#there is a world where i could have been sold on it because at one point i did ship it
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My 4th shot of Espresso~~~~Alastor x Reader
Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Sinners being sinners, Anxietyy descriptors, some swear words, high amounts of caffeine consumption, alcohol consumption
Type: Story ( I had no control again and I made it so long)
Word Count: 6944
Playlist: Espresso- Sabrina Carpenter
Prompt: The reader was a singer in her past life, well-known in the human world for her sweet, sultry voice before her untimely death. The people of the overworld would say she was like a shot of espresso to your system. Now, in Pentagram City, a particular radio demon can't help but seek out his next caffeine high.
Notes: I will not lie to everyone; I am a hardcore Sabrina Carpenter fan. She is one of the few artists outside my regular music routine. She has a grip on me and my reptile brain.
Her song Espresso got me thinking of one Radio Demon specifically. The 1900s was a big time for coffee production (in the US, where I am from), mainly due to Prohibition, and it just so happens that right around the 1920s, espresso machines were introduced heavily in America. The FDA also recommends not going over 6 shots of Espresso, but many health professionals say not to go over 3 shots, so I will meet in the middle here.
My 4th shot of Espresso~~~~Alastor x Reader
The day you died was tragic indeed for all parties involved. Your deranged stalker who killed you now serves life in prison, your fans continue to broadcast your music regularly, crying their eyes out, and your record label is on the hunt for the next ‘Hit’ girl. The only problem was you were a one-of-a-kind, naturally gifted with vocal cords, so sweet and sultry everyone fell for you. Your varying music genres make you an addiction to almost any music fanatic. You were the singer of your time.
How did you keep that title for so long? Simply put, due to becoming the designated ‘shot of espresso everyone needs to wake up and have a good day,’ your fans were less than kind to any new artists or rising stars. You were an Angle, sweet inside and out, never letting your fame get to your head. However, many scandals and theories have been made that people can never surpass you because you sold your soul or hired people to knock down your competition. None of this was true, though. You were simply a bystander to your fan's actions, not wanting to seem unthankful for all the support that got you there.
Then it happened: your death. One minute, you were walking to the coffee shop by your apartment in the city when a strange man started yelling at you. Of course, the one day you don’t have a bodyguard leave with you, the paparazzi show up. If only that man were a paparazzi; as he got closer, you noticed the lack of camera, the deranged look in his eyes, and the shirt he wore saying, ‘Y/N be my wife.’ All you could think of doing at that moment was trying to make some distance between you and him, seeing as the streets were barren since it was late at night. Why did your best music writing have to happen late at night? Running as fast as you could, the man grew angry, and then bam, next thing you know, you wake up on the streets of a city, not your city; no, this was too red.
As you stood up from your prone position, you glanced at a window only to see not you standing there; well, it was you. It looked like you, but it also didn't look like you. Soft tan skin, chocolate brown hair, Hazel eyes, and a white, tan, and brown outfit adorned your body. You looked like the embodiment of the coffee you would drink at your go-to coffee spot. If only you hadn’t gone there that night. Maybe you would be your normal (E/c), (H/c), (S/c) self.
Thinking hard about everything that happened, you remember being chased, him yelling obscenities at you, being shoved to the ground, something warm on your face, then a loud bang noise. What was that bang? You only remember the warm, sticky feeling, probably blood from hitting your head on the curb, then you fought a bit, squirming around; the bang must have been a concealed weapon of your assailant's choice. Jeeze, people are crazy…Oh fuck, your dead. You died. Gone. A memory. As this realization came to you, you began walking the streets of this new city.
All the inhabitants of this place looked like those demons you would see on TV or even read about in books. Looking up at the horizon, you see a large building with a flashing sign called the “Hazbin Hotel,” a giant ball to the left that looked like it had wings on it, and above you, a giant pentagram. The pieces finally clicked: you were in Hell, but why you were the sweetest human alive, even fame, didn’t get to you. Maybe Heaven reads tabloids and assumes you did participate in the fate of many of your rivals or that they thought you were a greedy pop star. Sighing softly, you turn your back on the hotel and make your way to the first place that helped you start up in the human world: a cheap manager at a cheap venue.
~~~Years Later~~~
Years had passed since Mimzy and her crew had taken you in. She was the only demon in Pentagram City that didn’t ask for your soul immediately. Course, as you found out yourself, it’s because her soul, too, was taken from her. Meeting Mimzy was a breath of fresh air; she reminded you of your grandmother and all the pictures you saw of her singing and dancing at nightclubs when she was your age. Mimzy took you under her wing, gave you a palace to sing your sweet new music, and protected you with her clientele. Mimzy did have a habit of getting herself into some deep shit, though. Nothing you couldn’t help with, see as your popularity in Pentagram City grew, so did your powers. Some even compared you to Lilith when she was still around, a voice to conjoin the masses. You were no Lilith; you were simply ‘Y/N,’ so you compromised for a reprise of your old title: ‘ A shot of espresso to keep you going.’ Honestly, who knew demons still partook in human drinks and activities?
As you began preparing for your next act at Mimzy’s club, said woman entered your dressing room. “Doll, oh, look at you so gorgeous. You're not as gorgeous as me, but you're still amazing. I have big news for ya’ Come and sit with me, deary.” Following Mimzy’s orders, you went to the small sofa in your Dressing Room and sat with her. “What is it, Mimz? Did you get in more trouble with those loan sharks? I told you they are dangerous; this owner of your soul is a real slow ass seeing as I have to save their ‘precious’ soul over and over again.”
Mimzy just laughed, waving her hand in your face, resituating herself to look you in the eye before speaking again: " Don't worry about that doll. Of course, I would keep that opinion to yourself. He’s back and probably can hear everything around us. Speaking of which, that is why I came here. My dear friend Alastor and the princess of hell are coming to visit our lovely establishment. Make sure to knock their socks off!”
You nodded softly to Mimzy, laughing at her; she was a firecracker of energy—a troublemaker, yes, but a firecracker of energy. Mimzy quickly excused herself, saying she needed to be ready to meet her guests and introduce the acts for the night. You sighed softly, returning to double-check your makeup and clothes again.
Looking like a gorgeous espresso martini, as Mimzy calls it, you stood center stage, waiting for the curtain to rise. You hear Mimzy’s tiny heels hitting the stage and some mic feedback. “Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you our star of the stage, your shot of espresso to boost you through hard times, our dame so beautiful and sweet, Y/N.” Cheers erupted in the audience as the curtain rose and a soft amber spotlight landed on you.
Looking out into the audience, you hesitated for a minute. A handsome man in a red suit sat in the center of the tables. He looked like a deer, not the oddest thing you have seen in the city. The way he was looking at you, though, was intense. You felt the need to cringe and back away like his power exceeded that of an average Sinner. He looked dominating, powerful, and scary even though he had a giant smile plastered on his face. Next to him sat a young-looking girl with big red cheeks. She looked so happy to be present at this event. Her blonde hair was pulled into a bun on her head, with a black crown adoring her. Your boss, Mimzy, was on the other side of the smiling demon, giving you a big thumbs up.
You took a deep breath when the song started to play on the drums and guitar behind you. You began to sing the song that had never been released to the public before you died. This was an important night for Mimzy, so why not go all out? As you began to sing, the nerves washed off of you, and you started to do your choreography, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of deep red eyes following your every move. As the song ended, you stopped center stage again, a soft, elegant smile gracing your face. “ Thank you so much, everyone. That was called Espresso, and I do hope you all enjoyed it. I will freshen up; please enjoy our band as they play some classic and new hits throughout the ages.” As you bowed and motioned to the band, they began to play. You walked off the stage, quickly stopping at your dressing room before heading to the floor and meeting the others at their table.
You finally heard this mysterious, powerful demon's voice as you approached the table. “I never took you as the kind to allow other music in your establishment, Mimzy. Weren’t you also one always found of our time's music.” Mimzy just laughed, slapping the demon's arm. Stopping behind the group, you noticed the demon's ears pull back; he knew you were there, good. You cleared your throat for the others and spoke gently, “I’m sorry. Was there a problem with my song, sir? I didn't realize I would be in the presence of a music critic in hell.”
The tension in the club could be cut with a knife as the demon let out a soft laugh and turned to view you. The young girl beside him was visibly panicking while Mimzy held a laugh back. The demon stood, bowing slightly and extending his hand to you. “Well, dear Y/N, it's nice to meet you. My name is Alastor the Radio Demon, and if you would like to call me whatever it was, you just made music by all means; I must be your critic.” That smile on his face never faltered. It stayed plastered there, if not a little more strained. Gently taking Alastors hand, you curtsied for him and stood straight and tall again, preparing to speak. “Well, Mr. Alastor, you don't seem to have good music taste, seeing as I am a prized singer in hell.” The two of you stared intensely at one another, sparks flying between your eyes. Mimzy cleared her throat, “ Y/N, this is Alastor, as he mentioned, the demon that owns my soul; he also runs the Hazbin Hotel with Miss Charlie Morningstar here.”
You let go of Alastors hand, breaking eye contact first to greet the young girl. Charlie was the polar opposite of ‘Mr. Music Critic’. She compliments you and tells you how you reminded her of her mother, who has been missing for seven years. Keeping conversation with Charlie, Alastor, and Mimzy began to speak on the side. “Isn’t she interesting, Alastor? She had to have been powerful even in her human form. She may not be your level of scary, but she is something. When I found her within a month, Valentino had come to claim her and ask for her soul; she whooped him physically and mentally; she's quick-witted and cunning.” Alastor nodded knowingly; this could be advantageous to him.
“Mimzy darling, why have you not sold her off yet? Could make a pretty penny off of her, maybe enough to pay me back for your soul.” Alastor stared at you intently. He couldn’t deny you were attractive in a beauty standard since, and the fact you weren’t afraid of him even if he dominated you in power was intriguing. Mimzy slapped Alastor’s shoulder, “She's like a daughter to me; she's sweet, smart, and a helluva singer. Why would I risk losing business here selling her off to the Vees or any other overlord.”
Tuning into Mimzy’s and Alastor's conversation, you turned to look at the Radio Demon in the eyes once more. “She also can’t get rid of me due to the fact I save her ass more so than you ever have or will.” The authority in your voice even frightened you. The smile on Alastors face tightened more, changing from boredom to interest. “Oh, is that so doll? You save my property for me.” You nod curtly to the demon holding his gaze. The smile slowly morphed into a smirk. Charlie chimes in, “Well, guys, it looks like we have overstayed our welcome; Y/N, you were phenomenal. Please let me know whenever you have your next performance. You have my number!” You nod softly to the cheerful girl before returning to the Radio Demon.
As you all begin to stand from your seats, Alastor disappears and reappears at your side. “Ms. Y/N, it seems I have a business proposition for you. As Charlie loved your performance so much and I seem to have bad taste in music, how about we strike a deal? You come to the hotel and live there for free; you can sing once a week, and if you can pull in some more sinners looking to be redeemed, I will admit you have the better music. I will also allow you to broadcast your music on my radio.” You stared at the demon timidly, but no one made a deal that didn’t involve losing their soul. You brace yourself for the answer and speak purposefully, “What is it for you if I lose?” Alastor smiled at you menacingly, “I get your soul, of course, and you will do my bidding.”
You hesitated, contorting your face slightly; losing your soul was not something you wanted to happen; no one did. You looked between Alastor and Mimzy rapidly, a slight panic overcoming you. As you go to speak, Charlie takes your place, “ Alright, Alastor, enough scaring people; we are leaving now. Let's go.” Alastor looked at Charlie before looking back at you. He nods slightly before saying, “I will return in the morning. Have your decision ready.” With that said, the duo left the club.
The night continued like normal; you sang a couple more songs and mulled over the conversation. You won't lie even if you were sweet on earth. Being here in hell made you a lot more prideful than when you were alive. Had someone offered such a stupid bet in the human world, you would politely decline, move on, and let your fans handle them. Alastor, though, something about him and this stupid condescending attitude made your blood boil. As the night closed, you came up with your decision. You went to your dressing room and began to pack a bag for the morning. You were so wrapped in your thoughts hating that stupid Radio Demon that you didn't hear Mimzy walk in. As you finished packing and turned around, Mimzy sat on your couch, a frown on her face. Setting everything down, you walked over to her and sat with her.
