#I have more of these two but I’ll make an art dump for that

[solargeist]

I’m actually saur happy with this redesign 😭

[riinchu]

GABRIEL IN A DRESS ART DUMP!!!!! 🚨

Hey everyone sorry for not posting is been too long!! ANYWAYS here’s all of the Gabriel + v1 drawings i have drawn while being gone! ✨

I’ll be more active from now on i SWEAR! (I have drawn a lot more but i cant fit it within this post so ill make a part 2)

They are in order from the oldest to newest!

Someone posted this very cool bloody weeding outfits so i had to draw these two in them!

I had to draw this dress because it looks very similar to a dress we all know super well :3

I HAD TO DRAW HIM IN THIS RED ONE ITS SO PRETTY AAAA

Made this drawing because of the shoes believe it or not. But obviously that not what people focused on lol

I absolutely love the way this drawing came out. Tbh i think it’s my best outfit i have drawn him in!!

Heres Gabriel in a night gown talking with his boyfriend :3

And here’s the latest drawing i have made so far! I know hes not wearing a dress but i mean come on he looks gorgeous :3

Thank you for looking at my hyper fixation and i hope you will enjoy my future stuff ❤️

[forzalando]

anyone can cook

max + cooking date - 3k celebration driver scenario for @foreveralbon !! liyah, i do not know what happened but somehow this turned into just jokes and banter. i am so sorry, i hope you still like it!!!! special bonus scene at the end that is the most unserious thing i have ever written and i apologize profusely for it but i was writing this past bedtime and couldn't get it out of my head this is the end of the 3k celebration blurbs, i am kind of sad but also feel accomplished🥹 i only had to write 6 but i am notorious for not finishing things. patting myself on the back today! pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader word count: 660 words tw: none, unless boxed pasta offends you

“MAX! I said salt the water, not create the sixth named ocean,” you said through giggles. “Here, let me help.”

You cupped your hands under his, leading him to the sink to dump a considerable amount of salt under the rushing water.

“Use about…this much,” you mumbled, tongue poking out and concentrating on dumping the granules into his hands without spilling any onto the floor. Jimmy and Sassy were weaving in between your legs and you didn’t want them tracking salt into every room or, heaven forbid, rolling around in your bed.

After guiding Max to the boiling water, you turned your attention back to your blistering tomatoes and garlic, but not before passing a cheese grater and block of parmesan over to him.

“Cooking is so much work,” he whined. “How do you enjoy this?”

“Max, you’ve literally done two things. You filled a pot with water and salted it, how many things do you have to do simultaneously while in the car?”

“That’s different, it’s fun!”

“Cooking can be fun! Cuisine is an art – it’s therapeutic, calming, and you get to eat something delicious after all your hard work!”

“Yeah, and do a million dishes,” he grumbled under his breath. You immediately shot him a steely glare and he smiled big enough that his eyes crinkled. “But I love doing dishes with you! Quality time, right?”

“Nice save, Verstappen.”

For the next few minutes you worked in tandem and in silence – Max furiously grating cheese and hissing every few seconds when he accidentally caught a finger against the sharp holes, you stirring and perfecting your sauce with ease.

The stove timer interrupted the peace and you called Max over from his place at the countertop.

“Ok, lesson number three of the evening – ”

“What were one and two?” He interrupted you, hints of hesitation and guilt in his voice. When you turned to look at him, your mouth open in exasperation, you saw the teasing look in his eye and rolled yours in return.

“If Gordon Ramsay were teaching you, you’d have been called an idiot sandwich twice and kicked out of the kitchen by now.”

“Lucky me, you’re way nicer, way more patient, and way prettier than Gordon.”

He tickled your ribcage lightly, causing you to flip a spoonful of pasta water across the room.

“New lesson number three – no tickling the chef when boiling water is nearby. Lesson number four, previously lesson number three – never trust the cook time on the pasta box. A true pasta chef also finishes cooking their pasta in the sauce, so we’re taking it out a few minutes early.”

“Wouldn’t a true pasta chef use fresh-made pasta?”

“You’re on thin ice, Max.”

He leaned in swiftly to kiss your cheek and stole the pasta spoon from your hand. “I’ll be dumping the water, I don’t want it to splash on you.”

“Don’t forget to – ”

“Reserve a cup of pasta water, where is your faith in me? I pay attention to everything you say, mijn liefje.”

It wasn’t long before you had served up plates of pasta as fresh as you could make considering you’d just gotten back to Monaco that morning, slightly burnt garlic bread because Max forgot to set a separate timer, and a mixed greens salad so Max’s trainer wouldn’t sue you for mistreatment and neglect.

“I’d say this was a very solid date night,” Max said between chews. “Thank you for teaching me and being patient with me – I take for granted how much you do for me when we’re home.” He pressed another kiss to your cheek, this one longer and messier than the one before.

You couldn’t help but grin at him, a devastatingly lovesick grin, and your stomach fluttered when he returned the exact look. He had a tomato sauce stain in the corner of his mouth and a droplet of spilled wine on his shirt but to you he’d never looked more beautiful.

bonus snippet (i couldn’t help myself, please accept my apology)

“Y/N, I cannot cook. I can count on one hand the number of times I have cooked for myself in the past ten years. I will blow up the kitchen.”

“Relax, I’ll guide you the whole way! You’ll never be near an open flame unsupervised, no sharp knives, we can even start with something simple! Pasta al pomodoro – you’ll love it!”

“When the rat said anyone can cook, he did not mean me, I promise.”

You looked at him quizzically – “Max, what rat?”

“The little French rat, not Esteban, the one who lives in the chef’s hat and makes soup for him.”

“…Are you talking about Remy? From Ratatouille?”

“I don’t remember his name, I just know you made me watch a movie one time about a French rat that could cook.”

“Ok, well, that’s an animated kid’s movie, and actually Chef Gusteau said anyone can cook, but he's right! Anyone can cook, Remy is proof, so get ready to cook on date night.”

“Thanks a lot, Remy,” Max huffed, crossing his arms in defeat.

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

taglist: @scuderiahoney @lam-ila @anaviieiraaa @nebarious @chocolatepoetryfun @maxlarens @coff33andb00ks @katsu28 @sof1shticated @viikysmile @scuderiarossa @littlegrapejuice @alexxavicry @priopp123

if you would like to be added to my taglist, please refer to this post!

[the-real-couchrat]

Post ending / rescue AU / recovering Curly is everything to me, so I’m making a list of other people’s posts that feature him. (The links will connect to a reblog of them in case anything ever happens to the original post)

If anyone ever see’s posts like these ones, PLEASE tag me in a reblog!! All posts are welcome, not just art!

Please note that I don’t decide what to add to this list based on shipping, opinions on the metaphors in the game, the accuracy of burn scars, the morality of Curly, or anything else that causes discourse in the fandom. I just add any posts that I come across that include Curly recovering from his injuries in any way. Prosthetics, wheelchair, wig, crutches, It just needs to have him in better shape than when he first got injured.

No NSFW

(Also this post is edited to add new ones when I find them)

Rehabilitated Curly

Party with no Jimmy

Stand around in medbay party (Idk if this counts, but he has prosthetics so I'm saying it does)

Happy abortion!

Post-ending speculation (text)

20 years later (I AM NOT WORTHY TO LOOK UPON THIS WITH MY MERE MORTAL EYES)

ANYA’S GRADUATION DAY

Post ending

Rescue/Recovery AU

My own post! (text)

Aftermath Curly

Good ending

Best way to approach captain’s disability?

A little sketch

They care

“I wouldn’t want to frighten her”

Anya doesn’t quite overdose

They’re safe

Guys rate my fanart

WWI face prosthetics

Less fucked up Curly AU

Fix-it type AU

Silly recovering time

Curly got some gifts for his b-day

Imagine Curly survived (twitter)

Curly with a service dog

I’m not a dog and you’re not a mare

Drawing the dentalcare crew (does this count?)

The quality will not be questioned

Fix-it AU

Want to make Curly some cool new mechanical hands so he can strangle Jimmy

One can dream

He’s got a wig now

Happy ending where they all survive (devianart)

It hurt my heart (twitter)

God forbid I get sick (translated?)

This might be controversial but… (text)

Let’s get you out of the house!

Cyberpunk AU

Cartoons with breakfast

Old-school surgeries (text)

Post-ending fic prompt (text)

Post-rescue AU curlyana

Post-rescue curlyana part two

Why is this goddamn white boy so hard to draw?

Captain stop infodumping the baby

Maybe never forgive

Draw Captain Curly having a prosthetic limb

Curly from Mouthwashing (good ending)

This is how I imagine Curly post OP

whats the worse fate, whatd be better for the tulpar crew

Wip

🐈

Mouthwashing AU (Reddit)

Curly if he survives (Reddit)

My own art

I’ll give him smoochies, prosthetics, and skin grafts

Art dump time✨

Hoppin on da trendin train

The crew built curly a mechanical hand

How to give Captain Curly a voice (idk if this technically counts, but it’s a disability aid so I will)

Doodle of the Tulpar crew post-rescue!

New hyperfixation just dropped

Hi Tumblr. Funny seeing you here

Another rehabilitated Curly

Who up washing they mouth rn

Don’t use the dog buttons (text)

Haunted part one and two

Prosthetics

AU were someone saves them

Mouthwashing doodles

A New Ladder-Reader x Curly (I’ll add the original art videos when I can) (also I didnt read it. if someone did read it, please let me know if it’s SFW)

I know he always have his headphones on

More rehabilitated Curly✨

You guys like this right

Anya, what’s it like working as a medic on a spaceship?

This is how we can still get the good ending

“I’m sorry Anya”

More cringe mouthwashing art be upon thee

Curly’s happy (and recovering) ending

Writing an AU of mouthwashing where the crew survives

Most people seem to be giving him prosthetics…

Doing a bit of study

2

Ladonb Kokosa (TikTok account, LOTS of great videos )

Giving the mouthwashing characters what they deserve (TikTok)

Edit: I am no longer seeking out these posts, and new ones will only be added if I’m tagged or such

[blippymilk]

Brozone (+ Poppy & Viva) x Touch Starved Fem! Reader

Ok the request is that the reader is a touch starved, easily flustered, insecure yet passionate female. Her hair can change based on how she’s feeling. She likes to rant and info dump a lot. She likes drawing herself and her loved ones, and gives small gifts as a form of affection or to make them feel better. There will be a friend and s/o version.

(I’m also really sorry if this is not to the liking of the request, I kind of struggled while making this 😭)

John Dory:

Friend:

- As your friend he’s a little concerned for you

- Like he knows your fine but sometime he worries 😭

- But nothing JD can’t handle

- Genuinely enjoys your little gifts but he never makes it obvious at first

“Hey JD look I made you a little gift.” :)

“Oh that’s sweet. Can you put it on my desk? I’ll look at it later.”

- One day him and his brothers were rough housing around while you Poppy, and Viva stood by cheering them on. Bruce gets a little too rough with him and knocks something out of his jacket, it was your gift

- This man stops everything

- Like everything

- Like everyone’s frozen in place no matter what stance they’re in

- And picks it up and places it gently back in the pockets inside his jacket then lectures the boys about how he could’ve gotten his belongings crushed 😭

S/O:

- Still worries about you even after being together

- Sometimes the way your emotions change with your hair startles him

- And that���s mostly because your emotions can change rapidly

- But he also finds it really funny

- So prepare for his scare attacks

- Your hair gets so spiky, and you get so mad

“Oh come on I was only playing around babe. Tell you what, I’ll find a better way to mess with your hair.”

- And he did, which was by flustering you with comments that boost your confidence

- Your face turns red and your hair poofs up then falls around your head

- You’re always muttering a lot just like Viva and Poppy and JD finds it hilarious that him, Branch, and Clay are in the same boat (not saying Clay and Viva are not dating jus to clarify 😭)

Floyd:

Friend:

- Loves having a friend that’s the complete opposite of him

- He’ll listen to you rant all day

- With feedback on every question and statement

- Also finds your hair amusing but won’t abuse it’s power on purpose like John 😭

- Shocked by your passion to draw

“Is that me and you?”

“You know it.”

“I love it.” 🥹

S/O:

- Absolutely head over heels for you

- Still would be into listening to you rant but he’s helping you calm down a bit more

- Now your drawings had a more romantic reference behind them and he loved them even more

- No matter where he goes he always has one of your pictures on him

- He carries it around and values it like cash

- And absolutely none of his (little) brothers are getting their hands on it (yes he’s aware that they’re all adults now)

Spruce Bruce

Friend:

- He’s an expert on hair so he’s not too shocked or anything

- I mean look at that fluff on his head

- Seeing as Bruce could handle so many kids in the movie I believe he could deal with a ranting partner just fine

- He knows how to avoid frustration with you

S/O:

- Finds everything you do cute (c’mon it’s Bruce)

- He loves your arts & crafts

- Probably more than you

- Just like John he likes to you see you flustered with that big frizz on your head

- Your hair is constantly poofy because this man never stopsssss

“Hey (____) did it hurt when you fell?”

“Huh?”

“When you fell. From heaven?”

“Bruce you’re litteraly gonna kill me and my hair…”

- Definitely helps you get the knots out afterward 😭

Clay:

Friends:

- He hangs around Viva so the rambling is nothing new to him

- Always tries to hide you from Viva because he knows you two would be a unstoppable force ( plus poppyyyyy?!?)

- Hates when you feel insecure in any kind of way possible

- So just like you leave him little sketches, he leaves little notes of affirmations for you to read

- And makes you read them

- Outloud

“I am so pretty, beautiful, smart, talente- Clay do I have to keep-”

“Keep going.”

“Ok but-”

- Extremely intense eye contact

sighhhhhhhh “I am talented, I am kind, I am loyal…”

S/O:

- One of the most respectful boyfriends in the world

- Eventually gives in and let’s you and Viva mingle (possibly a bad descion!!??)

- Astonished by what your hair is capable of (can’t show his excitement tho cause he’s not a fun boy anymore right?)

- He is a words of affection (and physical touch sjejkemsjks) kinda guy so as your boyfriend he’s all you could ask for

- So now your attached to this man like glue and it’s kind of his fault

- Has to pry you off sometime but he will never stop loving you the same

“I love youuuuuu.”

“I love youuuuuu too.”

Branch:

Friend:

- Just like Clay he’s friends with Poppy so he’s used to the talking behavior (no Boppy in thissss 😔)

- You guys didn’t exactly hit it off at first either

- You met him during his “no color” era so that makes most of the sense

- ntgl when he first finds out about your hair he’s thrown off

- And the other trolls had so much fun with it that he considered you a distraction from the bergens soooo he wasn’t too fond of you

- And it takes a while but eventually you both become inseparable

“You hated me for no reason, and now I’m your favorite.”

“Yeah yeah.”

S/O:

- He’s growing as in character development

- So now instead of getting upset he uses your hair to read you

- He never really knows when he’s doing anything right or wrong as far as the relationship so he depends on your hair to know which path to take

- Your info dumping soothes him, wether he likes it or not

- He plays it off subtly but he knows how to fluster you and he takes pride in that (*AHEM* SINGING)

Poppy:

Friend:

- Doesn’t even realize that you’re rambling cause she’s doing it too

- You both are a special duo that at one point drove Branch up a tree (no pun intended)

- As much as the trolls like you, they don’t realize how actually dangerous you two could be together 😭

- And you can imagine the fear on Branch’s face when he finds out Viva and Poppy are sisters

S/O:

- Everyone knows Poppy is a scrapbooking master so when she begins to receive little arts and crafts from you she’s in love

- Like she’s bouncing off the wall excited

- Literally (it’s Poppy)

- She’s superrr touchy-feely so your living your best life

- Your hair is so fun and amusing to her

- Like JD she might try to scare you a couple times to see your hair spike up for fun but cuddles you after

“I’m sorry sweetieeee you know I can’t help it. Your hair is just so fun!”

“Poppyyyy you say that everytimeeee!”

