@pseudoneiric , “FUCK MARRY KILL. me, charlie!!!, or …” lucifer looks around the room then, gaze settling on a pink spider lounging on the couch. “that guy.”

reindeer games are fun when you're an entirely different creature, proudly seated in a chair of your own making ; hindlegs pressed together and two hands ( must specify such matters when in hell! ) folded neatly where bone is tougher to find. hotel activities and their meager attempts at bonding on full display, playing out undisturbed, untouched, the most hilarious picture show one could ever dream of seeing! can barely bite back laughter that splays across casted shadows behind his turned back, signing off live audience re-airs before they can clammer together to voice wicked delights in screeching sound. sometimes, his stitchy smile widening is all he’ll show as shame and embarrassment & failure are acted out right before him. bloody lids arching up half his face when gaze narrows and bends to toothy corners of lip, gums flashing in warning when gaping maws have long since stopped being adequate enough. how absolutely pitiful! wayward souls getting chummy only for weak grips to slip on what brimstone rocks they're leached on, somber cries and weak yells being left in dramatic storm-outs. ha-ha! soap operas will long outlive the tasteless world above … shall airwaves capture these pearls of entertainment in due time? alastor drums four knives against a solid surface in clipping thought. this shabby business would make for great programming! enriched by hell’s infamous, riddled with needed strife so viewers may be inclined to tune in for later airing. hm! if busy scheduling hollows itself out soon ( be it by his hands, or … hers ) then perhaps creativity will bear fruition. radio shack properly used and caressed as it should be, bright neons of ‘ on air! ’ shining daily against infested skies ; like it was before, a pride ring staple, heeded warnings that meant someone was watching. with more accuracy and care than voxtek’s factious machinery that was all show, no substance. what a waste. shifting attention is readily grabbed when his deer-wracked form feels barriers being crossed, personal space a bubble so easily popped around these dregs. eyes snap to life despite never straying, glowing like he's turning on, pupils shrinking before another expansion. smile slashes across odored skin in wide bursts of length, stock filler, until it's shown who’s gone through the trouble of bothering him. quite pesky, this one, privileged and royalty and utterly run ragged. catalogs a small heaving chest that now fills his scenery, how paper white skin shines when lucifer sucks in a breath -- there's an intermission, a lull, flesh that tugs and cuts so amusement can show all the clearer. not a single hair to be found out of place when stale meat is slapped down before crossing ankles.

and what poor pickings it is! laughter cackles somewhere dark and mushy, flayed open along inner parts of mouth. what a sight! : the king of hell, out of sorts and crippled by a desire for repulsive games, ones found at sleepovers or club corners, all the craze for lowly sinners too bored and scared to do much else. picky nose upturns in lieu of greeting ( oh, but at this angle, they're almost on even grounds -- if only an antlered head would bow, ) until actions shed into words. “ why, hell-o there! ” doesn't add silly adornments like names when reputations hardly matter here, their cruel monarch practically nothing when he's slumming it down here with everyone else. lidded eyes not batting since intimidation is folly, less enraptured by the peacock prattling many of his peers may fall prey to, angelic feathers all for show and naught much else. stained white would look far better in-between blackened gums, picked free with needle sharp claws like the ornaments they are, as well as what little meat encases them. would be kinder manners than this frivolous attempt at mindless chit chat ; my, my, you’d think you could hold god’s sons and daughters to higher standards! creatures of virtue, beings of light, paraded superiority alastor simply must chuckle at. cue an infectious laugh track, timeless in age, sounding off somewhere near : oh, but not too near! voices a dozen echo out quietly, muffled and locked behind hotel room doors, uniqueness strained until unanimous unity long outlives anything else. a soul’s joy, another veiled stab of mockery. graciously permits this crude question as lips stretch ( & break and bleed ) across teeth, ticking gaze thinned into scarlet gashes along the way. “ ho-ho! a game? well, if it's an order … ” silence blips, an endless sprawl forward as alastor dares to keep the devil waiting, charred corpse stretching odd and peculiar, all bones and no meat, as he brandishes nails to examine them. feigns thought ; consideration condescending down a sickly throat as if he'd waste away his entire frontal lobe on such dense matters. beddings and weddings were, frankly, not the radio demon’s wheelhouse! heart eyes dressed up with rose tinted lenses as loins ached and burned over physical deformities were hi-larious when applauded from crooked distances, nothing more. so the well within dries any formalities upon stone, dial-cursed eyes shutting while hums, hmm’s, and other noises flicker out, answer already bleeding from his split-end lips because he knows. and yes, it might not be what the heart wants, it might not be earnest or honest or true, but it will be funny -- will wrench ash right into blanche cheeks and will suffice as a statement. two carefully plucked gifts tied by one singular intestine.