Mimzy looked at you softly, her regular, boisterous exterior fading as her calmer interior emerged. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. I shouldn’t have done this. I only invited them to show Al how much better I was doing even after his absence. I didn’t expect him to bargain your soul with him.” You gently grabbed Mimzy's hand and looked at her, “Mimz, I got this. I am one of the best singers in hell. I will not lose my soul, and maybe I can bargain him into freeing your soul-” Before you could finish your thought, Mimzy stood up, tears in her eyes, “NO Y/N! You-You don't understand; Alastor is a notorious and powerful demon. He won’t give up mine or your soul. There is always an underlying bargain in his deals.” You looked up at Mimzy. She had never yelled at you like that before, even after ruining her favorite pink dress. Mimzy sat down gently and hugged you close before letting go. “Let me tell you Al’s story, the best I know of it anyway.”
Even after hearing Mimzy’s story, you are set on proving yourself. Why did you feel the need to? You could only chalk it up to wanting to wipe that stupid smile off the demon's face. You stood outside the entrance of Mimzy’s club, holding her hand. “Y/N, you don't have to do this. Just ignore him.” You shook your head at Mimzy before responding. “I can do this, Mimzy. Trust me. You know where I am if you ever need me.” She nods somberly and hugs you close. The Radio Demon appears out of the shadows as you two part ways. “Hello ladies, Y/N, Mimzy, what a touching display of affection. Are you ready to strike our deal, Y/N?” You nod gently, extending your hand to the demon. With a soft chuckle, he grabbed your hand. Greenlight erupted all around you. Shadows and relic symbols appeared around you as the deal was bound. As the green lights faded, you were sucked into the shadows with Alastor and taken to a Hotel on the other side of Pentagram City.
The hotel was lovely, nothing too overwhelming like when you were still alive. It was quaint and adorable. You could tell that Charlie put her heart into the place. Walking through the entrance to your left, you notice a bar with a black and grey cat sitting there drinking. Taking the initiative and having the desire to start already pissing the Radio Demon off, you walked away to greet the cat. “Hello, there one espresso martini, please; my name is Y/N, and I’m going to be a new resident and singer for the hotel.” Hearing your words, the cat looked up at you, practically spitting his whiskey onto the bar before collecting himself and cleaning up. In a gruff voice, he responded, “Never thought I would see the day we got more willing redeemers. Thought Sir Pentious would be our only one.”
You laughed, covering your mouth politely as the cat put your drink before you. As he finished wiping the bar down, Alastor appeared behind you. “Ahhhh, good friend, you have met our new resident artist. Y/N, this is Husk or Husker, as some patrons call him.” You nodded politely to the cat demon, sipping your drink. Alastor sat next to you, staring the cat down. He acted like it was a sin that Husk even talked to you. As you finished your glass, a spider demon walked into the building, groaning about his day at work, sitting on your other side, and ordering a straight martini.
As he rose his head up, looking to great Alastor, he saw you. “WOAH toots, who are ya’ you gorgeous? I didn’t know another pretty thing like me walked these streets.” You smiled sweetly at the spider demon, sticking your hand out to shake his hand. You liked him. He had spunk. “My name is Y/N, and I am the new resident singer of this joint.” Silence filled the room; the spider demon's eyes widened. Looking at him confused, you pulled your hand back and awkwardly sat there. Behind you, Alastors voice rang, “Yes, dear flamboyant friend, that Y/N, the one who took Valentino down a few pegs before he became part of the Vees.”
The spider's smile grew ten times as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Toots, let's be best friends, deal. My name is Angel Dust. It's a pleasure to meet you.” You laughed softly, connecting that this Angel Dust might be the soul of that awful month. “Deal, I need new friends now that I am out of Mimzys club.” Husker dropped his bottle, causing a shattering noise as he turned to stare down Alastor. “You were Mimzy’s singer; what are you doing here?” Alastor stared down Husker, the ever-growing smile present on his face as power exuded off of him. “Simple Husk, can’t you tell she's in a deal with me.” The room went silent as you looked down at your hands. Based on everyone's reactions, you soon realized you were fucked.
The tension was thick between the three of you, Angel silent, not daring to interfere in a soul contract, Husker glaring at Alastor, and the Radio Demon eating up everyones distrust. What felt like hours passing was only a few minutes when Charlie and another woman appeared walking down the stairs. “I am telling you, Vaggie, I heard a new voice.” Your eyes connected with Charlie when she let out an excited squeal, barreling down to you. You laughed softly, happy the tension was broken, and hugged the excited girl back. “Oh my goodness, you came here! Are you trying to be redeemed? I am so excited! Vaggie, this is the singer I told you about!” You looked at the other girl and waved at her. When Alastor stood, she nodded back, getting ready to speak to you; however, Alastor had removed Charlie from your embrace. “Sorry, dear Charlie, but Y/N is part of my deal. She will be a new singer for the hotel, as Husk is the bartender, and Niffty the cleaner.”
As if hearing her name, a tiny, child-looking demon crawled from the depths of somewhere and sat on Alastors shoulder. “Wowie lady, you must sing well for Alastor to vouch for you. You aren’t no bad boy, but you look like you could be tough.” You stood wide-eyed in shock at the minor demon that seemed to spawn into existence. Alastor stood beside you, shooing Niffty off him and placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “Alright, dear Y/N, why don’t I show you to the drawing room where you will perform? You have three days before your big performance.” Everyone looked at the hand placed on your shoulder, confusion laced on their faces. Was Alastor, not a touchy person? All you’ve known of this man was for him to be touching you in some dominating way. You nodded briefly, following the demon to the drawing room.
You had been practicing hard for the last three days. You met Sir Pentious while in the middle of a practice performance. He was apparently your biggest fan and regularly played your music in his blimp. You signed some autographs for him and told him he was welcome to come and watch whenever he felt like it. Of course, he never did come back while you were practicing. Angel Dust said Alastor frightened the snake demon, who was “getting too close to you and distracting you.” This only confused you: why is Alastor so against any demon getting close to you except for the striking spider demon? Two, why does he care if you get distracted? Shouldn’t he want you to lose so he can keep your soul? These thoughts plagued your mind every day as you practiced. You decided to do a four-song set, your three most popular songs and the new one you debuted at Mimzys place before you left, as a nod back to your old home.
Throughout your days here, you have noticed so many odd quirks about these residents, but nothing too crazy. I mean, it is hell after all. Angel Dust was a famed porn star for Valentino; Husker used to gamble at the high-end casino in town; Nifty liked cock roaches; Charlie and Vaggie were fighting with Heaven about Sinners being redeemed. Even Sir Pentious had a past saying he tried to kill Alastor, which made you laugh and congratulate the snake demon. The only major oddball was Alastor; every resident said he was acting different, more pompous, possessive, and aggressive. Before you showed up in his life, he was just a condescending asshole who smiled all the time and had a wicked sarcasm streak.
What made you special? You have been nothing but mean to this man, trying to get a rise out of him and knock him down a few pegs. The main consense from every resident after they learned of your deal is to be careful; he's a master manipulator. The tidbits of information you learned of Alastor were as follows: he hosted a radio show that, up until seven years ago, played screams of his victims; he still very much missed the 1920s; Jazz was his favorite music, makes sense why he hated your pop music, and lastly like any true child of the bayou he enjoyed his coffee, his coffee with three shots of espresso. No wonder the man was wired 24/7.
Alastor was also not a touchy man; the only person any resident had seen him touch so constantly was you. Why? No one knows the answer; Angel Dust has his theories that he “has the hots for ya toots.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that notion. The pompous, rude, robust, attractive, funny, charismatic Deer Demon didn't have a thing for you. Okay, yes, you have a thing for him, though; what changed in the three days of getting close to him and everyone else? You have no real idea; you only know that the day you realized you had more than aggressive feelings for him was two nights ago.
~~~Flashback~~~
You had been summoned to the famed radio tower by Alastor. He had a treat for you, as he put it. Following Niffty's instructions, you ended up before the radio demon's door. Now you heard the rumors already he killed and broadcasted in his tower. Did your deal mean nothing? Was it a ruse to get rid of someone with a little bit of power? You must have been standing there for too long in your thoughts because before you knew it, Alastor had opened the door for you. “Ah, dear Y/N, come on in. We have a broadcast to get to.” You nodded gently and followed him inside.
Taking your place beside Alastor, you notice how cluttered his desk is. You stifle a laugh; the thought of the infamous radio demon who looked so clean and polished having anything untidy amused you. You see Alastor pouring his regular coffee as you turn to the small end table with some chairs. “Alastor, I never would have taken you for a coffee drinker. You seem more refined to like English teas or other sophisticated drinks.”
Alastor just looked at you with a small, unstrained smile. As he finished his drink and poured you one, he said, “Nonsense dear Y/N coffee is highly sophisticated; Louisiana was a large export of coffee grounds we lived for this drink. Coffee was the way to go when we needed to work long hours tending to fields or making ends meet at factories.” You nodded gently, amazed that this man remembered his life so well after so long. While you sat and drank your coffee, Alastor got up to prepare the broadcast. While he was busy, you took this time to examine the Deer Demon in more detail.
He was handsome; his fringe was odd but suited him well, the unforced smile looked attractive, and his suit was perfectly fitted, leaving just enough imagination about what lay underneath. As you caught yourself having this thought, you shook your head, setting your cup down violently. Alastor turned to look at you, his smile still soft but a questioning look in his eyes. You coughed softly into your napkin and stood to meet Alastor at his desk before speaking. “So Al, what is it you need of me.” His reaction to the nickname did not go unnoticed.
Now, the original reason you decided to use the nickname he hated was to get under his skin, but instead of doing that, he smiled at you wider. Gently, he placed a microphone and headphones in your hand. You looked up at him with a curious gaze. “I believe that for people to know you are here at the hotel and will sing, they need a sample. We may have a deal on the line, but I am no cheater.” You nodded, smiling at him; maybe he wasn’t so bad. As the broadcast started, though, the same pompous ass hole came out. Boasting about being missed and how he can't wait to give Sinners of hell an actual broadcast, he introduced you. “Now, my dear patrons, I introduce Y/N. Some of you may know her and even love her, but tonight she will be singing a song for you, a taste into her performance that will be happening here at the Hazbin Hotel in two days.”
You gripped the microphone and started singing one of your more classic songs. Only the people at Mimzys club that night had heard the new song, and you didn't want to ruin the surprise you had been working on for your concert. As you sang, you couldn’t help but notice the red eyes boring into you. Was Alastor checking you out? No, of course not. This is just to even out the deal. However, how his eyes softened and he hummed gently to your tune made your heart flutter. He sure learned one of your songs for someone who hated your music.
As you finished your part in his broadcast, Alastor played some old-time Jazz, muting the mics before leading you out the door. You said your goodnights and began to walk away when Alastor grabbed your arm. You turned to look at him, a sweet, innocent look in your eyes; a part of you wanted him to kiss you right there. However, you could see his conflict. After a few seconds of staring at one another, Alastor let go of your arm and cleared his throat, “Good night, Y/N. Be prepared for our deal.” You nodded, and before you could ask him what was wrong, the door was closed and locked in your face.
~~~Present Day~~~
The day you had finally come for your concert. You had spent most of the day resting and preparing for the show. It had been over a week since your last live performance. You took your time getting prepared, wanting everything to be perfect. You double-checked your hair outfit and even dabbed on an old perfume you found while shopping with Angel. Did you buy this specific sent because it was trendy in the 1920s? No, of course not. You weren't trying to impress the famed Radio Demon during your performance tonight. It finally dawned on you as you did your last touches. You either become soulless tonight or beat the Radio Demon. A shiver ran down your back; you were so caught up in falling for the man that you forgot he was ruthless and owned you now. It's not that you minded the owning part; you minded the soulless part.
A soft knock was heard at your door, and you released a quiet “come in.” As you turned from your vanity to see who had entered, before you stood, Mimzy, you ran to your mentor and hugged her close. “You came, you came. I thought you would be too mad at me to come.” Mimzy slapped your shoulder gently before speaking. “When have I missed one of your shows since you started working for me? Plus, Alastor personally invited me and gave me a front seat. I don’t know if it's to torment me that he's going to take your soul or if mister Deer likes you.” Mimzy began nudging your side. You stifled an almost forced laugh, your cheeks growing warm. “Mimzy, you need to lay off the alcohol. That is an absurd statement. Alastor doesn’t like me.” She gave you a knowing look. “You may think he doesn’t like you, but I can tell you sure like him.” You looked away at the floor.
