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kirain · 9 months

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Saw your comment on a post about Sound of Freedom and I came here to say.....shame on you. Shame. On. You. Since when is child trafficking a political issue? Since when is calling pedophilia bad a political issue? If you have a problem with this movie then maybe YOU'RE the problem. No better than the big Disney fat cats who tried to suppress this movie and keep it shelved. Or theaters messing with the ac and saying seats are sold out when they're empty. Shame on you! God's children are not for sale!

I wish people would do a little more research on this topic. If Hollywood and the "powers that be" didn't want this movie being seen, it wouldn't have been released in over 3000 theatres countrywide. It's being shown in major and minor locations all across America and Canada, and the vast majority of those locations aren't having any problems.

Case and point, my own mother and her friend went to see it last week and everything was fine. No issues whatsoever and the seats were packed. The movie isn't being "suppressed". This is all a marketing gimmick from the production company Angel Studios, a Christian streaming service. The movie is jam-packed with lies and only serves to glorify Tim Ballard, the man the movie is based on, and Christianity as a whole. I truly wish this wasn't political, but it is. They made it political.

Tim Ballard has provably exaggerated or fabricated many, if not most of his "rescues", and his organisation, Operation Underground Railroad, has been widely criticised by professional anti-sex trafficking organizations (including other Christian-based ones) for years. He has accumulated millions of dollars for his so-called "non-profit" organisation, and he runs several for profit organisations on the side. Most of this money is presumably pocketed by Ballard and his cohorts, as millions is unaccounted for and only a sliver goes to OUR. It's not about "saving children", it's about money and spreading Ballard's religious ideology.

This is compounded by the fact that Ballard, before he left the CIA, was almost always the last officer to arrive on any scene where child sex trafficking was involved, yet he somehow has hundreds of stories where he's singlehandedly rescued children. In fact, the "true story" the film is based on, where Ballard apparently saved a five year old boy—who, by Ballard's own account, ran up to him, hugged him, and begged to be taken away—didn't even happen. According to court receipts from the arrest and trial of Earl Venton Buchanan (the pedophile in possession of the little boy), Ballard arrived at the scene long after the boy was rescued and taken into custody, and he was barely involved. The documents can easily be found online under the San Diego incident reports.

Ballard was also caught lying about saving one particular girl named Liliana, the literal poster child for OUR. As it turns out, Liliana rescued herself by escaping her captors when she was seventeen and being trafficked in New York. Even more egregious, every time Ballard told her story, he would lower her age to garner more sympathy ... as if her being seventeen wasn't sad enough. In one instance, he claimed she was 14. In another, he claimed she was 11. Ballard also exploited Liliana's story as a reason for needing stricter border patrols and a better wall, despite the fact that she was being abused in America. There is no evidence to suggest OUR had anything to do with her rescue.

Ballard and his "organisation" have even ruined entire legitimate rescue operations in other countries and put children at risk, like in the Dominican Republic, where he endangered the lives of 26 girls by playing vigilante, being followed around by a camera crew, and causing a shootout that effectively traumatised the children he used as a prop to lure in buyers. His response to the mishap and rightful criticism by the Dominican police was basically, "Well ... you win some, you lose some."

The children were released without receiving any therapy or rehabilitative care, and Anne Gallagher, the leading global expert on the international law on human trafficking, said that OUR has an "alarming lack of understanding about how sophisticated criminal trafficking networks must be approached and dismantled" and went on to call the work of OUR "arrogant, unethical, and illegal". Those children easily could've been shot and killed. This occurred in 2014, but Ballard still insists that his "rescues" be filmed, and he even pitched it as a reality TV show. His reasoning for this, he says, is to "spread awareness", but we all know it's because he loves the spotlight.

Entire law enforcement agencies have actually cut ties with or even condemned OUR, such as Washington State Law Enforcement, as a result of Ballard's proclivity to conflate child sex trafficking with consensual adult sex work. Ballard and OUR regularly set up sting operations and lambasted the men who showed up for kink play, publicly branding them as pedophiles, even though the men in question were under the impression that they were meeting for sex with consenting, adult women. This led to several lawsuits against OUR, all of which they rightfully lost.

Ballard's means of gathering intelligence is also questionable, as he, by his own admission, sometimes consults psychic mediums for information on missing children and asks where they're being held captive. I genuinely wish I was joking about that.

The main actor in Sound of Freedom, Jim Caviezel, also has ties to the Qanon movement, and Caviezel himself is a hardcore conspiracy theorist. He believes that Donald Trump is "the new Moses" and that "liberals [literally] drink the blood of children". This is ironic, considering Caviezel and Ballard both met Trump several times, yet never pressed him for information regarding Epstein's client list. Moreover, Caviezel and Ballard both donate to the Catholic Church, which funds the largest child sex trafficking ring on the southern border and has a history of rampant sexual abuse of children. Even more insane, Caviezel admitted to watching child porn, to apparently "get in character" for the movie. He claimed that if Ballard had to watch it, it only "made sense" that he'd have to watch it, too. To "motivate" him to fight child trafficking.

...Alright, bud.

Surprise, surprise, both men are also outspokenly anti-LGBTQ+, despite the fact that children/teens in that community are statistically more likely to be trafficked. The majority of child trafficking is not the result of random kidnappings, as the movie would have you believe. The majority of children are actually recruited into sexual exploitation by a family member or friend/boss. The majority of those children are also not generally passed around in Mexico, like this racist, white savior-oriented movie would have you believe, but they actually either stay in or end up in America. America is, in fact, the largest consumer of child porn and child sex slaves this side of the globe (and nearly the largest producer), yet the movie depicts almost every pedophile as Mexican or some other non-white race.

At the end of the movie, Ballard comes on screen and asks people to donate/buy tickets for others, so that the movie can spread awareness. This is why so many seats in certain theatres are empty, despite websites saying the seats are sold out. Whether or not Angel Studios is also shadow purchasing tickets to boost sales can't be proven, obviously, but I wouldn't put it past them. These "conspiracies" have all served to market the movie and boost ticket sales.

As for Disney trying to keep the movie shelved, that's also a lie. Yes, Disney did technically shelve the movie when they bought Fox, since it didn't exactly correspond with its family-friendly brand, but they had no problem with the movie being released under a different studio. The actual reason Sound of Freedom was in "production hell" for five years was because Tim Ballard kept trying to milk donations. Despite the fact that filming wrapped up in 2018, he kept asking for more and more and more. He used people's faith and understandably emotional response to something as wicked as pedophilia to rake in millions. That's what Ballard is really about, money and stardom. In the movie, there's even a post-credit message where Jim Caviezel says the movie was held back to "maximize its distribution and raise awareness about child sex trafficking".

Translation: Ballard greedy.

Ballard himself admitted the accuracy of this movie "isn't important", and that he just wanted to get the movie out to "spread the word". By that, he of course means the Christian word—but why should fighting child sex trafficking be tied to religion? At the end of the day, Sound of Freedom is a vanity project, and it spreads incredibly dangerous misinformation. Stranger still, Ballard left the OUR just prior to the debut of Sound of Freedom, a fact he's neglected to mention in every interview regarding the movie. It's not clear why he left, but it seems that he fled after an internal investigation into the organisation began. That's not too suspicious or anything. My guess is authorities are trying to find out were all that missing money went, and Ballard doesn't want to be there when they figure it out.

By the way, that final line you hit me with; "God's children are not for sale", the line from the movie that Ballard claims a fellow agent whispered to him while on a case, as well as the title of the movie, which another agent supposedly said to Ballard after a giant rescue operation—those were lies, too. No agents ever said that to him. The police reports for those cases, as well as the agents Ballard supposedly quoted, all said he was the last to arrive on the scene and those conversations never happened.

Ballard cannot be trusted and Sound of Freedom is based on a lie. It's a scam. Everything he does is a scam. All he cares about is spreading his ideology, making money, and looking like a superhero. And this is only the tip of the iceberg. Look into his other companies, and into the ex-military soldiers and police officers who left OUR because of how poorly trained their people are when it comes to rescue operations.

Every sane person knows pedophilia and human trafficking is wrong, but giving your money to Qanon-adjacent, right-wing leaning, LGBTQ+-hating, Catholic Church-sympathising, fame-chasing, money-hungry, perpetual liar Tim Ballard isn't going to help.

The best way to help out is learning about the signs of child trafficking. Keep an eye out for any children that might be getting abused. If you suspect something, report it, don't be a silent bystander. Volunteer within your community to make sure the children in your area have food and resources, support LGBTQ+ youth, and watch the other adults around you to ensure they're not acting inappropriately. You can also donate to social programs that create safe spaces for children and even apply for jobs that specialise in these fields. Don't go to see a movie just because it aligns with your religious beliefs, feel sad for a little while, then sit on your ass and let Tim Ballard handle everything.

#sound of freedom #tim ballard #jim caviezel #christianity #child trafficking #propaganda #angel studios #I can't believe you made me defend Disney

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mymainwastoocluttered · 1 year

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Beach Break (Intro)

The Prefect gets a vacation as a prize!

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

“Ack! It’s the second time I get a Mystery Box and nothing good comes out of it!” Ace whines, pouting at the candies inside the box. “I can’t believe I wasted so much time only to get some candy.”

“Better luck next time,” Deuce pats his back in sympathy, used to the cries of disappointment from the buyers by now. “What about you, Prefect? What did you get?” he asks the oddly silent girl, who’s been staring at the contents of her box for a good minute, eyes wide and mouth open. Whatever she got, it must be good.

“Prefect?” Ace calls, waving a hand as if to wake her up.

Silence.

Then an ungodly screech leaves her lips.

Before any of the two can react, she takes two slips of paper from the box and shoves it at Deuce’s face, demanding that he reads it too so she’ll know she’s not dreaming. Deuce does just that, after holding her hand back so the paper isn’t rubbing on his nose, expression changing from confusion to surprise as his eyes fly through the letters. He can hear a gasp from over his shoulder coming from Ace.

“Holy shit, Prefect!”

“Congratulations!”

In the girl’s grasp are two tickets for a two trip to a beach town known for being a beautiful vacation spot, all expenses paid.

The two boys immediately start fighting over who will go with her.

Watching the scene go down from a distance are the teachers of Night Raven College, the Headmage and the Shop Owner. Other than the crow, who’s silently mumbling about money loss, they’re all smiling indulgently. It truly had been a great idea for a thank you gift. After everything, the girl deserves a break from everything. And maybe, if they’re lucky, they can convince the Headmage to actually repair Ramshackle before she returns.