a click, a turn of dial, frequencies & their waves churn until there's a chorus that overlaps in pulling up lids, pupils wide and unblinking when snagged on their darling nuisance. now presenting : radio, immortalized as a hissing shadowy figure draped inside flashy walls. voice erupting forward in a fuzz, “ who better to marry than this hotel’s darling apple! charlie has it all! lofty ambition, compassion, and -- ” on top blonde hair sits a child’s crown, feeble and held together by whimsical dreams of naivety ; between shoulders, just as weakly, just as new, lays vast space where wings should sit. royal blood rests inside, inexperience fluttered between lashes, so does it come as shock to want? tendrils could guide that potential, see her glory conquer, guide her powerful inclination -- “ she's kind on the eyes, isn't she? quite a gal, that one! the honor would be all mine. ” complaints spill easy in their limbo of falsehood and earnestness, interwoven as simply as shadows for whatever reason the radio demon deems fit. he's no regular joe of hell! prey instincts purposefully gouged out so he may sit before the king and blink absently, comfortable where he is, even more confident in all that crackles forward. as if alastor would care about fatherly approval if his sights aligned on pride’s spawn in such a way. still, he barely bothers with another show, happily chirping along to answer those last categories.

“ as for killing and other activities, i’ll be doing no such things! ” this time the laughter zapping into the air is purely his own, jerky and as pointed as what yellowed teeth it slips from, one singular wrist falling forward in movement. borne again into broken parts that alastor eagerly abuses, every splintered patch of skin and malleable marrow. “ not to residents! goodness no! what would charlie say? ” like all else, alastor is careful not to miss one witty swing.

Dream found himself as findom for two men. He meets Corinthian, ceo of a big tech company, online before he even knew findom was a Thing. Hes just a natural tho and proceedes to humiliate Corinthian for being such a pathetic man for needing to buy the privilege of taking dream shopping in the first place. Dream hasnt even let Corinthian do more than place a hand on his lower back when theyre out and Corinthian wants to take dream to a luxury fucking beach resort even if dream decides to ignore him the entire time.

Dream meets hob gadling by accident. Hes also in the tech industry, not that dream cares or listens when hob is buying him the most expensive drinks at the bar theyre at. Dream knows what hes doing by now, and he thinks he would rather like to cuck the both of these men against each other.

Corinthian is furious when dream cancels an appointment with a jeweler with him to go to DINNER with his business rival HOB GADLING whos one of the cockiest assholes hes ever met and hes not even suave or cool about it like Corinthian hes loud and brash and obnoxious and he gets to take dream on an actual DATE???

dream plays them against each other relentlessly and industry conferences have never been more tense.... it all errupts when Corinthian finally gets the privilege of taking dream to a gala (whatever gown jewelry and shoes dream wants are provided ofc) and dream even allows him to kiss the back of his ringed hand like this is seriously the best night of the Corinthian’s life and he knows hob fucking gadling is going to be there and see who his plus one is which is even better... until near the end of the night dream has slipped from his side and Corinthian sees hob gadling helping dream into his stupid little sportscar. He shows up to hobs hotel room and dream answers in his little silk pajama set.

"Believe it or not Corinthian but i do need someone who can pleasure me sexually"

Thats how dream gets two very eager to please service tops and dream has them bid on whos allowed to eat his pretty cunt out<3

-🔪

Hnnnggg we'll stick with the findom theme tonight because I'm low-key obsessed. I love how you've flipped it make Dream the dom. I think he would be amazing tbh. Those cold blue eyes, that slightly sneering mouth. He was made to walk on pathetic men in his $10,000 dollar heels.

Poor Cori, showing up at that hotel room. He's so hard in his perfectly pressed trousers. And he's almost pathetically grateful when he's allowed into the room! Except for the fact that Hob is there, shirt sleeves rolled up, holding a glass of something expensive and alcoholic. Dream sits delicately in Hob’s lap while Cori just stands there, seething with rage and lust.