Viva:

Friends:

- Basically Poppy’s doppelgänger so what can you expect?!

- Always rambling but somehow always manages to do it more than you

- She might just be you plus Poppy times five

- Clay tried to help you hide your hair for the sake of you and Viva

- Unfortunately she popped up out of nowhere startling you both and causing your hair to go erratic

“So so sorry guys I didn’t mean to…OMG YOUR HAIR!”

S/O:

- Everything you could ask for from a girlfriend

- Like she literally could not have given you anymore

- She loves your art works

- She loves to hear you talk and join in with you

- She loves the touchy-feely type

- She literally can’t find a single flaw in you whatsoever

[bloos-bloo]

HELLOOO!! I HAVE RETURNED- ANDDD Idk how to do lineups- please- this is a new type of embarrassing for me lmaooo-

BUT HEY! BISHOP REDESIGNS PART…. 3! YIPPEEE-

I didn’t change much lore wise- so the original sheet still has some info- but I will be info dumping under the cut with the individual art of each and like- my inspirations for them.

Narinder changed a lot- ummm he’s such a slay now. Omggg- Tee hee- Anyways, His pronouns are He/Him and he’s Pansexual- yes yes. He’s no longer a disciple but he’s an Undertaker and a GraveWatcher. Thought it was more fitting for him-

Ummm he’s based off a Kurilian Bobtail cat :D I NEEDED TO MAKE HIM FUN TO DRAW OKKK?? AND NOW HE ISSS AKDBDJDBJD

Leshy uses He/Him pronouns and he’s gay demisexual Yaaayyy- :D He’s a bartender and occasionally farms, but he rather destroy the plots for fun or eat the crops.

I kinda took all kinds of inspirations for him- ummm first of all- I based him off the Moss Creeps from hollow knight- cause yeah- they’re adorable. HE HAS LESS CLOTHING CAUSE HES ALWAYS IN THE DIRT- Less clothes = Less of a hassle to deal with clothing being restrictive. It makes totallyyy sense- yes yes

Me accidentally making Heket my favorite- tee hee- WIBDKDBD OK- Heket uses She/Her pronouns and she’s aroace. She has no time for no MAN OR WOMAN- AS SHE SHOULD!! GIRLBOSS YOUR WAY THROUGH LIFE!! YIPPPEEEE- She’s usually a cook but once a while she’ll go on missions. Give her a weapon of any kind and she’s golden.

For the life of me- I cannot draw frogs- so I based her off of the Chinese Giant Salmander- just pretend she’s totally based off a frog.

Imma be so honest- idk why I always draw Kallamar so small- tee hee-

OK! Kallamar’s transfeminine who uses He/They pronouns. They’re also poly <3 love that for himmm- look at themmm- enough hands to holddd- A good think to point out is that they’re completely blind in his left eye- (looks like it’s right in this- um.. trust me-) they can never win- tee hee. Uhh he’s still a medic and occasionally helps at the tailors.

Kallamar my beloved- YOU COVERED UP!! YIPPEEE- THE SLUT DOES GET COLD /silly. Um- he’s based off a diamond squid- kinda sorta- I just loved the frills those squids had- tee hee-

MURRAAAA- MUURRAAAA-

Cough cough- ummmm. Shamura’s a demisexual nonbinary <3 (AFAB to FTN- me projecting PLEASE-) They’re still a disciple but their main focus is usually in the library or tailors. Unlike Kal- their second set of arms are retractable! Along with their legs- erm, you can tell when they don’t want to walk with those small ass feet- I bet it hurts.

I have- no solid inspiration for Shamura other than tarantula- I did steal the colored beads from my human design of them. Each bead being their sibling. I just love fluffy spiders-

FINALLY THIS BITCH- /silly

Emery uses all pronouns and is unlabeled! They love whoever- (do they even love? Idk man-) She’s normally known as the Shepard, carrying around the Shepard’s hook.. love that for them- tee hee- uhhh not much to say about her. I just love Emery- (The difference between the two Emerys is terrifying btw-)

Like Shamura- I have no official inspiration for them besides looking around Pinterest. Man- I just love how she came out though- like??? Ekdbdjbdkdbdjdvdid-

I wish I wrote more but my brain is dying- I’ll most definitely redesign my fankids and the spouses- 🫡 laaatteerrr- yes yes- tee hee-

[seeker-ophelia]

Ophelia’s Review, Part Two: Thedas, The Dragon Age System

Some things I need to get off my chest.

One. This does not feel like a Dragon Age game.

Two. That doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.

Three. I have a lot of feelings right now but I’ll come back when my brain has re-hydrated itself.

(I finished Veilguard at 10PM on Monday, and wrote this the morning after. And its still true, 5 days later.)

TLDR at the bottom

[Read Part 1 Here]

I do miss the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events games.

[Photo Cred: Dumped, Drunk & Dalish]

Because Veilguard is missing all of that.

Listen, it’s good. Great even. I loved it. Cried. Laughed. Dropped my controller and paced around the room for 5 minutes in anger and angst. Drank a bottle of wine in the bathtub after Solavellan’s happy ending (and my Rooks sad one). But this is not a Dragon Age game.

It is Dragon Age ADJACENT. Similar of course. The backbone is there. The direction, the vector, is there. But the execution…

Dragon Age (Origins through Inquisition) for me, was A Song of Ice and Fire. I love that series.

It was deep. It was harsh. It was MEAN. If offered me hope and then snatched it away. The world-building, the lore crafting, was intense and deep and required attention and critical thought. The characters were nuanced and troubled and real.

Veilguard, for me, is Eragon.

I also loved that series. It is pure and good and takes me on a journey through a fantastical land of dragons and heroes, of good versus evil, of mysteries and magic. But, it is juvenile. Its simple. It doesn’t try to be anything other than it is. Veilguard, is shallow.

The essence is there, beneath the surface Veil, pressing and bursting at the seams to escape, but is being held back by a gentrification of Thedas, the Tranquility of the Dragon Age world, if you would.

The Lore

I don’t want to go into to much about it (its going to be its own post, I think), but I love the lore of Dragon Age. I love learning about it. I love the questions, the pervasive theme that history is only as true as the historians who write it; things get lost, muddled, confused through and over time. And Veilguard, kind of feels like I’m being spoonfed? Like I’m a baby.

I think EA did BioWare a disservice by making this game for new players, instead of assuming that RPG players have the intelligence and wherewithal to comprehend at least a little bit of lore and history, or at the very least, introduce a cannon world state. You can have your cake and eat it to, but, as Veilguard shows, it diminishes the quality of the cake as a whole.

This game is an Action RPG. This is a game about combat. For the record, the first, second, third, 17th time I saw my Rook in their Takedown Animation, I said, out loud, ‘Dragon Age, G.O.T.Y.’ I swore at my inability to time dodges properly, I planned and schemed with primers and detonators and damage types. This is very reminiscent of The Witcher and Assassins Creed, for me (I have not played a ton of games, im sure there are others more like it). It was fun, it was challenging. But. This is not Dragon Age. Its Something Else™.

Dragon Age: Dark Origins

When people say Dragon Age is a dark game, they’re not talking about the gameplay, or the graphics, or the art direction.

Dragon Age deals with dark subject matter. Slavery. Racism. Religion. Politics. Power dynamics. Mages versus Templars. Addiction. Death. War. An unstoppable contagion that deals death indiscriminately. THAT’S what makes Dragon Age Dark.

These stories are deep. They’re hard. And yeah, they weren’t always handled properly (lookin’ at you, Gaider), but doing something wrong… looks like it might actually be better than pretending it doesn’t exist.

As a Sollavellan, I’m unspeakably glad they didn’t yassify Solas. He is still an unlikable character who has committed unspeakable war crimes. And we got a redemption arc that did not end in death. That’s a win for me.

But they kept his darkness at the expense of lightening literally EVERYTHING ELSE in Thedas.

What the fuck happened to Zevran’s Crows? I got the Puss-in-Boots-Found-Family Assassin Agency.

Where are the slaves in Minrathous? Where’s the trip to the upper city, gilded and clean, so we can compare it to the slums of Dock Town (which was not bad at all). Where is the “Rescue the Rabbits” Quest? Tevene Politics boils down to Dorian or Mave, “bad” or “good,” change from within, or power to the people.

The whole Qunari are just Bad™ now? The Antaam warriors turned into… what the fuck is even that? You know the advertising theory where women’s bodies are shown but not their heads or faces? This feels like that. Giant Grey Muscular Powerful Bodies with NoFace. THAT’S the Antaam? The Tamassrins really eliminate every embodiment of individuality from them? They’re just Storm Troopers?

And ‘Thal’enaste, what a lost plot thread to not have Lace and Solas meet in the deep roads, or Kal-Sharok, or fucking anywhere. Instead, you give her one little blurb of “companion banter.” Weak.

Where’s the racism towards the Elves? What happened to that? What happened to Dark Thedas? Oh, its actually all in the South, and thats destroyed now (lets put a pin in that for a minute).

The Companions

I have written and re-written this section 3 times. Its too long. I don’t need to mention them all. How to summarize them.

If you read my part 1, you’ll remember how I fell in love with Dragon Age 2, years after its release (after playing Inquisition, in fact), and how I fucking hard I fell for those very real, very troubled, very nuanced characters.

Anders and his quest for freedom, Fenris and his quest for vengeance. Merrill and her quest for knowledge, Isabella and her quest for… other cultures relics, I guess?

I hated the graphics in 2. It was the characters that carried that game. I don’t know how BioWare wrote them, but they failed to do that in VG.

My favourite character in Inquisition? Surprisingly, its not Solas. Its not even Cole, or the Iron Bull, or Dorian.

Its Cassandra.

I love her. Her story is SO complex. Her devotion to the Seekers, to the Andrastian Faith, is so pure, yet it does not impede her friendship with a Dalish elf who believes in gods that she does not. It does not stop her form forming close bonds with other people from different backgrounds, and although she is fearless in calling out the darkness in her own faith, its sins and its rot, she admits to her Herald that she is envious of the Heralds conviction.

Which character in Veilguard has that nuance?

The necromancer afraid of death? The Elvhen Engineer with ADHD? The literal Demon of Vyantium Puss-In-Boots? The smirking detective? The questioning Qunari? Or the gruff monster daddy?

Listen. I read trash. Smut, romantasy... I read objectively bad literature, for fun, all the time. And, I have a fantastic imagination. It is my own personal fleshing out of theses characters that saved me in this game.

But I should not have had to do that.

The Keep

I cannot explain to you, in words, how important those one-off codices and cameos are.

(Don’tThinkAboutIsabela Don’tThinkAboutIsabela Don’tThinkAboutIsabela).

*Grimaces* Okay.

I can speak no more about this. I am already writing a “Keep” DLC for Veilguard.

I would have rather lived in your world state than this abomination. Which leads me to…

‘The Soft Reboot’

So. The South is Gone. That’s the answer. The Hero of Ferelden. Hawke and their siblings. Everything is wiped clean, just as EA asked. All of the South, turned to the Hissings Wastes and the Anderfels, because of the Blight and the hubris of the Gods. What a tragedy. DA5 looks likes its overseas. Cool.

You know what would have been a better reboot?

Spite, taking over Lucanis’ body, walking through the Ossuary, or the catacombs of Minrathous, explaining to Rook how the heavy emotions of People manifest in the fade. The birth of a spirit. Or a demon.

Taash, meeting a spirit face to face in Arlathan, recoiling in disgust, until they help the spirit on its journey, and Taash begins to question their whole worldview surrounding demons. I- I mean spirits.

Emmerich, taking Rook on a lecture-walk through the fade, meeting spirits, solving puzzles, ‘you know, its not so bad in here, what’s the big deal?’

Bellara, instead of discovering Cyrian only to lose him, meets the demon formed of his death, and how to help him back into a spirit.

Neve, following a trail of wisps in the fade, learning things, memories, feelings, songs. Neve, reveling in the pure beauty of the wisps, until they lead her to Vir Dirthara, and her eyes grow wide, what is this place?

Davrin and Assan, after hard training in the High Anderfels, take a break, and while Rook and Davrin flirt, or joke, Assan finds a long string, and begins to play, the string growing and lengthening and thickening until a soft, feminine whisper fills the air, I Am So Sorry… And Rook and Davrin meet a strange spirit, a perfect combination of protection and regret, and they help her find her way home.

Harding, palms flat on the stone, pushing, working, threading her magic into a titan, tilting her face up to Rook, eyes shining blue, speaking in a thousand voices at once, let me show you what was lost, and for a millisecond, we FEEL Isatunoll.

The Dwarvhen was tranquil’d from their Memories, but the Elvhen were tranquil’d from the Fade.

And when Solas turns from Rook in Minrathous, I am sorry for this final betrayal, he is puzzled at the lack of retaliation, and turns to see the Veilguard, standing behind Rook, eyes locked on the giant eye-shaped rift in the sky.

Why are you not stopping me? He asks the group of misfits.

And Rook answers, I can admit when I was wrong. Tear it the fuck down.

And Solas, battered, bruised, and bloody, smiles, brandishes his ritual dagger with a flashy flip, banishes the blight, and tears down the Veil.

When I learned there were only going to be 3 choices carried over from the rest of the series into Veilguard, I tagged my complaint posts with something.

#You Cannot Dangle A Carrot In Front Of Me For 10 Years And Then Not Be Surprised At My Anger In Discovering It Was A Painted Dowel

Let me reiterate. I enjoyed this game. It was fun for me. I’m in the middle of my second playthrough and am planning a third, and a fourth. But this is NOT a Dragon Age game.

This is an EA game. And its good. But it could have been everything.

Bellanaris.

TLDR;

How torn I feel; lobotomized, rendered tranquil, separated from the memories, lore, and spirits, of the old Dragon Age, while still, like the Veilguard, wanting this world to endure.

Var lath vir suledin, BioWare.

For now.

[temtamtom]

Fuck it, I’m taking out the trash. Here’s a dump of sketches and some perpetual WIPs that are sitting in my procreate files. A few of these are from well over a year ago 😭 I’ve actually posted a few of these WIPs before, only to promptly delete them out of insecurity (at least I think I did. Some might still be up and I just forgot lol). I’m trying to be less shy about my art, even the caca sketches- so I’m pulling them back out of the abyss.

Some context/explanations for the drawings under the cut:

1st page:

- An exploration of a young Ludwig. He came out more baby-faced than I originally planned, so let’s just say he’s like. 12. Or something. Bro should be playing Fortnite 😩

- I think this is from a year ago- it’s a Björn from one of Grem’s AUs (which is why he’s got all those scars, rest in piss)

2nd page:

This is one of the WIPs I posted and then deleted immediately after. At least I think I did, I can’t seem to find it on my blog. Anyways, I sketched this while exploring how the itabros drifted apart as they grew. This particular one-shot is set during Holy Rome’s funeral, and Romano is conflicted on how (or even IF) he should approach Feli. Should he comfort him? It might be awkward, but that’s his brother so he SHOULD say something, right? Would he even be that helpful? It hurts to see him cry, but he’s already surrounded by so many people, it might just be redundant. God this is so awkward and difficult and and and-

3rd page:

Woe, Venetican be upon ye. Thinking of Pietro’s more sentimental, softer side. The part of him that yearns for something genuine with Feliciano, but would never dare to cross that line. He’s scared of what his feelings mean and if he thinks about it too much he might just shatter. If you’re wondering why Feli is blurry, my idea was to imitate a camera focal lens and have it “focus” on Pietro’s face solely. Sadly, despite the blur, I didn’t like Vene’s face so I just moved on to other things FBGHF

4th page:

- This started off as a study from a photo and then ofc I hetalia-fied it by turning it into Sebastiano. He’s just a littol guy…

- Another oldie. VERY old and very rough, from well over a year ago. This was from a historical story/one-shot idea where Romano’s on a Not-Date with Alfred, and he breaks the news that he’s going back to Italy. They’re not a couple, and they won’t be for a long time. It’s very rough but ngl I like how Romano’s face turned out

- Another historical one-shot idea- this time about Gaul and François. I already posted a sketch of lil France from this comic a few weeks ago, but I don’t think I showed any Gaul panels. Here he’s talking to a Druid, who comments on François’ peculiar nature, and tells Vindiorix to hold onto him before he inevitably slips from his fingers. Soon enough, François would live under Rome’s care as “Gallia Narbonensis”. He would eventually embrace his new Roman identity, and his loyalty would shift (both out of genuine respect, and for survival)- inevitably drifting away from his father. I wasn’t happy with the dialogue, so I left it on the back burner for another day.