MASTERLIST

Trey Clover

Chen'ya

Rook

Vil

Epel

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #x fem reader #masterlist

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daughterofcain-67 · 5 months

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𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 (pt. 3)

(Beau Arlen x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Beau wraps up at least one end of his case, he finds that there’s more and he may be sinking into some sort of rabbit hole. It’s his job to get Helena Montana out of this mess and safe once more with Hoyt’s help. Meanwhile, you’re getting more friendly with Andre and you start to wonder if you should be setting your sites on someone who has the time for you. What will you do when one of the two men in your life actually asks you out?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of some characters in season 1. Kidnapping case and discussions of human traffiking. Beginning of the love triangle. I think that’s it?

Beau and Jenny found Irene’s grandson, evidently named Sean, driving the green SUV down the road. They followed him and they were able to stop him at one of the many back roads of Helena Montana.

When the car was stopped, Beau and Jenny got out of Beau’s car and of course the two officers were cautious. They had their arms ready just in case.

“Sean? We need you to step out of the vehicle.” Beau said, a little wary of what might happen.

When the car door slowly opened up, a lanky looking red head with curly hair and freckles carefully stepped out of the vehicle with his hands up.

“I-I know why you’re here. And I’m so sorry…” This poor kid couldn’t have been older than nineteen. Fresh out of high school, could be a freshman in college.

“Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you down to the station. We just need to talk about a few things.” Jenny said.

Sean nodded and he stood still and put his arms behind his back.

“Oh, there’s no need for that. You aren’t under arrest.” The deputy promised and it took everything Beau had in him not to say the words “not yet” afterward.

When they got Sean into the car, they made it to the station about thirty minutes later. They got Sean’s fingerprints before getting him into the interrogation room.

Jenny and Sean sat down across from one another while Beau was a little too antsy to have a seat. He just wanted to get those two women found before anything bad would happen to them.

“You said you knew what this was about, right? So, Sean, why don’t you tell us what happened, tell us your side.” Jenny said. Beau supposed she was trying to play good cop for once since this was practically a kid.

“Well… All of it was just so I could help my grandma pay her hospital bills. She just had both her hips replaced several months ago but for whatever reason her insurance and social security couldn’t cover all of it. The co-pay was a little too much for her to afford. She’s also really far behind on some of her other bills.” Sean began and he looked down at his hands.

“So you’re trying to be a good grandson. What did you do?” Beau asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I-I made a mistake… I met this guy at a bar. He didn’t give me his real name. All I knew him as was Ace. And Ace told me that I could help pay for my grandmother’s bills if I just… did some driving for him.” Sean said.

“Driving? To where? What were you transporting?” Beau’s brows narrowed.

“H-He is a part of some gang. I don’t know what gang or what they wanted, but I was supposed to take whatever ladies he had blindfolded and take them to this site. It was different every time. I-It was like they were selling people for whatever reasons.” Sean continued.

“The Syndicate? Was that who it was?” Jenny asked, remembering the case with the truck driver, Ronald Perlman, and the state trooper, Rick Legarski.

“No, I think it was someone else. Maybe someone who buys from the Syndicate or something. Maybe it’s something similar to whatever Syndicate you’re talking about? I-I don’t know for sure. I’m sorry…”

“How long does it take for the buyer to get to the site?” Beau questioned, voice growing more stern.

“It depends on how fast we can get them to answer, or rather when Ace can get them on the phone. He got them on the phone three days ago. The buyer is supposed to come by sometime early next week. I think in about two days if their on schedule.” Sean said.

“Do you remember where the site is? Can you take us there?”

Sean was a little hesitant. He seemed unsure about something and he was shaking his leg under the table. Things weren’t supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be simple. An easy payday so he could take care of his grandmother.

“I-If I show you, is there any way I can get protection from these guys? Or protection for my grandmother at least?” He asked.

Jenny looked up at Beau who’s brow was raised in the air, arms still firmly in place over his chest as if he hadn’t moved the whole time.

“We can get the FBI involved and let them know the Syndicate or someone similar is hitting up Helena again.” Beau said, “We’ll see what we can do about your grandmother at least. I don’t know what deal they’ll offer you since you were an accomplice.”

“I’ll take it! As long as she’s okay.”

“Great. Hoyt, grab some reinforcements and call some backup in case there’s any conflict. Time to hit the road.” Beau instructed and walked out of the interrogation room.

Beau had grabbed a bullet proof vest and proceeded to put it on before stepping outside to get into his vehicle. When he did, Beau realized that it was already dark outside by this time. If this case were simpler, he would be at your house watching that movie with you. there was nothing else he would rather be doing right now. He would have loved to be under some random throw blanket he had with you beside him.

But this was his job and this was his priority whether he liked it or not.

It was time to get Sidney Ferguson and Ember O’Riley back to their families. They’ve been under enough stress for this past week and it’s time to put an end to this. At least an end for their means.

Yet for some reason, Beau had this unsettling feeling that whatever group this was, they weren’t done with Helena just yet.

You were sitting on the couch with your sister and Andre. Sure enough, Cassie wasn’t able to make it and of course Beau had told you from that phone call that he and Jenny couldn’t make it tonight. So it was just the three of you watching The Shining and you had forgotten just how good of an actor Nicholson was in this role.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie, Cadence got up from her seat next to you on the couch.

“I’m grabbing a drink. Can I get either of you anything?”

“Sure, I’d like one if you don’t mind.” Andre said.

“I’m good.” You replied, then you watched your sister leave to go to the kitchen.

You looked at the tv again, but you weren’t exactly sure why your mind was suddenly drawing a blank. You knew you would be sitting here enjoying the movie with your sister and your guest, but you couldn’t help but think about the sheriff.

What kind of complications were there? Had he finally gotten a break in the case? Was he going to be able to find those girls? Would he come out of this okay?

“You’re thinking of your sheriff friend, huh?” Andre’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You looked at him for a moment and you have a half of a smile.

“That obvious? I’m sorry, you must think I’m really rude.” You apologized and looked down at your hands in embarrassment.

“No, that’s alright. I’m just curious… is he more than a friend to you?” He asked and you could feel his gaze on you.

You shook your head, “I don’t think he’ll ever be more than a friend. My sister is kind of an advocate for something to happen between me and him, but she has to face the reality that his work is his priority. I can’t stand in the way of that. What he does is important, and all I can really do is hope that he is at least safe with whatever case he’s on.”

“So… not more than a friend but you wish that wasn’t the case, hmm?” Andre asked and you looked over at him and grinned.

“You’re awfully nosey with me and him aren’t you? You and Cadence could bond over that.” You rolled your eyes, “But no, I don’t want him to be anything more than a friend. A person like him would make a much better friend than anything beyond that.”

You may have been lying through your teeth, but if you said the lie out loud maybe you could actually believe it one day. Beau would make a much better friend for you. You couldn’t get attached to him of all people, at least not romantically attached.

“I see.” Andre began but you watched him tuck his bottom lip between his teeth as his gaze went down to the space between the two of you. You could see the gears turning in his mind before he finally spoke again.

“So, hypothetically, if I were to ask you out on a date.. would you refuse?”

The question stunned you. Honestly you were speechless. You weren’t even sure if you were ready to hop back into dating but that was when your sister came into the room again.

“Of course she wouldn’t refuse! She hasn’t dated in forever and she really needs to get out more.” Cadence piped up and answered for you. You looked up at her wide eyed, wondering why the hell she was answering a question you weren’t even sure about.

“Really? How long has it been?” Andre asked and you looked back at him before you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Let’s just go with a little too long… so when do you want to go out on this date? And what do you have in mind?” You asked.

He smiled at you, apparently glad that you were willing to go along with this even if your sister practically volunteered you into this, “Why don’t we leave that as a mystery for let’s say… tomorrow morning? I’ll pick you up at nine.”

That soon? You didn’t know Andre was quite that ambitious but why not go for it? It’s not like anyone else was lining up to date you really. And it was just one time right? How bad could it be?

“Sure, nine sounds great.” You agreed as Cadence handed Andre his drink.

Then you could hear an unfamiliar ringtone and you saw Andre fish his phone from his pocket.

“Is everything alright?” You asked and you could hear him sigh seemingly out of aggravation, if that was the right word for it.

“Just when we were having a good time, I get a message from an associate. He says we need to have a meeting and it’s pretty urgent.” He said.

You smiled a little. Honestly you weren’t sure if you could complain. You weren’t sure what the jewelry business was like so you didn’t know if Andre would be as busy as Beau. Then again if he was and the two of you continued after tomorrows date goes well, you could understand that he was still starting to get established here in Montana. That would take some time.

Then again, that was all in the hypothetical and if everything would work out after tomorrow’s date.

“It’s getting pretty late anyways. We can always watch this another time or something. Go ahead for your meeting.” You said.

Andre smiled at you before he leaned in. You felt the warmth of his lips on your cheek, which sort of startled you because it was an unexpected gesture. When he pulled away, he grinned, “Thank you for understanding. I’ll be here by tomorrow morning.”

Then you watched him get up, causing you to stand as well so you could walk him out to the door. When the door was opened, you looked up at him, “Be safe on the way home, or to your meeting, or wherever the meeting is taking place whether its at home or not.”

“You’re rather adorable when you begin to ramble, aren’t you?” He chuckled, “But I’ll let you know when I get home. So don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.”

With that, you watched him leave and step into his truck before driving into the night.

You smiled to yourself. You weren’t quite sure where things would go between the two of you, but you hoped that maybe this could help you move on from the sheriff since that didn’t really seem to be going anywhere.

Somehow, though, it felt almost like you were cheating on Beau in a way. You didn’t think Beau knew you had feelings for him, but you wondered if this was right.

All you could do for the time being was wait and see what would happen next.

Beau, Jenny, and the other officers that were called to the site where Sean dropped the women off were successful on their mission.

Both Ember and Sidney were safe and sound, finally, and Jenny was talking with Sidney to see if there was any information on this Ace fellow that she could gather.

Ember was sitting on another ambulance with a blanket around her while a paramedic was checking on her. Both the girls would end up being taken to a hospital to check on their well being. As well as Ember’s baby. Beau knew that James would be elated to have his bride back. As for Sidney, you knew Lidia and their parents would be eager to see their family member again.

He was just glad that he was able to get these two women back safely. He just hoped that these girls could give them some kind of information.

Beau watched as the paramedics took the two girls away and Jenny walked towards him with her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

“What’d you find out?” Beau asked.

“Well, not a whole lot. Sean was wrong about this Ace fella buying from the Syndicate. I think it’s an entirely different operation. It’s still related to trafficking, but it’s a different organization. They were planning on letting Ember go anyway because apparently expecting mothers aren’t in the criteria. But they didn’t let her go because they figured she’d tell authorities.” Hoyt explained.

“I think we’re gonna have to figure out how to get in contact with Ace. Or at least locate him and we can figure out how to get them out of here before someone else gets taken.”

“That’s a great idea and all, but we’re gonna have to wait on some DNA results. We collected some cigarette buds and we think that any saliva collected could help us figure out if Ace is in the data base anywhere.”