First they bid for a kiss. Dream sets up a time limit and sits back, sipping his drink while Hob and Cori spit bids at each other, higher and higher with little or no regard for the consequences. Cori wins - he doesn't even flinch as he writes a cheque for $80,000. Oh, its so worth it. Dream swishes over and melts into Cori's arms. The kiss is the most wonderful, delicious, intoxicating thing. Dream mewls into his mouth and submits when Cori licks at him, and it's just perfect. Until it's over. And Hob is still there, legs spread, smirking as Dream slips away from Cori's grasp.

"I hope you enjoyed it, because that's all you're getting." Hob says, and he slips his arm around Dream’s waist. Cori is outraged - he's never been allowed to touch Dream like that... without paying. "Or maybe he could pay to watch while i eat your cunt. What do you think, darling?"

Dream just smiles. "If he can afford it."

And Cori knows that he's being goaded, but fuck it feels so good. He knows he's going to cum his brains out tonight, whatever happens. Hob hasn't won the next bet yet, after all.

(Dream will reward both his lovely money-slaves, don't worry. Everything he does is for the sake of bringing pleasure to his sweet boys. He'll even let them buy him breakfast in the morning, if they keep being so good for him <3)

Heya! Glad to see that you like the questions for the ask game!

Anyway I have some questions about Kai for you!

General Info 05 Which deadly sin best aligns with them? Which one do they embody the least?

Realtionships & Personality 13 What is their greatest wish? What would they be willing to sacrific to get it?

Human 06 Who do they trust more—angels or demons? Why?

Hey thanks so much! <3 Love talking about the boy, so I'll take any excuse (he's taking up 97.35% of my brain meat lately, please send help)

General Info 05 Which deadly sin best aligns with them? Which one do they embody the least?

As a rule, Kai would call himself a hedonist if anyone ever asked. On the surface he is all good times and sensation and enjoyment, and more and want. He's here for a good time, not a long time, etc. *choose your mid-20s cliche deflection* That makes it very simple to say Lust or Greed would be his closest pairings, but it isn't entirely correct. He is very much those two on the surface. For all he portrays himself as nothing more than a good time boy, he works himself to the bone, he will protect those he cares about, he will never ask for help for any of it - he most embodies Pride, but in a very quiet, fierce sort of way. He would quite literally rather die than let another living being see him beneath the masks, behind the facades he's built around himself. Most would be caught off guard to realize that's is his core. Most. He's more seen than he realizes. Least like? Sloth. He allows himself the luxury of basic rest only when he collapses or someone forcibly makes him go after noticing the dark bags beneath his eyes (the only designer he'll ever own, he jokes.) Even then, he will take the bare minimum until he wakes up (most likely from another nightmare), and be on the go again.

Relationships & Personality 13 What is their greatest wish? What would they be willing to sacrifice to get it?

This one actually required quite a bit of thought. His greatest wish is simply to discover the truth. Who he really is, who he would have been without the outside influences that shaped him in ways that a good life never would have. It isn't a realistic, or attainable wish. He considered asking Barbatos once to see if there was a timeline where that was the case - he decided that it would be too much of a bother, the Prince's butler already has too much on his plate to request a favor (or maybe he just decided at the last moment it was really too terrifying to look into that and know what he had lost). For something attainable... it's simple. He doesn't want to go back to the human realm. Ever, if it were up to him. He'd offer himself on an altar for the chance, if it were required. Again - the words will never pass his lips. It will be offered if he deserves it, he hopes believes.

Human 06 Who do they trust more—angels or demons? Why?

Hands down, zero thought required: Demons. Kai wasn't raised in a religious environment, but did end up spending several years with a family who was. He was made to attend services, make the offerings, prayers, all of it. He had prayed to angels and saints and god (never capital G anymore) for guidance, for help, to be rescued, to be healed. No one ever answered. Humans were cruel, in so many ways. He understands the Devildom. At least there, the individuals he interacts with regularly are more transparent in their motivations. That being said? He does like the Angels well enough. Luke is a cute kid, reminds him vaguely of a younger boy he knew in a home - same eager energy. Simeon is kind and Kai knows he owes him everything (including quite literally his continued existence). He's amused by Raphael, and thinks Michael's kind of an asshole.