Mimzy gave you a few more encouraging words before returning to the drawing room. According to Mimzy, there was already a large number of people filling the place. Charlie must be going nuts trying to recruit people. With a final glance in the mirror, you began to walk to your call point. Instead of your average tan and brown ensemble, you wore an elegant blood-red dress for tonight's performance. One that just so happened to be in your closet this morning when you started to get ready. You did your hair up and let some pieces frame your face, your makeup soft and subtle, giving you a sweet, angelic look.
Charlie introduced you to the crowd; as you took center stage and waited for everyone to calm down, you began your set. You looked out to the crowd like you did all those nights ago, and sitting right in front of you were your new friends and him. He didn’t look smug or dominating this time. No, this time, he looked calm and compassionate. Even if you looked hard enough, it almost looked like he was enjoying himself. He wore a suit practically identical to your dress in color. You promoted the hotel between each song as you sang. Your first three songs went perfectly, keeping the crowd entertained to the fullest as you always did. Once your last song died down, the crowd erupted.
A slow interlude played as you spoke softly: "I wrote this last song a long time ago when I was alive. I have only sung this song once at Mimzy Speakeasy, so if you were one of the lucky few to hear it, please feel free to sing along and enjoy it to the fullest this time.” You smiled softly before landing your eyes on Alastor. You don’t know what possessed you to sing this song, looking directly at him, but you couldn’t help it. You felt compelled, too. As the begging notes to Espresso started playing, a small group of people cheered, including Charlie.
You began your normal choreography and sang your heart out, never taking your eyes off of Alastor for long, and from what you saw, he never took his eyes off of you for long, either. Singing your heart out as you finished the outro of the song you posed, letting the cheers and lights fade out. Charlie rushed to the stage and informed everyone about food, refreshments, and signing up to join the hotel. You, however, hid behind the curtains, blushing. Why was he looking at you so intently? Why were you suddenly so shy and concerned you sang poorly? You always had confidence in your singing.
Collecting yourself, you quickly refreshed your look in the bathroom before joining the after/recruiting party. As you were going down the hotel hall to get to the main part of the drawing room, an uneasy feeling hit you. An anxious, familiar feeling. You turn your head, and down the hall, you see a man making his way towards you. You turn around and keep walking, ignoring his shouts as you try to beeline for the entryway. You are panting at this point, memories of your death coming back to you, everything feeling too close to that moment. Just as you are about to turn the corner into the doors for the drawing room, the man reaches out for you. You brace for impact; however, nothing happens. You hear sickly screams emanating from before you as a pair of arms gently encase you in a protective embrace. As you open your eyes, you see shadows tearing the man who looked to be a part of the Vees team apart. Alastor covered your eyes before walking you back towards your room.
You didn’t even realize you had begun to cry or shake when you got to your room. The anxiety of reliving that night you died catching up to you. Alastor never let you go, even after you got to the safety of your room. Once you calmed down, Alastor went to the bathroom connected to your room. You sat there holding your face in your hands, probably looking like a mess from your actions. Alastor re-entered the room and brought you a fresh, damp towel. “To wash your face off; you probably don’t want all that on you anymore.” You nodded softly and began to wipe your face. Alastor scoffed, then took the towel from you, crouching down. Alastor gently held your face and began to clean it off. You two never broke eye contact. He was so gentle.
After your face was cleaned, Alastor took the pins out of your hair and went to find some more comfortable clothes for you. You were ushered into the bathroom and began to change when, through the door, Alastor began to speak. “Did he hurt you at all? I tried to get there as fast as I could. Before you came on, Mimzy was telling me about the night you died. I assume the Vees and their minions must have overheard and, in an attempt to weaken your resolve, make you remember that night.” You sniffled lightly, slowly opening the door, and you looked up at Alastor. Where was a man like him when you died? No, where was he when you passed that night? A choked sob left your lips as you hugged him close to you, crying into his shoulder. Alastor was amiss on what to do, but slowly, as you cried, wrapped his arms around you as well.
As the tears faded, a green glow surrounded you and Alastor again, like when you first made the deal. No one signed up for Charlie's hotel, whether because the demon was mutilated one door over or because you didn’t come to socialize with the guests. It didn’t matter; Alastor had your soul now. Oddly enough, you weren’t as upset by this as you anticipated; you were happy about this. You felt safe, protected even.
Alastor bid his farewell to you after you had finally calmed down. Neither one of you speaking about the contract or lost deal. You lay in bed, exhausted from all the crying and anxiety. As you drifted off to sleep, you saw your assailant again. This wasn’t an uncommon dream for you, but this time, it hurt worse due to the raw emotions. However, just as you were about to die again for the millionth time in this dream, a man dressed in red with brown hair and a soft smile protected you and saved you.
You had been asleep for a little less than 24 hours when you woke next. Your body needed a recharge. You made your way to the kitchen to make some coffee; if you were staying at the hotel to sing, you could start putting together new songs and programs. You made your drink, noticing that Alastor's cup was missing from the cabinet. Taking your hot coffee back upstairs, you passed the hall to your room when you heard a piano playing your song Espresso.
You made your way to the door and entered quietly to find Alastor playing your song, humming quietly in tune. You knocked gently and said, " Al, if you wanted a concert yourself, I would have given you one.” You smile softly. Alastor, unfazed by your appearance, probably already knowing you were there, hummed in amusement before speaking. “As a thank you, why don’t we perform a duet for me saving you?” You made your way over to the piano, sitting down next to him and setting your coffee cup next to his on the piano.
He began to play the start of the song, and you two began to sing together. Softly, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing yourself to be vulnerable with your feelings for the man next to you. You had never sung this song like this before, and it felt special between you two. Some of you began to believe that this song was made for you and Alastor. Before you died, you knew you would meet your match—someone who met you as an equal yet also an opposite. Alastor finished the last few notes of the song. Comfortable silence surrounds you.
Alastor smiled more naturally, “You know, Y/N, I do like your music. It did catch me off guard the first time I heard it, but your music has a lot of truths in it.” You look up at him from his shoulder, listening to his words. “From the moment I looked at you, I couldn’t get enough of you; when I met you, and you challenged me almost instantly, I knew I had to have you. You keep me awake at night thinking about everything that has happened between us in the last few weeks.” You smile softly, thinking back to the lyrics of your song. You lean up gently and place a kiss on Alastors cheek. He laughs softly when he turns to look at you thoroughly. “I’m sorry, doll, but you may have misunderstood me. I like you a lot; I feel that deserves more than a mere peck on the cheek.” You laugh wholeheartedly, this time without covering it up, before placing a soft, chaste kiss on Alastors lips. You pulled back, both of you smiling. “Now that’s an espresso I would happily take any time.” You laugh at his antics before placing your hands on the piano, now playing an old song you remembered from when you were a kid.
All was well. Who would challenge the infamous Radio Demon, especially now that he had the notorious addictive ‘Espresso’ singer as his girlfriend? With your powers combined, he could overcome the deal he made, but that is a story for another time.
#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor#x reader#new writter#radiostatic#pentagram city#angel dust#charlie morningstar#vaggie#sir pentious#hazbin hotel husk#husker#niffty#radio demon#radio demon x reader#radio demon x you#alastor the radio demon#alastor hazbin hotel
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annie in canon: visibly has a strong crush on ar.min.
me:
#listen i love both annie AND ar.min to pieces#but that “romance” was so#not it for me#also this does not mean i would be opposed to shipping with armin writers#because again chemistry is important here and if there's chemistry i'd be more than happy to explore a romantic dynamic between the two#i'm strictly talking about what happened in canon#it also means i likely will not acknowledge this crush immediately when i write with armin writers#despite the fact it's canon#unless the dynamic i'm writing develops that far#so it will be based on chemistry between our characters in our threads#and not how annie canonically feels about him#there is a world where i could have been sold on it because at one point i did ship it#until i was overcome by ere///ani brainrot because they have a far more interesting dynamic in my eyes#also i don't care if you do ship ar.min and annie and like how it all happened in canon#that's valid and all and i'm happy for you#this is just to say my portrayal of annie will defer from canon in that department#〈 ✘ OOC ➨ OUT OF CRYSTAL 〉
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People are talking about not voting for Biden.
Again.
I'm just so tired of this argument.
I just can't do Trump again.
I can't.
His incompetence killed so many people. A panel estimated 40% of COVID deaths could have been averted.
One of those deaths was my mother.
She was killed because people didn't trust the vaccines and they didn't think masks were worth the inconvenience. That man could have gone on TV and said "This is the Trump vaccine and it is great." He could have sold fucking MAGA masks on his website. He had 100% influence over his dipshit followers and could have used that for the greater good. But he was too vain to wear a mask in public and bungled the vaccine rollout.
And now I worry some of my trans loved ones may not make it through another far right administration. They have this giant target on their back right now and conservatives seem determined to eradicate as many trans lives as possible.
I wrote a whole ass post about how I didn't care for Biden. I still don't. But when I try to imagine what a right wing administration would be doing right now... that seems like it would be a nightmare orders of magnitude worse than the current nightmare.
As someone with an untreatable chronic illness, I know the feeling of being presented with choices where all of them suck. And I have had to survive by choosing the least sucky option over and over.
It feels bad every single time.
I hate it.
And I still fucking choose.
It should be different. There should be better choices. I shouldn't have to choose the least bad thing among all bad things.
But there are people and things in this world I feel are worth sticking around for, so I continue to choose the least sucky thing.
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“lol you realize Barbie is only a marketing movie, right? it’s just SELLING STUFF, you know that right? capitalism? lol?”
You’re too late.
Like, you’re not wrong, but you are wildly late on this one.
No one is under the impression that this movie isn’t marketing a toy line.
But that toy line? Has been on this earth longer than you’ve been. Barbie is old. Barbie is everywhere. We’ve all seen a commercial if not owned at least one Barbie doll in our lifetimes (or a knock-off you get emotionally attached to even if the weird mean girl down the street keeps making fun of it) (fuck you Christie that doll was a hero)
Advertising is everywhere. I can’t turn the TV on without ads, even on streaming services that used to brag how ad-free they were. I can’t browse social media without ads. I can’t see a movie or a show without products being “subtly” shown off.
We’re haunted by ads at every goddamn turn, we can’t even talk to an old friend from high school without them trying to sell us something.
If you think you’re making some radical grand statement by pointing out that Barbie is a toy line made by a big company that wants to sell more things... bud. We know that.
We know.
Greta Gerwig seems like she had a lot of fun with this movie, the actors had a lot of fun, the set design is fun.
No one is looking forward to Barbie because we think it’s some kind of beautiful radical anti-capitalist message just WAITING to break the world of its delusions of consumerism. God, could you imagine?
We’re looking forward to a bunch of actors dressed in pink having a lot of fun. We know the movie will make people want Barbie stuff, maybe they’ll go out and buy it, maybe they’re too broke because the world is expensive right now and we’ve got bills. But if “this movie will advertise things to you” was a dealbreaker we’d never see anything.
Because Barbie isn’t unique in this. A LOT of modern movies just want you to buy things, or admire/join the American military, etc etc. Money runs things here. Even capitalism stans know it runs everything (though they’re generally okay with it). Ads are our lives even when we use ad blockers and do our best to ignore the ones we see.
We’re seeing Barbie because it looks silly and fun, not because we’re putting it up on a pedestal expecting it to change the world. And we’re kidding and being silly when we DO act like that. Because goddammit, IT’S BARBIE. We’re acting like we acted when we played with dolls as kids, we’re PLAYING, we’re having fun. When I was a kid I absolutely pretended my Barbies could save the world and were magical and powerful. Didn’t mean she actually was.
These are toys. And we like to play. That doesn’t erase the capitalist motivations of Mattel, but it doesn’t have to mean we “support” their evils. We want to play, we want to enjoy play, even when we’re trapped in a capitalist hellscape where like 80% of our day to day fun is sold to us
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I love every fic That has Danny still being Phantom even while in the DC universe but sometimes I just want my little guy to flex his intellect and be all around little mad scientist that only sometimes uses his powers to pick up a screwdriver
Danny is smart.
He knows he is brilliant.
He may have been outshined by his family when he was younger, but that was because his focus was on something else, and frankly, being born last into a family of geniuses made one feel like one wasn't as intelligent as them.
He constantly compared himself to them, knowing that they had already achieved what he was doing and falling further and further behind in his self-wellow.
Then Danny left Amity Park and went into the real world.....he found his intelligence got him far. Danny was exceptionally brilliant when he was working on machinery, chemistry, and, above all else, engineering.
