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#I EVEN BOUGHT A SLOGAN OF IT

couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 9 months

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random percy headcanons:

wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.

literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck

his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)

he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it

will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs

the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.

he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it

percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao

back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone

has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on

weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like

shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao

bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born 🥺

can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao

gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.

movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(

percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake

he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it

has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks

grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic

has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.

he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao

he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence

called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week

the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured

has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him

he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.

he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class

currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!

its his birthday<3

#percy jackson #pjo #hoo #toa #percabeth #molly mumbles

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princessbrunette · 6 months

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jj is so boyfriend material.

he would comment “slut me out” under your instagram posts, and you’d have to delete the comments because you have family that follow your social media. he’d wear stupid slogan t-shirts from tourist shops that say things like “i ♡ my gf” with a big pink heart around it if you bought it for him. he says “lemme ask the lady.” before agreeing to a plan. he asks you if you want any food and you say no, and when you inevitably pout because his fries look good, he slides the whole thing toward you and says “eat, baby.” he uses fingers and tongue when going down on you, not afraid to get messy. he doesn’t even care if you’ve not showered, or just worked out, he’s eating it. he’s very much the definition of “wear what you want i can fight” and will slap the shit out of anyone who has anything to say about your outfit. he turns his hat around so that he can kiss you. he’ll make silly little tiktok videos with you if you want to. you never have to beg him. he never complains about money problems to you, refusing to let you pay for anything as long as you’re with him. just… bf!jj

#jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank prompt

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ddejavvu · 10 months

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What would it be like to do the break bite bang chocolate trend with rooster?? Hmmmm I wonder 😏

Break, Bite, Bang - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley decide to try the viral tiktok sex chocolates, and you follow their instructions to the letter.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), dirty talk, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), afab!reader, fem!reader, handjob, thigh riding, use of aphrodisiacs, teasing, lots of messy makeouts

WC: 4.9K / navigation

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Considering Bradley's sex drive is already remarkably high, you're not sure why you bought the chocolates. But the countless videos of sweaty, fucked out couples that you saw on your for you page never failed to intrigue you, and when the little box comes in the mail, you're more than ready to put it to good use.

Bradley's just returned home from a run when you slit the box open, raising a curious eyebrow as he pants, "What'd you order, babe?"

"Chocolate," You hold up the package for him to see.

He frowns, too far away to read the words on the front, "I could have bought you a hershey bar at the gas station."

"This is not a hershey bar," You grin wickedly, "Have you heard of tabs chocolate?"

"Are they that fancy ass Australian company that charges, like, $50 per bar?" Bradley takes his workout towel, swiping at the sweat over his brow.

"No," You laugh, "They put aphrodisiacs in their chocolate."

"Aphrodisiacs," Bradley hums with a furrowed brow, "Isn't that-?"

"It's sex chocolate," You reveal, "You up for a bit more exercise today?"

"Sex-ercise," Bradley rushes for you with a shit-eating grin, far too proud of his shitty joke. He's grabbing for the chocolates but you snatch them away, lips wrinkled in a grimace.

"Hey, what-?"

"Not after that." You glare at him, "That was awful."

"Oh, come on!" He laughs, tugging the box out of your hands, and scanning the cover, "Come on, have some chocolate, honey, it'll make you feel better."

"Whatever," You grumble, snatching the little foil squares from their places, "Okay, break," You snap the square in two, "Bite," You hold Bradley's portion out for him, letting him take it from your hand. His mustache prickles against your skin and you bite back a giggle, stuffing your mouth with chocolate instead.

The sweet is savory and bitter on your tongue, with just the right amount of sugar. It's primarily dark, the aphrodisiac component, and you'd buy it for the taste even if it wasn't going to make you fuck like rabbits.

You don't get to swallow the chocolate and finish their signature slogan before Bradley's wolfed down his bar, tossing the package on the table and surging for your lips, "Bang."

The kiss he drags you into nearly buckles your knees. It's intense, it's made sweeter by the chocolate coating his tongue, and his fingers dig into your waist as he tugs you close.

"Mmf- Bradley!" You gasp, dragging in a lungful of air that he'd practically stolen from you with the kiss. He's eager to touch you, to feel you, to taste you as his lips never part from your skin, dragging from your own to the spot just under your jaw that makes your stomach tingly.

"You're- Ah, you're supposed to wait for the chocolate to kick in," You pant, hands slowly, subconsciously curling into his shirt as he sucks at your neck, "We're supposed to, like, see how long we can hold off."

"No fun in that," Bradley shrugs, "I already wanted to fuck when I got home from my run."

"You-" You laugh, breath hitched when his tongue comes out to lick over the skin that his teeth had just nipped at, "You're insatiable, Brad."

"How'm I supposed to keep my hands off of you, hm?" He hums, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. He sucks a patch of skin just to the left of your throat, one that makes your fist clench hard in his sweat soaked running shirt, "So fuckin' sexy, don't need a chocolate to think that."

"But- but we should wait!" You urge, wishing his hair was just the tiniest bit longer so you could tug on it to separate his lips from your neck, "Just to see how- ah!" He nips at your skin again, and a fire burns through your veins that's hard to ignore. It pulls you in, burns from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head, and makes you want to melt into his arms. But the taste of chocolate on your tongue makes you reconsider, and you wrestle yourself out of Bradley's arms.

"No," You pant, eyeing him warily as he watches you, "No, we have to see how long we can wait. Trust me, Brad, it'll make it so much better."

"I want you now," He whines, reminiscent of a kid denied a cookie before dinner. His tone helps tamp down some of the arousal that had risen briefly in your belly, and you take his hand. It's rough from work, calloused and strong. It curls around yours and you lead him to your bedroom, letting him perch on the bed while you unbutton your jean shorts.

Bradley's mouth falls open and he scoffs, "Babe! Don't tease me, how am I supposed to hold out now?"

"You'll be fine," You wave off his concerns, stripping out of your shirt next. It leaves you in a bra and panties you’d specifically chosen for their sex appeal, powder pink and lacy. They’re Bradley’s second favorite, behind only the navy blue set on the drying rack. But you’d used it last night, and you don’t want things to get boring.

“Fuck,” he huffs, flopping back onto the bed. His tanned skin is a stark contrast from the crisp, white bedsheets, only fresh and clean because you’d changed them last night. He watches as you strip yourself of the sheer chain he'd bought you three months ago, for your second anniversary, your initials and his dangling from the silver. The first night you'd had it, he'd torn it off of you during sex, and it had ruined the mood completely. One trip to the garage for some pliers had seen it back on your neck good as new, but you're not taking any chances this time.

"Good idea," He grins lazily, eyes meeting your own for only a split second before they trace your exposed body. He reaches out for your hip when you make for the bed but you jolt out of his reach, hands firmly placed on your hips.

"Bradley Bradshaw," You huff, "No touching! Not yet, you have to really wait until you can't take it anymore."

"I can't! I can't take it anymore," He insists, groaning low and raspy in his throat, "Babe, on a normal day, seeing you in that would get me going. But now you've just given me sex-drugged chocolate? How much longer am I supposed to wait?"

"As long as you can," You grin, something evil in the expression as you flop down onto your stomach beside him with a novel, "'Then we'll jump each other."

Bradley muffles another groan, this time with an arm over his face. When he removes it he reaches for the hemline of his own shirt, "Fine. But I'm stripping too, see how long you can resist me."

"Perfect," You hum, already cracking the spine to resume your place on page 235. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered, even if you're having an incredibly hard time focusing on your book right now instead of looking over when you hear the zipper of his jeans.

He eases back into the mattress with yet another groan, the sound bordering on pornographic enough to stir something beneath your stomach. It's the sound he makes when you snake a hand south and squeeze at his half-hard bulge, whether it be an invitation to the bar bathroom or a suggestion after movie night. You think about the way he feels against your hand, thick and straining against his pants, and-

"You're bending that book," Bradley drawls, peering sideways at you, "Thinking about anything in particular?"

It's true, your hand is crumpling the spine and pages up like scrap paper. You quickly smooth it out, lamenting the wrinkles forever etched into the story. Maybe they'll become fond memories, depending on how explosive the sex is tonight.

'No." You grumble, refusing to glance at his sprawled out, near-naked form, "Mind your business."

“Testy,” he laughs, no doubt teasing you, knowing exactly what you’re thinking of, “Alright, babe, enjoy your book.”

Bradley sticks to the agreement and leaves you well enough alone, choosing to scroll on his phone rather than stare at you. You get into the zone of reading, but part of your mind is always on the slight buzz you feel between your thighs. It’s been there since the first kiss Bradley had trapped you in back at the table, and it hasn’t gone away since.

Your reading material isn’t helping. The characters, a soon-to-be-couple currently rivals on the swim team, are currently having a late night jacuzzi rendezvous. It's hot, steamy, and everything you want from Bradley.

You pray that he doesn't notice the clench of your thighs as you read on, trying to envision yourself in their current position. He's got her backed up against the wall of the jacuzzi, and every description of the noises he's making has you wanting to squirm in place for some sort of friction. He tilts her chin upwards with one thumb until she's looking back at him, reaches for her lips, and-

Bradley's hand smooths over the back of your thigh.

"Bradley," You warn, but he's two steps ahead of you.

"Relax, angel." He croons, the natural rasp in his voice sending heat straight south, "You just look a little tense. I was gonna give you a massage."

It's a game of chicken, a word Rooster doesn't like hearing because of the way Hangman uses it as a nickname for him. But you're not losing, so when his rough, large hands slide up your thighs, smoothing over the fabric of your panties, you breathe deeply before turning back to your book.

He gives you a few moments of silence, and they're anything but comfortable. Tension is thrumming through every vein in your body, concentrated in handprint shapes wherever Bradley's palms press to your skin. He stays true to his word and massages your thighs, but his thumbs edge up the curve of your ass, closer to their target than he knows they should be.

His fingers knead and squeeze at the soft flesh of your inner thighs, paying special attention to the hypersensitive skin between your cunt and your thighs. When he ghosts his fingernail over the crease there and you clench your thighs together, he knows he's got you.

"What'cha reading?" He plays dumb, leaning over your shoulders while holding your ass steady, "Woah."

"Shut up," You huff, "Stop teasing me."

"I'm not teasing!" He insists, with a squeeze to your ass that proves the opposite, "I'm just curious, and then I look over your shoulder and see that."

"What," You scoff, "What's so shocking to you?"

"His broad form looms over her own smaller one," Bradley reads, voice deep and raspy where he's leaning over you. His voice is just beside your ear, and you feel his breath against your skin as he continues, "-muscles in his arms on full display despite the near-scalding water lapping over them. He cages her in his embrace, no escape possible even if she wanted one. But she doesn't, not as his large, rough thumb comes down to nudge at her puffy, sensitive clit beneath the water. The fabric of her bathing suit presents a delicious friction, and her hips jolt into his hand with a shockwave of ecstasy."

He comes to an abrupt stop, satisfied that your cheeks are burning hot, and your core is probably similar. He waits for your reply, and when it comes in a shaky, ‘so what?’, he tightens his grip on your hip ever so slightly.

“You think that would feel nice?” He asks, and if he purposefully strains the muscles in his arm where he plants his hand by your head, he hopes you don’t notice. His other hand snakes beneath your front, pinned between your waist and the mattress as he finds your clit with experienced ease.

“Like this?” He thumbs at the sensitive bundle of nerves, and your hips buck like they’re scripted to, “That feels good?”

“Bradley,” You’re barely able to whimper, chocolate definitely taking its toll as your insides writhe with flames.

He takes your whine as an admission, shutting your book carelessly and nipping at your earlobe as he pulls his hands back to your hips, “Roll over.”

“Brad,” You start, but he flips you himself.

“Roll over,” He gushes, and the second your lips are in his line of sight, he’s on them. His own press enthusiastically to yours, a heavy pant released into your mouth as he braces his knees on the mattress.

“I cant fucking take it anymore,” He groans, choking out his words between kiss after kiss pressed to your mouth. His tongue is sloppy, licking up your own like he's trying to swallow it.

He's tasting chocolate on your tongue and you're tasting some on his, a sweet flavor that only reminds you of the intense burning sensation between your legs.

"Laying there," He rasps, dragging in breath after breath that he later spends sucking your lips between his own, "Ass up in those pretty panties. You know I've got a thing for your ass. Mmf- and," He breathes, hand trailing up your waist, "-your stomach. And your tits," He squeezes them through the sheer pads of your bra, "Fuckin' love your tits."

His knees are holding up up on the mattress, and he's plants one of his hands beside your head, just in the dip between your neck and shoulder. He stretches it, nudges his thumb against your jaw and prompts you to open your mouth. When you do, he leans down, capturing your lips in another steamy kiss. You're having trouble focusing on one thing at a time, what with his tongue lapping sensually at your own in smooth, eager strokes. Then his hand, fingers rough and heavy as they pinch unforgivingly at your stiff nipple beneath the fabric of your bra. When you jolt into his touch, your hips buck with the motion, and you feel the hard press of his arousal against your eager core.

Bradley hums approvingly into the kiss, parting with a sloppy trail of saliva and speaking hotly against your lips. "Needy, hm? Gonna grind your sweet pussy all over me?

"Yeah," You breathe, and without the press of his lips to yours, your head tips back, exposing your neck for Bradley to fixate on next, "I need- Oh, Bradley, I need you to fuck me! I need you to fuck me so bad!"

"I thought you wanted to wait," He goads, his mustache grating against the sensitive, thin skin of your neck, "I thought you wanted to see how long you could take it."

