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[4everfishing]

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[idolatrybarbie]

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 5.4k | explicit - 18+ minor free zone!

summary: it's not stalking if it's a casual curiosity. you would never do anything...you're just nosey. lonely, too, maybe. but that isn't your fault. yes—this is fine. only stalking if he notices. so what exactly happens when he does?

warnings: social isolation, touch starvation, marcus pike is a virgin (there is no virgin-shaming here - do not fear), alcohol, themes of alienation, allusions to failed relationships, everyone in this story is very normal, smut - kissing, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, handjob, protected penetrative vaginal sex(!!!), premature ejaculation, body worship (with mouth), exhibitionism, implied male masturbation, vaginal fingering, very enthusiastic oral sex (f receiving), cum eating, cuddling.

notes: i was depressed and am sick (again) but yesterday was a really good day, so you get a fic. @wannab-urs wanted to see virgin marcus - here he is. this slowly and subtly became a little more kinky than i intended it to lol? my own cat makes an appearance and yes he is really that old. this is also my 400th post to this blog. woohoo, enjoy! :)

He’s your neighbour. Kind of cute. Okay, lie—very cute. You don’t have much on him otherwise. He moved in about three months ago, right at summer’s end. At first, you thought he was a student. You see him around the house and the neighbourhood during weekdays, so that rules out a college schedule.

He likes to read books in the park. Thick novels with colourful covers and lengthy titles. You would think that he’s showing off, peacocking with the way that he’s got a new book in his hands every week. But no, the reading isn’t for show. He moulds them to his liking, dogears the pages and folds over paperbacks; things someone doesn’t do when they’ve got a book in their hands as a lure, a line.

Surprisingly, he seems to be single. You aren’t exactly sure why. There’s no short supply of wealthy single moms in the area, and the man himself is truly gorgeous. Maybe he’s recently divorced, or gay. Maybe it’s his mom’s old house and she’s passed, and he’s only here to settle things up before skipping town again.

You find yourself watching his windows at night, never able to catch a glimpse of him. The house glows orange with the lights still on inside—a welcoming lighthouse in the cold and murky sea of suburbia. When you start thinking like that, watching his house for more than too long, you send yourself to bed. The very last thing you want to be is the obsessed stalker across the street.

A part of you can’t help it. Your other neighbours, despite barely knowing them, don’t seem to like you very much. You have a feeling a certain washing-your-car-in-a-bikini-top incident at the end of this year’s boiling hot August might have something to do with it. With no friends to speak of in this cookie cutter county, you find yourself lonely. When you don’t think about it too hard, that’s justification enough.

This morning, you wake up before the sun. Sparing your eyes the bright glare of house lights, you use a near-dead flashlight to see down the hall. The cat in your care this week lives on a strict schedule. At fourteen human years—eighty in feline—Bender has grown accustomed to routine: breakfast at six-thirty, talk television at eight. Later mornings to early afternoons are a little less structured, leaving him to wander the house or settle in for a nap. Then he eats again at four, followed up by water and a monitored trip to the litter box. After that, he usually sits on the cushioned back of your couch to watch movies with you.

His owner is away in Florida with her grand kids. She’s been leaving him with you for the past six months whenever she needs time away from Virginia to let loose and explore. Bender isn’t really my cat, she’d told you the first time, but her daughter is in New York for school and couldn’t take him this year. You secretly hope that she never does. He’s excellent company.

Professional pet-sitting hadn’t ever been a career that you’d really considered. You’re still not sure if this is a forever thing or a temporary gig to pay the bills. Really, you’d like to put your degree to use in some capacity. But after being laid off so abruptly…well, you aren’t itching to get back out into the workforce quite yet. Especially not when sweet older women pay you a hundred dollars a day to revel in the company of cuddly creatures.

They aren’t all easy like the old man. Charlie, the St. Bernard you sat last month, is clingier than any ex you’ve ever had. The Fogelmans’ Dalmatian is nice to have for a day or two, but thirty minute runs twice each morning go from exhausting to borderline impossible by day three. Animals are exhausting. When you aren’t sitting, you’re sleeping.

Peeling back the tin lid on a can of wet food, you can already hear the light tap of Bender’s small paws on the floor. He joins you in the kitchen, waiting as he watches you spoon half of the can’s contents onto a dessert plate. You soften it, making it easier to chew before you slide the food over to him. He always takes a comically big first bite.

“If only they could all be like you, huh?”

Bender doesn’t answer, of course. He’s a cat.

Good Morning America rambles away on your flat-screen. You’re waiting for Bender’s owner, his travel carrier already baited with treats. The unopened food cans and his toys are packed away in a grocery bag by the door. When Anne-Marie sends you a text that she’s in the neighbourhood, you gently lead the cat into the carrier. The grated door clinks shut behind him.

Poking a finger through the slats, Bender meets you with his paw.

“Come visit me soon, alright?” you ask. “Maybe your mom can take a long trip to Canada or something.”

Anne-Marie doesn’t have to knock for you to know she’s there, her short shadow visible through the frosted glass beside the door. You stand and turn to open it, greeting her with a smile. She asks after you and tells you about her flight in.

“I hope he’s been a good boy,” she says.

“An angel, as usual,” you reply.

“He’s a little bit of a grump sometimes.”

“Perfectly fine with me. Bender’s always welcome back here.”

Anne-Marie takes the bag of food and toys first, tossing it into the front passenger seat before returning for the carrier. Handing it over, you watch as she walks down the steps and  loads him into the backseat of her SUV. She buckles Bender’s glorified plastic box securely in the back, getting in herself. Anne-Marie waves at you from behind the wheel. You wave back.

Watching the vehicle pull away with your furry friend in tow, you see your neighbour’s house for the first time today. The weather is cooling off as winter grows closer. You don’t see him out much anymore, except when he gets home from who-knows-where. Even then, it’s only a glimpse of his short walk to the front door. Today, he’s sitting on his porch. With a fleece sweater zipped to his chin and a vest hugging his torso, you watch as pulls on a pair of muddy boots.

Cold air breezes past you, the draft pulling you back to reality. Just as you’re about to close the door, he peers up. And looks…directly at you. Then your neighbour smiles in acknowledgment.

Making eye contact for a second too long, you shut the door quickly. Leaning against the surface, you replay the last thirty seconds in your head. The car pulled away, he was sat there…he pulled on his boots and saw—

Three sharp knocks land on the other side of your door. You’re too much of an optimist, hoping it’s Anne-Marie again. Glancing at the glass from here, you find the realistic answer. It’s him, up close and personal this time—for the first time. Suddenly, you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

He knocks once again, clearly waiting. There’s nowhere else for you to go. The man is standing at the only reasonable exit point. Caving, you take a breath and open the door. 

The first thing you notice is his smell. Earthy-sweetness lingers with him as the familiar stranger smiles at you. Again.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello,” you return. “…Can I help you?”

“I figured that I’ve lived across the street for a while but never introduced myself,” the man says. He holds out a hand and you take it, his broad palm warming yours. “I’m Marcus.”

You tell him your name, still shaking his hand. When you let go, the smile falters.

“So Marcus, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar,” he says.

You glance around the doorway, unsure how to respond. “Um—” 

“I’m joking.”

“Oh,” you nod. Shifting your weight from right to left, the tiniest of squeaker toys lands under your foot.

“You've got a dog, right?”

“Sort of,” you say. “I pet-sit sometimes. They aren’t really mine.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to bring ‘em out for a walk, but I guess—”

“I could still go for a walk,” you say, the words rushing out.

The smile returns to Marcus’ face, strong as ever as he nods. “Sure. Great.”

“Just give me one second.”

You backtrack into the front hall, pulling open your coat closet for a jacket and your shoes. It only takes a minute before you’re joining Marcus on your porch. He leads you down the steps, taking a right onto the sidewalk. This is the direction he drives in from.

“So, pet-sitting,” he says. “Passion or hobby?”

“Well, I get paid for it. Not really a hobby.”

“Monetized hobby,” Marcus corrects himself. “Or is this what you do professionally?”

“In that case, hobby. I lost my job a couple of months ago. Still sort of figuring it out,” you say. Marcus nods. Then you ask, “What about you?”

“Why don’t you guess?”

You hum, thinking back on what you know about him. The car he drives is new, a dark SUV with tinted windows. Whatever he does must pay pretty well. He lives alone, fairly solitary; no kids, no spouse. You’ve seen him bring in a maximum of three grocery bags at once, and yet he hasn’t starved, so he probably doesn’t cook a lot. Sometimes it’s like he’s never home, and others he’s ever-present. That’s a pretty erratic schedule for a business professional.

Giving up on a real answer, you say, “Male stripper.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “I wish.” You and him both.

“A cop?” you ask.

“Warmer,” Marcus says. “FBI agent.”

“You’re joking, right? Are you even allowed to tell normal people those things?”

“I mean, sure. You’re not a terrorist, are you?” he asks.

“No,” you say.

“Then we’re fine,” Marcus says. He formally introduces himself. SSA Marcus Pike.

“So, Marcus the FBI agent. What draws you to Fairfax County?”

“The commute. And the house is nice, too.”

“You don’t strike me as a white picket fence kind of guy.” Looking out at the neighbourhood, that’s all there is.

“You don’t seem the type either,” he says. Touché. “When I first started planning the move, it wasn’t supposed to be just me. But uh…some things changed, and I’d already bought the house. Can’t let it go to waste.”

There’s something raw there. It softens his voice a little, taking away that clutch of confidence that seemingly brought him to your door.

You say, “I guess it’s better here than another shit-box apartment.”

“Right? That was my whole life back in Texas,” Marcus says.

“Texas?”

“Not born nor bred,” he says. “I worked in the Art Theft department at the bureau there.”

“Working on crafts for the kiddos?” you ask.

“More like nabbing art thieves, stopping criminal smugglers. Stuff like that.”

You hate to admit that this man probably has more courage in his pinky finger than you possess in your entire being, but at least now you can justify the curiosity.

“So you’re good at catching the bad guys, then,” you say.

“More so good at noticing things,” Marcus explains.

The air changes slightly, goosebumps rising along your skin. You ignore any potential implication. “Like what? Human behaviour?”

“Sure,” Marcus says. “Small stuff. Like if someone’s lying…or if I’m being watched.”

When Marcus doesn’t say anything else, you pause. A finely manicured lawn as your backdrop, you stare at him, disbelieving. You can’t imagine what you look like—the pictured definition of mortification.

“Look, I’m really sorry if I creeped you out. I just—I don’t get out a lot without a job and all, and I don’t really have any friends here. You seemed interesting, but none of that’s an excuse and I should’ve come over and said h—”

He says your name, stopping your rambling. “It’s fine,” Marcus says. “A little odd but…flattering?”

With your heart racing in your chest, you scrub a hand over your face. “Oh my god,” you sigh. “I really am sorry, Marcus. My life isn’t very…normal anymore. It makes you do some weird things.” 

You can’t remember the last time you were outside before today. Direct grocery delivery took away any need to get out to the store, and with it your last real connection to the outside world. Except the pets. They keep you from losing it entirely.

“We’ve all got our fair share,” Marcus says. Why is he being so cool about this? He should be calling the police, or in this case, himself.