Maybe it had something to do with watching his parents repurpose any household item into a completely new technology that affected beings from different dimensions simply because they used math.
Or maybe it was that his brain was always moving, always connecting, and constantly processing. Danny didn't realize that people couldn't just make whatever idea came into their heads a reality.
Hell, his dad heard about Mr. Freeze's ray and he made a copy in two months. Danny made Mr. Freeze's ray in two weeks. He made other ghost tech in that same amount or enough to arm his schoolmates in one afternoon.
The point is that Danny is good at what he does. Put a screwdriver in huis hand, and he be off until whatever hair brain idea he had a physical form.
Everyone in Amity Park knew this as a fact about the Fentons/ Since they moved in, there was nothing but experiments one right after the other. Sure, they wasted it on things like Ecto-studies, but his parents made their money from somewhere before the world learned about ghosts.
Danny's parents had many, and he means many, patents. Everything from a brand of microwaves to vehicle parts.
His parents created them, sold them to partial rights to companies, and then wasted whatever money they got on some new experiment for a ghost that had not yielded any fortunes.
He thought he could do the same. Just apply to anywhere that would take him after creating a portable phone changer on one's wrist. He figured it would have gotten less attention than he did hadn't he just shown up at Wayne Expo as an unknown inventor through his parents contacts.
Danny had felt relatively small with his foldable plastic table and his four cardboard boxes of his invention while everyone had booths and screens, and a few even had prominent speakers with people in suits that cost more than his house
. Danny felt like a little kid trying to sell lemonade in the five-star hotel lobby. Everyone walked right by him without a glance, or they jeered and mocked him.
That was until Bruce Wayne wandered over. Kind and charming the man, maybe he wasn't the brightest- but he stood there listening to Danny excitedly explain how moving the hand on the bracelet caused it to charge, so walking around with it was all the kinetic energy it needed.
His ward- Dick Grayson, in all his tiny ten-year-old authority, had purchased a bracelet from Danny. It had been the only sale he made that night, but it was the only one he needed. Bruce had called him to offer him a position at WE.
Like his parents, Danny enjoyed his freedom, so instead, he offered to be a freelance inventor. He would show the Wayne's first dibs but go where the wind took him. He made them if he found buyers who weren't trying to ice him out of profits.
Unlike his parents, he didn't waste the funds past his travels. Slowly but surely building up a fortune over time.
Danny still went out as Phantom, but over the years he invented random gadgets and chemicals that he would ship to Bruce for a healthy paycheck. Ussually he makes something that the rich man off-handedly comments on.
"Oh Danny, I just loved skydiving, but I'm scared Dick's parachute will get stuck."
Danny invented one with small rocket blasters Bruce could manually control into landing for his son.
"I always enjoy undersea diving. The tanks are a killer on my back. Jason was almost weighted down by them too."
Danny created a breathing mask that had the tanks in smaller easier-to-carry cylinders.
"Tim really loves his computers. Wish I could take the whole thing with me when I go out!"
Danny had a working computer on a heliographic wristwatch the next month.
It was awesome. Danny traveled a lot but always found time to call and speak with Bruce. He got to know the man well over the years, found himself chatting with him for hours, and even spent his visits to Gotham at Wayne Manor as a guest.
Bruce's kids were a riot to be around. He would often go away for a while only to return and find that they had grown in numbers. He loved them like his own and found himself a confidant among the children.
It was he that Dick called to whispers about his insecurity within Bruce's home. He would go to all the gymnastics and mathletes shows he could catch, cheering the loudest among the rich parents as Dick outshone the rest of the children.
Danny had practically flown home to rip Bruce a new one until the man admitted to his gapping son that he had applied to be his father mere months after taking him in.
It was Danny that Jason spoke to when Dick and Bruce's fights were too loud. He would take the boy on trips, and talk for hours about books to calm down, then he had sat Bruce and Dick down to rip another new one.
It was no surprise that Jason had called him when he had tried to run away to confront his birth mother. He had been there to see the bitch arrested before she could hurt Jason.
It was Danny that Tim often sought out to showcase his photos. He always made sure to call the boy right before he was meant to sleep, regardless of which part of the world Danny was on, to wish him goodnight and talk about their days.
Tim always brightened whenever Danny caught his skateboard competitions or club performances. He was the one who found out Tim's biological parents neglected him after the boy told him, and he was the one to help Bruce win custody.
Then came Damian, who was as scared as he was angry. Danny adored him and saw so many ghost-like mannerisms in him that connecting to the boy wasn't hard at all.
Bruce didn't seem to understand that his son was used to outlined expectations and grew irritable when he felt he failed them. He was the one that help Damian get used to his environment and was the one the boy was much more willing to try new things with.
Steph and Danny often got along well with their sense of humor, but mostly she followed him around, seeking approval that likely missed out from her parents. They would sit down and talk about her future and what she wanted in life, and he even let her practice her makeup on him and giggle about boys.
Sometimes, it felt like she didn't have to be the tough girl from the rough part of town. She could be a teenage girl without a care in the world. At least, that's what she claimed Danny made her feel like.
Cass didn't talk much, but she didn't have to for Danny to not see how much she enjoyed their days out, too.
He loved taking her to see the arts, to sit and listen to music together, and most of all, to see her slowly bloom into a sociable young lady so different from the closed-off girl that first arrived at Wayne Manor.
Duke was still relatively new, but Danny could spot the wild, unhinged look in his eye that would have made him a proper Fenton. The two often spent their time playing video games and working in the community together.
Duke seemed to enjoy when Danny invited him to tag along on short trips, especially when the two would go camping. As someone who grew up in the city, he had never been fishing until Danny taught him how to reel in a big one at a lake a state over. The whole Wayne family had cheered the dark skin boy on as he held the trout over his head for the photo.
Alfred treated him like one of the family sometimes meeting up with Danny on his travels for a cup of tea or a nice phone call to gossip about Bruce.
Danny loved it but adored when the Waynes would help with his inventions. Even if all they did was sit in his makeshift lab inside his RV or the west wing of Wayne Manor like Bruce did, having them made his hands fly faster and his calculations sharper.
Sometimes, he caught the strangest, softest look on Bruce's face when Danny would be wielding.
Danny was so used to this lifestyle that he would forget about his ghost powers. It's not like he really needed them.
That came to head when he returned to Gotham on a whim, wanting to surprise Bruce for his birthday by taking the other man out to dinner somewhere fancy he happened to stumble across the scene of Scarecrow holding the Waynes- his Waynes- as hostages at an award ceremony in the new mental hospital they had funded.
Danny hadn't thought.
He saw the Fear Gas vents open and pulled one of his gadgets. He threw it as hard as he could at Scarecrow, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off the manic's head- knocking him out and spinning in place as it activated.
It was a miniature vacuum- meant to gather pollution in the air to hopefully clean up their planet- sucking in all the green smoke before it could harm.
He three out of the other five at the goons that had tried to gas the spectators before, pressing his anti-gravity plates- reversing them to slam the goons into a heap and officially knocking them out.
Danny took down the Rouge in under a minute.
"Bruce! Kids! Are you alright?" He cried rushing the stage to the stunned family. He helped them out of their bonds, gentelly tracing the bruise on Bruce's face with a soft whine. "They hurt you."
"I'm alright, darling," Bruce muttered, leaning into his palm. "I'm better with you here. What was that?"
"Oh just a-"
"Look out!" Dick suddenly screams as a flash of ice comes from nowhere. Danny tucks Bruce onto his chest and rolls away from the ray's pathway. They land with his friend on his back and Danny leaning over him in a protective hunch.
Quickly, he stops his foot against the ice, pressing the heel back and watching bursts of electricity from his built-in tazer race up the ice to the beam of Dr. Freeze.
The man doesn't have time to react before spamming and hitting the ground. Danny scoffs. "Using a ray with a cryogenic laser beam so last season. Invent something new, you one act poney."
Bruce stares up at him with those soft eyes again, and Danny smiles now that he is sure the Danger is gone.
"Is there nothing that mind of yours can't do?" Bruce asks and Danny laughs helping him to his feet as police swarm the place.
"Find me a date, maybe." Danny jokes, "I haven't had one since you took in Dick.""
"Neither has Father!" Damian shouts from behind them. Danny bemussingly watches the young boy march up to gesture at the mortified-looking man.
Despite his father's obvious embarrassment, Damian does not seem bothered to shout for everyone to hear. "He may swing both ways but hasn't acquired a suitable spouse. What says you, Danny? You could assist in correcting this error."
"Sure, I'll take him out." Danny laughs, patting the boy on his shoulder, knowing he hates to have his hair touched. Damian all but melts into his hand like his father seemingly smug. "I know a great club to meet some great people in Metropolis!"
Damian's smug look fades away as Bruce's eyes fall. "I meant for you to be Father's sp-"
"Danny, would you mind explaining those tazer shoes?" Bruce cuts in, throwing a arm over the inventor's shoulder. "They were dazzling!"
"Oh, Bruce, I'm always happy to explain my creations!"
Damian pouts as the two walk away, acting like a married couple to the scattered spectators. If only his Father would just man up and tell Danny that he's practically been his second Father all these years, they need to officiate it.
Tim sighs, placing a hand like Danny did on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dami. This time, we will surely succeed in the Parent Trap plan. Maybe before Danny gets lost in the lab trying to invent a way to warp travel."
"Don't even joke, Tim," Jason says. "Danny would figure that out. He created the Zeta Beams to make it to my senior play. He'll figure out warping if we ask him to."
"Dad's the best," Steph laughs, and they all agree, determined more than ever to make Parent Trap happen.
Master Post Link
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#Freelance Inventor#Danny is so smart he casually revolutionizes tech#He's not aware of the Bats#He's still somehow their Dad#And Bruce is in love with him'#The bat kids are going to Parent Trap them#spirit halloween
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That Xiran Jay Zhao video about the amount of time it takes to get paid by the publisher, a couple of time she says "that's just the way it is." Are there actual, legitimate business reasons for holding off paying someone 6 or 8 or more months what they've earned for their book? Or is it the publisher basically going "We'll pay you when we pay you. What are you gonna do about it?" because they're essentially the one in charge?
And is it the same for all authors? Or is there an unofficial "tier" system based on your name? Are they telling people like Stephen King or James Patterson or Neil Gaiman "you'll see your money in 8 months" or are they more likely to be getting monthly checks just because of who they are?
There are some legitimate business reasons, yes.
Okay, so let's look at the way a book is sold to a publisher. I'm going to use very round numbers, because I don't want to do a lot of math right now. So say I sell a book for $15,000 under the traditional three installment contract--signing, delivery/acceptance, and publication. What this means is I sign the contract, I get a $5,000 check! Yay! I will also get checks when the book is turned in and accepted, emphasis because it means I can't just give them a word jumble and claim I turned the book in, and then again when the book comes out. We're ignoring side situations like "book is never turned in" and "book is never published."
But wait! My agent gets 15% off the top of each of those checks, which isn't a whole lot at $5,000--$750--but means I'm receiving effectively a $4,250 check, and then waiting maybe a year for the next one.
In the US, 1/3rd of that check goes automatically to taxes, and I cannot math that very well, but it's about $1,416. So I'm left with $2,834 as my payment for the year. This is why most authors will have day jobs.
This structure makes sense. They pay you to call dibs on your book: they pay you when the dibs pan out: they pay you when they can start making money. Now, recently, some publishers have started going to a four stage advance payment, and I can't see any real justification for that. Maybe someone will give me one. I'd be fascinated to know what it is.
So here's the thing: until the book is out, there is no more money. You've been paid for the book, but it's not making money for the publisher yet, and so of course you're not getting more money. It used to be the expectation that your advance would pay your bills while you wrote the next book; that is clearly no longer the case. I live in Seattle. A single check from a three-stage advance isn't paying my mortgage for a month. But.
Once the book is out, it can start making money, and that's when things get complicated. Say a bookstore places an order for 10 copies of AWESOME NEW BESTSELLER. Yay! That should be ten sales, and ten units of whatever your royalty is, right? Only these are physical items, and bookstores can return them, so your publisher marks it down as "ten sales, five reserve against returns," meaning you're only getting credit for five sales until the return window (usually a year) runs out. Where it gets a little hinky is when the bookstore sells all ten and orders ten more, and the publisher still has it marked as "five (now ten) reserve against returns." Basically, you're only getting credit for half your sales until that reserve window closes.
Sadly, thanks to certain retailer policies, this has been grandfathered into applying to electronic sales as well.
