#dual vox

[fanby-fckry]

You know what? Fuck you. *un-linears your timeline*

#unreality cw #meta post #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #helluva boss

( 6 notes )

⬜️ voxblrverse-meta Follow

1 min. ago

Special thanks to @helluvatired, @angelsandemons, and @the-great-horse-cocktail for co-creating the Stolitz Meme format

Source: voxblr.vox #unreality cw #meta post #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #helluva boss

( 6 notes )

📰 stolitzmemenews Follow

Jan 7

The Externination Countdown Clock Tower in Pentagram City has dropped its count from 358 to 176, putting the next Sinner Extermination at July 1st (Gregorian).

Source Link

#stolitz meme #stolitz meme news ↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination day 2 ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo

( 112,151 notes )

🧪 mad-scienfish Follow

Jan 7

🐍 x-hiss-lord-x ☑️ ☑️ 🦀 👟 Follow

Jan 7

( 10,988 notes )

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

Jan 7

petition to call it “extermination 2 electric boogaloo”

🎀 moth-gf Follow

Jan 7

why?

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

Jan 7

why not?

🍒 bomb-bitchin-babe Follow

Jan 7

Yeah, why not? If we’re gonna die, we might as well have some fucking fun with it.

🐸 jest-fizzarolli Follow

Jan 7

That’s hilarious, where do I sign?

🎭 i-put-the-bi-in-bipolar Follow

Jan 7

Hey op, I just wanted to thank you for keeping your sense of humor. As someone who struggles not to go completely off the rails when shit goes wrong, it’s honestly really helpful to see another sinner who’s able to be so nonchalant about this whole thing.

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

Jan 7

I mean, if you can’t joke about the upcoming massacre, what can ya do?

( 50,866 notes )

🏚️ theendisnear6669 Follow

Jan 7

PANIC!!! RIOT!!

🏚️ theendisnear6669 Follow

Jan 7

We’re all gonna FUCKING DIE!!!1!!

🏚️ theendisnear6669 Follow

Jan 7

Stop fucking joking it’s not a joke WE ARE GOING TO DIE

↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination day 2 #i am NOT FUCKING calling it extermination 2 electric boogaloo #the end is near

( 8 notes )

💊 chillpilled-vibesmaxxer Follow

Jan 7

i cannot handle all the fucking doomerism on my dash right now. quit it with the negativity.

🏚️ theendisnear6669 Follow

Jan 7

Doomerism? Negativity? There is a SECOND EXTERMINATION DAY in 6 months. Exorcists are going to descend from the heavens armed with angelic steel to KILL US ALL.

💀 be-gay-do-crym Follow

Jan 7

doomsday district residents engaging in doomerism. fork found in kitchen.

📢 sinnerjusticewarrior Follow

Jan 7

Um, just took a look at op’s blog. He’s hellborn. Check your fucking privilege; we don’t all get a free pass from the exorcists’ blades.

📏 baphometric-system Follow

Jan 7

Did you just tell an imp to check his privilege? That’s pretty tone deaf, considering imps are below sinners in hell’s social hierarchy.

💊 chillpilled-vibesmaxxer Follow

Jan 7

can we please not play oppression olympics on my fucking post? this is like the opposite of what i wanted…

🎶 relevantsonglyrics Follow

Jan 7

You can’t always get what you want

“You Can't Always Get What You Want” by The Rolling Stones (1969)

🏚️ theendisnear6669 Follow

Jan 7

K

📢 sinnerjusticewarrior Follow

Jan 7

U

( 512 notes )

📰 stolitzmemenews Follow

Jun 31

The Hazbin Hotel is mounting a defense against the upcoming Exorcist attack.

Princess Charlotte “Charlie” Morningstar, the princess’s consort: Vaggie, Alastor the Radio Demon, ex-Overlord: Husk, adult film star: Angel Dust, self-proclaimed “spunky powerhouse”: Cherri Bomb, notable kingpin: Sir Pentious, and a group of sentient eggs, are all suspected to join the battle.

Princess Morningstar has recruited a group of cannibals to aid them in battle, and the two factions have been seen training together and fortifying the Hazbin Hotel in preparation for the upcoming attack. It is unclear whether or not Cannibal Town’s Overlord, Rosie, will be fighting alongside them.

Source Link

📺 voxblr4k ☑️ ☑️ ☑️ Follow

Jun 31

They’re gonna fucking die! 🤣🤣🤣

🧁 rad-velvette-cake ☑️ 🧵 Follow

Jun 31

F’s in the chat, boys

📺 voxblr4k ☑️ ☑️ ☑️ Follow

Jun 31

The F stands for “FUCK YOU ALASTOR!!!”

↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo

( 85,790 notes )

📰 stolitzmemenews Follow

Jul 1

Multiple Exorcists slain in the battle at the Hazbin Hotel, using their own angelic steel weapons. Archangel Adam quoted, “That's how they can kill us? With our own weapons?! Fucking weak, dude.”

Source Link

💀 be-gay-do-crym Follow

Jul 1

#stolitz meme ↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo

( 143,886 notes )

🐑 lambchop-luvrgirl Follow

Jan 26

i had the weirdest experience today

🐑 lambchop-luvrgirl Follow

Jan 26

i was closing up shop when three eggs (literal eggs, not the trans kind) came right up to me and started talking about angels? specifically about killing angels. you know, the famously un-killable angels? and then they started singing??

then their father(?) chaperone(?) handler(?) gathered them up and apologized for bothering me. said they’re very into conspiracy theories and that i shouldn’t worry about it.

i’m not… worried… exactly. but it sure was strange.

🐑 lambchop-luvrgirl Follow

Jul 1

what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

🐸 jest-fizzarolli Follow

Jul 1

↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo #apollo’s dodgeball #jester’s privilege

( 91,253 notes )

📰 stolitzmemenews Follow

Jul 1

Alastor the Radio Demon was struck in the chest with an angelic steel weapon during his fight with Adam the archangel, and is now missing in action after using his shadow-warp ability to escape.

His current whereabouts and condition are unknown.

Source Link

📺 voxblr4k ☑️ ☑️ ☑️ Follow

Jul 1

HAHAHAHA Get FUCKED Alastor!!!1!

#i am sooo glad i didn’t delete this hellsite #it’s worth it just for this #this is BETTER THAN SEX ↯ #alastor the radio demon ↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo

( 42,506 notes )

📰 stolitzmemenews Follow

Jul 1

King Lucifer Morningstar has joined the battle at the Hazbin Hotel, and is engaged in one v one combat with Adam the archangel. King Morningstar appears to be unarmed, but is kicking ass regardless.

Source Link

🐝 queen-bee-lzebub Follow

Jul 1

Whoo! Get it Luci!

#short king ftw!! ↯ #lucifer morningstar ↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo

( 54,033 notes )

🎭 i-put-the-bi-in-bipolar Follow

Jul 1

Is it just me? Or is Lucifer kinda 👀

🎭 i-put-the-bi-in-bipolar Follow

Jul 1

I will not simp for the Devil. I will not simp for the Devil. I will not simp for the-

💀 be-gay-do-crym Follow

Jul 1

dude, don’t you already simp for the radio demon?

🎭 i-put-the-bi-in-bipolar Follow

Jul 1

Adsfgsvdstdd SHUT UP!

#you attack me like this on my own blog??? #and i don’t “simp for the radio demon” #i just think his voice is pretty #and his teeth are sharp #and he’s hot covered in blood #including his own #and probably mine #…if i still had blood… #and ok crymini maybe you have a point #beloved mutuals ↯ #alastor the radio demon ↯ #lucifer morningstar ↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo

( 12 notes )

📰 stolitzmemenews Follow

Jul 1

Archangel Adam confirmed dead after being stabbed in the back by the Hazbin Hotel’s housekeeper, Niffty.

Source Link

💥 blitz-the-o-is-silent Follow

Jul 1

well fuck good 4 her

💥 blitz-the-o-is-silent Follow

Jul 1

wait how did u get this pic?

( 110,934 notes )

⬜️ voxblrverse-meta Follow

23 hr. ago

Fanby’s Fake Dash Masterpost

The @.stolitzmemenews posts are not canon to the voxblrverse for obvious, fourth wall-breaking/anachronism reasons, but this was fun. :3

Thanks again, @/helluvatired, @/angelsandemons, and @/the-great-horse-cocktail for your work on the Stolitz Meme format (don’t wanna tag y’all twice).

I also inserted my hellsona, Dual, for funsies, so if you were wondering who tf voxblr user @.i-put-the-bi-in-bipolar is, that’s your answer.

The other new accounts are mostly one-off randos that probably won’t show up again, but there are two that represent specific characters. Send your guesses in the tags (or just check the soon-to-be-updated meta post, lol).

[greyhound-with-a-mega-wizard-hat]

Scanlan is Phoenix Wright??!!!!

[flashhwing]

scrolling through my own published fics and one summary has a character referred to as the Champion, and having to reorient myself to read that as Vax, Champion of the Raven Queen, and not Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall

[jfk-blown-away-blog]

First pressing Red Vox - Another Light

[donteatthefishtacos]

Something I love about what’s going on in CR that you can only get in an actual play is the dual views of the past campaign characters.

When BH met up with Keyleth she appeared larger than life out of a tree and took them to Whitestone where they met the Lord and Lady. Who were intimidating and imposing and held Laudna’s potential resurrection in their hands. And then Pike came in to actually perform the resurrection, THE cleric of the Everlight on break from running her bakery.

