

You stand in the center of your room, dressed in dark jeans, and a comfortable shirt. Your hair is brushed, and your teeth clean. You don’t know why you bothered to change out of pajamas this time, but you did. You sigh at yourself, and call. “Alastor. I’m ready to make a deal.”

“Alastor,” You say, your voice firm. You keep your eyes on him, refusing to show fear. You need to show that you are serious, and understand the consequences of what you are doing. He bends over, as he seems wont to do, and puts his face close to yours. You notice that he doesn’t smell as bad this time. You refuse to back down, even as his teeth separate so he can speak.

“Yes, dear?” He seems excited, his mile almost vibrating with it. His fingers twitch.

“I’m ready to make a deal. I’m allowed to set my own terms, right?” You narrow your eyes at him, daring him to tell you no. “Because they’re going to be specific.”

“Ha ha! Of course, you can, dear! I will, of course, have my own as well!” He pops straight back up, swinging his cane as he goes. “Whatever could your little terms be?” Static burst in his words and prickling at your skin.

“I’ll have your protection in Hell, and you can’t harm me unless it’s earned. I also don’t want to be abandoned, or sequestered from others. If I get the opportunity to make friends at some point, I ask that you let me. I spent my entire life trapped, and I won’t take more of that in Hell. Well, other than you owning my soul. I’ll do as you tell me, but I just ask that you be reasonable.” You let out a breath, proud of yourself for actually getting it all out.

His eyes narrow at you, and you feel something instinctive scream at you. You are toeing a line you can’t see.

“Of course, dear! Not a problem! I, of course, will be having your soul at my beck and call. And! I was hoping to have what’s left of your body when you die! Haven’t had mortal flesh in quite some time. Ha!” He laughs as your jaw drops in shock. (You knew it! Of course, the fucker was a cannibal).

“You can have Richard for sure, but,” you trail off, your eyes finally leaving him. One hand wraps itself around your throat, thinking of his teeth sinking into it. Your chest fills with squirming bugs at the thought, but you push it away. You can only think of how much you have been through, and the abuse your body has taken. Don’t you deserve better, at least in death? “I don’t know about that. I don’t want my body to necessarily be a waste, but it’s taken a lot of abuse. I think it deserves some, I don’t know…”

“Hmm,” he hums, tapping his chin with one claw. “I suppose I could limit it to one bite! I'll take the rest from whatever you leave of Richard. Ha ha! I am just so sure that you will taste much better!” He grins fervently. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes. You can have my soul, and one bite. I get protection when the deed is done, as our terms dictate.” You offer your hand, meeting his gaze. His eyes on you makes you feel like you’ve been doused in flames. It’s intense, and you feel out of place.

His grin widens as his hand reaches towards yours. It erupts into green flames, and you realize the whole room is getting weird. Green, flowing sigils cover the walls, and shadows encroach on the corners. You, however, can’t turn your head from him to look. It’s almost as if your head is in a headlock, neck unable to strain against the hold. You finally clasp your hands with him, realizing the flames feel like wisps of air licking at your hand with no heat. You shake his hand twice, quickly dropping it, trying not to think about how gigantic it is compared to yours.

“You’d think selling your soul would feel like something. Doesn’t even hurt.” You laugh at yourself, rubbing at your chest. That’s where the soul would be, right? You frown as you say, “Guess we ought to plan how I’m gonna do this, huh?”

He cocks his head, thinking about it for only a moment. “A knife should do the trick! Very personal, and I would love to see you covered in the carnage! Ha ha! It would be delightful!”

You agree, although the idea of being covered in blood isn’t the best one. You grit your teeth as you realize you don’t have any knives available. “I don’t have one, other than the kitchen knives, but he’s kept them locked up for a while now. Otherwise, I would have been gone by now.” You laugh at your misfortune. You wouldn’t have made the damned deal if you had been able to off yourself a year ago.

“Worry not! I have just the one!” He holds his hand out, and a dagger appears. It has a deep red handle, with an eye made from a ruby and gold set into the bottom of the handle. The blade itself has a golden hue, symbols etched into the center of the blade. “This should do the trick!”

You take the dagger gingerly, trying to be careful with it, while you take a look. It’s a beautiful blade, and you can't help but admire how shiny it is. You laugh, something giddy in your chest. You grip the handle firmly, and slash at the air.

“I thought it would be heavy, from the look of it. Glad to see it’s just the right weight.” You fiddle with it, nodding. “This will do. Now I just need to—”

You don’t get to finish the thought as a loud thud reverberates through the room. Richard is home. You glance at the clock. He’s home two whole hours early. He normally goes to the bar after work, but he hasn’t today. Something is wrong. Your eyes widen, and you whip your head to the door. Oh, no. You haven’t had time to plan. You set the dagger down on your desk, and look up at the demon in your room. While you know he’s powerful, you need time! You don’t like jumping right into things without a set plan.

“You need to go, he can’t see you!” You glance around your room, and then hit your leg. You feel like an idiot for looking for somewhere to hide him, but what are you supposed to do?

“Oh, my dear! Worry not! You can just finish it now!” His voice is far too loud, and it makes you flinch. You glance at the door again, praying to higher powers that you now know exist, and begging them to keep Richard from walking through your door.

“No! You don’t understand! He’s homie early, which means—”

There’s more thumping from the home beyond your door. You flinch with each, pushing at Alastor lightly. His eyes narrow when you do, so you pull your hands back. “Please,” you whisper, resorting to begging. (he would like begging, right? You want to cry). “Hide. Something! Him coming home early is bad! Please!”

Alastor is still for a moment, his smile nearly flat as his eyes flick over your face. Then, with a subtle nod, he disappears from view. The itching at the base of your skull tells you he is still there, but it doesn’t help. Your only backup is no longer visible, and your mind is shutting down at the thought. You cower to your bed, trying to make yourself feel secure. You want to scream. It’s been a long time since Richard has taken you in your bed, you hope he won’t try tonight.

Richard slams open your door, and you flinch, despite having expected it. You can already feel the fight leaving you. (You hated this part of you. Why did your body and brain feel the need to shut down? It made it so hard to fight back. You want to scream).

“Come here,” Richard demands of you. You try getting off the bed slowly, if only to delay the onslaught for a moment more. The man growls at you, instead. “Faster, you fucking twit!”

Richard grabs at your forearms, pushing your back up against the end of your bed. His grip is biting, and makes your skin crawl. “Did you get a hold of my fucking phone last night? Huh?” He shakes you roughly, your head snapping back and forth a few times. It hurts already. “Answer me!”

“No, Rich- I swear. I didn’t-” You yelp as you try to answer. You don’t even know where he keeps his phone at night. He pulls at your hair. “I swear! I didn’t!”

Richard scoffs, pushing you further onto the bed. “Oh, you little bitch! You think lying is going to help you right now?” He crawls up after you, grabbing onto your ankle to stop your retreat. His grasp on your ankle is nearly crushing the bones, and you want to scream. (You beg in your head, over and over, that no matter what happens next, Alastor is not in the corner to watch you get raped. The thought disgusts you more than you name). “Marie asked after you. Kept mentioning that she was worried about you.”

Richard was leaning over you now, his hands on either side of your head. You hate this position. He always tried to kiss you, and you could smell his disgusting breath. You hate him, with all of your soul.

You push against him, trying to put some space between your chests, but fail and the desire to scream bubbles up again. Your head feels full of cotton; you won’t do this again, you can’t. Richard lowers himself even more, his mouth going to kiss at your hair. His hips grind against yours, and you finally have enough. His throat is exposed for just a moment, and you see red.

You latch your teeth into his jugular, and bite down as hard as you can. You push through the pain in your jaw, and you press your teeth together, through his flesh. Richard starts yelling, the noise garbled. You ignore it, and rip your head back, spitting him out immediately.

Richard is scrabbling, and you take his pain as an opportunity to remove him. His arms are swinging, hitting you as you push him onto the floor. You’re screaming. You can’t tell what you’re saying, but you can feel the way your throat aches.

Once the man is on the floor, still reaching for you, you grab the dagger. You won’t let him survive. You settle on his hips, disgusted for only a moment. Richard is tugging at you, trying to pull you off, but you only scream at him. He can’t get rid of you that easily.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” You slam the dagger into Richard’s chest, your hands briefly struggling to pull it out again. Blood splatters on your face and across your chest. The warmth of it unsettles you, but you need to see it through. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!”

You can feel tears running down your face, as you hitch and sob. You just want it over. Your hands drive the blade into his chest again. You can hear the cracking and breaking of the bones of his rib cage as you push it in as hard as you can. A flash of bright red beside you lets you know that Alastor has shown himself. Richard’s eyes glance at the demon, and it makes anger swell in you. No, that won’t do.

Your hands are too covered in blood to comfortably continue to use it. With an angry sob, you toss it to the side carelessly. You look at your gore covered hands, sticky and disgusting, and scream. You crawl up Richard’s chest, covering your jeans with blood, to get leverage. Your hands, that feel far too small, wrap around his ruined throat, to get the job done faster.

“I hate you,” you whisper. All you can think of his grimy hands touching you, and making you fear the sunset. You want him to suffer for longer, but you can't help it. “I’ll find you in Hell, you piece of shit.” You push a little harder, and he goes limp, eyes glazed over soon after.

As soon as you know he’s dead, you force yourself off of him, and away from the body. You sob, and your throat aches as you silently beg. What an awful thing to have to do. It didn’t make you feel better, either. You just want it to be over. You tug and pull at your face, wondering if something terrible lies underneath it.

“Oh, dear,” Alastor says. You can feel his hand, still cool to the touch, even through your clothing. It makes you glance up at him. He has this strange, proud smile on his face. It makes you still, sobs stopping. He dangles a handkerchief, a deep red one, in front of your face. “Feel free to clean your face, dearest. While you do that, do you know how you’d like to die?”

The bluntness of the question makes you laugh, and a disembodied laugh track plays. You make a face, feeling the desire to just crackle;e at how strange Alastor is to you. Having you wipe your face when you’re about to die? And the weird radio-show stuff? “Not really. I was going to go violently one way or another. I guess you can choose.”

Alastor pulls his hand from your back, standing straight up. His hand is offered to you, again, and you take it. Your balance is off, as if your body is ready to go already. His grip on your hand remains unyielding, steadying you.

“I suppose it is time for me to take my due, dear! Just one bite, and then I’ll send you on your way.” You close your eyes. The thought of his teeth in you makes you feel peculiar. That’s not the point, though, so you take a breath. Are you ready to die? You aren’t sure. You look at him, and nod like you are, despite it.

“Alright. This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” You laugh to yourself, trying to settle your nerves.

Alastor nods, serious. “That it will, my dear. But worry not! This is not the end, as you know. We are just getting started!” He laughs, and then wraps one hand around the back of your head. You don’t resist as he pulls you to his chest. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you just barely off the ground. Your breath stutters, as you realize this is the closest to a kind touch in a very long time. His touch is gentle, despite his nature. His breath fans across your neck as he moves you. He looks confident, and it makes you feel just slightly better. Your hands grasp at his arm and his chest. His suit is rather silky, and you focus on the texture beneath your fingers. His clothing is nice. You wonder if he’ll give you anything that nice in Hell.

“Are you ready, dear? If you relax, it will hurt less.” His voice has gotten softer, the normal static that accompanies it gone.

You believe his words, despite the fact that lying seems to be his standard. You do your best to relax your muscles, and go lax in his arms. Even your hands loosen, just barely rubbing at his suit jacket.

You feel a strange desire to make him understand what it means to you. You aren’t alone in your final moments, and finally someone knows about Richard. Finally, you close your eyes and you smile, just barely. “Thank you, Alastor. See you on the other side.”

You can feel his breath on your neck. You tell yourself, over and over, not to open your eyes, and just as you go to peek anyway, his teeth scrape your skin. Your whole body lights up, for a brief moment, and then his teeth are in you. You yelp, and then something weird happens. The pain slowly leaves, and you can just feel him. He’s suddenly very warm, and it makes your skin flush. His teeth are dug into the junction of your neck and shoulder, and you can feel them scrape along bone. It’s an unexplainable sensation without the pain. Your pondering stops as you realize how weird and slow everything feels.

You are dying. You can feel it now. Alastor’s thumb, on your head, is just barely rubbing at the skin behind your ear. The sensation lulls your body to a strange fatigue. The only thing left is the warmth of Alastor’s body against yours.