I’ve been thinking a lot about François’ childhood. His relationships with Vindiorix and Rome, his loyalties, his turmoils, his regrets. There’s more I’d like to say, and I would love to make a more in-depth post about it, but uni has fried my brain and it’s become difficult to string a coherent thought or sentence together. One day, though! I love those two so much augh they tickle my brainnnn

——

Pls excuse any errors or awkward phrasing, I’m genuinely running on fumes 😭 </3 At least I’ll be on break soon YAYAA. Anyways if y’all wanna yap about any of this stuff, my inbox is open. I’ve got a few lovely asks I need to finish answering too aaaa sorry y’all

[fangdokja]

General + Request Rules and Regulations

Please refer to this post on the only characters I will write for: Fandoms and Characters.

The request and asks rules are applicable to two books ONLY:

"World Ablaze: For You, I Would Burn the World." - for fanfiction yanderes

“A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology” - for original yanderes

But I do have other books you can check out, if you want to look for more content suited for you.

────────────

General Conduct

Messages that do not follow the rules will be ignored and deleted (or worst case, blocked).

Fix your profile, and do not look like a bot. If you follow me and look like a bot, you will be automatically blocked and reported.

Do not spam the inbox. Requests will not be taken if there is consistent spam. This only applies to the same request (same content, same character), but multiple different requests are welcomed.

If you want to remain anonymous, please specify explicitly.

I do not do follow to follow social media strategies, or anything related to it.

Do not send hate mail or nonsense offensive messages. Doing so will get an automatic block. This applies to not just the author, but in the community. (e.g. negative spamming, reblogs for hunting the blog, hateful comments, personal attacks, etc.)

Critical feedback is welcomed, but not when it's unsubstantial or simply fallacious arguments (fallacies).

Other irrelevant asks include petitions for donations, spreading information on concepts, blogs, people, religious slander, topics unrelated to the blog, etc.

No trauma dumping in any part of the blog, whether inbox or comment sections. You will be automatically blocked with your comments deleted {Trauma dumping refers to sharing one's traumatic past experiences all at once, without considering how it might impact the listener or if the timing is appropriate.}.

Spreading general negativity is unwelcome here (e.g. kink shaming, non-critical self-righteous comments and behavior). I'm neither a licensed physician nor psychologist. Neither is social media the best way to cope with your issues. Though, for me, number one way is Jesus and the Bible all the way to help. Just try it, instead of relying on a world that doesn't care about you. Kind of cold, but it's reality, especially if you have no benefits to offer in return.

The blog is dedicated to mostly male yandere + dead dove + psychological content. And the occasional Jesus appreciation posts and content (though this blog is dedicated to God, of course).

Do not rush me. I will have the freedom to choose what request to finish first. So, just because you asked earlier doesn’t mean I’ll get it done straight away (especially if it’s NSFW and explicit sex). Art and writing takes time, effort, brainstorming, lots of thinking in general. I want to submit quality work, not rushed faulty work. And you’ll just annoy me if you rush me. I have a life outside of writing.

NSFW requests will ALWAYS take longer to finish, even more so, if it's explicit sex. {I specialize in psychological and fantasy writing. I suck at romance and erotica genres the most out of all writing. I can do it, but it pales in comparison to my other original works. I'm using my current works to practice for these genres to add to my original epic story.}

I ALWAYS schedule work in advanced. Stories you read presently I finished over two weeks to a month ago. So when you make requests, possible times to receive it is around that time frame or longer.

Why? I always have a packed post schedule that I fill in with oldest finished works to newest works after. I always strive to get the post schedule month done before the month even begins. Patience is key here. If you can’t wait, don’t make a request.

Request Rules

I will still have the final decision on whether to make the content explicit; or just enumerated or hinted at content, if you are requesting NSFW.

I mainly designed these books to be a more lighthearted experience in general, but it can still be subject to change depending on what the readers want.

I will still have the final decision on how to conduct your request. I will do my best to make it as accurate as you want as possible, but I will make no promises. As the author, I’ll have the final say, and have the option to accept, reject, or edit it for the final output.

One-word requests will be ignored. You can add a prompt, specific short idea, or anything concise but substantial extra content to let me know how you want the story to go.

More importantly, requests that are overly specific (like fully fleshed out stories and long paragraphs) will be majorly deleted due to the lack of freedom given to me as an author.

I will only be accepting requests sent to my tumblr inbox. Requests in Messages or anywhere else will be deleted and ignored.

Each person can only send me 2 requests at once. Otherwise, the following requests will be deleted.

In my header request button, it will say if requests are open or not. If it's closed, don't message me about content related to opening it or not. Refer to the rules here.

Lastly, I do not have to reply to your request message. It's optional for me to do so.

────────────

What I will not be writing:

Anything that is meant to portray inaccuracies and degrade anything related to Jesus.

I will NEVER write about characters that remind me of my real life husband. It’s extremely uncomfortable and awkward. (To name a few: e.g. Toji from JJK, Yoo Joonghyuk from ORV, Aomine Daiki from KNB, Sung Jinwoo from SL, Wriothesley from GI, Callisto Regulus from VADTD, most ‘black flag’ or red flag manhwa MLs).

Some characters remind of me of real life people too much, like for example, most “soft” and “green flag characters”. Reminds me of my friend’s boyfriend. And that person is gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. It’s fricking weird. But in general, most reasons I don’t write certain characters is because it reminds me too much of people I know in real life.

Anything to do with adultery, cheating, infidelity. Loyalty (especially in the obsession phase) is one of the non-negotiable base foundations of the yandere. This also includes yanderes having no other love interest or obsession (e.g. dead past wives and spouses that they “cherish”) before the female reader.

Anything with pregnancy or children (don't trust me to keep those children safe from injury and death / tumblr policy). Including pregnancy fetishism, abortions, etc.

Sexual and Suggestive Content with Minors (tumblr policy). If the character is not of 18 years, they will be aged up.

Anything that romanticizes LGBTQ+. I will only be writing for a female reader and male yandere character, straight couples only for romance especially.

No polyamorous relationships, but love angles and love interest competitions are fine.

No divorce requests. Break-up (boyfriend x girlfriend) requests are allowed.

No requests for submissive puppy or any submissive men in general, including switches.

I do not write gentle sex, only rough possessive domineering sex. And only dub-con and non-con situations, no consensual scenarios here.

I do not write consensual SFW stories as well, all of it is either dub con, non con, or psychological in nature. Dead Dove generally.

I do not write older female tropes (e.g. MILF). I either write younger female reader or do not specify the age at all. At most, I usually write 18 to early 20’s reader.

I do not write tall, muscular, buff, or chubby female readers. I only write tiny, short, thin readers (and pale skinned), or do not specify the height and build (or skin color) at all.

I do not write strong female protagonists. Like overpowered ones especially. For all my other works, except for my original epic story, I only write weak, submissive females. It’s because I focus on the male yandere’s perspective in my stories.

You are not allowed to specify how I will write the female protagonist. This will be entirely up to me.

I will not be taking requests for character or reader death scenes. Attempted death attempts or scenarios are allowed.

No Genderbent characters. No crossdressing (also includes femboys, and other concepts related to it).

No Platonic yanderes, only Romantic yanderes, if human. But, if it's monsters, animals, etc. then I can do platonic yanderes (unless stated otherwise, like Undertale AU's, where I can make romantic yanderes ; but most of the time, I will not make romantic yandere non-human appearance monsters).

Other Kinks I will not write about:

No Acrotomophilia.

No Abasiophilia.

No Balloon Fetish.

No Bestiality / Zoophilia

No Bug Chasing.

No CBT (cock and ball torture).

No CFNM (clothed female / naked male).

No Climacophilia.

No Clown Fetish.

No consensual anal sex.

No Crush Fetish

No cuckolding.

No DIY Porn or consensual pornography.

No fetish for disfigurement and/or permanent bodily injury. (non-con actions are permitted).

No body fetishes (e.g. Foot Fetishism).

No Ederacinism.

No Figging.

No Gender Bending.

No Gerontophilia.

No Group Sex.

No Hebephilia.

No Hirsute Fetish.

No Hotwifing.

No Knismolagnia.

No Latex Fetish.

No Nylon Kink.

No Objectum Sexuality / Objectum Kink.

No Pedophilia.

No Praise Kink.

No Pantyhose Fetish.

No Robot Fetishism (unless for psychological aspects like controversies)

No Sex Parties.

No Spectrophilia and anything ghost-related.

No Stygiophilia.

No Tentacles.

No Teratophilia. (romantic and suggestive moments are allowed; no explicit sexual content for non-human like monsters)

No Trichophilia.

No Vicarphilia (only allowed for psychological aspects).

No Vomit Fetish.

No Vore (non-con cannibalism is fine though).

No Yoni Egg.

────────────

What I can write (but not limited to), non-taboo / SFW:

Important Notes

I only write older male yanderes, age gap where the male love interest is older. It can be by just a few years to generational age differences. Yes. Daddies only.

I mainly write Dominant + Sadistic + Black Flag + Daddy please choke me more vibes. I can also write red flag characters as well, but mainly black flag yanderes that can and will kill you.

I specialize in the psychological genre. It's why a lot of my works revolve around that aspect, along with thriller and horror. I'm currently practicing romance and erotica (two of my worst genres).

Romance requests are only allowed to be in the "dark romance" genre at most. Comedy, slice-of-life, healing, fluffy, happiness won't be found here.

Plot Ideas

Reverse Harems: I can write reverse harems, but the reader can only end up with one guy in one ending (can have multiple endings).

────────────

Themes I can write (but not limited to), NSFW kinks:

Specify if dub-con, or non-con (consensual requests not allowed).

24/7 arrangement

Age Play (older love interest / male yandere only)

Anilingus (non-con only)

Autassassinophilia

Autoerotic asphyxiation

BDSM

Blood Kink / Blood Play

Blindfold Sex

Breath Play

Bondage

Breeding Kink (not for pregnancy and children purposes)

Cannibalism

Claustrophilia

Consensual non-consent

DDLG

Dominance

Dirty Talk

DIY Porn (non-con only)

Edge Play

Electrostimulation

Erotic Asphyxiation

Erotic Humiliation

Erotophonophilia

Exhibitionism

FinDom

Fisting

Frotteurism

Food Play

Gagging

Golden Showers

Humiliation

Hybristophilia

Hypnokink

Impact Play

Interrogation Play

Japanese Bondage

Katoptronophilia

Masochism

Money Kink

Necrophilia

Needle Play (non-con only)

Objectification

Orgasm Control

Overstimulation

Ownership Kink

Pet Play

Primal Kink / Primal Play

Public Sex

Pyrophilia

Rape

Role Play

Rope Bondage

Size Kink (larger, taller male yandere only with tiny, thin darling)

Somnophilia

Symphorophilia

Temperature Play

Urophilia

Underwear

Voyeurism

Whips

Wet and Messy

Wax Play

────────────

Themes I can write (but not limited to), controversial / taboo :

Hate, Discrimination & Oppression:

Bullying

Classism

Cyberbullying

Poverty

Sexism & misogyny

Slavery & indentured servitude

Slut-shaming

Workplace harassment

Sex and Sexual Violence:

Dubious consent scenarios

Gang Rape (reader not allowed to specify which characters)

Incest (aged up)

Necrophilia

Rape

Revenge Pornography

Sexual Assault

Sexual Harassment

Sex Trafficking

Sex-worker Shaming

Sex Work & Sex Slavery

Abuse and Relationships:

Arranged, Forced & Coerced Marriage

Domestic Abuse & Violence

Emotional Abuse

Incest (aged up)

Intimate Partner Abuse & Violence

Mental Health and Suicide:

Addiction

Amnesia & memory disorders

Anxiety & anxiety attacks

Bipolar Disorder

Depression

Disordered weight & body thoughts

Dissociation & dissociative episodes

Dysphoria

Eating disorders

Gambling addiction

Hallucinations

Intrusive thoughts

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Self-harm

Sex addiction

Sleep disorders

Substance addiction

Suicide & attempted suicide

Suicidal ideation

Alcohol and Drugs:

Alcohol consumption & abuse

Drug abuse

Drugging

Overdose

Blood, Injury & Medical:

Amputation

Blood & gore depiction

Body horror

Body modifications

Cannibalism

Chronic illness & chronic pain

Dead bodies & body parts

Decapitation

Dismemberment

Emesis

Eyeball trauma

Genital mutilation

Hospitalisation

Loss of autonomy

Loss of limb

Loss of vision

Medical experimentation

Medical treatment & procedures

Mutilation

Needles

Pandemics, plagues and contagions

Paralysis

Physical injuries

Physical illness

Scars

Starvation & dehydration

Surgery

Terminal illness

Weight loss & gain

Death and Loss:

Death from exposure

Death from falling

Death of a child

Death of a cousin

Death of a friend

Death of a grandparent

Death of a nephew & niece

Death of a parent & guardian

Death of a partner & spouse

Death of a sibling

Death of an aunt & uncle

Grief & loss depiction

Violence and Crime:

Asphyxia, strangulation & suffocation

Blackmail

Boating accidents

Building collapse

Captivity & confinement

Car accident

Disappearance of a loved one

Electrocution

Explosions

Fire & arson

Gang violence

Garrotting

Gun violence

Hanging & lynching

Home invasion

Hostage situation

Imprisonment & incarceration

Kidnapping

Knife, sword & axe violence

Maritime disasters

Murder & attempted murder

Organised crime

Physical assault

Plane crash

Poisoning

Police brutality & violence

School/workplace shooting

Stalking

Torture

Train accidents

Vitriolage

Vivisepulture

Whipping

War and Genocide:

Chemical gassing & warfare

Colonialism

Concentration camp

Conscription

Genocide

Massacres & mass murder

Military service & deployment

Nuclear disaster

Riots

War themes & military violence

Animal Death and Cruelty:

Animal attack

Animal cruelty & abuse

Animal death

Animal illness & injury

Animal testing & experimentation

Hunting

[noahspaperairplane]

ALELNOAH ALENOAH ALENOAH NOAH LITTLE ALE BIG

i actually have another ask pending that’s exactly like this pending so this one willl be a headcanon dump, the other will be an art post :-)

i hope i interpreted this correctly? i’ve listed headcanons for these two already but never them as a duo. this was fun to put together

✦ alejandro (cg):

- found out noah regressed sometime after world tour

- had researched a bit on it prior, and gladly accepted to be his caretaker when he regressed around him for the first time

- (didn’t understand fully at first so he did have some minor slip ups, but he really does care and wants to make him feel better during it. they’re both learning :-) peace and love)

- definitely a user of affectionate nicknames. both languages. i am verbally disadvantaged so no examples.

- usually takes noah outside to parks or to go grocery shopping (probably tries to get away with putting noah in the cart when they do)

- doesn’t have others over often, but when he does it’s usually heather and/or cody

- rarely gets frustrated with him, and even when he does he doesn’t take it out on him, usually going to cool off before returning. father of the year

- i feel like they often have joke with each other, especially when noah’s at an older age just because they both think it’s the funniest thing ever.

📚: “can you read me another story? pleeeeeeaase?”

🪝: “well, yes, but if i do, you’ll have to give something to me in return.”

📚: “fiiiiineee, then… i’ll read you one tomorrow.”

🪝: “…hm. seems good enough to me! deal!”

(they share a handshake.)