TL,DR: The delay in royalty payments is to give bookstores time to sell the books, and mean that your publisher doesn't pay you for a hundred sales, only to ask for the money from fifty to be given back when books are returned. This could happen faster in the modern world, but that would involve publishers paying us faster, and they like to keep the money in their hands as long as possible.
To the best of my knowledge, no one is A Big Enough Author that they can demand their money now, right now. And this is why trad publishing continues to self-select for the wealthy and the young.
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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A RANT!!!
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It’s never too late to manifest your dream life. If you’re sitting around contemplating on life, stop. Stop messing around and get your desires. Live your dream life. Manifest the Car you’ve been wanting. Get your sp! Get that mansion you’ve been eyeing. Stop sitting around waiting for something to change and be the change. It all starts from within. You CAN have whatever you want. There’s nothing too big or too small. You can make the “ impossible “ possible l. There’s nothing out of your control. Everything you want, wants you 10x more. Stop sitting around feeling sorry for yourself hoping things will work out, while still living in your undesired state. Do whatever you have to do to get in the wish fulfilled and stay there. Oh you fell out of the wish fulfilled ? So what get back in it. There’s nothing or anyone holding you back or keeping you down but YOU. Stop sitting around wishing you could have this and wishing things could’ve been this way, You wanna know why they aren’t ? BECAUSE OF YOU. NOBODY BUT YOU. Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to get you that job, Or those shoes, or that car, Or that trip to Hawaii, Or your sp back. Everything and Everyone had to follow your rules. You want that house right ? “ but it’s already sold “ so ? lol. What does that mean ? There’s over hundreds of houses that person doesn’t even like that house anymore, They’re moving right now as we speak that house is YOURS! You want your sp back ? “ But he has a new girlfriend ): “ ( This applies to any and everyone i’m just using he as of right now ) . aww that’s cute. Anyways, They’ve broken up because they’re not meant for each other because your sp is meant for you and you only, and the girl ( or boy ) has found they’re soulmate and they’re now in a happy relationship, which isn’t with your sp because, your sp is attracted to you and you only, Your sp doesn’t want a relationship with anyone but you. They’re personalities clash because your the only person that’s understands sp and that’s one of the many reasons they love and cherish you. You want that car right ? “ I can’t afford it right now “. Anything is possible, you would win it in a raffle, It could go on sale for 1 cent or a dollar, Someone could gift it to you, You can win it in a giveaway or contest. Anything could happen, Or if you could win $1,000,000 on the lottery and the car is $100,000. Now you have a car and over $800,000. ( Yes you can manifest them not taking taxes off your winning ). You want that new pool right ? “ But my parents said I can’t get one “ is this your reality or theirs ? ( don’t say that to your parents though 😭 ) EIYPO. So what they said that, You said you have a new pool so now you have one. Whatever everyone else thinks or says doesn’t matter. It’s yours. Oh look .. a random truck just pulled in your yard. Wait the they’re delivering a .. NEW POOL. With all that being said. Get whatever you want. Start the year off right ( it’s still the beginning of the year technically 😭 ). You can have what you want, Do what you want, Go where you want, Be who you want. Live your dream life, STOP SEARCHING AND START APPLY, STOP SEEKING ( checking the 3D, looking and hoping for results ) AND START KNOWING. IT’S ALREADY YOURS GET THAT IN YOUR HEAD. And calm down, idc about how long you have until this and that. Time isn’t real. Calm down the clock isn’t ticking. Your sp isn’t going anywhere, That house or those shoes or that car won’t be growing legs and walking away. You’ve got all the time in the world.
#law of assumption#affirmations#eiypo#living in the end#loassumption#loass#manifestation#states law of assumption#success story#edward art#states loa#visualization#affirm and persist#affirmyourreality#postive affirmations#create your dream life
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The Epitaph of Anything Goes
I decided that this morning I would talk about The Museum of Anything Goes and the subject of lost media.
For the uninitiated, The Museum of Anything Goes is an obscure "game" released in 1995 by Wayzata Technologies, a company that is so far under the radar that I was unable to find any useful information about it outside of TMoAG.
All I could uncover is that they published a few multimedia projects (which are essentially lost now) alongside some asset discs (clipart, SFX, etc.). That's it.
The brains behind Wayzata are even more difficult to locate these days: there are only two main names credited inside of TMoAG - Michael Markowski and Maxwell S. Robertson.
The game alleges that Michael and Maxwell are well known in the art world, but any additional information about the duo is scarce beyond the confines of the museum. Attempting to search for either name online turns up plenty of rabbit holes - but none of them have anything to do with the Michael and Maxwell responsible for TMoAG.
This is particularly fascinating because it essentially means that TMoAG is the only accessible record of their lives. Before we dig any deeper into that statement, let me step back and actually address what this game is.
The Museum of Anything Goes is, by definition, a virtual art museum. Functionally it's a prerendered point-and-click adventure game where you can explore a bunch of multimedia exhibits that give the surface-level impression of a children's edutainment game, but once you start exploring further it reveals a side that firmly plants the game's feet into a haze of substance abuse and surreal humor.
Many exhibits are essentially just toying around with the astonishing new powers of CD-ROM. Everything has to make noise. Everything has to spin and flitter around. There's an air of genuine excitement for the medium, and I can't help but find it extremely charming.
The game also functions as a scrapbook, filled to the brim with photos of random trips to the zoo and snow-mobile rides with friends. At one point we even get insight into something as specific as Michael's one-year job as a tutor at a Chicago middle school, where he talks about how it opened his eyes to how poorly funded and mismanaged the school system is.
It's simultaneously quaint and chilling to see so much personal history packed into a world doomed to obscurity. As I explore the deeper parts of the museum, I contemplate if the creators are still alive today. It's a bit morbid, but imagine that - you create a single obscure game with your friend and it's all the world can see. TMoAG is currently the only surviving piece that gives any insight into who these two men were.
While many exhibits are lighthearted or nonsensical, there are occasional moments where the game dips into the eerie.
One exhibit has the player kill a man by dropping him from the sky, and after burying him you open the coffin to a video of a rotting pig carcass being put into an incinerator.
Other exhibits just feature simple 3D renders shifting around a dark screen while haunting groans play in the background.
While I would never refer to the game as "scary," its darker moments combined with the occasional mature subject matter definitely begs the question: Who is this game for?
You have to remember that this game came out long before the concept of "alt-games" had become codified in the digital space. Sure, unconventional digital art had been around before the advent of 256 colors, but TMoAG was being sold on disk as a game! It came out 2 years after DOOM hit shelves!
The trend of using the PC for entertainment was certainly on the upswing around that time, but It's not like TMoAG had a massive audience to find a niche in. With its mature themes it certainly wasn't suited for the kids market either, so who was it for?
At the end of the day, it's a moot question. We already know the target audience for The Museum of Anything Goes: Nobody. It doesn't have an audience because by its nature, TMoAG wasn't being made FOR someone, it was being made BY someone. It's a raw, unfiltered form of personal expression.
I think games like these are pivotal, because they question why people assume a game has to exist for the sake of being a consumable product. TMoAG certainly has the shape of a product: it features an intro cutscene, it has a tutorial, it features intuitive UX, it even has a map! These are all features that are solely integrated to provide comfort to an end-user. But once you actually wander around the museum for a bit, you realize how bizarrely its packaging fits its contents.
I think TMoAG is criminally underrated. It's not because its core content contains some earth-shaking truth, it's because the game defied all odds and cheated death.
How many thousands of other personal projects were deemed a little "too exotic" to be archived? How much history was lost these past 40 years as the digital space evolved and ate its old skin?
God knows how many other TMoAGs we'll never learn about because they weren't lucky enough to be preserved.
The Museum of Anything Goes isn't just some nonsensical art piece, it's a grave marker for so much lost media. Its existence is a reminder that some people's lives were fossilized, then macerated into nothing because a construction company built a skyscraper over them. The only evidence we have of those other games existing is this little fossil that somehow slipped out from under the skyscraper unscathed.
Even though so much has been lost, TMoAG survives as an epitaph.
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2600’s amazing Hackers on Planet Earth con may go down under enshittification
Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.
It's been 40 years since Emmanuel Goldstein launched the seminal, essential, world-changing 2600: The Hacker Quarterly. 2600 wasn't the first phreak/hacker zine, but it was the most important, spawning a global subculture dedicated to the noble pursuit of technological self-determination:
https://www.2600.com/
2600 has published hundreds of issues in which digital spelunkers report eagerly on the things they've discovered by peering intently at the things no one was supposed to even glance at (I'm proud to be one of those writers!). They've fought legal battles, including one that almost went to the Supreme Court:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DeCSS
They created a global network of meetups where some of technology's most durable friendships and important collaborations were born. These continue to this day:
https://www.2600.com/meetings
And they've hosted a weekly radio show on NYC's WBAI, Off the Hook:
https://wbai.org/program.php?program=76
When WBAI management lost their minds and locked the station's most beloved hosts out of the studio, Off the Hook (naturally) led the rebellion, taking back the station for its audience, rescuing it from a managerial coup:
https://twitter.com/2600/status/1181423565389942786
But best of all, 2600 gave us HOPE – both in the metaphorical sense of "hope for a better technological tomorrow" and in the literal sense, with its biannual Hackers On Planet Earth con:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hackers_on_Planet_Earth
For decades HOPE had an incredible venue, the Hotel Pennsylvania (memorialized in the phreak anthem "PEnnsylvania 6-5000"), a crumbling pile in midtown Manhattan that was biannually transformed into a rollicking, multi-day festival of forbidden technology, improbable feats, and incredible presentations. I was privileged to keynote HOPE in 2016:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1D7APjmVbk
But after the 2018 HOPE, the Hotel Pennsylvania was demolished to make way for the Penn15 (no, really) skyscraper, a vaporware mega-tower planned as a holding pen for luxury shopping and empty million-dollar condos sold to offshore war-criminals as safe-deposit boxes in the sky. The developer, Vornado (no, really) hasn't actually done all that – after demo'ing the Hotel Pennsylvania, they noped out, leave a large, unusable scar across midtown.
But HOPE wasn't lost. In 2022, the ever-resilient 2600 crew relocated to Queens, hosted by St John's University – a venue that was less glamorous that the Hotel Pennsylvania, but the event was still fantastic. Attendance fell from 2,000 to 1,000, but that was something they could work with, and reviews from attendees were stellar.
Good thing, too. 2600 is, first and foremost, a magazine publisher, and these have been hard years for magazines. First there was the mass die-off of indie bookstores and newsracks (I used to sell 2600 when I was a bookseller, and in the years after, I always took the presence of 2600 on a store's newsrack as an unimpeachable mark of quality).
Thankfully for 2600, their audience is (unsurprisingly) a tech-savvy one, so they were able to substitute digital subscriptions for physical ones:
https://www.2600.com/Magazine/DigitalEditions
Of course, many of those subscriptions came through Amazon's Kindle, because nerds were early Amazon adopters, and because the Kindle magazine publishing platform offered DRM-free distribution to subscribers along with a fair payout to publishers.
But then Amazon enshittified its magazine system. Having locked publishers to its platform, it rugged them and killed the monthly subscription fees that allowed publishers to plan for a steady output. Publishers were given a choice: leave Amazon (and all the readers locked inside its walled garden) or put your magazine into the Kindle Unlimited system:
https://www.amazon.com/kindle-dbs/arp/B0BWPTCP4K?deviceType=A1FG5NAKX0MRJL
Kindle Unlimited is an all-you-can-eat program for Kindle, which pays publishers and writers based on a system that is both opaque and easily gamed, with the lion's share of the money going to "publishers" who focus on figuring out how to cheat the algorithm. Revenues for 2600 – and all the other magazines that Amazon had sucked in and sucked dry – fell off a cliff.
Which brings me to the present moment. After 40 years, 2600 is still at it, having survived the bookstorepocalypse, the lunacy of public radio management, the literal demolition of their physical home by an evil real-estate developer, and Amazon's crooked accounting.
This is 2600, circa 2024, and 2024 a HOPE year:
https://www.hope.net/
Once again, HOPE has been scheduled for its new digs in Queens, July 12-14. Last week, HOPE sent out an email blast to their subscribers telling them the news. They expected to sell 500 tickets in the first 24 hours. They didn't even come close:
https://www.2600.com/content/hope-ticket-sales-update
It turns out that Google and the other major mail providers don't like emails with the word "hacker" in them. The cartel that decides which email gets delivered, and which messages go to spam, or get blocked altogether, mass-blocked the HOPE 2024 announcement. Email may be the last federated, open platform we have, but mass concentration has created a system where it's nearly impossible to get your email delivered unless you're willing to play by Gmail's rules:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/
For Emmanuel Goldstein, founder of 2600 and tireless toiler for this community, the deafening silence following from that initial email volley was terrifying: "like some kind of a "Twilight Zone" episode where everyone has disappeared."