Your diaphragm stutters, and your mind fades.

You’d meet him again in Hell.

My asks are open! Feel free to reach out and say hi, or make a request. I might be a little slow in responding to requests, but they will get done! I'm just pretty busy right now!

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #bun's short fics #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angst #dark

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gffa · 3 months

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Sometimes I get defensive about those house decor posts I see going around where people say that the neutral colors/black & white sleek look is "soulless" and they want to bite, kill, rend, and destroy for getting rid of the color in their homes. Setting aside that people should be allowed to do whatever they want in their own homes, let me tell you what "color" means to me: Everything in my life was a different color. Every room had every color crammed into it. Which sounds like, oh, that must have been a pretty rainbow effect! It wasn't, none of these colors were meant to go together, it's a hot pink plastic shoebox set on top of a dark brown folding table holding three wildly different shades of brown hand towels, some cornflower blue notebooks, and orange pens. It's burnt orange shag carpeting in the living room and hallway, with slate blue chairs, and a white tv tray loaded up with bright yellow pill and cornflower blue bottles and pale wood bookshelf next to dark brown folding table next to pine-colored dresser next to medium dark wood nightstand, all of those that fake material with the sticker made to look like wood, not actual wood. It's lime green countertops and dark beige flooring with one faded yellow wall, one off-white wall, and one faded mint green wall. It's a pine wood mimicking kitchen table with gold trim that's a sticker not actual wood, combined with one black rolling chair, one maroon and oak chair (not actual wood), and one gray upholstered chair. It's a robin's egg blue frayed blanket tossed over the red-and-black walker in the corner, which is also loaded up with the dark green and dark blue exercise bands. It's white and beige pieces of paper plopped everywhere. And all of these colors are faded so they're not really even pretty on their own, it's just a mishmash everywhere. All of this together in one house and that's just a fraction of it, it's a constant clashing of colors and, if there was a foot of space against the wall available, it had another dresser, nightstand, or bookshelf shoved into it. I look at some of these colorful homes that people love and I think they're beautiful and I get so much joy out of people in their homes loving their surroundings! But I will never be able to live in that kind of color for myself again without being heartsore about it. I've gone for a neutral palette now that I'm making the design decisions, I'm choosing white walls (admittedly with a little bit of a blue undertone that you only notice when it's picking up other things' colors), black trim, and gray/white/black/brown reclaimed wood flooring. I picked out a gray/white/black comforter to throw over the bed with a black headboard and black + gray pillows. I'm getting some subtle green accents to put in the room, the guest room has been going with a pale yellow theme (to accent the black/white/gray/grown colors), I'm not eschewing color all together, but those bright, overwhelming colors are not what makes my soul sing. Neutral colors are not a soulless choice on my part, it's the first time in my life that I feel like it's finally clean, that I can breathe properly. You could scrub down a room with seafoam and forest green colors and have it so clean you could lick the walls and I would still have to go outside and take a moment to gather myself together if I had to live in it, because for me "color" means messy and I've had an entire lifetime of mess. I love when people put bright orange or bright green on their walls, that rocks and I will come over and genuinely tell you how beautiful it is, because I understand that it makes your soul sing. But understand that, in turn, having sleek, subtle colors makes my soul sing in a way that's just as genuine.

#lumi.txt #hoarding

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loycspotting · 12 days

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13. Ewan McGregor Movie Review: Velvet Goldmine (1998)

Happy Pride Month!❤️🌈❤️We've made it to 1998 and can take a breather because Ewan only made two movies this year. How appropriate that on the first week of Pride Month the first review is the LGBTQ film "Velvet Goldmine"! I swear I didn't plan this. Maxwell Demon must have arranged it in the stars 😏. Also, I came across three different runtimes for this movie. The version I watched had a runtime of 1 hour and 58 minutes so the Screentime Percentage is based off of that.

Movie Synopsis: "Velvet Goldmine" is a Musical/Drama directed by Todd Haynes. It stars Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Christian Bale, and Ewan McGregor. Toni Collette also plays a supporting role. She was in "Emma" with Ewan. If you're someone who doesn't like musicals because of the "unrealistic" factor then you'll be happy to know that's not the case here. The movie is a musical because the characters are singers/musicians and they perform throughput the movie. The film is about British glam rocker Brian Slade who fakes his own death and disappears from the public in the 70s. Ten years later, Arthur Stuart, a journalist, is given the task to unearth what really happened to the rockstar and where he is now. His search brings him in contact with former stars who knew Slade and causes him to reflect on his own tumultuous past.

Ewan Review: Ewan plays the character Curt Wild. Curt Wild is a gay American man who's the lead singer and guitarist of his band The Rats. Brian Slade is greatly inspired by Curt and convinces him to collaborate on some projects. Eventually, what starts as a professional relationship blossoms into something more. Ewan speaks with an American English accent for this role which sounds a little funny at times. He has long blond hair for some of the movie which I like. He has two male love interests and a kiss scene. There's also one sex scene and one implied sex scene. He pretty much never wears a shirt and in one scene even strips nude while performing! And yes, that means you get to see his penis. Speaking of performing, he sings thrice and two of those times are full performances. Fun fact: he sang all of his vocals live instead of lip syncing to a pre-recorded track while filming! As far as acting, I think he did well with the limited amount of screentime he had.

Screentime Percentage (numbers are rounded to the nearest whole number): Ewan is on screen for a grand total of 20/118 minutes making his SP 17%.

To Ewan or not to Ewan: Is the movie worth watching for Ewan content alone? Yes, even though he doesn't have much screen time, he makes the most of it. Is the movie worth watching in general? Yes, it's a great LGBTQ movie! Plus, the soundtrack is infectious.

Where to Watch: "Velvet Goldmine" is available for rent on YouTube, Google Play Movies and TV, Fandango at Home, and Amazon Prime Video. It's also currently uploaded for free on YouTube through the account SELVA BEATS. Just search "Velvet Goldmine 1998 filme raro leg". Heads up: the movie has Portuguese subtitles that can't be turned off. Lastly, you can pirate the movie on soap2day.

Closing Thoughts: This movie makes me go Wild (pun-intended😉) with each watch. The music, costumes, performances, acting, EVERYTHING makes my heart pound. When I watched it for the first time I said the same thing Arthur did in the movie, "That's me! That's me!" It's been 26 years since it was released and in 2024 I was able to say, "That's me." I felt hope. I felt less alone. And I know I'm not the only one who saw themselves and felt the same. "Velvet Goldmine" is a beautiful movie in every way and well worth a watch.

#ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor movie review #film review #movie review #velvet goldmine #curt wild #brian slade #pride month #lgbtq movies #90s movies #todd haynes #toni collette #christian bale #jonathan rhys meyers #glam rock #david bowie #musicals #jack fairy #ewan mcgregor screentime percentage

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lime202 · 3 months

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A Match Made in Hell

Vox hears of Alastor’s post-extermination survival, and goes to the hotel to prove it for himself. He also aims to discuss the increased disturbance of radio waves that have been coming from the radio tower. He is not worried over what the meaning of the signals are… He only plans on discussing them professionally. Overlord business, that’s what it is.

(feat. Charlie being an aggressive matchmaker to see her Voxal ship come to life.)

(This is radiostatic/radiosilence crack treated seriously. I’m not sure what I was aiming for with this. Enjoy.)

Vox is standing in front of the entrance of the hotel, contemplating turning back. From the last time he had seen it, it was run down, dilapidated, and hardly able to be called a functional facility. There have been many refurbishments, with it being nearly twice as tall and grand.

He is only here for business.

The Princess of Hell opens the door.

“Hello—” She extends the “o” before cutting herself off. “An overlord!”

He gives her a fake smile. “I need to speak with someone.”

There is a beat of silence.

“Oh? Would this someone happen to be the Radio Star?” Charlie asks curiously, and Vox is made to believe that she had witnessed the whole… escapade from a few months ago.

There was a quick flurry of anger at the thought of Alastor causing the docile Princess of Hell to not even bear an ounce of fear in front of him. But, it vanished when he caught onto the implication of Alastor being alive and well.

“A Star is an awfully generous title, for him…” Vox mutters.

“Well, it is part of his title. Although, it seems as if you have a more… personal relationship with this Alastor. Maybe, your- well… friend?”

Vox scoffs at the accusation.

“Absolutely not, the radio and the television overlord are not friends.”

Vox is bemused, impatient, and unwilling to confront any sentiments the Princess decides to spew.

And, now she is holding a clipboard - when did that get there?

“You sound.. like you two have some kind of history together…”

Charlie is looking through some sort of file on her clipboard, making slight notes.

“Not necessarily. I'm simply here to remind him to get off my turf and to have a quick chat,” Vox answers dismissively, automatically plastering an artificial smile on his face.

“Hm,” the princess hums and notes something more. A spark of irritation makes way through the TV demon’s circuits. “So you’re here to ‘talk,’ nothing else?”

There seems to be an investigative soundtrack droning from the vintage television from inside.

“This is nothing for you to be concerned about, your highness,” Vox replies smoothly, now beginning to associate her with some of the more invasive reporters that he occasionally runs into. “Will you lead me to him so we can get this over with? Business calls.”

Charlie looks up from her damned clipboard (—Vox is able to make out childish drawings of Vox and Alastor). There seems to be an amusement in her eyes.

“Well first, let me ask a few questions. If I deem you as not a threat, I’ll take you straight to him!” Charlie says, now acquiring a more regal accent, then crossing her arms in a failed attempt to appear serious.

Vox does not understand her insistence. Her laughable character results in only a mixture of pity, mild amusement, and impatience. He knows Alastor is only hosting the hotel for his own entertainment—everything he does is for entertainment, even if it’s at the cost of someone else—

“Even if it happens to escalate into a fight, he would be able to handle himself, anyway. Your little hotel will be just fine.” Before it inevitably falls, Vox wishes bitterly.

“Oh, I’m aware he can handle himself. I’m just wondering if you can handle him, sir.” Charlie gestures towards him, and he sees the now reddish light of his screen reflect on her face.

Through grit teeth, he responds: “I can handle myself just fine, thank you, your highness. It's not like we haven't fought before. He just needs to learn to stay in his place, and I'll stay in mine.”

She steps forward, continuing to block his way into the hotel.

“How often have you fought before?”

“Again, that does not require your concern.” The edges of his smile begin to feel tired from strain.

There is another moment of silence, and Charlie’s eyes narrow.

“I believe it is! You two fight each other regularly without confronting your feelings. As Princess of Hell, it’s my job to make sure that hell is running correctly, so I need you to be honest!”

She says it confidently, as if the overlord in front of her were simply some fool. Clipboard hugged against her chest, Charlie leans closer to Vox, making the comment unnecessarily personal.

“Feelings? What in the world are you implying?” He sputters. “Have you never seen overlords deal with each other before?”

Charlie is still leaning close to him when she asks:

“Do you, by chance, fancy the Radio Overlord?”

“Absolutely not.” He answers immediately. “I hate—loathe him. And those feelings are mutual. So, I advise that you tell me where he is or I'll find him myself.”

His television screen becomes a rosy hue, embarrassed and angered by the condescension of her smile. His sensors take notice of a vague fragrance perfume from the limited distance.

Then, she steps back, still watching his face to make an impression of his emotions. Although it was good for his brand, he found himself increasingly (and uncomfortably) aware of how there were more than two million pixels highlighting his every change in emotion. Alastor calls him easy to read.

“You hate him?” Charlie asks, stupidly.

“Is that not what I said?” Then, taking advantage of her disbelief, Vox brusquely enters and pushes past the princess—courtesy be damned. He only planned on meeting Alastor, not satisfying the Princess of Hell.

“Hm… but— what if I told you he has feelings for you?” She giggles boyishly, as if she had not walked Hell’s ground for practically two centuries.

Regardless, Vox continues to walk past her, trying to find a way to the hotel’s radio tower. Alastor does not have any sort of affinity for Vox. He had made that clear nearly a decade ago.

“Then I wouldn’t believe you.”

Charlie steps in front of Vox.

“What if I could prove it?”

Vox buffers for a quick moment before reminding himself of the absurdity of the situation.

“Then— I wouldn’t care!” He stops in place. “I’m not here for anything personal.”