✦ noah (reg):

- accidentally slipped around ale one day. didn’t act too significantly differently, but it was enough for him to notice. (he did NOT mean to and that was NOT how he planned for him to find out)

- he basically got quieter and more unreceptive, and when he did talk to him it was short and flat. almost like he was trying to hide something.

- was hesitant at first, but eventually grew more comfortable to having alejandro around while regressed (the only other people who had been beforehand were owen and izzy)

- i’ve mentioned my headcanons for him many times in the past. basic stuff. age range is 0-5, he’s on the laid back side but isn’t completely docile (unless at a very low age)

- fakes being asleep to be carried (alejandro knows but he does anyway)

- his most common nickname for alejandro is “jandro.” (edit, oct 30, it didn’t register when i first typed it in. oops!!!)

- isn’t often fussy or anything. easy enough to manage, even for a guy like alejandro (anger issues.)

- he’s a bit of a crybaby at times (and ale does a great job at calming him down) ((but he HAS had to begrudgingly call owen for advice at times.))

🍁: (he picks up the phone.) “hello? oh, al! it’s owen!”

🪝: “al-e-jandro. owen, i need help.”

🍁: (he gasps.) “what’s going on? are you okay? or is noah—“

📚: (he goes up to the phone, only making incoherent noises.)

🪝: “i think he left some of his stuff over at your place. do you mind if we could come over to get it? he’s really upset.”

🍁: “right, i think i’ve got it here! always ready!”

[thegreyunderstanding]

Praying Drunk

Our Father who art in heaven, I am drunk.

Again. Red wine. For which I offer thanks.

I ought to start with praise, but praise

comes hard to me. I stutter. Did I tell you

about the woman whom I taught, in bed,

this prayer? It starts with praise; the simple form

keeps things in order. I hear from her sometimes.

Do you? And after love, when I was hungry,

I said, Make me something to eat. She yelled,

Poof! You’re a casserole!—and laughed so hard

she fell out of the bed. Take care of her.

Next, confession—the dreary part. At night

deer drift from the dark woods and eat my garden.

They’re like enormous rats on stilts except,

of course, they’re beautiful. But why? What makes

them beautiful? I haven’t shot one yet.

I might. When I was twelve, I’d ride my bike

out to the dump and shoot the rats. It’s hard

to kill your rats, our Father. You have to use

a hollow point and hit them solidly.

A leg is not enough. The rat won’t pause.

Yeep! Yeep! it screams, and scrabbles, three-legged, back

into the trash, and I would feel a little bad

to kill something that wants to live

more savagely than I do, even if

it’s just a rat. My garden’s vanishing.

Perhaps I’ll merely plant more beans, though that

might mean more beautiful and hungry deer.

Who knows?

I’m sorry for the times I’ve driven

home past a black, enormous, twilight ridge.

Crested with mist, it looked like a giant wave

about to break and sweep across the valley,

and in my loneliness and fear I’ve thought,

O let it come and wash the whole world clean.

Forgive me. This is my favorite sin: despair—

whose love I celebrate with wine and prayer.

Our Father, thank you for all the birds and trees,

that nature stuff. I’m grateful for good health,

food, air, some laughs, and all the other things

I’m grateful that I’ve never had to do

without. I have confused myself. I’m glad

there’s not a rattrap large enough for deer.

While at the zoo last week, I sat and wept

when I saw one elephant insert his trunk

into another’s ass, pull out a lump,

and whip it back and forth impatiently

to free the goodies hidden in the lump.

I could have let it mean most anything,

but I was stunned again at just how little

we ask for in our lives. Don’t look! Don’t look!

Two young nuns tried to herd their giggling

schoolkids away. Line up, they called. Let’s go

and watch the monkeys in the monkey house.

I laughed, and got a dirty look. Dear Lord,

we lurch from metaphor to metaphor,

which is—let it be so—a form of praying.

I’m usually asleep by now—the time

for supplication. Requests. As if I’d stayed

up late and called the radio and asked

they play a sentimental song. Embarrassed.

I want a lot of money and a woman.

And, also, I want vanishing cream. You know—

a character like Popeye rubs it on

and disappears. Although you see right through him,

he’s there. He chuckles, stumbles into things,

and smoke that’s clearly visible escapes

from his invisible pipe. It makes me think,

sometimes, of you. What makes me think of me

is the poor jerk who wanders out on air

and then looks down. Below his feet, he sees

eternity, and suddenly his shoes

no longer work on nothingness, and down

he goes. As I fall past, remember me.

- Andrew Hudgins

[valscigarette]

Summary: How it all started for Vox and Val. (Inspired by this beautiful art by @evevsy!)

Tags: Vox/Valentino, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Canon-Typical Everything, PWP that's mostly plot, Repressed Vox, Power Plays, Background Val/Angel, Networking

Warnings: Drinking, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Background Val/Angel and all it entails, Smut.

See AO3 or DM me for more detailed tags/warnings!

WC: 9.7k | AO3

-

One thing Vox cannot be accused of is laziness. He’s given this business twenty years and counting of his afterlife. He brought television, technology, the goddamned golden age to Hell, but his era of growth has finally stalled, leaving his creativity as stagnant as the mosquito-riddled swamps Alastor adores so much.

“Excuse me, Mr. Vox?” 

If he has any hope of competing with radio, he has to come up with something. Soon. No amount of stage lights and sequins will overcome a lack of substance. For the better part of the last week, Vox has run from writer’s rooms to costume shops in a desperate search for any break to the monotony, but nothing has come to him, despite knowing he has the best eye for entertainment in Hell.

“Mr. Vox?” 

One of his assistants, newer but remarkably brave, edges into Vox's field of vision and waits to be acknowledged. As he drums his claws against his desk, their ears twitch with anxious agitation, but whatever courage allows their interruption isn’t enough for them to do more than tremble at the sight.  

“Sir?” They try again. 

“Don't bother me when I'm thinking,” Vox snaps, fully swiveling his chair to face them. “My schedule is clear until seven.”  

The assistant flinches, but takes no steps to leave. Vox flicks his hand in a shooing gesture, giving them an opportunity to rub their two braincells together and fuck off before he makes them. Nothing. Sighing, he turns fully in his chair.  

“Alright,” he sneers, electricity crackling down his antennae and through his hands, “what’s so important?” 

Holding out their clipboard like a shield, they stammer, “Your, um, schedule isn’t actually clear, sir? You’re late for the Rising Stars banquet.” When Vox stands up, they shuffle back. “Not too late, though! Fashionably late. You can definitely pull that off. Do you need a fresh suit?” 

Forgetting about the PR event of the year is almost as embarrassing as having a staff too incompetent to remind him. Tomorrow morning, Vox is going to paint the fucking floors with the blood of everyone except the demon before him.

“Of course I need a fresh fucking suit.” As they leap toward the door, Vox clears his throat. “Something nice, or I’ll feed you to my sharks.” 

“Yes, Mr. Vox. I- I'll be right back.” 

He waves them off before slumping back into his chair. Normally, Vox looks forward to the banquet; he gets to meet with overlords and demons looking for associates, while dumping the glitz and glamor on his audience. If he’s late, he’s already missed the red carpet. No one will ask him who designed his suit, shove a camera into his face for a soundbite, or get distracted by a prettier face mid-interview. Despite how exhausting the affair can be, it’s one of his biggest nights of the year, and he’s blown his entrance. All he has left are the one-on-one pitches, where Vox only has one objective at a time. He should be pissed, if not infuriated, by his own forgetfulness and his employees’ incompetence alike, but after countless hours of fruitless desperation for his next venture, he can barely muster a grimace. 

While he waits for the assistant’s return, he pulls up the guest list on one of his monitors to get an idea of how the evening will go. Most attendees this year are minor overlords with only a few souls under their belts, who should be too starstruck by VoxTek’s invitation to complain about his tardiness. Those who do are worth keeping an eye on. 

Only a few minutes later, the assistant shuffles back into his with a garment bag in their hands and a freshly polished pair of saddle shoes draped around their neck by the laces. At his desk, they unpack Vox’s clothes with practiced efficiency. At least they have taste; the suit they’ve chosen is adorned by reflective silver thread, complimenting the polished tie clip, diamond cufflinks, and starry lapel pin zipped into the accessory pouch of the garment bag. Subtle silver accents on the saddle shoes pull the entire look together.  

“That’s good,” Vox praises, shrugging off his blazer and tossing it toward the secretary. “Classy. You like fashion?” 

They fold and set aside the coat with practiced precision. “I read a lot of magazines.” 

“That's not the question I asked you.” Vox strips away his vest, button-down, and slacks too, careless about where they land in his haste to get redressed. “Do you like it?” Cool silk slides into place like a second skin. He only wears tailored, custom-made pieces these days, and it shows in the perfect fit of the collar to his neck. “Not everyone has the vision...?” Trailing off, Vox realizes he doesn’t know their name. He raises an eyebrow and holds his hand out for the next piece of his outfit, disguising the failure behind the dismissive mask they expect. “You’ll have to remind me, my dear.”

“Stanford. And I guess I’ve always been interested; you can tell a lot about someone from their clothes.” When Stanford hands Vox his tie, they gather the strength to look him in the eyes. “I love working for you, though, Mr. Vox, I promise.” 

The pin, tie-clip, and cufflinks are easy to affix while they bend to help Vox step into his new pair of shoes. “I know.” He glances at the top of Stanford’s head and considers whether the secretary would be worth fucking, if he wasn’t already late to the banquet. Getting some action could jumpstart his circuits enough to come up with an idea. “You’re more useful than the others.” They tie his shoes like it’s the most important task of the day and don’t complain when he uses their shoulder for balance. Vox appreciates the dedication. “If you’ve got dreams, I’ll make ‘em come true, Stanford. You just have to ask, you know?” 

Finally, he affixes his cufflinks and turns away from the secretary. Until he has their soul under contract, he cannot stop another overlord from worming their way into Stanford’s weak mind, and Vox needs someone he can rely on to keep a schedule,

“I’ve got to run,” he says. “Block out time in my calendar for us to talk.” 

At least the banquet is held on the fifth floor of Vox’s tower. Here, his guests enjoy the finest he can offer, from imported booze to five-star cuisine, as they cycle between schmoozing and sizing one another up for a fight. By the time he waltzes in, the social atmosphere is buzzing enough for his arrival to inspire no fanfare.  

Vox snatches a flute of champagne from a passing tray to occupy his hands as he surveys the crowd. Usually, he gives an opening speech to set the tone for the night, and he’s whisked from one conversation to another, but without announcing himself, he’s invisible in a sea of nobodies. He’s nothing.  

His invisibility shatters as a white-furred demon with one black eye—a contracted soul—glides up to Vox and taps their glasses together. “Mr. Vox? I’m a huge fan.” Startled by the squeaking Brooklyn accent, a stark contrast to the pink sweater and heart-stamped body before him, Vox doesn’t respond in time to stop the demon from excitedly shaking his hand. “The fantasies I’ve had about that desk of yours-” 

“And you would be?” Vox interrupts, subtly wiping his palm on his coat when it’s released. He has to play nice; this is a fan, after all. 

Grinning toothily, the demon places his lower set of hands on his hips and frames his face with the upper. “Angel Dust, at your service. I'm Valentino's plus-one.” Angel blows Vox a kiss, then cozies up against his side. “But we’re not exclusive or anything. Not a lotta folks compare to Val, but I bet a stud like you can.” 

“Charming,” Vox drawls. He remembers approving Valentino’s invitation: he owns several clubs and their affiliated brothels, as well as the bodies he fills them with. There’s no doubt in Vox’s mind that Angel is one of Valentino’s whores, sent to butter him up. If he had no standards, it might’ve worked. “Where’s your boss now?” 

Angel’s eyes crinkle at the edges, indiscernible between pleased and distraught. “I’ll introduce you. C’mon, handsome.”  

One of his right hands finds Vox’s waist to guide him through the crowd. At first, Vox thinks it’s part of the flirtation, but when Angel stumbles four times in under a minute, he realizes it’s for support. Ugh. If Valentino’s employee is shitfaced less than an hour into a public event, Vox has low expectations.   

They find Valentino on the balcony, smoking a long cigarette as he flirts with one of Vox’s servers. The overlord is tall, even sprawled out over a wire chair, with four toned arms, two feathery antennae, glittering red eyes, and mile long legs. For several long, humiliating seconds, Vox can’t drag his eyes off the crease of Valentino’s hip, shamelessly displayed by the high slit of his gown, and Vox’s fans spin faster to compensate for the images flashing through his imagination. Only the red smoke streaming from Val’s smirk breaks his flawless image.

“Mr. Vox, this is Valentino.” 

“Please, just Val,” Valentino corrects, cadence slow and smooth like honey. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to tonight; Angie and I love your work. Do you have a few minutes to sit and chat?” 

Vox slides into the seat opposite Valentino and takes a deep breath to collect himself. Saccharine scarlet smoke filtered through his fans still tastes sweeter than maraschino cherries on his tongue as he crosses his legs at the ankle. “Absolutely.” 

“Good. I was afraid you’d be too busy for me.” 

Humility doesn’t fit Val, but his honeyed tone smooths the dissonance almost beyond notice. There’s a performer here, wrapped in fishnet tights and glowing under the gentle golden gleam of the city beyond; Vox understands, for the first time in his afterlife, the appeal of signing over his sou with no pitch necessary. His imagination suffices.  

“Not tonight,” Vox assures. “I’m here to get to know you, your work, your business model-” he ignores Angel’s giggle, “-and find out whether we’d make a good team.” 

Val turns to blow smoke directly into Angel’s face and pat him on the head. “I brought my Angel Dust in case you wanted to sample the merchandise.” Without waiting for Vox’s response, Angel sinks down in the narrow space between Vox and Val’s knees, and turns his sultry gaze toward his boss. Valentino’s orders are the only ones that matter. “He headlines all my clubs, one each night of the week.” None of Vox’s underlings are that dedicated. “Or, if he’s not to your liking, I can call one of my girls?” 

“I’m not interested in your, ahem, dancers, Val.” 

“Right. My mistake,” Valentino hums. He flicks the toe of his boot into Angel’s ribs, sending him scuttering away from Vox’s personal space after the second rejection. “You’re old fashioned, Voxxy, I can respect that. I’ve got something for everyone though, you know.” 

The pet name should make Vox’s skin crawl, too diminutive and familiar for their first conversation, but all he can think about is how pretty it sounds in Val’s voice. “I’m familiar with your brand. Voxtek does your security cameras, as I recall, but we don’t have an official partnership on the books; was that your decision or mine?” 

“I was a small outfit at the time,” Val says by way of explanation, “but those cameras are what helped me grow.” He leans forward and whispers, “I’ve got an idea that could make us both richer than fucking Lucifer.” 

Judging by the pearls elegantly strung around Valentino’s throat and collarbone, he’s as rich as Vox already, if not more so. His power ought to feel more threatening than intoxicating. Perhaps he’s the answer. Val’s allure, beyond the souls he commands, could make for a formidable addition to the network’s cast. It would buy Vox time, if nothing else. 

“Tell me about this idea of yours.” 

“Now, I know your brand is squeaky clean, but we are in Hell.” 

“I try to reach as broad an audience as possible,” Vox defends. The less offensive, the more palatable, his content, the greater his viewership will be- a simple truth of television. “I’m the default, babe. Every television in this city comes with my channels included.” 

Val nods slowly. “Yes, I understand, but do you want to know how I bought six new clubs in the last month?” 

When Vox approved the invite list, he only owned three in total. His first thought is that Valentino has somehow contracted the previous owners and taken their businesses as spoils, but that wouldn’t be interesting; it wouldn’t warrant a question dangled like bait in front of Vox’s face.  

“By all means,” he says.  

“Hmm.” Val considers him, eyes narrowed as he ashes his cigarette over the balcony railing. “Promise your head won’t explode?” 

“I promise,” Vox answers, trying to place why he doesn’t find Valentino near as frustrating as he should, despite a more salacious demeanor than Angel Dust and a smile like he wants to eat Vox alive.   