And then the story switches to Vox Machina. Keyleth lost sleep coming up with titles for Bell’s Hells. Vex reassures The Voice of the Tempest that she’s a good leader and jokes about her grumpy old man husband. Pike and Grog are pissed out drunk in a bar and self-conscious about their bodies. Pike is depressed about Scanlan. Grog has no idea what’s going on with Ruidus. Percy is Exandrian Batman, eccentric and bizarre and still down bad for his wife. Scanlan is having a post-third-divorce quarter-life crisis. Cerkonos like sexual jokes.

They are legends of Exandria but they’re still dumbasses and I loved seeing it.

[villainsposting]

Favorite aspect of Alastor revealed in the show has gotta be that he loves being the center of attention. He's said to be an enigma, yet he thrives on people being curious about him. He wants to know what people think of his deal with Charlie. He wants people to wonder why he has been missing for seven years. And the majority of the few times we see his smile grow tense is when his mystery is disregarded.

Which explains why he enjoys his rivalry with Vox. Vox's obsession is a reliable source of attention for him. No matter what Alastor does, Vox will be there trying to undermine him. And watching him try is a dual source of enjoyment: it is fun to see his enemy stumble and glitch in frustration, but damn does Alastor also enjoy being in the spotlight, even if in the mind of just one person.

[redvexillum]

Thank you @alekminecraft for the request! You are right, we do need more Vox x Reader and I am more than happy to oblige! *waggles brow* This story is dedicated to @mraprilfools, honestly, his comment on the discord server literally birthed the whole smut scene for this story! Thank you boo!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, dual POV, rough s♡x, possessive!vox, jealous!vox, established relationship, misunderstanding, multiple ♡rgasm (f!receiving), gentle s♡x, miscommunication, aftercare, vox is bad with feelings, reader is bad with feelings, prequel to the story anniversary, related to mandatory overtime universe, using s♡x instead of talking it out, fluff, romance, vox being a simp

✨️ recommended to read mandatory overtime and anniversary first for a fulsome experience ✨️

The shift in your demeanour was subtle at first – just a slight straightening of your spine, an easier smile that seemed to find its way to your lips unbidden. But as the days passed, you could feel it blooming, like a secret garden hidden deep within your chest.  

You stood taller, shoulders pulled back in a confidence that felt new, almost unfamiliar. You’d catch glimpses of yourself on reflective surfaces, taking that extra moment to admire the polish of your makeup, the gentle curve of a perfectly placed smile. Clothes became something more than fabric; each piece felt like a promise, a flicker of anticipation. Maybe, you thought, he’d like this colour on me. 

At Voxtek, your patience with your less-than brilliant colleague was almost saintly, though in your mind, a quiet laugh reminded you that perhaps you weren’t quite so charitable as to call yourself a saint. Still, each silly mishap, each minor annoyance was met with a grace that even surprised you.  

How different you’d become! And for a reason so dangerously thrilling: you were dating your boss, the enigmatic Vox himself. It was deliciously reckless, a violation of company policies that held no real meaning here in Hell. Life – if you could call it that – had never been so thrillingly complicated.  

Your heart would flutter each time you checked your VPhone, hoping to find a message from him, something to acknowledge that this secret connection wasn’t only yours to nurture. But as the days crept by into weeks then into two months, your smile waned.  

You told yourself that he was busy, that running a successful business didn’t leave room for constant messages and weekend dates. Yet, the gnawing ache in your chest wasn’t as easily consoled. Day after day, the once – sweet anticipation soured, replaced with something dark, bruised. You felt yourself beginning to doubt, the loneliness slipping to quiet moments like a poison.  

Weeks turned into a month. The space he once filled with his clever messages, his small gestures, was emptier than ever. The pang of it felt like a betrayal. Was he treating you like some passing amusement, like those nameless sinners who drifted in and out of Valentino’s entourage? Each unanswered day may you feel more dispensable, more invisible, as if you were just a shadow flitting through the corner of his life.  

You fought back the frustration, resisted the urge to march into his office, to demand something – anything – that would remind you that this wasn’t a dream gone wrong. You told yourself that in Hell, beggars couldn’t be choosers. And yet, you weren’t just a beggar. You were his partner

...or so you’d thought.  

And so, as the days blurred into one another, resentment simmered, joined by the creeping insecurity that maybe he’d rekindled things with that damned moth demon Valentino. Your mind churned, frustration blooming into something darker. The thought twisted in your heart, each new day of silence leaving it tighter, angrier. You couldn’t keep swallowing the ache, the anger. You needed answers, clarity, a sense of what you meant to him.  

So today, you decided, was the day. No more silence. No more excuses. You would speak to Vox, and finally, figure out where you stood – whether you were his partner or just another fleeting entertainment.  

You climbed the stairs to Vox’s office, each step fuelled by a fierce resolve that burned hotter with every unanswered day, every silent hour he’d left you waiting. Your coworkers scattered at the sight of your face, expression flashing with shock, maybe even fear, though you barely registered it. Drama queens. Let them gape if they wanted. Right now, nothing else mattered but to reach him. 

You didn’t knock; you weren’t in the mood for niceties, and you knew, oh, how well you knew that he disliked it. Your petty rebellion made your pulse quicken, a small, desperate thrill that drowned out the whisper of doubt. The door parted, and you crossed the bridge to the circular platform where Vox was stationed.  

Rows upon rows of screens surrounded him, their dim blue glow casting shadows across his angular face as he surveyed his empire, Hell unfolding in fractals across the monitors.  

“Vox,” you called, voice sharp, slicing through the ambient hum of machinery.  

He didn’t turn. His shoulders tightened, the only tell that he’d even heard you. “Not now,” he bit out, his tone a frigid slap, cutting through your bravado with painful precision.  

The words hit you harder than you’d expected. That coldness, so unlike him when he looked at you, was suddenly stripped of the warmth you’d grown so used to, and it left you feeling hollow, exposed. For a moment, your resolve wavered, but you forced your heart to harden. You wouldn’t be silenced.  

Not this time.  

“I think now is a great time, considering you haven’t replied to any of my messages. Or my emails,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, the gesture an attempt to stop your heart from pounding out of your rib cage.  

He didn’t move, didn’t even look at you. “Was it personal or business?” he snapped, his voice as sharp and unfeeling as cold steel.  

A painful tightness squeezed your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs. Standing there, in the empty chasm of his silence, feeling the weight of his apathy pressing down on you...it made you feel small, like something easily brushed aside. Your throat tightened, your eyes stung, and you cursed yourself for the weakness. You knew Vox; you’d known from the beginning he was ruthless, an overlord who ruled with an iron hand and a closed heart.  

But you’d thought – no, you’d believed – that what lay between you both was different. You’d given him your heart, laid yourself bare before him, trusting that he’d shelter you, protect you, even if he never said it aloud. The confession of love you’d shared a few months back echoed bitterly in your mind. You’d been so naïve. So stupid. Foolish to think you could crack that iron mask and see the man beneath.  

Yet, despite the ache, despite the icy barb, you couldn’t just leave. You’d stayed by his side for years now, weathering his tempers and tantrums, and your loyalty had only deepened. Taking a steadying breath, you forced yourself to try again, voice quivering despite your best effort. “Listen, if you’re busy right now, maybe we could schedule something? Like, maybe a meeting...or even,” you gulped, feeling the sense of baring your heart to him once more, “a d-date, ‘cause you know,” you fiddled with your fingers, “it’s been so long.” 

The silence that followed was suffocating, the dark room pressing in on you, his back still turned as if you were beneath his notice. You fought the crushing weight, each second eroding what little courage you had left.  

Finally, he spoke, his voice slow, dripping with disdain. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” 

His claws tore into the metal console, the screech of rending steel tearing through the air. The unexpected violence jolted you, and your shoulders flinched despite yourself.  

“N-no, I wasn’t trying to tell you to-” you stammered, the humiliation sinking in, but he didn’t let you finish.  

“Shut up. You’re nothing but my personal assistant,” he sneered, standing up, his head lowered as if his own words repulsed him. His shoulders trembled, and you saw the fury emanating from him like a physical force. “Easily replaceable, and it seems you don’t realize that!” 

The monitors flickered, their glow casting strange, stuttering shadows around him, as if even the machine rejected his rage. His voice thundered through the room, harsh, merciless, each word a cold, jagged dagger that sliced into you. “All these lowlifes telling me what to do, people fucking screwing up, leaving me to clean up their fucking messes. All of them...useless!” 

With a sickening crunch, he drove his fist into the console, a crater splintering into the metal as sparks and a discharge of electricity exploded around him. The smell of burnt wiring and the sharp, crackling silence left in the wake of his outburst was suffocating.  

Your head spun, your mind desperately grasping for a reason, an answer to where this torrent of bitterness had come from. But his words sank in, piercing one by one, relentless. They reached deep, ripping open an ache you hadn’t even known was there until now. Shameful heat stung your eyes, and you fought it, fought the humiliating swell of tears that blurred your vision. It was like being scolded by someone you’d always looked up to – hard, unyielding, like a father too busy to care.  

“That’s uncalled-” You tried to retort, voice thick, but the words caught in your throat, and suddenly, with a sizzling snap, the monitors blew out, plunging the room into pitch-black darkness. The faint, ghostly blue emergency light by the gangplank flickered on, casting an eerie glow to the room.  