"I did! And I can't-" You choke on your words, the sound coming out more of a moan as he sucks harshly, wetly at the skin of your neck, "I can't take it anymore! Fuck me!"

You accentuate your words with another desperate roll of your hips, grinding your clothed cunt over Bradley's bulge. He's straining in the loose fabric of his boxers, a fact that makes your mouth water, and Bradley tears himself away from your neck to wrestle with his undergarments.

"Hang on, sweet thing," He hums, in response to a disgruntled whimper of yours. He knows you're aching, burning with desire, because he is, too. His cock bounces free of his boxers and stands hard, angled towards his stomach and oozing pre. It's the most mouth-watering sight you've ever taken in, and your tingling cunt drools a gush of slick against the fabric of your panties.

It's a struggle to get his boxers off, and it almost looks silly as he wrestles them off from around his ankles. But it keeps you waiting, lets that desire burn just a little longer in your stomach before it's extinguished, and as much as you're yearning for relief, it feels good to prolong your pleasure.

"Okay, I- oh, fuck," Bradley hisses, his thumb against the pad of your panties as his fingers slip beneath the hemline. He feels slick soak through the fabric at the slightest pressure from his single finger, reveling in just how wet you've gotten while waiting for him.

"You're- god, you're dripping," Bradley groans, the sound thick and lustful as his face screws up in concentration, "I just- I- I want to-" He gives into his urges without even explaining them, dipping down to stick his face in your cunt like a man starved. He pants into your pussy, conflicted on whether he should suck more slick out of your eager sex or take a breath. He does a healthy balance of both, if maybe a little lacking in the oxygen department. He doesn't seem to care that he's being suffocated, though, and he tucks his face further into your cunt than seems humanly possible.

His tongue writhes skillfully through you, in and out of your needy hole, against the underside of your clit, against the rarely-caressed skin between your thighs and cunt. He's a messy eater, slick smeared over the lower half of his face, even glistening in his mustache.

"Aah, baby," You gasp, face pinched in half ecstasy, half apprehension as he sucks at your clit, "No, don't- I'm gonna cum!"

"Do it," He urges, tongue licking a long, wet, slick stripe up your cunt before delving back between your folds, "I want to, mmf- feel you cum on my face, baby. Do it, give it to me, I wanna feel your cunt suck me the fuck in."

"No, but-" You reach for his face, sitting up in your pleasured haze, "I want- I want you inside of me when I cum! Please, Brad, I need your- ah! -need your dick!"

"You can have it," He promises, fingers coming to bully your puffy clit while he focuses his tongue on your sopping cunt, "Later. Cum, baby, give it to me."

He's speaking harshly, and his tongue reflects that in the sturdy, rough way that he licks you out. It's akin to the way he kisses, and you suppose he's making out with your sloppy pussy the way that he's tonguing it now. And it works, his insistence, the sting of his mustache on the most sensitive parts of your body, the ever-present pressure against your clit, you feel white hot, blinding pleasure roll over your lower half like a wave of fire.

"Ah- oh god, Bradley," You grunt, voice tapering off into a whine, "-BradleyBradleyBradleyBradley-!"

"Come on," He mumbles, lips barely able to form words around your slick-soaked cunt. He talks you through your orgasm, perhaps less gentle than a reassuring 'good, you're doing so well for me,', but arousing just the same in its gruff demand.

Bradley might be making more noise than you. While you're cumming with various whimpers, moans, groans, and everything in between, he's licking it out of you with lust-filled songs of praise. Every vibration of his vocal chords flows straight south, humming through your trembling cunt as you cum onto his tongue.

He's eager to continue even when you're finished, licking and sucking desperately at your sensitive pussy. It feels good, but you're almost too sensitive already, and you're not waiting another second for his cock.

"No, no-" You reach for his hair, using gentle handfuls of the stuff to guide his face out of your cunt, "No, Brad, I want- mmf!"

He doesn't let you tell him what you want; he doesn't have to, he already knows. He knows what you really want is between his legs, so rather than give you the breath to explain it to him, he surges forwards, knocking his lips into yours and using the momentum to lay you back down onto the mattress.

"Shit," You breathe, feeling his cock nudge at your sensitive cunt immediately, "I- Bradley, I- oh!"

He slams into you with no hesitation, hips on a mission to fuse with your own as he rams his cock into you. It's relentless, more desperate than you've ever felt him before, and you clutch at his broad shoulders as he buries his face in your shoulder.

"Holy shit!" He huffs, a grunting, groaning mess, "I- Jesus, angel, you feel so good, I can't- nngh! I can't get enough. Oh god," He pants, mouth falling open and tongue flattening against your neck, swiping up over your jaw. His mouth latches there, sucking harshly just beneath your ear at the curve of your jaw. His hips drive the same steady pace into you, filling you up impossibly deep with each pump of his cock. It's mind-numbingly hard, probably achingly painful to Bradley, and he buries it inside of you to get relief. The more he thrusts the deeper he goes, until he's slamming into your sweet spot with superhuman fervor. It's like he's chasing something, balls landing heavy against the curve of your ass as he fucks into you.

"Bradley," You moan, nails scraping against the tan, toned skin of his back, "Baby, ah-! Oh my god, keep- keep going!"

"I'm close," He grunts, voice muffled slightly in what you suspect is shame. His libido is strong, and he doesn't usually finish out this fast. But the chocolate counts for something, and he'd spent who knows how many minutes with his face buried inside your cunt with no relief down south. You're not surprised he's cumming quickly, nor are you put off by it.

In fact, you're aroused by it. The feeling of Bradley fucking into you so eagerly, so roughly, so needy; it gets you going. You feel another wave of pleasure begin lapping at your underbelly, maybe easier to rise this time because of the swell of the last one. The constant motion of Bradley's thick cock can't be doing any harm, either, and with every flex of his tongue over your neck as he sucks bruises into your skin, you feel your orgasm approaching.

Apparently, the way that your nails dig into Bradley's skin is encouragement for him, as well. Your thighs tremble from the weight of your previous orgasm, and the impending pressure of your next one, and Bradley's dick twitches like it's painful for him to keep it together.

"S'okay, Brad," You pant, scraping a hand up his back to cradle the back of his neck. He's still suckling on your neck, tongue and teeth working in tandem to mar your skin with marks, "S'okay, cum, honey. Feels so good, you- ooh, you feel so fucking good!"

Your encouragement helps, and his dick twitches again. You tug on his hair, and his thighs tense. But what really does it is the way you yank his head back with your fistful or his hair, pulling him out of your neck to kiss him and inviting him to occupy his tongue with your own instead of your throat.

The second your tongue brushes against his own, he cums. It's like a dam bursting, every ounce of arousal he'd tried holding in and prolonging bursting forth from his cockhead straight into your leaking cunt. You're already slick enough from all of your own release, but his gushes from the seam between his cock and your cunt, stretched and fucked dumb.

"Oh, oh my god," Bradley pants, the words flowing directly between your lips as he mouths at your tongue. He's desperate to do something with his mouth, he always has been, and it's no surprise that he'd taken time to appreciate your cunt earlier. He licks over your tongue, his own tucking to the inside of your cheek for a brief second before he sucks at yours again. It only makes your own arousal more intense, and before you know it, your second, possibly more intense orgasm is seizing you, tensing your muscles and spasming through you.

He cums for a long time, dick twitching and spurting cum the more he makes out with you, and the more your cunt convulses around him in your own orgasm. Your kiss is sloppy, it's messy, there's drool leaking down the corners of your mouth, and that's what makes it so effective to stretch out his orgasm. When you're both sure you couldn't cum more if you tried, he slumps over your chest, his full weight on you as he lays panting on your sweaty skin.

"Jesus Christ," He groans, voice broken and raspy with strain, "That- that was- fuck, the best sex we've ever had."

"Mm-hm," You nod lazily, enjoying a rare moment of breathing freely, "Yeah, we- we need to use those chocolates again."

"Yeah," He agrees emphatically, his mustache prickling against the skin at the slope of your breast, "I didn't think it would work. Not like that, Christ."

"I'm glad it did," You muse, and you feel Bradley shift against your thigh, his cock already half-stiff again. He grinds it into you, what you think is accidentally, but his groan lets you know it felt nice.

"Baby," You start, but he's already rubbing up against you once more, humping his hardening cock against your thigh.

"I need- I just need a little more," He almost whimpers, tightening his hold on your upper half, "Babe, I need- more, please!"

"Okay," You soothe, kissing his sweaty forehead, "Okay, here."

You reach down, hand at your side to feel for his cock. It's not hard to find, hot and heavy where he's bucking it against your thigh. You wrap your palm around the shaft, your thumb nudging up against the tip. You flatten your finger against his slit, pumping your hand up the length when it makes him jolt. He keeps his face buried in your chest, drool seeping from his lips and dripping down your breast. You feel it trickle over your nipple, sending a chill up your spine as it cools on your skin.

"Oh my god," He moans, lips desperately roving your skin until they find your nipple. He latches onto it, lips pursed and tongue relentlessly swirling over the stiffened bud. He keeps bucking his hips into your hand, though you're moving your fist to meet him. Remnants of his first orgasm and your second are slicked all up his shaft, and it's adequate lube as you stroke him towards another release.

Bradley's teeth pinch momentarily at your nipple, a sensation that makes you jolt. In doing so, you squeeze his cock slightly, your thumb pressing hard into his slit.

"Fuck!" He gasps, lips parting only to get the word out before wrapping around your nipple once more. Now that he knows what you're sensitive to at the moment he's merciless, nipping and biting and tugging at your tit with his teeth.

You're fucked out beyond belief, but Bradley's dick is practically pulsing in your grip, and the more tense his thighs get, the more restless he is on your tit.

Finally, he breaks away with a breath, "Wait! Wait, I wanna cum on your- in your mouth, babe."

"Okay." You pant, instantly on board, "Here, sit up, and I'll-"

You make to do the same, trying to struggle off of the pillow to prop yourself up against the headboard. But he holds you down with one strong hand, straddling your face instead. His cock hangs thick and heavy between his thighs, an easy reach for you. All you have to do is stick your tongue out and you can lick over half of it, something that makes him buck forwards into your mouth.

You gag slightly as the tip of his cock hits your throat, and he lets out a strangled grunt that tries turning into a whimper at the end. It's a flattering sound, encouraging you to wrap your lips around him and bob your head up and down as best you can while laying down.

it takes only a few sloppy strokes to the base of his cock and a gentle massage to his balls to get him to cum a second time, and you wish you had more time to appreciate the way his thick, toned thighs frame your head. They're nearly suffocating you, tan hunks of flesh and muscle, and want to bite them. You refrain, focusing on tonguing the slit of his cock so that he cums into your mouth.

"Holy shit!" He breathes, tone incredulous as he fucks down your throat, "Yeah, yeah- oh my god, babe, keep sucking, mmf- yeah!"

His cum spurts warm and plentiful over your tongue, something you're grateful for even if you almost choke on it. He pulls himself out of you to give you room to swallow, stroking himself through his orgasm, and he doesn't comment on the weak cough you give when struggling to swallow the cum pooling in your mouth. A drop lands on your lower lip, and you're eager to lick it away once you've finished your mouthful.

Bradley's looming over you now, breathing heavy and still straddling your face. You can't help but turn your head to kiss at his thigh, nipping softly at the muscle there and eliciting a gentle yelp from him.

"Easy," He laughs breathlessly, stroking your cheek, "I can't take any more. Jesus, I'm- I'm fucked out, babe."

"Me too," You agree, breathing equally heavily, "Brad, gimme my phone, I wanna do the- the trend thing."

He might not understand, but he complies. He dismounts from the mattress, thighs sadly no longer caging your head between them, and hands you your phone that's charging on the nightstand.

You cover yourself with the bedsheets while Bradley slips his boxers back on, and he comes when you beckon him to get in frame of the camera beside you. You're both the picture of fucked out, sweaty, panting, swollen lips and glazed-over eyes. You hit record, voice raspy when you speak: "Those chocolate things, they- they work good."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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llyfrenfys · 5 months

Text

"Fascism and Welsh Nationalism", or "Stop Fawning over the FWA you cont"

This is inspired by things I've been noticing around Aberystwyth lately while out and about.

Some mfer is putting up Free Welsh Army (FWA) stickers and I have to keep on pulling them down. Why? You ask.

Fascism.

Because of the not so subtle links between the FWA and fascist movements (of which those links are quite frankly underdiscussed) this post is necessary.

So, starting with the stickers:

This is just one of three identical stickers I've pulled down this last week in Aberystwyth. They appear more to be car stickers than anything else and must have cost a pretty penny to print and/or purchase. They appear to have been bought directly from a website using FWA imagery and slogans - yet does not claim to be the FWA (that I can see, at least). I'm not going to link to it because they don't need any more web traffic. But we will get onto why this is significant in a bit.

Anyway, returning to the stickers - I pulled down the first one off of an electric box on North Road, opposite Vaynor St in late November. I pulled down the second (pictured) also in late November on Penglais Road off the bus stop near the hospital. And in early December I pulled down the third one off of a wall near the Spar at the end of Vaynor Street. Right off the bat we can assume the guy who wasted a lot of money on these stickers lives local to where the stickers I've found so far were. So they're lazy, for one - not venturing much further than their own front door by the looks of it.

Iconography:

I've written about the iconography of the FWA before here but it bears repeating that if fascists approve of your iconography, then that's a sign your movement is already overrun with fascists.