Leaning in, Val glances to each side as if to ensure their conversation remains private. One of his antennae bends to brush Vox’s and stiffens with the static charge, but no pain distorts his expression. “Ever since you introduced playback to your cameras, I’ve been selling the tapes to my Johns. They’ll pay as much for the video as they do for ass.” 

Vox recoils. “You’re making porn.” 

“I’m making films.” His discomfort spurs Valentino on. “Imagine how much money we’d make with a real studio, your nice cameras, a couple billboards... sex sells, amor, and we could sell a lot.” 

When he tries to think about it, Vox pictures the feedback he’d get. Killjoy would resign the second he brings Valentino in, and half the girls in hair and makeup would follow her. Audience letters would pile to the ceilings in the mail room with complaints as his televisions are smashed and discarded in the streets. Alastor would eviscerate him. To attach himself to Valentino could take apart everything he’s built in a matter of days. 

“I’m just saying,” Val sing-songs, “you might be fucking celibate, but most of us need to get our rocks off somehow. If we mass-market my films, we can sell them at a lower price to the poor souls who can’t afford to touch.” 

“It’s still porn.” 

“What’s the big deal? You’ve never picked up a filthy magazine?” On his next drag, Valentino blows the smoke directly at Vox, clouding over his visual sensors before his fans absorb it and flood his mind with the sweet vapor’s taste again. “Follow the money.” 

Angel stumbles back inside for another drink, but in the seconds the door is open, a wave of warmth and noise from the banquet brings Vox back to his senses. As Val knows, it’s about the money, but he doesn’t realize how temperamental an audience the size of Vox’s can be when he fails to meet their standards. Clean is good; clean is marketable. Furrowed brows and subtle flinches follow Angel’s path through the party like an omen of the mess Valentino would make of the company, given a chance.  

“I’ll throw some funds at your project,” Vox concedes, “as long as you keep my name out of it. You can have better cameras for a twenty percent cut. Make it thirty, and I’ll give you mics and lights, too.” 

Val’s inviting grin sharpens, claws of one hand gouging the table as he clings to the flirtatious persona he arrived with. “You must be an idiot. Or you think I am.” 

“You can take or leave my offer, Valentino.” Vox’s head spins when he stands, despite only drinking half of his champagne, and he grips the back of his chair for balance lest he fall over the balcony with Val’s smoke. “Enjoy the rest of the banquet.” 

Slowly, Vox makes his way back inside without incident, and evades Angel’s sight line until he finds a new guest to evaluate. He peruses the crowd, shaking hands and making unmemorable pleasantries with those who don’t need any more persuasion than the night of luxury he’s provided. Their offers will roll into his inbox like the morning paper tomorrow. Really, the guests filled with excitement or ennui are the ones who need his attention the most, Valentino being the former; Vox finds the latter in an overlord spread out on his couch as she mutters complaints to a black-eyed frog demon. Target acquired. 

After straightening his tie, Vox sidles up to her and perches on the arm of the couch with a deep enough lean to brush her shiny pink hair. “Hello,” he coos. “Love the dress, darling, the red brings out your eye.” When she looks up at him, unimpressed, he holds out his hand. “I’m Vox.” 

“I know who you are, alright.” Her clipped accent is more irritating than Angel’s, and she doesn’t shake his hand, but he recognizes her name when she introduces herself as “Cherri Bomb.” 

“The seductress with the best explosives in Pentagram City—other than Carmilla’s, of course—what an honor to have you here.” When a quick once-over shows her glass to be empty, Vox snaps his fingers at the nearest server. “Can I get you anything?” 

“Does your fancy bar serve tequila?” 

The server scurries off without needing to be told. “While we wait for your drink, talk to me: tell me your story. What brought you here?” 

“Free food and booze,” she answers immediately, as though the answer has been on the tip of her tongue since he approached her, and rolls her eyes at Vox’s subsequent forced laugh. “Honestly didn’t think we’d talk. You seem a little... put together, compared to my kinda fun.” 

“So I keep hearing.” He spares a second to remember how Valentino had phrased it, with more affectionate condescension than open disdain, though it should irritate him as much. She isn’t entirely dissimilar to Val; both have made their names in sex, in being so irresistible that they collect souls in exchange for their touch, in leaving their property bruised by bite marks and their enemies blown to bits. Cherri, however, rotates through her boyfriends with little fanfare, discarding them aside from the occasional booty-call once another pursuit distracts her. As for those who betray her, threaten her harem, or provide any vaguely reasonable excuse, she decimates them with her namesake. Whether they work together or not, Vox gets the sense he would prefer to remain in her good graces. 

“What you should know about VoxTek, my dear Cherri, it’s that everyone loves us, and sinners don’t know how to love something without wanting to destroy it. Our security is great, but I like to stay on the cutting edge of innovation. Your talent with improvised weaponry interests me.” 

Right on time, the server arrives with a crystal glass of tequila, top shelf, for her. As she takes the first decadent sip, Vox delivers his offer.  

“Imagine what you could do with my resources,” he tells her. Cherri looks at him over her drink, which she’s not savoring so much as sipping between sighs, with her single eyebrow asymmetrically raised. He brightens his screen and allows the slightest swirl to creep into his magnified left eye. “You could have all the tequila you want, for starters. Trust me.” 

For a split second, he has her. She lowers the glass, mouth agape and pupil slowly spinning, but it clears the moment he stops speaking, and she punches his arm. “Don’t ever fucking try that with me again, you smarmy cunt,” she snaps as he fights to maintain his balance and keep the pain off his screen. He must fail, because she smirks triumphantly before adding, “I’m not working with a bitch like you.” 

Vox might kill her for that if they weren’t at a public event. He tucks the fantasy away as a background process, immaterial to his current goal of shoring up the company until he has an idea, to focus on the benefits of a business partner courageous enough to punch him on his own turf.  

“Surely there’s something you want?” he plies, rubbing the sting from his arm.  “Name your price.” 

After shooting the rest of her drink, Cherri nods toward the balcony. “You’ve met Val?” 

Vox cannot resist turning to look. Through the narrow windows, he can see one of Valentino’s hands gesticulating wildly, the shimmery brim of his hat, and a segment of his right calf. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough. When he looks to Cherri again, the excited sparks of his antennae reflecting from her eye, she huffs.  

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The sharp tone of her voice has Vox ordering another drink for them both. She drums her fingers against the outside of her glass impatiently as he does, but allows him to finish before continuing. “Listen. The only thing I want that I can’t get myself with enough elbow grease is his contract with Angel Dust.” 

“Huh.” If Vox considers Angel from an aesthetic viewpoint, he sees the appeal; in reality, the mere thought of intimacy with such a used soul makes him want to break out in hives. “Did Val steal him from you, or…?” he asks, disguising his curiosity under a blase tone.  

This time, he sees the blow coming, and dodges Cherri’s fist. “It’s not like that, dickhead. Angie’s my friend, and Val...” she hesitates for the first time. Vox stays silent, waiting for her to continue rather than upsetting the vulnerability he’s finally coaxed from her. “Valentino has the worst fucking vibes I’ve ever seen. I may not know for sure what goes on behind closed doors, but I have a pretty good idea. So.” When she goes for another sip of tequila and remembers her glass is empty, she tosses it onto the cushion next to her and fishes a tiny baggie of white powder from her cleavage. “If you want me to work with you, or whatever, that’s my condition.” 

“I can’t interfere in another Overlord’s affairs,” Vox hedges, watching her pour a jagged line on the back of her hand and snort it, “but if you were an associate of mine, I could put in a good word on your behalf. Maybe redirect Val’s temper to spare your friend?” He has a crisp salesman’s smile in place when she finishes her line. 

She laughs dryly. “Good luck trying to tell him what to do.”  

“Well then.” He stands smoothly, reaching for the server whose arrival he hadn’t noticed until his hand bumped their tray to get his fresh champagne. “If you’d like to talk realistic terms, darling, have your people contact mine.” 

He wins a scowl from her before leaving her side, a small victory, but once he’s sure she can no longer see him, he sighs and scrubs a hand down his screen. Two pitches into the night, and Vox has nothing to show for it besides a low-level buzz. Given how long it’s been since he made progress in any aspect of the business, the fear that he’s losing his touch grumbles through his gut. Time marches on without Hell on Earth, bringing new technology and slang and ideas, and no matter how well he understands the basic principles of entertainment, he finds himself floundering to keep up with the demands of the recently dead. How Alastor maintains such a strong audience without any variety to his programming, Vox will never know.  

Still, the banquet has hours to go, and he has countless other guests to speak with. He strikes a deal with a snuff photographer to join his magazine department, hires an assorted handful of overlords for additional security, contracts a puppy-like actress newly dead and still mourning her celebrity, and nurses his way through what likely amounts to an entire bottle of champagne over the course of the evening. Other small, petty conversations fill the gaps between his victories. Little by little, his guests filter out, until Vox’s underlings begin to rouse the over-intoxicated demons scattered across the room. 

Cherri Bomb is long gone, but when Vox takes inventory of the hall, he catches sight of Angel, surreptitiously sneaking a bottle of wine under his arm as he returns to the balcony. Vox shouldn’t be surprised Val and his pet haven’t left, but the idea that Valentino is waiting to speak to him again makes his heart skip in an otherwise inexplicable way. Picking his way over the trash and general mess left behind by the banquet, he runs his hands down his clothes to smooth away as many wrinkles as possible; his job for the night isn’t over yet.  

He steps onto the balcony with a megawatt grin. “Val! Glad you’re still here. Did you have time to think about my offer?” 

Over the course of the evening, what Vox assumed to be a red cloak has unfolded into a beautiful set of wings, spread behind Valentino like a velvety curtain. His immediate desire to touch them is so strong that his hand twitches at his side before he reigns himself in and meets Val’s bright gaze.  

“I did,” Val says. He takes a leisurely drag of his cigarette, and reaches to take the wine from Angel as smoke trails from his lips. “Run home now, Angel-baby; Daddy has some business to attend to.” 

Angel casts Vox a sidelong glance. “But-” 

“Angel.” The single hissed word drips with deadly sweetness. “I’ll be there before you know it.” 

“Yeah, I uh, I’m sorry, Val.” As he speaks, Angel backs away from Valentino, reaching for the door with his upper hands, hugging himself with the lower; Cherri was right that Vox doesn’t need to see behind closed doors to know this song and dance like the back of his hand. His parents, his colleagues, his marriage, half of Hell, have lived out the cliche, and while Vox has moved beyond the need for such unsophisticated techniques, there’s an old-fashioned charm to Valentino’s brusque methodology. 

Now that Angel is gone, Vox realizes how much space Val takes up, whether he means to or not. Those lanky limbs occupy half the terrace in his sprawl, his wings cut off the area behind him, and his smoke carpets the ground in a thick layer. With one of Val’s feet propped up on the chair opposite him, Vox’s only option to sit is on the table, precariously close to the deep vee of Valentino’s neckline.  

“Sorry about him,” Val says dismissively, flicking one of his wrists toward the window, “I let his leash get too loose tonight.” 

Despite Val’s apparent hope, Vox hasn’t forgotten whose idea it was for Angel to come onto him. It was a stab in the dark. He can respect making a move, but the assumption he would sink so low still stings. “Hey, no problem. I know how contracts are.” He hops onto the table, gripping its edge when it wobbles as if it would help, should his seat tip. “Doesn’t help when he’s so fucked up, he can’t walk a straight line.” 

“His talents don’t require much walking.”  Val bites the cork off his wine bottle and spits it to the floor. Before drinking, his wily tongue cleans spillage from the neck with practiced ease, and his unbroken eye contact suggests the skill is useful in more situations than this.  

“I have an image to maintain,” Vox insists. When Val offers him the wine, he figures another drink won’t hurt. Sickly sweet remnants of Valentino’s spit coat the lip of the bottle like syrup, as rich in color as the smoke and impossible not to swallow, tingling down his throat and into his stomach. He passes the bottle back. “My days are long enough without cleaning up after your sluts.” 

“You wouldn’t have to. We can hire people for that, once my films make us filthy rich.” 

Valentino has a point there, but Vox can’t get past the idea; he kept his public persona clean in life and has done the same in death, with enough success to never want for material goods. His pursuit for more power, more fame, more money, just more, has yet to lead him astray, but this feels like the last line left uncrossed and Vox is surprisingly hesitant to traverse it.  

“Bottom line here, you’ve heard my offer. I’m not risking everything I’ve built on your word alone. Get me some real evidence a studio would succeed, and I’ll think about it,” he decides. The next time Val offers the wine, Vox barely notices the sultry taste when it burns the whole way down like a stronger liquor. “As we are,” he adds, “I think my terms are more than generous.” 

After drinking, he wipes his screen on the back of his hand and comes away sappy with Valentino’s drool. Lighter in color than blood but less reflective, it reminds him of the slick oil running through his own veins, and when he looks to Val again, more drips from the corner of his mouth in wildly alluring twin trails.  

“You’re thinking too big, baby,” Val simpers, reeling Vox in with a loose curl of two fingers. “God doesn’t care what you do in Hell. I’m sure you’ve done worse than bankroll a little filth, no?” 

Worse is subjective, but Vox doubts Val can be convinced as such. “It’s about ratings-” 

“Ratings? Your ratings will go through the roof if you-” 

“Val!” Vox snaps. As he closes the last couple inches between them, his screen flashes to full brightness and the hypnotic swirl of his eye reflects back in Valentino’s glassy gaze, shutting down the argument in its tracks. “Do not fucking interrupt me.” 

“Oh, Voxxy, I’m sorry,” he purrs, entirely unapologetic, “I just want you to see things my way.” The inch of hazy air between them is charged with Vox’s static and Val’s smoke in equal measure, already claustrophobic before Valentino raises his wings around them and takes the end of Vox’s tie in one hand, his waist in another, and his substances in the final two. “Can I make it up to you somehow?” He strokes the fine silk between two gloved fingers, angling the tie in a way that both tugs Vox's neck and turns his mirror-finished tie clip the same brilliant red as the sky.  

The moment Vox tries to stand, his legs nearly fold under him, and he has no choice but to throw an arm around Val’s shoulders for balance. “You don’t have anything I want,” he insists, despite the way his heart sings at the feel of lean muscle beneath downy purple fur. “Doesn’t matter how popular you think it'd be; I know my audience. Do you want my help or not?” 

“I want a partnership.” Their bodies are already so entangled that when Valentino draws him closer, his pearl necklaces press into Vox’s chest through his suit, on the verge of uncomfortable as they dig bruises in between his body and Val’s. “We could rule Hell, you know. The only demographic you haven’t cornered is mine, and all I need is your reach.” 

“My ex-wife already tried that pitch,” Vox grumbles, “and dying didn’t get me out of alimony.” 

 Val raises his cigarette again, nearly burning Vox’s suit on its smoldering end. “Who, Katie? If you’re worried about her, you shouldn’t be; she’s a regular already. Convincing her will be,” he takes a drag of his cigarette, “honestly, easier than you.” 

“Uh-huh.” The next wave of smoke makes Vox’s head spin. He notices too late it’s affecting him, but he needs a deal to buy him time, Val seems unrushed, and he has no reason to fear the overlord before him. Besides- he wants to know what Katie Killjoy is doing in a brothel. “And I suppose Lucifer is a customer as well?” 

“I’m not fucking with you--” Val takes the bait, “--she comes in once a week to peg the everloving shit out of my dancers. Puts ‘em out of commission for a day or two. She’s probably pent up from being married to a prude.” 

“I’m not-” Vox starts, then stops to collect himself. “Just because I’m protective of my brand doesn’t mean I never have sex, Valentino.” 

Silently, Val presses the wine into Vox’s free hand. He turns his head to find space to drink, sips from the bottle, realizes they’ve managed half of it between them already, and allows it to dangle loosely at his side. When he doesn’t look back fast enough, Val tugs his tie sharply to regain his attention.  