“Well what are we supposed to do until then? Just sit around on our hands and hope for the best?”

Jenny sighed before she reached up and adjusted the jacket Beau was wearing, “We celebrate this victory. Ember and Sidney are safe and they’re going back to their families. And who knows, maybe this whole thing might be over when this Ace fella finds out that their operation was compromised and they may not come back to Helena.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“So, a way you can celebrate, Arlen, is you can get your ass down to Y/N’s house and apologize to her about missing out tonight. Find a way to make it up to her. Because you know damned well that ladies like her don’t stay single forever.”

Beau thought about it for a moment and he thought about how you sounded disappointed in that phone call when he said he wouldn’t be able to make it that night. He knew you were the understanding sort, so would you actually hold it against him?

“Yeah.. I suppose I could go over. She’ll want to know that Ember and Sidney are safe now.” He nodded.

So that was exactly what he did.

When Beau made it to your house, he saw that the porch light was still on. He half expected it to be turned off considering it was getting close to midnight. We’re you alright?

He stepped out of his car and looked down when he realized the bulletproof vest was still on. He took it off and tossed it into the car and shut the door. When he made it to your porch, he lifted a hand and gently knocked on the door, hoping that you would answer.

After a few moments of waiting, the door finally opened up. He saw you there with a messy bun, an AC/DC shirt and some sleeping shorts. You looked like you were ready for bed even if you looked wide awake.

“Beau? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s alright… I just wanted to check on ya.”

“Check on me? What for?” He heard the slightest chuckle in your voice and he smiled a little before he shook his head.

“Never mind, Darlin… I did want to say that we did finally get those two girls back. They should be on their way home either tonight or tomorrow morning once their released from the hospital. They had one of those routine checkups done as far as I know.” He admitted and he saw a smile appear on your face.

“That’s good. I’m glad things were able to work out. But you know you could have told me that on the phone. So why are you really here?”

Beau couldn’t help but wonder why he felt so hesitant now. Why was he there? What was he doing on your porch close to midnight? All of this could have been done over the phone, but he just wanted to see you, he supposed.

“I um… I wanted to apologize for missin’ movie night.”

“You know I’ll never hold the job against you, Beau. You did well tonight and I’m glad you guys were able to make sure those girls got back to their families before something bad happened.” You promised.

“Right.. but uh… I was wondering if there was some way I could make it up to you?” He asked and he watched you tilt your head to the side a little.

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I have the day off tomorrow. Maybe we can do something?” That was when he saw the expression in your face change.

“Um… tomorrow won’t exactly work for me. I’m supposed to be going on a uh.. friend date tomorrow.”

“A friend date?”

“Yeah, it’s with Andre. I’m just going to be showing him some of the fun spots in town. Nothing too fancy really.”

Beau felt this twinge of jealousy within him and he hated it. He didn’t like that you were going on a date with a guy you just met a couple of days ago. We’re you insane?! What if he was dangerous? What if he was just going to use you somehow?

All of these scenarios were playing in his mind and he wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

“Oh.. I see…”

“But if you still want to make things up to me…” He heard you trailing off for a moment, “This weekend, you and I should have a movie night at your place. Just the two of us. I’ll bring some marshmallows to roast and we can make s’mores.”

This was your request? You two have had plenty of movie nights together since Jenny or Cassie couldn’t make it once in a while if they were caught up with their own lives. But he couldn’t exactly recall the last time you said it should just be the two of you.

“I think that ought to be doable.” Beau smiled down at you.

“Good. So… I’ll see you at the coffee shop until then?” The hopefulness in your voice made that aching feeling in Beau’s stomach subside a little. He still didn’t trust Andre one bit. But at least he had something to look forward to he supposed. You did say it was just a friend date, whatever that means.

“I’ll be there.” He promised, “Now try and get some sleep. You shouldn’t be wide awake this late at night.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes a little before you stood taller on your tipped toes. Suddenly he felt your soft lips on his scruffy cheek, taking him by surprise.

“You need your sleep too, Sheriff. You’ve had a long night and you deserve the rest.” He heard you say and he gazed down at you.

“I’ll do my best, Sweetheart… Goodnight.” He said with a softer tone.

“Goodnight, Beau.” You replied and he watched you slowly shut the door.

Beau sighed and he ran a hand through his hair before he turned around and went to his car.

While he was walking, though, he got a phone call, causing him to let out a grumble to himself. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered while he got into the vehicle. “Arlen. What’s happening?”

“We need you to get to Irene’s house. I was wrong. I don’t think this is over, Beau.”

Hey guys! Thank you for reading! I hope you guys are enjoying this series so far! There’s more to this case than meets the eye and one has to wonder just who this Ace is. We’ll see where this goes!

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aabadendingzine · 8 months

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⚖️PREORDERS OPEN NOW⚖️

Court is in session… and preorders for Mea Culpa: an Ace Attorney Bad Ending Zine are open until September 30th! All proceeds from the zine will be donated to the Transgender Law Center.

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around1302 · 1 year

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EPILOGUE: SIX YEARS LATER

SPARE PARTS: a series

LONDON

(W) strong language, oral (male receiving)

THIRD PERSON’S POV

FOUR YEARS LATER

Cheers ring throughout the arena, thumping so loud even the floors shook. Charlie watches off stage, hands over an agape mouth as she tries to process just how proud she is – which is a pretty impossible feat. Amelia’s screams deafen her from the left, her own jumping adding to the shakes and only making her husband worry because a woman only two months from her due date definitely shouldn’t be moving like that.

(Even if she insists she knows what’s doing by the third time round).

“Oh, my God, this is going straight to his dick,” Liam laughs, whistling so loud that a few fans nearly spot them hidden behind the curtain. It was absolutely essential no one saw them – this wasn’t their night in the slightest.

“Thank you so much London!” Louis belts to the crowd one last time, trying his best to soak those emotional final few moments in before descending and joining his friends backstage.

They all scream, engulfing him in a suffocating group hug Amelia’s forced to bow out from early. Louis is clearly high on adrenaline, nearly shaking with the thrill of it all, as his former bandmates lap over each other to congratulate him.

“God, it felt so weird at first,” he pants, nodding his thanks toward the crew member who handed him a water as they all made their way to the tour buses. His tour buses, “being up there alone, but it was incredible. I just want to go out there and do it all again.”

“Good job you’ve booked a whole ass tour then,” Niall grips his shoulders, kissing the back of his sweaty head.

“Lou, you were fucking ace!” Zayn shouts over the phone Liam nearly forgot he was holding. It’s a miracle the signal and battery even held up in the 02, especially from Zayn’s hotel in Florence.

“How’s the exhibition going?” Louis responds, taking Liam’s phone to face Zayn for a minute.

The five of them climb onto the buses, each taking a minute to gasp at how different it is. Like slipping on an old cardigan, they all expected to see the red leather they were so used to and the posters they’d chosen and the always stocked mini fridge. This bus is all Louis now.

“So good,” Zayn begins to break up as the bus quickly sets off to Louis’ London apartment, “I had a buyer yesterday, meeting with him after tomorrow’s gallery opening.”

Everyone gives their congratulations, then Louis hangs up the phone before Zayn turns into nothing but a blob of pixels, handing Liam’s phone back to him.

“I’ve never seen a crowd like that,” Niall shuffles on the sofa he would never say is uncomfortable, but, well. It’s no Spare Parts tour bus. “So impressive mate.”

Amongst the pumped up conversation about Louis’ first solo show, Charlie feels her silenced phone buzzing away in her back pocket. Pulling the device out, she can’t help the small smile that makes it’s way onto her face – earning knowing groans from the others.

There’s only one person who can elicit that smile.

“Just answer it.” Louis chuckles.

“It’s just because I told him to call if there was an emergency–”

“Answer it before I do!” Amelia intercepts, throwing a cushion at Charlie. She barely catches it before it hits her face, so as she stands to take the call, she sticks her tongue out at her best friend.

And a finger.

Charlie hears a muted, “love you too!” as the door to the bunks close and she’s alone.

“Hi,” Charlie accepts the FaceTime, unable to hold back her smile as her husband comes into frame. “Everything okay?”

“Look,” he holds up a toy, specifically a 2 year old Rubik’s cube that aims to help with colour awareness. Charlie thought it was dumb, but it’s hard to argue with Harry when it comes to Reagan. “Our kid’s a genius.”

Charlie scoffs. The cube has one side completed in red, all four squares.

“Our kid’s two years old,” Charlie cocks her head, “but did she really do that?”

“Yep, we sat there for like an hour–”

“We?”

“Well her fingers aren’t the strongest.”

Charlie breathes out puffy laughter.

“Who did the cube?”

A pause. Tired eyes crinkling at the seams.

“Okay, so I physically did it, but she told me where to go!”

“Rae can say, like, five words, she did not.” Charlie loudly guffaws. Then she realises Harry’s been whispering this whole time, so she quickly clamps her mouth. “Is she asleep?”

“Yes,” Harry yawns, “took fuckin’ forever.”

“Hey! No swearing with Rae in the house.”

“She doesn’t know what they mean, Char.”

“And what happens when we send her to preschool with that in her vocabulary?”

“God, I don’t know. Do we go to jail?”

Charlie rolls her eyes, Harry cracks a lazy smile.

“How was it?”

“Oh, H, it was amazing. He was so good.”

“I’m sad to have missed it,” he yawns again, “I always knew he’d kill it solo.”

“Mm,” Charlie props her chin on her palm, “go to sleep baby.”

“Not tired.” Harry lies, his fringe tickling his lashes as he shakes his head.

“You just yawned three times in five minutes.”

“I want to stay up.” He nearly sounds like a sulking child.

“I’m not going to be back till gone midnight.”

A pause. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Charlie chuckles, “we’re nearly at Louis’ apartment and I promised I’d actually stay at this party.”

“Do you have to?”

“If ready-to-burst Amelia is, I hardly have an excuse.”

Harry softly laughs, and Charlie wants to wrap herself in that laugh. In fact, she’s wanted to go back to her husband and her daughter and their dog for hours, but she can’t hide away from yet another party.

“I’ll be back at 12:30.”

“Okay babe,” Harry yawns. Again. “Have fun. Give Louis my congratulations.”

“I will,” Charlie let’s her eyes drop over Harry for a minute. After three years of marriage, the sight of him in sweats and blankets and messy curls is no less sexy than when he’s in his silk shirts and his–

“You’re pulling that face.” Harry snaps her out of it.

“What?”

“Your eyes,” Harry shifts, Daisy’s fur visible in the corner of the screen as she clearly hogs her side of the bed, “you sure you don’t want to come back early?”

The door to the bunks open and Liam’s head peaks through, “Charlie, we’re here.”