This is the sticker design which I've been noticing about town. Top to bottom we have "Cymru Rydd/Free Wales" which on its own is fine. No qualms with that. But between the Welsh and English text is a symbol. This one:

Now, this was the symbol of the Free Wales Army. Note that I say *was* because the FWA doesn't exist any more. Yet various actors have tried to resurrect its very unsuccessful corpse over the years. These stickers seem to belong to a new organisation which is the latest to try and capitalise on the ghost of the FWA. Now, if you're like me, you'll have already noticed this design is, for lack of a better word, a bit dogwhistley. The angled, blocky, swastika-like stylisation of what is supposedly an eagle, the black and white void of any other features and the very fact it *is* an eagle depicted all seem a bit *too* similar to the iconography of the Third Reich, don't you think?

Their design choice is no accident. It is a design which appeals to fascists while also has enough Welsh cultural reference for apologists to hide behind with a plausibly deniable reason for why their eagle Looks Like That. The white eagle is a reference to the 13th C. poem Mab Darogan, in which Myrddin prophesises that "a king shall come with heroism from among the Welsh people" and that "generous men shall be reborn of the lineage of the eagles of Snowdonia". The eagle could have literally been drawn in any way. But it rather specifically was drawn like this. That choice is not accidental.

Now this new organisation which is trying to reanimate the corpse of the FWA (we'll call them EW) has incorporated the FWA symbol into their sticker. An endorsement of the failed so-called 'paramilitary' organisation on their part, to be sure. EW also have included a different style of white eagle on their sticker as well - which is blatantly stolen from Wikipedia (the copyright is expired, but 0/10 artistic effort on their part even so). Also not to nitpick but the eagle on the sticker is grey not white so that's also a fail.

Artistic criticisms aside, the sticker is loaded with dogwhistley iconography all round. The Celtic knot border isn't necessarily problematic, however, fascists and/or neo-nazis love to slap Celtic knots onto things because they associate Celticity with whiteness. The colour scheme may also be a coincidence, but it does remind me of the fascist symbol which is the 'Flag of Kekistan" which uses the same colour scheme.

Why does this matter and who were the FWA?:

The FWA were a Welsh nationalist (supposedly 'paramilitary') outfit which formed in Lampeter in 1963 and disbanded in 1969 (just 6 years of activity). They took a lot of their cues from the IRA and were effectively fanboys of them. The group was never really considered a threat and mostly consisted of middle-aged men playing paramilitary dress-up. They did claim to be funded by the IRA and that they had dogs trained to carry explosives. Their claims remain unproven.

HOWEVER - and here's where things get sticky. A lot of the issues the FWA were publicly concerned with were and are actually valid issues (e.g. the drowning of Capel Celyn, the Aberfan Disaster etc.). The problem is that fascists or fanboys of fascists love to get their foot in the door by addressing genuine issues. But what happens is that invariably a minoritised group is blamed for the existence of said issue and naturally that leads to discrimination and violence.

The police started to get a bit antsy with the investiture of then-prince Charles as prince of Wales and the possibility of the FWA doing some terrorism. So some of the FWA's leaders were arrested just prior to this. The group officially ended in 1969.

The nationalism advocated for by the FWA was of the 'blood-and-soil' type. Not just your common or garden nationalism (which still has issues but given context is perfectly able to exist in a non-fashy way). And that's why the idolisation of the FWA in years since is sus. It appeals to romanticised nationalist notions of brave men in uniforms helping free Wales - when in reality they did little terrorism and little to actually further the Welsh nationalist cause. In fact, the leadership of the FWA fell apart after they started to disagree on whether their actions were damaging the cause rather than helping it.

Julian Cayo-Evans founded the FWA and ran it with Dennis Coslett and Gethin ap Gruffydd. Gruffydd went on to found other youth nationalist organisations after he left the FWA due to disagreements with its direction - e.g. he founded the Patriotic Front in 1964 which was later outlawed by Plaid Cymru in 1966. It goes without saying names like 'Patriotic Front' are deliberate nods to other, similarly named fascist organisations like National Front.

Legacy and The Present:

FWA's only legacy is the sycophantic fanclub which ressurects the corpse of the FWA every few years to parade it around and relive the 'glory days' of paramilitary cosplay. But aside from functionally being useless, their iconography and politics are still very much under the fash umbrella and that must be resisted at every opportunity (hence why I'm tearing down their stickers - I don't want fascists to feel welcome here). Part of why people may turn a blind eye to the FWA/sympathise is that they may not be aware of the history of the FWA or see the dogwhistles laden in their work and symbols. Some may even just assume without any other context that they're just another Welsh-language preservation group and may even support them without realising the deeper nature of the organisation beyond just preserving the Welsh language.

Which brings me back to EW. I'm going to put the rest of this under a cut, I do encourage reading the rest though and reblogging to get the word out that

It is always morally okay to tear down fascist propaganda

If you see some in your town, don't hesitate to let fash know they aren't welcome here.

EW:

So, onto the latest in a long line of paramilitary wannabes who idolise a long-dead organisation from the 60s.

The EW website seems... sketch. Lots of banners and sections asking to 'donate now' and 'take action' (with money). So right off the bat this looks like a cash-grab.

Secondly, from their own 'About' section they claim that the Welsh Independence movement has "become inundated with authoritarian Marxist entryists who regard Welsh independence as merely a vehicle for furthering their own political agendas". Which is pretty bold stuff coming from an organisation trying to do The Exact Same. There's also a LOT of emphasis on youth involvement and youth nationalism.

There's also a lot of ahistorical claims in the About section too. E.g. on the prophecy of Myrddin "From this legend derives the very name of Cymru’s greatest mountains, with ‘Eryri’ meaning the ‘Seat of the Eagles’ in Cymraeg." - this is contested as there is no one agreed upon etymology of Eryri. To claim that this is The Etymology suggests that they picked this one just because it conveniently fits the version of the mythology they're presenting. They also claim that "Owain ap Gruffydd, would adopt three such eagles as his royal coat of arms" - this is blatantly incorrect as Owain ap Gruffydd lived before the Age of Heraldry and the three eagles are actually later attributed arms.

In EW's FAQ there's a section on supporting their organisation - with one paragraph saying that you can buy stickers instead "If you aren’t eligible or willing to commit to becoming an activist". Lol at 'if you aren't willing to fully commit to our FWA fanboy club you can put up some stickers instead'. Also the button to buy stickers suggests you pay via paypal "We’ll accept quick payments using PayPal and will have them shipped to you First Class" - which *totally* sounds legit (what do you bet they ask people to pay via 'friends and family instead of through business means?).

And... that's it. There's very little else on their website. It *looks* like they're trying to be a movement, but appear to lack substance (and money, judging from how many different Donate Now buttons are plastered all over the site). A hollow organisation blatantly bending history and mythology to fit their narrative, proudly using symbols designed to appeal to fascists while asking people to trust them with the future of Wales?

Dim diolch.

For further reading on why we should guard against fascism in Welsh language revival and independence, see my other post here.

Reblogs welcome for an antifascist independent Wales.

#cymraeg #cymru #free wales army #fwa #eryri #eryr wen #antifascist #annibyniaeth #welsh independence #welsh #fascism cw #neo nazism cw #white nationalism cw #long post

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Note

HAPPY 500 BABE!! stewy smut with 23 perhaps?!

Fully Clothed.

23. "Good girl." / "Perfect girl."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested in sending a request!! always happy when i get a stewy request - thank you anon for sending this in and for being so sweet <3

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Assistant!Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! sexual content and cursing.

Word Count - 881

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

"Come in."

You enter the office to be met with the sight of Stewy Hosseini with his head in his hands, hair messy where he's been running his fingers through it.

"You okay?" you ask tentatively.

Stewy just sighs in response.

It's no secret that he has a reputation for being one of the calmest men in the business. He never gets angry, rarely gets upset - he approaches every deal with a level head, and an almost irritating amount of confidence. You can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him genuinely stressed.

This must be bad.

"I just wanted to see if you needed anything," you press. You take a step further into the office, bringing yourself into his eyeline.

Stewy checks his watch and looks at you with wide eyes.

"You were supposed to go home two hours ago. What are you still doing here?"

Shit. You didn't think he'd notice.

"I... uh - I know that you're stressed about this deal, and... I didn't think it was fair to leave you here alone. Thought you might want a familiar face around, maybe," you say quietly.

"See, this is why I bought you that mug for Christmas," he jokes.

Your present from him had been a mug with the slogan 'World's Best Assistant' written in bright red letters. You loved it.

You laugh, and the sound releases some of the tension from his shoulders.

"Do you need anything?" you ask again, eager to do your job and make his life a little easier.

"Yeah, actually. Can you shut those blinds?"

He nods to the big windows next to the door that look out onto the floor of empty desks, everyone else having gone home.

"Of course," you reply, moving to do as he asked. Once they're shut, he moves his chair back slightly, creating space between him and the desk he was previously sat behind.

"Come here," he murmurs.

He says it quietly, so as not to startle you, but you hear it clear as day. You approach him carefully, moving to stand between his spread legs. He looks up at you with mischievous eyes.

He pats his thighs, signalling for you to sit down. When he sees you hesitate, he reaches for your hips, pulling you towards him gently.

"Sit with me, pretty girl."

You throw your inhibitions out the window, and move so you're straddling him on his big leather chair.

"Other way," he commands, but the scent and warmth of him is making you dizzy. You can't quite comprehend what he's telling you.

"Huh?"

"You fucked out already, honey? I haven't even touched you yet," he teases.

He pushes you off him, and pulls you back down so your back is against his chest. He moves your thighs so they're spread open by his. He rolls his hips upwards, and you can feel him hot and hard against your ass. It makes you whine, and he chuckles at the sound.

Stewy dances his fingers up the insides of your thighs, underneath your pencil skirt. When he gets to your underwear, he caresses the edges gently, avoiding where you need him most.

"Please," you whimper.

"Please what, sweetheart?" he goads, revelling in seeing you so pliant.

"Please touch me, Stewy."

"There you go," he murmurs. "Atta girl. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

With that, he pulls your underwear to the side and runs his fingers through your slick.

"Fuck," he groans. "This all for me, sweet girl?"

"Yes," you moan, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder. He kisses your temple and inhales the scent of your shampoo. Yep, he's fucked.

He decides to take mercy on you, watching you writhe in his lap. He pushes two fingers into you, groaning and rolling his hips when he feels how warm you are.

You sigh in relief, canting your hips up to meet his fingers. He starts to work up a steady rhythm, curling his fingers on every upstroke. He knows when he's found the spot, because the moan you let out is pornographic. He's suddenly glad the office is empty.

"Right there?" he murmurs into your ear, breath warm on your cheek.

"Yes," you whine. "Yes, yes, please."

"You're filthy, you know that? Letting me finger fuck you in my office, both of us fully clothed."

You whimper, and Stewy speeds up his fingers, moving his thumb to circle your clit in tandem with his strokes.

"There we go," he mutters. "I can feel it, pretty girl. Give it to me. Let me have it."

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out as you reach your high. Your back arches up and away from him, but he pulls you back with a strong arm wrapped around your front.

"Good girl," he groans. "Perfect girl. So good for me."

He lets you ride out your climax before pulling out his fingers and shoving them straight into his mouth.

You moan at the sight, and he winks cheekily.

"Come on, pretty girl," he murmurs. "Let's get you home."

You look at him questioningly, and he understands without you having to say the words.

"My home," he clarifies. "Now that I've had a taste of you, I'm never gonna get enough, honey."

stewy tag list -

@justacaliforniandreamer

@616wilsons

@isuspectitwasthenargles

#stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x oc #stewy hosseini smut #stewy hosseini fluff #stewy hosseini x you #stewy hosseini x reader smut #stewy hosseini x reader #succession #succession fanfic #succession smut #succession fic #arian moayed #succession x reader #succession x you #murphy's 500 followers celebration #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy smut #stewy hosseini x assistant reader #stewy hosseini x assistant!reader

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marshmallow--3 · 2 years

Text

Just imagine if you're pregnant with the Moon Boys' baby, and you'd run out of milk so he drives to the store to pick some more up

But he's been gone for a long time & you start to worry, so you give him a text to see if he's okay

And he comes home maybe half an hour later, smiling and nodding at you and hiding some bags behind his back

"Promise you won't be mad?"

And you're like, "I'm pregnant, I can't guarantee any emotions right now."

And he concedes, "Alright, fair enough." Then he brings the bags out from behind his back - you count three, & each of them are very full. And he explains that there was a sale on at the store on baby clothes and that he may have picked up one or two things

And you laugh a little, "We don't even know what we're having yet"

And he smiles, "I know," and explains he managed to pick up a few bits that would work either way, boy or girl

You'd tease, "A few? It was 'one or two' a minute ago"

Say he goes through all the things he's bought, showing you the different bibs, fluffy onesies, Winnie the Pooh vests and t-shirts with cute slogans on that he's picked up

And the whole time, you're smiling, your heart is all warm, your joy and love for these men glowing in your face

And finally, you ask, "And the milk?"

His entire face drops, he pauses for a moment, before yelling, "oh shit!" and getting back to his feet to dash out the front door

#moon boys #moon knight #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #pregnant reader #pregnancy #tw: pregnancy

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serasfanfiction · 9 days

Text

CW: For Valentino being Valentino. He doesn't do anything, but he does say some things.

oOo

The closer they came to V Tower, the more loud everything became.

Paper posters gave way to bulletin boards. Every street was lit with flashing signs and arrows, pointing the way to different businesses down the main strip. Advertisements were nearly plastered on every single available surface, competing with each other in a cacophony of bright colors and promises to make all of one's troubles go away, if only one bought the product.

Sinners wandered the streets, some glued to their phones as they typed out a text message, watched a video, or shouted at someone on the other end of a phone call. Some sinners loitered around various shops selling televisions, each screen showing an advertisement for the latest gadget VoxTek was selling.