Vox’s entire world shrinks to Valentino, the rest of the overcrowded city left outside his soft wings and demanding hands, as Vox searches his slowed processors for a coherent thought. No one, nothing, else matters anymore. Val beats him to the punch, growling, “Do you want to prove it, gorgeous?” with the smugness of someone who’s been waiting all night to put their offer on the table, confident it will be accepted.

Well, Vox did figure an orgasm would help him think. As easy as it would be to refuse the obvious bait, he doesn’t want to jeopardize the sparks Val makes him feel, like he’s alive again for the first time since he died. This can be a one night stand; Vox can have Val without compromising his brand with an investment in porn. Maybe letting loose for one night will be enough.

“It won’t get you a studio,” Vox warns, the arm around Valentino’s shoulders retracting enough to trail his hand down Val’s exposed back. “You don’t get shit for this; I don’t fuck hookers.” 

“Whatever you say,” answers Val, and then he kisses him.  

In the decades since death, Vox has only been kissed a handful of times, and still hasn’t gotten the hang of it. His screen doesn’t allow for lips, but Val finds his mouth well enough and seems more interested in feeding Vox his sweet tasting saliva straight from the source than actually making out with him. He allows himself a fraction of a second to miss real kissing. Then Val relieves him of the wine bottle, which allows him to finally touch the tantalizing stretch of Val’s waist and pull his hips closer.  

On their feet like this, closing that distance breaks the kiss and reminds Vox he only comes up to Val’s shoulders. The disparity makes him feel queasy, alone as they are, but he shoves it down in favor of slipping his hand into the slit of Val’s dress and squeezes his bare ass. 

“The wings will cover us enough,” he murmurs, “so long as you can stay quiet.” 

“Worry about yourself.” Val nudges Vox’s coat off his shoulders, pausing to undo his cufflinks, then focuses on unbuckling his belt. His four hands mean he’s everywhere at once, touching in too many places for Vox to keep track of and slowly driving him insane. “You’re a top?” he asks, winding Vox’s tie around his hand like a slowly tightening leash.  

Although Vox manages a laugh, it comes out high and glitched. “I certainly don’t fucking bottom.” 

“I’ll fix that another time,” Val hisses, kissing Vox again to distract him from questioning the response, too overwhelming for him to process anything beyond the touch. Back to seductive, he strokes the side of Vox’s screen, thumbing red drool from its corner and reaching down the waistband of his boxers simultaneously. “How are we doing this?” 

Vox knows the tables and chairs won’t hold them both, nor are they sturdy enough not to tip over while he fucks Valentino. He considers the floor and has a moment of clarity in which he processes that he’s about to have sex on the very public balcony of his tower, on a floor low enough for passersby to see, if any sinners are still on their way out the door. 

“On your back, on the ground,” he decides, “and put out the damn cigarette.” 

“Boo,” Val whines coyly, but still opens his wings to grind it out on the railing. 

He takes two steps back, trailing his fingertips along Vox’s body until he can’t reach anymore in a display that makes Vox feel cold without him. Bastard. But as Val sinks to the floor, the performer in him shines through the slow drop to his knees, followed by a languid lean back. His wings flare out as his legs fall open enough for his obscenely short skirt to ride up his waist. Preening under Vox’s attention, Val cushions his head with one arm and begins to touch himself with his lower two hands. One strokes his cock, half-hard and pink at the tip, while the other disappears behind it and comes back glittering with slick.  

“I don’t do sloppy seconds, either,” Vox says, despite his feet staying rooted to the floor when he means to walk away. 

Val drags one leg up, bending at the knee to give him a better view. “Perk of being a sex demon: I don’t need help getting wet.” 

“Guess that makes it easier.” To buy himself a few extra seconds to gather his bearings, Vox rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and tugs his belt out of place. This, Val, is too easy for his liking, and yet here he is with any reservations relegated to his subconscious processing and an aching desire to fuck Val so hard, he takes the offer Vox made him earlier in the night. “You need anything,” he asks, lowering himself to the unforgiving concrete, “or are you good? Not gonna cry on me or some shit like that?” 

A dreamy chuckle escapes Val as he nudges Vox’s ribs with his knee. “Don’t flatter yourself, baby.” 

“Fuck you,” Vox bites back. “I’m trying to be nice,” 

Val licks his lips and says, “You really don’t have to.” 

When Vox unzips his fly and shucks down his slacks and boxers, the cold night air reminds him where they are, and he pinches the edge of Valentino’s wing between his thumb and forefinger. “Cover, Val,” he reminds dryly, I'm not an exhibitionist.” He lets go in time for Val to envelop them once more, silencing everything besides the two of them. The slightest touch to Val’s soft thighs guides them, up and out of the way for Vox to scoot into position before they wrap around his waist and stiletto heels bite into the small of Vox’s back.  

As soon as Vox gets a hand on himself, the first proper touch he’s had all evening, any remnants of his self-control dissipate with a sharp crackle between his antennae. Val makes a displeased sound and snatches his wrist away. His narrow fingers, still wrapped by gloves and damp with his own juices, give Vox a few perfunctory strokes before guiding him perfectly into place.  

Valentino is soaked for him, practically blooming for Vox’s touch, like they’re the original sinners realizing what their bodies are capable of for the first time. His pants are halfway down his legs, but he doesn’t need more to push into Val. A full body shudder rolls through Valentino’s body, culminating in a squeeze that short-circuits a couple minor connections in Vox’s processor and has him collapsing face-first into Val’s chest. 

“Fucking shit,” Vox hisses. “Do that again, Val.” 

“Give me a reason,” Val chuckles. There are at least two hands on Vox right now, possibly two hundred for how overwhelming he finds them, skimming his frame so thoroughly that he wonders whether Val is making a tactile mental map. “You can get to work anytime, amorcito, I don’t mind.” 

Vox doesn’t have the presence of mind to both retort and move. He chooses the latter. After a shaky inhale to steady himself, he braces himself with his hands on Valentino’s hips, and hopes Val won’t complain before he can bruise the imprint of his palms and discover how deep he has to dig his claws to draw blood. Truthfully, it’s been months since Vox has gotten to fuck something besides his hand, longer still since his last affair with another overlord, but this shouldn’t steal his tongue as it does. He sets a slow, steady rhythm for his own benefit rather than Val’s; his ego couldn’t take a premature finish, and if Val thinks anything of it, he’s kind enough not to criticize. 

Instead, he cups the corner of Vox’s screen in one hand to direct his gaze down at where they’re joined. “See how hard you make me? And how wet?” It's obscene, the way Vox disappears inside him over and over, each thrust spilling Valentino’s pink-tinted fluids between them. “You know, if you weren’t already so big, I’d hire you. No gag reflex, that slutty little waist-” 

“Shut up,” Vox groans, shuffling forward on his knees until he physically can’t get closer to Val, barely thrusting so much as shallowly grinding into him because it feels like anything more would fry his motherboard. “I’m already fucking you, you’re not getting- shit,” his lower stomach brushes against Val’s knuckles on the hand around his dick, and it shouldn’t make Vox stutter, “-you’re not getting anything else from me.” His ability to think, already compromised from the booze and Val’s smoke, is melting faster by the second. “Don’t have to flatter me.” 

Part of him hates how composed Valentino is in comparison, but some long-suppressed corner of Vox’s mind revels in finding someone who can hold it together when he’s unable, despite this entire situation being Val’s fault to begin with. The conflict crosses wires somewhere and turns from frustration to another reason he can’t get away from the decadent oasis that is Valentino spread out beneath him.  

“Would you rather have me degrade you? I can do that, easily,” Val says, “just let me know.” 

“I want you to be fucking quiet,” hisses Vox in return, the swirls in his eye competing with color-blocked interference on his screen. He can have his eyes and ears all over Pentagram City, but evidently, fucking another overlord while trying to hypnotize them is too much of a strain on his intoxicated system, and Valentino only laughs at his attempt. 

“Aww, poor thing,” Val teases, his voice as syrupy sweet as his kisses had been. “You know, this would be easier if you let me take care of you, Voxxy. I promise it’ll be worth it.” 

If Vox could reach Val’s throat, his face, he might have a fighting chance of shutting him up, but the longer Vox kneels between his legs, barely fucking him, the more he realizes that it doesn’t matter how they arrange themselves; Val has the upper hand. This is his specialty. Vox is out of his depth, has been since the moment he sat on the table, but it’s too late to back out now.  

“You are the expert,” he mutters to himself, not quietly enough to escape Val’s notice. 

“Exactly, amorcito, I’m the expert, and you...” Valentino pinches the side of his screen condescendingly, “are extremely repressed. Let Daddy handle it, hmm?” 

“I’m not calling you that.” 

“But you’re going to let me make you feel good?” Val presses. 

Vox knows better than to hand over what little control he still has of the situation, he really does, but something about Val makes it feel like the first time again: he’s out of his depth, virginal in comparison to a man whose job is sex. All the queasy nerves are the same. And here, trapped in Valentino’s grasp, he can practically taste how good it could be if he lets go of the reins. 

“Sure, whatever.” 

“Good.” As Valentino’s grin stretches so wide it splits his face in half, he seizes Vox with all four arms and flips them over effortlessly, tightening around him in a way that fully blues-out Vox’s screen and wrenches a distorted whine through his speakers. “You have security cameras out here, right, baby?” he purrs. Something that ought to be fear twists around Vox’s heart and makes his dick twitch inside Val. “In full color, I bet.” 

“Fucking- obviously,” Vox manages to grit out, struggling to pull words together when Val is over him, on top of him, all around him, like more of a god than he’s ever worshipped, “I have every inch of the tower covered. Why?” 

Val pins him in place with all four arms, bending until their faces are inches apart. “Because tomorrow, when you miss me, you can watch the tape back,” he sighs. Finally, he begins to move with both the leverage and the self-control to properly fuck himself on Vox’s cock. His rhythm is slow but punishing, dropping down hard enough to make a dull smack each time his ass hits Vox’s clothed thighs. “After you jerk off, you can get back to me about my proposal.” 

“So that’s your angle,” Vox accuses, barely able to form the words between the huffs of air punched out of him with every thrust.

Then, Val kisses the rest of Vox’s words from his lips, flooding his tongue with more drool that washes the thought from his mind. He’s sampling the product, as Valentino intended from the beginning, and though he loathes to admit it, Vox can’t recall sex feeling this good in the entirety of his life or death. Realizing it, processing how much better Val is than he could have imagined, makes his hips jerk uselessly under Valentino’s weight.  

He’s lost in the cherry perfume clinging to Val’s skin, utterly pinned like an insect beneath a demon who, earlier in the day, Vox would be recalcitrant to touch beyond formality’s demands. He’s weak. And he knows it, Val knows it, his employees would know it if they opened the balcony door, the world could know it if they’re not careful- it would be too easy for Vox’s pristine reputation to disintegrate. The stink of the streets is only four floors down and Val could cast him out with a snap of his fingers.  

“It’s a shame you won’t bottom, you know,” Val chatters on after breaking the kiss, indifferent to his effect on Vox. “I’d ruin every other cock for you, like how right now, I’m making sure no other pussy will ever compare.” 

His taste still lingers on Vox’s teeth when he asks, “D’you need to talk to get off? Is that it?” He tests the strength of Val’s hold, finding it absolute. “Full of yourself, huh, Val?” 

“Full of you.” The correction comes with a circle of Val’s hips, squealing feedback from his system and a humiliating urgency to the need building within him. “If you want to touch, all you have to do is ask, and-” Val licks his teeth, “I don’t care if you’re gentle.” 

“Fuck off,” Vox says, automatic like the electricity sparkling between his antenna, his heart pounding like he’s done a kilo of cocaine. “You wanted to do the work, fine. Do it.” He won’t beg.  

One of Val’s hands abandons Vox’s waist for his dick, curling around it picture-perfect, angled so Vox can imagine the beauty of a foreshortened camera shot. Between the marigold lights and their bounce off Val’s carmine wings, his cock is a work of art, and the corner of Vox’s mind that’s always thinking of business sees the marketability in an adonis like Valentino, especially when his slender, practiced fingers coax a pearly bead of precum from its rosy tip. He snaps a screenshot of the sight.  

“So, you like being held down. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” 

Val sets a rhythm that rocks him between his own hand and Vox’s dick, in turn causing him to almost pulse around Vox in a pattern better than any high-tech toy or two-buck slut, and the sticky mess between them begins to cling to his dress ruinously. He must know how stunning he looks, how intoxicating he feels, when he seems more smug than surprised by the continued stream of garbled, static sounds Vox hardly recognizes as his own.  He’d give anything for this feeling to never end—though he knows it will any minute—and for a single, sick, second, he imagines this to be how Valentino ensnares the souls under his command.  

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” Val asks, as if it’s written on Vox’s screen. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to last.”  

“I’m-” Vox’s protest dies before he speaks it, every wire crossed and capacitor sparking with the overwhelming combination of input. His soul is Valentino’s for the minute it takes him to orgasm. Everything is Val. His hands. His thighs. His tongue. His wings. His cock. His pussy. It’s all him, and Vox cannot fathom a more infinite bliss than filling him up with useless, compulsive thrusts that make Val gasp more than once. 

“That looked fun,” drawls Val, still riding with steady rocks of his hips despite the way it tips Vox past his peak, “but I’m not finished. Be good for Daddy a little longer, ‘kay?” 

Valentino seems aware that Vox is too fucked out to argue, perhaps prefers it, and doesn’t pause for a response before guiding one of Vox’s slack hands to his dick and grinding against it. The light above them shatters with the intensity of Vox’s overstimulation. His entire system devotes itself to differentiating pain and pleasure but still cannot make sense of it.  

“Almost there, amor, you’re perfect.” Val clenches so tightly around Vox that he bluescreens again, his muscles seizing with a zap of electricity that Val must feel, judging by the hiccoughed moan that rumbles from his throat and the subtle frizz of his short fur. “Fuck, we’re going to have fun together.” 

When Val finishes, his cum is the palest shade of rosy pink, exaggeratedly plentiful as it splashes up Vox’s shirt, neck, and screen. Vox doesn’t have the wherewithal to be upset, be anything besides overwhelmed, until Val gracefully stands and smiles down at him. Ten feet feels like a hundred; Vox is an ant, about to be crushed under Val’s shiny patent heels, and he can’t find it in himself to get out of the way. 

“Enjoy the tape, Vox. Call me.” 

Just like that, he’s gone, inside on his way back to street level, leaving Vox a mess on the floor with his fly down and his mind scattered. He solves the first problem immediately, then searches the walls for the telltale glint of a camera lens. It has to be somewhere. There are at least four on this balcony, and if Vox had half a mind, he wouldn’t need to hunt for them at all. By the time he figures it out, what he’s just done is beginning to sink in like a bad high.  

Disappearing into the circuits to reform in his command center saps the rest of Vox’s energy. He falls into his chair like a doll with its strings cut. The cool air refreshes his overheated systems even as it feels frigid to the warm ghosts of Valentino’s hands all over him. A hard reboot would shake the jitters, but he can’t leave footage of himself and Val in the archives for a moment longer than strictly necessary. There’s still work to be done. 

He pages the good assistant—Stanford—and prays that they haven’t gone home for the night yet. Vox doesn’t make the schedules himself anymore, nor does he care to keep track of the shifts so long as he has someone around the clock. They arrive in a record 96 seconds, out of breath but alert, eyes wide and focused on Vox like he’s the center of their universe.  

“You needed me, Mr. Vox?” they say, slowly lowering their clipboard when they realize how haphazardly he occupies his chair. “Are you- is everything okay?” 

“Fucking dandy, my dear. Listen, I’ve got a couple errands for you to run, discreetly if you can manage it.” 

They open their mouth as if to argue, but think the better of it when Vox raises an eyebrow at them. He tries not to imagine how he must look, a disaster with a few pesky errors still affecting his screen every so often and spit-stains all over his button-down from Val’s careless tongue. 