“Leave,” he said, the single word soft but deadly. He turned, and his red eyes glowed like smouldering coals through the shadows, his face lit with the stark, cruel illumination of his TV screen. Any trace of kindness, of even that dark humour, was gone. There was only contempt. “Unless you want me to fire you, leave now.” 

You stood frozen, staring at the jagged crack that ran from the left corner of his screen, but it was his words, like punches in your gut, that left you hollowed. You weren’t his lover at the moment. Hell, you weren’t even his coworker. No, the harsh truth settled like lead in your chest.  

You were nothing but his underling.  

Someone small. Someone worthless. Someone utterly dispensable.  

The realization sat thick and heavy, choking any response, your mind going blank under the tidal wave of hurt and emptiness. Pain throbbed in your chest, raw and unrelenting, filling every corner with your being, drowning you.  

Numbly, you managed a small nod, then turned away, your legs moving stiffly as if through deep water. Each step away pulled something else loose inside of you, a painful unravelling that blurred your vision until you couldn't even see the door. But you refused to let the tears fall – not here, not in front of him.  

It was only when you reached the hall, away from the heavy weight of his gaze, that your knees buckled, and you pressed your back against the door. You felt the burn of hot tears slide down your cheeks, one after another. A shaky breath escaped your lips, and your eyes closed, surrendering to the torrent, each tear like a wound laid bare. Appalled, you brought a sleeve up to your face, scrubbing at the wetness furiously.  

How had he reduced you to this? To a sobbing, broken mess over a few, careless words? It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.  

It shouldn’t hurt like this.  

But the ache bloomed in your chest, expanding, each throb of sorrow underscored by a seed of something dark and new – anger, resentment, a furious, defiant spark that fought against the hurt. You looked down at your shoes, and the heels he’d once complimented, the ones that now felt sharp and constricting. They were like little cages that you’d endured for him, simply because he’d liked them on you.  

You were going to throw away these shoes tonight.  

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, low and hollow.  

He played you. 

The thought twisted around in your mind, cruel and undeniable, as you turned toward the washroom. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, your reflection stared back at you, each flaw accentuated in the artificial brightness. Smudged makeup, streaked mascara – nothing but a sad, painted mask of a clown.  

He’d played you well.  

You’d fallen for him, heart-first, with no hesitation. You’d handed over your trust, your loyalty, all the softness you’d fought to keep in a place like Hell, believing he’d hold it with care.  

And he’d only turned it all to ash.  

Another tear slipped down your cheek, absurdly out of place as laughter bubbled up from the pit of your stomach. If you meant so little to him, if he could ignore you for months then easily dismiss you as just an underling, a disposable pawn, then...then maybe... 

The logical choice was obvious. You should quit, walk away without a backward glance, cut him out like a cancer. But even now, the idea of leaving tugged painfully at your heart. It meant never seeing him again, never feeling the rush of his dark presence filling a room, and somehow...somehow, you weren’t ready to face that void.  

But no. If he wanted an assistant, then that’s precisely what you’d give him – nothing more. You’d be perfect, professional, every action polished and distant. The thought brought the faintest glimmer of satisfaction, though even as your lips curved into a grim smile, your tears betrayed you, slipping down with a quiet, unrelenting sorrow.  

You just needed to kill your heart. That was all. Easy enough, right? You’d done it before, hadn’t you? Built those walls back up, piece by piece, every time someone close to you treated you like an afterthought, like an inconvenience.  

It was survival. The only way you knew how to survive in this world, and, apparently, in Hell.  

Taking a shaky breath, you reached for the sink, splashing cold water over your face to chase away the remnants of emotion, scrubbing away the streaks of makeup until your skin was bare. You gathered yourself, smoothing back your hair and fixing what could be fixed, piece by piece, until the person staring back at you looked composed – untouched, unreadable.  

But when you finally met your own gaze, there was a hollowness there that hadn’t been before. You stood straighter, your shoulders squared, your lips set in an easy smile. 

Only your eyes betrayed you – cold, shuttered, and closed tightly around the world.  

Vox’s breath was ragged, a bitter edge on every exhale. He couldn’t remember how long it had been – weeks? Months?- the days bled together in a haze of stress and fury. Valentino had been on a reckless tear, sabotaging the company’s reputation with one scandal after another, Val’s prized puppet Angel Dust constantly being the catalyst of Val’s reckless actions.  

Frustration burned through him as he ran a hand over his cracked screen, the fresh memory of his latest, brutal confrontation with Val sending his jaw clenched tight. They'd nearly destroyed Vox’s penthouse this time, hurling words and blows, ripping the sleek veneer off his carefully curated life.  

When you walked into his office, unannounced, his fragile self-control shattered. He wasn’t ready for you to see him, to glimpse the evidence of his struggle. The weakness scratched under his skin like a raw wound.  

Shamed burned though him. What would you think if you saw him this way? The perfect, powerful, unbreakable Overlord...with a screen cracked from losing control. His pride buckled, a panicked voice in his head insisting he’d let you down, that you’d piece together every brutal fact.  

He needed you to be gone, anywhere but here. He lashed out, voice dripping with all the anger and humiliation he felt, and he watched the sting in your eyes as his words did their job. You didn’t argue; you just left.  

The silence in his office grew heavy, sinking deep into the cracks left by his outburst. The blue light of his monitors flickered erratically, casting shadows that mocked him in the silence he had demanded. As the scene replayed in his mind, he groaned, a dark wave of regret crashing over him.  

Vox thought back to the night you’d laid in his arms, your head nestled on his chest, sharing your fears about how others viewed you. You were like him, caring about the way you were perceived by others.  

You had been so open, so raw. You’d admitted you feared that your position as his assistant would always make you feel unworthy, that no matter how hard you worked, everyone would never see you for the brilliance and drive he adored. You’d worried that you would always be seen as his arm candy, not a partner.  

He remembered the light in your eyes, the way you tried to brush it off, flustered at showing such vulnerability, how you’d laughed softly to cover it up. But Vox hadn’t forgotten. That moment had etched itself into him deeper than he’d realized. That was the night he’d started to consider the terrifying possibility that he didn’t just want you in his life – he wanted you by his side, forever.  

The regret festered as he sat there alone, rubbing his forehead as he thought of how he’d fix it. He imagined the gifts and the plans he’d make to show you how much he truly cared. Maybe a day away from all of this with you, maybe a whole week dedicated just to you – anything to make up for the times he’d neglected you.  

But when he finally saw you again, the person who greeted him wasn’t the same. It was like you’d drawn yourself up in armour. Your hair was swept up in a neat, impersonal bun. You wore plain, conservative clothes, all your personality hidden behind a wall of professionalism. Even your voice, usually warm with laughter and teasing, was clipped, cool, and indifferent.  

You were perfect – impeccably efficient and guarded, just as you had been on your first day at Voxtek. But that warmth, that spark he craved...it was gone.  

You glanced up from your screen, fingers pausing mid-keystroke. “Yes?” You asked, voice clipped, cold as steel. “How can I help you, sir?” 

The word sliced into Vox. Sir. It had been months since you’d addressed him like that – so formal, so detached. The way you used to call him when he was just the boss, and you were just his assistant. He felt your anger in every syllable, but he forced himself to stand taller, clearing his throat as he revealed the bouquet of glass roses he’d crafted just for you. The petals, tinted a deep blue and shimmering with electric veins, pulsed with a soft, otherworldly hum. He’d infused his own energy into the glass, hoping you’d see the beauty, the effort, the love in it.  

“Sunshine!” he tried, letting out a small, forced laugh as he placed the bouquet on your desk. “Look what I got for you.” He leaned against the edge of your desk, trying to meet your eyes, attempting to recapture the playful glint he adored. “Thought of you this morning,” he added a flirtatious grin, “and wondered if you might be free after work.” 

Your face remained impassive. “Sorry, I’m not,” you said simply, your voice colder than he’d ever heard it.  

He felt his heart sink, your rejection landing a bit too close to his memories of failed relationships. Time and space, he thought. She’s just still angry. She’ll come around...won’t she? Trying to smile, he forced a nod. “Right, right...well, maybe next time?” 

“Mhm,” you replied with a nonchalant hum, your gaze already drifting back to your work. “Is that all, sir? I’d like to finish this project.” 

Vox’s forced smile faltered, and he nodded stiffly. “Yep. That’s ...all.” He hesitated, hoping for a sign – any spark, any trace of the affection that once lit up your gaze. But you were a closed book, and he was left feeling like a stranger, the man who stood on the wrong side of your heart.  

In a flicker of electricity, he vanished to the nearest security camera, leaving you to your silence.  

But your silence lingered. You’d never come back to him.  

Six months. Six long, aching months of sparse, hollow exchanges. He had hoped, counted the days, replayed your conversations in his mind, but each interaction became more distance.  

Good morning, you’d say, and nothing more. All set on the report, you’d text, signing off with your usual efficiency. 

He scrolled through the messages you’d sent before that fateful day: Good morning, sweetie; don’t work too hard, silly, I miss you, loser, with the tongue out face that always made him smile. Messaged he’d been too busy to respond to, too buried in his work, too tangled in Val’s mess.  

Vox exhaled, tension twisting his gut. How long could he expect you to forgive him? How long did “time and space” mean? Six months...half a year...and you still felt like a stranger, slipping further and further away.  

Anxiety tightened in his chest. He bounced his leg, drumming his claws against his desk. The thought of losing you, truly losing you, clawed at him. No, he thought, unable to bear the chill of your indifference. I won’t let you go. I’ll fix this. 