(But if what she said held even the slightest bit of truth, then the TV would want nothing more than to rub it in his face and reject him brutally. But, that’s not what he was here for.)

Charlie, almost in response to his afterthought, continues.

“I think you do care.” She leans close again, like she had at the door. “Your screen looks conflicted anytime I bring him up!”

The bluntness of the statement seemed almost unfitting of her character. Vox always saw her to be a little less aggressive in her pushiness when it came to other people—perhaps his cameras had not picked up on her more ruthless edge, or maybe she simply wanted to humiliate an enemy of Alastor. He has no time to deal with this.

“Fine. I’ll just leave and come back another time, since you keep spewing out fatuities.”

Vox turns to leave. He could just find Alastor another time when he was alone.

“Wait—” Charlie grabs his arm with a surprisingly strong grip. “You can’t go” –she spins him around– “I want this to be sorted out!”

“Just because you want something, doesn’t mean it will happen,” Vox says with a personal bitterness. “How sheltered are you?”

Perhaps if there were an audience, he would compose himself a bit more for his image. But, it seemed that the hotel was just as empty as it was before, despite all the refurbishments.

She ignores the insult, continuing: “What happened? Did Alastor reject your advances? Or was he just oblivious to them?”

Vox’s screen flickers before he replies.

“I don’t need your interrogation. Are you going to let me leave or are you going to lead me to him?”

She ignores his question.

“I bet he was oblivious to your feelings… And here you are. Stubborn and alone.” She looks into his screen for a moment and grabs his arm harder, holding firm with a tight grip. Vox can manage to see a softer sympathy in her eyes. “If you don’t have Alastor, who else do you have?

Vox is made uncomfortable with her sympathetic hand on his arm.

“I have a business to run. There were never "feelings" in the first place. I'm just here to remind him that he should have stayed away.”

Charlie seems to perk up at the response.

“Oh? Is that it? You’re just here to prove something to him? Prove to him that you have power—prove your worth to him? You don’t think that you meet Alastor’s requirements?”

Vox's screen expression sours as he forces his screen back to the typical blue.

“Alastor has no effect on me. He's only inconvenient when he gets in the way of me collecting souls. Stop persisting with these moronic ideas. Are you going to show me where he is or not?”

He attempts to pull away once more, but Charlie seems dissatisfied.

“I’m gonna make you see. I’m not letting this potential relationship go to waste!”

Charlie starts pulling the overlord more firmly by the arm towards the radio tower. Vox sputters disagreements as she guides him, only falling silent when he notices they are standing outside the entrance to the tower.

The princess of hell begins to call out: “Alastor, I’ve brought you a visitor!”

Vox can hear Alastor mumble out a frustrated response. At that, she continues.

“Alastor, Vox is here! Vox! Your special business man is here–”

She is cut off when Alastor steps out of the room, with a slightly annoyed look on his face. He looks at Vox, then back at Charlie. Then at Vox again when he begins to retort:

“We are not friends, I am here for a professional conversation and just want to finish what was started earlier.”

When Charlie releases him, Vox crosses his arms, looking at Alastor expectantly. Alastor’s eyebrows raise with indifference.

“Hm, well, that’s a shame. I was hoping for some entertainment, considering how… boisterous you are.”

Alastor looks over at Charlie, who is practically bouncing up and down. Then, she approaches the Radio demon, giving him a few hushed whispers.

Vox does not know what she says, but Alastor seems to accede to her words.

“Oh, fine…” He focuses his attention back to Vox. “What is it?”

The overlord freezes in place, not actually expecting Alastor to be open to his presence. He hasn’t been able to see him in person for years. He didn’t really think he’d get this far, to be honest. Before he could be caught staring, he stumbles over his words.

“Uh–well—your radio waves are getting in the way of mine. It’s distracting. Keep them somewhere else!”

An flustered spark of electricity comes from one of his antennas. He is still irritated by the conversation earlier, and now he simply spoon-feeding Alastor more ways to humiliate him. Alastor easily catches onto Vox’s obviously unprepared excuse, giving him a mocking expression.

“You do know how a radio tower... works... right? It’s supposed to be for everyone, it was built for the public radio broadcast!”

The condescension of the tone makes Vox more irritated.

“Televisions use radio waves also, of course I would know. Why do you think I'm annoyed in the first place? You're the one causing the interference.” There was no interference, but Alastor didn’t need to know that.

Alastor scoffs.

“I own half of the radio wave spectrum!” He puts his hands on his hips and leans forward. “And your television frequencies are on another set of radio waves! We’re not conflicting to one another, and they’re being broadcast for the public for heaven’s sake!”

Vox internally retracts at how miserably his excuse landed.

Alastor sighs. “I can't believe my time is being wasted on this.”

Trying to get the last word, Vox gives a huff.

“Fine, this "discussion" is over then, since you're so mature.”

There is a beat of silence. Then another. Vox hasn't left yet.

“Of course, someone has to be if you can’t—”

Alastor stops mid sentence as he notices Vox just staring at him intently, as if the television were expecting something else.

In the silence, Vox turns his eyes away. “What?”

Alastor suddenly looks confused, and a little annoyed. “Did you... come here just to see me?”

Vox bristles.

Well, with Alastor's face hidden in the radio, Vox had not been able to see him for years. And, after hearing of his survival, he would end up being a little curious as to what Alastor looked like in person. Despite this, he denies it and turns around immediately.

"No." His screen beams a bright pink as he leaves, and he makes sure to accidentally step on the clipboard that Charlie dropped earlier as he makes his exit.

Alastor just watches him walk away, a bit confused. But, the edges of Alastor’s smile do curl up somewhat at the first meeting with his old friend. His failures were always the most charming.

Charlie still stands next to him, seeming to examine the side of his face as his thoughts play out. Alastor faces her.

“I’m not sure what you were trying to achieve, Charlie,” Alastor says, his smile somehow feeling like a scowl.

He crosses his arms, and Charlie mumbles a small apology.

“I just felt… I needed to help him. To help you.”

Alastor does not respond.

—

Vox leaves the hotel, somewhat annoyed but mostly satisfied. He has no answers, but Alastor isn’t gone. Charlie's drawing crumbles in his hand as it turns into a fist. Alastor isn't gone, just yet.

#hazbin hotel #radiostatic #alastor the radio demon #charlie morningstar #yeah I made Charlie draw fanart of Alastor and Vox so what #also the title is not serious either please I know it’s cliche #I also don’t know how radio waves work which makes this sillier whoops #"I'm just here to remind him that he should have stayed away.” lmaoo #fanfic #hazbin hotel vox #I haven't written in so long and this is what I end up doing during my break #don't look at how I struggle with present tense #onewaybroadcast

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ferretwhomst · 6 months

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listening to bollywood music always gets me thinking abt the desi pines au again... so here is some more information

- scary-oke happens except instead of taking over midnight they sing some cheesy bollywood song instead. thinking something like gallan goodiyaan or disco deewane. OH OR GIRLS LIKE TO SWING... (Also yes they do the hooksteps. i have spent an ungodly amount of time imagining them doing the hooksteps)

- stan is a huge movie buff btw. he doesn't talk much about it but he lovesss sappy bollywood movies and those shitty (affectionate) hindi tv serials... the duchess approved gets replaced with one of those. which i think is fair because they dramatize everything to the same degree lmao

- thinking also about voiceclaims for the stan twins. i imagine the star twins would sound the same because despite their cultural background, they were still brought up in cali and developed accents accordingly. the stan twins tho were raised in mumbai so. have to rethink how they sound because i cannot for the life of me imagine stan speaking hindi in his regular new jersey accent. (he would definitely still have some aspects of the NJ accent because filbrick is still a new jerseyite, but still)

- speaking of religion, caryn is hindu and raises the boys as such. not particularly devout or spiritual, being a fake psychic (and astrologer in this au) and all, but she teaches the boys about the mythology and the traditions. filbrick is also still jewish, and the family celebrates events from both religions. lucky bastards get hanukkah right after diwali /j. present day ford and stan are atheists, but still celebrate the festivals and whatnot for the hell of it

- i am aware that irl, in both judaism and hinduism there are Differing Opinions about interfaith marriage to this day; however this is fiction so i am choosing to imagine it's not that much of an issue. maybe people are just kinda less bigoted, or maybe they were and maybe caryn and filbrick honestly just don't give a fuck. idk. it's not a main focus point of my au so i am choosing not to dedicate Too much thought to it

- instead of "poindexter" which is primarily an american slang nickname, stan calls ford "chashmesh" which is a hindi nickname for someone who wears glasses. he still calls him this when both of them wear glasses in their old age because he's petty. it annoys ford even more every time he does it WHDJSNEJD

- he also still calls him "sixer" which is funny because despite cricket being such a popular sport in india, they both probs suck ass at cricket and have never hit a six(er) in their lives lmao

- once stan and ford reconcile they quickly realize they can talk absolute shit about people in hindi and nobody here will have a clue what they're talking about

#ferret rambles #gravity falls #desi pines au #stan pines #ford pines #filbrick pines #caryn pines

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zilabee · 1 year

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- Everyone having a little dance in India. Awful of them. Made me sad. Everything made me sad. Today is very sad.

- John's little 'spiritually demure' face, when Paul calls him out on not having been himself. <333333

It's like we totally, sort of, put our own personalities under, for the sake of it.

- I completely love that Linda's reaction to the footage was 'didn't you feel like going out in it', meaning getting away from the fake India of spiritual enlightenment and just experiencing something possibly actually meaningful. Getting away from their forced 'retreat' of a locked compound, and actually just retreating somewhere real, and finding nature by being in it, not by being apart from it. She's perfect for Paul. (George's confused frown.)

- Probably the best bit of get back all around is the why don't we do it in the road monkey shag interlude. When I cut Get Back down to just the bearable bits that will be all that survives this day.

George: That is the biggest joke, to be yourselves. Cause that was the purpose of going there, to try and find who yourself really is. John: Yes, well we found out, didn't we? George: And if you were really yourself, you wouldn't be any of who we are now. Paul: Mm.

- I love John's interjection here, that George ignores, even though it's a good point. And I love Paul's face when George chooses to turn his honesty into a small ~meaningful point. Pft.

- Ringo's tea is too milky even for me, and I am judging him.

- Let's prove that this song you wrote about us, definitely doesn't mean anything by singing it in every funny accent we enjoy!

- I can't believe the lack of decision making which means that this project is just now 'make an album, but badly'.

Personally I was a phenomenon

- George saying that the studio is producing a good sound, and George Martin having a little point about how Glyn is having something to do with that. <3 I love him.

- Is the Primrose Hill concert no longer possible because they asked for permission like idiots? Idiots.

- My stomach is just very sad whenever MLH starts talking.

- I don't even care any more that the big conversation is cut up and the reaction shots meaningless; the truth is probably dreadful.

- Paul's awareness in emotional collapse that there's not really anything wrong except that everything's wrong, so there's nothing anyone can do.

- The whole thing's so much, even when they're kind to each other.

- J: "No-one else wants to go on a stage, or do a tv show." He's talking about George, you know. They're so frightened to actually argue with George in case they open all his wounds, so they argue with each other about whether they should argue with George.

- It drives me mad, how quiet Ringo is, refusing to take part at all.

- I like Paul saying that to him it feels like they've got all the bad bit of being on the road now, because they're just in a room all the time, and he wants to do things not in a room. And John saying he does too, but he's accepted that the Beatles can't do that, so he's doing it with other people. Paul's really blocked on that because other people aren't as good as Beatles. Or not just that, but why be the Beatles at all if it's just the boring bit. I think that's what he's boiling down to, while the others are trying to find ways to still call something Beatles but without actually being Beatles. I don't know, I haven't thought anything through, I'm too sad.

I just want to go and have fun with it, rather than sort of, finish off exactly as we started.

- John tries to (kindly) say that it's just that it's stopped being the thing Paul wanted (because he compromised) and now it's more 'our' thing. And I don't understand what thing he thinks it is! It's not currently anyone's thing! Nobody has any idea what it is now, and that's what Paul's finding it hard to adjust to, the nothingness of it. They're literally just making an album in a hurry for no reason, and refusing to record it properly. Paul wanted to do something new, and challenging, but they've dragged it back down to ordinary.

