#dmm

[annacsii]

A Tisza jelölteket nem néztem meg tegnap

lusta voltam, megvártam a DMM cikket.

Sandor Esik (@sandoresik)

Az első gondolatok a Tisza jelöltállításáról

a vége csodálatos:

[my-anime-goods]

Kanojo, Okarishimasu - Gamers Fair featuring goods with new illustrations (Reverse Bunny) available from 11 April to 10 May 2026. [Brand: DMM Pictures]

[rr0adcrew]

Teljesen mindegy, mit mond Orbán Viktor

lett volna 15 éve beszélgetni a sajtóval, most már mindegy

Ez vótmá? Csak mert kb. így gondolom én is.

[szepkerekkocka]

ha így haladunk, ma este Erdő Péter fogja elmondani a Partizánban, hogy szerinte baj van a katolikus egyház és a NER kapcsolatával, holnap reggel pedig Rogán Antal fog kitenni egy videót, hogy átáll Magyar Péterhez

via Diétás Magyar Múzsa Substack

[boogiesinthewoodsies]

[grapegiuce]

Danish Murder Mystery

tadejonas, 4.56k words (as of now), 2/7 chapters, murder mystery au, inspired by the grand budapest hotel, fluff, crack treated seriously, slowish burn, minor character death, happy ending

plot: Jonas is the concierge of the Grand Tour Hotel, on a little island in Denmark. Tadej is the pastry chef there. One day one of the clients gets killed. Apparently Tadej used to be a private detective in Slovenia, before moving to Denmark. Jonas prays he'll find who the murderer is, and not about the stupid crush he has on the man.

READ HERE!!!!

[only-3-braincells]

Don’t Miss Me?

Chapter 5/29: Haven’t Had Enough [← Previous] [Next →]

{Available on AO3} (Registered Users Only)

Pairings: Alastor/Vox, Vox/Valentino/Velvette, Alastor & Vox & Husk Rating: Explicit Content Warnings (This chapter): Smut, Mating Cycles with Mild Dub-Con, Anxiety Attacks, Accidental Aphrodisiac Inhalation, Hypnosis & First Kiss [12,184] Words

Chapter Title Name this time was taken by the Marianas Trench song.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was an awful, horrendous feeling. Knowing full well — however long it would be now — the red Overlord will have to disclose the information. There was no way, in any of his cunning plans, he could disguise something like this. Especially from him. For the moment, he shifted in his spot, subtly rubbing a cool palm over his heated cheeks.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The term: ‘Despise’ couldn’t even begin to define how he felt at whatever sick joke God decided to play when he chose to give Alastor a ‘Deer’ for his Demonic form. He was a ‘Hunter,’ a ‘Predator.’ That’s what he was when he was alive. The infamous Louisianian marauder now stuck in eternity as a ‘Prey Animal.’

Oh, the irony…

It could have been amusing, if it didn’t spontaneously proceed to fuck up everything about his undead life. It took him years to perfect, take over, and ignore the screaming ‘Prey-Instincts’ of his new brain that wanted him fleeing at anything that moved or made a sound. How he needed to ‘Trust’ someone before getting close (which, in a realm such as this, was utterly witless to begin with). With a process that took too long to get through.

Though, luckily, within a few years, the red Overlord had managed to overcome those pestering reflexes; fought past the ‘Automatic’ option where everything was a threat against him, that he should fear it all. Replacing it with: ‘He was the danger’ and everyone else should run — something much more realistic.

Unfortunately, there was one other thing he hated about this ‘Practical joke’ of God’s. He was yet to find the cure for this one. The predicament he currently found himself in, curled against the headboard among pillows, a book in hand.

The bed was quite frankly the last place he wanted to be, alas, it was the spot furthest away from the Video Demon. The latter hadn’t uttered any words since the Radio Demon finally left the bathroom, too busy over at his collection of screens for hours. The sole communication they shared was a written note on top of a large fabric patch that read: ‘Doc gave me this when you left, he said put it on.’ And well, after the morning the Cannibal had, he couldn’t find the energy to protest it. The patch, like a massive sticking bandage, was plastered over his wound.

It was the least of his worries, really. As a bigger situation for the Radio Demon turned out to be brewing, perhaps had been growing for some time now. After all, the ‘Infection’ scare was a misdiagnosis, one that the red Demon cursed himself for. His shadow had abandoned him with a targeted snarl of disgust the moment it caught on what was happening. As if it were his fault! It remained on the other side of the room, planted beside the Video Demon, where Alastor had no option than to glare at the pair of them, just thankful they were away.

The final reason being an incarnated Deer was a Hell of its own.

He should have let himself bleed out…

Hell doesn’t have seasons. Sinners and Demons only invented to follow earth’s calendar to cling to the littlest control of time, eternity promises. Likewise, the Cannibal’s manifestation also appeared to respect following earth’s periodical months. It’s easy to lose track of time when a place doesn’t physically change with the invisible seasons. Subsequently, evidently, Alastor had been too focused on the Hotel for the past several months, to completely miss how it’s currently the middle of October…

As if he’d ever been so naive!

The ‘Deer’ part of his form was simply doing what any other buck back on earth would be doing this time of year…

So he sat, unmoving in his spot, trying to cradle the book purely for display. His condition was maturing for the worse, where all he could do was keep calm. With every passing minute, it suddenly got graver, unable to even think about it or else risk it worsening. Therefore, he had to keep still, unnoticeable, so that across the room remained unaware of his struggle. A splash of crimson in the corner of his eye suddenly broke his focus, forcing him to lock up, frozen still. Willing for anything to draw the attention away from himself.

Ergo, the reason he had to keep natural, unsuspicious: Vox would occasionally use the remaining screens Alastor wasn’t able to kill and glance at him through them. Solely a regular, wordless, check-in.

It was an awful, horrendous feeling. Knowing full well — however long it would be now — the red Overlord will have to disclose the information. There was no way, in any of his cunning plans, he could disguise something like this. Especially from him. For the moment, he shifted in his spot, subtly rubbing a cool palm over his heated cheeks. Another attempt of grounding was made by smelling the lingering, wonderful, scented fabric softener used on his clothes.

It had grown darker outside, he could tell by how the faint line under the curtains dimmed, making the room’s artificial lighting appear brighter. Currently, the warmth in his body and the irritation in his antlers were growing towards unbearable. How did he miss those signs earlier?

He still felt humiliatingly naïve, viewing this as a further punishment for losing to Adam.

Caving in to scratch at the horn, he ran a hand through his fringe, weighing his options once more. How was he supposed to tell Vox? How would Vox react? His thumping heart ached, further proving he really, really was not ready for this…

Sure, the Video Demon had managed him through many ruts in the past. In fact, he was the only person in this pit who actually knew about the Radio Demon’s condition. Except that was back when he got all flustered when the red Demon looked at him, unable to bolt the other Overlord down for speaking.

The Deer didn’t know what was more amazing: The blue Overlord’s power set, or the fact it was successful at literally undoing years, decades, of Alastor’s work on his bleeding nervous ‘Prey-Instincts.’

Picking up movements suddenly made him flinch, as the Screen-Head had left his seat, directly coming his way. His shadow remained where it was, still refusing to come anywhere near him. All control of his Deer reflexes momentarily slipped, meaning the fear, the panic to flee forced him to slide several feet across the mattress and get away. It hardly went unnoticed, as the TV-Head gave him an interesting, suspicious look.

“You were right. It’s not an infection,” His mouth rushed before he gave permission.

“Well, knew that one.” Sarcasm swiftly changed the subject. “Now I actually need to use that bed for its intention. I haven’t slept for three days, y’know. Also, are you hungry?”

“It’s something else, I’m afraid.” It felt too weighted to admit, but the Cannibal forced the words out, turning to the matter at hand.

“Oh, yeah? You’ve figured it out, have you?”

He couldn’t say it, not out loud. So he bit into his gums, the fiery rage of getting hit with one hundred volts countless times streamed outwards. Don’t look weak, go down with a fight! “Vox, use your brain! I know you have one in there!” A projected eyebrow was raised on top of a smirk as the Screen-Head enjoyed his undoing. “You’ve said it yourself, I’ve been ‘Friskier’ than usual, chatty, energised. Fuck! Fevers and hot flushes— So bad I thought I had an infection. We were together for over a quarter of a century, you’ve known me for thirty-two years, just think!” He panted, though not because all his air had escaped, the prey instincts wanted as much blood flowing as possible.