Questions Here!

i low key never thought id be able to get invested in like an action scene that happens entirely with ships in space and no physical conflict and then boom star trek

or in short, i watched the doomsday machine

and im foaming at the mouth what the fuck was that i loved it

first of all, that doomsday machine is a girl to me and i bet she's lonely and tired. her hull looks like it's scarred and battered and i kinda dig it a whole lot.

then we have commodore decker who seems like an asshole but also is clearly deep in the grieving process bc of losing his crew and ship and obviously you immediately draw parallels between him and kirk and wonder if he'll end up in a similar situation. but also obviously you know he won't - not here immediately - because it's 60s tv and you still have more than an entire season left of the same crew. but the tension is still built so well. and the palatable strain when decker assumes command - during that whole conversation between him and spock everyone else on the bridge is just like 💀👀💀 sulu not moving a muscle when decker first tries to command him to attack sent me

like look at him (unrelated but also. pretty)

also i full on snorted when decker basically told kirk to stop with his fucking theories, because. well BECAUSE. because that man did just decide to theorise about the killer robot that is on its way to destroy their galaxy in front - took like three steps away, okay - of a man who just lost his crew to said robot. like, sure, it might be helpful to know your enemy but the majority of people probably sees it as "good lord what a fucking nerd" especially when its like here, it doesn't gain them much to know that its a doomsday machine. doesn't make it any easier to beat. and then in the end kirk runs to the bridge - after almost dying - and in literally five seconds starts getting all philosophical. like girl. and spock eats it up too, of course he does.

also, this. like okay i admitted to myself i would not be immune to this man a long time ago but still. jesus fucking christ. get your whore eyes out of here.

and then there's also spock repeating "mr.scott" like 4 times when usually he doesn't repeat himself. and no it's not because scotty isn't answering, which - of course he isn't, it's good he isn't, it somewhat annoys me when in these sort of time sensitive situations in movies people take their sweet time to talk as if the seconds aren't ticking. he's repeating it just because <3 he's worried <3 mkway.

also bones really likes to say "im a doctor not a..." doesn't he. fighting the urge to start calling him something like a grumpy kitten but also. should i even bother. he is a grumpy meow meow.

SPEAKING of mccoy. his love language is just insults, he gives his sarcastic remarks on the way spock phrases things but still fully expects him to stay in command and is outraged at decker taking over. which feels to me like an improvement since the ...i dont remember... the shuttlecraft episode. Galileo 7? i think.

anyway. love him.

also something something miracles "you worry about your miracles, scotty, ill worry about mine" "you almost make me believe in miracles, mr.spock". sigh. i think ill be forever thinking about that. as well as the probability bullshit spirk like to pull, jim asking something or stating something and spock giving him full numbers. i cant decide if its cutesey calming each other down jim finding comfort in the reliability or if this is equivalent of foreplay

cough cough

okay i think im. done. nothing to say about the mobi dick analogy, not really, because 1) i haven't read mobi dick in full so like. maybe point 2 is this way just bc im not familiar with the source 2) its kinda a weak analogy, no? i didnt quite catch it until i scrolled through the wiki, and to me it looked more like in the end there decker was suicidal, not vengeful. i dont think he was thinking much about damaging or not damaging the robot

Holi

[Read on AO3]

Ship: Kaz Brekker X Inej Ghafa

Summary:

Modern AU

Gang Lieutenant of the Dregs, Kaz Brekker lives by himself in his apartment.

One morning his Indian neighbours' daughter Inej Ghafa shows up to share the customs of a festival they celebrate.

Note:

Since I'm an Indian, between the recent celebrations of the festival Holi, this fic idea popped up!

Also, I don't know whether Inej is North Indian or South Indian, etc. So I've simply used a few Hindi language terms as her language. Ofcourse the terms are explained in the fic.

Hope you'll like it ♥

Kaz lets out an exasperated sigh when he hears the doorbell of his apartment ringing. He’s had a rough week and frankly isn’t in the mood for any company right now. One of those lowly skivs from the Razorgulls had managed to land a punch to his face. But he’d paid back fervently, battering the guy’s face enough to leave him nearly dead. Nearly being the keyword because Jesper makes sure he doesn't kill more people than necessary.

He takes a chug of his brandy, slams the bottle on the table and gets up to answer whoever the fuck has decided to bother him on his day off.

The sight that greets him dazzles his tired eyes— a short woman dressed in traditional Indian silks with a plate of powdered colors, sweed foods and a lit earthen lamp. The blouse and the long flowing skirt in shades of purple and turquoise contrast elegantly with her burnt caramel skin. And for a moment, Kaz feels embarrassed in his black trousers and white button up which is undone down to three buttons, giving a good view of the deep cut running along his chest and the slowly drying blood there. He passes his fingers through his hair, ruffling it a bit to appear decent.