The enshittification that keeps 2600's emails from being delivered to the people who asked to receive them is even worse on social media. Social media companies routinely defraud their users by letting them subscribe to feeds, then turning around to the people and organizations that run those feeds and saying, "You've got x thousand subscribers on this platform, but we won't put your posts in their feeds unless you pay us to 'boost' your content":
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/platforms-decay-lets-put-users-first
Enshittification has been coming at 2600 for decades. Like other forms of oddball media dedicated to challenging corporate power and government oppression, 2600 has always been a ten-years-ahead preview of the way the noose was gonna tighten on all of us. And now, they're on the ropes. HOPE can't sell tickets unless people know about HOPE, and neither email providers nor social media platforms have any interest in making that happen.
A handful of giant corporations now get to decide what we read, who we hear from, and whether and how we can get together in person to make friends, forge community, rabble-rouse and change the world. The idea that "it's not censorship unless the government does it" has always been wrong (not all censorship violates the First Amendment, and censorship can be real without being unconstitutional):
https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/04/yes-its-censorship/
What can you do about it? Well, for one thing, you can sign up for HOPE. It's gonna be great. They've got sub-$100 hotel rooms! In New York City!
https://store.2600.com/products/tickets-to-hope-xv
If you can't make it to HOPE, you can sign up for a virtual membership:
https://store.2600.com/products/tickets-to-hope-xv-virtual-attendee
You can submit a talk to HOPE:
https://www.hope.net/cfp.html
You can subscribe to 2600, in print or electronically (I signed up for the lifetime print subscription and it was a bargain – I devour every issue the day it arrives):
https://store.2600.com/collections/subscriptions-renewals
2600 is living a decade in the future of every other community you care about, weird hobby you enjoy, con you live for, and publication you read from cover to cover. If we can all pull together to save it, it'll be a beacon of hope (and HOPE).
I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/19/hope-less/#hack-the-planet
#pluralistic#2600#hackers#magazines#publishing#kindle unlimited publishing#kindle#enshittification#monopoly#end to end#competition#events#nyc#hope#hackers on planet earth#amazon
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ursula!! i have a request if you’re up for it:
what if the reader is a singer, let’s say she’s successful like taylor swift and the whole friendship bracelet thing was invented by her and her fans. what if jack made a bracelet with his number on it and gave it to her at her concert, like travis did to taylor? i think that’d be soooo cute!
how was your concert? i hope u had fun!
omfg i love this request!!!!! taylor and travis are so fucking cute, i love them so much. and the shows were amazing, thank you for asking! the energy was incredible and i was so happy with the surprise songs 🥺
friendship bracelets — jack champion
word count: 1,688
pairing: jack champion x singer!fem!reader
summary: jack goes to y/n's concert and hands her team a friendship bracelet with his number, but she doesn't reach out until she sees a clip of him from an interview where he confesses what he did.
warnings: none!
Y/N’S SINGING CAREER HAD BEEN SUCCESSFUL SINCE THE VERY BEGINNING. At only 19 years of age, she was on the peak of her career and currently doing a world tour with sold out stadiums. She was not only praised because of her versatile discography, but also for her lyricism and the unique bond she had with her fans.
Jack loved her music, so he was really excited when the sponsors of the stadium reached out to offer him tickets for the show. Alongside his friends, Jack made friendship bracelets—a cute tradition within the fandom—, and he had the idea of making one with his number on it.
“Do you seriously think you will be able to give her that?” Romeo, his friend, asked in disbelief as they walked towards their seats.
“A guy can dream” Jack simply said.
“I don’t think she sees anyone after the show. The girl performs for three hours.” Willa told him, not wanting him to get his hopes too high.
“Maybe I could give it to someone of her team.”
“She’s a hot, successful singer, J. She probably gets handed so many phone numbers.” his friend said.
Jack sighed. “Okay, I get it. Jesus. Have you two ever heard of the term ‘positivity’?” he asked bitterly.
“Have you ever heard of the term ‘delusional’?” Romeo asked. Jack rolled his eyes and changed the topic.
It wasn’t that crazy, right?
TURNS OUT ‘DELUSIONAL’ WAS THE RIGHT WORD. After the amazing show, Jack managed to give the bracelet to one of Y/N’s security guards and the boy was optimistic about it. But then, after one week of radio silence, he came in terms with reality—she was untouchable. He was an actor in the rising and she was a global superstar, what gave him the idea that she was going to reach out? His friends were right, he was indeed delusional.
“I saw you exchanging friendship bracelets at Y/N’s show! How was it? Are you a fan?” his interviewer asked him.
Jack smiled like a little kid at the question. “Yes, it was incredible. Is there anything that girl can’t do? Everything was mind blowing—her outfits, the visuals, her voice, her performance. It was honestly the best concert I’ve ever been to.” he said in pure awe. “And yes, I’m a big fan.”
“Did you make friendship bracelets or did you just receive them?”
“Both! I made a lot. It was a very therapeutic experience, to be honest” the young actor laughed. “I actually made one for Y/N, with my phone number on it.” he admitted shyly.
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope” he laughed awkwardly.
“Did she get it?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t reached out, but she receives lots of gifts so maybe she hasn’t seen it yet, or maybe she doesn’t text strangers, which makes a lot of sense.”
“Oh my god” the interviewer said in excitement. “That is so adorable! Hope this gets to her! I’m sure the fans will sent her this clip.”
“Oh- please don’t bombard her, guys! I don’t want to make her uncomfortable! It was a silly thing to do.” Jack blushed, instantly regretting having shared the anecdote.
Obviously, his fans didn’t hesitate to do everything in their power to get the video viral. And, as lots of his fans were also fans of hers, the clip appeared on Y/N’s timeline in no time.
She was familiar with Jack. Even though he hadn’t starred in a lot of movies, he was a part of two huge franchises which Y/N, of course, knew about. And he was also one of—if not the—prettiest guys she had ever seen, so she remembered his face. She could not pass this opportunity up.
code red sabrina!!! come to my house asap
WHAT IS WRONG WHAT HAPPENED
this VERY CUTE actor went to my concert last week and put his number on a friendship bracelet and i just found out
okay???? why do you need me?
i have like a thousand fb, i need your help to find it
um… why don’t you just slide into his dms?
that would be easier, but he made that fb and i want it. pretty please? 🥺
fineeee, omw
“I GOT IT.” Sabrina screamed after hours of going through mountains of friendship bracelets.
“OH MY GOD.” Y/N screamed back, grabbing the bracelet and saving the contact on her phone. “Okay, I’m texting him.”
hey jack, what’s your favorite scary movie? 👀🔪🩸
um… i don’t like this, i’m out
“You’re so lame.” Sabrina laughed.
no wait, i’m sorry i was trying to be cool
it’s y/n y/l/n
very funny 🙄 is this you mason?
no, for real. it’s y/n
i saw your clip from the interview and i literally spent the whole day looking for that fucking friendship bracelet and here i am now :)
i’m sorry i didn’t see it before, i feel awful
is this really y/n?
i’m facetiming you
“Hi!” Y/N said cheerfully when Jack answered. His mouth was agape as he started at his celebrity crush. “Do you believe me now?”
“Holy shit! I wasn’t that delusional after all.” Jack said, making her frown. “Oh, my friends called me delusional for expecting you to text me. They were right for like a week.”
“You should’ve just sent me a dm, you’re verified.” Y/N laughed. “But I actually really liked the bracelet. It was original, and thoughtful and beyond adorable.”
“Thank you.” he blushed. “I’m sorry if my fans were harassing you with that clip, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No! I’m glad you did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known about you trying to get me your number.” she smiled. “I really liked you in avatar and scream, by the way! Wish I’ve known you were at my concert, would’ve liked to meet you.”
“It’s not late.” he found himself saying. “I mean, we can meet up, if you want.”
“Like a date?” Y/N asked nervously.
“Yes… only if you’d like it to be a date.”
“I would love to, Jack!”
Y/N AND JACK HAD THEIR FIRST DATE ONE WEEK AFTER THEIR FIRST CONVERSATION. Jack went to the singer’s house, for more privacy. They were aware that if they went to a restaurant, it would be all over the media and they preferred to keep quiet at least until they knew things between them were going to be serious.
After a couple of dates and weeks of talking, they both knew something good and real had formed between them. Y/N felt completely normal around Jack. He wasn’t like other boys she had dated, who always wanted to go out and make sure the reporters saw them or tried to seduce her with their expensive cars and luxurious mansions. Jack was grounded, kind, sweet and funny. He wasn’t intimidated by her success and her fame. Quite the contrary, Jack admired her and was in awe every time he saw her writing down lyrics on her journal or played songs on the guitar for him. Y/N was sure he was the one, and she wanted to call him hers.
“I have something for you.” Y/N said as they were laying on her bed. Jack was on his back, while the girl was sprawled on top of him.
“What?” he asked curiously.
Y/N got off him to grab something from the drawer. “I wanted to ask you something, but I thought this was the right way considering how it all started.”
Jack laughed in confusion. “You’re not making any sense.” Y/N handed him the thing she was hiding on her palm and Jack fell silent.
The blood rushed into his cheeks, and a smile broke into his face. His heart was beating so fast he was surprised they weren’t able to hear it. His eyes lifted up to find her anxious ones. Y/N was biting her lip nervously, and her hands played with the hem of her skirt as she waited for the boy to say something.
“You’re so cute.” he finally said, holding tightly onto the friendship bracelet that read ‘Be my boyfriend?’. “Yes, I’d love to be your boyfriend, Y/N.” Jack grabbed her wrist and brought her back into his chest, and then captured her lips with his. “I can’t believe this is happening. Feels like a dream.”
Y/N laughed “I know, I can’t believe you’re mine.“ she pecked his lips. “There’s one more thing. I have a show in two days.”
“Yeah, I know.” he furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing where the conversation was headed.
“Would you like to go? Like, be on the VIP tent” she said, and then added in a shy tone. “As my boyfriend.”
Jack widened his eyes. “Are you sure? I have no rush to make this public.”
“I know, and I adore you for not pushing me, but I want this. I really do.”
The boy’s smile shone brighter than the sun. “I’d love to, babe.”
So, two days later, Jack stood on the vip tent, watching his mesmerising girlfriend perform. He blushed through the entire show, because the singer couldn’t stop looking at him—especially when singing love songs.
Y/N was also having the time of her life. Seeing Jack singing along to her songs, dancing and recording everything with a huge smile like a proud boyfriend was one of the most heartwarming sights in the world. Her favourite part, though, was running straight into his arms at the end of the show. Despite being covered in sweat, Jack kissed her all over her face as he muttered how amazing she was.
“Look at your arms!” Y/N laughed as she looked at the friendship bracelets that were practically covering all of his arms.
“They’re killing my blood circulation but they’re so cute” Jack laughed. “One girl called my king of manifestation.”
Y/N bursted out laughing. “I should write a song about it.”
“You better.” he kissed her temple. “Let’s go home, you need to rest.”
“I’m so happy.” Y/N said as they climbed inside the van. She rested her head on Jack’s chest as he played with her hair.
He looked down at and smiled before pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Me too. Never been happier.”
#jack champion#jack champion x reader#jack champion x y/n#jack champion oneshot#jack champion imagine#jackchampion#jack champion fluff#ethan landry#jack champion fanfic#ethan landry imagine#ethan landry fluff#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x y/n#ethan landry x you#ethanlandry
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barbie
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Summary: Bucky takes his best girl to watch a Barbie movie and then spoils her with gifts.
Word count: 1.3k
Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, Bucky being the best boyfriend, he's healing your inner child.
Author's note: it was inspired by Barbie movie when it just came out. I think that Bucky is that type of boyfriend who would do everything possible to make you happy<3
You had been excited about the Barbie movie since the day you found out that it was in the making, and you may or may not have annoyed Bucky with it like a million times.
You begged him to go see it on the day of the premiere, and even if at first he really wanted to say “no”, he couldn’t.
Yes, he was your grumpy old supersoldier, but he would do anything to make you smile.
