radioshow: (Default)
introducing your bottomest bitch, alastor! ([personal profile] radioshow) wrote in [community profile] badend2025-12-16 07:16 pm

closed to @videokilledtheradiostar


can you take it off just for a little bit? x
videokilledtheradiostar: (29)

[personal profile] videokilledtheradiostar 2026-03-03 06:50 pm (UTC)(link)
You should see their giant meeting room; sunglasses are required if you don’t want it burned into your retina. Velvette has been complaining about all the gauche bullshit since we took over. She has “big plans”; I haven’t asked her what but I trust her, as long as she remains within budget for the fiscal year.

[That was a small admission, trusting a person, something he didn’t admit very easily about anyone. But her vision had never led them astray; it was her arrogance that was dangerous. That wasn’t for this discussion, though; the last thing he wanted was for Alastor to go on complaining about how Vox couldn’t do anything on his own.

His fingers grabbed the offered cigarette, leaned forward, and touched the end to Alastor’s. Breathing it in, the embers flared to red life, before he pulled back and blew out the smoke. This was the calmest they had ever been with each other in decades, and it felt just as familiar as it did confusing. The reminder that he couldn’t trust him was scratching at the back of his brain, at the ports, and the electrical beating of his heart.

There were no friends in Hell, right?]


At least we got the cameras up.

[That had been the first order of business, to no one’s surprise. He took another drag from the cigarette, eyes still on Alastor. How long until he fucked it up and broke their fragile, momentary truce? Ten minutes? Twenty?]

If you can behave for a week, I’ll let you go Exorcist hunting. [See? It’s not reaaaaally a cage.] Maybe we can go together.

[Not like a date!

Okay, maybe a little like a date.]
videokilledtheradiostar: (45)

[personal profile] videokilledtheradiostar 2026-03-03 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Of course not.

[No date. No going out on a great angelic hunt. It wasn’t how Vox usually did a murder, but it might have been fun. He shrugged, allowing the moment to pass and letting it go. Of course Alastor wouldn’t play fair. Of course he was a brat.

Of course all of this was a game. What else would it ever be?

Brick by brick, the walls were going up.]


They’re like cockroaches, skittering away. [His free hand made running motions with his fingers.] I doubt we got all of them, but we sure took a damn good chunk out of their army. They certainly don’t have enough to stand against us now.

[Now. The future may be different.

But the lowered numbers made the execution of them too easy. It was fine, far more efficient in the grand scheme of things, which allowed him to get back to the important stuff at hand. He took another drag, felt the smoke in his wires, his chest, then tapped the ashes off into the ashtray. His other hand slid into the folds of his bowtie and tugged, unraveling it until it hung loosely and open around his neck.]


So, how many murder attempts do I have to watch out for tonight? An average person would wait until I’m asleep, but I know you want the fight.

[The intimacy of it all.]