- I love Glyn being so truly positive about what they're doing, though, and saying that even though various things haven't come off, what they're doing is still special because it's Beatles in a room! And I like John really agreeing with that, and getting that. He's so positive about the energy of the Beatles, throughout the doc, and it's sad that he won't fight for it in any meaningful way.

- John playing Lost My Little Girl is too much, it's too much. I can't be expected to. The feeling of it, when John slips into their songs from the past. So many songs that only John and Paul really knew the insides of and where they came from and what they meant, and ... just how much Paul lost when John died is unbearable, and we already knew that, I know that, but Get Back makes it too sharp and I hate everything. I was doing well at rewatching this thing but now I want to stop it and never look at it again please.

- Glyn and Michael crouching down in front of Paul like he's a little boy who's scraped his knee, talking nice to him.

- Glyn says in an interview that Ringo was the one who first showed him the roof. I assume Ringo's been hanging around up there, contemplating mortality while his band disintegrates downstairs. I like that he's found a solution that involves the absolute least travel humanly possible.

- Paul levering himself up on the roof, because he's a weird little creature of the world. So much happier when he's outside and free. MLH should have mandated twenty minutes of fresh air every day. Paul and Ringo having a little roof dance! <33 MLH trying to persuade Paul that they might have to ask for a tiny bit of permission. Hmf.

- Yes right, you were right about another verse. - Oh, he's right, you know. - He is right.

- Both John and George wanting Paul to do Let It Be the way it was, and Paul's little confusion because he has no idea what that was. <3

- It is lovely when sometimes George actually forces Paul to work out what his songs are doing, and helps him sort them into shape. He does it with Let It Be, and he did it with Get Back too. They're so good at working together in the few moments that they actually work together. (you see it most in George's songs when John is barely there.)

Come on now, back to the drudgery thank you.

Think what Vera Lynn would do to it, Paul.

He's the most together man in Garston!

Goddamn you little microphone.

"When I find myself... all moody."

You stuck another verse in there, Richard.

Now look boys, now come on, enthuse a little.

I'll have you banned from bloody Apple if you don't shut up!

#get back #get back january #yesterday's thoughts today #horrible ghastly yesterday bad very hate #had to be long because it's a very long endless stupid day #but I'm sorry though #get back words

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imustbenuts · 3 months

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@theotherseapancakes

i mentioned ill rb a post about majima's sexuality/gender identity in the context of 1980s-2010s japan but i never got to it bc i cant find the post ;;

but gist of it is, the majima everyone knows is... kind of putting on an act. everything about the zanny funny majima everyone mostly knows is an act he puts on mostly to mess with kiryu. this video kinda sums it up succinctly:

youtube

even his kansai dialect is... fake as shit. (the meta explanation is that his voice actor isnt familiar with kansai accent and the director was like 'its majima its ok just roll with it')

it's probly hard to hear but his dialect is multiple levels of wrong. another joke video here but that isnt how kansai dialect sentence structure works! also his crazy persona is really how he behaves, mostly.

youtube

dont wanna inflate this post but theres plenty of kansai dialect language videos on youtube to hear what a usual kansai dialect phrase sounds like

majima's sounds like he smooshed standard tokyo japanese with some random stuff he picked up from osaka, which tracks with his backstory...

youtube

^^ he speaks with standard jp here. this takes place technically before y0 (i think)

anyway. so. the 'mad dog' persona both in universe and out he has is mostly an act and his character growth from 0-8 is largely like this: sane -> goes through SHIT -> plot -> snaps -> loses his sworn brother and is likely very depressed -> messes with kiryu for some semblance of normalcy -> kiryu helps stabilizes his life both directly and indirectly, thereby stabilizing his mental state -> sane but wears the mask bc hes made a name for himself as the mad dog

so all of that is important bc in a manner of speaking, LGBTQ in the 1980s to 2010s is considered... an 'act'.

super short summary of why: confucius idea dictates that men must pass on their bloodline to offsprings bc its honorable for the family bloodline. confucius bleeds into bushido, morphs, which bleeds into the larger fabric of japanese culture.

MEANING, its totally ok to be gay and play so long as a male offspring is produced. LGBTQ then is seen as a juvenile thing that most people will grow out off eventually. (at least prior to TV era)

then TV era brought in western media, and back the the mid 1900s, LGBTQ became synonymous with being a western idea. lots of tropes of flamboyancy is closely linked to westerness in characters. so queer became a foreign idea. JP TV then perpetuated this with okama stereotypes and sometimes made a mockery out of them, which continued pretty much until 2000s.

some also see it as a evil western mental virus/illness too.

(negative okama stereotypes are portrayed as highly thirsty male hunters dressed in a less than flattering drag with facial hair. often used to elicit"EW DISGUSTING GET AWAY FROM ME" reactions from other characters.)

smoosh that with existing cross-dressing theater arts and the idea of some 'kiddy phase' and suddenly being LGBTQ is more or less equated to an act.

add in the fact that transitioning is a very difficult thing to do if one doesnt conform fully into a binary Male or Female gender identity, suddenly genderfluidity looks very campy in JP media context.

which. majima kinda is. left: y0 appearance, taking place 1989. right, y1 onward, starting 2005

leather and TIGHT leather has some associations with the BDSM scene, which intersects with the sleazy night life and sexually related things. (queerness is perceived to be mostly this bc demonization in a similar fashion to... everywhere basically)

and also, there was one time where majima was goromi:

the context for this: Majima Everywhere was a system that y1k had, where Majima would spawn absolutely anywhere and everywhere to fight kiryu. for fun. theres a lot of interesting character moments bc his act or mask out slip off every now and then. this is one of those.

anyway, goromi is an interesting case of a more positive okama stereotype bc theres absolutely zero malice in the writing that i can tell. key thing: kiryu reacts bewildered but positively to this encounter

so all of this to say

yeah majima is really, really not straight.

#Youtube #majima #rgg butt lore

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blood-bound · 8 months

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im high as hell so its time to make up random facts for my problematic bisexual representation vtm oc emerson

ok for context what is established is that he was a handsome talented actor who got embraced by a brujah but quickly got a ventrue/toreador powercouple to sponsor all his crazy shit (one is his mawl i hvent decided who yet)

oh yeha this is essential: he was a facmous actor in cowboy tv shows . and he. well he . uhm. acts like a cowboy.

-fake texan accent that rarely goes away except in very particular situations

-shines his teeth in the mornings

-misses champagne and canviar more than the sun (joking but yeah)

-one of his touchstones is clint eastwood. he once risked the masquerade to get something of his that was autographed

-the other touchstone is now an old woman. she was the only woman he ever really loved.

-if he had realized he was bi when alive, he would have left home with that boy that made him feel more than anything else, but he rejected him out of unrealized fear. he would never have been embraced. things would have been different. sometimes, he wonders what that life would have been like

-he is a Siren :3c

-he says "Woah There!" *dazzling smile CHNG sound*

-he likes wearing comfy socks

-his uh, oh. i just found out his dad was a really bad person who beat him. jesus. emerson is opening up now to me.

-his mom outlived his father. before she died, he had last seen her 8 months ago. it was supposed to have been just a few weeks ago... but he chose to finish filming and put off the visit.

-had a sister he hardly cared about that died like, a few decades ago

-struggled with alcoholism when alive

-has more than 5 cowboy hats. yes he wears a cowboy hat almost always.

-once had a horse named nessie

-he beat nessie to death one day in frenzy

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thedickcavettshow · 6 months

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One thing that will never make any sense to me is why we have actors faking accents in movies and tv shows. Like just hire someone who already has that accent? And so often they’ve got British actors playing Americans and vice versa and it’s just never good bc Americans are rarely good at British accents and British actors well.. they’re usually able to pronounce individual words in an American accent but they pretty much always end up mixing many different regional accents together which is extremely distracting so like. Why not just hire someone who actually has the accent the character is supposed to have… having actors fake accents is just unnecessary and never sounds as good as a native speaker would

#I was trying to watch the show Legion with my sisters bc I watched it a few years ago and though the first season was really good #But the main character is played by a British actor playing an American and his accent is SO. BAD. Like.#half the words he speaks sound deep southern and the other half are a mix of New Yorker and midwestern. With some Canadian thrown in there #And it’s just so distracting it makes it hard to watch…#And the thing is there isn’t really any reason his character couldn’t’ve just been British like #if you’re dead set on that actor just let him use his real accent instead of forcing us to endure his painful attempt at an American one #If it’s important to the character that he be American then just hire an American actor like are we running out of Americans? I don’t get i #Anyway. This is why I respect Kermit the frog’s decision to not attempt a British accent as Bob Cratchit in the Muppet’s Christmas Carol

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kurottsukii · 10 months

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Six | Mother's Daughter

Three months later

Vince lied, it's been three whole months. Three! And He never called her back or anything. So with that three months she just continued with her life. She gave up the women's title but kept the male one, booking and winning fight after fight. While she did that, she was also training in NXT like Vince told her. And it was harder than she expected, Sheamus went hard on her but that's what she wanted. But she didn't expect how difficult and brutal it was, she gained bruises on her back and arms from each training that sometimes left her sore but it was worth it, she got her moves down. Apparently she looked like a high flyer, according to Shaemus. So she learned some high fly moves, such as; the diving clothesline, the Moonsault leg drop, the Somersault leg drop, the Diving headbutt, the flying elbow, and the swan dive and oh my god, she almost killed herself with half of those because she didn't perfected the landing.

While learning those moves, she also learned some submission her aunt used, such as; The Handspring back elbow, the Gorilla press slam and the powerbomb. But the submission move she really liked was the move Mankind used on Shane, almost breaking his shoulder. Which she has now claimed as hers. Before it didn't have a name but now it's called the Death lock. And she was really good at it, she literally almost broke Shaemus shoulder a week ago, now she isn't allowed to use it on him again.

Boringgg.

Other than winning fights, and putting her body to the limit in training, the twitter war between her and Randy continued. The two has been exchanging harsh words at each other for a serious while now , even sometimes mentioning each other on tv.

The verbal shots at each other wasn't much, it was just mocking and throwing insults like they were bulets but, things took a turn once Randy mentioned her aunt and her overdose. WWE was known to use painful secrets in people's life to make promo's interesting but mocking someone's death was too far. This lead Yovanna to threaten Randy pubicly on Twittwer.

The tweet read; "When I see you, I'm going to break your arm and make you not only eat your words but make you swallow your fucking teeth." And that single tweet went viral for a few days.

Until today, today for Raw, Randy was supposed to have a little celebration for himself after becoming the first WWE world champion and today was the day Yovanna was supposed to make her debut and beat that hell out of Ortan to start their storyline.

Just the thought of breaking his nose made her pumped, she spent six hours at the gym than two hours training with Sheamus, her body was a bit sore, yes but the rage building inside her mix with the excitement about her debute overclouded it. She's actually supposed to head to the arena early today, to meet her makeup artist and get her ring attire. She was informed that her attitre was going to be a tribute to her aunt which just made the girl more pumped. Today was going to be the start of her career, it had to be perfect.

Right now she was in a car with Sheamus and Eva, listening to them bicker about which American cartoon was better, children..really.

"Oh for fuck sakes Shaemus! Flapjack is clearly better than Sponge Bob." Eva said in a fake Irish accent to mess with Shaemus. He was annoyed by her horrible impression, yes, but the sound of Yovanna laughing her ass off made his heart flutter, making everything better. The two continued their childish argument all the way to the arena. It was around 4pm so they were the only superstars there.

Yovanna's POV:

We walked in the arena with pep in our step and a smile on our face like it was our first day of school. Eva and I had our arms linked with Shaemus' as we walked down the empty hall in sync with each other. We looked like complete dorks but luckily no one was here yet to see us or to see Sheamus and Eva dragging me out the car a few minutes ago. I don't know, I was excited but also nervous...but also really excited. This was my start in this career, I had to make a great first impression you know?

I can feel Shaemus' hand on mine, giving me a light and resurring squeeze. I didn't even bother to look up at him, I can already tell he's giving me that pretty boy smile he does when I'm nervous. I swear, this man has been reading my mind from the start because he always knew what to do and say without me speaking on what's going on. I'm glad I met him, he's such a great guy and a really awesome friend to have.