He glared into those projected ruby-coloured orbs, accepting his fate if he’d fall into hypnosis. Then the pupils shifted, he was thinking! Alastor’s heart sank the moment the Video Demon’s body slumped, the realisation freezing him.

“Fuck…” The word echoed in the room.

‘Yes indeed,’ The red Overlord would have said if his voice had worked. Instead, he let the blue Demon groan, in the angered way he himself wanted to let out.

“You cannot be serious…” Vox started. “Fucking Al— You cannot make this easy for me, can you? Pick your God-Damn time!” Then he suddenly left for the en suite bathroom. “How the— What’s brought this on?”

With ears flattening at the comment, the Deer blinked after him. Nevertheless, there was more that the blue Overlord didn’t know. Like how it was growing unusually quicker than normal; typically it’d take a week for Alastor to get where he was in mere hours… “Nothing ‘Brings it on,’ it just happens— That’s not how it works, you know that,” The Cannibal hissed as the Picture-Screen came to the bottom of the bed, placing items on the sheets. A towel, face cloth, and a bottle were all thrown on the spot.

A strange sensation of relief came through, at how well The Screen-Head remembered him. Nonetheless, that instantly disappeared when the reality sunk in.

A grumble erupted from the Picture-Screen. As if he had the right to feel furious! “And I’m really not in the fucking mood, I couldn’t even finish with Val—”

“I’m sorry, you what with Val?”

“Yeah, I fucked my husband when I was out, big whoop. But he wouldn’t stop with the ‘Angel Dust,’ so I left him my dick to finish the job. Because I wasn’t gonna.”

An incredible, uncomfortable switch flipped in his brain. “Vox, was that before or after you went for my dry cleaning?”

“After, I nearly made it back when—”

“Were my clothes in the room when you two…?”

“I don’t see how that’s—”

He shot up to grab handfuls of that striped sweater, snarling into the screen. “Just answer the question!”

“On the floor, yeah. He didn’t look, I promise—”

“Does Val still smoke those pheromone shits?”

“More than ever. We sell it now, too.”

Alastor threw the other away, rubbing a clawed hand into his hair, properly tugging, though he knew the pain couldn’t sort the situation out, as it all came crashing down. As it turns out, the ‘Wonderful,’ and ‘Satisfying’ (as he deemed), smell of clean clothes, was, in fact, not from ‘Washing,’ but ‘Drug-Induced-Aphrodisiacs.’

Fumes he had happily smelt all day…

“Vox, sometimes it really shows you have no nose.” Accepting his fate in full, the red Demon went to his spot on the bed.

A whine, worthy of a child, came from behind him. “Oh, and I was actually wanting to sleep tonight.”

“Certainly, you can! Go off to your husband again. Retrieve your penis. I don’t care. I’m telling you, quite frankly, I don’t want your ‘Help’ with this.”

“But you are my problem, Al. And I don’t know if you heard me, but I am not going back to that trash fire.”

“And I’m not certain if you heard me: I don’t want your help.”

“Fine, whatever. We’ll see how that goes in a few hours.” The way that voice lowered, together with claws gripping into his shoulder from behind so possessively, sent sparks down Alastor’s chest.

The unexpected intrusion forced another flinch in his neck. Warmth in his chest brimmed in the forced proximity, so he seethed. The Screen-Head knew precisely what he was doing. It’s the sole time these sorts of reactions escape him, so of course he was going to push all the buttons. The blue Overlord leered over him, firing off the ‘Predator’ warning perfectly in the red Overlord’s already tainted judgement. Thus, his heart followed suit.

The fear, mixed with forced arousal, shot straight down where it’s supposed to go, circulating so rapidly that a little squeak whimpered from the Deer’s lips.

“There we go! See? This will take no time at all! The hardest part is giving in.” Was Vox using his hypnotic waves? Alastor couldn’t tell, although the Video Demon always had a thing with words (one would sure hope so, judging his profession). Half the time, in times like these, the Cannibal found it entertaining, and would let himself be drawn in. “Here’s the plan: I’m going for a shower, you’re gonna stay here, and give in. It’ll be best to just grab the bull — Well, ‘Deer’ — By the horns and get it over with.”

He couldn’t do anything, unable to speak, frozen in place as heat, pure intoxication crept onto his face, alighting his cheeks with tingles. Unable to ignore it even if he tried, he had to cover his face in shame. Sensing the bed shift, not daring to open his hands to look, he felt The TV-Head finally move away.

“Good boy.” Hearing the words was like getting electrocuted all over again, the blue Demon’s attack shot straight through him. He was falling, losing himself already. It’s too early!

Once he was certain the Screen-Head was gone, properly out of sight, under the running shower water for several minutes, did the red Demon reposition himself. Without the other’s presence, he was suddenly cold, exposed to open air. The TV-Head (though he would rather die twice than admit it), was working wonders. Being married to the ‘Overlord of Porn’ did prove to have its perks. Oh, his body (the carnal beast it decided to be once a year), was having a field trip, reawakening to another’s presence; its first of seven years.

That was Vox’s effects on Alastor’s body… His mind, on the contrary, was an entirely different matter…

It was impossible to bring himself to his true senses. That he’s been here, in this exact situation, before. How he always ended up fine; the blue Overlord was no stranger to him. ‘Trust’ was foolish in this realm, nonetheless, he had to convince himself of something. Panicking never did any good; fear included. Except that’s precisely what being part Deer was made from. Anything unfamiliar, anything that makes him as vulnerable as this, sends a frenzy of deafening alarms.

The noise in his head berated that the sharp aqua smile was going to eat him alive. Even though he knew perfectly well that the Screen-Head was no Cannibal— he attempted several times to convert him; nothing was ever futile. The artificial distress of the idea lingered.

When certain that the blue Demon wasn’t going to appear again, he picked up the towel, stomach churning as he watched the lube roll off it.

No, he was not ready…

He threw the towel over the bedspread, letting it cover the sheet, and laid on it, revelling in the cool sensation on his spine. Everything was too hot, his hair, his clothes, his skin! He’d completely missed the water turning off, as well as the shuffling within the bathroom because the door suddenly opened, where Vox stood in the door frame. Dressed in something more comfortable, trousers underneath a plain white blouse where the top buttons hadn’t been done up.

In his current predicament, the red Overlord could almost see the appeal. The way the shirt’s opening showed off the navy-blue skin, and the hint of muscle beneath it, in enough of a gap to view his glowing aqua CD-Players on his chest, the leftover indication of the Picture-Screen’s chopped-off breasts.

Heat of another kind settled on his cheeks.

He’s doing it on purpose.

“I’m coming over,” That shiny artificial voice box said.

“Don’t you dare.”

The blue Overlord laughed; the dismissal shuddered another unease spark through the Deer’s body. “Too bad baby. This is my bed. You can move if you like.” The mattress suddenly felt crowded, despite its size, as The Picture-Screen crawled along, albeit giving the Cannibal enough space for his on-edge form. “I’ve got my charger, so I can go all night when you invite me back.”

“I will not!” Alastor hissed, his weak attempt to command, the slither he held left.

“Yes, you will. And trust me, I’ll enjoy hearing it.”

A scoff gargled through his throat, disgust following suit. He picked up the forsaken lube that was taunting him, which was thrown past the fellow Overlord. “Take this back, I will not be needing it!”

“Shh! Keep it down!”

“If you think you’re coming any closer; that I’m going to just let you anywhere near me. Ha! What a perverted, insolent, degenerate mind you still own. I survived, without you, for seven fucking years. I can manage my problems by myself.”

“Doesn’t mean you wanted to.”

Precisely like that, a perfectly formed argument, thrown off its rhythm. The TV-Head didn’t even appear to be listening, too busy staring at his phone. The red Demon let the silence simmer, throwing himself over so he didn’t have to look at the pathetic CEO of VoxTek. Wanting to bury himself into the mass of pillows, create a tunnel and disappear, to simply get away from here; from him. All the hormones, pheromones were getting dangerously close to reawakening something that deserved to stay dead!

It was quick, for his position to become uncomfortable, yet he refused to shift an inch. Any small movement of his hips and he’ll be reminded exactly that for which his body was hoping.

Not until he felt his tail twitching, being sure if those scarlet eyes glanced at him, they’ll view it, did the red Overlord speak. “Why are you right there?”

“Because ‘Seven years,’ I’ve decided, was too long to wait for an opportunity like this again. I don’t think you understand how long that actually is.”

Oh, he knew full well. There was a reason he let the blue Demon manage him through this more than once. He had some sort of knack of knowing precisely what the Radio Demon wanted — needed — even if Alastor himself didn’t know. So several years without it was… ‘Difficult’ to say the least.