“Okay, I’ll be one minute.” Charlie smiles, standing up.

“You alright, Harry?” Liam shouts.

“I’ll be one minute,” grits lilts, shooing Liam out with a smirk.

“I really need to go now,” Charlie’s attention reverts back to the screen, to Harry. “I love you. Stay up.”

“Always,” Harry has to have won some kind of world record for yawning at this point, “I love you.”

2 YEARS LATER

Thousands upon thousands await him, chanting and cheering for him as the final recognisable song from his (carefully curated) pre-show playlist slowly fades to a halt.

He should be jumping up and down on the spot, breathing short, sharp breaths and recounting the lyrics he always forgets (and probably will always forget). He should be hyping himself up to play his first ever stadium alone, he should be warming up or fuck, praying.

But no. He’s nowhere to be found.

He’s late.

“Fuckin’ unbelievable,” his manger, Jeff, paces over Ibrox’s backstage, about ready to quit, steam leaking from his ears - cartoon or not, his top client is always the one to make that happen.

Jeff could accept late six years ago. It was nerve wracking, opening a tour alone after a controversial departure from the band. Plus, he was well aware of his reputation, Jeff knew what he was signing on for.

But the man’s twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake. The man’s not some stupid early twenty-something who sees this whole thing as a fun little quest he gets to dictate. Over the years, and especially through the pandemic, he finally matured. He finally realised that being punctual is actually okay! And more than that, it doesn’t give your manager and crew kittens three minutes before Golden is supposed to blast to 50,000.

… except when it comes to pre-show blowjobs from his wife.

“Oh, my God, baby.”

Harry throws his head back, fingers taking turns in fisting the cushy sofa beneath him and raking through Charlie’s curls. Her tongue swirls his tip, her own insistence for punctuality urging her to make him finish as soon as possible. She looks up at him through long lashes, knowing eye contact while she mouths him like that will have him tipping over the edge in no time.

It was never even supposed to happen. She only went in his dressing room to wish him luck, see how he was doing, give him a chaste kiss if anything. And, if she was a little honest with herself, she wanted to see his outfit before the world did.

Catching him half-dressed with the hair that told her he’d been nervously messing with it for half an hour, well. Who wouldn’t drop to their knees and kiss their way to his cock in their mouth?

“Yeah, shit,” Harry pants, forcing his head to roll forward so he can watch her. “How do you just seem to get better at this?”

Charlie smiles around his prick, injecting butterflies into his stomach and–

“Harry, I’m going to ask one more time.”

“One minute!” Charlie surfaces, barely able to breathe as she shouts at Jeff this time. Jeff’s grumbles are audible from the other side of the door, as are the sound of feet shuffling away.

If there’s one person Jeff isn’t going to yell at, it’s Charlie.

Harry’s eyes widen, embarrassment heating his neck, but Charlie’s hand pumping his shaft silences him till he’s biting blood into his bottom lip and announcing,

“Baby, I’m gonna–” he doesn’t have to finish his sentence before her mouth is back on him, and he’s coming down the back of her wonderful throat.

The noises he makes as he finishes only spur her to suck him through his orgasm, all the way till he’s pulling her away and twitching with sensitivity.

“Okay, you need to go.”

Charlie stands, wiping her mouth and shanking his boxers and trousers up for him while he lays back, dazed the fuck out of his mind.

“Huh?” He barely understands a word she’s saying, let alone able to comprehend where he is and what he’s about to do.

“You have a show, H,” Charlie straddles his lap to fix his hair, styling it quickly in the way she knows he likes. Harry’s hands instinctively fly to her waist, grinning lazily as she fusses over his fucked-out appearance.

“That might’ve been your best work, sweetheart.”

“Shut up,” Charlie mumbles behind a smile. He pecks her swollen lips.

Standing up, she adjusts herself, too. Her hair that had been ragged at by a feral Harry, her lipstick that was practically cheekstick by now. Her top, that he’d messily yanked down during their initial make out session when he insisted he just had to bite at least one mark into her breasts.

“Okay, you have two minutes,” Charlie checks her phone, grabbing his white tank and jacket from his coat-rack. Coming round from the head, panic starts to set in.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, standing up. Charlie turns around, noticing that gone-off look in his eyes which tells her he’s either about to brush it off completely or melt into a panic attack. Neither are exactly great coping mechanisms, but Charlie really needs to prevent the latter right now.

“H, it’s nothing.”

She throws him the tank, waiting for him with the jacket. He glances at her, that postcoital glow long gone. Anxiety was starting to seep into those gaps she had managed to close just a few minutes ago, but were starting to crack at the seams.

“50,000 is not nothing.”

Charlie puts his jacket on for him, afraid he’d stand there forever if she didn’t.

“50,817.” She corrects. He scowls. “Sorry.”

“Look, of course it’s not nothing. It’s a huge deal. But I know you,” she grabs his face, forcing his eyes to still on something solid. A stray curl falls against his forehead, framing his furrowed brows. “You’re going to get on that stage, and you’re going to fucking kill it.”

Harry huffs a breath, unconvinced.

“Honey, you’ve done it before.” Charlie smiles softly, brushing away the strand.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “with you.” He nudges his nose against hers, and Charlie wants to cry at his vulnverability. It’s rare she sees a Harry like this. For as long as she’s known him, he’s remained stoic in the face of fear, and although he’s not as rigid as he used to be – he’s never one to panic so much.

Endearingly, Charlie can pinpoint when he became much more of a worrier to one day, one person.

“H,” Charlie firms up, “it’s just like that. You have your band, you have me and your friends and–”

Harry interrupts the beginning of Charlie’s pep talk by grabbing her face and kissing her, hard. As if he was pouring out all of his nerves into her mouth and something in her lips and her tongue managed to just kill them. He pulls away, pepping light kisses against her cheek and jaw, making Charlie chuckle softly as his hair tickles her face.

“Okay, okay,” she leans back, forcing him away from her skin, “round two after the show, yeah?”

Harry holds his pinkie out. Charlie rolls her eyes, and holds her pinkie out. They kiss their respective thumbs and Harry nods.

“You got this.” She scrunches her nose, and Harry swears he feels his heart drop out of his stomach, which, how? After all this time, how does she still manage to do that to him.

It needs to be studied.

As he leaves his dressing room, Charlie gives him a swift slap to the ass, laughing as he turns and playfully scowls (despite knowing full well he loves it). She says a silent prayer for her husband as she follows him toward the stage, the sound of thousands of impatient fans already deafening.

They round the corner to backstage, where the team and Jeff are minutes away from breaking down themselves. Jeff nearly drops to the floor in relief at the sight of Harry, but wastes no time in calling tech over to mic him up.

Charlie gratefully smiles at Sarah, taking a fussing Reagan from her arms. Harry turns to let the team thread his mic through his jacket, and finds his remaining anxiety instantly dissipating at the sight of his daughter wearing entirely too big headphones and fisting at Charlie’s t-shirt as she complains about said defenders.

“Hi, princess,” Harry coos, reaching out for Reagan to grab his finger with her little hand.

“Daddy, you look funny.” Reagan giggles, wiggling enough for Charlie to set her down.

“Heey,” Harry lilts, getting the go ahead from the tech man before bending to his four-year-old’s height. “You don’t think I look handsome?”

Reagan shakes her head, brown curls bouncing against her cheeks.

“You look like play-dough.”

Charlie snorts, because she kinda hit the nail on the head. Harry’s band are giggling, too, as they prepare to get on stage. Harry narrows his eyes at them all.

“Do I have to wear these?” Reagan bashes her fists against the headphones.

“Afraid so, Rae,” Harry adjusts them so they sit a little looser on her head, but she’s still unhappy. “Your ears are too little right now,” he tries to explain, but if he knows his daughter at all, he knows she’ll be upset throughout the whole show because her hairdo’s squashed.

That’s Auntie Amelia’s damning influence.

“I don’t want to interrupt, but–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry stands, not deaf to the chants for him outside.

He kisses Reagan’s head, then turns to his wife.

“How’s Daisy?”

“Daisy’s fine,” Charlie sighs around a smile. Of course Harry’s worried about their dog right now. “Lia and Niall texted, she’s passed out on the sofa.”

Harry nods, clearly trying to delay the inevitable. So Charlie hurries it along for him, knowing he could stand there and ask stupid questions all evening to avoid that initial opening.

“Don’t fuck it up.” She winks, pinching his chin. Harry breathes short laughter from his nose, his lips squashed as Charlie pulls him for one final good luck kiss. Reagan sticks her tongue out at the sight of her parents’ affection, to which Harry does the same back and earns a tinkling of giggles back.

Charlie lifts Raegen so she can blow a kiss to her dad, currently jumping up and down and getting a few final stretches in before the opening to Music For A Sushi Restaurant fills the stadium, the screams become deafening, and Charlie watches as her rockstar husband takes the same stage her rockstar self did last year.

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usedacbuyersinchennai · 2 years

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fearfulachilles · 3 months

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9. wunderkind.

chapter nine to buop (nanami kento x reader jjk medical au.) .

full contents here.

summary: working with dr. geto proves to be more difficult than you thought, but you have an enjoyable lunch break.

tw: american healthcare.

Satoru Gojo was a wunderkind. He graduated high school early, finished pre-med in half as much of time than normal, and aced his way through med school at an incredibly young age. He was a medicine prodigy. He was sought out by many hospitals for his neurosurgery fellowship, but decided to accept a fellowship at Jujutsu Metropolitan Hospital.

During his fellowship, he created and developed a new technique that is still used by nearly all neurosurgeons across the country, even years later. Up until a year ago, it had been known as the Gojo technique.

During and after Satoru's fellowship, he quickly noticed that he hated how the hospital was managing things. The owners of the hospital were old men who didn't work with patients anymore, instead they worked closely with insurance companies to milk money out of patients looking for care.

Satoru had to constantly turn away sick patients in need of surgery, and even the ones who needed simpler treatments such as medication and routine examinations, all because the patients couldn't afford to pay for it, and pro-bono services were forbidden. Patients waited months for post-operative visits and some had to hold off on returning after surgery completely, all due to money. He saw how the staff around him, nurses and scrub techs, were always shorthanded and overworked because the higher ups refused to hire more people, just to save themselves money.

Eventually, it all came crumbling down on the members of the hospital board. Patients were seeking care elsewhere, strung out employees were quitting, and the Jujutsu Hospital reputation was going to shit. Money doesn't last forever, but they were in need of it. That's when an anonymous buyer came in with a generous offer, in exchange for the board to be changed immediately, of course.

It didn't take long for senior hospital board member, Dr. Yoshinobu Gakuganji, to trace the money back to the one and only, medicine prodigy, Satoru Gojo. He wished he never did find out where the buy-out offer came from, because he had no choice but to take the offer. So, now he stood in an office room located in one of the higher floors of the hospital building with the young white haired physician.