When the tickets started to sell, it was almost impossible to find one because people went crazy about this movie.
When you finally had time to look for the tickets, they were sold out. Obviously. Even if you didn’t say anything, Bucky saw sadness written on your face when you didn’t get the tickets for the opening night, and it hurt him to see you that way.
So, as the best boyfriend in the world, he got them for you.
Yes, there was definitely one good thing about being a famous Avenger: you could get almost everything.
You and Sam also taught him how to use TikTok a few months ago, and besides a million videos of cats, he started to see Barbie-related content. He wasn’t really interested until he saw a video where a guy bought his girlfriend a doll and a lot of pink and cute things as a surprise.
Would you like it if he bought this for you? Did you even like dolls?
Bucky didn’t think about it too much; he just went to the store.
He probably stood in front of the shelf with Barbie dolls for way too long because, while he was looking for the one he thought you would like, a shop assistant came to offer him some help. Bucky explained his situation, and the young girl—Stassie, as he found out—was almost jumping with excitement to help him and said that his girlfriend was really lucky.
She showed Bucky two dolls that came out recently: one in the western look and one in a light pink dress. It was hard to pick one because both were really cute.
So he bought both.
Stassie gave Bucky a few tips on what else he could buy for you; that's why, after another hour in the mall, he went home with a big box full of random pink and cute stuff.
You weren’t at home, so he hid the box in a safe place and decided to give it to you after the movie.
The day before the premiere, when you two were already getting ready to sleep, laying under the blanket and ready to cuddle while watching a movie, he silently gave you a white envelope.
“What is this?” You asked, looking at your weirdly smiley boyfriend.
“Open.”
You studied his face for a few seconds, but then sat up and carefully opened it to not rip whatever was inside.
“Bucky…” You whispered as two tickets with “Barbie” written on them fell into your hand. “You didn’t—how did you get it?” Your eyes were watery as you looked at him.
“That’s a secret. But I wanted to make you happy.” The soft look in his eyes made you want to cry, but instead you just jumped into his arms, leaving kisses all over his face.
“I fucking love you, James.”
“I love you more, doll.”
It was safe to say that he got his reward for being a thoughtful boyfriend, and you both fell asleep only a few hours later.
You two walked out of the movie theater holding hands while you were still sobbing a little bit. It was an amazing experience, and you were overwhelmed with feelings. Bucky led you to the side so you wouldn’t bother other people, wrapped his hands around you, and held you close to him.
“Are you okay, baby?” He mumbled into your hair and kissed your temple.
“Yes. I’m so happy that we watched it. And that you came with me.” You wrapped your hands around Bucky’s neck and melted into him.
“I liked it too, actually.” You heard a deep chuckle.
“You know, I told you that you look great in pink, and you didn’t believe me.”
You obviously decided to stick to a non-official dress code, but it was hard to convince your boyfriend that he needed to wear something pink too. So the only thing that he liked in the store was a pink jean jacket, and you were okay with that.
An old lady that sat in the movie theater behind you with her grandkids said to Bucky that he was a really good young gentleman and that you two were perfect for each other.
Bucky didn’t really like any interactions with strangers, but you still noticed a light pink color on his cheeks and a sweet smile that he gave to the woman.
“If you think so, I’ll accept it, baby.” He was silent for a few seconds, but then smiled again and cupped your face with his metal hand so you would look at him. “I have something for you at home. Do you want to go there now and then order some food?”
“Something for me?” You frowned at him but still leaned into his touch. “And you should know better than to ask me whether I want to order food or not. I always do.”
You were sitting in your living room on the couch, where Bucky told you to stay and wait for him. He went to your bedroom and came back in a few seconds, holding a big pink box.
“This is for you.” He put the box near you on the couch and sat on the free spot at the other end.
“For me? Why? I forgot about our anniversary or something?” You tried to laugh.
You opened the lid, and your mouth opened as you saw what was in there. Your shaking hands gently pulled out two boxes with dolls, and you took a few seconds to look at them properly, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes. Then you got the rest of the stuff: a pajama set, a journal, a candle, masks and bath bombs, and a lot of your favorite candies. Of course, everything was pink.
“I hope you like it. The girl at the store said–” You didn’t let him finish before you stood from your place and sat onto Bucky’s lap, hugging him as hard as you could, sobbing into his neck.
“Sh-h, baby, that’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around your body, gently swaying you from side to side.
“T-thank you so much, Bucky, really. You didn’t have to do it.” You moved back a little bit, and Bucky’s right hand immediately flew to your face to wipe away tears. You took one of the boxes with a doll on your lap and carefully took her out of the box. “She’s so pretty... I’ve never had a real Barbie before. They are expensive.”
“It is worth every dollar if it makes you happy. I saw this idea on that video app, and I wanted to give you something special.”
He looked at you with a soft smile while you were unpacking the second doll and then gently touching her hair and clothes. He thought that he gave this present more to the younger you, and it made him feel so happy.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” You put the doll down and took Bucky’s face in your hands. “I am so lucky to have such a person in my life. Thank you for everything. Not only for dolls, it’s all amazing. I love you, James.” You closed your eyes when he moved closer and put his forehead on yours.
“I’m the one who is lucky to have you. I’ll give you anything if it makes you smile this way. I love you.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader#bucky x you#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x you
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Ok I know I already made a post about watchertv and how it’s a horrible idea and no have not had a change of heart about that- but I really just want to get into the math of everything because like, they we’re making a LOT of money.
(Full disclosure this post has been edited to be more accurate with help from commenters)
Patreon: they have 12,000 supporters, but only 5,900 paying supporters (at the time of me checking today. Many definitely unsubscribed when this video dropped). The tear options are 5, 10, 25, and 100 dollars. Assuming that most people are in the 5-10 range, I’ll average it at about 7 dollars. Witch is 41,300 a month.
Merch sales: they have a very devout fan base that buys a lot of merch, they sell a plastic paper weight for 36 dollars. All of their hoodies are 80 dollars. Their shirts are 35-50 dollars. They sell a pack of 7 patches of their different show logos for 65 dollars. The posters are 80 dollars. To my knowledge They do not publicly share what they make from merch sales, but I know that they have sold out of certain styles, witch means that people are buying these. The merch is without a doubt at a very steep profit margin- no where in the world will it cost 80 or even 40 dollars to make these- so we can just assume that whatever assured total we come too, it will be higher by 10-20 thousand(just an estimate, I’m not an expert on YouTube merch).
Sponsorships: (this info is from moist critical who runs a company who specialize in setting up brand sponsorships with YouTube channels.) watcher is/was a very big and successful channel, with 2 minute sponsorships adds on every video I could find- they are with out a doubt making 20-30 thousand dollars from every one of those sponsorships. They post weekly, meaning they make about 100,000 a month from that. This doesn’t include any money they received from discount codes either, only about 2% of viewers use discount codes so it’s fair to say they receive a few thousand dollars from that, we can just total it to about 101,000 to be conservative.
views: YouTube has always been very hush hush about what they pay. Different YouTubers have stepped forward and said what they make on views alone but watcher is not one of these channels. With watchers average views being about 800,000 per video (very ‘about’, some get 3 million and others only reach 500,000) and YouTubes policy being about .018 cents per view we can say they comfortably make 14,400 per video, 57,000 a month.
Add cents: add cents and views are a different thing, for every add that is seen in a video you get a adicional .018 cents, watchers content is very monetizable, and with it being long form content 30-45 minutes, they have a lot of adds. Let’s just assume 1-2 mid roll ads on every video and that’s an additional 20,000 per video, 80,000 a month.
Adding ALL of that together
Watcher makes 279,300 dollars a month. Flat out, no merch added.
If you think you can’t afford to pay 25 people a month with 279,300 dollars- I literally don’t know what to tell you.
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| THE PLACE WE'VE BEEN DREAMING OF - Imagine (1,109 words).
| Summary - when Natasha enventually gives in, and accept her wife's demand to adopt a pet.
| Tags & warning - Men & Minors DNI, soft dark!wandanat x R, not really pet play but R is reffered to as one (stray/mutt/it), a man being mean, mentions of death, hints of (past) abuse, pure fluff/comfort.
| Author's note - I wrote that quickly because it has been on my mind for so long, and I definitely needed to share it with the world, but hope you'll enjoy it anyway!
I'll definitely write a longer version of it when I've time, but for the moment, here goes the first introduction to The place we've been dreaming of alternative universe (and it's only the beginning because i've so many thoughts to share about it) <3
| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING
it was wands' idea. she had begging nat for years, talking about how good it would be to have a pet, just to bring a bit of life in the household.
and that's exactly what natasha feared. because she likes how quiet, and tidy, her house is. she likes the routine she built with her wife over the years, and she is reluctant to bring another piece in her house.
but how could she deny her wife when she begs her with those puppy eyes?
so she eventually gave in, and they went into a place that's only known by the richest persons. it's kind of a shelter, but instead of animals, human being are sold.
they walked in, wands looking in the cages while nat roll her eyes everytime she tries to have her opinion. "did you find what you want?" the seller asked, and nat looks at her wife that seems to hesitate. "what's over here?" she asked back, pointing to a noisy alley that constrats with the quiet one they've just travelled.
the sellers just dismissed her question, "they're unfit" he just replied, "they're going to be send off tomorrow". "where?" wands asked. "to be killed", he replied, but when he tried to get the conversation back on his best goods, wanda ignored him: she wanted to see these ones. nat isn't surprised, her wife always having a thing for saving broken being, but she still roll her eyes, thinking about the additionnal trouble it'll bring.
so, before the man could say anything, they walk in the alley. the ambience is different. yells, cries, and dark glances greet the women, while in the first alley, everyone's was perfect. nat cringes while her wife walk around, until she crouches in front of a cage that, at the first sight, appears to be empty.
except that, that you are here. in the back of the cage, hiding where the light can barely find you, trying to forget where you are. the noise is frightening you, but your hands covering your ears isn't enough to reduce it. the yells from the other still bugging you.
you've no idea for how long you've been here, but it felt like an eternity. you've been sent back here by your previous owner, it was your last chance, you've been told, and you don't know what's going to happen. when the door clicked, you thought your hour had come, and it only made you curl up further.
but the hand that came for you wasn't harsh. it hasn't tried to grab you. when you eventually open your eyes, your met by the sight of a woman, that's trying to get you to come to her. her voice is sweet. she doesn't yell as you thought she would when you didn't move at first.
the men had to bang against the walls to get you out, which earn him a glance from both of the women. he ignored them. "this stray has one of the worse behavior. she bites, is noisy, messy, agressive, ..." but wanda isn't listening anymore. she is just looking at you, sitting in front of her, unable to ignore the look on your eyes. the fear, and the exhaustion.
you didn't bite.
you didn't made a noise.
you didn't try to run away.
you only flinched when she reach out to stroke your cheek, but a second was enough for you to lean into her contact. it was so sweet. so gentle. and, for the first time, it felt genuine, and even the slap or the harsh grip you were waiting for never came. she was looking at you with pity, and something you couldn't name yet.
"... she couldn't behave even to save her life, we've tried everything. she's trouble", he adds, still talking even if none of the women is caring about his opinion, "believe me, she'll be better dead", and nat muttered something how he should be the one to die, while wanda didn't listen at all to his speech, all her attention being on you right now.
"you're sure that's the one you want, wands?" she asked, but she already knew her wife would nod, and she is definitely not going to fight her, especially when she sees how attached she already seems to be.
she looked at her while she take a biscuit out of her pocket, just to give a bit to you, but ends up giving you everything when she notices how you inhaled it. her brows furrowing together, but she doesn't say a word. she knows it would be useless to start a scene right now, this man perfectly knowing how bad he is treating you, and everyone else here. or maybe he doesn't, and doesn't realizes, thinking you deserve it, and then it would be pointless to argue with him. in that instant, she wishes she could take them all home, and if she can't, she can at least save one life.
"we didn't even bring her home yet that you're already spoiling her" nat complained, rolling her eyes. a whispered, "she deserves it", is muttered under her breath while the man seems annoyed, "if you're too lenient, you're going to regret it. you need to be firm with these things, you know." "and how would you know?" nat would ask, "apparently it didn't work well, from what you said earlier" and she smirks when she notices he starts to loose his temper, his voice being harsh when he replies, "then do not even think about taking her back when you'll realize how bad she is," just to nat to assure him that he "doesn't need to worry about that".
she isn't found of her wife's choice. she would have prefer it if she choose one of the perfect pet from the first alley. one of the one that wouldn't disturb her peace. but obviously her wife had to go for a stray, a mott, and a broken one by the way. but if there are two things she enjoys it's seeing her wife smiling, and pissing off men that thinks they know everything. if adopting that one allows to do it both at the same time, then she's all for it. a part of her wanting to prove the man that he is just wrong, and is the problem in that story.