The Vees made it ridiculously easy to learn their faces, as none of the trio were shy about plastering their likeness all over their wares. Vox was clearly unafraid to throw his reputation behind anything he supported, one advertisement proclaiming, "I'd buy it." Valentino left nothing to the imagination - figurative or literally - on what he was selling, with various larger than life posters that featured the moth scantily clad and in suggestive poses. Velvette was significantly more reserved, in comparison, with only a billboard advertising her perfume, named, Love Potion.

Quite frankly speaking, it was all a bit overstimulating.

Walking nonchalantly at his side, Alastor barely gave any of bombastic sights around him a second glance. He had made little commentary since they had set out from the hotel earlier in the day, falling silent as they had entered the Vees territory. Where all of this technology was practically invented yesterday, as far as Lucifer was concerned, Alastor had lived on Earth when most of the technology around them was still in its infancy stages. Advertising, likewise, was hardly new. Humans had been shouting at each other to buy this or to buy that since they'd first come up with the idea of selling a product. They may not have had flashing lights in the 1920s or 30s, but there had been posters, billboards, and radio ads.

Modern technology just made everything more... flashy.

Lucifer watched a group of sinners standing before an electronic shop, TVs stacked up in the window. Each TV was showing the same thing: an advertisement for the latest cell phone. He was a little surprised he still cared enough to be sickened as Vox straight up hypnotized the viewers into buying the phone. He shook his head in disgust a they passed group turned mob making a mad dash into the store. "Quite the salesman, Vox is," Lucifer commented, not trying to hide his judgmental tone.

Alastor snorted. He glanced at the group scampering out with their new cell phones as he drawled, "Vox has always had a... persuasive sales pitch."

It was Lucifer's turn to snort as they passed another poster of Vox, this time just the overlord and his VoxTech logo. His ever present slogan, Trust Us, curved around the logo. "You mean he hypnotizes people into doing what he wants." It was good to know in advance. No one had ever tried to hypnotize the Devil himself before and he wasn't keen to find out if it was possible.

"Hm," Alastor hummed in agreement. "Just so."

V Tower was easy to spot, even with all the noise going on in the background. The number of surveillance cameras also began to increase the closer they got to the trio's headquarters. Lucifer eyed one as it followed their trek down the street. "So much for keeping our arrival a surprise."

The redhead smirked, obviously pleased about something. Sing song, he assured, "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

The blonde sighed. He was walking right into it, he knew he was. He was going to do it anyway, because damn his curiosity. "Oh?"

Alastor twirled his staff around his fingers like a baton. "All the cameras we've passed so far have been laughably easy to take out." With a practiced hand, he caught the staff, it's tip pointing at the offending camera. As they passed it, the little button on the side of it blinked from green to red. "Vox isn't paying attention to his little toys. Dear me, he must be away from his surveillance room."

Lucifer squinted at the camera dubiously. "You can tell we're not being watched, by, what? The camera not coming back on?"

Alastor laughed, short and cutting. "Oh, it's more than lack of interaction." He leaned in close, as if he were parting with a juicy secret. "I can tell when Vox is watching." His smile was sharp and cruel and said everything about how pathetic he found the overlord in question. "His attention has a certain... desperation to it."

Lucifer wasn't certain which part of all of that to focus on first: the fact that apparently Vox had flat out stalked Alastor to the point Alastor knew when he was being watched or the fact that Alastor clearly found the whole thing hilarious.

Father, these sinner could be fucked up sometimes.

Lucifer grinned, unable to pass up the opportunity he'd just been handed to needle the deer demon. "Didn't do much about the camera that recorded the fight."

Alastor's expression soured around the edges. His ears flattened as he resumed his previous position, snide as he pointed out, "Yes, well, I was a bit distracted by doing all the work. You should try joining in next time."

Alastor hadn't let him get involved in any of the attacks, insistent that he had everything covered, and they both knew it. Lucifer had let him because he always half hoped someone would kill the asshole.

Lucifer let the conversation drop with little more than a roll of his eyes, his mind drifting as he processed this new information. If Alastor could indeed tell when Vox was watching (which, creepy) and had been surprised by one of the attacks being filmed, one could infer that Vox was keeping the hotel under a certain level of constant surveillance.

After returning from their day out, he had hauled himself up in his room as he scoured the news for mention of any attacks. Had tracked down the news reports Rosie had mentioned. There had only been a number written reports and many more reposted written reports, with a single video dedicated to the subject. The video itself contained footage from the first attack, despite the news articles having all been posted fairly recently. Judging from the general comments under the articles and the video, few people were interested in the hotel itself beyond wanting to know if it still stood or not.

They had been lucky the fight had forced the drone to retreat or risk being destroyed. Distance had rendered the video quality poor enough his bleeding hand wasn't visible for all of Hell to see. Everyone already knew angels could be harmed, killed even. It wouldn't do for anyone to get it into their pretty little heads that angel weapons might work on him or Charlie, however.

(Lucifer tried not to think about the main image he had seen, again and again, in those news articles. Tried not to think about how reverent Alastor had looked like as he reached his hand out to the Devil, as if he were the only God the sinner would ever be able to touch. The framing of the image had made it appear like it was something so different than it had really been.)

Light pressure on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts. Out of the corner of his view, he caught Alastor withdrawing the hand he'd used to get his attention. It was a good thing he had, as it took a second for the sensor above the door to register their presence and trigger the door to open. He could only imagine what the media would have thought if a camera had caught Lucifer running right into the front doors of V Tower while lost in thought.

They stepped through the doors into a lobby themed in oranges and reds with purple accents. Hearts were definitely a motif, accenting arches and their support columns. Purple lanterns dotted every other column, more decoration than function. Lucifer took in the additional advertisements, some on the walls, some on a-frames. A large, flat screen tv displayed the VoxTek logo, but there was nothing currently playing on it.

There were a number of employees dotted around the lobby. A sheep sinner carrying a precarious stack of tablets raced off in one direction, while a horned rabbit sinner ran in another direction with an armful of clothing. A trio of sinners loitered off to the side, whispering back in forth in a frantic, hushed argument about what sounded like bottom lines and stocks. Near the back of the lobby, a blue and yellow sinner shouted about "messy actors" and "shitty wardrobes" as he frantically slammed his finger into the up button of the elevator.

At the center of the lobby, themed similar to the surrounding columns, was a welcome desk, currently being run by a white haired, fuchsia skinned sinner. Her tiny bat wings fluttered and drooped as she fielded calls. Distracted as she was, she failed to notice anyone had entered the lobby until Alastor and Lucifer had already reached the desk.

"One moment, please," she said to them, showing that she had at least noticed they were there. "Now where did Velvette say she wanted her calls sent to today...?" She bit her lip, finger hovering over one of a quite frankly insane number of optional extensions. Her eyes darted back and forth between two of them, before she shrugged and for all intents and purposes flat out guessed which one to send the line to. "Thank you for waiting," she said in a practiced, albeit polite monotone. "How may I... help..." She trailed off as she finally laid eyes on who had walked into the lobby, eyes going wide. She gaped as she recognized Lucifer but went completely blank as she took in Alastor's presence. The blonde was fairly certain that if he could read minds there wouldn't have been a single thought going through her head at that moment.

Lucifer fixed an equally practiced polite smile on his face. "Excuse me, miss," he began, only to pause when she failed to regain her senses, apparently still too flabbergasted by his companion. Brow twitching, he rapped his knuckles sharply upon the marble surface of the desk.

The noise seemed to do the trick, the sinner snapping out of her trance to jerk her head around. "Yes! Um." She swallowed, casting one last nervous glance at the Radio Demon. Between looking at Alastor and looking back at Lucifer, he could see her clawing her professional mask back on with the kind of experience that came from needing to remain calm when one's life was on the line. "How may I help you, sirs?" Her voice didn't even shake a little.

Noting the reaction and shelving the topic for later, Lucifer said, "Please let Vox know we are here to speak with him."

The sinner blinked, disbelief clear as day on her face despite her best efforts not to show it. "You..." Lucifer had the distinct impression the 'you' here was Alastor, even if she wasn't looking directly at him. "Wish to speak with... Vox?" Her tone suggested that had she not been speaking with Lucifer Morningstar, the literal king of Hell, she might have asked him if he was smoking something.

The noise, or lack there of, reached his ears. The general hustle and bustle of when they had entered had completely died down to be replaced by whispers and murmurs. Even without turning, he could feel all eyes on them. Lucifer glanced at Alastor, whose Cheshire Cat grin suggested he was internally laughing at all the fuss his being here was causing. His ears flicked to and fro as he followed different conversations.

Smile fixed in place, he affirmed, "Yup!" He waggled his fingers in the direction of her phone. "Now, please."

The receptionist stared off into the middle distance, the same blank look in her eyes he'd seen on soldier's who'd died at war. In the fatalistic tone of someone who didn't expect to have a job (or possibly be alive) in the morning, she said, "Whelp, this job sucked anyway."

Someone, a little too loudly, stage whispered, "Oh, I would not want to be in her shoes, right now."

Without turning, the receptionist flipped the person off with one hand while picking up the phone with the other. She pressed a seemingly random button as she put the receiver to her ear, a down right manic smile crossed her face.

Lucifer (and likely everyone in the lobby, as well) could tell the instant the phone was answered on the other end. A voice that matched the one's he'd heard in the advertisements bellowed, "WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT INTERUPTING MY MEETINGS?"

Taking advantage of the fact that it sounded like Vox was a sinner who needed to breathe on occasion, the woman said, voice picture perfect cheerful, "The King of Hell and the Radio Demon are here to see you, sir."

A very long, audible pause, both on the phone and from the lobby around them. Then, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ALASTOR'S HERE??"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the redhead, incredulous. Seriously? What kind of history did these two have that Alastor showing up at V Tower was causing this kind of fuss? It was almost enough to make him forget he had been totally overlooked in that last statement.

Around them, every camera in the lobby suddenly came to life, zeroing in on them. Lucifer could tell by their synchronous motion, someone was likely watching them. Alastor's whole posture changed as he turned on one of the cameras, head tilted just so and smile lazy as he waved at it.

As one, those very same cameras began to sizzle and pop as they were all taken out.

Lucifer noted the redhead looked far too pleased with himself for that to have been anything other than deliberate. He knew Alastor hated being recorded, but that was just petty. Turning his attention to the receptionist, it was only because of his heightened sense of hearing that he was able to hear Vox, voice considerably more in control and at a much more reasonable volume, telling her to send them down.

"At once, sir." She set the phone down at leisure, as if she hadn't just had her eardrums tested by her boss shouting in them. Still looking at something only she could see, she said, "Vox will see you now." She pointed behind her to a set of elevators. "Please use the elevator on the right, as this is the only elevator with access to Vox's personal office." Placing her hands on the desk in a deceptively casual way, she finished, "Please have a hellish rest of your day."

"You, too," Lucifer said on reflex. He watched her as they made their way around the desk, throwing glances over his shoulder after they'd passed it. Under his breath, he asked of Alastor, "Think the hotel needs a receptionist?"

They had a front desk, didn't they? And a land line? Maybe? There was no mail service in Hell and Alastor had to get communications somehow, seeing as he refused to touch anything more modern than a radio. He'd check on it when he got back.

"Ha!" Alastor side eyed him. "Come now, your Majesty, you don't want poor Husker to be out of a job, do you?"

Lucifer belatedly remembered that apparently Husk doubled as not just their bartender, but also as their receptionist. He guffawed. One the one hand, Husk was indeed an great bartender, even willing to be a patient ear for one's troubles, if he tolerated them. He was certainly an exceptional judge of someone's character. On the other, was he a good receptionist? No offense meant to the avian feline in question, but, not in the slightest.

Lucifer added the mental note to check in on the receptionist later to his growing list of things to do.

The elevator opened without them pressing any buttons, suggesting that Vox, the creep, had other ways of keeping tabs on them. Lucifer and Alastor stepped in, the former not thrilled with how tiny the elevator was. There was just enough room for the both of them to stand side by side with little to spare. Insult to injury, the most obnoxious elevator music he had ever had the displeasure to have inflicted on him played over head. There were no buttons to chose from, but there seemed to be none needed as the elevator began its decent on it's own.

Lucifer reiterated: what a creep.

More to fill the silence and distract himself from the growing need to destroy the speaker putting out that horrible noise, he asked, "You ever been here before?"

In the same way most people would say, 'I'd rather die, thanks,' Alastor scoffed. "Absolutely not! I'd never inflict such poor company on myself willingly." Still, it wasn't hard to notice the little ways Alastor was on high alert, very much aware of the fact that he had walked willingly into enemy territory. His ego didn't allow him to worry, but it still paid to be alert to potential surprises.

Thankfully, the elevator didn't take long before reaching its destination. This new room was vast, with a color scheme nothing like the lobby's. Where the lobby was warm shades of orange, red and purple, this room was all cool shades of blue, red, white. The room was dark, only illuminates by dozens upon dozens of screens, most glowing with white light, a handful with red light. Red light filtered up from what appeared to be a deep pit surrounding a bridge-like walkway. Attached at the end was a round platform and attached to the platform was a seat surrounded by even more monitors.

This wasn't an office. This was a surveillance room.

Walking down the walkway was none other than the founder of VoxTek, Vox himself, striding along with all the confidence of someone who was at the top of their industry and knew it. His smile was wide and Lucifer immediately pegged it as the fake kind he usually saw on car salesmen. "Your Highness! Welcome!" Vox greeted. When he was close enough, he offered his hand out for a handshake.

Lucifer eyed it, just long enough to make it look like he wasn't going to take it. He didn't expect anyone to actually bow to him in greeting, but something about this guy left him half tempted to push for it now. Taking the hand, he allowed Vox to shake it to be polite.