“I'll accept the buy-out under one exception,” Gakuganji started, wrinkling fingers tapping against one another.

Satoru only scoffed, his arms crossed on his chest. His voice is smug, laced with his usual know-it-all attitude, “you have no room to bargain, you're out of options. No one wants you bail you out of your shitty hospital but me.”

“For this, it's worth the risk. No surgery for four years.”

How evil. Brain surgery was Satoru's passion. He worked hard, studied long nights, developed his own technique for his surgeries. His eyes widened and he bared his teeth, slamming his hand down on the old man's desk.

“Fuck no, you can't do that!” Satoru had always been out of line as a subordinate, but he was well aware that his brain and talent were too prestigious to reprimand or hold accountable so he got away with a lot, much to Gakuganji's disliking. It explained why Gakuganji was always looking for reasons to get rid of him.

“I can have the hospital’s lawyer on retainer add it into the contract. You want to turn this hospital around? Time to make some sacrifices, Gojo.”

Satoru grunts, chewing on the inside of his cheek, his fingertips digging into the palm of his hand in a shaking fist. Gakuganji can't be serious.

“One more thing...”

“You’ve asked for enough.” Satoru rolls his eyes.

“The Gojo technique, it's brilliant. Forfeit your name to it.”

Gakuganji was going for the jugular. The Gojo technique was pretty much flawless and it had never failed to save a life in surgery. It was Satoru's creation, his baby. He had traveled the country to teach this technique to other neurosurgeons, articles were published about it, it was his.

“To what, your name? The Gakuganji technique is a mouth full and an eye sore.” Satoru spat. Though surgery was his life, he was willing to step down for a short amount of time, if it was for his vision of this hospital he had, then four years wasn't too long.

“Preferably, but as long as it's out of your name, I'll be satisfied. Make a public announcement about forfeiting the ownership of your technique, and we can move forward this deal.” Gakuganji said, stroking his thin-haired beard, it always creeped Satoru out.

Satoru glared daggers at the old man. He was wrinkly, fragilely thin, shaking like a leaf in the cold air conditioning of the the office. He could croak at any time and Satoru wished it'd happen now more than ever.

“You're acting like a man with nothing to lose.” Satoru’s eyes sized up the shrinking old man.

“I don't anymore.”

The deal closed the day after Satoru made a public announcement, giving titleship and credit to Dr. Geto for his the technique.

He walked into work like nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just become the owner of Jujutsu Hospital, as if he hadn't just agreed to sacrifice the next four years. He struck a deal with Dr. Geto to take over his surgical cases from now because he'll be “too busy with paperwork” for a while.

He hires back the old chief of surgery, Dr. Masamichi Yaga, who had been forced to retire by the old hospital board members, despite them hitting critical ages themselves. He confides in his old mentor that he has no clue what he's doing with this hospital he had just bought, but he may know where to start.

“I'm sick and tired of insurances denying everything. I'm the doctor, I know what my patients needs, not them.” Satoru complains, resting his cheek on his palm.

“It is a pain dealing with them.” Dr. Yaga agreed.

They sat in Satoru's new office, a place he was told to get used to; he'll be spending most of his time in there, rather than the operating room.

The young physician had a vision for the future of medicine: no red tape from insurance companies, no gouged up prices for medicine that patients need, fair wages and generous personal time off for employees.

Satoru sighed, blowing the air out of pursed lips. His eyes fall on to a pile of rejected proposals by the last hospital head. He finds an old one he had proposed—the free clinic. He had brought this idea up during his fellowship, the idea of offering free medical care for post-op patients, and once established, expand to offer free care for all patients.

His long fingers flip through his old proposal, a smile creeping on his lips as he comes to realization that he can approve this with a simple sign of his signature.

“I've got four years of free time, anyways.” Satoru tells himself.

More than half the employees who quit due to an unfair working environment had been rehired the first month of Satoru taking over, and new employees were hired to share the workload. He opened the hospital for med school students to come there for their clinical rotations and for residents to come work for their residency, and he found room in the budget for medical scribes to be hired.

_________

Your first day working with Dr. Geto couldn't have gone worse.

Dr. Geto requested to start work in the clinic two hours earlier than when it usually opens, so you have to show up two hours earlier than normal.

You wake up with exactly 10 minutes left before you have to leave. You rush through brushing your hair and tying it back, brushing your teeth, and you change into a pair of scrubs. Then you spill your homemade coffee on yourself by accident. Changing again makes you five minutes late to the clinic, and your gas tank is nearly on empty, so you'll have to pump more after work.

Dr. Geto is already standing and waiting at the nurse station when you walk in. You run to grab a scribing laptop from the supply closet at the back of the clinic, frantically opening it and logging into the electronic health system the clinic and hospital use.

You finally catch your breath as you wait near Dr. Geto for the first patient to be ready for him. You lose your breath again when Dr. Geto addresses you directly.

“Satoru told me you're interested in neurosurgery.” His voice is silk smooth, almost hypnotizing. He's prettier than the images you saw of him when you Googled the surgeon. His hair is so dark and shiny, it's long enough to go down his back, and he has half of it tied up. He takes care of it, you can tell.

You can't seem to find your voice, so you just nod. You're not necessarily interested in neurosurgery solely, but you're really open to it. You're not going to tell that to Dr. Geto, a neurosurgeon, though.

Dr. Geto works differently than Satoru or Kento. He likes to move quickly, even wasting less time than Kento does. He moves so swiftly, almost like he's gliding across the floor. You're barely able to keep up with his pace, once he's done with one patient, he moves on to the next room. He doesn't look back, he doesn't ask if you have any questions, he doesn't check your notes, you have no idea how he prefers them. You try stopping him, but it does no good.

“Dr. Geto, if I can just ask—” Your words don't reach him, he's already stepped into the next available exam room and began exanimating his patient.

You take your lunch break earlier than everyone else, since Dr. Geto had you start work earlier today.

“Goddamn it,” you curse to yourself as you realize you've gotten lost on the way to the hospital cafeteria again. You don't think you'll ever learn where it is. The hallways are so identical, other than different variations of some CPR posters pinned up in certain hallways.

“Need help?” You hear in a very familiar deep tone.

You turn your head to the direction of the voice and see Kento walking towards you. He looks handsome in the scrub cap he's wearing. He still lacks the white doctor coat so his muscular forearms are out for all to see, like usual. You can't help but stare at them, tracing each vein you see with your eyes. You remember how he held you with those arms as he fucked you four times.

Your gurgling stomach brings your focus back to him. “Uh, yeah, I always get lost on my way to the cafeteria.”

Kento chuckles, he thinks that's cute. “I was just heading there myself. I can show you.”

He really tries to continue a conversation with you, but it's awkward at first. You feel nervous, like you want to throw up, but despite not feeling any bile come up, the fluttering sensation stays in your stomach.

Kento opens each door at the end of the hallways for you like it's natural instinct. You tried opening one for him, but he gently replaced your hand on the steel doorknob with his own. His hands are so much bigger than yours, he can almost engulf your hand in just his palm alone.

He asks you how your day is going, and you respond by automatically pouting and dropping your head down. He laughs briefly as he watches your sulking. He opens one of the double doors that finally belongs to the cafeteria entrance, placing his large hand on the small of your back and guiding you inside as you continue pouting with your head down.

You pick up your head, and whine. “It's going horrible! I can't keep up with Dr. Geto, he's impossible to stop once he's started, it's like he can't hear me, I have no idea how he likes his notes, it's like he expects to know how he wants it—”

Kento nods, he's aware of how... difficult Suguru can be to work with. He expects everyone to be on his level from the get-go; he wants his scrub techs to know what instruments he's going to ask for during surgery before he needs to ask for it, he likes his nurses to write their supervision notes in a particular format so he can learn the most information without needing to ask the patient more questions himself. He has high expectations from everyone he works with, with little remorse or thought to new employees around him.

“—I like working with you way more.” You say quietly, finishing your rant.

The corners of Kento's lips turn up slightly, a small smile appearing at your confession. He notes how your cheeks turn pink, so he decides to not respond to it. You're thankful, thinking he hadn't heard you.

The hospital cafeteria is almost nearly empty, a few family members of patients eat, but there weren't many staff members there, most likely because you're taking an earlier lunch than normal. You and Kento grab food and he pays for your portion without exchanging words and without a second thought. You want to hate how he does that because you can take care of yourself, but you can't.

“About my parking ticket—” you begin, both of you moving to an empty table in a private corner of the cafeteria. He carries his food, a chicken sandwich with wheat bread, in one hand and pulls out a chair for you with his other.

“Already paid.” Kento replies, quickly shutting you down on it. He's smiling, smugly if you squint hard enough to see.

“You didn't have to do that.” You insisted. You take a seat in the chair he's pulled out for you, and he sits beside you.

“I know.” His voice is kind, traced with unwavering certainty. How odd. You're not used to that: someone doing something like that for you because they wanted to. It sends a chill down your spine, ringing an alarm in your head. Kento causes it, but he also helps dull out the noise of it.

You didn't think you'd really talk to Kento again after having dirty, hot sex at his home—other than having to talk to him during work. But you're not working with him today and you're here talking to him. It feels like it did in the bar, now that you've gotten over the one-sided awkwardness you were feeling.

Kento had your full attention and you had his. Your legs brush against one another's underneath the table and it makes you aware of how close he was. You remember how you brushed shoulders at the bar and how your bodies felt pressed together in his bed. You have to bring yourself back to reality.

Your lunch break breezes by a lot faster than you'd like it to. You have to return to Dr. Geto's service and the thought of it makes you dread it. Kento chuckles to himself as you pout and drag yourself up from the table you both shared and then joins you in doing so. He has a couple more surgeries to do before he's done for the day, some routine procedures that won't take long.

Kento had enjoyed spending his break with you. He didn't want to return to wondering when he'd be able to talk to you again or wait until his days in the clinic to see you. As you both walk out of the cafeteria with brushing shoulders, he finds it in himself to ask you for your numbers.

“I was wondering if I could have your phone number,” Kento's cringing at himself, he sounds old and out of sync with this hook-up dating culture that people your age are doing. “So it'd be easier to...”

To what? Bootycall you? He almost wants to say never mind, and go back to bland coffee and tasteless foods. No, he knows that's not enough for him anymore. He wants more of your touch, your body, you.

Thankfully, you don't make him say it. “Sure, yeah.” You sound cool, nearly aloof, but you're anything but that. Kento hands you his phone for you to input your number. Just as you finish saving the contact, you realize the time at the top of his screen—you're gonna be late at returning from your lunch break.

“Shit, I gotta go.” You push his phone back to him and quickly leave, fast on your feet as you walk away.

“Talk to you later.” Kento says, though you're gone already. He stares at his phone screen.