Our little trio walk came to a stop once we made it to my makeup artist. Shaemus removed his hand and gave me a tight hug, and I swear, I could feel my spine breaking but I didn't care, I needed it. He soon let go, the warm and safe embrace leaving me which caused me to frown. He didn't even say anything, instead he placed me in my seat and kissed my hand before leaving. That one small gesture made my whole body flush with heat, I didn't even know I was smiling until my makeup artist spoke. I believe her name was Amber.

"You guys are cute." What did she mean by that? Was we giving her the impression that we was dating? Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

"Cute? I guess but we're just friends you know...Good friends I guess." I wanted to be straight forward and just shut down any assumptions she has in her head but I guess my answer wasn't good enough since she just laugh it off and did my hair and makeup. Who knew those two things can take slow long to do, it was either my face and hair was too complicated or she was trying to make me look like Kim K for my first day.

Either way, l looked good. I thanked her and made my way to the designer with Eva beside me. And let me tell you, once I saw my attire, my jaw dropped.

It was a cropped hoodie that was tied together in the back, following by matching black cargo pants that was decorated with lil metal holes on the sides, with chains and straps. Not to mention the cute ass harness and black combat boots. And last but not least, a matching ski mask I'm supposed to wear.

I don't even know how many times I thanked the designer, I can only tell you that I thanked her again six more times after she said I could keep it. This was exactly my style plus it was a tribute to my aunt, but in my style, you know? I don't want to seem like I'm copying her or anything but I want to be able to keep her memory alive in the place she called home.

We headed to my locker room so I can change and oh my god it was big, not to mention CLEAN. I quickly headed to the bathroom and change, I had to make sure not to mess up the hair and makeup once I put the mask on. Why was I putting it on Early? I don't know.

It was now 6:32 pm, superstars were now rolling in. I could tell just by how the silence in the hallway got replaced with footsteps and people talking amongst each other. I decided to stay in my locker room till it was my que to beat Randy's little ass.

Luckily there was a tv and snacks in here or else I would of went crazy with boredom, so whould Eva, who was currently laying on the couch, eating some candy bars which I'm assuming came from her bag. Moving her legs, I took a seat on the couch while mindlessly switching through channels till WWE started.It wasn't long though, watching Love & Hip Hop Atlanta took up most of the time, it almost made me forget that I had a job to do. Luckily I was supposed to make my appearance at the ending of the show, or was it the middle of it?

Shit I forgot.

Just as I was about to panic and call Shaemus, the speaker in the room turned on to let me know that I had to go to the gorilla. That's when I suddenly felt nervous, it was about to happen. All the training and hard work I put in for three months was all about to pay off.

Eva decided to go to the gorilla with me so I didn't have to go alone cuz god knows I would of had a panic attack, luckily shaemus was waiting outside our locker room to walk us.

And there we go, we were conjoined to the hip, walking down to the gorilla while earning some confused stares in the progress. Each step we took towards the gorilla made my heart skip a beat, at this point it was now just in my stomach. I wanted to just stop and run out the building but my feet kept moving. Why was they still moving?! God dammit feet, do as I say and run!

It was too late though.

We finally made it, the crew there was telling me that once the lights cut off, I had to run and hide under the ring, I didn't really know why but I really didn't care. My nerves was still bad, I felt sick, my legs were now jelly. I was beyond scared but I knew I couldn't go back now. I couldn't disappoint everyone. So...it was now or never.

Once they went to commercial, the lights went off like the crew said they would, so I did as told and ran down the ramp, sliding my little ass under the ring. Only to see tables, chairs, and a tv? Why the hell was there a tv here?!

Not even a second later the lights came back on and the show continued, I watched as Jerry and Cole talked about Randy's victory over a guy named John Cena, showing the clip of his win. Just seeing the dumb smirk on his face made my blood boil. My nerves soon got replaced by anger and annoyance. Like who did this fucking jerk think he was?

Definitely not champ worthy.

I continued to watch whatever was going on, not even a minute later music hits the arena. The crowd reacted with boos as three people walked out. Randy, Triple H, and that bitch Stephanie. Three people I hated with a passion, hopefully I could get a few punches on them too.

They soon entered the ring and Triple H was the one to start things off, which was him just gloating and talking about what's best for business and what was best for the company. Honestly, his whole speech almost made me pass out due to how boring and unnecessary it was.

The crowd agreed with me cuz they just continued to boo. Then it was Randy turn, he also decided to gloat and just talk bad about this cena guy. That's when he mentioned me, he started to go off on me honestly. Insulting my career in UFC, insulting my title run and fighting skills.

He had a lot of nerve...and yet he just kept going! I just laid there, laid under him, under this damn ring and just watch him bad mouth me.

"This little girl wouldn't have the balls to step in the ring with me. Not her, not her little ufc buddies, not even her slut of a aunt."

That's when the lights went off, I could hear how confused the crowd was but it was my que!

First POV

Sliding from underneath the ring, Yovanna quickly made her way inside the ring and positioned herself on the top turn buckle. All that adrenaline was rushing through her veins, it was like she was high off of something. She couldn't think, or even focus correctly. She was like a wild animal ready to pounce.

That's when the light came back on and all eyes were now on her. Triple H and Stephanie were the first to spot her with nothing but horror written on their faces, the crowd was silent, it felt like as if time froze for a second.

There was no movement or sound from anyone except for JBL, who was screaming from out side the ring for Randy to look behind him.

Yeah Randy, look behind you.

Yovanna's lips began to twitched, as she waited for him to turn. She knew that he knew that someone was behind him, it was only a matter of time. She mentally begged and prayed for him to turn around, you could say god heard her because within a second, just for a second; Randy faced her and he too was horrified but her? All she saw was red.

Jumping off the Turnbuckle, Yovanna landed on Randy, sending both of them crashing down onto the mat and that's when all hell broke loose. Yovanna just started sending hard blows to the face, it took Randy all his strength to bring his arms up to block her hits, that's when she started punching his sides. Everytime he tried to block her punches, she just kept finding new spots to attack, now everything was going good. The crowd was going crazy even though they didn't know what was going on. Yovanna was getting her revenge even though her knuckles was getting bruised. But everything came to a end once she felt herself being yanked off of Randy and thrown into the corner.

As that happened, Randy took the opportunity to escape, rolling out the ring and making his way down the ramp to Stephanie in a limp with his hand on his ribs. Now this made Yovanna pissed, she was beyond pissed. All that built up anger she kept just for Randy was now ruined and now she was going to take it out in whoever was stupid enough to pull her off.

Her attention quickly went to her new victim and to her surprise, it was no one else but Triple H.

The same Scumbag that broke her aunt's heart, the same bitch who cheated on her without even saying sorry or reaching out to her. Once again she saw nothing but red, that's when she tackled him to the mat, sending blows and elbows to his head until he started bleeding but he also managed to escape.

The crowd was going insane as she watched the three retreat, slowly making their way up the ramp, that's when she pulled off her mask with on yank. Yovanna wanted them to get a good look on who they decided to fuck with, to get a good look on who was now going to make their lives a living hell.

And just like that, the crowd roared with excitement, the arena was alive. You could feel the vibration from their screams and chants.

Yovanna began to smile wide like a lunatic, her eyes widened with excitement, not just because of how the crowd reacted but because of how the three rats of wwe reatced. Their face was written with horror, and she loved every bit of it. She could even hear Jerry and Cole scream with excitement too, I guess they were fans too, unlike JBL who wanted bad mouth her saying she brutally attack Randy and Triple H for no reason.

Randy stood on top of the ramp, completely dumfounded. Ignoring it, Yovanna rolled out the ring to grab a mic, making her way back in the square circle she calls hers.

She was so excited, so full of life and lust or blood, the girl couldn't even stand still. She just paced around the ring like a rabid dog , drinking in the the crowds chants before cutting her own lil promo.

"What Randall? It looks like you just seen a ghost babe. What happened to all that shit you was saying about me a few minutes ago. OH, Don't tell me you forgot? No, let's talk about it. Lemme remind you on what you said. You said, and I qoute, how I was just a weak little girl with...what did you say? Mommy issues? Oh! What about how I was an easy target to you! Or how I wouldn't last a week here. Well..it didn't seem that way when I was beating the shit out of you just now, can we get a reply on that?"

Just as requested, the clip of her attacking randy played and the crowd was eating it up. Her smile grew wide, as she watched the fear on Randy's face get replaced by shame and anger. You better feel embarrassed, you asshole.

"Don't get all pissed and shocked now Randall. You started this, you wanted this! And I fucking warned you. I warned you that when I saw you, I was going to break your arm and make you eat your teeth and it wasn't a threat...it was a promise and I'm not one to break promises. So get your ass in the ring and face me like a man!" She screamed into the mic before dropping it.

The crowd continued to show their support and interest to watch was going on. Shit, even she was pumped too!

She leaned against the ropes, just trying to get the pussy inside the ring.

Thats when the environment shifted.

The fear on Randy, Stephanie, and Triple H's changed. They all shared a evil ass smirk as she heard;

Sierra

Hotel

India

Echo

Lima

Delta

SHIELD

Yovanna, stood in the ring confused, but she couldn't just stay there unarmed. Knowing Triple H and Randy, they had back up, something she lacked. So once again, she quickly rolled out the ring, this time grabbing a chair from under it and rolled back in.

And there, she stood in the ring, looking around like a crazy person to only see three guys dress like a swat team, making their way through the crowd.

One was a big Tarzan looking motherfucker with tattoos on his shoulder down to his arm, the other was a ferret looking, two toned fuck boy, and the last one was probably the leader. He had dirty blonde hair with a hint of red, with a five o'clock shadow as facial hair. He too bad the same crazed look Yovanna had earlier. And this made her swallowed hard.

They all jumped over the barricade in their own weird way, soon surrounding the ring she was in. She looked to her side for a brief second only to see Randy up on the apran joining in too.

She was now in trouble...

But if she goes down, she's not going alone.

Haha!

Left you guys on a cliffhanger, Yovanna finna face a 4 on 1 attack. Is she going to make it?

Not to mention she just put her hands on the COO...if she do make it, WWE is going to be hell for her.

What's going to happen next chapter? Make sure to vote and comment guys! Hope you enjoy

The word count for this chapter is 3,280.

#fyp #wwe #mma #ufc #nxt #seth rollins #roman reigns #randy orton #the shield #the authority #triple h #dean ambrose #sheamus #john cena #cm punk #Spotify

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Text

SPEAK NOW TV | FIRST LISTEN

I finally got around to listening to Speak Now TV!! I still can't believe it's out. As I did with the previous releases, I will be giving you my thoughts at first listen...and then we can all discuss it and obsess/critique it. I will also be doing a ranking and better developed thoughts in the coming weeks, so stay tuned for that!

For starters, I love how crisp and clean the whole album — as does all the re-recordings — sounds, but also has its downsides. Taylor's voice is older, more mature — and she has achieved better developed vocals over the years, as all singers do. On the majority of the songs, I love it, but for some, it's losing the nostalgia, emotions and the slight pop/punk sound the old song carried. Along with the fake country accent — she will be missed for Debut, I'm not ready to talk about it. Warning, this is not me hating on the songs. I feel the same for WANEGBT and 22 on Red TV. The OG just hits better.

Now, let's get to each song!

Mine: When Taylor posted on tiktok showing the vinyl, she used that song and it was so perfect because this album is the best thing that’s ever been hers. Now I can’t stop hearing it like that

Sparks Fly: Drop everything now!

Back to December: I was dying to hear it after it was in the TSITP season 2 trailer. This song is so💜

Speak Now: Don’t you? The laugh.

Dear John: I was so scared this wouldn’t hit the same

Mean: Missing the fake country accent. I love that these idiots told her she couldn’t make it and now she is re-recording and she can prove them wrong

The Story of Us: I’M SCREAMING!!

Never Grow Up: This hits different when you’re older. The first verse makes me think of my god-daughter.

Enchanted: PLEASE DON’T BE IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE!!!

Better than Revenge: I never saw it coming, wouldn’t have suspected it…the mattress line has been changed. I want to cry.

Innocent: This version holds so much more. Is she the Girl at Home of Speak Now?

Haunted: This sOG used to give me major auditory overstimulation. While the angst is not completely there, it’s still a favorite

Last Kiss: WHERE IS THE SHAKY BREATH?!