So you ask, “Why are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Well, if I don’t then you might not want to come over for dinner later."

At seven o’clock, you make your way across the street to Marcus’ front door. You hesitate in knocking, checking the time on your phone again. He says it’s fine, but maybe this is a mistake. You’re not over the embarrassment from earlier. You really don’t know how to carry out social interactions anymore. Maybe it’s for the best if you turn around and quietly slip back into your house…

Before you get the chance, the door before you opens up. Marcus has changed. He’s wearing less layers this time, only a simple white Henley shirt and a dark pair of jeans. Cartoon sharks bite the ankles of his socked feet, and you find yourself smiling when you finally look at his face. God, this man is fucking gorgeous. It almost makes you mad.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey, come on in.”

He stretches his arm to open the door wider, stepping aside to make room. You take your boots off at the door and note the details of his home. The walls are cherry red, different to the sage green of your place across the street. The wall space in the kitchen is filled with paintings where yours stay bare, all of them neatly hung—Frida Kahlo and Elmina Moisan are the artists you recognize. 

Marcus tells you that his mother is Chilean, that he was born over here once his American father could get her stateside. They moved down to Mexico when he finished high school. He’s visited every summer since, and each time he brings back a painting. There are only four here.

"You're missing a few," you say.

"The rest are upstairs," Marcus says.

Maybe you'll see them later.

Tonight, he's making fried rice and soy sauce chicken.

"Or See Yao Gai, if you want to get fancy with it," he says, concentrating on the pan.

Watching Marcus work over the stove is mesmerizing. He knows what to do and exactly when to do it, never letting anything burn or sit too long. You feel more like you're watching a professional chef than a guy that cooks "on occasion.” Even the way he washes rice has technique.

Jesus Christ, get it together.

Before plating the food, Marcus offers you a drink. He pours himself a small glass of something red.

"I'll have what you're having," you nod.

He sits across from you at the table. You imagine yourselves as your respective houses, the cloth runner that sits in the middle of the table acting as the paved street. They say people look like their pets, but homes take on characteristics of the people who live in them. Everything here is warm, like his hand. Vibrant and pleasant. The place smells like him too, all sweet and saffron.

The first bite of dinner explodes with flavour in your mouth.

"This is fucking delicious," you mumble, still chewing.

"Thank you."

"Of course." After a sip of wine, you say, "I mostly sustain myself off of hot pockets and spinach wraps. This is like, gourmet."

"You don't cook at all?" Marcus asks.

"Eh," you shrug. "I used to. A lot, actually. But it's not the same when—"

When what? When there's no love in it? Something like that. There's no one to feed, no one to come home to. So who fucking cares?

"When you're only cooking for yourself."

"I understand." They should sound like empty words, but something in Marcus' eyes tells you he really does.

"It's just…hard, I guess." Oh no, where are you taking this? "To keep caring? I’m sort of—"

"Going through the motions?" he asks.

"Yeah. Exactly," you say.

Marcus scoops another forkful of rice off his plate, chewing before he swallows. He says, "Well you know, I'm right across the street. Maybe twenty feet away? So if you need to, you can always go through the motions over here."

You don’t know exactly what he means, but it sounds nice. Someone to talk to. "One day I might just take you up on that."

When you're both finished, you help Marcus with the dishes and re-organising the table. You're showing yourself to the door with him in tow. You open it and cross over the threshold, the cold hitting you all at once. The sky is much darker than it was only an hour ago. A streetlamp behind you highlights Marcus’ face just so.

"Thanks for dinner. For all of it," you say. "It's been a long time."

"You're always welcome," Marcus says. And then he kisses you. Your hand moves over his shoulders, wrenching him forward to pull his body closer. You both stumble back into his house, the door closing behind you.

His hands remain respectfully north of the equator until you grab them, pulling them down to your hips. You break away from the kiss to say, "I don't usually…um. But do you want to—"

"Yes," he whispers. That's all the confirmation you need.

The combined stumble up to his bedroom has you bumping into walls, almost tripping on the landing. Marcus’ hands are hurried across your body. He can’t seem to make up his mind, palming your ass before he slides his hands over your ribs, squeezing your breast. Right outside his bedroom, he stops you.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says.

“Sex on the first date?”

“Sex…period.” You watch the way he cringes at himself, instinctively holding him closer.

Carefully, you say, “We don’t have to.”

“I want to. I just—it’s good to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“It’s fine,” you say, giving him a kiss. “And we can take it slow.”

Marcus nods.

Inside the room, he lets you take the lead. You begin with your clothes, shedding your top, socks, and pants. Marcus mirrors you, leaving him shirtless in blue underwear. He’s already on his way to being fully hard, a bulge visible beneath the fabric.

Standing in front of his bed, you wave him over with a light come here. He’s drawn to you, a snake to its charmer, strong arms encircling you in his hold. You revel in the warmth of him. Marcus’ closeness has you leaning into his body, skin-to-skin. It has been so long since you’ve had this. You can’t remember the last time you’ve even had a hand to hold, an arm to brush by accident—so you take it. You revel in it, only god knowing the next time the opportunity will present itself.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks, breath warm against your ear.

“Yeah, uh… I’m sorry,” you say. “It’s been a long time since I’ve touched somebody.”

The admission makes your stomach twist, Marcus’ face relaxing into a softer shape. Instead of the usual look of pity, he keeps his expression open. When he kisses you again, it’s long and slow; languid passes of his tongue against yours as the pair of you fall to the middle of the duvet. Marcus settles against you, assuring that his weight doesn’t crush yours before he peppers pecks across your mouth and forehead.

You can feel him hard against your thigh, steadily rocking himself into your skin with every smooch. He asks, “Can I touch you?” and you breathe a yes.

His right hand moves from its place on your torso to glide down the side of your body, cupping your ass before Marcus slides two fingers into the band of your panties. He smooths the pads of his fingers over the skin below your stomach, dipping below your pelvis to feel you.

Marcus brushes against your clit. You tilt your hips higher, chasing after the sensation.

“Here?” he asks.

“Little to the left?” you whisper. Adjusting accordingly, your breath catches when he finds it. “Yeah, there.”

Marcus rubs at it with his fingers, drawing tight circles around your clit as you wedge your face in between his shoulder and jaw.

“Can I kiss your neck?”

“Sure.”

Slowly, mindlessly, you peck at Marcus’ skin to ground yourself. Closer to his ear, he smells powdery, like vanilla. You’d like to know if it’s cologne or all him. You gasp when his fingers move to collect some of your wetness, returning to your clit and doubling down on the light pressure. Tongue darting past your lips, you lick him. He groans.

“Does that feel good?”

Gathering your thoughts takes a moment. “Yes, Marcus—don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He watches you now, eyes closed as you’re worked closer to the edge. With Marcus’ free hand, he slides the strap of your bra off your shoulder, pulling the fabric away from your breast.

“Use your mouth,” you instruct him.

Marcus doesn’t need to be told twice, ducking low to take your nipple into his mouth. His lips and fingers working in tandem as your body narrows in on the edge of pleasure. You keep a hand at the back of his head as he licks and sucks your nipple. When he takes the sensitive bud between his teeth, you cry out and tug at Marcus’ hair. You push his mouth closer, closer—you wish he would eat you.

It doesn’t take very long for you to cum. A few more tugs of his teeth at your nipple and a harsher pass over your clit has you seizing against him, lips parted as a harsh noise leaves your mouth. Marcus slows his fingers to an eventual stop. When you look at him again, he’s eyeing the stickiness left between them.

You hold his wrist, pulling it to your mouth and slipping his fingers onto your tongue. Marcus watches you clean them intently, like he’s committing the sight to memory. When your done, he holds your face and kisses your nose. You laugh.

“What else do you want to do?” he asks.

You slide a hand down his stomach, lightly prodding his belly button just to see him flinch. The smile he gives you makes you ache.

Hand hovering close to his clothed cock, you say, “I wanna touch you.”

He nods. “Please.” The single word comes out high and whiny, stoking that fire in your belly once again.

Slipping a hand into his briefs, you feel the wetness at the head of his cock as it smears against the elastic. You start there, taking the sticky tip into your palm to gather some of Marcus’ precum. When you work your hand over the rest of him, the glide is easier, his skin like slick velvet underneath you. It’s your turn to watch as his eyes flutter closed, mouth twisted into a pout as Marcus breathes hard through his nose.

“You can make noise, baby. Let me hear you,” you say.

Marcus gives you a quick nod, eyes opening again when you squeeze him at the base of his shaft. He moans, long and low, lips parted beautifully. You speed up, watching the effects of the faster pace as he curls further into your body. The slope of his nose drags against the skin of your shoulder as he breathes you in.

“Fuck,” Marcus whispers. His curses are said softly into your skin. Suddenly, his upper half draws away from you. “Fuck, wait, wait—”

You don’t realize he’s cumming until the first stripe of spend lands across your hip. Marcus groans, a reluctant purr from the back of his throat that mixes in with another low, “Fuuuuck.” Your hand frozen around him, you wait until he’s done to move.

Immediately, Marcus withdraws from you entirely. His eyes are glued to the cum on your skin, face twisted with something unreadable.

“Hey,” you say, touching your clean hand to his. He looks up at you. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

“I’m really sorry,” Marcus mutters.

“Why?” you ask. With the shake of your head, you join him closer to the end of the bed. You slide your fingers through the mess of his spend, bringing them to your lips. Again, he watches as you clean it up. “Totally natural. Normal. You felt good, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“That’s all that matters. I felt good too.”

“Do you still want to…” he trails off.

“If you want to do more, I have no objections,” you say. “And if not.” With a shrug, you quirk your lips up. There’s no pressure here. You’re grateful to have him at all tonight.

“I have an idea,” Marcus says. He shakes off the funk, shoulders rolling back again easily.

“I’d love to hear it.”

Noses close enough to touch, your hands never leave his skin as Marcus confides in you his thoughts. When you say yes, he positions himself below you. Starting at your ankles, he nuzzles his face against your skin, slowly moving upwards as he presses kisses to your calves. Eye-level with your left knee, he readjusts your leg. He lightly slides his tongue over the slot of skin behind the joint, pulling giggles from you as you squirm at the feeling.

From here, Marcus makes sure to take his time. He alternates between soft, wet kisses and flat licks up your thighs. He noses along the sensitive skin, rocking into the mattress every once in a while.

“This is probably bad timing…” he trails off. You wait for Marcus to continue, but he’s too preoccupied licking at the skin of your mid-thigh. Running your hand through his hair, you try to capture his focus again.

“Marcus?”

He looks up at you, those beautiful brown eyes melting your heart and sending it dripping down to your cunt. “I’ve known the whole time. That you were watching me.” Then Marcus returns between your legs, nose at the crux of skin between your thigh and where you need him most.

You can barely map out your words. The anticipation is killing you. “You—you did?”

“Mhm,” he hums. He’s so close now.

“You never said anything.” The bridge of his nose presses directly against you, your hips stuttering against his face. “I would’ve…god, I couldn’t stop,” you confess.

“I kind of liked it,” he whispers to your pussy—a secret between them.