When it came time to greet Alastor, the TV demon merely gritted his teeth and said, voice dripping with venom, "Alastor."

Alastor didn't appear bothered in the least by the rude greeting. Matching vitriol with amusement, he merely said, "Vox."

Lucifer looked from Vox, to Alastor, and then back to Vox. Man, he was so sorry he hadn't asked for more details on these two before they'd gotten here. Predicting this could go on a while if they were left to their own devises, Lucifer pointedly cleared his throat.

Vox's smile smoothed out, salesman mask back on place. "Yes, of course. Now, your highness," the sinner held out his hand towards the bridge, indicating he'd like them to come into his "office" proper. Lucifer didn't fail to notice there was only one seat down that way and it was meant for Vox. "May I call you Lucifer? Lucifer--"

Oh, absolutely not. They were going to have to nip that in the bud. Even Alastor, who had somehow become his rival for his place in his daughter's life and literally lived down the hall from him, was smart enough not to call him by name.

"The word you're looking for is 'Majesty'."

Vox paused, body tensing. The fallen angel got the impression he wasn't used to being interrupted. "Excuse me?"

Lucifer effected a bored stance, one hand settled on his cane as he explained, deliberately just this side of hostile, "Your Highness is how you would address my daughter." He looked Vox dead in the eye, making it pointedly clear he was deadly serious and there was going to be none of this BS about who was calling the shots. "Your Majesty is how you address your king."

Vox interestingly grew more calm in the face of his king's ire. "Of course, your Majesty," he said, immediately correcting course. He offered they move the conversation to the platform again. This time, Lucifer nodded. He followed as Vox lead the way, noting how the TV demon never quite turned his back on them, seemingly uneasy having Alastor at his back, even this deep into what was his own territory.

Lucifer took the time spent crossing the bridge to exam the pit around them. While the red light obscured the bottom itself, he was able to make out what appeared to be a very large tank behind equally large glass walls. Swimming around without a care in the world were what appeared to be several glowing sharks. He followed one as it made its way from one side of the pit to the other, able to sense there was nothing natural in their design. These creatures may have appeared to be alive, but they were all circuits and wires, through and through.

When they reached the platform, Vox showed sense by not going for his chair. He did stop in the center of the circle, a subtle attempt to regain some control of the situation. "Now, your Majesty," he began, just sincere enough it was impossible to tell if it was fake or not. "Please, tell me how I and VoxTek can be of assistance today."

Lucifer watched him. Watched the way his face was turned to Lucifer, but his eyes kept ticking to Alastor. Noted the way his body was tilted ever so slightly in the redhead's direction, as if drawn by a magnet he couldn't resist. Vox may have been putting on a show of talking to Lucifer, but he very much only had eyes for Alastor.

Someone was obsessed.

Someone was obsessed really badly.

Something that felt suspiciously like possessiveness reared its head deep within his chest. Lucifer had no more of a claim on Alastor than Vox did, but Alastor had chosen to live under his roof and was his daughter's hotelier. Finicky to the last, with all the loyalty of a feral, stray cat, Alastor was theirs.

Smile all teeth, eyes gold on red, Lucifer raised his free hand until they were right under where Vox's nose would be if he had one. He snapped his fingers, once, twice, sharply.

Vox nearly went cross-eyed, as he zeroed in on the offending digits, leaning slightly back.

"I know Alastor is very eye catching," Lucifer drawled, voice deepening as he let his displeasure seep in. "But you are talking to me. Do you understand?"

The TV demon had the grace to raise his hands, not necessarily in surrender, but certainly in a pacifying manner. It was easy to see him cycling through possible responses, as he fished for the one that would deescalate the situation the fastest. "I apologize, you Majesty, for any offense," he settled on, tone so polite it reeked of falseness.

Lucifer let him have it because it seemed Vox was finally cottoning on to the fact that there was a larger predator in the room then either of the two sinners. The reluctant king withdrew a step, pleased when Vox's eyes followed him, with not a single glance at Alastor. Now that he had the CEO's full attention, he decided it was time to get this show on the road. "I have a message for everyone in the Pride Ring. I've noticed how many people have a TV or a cellphone. I've also noticed VoxTek's reach." Lucifer said this last part only because it was true. However they had managed it, VoxTek has even managed to make it's way into the other rings.

For the first time since they'd arrived, Vox's smile actually appeared real. It put into stark light how fake the one he had been wearing up until this moment had been. "We would be thrilled to feature you on one of our television shows, your Majesty." He was smart enough not to look at Alastor, although it was obvious the next part was directed towards him. "Our viewership ratings have been going through the roof over the last few years. Statistics show that almost every household in the Pentagram City has a TV these days."

It was a good sales pitch. It might even have been true. The hotel had even had a TV, although Lucifer had explicitly forbidden anyone from bringing one into the palace, the exception being the live-in servants' personal quarters. Regardless, Vox hadn't said that to try and sale anyone on anything, he'd said it to rub it in Alastor's face that Lucifer had chosen to pass his message along over Vox's medium, instead of Alastor's.

Although they hadn't discussed it ahead of time, Lucifer found himself saying, in all the casualness of it having been a given, "If Alastor wishes to broadcast the message simultaneously over radio for our viewers who prefer the medium, he's more than welcome to do so, but we're not here to discuss that." He was fairly certain, even without turning around, that Alastor hadn't given it away that this was news to him.

The idea was reinforced by the way that Vox's eye twitched before he could regain control over it. "Yes, of course we want it to reach all of the intended audiences." Hands coming to rest at the small of his back, the TV demon attempted to steer them back on course. "Now, about the content of the message."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "Does it matter what the content is? Unless you prefer I go somewhere else to do this." Something that was also true. Mammon may lack any talent of his own, but he knew a cash grab when he saw one. He jumped onto the bandwagon that was television sets, TV shows, and moving advertisements as soon as the technology had hit Hell. The only reason none of his products where seen in the Pride Ring was because Lucifer limited his exposure to sinners were ever he could. If he gave him the green light, Mammon would topple VoxTek within a matter of months, if not less.

Vox paused, sensing he was in troubled waters, but not quite sure from which direction. "No, no. We here at VoxTek simply prefer to make sure that all the content we put out is content we stand by--"

Lucifer leaned in. If his tail were out, it would have been thrashing. "Are you saying your king could say anything VoxTek wouldn't support?"

Vox's screen left eye widened ever so slightly, the sclera going from a solid red, to more hypnotic red and black. It was there and gone in the blink of his eyes. His voice sounded glitchy as he gritted out a, "No."

"May I suggest something, your Majesty?"

Lucifer broke off what was quickly becoming a staring match with Vox to turn his attention to Alastor. The redheaded sinner had been standing behind him, seemingly content to watch the drama unfold from the side as Lucifer took the lead. Considering their rivalry, Lucifer was a little hesitant to allow Alastor to enter the fray, lest he potentially make things worse. However, he did appreciate the fact that these two knew each other better than he knew either of them.

Giving away the floor, at least for now, Lucifer gave a single short nod, for him to proceed.

Alastor stepped up until they were side by side.

Unable to resist now that the redhead had center stage, Vox immediately shifted to face him, Lucifer all but forgotten. He frowned, almost all pretenses of being a businessman all but thrown out the window. "What are you doing here, Alastor?" He snipped at the redhead. "I know you'll take any opportunity to move up in Hell, but I didn't take you as a kiss ass."

Alastor smiled at him, as if he were a short sighted child. "We hadn't gotten to that part, have we?" He gave his staff a little spin, noting the way Vox's eyes narrowed as he took in it's repaired state. "His Majesty asked me to stand with him as he gave his address."

Vox snorted, doubtful. "You'd never agree to appearing on screen." He actually started to laugh at the idea, until he realized Alastor was completely serious. "Wait, you said yes?" Gaping, he turned on Lucifer, seeming in his shock to forget who he was talking to. "What the hell did you do to get him to agree to show up on TV?" He glared back and forth between then, baring his teeth as he asked, "What, are you two fucking or something?"

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, lip curling back. In one fell swoop, Vox had just reduced himself to less than scum on the bottom of his boots. The only reason they were continuing this conversation was because he didn't feel like dragging Valentino down to the Greed Ring. "Maybe you just don't know how to speak his language," he snipped back, mouth moving before he could think about what he was saying or how much it gave away.

Before Vox could think too deeply on it, the redhead cleared his throat. For all that he preferred to be an unseen voice on the radio, Alastor did how to play his audience in person. "Let me sweeten the deal," he said, his hand running down the pole of his staff, eyeing the TV demon as he did so. "If you agree to broadcast our King's message, I'll do that one little thing you wanted me to do when you asked me to join you." He pointed the microphone end at Vox, the tip perilously close to his screen. "From when you agree to the end of the broadcast."

Vox stared at the microphone. Slowly, he raised his eyes until he met Alastor's. Something that looked suspiciously like sadness peaked through his anger, although Lucifer was certain they weren't supposed to see it. "You'd really do that. For him?"

Alastor withdrew his staff, tucking it under his arm. With his free hand, he reached out until a single claw rested under Lucifer's chin. Encouraging him to look up at him, Lucifer let Alastor tilt his head up and around to meet that fond expression on the redhead's face. "As his Majesty said, he knows how to speak my language."

Vox's eyes widened, a dawning expression coming over him. Real horror followed shortly behind it. "Holy shit," he whispered, staggering back. Lucifer tore his gaze away from Alastor's just in time to see him drop into his chair as if his strings had been cut. Dragging a hand down his face, Vox said with absolute certainty, "You actually made a Faustian Bargain."

He said it like this was his worst nightmare came to life.

Beside him, Alastor practically radiated smug triumph. It was all the affirmation he needed to give.

All of the fight hadn't been been cut from Vox just yet. Unhappy as he was with this set back, Vox was already trying to figure out how spin this in his favor. An elbow resting on each arm of his chair, the knuckles of his joined hands pressed to his lips, he countered, "Alright, Alastor does his thing and I'll broadcast whatever you want." His grin took up most of his screen, all pretenses of friendliness dropped. "Give me an hour to prepare the studio for you."

Before Vox could run off, Lucifer placed one last little condition on him. "Vox. Make sure the other Vees are in attendance." At the TV demon's questioning tilt of his head, the blonde merely said, "I wouldn't want anyone to miss my message."

Whatever Vox thought of this was hidden behind his joined hands. Instead of bothering with any of the usual ways out of the room, Vox transformed into a bolt of electricity, disappearing into one of the monitors.

Silence descended over the room. Then, "You two have history."

Alastor snorted. "You know how to use your eyes, your Majesty. I'm impressed."

Lucifer ignored the sarcasm and the insult in favor of observing his companion. The redhead's brows were furrowed with concentration, eyes closed and the very air around him warped to a noticeable degree. To Lucifer, a creature who had existed before physical matter, picking up on the way Alastor was enhancing certain electromagnetic waves around him was child's play. Hoping to kill two birds with one stone - learning more about their shared history while figuring out what the sinner was doing - the little king gave into his curiosity and asked, "What did Vox want you to do?"

Alastor didn't answer for a moment, whatever he was doing taking quite a bit of his concentration. Lucifer patiently waited him out. Several minutes ticked by with nothing by the hum of the monitors and the swimming of the sharks to keep him occupied. Cracking open a single eye a slit, Alastor reached a point in whatever he was doing where he could split his attention. Lucifer noted the pupil of the visible eye was a dial.

"Do you know how the technology in that silly little device in your pocket works?" Alastor asked by way of response.

The only things Lucifer tended to carry on his person were his cane, which was in his hand, and his cellphone, in case Charlie tried to call him (rare that it was). His cellphone, which was indeed in his pocket. Fishing it out, he eyed it. He knew it worked. He knew how to work it. Did he really need to know more? Besides, it wasn't one of VoxTek's cellphones, which made him less wary of it. Confused as to where this was going, he said, "It works, isn't that all that matters?"

"Such a pedestrian response." Alastor hummed, his microphone coming over to point at the little device. "You device works because it's able to transmit data via radio waves." He used his staff to gesture to the room around them, his eye falling shut now that he no longer needed to see to engage in the conversation. "Vox's specialty is electricity. He can interact with anything that uses it."

Lucifer remembered the way the TV demon had disappeared into his monitor, a chill running down his spine as he imagined what all else he could likely interact with.

"Radio waves, on the other hand, are my specialty," Alastor continued. This fit with what Lucifer had observed both in the current moment and back at the radio tower. "Usually I simply use them to connect myself to any radio in Pentagram City, but I can also enhance them." His edges of his smile tightened. There was no strain in his posture, but Lucifer was suspicious they might see hints of it if this carried on too long. "When Vox wanted to introduce wireless technology to Hell, he suggested that we team up. He would create the technology and the demand, and I would enhance his reach." His expression sharpened into a sneer. "I had no interest in being a mere tool in elevating him to the top."

Judging from the short interaction he'd observed, Lucifer was suspicious Vox had wanted much more than just to use Alastor as a tool. Vox had done little to hide the depth of his anger and hatred, and no one reached that level of emotion without having swung in the opposite direction first. Lucifer wondered if Alastor had really turned Vox down because of his own lust for power or if Alastor had seen the way Vox had looked at him and hadn't been interested.

Since that question was more likely to shut down the conversation then receive an answer, resigned himself to never knowing. Either way, he supposed he should be happy that Alastor had turned Vox down. Lucifer didn't want to think about what they could have accomplished if they had somehow found a way to work together.

Instead, he went with, "So, you can interact with anything that receives radio waves, then. Not just radios?"