To further prove his point, the Video Demon continued with: “You’d want to get out of those clothes.” A physical shudder wrecked his body at the thought. “You’re sweating like mad, and I know you value cleanliness too much to not care how saturated your clothes are getting.” He buried his face into the towel, letting out a groan; wanting to shut him up! “You’re feeling scared because your ‘Sacred trust’ has been shattered, now your little head is sending you spiralling. You’re barely in control of yourself. You want to shut it off— And we can. We have done, plenty of times.”

“Well, congratulations, captain obvious!”

“Oh what? You’re gonna try to tell me I’m wrong? I know you; you can’t simply change.”

“Just stop talking!”

“Okay.”

With a reeling head, accelerated by the forbidden sensation sprouting once again below, the red Demon had no option other than to sit upright. The pillows on his spine radiated his body heat, also — for fuck’s sake! — his antlers tingled once more. Throwing his arms around his knees, tugging the legs into his chest, he screeched the sensory overloaded Hell away. It’s only been, what? Two hours? How was he expecting himself to manage through days of this?

Especially when he’s right there.

He took a final glance at the walking Video-Screen (who paid him no mind, scrolling through his phone), the sole Demon in this dimension — of all dimensions — who successfully knew how to get his body ticking, sexually, when he honestly thought it was impossible. But here he was, biting into a pant leg, reimagining their past misadventures that took place in this exact room; how Vox would treat him so softly, intimately; or let his pure possessive, ‘Creature-Of-Hell’ out, the Cannibal being his masterpiece canvas. Of course, Alastor would treat him the same as well.

Internally, he groaned to himself. Yes, he missed those events some days. Nonetheless, there was no point, zero, none at all, in reliving them. He’s going to have to leave again; that was the harsh truth of it all. It won’t matter if he and the blue Overlord even survive this ordeal, he still has to return to the Hotel at some point. Sure, it would be the Video Demon decision when his time was up, it’s not like he’d sold his soul to him.

Alastor excreted himself, he knew full well this sort of pact was a fantasy of the other’s. The Screen-Head may never let him go again. Oh! That was an idea… Never having to return to that blasted Hotel of useless ambitions. Spending his time elsewhere, somewhere much more fun.

Yes, he wanted it very much…

So he let his mind wander, at all the perceptions of where the invite could lead to. ‘Imagination,’ the one last slimmer of control he had left, allowing himself a few rare, wicked fantasies of his own, all inspired by previous misadventures the pair had shared. Anything to calm his wound-up mind.

“Alright, get over here.”

He had no idea what made him cave, but the phone was immediately discarded, and Vox rolled over. “Only took you thirty minutes. Ha-Ha! Record, Bambi.” Without hesitancy, he came into the Deer’s space, far too eagerly crawling into his lap. He had no option than to fight the urge to shuffle away. “Now, undress.”

The demand flicked something fighting in his chest, his good old friend: ‘Repulsion.’ “Bold assumption to have, that you’re the one leading this.”

“If you want it to be over quickly, you will give up your fucking pathetic need for control,” The blue Demon was swift to quip. “Now, do as I say: Lie down, strip, and shut the fuck up for once.”

He was being so boring; Alastor couldn’t help rolling his eyes, nevertheless, he undid his shirt buttons anyway. However, he’d need more than that to go along happily, so he tried for another sort of reaction. “I thought you were sick of me ‘Lying through it’ all the time? What did you use to call it? ‘Princess?’”

“There’s another magic ‘P’ word before ‘Princess,’ dear, and it’s undoubtedly what you are. So lie down, and you’ll remember it.”

The red Demon did exactly that, mainly because The TV-Head wasn’t giving him enough space for comfort, he had to get away somehow. He had to bite his bottom lip, his spine met with now cool pillows, he cursed himself as it sparked a memory. ‘Pillow’ was the missing word. He had, on several occasions, requested a dictionary of the things Vox said during sex. At one point, Valentino had actually found one for him.

The moment he laid down, the blue Overlord left the bed altogether. Alastor took this time to complete the undressing process, without the beading eyes on him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Screen-Head meddle with his phone.

Then something happened to the walls, he heard it. Mechanical sounds came from inside the foundation, so the Deer Demon figured to ask: “What was that?”

“Just a little something I invented because Vel got sick of hearing us fucking, and I got sick of hearing Val with his employees. ‘Introducing: VoxTek soundproofing. Trust us with your silence.’”

It was impossible not to cringe. “I asked: ‘What it was,’ not for your whole campaign.” Suddenly, his ears flicked. “Wait, why not have that up before, when you started hiding me here?”

“Because sometimes I like hearing them go at it.” A sound of appalling distaste escaped the Radio Demon’s throat. He’d forgotten how little class this Vee in particular obtains…

An instant tingle rang through his skin. He tried settling it with small tickles of his fawn hairs over his hips, except the ache in his body was exhausting his fight rapidly. He’d already made his mind; the blue Overlord was not going inside. It sickened him to think about it currently; fingers were the only expectation — Strictly no toys, either.

The Demon in question suddenly reappeared over him. Despite how much his body wanted to welcome him in, his mind kept his legs clamped together. What surprised him, however, were the soft, cool, hands cupping his face. The instant he felt the chill sensation, he melted into it, though hissed the sense of loathing to himself under his breath. He was supposed to be a vicious killer!

“Do you want to talk about it before… Or…?”

“Ha! About what?”

“I don’t know! We haven’t really talked.”

“Yes, well, that is what happens when you take someone’s voice away—”

“I said I don’t regret it.”

“—Then proceed to give them the cold shoulder the rest of the day. Should we also mention the ‘Unconscious for three days’ while we’re at it?”

“Yeah, fine! Okay, okay. Fuck!”

Alastor’s form finally noticed the familiar presence above him, his tail deciding to sway. Vox’s body temperature was always cooler, being half-metallic. It was always perfect, as the Deer Demon hated the heat. Yes, his physical form wanted it, his mental state, though, forced the crimson striped appendage to spike.

“I’m coming in,” Was the one warning he gave before placing a hand on his bare shoulder. It settled his body alright, the extra feeling of chilliness to focus on; however, his mind raced, intrusion identified.

“I’m not going to become fucking unresponsive.” He was not letting them get to that point.

“Well, I don’t know…” The blue Demon started, teasingly. “There were a few times you gave in completely. Remember—” The thing that cut off the Screen-Head was a sudden cushion, knocking his flat-face backwards. A smile followed, staring at the Cannibal. The red Overlord became grateful for the bandage patch over his chest, letting him feel less naked. Taking the hint, the other didn’t mention anything more, although kept snickering to himself, not letting it entirely go.

Rather than wait for the next move to be made, the red Demon shot up, risking it all to become chest-to-chest with the Video Demon. Anything to escape the warmth erupting in his body, replacing it with something cold to touch (even if the blue Overlord was still fully dressed). He rested his head over the white clothed shoulder, hoping if they stayed like this enough, the clutter — the common sense — in his head would leave. If they stayed, embracing — a pitiably ‘Cosy’ act — his prey instincts could shut off, recognising the familiar, trustworthy company.

Yet as Vox returned the gesture, gently trailing claw tips along his spine, tracing over old scars, Alastor was immediately reminded precisely why he was currently torn. Those exact fingertips, a mere few hours ago, successfully rendered him immobile, in excruciating pain. They could have killed him, put him on a leash he couldn’t disobey, or risked getting tasered down.

He hummed wearily to himself, internal conflict threatening to escape, hoping the other took it as some form of contentment as a disguise. He was the fearsome Radio Demon, not some mere Sinner who’s scared of an equal power set! Even if at the current moment, they were extremely unequal…

He wanted that hand to trail lower, take his sweet time getting there. But, oh, if it were to suddenly shoot down instead, without care of what the Cannibal wanted… Often, the Radio Demon required control, likewise, occasionally he needed it taken away. That was a teaching of Vox’s; an interesting, exciting one of that. He’s too messed up in the head to even think of scolding himself anymore.

“How long has it been? When’s the last time you’ve gotten laid?”

Scoffing, the red Overlord jammed his eyes shut as his previous imaginations lingered over his core. The blue Demon, the misguided intellect he was — still is — when they were… Together, and Alastor’s time of the year sprung, got some intriguing ideas in his head. “Seven years, eight months, I believe,” He gritted out.

“Jesus Christ Al! How did you survive? Fuck, no wonder you’re so fucked right now!”