You groan when his nose brushes your clit again, breaking into a light pant when Marcus licks a fat stripe across the lips of your cunt. His words short-circuit your brain. You squeeze your eyes shut, imagining Marcus in this very room, touching himself as you unknowingly watch him in the dark. All those nights with the lights left on. Is that what he was doing?

Marcus slides his tongue directly over your pussy, prodding with care. Forcing yourself to look, your gaze falls from the ceiling to his lowered form. He’s already watching you, drinking in every bite of your lip and crease in your forehead. With your attention on him again, Marcus doubles down on his efforts, making out with your cunt as you whine.

“Please, please, please. Marcus—inside, can you use your fingers?”

“Anything,” he says, slipping two inside of you carefully. “Anything you want.”

They move in tandem with his tongue. Finally having something to grip and clench around has the heat of your second orgasm growing to a full forest fire. Picturing yourself now, you wonder if any of your other neighbours have taken an interest in the new guy in town. If they’re watching now, catching a glimpse of you through his window. The thought has you moaning again, picturing inches of soft, revealed skin and Marcus’ hands on you through the eyes of a stranger.

Marcus fucking you in the dark SUV that occupies the driveway, taking you against the translucent accent window of your front hall. Privacy with that hint of exposure. The delicious subtlety of risk.

Maybe you kind of like it too.

Marcus sucks on your clit and the sensation consumes you, flames licking up your spine. You cum with a shudder and a curse. He slows his hand down, removing his index and middle from you to share another kiss.

“I’d like you inside me,” you whisper.

Teeth gnaw at your insides. You crave the closeness, his warmth. Leaning to the side of the mattress, Marcus pulls open his bedside drawer. He fishes a condom from its depths.

“You’re prepared,” you say with a smile.

Marcus shrugs as he carefully tears the wrapper. “I was a boy scout.”

You sit up to help him put it on, spitting in your palm before you wrap it around his length. “Of course you were.”

He watches your movements, rolling the plastic on at the head before you remove your hand. Marcus slides the condom down the rest of him, keeping the end pinched.

“I was expecting brownie points for that presentation,” he says.

You lean up to meet him on your knees, teasing him with the promise of another kiss. You just miss his lips with your own, planting a peck at the corner of his mouth.

“You don’t get a prize for watching your hot English teacher roll one onto a banana.”

Leveraging his shoulders, you have him seated and straddled in one swift move. Marcus sucks in a gasp as you hover your cunt over him, slicking his cock with your body. He holds himself, lining up to let you sink down easily. The stretch is slight, feeling a pinch as he splits you open. Grasping your shoulders, Marcus moans into the plate of your chest.

Grinding on him slowly, you pet his hair and hold the heat of his face to your skin. “There you go,” you sigh. “How’re you feeling?”

You squeeze around him right as Marcus opens his mouth to answer, words replaced by stuttering breaths. "Good, good. So good,” he says. “Feeling you…fuck. You’re beautiful.” Marcus rocks his hips up into you, taking over the pace as he grows a little frantic. The friction of short hair at the base of him keeps you sated, enjoying the feel as he follows his release.

“Think of you all the time,” he continues. “See you out and—god, ah—you’re always so beautiful. Shit… Always alone. I just—”

Marcus grinds into you a few more times before he spills into the condom, moaning into the kiss you give him. You stay together like that for a minute, reveling in the feeling of him. Then you slide off his lap, Marcus’ limp dick slipping from you. He stands to take the condom off and disappears into the en suite bathroom. When he returns, the two of you bundle up under the covers.

He lets you be little spoon, his hands swiping softly over your stomach. Marcus traces little shapes beside your belly button, lips meeting the top notch of your spine.

“How was that?” you ask, breaking the soft silence.

“An excellent first time,” he says. “More…more than I imagined it could be. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.” You bring your own hand to the arm that wraps around you, feeling him. “It’s kind of a two-way street. I haven’t—I’m not really accustomed to closeness anymore.” His grasp on you has your head abuzz, high on his touch. Then you ask, “You said you saw me?”

“Oh, right,” Marcus says, remembering. “Saw you around the neighbourhood. I was mostly impressed you were able to keep a handle on that Dalmatian without turning into the evil coat lady.” His corny joke still makes you laugh, one more for the night, even as you shake your head. “And…I don’t know. I never saw you with anyone. I kept wanting to come over and say hello. Say anything, really.”

“I would’ve liked that,” you say. “Would still like that. If you came and talked to me.” Talking, fucking, going through the motions.

“I think we’re a little past that,” he says.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ll always come talk to you.” A beat of silence. “Just you and me, like two lonely people.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #fic: lover be sweet

[wandering-spaghetti]

Cheap Adventures & Elusive Prey

Picture it, 2016, a couple of poor young people move in together just starting out our independent, grown up (or so we thought) lives and a fish we didn't know existed.

We were both working blue collar jobs and not making a lot, but also putting a teenager (my cousin) through school, including JROTC and FFA . Money was tight and we didn't have a lot extra to go out and do your typical fun things like movies or eating out. What we ended up doing in most of our free time was riding dirt roads on our way home from work. Ths evolved into stopping at every creek along the way to see if we could catch fish. You wouldn't catch us without fishing poles in the vehicle that summer!

And there we discovered one of our favorite things to do. Even now, eight years later and a lot better off you can still catch us creek fishing multiple times a year, especially in the summer. Fishing was fairly cheap for us to do and it was always so much fun because you never knew what you would catch. And finding new fishing spots was a challenge when we had the extra gas to ride around.

Several weeks into our fishing adventures I was talking to a coworker about some of our fishing experiences and he asked me if we had caught any Redfin Pike. I had never heard of such a fish so I was intrigued and asked him what it was and why they were special. According to him, Redfin Pike is a special kind of creek fish that is really hard to catch. They are elusive and don't bite just anything that drops into the water, they are also big fighters when you hook them despite being a small fish. They only get about 12 inches long. According to my coworker and other old timers I have spoken to apparently they are quite good to eat, talked about as a "chicken of the creek". He talked about them like they were almost a mythical fish. A unicorn, so to speak.

Part of what makes them hard to find is that they only thrive in running water, so many of the streams and creeks they used to flourish in have dried up or have been redirected to the point that they don't flow enough to be a suitable habitat for Redfin Pike.

My coworker also told me that they were bloodthirsty fish and that to catch them you would want to use a lure or other bait with red on it to resemble an open wound.

That was all it took, we were on a mission. A mission to find a unicorn. I mean, a Redfin Pike.

Armed with our favorite fishing gear and some new things we splurged on for this special fish, we headed out to some of our favorite spots. It took us a few weeks but eventually we did find a good fishing hole that was, if not teeming, then definitly well stocked with Redfn Pike.

What surprised us though is that we did not catch the first ones off anything red as we had been hearing that Pike loved. We caught the first ones on a blue crappie grub while we were trying to catch Warmouths at a creek that ran through a friend's property. We were so surprised that it took us a minute to realize that we had finally caught a Redfin Pike!

They were everything we had been told and so much fun to catch. We went to that same fishing spot several days later and were able to catch a few more on a lure that is a favorite of my husband's, he has caught everything from Largemouth Bass to tiny Breem, and yes, Redfin Pike.

Picture below of my husband, so proud of catching a fish we had spent weeks trying to find, and our biggest catch to date.

To this day we haven't eaten one of these so I can't speak for the taste but they are every bit as fun to catch as they are reputed to be. If you ever have the opportunity to fish in a creek in Georgia, be sure to keep an eye out for our elusive friend the Redfin Pike.

If you liked this post please visit my blog. The clicks really do help my self esteem :)

#fish #fishing #redfin pike #creek fishing #rural america #rural life #georgia #rural georgia #georgia girl #country girl #fishing life #slow living #country living #mepps lures #redneck things

[manwalksintobar]

The Spell of the Yukon  // Robert W. Service

I wanted the gold, and I sought it;    I scrabbled and mucked like a slave. Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it;    I hurled my youth into a grave. I wanted the gold, and I got it—     Came out with a fortune last fall,— Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,    And somehow the gold isn’t all. No! There’s the land. (Have you seen it?)    It’s the cussedest land that I know, From the big, dizzy mountains that screen it    To the deep, deathlike valleys below. Some say God was tired when He made it;    Some say it’s a fine land to shun; Maybe; but there’s some as would trade it    For no land on earth—and I’m one. You come to get rich (damned good reason);    You feel like an exile at first; You hate it like hell for a season,    And then you are worse than the worst. It grips you like some kinds of sinning;    It twists you from foe to a friend; It seems it’s been since the beginning;    It seems it will be to the end. I’ve stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow    That’s plumb-full of hush to the brim; I’ve watched the big, husky sun wallow    In crimson and gold, and grow dim, Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,    And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop; And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming,    With the peace o’ the world piled on top. The summer—no sweeter was ever;    The sunshiny woods all athrill; The grayling aleap in the river,    The bighorn asleep on the hill. The strong life that never knows harness;    The wilds where the caribou call; The freshness, the freedom, the farness—    O God! how I’m stuck on it all. The winter! the brightness that blinds you,    The white land locked tight as a drum, The cold fear that follows and finds you,    The silence that bludgeons you dumb. The snows that are older than history,    The woods where the weird shadows slant; The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,    I’ve bade ’em good-by—but I can’t. There’s a land where the mountains are nameless,    And the rivers all run God knows where; There are lives that are erring and aimless,    And deaths that just hang by a hair; There are hardships that nobody reckons;    There are valleys unpeopled and still; There’s a land—oh, it beckons and beckons,    And I want to go back—and I will. They’re making my money diminish;    I’m sick of the taste of champagne. Thank God! when I’m skinned to a finish    I’ll pike to the Yukon again. I’ll fight—and you bet it’s no sham-fight;    It’s hell!—but I’ve been there before; And it’s better than this by a damsite—    So me for the Yukon once more. There’s gold, and it’s haunting and haunting;    It’s luring me on as of old; Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting    So much as just finding the gold. It’s the great, big, broad land ’way up yonder,    It’s the forests where silence has lease; It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder,    It’s the stillness that fills me with peace.

#poetry #Robert Service #Yukon #Canadian poetry #gold #cussedest #the North

[kendrixtermina]

(technofilth)

I am so sorry for the grimes

I beg your pardon for the antiseptic

an impolite existence, oh I am sure:

Forgive me for taunting you as a while outline from beyond the fog,

for burning widely-visible all the way up in the air.

My apologies for existing just beyond the precipice,

for you to look out on, though the ground gives out before your feet

could safely be carried there, not without a price

It truly wasn’t my intention, you see.

It’s just that

there was this grand glass-front, sharp-shaped structure,

and a lone figure looking on down from behind its many windows

there was a long wide alchemical instrument of distillation,

with many chambers, like a digestive tract.

It’s just that there was this sensual steampunk device,

so many cables that the hard marble of old Galathea could not connect with,

be she though your wish

If it weren’t for the cracked mirrors,

showing pitch-caked ruins,

tangled insect limbs and members, around the lower piping of the city,

and the most archetypical dweller in the metropolis,

neon-lamp-woman wrapped in cables,

looking on with her disturbed, half-living eyes

at an ever-tarnished, gas-mask summer, in dresses and in uniform,

tears of face pressing through the ridges in the warehouse.