Tomorrow, he’d planned to sweep you off your feet. A lavish dinner at Hell’s finest restaurant, endless gifts – a whole Hellsgem jewellery set, a new car from Voxtek’s latest line, every luxury he could think of to make you feel adored, desired. He’d even made arrangements for a personal assistant to help him plan it all, to ensure every detail was flawless.  

But as the hours crawled by, the weight of your absence ate away at him. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t shake the relentless ache that only seemed to grow with every second. His heart raced, the fear too potent, too real.  

Before he knew it, he’d shot up to his feet, a self-deprecating chuckle slipping out. Time and space...he thought, booting up his laptop. I think I’ve given her enough of that. 

Vox’s finger flew over his laptop, scanning through the surveillance feeds until he found you. Relief washed over him at the sight of you – until he saw another man leaning far too close. His blood ran cold. His mind blanked, replaced with a singular thought that flared like lightning, transporting him instantly.  

He appeared beside you with a crackle, his fury barely concealed behind a stiff smile. “Sunshine!” His voice was forced, his grin strained, desperate. “Didn’t think you’d be taking a break so soon!” He laughed, insincerity dripping over it. He reached out to place a possessive hand on your back, but you stepped away. He blinked, stunned.  

Did you just...avoid him? 

“It’s the end of the day, sir,” you replied, coolly, your expression as unreadable as stone. “Papermint and I were just heading out for dinner.” 

Vox’s eyes darted to the other, unimportant, assistant, Papermint. He stared up at you, blushing like a love-struck fool. And then he noticed the look on your face – the way your eyes softened as you caught sight of his flustered expression, the delicate curve of your lips as you smiled.  

It was a look Vox knew all too well, one he’d hoarded all for himself. His chest tightened, and he felt a flicker of rage ignite in him.  

With a low snarl, Vox grabbed your wrist, and before you could react, pulled you with him in a flash of energy.  

The moment you landed in his penthouse, you dropped to your knees, momentarily disoriented, your head reeling as you struggled to get your bearings. When you finally rose, fury blazed in your eyes, and you yanked your wrist from his grasp. “What the actual fuck, Vox?” you shouted, your voice a mix of shock and anger as you tried to smooth your dishevelled hair.  

He gritted his teeth, his jaw tight. “I could ask you the same damn thing. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

“Oh, you don’t get to pull this,” you spat, marching through his penthouse like you owned the place. You stormed into the bedroom and went straight to the vanity, sitting down in the same spot where, in quieter times, you’d start your mornings after spending the night together.  

Frustration lined your face as you began undoing your hair, letting it fall loose. When you opened the drawer, you paused. Your eyes flickered with an unreadable expression as you stared at all the products you used, untouched. You grabbed a familiar bottle and pumped it into your hand, rubbing it into your hair to smooth all the frizzes from travelling with his power.  

Silence stretched between you, thick and tense. Vox watched as you worked, your face flickering between confusion and anger in the mirror’s reflection. His anger simmered under the surface, his mind racing. She thinks she can flaunt that fool in front of me? His fists clenched, eyes narrowing as he kept his gaze locked on you.  

Finally, you stood up, your hair glossy and perfect, every bit as stunning as the first day he’d laid eyes on you. With an icy calm, you muttered, “If you’ll excuse me,” and made for the door, high heels clicking defiantly across the floor.  

Vox moved instantly, blocking the doorway with his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” his voice was low, demanding, his eyes flashing. “We need to talk.” 

You laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Talk?” The word was venom on your tongue. “About what, boss?” you spat, glaring up at him with eyes that glowed with barely contained fury. “I finished my work for the day. You don’t get to tell me how to spend my free time. So, move. Now.” 

Vox’s mouth opened, word momentarily failing him. He hadn’t expected this anger, this defiance, like you’d been holding it in for far too long. What’s happened to us? He took a breath, eyes darkening, and his grip tightened as he pulled you back into the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he snapped, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You think you can just fucking walk away from me without a damn word about what you’re doing?” 

In one swift movement, he turned you, guiding you toward the bed. “Sit,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for protest. “Let’s finally fucking talk this out. Right now.”  

Your laugh cut through the air like a blade, sharp and dripping with anger that had Vox stiffening in place. “Talk?” you sneered, voice raw and unfiltered. “You think we should talk after you treated me like I was nothing, then just threw some fucking roses at the mess and expected me to smile?” 

The room vibrated with Vox’s rising fury, the lights flickering in tune with the storm behind his eyes. “I gave you those fucking roses,” he barked, voice crackling with barely restrained anger, “and you repay me by acting like a bitch and fucking cheating on me with Papermint – of all the fucking lowlifes?” His voice was rising, his chest heaving with every breath. “I thought you had more class than that, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re just some fucking cheap who-” 

Before he could finish, you grabbed him by the lapels, yanking him down to face you, so close his electric crackles buzzed against your skin. “Go on,” you dared, eyes glinting with fury and hurt. “Finish that thought if you’re stupid enough.” 

Something changed within him, a dark hunger flooding down to his gut as you challenged him. For a heartbeat, the anger seemed to melt, replaced by something even more intense. His hands found your hips, his grip unyielding as he leaned in. “Oh, I see it now,” he murmured, low and dangerous. “This little stunt of yours...you just wanted my attention.” He pressed his hips flush against yours, his arousal growing at the very heat of you seeping into him. “Well, doll, now you’ve got every damn bit of it.” 

You met his gaze, refusing to back down, lips curling in a cruel smile. “Attention? I don’t need it from you.” Your voice as cutting as glass. “And believe me, I’ve been thinking about finding someone else – a real man who’ll actually be worth my time. Hell, maybe Papermint would be a better fuck than you.” The words dripped with venom, but a slight tremor slipped into your voice, and Vox seized on it like a lifeline.  

The room grew darker as, one by one, the lights exploded in a burst of sparks, littering the floor with shards of glass. Vox’s patience snapped. With a growl, he shoved you onto the bed, his grip firm on your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. “Fuck you. His voice was a low, dangerous snarl. “Doll, I’m the best fuck you’ll ever have in this Hell, and deep down, you know it.” 

You met his gaze with a cold, derisive smile, unyielding. “Is that why Valentino threw you aside? I hear he’s got quite the size on him,” you taunted, digging your nails into his shoulders to pull him closer to you. “Ah, that’s what I should do,” you slowly grinded against the bulge in his pants, “I should find someone who’ll make me forget all about you.” 

Vox’s restraint broke, his hands tearing through fabric as he ripped your clothes apart, each move charged with a possessiveness that left no room for anything else. “Forget me? Fuck you, you fucking bitch,” he growled, the words raw as he flipped you onto your stomach, his hands rough on your waist as he pulled you to him. “I’m going to make damn sure you remember exactly who you belong to.” 

You knew you shouldn’t have said those words to him. Deep down, you weren’t interested in Papermint, but it felt intoxicating to bask in the glow of someone’s adoration, even if it was just a fleeting moment.  

Each day Vox failed to show up and apologize chipped away at your self-esteem, leaving you feeling disposable. Maybe you had let slip a little white lie about your supposed interest in Papermint, but God, you were so furious with him. How dare he try to control who you saw after treating you like a fool.  

When he appeared next to you, grabbing you and whisking you away to his penthouse, a surge of conflicting emotions coursed through you. You hated yourself for feeling that familiar spike of desire, even as your heart raced from the frustration simmering within.  

You could feel the tension radiating from his frame, an electric heat that mingled with the anger rolling off him in waves. And as he pressed himself against you, you couldn’t help but notice the telltale hardness of his arousal, a fact he seemed oblivious to while you were throwing barbs at each other.  

It was as if all the pent-up anger and sexual frustration had built up in a perfect storm, finally peaking and ready to explode. You had told yourself you were done with him, yet you hadn’t sought anyone else because, deep down, you didn’t want to accept that Vox had truly thrown you away.  

Then, in a swift motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hot, thick member pressing against the cleft of your ass. A soft moan escaped your lips as he slowly rubbed his cock against your slick folds, teasing you with delicious friction. It was ridiculous – months of silence, and here you were, ready to fuck him the moment you came face-to-face.  

How typical of both of you.  

“Hah,” he scoffed above you, his voice dripping with condescension. “I’m a bad fuck? Look how fucking wet you are, doll,” he growled, his tone low and commanding. He ground his cock against you, igniting a wave of pleasure that made you moan into the sheets.  

His claws dug into your hips, sharp sensations igniting your skin as he held you in place. And then, in one fluid motion, he plunged his cock deep inside you, filling you to the brim.  

“FUCK!” you screamed, your body arching at the overwhelming stretch as he relentlessly shoved deeper, each thrust reaching the opening of your cervix. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried, your body instinctively wiggling against him, a primal response to the intoxicating pleasure.  

“Ugh, fuck you and your tight fucking pussy,” he snarled, pulling back before slamming his hips back in, knocking the breath right out of you. “You think you can just ignore me while you’re that desperate for my cock?” he growled, the raw possessiveness in his voice sending shivers down your spine as he pounded into you relentlessly. His heavy balls slapping against your clit with each thrust.  

It was animalistic, the way he gripped you, his claws drawing blood as your face pressed into the bedsheets. Drool pooled at the corners of your lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. Your fingers desperately gripped the sheets tightly as you balanced on all fours, surrendering yourself to the feral rhythm of his relentless pounding from behind.  