Vox lifts his index finger and begins, “First, I want the footage from the security cameras on the fifth floor. Every fucking one. Inside, outside, every corner of every room. Got that?” He pauses for Stanford to jot this down, nodding vigorously, before raising a second finger. “Then, get me a change of clothes, a pot of coffee, and a brick of cocaine, in no particular order.” Without stimulants he won’t be able to trudge through the tapes. 

“Yes sir, right away,” Stanford agrees, finishing the to-do list with a flourish of their ballpoint pen.  

Once they disappear, Vox folds his arms atop his desk and rests his screen on them. He’s woozy, sleepy, too fucked up to worry about much beyond making sure no one ever sees the recording of him and Val. It was stupid to sleep with him and Vox will hate himself for it in the morning, he knows, but he can’t find it in himself to regret his moment of weakness yet.  

He distracts himself with a rerun on one of the many screens at his terminal: a sitcom, the first he produced himself, still airing overnight to profit off its small but dedicated fanbase. Color television was new to Hell then, though the novelty had begun to wear off on Earth, and it shows in the garish shades Vox cringes at as much as the choppy writing. Nonetheless, it sucks him in with its simplicity for an episode and a half before his doors swish open with Stanford’s return. 

“Your coffee,” they place a full, steaming pot on his desk, alongside his favorite ‘Fuck Alastor’ mug, “and your coke.” As Vox pours his coffee, they unfold a pair of sweatpants and a striped tee shirt from the crook of their arm. “I brought you something comfortable, since it’s late; I’ll come back with a suit before breakfast.” The back of their hand brushes his arm as they reach into their pocket for a VCR tape. “And here’s today’s CCTV from the fifth floor. Is that everything?” 

Vox takes the tape. Its hard plastic digs into his fingertips and he realizes how easy it would be to simply destroy it. This is the only copy, and if he never watches it, he could pretend the whole evening never happened. Nothing has to change.  

“I want your opinion on something as a loyal VoxTek customer.”  From the corner of Vox’s vision, Stanford shifts their weight and glances back at the door. “No right or wrong answer here, don’t worry.” When they step back, Vox reels his trademark smile onto his face. He doesn’t know if he has the energy to force an answer. “Do you like our current image?” 

“I- uh, definitely, it- it’s perfect, Mr. Vox, I love it-” 

He sighs. “Yeah, I get that. Is it important, do you think, that we keep our broadcasts clean?” 

While they mull his question over, Vox ducks under his desk to find the VCR slot. The faint glow of his screen barely lights the way, but he finds it quickly enough to avoid making a fool of himself- not that his assistant would dare to comment.  

“I’m thinking about expanding our portfolio,” he explains as he returns to his chair. “Maybe a new channel, so it doesn’t interrupt regular programming.” Instead of clearing his mind, the caffeine just burns Valentino's imprint deeper into his servers; Vox needs to see him again, more than he needs air, and a partnership would guarantee it. “Any thoughts? Or is that too complicated for you?” 

Stanford pushes their glasses up their nose. “Our viewers are loyal, sir, and... I think they’d give anything a chance, if you made it. I know I would.” 

They toe the line between flattery and honesty well, enough of a tremor in their voice that Vox can almost taste their fear of having the wrong opinion. Life on earth was similarly filled with sycophants, but if he surrounds himself with yes-men, he’ll never have a wall to bounce the shitty ideas off of. In the back of his mind, he wonders whether Val would be honest: if he would send Vox back to the drawing board, or if he’d prop him up through the failures. Relying on someone could be nice.

Then Vox remembers he’s thinking about Val, the moth demon dripping aphrodisiacs from his lips as he spins promises equal parts invigorating and appalling, and he has to consciously remind himself not to make this into more than it is. He can align his business with Valentino, for profit alone, but it doesn’t mean he will ever experience Val’s manipulative, magnificent touch again.  

“Well, off you go,” Vox chirps, spinning his chair to the side. “Remember to clear space for us to talk, and oh-” he waits for the click of Stanford’s pen, “Get an appointment with that club owner, Valentino, on the books next week.” 

“Yes, Mr. Vox. Have a good night!” 

He listens to Stanford’s feet patter away and waits for his door to clang shut before he pulls the CCTV footage up on his screens, scattering the dozens of feeds so that he can see each grainy black and white image. He scans through them, from the hallways to the conference rooms to the bars, until he finds the three cameras from the balcony Val spent the evening on. From there, Vox jumps into the machinery long enough to wind the tapes faster, spinning through useless hours of setup and chitchat until the image displays him, balanced on the table, his shark-toothed grin not enough to mask how thoroughly Val ensnared him. He knows that once he watches, he won’t have it in himself to refuse Valentino’s proposition. This, more so than allowing Val to touch him in the first place, is the line Vox can never uncross. 

Still, he sparks back to his chair, and settles in against the comfortable leather in front of his screens. 

[foxannethemuffin]

💜 Le gasp! Small art dump! :0

First drawing is screenshot redraws of Meryl n’ Milly from Trigun for practice since I plan to make more fanart of them so I wanted to get myself familiar with their designs and see how I can draw them in my style!

Second drawing was a birthday drawing for my sister in law! I drew some of her favorite characters which were Nifty from Hazbin Hotel, Hatsune Miku(specifically the Cinnamoroll Miku) and Koro senseii from Assassination Classroom!

Third drawing was a quick drawing I made for my banner on discord, which were lil chibis of Leon n’ Luis from re4, Vash n’ Wolfwood from Trigun and with the addition of my self inserts from each fandom!

Then the last two are birthday drawings for a friendo so that we could match on discord! I drew some of his favorite characters which were Octane from Apex Legends, Kaneki Ken from Tokyo Ghoul, Aqua from Kingdom Hearts and Leon from re4! Then I drew my favorite characters which were Wattson from Apex Legends, Luis from re4, and Vash n’ Wolfwood from Trigun! So now on discord I have his favorite characters as my pfp n’ he has my favorite characters as his pfp! :D Close up underneath in case anyone wanted to see the characters up close!

That’s all I have for now though! I’ll try to draw n’ post more frequently from now on but I can’t guarantee that ;-;

Tagging mutuals(if you don’t wanna be tagged then let me know!): @glorbix @lady-wren-of-tella @embarrassedauthornerd @wisecrackingeric-2 @junebug-isunavailable @elis-corner @iphiloupe

[muffinsin]

Do you have any thoughts on how the sisters would comfort a plus sized insecure s/o? Maybe they’re looking in the mirror undressed when the sisters walk in on them. How would they make them feel better?

My, I do! :) let’s get into it!

Also an encouragement for everybody here to remind themselves they’re lovely no matter what body type, gender (or not gender), ethnicity, etc!🙌

also I’m hoping this is all coming across nicely because I’ll be fair I’m like Cassie, I have no idea how to comfort people in most situations but I shall try my best! XD

Let’s get into it! :))

Masterlists

Bela

Bela has had minor problems about her body once or twice, never something major

Teasing comments here and there about her thin appearance, some that stuck

You’ve never made such a comment, even as a joke, and she’s thankful for it

Things such as is entirely irrelevant to Bela, as such she is confused and a little shocked to see you one day, staring at yourself

She’s just returned from working on some papers when she finds you, undressed and staring at the lengthy full body mirror pushed against her wall

She blinks in confusion, once, twice

“What are you doing, little one?”, she asks, eyebrow raised just as you trace your skin

You jump at her sudden appearance

Bela grasps your hand as you reach for your clothing again

Her question is genuine. What have you been doing?

“Just looking”, you explain, although it only adds more questions

She raises an eyebrow at you

Clearly, this won’t cut it

Upon explaining your small dilemma, the stretches of your skin and the few rolls here and there, the thicker thighs and arms, she feels even more confused

You dislike your body? Because of its shape?

Although she has been there in the past, she can’t believe your words

How could her sweet little human go through this?

Experience such thoughts of insecurity?

How could she shield your pure soul from them?

She smiles widely when she gets an idea, then!

“You know, before your time, people considered more weight as a sign of being well fed and even wealthy! People often portrayed themsel-…”,

Bela winces when she notices your expression. No, that info-dump of hers did not help at all…

Nonetheless, she smiles again, for another idea crosses her mind

With a push of her fingers, and a yelp falling from your lips, you’re sent backwards on her bed

You’re propped up on your elbows as she climbs over you, her thick thighs on either side of your hips

“I think you’re the most stunning piece of art in this castle”, she says, her fingertip trailing across your cheeks

“I like your body a lot. It’s soft, and warm”, she reasons

Your breath hitches when she leans down to place a kiss to your jaw, where too much of a double chin lays for you to enjoy

Bela has no such qualms at all

She presses another kiss down your neck

“You smell and taste warm and delicious. Believe me when I reassure you, little one, not everybody shares this”, she whispers against your throat

Her teeth do not dig in though, only her soft lips flutter against your skin, two, three times until she moves on to your shoulders

“I admire your body whenever I am granted this unique view”, she reveals

She finds your arm, and shushes you when you’re about to make a bad comment about yourself

“It’s my turn to speak, my perfect little human”, she whispers, golden eyes flashing adoringly at you

Perfect

She looks small against you, despite being taller

Her thinner frame pressed against you, she holds your hand as she trails featherlight kisses down your arm

“I find your touch very comforting. You’re able to ground me, and you’re one of the only people that can get through to me”, she says genuinely

You tense when she kisses your stomach

“You look delicious, and set my loins aflame with your touch”, she reassures

This thought has you a little surprised- yes, Bela is attracted to you

You had almost forgotten that when you focused too much on the thoughts of insecurity

You know of her attraction, too

Her soft worship of your body even as she ruins you, her golden eyes following you everywhere, her hands eagerly touching and exploring whenever given the chance

She squeals in surprise when just when she goes to talk again, you pull her up for a kiss instead

She accidentally slips, giggling into the kiss as she’s sprawled out on top of you

“I’m sorry”, she whispers, the blood from her dress now clinging to your bare front

You smile at her. She’s always so sweet and considerate with you

You watch her silently, though confused when she leans back again with a small grin

“Now, where was I?”, she coos

You gasp when her tongue drags over the blood left on your chest

She’s gentle, and sweet, slow and beautiful with her movements

“Ah yes!, you’re breathtaking”, she says all too eagerly. You can’t help but smile happily up at her

Cassandra

You’re standing in front the mirror next to her desk when she swarms into the room

“You have no idea how annoying-“ “Oh~! Are we playing today?~”, she asks, a smirk on her face upon seeing you naked in her room

Cassandra giggles as she swarms to you, then frowns- no, it isn’t that

Still, you feel flattery at her attempt

Cassandra seems to like your body, you reason

She stares at you for a moment, as if trying to figure out whether something is up

“You’re acting strange”, she says boldly

She’s never been too good with her words, but you know that

Cassandra frowns in confusion when you move her in front of you, her frame easily towering over yours

“Hm?”, she asks, a little, nervous and flustered smile coming to her lips when she notices you undress her

“What are we doing, morsel?”, she asks, swarming out of her garments to save you some time

Again, you don’t answer

She shivers as you slide your hands along her body, over her smooth arms and muscular stomach, her slightly arched back

Her face heats up when her ass is cupped, and her thighs are felt up

“You’re perfect”, you sigh

Even Cassandra catches onto your strange tone. You sound- displeased?

With her? No, she’s fairly sure she’s been behaving, more or less

Next, she watches you trace your own hips, as well as hers

Comparing?

She doesn’t understand. You look nothing like her. Why are you comparing yourself?

“What are you doing?”, she asks, and watches curiously as you jump from her question and pull your hand from her

“Nothing”

You know this won’t do. Not at all

“What are you doing?”, she gives you another chance

Even naked, Cassandra is more than just a little intimidating, with her hands on her hips and her eyebrow raised perfectly

You feel tears burn at your eyes. You can’t get over how you feel, the heaviness that clings to you

Cassandra grows even more confused as you cry, but pushes you against her nonetheless

She giggles when you make a comment about being smudged to death in her cleavage

“What’s going on, little lamb?”, she questions. You’ve never seen her look this sincere

Upon explaining your thoughts, Cassandra tries to understand

She really does. She just- can’t

“But you’re perfect?”, she questions- no, says

She says it like it’s a fact and it makes you whimper

“You’re perfect. You do know that, don’t you?”, she questions

Your breath hitches when she kneels down, apparently tired of standing

“What about my thighs?”, you ask, eying their thickness

Cassandra giggles at your silly question

“What about them? I love them! You should know”, she answers, a teasing grin on her ridiculously pretty face

You’re blushing as she smushes her cheek against your thighs, against the numerous bite marks she’s placed on them

“And my stomach?”, you ask

Again, she merely looks up at you in confusion

“What about it? That’s my favourite sleeping spot. You’re so soft and warm”, she answers

Again, she bumps her face against you and it leaves you speechless

You smile, thinking of the many times Cassandra has pushed you down for a little nap on top of you

The dangerous predator nothing but your purring, content girlfriend that will not fail to growl at anybody nearing you while she uses you for a pillow

“And my arms? They’re not as strong as yours”, you add

She crackles. “No one’s as strong as me”, she smirks. She flexes her arms, showing off the few visible muscles she has

“My stomach isn’t flat when I sit”, you at last say, sorrow in your words

Cassandra stares

You watch her plop down and poke her stomach

“Mine isn’t either”, she replies with a small smile shot your way

You can’t help but grin at her. She’s sat on the floor, her legs outstretched and poking her stomach for emphasis

She’s right. Hers isn’t completely flat either

“You’re so perfect, though”, you wonder out loud

Cassandra giggles. She’s never quite going to get used to being described as “perfect”

“As are you, though”, she insists with a smile wide and genuine enough for you to truly believe it

Daniela

You know, Daniela loves you. Unconditionally

Sadly, the same can’t be said about your love for yourself

Daniela swarms into your shared room, babbling about this and that when she finds you in front of the mirror

Naked? Did you forget getting dressed as she sometimes does?

She watches mutedly as you trace your skin, stretching and posing a little

She sees pants on the floor, a part of the inner thigh ripped open. Did it tear?

She swarms out of her clothes, feeling the warm air of the room against her skin

Is this meditation? What are you doing?

At last, after watching you move about some more, Daniela can’t wait anymore

You jump upon suddenly feeling her hands set on your shoulders, having been too absorbed in your thoughts to notice her come in

“Whatcha doing, my sweet?”, she asks eagerly

Maybe you’re playing a new game?

You don’t immediately answer her

At the same time, you’re very aware of her bare body pressed against yours. The thought makes you smile

Daniela has no idea what you’re doing, and yet joins in, undressing as well and staring at the mirror

The thought brings a question out of you

“What do you see?”, you ask. You feel her arms sling around you happily

“Us!”, she answers, just as eagerly. Daniela wonders- is this your new game?

She’s easily entertained, so it might as well be!

“More Detail?”, you ask. Daniela presses a quick kiss to your cheek before she continues on

“Hmmmm, I see you and I! We’re not wearing anything”, she answers

You can’t help but laugh a she wiggles her ass a little and giggles along, displaying her nakedness

Daniela is so- carefree

“What about our bodies?”, you press on

Again, Daniela hums for a moment, considering your question

“Iiiiiiiiii- I see my scar! It’s looking kind of badass”, she answers, flexing her thigh to show off the scar that sits there

“And I see your moles! There’s so many of them! I don’t have as many”, she adds, a wide grin a she meets your eyes in the mirror

Daniela pouts. You look sad

“What’s going on? Did I say something bad? I like your moles”, she asks immediately

You can’t help but smile at your puppy of a girlfriend. Daniela is, you think sometimes, too precious for you

“No, you didn’t do anything Dani”, you reassure her

But you sound so sad! Daniela grins as she attempts to cheer you up

“Hey hey, the night is still young!”, she claims, giggling again. You know, there’s still plenty time for the bratty thing to misbehave, and it makes you smile too

Yet, only for a moment. Daniela frowns. Something serious is up

With a little bit of encouragement from your lover, you at last tell Daniela what is plaguing your mind

She hums, as if she understands

Surprisingly, she does

“It can’t be…easy…around so many people with different body types”, she tries. Daniela beams when you nod

This was right thing to say, good!