My curious, hunngry gazes peering out from within my eyeballs,

discerning machinery posed above concrete,

ever ready to descend.

And if that happens to you, well, then,

you come to wish for the six-limb of an insect,

for gecko-feet ready to conquer any terrain.

You feel the sharpness and the undulating of rock and conception,

the surreal three-dimensionality, the many chambers in the rock,

pointing up like onion spires,

like model universes in theoretical physics diagrams

surreal, open’d world-lines,

cesarian bellies now stiched back together

yet bursting with tentacle and bizarre creative assemblies from doll-limbs

universes, in the potential,

like long dead urns,

like hedgehog beings,

made of pure hate, repulsive the sting into every direction.

You could not kiss without cutting yourself.

The cable-laden thing crawling forgotten on the lab-floor,

the uniform’d watcher holding the switches

and the metal walls themselves,

it all becomes me.

All becomes held within me.

Waiting and sitting in this surreal void here.

And if that happens to you, well then,

all the green glow of the workshop can’t saved you.

I never asked to be like this.

I never asked to look down and find these blackened hands.

Yet, when your soul does that,

it becomes the soul of a monster, rotten and wicked

repulsive and rejected, marked by the sign

that there is something in here that ought to be avoided.

That you should not draw near:

I beckoned you only with insect’s claws,

to soil a lilly white abdomen with insectiod juices,

I called in your USB drive, vanishing amid a tangle of cables,

when a computer virus still meant something potential and romantic

and not just this endless stream of malware.

I lured with the bacon smell of something that isn’t piglet upon this pike,

ready for you to rend and take.

You let me. I let you.

Devastate me.

The bits representing our hearts hung upon long wires in the art installation

dumbly clacking together

past exposed ribcages.

The animatronic peeled nude like a banana,

for the mechanics to work its oily insides.

I’m saying cut me.

Look inside of me.

Slice right in and taste the void.

Can you see my uglyness?

Do you like my inner emptiness?

Will you suck and lick the juices and go lapping them all the way up.

Blood and semen.

Wound secretions soaking through.

I’m asking will you come close and be soaked in my grunge?

#feelings #baby tries to art #poetry #freeverse

[alphbaymarketreview]

One Week Marketing Plan Compared to Fishing

You might be wondering What exactly alphbay is biggest has to anything to do with fishing? Read this piece and I am sure you'll see the parallels.

I began my journey with marketing online in Jan. 09. The first time I tried it, I was awed by all the information that needed to absorb. It was like a four year university course laid out before me. I had to get the books, read about it, and then apply the information I was taught. This didn't work for me. I was left without a strategy. I didn't know which route to take or how to reach the starting point or even the end line. While some may not be facing this issue, but I did. At the time I began I was faced with a lot of questions on the internet marketing forums were ones I wouldn't be able to answer. Today, I am able to. I'm seeing lots of people who are walking through the streets like chickens their heads cut off. Searching for the beginning point and trying to figure the direction they should go in.

I'm not saying that you shouldn't I love the huge information available to internet marketers, but we sometimes need to discover a new method.

When I first took a fishing trip I went on the nearby stream along with my dad. We had only a small five foot pole, a container of small worms, a couple of sinkers, a couple of hooks along with some silver and gold spinners. My Dad taught me that on days with cloudy weather, the gold spinners would work best in attracting trout. He demonstrated how a sinker added to my line in faster moving water kept my bait and hook at the mid of water. It was instead of being afloat on top or crashing at the bottom. He demonstrated how to hook the worm so that there is always an inch or two of a wiggled tail on the hook, allowing it to move and attract fish. I learned to fish in streams and how to catch trout successfully.

When I was older and got the chance to camp in the campground or at the lake with my friends I decided to try fishing on the water. I used the same equipment that I had, my 5 foot pole and a few spinners, hooks, worms and some sinkers. I didn't land any value during the fishing, but I did catch a few Chubs and a couple of small catfish.

I purchased a book on how to be successful when fishing for game in freshwater lakes. What do you think? My next camping trip got a 2 pound fish. In the summer of the last and a couple of other camping trips, I held the record for the largest pike that I caught in the lake. 32 inches. A few of the same tools. For example, hooks, poles and sinkers. However, there are other tools too, like spinners but not spinners. Different techniques. For instance, right before sunset fishing with a frog lure that is green for large pike or pickerel.

Then, my dad taught me how to fish in a stream and to be successful at it. I was able to teach myself to catch fish on a lake using the help of the book and earned the title of the biggest pike caught in the lake. However, when I ventured out to the wide, ocean, I needed apply what I had learned from my father as well as what I learned on my own , and that which the Captain as well as his team taught my about the art of fishing. The company which I booked the trip had poles, they provided the correct bait and took me to the best places in the ocean to hook the 500-pound tuna. On the day I hooked an impressive 377 pounds of tuna. This is a fantastic site for anyone who hasn't had a chance to experience deep-sea fishing.

The Pot Pie Girl and One Week Marketing is my fishing rod in the stream. And online marketing is fishing for me in the ocean. We all have to be able to catch trout in streams first, and then fish for tuna in the ocean.

#alphbay market review #alphbay is biggest

[thehuntingdomain]

10 Pike Fishing Tips

Do you fish for pike? Would you like to catch more pike fish? In this article, we share pike fishing tips to help you catch more pike.

1. Pike & Aquatic Vegetation

Pike loves aquatic vegetation. They are at home there and chase down their prey. Look for pike in weed lines, pad fields, reed or wild rice beds, lily pads, grass, overhanging trees, and bushes.

2. Best Time To Fish

Fish for pike early morning and late evenings. During summer, the pike is very active early in the morning. Get there just before daylight. Additionally, late evenings when it is dusk are great for pike fishing. They use the fading sunlight as cover to come out.

3. Winter Pike Fishing

During winter, look for pike near drop-offs. Many baitfish will be in the drop-offs and pike will lurk there to target the baitfish.

4. Hard Fighter Pike

Pike is an extremely hard fighter. Don’t underestimate the fight it will put up. Get a strong mainline for the violent fight that will ensue. If you would like to learn more pike fishing tips, then click this link.

5. Night Pike Fishing

Fish for pike also in the night. Many anglers do night fishing for other types of fish. You can also fish for pike at night. They feed in shallower water at night and it might be easier to get them when you fish at night in the shallow areas and margins.

6. Be Quiet

Be quiet and move gently. Pike are very sensitive to noise, movements, and other threats from the land when they are near the shore. Keep your shadow off the water. Additionally, wear dark colors to blend with the trees along the shoreline.

7. Pike & Lures

Change your lures. Use different types, sizes, and colors of lures. You might be surprised by the combination that works on a particular day.

8. Use Sharp Hooks

Always use sharp hooks and have strong hook sets. Pike’s mouth is lined with sharp piercing teeth. You will need sharp hooks to drive deep down into its mouth. You won’t have any chance of hooking into pikes without sharp hooks.

9. Vary Retrieves

Vary your retrieves for every lure you toss. Experiment with different retrieves and observe what was the result. Reeling in fast, sometimes slow. Try jerking action to the bait and at other times try abrupt jerks as well as subtle mini-jerks.

10. Pike Fishing in Fall

Fall is one of the best times to go pike fishing. They will be aggressively feeding to put on weight for the winter months that are coming. This is especially true for females who will be producing eggs and will need all the energy to develop the eggs.

Conclusion

Pike fishing is exciting and rewarding. In this article, we shared some pike fishing tips to help you catch more pike. If you would like to learn more about fishing for pike, then visit huntingterrain.com.

#pike fishing tips #pike fishing #fishing

[megadavestewart]

WFS 356 - Fishing Musky with Terry Kluke - Lake Wabigoon, Pike, Canada

Show Notes: https://wetflyswing.com/356

Presented By: Bearvault, FishHound Expeditions, LakeLady Custom Rods, Reyr Gear

Sponsors: https://wetflyswing.com/sponsors

Terry Kluke takes us up into Ontario Canada to focus on his home water for musky, pike, bass, and a whole lot of other species.

We talk about what it's like vacationing at Merkel's Camp - located in the center of the Wabigoon/Dinorwic chain of lakes, the top fishing lakes in Ontario.

We also touch on some wilderness adventures hunting for bears, wolves, and whitetails. Plus, a handful of tips for fishing muskies.

Show Notes with Terry Kluke

03:50 - "All bears are excellent to eat" - Terry

04:20 - You can fish for pike and musky all summer long in the Mid West

06:00 - Musky 360 is hosted by Joe Bucher - he's a big musky guy

09:30 - It was 1963 when Terry's grandfather started the camping lodge

11:00 - Ice season ends in May and back again in mid-November

14:30 - They're going to the Fly Fishing Show in Atlanta on February 2023

17:20 - They also have smallmouth in the area. It's all lake fishing where they're located.

25:25 - Terry describes what the lodge looks like and the routine for the trip

26:45 - Terry describes where to find the muskies

29:00 - Tip: For muskies, don't strip too fast

29:45 - Terry casts about 80 feet from the boat

33:30 - We talk about casting a foot-long fly

35:40 - Colin Mckeown from The New Fly Fisher was on the podcast at WFS 084 - Bill Spicer was also here in episode 093

40:00 - Muskies hunt like a wolf pack - they work together

42:10 - You can only keep musky with at least 54 inches in length

43:50 - Terry also fishes for walleye - it's what they base their whole income on

52:55 - The best time to go musky fishing and bear hunting would be the end of August or September

53:54 - Deer hunting doesn't start until October

54:30 - Terry did a lot of elk hunting in Colorado

56:20 - We talk about wolf hunting which is also popular in mid-West

58:20 - There are 18 different species of fish in Wabigoon Lake

1:04:00 - Swick is the best lure for muskies

1:06:30 - Terry's grandfather bought the camp for $5000 in 1962

Show Notes: https://wetflyswing.com/356

Check out this episode!

[laronjb]

Summer lake Summer lake is the new free fishing game. In this game you can catch Bluegill, Bowfin, Crucian, Redhorse, Sunfish, Northern pike, Gar, Buffalo, Snakehead, Velifer.

#BLUEGILL #BOWFIN #Buffalo #Crucian #Fish #fishing #lake #LURES #mobile #pike #PLAYCOMBO #REDHORSE #relax #rod #SNAKEHEAD #summer #Sunfish #Velifer

[deputystakes-a2]

HARPER PIKE,   @shardofgod​.

two men, taller than her daddy, had come up asking questions. see, anyone asking questions without giving much to go off of is bad news. in a general sense. but something about these men had set harper on edge. their smiles too wide, their eyes too bright. and they were real insistent. needing to speak with graves, get ahold of him, why wasn’t she helping them out when this was a serious matter. they left, hours ago, but she could still feel the weight of their presence. like when you head out too close to the edge of the woods at night and the shadows wanna reach for you, draw you in. it’s like that.

the radio in the diner glitches out, shifting between a few stations before finally landing on something old. it crackles as the waitress cleans the tables and the cook sets aside all his supplies to clean his kitchen. no one wants to be out after dark.