“I’m not good enough for you?” he panted, each thrust punctuated by the sounds of the bed creaking and groaning under your bodies. The lights in the room flickered, the distant pops fading into darkness, heightening the tension that crackled in the air. “Doll, you’re a fucking liar,” he hissed, pressing his chest to your back. “Your cunt is fucking greedy, drooling all over my cock.” With a thrust that sent shockwaves through you, he angled his hips just right, rubbing against your g-spot and making your body quiver.  

“F-Fuck!” you cried, your voice barely more than a gasp as pleasure spiralled inside you, a wave cresting toward an inevitable climax. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum” you repeated, breathless.  

A sharp tug on your hair pulled you flush against him. His cock twisted within you, making you feel tighter, more vulnerable, as he continued his relentless pace. His claws dug into your breast, their sharp points puncturing your skin, igniting a fiery mix of pleasure and pain that made you moan with abandon.  

“Fucking coming on my cock, huh?” he murmured into your ear, his voice low and primal as you bounced on him. “You gonna squirt for me, doll? Wet my sheets? It’s been so fucking long,” his fingers swirled over your soaked clit, the slickness of your arousal mingling with the sounds of your bodies colliding.  

“Yeah, yeah,” you moaned, your head falling back in ecstasy, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes as the pressure in your gut built to a fever pitch. “Fuck, Vox, I-” 

His fingers continued their relentless assault, a blissful combination of pleasure and overstimulation that matched the urgency of his thrusts. You felt a brilliant flash of white before the floodgates opened, a spray of wet arousal erupting from your pussy and soaking the sheets in a deep blue puddle, just as he had predicted.  

“Fuck, doll, look how well you came for me,” he growled, his cock still hard, throbbing and desperate as he thrust into you with abandon. Each movement stretched you further, melding pleasure with the remnants of your orgasm as waves of ecstasy washed over you.  

Thoughts slipped away, replaced by a chorus of moans and breath pleas of “yes, baby, just like that,” echoing in the dim room. A haze enveloped your mind, pleasure flooding every sense until he finally slowed his pace, pulling out completely.  

He gently laid you back on the bed, your body sinking into the soft sheets, still pulsing with aftershocks of pleasure. He knelt over you, his cock jutting out, glistening with your slick. The air between you thickened with heavy breaths, desire hanging palpably in the darkness. 

“Come here, sweetie,” you beckoned, opening your legs in an inviting display, your arms reaching out in a gesture of warmth. “I want you to feel good, too.” A sultry grin danced on your lips, the high of pleasure still coursing through your veins.  

Vox hesitated, his eyes narrowing as they drifted down to your chest, his expression shifting to one of concern. You followed his gaze and noticed the scratches, the blood, and the marks he left on you. A thrill shot through you; what was a little blood if it meant he was giving you a good fucking? 

“Vox?” you called out softly when he didn’t move closer.  

As if shaking off a trance, he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you against him, pressing your head against him. You felt the steady thrum of his pulse beneath his skin. Confusion knitted your brows; this was new. The roughness, the passion, all wrapped in an unexpected tenderness that left you both breathless and yearning for more.  

His claws wove through your hair, each stroke sending a shiver down your spine as he laid you back down, his breath hitching with desire. His arms bracketed your head, the weight of his body bearing down on you as his eyes bore into yours, a fiery intensity igniting the air between you. As he slowly entered you, the world around you faded, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him, his size stretching you deliciously, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. 

Moaning in delight, your toes curled, and your chest arched up to meet him, the remnants of your first orgasm still thrumming through your body. “Sunshine,” he groaned, his voice a low, sultry rumble as he thrust in and out of you with exquisite slowness, as if you were a precious treasure, fragile and irreplaceable. “Sunshine, don’t you know,” his claws traced delicately along your brow, “how dark my office was without you?” 

A part of you wanted to roll your eyes at the cheesiness, to throw out a sarcastic quip. But the softness in his gaze, the way his body slowed to savour every inch of you, stole your words. You felt the walls of your heart soften as he indulged in you, burying himself deep, savouring the warmth and tightness of your body. 

“Sunshine, I missed you,” he whispered, his voice cracking with raw emotion. His eyes flickered with something fierce, a primal need that made your core ache with longing. “You’re my sunshine,” he grinned, that cocky smirk you had fallen for, “please don’t take my sunshine away.” 

A bubble of laughter escaped your lips, but it quickly turned to tears, shimmering in your eyes as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. Your lips brushed against the heated surface of his skin, and a delicious thrill raced through you. “You’re so cheesy, Vox,” you teased lightly, despite the moisture threatening to spill over. “Who does that while fucking?” 

“What if I’m making love to you?” he countered, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. His claws caught a stray tear sliding down your cheek, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming. “Can I tell you how much you mean to me?” 

Stunned into silence, you let his words wash over you, his gentle thrusts igniting every nerve ending in your body. The way he rolled his hips, slow and deliberate, filled you with warmth and love, deepening the bond that had always been there, even in the chaos. You basked in his affection, your heart and mind colliding in a beautiful mess of emotions. 

Each grind of his hips sent waves of pleasure through you, the tension building like a simmering volcano. You trembled beneath him, a soft moan escaping your lips as you felt the pressure coiling tighter and tighter. And when you finally hit your peak, it was a gentle, shattering bliss, a soft gasp spilling from your mouth as pleasure crashed over you like a warm tide. 

Vox closed his eyes, his own moans filling the air as he lost himself in you. With each thrust, he pressed deeper, filling you completely, his hot seed bursting forth, flooding you and marking you as his. You could feel him pulsing inside you, both of you lost in the haze of drunk, heady pleasure. 

As your breaths intertwined and slowed, he rolled over, cradling you against his chest. You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong, a soothing rhythm against your skin as his release mixed with yours, dampening the sheets beneath you. 

In the warm, dim light of the room, his claws gently brushed through your hair, sending pleasant tingles through your scalp. “Every year, no matter how busy we are, let’s make sure we spend time together on this day,��� he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity. 

You furrowed your brows, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “Sure, Vox,” you replied, closing your eyes and surrendering to the comforting embrace of his body, the thrum of his heartbeat lulling you into a tranquil state. 

You and he made promises all the time. 

Promises to cherish each other. 

Promises to communicate, to be open. 

Promises to carve out time for one another. 

But you both knew that as time passed, those promises often slipped away. After all, this was hell, where eternity stretched endlessly, and the weight of promises could never bear the burden of forever. 

66 years later, you stood outside VoxTek Aquarium, the warm hellish air brushing against your legs as your loose white dress swayed gently with the breeze. The plunging v-neckline gave the soft fabric an elegant flow, but the empty street surrounding the aquarium was unsettling. The eerie silence was in stark contrast to the usual bustle, the crowds that typically lined up for hours on end nowhere to be seen.   

As you approached the doors, a small sign with different shades of blue balloons swaying side by side caught your eyes. 

The sign read: Our 66th Anniversary, with a giant heart drawn right below it.   

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Vox Headcannons

Do I simp for a literal flat screen TV?

Yes. And I still feel like it’s not my weirdest crush.

Similar to Alastor, he likes to have the dual reputation to the public of being a calm and collected media figure and someone with a veil of terrifying power. If he does become infatuated with you, depending on where you stand in hell, he doesn’t necessarily want it being promoted all over Hell. If you’re on the more powerful side, he’d like to strike up a mutually beneficial deal that points the two of you in a positive light, but if not, he’d much rather just have you privately beneath him in his company.

With this in mind, Vox does not like the cat and mouse chase that Alastor would revel in. In his mind it’s more annoying than anything. For him, there is more enjoyment in coming out on top and getting his way than playing a game of back and forth. If anything, he’ll get more and more irritated the longer you avoid his grasp, especially if its because you’re purposefully fighting against him.

Does NOT take overt rejection well. If his reaction to Alastor rejecting his business proposition is to hold obsessive revenge and borderline hate boners, having the person of his dreams flip him off will piss him off infinitely more. Just who do you think you are? Once he does finally have you, he is going to make you pay.

He does have the power to use brain washing and hypnotism. He is willing to use it, but it’s not necessarily a first choice. He also wouldn’t want to use it to simply brain wash you into wanting him and definitely not into screwing him. He would prefer to use it in small doses, perhaps to calm you down when you are upset with something he did or if he wants you to feel more at ease around him.

Is a fan of constant surveillance. With the amount of media at his disposal having a camera for his personal viewing would be easy peasy both before and after you get stuck with him. Also has an uncomfortably large collection of photographs of you that he keeps hidden.

If you are on the more accommodating side, his ultimate dream would for him to have you stuck up in a private apartment 24/7 in the ginormous studio that the Vees own. Keeps you right where he would want you as well as away from Valentino. I have a feeling that Val and Vox have a set up that as long as they don’t have to see or interact really with their partner’s “toys” and “pets” they don’t really care that much that they have them.

[bonbons-artdump]

Hells Hottest summer Day 6

Water Fight:

Hazbin Hotel v Vee Tower

Water Sniper v Dual Waterguns

Alastor v Vox

Who Will Win.

[chaifootsteps]

wr.t. leaks (spoilers, duh!). Viv really chose the most boring and uninspired rendition of Alastor possible, and I could not be more disappointed. The signs were definitely there in Season 1, but if you wanted to you could easily dismiss as sloppy writing and one-time reactions to extraordinary events.