In response, his cell phone dinged. The screen lit up to the lock screen, showing he had a new text message. Though it should be improbable, there was nothing in the place of a sender's name. Lucifer silently frowned at it, suspicious of who was the sender, but unwilling to open anything he didn't know who it came from.

As if sensing his distrust, Alastor crooned, "Go on. I promise it's not spam."

Lucifer was still wary, but he unlocked his phone. If this was malicious ware, Alastor was getting him a new phone.

The text message was indeed not spam. When he opened it up, there were simply two words:

You suck!

Lucifer glared at the message. "So, what? How would this help Vox?"

Alastor wagged a finger at him. "I'm currently high jacking every TV and cellphone with it's WIFI turned on. 666 News has never been more popular than it is right now." He paused, as if searching for something. "I excluded most of the phones in the hotel, but I do have Angel's."

Lucifer whistled, giving credit where it was due. That was honestly incredible. Terrifying in it's reach, holy shit, but incredible. A thought crossed his mind, an unholy grin slowly spreading across his face as he wondered, "Wait, if I reply to this, will the message go straight to you?"

"Ha!" Alastor shook his head, using his microphone to bop the top of Lucifer's hat. An impressive feat, considering his eyes were still closed. "Sorry, but I'm merely a transmitter and an amplifier. My abilities don't work that way."

Lucifer straightened his hat, half tempted to try anyway, just to see if it were true. Perhaps he would another time.

He was interrupted from any further questions by one of the monitors coming to life over Vox's chair. A moment later, the sinner himself reentered the same way he had left. Vox settled back in his chair, legs crossed and significantly more calm than when he left. "The studio will be ready for you in half an hour." He glanced once at Alastor, who had opened his eyes upon the TV demon's return, before returning back to Lucifer. "Let's relocate there now, shall we?"

Lucifer nodded. Instead of leading them towards the elevator they'd come down in, Vox merely joined them in the center of the platform. It became apparent why when the very middle suddenly began to rise, revealing there was yet more ways in and out of the surveillance room. Once they were back in the lobby, he led them over to elevator on the left, only sticking with them long enough to press the button of the floor with the studio, before pulling back out of it. "I'll meet you up there."

The door closed, once again leaving just the two of them and that horrible elevator music.

Lucifer glanced at Alastor. He still looked fine, but he was definitely putting out a lot of power. Feeling concerned (Alastor had agreed to do this for him) and wary of insulting him, he asked, checking in, "You doing okay, still?"

Alastor's ear twitched, the widening of smile showing he wasn't insulted, but rather amused. "Oh, don't worry your little head, I'll be just fine, your Majesty." Eyes aglow with more than just the power it took to carry out his promise, he added, "But I expect a reward when we return to the Hotel."

Lucifer felt a jolt run up his spine. The chain around his neck didn't manifest, but he could feel it tightening ever so. Alastor was invoking their deal, officially giving him his 12 hour notice. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, as Alastor had yet to actually invoke the deal since making it with him. Tilting his head so his hat hid his expression from both Alastor and the camera's gaze, Lucifer grumbled, "Should have known you'd do nothing for free."

The doors to the elevator opened, illuminating the redhead's sinister grin. A few sinners had paused to catch a glimpse of them as the doors opened, only to pale at the expression on Alastor's face. They quickly scurried off to carry out their tasks. Lucifer stepped through the doors, taking in the chaos in front of him. Numerous demons were running around, similar to the frantic energy he'd seen in the lobby, everyone getting the studio ready. A stack of papers and angry shouting from a blonde woman in a red dress (what was her name? It started with a K) suggested that something else had been planned for this hour, but had been cancelled due to Lucifer's abrupt interruption.

Lucifer might have felt bad, if it weren't for the fact that he knew without a shadow of a doubt this particular reporter was likely going to find some way to verbally eviscerate him later. He may not have remembered her name, but he did remember her particular brand of cutthroat journalism and the outright nasty things she had said about his daughter in the past. And her casual abuse of her co-reporter.

As if sensing she was being watched, the reporter turned her head a full 180 degrees, her smile down right unhinged and full of promises.

Not for the first time since landing in Hell, Lucifer almost wished he was still capable of creating Holy Water. There were some situations one just needed a spray bottle full of the hard core stuff for.

"Your Majesty," Vox pipped up, appearing from seemingly nowhere. The only reason Lucifer didn't jump was because he was still caught in a glaring match with a literal reporter from Hell. "This way, please."

Lucifer carried on glaring at her, right up until he physically couldn't. "I don't care who you've got sitting with me, I don't want her anywhere near me."

Vox followed his gaze, snorting when he saw who he'd been making a stink eye at. "Oh, no worries." He turned his own glare on Alastor. "I'll be copiloting right along with you."

Lucifer took in the two chairs. If he was sitting in one and Vox in the other, Alastor was going to be left standing. Judging from the gleam in the TV demon's eye, this was on purpose. Vox pulled out the seat on the right, the malicious reporter's coworker's usual seat, a smile so fake one would have to be blind to think it sincere spread across his screen. "Just a few more finishing touches, and then we'll be ready to begin." He turned on his heel and disappeared back into the bowels of the studio.

Lucifer blinked down at the seat. He could already feel the sheer number of eyes from the people in the studio, watching and waiting to see what he was going to do next. This was the first time almost every single one of them had ever seen him in person. He already hated everything about this. It was more than enough to make him want to retreat back to his room at the hotel and not come out for the rest of the month.

A gentle brush, an almost tickle, against the back of his neck, the feeling almost shockingly intimate, startled him. He inhaled sharply, not having noticed that he had stopped breathing. Instinctively, he turned his back on the growing crowd, his hand coming up to half way, before he aborted the motion. Turning to face him, Lucifer noted that Alastor appeared to have not done anything, standing in that default pose he favored. The only reason Lucifer could tell it had been him that touched him was from the way the redhead was watching him.

"Smile, your Majesty," Alastor murmured, voice pitched low and soothing. "The hardest part is almost over. I'll be with you the whole time."

How out of sorts had he been that even the Radio Demon was taking pity on him? That the reassurance was a comfort?

Lucifer breathed in slowly through his nose, breathing out even slower through his mouth. His racing heart began to calm, as he reminded himself that he had taken on far more terrifying beings than a room full of nosey sinners. This was all for Charlie and the safety of her dream, and for that, he could handle anything.

He dropped into the offered chair, the anticipation of a battle falling over his shoulders like a weathered cape.

A door opened off to the side, one that he hadn't seen anyone coming and going through. Stepping through were none other than Valentino and Velvette themselves. Velvette was typing away on her phone, muttering about an interruption to her photo shoot.

Valentino paused as he caught sight of Lucifer and Alastor. "Oh! If it isn't papito, himself!" The grin spreading across his face and choice of wording caused the blonde's skin to crawl. Sauntering over, Valentino nearly draped himself over desk, bringing his and Lucifer's faces far too close together. "You wouldn't want to hang around after this little show for some one on one time, now would you, mi pequeño rey?"

Lucifer had barely managed to do more than lean back in his chair, trying to escape the heavy stench of smoke and hard drugs that hung around the Overlord like a second skin, when a weigh settled heavily on his shoulder. He glanced up, finding that Alastor had stepped up beside him, hand placed in such a way that it wrapped possessively around shoulder and was beginning to snake around the back of his neck.

"Valentino." Alastor's filter was grating, a warning despite his pleasant smile.

Valentino lazily blew out a thin pink, heart shaped mouth of smoke. It hit Alastor in the face. His smile was filthy as he gave the deer demon a once over. "Don't be jealous, venado, my offer is still open to you, too."

The static glitch of a record screeching. It wasn't hard to pick out Alastor's distaste with everything from the offer to the Overlord himself. "Pass," he quipped back, shotting down the offer with extreme prejudice.

The pimp shrugged, viewing it as his loss. He turned his attention back to his original target. "What do you say, papito? We could--."

"Val." Vox's voice was barely recognizable through whatever filter he was using, the noise causing Lucifer to flinch as it grated at his ears.

Valentino pouted, somehow making it look aggressive. "Vox, querido, what have I said about using that tone with me?" He twisted around in a way that accented his figure. "Don't be upset because the Radio Demon's already turned you down."

"The show is about to start, Val," Vox pointed out evenly and sternly, despite the dig. Lucifer was beginning to pick up that when it was anyone other than Alastor, the TV demon might actually be able to keep a cool head. "How do you think it will look if we don't start on time?"

Valentino's pout to edge in the direction of a normal pout. "Spoil sport." He leaned back until he was facing Lucifer. He reached out, running a single finger along the underside of the blonde's chin. "Call me if you change your mind." Offer made, he thankfully, finally got off the desk and made his way back over to Velvette.

Lucifer was going to take a long, hot shower when he got back to the hotel. With acid. Regrow some nice, new skin that Valentino had never touched.

Alastor pulled him from his thoughts, giving the back of his neck a squeeze. Lucifer was almost sad for the loss of contact when he pulled his hand away so he could resume his prior position.

From where he stood, Vox watched the two of them, his expression unreadable. Several minutely later, the blue and black themed sinner dropped into his own seat, calling out to the cameraman as he did so. "How's the camera holding up?"

The cameraman peaked at Alastor, indicating this question was because of the redhead's tendency to take out anything with a camera around him. The sinner studied his monitor and then gave a thumbs up.

Vox clicked his tongue. "So," he gripped, irritation heavy in his voice. "You can be recorded without destroying my electronics."

Lucifer couldn't see Alastor from where he was standing almost directly behind him, could only hear the tapping on his fingers on his microphone. His taunt was malicious as he came back with, "We both know I can be photographed ...when I want to be."

The TV demon grimaced, the hit landing where it obviously hurt. He had little time to recover, as the cameraman began his countdown. As he hit zero, Vox's smile was back in place, just a lot less real.

"Top of the hour, folks!" Vox's voice was loud and boisterous, the rhythm and pace almost break neck. "Breaking news: in a rare interview, we're joined by none other than the King of Hell and the Devil himself, Lucifer Morningstar!" Vox leaned over, holding a hand out to indicate the fallen angel sitting beside him. "Please, give your people a little wave, your Majesty."

Lucifer resisted the urge to flip him off. Gave the camera a little wave with little enthusiasm.

Vox carried on, unphased, "Equally rare and unlikely to never happen again, fellow sinners, we also have radio talk show host, the Radio Demon himself, Alastor!"

Alastor didn't wave. He grinned straight into the camera, as if staring into the very souls of the views, eyes and teeth alight as reality itself threatened to warp around him.

The camera gave an alarming whine. The cameraman gave an alarmed cry as it threatened to give out.

Point made, Alastor seemed to remember he was supposed to be behaving. The camera stopped whining as reality returned to normal.

Vox's eye twitched. Smile strained along with his chipper tone, he said, "Your Majesty, I assume your being here is because of the attacks on the hotel your daughter is running?"

Lucifer gave him his own chipper smile. "You mean the attacks you only know about because of your voyeuristic habits?"

Vox laughed, a touch nervously. "You've clearly never dealt with the paparazzi, sire. One has to cross a few boundaries if they want to get the exclusive first."

Was that what he was going with?

Either blind to it or ignoring it, Vox glossed over Lucifer's offense, moving on to, "Please, tell us, do you have any idea who's behind the attacks? We're dying to know."

Lucifer highly doubted that. Or at least, doubted Vox cared. It was more likely he wanted the hotel to fail or get taken out, judging from his poorly concealed eagerness. He leaned his elbow onto the table, chin resting on his palm. "I'm not here to waste my time nor the listeners' with an interview." He took delight in watching Vox falter for the first time since the interrogation began. Over his shoulder, he called sweetly, "Alastor?"

Alastor's voice was just sweet and still more bloodthirsty. "Yes, sire?"

It was a show of how in tune Vox was with Alastor's moods that the TV demon was already beginning to sweat. He was doing a good job of hiding it, Lucifer would give him that. It was a pity he was sitting beside someone who could see right through him, when he chose to make the effort. Lucifer rose from his chair, the blue and black sinner nearly taking a screen full of wings as they manifested. "Be a doll and make certain Vox doesn't get any ideas. Like interfering."

"With pleasure." Alastor's words were nearly lost to his filter. The air around them crackled, the shadows in the corners of the room growing unnaturally dark. Vox dropped all pretenses of pretending he wasn't unnerved, leaning back as much to avoid the wings as to distance himself from the redheaded sinner.

Red and white wings fluttered, giving Lucifer the lift to make stepping up onto the desk look effortless. Papers flew everywhere and a few people made startled noises as they were hit with a few errant pages. His wings fanned out, allowing him to gracefully fall into a seated potion on the other side of the desk. He leaned to the side, placing his weight on the hand braced on the desk, head rolling until he was facing the other two Vees. "Velvette, if you value your life just sit there and look pretty for a bit."

Velvette narrowed her eyes to slits at him. "What the hell?"

Valentino waited to see what advice he had for him. When he received none, the pimp blew out a lung full of pink smoke. His expression turned sultry. "Nothing for me, pequeño rey?"

Lucifer didn't respond, not wanting to give the game away too soon. Relaxing his control over his form, he allowed the full extent of his corrupted, angelic form to appear on full display for all of the viewers to see. Far too many eyes focused in on not just the camera, but the cameraman and the sinners directly around him. Each of them instinctively shied away, hindbrains warning them they were out in the open and too exposed. Vox attempted to push his chair back, the area around the desk suddenly a little too hot, only to be stopped by the end of Alastor's strategically placed staff locking the chair in place.