The Picture-Box created in his head, all those years ago, the theory that how much Alastor partook in sexual intercourse throughout the year, determined how bad his rut would be… The Deer Demon hated admitting he was correct; that it calmed it down; how painful the last seven years had been.

“Wait—” Vox froze, the red Demon could practically imagine how those facial features paused before the laugh. “Was I your last fuck? I was only joking about you being a monogamist, you know!”

“Oh my God. Let’s not dwell on it, alright!” The red Overlord cracked, changing the subject. “Hands only. And leave the tail.” Defeated, another tingle ran down his abdomen, sending a more uncomfortable pain in his groin. He’ll take a gash to the chest over this any day! Bending a knee, repositioning himself to rub the smallest fiction against his dick, he bit into his hand, finding anything to brace onto. The littlest movement he gave himself, the better it remained hidden. Nonetheless, it’s difficult to secrete actions that you are partaking in currently on top of someone. “Does this count as my part of the deal, then?”

He felt the aqua claws on his hips twitch, Vox was being extremely well-controlled tonight. The Video Demon truly mustn’t be in the mood, as he said. That’s something Alastor would have to thank Valentino for.

“Oh Hell no,” The TV-Head answered. With the response, the Cannibal pulled one of those hands digging into his side and brought it towards where he wanted.

“Then, go ahead.”

His body flinched, a shocking lurch, before he could control it as he placed the hand down lower. Burying his face over the shoulder, refusing to admit it was an act of hiding, he couldn’t let the other see his reactions. Realising that he stopped moving, along with Vox not going any further without his guidance, he held off from biting into the navy flesh. Surely, the Video Demon hadn’t grown incompetent in his absence!

“You know what to do, don’t you?” He snapped.

“Al, you’re not good—”

“I don’t care!”

He hated it. He abhorred how easily he’d been read. Now was not the time for the blue Demon to pretend to give a shit; like he’s still the same noisy, static Picture-Box Alastor once enjoyed, so, so much. He’d already proven he’s something darker, bolder, plus more of a threat than the red Overlord could imagine his sweet ex-turtleneck-wearing partner to be.

He immediately connected their hands to his eagerly waiting cock. His whole body collapsed, as the heat spiked in his core, the worth of several hours of inhaling second-hand aphrodisiacs. To keep the Screen-Head there, he gave out a tiny morsel of a pleasured sound from his lips. The nasty trick had worked, hearing the air vents suddenly going into overdrive. It’ll simply be a matter of time before the Picture-Screen’s self-control shatters too. The red Demon, however, might lose himself before then. If he could get his head to relax, that was…

He started feeling movement, experienced fingertips stroking until his entire abdomen twitched. Which, in his desperate state, came within moments. Trusting the blue Overlord to remain, he removed his scarlet hand, bringing it to his mouth, the other clinging onto the opposite shoulder. He needed more, no simple gentle caress, thus like reading his mind, the Picture-Screen proceeded with savage intense flicks of his wrist.

“All those pretty noises… Makes you sound so gorgeous, my sweet.”

A new, fresh wave of warmth flooded straight to his cheeks, as vulnerable embarrassment wreaked havoc straight on his neurons, slamming his head into the shoulder blade below him. The last thing he wanted was attention! “I bet you’re so cute, all flustered right now. And look at your tail!”

Alastor heard the squeak with his own ears, when he finally noticed, thanks to the statement, that his tuft of fur was swaying its own rhythm side-to-side for some time. Requiring a few seconds to recover, something that Vox was not giving him, he shakily retorted with: “You’re not doing it for me, Voxxy.”

“Oh, really?” The Video Demon dismissed. “Because I think you’re about to blow any moment now.”

Luckily — Unluckily? He couldn’t tell anymore — it was the truth, as the red Demon’s hips bucked repeatedly against his will. He focused away from himself, listening to the cooling vents portraying the excitement the blue Demon wished he could physically express; it was always the other’s arousal that got him off in the end. Then suddenly, like an electrocution of another kind, the Cannibal’s entire body conceded, as pulses of pleasure erupted, coursing through his veins. Unbeknownst, his hand was clutching the white shirt below him for dear life, leaving his voice box free to spill through an open mouth.

He wasn’t aware of whatever sound he had made; all he knew was he felt the vibrations in his throat when his brain finally shut off — even if it was merely for a moment.

“Holy shit… I guess it was a good thing I left my dick behind,” Vox whispered into his ear.

“You literally have spares,” Alastor huffed out, remembering the entire collection he had found earlier.

“Yeah, but that one’s my favourite.”

The Video Demon wasn’t letting him recover, not even for a second. In fact, the hand grew faster. It had the opposite effect, when suddenly, panic flooded his mind. Like everything blackened out, the prey instincts bellowed, shrieking in his mind to run.

So he tried. Unable to think of anything else, the red Demon shot up on his kneeling, trembling legs, arms ready to frail, primed to fight, anything to push the invasive body away. A scared little Deer in the shark’s tank.

“Hey, easy, easy. Relax.” The blue Overlord held on strong, used to this antic even after seven years without it. All he did was pull the Deer Demon close, exactly like a hug, supposedly calmingly soothing and not letting go.

Mind identifying the trap, the capture of the prey, a scream solely stopped escaping Alastor’s lungs by bringing a palm between his teeth, and pierced down. The pain brought him back to his senses, facing the coppery taste of his very own blood, as it dripped down onto the perfectly white sleeve beneath.

“Hey, no, no. None of that.” A gentle hand encased his self-injured own, slowly removing it away from the risk of further damage. “If you’re gonna be like that, we’ll have to get you to lie down.”

Dazed, confused in his post-orgasmic state, his body finally caught up, forcing him to whine at the loss of contact, the simulation, commanding for more. He breathlessly nodded at Vox’s offer, allowing himself to be guided to the soft, coolness below. His teeth were sharp, perfect for doing serious damage that he did not want inflicted on himself, especially when he didn’t have the strength to fight against reflexes.

Letting his body arch into the touch of foreign, yet familiar, hands sliding across either side of his hips, he felt the cursed tail happily soothing itself out, twitching in excitement. It wasn’t long for the encouraging pats to dive elsewhere in his body, stomach churning once more as he felt something reawakening between his legs.

“Now, where were we?” The blue Demon muttered above him, which this time the red Demon closed his eyes, embracing pillows. As if closing his eyes could make him disappear, he scrunched his face when the other made proper work of curing his rut. “What is it you used to say to me all the time? ‘This is Hell for a reason, darling. You’re not supposed to like it.’”

He couldn’t help it, having to lean into the hand working its magic, having to bite his lips to seize the profanity of noises wanting to spill. As he welcomed the pleasure back, an antler had grown irritated once more. Without thinking, a hand ventured into his scarlet locks, giving a scratch to the velvety texture. Leaving his mouth unshielded. The Video Demon took his opportunity like he’ll have no other chance, purposefully teased the Deer’s swollen, sore dick, where he, successfully, forced a disgustingly forte moan out of it.

The ‘Radio Demon’ was gone, at least for that tiniest of moments, as Alastor surrendered under the somewhat-nostalgic situation. Of being exhausted, with a brain short-circuiting, yet his body demanding more, completely at the other’s mercy, under the Video Demon’s care. He could never give up control entirely, that was an unrealistic dream. Presently, the blue Overlord didn’t have the same level of trust his Deer urges craved to even phantom the idea, but imagine it, he did.

As Vox continued, never stopping, never slowing the pace, his thighs, ever-so-sensitive, started to shake. That was the only warning either of them had before the coil tightened until it snapped. His entire form shook as he came undone a second time.

It was pure instinct, for the scarlet hand to cover his mouth the moment he heard his keening; to bite into it and leave any noises — antithetical, horrendous sounds that shouldn’t ever have belonged to him — buried deep in his throat.

With the same reflex, the blue Overlord’s hand met his before it even got anywhere near his face, purposefully pinning the limb to the mattress. “No biting. It’s soundproof, let it out. Actually, I want to hear you.”

Defeated, accepting his mistake, the Cannibal fell limp. After several seconds of recovery from the hormonal rush, he finally peered an eye open. Waiting for the glimpse of that intoxicated smile, the blood coming from those illuminated lips, of Vox barely keeping himself under control. Hoping for something to spur him on, make this easier…

However, he was met with the look of sheer boredom. Instead of excitement, like this was the best thing in the world for the TV-Head, he was detached, treating him like a chore.

Then it all came crashing down. The vulnerability swept the air out of his lungs, and the panic back into his mind. So strong that it made him whimper, folding in on himself, trying to cover all that was important, so the other couldn’t see anything vital.