Like, I know no fan is *entitled* to have their particular interpretation of a character be validated, but... really? He's been reduced to the form of a one-dimensional, entitled manchild you might find as the villain of a self-insert fanfiction. Ohhhh nooo luci hurt his feefees and Rosie didn't actually make him an all powerful god, so time to storm out and whine about it. Why make a deal in the first place? Well, duh, he gleefully murdered so many people for trivial inconveniences he didn't wanna end up a tortured soul in Hell. He's basically Valentino, but, on the 'good team', and not a rapist (yet.), or Adam, or Vox, or Mammon, or Stella (frankly, you could even put Stolas in this bucket, if he weren't so unintentionally manipulative). A parody of a threatening character, incapable of creating conflict in any way that doesn't involve waving around a big stick and reminding everyone and the audience who the author blessed with magical power don't you forget it!

I've said this about pilot!fanon!Lucifer too, but, the fandom interpretations are just objectively more interesting. It's not like you can't write a story, or even a good story, about an entitled man drunk on power obsessed with his own image and getting what he thinks he's owed. But why would you 1) choose an enslaved racial minority character (!!!) to do this and 2) do it instead of multiple more compelling options given you already have multiple of this exact character on the cast?

Fanon!Alastor has emotions other than anger and insecure whining, he just can't express them because decades of crawling his way up two different hostile societies have beaten into him never expressing vulnerability. His very smile is symbol of societies like Hell ultimately victimize both the powerful abusers and their victims. Fanon!Alastor had a deal with ___ not because he's drunk on his own desire to murder but because he's vulnerable to the very same weakness and temptation he's learned to exploit in others. Fanon!Alastor has a natural dual conflict with Charlie: Alastor's connections and practical knowledge represent a way of making her dream a reality, at the cost of potentially corrupting her and having her get there in an incorrect/immoral way. And Charlie's dream presents Alastor with a pathway to more power and stability, but unbeknownst to him threatens to unwind his entire psyche in allowing himself to care about something. Fanon!Alastor, far from being image-obsessed with a need to be constantly in the limelight, is capable of being subtle, fading into the background when it benefits him.

I could go on, but I'm just tired. It hurts me that, come release, fan works which I enjoy making and reading will be expected to comply with this. I don't want to write Alastor this way. I don't want to be told I'm writing him 'wrong' for not doing it. I hope that in some way the earlier fanons are preserved and kept alive even as canon is polluted with all this slop.

It's sad and exhausting, for sure. It also doesn't help that the standom will attack you pretty viciously if you have the audacity to prefer the pilot to the actual series.

[danwhobrowses]

Since Critical Role's big endgame battle has begun (as of ep. 113) and looks to give us a fair handful of Lv. 20 combat across the board with VM and later the Nein - and also since the Omen Archive are yet to do a level up overview for Bell's Hells to Lv. 15 like I expected them to do after ep. 112 - I find myself optimistically and curiously wondering how Bells Hells would shape up should they reach Lv. 20.

Admittedly, I do remain worried about how underleveled they are; I know it's intended since the Hells are the 'underdogs not meant to be in this position' group but still, for comparison Essek debuted at Lv. 15 in C2 and Vox Machina ended their campaign at Lv. 18 when the stakes were slightly lower than what we have with Ludinus, the Vanguard, the Imperium, and Predathos. Still, with nothing we can do but pray they make it out alive - and I hope they do - I've decided to indulge that rare bout of optimism and deep dive into what would their Lv. 20 state look like? While also considering what they may add during this final arc should they level up in between like they did the last time they were on Ruidus.

We're gonna go through each character one by one for this, so I'll start with my favourite (aka the one I wanna talk/ramble the most about).

Ashton is perhaps the easiest endgame build to tell class-wise, it's likely Tal will have them go the full 20 since Grog has already done the Fighter dip and there's not many other multiclasses that can be of a greater benefit to them; the intrigue however with Ashton focuses on the ASI they get at levels 16 and 19, the first one particularly if there's still a level up mid-battle. The obvious route for the first ASI is to get back the CON they lost in the shard incident - which I still find an unfair penalty since they gained nothing from surviving the bold and deemed impossible action, 'your reward is you get to live' doesn't stick with me given that the 10 rolls (well, 9 plus the resurrection ring) are proof of survival anyway - and absorbing Dusk Hunger sadly didn't give back, adding to their DEX instead - which, also kinda stubborn of Matt, adding 1 AC isn't exactly worthy of absorbing a legendary item especially compared to what Orym got with Ishta, they were better off trying to dual wield it if Matt's not gonna give stats that'll suit Ashton's wheelhouse, STR and CON, and let the tank be a tank - so it will likely fall into Tal's hands to get Ashton's stats to where they want them to be. Either way, Ashton's STR and CON are going up if they hit Lv. 20 as pure Barbarian, Primal Champion adds 4 to both and increases their max to 24, so without ASI Ashton will have 22 STR and 20 CON by Lv. 20 anyway, with ASI however Ashton can go 24/22 in either direction - and we can't rule out more absorption in the future, since Legendary loot may be yielded from this endgame battle plus Otohan's Backpack, Zathuda's storage cloak and maybe any other armour from the two could be Legendary items just gathering dust among the group, but if Ashton were to take any of them they'd have to wait a day since the Harness only grants 1 permanent and 1 temporary buff per person, and each person who uses it on the same day risks it breaking by 20%. However, we also can't rule out Ashton taking a feat instead of ASI, it's a slim chance but there are some feats that can be of use for Ashton in general or specifically vs Ludinus; Mage Slayer, Strike of the Giants (Hill or Stone Strike, of the two I'd go for Hill because of it causing the prone condition, which will help Ashton and allies, like Orym with that 1d6 extra Force Damage, stack critical damage), and Great Weapon Master could be powerful if they don't focus on ASI. The Tough feat is always good for being tanky too, but such a feat would likely only be used at the Lv. 19 ASI/Feat domain to get the most out of it. The only other places Ashton can get major potential buffs - outside of any new enchanted items that aren't armour - are from Dunamancy and their Titan powers, but neither have provided a clear opening for improvement as of yet. Ashton hit their final Dunamancy path at Lv. 14, where they got Mark of the Messy End (which compared to Essek getting access to stuff like Reality Break doesn't seem to balance out but I guess Wizards are glass cannons so Dunamancy does more with them), but there is a quiet, lingering mystery over how Potions of Possibility and Luxon Beacons will behave if Ashton and their Dunamancy brain interacts with them, given how they have many potions on hand, in general and gifted to them by the Kryn Dynasty before they met with the Nein, and Ludinus using Luxon Beacons as power sources, there is potential for Ashton's Dunamancy to increase that way - or simply through Matt adding an extra Dunamancy path in place of an ASI/Feat, a Dunamancy-based feat, or swapping Primal Champion with something else. The Titan Form could also improve by level, and I kinda hope it does, it's powerful but given the time limit and Exhaustion it's still below the level of Grog's Titanstone Knuckles in terms of utility, if more power or less limitations are imposed the higher their level it could scale Ashton up further in a similar manner to having a Vestige or, in Orym's case, a Relic of the Red Solstice.

Speaking of Orym, you'd assume that he'll also go for the clean 20, but this is Liam O'Brien we're talking about - he gave Vax a Druid level for his love of Keyleth, so you can't put it past him to add a level in Bard for Dorian. Like Ashton, Orym has 2 ASI waiting for him at levels 16 and 19, due to maxing his DEX - and absorbing Ishta overclocking it (a DEX increase that actually makes sense as a Finesse blade Fighter, adding +1 to AC and attack rolls and a higher DC for enemies to save against superiority die attacks) - Orym has already dipped into feats a lot but could always find room for more. Great Weapon Master, Shield Master, Mage Slayer, and Tough again at level 19 are viable options for Orym and his build, but there's also a unique option of, instead of taking a level in Bard, Magic Initiate: Bard in lieu of Dorian; taking the feat lets him gain the 4th attack Lv. 20 Fighter yields while adding some handy Bard magic such as Friends, Thunderwave, Command, Bane or Cure Wounds - all of which are Level 1 Bard spells. While adding a level in Bard would be a nice gesture, the Magic Initiate feat would probably work better for Orym's build if he wanted to reference his connection to Dorian this way, since he doesn't need 4 extra 1st level spells and he already has a lot of proficiencies and bonuses to cover his rolls anyway, plus he still carries the sending stone if he doesn't want to do either. If he went for ASI, Orym could try to rival Ayden's passive perception by buffing his WIS, but I doubt anybody would hold it against him to be less perceptive than a god. Regardless of ASI and feats, a pure 20 in Fighter does up Orym's lethality immensely, getting a potential 12 attacks with two Action Surges - the second gained in Lv. 17 - in one round (16 attacks if hastened and 17 if hastened and a Time Rage Mark of the Messy End - which I believe allows you to attack with Bonus Actions - is used on an enemy), which would make him an extra efficient killer and protector for combat, which suits his character as well. While multiclassing is an uncommon trait to reference a partner, in Orym's case it's probably moreso cute but unnecessary flavouring.