Lucifer rolled his head back around, until he could easily stare into the camera. "Now, to clear up a few things: I could care less about sinner politics." He grinned in that way he knew looked off, even for a creature of Hell, leaning into the fact that he wasn't human and had never been human. "How you decide to throw away the one good thing you stupid, stupid little humans have going for you is up to you." His pupils were lost in a red glow as his temper spiked, the flame of hellfire blazing between his horns. " What I do take issue with is someone sending hitman to threaten my daughter over something as silly as potential lost contracts."

He slid off the desk, the sinners in front of him all collectively taking a step back. Only the cameraman stayed in place, too frozen to move. "Perhaps it's my fault, I've been away a while." He held out a hand, fingers searching until he found the particular contract he was looking for. "Perhaps it's yours for never reading the fine print." His hand closed around his desired target, a chain made of pink, translucent smoke, deceptively fragile, coming into being. One end led out the doors. The other end led off to the side, leading over to a certain Overlord.

Valentino's and Angel's contract.

The pimp held up his wrist, confusion evident on his face. "The fuck?"

Lucifer's grin was all teeth. He wrapped his hand around and around the chain until he had a nice, solid grip on it. Without warning, he viciously yanked on the chain.

Valentino was pulled so hard, his shoulder nearly popped out of its socket. The pimp yowled like a cat dropped into pool as he was sent crashing to the floor. Lucifer didn't give him the chance to recover, reeling him in like a particularly resistant fish, the Overlord shouting and cursing as he was dragged across the floor. The Devil gave no quarter, even when he had him where he wanted him, pressing his heel into Valentino's back and twisting moth's arm until it was just short breaking.

"You see," Lucifer carried on, tone bored and voice raised over the slew of insults being thrown his way, "There's this little clause in your contracts that say I have the final say in every single one of them."

"You little shit!" Valentino hissed, twisting in a way that should be impossible for someone who purportedly had a spine. "We had nothing to do with the attacks on that shithole your hija is running."

Lucifer pulled on the chain until he could hear the shoulder pop. The sinner's claws dug into the ground beneath him, glare baleful. "Maybe," Lucifer said, almost nonchalant. "But you're the lowest kind of sinner: the kind that profits on selling human flesh and locks people into contracts so they can never escape."

The moth demon snarled, composure gone. "Every one of those whores came to me willingly. I made them stars. They would be nothing without me."

The Devil peered down at him, unmerciful. All of Valentino's sins where on display for him to see and judge and he found him wanting. "Nothing gives you the right to abuse another human being."

Lucifer returned his attention to the camera. He wrapped his free hand around another section of the chain, pulling the links tight between his two fists. "Let everyone remember that your little deals mean nothing if I say so."

Without further ado, he pulled almost effortlessly on the chain, Valentino's strength that of a kittens next to his. A link, just off center, gave, pulling apart until it shattered. Each one of the links similarly followed suit, falling from his hand like crystalline shards. They vanished like the smoke they had originally appeared as before they could hit the ground.

Valentino's arm, free of the chain, fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Lucifer stepped off his back, releasing him. Stepping around the desk this time, he held his hand out to Alastor. The Radio Demon blinked back at him, something delighted behind his gaze.

It looked a little like victory.

He took Lucifer's hand.

"The Hazbin Hotel and every one of its residents are under my protection," Lucifer declared into the stunned silence, voice projected loud and unearthly, raising the hair on ever sinner's head, save the one in front of him. He looked upon each of the sinners in the room, gaze coming to rest on the camera lens. "I will not have mercy upon anyone looking to cause my daughter anymore trouble."

To his right, a portal appeared. Without another word, he stepped through it, pulling Alastor along with him.

As everyone continued to stare, the portal vanished and they were gone.

tbc

Translations:

-Papito: Little daddy

-Mi pequeño rey: My little king

-Venado: Deer or venison. I chose this word as a way for Valentino to make a dig at the fact that Alastor's demon form is a type of food source.

-Querido: Darling, used if you love or like someone. Chosen as a shoutout to the affair they're clearly having.

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #deer lucifer fic #someone on twitter pointed out how wifi works #and then i looked into how cellphones and wifi works #and couldn't resist playing around with it #why stop at playing with lucy's powers #when i can play with everyones?#ps i only took a semester of spanish #so sorry if i botched anything #i did double check everything #so here's hoping its all fine #i'm going to have to add so many new tags to ao3 when i post this chapter #lmao

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tommysversion · 1 year

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What about a reader x joel fic where reader is insecure of her body but joel doesn't care what her body looks like cause he loves her, and shows her how much he loves her with loads of fluff and maybe smut?

CWs: body image issues / insecurity / mild hints of internalised fatphobia / fatphobic language & insinuation

Notes: I went down the fluff route for this one, Anon, I hope that's okay.

It's not that you don't like how you look. In fact, you've spent a lot of time over the years actively fighting the impulse not to.

You've always been bigger. Curvy. Hell, as an adult, you have no problem labelling yourself as fat, because it's not a dirty word. Sure, there are people who would use it as a slur, but you've long since come to the conclusion that that's their problem, not yours.

You've fought tooth and nail to be comfortable in your own skin, in a world that valued your complete opposite.

It seems like nowadays, most people are on the slim side. That, or they're walls of solid muscle from hard labour. Being stocky is an asset; it means you can survive.

Unfortunately, the tendency towards bitchiness that runs in some people didn't get the memo that the world ended almost twenty two years ago.

You're not blind to the looks some of the people in town give you. The sly suggestion that putting you on kitchen duty was a terrible idea, surely you must be sneaking extra.

You know it's bullshit, know that the words are just hateful remarks from people who have never once lived in your skin - either through luck of genetics, or simply from being young enough to have been born into a world on the constant precipice of hunger.

Still. Sometimes the words sting. Remind you of middle school. Of self imposed small portions and your mother's worried expression as you refused cakes, refused sweet teas, refused anything bigger than a fist sized helping, until your aunt had pointed out all of the happy, beautiful women with your body type on the internet, on TV, in magazines and on Broadway.

It had been the start of a long journey of self acceptance, of riotous body positivity, of wearing t-shirts with slogans proclaiming fat positivity, of punching a boy who called you a slur in the balls and getting suspended for a week. That same aunt had taken you to see a musical while you were suspended, had bought you a journal to write in.

You like to think you're a strong person. You've lived through that, lived through the literal fucking apocalypse. But you're only human, and sometimes words sting.

Leave you standing in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom, poking and jiggling at yourself with a critical eye that you know is distinctly un-feminist, so unlike you.

Your gaze is critical as you inspect stretch marks. On a good day, those are your stripes. You make jokes about being a zebra whenever Joel touches them, never remotely critical himself.

Joel. He was... something else. He'd come into town with his adopted daughter, remained cold and closed off to almost everyone except her and his brother for months, until he'd seen you make Ellie laugh. Until he'd heard her ask you how to make cookies, heard you promise to show her.

Then he'd started, slowly, to come out of his shell. To spend more time with you. Brought you flowers. Now you lived together, with Ellie just down the hallway, because there was no way in hell a sixteen year old was going to live by herself, even in Jackson.

You're confident in yourself enough to know that you're well matched, but when you get like this? Sometimes it's easy to think differently. To worry that maybe he might prefer someone younger, with a more traditionally, socially accepted standard of beauty.

You're just getting lost in that spiral when Joel comes in from the shower, already dressed for the day in jeans, flannel shirt, and jacket over the top.

"What're you doing, darlin'? You'll catch a cold."

He snags a spare shirt from the edge of the bed, comes to wrap it around you. He's broad as hell, so you can wear his shirts without feeling self conscious. Not that you ever would, anyway, stealing his clothes is your favourite pastime.

"Honestly?" You've always prided yourself on being truthful with him. "I'm feeling kind of crappy."

You let him wrap the shirt around you, put your arms into the sleeves and exhale at the scent of him still lingering in the fabric.

"You think you're getting sick?" His hand moves to your forehead, and in spite of yourself, you smile.

"No, it's not that, it's just..." You sigh. "You don't mind how I look, right?"

Joel stares at you as if you've just spoken a foreign language, grown a second head, and told him you're giving up baking, all in one go.

"Of course I don't mind. What's that even s'posed to mean, do I mind?"

"Because I'm fat, Joel. Because there aren't exactly many women who look like me in town, and people talk, and -"

"Don't call yourself fat." Joel means well, and god he loves you, but he's still got that mindset that older people have where fat is a dirty word, even though you've explained the concept of reclaiming a slur to him.

"I mean. You can. But don't... say it to put yourself down."

The fact that he's listened to your rambles about body positivity makes you feel better.

"People still talk..."

"Fuck 'em. Let them talk. See if I give a shit." He says gruffly, wraps his arms around you then squeezes gently. "Don't care that there aren't many girls who look like you. Makes you special."

Another hug, before his hands rub over your stretch marks, over the softness of your tummy, of your thighs.

"You're perfect as you are. Absolutely perfect. I don't want you to change. I love how you're confident in yourself, and I wouldn't change a damn thing. Ellie needs that sort of role model."

You offer him a watery smile. How is it that someone so stoic can be so sweet when he wants to?

"C'mon. Push those bad thoughts away, lets get you dressed before you freeze. Didn't you promise Ellie a baking day?"

You smile again, lean in to kiss him lightly on the cheek before you glance once more at your reflection; the shadow of your earlier mood gone when you look at yourself, wrapped in Joel's arms, safe and loved and perfect, just as you are.

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #the last of us #soft!joel

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wilbursoot-updates · 1 year

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Lovejoy have dropped their much-anticipated new EP ‘Wake Up & It’s Over’, and yes – it has a surprise…

Lovejoy is featured in this Dork article!

Lovejoy have dropped their much-anticipated new EP ‘Wake Up & It’s Over’.

The Dork cover stars have left a special surprise for fans, too, with the anticipated but not actually announced inclusion of fan fave final track, ‘It’s Golden Hour Somewhere’.

Initially beginning the recording of this EP late last year, the boys weren’t 100% satisfied with the tracks. Having already played some of the tracks live, fans developed a particular affinity for ‘It’s Golden Hour Somewhere’, and up until the EP drops, have been under the impression it isn’t going to be released.

“I like to make rumours amongst the fan base,” the band’s Ash Kabosu told us in our new cover feature, “I sort of said yeah, it’s scrapped, we just don’t like it, it’s not up to scratch, it doesn’t fit the nature of the EP, blah, blah, blah. We’ve just made up a bunch of nonsense. And they’ve bought into it. And as I expected, they’re also campaigning to bring it back. We’ve seen signs at shows saying ‘PLAY GOLDEN HOUR’. It’s just a bit of fun, and I think the relief and the excitement they’ll feel on the day that it comes out to just see it in the tracklisting will be worth it. I think for the amount of time that the fans have been waiting, we want it to be as special as possible.”

Aiming for something a little heavier this time, the boys wanted to pull in their individual influences more drastically. For frontman Will Gold, that’s shouty British lyrics and overdriven guitars (he calls Arctic Monkeys the most famous example), with Ash also growing up on the late 2000s indie of Foals and Bombay Bicycle Club. Drummer Mark Boardman, on the other hand, was introduced to bands like Bring Me The Horizon and Asking Alexandria by his sister at a young age, pushing him into heavier territory when it came to discovering his own tastes and allowing the band to take on the slogan of ‘the only indie band with a double kick drum’. (Guitarist Joe Goldsmith simply adds, “In the words of Brandon Flowers, it’s indie rock and roll for me.”)

Opening track ‘Portrait of a Blank Slate’ pulls in those influences most brazenly, employing the mathy Foals-y lead guitar, ‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ era Arctic Monkeys fiddly bass, and wordy vocals a la The Wombats. “I can’t wait to play that for thousands of people,” says Joe.

“We’ve just made up a bunch of nonsense. And they’ve bought into it” Ash Kabosu

Even with ‘Call Me What You Like’ landing at No.32 on the UK Top 40 – an enormous feat and a rarity for a new band these days – it’s still what the fans think that means the most to Lovejoy.

“It was very validating to see it go that far,” says Will. “I think that was our longest-ever lyric writing time; we had the tune down for about ten months before I even penned the lyrics that ended up going in the final release. To see that time pay off is amazing, but we had no idea it would get that reception. It’s more important that our fans really love what we’re putting out. We’re aiming to create music that will really connect with our fan base, and you know, we’ll give them back what they’ve given us.”

This is an excerpt from Dork’s new Lovejoy cover feature. You can order a copy of the Lovejoy edition of June 2023’s Dork here, or below.

#lovejoy #wilbur soot #ash kabosu #mark boardman #joe goldsmith #wu&io #dork magazine

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fauxfickle · 2 months

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We now return with your regularly scheduled and all too familiar feeling of malaise and the search for "The Great All American Pizza Show!"

So it's been a little under a month since my last post and I've been skimming through commercial compilations from the LA area. I've found some cool YT channels that archive old ads from that area but I obviously don't have anything to show for it. The ads are either too early or too late to be part of this campaign which is a bit frustrating. Something I neglected to mention last time was that I was also looking through Colossal Pictures demo reels to see if they had a snippet of the animated commercial but of course, there's nothing. There seems to be a cutoff point in the early 80s as most demos only show things from that far back. I was able to find some obscure, silent, avant garde, sci-fi film possibly connected to Colossal but I don't think that'll help me much.

Colossal had some sort of "meet the crew" type video where all the employees said they're names but only their first name so I can't really track them down or anything. I'll keep looking, I didn't look all too hard as I was kinda at my wits end at that time looking through ad comps for hours.

I took a bit of a break for a while before reading through the old Pizza Times newsletters from Dec 79 - May 80. The May 1980 newsletter had some cool info about commercials and news features filmed at the various stores. Some of these aren't technically part of TGAAPS campaign but ehhhhhh I don't really care. They're part of early PTT history and I wanna see them damnit!