            “uh-huh. thought so, too. they got itchy ‘bout bein’ around people too long.” she shows teeth, but it’s not towards ashley. something about his presence sets her at ease. not immediately and not wholly, but more so than those strangers had. the good book mentions grifters and those that prey on the weak, those that seek out others for the sole purpose of ill-intent. harper shifts, shoulder rolling as she glances beyond the deputy, half expecting to see their silhouettes cut out against the dying sun. the sky bleeds her pinks and oranges, but harper’s focus pulls back to present company.

“they ain’t gonna leave, are they? not ‘til they get what they want. from you.”

WHEN HE WAS YOUNG, REAL YOUNG, HE BURIED A COYOTE UNDER THE DARKNESS OF THE NEW MOON.   he saw something in the woods, at the edge, something that watched him shovel dirt over the grave with great interest.   he knows what it feels like.   being watched.   he knows that it feels different from being hunted.   he’s been both predator and prey.   he’s experienced it, the static, the crackling electricity that preceded the kill.   that static has loomed over his thoughts for hours now, since those men first arrived in town.

‘ good luck to them, ’   he begins, showing his own teeth in something that couldn’t quite pass as a smile,   ‘ they ain’t gettin’ a damn thing from me. ’   

coming from another man, that could’ve been a bluff.   coming from graves, that was a promise.   habitually, his head turns to gaze into the distance, into the fast-falling darkness — he’s got a trained eye and a steady trigger finger.   some nights, he’ll swear, he can see something in the very edge of his peripheral.   (  a seasoned slayer had told him a similar peculiar tale, once.   back when ashley was only eighteen, with hands callused from summers on the farm, not yet rough from the handle of his rifle.   the slayer told him about a little something he called the runner.   the shadow at the edge of his vision.   moving, watching, running in circles around the homestead.   )   every slayer brought something back with them from the corps.   that man brought the runner.   ashley brought his own ghosts.   he brought a history which lured in monstrous things, a prize-winning slab of meat.   there were things out there, worse than even he.   things which wanted to tear him apart.   things which he had killed, and would kill again.   the tall men wear their heavy jackets.   ashley wears a grimace and a badge.   they all don human suits.   

amongst the static — harper’s presence brings a sense of ease.   she hasn’t seen him, truly seen him, not in his entirety — but she has seen the blood.   she’s seen his teeth and calluses.   death and undeath and the sea of indescribable horrors in-between.   god and not-god.   harper had been through the slaughterhouse, just like him.   and ashley finds solace in that.   for once, it feels good.   to not be alone.   he turns back around.   ‘ but they ain’t leavin’ til they get what they want. ’   a pause.   it was getting late.   ‘ it’s gonna be a long night. ’

#act iii.ㅤin the dream i am always posthumous. #script. #shardofgod #hmm. hmm!

[gtunesmiff]

SUNDAY SERVICE

THE SPELL OF THE YUKON

Robert W. Service

I wanted the gold, and I sought it;   I scrabbled and mucked like a slave. Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it;   I hurled my youth into a grave. I wanted the gold, and I got it—    Came out with a fortune last fall,— Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,   And somehow the gold isn’t all. No! There’s the land. (Have you seen it?)   It’s the cussedest land that I know, From the big, dizzy mountains that screen it   To the deep, deathlike valleys below. Some say God was tired when He made it;   Some say it’s a fine land to shun; Maybe; but there’s some as would trade it   For no land on earth—and I’m one. You come to get rich (damned good reason);   You feel like an exile at first; You hate it like hell for a season,   And then you are worse than the worst. It grips you like some kinds of sinning;   It twists you from foe to a friend; It seems it’s been since the beginning;   It seems it will be to the end. I’ve stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow   That’s plumb-full of hush to the brim; I’ve watched the big, husky sun wallow   In crimson and gold, and grow dim, Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,   And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop; And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming,   With the peace o’ the world piled on top. The summer—no sweeter was ever;   The sunshiny woods all athrill; The grayling aleap in the river,   The bighorn asleep on the hill. The strong life that never knows harness;   The wilds where the caribou call; The freshness, the freedom, the farness—   O God! how I’m stuck on it all. The winter! the brightness that blinds you,   The white land locked tight as a drum, The cold fear that follows and finds you,   The silence that bludgeons you dumb. The snows that are older than history,   The woods where the weird shadows slant; The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,   I’ve bade ’em good-by—but I can’t. There’s a land where the mountains are nameless,   And the rivers all run God knows where; There are lives that are erring and aimless,   And deaths that just hang by a hair; There are hardships that nobody reckons;   There are valleys unpeopled and still; There’s a land—oh, it beckons and beckons,   And I want to go back—and I will. They’re making my money diminish;   I’m sick of the taste of champagne. Thank God! when I’m skinned to a finish   I’ll pike to the Yukon again. I’ll fight—and you bet it’s no sham-fight;   It’s hell!—but I’ve been there before; And it’s better than this by a damsite—   So me for the Yukon once more. There’s gold, and it’s haunting and haunting;   It’s luring me on as of old; Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting   So much as just finding the gold. It’s the great, big, broad land ’way up yonder,   It’s the forests where silence has lease; It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder,   It’s the stillness that fills me with peace. Source: The Best of Robert Service (1953)

[kathyprior4200]

The Shadow and The Microphone

Alastor’s Shadow (Rotsala) and Alastor’s Microphone (Dave) have been a part of the Radio Demon since he arrived in Hell. Nobody except Alastor knows their actual names…and their names are ones they gave themselves. After Alastor made a deal with Kalfu and evil spirits in his human life and shortly after his death, he was granted with enough raw power to topple dominant overlords and spread terror to the denizens of Hell.

 Alastor’s shadow was born of dark Voodoo magic. He first remained in human Alastor’s subconscious as dark matter (courtesy of Kalfu’s magic and Alastor’s mother wishing for Alastor to not be alone after death)… until he was free when his owner died. After gathering some ingredients and retrieving Dr. Facilier’s spell book, Alastor painfully separated his shadow from himself. After briefly feeling vulnerable in the dark, and almost attacking Alastor, the shadow submitted to him and became his body guard and companion. He helps Alastor control the other shadow demons and acts as a second in command in battle.

 Like Dr. Facilier’s companion, Alastor’s shadow has a mind of his own and manifests as a dark apparition of Alastor’s most sinister thoughts and desires. He usually makes growling and cackling sounds (like Facilier’s shadow) but can communicate telepathically with Alastor. He frequently appears as a tall dark man with Alastor’s tuff ears, a wide grinning mouth, and glowing eyes. His eyes and mouth can change color from deep red to bright blue, to yellow and anything in between. He can switch between an Alastor form and a more sinister wendigo-like form with large fangs and a rack of antlers extending from his head. Alastor can also see through his shadow’s eyes, thus he also acts as a spy. Alastor’s shadow gains strength by eating the shadows of other demons, preventing them from moving and making it easier for Alastor to kill them.

 Alastor’s microphone staff is a living part of him. The radio voice that comes from it is actually a radio version of his human voice. It first manifested as a non-magical microphone staff decorated with golden antlers around it that human Alastor had made to show off his famed radio host status. Alastor had used a bit of magic to gather more listeners around their radios. Sadly, it was broken and burned after his death. A dark entity merged with the red vintage microphone staff created for Alastor by the dark spirits/Loa. The microphone spoke “I heard you loud and clear!” in the first episode. Like Alastor’s shadow, the microphone has a mind of its own.

 The microphone staff has a single red eye that glows when it is turned on. The microphone is what allows Alastor to broadcast his murders…the eye shines a light from the microphone. The microphone has other unique powers that could be an extension to Alastor’s many Eldritch powers of tentacles, teleportation, portals, blood magic etc. When the staff plays music mixed with static and demons stare at it too long, they can become hypnotized, eyes turning to red radio dials. Powerful radio waves can be blasted from the microphone with three taps of the staff to the ground. These waves can push demons back and blast their eardrums and brains. Alastor can swipe the staff to make things appear, as shown when he used it to make clothing appear on Vaggie. When Alastor goes full demon/wendigo form, the staff is used to mimic voices, sounds, and music to lure victims in (like Siren Head). But the microphone’s main purpose is to assist Alastor in his broadcasting.

 Without those two beings, Alastor would’ve had more of a challenge taking over areas of Hell…and it’d be far less entertaining!

Chapter One: That’s Entertainment

 “Well ladies and gentleman, Happy New Year and happy survival to all the lucky ones out there! The twenty four hours of the Extermination have passed and man, was it quite the show! The princess is shooting fireworks from the balcony as we speak, which means it’s safe to head out and try to claim new territory. Though if any of you sinners go near my radio towers, you’ll wish that the Exterminators had ended you right then and there. I hope you enjoyed this long and lovely broadcast. Until next time! Stay tuned.”

 Alastor’s microphone soon blinked off from its glowing red state. The microphone let out a low mechanical groan of relief. Sure it was the microphone’s job to allow Alastor to broadcast massacres and music whenever he wanted, but even a device needed proper rest after a while. The microphone closed its single red eye and faded to sleep.

 Alastor had spent the majority of the time broadcasting from within his lair, located underneath Hell and in the realm of shadow spirits. It had gotten the nickname “Deer Den,” by other sinners, though he liked the name as well. Soon though, he quietly arrived to the surface via portal to enjoy the finale of the screams, shrieks, and slaughters of the Exterminators cutting down demon after demon. Turning around from the wall-length glass window he glanced back toward a darkened corner of the studio.

 “It’s alright, you can come out now,” he said in a radio voice.

 A brief slither of movement in the dark space.

 “Come on,” he coaxed. “No Exterminators, nor angelic spears to hurt us.”

 Ever so quietly, the darkness inched forward to reveal a head poking out from within the wall. Out emerged Alastor’s shadow. He stood the same height as Alastor and had the same fluffy deer ear tufts and tattered dress coat that he wore. He even had a deer tail and antlers branching out from his head. The antlers shrank back as he opened his blue mouth an inch. There was a row of sharp dark teeth, and his eyes glowed blue. A chittering sound mixed with static emitted from the shadow as his eyes looked around for any sign of danger. There was only his owner standing in front of him.

 “Good,” said Alastor as he looked at him. “Come along, we have work to do.”

 The shadow obliged and pooled into the floor out of sight as he followed Alastor out the door.

 As Alastor was walking, the shadow briefly floated up into the air, surveying the scene. There were bloodied bodies everywhere. Many of them had weapons pierced through their skulls or spilled organs. Alastor may have been a little hungry, but he was humming happily along the street instead, keeping an eye out for any useful angelic spears. He found one and happily plucked it from a horned demon corpse. The spear vanished in his hand, reappearing back in his lair.

 Alastor ignored the brief pangs of hunger from his stomach. Just the smell of blood and decaying flesh in the air was beginning to make the demon’s mouth water a little as he hummed.

 His shadow, on the other hand…

 The sound of crunching came from behind the Radio Demon. Alastor’s ears flicked before he turned around. He cleared his throat and glared.

 The shadow was on his knees in front of a dead demon, his mouth chewing on flesh and muscle like a starved wolf. He saw Alastor and froze, a piece of flesh falling from his mouth. It looked like a child being caught in the act of stealing a snack.

 “What do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be looking for spears and watching my back.”