Adding an element of their partner into their build is something Imogen has done already with decent effect, however. Imogen is another pure 20 likelihood; she has 2 ASI, a Metamagic choice, her final Origin Feature - Warping Implosion: essentially you teleport and anyone within 30 feet will be caught in a gravity fissure - and Sorcerous Restoration - 4 sorcery points restored per short rest - waiting for her at the full 20. As alluded, she already has Laudna influences in the Shadow Touched feat and a vial of her blood in her equipment so she needn't use a feat or a multiclass in further reference to her, which means it comes down to what options she chooses for her ASI/Feats and future skills. With her CHA maxed out already, the two ASI would need to go elsewhere or to feats; War Caster could be used to help her concentration spells, such as the reskinned Hunger of Hadar, Telekinesis, and Investiture of Lightning, unused spells such as her mother's Reverse Gravity, Hold Person, or Globe of Invulnerability, or future 8th-9th level spells such as Dominate Monster, Gate, and Mass Polymorph (turn them all into horses!). Otherwise using one of those ASI to add 1 to INT and WIS will add to saving throws of those stats (+1 for INT and +2 for WIS), she can also remove all her stat negatives by adding an ASI to her STR in place of a feat. Imogen also has options with choosing a final Metamagic from Sorcerer; she has Quickened, Distant, and Twinned Spell already, so the next one needs to also be helpful in combat; the potential of Extended and Transmuted Spell are decent, but Heightened Spell may be the best fit for her - spending 3 Sorcery points to impose disadvantage on a spell save can be very useful when using Imogen's spells such as Psychic Lance, especially against powerful magic users like Ludinus. Going a little extra meta with things, Imogen at Lv. 20 is only going to exist in one-shots or guest appearances - which means short rests aren't likely to faze her as much, also recovering 4 out of a total of 20 Sorcery Points per short rest isn't a lot when you get all of them back after a Long Rest. If Imogen were to pull a swerve and multiclass she could simply sacrifice an ASI for an 18/2 split or just take a 19/1 dip without it doing any negative effect to her current build. Of the multiclassing options, I find that the Tempest Cleric could gel pretty well with her build; connecting her lightning magic and her storm analogies (and her attempt to reach out to the Stormlord) from a narrative perspective, while combat-wise she'd get to use Wrath of the Storm to damage anyone that attacks her (as many times as her WIS, so 1-3 depending on her ASI usage) and, if she goes for the 18/2 split, she can use the class' Channel Divinity to max out a spell's lightning damage - which if used on a 9th Level Lightning Bolt is 76 damage without enhancements! - she also gets some minor healing to add to her repertoire, and with a group without a pure Cleric you can't really have a shortage of players who can heal even if it's a little bit. I can't see any other dip doing her as much benefit, so the full 20 is more likely, even if the maxed out Lightning Bolt would work wonders.

You know who also knows Lightning Bolt? Well, a fair amount of players and NPCs but also Dorian! Let's talk our Boy in Blue - no I did not say 'Blue in Boy' in my head when typing, shush! - he's our last PC likely to be a pure 20 of the group, also because the rest have already multiclassed, but like Imogen there is also the opening for a little bit of multiclassing. The ASI in levels 16 and 19 are probably best put into maxing his CHA stat that's currently at 16, DEX could also go up to 20 for additional Gambolcleft damage but the sword is pretty powerful as it is - it depends if Robbie wants Dorian to focus on Spell or Melee output for stats, but casting is probably the better way to go. Not many feats would help Dorian outside of maybe Tough and War Caster, perhaps Slasher but they do seem like minor additions he can go without, so ASI is likely the best route to take for him. Unlike with Orym where a dip in Bard wouldn't do much good mechanically, Dorian could easily take a dip in Fighter and have it be a solid investment; the Bard's Lv. 20 ability Superior Inspiration only helps if you've used up all of your Inspiration, and as said with Imogen that probably won't come up in a one-shot scenario where Lv. 20 Dorian would likely appear, but by Lv. 19 he will already have added spells from any magic class via his final dip into Magical Secrets - and honestly I have no clue what one he could take because like, all of the spells! Wish is probably the go-to one but Dorian doesn't want anything from the gods so maybe not? - and he'll already have a 9th level spell slot from earlier levels. A 1-level dip in Fighter can give Dorian Second Wind for some self-healing and another Fighting Style to choose from: either Superior Technique - like Orym has - or Duelist would suit best, and if Robbie sacrifices an ASI he can go up to a 2nd level for Action Surge, which is handy should he focus on melee. There aren't many other 1-level dips that would suit Dorian narratively, there was probably Warlock potential in EXU: Prime when the crown was in play but since, again, the group lacks a pure healer, Dorian is probably better off investing his stats and skills towards Bard spells - which in turn bolsters DPS as well as healing.

From one Bard/DPS healer to another, Braius debuted with some pretty high stats to begin with, with only WIS being a negative modifier. As a 12/3 multiclass he can go a few different directions - much like his character arc and selection of deity - but it leaves him at a crossroads - also like his character arc. The 12 levels in Oath of the Ancients Paladin means he's locked out of getting Bard's Magical Secrets, if he maxes out his remaining levels in Bard he gets 2 ASI, a College of Tragedy feature (make crits be at rolls 18, 19 and 20 after an ally is hit with a crit plus a '+10 on a roll but a -10 penalty on the next' skill), Countercharm, and his Bardic Inspiration dice will go up to 1d8, but all of those are kinda covered by Dorian's higher level Bard class and Ashton's Mark of the Messy End while in Luck Rage to a higher or better extent. The 3 levels in Bard however has locked Braius out of Paladin's Aura improvements and the big Elder Champion buff, which is a big loss, if maxed out in Paladin they'll get Cleansing Touch - end a spell on yourself or anyone you can touch as many times as your CHA, one ASI, a 5th level spell slot (handy for Banishing Smite, Circle of Power, Destructive Wave, and Summon Celestial), and Undying Sentinel - which is just a once-a-long-rest Relentless Rage with no CON save. Build-wise, it would be best for Braius to go one of three different paths; either go for a 15/5 split - so no 5th level spell but he gets 1 ASI, Undying Sentinel, and Font of Inspiration for the 1d8 inspiration - a 14/6 split - where we swap Undying Sentinel for the college feature, or go the unique path and add a third class - while the 5th level spell slot has powerful spells Braius' combat is much more melee-based so it is a less likely option. A 14/3/3 triple split sacrifices his ASI/feats but 3 levels in Fighter gives him another Fighting Style, Action Surge, Second Wind, and a Fighter subclass to add to his combat prowess. One unlikely Fighter subclass that could suit Braius is the Rune Knight; with 3 levels Braius will have access to 2 runes, which can be tied to his character's artistry, to add to his gear - the Fire and Cloud Runes being the most useful to him from what I see - they would also get Giant's Might as a skill for an extra 1d6 of damage once per turn. Fighter isn't the only class Braius can benefit from though; he would only need to dip 2 levels in Cleric or Druid to gain their subclass-based abilities; a Shepherd Druid would give the group a slight benefit with the Hawk Spirit skill, using a reaction to attack with advantage and having advantage on perception checks, but similar to Imogen he'd probably benefit a bit more from dipping into Cleric - particularly Grave, War, Ambition, and Peace Domain Clerics, who each have abilities that can further empower him. A dip in Barbarian would be handy for Danger Sense - not so much Rage because you can't use spells - maybe opting for the Zealot path subclass, which also suits narratively, for an extra 1d6 damage, or a dip in the Monster Hunter Ranger to aid in picking out weaknesses. A 12/4/4 split could also work, forgoing Cleansing Touch to grant Braius 2 ASI or feats if Sam wanted them; with that they can balance their WIS to 10 and then max out their CHA and another +1 elsewhere, or just do a feat like Fey Touched - since he was touched plenty by a Fey Hag all across her manor - to max the CHA and gain a spell like Hunter's Mark to aid in combat.

Speaking of Hunters, Chetney may not have been designed to survive the campaign but with Travis rolling the fatal 0 when playing as Grog that old man is still, somehow, kicking. If Travis doesn't pull a Bertrand and allows him to continue defying the odds and live to Lv. 20, Chetney would be in a similar position to Braius - having gone the Tealeaf route and locked himself out of the full 20 in Blood Hunter by having a dip in Rogue - in being in a crossroads of classes. If he invests his remaining levels in Blood Hunter to 19, he still gets a lot from the class; 2 Order Features (advantages on bloodlust saving throws and on any branded creature, then unlimited hybrid transformations on the next feature), 2 ASI, and an extra Blood Maledict. Chetney's 1-level dip in Rogue however means he could also invest into any Rogue subclass for a 17/3 split (or a 16/4 split if he sacrifices a Blood Maledict for 2 ASI over one) instead; Assassin would help his damage output especially since he likes going Invisible, but the Revived subclass would be funny implying that he died but miraculously came back and no longer needed to risk dying in his sleep because he doesn't need to sleep anymore. Chet could also triple class like we suggested with Braius; 3-5 levels in Artificer - since he's a toymaker his toys can be infused beyond the enchanted distractions, going for the Armorer subclass can also be handy for the Thunder Gauntlets ability too, 2 levels in Fighter - for Action Surge, 2-4 levels in Monk - which has decent potential if his chisel is made a dedicated weapon plus the possible boons from Kensei, Mercy, or Open Hand paths, or even 3 levels in Ranger - where Hunter, Gloom Stalker, and Monster Slayer subclasses each have skills that could help Chet in combat, can all be seen as options, but it can also run the risk of being overcomplicated. Despite a Feat sidestepping Chet losing control in his Hybrid Form, logic says that Chet would likely stick with the 19/1 route since the feat only imposes a disadvantage against losing control and he can still do collateral damage, character-wise he'd likely want to keep his Lycanthropy on lock as much as he can. Plus, going to 19 Blood Hunter levels yields unlimited transformations and the second ASI hits at Lv. 19; with the two ASI - which he cannot get from triple classing - he can max out his STR and buff up his CON, DEX, and/or CHA for any additional bonuses, he has no negative stats so any are fair game. I don't see any feats that'd be too helpful, but outside of AC or DC boosts from increasing CON or DEX, upping CHA could also help with persuasion and being persuasive and tricksy.