Let's go through these starting with Citrus Heights. The Citrus Heights section is loaded with info regarding lost media, 3 in fact! Sacramento's Channel 40 (KTXL), which has since been bought out by FOX in the mid 80s, did a Newsplus at 10 feature on the cyberamic systems at the new store during it's opening week. If we consult the ever so useful Chuck-E-Pedia, we can find that this feature would have been shot and most likely aired on Christmas week of 1979. A perfect pin point set of dates to look through! Next, Chuck was seen in the lead up to the United Cerebral Palsy Telethon which also gives us some idea of where to look. Finally, a TV commercial was filmed, possibly with TGAAPS slogan. Bob Wilkins' ad agency produced it but I couldn't find ANYTHING regarding this company. It's mentioned on his wikipedia but not named, and a even his own website doesn't mention anything about it. It's surprising that someone who seems like a local celeb in there area could have an ad agency that goes almost entirely undocumented.

Next, we move to Sparks, Nevada. Channel 2 (KTVN) filmed a feature on the store for the PM Magazine. The store was visited by reporter Keith Hirshland. Now I'm actually pretty sure I've found this dude! I found a local online article talking about him and the timeline works perfectly. Assuming this was filmed in early 1980, Keith would of been still fresh out of college with a degree in journalism and around 23. He also says he grew up running down the halls of the KTVN office. As a little aside, I'd just like to say don't bother this man or anyone/company mentioned in any of my posts. The last thing we need is to scare off these people.

This last little piece of lost media probably has the best chances of being found out of all the rest. Ben Wattenberg's 1980, from what I can find, is a dry, uninteresting TV news segment hosted by an equally dry and uninteresting host, the neo-conservative Ben Wattenberg. Ben Wattenberg's 1980 itself seems to be almost entirely lost media as only a few stills, episode descriptions, and TV listings exist online. However, this show was on PBS which no doubt has it somewhere in it's archive. What's better is that that there not only an exact date of when the episode will air, but also the name of the episode itself! One user on taptalk was able to find a TV listing which unfortunately doesn't lead anywhere and isn't archive on the WayBack machine. Luckily people actually said the name of the supposed episode which would of been "Silicon Valley: The New Entrepreneurs". We can also find evidence of it in a newspaper from that June 15th.

I sent e-mails to KTXL-40 and PBS on 2/24, so far no responses. I'll wait a little longer and in the mean time look for more leads and contacts. As I said before, don't bother these people/companies. I don't want them to be swamped with calls and e-mails and clam up on us. Bye for now!

#chuck e cheese #pizza time theatre #the great all american pizza search #the great all american pizza show #pizza time theater #lost footage #lost commercial #lost media #bob wilkins #ben wattenberg #oh god why is there a ben wattenberg tag on tumblr

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phoenixyfriend · 4 months

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more important context is that the houthi rebels are systematically antisemitic (to the point that “a curse upon the jews” is part of their slogan) and they have fully bought into the antisemitic conspiracy that jews control the entire western world. with this conspiracy logic, they can attack any ship (regardless of the facts of that ship’s ownership/registration/crewing/cargo/route) and call it a strike against israel even though the ships targeted often have no actual connections to israel, because they count everything as a connection to israel. they were also responsible for finishing the ethnic cleansing of yemen’s millenia-old jewish community which went largely unnoticed and unchallenged in the west

Reference: This Post

Honestly, I wanted to focus on the immediate situation of who is shooting, at whom, and what we know, if anything, about why. Entering the question of large-scale conspiracy theory and antisemitism by the Houthis themselves felt like a shortcut to derailing the conversation on misinformation.

...then again I've also see people claiming with full sincerity that the Houthi Rebels are fully justified and that only an idiot could miss that they would stop attacking the civilian through-traffic if Israel just let up on Gaza.

#Anonymous #current events #palestine #israel #gaza #death tw #yemen #phoenix answers asks #antisemitism

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baby-brunette · 6 days

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a spontaneous review of my perfume collection 🌹

i was about 14-15 when i picked up a bottle of Japanese cherry blossom from bath & body works. i practically wore it all the time & my fav thing about it was the way the glitter shimmered on my skin throughout the day. i haven't been to b&bw in a while so idk if they're even still making glittery perfumes. there's of course the floral notes but i remember it being kinda soapy too? like it kinda smelled like u just took a bubble bath with flower pedals lol. the memories aren't very clear but i get glimpses of summer camp, field trips, & when i & other girls wore wire cat ears, flower crowns & we popped the lenses out of shades cuz we liked to wear just the frame, y'all remember that right?

as for sweet cotton candy ( bodycology ) i don't remember buying it but i know for a fact i got it from walmart years ago. if japanese cherry blossom was in one hand, sweet cotton candy was in the other. idk why i took the sticker off tho. scc is almost sticky sweet, but not very overwhelming. i was stuck on these two for a good while as u can see i'm almost out. i refuse to use them now cuz jcb holds so many repressed memories & i scc has been discontinued by bodycology, they're very sentimental pieces to me.

i happened to find this one day & bought it on impulse. big mistake. it smells similar to the one i got from b&bw AT FIRST, but when it dries down its sweeter ( like splenda sweet, i hate splenda ) & the floral note fades quicker. also there's no glitter.. which is no fun. pretty bottle tho but i don't see myself wearing this anytime soon, it's not terrible just very bland & it's just not the same as the one from b&bw like i hoped it would be

i've made a post about this one already when i found it. i absolutely adore this scent, smells exactly like the one from bodycology. 🩷 it smells like pink sugar crystsls & it's not too sweet either. it's more like cotton candy ice cream rather than actually COTTON candy which is fine with me. btw i think this is perfect for bubblegum coquettes.

i got these years ago & i remember loving cupcake swirl at the time but it's just wayyy too sweet for me now. it's like disgustingly sweet which i guess is good if u like that kinda thing but i only wear it from time to time just to try to like it again lol. i tried giving it away to my friend but she didn't want it either. i think someone gave me cookie butter & it's also kinda strong but i like it.. it's slightly buttery like those Danish cookies. if i had to choose between the two i'd choose cookie butter, that's the one i used the most out of the two. unfortunately i haven't seen cookie butter anywhere since then. if i happen to come across more i'll definitely get s'more, i'm practically out. for some reason it reminds me of cool sunday mornings

ngl i saw my mutual post about this one in a mini haul & i went & got it. it smells lovely, sweet, floral, powdery. kinda reminds me of a night at the beach during a full moon, perhaps even a date night. this scent has an androgynous feel to it, i think it can be appreciated by coquettes & faunlets alike. now that i think about, maybe i'll get my bf to wear this... i think maybe dark or grunge coquettes would like this one

if u were around for Melanie Martinez's crybaby era but was never able to get her milk perfume ( i feel ur pain :ccc ), i think this a good replacement. i know i know, the notes are mainly powdery, not lactonic, but i think she'd wear this especially during that time, don't u agree? even the reputation this perfume has reminds me of melanie to a degree, not sm the slogan but the advertising & the way the models were dressed up ( also if there's anyone out there that has/had the crybaby milk perfume & u know of a perfume that's very similar PLEASE let me know.. ty :* )

i think this is the most recent one i got? i don't remember, but this is lovely. it's a fresh bouquet of lilies & jasmine & vanilla/syrup mix, i'm thinking more ethereal coquette with this one. this reminds me of marc jacobs commercials, it's what angels smell like. this is great if u want something sweet & simple.

strawberry pound cake is the scent i reach for the most as of right now, partly because my bf really likes it. you'll be walking around smelling like a strawberry pound cake of course, & who doesn't want that? while for me, strawberry pound cake is an everyday perfume, pretty as a peach is usually for occasions or when i'm dressed more mature/androgynous than usual. it's not everyday that i go around smelling like fresh fruits, but when i do, this is what i'll be wearing

this one isn't only the most eye catching of the bunch, it's also a classic coquette perfume that i'm so glad to have finally gotten my hands on. this is the most complex perfume i have so far. top notes are very sweet, fruity, mostly cherry, & at times can be nutty & smell of almond extract. needless to say, if u love the classic coquette look, this is a great finishing touch

last but not least, pink sugar! this one i find lasts the longest, i wore it to sleep last night & i woke up smelling just as good. this too is great for bubblegum coquettes & is great if u want a perfume that lasts all day. i swear i've used this exact same perfume even before japanese cherry blossom & sweet cotton candy. it was in one of those small roll on fragrance oil bottles. my mom bought it for me & i was so sad when i ran out. so glad i've finally reunited with this scent <3

#coquette #coquette aesthetic #diary #mari #faunlet #faunlet aesthetic

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nayialovecat · 8 months

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The Ink Demonth 2023 - Day 12. Angel

Day 12. Angel Crossover: W.I.T.C.H. (comics) This could be true, if it weren't for the fact that Joey is probably canonically gay (but I'm not sure if it's a fact).

And now a bit of history. Comics W.I.T.C.H. in Poland were published for about ten years from 2002 and were extremely important to me. I bought this newspaper from the first to the last issue - I skipped maybe 3-4 issues when I was on vacation and couldn't find a shop that had the current press (I'll fill these holes someday). For me, this series was extremely important and played a big role for many reasons - firstly, it was how I learned to draw human figures and my style still somewhat resembles the style of W.I.T.C.H. Secondly - reading this comic coincided with the moment when I first started to suffer from depression and reading about magic, about friendship that works and that friends don't stab you in the back - made it easier for me to cope with reality. Finally, thirdly - I was then very into magic and I was looking for it in a more interesting form than the one presented in Harry Potter (where magic, by the way, is very boring and monothematic). In each issue, apart from the next part of the comics, there were interesting horoscopes from different parts of the world, methods of fortune telling and interesting facts about various magical things. This was the beginning of my collection of myths, spells, creatures and magical plants. But then the comic stopped being published, and then that nasty French series came out, which is one big abomination - and I completely forgot about W.I.T.C.H. for many, many years... But then, some time ago, my dad, who was cleaning out my old room (where he has his "office"), found a huge pile of my magazines and decided to bring them to me - among them were all my issues of W.I.T.C.H. magazine. When my daughter saw it, she was immediately delighted and asked if I could read it to her. Reading comics is difficult and unattractive to the listener, so I thought she would get boring quickly - but no... we're halfway through the first saga (about Merdian) and Ursa keeps asking for more. And when I read it to her, I take a sentimental journey back to my childhood, I'm moved again by the stories, I laugh at the jokes, I discover that I look at the characters differently, but like them the same, although for completely different things.

That's why I decided to include such an important element that made me who I am now in this year's Ink Demonth - and the slogan Angel seemed more than appropriate. Interestingly, the previous entry also fit here, and in order to include the Phantom of the Opera, I had to find another place for it, because - yes - it lost to W.I.T.C.H. However, this inconspicuous comic book for teenagers had a greater impact on me, my character, interests and who I am today - than the musical I saw several years ago or the book I read only this year. Sad but true.

I must admit that I had fun drawing and colouring this. And if someone asks: my favourite character is Will - not only because she is redhead and is (like me) a Capricorn, but many threads from her story were similar to mine. This hasn't changed. However, today I look more kindly at Cornelia, whom I once disliked, and a little less favorably at Irma, whom I once liked very much (the way she treats Martin at the beginning is terrible). While drawing them, I realized how unfairly Hay Lin is treated - her guardian outfit is the worst and least highlights her charms. However, after upgrading the outfits, she gains the most, while Cornelia's and Will's outfits are terrible. By the way, Taranee, what did they do to your hair, tell me? By the way, it was even fun to do something similar to the SATIM comic - was this comic always so electric yellow? It was very difficult for me to adapt to this...

Bendy and the Ink Machine (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc. W.I.T.C.H. (c) Disney Italy Sammy and the Ink Machine (c) Nayia Lovecat

#The Ink Demonth #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Sammy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #SATIM #WITCH #Will Vandom #Irma Lair #Taranee Cook #Cornelia Hale #Hay Lin #Bendy #Ink Bendy #Ink Demon #Sammy #The Ink Demonth 2023 #crossover

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o-craven-canto · 1 year

Text

The Italian Ministry for Tourism has just launched a new advertising campaign to attract international visitors to the country -- a 9 million € campaign that reimagined Botticelli’s Venus as “virtual influencer”, by photoshopping her head on stock photographs of a model -- which looks like this:

The campaign was very criticized, for starters, for being almost entirely made out of Shutterstock images rather than original material, though from what I understand this is common practice (and that the vast majority of the 9 millions were not spent in production, but in legal fees). However...

The dearly-paid stock images were not used as they are, but exchanged between the developers through WhatsApp and downloaded from there, losing much of their quality.

The English translation is dubious enough (”come to live italian”??), but apparently the German one was even worse! Names of cities that also happen to be common words were machine-translated into such gems as Garderobe, Toast, Geschlossen (”closed up”), and Rasen (”lawn”). Rather than fix the translation, the whole German subsite was simply deleted, leaving only the English and Spanish translations online.

The hybrid English/Italian slogan was commissioned by a government controlled by the same right-wing party that just proposed a law that would ban the use of any language but Italian in any public communication, under threat of a fine up to 100,000 € (!)

One of the pieces of stock footage used in the ads does not show any place in Italy, but a wine cantina in Slovenia.

The campaign announced their website and associated social media profiles before registering them, with the obvious results that they were all squatted within minutes. The main one, opentomeraviglia.it, was bought for 5€ by an (unrelated) marketing firm and now displays a header saying: “Rest easy, we of Marketing Toys took care of it” (narrowly beating another potential buyer who planned to make it redirect to Pornhub instead).

It’s beautiful, so beautiful. <3

#italy #no seriously #i love this country so much

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