“Um..Kaazz Brek..ker?” she tries her best to pronounce his name in her accent.

“It’s Kaz Brekker.” He corrects her and asks, “How do you know my name?”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head, gold earrings jangling with the motion. “Nothing weird. I just asked the building management. I'm Inej Ghafa.”

He already knows her name but she doesn't need to know that. “What business?”

She breaks out into her best imitation of a formal smile and brushes a few strands of her lengthy hair behind her ear, “Uh..You must’ve seen me before. I live next door.”

Ofcourse he’d seen her. His skills as a hacker and gang lieutenant help him stay updated on the details of every resident in this area. He’s well-aware of the Ghafas, an Indian family who'd shifted next door two months ago. And he knows that this young woman close to his age, is their esteemed daughter who is a full time gymnastics instructor. At first he had expected them to be like the conventional loud and over-dramatic people he and Jesper have seen in some of those Bollywood movies. But he's glad that the Ghafas have been nothing short of peaceful in their living. Not once did they interact with him before so why the hell are they trying now?

“What do you want?” he grumbles out, hoping his tone will let her know he isn't an amiable person.

“Well..its Holi today. Uhmm..it's a festival we celebrate–”

“Get to the point.”

“We had done aarti earlier and my mother asked to go to put tika on you–”

“I don't know any of those words.” He waves a hand dismissively and moves to shut the door but she wedges her foot in the doorway.

“I can help you.”

The statement makes him tense. “What?”

“That,” She points at the slash wound peeking out from underneath his shirt, “looks painful. Should I call a doctor?”

His muscles relax slowly and he supplies, “No need..I already got a doctor friend. She'll drop by soon.” Well Nina Zenik isn't exactly a doctor but knows a good deal about patching up wounds. So he'll just call her up if required.

Inej's brief frown proves that she isn't entirely convinced by his words or his dishevelled demeanor but she chooses to concede.

“Well then..” she lifts up her plate and begins revolving it around his face in circular motions. He is utterly confused but stands and watches quietly. After approximately five turns, she lowers the plate and picks up a pinch of some red, pasty mixture from it. She reaches forward and before he can even question her motives, her thumb smeers the red thing in an upward stroke on his forehead.

“This vermilion is tika. We put it on the forehead between the eyebrows because its believed to be the centre of concentration in our body. Tika brings good luck and wisdom.” She explains, then picks up a piece of those sweet Indian delicacies and shoves it in his mouth.

The element of surprise leaves him with no other option but to gulp it down. His face blenches at the sweetness and she giggles, placing a palm over her mouth. Kaz feels a tug in his chest at that sound.

“Inej!”

They both turn at the intruding voice and find her mother peering at them from the door to their apartment. The older woman offers a smile to Kaz but gestures wildly with her eyes at Inej.

“Bas abhi aayi. I'm coming!” She tells her mother half in their native tongue, half in English and resumes her custom.

“Now for the final touch,” She says, her deep, brown eyes alight with something akin to mischief and picks a handful of the purple powdered color from her plate. Kaz stares in anticipation of any more weird ritual that is to come but she surprises him again. With a single sweep, she softly strokes the powdered color on his cheek. He keeps himself from flinching because thats where that asshole Razorgull had punched and tries to focus on the sensation of her palm. Sadly, she's already rretracted it and is smiling again. A genuine, kind smile.

“Happy Holi, Mr. Brekker.” She wishes and then elaborates to him, “Just like ‘Merry Christmas’, we say this as a well-wish or a greeting to our friends, family and ofcourse neighbours when we celebrate the festival.”

Kaz can barely form coherent words right now. And by the time he motions his lips, Inej is gone in a flurry, leaving behind no more than a hint of her touch on his cheek and the warmth of her smile.

Holi : Hindu festival of Colors, celebrated for the victory of good over evil and to spread love and happiness.

People put color (liquid/powdered) on each other to celebrate and have fun. Thats why Inej puts that powdered color on Kaz's cheek.

Aarti : a Hindu prayer ritual where light is offered to God in the form of lighting earthen lamps.

After Aarti, you can offer the blessings from the same earthen lamp by revolving it around a person's face several times.

Tika : As Inej says in the fic, its vermilion that we Hindus put on the forehead for good luck and wisdom.

Bas abhi aayi : its a Hindi language phrase which literally translates to "just coming"

Hope this helps..:3

And hope you all enjoyed this short fic.

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(divider by @firefly-graphics)