#a spes writing#imagine#the place we've been dreaming of universe#wandanat#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff#wandanat x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#reader insert#fluff writing#soft dark wandanat
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Lets talk about Simon and Betty
spoilers for episode 8
So a lot of people are throwing around some strong accusations about their relationship, some I can see where they're coming from, and a lot are really reaching.
As for the ones that I think are reaching, a lot of people are saying that Simon and Betty were a professor/student dynamic, except they weren't. Simon wasn't teaching a class he was a guest lecturer, and Betty, having read his work was interested. She was excited to meet him because she liked his research. Simon was constantly mocked in his field, if you actually read the newspaper clippings from "I remember you" you'll see that even after he found the enchiridion, he was made fun of. People were literally laughing at him and throwing things at him while he was giving his lecture. Betty likely was mocked too, it makes sense she was so excited to meet him, because this was her chance to meet one of the few people that actually shared her interest. She did not yet have a crush on him at that point in time.
I think after she got to know Simon on a personal level her fascination of him changed, as she no longer viewed him as a "celebrity" (I use that term loosely for a lack of a better word, I can't imagine his books sold that many copies, what with him being a laughing stock and him being genuinely surprised that Betty had read his work), but rather a colleague and equal. She even said that after their trip together she had grown to admire him as a person, so it's not like she had any kind of feelings for him prior to that. Now that's not to say her feelings towards him were completely normal, but there definitely wasn't a power imbalance between them.
A lot of people are saying Simon was selfish for making her stay behind, but he didn't make her. She chose to stay behind. She could have still gone on that trip, and continued to write to him and talk to him on the phone, but she chose to stay with him and go on different adventures. You're forgetting that Simon and Betty went on expeditions together all the time, it's not like she gave up her career for him, that would be a whole different story, but she made the decision to continue working in her field alongside him.
Also Simon couldn't have gone on that trip if he did want to because he wasn't offered to go, who ever it was that gave Betty that opportunity, wasn't anticipating on her bringing a friend, he also didn't have anything with him but like his wallet and keys you can't seriously expect him to go to another country with no luggage, no plane ticket, no money, no nothing. A whole part of Fionna's character arc is realizing that life's not a fairy tale, she was expecting something out of a romance novel and got a story straight from reality. Realistically the two options were for Betty to stay or to leave Simon. And I don't think her giving up her trip to Australia was a sacrifice, because there were other trips and opportunities after that, she traded that one trip for an entire lifetime of them, (or at least it would have been if war didn't break out)
And if you're gonna call Betty impulsive, call her impulsive because she went on a trip around the world with a man she had never met, not because she walked through a creek barefoot lmfao.
I'm not saying that Simon and Betty were perfect but there are other reasons to criticize them.
As for the actual problems with there relationship, none of them are their fault. Betty going literally crazy trying to bring Simon back was because of Magic Man and Patience fucking with her brain, a human being cannot handle the amount of magic she was given and it drove her to insanity. And Simon now, with risking everything to bring her back, she's literally fused with a chaos god and is going to live for eternity in that state, did you ever think maybe he wants to get her out of that for her sake? That maybe he wants closure and to say goodbye? Since he never got that chance. No it's not healthy for Simon to drive himself as far as he did to bring her back, but Jesus fucking Christ can you blame him for not wanting his fiance to suffer for literal eternity? They don't need to break up, they need therapy. I don't think their relationship pre-mushroom war was unhealthy, and I don't think it ever would have been unhealthy without Betty becoming Magic Betty.
Their relationship flaws are more so their own individual flaws that have bled into their relationship as opposed to ones caused by the relationship itself, that's an important distinction you have to see.
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Rest
Pairing: Bucky x F!reader
Warnings: No warnings, just fluff!
Length: 725
Summary: Bucky takes care of you while you have a migraine.
A/N: This was a request, which is the perfect excuse to say that my requests are open!
Request: “Can you write one where Bucky takes care of the reader when they have a migraine”
I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!
Bucky knows you better than you know yourself. He knows when you’re getting sick, he knows when you’re about to start your period, hell! He even knows when you’re having a bad day before you know it.
It could be because he’s a trained assassin, made to be very observant. Or it could be just because he is the world’s best boyfriend. Either way, he lives to make sure you are taken care of.
As you sit in the meeting room listening to Tony and Steve explain the next mission, you feel a pang behind your left eyeball. You let out a small sigh and rest your head on your hand, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. You feel a hand on your left knee and slightly look up.
Bucky looks at you with his eyebrows scrunched in concern. His face was asking if you were ok. You give Bucky a small smile and grab the hand on your knee. Bucky isn’t convinced that you are ok but he didn’t pry, he just made sure to hold your hand tight.
Once the meeting is over, you try to stand up but wobble. Bucky quickly gets up to help but you put a hand out to stop him.
“I’m alright Bucky, I’ve just been sitting down for too long.” You give him a tight lip smile.
“You’re not alright Doll, I’m pretty sure you’re getting a migraine.” Bucky looks at you with concern.
“I’m alright. I’m just going to take a nap before we have to go train.” You tell him before leaving for your shared room.
Bucky follows behind you to make sure that you are fine. He knows your migraine symptoms but he also knows you’re too stubborn to do anything about it.
You sit on the bed and look at Bucky. He’s sitting on his side of the bed, watching you. You roll your eyes and face away from him.
“I’m fine Bucky, you don’t need to worry about me.” Bucky lets out a sigh and leaves the room.
He knows that once you get up you’ll get nauseous, you won’t be able to look at anything that has a screen or is too bright, and you won’t be able to see anything clearly. While Bucky loved that you were stubborn, he thought that it was your downfall.
Not wanting to fight with you, Bucky stays silent and watches you as you fall asleep. He listens for your breathing to even out before getting up. Bucky knows that you are going to be miserable when you wake up so he wants to make sure that he can make you feel better instantly.
Bucky grabs you some migraine medicine and your favorite blanket. His heart hurt that you wouldn’t be able to watch your favorite movies or listen to any music but he knew that you would fall asleep right after.
While going back to your room, he made sure to fill up your water bottle with ice-cold water and prepped a mug of hot chocolate. You would feel too sick to eat but a comforting beverage would help you fall asleep.
10 minutes after you fall asleep, you wake up. You let out an agonizing yelp and cradle your head.
“It’s ok, Doll, I got you.” Bucky quickly comes to your side with the water and medicine.
You thank him as you take the medication and cradle your head, feeling tears well up in your eyes. No matter how many times you get migraines, you refuse to acknowledge the symptoms.
“Thank you, Bucky.” You tell him quietly, your eyes closed.
“Don’t cry, Doll. You’re too beautiful to waste your crying on some stupid migraine.” You laugh at his words but immediately regret it.
“Will you lay with me?” You ask him with your arms out.
“Of course Doll, you never need to ask.” Bucky gets under the covers and you lay your head on his chest.
Bucky rubs your back and you wrap your arms around his waist. It’s moments like this that you fall more and more in love with this man. He would hang the moon and the stars just for you.
“Just rest Doll, I’ll take care of you.” He tells you and you fall back asleep, the comfort of the man you love making it easy.
#avengers#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader fluff#bucky x you#bucky barnes fluff
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Pink Pearl: SOLD
Always thought of as a simple minded pearl who honestly to many outsiders never thought she was that great at being a quiet and follow you from behind type. Yet never seemed to be reprimanded much from Zebra Agate whom she was entrusted to.
Currently she's thriving in this new Era 3 and on earth in Empire City. She was the one among this group to actually start the whole animal pattern print...kind of. Though technically it could be argued the pattern started with Zebra Agate but Pink Pearl conciously chose leopard print from seeing them on models in store window advertismenet and could not be more interested.
On Homeworld theres very little patterns, only really lattice work or stripes of any kind or diamond checkerboard. No one really thought out- no one thought to look to organic beasts for fashion. Humans are so fascinating. Maybe thats what that Rose Quartz truly saw in them. How creative and vibrant they are.
Comes with a past form too on toyhouse
Design Notes on Grey and Pink Pearl: Inspired first by Pink pearl's interest in 'animal pattern' which Grey is a pearl who excelled at being 'a pearl' sure she was never the most emotive, sing song-y type of pearl for entertainment yet what Zebra Agate needed was a pearl more of a secretary of keeping things on schedule and taking calls and what not. I also decided for this story a conscious effort that Pearls don't wear patterns. They're not of importance they are here to be simple, more softer colors typically and just to show they're a pearl. not some combination of gem type wearing another gems pattern. Also decided the same of course for Pink pearl for them being simple, run of the mill pearls even if Grey has a bit more to her past design it was only for the more authoritative feel that a pearl might have being under an *Agate* that terrifies
Design notes on Pink lace: Due to corruption she is a lot more faded- not just from corruption but because her gem was more like that of the sand gem. Embedded in an object and only ever facing the sun. bleaching her gem of colors with too much exposure. She's a lot more polished in her currently look- i had a design ready for her just out of corruption look but then that would leave Zebra agate without a past form and decided to let the two non pearls without past forms. She of course used to be much more vibrant.
Design Notes on Zebra Agate: purposefully the inverse of typical zebra pattern on her clothes. with white stripes on black you can see that her hair itself is a regular part of black stripes on white like a typical zebra. also her design on her bodysuit is specifically to mimic a ribcage with zebra stripes
Zebra Agate: [Sold]
"An Agate Terrifies" That's what Agates do. That's who Agates are. Subjugate those out of line and whip them into shape. They're here to make everyone stay in their proper places and follow rules. However I took her to completely go into the other direction of dealing with rules. The Punk movement appealing to her- if this is Era 3 and there is no need for her job role. Why should she keep trying to force a terrifying agate lifestyle? She may not be the kindest or most sweet Zebra Agate is however sentimental and more thoughtful than many- even pink lace considered her much more cold and rigid to expectations of what used to be common of gem society. While shes not an anarchist she has been delving into punk fashion but also the subculture to help her adjust to her new world and its views. She had always needed to follow rules blind and enforce them but due to the new order change. How else was she to find something that even acknlowedges no structure is perfect and many are flawed- even so her diamonds were flawed. Nothings perfect and nothing is without work to adjust.
Grey Pearl: SOLD
A muted personality.
What do you do when you used to know everything you were supposed to do? Living not in just a new era but an entire new world where you're allowed a lot more freedom that you never actually craved before. She's known Pink Pearl for thousands upon thousands of years and while there are some feelings of envy she would consider Pink Pearl to be her only friend. It's a complex mix of emotions like anyone would have especially towards Zebra Agate and the peculiar softness she seems to have for Pink Pearl that she has with no one else. Whilst never treated harshless it always was more of a cold wall from Zebra Agate that Grey Pearl felt. That this was strictly business relationship. Agate never even asked her to sing or dance- two components that make a pearl a pearl in many's eyes. Yet she's asked Pink Pearl to sing for her, and never stopped her from dancing without being asked.
Grey Pearl may not have much of a relationship with Faded Pink Lace however she almost projects a sense of kinship of feelings left behind with her. In fact it was after Pink Lace Agate came back with those curated corruption spots that she decided to have some own markings herself. Humans have tattoos and while she can't get a traditional tattoo from humans she herself worked to get those marks on herself. She was the last one in the group to reform to this new Human lifestyle.
Comes with a past form too on toyhouse
(Faded) Pink Lace: SOLD
During the gem war she of course fought for homeworld and even was was part of the last charge. Of course, while she is more of the carefree type even she could see the dangers. Zebra was part of the task to pull out more of the aristocrats and Pink Lace part of the ground troops. Anything could happen so just as a precaution she sent her pearl away to Zebra Agate.
Honestly, she expected that terrifying Agate to reset Pink Pearl for herself. It was a peculiar feeling for Pink Lace recognizing her pearl- even if it took only a moment before her Pearl recognized her. All so unevenly spotted and with sharp spiked growths coming out of her. She was a mess...Just how Zebra Agate used to scold her about. Her pearl still so lively and a bit oblivious to others feelings but even now so creative- such unique spots on her dress...theyre not even diamond shaped.
Pink Lace at least knows to go with the flow of things but a good deal perceptive.
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