“Why don’t you like your body?”, she asks. She looks so genuinely sad by this

“It’s wide”, you answer her

Daniela hums. You gasp in surprise when she jumps into action, spreading her legs and reaching out with her arms, so that she stands in a somewhat starfish position

“I’m wide too”, she argues. “Do you still love me?”

You don’t hesitate. “Of course I do”

She beams at you. “I still love you too”, she reassures

“I still love myself too”, she adds. “Do you still love yourself?”, she questions

You realise, you aren’t too sure in this moment. There is nothing actively bad, nor good

“I don’t like my body”, you reveal

“I like it a lot”, she counters. Then, she grins. “We can change it though, if you want. Humans can do that, right?”

You giggle at her, and nod. You explain workouts and diets to her

“Well, there you go! We can change what you don’t like, if you want to. Or we can work on making you like it”

Your eyes widen when she concentrates, and suddenly there is a small hole missing from her body, right at her ribcage. Instead, flies swirl around her hips.

“I can’t change mine. I’ve learned to love it!”, she adds. “I think you should love yours.”, she says with a smile

She pouts when you smile sadly at her

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy, bug”, you whisper back. You watch in amazement as her flies return to their original position and can’t help but giggle when Daniela throws herself against you

I’ll help you!”, she promises, content that you at last genuinely smile at her

[signed-sapphire]

The Fallen Star ✨

A Wish rewrite

(Scrapped) Act I - Prologue

We hear a woman’s voice reminiscent of the Golden Age of Disney, narrating events from a book:

Once upon a time, Stars roamed the earth. Magical beings from the sky that used their magic to help people, to assist them in fulfilling their dreams.

However, the Stars soon started to simply grant wishes, and people became lazy and dependent, demanding the stars make their wishes reality. The Stars became full of themselves and mad with power, almost destroying the kingdoms.

[Author’s Note: Take my messy sketches! Idk I’ll try to do little doodles per part IT WAS RUSHED OKAY]

One survivor, Magnus Arman, escaped his burning homeland. He saw the wreckage the Stars had caused, and vowed that he could never lose the people he loved to the Stars again.

On his journey, Magnus came across another wrecked kingdom. Another land the Stars had destroyed. Another land with no survivors… but one. Magnus heard a faint sob in the distance. Once he followed it, Magnus came across a child— Asha Arabella.

Magnus took Asha under his wing, and started working to stop the Stars. He studied their magic, bringing his young daughter with him on his adventures.

While he studied, he met a young woman named Amaya, who cared for Asha like her own. Soon enough, the two fell in love and wed.

[Amaya’s dress is a callback to the classic Golden Age princess wedding dresses]

But one day, more Stars fell from the heavens and attacked, wanting all the magic for themselves.

That day, Magnus almost lost his family.

So Magnus, determined to protect his family, used all his magical knowledge and became the Wishgranter, one who would decide what wishes were good and what could never be granted.

Note that the book doesn’t tell exactly how Magnus defeated the Stars… but anyways now he has a sick-ass white outfit like the one we see in the canon movie.

He defeated the evil Stars, and together, Magnus and Amaya founded the Kingdom of Rosas, a safe haven across off the Iberian Peninsula where people could give their wishes to Magnus and he would keep them safe from harm, from the greedy Stars. Magnus became known throughout the lands as Magnifico, the master of wishes.

And often, the wishes people gave Magnifico were good, and he granted them.

We see Magnifico granting a wish [I can’t find the picture but let’s say the dressmaker one we saw in the movie with a callback to Sleeping Beauty’s dress. And you know what, it’s blue.]

Little Asha was raised in the castle where she was doted on by her parents.

Teen Asha, just a bit younger than she is now, so around fourteen, and the page flips to Asha now, seventeen years old.

And this is where our story begins.

Next (coming soon)

So! Epilogue! I guess! Halfway done but I need to get it out bc I want to start random doodles and I need somewhat of a starting point!

Heavy heavy thanks to @annymation and their INCREDIBLE rewrite, go check it out, it’s amazing and wayyyy more of a tribute to the original Disney than mine will be. And @gracebethartacc/@gracebeth3604 (hey, I was the one who asked about whether your rewrite was written or thought dumps/ etc, but btw your rewrite IS well known, my roommate’s friends know of it and Anny’s) bc they have a popular rewrite with their amazing art doodles and thought dumps, so… I said fuck it and posted this.

I will update with more doodles! These are messy but I wanted to put SOME there… also! Check out @uva124 if you want to see some FANTASTIC wish art!

[everlasting-rainfall]

Hi I read your ocs and I find them interesting , if you have pictures of them I would love to see them , also idk if you call this a request but in the pages keep turning so how would Yandere Koby work ? I’m curious :)

Hey, I’m so very glad that you find them interesting! I’ve been making quite a few more since that post like I’m unsure of how many there are now in all honesty…

I am actually working on some aesthetic boards for them however which will feature their appearances, I only have four done at the time of writing this…

But I’ll probably post them once o have a good few more done! Don’t quote me on that though…

Anyways before I start rambling! Let’s get into your request, darling!

Also in advance, this probably isn’t my best work so please be prepared

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Delusions, Overly Obsessed Fans, Death of a Fictional Character from a Book, Stalking, Implied Murder (?), More than Likely Out of Characterness

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

So honestly I can personally imagine that how Koby would have gotten into your book series is that Helmeppo got him into the series as romance novels seem right up his alley so it was like they had absolutely nothing to do one day and Koby was bored

In comes Helmeppo having bought the newest book in the series to read, Koby took an interest because it’s something else to do other than sit around and wait for something to happen

Proceed to Helmeppo info dumping about the entire series when Koby asks only for him to stop the blond and request to borrow the books so he could read them

Helmeppo handed them over almost immediately as he was excited to get someone else into this series with him and Koby started his journey through the books

In all honesty, he was a little off put by the fact that one of the main love interests starts off the book series by aiding another pirate crew in burning down the MC’s hometown but he keeps reading until the Marine love interest is introduced

And almost immediately his interest is peaked as the chemistry that these two have together is so captivating to the point where he’s rooting for the two of them to get together

Like he imagines every little moment so vividly in his head like did the Marine catch the MC as she was about to fall only for them to end up in a somewhat romantic looking position? Koby imagines every little single detail about the scene even down to exactly how the sun is shining

Honestly as well, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he started talking about it in depth with Helmeppo for as long as they could when there’s nothing to be done like the two of them are obsessed with this series

Helmeppo more in a “God, I love this series” sort of sense and although Koby is starting off the same way, that will change very soon…

As when Koby is rereading one of the books to pass the time one day, he finds himself imagining something… He starts to imagine himself as the Marine Love Interest

He imagines himself getting in the face of the Pirate Love Interest and telling him off for his mistreatment of the MC, he imagines himself swooping in and protecting the MC from danger in any way that he has to, he even imagines himself in the romantic scenes

Honestly Koby tries to ignore these thoughts at first and just read as clearly the Marine Love Interest isn’t him until Helmeppo tells him something that makes his heart skip a beat

“Hey, Koby! The author had some art done for the books and check it out! Captain Starfish reminds me so much of you!”

So Koby looks and you would think that he just saw himself on the cover of the book as the Marine Love Interest is a somewhat skinny man with pink hair and glasses

It’s after this that he convinces himself that it must be completely fine for him to imagine himself in the role of the Marine Love Interest considering that he looks just like him in his own personal opinion

And as he reads the books as they come out, Koby finds himself falling in love with the MC… They’re so sweet and caring, that scene where they patched up the Marine after he protected them as well was wonderful

Koby has even had a few dreams where he would meet the MC in real life and the two of them would be able to be together and be happy as he would protect them from anything that dared to try and hurt them alongside treat them exactly how they deserved to be treated

In the end though, the MC isn’t real so he just has to keep those fantasies to himself…

But as he reads through the last book in the series, he finds that the Marine has to leave resulting in the MC being in the care of the Pirate Love Interest as it’s a dangerous time right now with a lot of dangerous pirates running about

He’s disappointed by this but it’s fine, he’s sure that the Marine Love Interest will come back soon but nope… He keeps reading and the main focus of this book appears to be the Pirate Love Interest…

No matter though, it’s the last book of the series and he’s absolutely sure that the Marine Love Interest will return and the MC and him will wind up together in a loving relationship. He’s absolutely sure of it especially with the moments where the MC waits impatiently for any contact from the Marine

Until… Something happens that makes his heart sink down to the pits of his stomach during the big fight scene on the high seas where the Pirate and Marine join forces with their respective groups to finally bring down the villain…

Koby finds this all so weird at first as there’s so much of the book left, surely the rest couldn’t just be an epilogue… But you would think that this man just saw someone kill his dog when he reads…

All of sudden, a scream rang out in the air followed by booms so loud they could take your hearing away… Cannonballs zipped through the air and crashed directly into Captain Starfish’s Boat…

The resulting explosions lit up the night and the boat quickly caught fire… It was something straight out of a nightmare as the once proud Captain alongside his group sunk into the dark stormy depths on the once great ship known as the Reef Rider

Koby almost in a panic reread that part and over again until he had to just put the book down for a minute to process what had just happened

The Marine Love Interest just died… That couldn’t have just happened, could it? But when he read it again, he found himself sucking air in through his teeth like he had just been cut

The character that he had come to envision as himself had just died during the final battle with the enemy… After that, Koby had to put the book down for a few days and continue it later as he tried to distract himself and focus on his work as a Marine but the visuals wouldn’t leave his head

Eventually when Helmeppo finished reading the story, he reluctantly asked what happened only to be told that the MC got with the Pirate Love Interest after he helped her grieve

This was such bullshit! And Helmeppo agreed! Why would they wind up together when the Pirate Love Interest was first introduced having aided in burning the MC’s hometown to the ground? That was awful!

After that, Helmeppo moved onto a different romance novel series but Koby stayed fixated on this ending… That had to be one of the worst things that he has ever heard in his entire life… How could the author have possibly written something like that?

Clearly the Marine and the MC were made for each other! They had perfect chemistry and he could envision the two of them staying together for the rest of their lives!

Koby tried to move on from the series just like Helmeppo had done but no matter what he did, no other book really grabbed him like the one that you had written

So Koby wound up dropping romance novels much to Helmeppo’s disappointment, the pink haired marine would occasionally go back to the other books in the series and reread all of his favorite scenes

It was so hard to believe that all of these pretty much meant nothing now that the MC had wound up with the Pirate and the Marine was at the bottom of the ocean… Literally…

Why would you do this? How could you do this? He just didn’t understand…

Until he finally went back and reread the dreaded scene… He read it with a frown on his face and dread in his heart up until the scene where the Reef Rider finally goes down which is when he thinks of something…

He goes and reads every single little detail… All of the enemies boats weren’t close enough for an attack like that… They had a higher chance of all of their shots missing and landing in the water than all of them hitting and the Main Villain’s crew weren’t exactly known for their accuracy…

So who could it have been? Well… The only one who was close enough to have all of their shots hit like that was the Pirate Love Interests boat…

And now that he reads more… Isn’t it just so very convenient that almost all of the Marine Love Interests group went down in that fight while the Pirate’s group did have quite a few ships go down but not nearly as many as the Marines?

Very suspicious if you ask him… And he’s starting to see the whole picture…

The Pirate Love Interest couldn’t stand that the Marine was going to have the MC in the end and he did this to ensure that he couldn’t have them! It all made so much sense to Koby!

That Pirate was evil and the ending where the two of them stood together with him holding the MC? That was no happy ending… That was the bad end where the Pirate’s Jealousy for the Marine had won keeping the best pairing apart forever!

It all made sense to him and when he told Helmeppo all about it, you could practically see the gears turning in the blonds head as he listened to every single word that came out of his friends mouth until even he was convinced that was probably what happened

Koby had it all figured out so he decided to write his very own ending to the story, one where the Marine had survived the battle and revealed to everyone the disturbing deeds of the pirate causing one last fight between the two of them where the Marine would come out on top

Both he and Helmeppo absolutely loved it, they both decided right then and there that was it the canon ending to the story and reading what he had wrote

It felt so right… Something about it just felt so correct like he had lived this moment himself… Having defeated the Pirate Love Interest a long time ago and wound up with you

He honestly wished that he could show it to the actual author at some point as he was sure that the author would like it just as much as he did, it seemed like he would get that wish too as when he was on a small island for some Marine business

He found out that there was apparently a book signing event being hosted by the author, he desperately wanted to go so he could show you what he had written but of course he had Marine things to take care of so he finished them up as soon as he possibly could

He genuinely looked like he was speedrunning as he went about what he was doing but the second that he was done and had free time, he ran as fast as he possibly could to the book signing only to find that it was already over and closing up for the day

His heart sank and he was about to leave only to hear a voice…

“Oh sorry… You got here a little late, huh?”

He turned towards the source of the voice and almost gasped when he laid eyes upon you because not only was the author of the book standing directly behind him but you looked exactly like how he had envisioned the MC to look down to the smallest detail

It’s quite literally like you stepped out of the book just to be here with him and he found himself in a stunned silence as he stared at you causing you to give him an awkward smile and offer to sign his book for him

When he continued to not say anything, you waved your hand in front of his face and tried to get his attention only for him to finally snap out of his stunned silence and say that he didn’t bring his copy but he does have something for you to read

You took it and you looked it over, he wasn’t sure if you liked it or not but he was absolutely sure that you would! Clearly you were in love with him as he was starting to actually believe that he was the Marine Love Interest despite the fact that he has never been an Admiral

Once you were finished, you told him that it was a really nice alternate ending but that the Pirate wasn’t the one responsible for the destruction of the Reef Rider or the death of Captain Starfish as that was all the Main Villain’s fault that Captain Starfish had died

Koby couldn’t believe what he was hearing and when he tried to explain everything saying that it had to of been the Pirate, you claimed that it was just a mistake on your part as a writer that the Main Villain couldn’t have been able to make the shot

You wound up giving his alternate ending right back to him and telling him that it was well written but the Pirate wouldn’t shoot down Captain Starfish like that as the two had become friends before that point in the story

Koby was left standing there after that just watching you leave the building that had hosted your book signing, he couldn’t believe that you couldn’t see it like he could!

You were the MC after all as there was absolutely not a single doubt in his mind about that and you just chalked up what had happened to a mistake in your writing? No way, that couldn’t be the case!

Koby refused to accept this in all honesty so despite his better judgement, he started to follow you around as you went and saw you do so many things that honestly just made him more convinced you were the MC and made him fall in love with you more…

Like did you stop and help that lost child who got separated from their parents? That’s so caring of you, he’s sure that you’ll make a great parent to any kids that you have in the future! Plus it’s just like what you did for the kid in the book!

Did you buy those vegetables on your way home to prepare for dinner? You’re a good cook too which is great as he’s sure that you can make some beautiful things together! Plus it’s just like how you made that vegetable soup for him when he was injured!

You were perfect and watching you go about your day absolutely proved it for him… You were lovely… Why couldn’t you see what he saw?

And he believed that he soon found his answer as he saw you meet up with someone, a man who looked just a bit too much like the Pirate in Koby’s eyes

Ah… So that was the reason…

The Pirate was here and when he saw the two of you getting just a bit too friendly for his liking (probably not even romantic), Koby felt his blood boil a bit as he did know that not all pirates are evil but this one was surely one of the worst of the bunch

Koby understood now… The reason that you couldn’t see what he saw is because of the Pirate… Koby was sure that he was likely forcing you to write the story and that he was actually horrible to you behind the scenes

Don’t worry though… Koby is going to make everything all better as he’s already making plans to save you from that evil pirate…

He’ll take you far away from the Pirate and the two of you can be together just like you were always meant to be! It’ll be great!

And if the Pirate Love Interest tries to prevent it? Well if push comes to shove then Koby isn’t above getting some revenge for sending the Reef Rider to the bottom of the ocean…