 The shadow let out a deer bleat mixed with static. His voice sounded like snippets of different voices together.

 “But I’m hungry!”

 “There are more important things to focus on, dear fellow,” he said. “You’d be wise to learn some self-restraint.”

 Reluctantly, the shadow wiped his mouth and hovered closer to Alastor.

 “That’s better, now let’s be off.”

They soon arrived at one of the looming radio towers. The top of it had a blinking yellow eye that always peered in every direction like an all-seeing eye. It was constantly humming and retaining energy that lurked within the metal beams. There was a nearby cabin that served as one of many studios that Alastor had made for himself. It reminded him of his family’s summer cabin back when he was alive.

 “Go make your round,” Alastor ordered. The shadow flew into the air, searching above and below for any intruders. There were no signs of any demon trying to cross the boarders or break in. After a few minutes, he returned by his owner’s side and chittered in affirmation.

 With the areas clear and safe, Alastor made his way further into Pentagram city, his shadow vanishing again.

 With his shoes clacking against the pavement, Alastor walked over behind a flaming blue deer overlord and Crymini, the Hellhound. Charlie was on TV, talking about her plan to open up a hotel to rehabilitate sinners.

 Alastor stood behind two hellhound twins wearing crop tops and a hanging jester. Next to him was a poster that showed him in his demon form terrorizing the circus, demons trapped within flames inside the tent. His army of voodoo horned imps carrying knives and skulls on pikes surrounded the tortured sinners. The words were bold and full of warning: “BEWARE HIM!” “DO NOT FUCK WITH HIM!” In tiny letters off to the side on the wall read: “for a good time: 666-373-9494.”

 Alastor tilted his head to the side in curiosity. His shadow appeared off to his right, morphing into a snarling wendigo deer-like creature. He couldn’t help but tap his foot and hum along as she sang.

 The shadow stared in curiosity as well, his mouth open in hunger. He was anxious to witness Alastor mess with other demons again. He just hoped that if he happened to kill some that he’d get a good share of the meat. Sharing Alastor’s love of singing and music, the shadow swayed his body from side to side, even trying to sing along.

 After Charlie had finished singing, Alastor laughed out loud. That was quite the performance he had seen! He particularly enjoyed Charlie’s demon transformation and her conjuring of fire for the special effects. And he had to admit that she was a good singer too, despite her ridiculous idea.

 But his favorite part came up next.

 In the blaring red lights, Charlie and Katie fought each other on the desk. Katie was in her insect demon form, crawling on her hands and limbs. She briefly held Charlie down, who dodged and then leapt at Katie, knocking both of them off the table.

 “She’s pretty and has a feisty spirit,” Alastor thought.

 “Why won’t anyone help me?” Tom Trench yelled as flames rose from his body.

 “You’re on fire, Tom Trench!” Alastor exclaimed, while laughing at his own joke.

  Befriending the princess, and doing something different seemed like a good idea. He glanced over at a faraway Happy Hotel building.

 He knew where he would go next. His shadow vanished again.

  After following the white limbo to the hotel in his car, he got out and made his way up to the double stained glass doors with the apple designs on them. Upon further inspection of the hotel, he noticed it was a unique design if not a bit under wear and tear. From the Titanic-like ship off to the side to the hanging carousel that made up a balcony…and perhaps his favorite part, the circus tent overhang in the front decorated with eye designs.

 He had never actually met Charlie before but he heard that she was powerful and different among the demons. For one, she was born in Hell, and two, she was the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith, king and queen of Hell.

 He would have to tread carefully around members of the royal family. Though he thought of them as amusing, he knew how powerful they were.

 Sweat formed on his forehead and he found himself glancing around.

  Why was he suddenly…nervous?

 Somebody like him couldn’t afford to let any sign of weakness show. Of course He wanted to make a good first impression, plus he was sort of curious as to why she would pursue this rehabilitation idea. His nervousness faded away when he imagined Charlie as naïve. Maybe he could easily trick her and not have to be caught by anyone?

 The best thing he could do for the moment was be polite and offer to help. As any good charmer and manipulator knew, first impressions and the process were everything…

 And a nice big smile was the crème de la crème.

  Puffing out his chest, he knocked on the door.

 It was a very slow “Shave and a Haircut knock.”

  The knocking from outside interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. She opened her eyes.

  An ice cold feeling of dread spread through her veins. No other demon would ever do that kind of knock.

 Unless…

 She tentatively reached out her hand to the door handle, and quickly pulled it open.

 Sure enough, the most feared demon in Hell was standing right outside her door. A couple of shadow spirits poked their heads through.

 Charlie’s face morphed into sheer terror, eyes wide as saucers.

 Yes, there she was, right in front of him. Alastor opened his eyes as they glowed red, a radio sound emitting from him.  His staff turned on with a red glow. His eyes dilated playfully as he raised a finger in greeting.

 “Hell…”

 The door abruptly slammed shut.

 Brief silence.

 Charlie opened it again…

 “…oooo!”

 Slammed it again.

 Alastor could hear Charlie’s muffled voice from inside.

 “Hey Vaggie!”

 “What?”

 “The Radio Demon is at the door!”

 “What?!”

 “Who?” asked Angel.

 “What should I do?!” Charlie asked.

 “Well, don’t let him in!” Vaggie said.

  A growl formed in Alastor’s throat.

 He stood there, shocked in front of the stained glass door, smile still plastered on his face, hand and curved claw in the air.

 “Well… that was…rude,” he thought. “Usually people are too sacred to answer when I come by. Or they rush to try and please me because they know I could slaughter them at any time. I’ll just wait here then…or maybe break this door down…”

 He had been turned down not once but twice by her! If she had been an average demon, she would’ve been a bloody heap on the floor. The princess should know better than to reject anyone like that, especially a prideful demon like himself.

 Any offense to his pride would not go unnoticed.

 Charlie opened the door again.

 “May I speak now?” Alastor asked, hiding his anger.

 “You may,” said Charlie.

 Alastor held out his right hand to her, which briefly glowed. He half expected her to reach out and shake it right away…which would’ve proven her naïve nature…but instead she just stood there.

  “Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure.”

 He eagerly grabbed her wrist and leaned his face close to hers before strutting inside. Charlie stood, dumbfounded, her hand still out.

 “Excuse my sudden visit,” he went on, “but I saw your fiasco on a picture show and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance!”

 Audience cheers came from his staff as he turned around.

  “Why I haven’t been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929!”

 He bobbed his head side to side and burst into laughter. He glanced back at Charlie who was by the door. “So many orphans!”

 A sharp spear was suddenly pointed at him. He froze in fear, his smile still on his face.

 “Stop right there!” It was Vaggie.

 She swore in Spanish under her breath: “Carbon hijo de perra! (Idiotic son of a bitch!) I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you pompous, cheesy, talk show shitlord!”

 Alastor’s eyes narrowed and glowed. He made a low noise of warning.

 “You have a lot of nerve to stand up to me like that, girl,” he thought. “You don’t know anything about me, and you certainly aren’t going to stand in my way.”

 Alastor merely laughed slightly and nudged the weapon away with his fingers. Charli and Vaggie were in front of him.

 “Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

 He added in a low creepy tone, “I would have done so already.”

 His red eyes briefly turned to red radio dials and radio static filled the room. He tilted his head slightly, letting his chaotic magic roam. Vaggie and Charlie were frozen in fear as they caught glimpses of red Voodoo symbols, static, and warped reality.

 Then just as quickly, the noise and magic ceased and Alastor shook his head, eyes back to full red. For a brief moment, they had been small red pupils inside black sockets.

 “That scare should teach them to remember their place,” he thought.

 He bowed. “No, I’m here because I want to help!”

 Charlie was sure she hadn’t heard him right.

 “Say what now?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

 “Help!” he responded with another laugh, leaning in close before moving back.

 He held up his microphone staff.

  “Hello?” he asked with a laugh. “Is this thing on? Testing, testing…”

 He tapped it and a glowing red eye appeared in the center. “Well, I heard you loud and clear!” the microphone responded, eye shaking in fear.

 The microphone didn’t take kindly to be shaken out of its stupor.

 “Um…you want to help?” Charlie asked.

 Alastor appeared behind the demon girls, hands on their backs, switching from a shadow to his regular self. Both Vaggie and Charlie flinched.

 “With…” he mentioned in an imitation of Charlie’s voice,

“…this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do!” finishing in his normal voice. “This hotel!”

 Charlie could hear the call bell ding twice on the table, even though no one was there to ring it.

 “I want to help you run it.”

 “Uh…why?” Charlie asked, confused.

 Alastor laughed again. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom! I’ve lacked inspiration for decades!”

 He placed his elbow on an annoyed Vaggie’s head.

 “My work became mundane...lacking focus…”

 He then shoved Vaggie aside. She was clearly an inferior little doll he could push around.

 “…aimless!” he continued. “I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!”

 He laughed again.

Charlie looked downcast. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?”

 Alastor laughed again.

 “It’s the purest kind, my dear! Reality! True passion! After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!”

 Charlie brightened a bit. “So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?”

Alastor help up a hand and laughed. “Of course not. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome sinners!”

 He glanced at Vaggie and Angel Dust sitting on the sofa, mischief in his eyes. They would be fun to mess with.

  “The chance given to them was the life they lived before; the punishment is this!”

  He spread out his arms, turning away. “There is no undoing what is done!”

 His eyes glowed red, pupils constricted. There really was no way to change the past. All the sinners were destined to suffer in a matrix of pleasure, illusion, and the threat of a second death. For Alastor, every demon was a lost cause…and paradoxically, that also included him.

 He had dealt with authority figures before in his previous life…those racist religious folk who believed that God and the elite had complete control over his fate and the fate of everyone else. Now here it was again, in the form of God, the angels, Vox, Lucifer pretty much anybody he hated. It wasn’t his fault he killed and ate all his victims.  If certain people hadn’t pushed him over the edge…

 He glanced over when he heard Charlie’s voice.

 “So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?” Charlie asked.

 Alastor smirked and looked at Charlie over his shoulder. “Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!”

 He pulled her close to him with his arm and twirled her around in a quick dance. Charlie narrowed his eyes at him and gave him a look. He ignored her. “I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure.”

 Off to the side, his shadow appeared and cackled.

 Alastor’s eyes glowed red and his left eyebrow raised slightly. Just the thought of having the fates and lives of demons in his hands was enough to get him excited…or perhaps even aroused.

 “Right…” Charlie began, slowly removing his clawed hand from her shoulder. Alastor’s hand flinched at the sudden touch.

 Alastor chuckled and took her aside for a walk. “Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I.”

 He impressed her further with some charm and making his staff appear in his hand.

  Vaggie walked up to Charlie and pulled her aside.

 “Charlie, listen to me. You just can’t believe this creep! He isn’t just a happy face! He’s a dealmaker, pure evil! He can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do.”

 Alastor drummed his fingers against his palm, listening in on their conversation with a grin.

 “I…” Charlie began. “…we don’t know that. Look…I know he’s bad, and I know he probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t. It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in.”

 Alastor stared in fascination at a family picture on the wall. It showed Lucifer dressed in white, Lilith in a dark purple dress, and Charlie as a little girl wearing a brown and white dress in the middle. The picture border consisted of branches and yellow eyeballs and a dried rose in the upper right hand corner.