_________

The second portion of the day goes by a lot slower than you would have preferred. You feel like you can finally catch your breath after keeping up with Dr. Geto the whole day. You close your work laptop slowly, sighing out tiredly.

“Good job today.” You hear Dr. Geto's smooth voice day to you. You perk up and look at him. If you were a dog, your tail would be wagging.

“Oh—thank you!” You reply brightly. “I really enjoyed working with you.”

That's a lie. Dr. Geto didn't slow down for a second after lunch, if anything, he had started working faster. He also didn't take time to go the extra mile to talk or teach you about neurosurgery, like Satoru and Kento had. He wasn't required to, but it would have been appreciated on your part. Still, there's no denying Dr. Geto was a genius at what he does for a living. He had a lot more complex post-operative patients today, so you still had the opportunity to learn about his surgical cases and their treatment plans by being in the room and listening as you scribed.

Dr. Geto isn't much of a talker if he doesn't need to be, so he nods at your words in acknowledgement before leaving for the day.

You take a look around as you come from down that people-pleasing high you just experienced and see Yuji grimly working with Dr. Ieiri, the surgical oncologist, in one part of the clinic. You spot Nobara's eye twitching with near annoyance as she works with Dr. Haibara, the OBGYN, in the other part of the clinic. They would be better suited if they switched physicians.

Your roommates still have some time left in their workday, while you were able to go home now since you had started earlier today. You wave at them, Yuji brightly smiles at you and waves back, Nobara scrunches her nose in friendly envy that you're able to leave now, but waves back too.

You make it home after leaving work and stopping at a gas station for your car. Your phone had been more silent the entire time despite turning on your ringer for the first time in a long time—you always preferred your phone on vibrate. Not a peep from an unknown number you were hoping to hear from.

What's gotten into you? Looking forward to Kento hitting you up? Get a grip.

You shower when you get home and change into some loungewear. You finally feel your body relaxing as you lay in bed freshly showered and in clean clothes. You try to scroll mindlessly on your phone, but you feel your eyes getting heavier and tired until you finally give into the sinking feeling. You've sunk too deep into a quiet nap when your phone finally does ring.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

This is Kento. I hope your day improved.

sticky note:

i didn't want to specify where this au takes place or what specific ages the characters are because i wanted to give readers free reign on that, if that makes sense. though, since i am from america then most of my writing may be american-based (like the insurance part of this fic lol), but i'm am trying to stay unspecific in those areas. but even tho an age gap is intentional, i may never specify what ages everyone is because that way anyone reading can imagine an age gap they're comfortable with, if that makes sense too.

ps. when i worked as a scribe i saw an insurance company deny cancer treatment for a patient with prostate cancer bc the insurance company believed “it was not necessary” :O

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indiepressrevolution · 1 year

Text

Becoming an IPR Publisher

We’ve had quite a few people contact us about selling their games at IPR recently, so here is a quick rundown of how to apply to become part of our network of publishers!

Firstly, why become an IPR publisher in the first place?

Unlike other distributors, IPR sells your games on a consignment basis. We pay publishers 80% of cover price for PDF sales, 70% of cover price for sales to customers through our website, and 44% of cover price for sales at conventions or to retailers (we get 11%, the retailer gets a 45% discount from cover price).

The cut is all the fee you'll see. IPR's cut covers all the costs involved in a sale transaction: bank transactional fees, shipping discounts for the buyer, and a modest amount for IPR to cover other expenses & profit. By sticking with a flat, covers-everything cut, your costs should remain predictable.

We’re also a destination site for retailers and individual customers, since we offer so many awesome TTRPGs in one place! Plus we take your games to conventions, including Gen Con and Origins Game Fair. We’ve also got a network of affiliates that sell at conventions under the IPR banner all over the US, and all throughout the year as well!

Sounds cool, so how do I apply again?

Send a physical copy of your game to us at:

Indie Press Revolution c/o Jason Walters PO Box 247 Gerlach, NV 89412 USA

Then email a PDF copy of your game to us at [email protected], and introduce yourself as well!

If you don’t want to send along a physical copy of your game for us to review, for whatever reason (most commonly because international shipping prices are a beast) you can just send us a PDF, and let us know why you’re not sending a physical copy at this time.

Once we’ve got a copy of your game, we’ll read through it to make sure it meets IPR’s quality standards. What exactly does that mean? Well, as our Prospective Publisher FAQ states:

“Excellent art, professional quality layout, attractive and eyecatching cover design, meticulous editing, well-written text, and a compelling rule set and/or setting. These are the criteria on which all submissions will be judged. If your product is lacking in any of these areas, it might be rejected. We are looking for products that make us sit up and take notice.”

We also will not take any games that contain bigotry in any form. As we always say, IPR supports trans rights and BIMPOC creators and gamers. Fascists, Nazis, and TERFs can all fuck right off.

Now I will say that if you’re even thinking about maybe submitting a game to us, do it! Even if we reject your game at this time, we will always give you clear feedback on exactly why, and we are always up for giving advice on how to make your game retailer-ready!

If you’re approved, then we’ll send you a contract to read through and sign, get you set up with an IPR Publishers Account, and tell you where to ship your product and where to enter information so we can get the products set up on the site.

This all sounds pretty good but I’m still nervous! Do you, AC, the person writing this who is also the person that approves all incoming products to IPR, have any tips for me?

I do! The main thing is to read through our Prospective Publisher FAQ before submitting anything. Everything I just wrote out here is on that page, but it also has plenty more info that is good to know before working with IPR.

Seriously, I can tell if you’ve read through our FAQs before submitting, and while I absolutely will not judge your game based off of that, it does help everything go much quicker and smoother, and I appreciate it greatly.

We’re also not generally looking for large TTRPGs at the moment. Shipping prices are awful and only getting worse, so hefty games that weigh over two pounds are not our top priority.

Furthermore, we only deal in physical books. We sometimes take PDFs if they’re a supplement for a game we already have in stock, and if they don’t have a physical version available. But really PDFs just don’t sell through us! You’ll have much better luck on itch.io or DriveThru, trust me.

Lastly, just email me!! If you have any questions about anything TTRPG related, or if you’re worried about your game being accepted, or you’re not sure where to get your game printed, or anything else, [email protected]. Email me. I love talking to TTRPG folks! And if I don’t know the answer to your question, someone on staff will.

We’ve also got our Publisher Tips Page on our website, which includes a bunch of information on how to make your game attractive to retailers, as well as how to ship it safely, a bunch of printers that we recommend, and more!

Wow this was all super cool and helpful, but I’m actually planning on crowdfunding my game this year! Can IPR help with that at all?

Yes! We offer crowdfunding fulfillment services, which I’m going to talk about more in another post, but you can also read all about them on our Crowdfunding Fulfillment FAQ page.

#IPR remarks #indie ttrpg #indie ttrpgs #come sell through us!#i love new game submissions #theyre always fantastic and interesting

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star-junk · 1 month

Text

Only Bones

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Alastor x ReaderOC, Vox x ReaderOC, Future Lucifer x ReaderOC

Second Person POV, Change of POV, Slow burn (or fast burn - really moving through the plot quickly), please forgive the typos.

Warnings: Dark Themes: Altered state of consciousness, possessive behavior, mention of dv, non-con elements in the future, cannibalism and just things not being nice--it's Hell.

General Notes: Still not sure if Alastor will remain ace within the confines of my story. Also, operating under many assumptions for Season 2 so walk with me on this one.

Ch 2 Notes: I know nothing about TV production so I'm just winging most of this bit. Also Kudos to you if you know the song used on this chapter. Continuing with the breakneck pace bc otherwise I'd spend 5 more chapters setting shit up.

Chapter 2:

You're packaging the last bit of the pies into neat little boxes. These are smaller than the regular size you sell at the shop, they were a pain to cut but the buyer did offer to pay extra for the commission and well, how could you say no to that? They ordered every kind you had too, including the herb and cheese ones - had to pay Kory, the local smuggling succubus, extra to get the three different kinds of cheeses you needed.

The water with the devilfoot root comes to a boil, you hurry over to take it off the stove before the root disintegrates making the whole thing undrinkable. Pouring it on a separate container to sift the bits that did come off, you then add the crimson scarab from the jar of crimson scarabs Jo catches for you—and that should do it: Your very own calming remedy!

You close the old almanac gifted to you, placing it back into your tote bag to close shop too. Jo was long gone for to rest as instructed to be up for an early start tomorrow.

Covering yourself with your old worn shawl, you adjust your tote bag underneath to brave the elements for the short trip back home. This part of the city was usually quiet compared to others, but you could never be too careful. The dagger in your bag is always accessible if you needed it—and you had needed it before.

As you walk you’re already thinking of tomorrow, of the financial possibilities if the buyer likes the pies and they ask you to keep coming back. You might be able to reach your goal sooner than you think and though you know you shouldn't get too excited, a glimmer of hope still shines within you.

Your steps feel that much lighter over the filthy city concrete below.

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

You hold on as Jo makes a sharp turn. “Are you sure you don’t want some of my tea? You seem nervous.”

“Nah, I’m good.” He replies. You know he's a bit of road demon but today he seems more on edge, he’s also way more chatty than usual. “So anyway, I told her she needed to get real for once and… “

You take a big gulp from your thermo letting him talk through his nervousness as VoxTek Tower comes closer. It was visible from the third floor of your apartment complex and it always seemed like such a distant aspect of life here in Pentagram City, so inconsequential to your own afterlife—but up front? You can literally feel the corporate presence sucking away your soul.

You’re directed towards the back once you pull up, and are given directions to the studio coordinator who made the order.

There’s chaos all around you when you pull up, huge props and costumes wheeled to and from. Groups of technicians with lights and camera in tow. People with phones and clipboards shouting orders. Your van and cart of pies oddly fit right along the organized mayhem.

“This is kinda cool.” Jo says hauling down one of the carts.

“Right?”

Both of you do your best to avoid running into anyone on your way to the elevators, which are thankfully big enough to accommodate the carts.

The 13th floor is just as busy as the ground floor, maybe even more. You attempt to follow the sign that reads: SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE WITH FYTOR when a horde of demons rushes past you.

“He’s here!” “Shit, do we have everything ready?” “If anything goes wrong, I … !”

Jo glances at you and you shrug until you see him.

Vox, the CEO and owner of the VoxTek Enterprise.

He made sure his image was unavoidable if you resided in any part of the Pride Ring, more so than any of the other Overlords if you were one to keep up to date.

“Wow.” Jo says.

And he’s right, the Overlord has so much more presence in person, towering over those crowding him.

“Woah there, no pictures, no pictures.” He says while fixing his coat, all long limbs and charisma. “I’m here on business, my valuable employees.”

“And so are we.” You remind Jo, who continues to gawk at the Overlord.