Long Live: Hits so hard. I will tell everyone your name Taylor 🫶🏻

Ours: People are always hating on this song and I don’t get it

Superman: I can’t stop thinking of Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley when I hear this song

Electric Touch (Ft. Fall Out Boy): More pop than I was expecting, but still a bop. I wanted something more like My songs know what you did in the dark from the 2013 VS show. This performance is just chef’s kiss

When Emma Falls in Love: This song has my whole heart

I Can See You: Pleasantly surprised with this one. I love it!

Castles Crumbling (Ft. Hayley Williams): I was expecting more of a pop/punk banger

Foolish One: This on guitar? YES. Also, do you hear the Enchanted melody in the pre-chorus?

Timeless: 🥹

#taylor swift #swiftie #speak now taylor’s version #speak now tv #let's talk #send me asks and let's talk about speak now tv

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pearlaqua-eevee · 1 year

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TLOU EPISODE 1 "WHEN YOU'RE LOST IN THE DARKNESS" LIVEBLOG

IS THAT JOHNATHAN CARNAHAN

“Viruses can make us ill but fungi can alter our very minds” OH MY GOD THERE ARE LAYERS TO THAT. THE WHOLE PREMISE OF THE STORY RIGHT THERE GENUIS FUCKING WRITING RIGHT OFF THE BAT

#oh im gonna love this #this remains one of the best stories of the modern age BECAUSE of writing like this #yes yes yes

also the subtle commentary with the shots of the host’s bemused face and the people on set not paying attention, eating...the brilliant thing about this story is the subtle and not so subtle ways it comments on society and that...theres apathy and almost arrogance. Like “this guys ranting, this is crazy, will never happen” and then of course it does much like 2020

ooh. the deniers HATE this, dont they?

HAVING THE FUNGI GROWING AND LOOKING LIKE A CITY AND THEN LOOKING LIKE THE WEBS OF LIGHT SEEN FROM SPACE ON CONTINENTS AND THEN HAVING IT FORM THE SILOUTTES OF JOEL AND ELLIE HOLY SHIT. NOBODY IS GONNA TOUCH THIS SHOW, ITS BRILLIANT

also the themeeee

I think they changed it slightly for the show, maybe a bit of percussion? But otherwise its EXACTLY like the game, I can hear Marlene narrating

(also I believe Merle is reprising her role as Marlene and FUCKING FLAWLESS ALREADY

im fangirling so hard because I know whats coming and I dont wanna think about it

SARAAAAAAAAHH (Destiny’s Child, the Clash and Avril?? Girl has music TASTE) Her room feels so LIVED IN I love this

PEDRO HITTING THAT TEXAS DRAWL PERFECTLY, I AM YELLING

#Joel's accent is one of my fav things dont @ me #the fact that Troy Baker is FROM Tx so he played up his actual accent #idk much about Pedro but if that accent is put on its INCREDIBLE

AS a Texan and someone WITH a drawl, I LOVE it when you can tell actors did their work when it comes to the accent. (And here in Tx theres like 6 different regional accents and its the CORRECT one for the Dallas/Austin area!) like it’s the same I’d imagine for Brits or Australians when someone doesnt just default to Stereotypical British and actually does the right one. It just makes the character-details part of my brain SING. It just shows a lot of care for the character

nope. no. the emergency vehicles going by NOOOPE. CAN I EXIT OUT NOW. I REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE

NOPE. Fuck THAT

the kept the Its Not Working fake out. fml

THE NOKIA DAD PHONE. JOEL PLS

oh my god that exchange Joel and Tommy have it sounds DEAD ON like the game. Except in the game the call was to Sarah but like this is PERFECT

“Which jail, Travis County?” “Yeah the one on 10″ idk I just love these lines when you can tell the people know what theyre talking about. Subtle little awesome thing as someone who lives close by (And yeah, very Texan to ask which jail or which official building by the county and not the city, which is apparently how people in other states do it)

oh god. the lights and noises and IMAGINE what Sarah must be going through, Joel isnt there...even if you dont know whats coming thats gonna be really upsetting.

This is actually worse and more ominous than in the game

holy fuck the look on Sarah’s face when she turns the tv on to see the alert...Nico Parker is a KILLER actress, I can SEE her blood running cold

SARAH THE ALERT SAID STAY INDOORS. BRING THE DOG IN AND LOCK THE DOOR. DO NOT GO WANDERING AROUND.

NOOOOOO

FUCK. THAT.

THATS DISGUSTING AND HORRIFYING

“You killed her” “Baby Im sorry” And that right there is the horror

OH MY GOD THAT SHOT OF THE NEIGHBOR GOING TO HELP THE INFECTED JOEL RAN DOWN WITH THE CAR AND THEN GETTING ATTACKED

holy shit everything about this is....its like shot for shot, the dialogue is perfect...this is...like its horrific but its done so fucking well. im in horrified AWE

that fear from Sarah, trying to reason it through..."but you'd have to go a lot, right" just. ive been there. This is so...obviously it hits harder after covid but. They hit the visceral FEAR of the unknown..."are we sick, how do you know" just. 2 lines. they expanded on this idea by TWO LINES. and it makes it so much more chilling

this is so. I cant even get words. Im not even 30 minutes in

Sarah being the audience surrogate and having the camera literally from her pov, following HER and where SHES looking, exactly like the game mechanic...we’re with her the whole way through and we experience everything through her eyes, not Tommy or Joel...so the fear is MORE

just holy shit the DIRECTION in this. Everything si done so rihght

there are just no words. that 10 minutes that follow Sarah’s death and the jump to 20 years later...gut wrenching

the way Ellie kicks that tray like the PAUSE as she puts her foot down...such an intentional thing and I LOVE IT ts SPOT ON

BELLA IS PERFECT AS ELLIE HOLY SHIT

“seven...eight...fuck...you” AMAZING

people commenting on “she seems to angry/too quick to attack” like...the live action Ellie goes to attack Marlene but thats about the only added on this. Everything else she did IN THE GAME. I think its the fact that Bella actually LOOKS young that makes people realize

like I dont understand people like “she got tougher over the story” No. She got more TRAUMATIZED and yes got more capable at fighting. But she STARTS OUT hard and tough and SOFTENS. She runs parallel and also counter to Joel. SO much of her attitude at the beginning is just a show and I think people miss that

technically speaking Tess and Joel's relationship didnt NEED more screentime, you knew exactly their relationship with what we got but I love these new/expanded scenes with them

MARLENEEEEE.

“...You my fucking mom or something?” “Do I look like your mom?” “Nooo, you do not.” lmao AMAZING (I mean TECHNICALLY no...)

“was Riley a terrorist?” DO NOT-- if we get that flashback I’ll CRY

GOD. For people who dont know the endgame, they have no idea how hards Marlene’s “you will die” comment to Ellie hits but NOBODY IS BLACK OR WHITE MORALITY ITS ALL SHADES OF GREEEEYYY

ELLIE JUST ATTACKING JOEL RIGHT OUT OF THE GATE AND HIM OWNING HER LMAO

“IM not going with them!” oh my god she sounded like game Ellie

“Kim you dont have a fucking ear on your FUCKING HEAD could you please!?” oh my god

“What are they capable of?” going back to what I said before: Ellie is still a KID. She talks and acts tough (and she is!) and she grew up at the end of the world but shes still a KID who lived her whole 14 years in a military school and got pinged by Marlene the second she left. And it becomes more clear if you know HOW she got infected...she doesnt know ANYTHING about what the world is like outside the QZ. And thats the most heartbreaking part of the story is her going through those horrors. It’s why her and Joel’s relationship is important add to that that shes LITERALLY in the middle of everyone looking back and forth and being traded and called cargo shes CLUELESS and I wanna hug her

“Asshole!” thats no way to talk to your dad

also her knife I cry

“yall talk it through but please remember that I’m bleeding out” I FUCKING LOVE MARLENE OK

“Joel. Dont fuck this up. Please” I mean if you told him WHY....

ok but AGAIN. Ellie knows a smuggling code because SHES LITERALLY BEEN RAISED BY THE MILITARY but its just this childish way of blurting it out--something that you dont say out loud out of an abundance of caution--and so easily. Really hammering home that she may KNOW the way the world operates but she doesnt know the how or why...

that “okaaay sorr-y” kind of handmotion lol

“your watch is broken” GOD thats some subtle acting from Pedro. FUCK

also whereas in the game it felt like an idle observation, here it kinda feels like its a tiny bit spiteful. Like shes pointing it out to annoy him.

“you know where to go. so we’re gonna be ok?” parallel that to Sarah asking if theyre sick...the daughter figure looking to the father figure for reassurance that everythings gonna be ok. when deep down they both know it isnt goddamnit

“code broken” that was SO MEAN but I love it and Joel was about to dad lecture but AGAIN Bella NAILED Ellie’s mannerisms, the way she draws out words or the little head tilts

“Holy shit Im actually outside” AGAIN. the childish excitement. because shes a kid seeing something new and has no clue how serious things are about to get

THE PIPE. FROM RIGHT BEFORE THE CUTSCENE

...does the shot of the officer feel a little like...too much like Bumbling Cop...?

BELLAS ACTING, ELLIE STEELING HERSELF LIKE 3 TIMES BEFORE ACTUALLY MOVING THIS CAST IS WAY TOO GOOD WHAT THE FUCK

also that scream when she does it. You KNOW this girl has never been in a real combat situation like this

....so I figured they might lean a little heavier on Joel’s PTSD and explore it but I didnt expect them to draw that parallel. SHIT

the look on Ellie’s face

Idk how I feel about that ending. like the show itself spectacular and I love the tie in with the 80s song = danger so its a callback but it feels a little like. Upbeat Hm. Anyone else feel like its a bit out of place?

#TLOU #The Last of Us #TLOU HBO #When Youre Lost In The Darkness #TLOU ep 1

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softquietsteadylove · 2 years

Note

So, I have this AU idea where Thena is a mafia boss and Gil is an undercover cop who infiltrates her organization. As he gets to know and spend time with Thena more, Gil sees beyond the cold mafia boss and falls for her. Now, he is in such a dilemma, where he has to choose between his duty and his heart. Lol, is it too sappy? I'm such a sap for these two 😂😂. Also, you are amazing and a very talented writer. I'm addicted to your fics and keep coming back for more. Whenever you post a new one, it will surely brighten my day. So, thank you so much for writing them!

"Go home, get some rest."

Gil hovers uncomfortably around the doorway. His eyes are shifting all over the place. His fingers are running against themselves with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Gil."

He sighs, shifting his weight on his feet as he glances out the window.

"Gilgamesh."

Ah, he's in shit now. He knows he's in shit when he hears his full name being used. "Sorry, Boss, guess I'm...distracted."

"Yes, I've gathered," she gives him a half-smile from her place at her desk. It falls a half-second later. "What's wrong, Gil?"

Oh, the list goes on and on. He's an undercover agent, and he's pretty sure his bosses are ready to let him and the operation sink. He's not a very good agent, since he's grown a little too fond of the woman he's been 'bodyguarding' for the past six months. He's an agent, and he's wondering if he should be.

Not that the answer is to join organised crime, either. But he's probably not as...objective as he used to be.

"I'm not sure about tomorrow," he finally admits. He doesn't like lying to her.

"What makes you unsure?"

The fact that the brass are calling his bluff. That he's promised to bring her in three times already and he can't bring himself to do it. That tomorrow, in the middle of her biggest land trade in years, his fellow agents are going to storm the place. That there will be crossfire, and she is going to get hurt. That he is still going to put his life on the line to protect her, whether he's a traitor to both sides or not.

Because he's the idiot who fell in love with the target.

Romeo--they're calling him for it. And he just hopes they don't die at the end.

"Are we sure the meeting place is secured?"

"You went with Kingo to secure it, didn't you?"

Yes, and he'd slipped away to cut a length of fence just so while he did. "Yeah, but-"

"You're nervous," she finishes for him, and that smile comes back. It's silky smooth, like her hair, like the satin dress she's wearing, like the faint accent he knows is a cover up.

It's a nondescript English accent, with uplifted end vowels that don't really exist anymore. It's easy enough to learn from movies and tv. It suits her even though he knows it isn't real.

Thena was born and raised in America.

"Can't help it," he shrugs at her with a helpless little smile. He unfolds his arms as she stands and crosses her office to him. Her heels click on the floor. The sound haunts him in his dreams.

"I know you can't." She almost sounds like she's soothing him. "But try not to let it cloud your judgement."