The problem was: He could theoretically leave. He could leave this place temporarily, return in a few days when it’s all settled, act like nothing happened. He could escape to his unrevealed residency at Cannibal Town, and pray to God that Rosie doesn’t sense his presence. Sure, it may be a bit strenuous on their deal’s terms, although there was nothing either of them said that explicitly mentioned twenty-four-seven care on the blue Overlord’s end.

That was what the red Overlord could’ve done… It’s only his sole form of transport was currently not even speaking with him, it found him so revolting.

From the glance he managed, he saw the shadow wasn’t even manifesting a face, making itself as absent as possible. It was a mere ominous dark profile against the wall. Unable to leave either, it was bound to the Radio Demon, though that didn’t stop it from portraying its own want to be not here.

It’s purely what the Cannibal’s susceptible state needed. To feel more disgusting, judged accordingly by the room…

“Stop.” The word managed past his lips before he had the strength to hold back.

In retaliation, there was a groan as the extra weight suddenly shot away, which left the bed altogether. “Oh…” Vox groaned again, actually sounding like he was upset. “This is not as fun as I thought it’ll be. I recognise I may have gone overboard this morning — Not saying that I am wrong — I’ve fucked up, so much, that you’re scared of me.” He walked in a circle beside the frame, panicking, yet furious. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Al, I wasn’t thinking clearly, and if I’ve actually hurt you, it wasn’t my entire intention… I’m just so pissed that you get to play the victim of this whole mess.”

Sedated, Alastor let him continue, though the majority of the words flew over his head. Yet something quickly shifted in the TV-Head’s persona. He noticed it instantly, articulating how the next few questions hit straight to his undead heart. “Why did you just leave? We could have talked.” The blue Demon was barely audible from where he stood, except this time the red Demon heard him loud and clear. “We had something… Well, it was nice. And if you weren’t happy, you should have said something. Not ‘Lash out and ditch.’ Where did you go? Why are you here? It gives me hope that you wish we could…”

Alastor, the wrecked, pathetic, emotional-turbulence he was, shot up on the bed, giving his full attention… Surely, he didn’t… As well?

“But I know you’re just playing me, like you used to. Of course, you could never be fucking clear about anything—”

“I want it.”

The room grew dead silent. As Vox slowly turned around to face him, shock projected in every inch of that LED screen, so much so he swore it was going to glitch anytime soon. Although, he didn’t ask anything, merely stared, waiting for more. Which the red Overlord didn’t give, feeling a new burning sensation on his cheeks, not entirely from arousal, as he let the admittance hang in the evening air.

The Screen-Head suddenly cradled his screen in aqua claws. “Oh… I’ve fucked up. Look Al, I know you’re not going too well right now, but I can’t help you… Not when you’re not wanting it. I just can’t.

“Wait, hold,” The Radio Demon was quick to quip. “I thought it was… ‘A thing’ for you when I didn’t like it?”

The Video Demon froze ajar, taken aback, equally confused, and replied with: “Well yes— But when you’re pretending to not like it and fighting. Not ‘Not-Liking it and crying!’”

“I am not ‘Crying.’”

“But you might as well be. Just look at you!” The statement sent several of his animal alarms haywire, forcing him to flinch, further proving the point.

He gave a final huff. “Still, I would much rather just get this over with. You’re experienced enough to know what you’re doing. So stop making excuses and get back here. Finish it,” He glowered the TV-Head’s way.

Surprisingly, it had worked, the Overlord was on him within the heartbeat. “In that case, let’s fix you up, little doe.”

“‘Buck,’” He corrected.

“Pardon?”

“I’m a ‘Buck,’ not a ‘Doe.’ I have never once ‘Misgendered’ you, so I suggest you do the same.”

“Touché.”

Relief, sweet pleasure, spiked his entire spine as aqua claws went down where he wanted them, yet he held steady, not going to lose composure so quickly again. The blue Demon proceeded to fasten his movements, both working for the Radio Demon, and sending him further into the fit of ‘Fight-Or-Flight.’ Except, this time he knew what was causing it.

It was rather difficult to ignore the beading eyes on him, witnessing his every twitch.

“I’ll have you know, it’s your ‘Thing’ to watch, not mine to ‘Be watched,’” He complained, shivering at the chuckle that came from it.

“Then tell me, why is it working?” His hips bucked, for reasons he didn’t know, while an ungodly sound made it past his lips yet again. “Hm, music to my ears.”

Although, another problem gradually grew in the back of the Deer Demon’s mind. Starting with the fact his annual ruts had never once been cured by a simple repetitive hand job (that alone at least takes over a day). It always needs some extra stimulation. Very soon this little act was going to wear him out, he’ll grow too sensitive to continue. Nevertheless, his body, his own ‘Personal Hell,’ wouldn’t care. It’ll keep going.

A spark of ecstasy made him speak. “It’s not enough, I need— I need more.

“I know, Bambi, that’s why I got the lube for you.”

“I don’t want—”

“I know, we’ll take it nice and slow.”

There was a nagging voice in his head, one that refused to settle, even if the rest of him had given in. It was the one thing keeping him back, the reason for the past twenty-four hours of sheer distrust. The thing identifying the extremely familiar body (the face was another story), was a total stranger, thus therefore should be treated like a threat. He will take it over; precisely like he had to when he first arrived here, he didn’t need it anymore.

“Just do it anyway.”

“Al—”

“I mean it.”

Snapping appeared to do enough of the trick, Vox picked up the bottle that the red Demon specifically remembers throwing, but couldn’t care about that. He watched those aqua claws drench themselves in far too much liquid, one might’ve thought the Screen-Head saw him as a virgin.

The Picture-Screen hesitated, too much, as he rambled. “You know what to say— Who am I kidding? Of course, you do, you literally did today.”

“Yes: ‘Lorenzini.’” He replied smugly, nonetheless, gritting his teeth.

He was pissed, at the blue Overlord, at the itching in his mind telling him to stop, to think, so he went on to spite it. A finger slowly circled his entrance, testing the waters, for several long moments. Ignoring the screaming in his head, Alastor listened to the parts of the body convincing him the Demon was teasing. As the digit slid in, he at least made it without tensing; however, he tasted blood, felt the pain in his gums where he must have bitten in.

“Talk to me,” Vox intruded. “And the truth, Alastor.” When he didn’t say anything, the finger moved in further, trying to coach something out. It worked of course, as a moan, sweet blissful satisfaction came out. Although in his mind, the panic grew worse.

Of course, the other took his external reaction as a sign to continue, so enthusiastically, he slid the digit into the third knuckle, searching for that spot of nerves that could send him wild.

It was too invasive. He wasn’t ready! The realisation slammed, so suddenly, it almost folded him completely. Stopping would mean delaying; there was no point for that.

He was supposed to be the strongest, only to fall, losing to Adam. He deserves all the retribution this plane of existence could provide him— He had to remind himself that. An aqua claw tickled into his crimson locks suddenly, massaging his skull so perfectly he kenned into it, spine arching off the mattress. It simply fuelled his wrecked, exposed mind to correct himself to collapse onto the sweat-soaked towel.

“I know, I know it sucks. Listen, you may have enough of me for a while now, but there’s something we could do.” His ears betrayed him, perking in interest. “Remember what we did that one time?” He let an audible laugh ring out. There were twenty-five years’ worth of ‘One time.’ “I could put you under, with my hypnosis, you won’t feel a thing. And bring you back once it’s done.”

He bit into his lip, properly this time. The idea of escaping, appealing as it ever was, exposed the truth. The Cannibal had grown tired, sick of the different noises in his head and body conflicting each other. He just wanted a ‘Break.’

“Only use fingers,” He rushed. “No more than this. Don’t make me do or say anything to cater your twisted, despicable—”

“That’s a given, baby!” The blue Demon cheered, yet short-lived. When another spout of heat erupted in his core, strangling out an animalistic bleat.

Vox went straight for his tail, scratching so perfectly, his body shuddered completely. Except he never came. His tail was a special trick, one that the Picture-Box loved; touching it the right way sent a world of ecstasy. Except it was exactly like tickling, the red Demon couldn’t do it to himself…

Shaking, gasping through the disappointment of a faux orgasm, he stared into those scarlet orbs. Waiting for the inevitable, Alastor finally mumbled: “Fine— Don’t say anything more, just do it!” Positive that radio dials would have appeared in his eye from the way he hissed, he waited for the Screen-Head to follow, getting into position over his lap.

It was going to be over soon. Even if the TV-Head decided to betray him, use this opportunity to cruelly — cowardly — take what he wanted… At least he won’t be conscious. Besides, if he was kept conscious… Well, it would be his own fault for falling to such trust.