 “Such a lovely portrait! A picture of perfection! It’d be such a shame if something awful were to happen to them…”

 “Just trust me,” Charlie added placing comforting hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders, “I can take care of myself.”

 Charlie,” warned Vaggie, “Whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!”

 From a distance, Alastor opened up the palm of one hand, claws curled inward, hand glowing. From his viewpoint it looked like he was grabbing onto both girls. They glanced in his direction, worry on their faces.

 “I’ll have these two in the palm of my hand…”

 “Don’t worry, Charlie replied to Vaggie. “I picked up one thing from my Dad…” she spoke in a manly voice, “Ya don’t take shit from other demons!”

 Gathering her courage, Charlie marched over to the Radio Demon.

  “Ok, so…Al. You’re sketchy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t.”

 Charlie turned away. She was so close and so vulnerable. It took all of the shadow’s restraint not to lunge at Charlie and sink his teeth into her.

 Red Voodoo symbols floated around Alastor as his eyes glowed.

 “If you could stay turned around so I can knock you out…” he thought.

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and the symbols vanished.

 “So close,” he thought in frustration as she turned around to face him.

  Charlie continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

 Alastor twirled his cane and held out his hand. “So it’s a deal then?”

 Flashes of eerie green light surrounded him, electricity snaking up the walls. The shadow’s eyes turned green, his smile growing wider.

 “Nope!” Charlie yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking! No deals!”

 Alastor’s eyes constricted, and the shadow moped in the distance out of sight. “She rejected my deal,” he thought. “This will be more challenging than I expected.”

 He walked forward a step.

 Charlie continued.  “As princess of Hell, and heir to the throne, I uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel, for a long as you desire.”

 The shadow and the microphone hid in laughter. Her request was so vague, it left room for so many loopholes. That meant that Alastor could leave and betray the hotel whenever he saw fit.

 A moment of pause…Alastor brushed his hair back.

 “Sound fair?” she asked.

  “Hmm. Fair enough. Cool beans.” Alastor shrugged, walking on and making his cane disappear. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and even did a thumbs up.

 Alastor stopped and spotted Vaggie off to the side. How pathetic she was, frowning like that. He smirked in a way outside observers would describe as lecherous. He tickled her under her chin with a finger.

 “Smile, my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!”

 Alastor hummed happily on his way, while Vaggie growled in disgust and rage.

 “So…where is your hotel staff?” Alastor asked.

 “Uh, well…” Charlie began. Alastor peered at Vaggie through his monocle. “Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that.”

 He walked over towards Angel.

 “And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

 Angel grinned. “I can suck your dick!”

 Alastor could almost scream in disgust after hearing that.

 “Ha! No.” Alastor deadpanned.

 “Your loss,” Angel said with a slight laugh. Alastor summoned his cane.

“Well, this just won’t do!” Alastor exclaimed. “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!”

 The spell came easily in his mind: “dife sèvitè, reveye.”

  He snapped his fingers and a fire sparked to life in a small circular fireplace. Animal skeletons decorated either side of the wall. The wall and fireplace were repaired.

 A dark figure plopped down onto the chimney floor.

 Alastor walked over and picked up the creature with his hand. A large single yellow eye was revealed. Angel, Vaggie, and Charlie peered at the creature. In a puff of smoke and a squeak, the creature revealed herself. A cute cyclops girl was wearing a pink dress with a poodle on the front, her short wide hair dark magenta with a streak of yellow.

 “This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduced, before dropping her. She landed on her feet. She was an adorable little thing.

“Hi! I’m Niffty!” she greeted with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends!” She laughed slightly and her pupil grew smaller, darting in circles.

 “Why are you all women?” she asked. “Have any men here?! I’m sorry, that’s rude.” She missed the fact that Angel was male, for obvious reasons.

 She briefly picked up Charlie, while Vaggie held her spear defensively at her.

 “Oh man, this place is filthy!” she exclaimed, running around and lifting up couch cushions. “It really needs a lady’s touch, which is weird, because you’re all ladies, no offence.” She chewed on a black spider she found, then rushed toward some stained glass windows.

 She darted around, using a dust ruffle to clean them. “Oh my gosh, this is awful! No, no, no…Nope!”

 She raced around, removing cobwebs, then poking at a piece of a voodoo doll. Well, it was actually a live blue beetle doll that Alastor had stabbed with a clothing pin for Niffty to play with. Alastor looked amused, while the others stared in disbelief.

 “So fortunate of me to have met her in Hell. A former chimney sweeper in the 20th century. Heard she died from too much smoke. Services are still good! Though, I didn’t give her much of an option to begin with…” he thought.

   Meanwhile, at a casino, a cat demon placed a joker, an ace, a 2, and a fourth card down on the table. He had black and white fur, wore a black top hat and had red wings with card suits decorated on them. He also had long red eyebrows and wore a red bow tie.

 “Ha!” he declared in triumph. “Read ‘em and weep, boys!”

 He suddenly felt himself being forcefully pulled out of the room through space and time.

  “Full…whoa!”

 “Transpòte ganbadeur la.”

 He ducked as a curtain of red energy surrounded the existing space. Voodoo symbols flashed in the background along with eight yellow eyes, a creepy voodoo skull and a purple skeleton of a worm-like creature. Another voodoo skull with horns appeared for a moment not too far from tan ghost-like spirits with creepy faces and a row of jagged teeth.

 The cat demon figured he must have had too much booze to drink.

 “…the hell?”

 As the images faded, he soon found himself at the hotel bar, not in the previous room at the casino. A large “Come and play Blackjack” sign took up much of the wall behind him. Most peculiar, the gray wood walls were missing halfway up, replaced by the red themed décor of the hotel. Husk was sitting in a portion of the casino he was in. It felt like he was in a house with no roof surrounded by the outside world.

 “What the fuck is this?”

 He saw Alastor and pointed an accusing claw.

 “You.”

 “Ah, Husker, my good friend!” Alastor cheerfully greeted. “Glad you could make it!”

 Husk could have at least been polite for once, but Alastor decided to let it slide.

 Alastor’s head briefly had the appearance of large antlers sticking out from either side. When he moved it, it was revealed to be an antler skull with glowing green eyes hanging in the background. Snakes were wrapped around one of the white curtains supporting a bar stand. “Big Booze,” “Welcome” and “Big Soul” signs were placed overhead on the stand. Neon green card suits consisted of the designs at the bottom of the stand.

 “Don’t you “Husker” me, you son of a bitch!” Husk spat, and swiped Alastor’s hand aside from his shoulder. “I was about to win the whole damn pot!”

Husk stared in anger as the stacks of money and chips on the table vanished in static.

 “Good to see you too!” added Alastor.

 Husk face palmed. “What the hell do you want with me this time?”

 Alastor grabbed hold of him, startling him so much that cards fell from his hands.

 “My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that’s okay.”

 Husk was taken aback. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

 “No, I don’t think so,” Alastor replied. He casually brushed off his sleeves.

 Husk shoved the Radio Demon off him. “You thought it would be some kind of big fuckin’ riot just to pull me outta nowhere? You think I’m some kinda fuckin’ clown?”

 “Maybe.”

 Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

 “I ain’t doin’ no fuckin’ charity job,” Husk protested.

 Alastor appeared next to him, startling the cat demon. “Well I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment.”

 He pointed toward the bar stand with the staff. The sound of audience clapping came from his radio staff.

 “With your charming smile and welcoming energy…”

 Alastor spread the corners of Husk’s mouth upward into a demonic smile of yellow teeth. Husk frowned seconds after he let go.

 “…this job was made for you!”

 Alastor strutted over toward the bar stand, the soles of his shoes revealing red hoof prints as he walked.

 “Don’t worry, my friend,” Alastor continued, “I can make this more welcoming…if you wish.”

 With a curve of his fingers, a green bottle of cheap booze appeared on the counter.

 Husk stared with wide eyes, suddenly very thirsty. He swore he could hear the sound of a slot machine.

 “What, you think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?!” He took the bottle on anger. “Well you can!”

 He immediately guzzled it down and walked away.

 “Too easy,” thought Alastor.

 By this time, Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust had arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vaggie rushed toward the bar, furious.

 “Hey, hey, hey, hey!” yelled the moth demon. “No, no bar, no alcohol. This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of…mouth, brothel, man-cave…”

 Angel lunged himself into her, knocking her to the floor.

 “Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this.” He pointed at Husk with multiple gloved hands.

  He slid up to Husk. “Hey,” he said in a flirtatious voice.

“Go fuck yourself,” Husk deadpanned, drinking his booze.

 “Only if you watch me,” Angel retorted.

 To make matters worse for Husk, Charlie leaned in close to him, excitement and red stars in her eyes.

 “Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!”

 “I lost the ability to love years ago,” Husk replied, gulping down more booze.

Alastor walked in, an ever-present grin on his face.

 “So, what do you think?”

 Charlie ran over to him. “This is amazing!” she beamed.

 Alastor’s eyes blinked rapidly at the sweet sight of Charlie rubbing her cheeks and smiling at him. He could watch it all day.

 “It’s okay,” Vaggie said from nearby, arms crossed.

 Alastor laughed and pulled the two girls close to him. “This is going to be very entertaining!”

 He shoved Vaggie again and his laughter mixed with the sound of an old radio.

 Alastor conjured fire in his hand…Charlie stared in wonder at the flames and the voodoo symbols. He threw the flames in the air, distracting Charlie from him shoving aside her friend hard. Alastor then changed his attire with magic. He now wore a fancy red suit with a white undershirt and a black bow tie. A red top hat appeared on his head, complete with small spikes along the black band and two needles sticking out from the top. He twirled Charlie around in a dance, the princess looking stunned. Pointing his finger over her head, he transformed Charlie’s outfit. Her blonde hair was now short and wavy. She wore an elegant black and red dress, black gloves, a pink hat with a small black bow and black heels. She looked like a dapper lady from the early 20th century.

 Charlie stared at her conjured clothing in amazement.

Vaggie was on the floor, fuming.

 Alastor began to sing as he danced with Charlie, a new spring in his steps.

 “You have a dream

 You wish to tell

 He turned to the fuming Vaggie on the floor, letting her know that he thought Charlie’s idea was silly.

 “and it’s so laughable…”

 He turned back to Charlie.

 “But hey kid, what the hell!”

 Alastor picked Charlie up and threw her into the air. She yelped in delight and landed gracefully next to him. Two glowing apples and a skull with deer horns flashed in the background.

 Reality had been altered to the Radio Demon’s liking. The entire room was lit in psychedelic colors. Voodoo symbols and shapes were etched in every nook and cranny, including a pair of pink claws reaching for the door. Alastor and Charlie waltzed in the spotlight as electro swing music began to play in the distance. The all-encompassing noise, though, was the signature radio-static sound.

 Charlie found herself sliding down one of the apple-etched railings, Alastor leading the way. They landed on the lower floor as Alastor continued his reprise.

 “Cause you’re one of a kind

A charming demon belle!”

 Deer statues and painted antlers were everywhere.