Gil nods as she brushes something off his blazer. He's never been better dressed in his life since working for Thena. She really is quite fashionable, as Kingo likes to say.

Thena blinks as he catches her hand before she can pull away from him completely. "Gilgamesh."

"Thena," he says, and after very strict instruction that names - fake and real alike - are strictly forbidden in the office. But she told him her name herself, and it's been sitting on a pedestal in his brain ever since. "Just...reconsider tomorrow."

She holds his eyes. Neither gives anything away in their expression. Gil has been trained on how not to. Thena is just naturally good at it. "You're worried for me?"

He inhales, squeezing her hand tighter. Finally free to tell the truth, he says, "your safety is my top priority."

Something changes in those eyes of hers, but he can't quite tell what it is.

Gil blinks this time as Thena leans up and in, leaving a light but solid kiss on his cheek. He tries not to seem flustered. The Boss doesn't show affection--she doesn't even show mercy, in most cases. But he's too busy trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach.

The idiot Romeo, indeed.

Thena looks him dead in the eye, holding his cheek, "we'll be fine."

She sounds so sure--so confident.

He looks at her, trying not to seem like he wants her to kiss him again. He releases her hand slowly. "Whatever you say, Boss."

She raises a brow at him. "Back to 'Boss' then?"

He feels himself start to smile, despite his best efforts, "you prefer something else?"

Thena slides her hand down his chest slowly, tracing over his jacket until she can tap the concealed weapon in his belt with a smirk. "You tell me, Agent."

#Thenamesh AU #it's a new one!#what a funky little prompt anon #I dig it #and listen #we all love the sap #the corn #the cheese #we wouldn't be reading/writing fanfiction if we didn't #right?#Pt 1 #turns out #Thenamesh Mafia AU

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3pirouette · 2 years

Text

Fic: There's a Chance We'll Get By

Title: There’s a Chance We’ll Get By By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: AU for CA: TFA Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 4643 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Steve and Peggy try to find a way to live while they’re on the run from the American government.

A/N: For Steggy Week 2k22 Day 1: “Inspired by.” This story is inspired by the Bon Jovi song “Born To Be My Baby.” While the vibe of the song isn’t exactly 40’s Steggy, the lyrics just hit me right in the feels and this is what you get. The idea of her being born to be his and him being made to be hers just GETS me. I wanted to address it more, but the story is just the vibe of the song. Lyrics added for reference as this is the section that sparked the story.

This is finished, there is no larger plot or story in my head. Just them on the run. Enjoy.

~*~

Light a candle, blow the world away Table for two on a TV tray It ain't fancy, baby that's OK Our time, our way

So hold me close better hang on tight Buckle up, baby, it's a bumpy ride We're two kids hitching down the road of life Our world, our fight

If we stand side by side (all night) There's a chance we'll get by (and it's alright) And I'll know that you'll be live In my heart till the day that I die

'Cause you were born to be my baby And baby, I was made to be your man We got something to believe in Even if we don't know where we stand Only God would know the reasons But I bet he must have had a plan

'Cause you were born to be my baby And baby, I was made to be your man

-Born to be my Baby, Bon Jovi

~*~ 1947

Peggy turned at the sound of the closing door, dishcloth still in her hand. “Oh, I know that look,” she sighed, moving towards Steve as he leaned back against the door, hands rubbing over his face. “What happened?”

“I think…” He sighed, letting his hands rest on her shoulders as his eyes said what he didn’t need to, “I’m sorry, Peggy.”

She lifted her hand to his cheek, letting her thumb rub over the beard he’d grown. “Nothing to be sorry for, my darling.” She stepped back, slinging the towel on her shoulder. “How much time do we have?”

He rubbed his hand over his chin, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I just know…” Steve didn’t finish, but instead started moving quickly, gathering the little they had in a pile on the couch until her hand stopped him. “Go bags or do we have time to pack?” she asked, eyes serious but tone soft.

His hand twisted in hers until he laced their fingers. He took a deep breath and sat next to his little pile. “The jack… it slipped. It was on the other side of the car. If I hadn’t…” Steve’s voice grew thick. “I had to grab it or it would have crushed him the way he was under there.”

“Mr. Marcone?”

He nodded. “If I’d been on the other side of the car, I just could have grabbed it and slipped the jack back under. But…” He squeezed her hand tight. “The way he looked at me. He was grateful, he was proud, and then… then he saw right through the beard and the fake Boston accent and…”

Peggy kneeled and hugged him tight. “And what, Steve?”

There were tears in his eyes he refused to cry. “He said he’d give us a head start before he turned us in.”

She held him tight for a moment, then pulled back. “Best get packing then. Dinner was just sandwiches, anyway. We can eat in the car.”

~*~ 1945

Steve’s head popped off the pillow the second he heard his tent rustle. He couldn’t see who it was in the dark, but as soon as he heard the voice, he knew something was desperately wrong.

“Get up.” Howard Stark wasn’t one to hang around the front lines during the day, never mind the middle of the night.

Steve sat up, reaching in the dark and pulling on his pants. “What’s wrong?” He moved to turn on the little lamp, but Howard’s hand batted his away.

His voice was harried and rushed in the dark, barely loud enough for even Steve to hear. “You’ve got to go. Get dressed and grab only the necessities.”

“Mission?” Steve whispered back, tying his boots and grabbing his knapsack.

“I’m afraid not,” Howard replied, stepping closer. “You’re not coming back. Take anything you can’t get along the way. Anything irreplaceable.”

~*~ 1947

Steve tossed the last bag in the back of the car and shut the trunk tight as the sun started to set behind them. With a jog he nearly jumped into the driver’s side as Peggy settled the bags at her feet. His hands fisted in his lap, the keys dangling from his fingers. Peggy turned her head and watched him. It was the first moment he’d been still since he came home and told her they’d need to leave. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning the keys over in his hands. “You deserve a lot more than this life.”

She put her hand over his, stilling the fidgeting. Her nails that had once been always manicured red so nicely now were bare and short, as inconspicuous as she could make them. He rubbed his thumb over a nail, still morning the little things in moments like this. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, my love.”

His head whipped to hers, eyes sad and welling with tears. “Peg…”

She smiled, and he could almost see exactly when she pushed her own fear and anxiety away to help him feel better. “Maybe I’ll be a blonde this time, yeah?” She laughed, even though it was flat a mirthless as she reached up to caress his cheek. “I was getting a tad tired of the beard, anyway.”

He let his forehead rest on hers. “Where to this time?”

“South,” Peggy whispered, pressing her lips to his. “I wasn’t looking forward to Christmas in Vermont. Too much snow.”

~*~ 1945

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, following Howard through the brush behind their camp.

“I mean what I said,” he replied, flailing his arms against the tree limbs. “I mean that Phillips and I uncovered a Hydra mole, but it’s too late.”

Steve stopped the man and turned him. In the moonlight Steve could finally see the fine sheen of sweat on him, the way his chest heaved and the way his eyes were wild like he’d never seen before. “Howard,” he pleaded, still feeling unbalanced from the way he’d been woken, “I need you to stop and explain it to me. You’re just giving me bits and pieces.”

Howard took a slow, deep breath and set his hands on his hips, looking away then finally looking back at Steve. “If our intel is right, at this very minute there’s an attempt being made on Senator Brandt’s life, and no matter if he lives or dies, they’re going to be blaming you.”

Steve reared back. “Me?” He shook his head, unbelieving, “But if we know this, why aren’t we trying to stop this?”

“You’re a patsy,” Howard nearly yelled, surprising himself. He stepped forward, dropping his voice. “You’re a patsy. You’re gonna take the fall. Hydra’s infiltrated somewhere up in the Senate, the House, hell, even generals! The list of things they’re going to try to pin on you, the things they’re gonna say- well, they’re calling you a traitor, Steve. They’re saying—”

“But it’s not true. You know—”

Howard pulled him along, getting them moving again. “It’s not about what is true or what isn’t true, Steve.” He huffed. “We got wise a few weeks ago, when an order came across Phillip’s desk to get you to Alamogordo. They want you off the playing field and in a lab somewhere, and it looks like they’ll do anything to make that happen.”

“Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but that doesn’t really matter at the moment, does it?” He huffed, leading Steve farther away from camp, “Especially not if MPs come knocking at your tent in the morning.”

~*~ 1947

The motel bed was scratchy, but they’d driven nearly 36 hours and neither could stomach trying to nap in the passenger seat again.

“I can feel you thinking,” Peggy muttered against his chest, wrapped around him under the thin blanket.

“We’ll have to find you peroxide,” he mumbled, ticking the list off against her shoulder, “I’ll need a razor and a shave, and then we both gotta find new jobs.” He sighed. “How far south do you want to go?”

“I’ve heard good things about Florida.”

“I was thinking maybe we should go all the way to Mexico.”

She turned her head and rested it on his chest to look up at him. “Mexico?”

“It’s too risky here.” He sighed heavily, sitting up and running his hand through his hair. “There’s less chance of people feeling a patriotic duty to turn us in in another country, I think.”

“Maybe we were wrong about sentiments having cooled.” She leaned back, tossing the blanket off her. “Might as well go all the way to Argentina, then,” she countered, rolling on her side.

He chuckled mirthlessly, reaching down to run his hand through her hair. “We start going where the Nazis are hiding, it won’t help our case.”

She nuzzled into his touch. “At least we managed to establish communication again, even if Howard said there’s nothing new to report.”

“Better than nothing, I suppose.” He slipped back down into the bed, pulling her close. His voice was thick when he spoke again. “I was really starting to like that little town. I thought…” his voice trailed off, and he let what was unsaid remain unsaid. He hadn’t voiced thoughts like that in over a year, and didn’t know if he ever would want to again. “Sometimes… sometimes I wonder how bad it would be if we just turned ourselves in, you know? This can’t…” He huffed, snuggling into her embrace. “This can’t be worth it.”

“It’s a bumpy ride, darling.” Peggy agreed, pressing a kiss to his chest, “But I promise you, it’s better than whatever Hydra has planned. Better than whatever those men want to do with you.”

He shuffled a little, looking down at her eyes that held such surety, such belief, and melted just a little. “Why do you stay with me, Peg? Why do you put yourself through this?”

She pushed forcefully, rolling him onto his back and straddling him. “Must we go over this every time we have to move, darling?”

Peggy leaned her elbows on his chest, pinning him down, even though he could have lifter her off him easily. His maudlin seemed to disappear just for a moment. “We may not know where we stand in all this all of the time, but I will never want to be anywhere that isn’t with you, Steve Rogers.” She smiled. “There’s no getting around it, it’s me and you for the long haul, soldier.”

~*~ 1945

It wasn’t much of a clearing, and the small group huddled behind the Jeep to stay hidden in the small outcrop just off the dirt road out of camp. They all turned sharply at the sound of them approaching, but Howard pushed forward despite the way Peggy drew her gun.

She set it back in her holster and waited for Steve to step into the small circle they’d made around the map in the back of the Jeep. “I’d ask if you were followed but—”

Phillips interrupted, sour. “You want to nit-pick at his spy skills or do you want to get this moving, Carter.”

She looked away, only slightly chastised. “Yes, sir.”

Steve set his hands on his hips, looking at Phillips, Bucky, and Peggy. “What’s the play.”

“You and Carter are leaving,” Phillips started, harsh.

“Now.” Bucky’s tone left no room for argument.

“Where to?” He asked, looking into the trunk of the civilian jeep to see very little in the way of supplies.

“Spain,” Stark supplied, handing Peggy an envelope. “I’ll have my man meet you at that hotel in three days with more supplies and better cover identities.”

“From there, it’s up to you,” Bucky added, shaking his head. “You can’t tell us where, and you can’t be in touch.”

“How will we know…” Steve started, but Phillips shook his head.

“You’re about to be the number one enemy of the Allied Nations, son,” he sighed, folding up the map. “It won’t be safe for a while.”

“And when it is, we’ll find you.” Bucky stepped around Phillips.

Steve frowned. “You knew about this?”

“Only since this morning,” he whispered. “Dugan, too. We’re gonna fill the other Commandos in as soon as you’re gone.”

“This turned south far faster than any of us could have imagined,” Peggy added. “But I’ll tell you all I can once we’re moving.”

Steve stood, looking at them all, slack jawed in the French forest. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“I’ve got your back,” Bucky promised, taking his hand tight. “Till the end of the line, ok?”