As the black rings appeared, he did not flinch, simply took a deep breath, welcoming the feeling of his consciousness slowly leaving him. It was like walking into a thickening grey-black fog, vision gradually blurring. His last strand of thought consisted of recognising the lack of psychotic smile the blue Overlord usually wore when he used his hypnosis. He truly wasn’t enjoying this either…

It was an interesting feeling, to finally escape it all. No ‘Natural’ instincts corrupting his senses, surging panic, not having to control it. It was completely tranquil.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d let the Picture-Screen do this. In fact, many of his ruts ended similarly, with hypnosis in one way or another. Oh, how much Vox used to love them… Even then, sometimes it wasn’t even for his ruts. There were those occasions where the Cannibal acknowledged he was too uncomfortable to do the act, yet also wouldn’t partially mind. He’d let the blue Overlord take all those repulsive feelings; replace them; planting something more pleasurable directly into his mind.

It felt as though he was floating, like he was drifting under the ocean, swaying with the waves as the Screen-Head kept his consciousness steady, unable to physically feel anything. He rocked back-and-forth, along what he’d imagined being tidal waves (which he could only guess were orgasms ripping through his body), having no idea how long he’d been there, nor how much longer he’ll remain; not wanting to go to the surface for a breath. The surface meant a storm, a swarm of emotions, a mess, that he’ll rather stay below the waves.

“Fuck!”

The notes were ripped from his vocal cords the moment his lungs filled with air. He gasped, panting like he’d drowned, sitting upright on the bed. His whole body was drenched, in sweat plus ungodly fluids of his form’s own making.

Vox had never brought him back so suddenly, so violently. It’s normally so tender, gentle, and gradual. Presently, it left him extremely disorientated.

A hand appeared under his neck, holding him upright. He tried opening his eyes, feeling something cool on his lips — a glass of water he identified and took. “Al, there’s something I forgot to ask you. Did you want me to clean you before I bring you back like usual? Or bring you back the moment it’s over?” Scarlet claws ripped at the damp towel underneath him. “I don’t know! You weren’t too good before, so here I am asking.”

“Vox, what the fuck?!” It wasn’t over? There’s still more? “Usual!” Alastor finally answered, only to feel how sticky, slick, the towel, his chest, his thighs were. Then that everlasting repulsion that caused the problems in their relationship in the past, wrecked him even more. “N-No more.” He had to get his breath again. “No more.”

“Al, there’s still ‘More.’ If we don’t get it over with now, it’ll be all night, it’ll be here tomorrow. We could slam it all tonight, then it’s over.”

He tried cowering into the soaked towel. “That was a shit move, Voxxy.”

“I know.” He did not at all sound regretful, that made the red Demon’s smile tweak. “Yeah, yeah. Not so threatening now you’re all ‘Fucked out.’ It’s been ninety minutes; I suspect another thirty.”

Hooves kicked, the insolent anger making its way out of the Radio Demon. The last of the fighting survival impulses lashed out. The action drained his already-exhausted energy, the worse part of it was, no matter how tired he made himself, this fucking nightmare condition was still present in his abdomen.

“Should I tell you how well you’re going? That you’re doing wonderful, my little Bambi?” The blue Demon spoke when all he wanted was silence. He groaned as the phrases worked exactly how the Picture-Screen hoped for. So rather than to admit it, the Deer Demon instantly rolled onto his stomach, hands crawling into his ears, anything to block it out. “How well you’re taking it, despite how much I know you hate it? Would that calm your racing mind?”

He felt the weight over him, caging him in between knees either side of his hips. What was he doing? Surely, he knew that’ll solely send him further into the spiral of panic!

“Trust me…” The Screen-Head actually knelt over him to whisper the next part directly beside his face. “Now there’s a good boy.”

“Fuck off!” Alastor flipped himself around, despite his sore muscles, launched off the mattress to shove the other away. He was panting, feeling the flush crawling from his cheeks down to his chest. The words worked too perfectly, as a new explosion of heat emitted, so he wrapped his arms around the patch on his chest. He prayed it was as waterproof as the packaging promised. Collecting his breath, squeezing his rib cage to fend off tears, he scolded himself for reacting so heavily to a few fucking words. “This is only happening because of this fucking condition, you understand?”

Vox — smug motherfucker, just wait until his powers return — rolled his eyes. “You always say that, but have you considered it’s actually nothing to do with your rut? It’s just you, Bambi!”

“You’re on thin ice, VoxTek.”

“Oh-Oh! Don’t worry babe, unlike you, I know how to swim.” The teeth-baring grin was the sole warning the red Demon had that he was going to continue. And there was nothing he could do… “Once a ‘Mama’s boy,’ always a ‘Mama’s boy.’ I don’t get what’s wrong with admitting you have a ‘Praise kink?’”

A pillow shot, though weakly, at the Video Demon’s chest. Alastor was not going to say anything, any form of retort would solely be acknowledging the stupidity. It’ll be best to leave it, ignore it, let the other realise his precious attention won’t be coming unless he changes.

“How’s your head now?”

The question made him realise, with blinking eyes of shock, that it’s mostly settled. And there! He did it again! Even after seven years, he still knows precisely what the Deer Demon needs. “Telling me to kick you.”

“Ha-Ha, that is the one thing I have not missed…” It’s remarkable how far the Deer could pull the ‘Animal instincts’ excuse. Even after twenty-five years, the TV-Head still had not caught on that not everything he did could be blamed on that.

Sporadically, he feels like getting a bit physical, besides his legs are long enough…

Instead of following the impulse, he laid down, uttering one last command.

“Finish it.”

A firm hand latched to his shoulder, pulling him over, to face the screen. Everything went black instantly…

Then he blinked, his eyes opened…

He was lying on his back. Under the covers, with zero evidence of the previous few hours’ activity, apart from the soreness in his limbs, the cloudiness in his mind. Moving his eyes an inch, he found a navy arm handing him a spare pair of long-sleeve pyjamas, which he gladly accepted.

As he shuffled them under the warm blankets, the blue Demon pulled out his phone, reading it. “So… That was another hour and a half. Christ, Bambi, it was bad. You need to go out and get laid more.” The Cannibal could barely hum, though not agreeing to the statement. He was merely accepting the fact he was ‘Fucked out’ as Vox loved to say. “But I have given you water, you’ve been fed leftover meat I had in the fridge, and cleaned. Now, please let me sleep.”

From his spot, he watched the other mindlessly scroll on his phone, with the other hand reaching behind to grab the charging cable from the wall, plugging it into his head.

“What is the time, darling?” Alastor finally managed out, surprised his voice sounded perfectly fine.

“Twelve am.”

The Video Demon promptly discarded his mobile somewhere to the side to pull out a pillow from the mountain behind him, setting it across the mattress in between the pair. Like a barrier to keep them separate, and laid so that his posterior rested against it, facing away from the other. He let out a breathy nostalgic chuckle; that’s precisely how they slept for their first few months together.

Sending the heavy reminder through the Radio Demon…

“Vox?”

“Hm?”

He blamed his post multiple-orgasmic state for shutting down his brain, along with it, his common sense. As he tilted his head, repeating the one interesting comment from earlier that he couldn’t seem to forget. “What do you think? Could we ‘Try again?’”

The question caught Vox’s attention, abruptly shifting, freezing up. Even if it was for merely a moment.

“You’re just saying that.” The cold, tired reply did hurt, yet he chose to ignore those feelings by pushing forwards.

“And if I… Weren’t?” The blue Overlord suddenly flipped over so they could talk face-to-face, for the red Demon to see his disbelief, the rightfully pissed expression, as though this was purely another savage game for entertainment. So the red Overlord figured to bring in the proof. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Then why leave in the first place?”

The question soured Alastor’s palette as much as it did for Vox to ask it. “I told you: I can’t say,” He whispered back.

It was the truth at least.

After staring for some more, the Screen-Head rolled over, mumbling as he did. “Just sleep.” Surprisingly, a navy arm laid across the barrier pillow, a full-fledged invitation. His ears instantly pricked; his tail swelled as the spell of happiness made him take it. He even allowed the joy to exhibit as a small noise from his throat, something that he knew the other loved hearing. “Jesus, Fuck, I can never get over that sound.”

“You shut down and sleep. I’ll be staying up.” Yes, he was tired, fucking exhausted. Yet, he also had spent three days already unconscious, he’d had plenty of shut-eye to keep him going for weeks.