 Back at the bar stand, Husk sat looking bored. Vaggie hissed at Angel grabbing onto her shoulder, while Niffty stared in wonder. Alastor snapped his fingers and their outfits changed as well.

 Angel was wearing a neon pink suit, Husk a pink bow tie, Vaggie a dark dress, with her hair now smooth and long, and finally Niffty, with a cute top hat with small flowers.

 “Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell

(Take it, boys!)”

 Alastor snapped his fingers once more and shadowy imps rose to life from a hole in the ground. The happy spirits played a trumpet, a tuba, and a drum set. Charlie snapped her fingers to the beat, while Vaggie watched with worry. She reached out to her friend but was pulled away by Alastor. He enveloped the group into a tight hug with a laugh, followed by glowing images of dark spirits staring at them. Niffty watched in amazement, but not the other three.

 “Inside of every demon is a lost cause…”

Alastor pulled Husk and Angel close again. He rubbed Angel’s head with a white hat and went on his merry way. Husk gave him the bird as he left.

 “But we’ll dress ‘em up now with just a smile!”

(With a smile!)

  Vaggie stood, annoyed in the spotlight. Using his cane, Alastor added a feathered peacock hat and a white fox fur to her outfit. She looked ridiculous. Then out of nowhere, he slapped her butt.

 Vaggie seethed in rage after he walked away.

 Alastor danced some more, kicking a horned skull to the side. In the background, Niffy happily swept up the bits of bone.

 “And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool

With some old redemption flair

And show these simpletons some proper class and style!

(What’s in style? Oh!)”

 He made his way to the circular fireplace, where he waved his staff. Shadows arrived to join the party, including his own shadow, with large antlers and fangs.  The shadow grabbed onto his shoulders and grinned, his mouth and eyes blue. Alastor made him disappear in a poof, then snuck toward Charlie. He led her in an upbeat dance, spinning her around, helping her match her steps to his. Charlie blushed when Alastor toyed with her cheeks. As Charlie was led away, Vaggie stood in the background, horrified and disgusted. What was happening to her friend?

 Charlie and Alastor laughed as they danced, the princess locked in a happy trance. Alastor was in his element, his pupils dilated, a joyful demeanor.

 Maybe this could turn into something more? Could it even be…love?

 “Here below the ground

I’m sure you’re plan is sound!

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Hazbin Ho…”

  Alastor was about to finish his song, when an explosion burst apart a window behind him. He stood frozen, pupils constricting, his body going alert.

 Whatever, or whomever had interrupted his song was going to pay dearly.

 Niffty stared in amazement, shouting “Whoo!” before she was blasted backwards, the door hitting her in the face.

 Alastor’s spell soon wore off and everyone was back in their regular clothes. Alastor, Husk (still drinking), Niffty, Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie, peered out of the hole to see what was going on. Vaggie had her weapon at the ready.

 Looking skyward, the group saw a cracked blimp in the air. It had a small random band aid with a sad face on it along the rim. A familiar snake villain popped out of his hideout.

 “Ha!” Sir Pentious laughed. “Well, well, well, look who it is harboring the striped freak! We meet again, Alastor!”

 Apparently, he was also rivals with Alastor.

 But Alastor simply asked, “Do I know you?”

 The snake boss looked disappointed. Then he said in anger, “Oh yes you do! And this time, I have the element of…surprise!”

 The villain raced toward his pink velvet chair and pulled a lever. A metallic cannon lowered to the ground. The cannon fired up with pink energy as pink smoke appeared around them.

 “He laughed manically. “I’m so evil!”

 Then he added, “I have an Egg army!”

 “Well, we have an Alastor,” Charlie responded.

 Alastor snapped his fingers, red tendrils of smoke rising from his hand. The weapon froze in mid fire and a fiery portal opened up below the blimp.

 A horde of black tendrils rose from the hole, latching onto the ship. One tentacle ripped off the cannon and threw it into another smaller portal, causing it to explode in pink smoke. One of the tentacles had already smashed a hole in the large round window.

 Sir Pentious looked on in shock as his Egg Bois slammed against the wall (one of them read #Ouch.) One of the eggs cracked open, spilling out yellowish brains and small organs among the stains of yok. Sir Pentious and another minion were thrown against the wall.

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he screamed before he was slammed against the ceiling by a black limb.

 “Oh, that hurt!” he cried.

 Sir Pentious screamed as he was dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. He was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Bois ran around screaming as black cracks appeared on the floor and walls.

 From the outside, more black tendrils were closing in. Red voodoo symbols appeared around the blimp.

 “Ede m 'sèrviteur.”

 Four horned shadowy spirits with red auras floated around, wearing toothy grins.

 The tendrils were now wrapped around the entire blimp, holding it in place like thick black vines.

 Red radio waves filled Alastor’s eyes as he circled his fingers and worked is magic. Voodoo symbols appeared all around him as he altered the state of reality. Radio static consumed the air.

 The vines thickened and completely enclosed the blimp. The spirits swooped around it in excitement, with echoing shrieks. The aura around the tendrils glowed a fiery yellow, the same color as the portal rim.

 “Kalfu! Destriksyon pa bra nwa.”

 Alastor closed his four-fingered hand which began to glow. A red drop of blood fell from his glowing hand. The tendrils proceeded to crush the blimp. Pink rays of light shot from the center and the blimp exploded in a loud BOOM!

 Pink smoke spread everywhere as the spirits sped away. The tendrils broke into severed bloody pieces that rained down to the ground. Alastor smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Niffty who had a small smile on her face).

 Alastor’s angry, bloodlust eyes spoke volumes.

 “And stay out of this hotel and from my friends you pathetic excuse of snakeskin.”

 A sharp pain throbbed on his hand and bags appeared under his eyes. Magic had taken some work from him…and it also made him hungry.

 “Well, I’m starved!” Alastor exclaimed, turning around to face the group, happy again. “Who wants some jambalaya?” He spread his arms out. “My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya! In fact, it nearly killed her!”

 He laughed as he led the way back to the hotel. The others followed.

 “You could say the kick was right out of Hell!”

 He added while laughing at his own joke, “Oh, I’m on a roll!”

 From up above, the hotel looked like a mashed-up haunted house. An old dark train was perched on a balcony, with some monstrous faces carved in. A ship, reminiscent of the Titanic, was leaning upwards against the building as part of the structure. An old carousel served as part of the upper balcony and windows. Skull designs decorated the small windows in a row. Finally, on top of a giant yellow eye, was the sign “Happy Hotel” supported by pillars of worn wood.  

Alastor continued, “Yes, sir, this is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now…”

 He glanced up and pointed his finger toward the sign. Pink electricity shot out and made contact with the sign.

 The sign now read “Hazbin Hotel.”

 “Stay tuned,” he finished with a low sinister laugh.

#hazbinhotel #alastor #alastorsshadow #alastorsmicrophone

[theodorebennas]

Master of Summerfast

#Fires Of Rebellion #master of Summerfast #Duke Theodore Bennas #Lady Ann’belyn Keove #Duchess Ann'belyn Bennas #summy #my writing #wra #canon

[rabbitcruiser]

Comins Lake, NV (No. 2) and Ely

Comins Lake, 10 Miles Southeast of Ely, Nevada just off the U.S. Highway 93/50 is actually a catch basin fed by several streams and springs. This abundant water supply helps in the preservation of the surrounding wetlands in association with the (BLM) Bureau of Land Management.

At capacity, the lake covers 410 surface acres with a maximum depth of 14 feet. Average depth is 6 to 8 feet. Mostly northern pike and a few largemouth bass currently inhabit the reservoir. Pike predation has effectively eliminated the trout. An electrofishing survey in 2011 found high numbers of smaller northern pike and low densities of bass. Pike are currently in the midst of a population crash. In general, bass fishing is most productive in summer using weedless or surface lures. For pike, spinners and spoons (the flashier, the better) are popular, and remember to use a heavy leader.

Fishing is allowed year around. Daily and possession limits are 5 trout and 5 black bass. However, there is no limit on northern pike. Due to a change in regulations in 2006, northern pike are now considered a prohibited species and anglers wishing to keep pike are required to kill them upon capture.

Due to elevated methylmercury levels, the Nevada State Health Division has issued a health advisory that recommends no consumption of largemouth bass or northern pike from Comins Lake.

Source

#Comins Lake #catch basin #landscape #countryside #blue water #blue sky #USA #Western USA #mountain #nature #flora #grass #Nevada #hills #original photography #snow #Ely #Highway 50 #Loneliest Road in America #road trip #wildlife #bird #Great Basin Boulevard #streetscene #cityscape #yellow lily #flower #blooming #Lincoln Highway #across the USA

[what-david-sees]

I wanted the gold, and I sought it;  I scrabbled and mucked like a slave. Was it famine or scurvy—I fought it;  I hurled my youth into a grave. I wanted the gold, and I got it—   Came out with a fortune last fall,— Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,  And somehow the gold isn’t all. No! There’s the land. (Have you seen it?)  It’s the cussedest land that I know, From the big, dizzy mountains that screen it  To the deep, deathlike valleys below. Some say God was tired when He made it;  Some say it’s a fine land to shun; Maybe; but there’s some as would trade it  For no land on earth—and I’m one. You come to get rich (damned good reason);  You feel like an exile at first; You hate it like hell for a season,  And then you are worse than the worst. It grips you like some kinds of sinning;  It twists you from foe to a friend; It seems it’s been since the beginning;  It seems it will be to the end. I’ve stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow  That’s plumb-full of hush to the brim; I’ve watched the big, husky sun wallow  In crimson and gold, and grow dim, Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,  And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop; And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming,  With the peace o’ the world piled on top. The summer—no sweeter was ever;  The sunshiny woods all athrill; The grayling aleap in the river,  The bighorn asleep on the hill. The strong life that never knows harness;  The wilds where the caribou call; The freshness, the freedom, the farness—  O God! how I’m stuck on it all. The winter! the brightness that blinds you,  The white land locked tight as a drum, The cold fear that follows and finds you,  The silence that bludgeons you dumb. The snows that are older than history,  The woods where the weird shadows slant; The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,  I’ve bade ’em good-by—but I can’t. There’s a land where the mountains are nameless,  And the rivers all run God knows where; There are lives that are erring and aimless,  And deaths that just hang by a hair; There are hardships that nobody reckons;  There are valleys unpeopled and still; There’s a land—oh, it beckons and beckons,  And I want to go back—and I will. They’re making my money diminish;  I’m sick of the taste of champagne. Thank God! when I’m skinned to a finish  I’ll pike to the Yukon again. I’ll fight—and you bet it’s no sham-fight;  It’s hell!—but I’ve been there before; And it’s better than this by a damsite—  So me for the Yukon once more. There’s gold, and it’s haunting and haunting;  It’s luring me on as of old; Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting  So much as just finding the gold. It’s the great, big, broad land ’way up yonder,  It’s the forests where silence has lease; It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder,  It’s the stillness that fills me with peace.

- “The Spell of the Yukon” by Robert W. Service

[simplefishing]

The classic spoon is definitely one of our go to lures for ice fishing, especially with pike. Should also be mentioned we love spoons in the summer too. 😄🐟🐟 https://www.instagram.com/p/Br6Tyrig2nm/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ats0ieevg06z