“I’ve seen two Overlords in less than a month, it must be a sign or something, Nuria.” He says, glancing back.

“I hope it's a sign for wealth.” You reply.

Soon you’re at the back of the set, speaking with Myrna, the bizarre horse-snake chimera mix. “This all of them?” She asks with the same thick southern accent you heard on the phone.

“Yes, ma’am, all hundred of them.” You answer. Jo is ready with receipt and pen. “Now if you could sign here just to verify our delivery.”

She ignores you as she grabs one of the pies, taking it out of its tiny box eating it all in one bite. You and Jo look at each other, unsure now if you’ll be paid. This wouldn’t be your first time, not because of the quality of the pies but because it was Hell and people were generally assholes, specially when it came to paying up sometimes.

“Oh Goodness Gracious!” She finally says, turning around to sign your form and grabbing another pie from the cart. You breathe easy again. “Set them over there, sugar.”

“A pleasure to do business with you!” You offer a smile and a handshake. “We hope we can continue catering your events!”

“Of course!” She responds already walking away ignoring your hand. You sigh, so much for networking.

You get busy anyway, moving some things around in the already lavish snack table to make room for your delivery Upon seeing who was visiting, the elaborate set up made sense. “I think we’re going to need another table.” You finally admit defeat after playing tray tetris, some stuff looked too expensive to touch.

“Let me see if I can find someone.” Jo offers.

And you’re left there to wait while he does that, that's what you liked about Jo an observant self-starter, you should look into increasing his pay soon. You're thinking that watching the crew work, it really does take a lot of manpower to get production on air. You kind of wish you had been invited to the ‘Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister So What?’ Set instead. It was your guilty pleasure, putting it on as background noise while you worked on the pies for the following day. Maybe you’ll get lucky and see one of the actors on your way out.

“Homemade pie?! It’s been decades!” A crisp male voice says from behind.

Great, a potential customer! “Oh, our shop has been op— “ It’s Vox, the very CEO you saw on the halls before. He's leaning over the table taking in the smell.

“Are you the owner?” He asks sizing you up, his eyes going from your horns, face, body and finally settling on the wings at your hips. He quirks a brow at the sight, you hide them further back, a knee jerk reflex whenever people looked at them too long. You hated them.

“I sure am, sir. A pleasure to meet you.” You extend a hand out before he comments on the wings.

He takes your hand, doing a little bow to meet your eyes. “Well I do love a woman that can cook!” You do your best to keep the frown off your face. But aside from that, it was truly impressive to see the Overlord up-close. The light from his screen engulfs you in the low light of the set as his upper body tilts closer and you have to squint to keep the light from hurting your vision. “One so pretty as well. Are you one of the guests. What do you go by, doll?”

“You’re too kind, sir. Nuria is the name. And no, sir, we're just here for delivery.”

“Vox, Sir! We were looking all over for you. The producer is eager to meet you.” A crew member emerges from one of the curtains. “Follow me, please.” They urge.

“Of course, of course. My apologies.” He answers, brilliant smile back on. “But I hope to see you around, Nuria.” He says letting go of your hand with a wink and a light sting of electricity from his body to the underside of your wrist. Your hand pulls back startled, he chuckles as he struts away.

Jerk, you murmur under your breath.

Jo comes back a few moments later dragging a large folding table borrowed from somewhere.

“Let me give you a hand!”

You finish fairly quickly after that, when Myrna comes back again, taking the last bite of her second pie and seemingly ready for a third one. “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

“Really?” Jo chirps. And you don’t have the heart to say no, your wrist still tingling from her boss' "greeting."

You’re herded to a corner though, where several screens show different angles of the set. One screen dictates what’s to happen at which times intervals during the show. One segment draws your attention. Special Guests, it reads, the name of the performing musical group - and then a live performance of a song you immediately recognize.

Sudden screaming from one of the hallways leading to another part of the studio has you and Jo glancing around. There’s the sound of slamming doors and objects being thrown around followed by a string of swears accompanied by several footsteps running towards the source of the screams.

“What the fuck is going on now?!” Myrna screams into her headset as she follows the chaos.

“Maybe it’s time we skedaddle?” Jo suggests scratching his cheek in mild concern.

But now it’s you who doesn’t want to leave. “We’ll be fine, Jo, besides I really want to see this.” You point to the screen. “Mamá Tozi, my grandmother, used to play this song all the time when I was little. It’s an oldie but a goodie, didn’t expect to see it here of all places.” You explain. “Want me to teach you how to dance cumbia?”

“No?“

Too late you’re already grabbing his hands, placing them in position. “Let’s see, it goes 1, 2, 3… Nunca es suficiente para mí… ” You step forward, tilting one hip to the side and then to the other. It’s a bit difficult without the actual beat of the song but you manage following your own, “Tan-tan-tan, tan... “ Jo tries his best to follow along. “Porque siempre quiero más de ti. Yo quisiera hacerte más feliz.” And then a hum for the parts there’s no words for. You move his hand while keeping the other in a loose grip so you can do a half twirl and return to position, then motion with your hand for him to do the same. He follows through and you giggle as Jo rolls his eyes but continues to follow along. “Mi corazón estalla por tu amor. ¿Y tú que crees que esto es muy normal? Acostumbrado estás tanto al amor.”

“You know the song?” Myrna asks out of nowhere, you let go of Jo's hands (you hadn't notice when she came back.) “Have you performed before?” She presses.

“No… ” High school and karaoke performances didn’t count, though you had been told you weren’t half bad.

“Well there’s always a first time for everything.” Oh you did not where this was going.

“Turns out the vocalist for our scheduled group is feelin’ a little under the weather t’day, and by that I mean she’s too fucking wasted to even stand up, so we’re gonna need to improvise.” We? Who’s we? “Our CEO is here.” Our?

“Well I do wish you the best of luck and would you look at the time, Jo, we should be driving back soon.” You say looking at the black screen of your phone, then search for Jo’s hand again to get out of there as quickly as possible. But Myrna’s talons snatch your arm first.

“Hey!” Jo tries to reach for you, but she easily pushes him back with the other hand.

“You’ll do just as well.” She sneers.

“There’s no way you think I’ll get out there to put on a professional performance! Are you nuts?!” You drop the professional act, glaring at her instead - trying not to wince in pain, her grip hurts.

“I don’t think - I know you will.” She says, you’re standing on the tip of your toes with the way she continues to hold onto you. “Or there won’t be any payment for the order, AND I’ll make sure to run your little shop’s reputation to the ground. Would that be enough motivation for you?”

“Oh yeah?” Jo speaks up, “You don’t know who you’re messing with!” Myrna hisses at him as response.

“I want triple the pay for the pies.” You say before Jo says anything else. There’s no need to involve Rosie.

Her eyes narrow. “Whatever.” She says and calls for a dressing room assistant.

“Nuria, but… “ Jo whispers.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine, and we’ll make a killing on this one.” You smile as Myrna drags you further back.

__________________________________________________________

He sits right on the front row.

Fights the urge to yawn while waiting for the next section as his employees scamper behind the camera. Someone offers him a second cup of whiskey which he takes without even looking to see who is offering it, he should really try to make an effort to actually engage with them. It was easier to win them over with feigned kindness than by force (though his peers would disagree). Especially now that they had the entire playing field to themselves.

It was the reason why he was there at all. To ensure the 'magic of TV' ran smoothly for captivating quality content. Their plan to monopolize Hell depended on them capturing as much support from the public as possible, by any means necessary. Indeed, with the battle against heaven broadcast he could feel himself growing in influence and power as every wretched sinner tuned in to watch. So strike and improve while the iron is hot was one of his many mottos.

It’s all he thinks as he watches the Host announce the next performer.

The lights dim as the cameras focus on the stage.

The lively melody of a trumpet is followed by the rest of the band’s instruments as flood lights cast over the vocalist at the center of the stage.

A tight sequin dress glimmers with the curve of her swaying hips, her shoulders also moving to the beat of the music.

But then she sings and suddenly it's the most interesting thing he’s seen all week.

“Oh thank fuck!” Vox overhears one of the producer’s heads loud-whisper to someone on his right.

“ Y tú te vas jugando a enamorar. Todas las ilusiones vagabundas que se dejan alcanzar.“ Her voice young and smooth in Spanish, he understands very little but knows them to be of a romantic melancholic nature. She spins, grabbing one of the trumpet players to accompany her on her dance and her solo dance from before flourishes with the new companion.

“Who’s that?” He finally asks, curious.

“She’s ah… an up and coming artist.” The producer’s heads answer in unison, then go over his notes to look for her actual name. The CEO watches as the ratings are directly sent to his screen.

“Oh yeah?” He says taking a swing of his whiskey, liking the data he’s receiving.

“Nunca es suficiente para mí. Porque siempre quiero más de ti.” Her voice rises without losing the harmony in it, the musicians behind her faithfully follow her rhythm, nearing the end of the song. The numbers on Vox’ screen hit are all time high for the month, impressive considering this show’s underperformance in ratings.

“Wowowee!! How do you like them apples?” Fytor, the Host, gestures for a round of applause that goes on for some time. Someone whistles in admiration. “Los Demonios Azules!! Premiering our cultural segment, everyone.” He says for one last round of applause before the cut.

And just like that, the vocalist who sang with such charm and charisma only moments prior drops the microphone and yanks the colorful fur wrap off her shoulders to throw it on the floor as well. Vox barely catches the moment she also yanks the gloves off her hands, stomping off the stage in a petty tantrum that could rival one of Val’s.

“Well, looks like your little variety show gets to survives another year!” Vox remarks as he gets up from the chair. Both of the producer’s heads beam at the news. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He says, adjusting his clothes in place before zapping himself away from the set to the dressing rooms.

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

You’re taking off the gaudy and incredibly heavy earrings you were made to wear when a spark of electric blue appears behind you and you get up alarmed holding onto the dresser behind you. “Holy— “

VoxTek’s CEO materializes before you.

“Greetings, my dear!” He smiles, “I don’t believe we were introduced.”

The initial shock wears off quickly. “Yes we were!” You tear the humongous blonde wig off your head, then smear part of the makeup off with one hand.

There is a pause where only the muffled screaming of the neighboring dressing room is audible. The band you performed with was infighting over the close call they had thanks to their drunken vocalist.

“The pie girl?!” He asks incredulous after a moment before doubling over in laughter as if you just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard. Your fists tighten at your sides.

“Is everything ok in there?” Jo asks knocking at the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Be there soon, just taking care of a new fan.” You shout, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re angry at being made to perform like a little wind up monkey but him laughing over it infuriates you even more. “Your bitch of an employee, Myrna, threatened to withhold my pay for the pies if I didn’t replace the singer.” You struggle to untie the gladiator shoes. How the fuck did they tie these damn shoes on you?! “Your guests suck, by the way.”