“—Even if I did just make you make them for two hours.”

“Goodnight, VoxTek.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“You may now leave Husker, my pal. I can see to it that we’ll manage ourselves from now on.” He waited until the both of them were suitably intoxicated enough to enjoy a good night out. While they normally fancied a somewhat crowded space to share their choice of drinks with an atmosphere, tonight, the red Overlord wanted to be alone with the Picture-Box. He had questions he wanted answers to. And at this point, the presence of Husk was even too much for his tastes.

So he let the underling have the rest of his evening to himself. It was utterly humiliating, how those Cat-Like Demon eyes narrowed at him suspiciously, followed by disgust as they darted between the pair when the Radio Demon demanded their privacy.

In a rare show of patience, Alastor waited for the alcoholic to remember who owns whose soul in the situation, and soon enough they were finally alone in the rustic bar.

“So, where did you go? You went off for an entire week!” Vox cheered once more, slamming his finished glass onto the wooden table. “Shit! I thought I messed up big time with my powers on you a fortnight ago because you even missed our usual drinks night last week.”

“Yes well, unfortunately I fell ill for the week, my dear, suddenly. But all is jolly again,” He reflected, pouring his friend another glass. The past week was something the Deer Demon wanted to not revisit, even though it decides to reappear each blasted year.

Only this one was different… Moreover, it left the Radio Demon, somewhat hesitantly, oddly curious.

“Righto, pal.”

“Did you enjoy your broadcast, by the way?”

“Oh, yes!”

“I dare say, Vox, your mind can be so twisted, I simply did as you asked.”

“That fucker doctor deserved every bit of it.”

As the conversation died out, the Box-Head took another swig of his drink. The Cannibal was not keen to touch his, solely to watch dotingly, scanning, he was searching for clues, for any reasons he could fathom for his mind’s creation.

The truth was, his week-long ‘Sickness’ as he disguised it, hit like it usually did: Suddenly. Though, this one was peculiar; unbearable as always, yes, nonetheless, it left interesting feelings in his gut. Whether they were good or bad, was something the Overlord was yet to decipher. He’ll get to figure them out after he obtains his other answers, priorities first.

Why did images of the blue Demon come to Alastor’s mind through it?

It was something that had never, ever, happened before. In all his decades of emerging from Hell, he’d never ‘Pictured’ anyone during an annual rut. It felt as sinful, as he knew Picture-Box would love it if he ever found out — which he won’t. Rather than repulsed, the red Demon wouldn’t say he ‘Liked’ it, more or less, he was ‘Inquisitive…’ For the moment, he left it as it was: ‘A surprise.’

Not anyone else… Never once… So why him?

As it appeared, that curiosity wasn’t masked very well behind the alcohol, as Vox glanced his way, blushing those pink, magenta highlights. “W-What? Why are you smiling like that?”

Enjoying how the pink grew further the more he stared fondly, Alastor decided on his approach. He wanted answers, and well, he’d never shied away from using good old ‘Manipulation’ before. Withal, his half-drunken state could easily adjust the situation to suit himself.

So, tempting the steak for the shark to eat, he slowly spoke. “I wonder what you’d do… If you had a minute to do whatever you wanted with me.”

The question hung heavy in the silence, until the Video Demon hiccupped, faulting his posture. “I’m— I’m sorry?”

“You heard me clear enough, my fellow.”

A speaker-filled wheeze radiated, before the blue Demon collected himself with a shrug, becoming chatty in his intoxicated form. “Well, I guess, if it’s a minute—” He cut off as a crimson finger silenced him.

“That’s not what I asked, my dear.” He bit into his lip, refusing to say the rest. It was much more entertaining to let the Picture-Box figure it out.

He knew plus acknowledged the risks of the deal, but Vox’s fascination with him had slowly formed into an interest of his own. Furthermore, a minute was quick, starting the bar low. He wanted to see how far he could push him, solely to witness how he’d react. What would he do if Alastor gave him the opportunity?

The room suddenly grew soundless, the sole noise came from a grandfather clock ticking away, pendulum swinging. The Video Demon stared at him, frozen still. Taking it as a sign that he’d worked it out, the red Demon, from the corner of his eye, read the time. Eleven, Fifty-Eight and Fifty-Four-seconds post meridiem.

Fifty-Five seconds…

Fifty-Six seconds…

The excitement made his heart thump, as he silently commanded: ‘Take the bait.’

Fifty-Nine seconds. A much louder tick of the minute hand moving echoed in their ears.

Then the blue Overlord shot up, practically springing on him.

He took no hesitation, no double-checking, just going in with it. It made the Cannibal chuckle; always eager, this one. Wound out, waiting for so long… He was grabbed by the lapels, then his lips immediately smashed against TV-Projected ones. If he wasn’t careful, Alastor’s antlers could nearly crash into that — what he assumed — fragile glass.

The kiss itself was hungry, passionate, desperate; the red Demon simply followed the movements. He had no idea what to do with his hands, whilst the Video Demon took away his oxygen. When he felt himself growing lightheaded, and slightly worried, he grabbed onto the other’s blazer for a bracer. It wasn’t too different, or too similar to what he’d imagined it to be, overall deciding he wasn’t too fussed about the ordeal, Alastor remained holding on.

As Vox, finally, pulled back to let them breathe, the Cannibal sniggered, getting to feel his heat resting on his cheeks. They stared for several moments, catching their breaths, both knowing full well the minute was hardly finished. Except suddenly, the red Overlord realised the Box-Head wasn’t as flustered as he’d expected… No, he was actually keeping full control of himself, instead bore down.

The eyes, even without the hypnotic waves, trapped the Deer Demon in place, that little noisy Static-Box suddenly became so possessive. He merely smiled in return, feeling his tail flick, sticking upright.

Oh, he was suddenly intrigued…

It’s been a while since anyone had sent that instinct off.

His shadow, who had also somewhat respected his request for privacy, was now suddenly back; circling, watching, witnessing intently. It wasn’t repulsed, per se, more similar to wondering: ‘What in the nine circles are you doing?’ But he paid it no mind, after all, this was not for an audience, his exclusive focus was the glowing scarlet orbs capturing him.

Slowly, the blue Demon moved in, resting between the red Demon’s thighs, sending off another desolate animalistic impulse of ‘Panic.’ Nevertheless, since it was his minute, he bit through it, forcing the unwanted feelings away, staring into those illuminated eyes while aqua claws rested either side of his hips. Adagio, Vox took his time to lean in to slowly capture Alastor’s lips again, much gentler this time. Finally admitting to himself that he did see the appeal, in practice, however, confirmed that it was not for the Deer Demon. The Box-Head, nevertheless, was at high risk of overheating, judging by the vents working overtime.

He felt nibbles at his bottom lip, so he gave some in return. Only he purposely drew blood for a taste, humming at the texture. Who would have thought, being part machine made the liquid taste more metallic?

Then suddenly, something slipped past his teeth, he truly had to fight off the reflex to bite down, as the Picture-Box’s tongue decided to venture.

It was invasive, borderline ‘Uncomfortable,’ but otherwise not too bad… As long as it didn’t go too far. He tried copying the movements, finding that the other was letting him do the same. He found the action purely drained his oxygen more, his head quickly spinning, so he slid his tongue against those pointed teeth, cutting it, to focus on the pain. A hand moved along his nape, playing with the fawn hairs there. It felt nice, calming, as the soft pats continued. Another hand appeared at his ears, stroking one of the appendages, then scratched at its base. Making him keen before he could control it.

Oh, he was liking this now…

Vox repeated the action, the Deer simply sat through it. It tickled, it felt wonderful, overwhelming. His scalp tingled, making him melt into the relaxing sensation. While at the same time, his vision slowly blurred from the lack of air, sending off a spark of survival panic. A hum of pure bliss escaped his lips, feeding directly into the other’s mouth, and the other withdrew, resting his boxed forehead against the Cannibal’s, letting the Deer pant between them.

“Fuck, knew you’d like that,” The blue Demon whispered, continuing the action.

“Your time is up,” The red Demon murmured, making Vox laugh, but retreat he did.

The Picture-Box returned to his seat, where, as though the situation caught up with him, he folded himself over, head planting onto the wood. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Well, we could’ve, but you chose to spend your time ‘Kissing’ me,” Alastor teased, standing to straighten his cloak. At the words, the TV-Head shot up again, now pressing his stomach further into the table. A horrible attempt at hiding the embarrassing sight down there. For Heavens’ sake!

“You have no idea how your words affect me, Al… Oh my God.”