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled. “Till the end of the line,” he parroted back, still stunned.

Phillips stepped in, turning Steve towards the passenger side. “Carter’s going with you. You two will be able to better slip around as a married couple than trying to march outta here with Barnes or Dugan.”

“She’s a better shot, too,” Bucky added, smiling to try to lighten the mood. “And a lot nicer to look at, and much better at whatever else you two do on those long walks you take behind the mess after dinner.”

Bucky’s levity didn’t change how he felt about the girl he was falling in love with stepping into the front line of danger with him. “I- I can’t ask you—” Steve stuttered out, looking over at where she was getting into the driver’s seat, noticing for the first time she’d shed her army green for civilian clothes.

“You’re not asking, I’m insisting.” She took a deep breath and turned the key, the truck roaring to life.

“Her idea,” Barnes whispered to Phillips’ dismay.

Phillips turned the man away from his friend, stripped the bag off his shoulder and pushed him into the car before tossing his bag in the back and pushing up the tailgate. He stepped around to Peggy’s side, stern. “You two need to move. Take turns, drive as far as you can tonight. Stay away from patrols, use whatever tricks Carter has up her sleeve, but you do not get caught, do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” they both replied.

With only the barest glance to make sure Barnes wasn’t hanging on the window any longer, Peggy shifted the car in gear and moved them onto the road and into the darkness, farther and farther away from their friends.

Steve could feel his heart pounding in his chest, he didn’t know what to say as they moved through the trees both too fast and too slow for his liking.

“Are you alright?” Peggy asked after a few quiet minutes.

The words tumbled from his lips in almost a laugh. “No. No, I don’t think I am.”

“Good,” She chuckled, reaching out and squeezing his forearm quickly before putting her hand back on the wheel to maneuver through the overgrown dirt road, “then we’re on the same page.”

Another long moment went by before Steve sat taller, his heart still pounding in his chest. “Peg, we should go back, swap you for Bucky—”

“Aside from the fact that this is the only sound tactical solution,” she replied crisply, “namely sending you with a spy who actually knows how to hide, get lost and stay lost,” she took a deep breath and looked over at him quickly, letting the mask of surety fall just for a moment, “If you think I’m letting the man I love run for his life in the middle of the night without me, then you don’t know me at all.”

He nearly laughed, but couldn’t quite tell if he also wanted to cry. “I don’t want you in danger, Peg.”

“And I’d like for you not to be on the most wanted list, but it seems we’re not getting our wishes today.”

The atmosphere became tense and she slowed the car, putting it in park on the dark, dirt road.

“Steve, look at me.” She couldn’t see much when he turned, but knowing his attention was on her meant enough. “Nothing about this is good. Not who gets to go with you, not who gets left behind to figure it out, not crossing our fingers and hoping we know who we can trust. Nothing.” She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I trust you with my life. Do you trust me with yours?”

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then trust me that we’ve talked it through. Phillips, Howard, Barnes and I went through every scenario we could think of, and what it boils down to is you need to move and you need to hide until this is all over.”

“I won’t lie. I’m mad as hell you never told me.” He could see her frown, and knew from experience that her face meant it hadn’t been her decision. “You promised you’d tell me everything?”

She squeezed his hand. “As soon as we’re safer than we are now.”

He squeezed back and then let her go. “Then drive.”

~*~ 1949

Steve pulled out the little folding table and set it in the living room. The apartment wasn’t spacious, but it wasn’t the worst place they’d ever lived. He slid two of the boxes around it, setting up makeshift stools.

The apartment was unfurnished, and they had strikingly little to their names, but they’d made do with far less. He pulled out a linen napkin and laid it over the table, then set up the single pillar candle and put the small box next to it.

He nearly jumped when he heard her key in the lock. He stood tall next to his little surprise as she slipped in the door. “How was it?”

Peggy tossed her bag on the floor by the door, leaning back against it. “Well, I’ve learned my Spanish needs work,” she sighed, stepping in and smiling when she saw the little set up. “But no luck, I’m afraid. You?”

He took her in his arms, kissing her gently. “There’s a garage down the street, the owner will be there tomorrow.”

“You did like working on cars,” she leaned up, getting another gentle kiss before leaning back in his embrace. “They won’t expect we’ve traveled to another country just to get the same waitress and mechanic jobs, I’m sure of that.”

Steve scrunched up his nose, picking at her platinum hair. “I’m don’t think I’m used to this yet.”

Peggy giggled, tickling at his moustache. “Well, just for the record I think this is a horrid choice, but needs must.”

“You don’t like it?” He leaned down, nuzzling her cheek with his whiskers and bare cheek, laughing as she pulled away from the sensation. “No?”

“Goodness, no!” She slipped out of his embrace and laughed at him. “Let’s put moustache at the bottom of the list, shall we?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him, gently kissing her cheek. “Noted.” With a side step, he pulled her over to the box. “Have a seat, dinner will be right out, madame.”

She shook her head at him, grabbing a match and lighting the candle as he disappeared around the wall into the small kitchen. The tiny apartment had little in the way of lighting, and the sun was setting, casting them in greys. “Now there’s an idea. My French is much better than my Spanish- why didn’t we just go to Canada?”

“You hate the cold?” he countered, carrying out two plates. He set them down with a flourish, then smiled shyly. “It’s not much. Or that fancy. We uh, we only packed two plates but…”

She reached up and slid her hand down his arm, squeezing his fingers before dropping it. “It’s perfect.”

“Happy Birthday, Peggy,” he whispered, bending to kiss the crown of her head.

Her eyes welled up. “Thank you, darling.”

He looked taken aback as he sat. “You thought I forgot?”

She swallowed down the tears and looked over the plate of rice, beans and chicken and the other of a simple white cake. “Well, I’ve just… I’ve had so many different names and birthdays over the last two years I hardly… I hardly thought about it today, you know?”

He took her hand in his across the table. “I pray every night that we don’t have to celebrate another birthday like this,” he leaned in, his voice quiet and insistent, “and I hate that this is where we are, but…” a smile broke through, “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”

Her smile was just a little sadder. “I’d like to say that by next year…”

“Doesn’t matter.” His words were definitive. Unyielding. He softened his tone and kissed her hand. “Doesn’t matter if we are or aren’t. As long as I’m with you.” He pulled the small box over. “I got it the day before we left. I was planning on this for today, anyway.”

Peggy pulled her hand back and opened the small box. “Steve…” she breathed out, pulling the small, delicate silver band from the tissue.

He took it from her and took her left hand in his. “I wanted to make it official. Between us, that is.” He stumbled over his words a little, a bright tinge coming to his cheeks. “We’ve been pretending for so long I don’t know that it much matters, and nothing would change the fact that I love you, but…” He held the ring over her finger. “Marry me, Peg?”

“Yes, Steve,” she sighed, smiling bright as he slipped the ring on her finger. “In as many lives and as many identities as we ever live, yes.”

~*~ 1945

Peggy slipped into town while he stayed with the Jeep on the outskirts, hoping to keep his face hidden. She returned with a can of black shoe polish, a bag of pastries, and the morning paper that declared him a traitor an hour later. “This will cover up the blonde for now,” she said as she’d helped him comb it through his hair, “But we’ll need better for you.”

Three months in Spain helped her hone her Spanish, which was decimated when they were found out and they’d spent two very frustrating and confusing weeks in Portugal before they jumped on a boat and headed to Africa.

Blending in wasn’t exactly easy in Algeria, and there were far too many American and English expatriates in Egypt for them to feel comfortable.

For nearly a year they managed a small existence on the Greek coast. They both stumbled with the language at first, but Steve picked up quicky and Peggy became passable in a few months. He managed to find a job in a shipyard, explaining away his absence in the army by faking poor eyesight. His strength was needed, and they paid him well enough for it. Being outside all day turned his skin a nice olive tone, and a scruffy beard and shaggy hair, along with some coke bottle glasses, kept him relatively unrecognizable.

They talked about getting married for real instead of just saying they were for a cover.

They talked about how they could build a life when they were still being looked for even though his likeness was popping up in news reports less and less frequently.

They’d nearly been lulled into a sense of security, until Barnes woke them out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night banging on the door, shoved them into an unmarked van and then on to a cargo ship that landed them in Greenland.

Peggy never got comfortable after that.

~*~ 1947

Peggy moaned in displeasure as Steve rolled into her. It was a hot, sticky night and she was already nearly naked. With him pressed up against her there would be no way she could sleep.

His hand, instead of roaming someplace she expected, or holding her tight, slipped up and pressed her lips together. “I heard something on the roof,” he whispered, barely loud enough to get all the syllables out. “Two, maybe three.”

She nodded against him. They’d figured out long ago that their friends, their allies, were not stealthy when they came to extract them. They’d knock loudly, call their names out, announce themselves anyway they could. Their enemies were the only ones that ever tried to be stealthy.

She took a slow, deep breath and placed her hand on his. Guns were under the night tables, loaded and ready to pull and fire in under a second. Go Bags were at the foot of the bed, as were her clothes.

She didn’t really want to fight in her panties and slip, but she would. It would take her three steps to get to the chair that held her dress with her shoes beneath it. Two steps back to get her Go Bag. Steve always had the keys to the car on his nightstand, so they could be out the door or the window in under a minute.

From there, ten feet to the car, and they were home free.

If the car started.

If there were only two or three of them and there weren’t reinforcements downstairs.

If this were her mission, she’d bring at least ten men, especially after they’d made it out against four agents in Alberta ten months ago. Yes, she suspected three on the roof, two at each of the two windows, two on the front door and two near the car. It was what she would do.

“Window, car, three,” he whispered, and she nodded again.

She squeezed his hand once, twice, and on the third time, they both shot up from the bed as silently as they could, Steve standing tall and grabbing the keys and his gun, pressing his back against the window to cover it as Peggy dove to the chair where her dress and shoes were. Once she was dressed, she moved to shoulder the Go Bags, gun at the ready as he put on his pants and threw his arms through a shirt, not bothering to button it as he slipped on his shoes.

They both took in a deep breath, ready to make their next move, as their bedroom door burst open. Peggy nearly jumped through the window, tucking and rolling away as Steve laid down cover fire. She landed hard but moved right to the little outcropping of trash cans and scanned as Steve burst through the window, a flurry of yelling in Spanish and English following him. She fell into step beside him and ran for their car, stopping to turn and fire at the man on the roof before aiming at the men that had advanced to the trash cans as Steve cursed at the car, the engine sputtering.

It finally roared into life and she ducked into it as he sped off, the bullets shattering the glass of a taillight and their back window as they roared off into the night.

Peggy’s breath shuddered as she settled into the passenger seat. “We’ll have to switch cars,” she said, her voice not as strong as she’d hoped.

“Next town over,” Steve relied, reaching out his hand for hers and twining their fingers tight. “Let’s just get some space between us.”

Peggy slid over across the bench seat and laid her head against his shoulder, sighing. “I was just starting to like Mexico.”

He let his hand slip from hers to rub her thigh, keeping her as close as he could while he drove down the dark back roads. “We’ll find somewhere else to like, I promise.”

“Not going to ask me why I’m still here?”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “No. Not yet, anyway. Still full of adrenaline.”

“Ahh,” she sighed, settling in against him, “me too. Heart’s still pounding.”

“You should try to get some sleep,” he pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “It’s at least a half hour to get to anyplace we can borrow a car from.”

She rolled her eyes at the well-worn argument. “Please just say steal. We’re stealing a car, Steve.”

“Borrow has a better ring to it.”

“You’re in charge of getting it back, then.” She let her eyes flutter closed, even though she didn’t think she could sleep. “Drive tonight, plan tomorrow?”

She felt him nod. “Once we’re at least another country away. Guatemala, at least.”

“Think we can get there tonight?” She yawned against him.

“Just sleep, Peg,” He whispered, rubbing her leg soothingly as he kept his eyes on the road. “Just sleep.”

“I should go through the bags,” she muttered without opening her eyes. “Make sure we have everything we need.”

“I don’t need anything else but you by my side.” He smiled down at her, knowing she was falling into a heavy sleep as the wind through the windows cooled her skin and the sound of the tires on the road lulled her away. “I’ve got you. I’ve got everything I need.”

#SteggyWeek22 #SteggyFanEvents #steggy fic #3p's fic #steggy #Day 1: Inspired by

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