“My sincerest apologies, my dear. I’ll make sure you get paid, money is not an issue.” He says going on knee to undo the knot. You pause, surprised by the gentleness in the sudden action. He takes all the time in the world taking off the shoe, then motions for the other foot placing it over his knee, no minding soiling his very expensive looking trousers.

“Ever thought about a career on television?” His tone is casual as he works.

“No, sir,” You reply, all anger fizzled out, but quick to take your foot back, “I already have a contract with someone.”

The expression on the screen changes, now intrigued. “Oh? And may I know who the lucky demon is?” Hoping the answer will deter further questions you answer truthfully.

“Rosie.”

His screen glitches for a second, distorted static repeats the name. “Ro-rosie? Cannibal Town's Rosie? You don’t say!”

You immediately sense that might have been the wrong answer, having forgotten the intricate web of relationships Hell’s Overlords maintained - and if his reaction was anything to go by, Rosie might not be someone he particularly cares for, for whatever reason.

You reach for your clothes inching towards the door with the sequin dress still on, you don’t want to find out what else he might say. Or do over the new information.

“Yes, sir, now if you’ll excuse me.”

He slams the door shut when you open it and for a moment prickling fear overtakes you. Shit. You’re too scared to meet his eyes, feel him instead stand very close to you, but then the tie holding your wings together at your back to hide them comes off.

“This one hid from me.” You don’t need to see the cocky smile displayed on his screen as he speaks, “Here’s my assistant’s contact if you ever get tired of making pies, doll.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the offer, sir” You whisper, tone calm despite the lump in your throat, taking the card offered.

Jo straightens up when the door opens. You school your face into neutrality so as not to freak him out.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

Though you’re sure he catches a glimpse of the CEO as the door closes behind you.

________________

You work in silence for the rest of the week, the small tv in the shop’s kitchen remained disconnected, missing several episodes of Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What? Testament of the bad taste the trip to VoxTek Tower left in your mouth. But it was nothing a good bath of crushed roses and herbs couldn’t fix. You had Jo do the bath too to make sure las malas vibras didn’t linger, even if “This is Hell, Nuria, we are all made of bad vibes.”

And before you knew it, Rosie’s new shipment arrived and that occupied your mind instead.

“No heads this time, Theo?”

“Nah, old hag Susan got it in her head that she wanted to start a forever soup business. Rosie would only let ‘er have the heads though.”

“I see.” Works for you, that was the least favorite part you liked to work with, all that hair and eyeballs… made it hard to pretend it was sinners—not just regular game meat. Some things you don’t think you’ll be able to get used to no matter how many years passed down here.

You worked quickly, more than usual, finding yourself eager to see Rosie. Maybe out of some odd need to feel reassured under her protection. Which is how you found yourself at her place in less than two days.

You’re almost done at the Town’s plaza uneasily distributing the pies, without major incident. They listen, for the most part, Susan giving you a bit of a hard time but Theo was there to reinforce authority where usually Rosie would be the one overseeing the distribution. Today though, you were told, she was entertaining important company.

“Well, that’s the last of them.” You keep one for Rosie. Theo walks you to her place, chatting about the colony’s new found reputation from dangerous bloodthirsty savages to dangerous heroic bloodthirsty savages.

“I’m sure that’s gotta count for something, Theo.” You nod along as you walk up to Rosie’s.

“Nuria, my precious girl!” Rosie calls out as soon as you enter her place. She’s coming for a hug, you barely have time to move the pie out of the way as she smothers you into her bosom. She seems more cheery than usual. “Come, come. I want you to meet my friend.” She says pulling you along to a table at the back. You don't think much of it this time either - as she's always trying to get you socialize more.

“Alastor, honey, this is Nuria! The girl I told you so much about.”

Her long fingers wiggle as she motions to the man sitting by the table.

Alastor? Oh but that can't be...

You're frozen, pie in hand as the Radio Demon himself stands, the shadow covering his form dissipating to reveal his tall slender form.

So this was The Important Company.

“Charmed!” He smiles, the crackling static of his voice immediately setting you on edge.

Rosie's hand at your back gently pushes you forward to respond.

“Likewise, sir.” You manage, taking his hand in greeting. The handshake is solid and unexpectedly friendly.

"Oh now, Nuria, is okay—he doesn't bite, for the most part!" They both chuckle at the shared joke. You force yourself to chuckle along too.

“I stopped by your pie shop the other day, but it was about to close I’m afraid.” Of course, you heard all about it from Jo.

“Ah y-yes, my assistant did mention it. But please do visit again, we do make a couple of extra pies for special clientele.” You had to, some people didn’t take no for an answer.

“It wasn’t necessary, I was just passing by and the smell got my attention. It worked out for the best, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to try them in such good company.” He motions to Rosie.

“Oh Alastor, there you go again.” She says absolutely smitten. “Let me make us some more tea now that the refreshment is here. I mean the pie, Nuria, don’t fret.” You laugh; ha-ha! Yes, funny.

“Well then,” Clearing your throat you set the pie on the table, “it’s been a pleasure— “

“Aht, aht aht! I know what you’re about to do, dear, and I’m not having it.” Rosie’s hands rest at her hips. “Sit down, you’re a guest today.”

“Oh but I… “ You shut up when she levels you with a look, not quite threatening yet, but getting there. You have never taken her there. Still, “I can help prepare the tea, I know this great recipe— “

“Sit down.”

You sit on the nearest chair.

“Be right back~!” She shimmies away to her kitchen.

So you’re left alone with her friend. You knew at the periphery of awareness of the rumors about Rosie and the Radio Demon being close, but you never expected, nor in all honesty wanted, to run into him or any of her acquaintances. In and Out was your tried and proven method of operation. It had kept you safe, figures the one time you decided to stay at the VoxTek Tower you would—

“Lovely weather we’re having today.” His static voice takes you out of your thoughts.

“Hm? Oh yes, quite nice, I mean as nice as it can get.” You answer.

“My, Rosie was not kidding when she said you were a very new here.” He observes, and you’re not sure how to take that. “How are you finding the new lifestyle?” He asks, tone polite.

What an odd thing to ask, miserable of course - everyone was miserable down here, but you get the feeling he wasn’t looking for honesty as much as just conversation. So you oblige. “Well, all things considered. It’s not too bad I suppose. I haven’t been purged yet so there’s that.”

“Ah, an optimist, a rare breed. My cat could learn a thing or two from you.” He says crossing his legs.

“Your cat, sir?”

“Please, call me Alastor, we can’t be that far apart in age when death came to us.”

True, but calling him solely by his first name felt odd with the way he talked and just his general seniority over you in hell. “Um, what year did you… erm pass? if it’s not too rude to ask of me?”

“1933! And what a year it was.”

Oh wow. “That was during the Great Depression, am I correct? My grandmother was born during that period in history, quite amazing when you stop to think it.”

“Well I have been called old in nastier ways I suppose,” He laughs, your hand covers your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult.”

“Oh it's quite alright, I was merely messing with you!” He chuckles, “It sounds like your grandmother was very precious to you.”

“Of course, my grandmother was a very wise woman, though I think most would say that about their mothers.”

“And you would be right, my dear, mothers, grandmothers, matriarchs—all irreplaceable pillars of support in a decent society.” He responds and maybe you were being way too dramatic when Rosie introduced you to him.

“Tea is ready~! I hope both of you are getting along.” Rosie sings-songs with a tray of freshly brewed tea.

“We’re getting along just fine.” Alastor replies.

“Good, good.”

You busy yourself with helping Rosie cut the pie, serving two slices, relieved Rosie thought to bring cookies alongside the tea so you would have that instead.

“I hope it’s to your liking.” You serve Rosie’s guest first as she watches on, pleased.

“I’m sure I will, dear.” He replies. And it’s so strange how different, how normal, he actually is from the rumors on the street. They made him seem almost otherworldly even by hell’s standards.

“Delicious as always, Nuria.” Rosie exclaims at the first bite. You smile in response. “Go on, Alastor, give it a try.”

He follows suit. “There has yet to be the occasion where you have been wrong, my dear friend. One can still taste the panicked screams.”

Now that made him sound closer to the stories about him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh she calls you ‘sir,’ Alastor, isn’t she precious!” She says pinching your cheek.

“I already said there’s no need. But I do appreciate the good manners.” He replies before taking another bite of the pie. “You know Charlie has been talking about a Grand Re-opening ceremony for the Hotel. I think these tasty treats would do a wonderful addition to the event!”

You almost choke on your tea.

“My Goodness, you are right!” Rosie’s dark eyes set on you expectantly. “What do you say, Nuria?”

Clearing your throat, you think of the nicest way to refuse. “I’d love to but I think we’ll be taking a break from commissions for a bit.”

“Oh? But didn’t you just get a really big one from VoxTek?”

You cough to clear your throat, oblivious to the way her guest’s eyes narrow at the mention “Yes, well… “

“Don’t tell me they didn’t pay you!” You can hear Rosie’s mood quickly souring, her demeanor darkening.

“No, no! On the contrary, they paid me thrice as much but—hm. I should, maybe I should start from the beginning.” So you tell them how your little jokey-joke dance forcefully landed you in front of the cameras and consequently with an offer by VoxTek’s CEO himself to work for his company, omitting the specific detail of how the offer was extended to you. “The whole ordeal was very degrading to be completely honest. I’m just thankful Jo and I were able to leave in one piece.”

“Ha! Why this sounds like the plot of a spicy novel!” The Radio Demon chuckles bemused. “A regular girl’s break into stardom by a sudden twist of sheer luck!” Rosie swats at him with her fan when she sees you’re not laughing along this time.

“Alastor, can you not this once?” After glaring at him she turns to you. “That’s terrible, darling! I’m sorry that happened. But do let me know if they ever give you any more trouble.” She says placing a hand over yours.

“Thank you, Rosie.” You already feel better about telling her about the ordeal, all you needed was to feel safe. “I think I got it for now.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Well rest assured, Nuria, Charlie has far more class than the demons at the Vee tower. I can arrange for a visit if you’d like. I think it would benefit you as Rosie tells me you're saving up to move out of Pentagram City, though I can't imagine why anyone would want live away from such wonderful daily entertainment.” Oh wow, Rosie really did talk a lot about you. “Think of it as helping a friend of a friend.” His face and eyes are all sweet charisma, they look almost genuine. And you wonder if he’s only nice to you due to his friendship with Rosie or because he really is just like that with some people. “The reward could be handsome, she is the Princess of Hell after all, I’m sure you’ll be able to name your price once you charm her.”

Oh boy, the delivery van will be due for maintenance soon too…

“Does she have a date for the re-opening yet, sir?”

Both Rosie and her guest share a smug look of triumph.

#alastor x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel x reader #Only Bones

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