“Hm, I think I do. Now come on, walk it off.” He waited cruelly for the blue Overlord to do what he’s told, the clock finally chiming twelve am exactly, making him smile. “I lied. Now, your time’s up.” Vox’s hysterical laughter followed him out the door, into the bricked alley.

When they were out, the Box-Head hooked an arm around his, ready to march them off. Although, before he did, he looked at the red Demon one last time. “Uh, you’ve got a bit of blood there.” He mirrored under his mouth, so the Cannibal used the back of his hand to wipe it off.

“I must admit, my dear, you don’t taste half as bad as I’d imagine,” Alastor commented, licking the crimson off his hand.

“From a Cannibal, I’ll take that compliment to the grave. And how was that? I bet that was the first time someone stuck their tongue down your throat.”

He perked, it was indeed true, though, the blue Demon didn’t need to know that. “Interesting, to say the least.”

The Picture-Box beamed, only to glance over the Deer Demon’s shoulder, seeing something. “Hey, let me show you something, it’s just up the road.” Whatever he saw, he tried playing off, leading them off down the CBD. Ultimately, it was his demeanour of shock that ruined his disguise.

“What is behind me, Vox?” He asked, slowly stalking after him, not turning around.

“What? Nothing!”

The Radio Demon snapped his neck around, finding a Husker standing in the alley, frozen still, with the look of pure disgust-filled horror, the beer he’d been drinking threatening to come back up. Oh… He heard everything they said… Noticing the Demon beside him start to sweat bullets, all the red Demon could do was laugh it off, his shadow, however, decided to give off its best threatening snarl to scare the poor Cat.

“Oh, I’m too drunk to deal with this,” He admitted, grinning further as The Box-Head nervously chuckled with him, eager to move on.

“Oh, me too.”

It wasn’t like Husk could do anything about it, the Cannibal decided, allowing the blue Overlord to guide him wherever he wanted to go. “Now, what was this you wanted to show me?”

“This!” Vox threw his arms in the air, showing off a circular skyscraper across the road. “Where I live.”

“Oh yeah? And which is yours?” He asked, scanning the balconies to take the guess.

“All of it.” Radio static crackled, as he snapped his eyes to his company, facing the proud amusement written on the screen. “What? What part of ‘Hell’s Number one technology distributor’ did not reek: ‘Money’ to you?”

He glanced behind at the building, it’s unusual for him to be rendered speechless, though, this was another interesting discovery for the night.

“And speaking of which, I should ‘Repay’ you for… Before. How about I can set up speakers all throughout the city for your radio broadcasts? You’re continually looking for new listeners. I could increase sales of radios? So how about it?” The Picture-Box stood smugly, businessman-like, heckling for a deal, so Alastor’s smile sharpened.

Deciding to play along, the Radio Demon gave his price. “None of your ‘New,’ ‘Modern’ speakers. Proper ‘Horn’ loudspeakers.”

“Done! Well then, Al, what do you say? Want to spend the night in this luxury?”

“Ha! Goodnight Vox.”

“Ha-Ha… Knew it…” The Video Demon said, voice lowering, disappointed. Then he glanced back, a small glimmer of hope glistened in those pupils, Alastor even called it adorable. The moment the blue Demon made any movement forwards, the Deer retreated, ears flattening in the flight or fight. The message was received, and no other attempt was made. “I just gotta ask: Why?”

“Let’s settle on: ‘Curiosity’ and your chance to convince me.”

“And, did I? ‘Convince’ you?”

“See you next week, Vox,” He repeated.

“No, no. It’s alright.” The Picture-Box suddenly beamed. “I know how Deer work, you gotta learn to trust me first. Don’t worry, we’ll get you there, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Ending with a wink, the Cannibal was taken back at the sudden confidence. Embarrassed at the accuracy of the blue Demon’s point, maybe even something haunting him from last week, caused a flush to enter his cheeks.

He had to remind himself Vox was most likely close to drunkenness… They both were.

Nearly missing the Video Demon saying his goodbyes, he had to act quick to respond with the same; otherwise it’ll draw attention to his distracted state.

Though he remained standing, lurking as he watched the owner of VoxTek leave his field of vision into the building. An irritation feeling lingered on his lips, echoing the sensations that attacked them moments ago. He couldn’t help but rub claw tips over them, trying to shoo it away. He felt his shadow creeping over his shoulder, observing as always.

He met the beading, curious eyes, and thus shared the question: ‘Do you think he liked it?’ Which immediately got corrected with: ‘What did it matter?’

As the shadow snickered, Alastor scoffed, picking up his staff, ready to tread off. Tonight did not calm his mind about his rut’s visions, and the even worse realisation: He still lacked the answers for them.

Oh, what did the future hold for them, indeed?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- [← Previous] [Next →]

If you want to talk about it, I will gladly listen and respond, so leave a comment, or my askbox is open <3. I also want to inform, I am working on a collection of Oneshots from their past in this AU: The Untold Tales (Currently on hold while I race time to get this fic completed before season 2.) Header Fanart was made by @Solwxx55 on Twitter/x. Permission was granted by the artist to use, edit and post.

[bloomsberries]

Sometimes, a lot of times, I think I'm really not ready to devote myself completely to original work, but others I think why not? Why can't I, even if it goes badly? There is absolutely nothing to lose. Not finishing is worse. Anyway, here's a snippet from The Death of Mythmaking, which I promise myself I will finish.

--

There were things that Cat meant to say, in the aftermath, but she was angry at herself, for abandoning her post, for being callous and stupid, and words didn’t matter. There was no magic, no incantation, nothing that could undo what had been done. The crones were wrong in every way possible, and the Nameless a vicious lie.

Theo was unimaginably quiet. She walked with her hands in her pockets; with her nose pointing to the ground. It was a shocking silence, and Cat’s response was to similarly retreat, to circle back into her corner, waiting, aching.

Of course it was Pia who noticed, who finally said something as they ate together in the mess hall. Two weeks had gone by, but there were moments in which Cat was sure she could still smell the festering rust of blood. She pushed her tray away, conscious of Pia’s eyes tracking her movements.

“She needs a friend, Cat.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to? Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“You’re her friend.”

Pia sat back, her gaze hit the ceiling as she released an exaggerated breath.

“Yes,” she admitted, “I am her friend–which is why I’m here, talking to you. She’s got a mandatory eval tomorrow, you know, and she’s under a lot of pressure. They need her to do well, or pretend to be okay, but she won’t say anything to me about it. She won’t unload. Aren’t you even worried about her?”

Jaw clenched, Cat nodded. But,

“You’re wrong, though. I can’t do anything for her. I don’t have anything to give her.”

“So just sit next to her, I don’t know. She walks away from me, from Anders, from everyone who’s tried, but I can’t see her walking away from you.”

“Can’t you?”

The cast of Pia’s smile was faintly cruel. She pushed away from the table and said, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

It took Cat another half day to find Theo, who had escaped from the barracks and walked a good three miles into the Suhina. Cat went, on nothing but impulse, to their secret place, where the air smelled of damp wood and that lean-to they had built as children moldered and nearly crumbled. When Cat saw her, Theo’s trousers were rolled up to her knees, her boots in the rocky stream, as she sat staring into the water.

She didn’t look up when Cat moved closer, or even when she sat beside her at the edge of the stream.

“I believe in you,” Cat said, while Theo ignored her. It was the hardest she had ever worked at forcing words from her mouth. “I’ve always believed in you.”

Theo laughed, soft and bitter. She didn’t look up.

“I failed,” she said.

“No. We all made mistakes.”

Another sound, not a laugh. Something guttural and ugly. Theo stood up, walked away. Paced in either direction of the stream, hand in her hair. Finally, she approached their lean-to and kicked at its decaying walls. It fell apart completely.

“Oh,” Theo said, her breath catching in her throat. She reached for what had already fallen to the ground, stopping herself with another little cry. “Oh,” she repeated, this time scrambling for Cat,  her gaze fixing on Cat’s, begging. “I’m sorry.” She grasped both of Cat’s arms, tightly. “Cat, I’m sorry.” She knelt in the stream by Cat’s feet. “Cat.”

Cat looked at what remained and was so disturbed she could only say, “It’s fine. It’s fine. Don’t worry.” They hadn’t been there in such a long time. It was nothing, really. A place they had forgotten about. Rotting wood and frayed rope and dust. Cat swallowed her memories and placed her hands on the sides of Theo’s head, lifting her face. There was horror in Theo’s eyes.

“Don’t,” Cat murmured, kissing her just as Theo’s tears arrived.

And there was salt on Cat’s tongue.