Persuasive and Tricksy are some of many words you can use to define Fearne, who is also a Rogue multiclass. Her current 10/5 with Wildfire Druid as the majority allows her some wiggle room for her to go a few different directions. The 5 levels in Rogue have locked her out of a second ASI in Druid, the timeless body (not really a big deal for a fey), additional Wild Shape perks, and the 9th Level Spell Slot though, but if she invests only into Druid levels for the full 15 she does still gain one ASI and her Wildfire Feature 'Blazing Revival' - where once per long rest Mister can sacrifice himself (I don't think it's a permadeath sacrifice just like an 'off the board until resummoned' sacrifice) to revive her to half HP if she's downed - alongside a 6th, 7th and 8th level spell slot. If she goes for an even spread of 10 levels each with Rogue's Arcane Trickster however, she gains 2 ASI, 2 more proficiencies, Evasion, Magical Ambush, and a few more lower level spells. Both have valid directions - and as much as Fearne is a 'collector' I think a third class probably won't suit her and will perplex Ashley further - for her character even with mixing the level splits; a 12/8 split will grant her 2 ASI and a 6th level spell slot, while a 14/6 split grants one ASI, a 6th and 7th level spell slot, the Blazing Revival, and 2 proficiencies. Since Fearne doesn't do many sneak attacks and uses her Rogue abilities more for pickpocketing, it would probably be sensible to lean more towards Druid; a 15/5 split if she wants that 8th level spell slot for Sunburst, Incendiary Cloud, or Feeblemind, but a 14/6 split if she can do without - Plane Shift could narratively be on her radar so she can travel to the Feywild as she pleases, but Fire Storm is still a mighty 7th level spell that can be additionally buffed by her titan form which as mentioned with Ashton could also potentially scale up with levels - would give her more stuff to work with, plus extra Druid Levels buffs up Mister's health so he could be looking at 75-80 total HP (5+(Druid Level x 5)) depending on whether Fearne goes level 14 or 15. Since Fearne took War Caster already from her last level and her WIS is already maxed out, ASI to CON could be looked into to add health, AC, and DC, while also improving her chances at holding concentration for her saving throws, alternatively she can up her DEX to improve her pickpocketing so she can finally claim one of those eggs, since she's tragically 0-2 on that. Feat-wise, there is still the Elemental Adept: Fire feat to bypass enemy resistances to Fire too, lots of enemies will have Fire Resistance after all, so if she doesn't want to use ASI there is still that to use it on. So level-wise there is some wiggle room but class-wise she is better off picking one to focus on.

Our final member of the Hells Laudna has already picked her focused class; on a 12/3 Sorlock with her patron bound to a soul anchor - get fucked Delilah - she has implied to go pure Sorcerer from herein. Marisha has previously stated that she saw no gain in any more Warlock levels even when Delilah was still active and while a 6th level in Warlock would grant her an ASI at Lv.4 and unlocks Grave Touched - change damage to Necrotic plus 1 extra damage die when in Form of Dread, which is pretty solid - it does indeed suit narratively for Laudna to avoid more Warlock levels. The 3 levels she has gained from Warlock though have (war)locked her out of her final Sorcery feature of Umbral Form - which would've made her resistant to everything but Force and Radiant Damage, so like Braius' Primal Champion it's quite the loss - but she still looks to get Shadow Walk which aids her mobility, providing that there's darkness or shadows in the vicinity, as well as one ASI and another Metamagic option by continuing the Sorcerer's path, not to mention a dangerous 9th level spell slot. Unlike Imogen, Laudna opted for Empowered Spell in her current Metamagics alongside Quickened and Twinned, doing Heightened or Transmuted probably wouldn't suit Laudna like it does her partner though. Instead, Careful Spell could be a good choice for Laudna since her CHA is maxed out, so she could pick 5 creatures to auto-succeed a saving throw to a spell she sends, but since she doesn't have many AoE spells Extended Spell may be the better fit to keep up concentration on spells like Animate Objects, Mirror Image, or any future powerful concentration spells she'll have access to like Eyebite, Globe of Invulnerability, Reverse Gravity, or Blade of Disaster - which Delilah used pretty effectively in Aeor - ongoing. Even so, the one ASI remains; the Amulet of Health puts her CON to a fixed 19 so if she added one CON it'd be 16 without attunement, which is still pretty good but worthless if she just keeps using the amulet, she could put +1 in her woeful STR so it's a -2 rather than -3, or opt for feats such as War Caster - for those powerful concentration spells - or another Eldritch Invocation with Eldritch Adept, such as Armor of Shadows or Eldritch Spear, which may be more fitting for her fun scary nature.

And that's all of them, for a TL/DR I expect Ashton, Orym, Dorian and Imogen to do the pure 20 for their classes, while Chetney will go 19/1, Braius and Fearne go 14/6, and Laudna goes 17/3. But if it were me, the only ones I'd adjust from those would be Dorian (19/1, adding Fighter), Imogen (18/2, adding Tempest Cleric), and Braius (14/3/3, adding Rune Knight Fighter) just from a meta/fun perspective. Either way I'll just be happy to see them make Level 20, so fingers and every other digit I have stay crossed for whichever route they choose.

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

Emperor's Children Astartes are, of course, devoted to Slaanesh, and therefore to the sensation and axcess sensuality of the universe. This extends to the slightly uncommon practice of nerveblades, that is, having one's nervous system extended to wrap around the blade of one's sword, or intertwine with the teeth of a chainblade, thereby letting the bearer experience the full height of hitting someone with their very self.

A lone Lamenter retreats, screaming, pursued by an Emperor’s Children marine dual-wielding eviscerators and yelling “Bites you, bites you, bites you, bites you, bites you! >:3”

(The emote can be felt, even through the vox transmitter)

[fanby-fckry]

Who’s Who of Voxblr:

Voxblr Blogs:

🐺 666--vortex: Vortex

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz: Angel Dust

📏 baphometric-system: nameless background character; discourse blogger; presumably a Baphomet

🍸 bar-cat75: Husk

💀 be-gay-do-crym: Crymini

💥 blitz-the-o-is-silent: Blitzo (formerly blitzorodeo)

🍒 bomb-bitching-babe: Cherri Bomb

🎀 charlies-angel: Vaggie (formerly moth-gf)

💊 chillpilled-vibesmaxxer: nameless background character; imp

👓 creepz0: Burnie Burnz A.K.A. Creepzo

👯‍♀️ glitz-n-glam: Glitz and Glam (shared account)

🌈 hells-disney-princess: Charlie Morningstar

🎭 i-put-the-bi-in-bipolar: Dual, my hellsona/Sinner OC

🐸 jest-fizzarolli: Fizzarolli

🐑 lambchop-luvrgirl: the sheep demon from the Alastor prequel comic: A Day In the Afterlife

🍎 luci-goosey-666: Lucifer Morningstar

🌕 m00nlight-h0wling: Loona

🧪 mad-scienfish: Baxter

💰 million-dollar-mammon: Mammon

❤️ moth-pimp: Valentino

🪡 niffty-lady: Niffty

🐓 ozzie-king-of-lust: Ozzie A.K.A. Asmodeus

🐝 queen-bee-lzebub: Queen Bee A.K.A. Beelzebub

🧁 rad-velvette-cakes: Velvette

📻 real-radio-demon: Alastor parody account; nobody knows who runs this account

🩸 simply-moxxie: Moxxie

📢 sinnerjusticewarrior: nameless background character; discourse blogger; presumably a Sinner

📰 stolitzmemenews: a non-canon gimmick blog from the Anachronism Intermission, referencing the many Destiel Meme news blogs on tumblr.

🤠 strike-out: Striker

🏚️ theendisnear6669: nameless background character; Doomsday District resident

📺 voxblr4k: Vox

🐍 x-hiss-lord-x: Sir Pentious (Inactive, but not deactivated)

🫀 xoxo-millie: Millie

Relationships:

Alastor and Vox are rivals; Vox has a one-sided lust/crush/obsession

Angel Dust has feelings for Husk and is trying to work up the courage to tell him

Charlie and Vaggie are dating (like they are in canon).

Fizzarolli and Ozzie are dating (like they are in canon).

Millie and Moxxie are married (like they are in canon).

Loona, Queen Bee, and Vortex are a polycule

Valentino and Vox are dating (like they are in canon).

What’s What of Voxblr:

Ongoing Plots:

Fandom:

Like Tumblr, Voxblr has a large fandom culture. One of the most relevant fandoms is in-universe RPF, where Hellaverse characters engage in discourse, create fanworks, and ship each other.

Popular ships include Fizzarozzie (canon), and Radiostatic (enemies to lovers, not canon).

Niffty is a BNF fic author who specializes in RPF. Husk is her beta reader.

Radiostatic Rivalry:

Despite Alastor not having an official presence on Voxblr, his rivalry with Vox is alive and well. Vox often engages in Tumblr-style PVP with the Alastor parody account, @.real-radio-demon , and complains about Alastor’s popularity on the site.

The other Vees – especially Velvette – tease Vox over his rivalry/obsession with Alastor, often referencing its one-sided sexual nature.

real-radio-demon:

@.real-radio-demon is an Alastor parody account that popped up shortly after Velvette sent Vox a post from Niffty about enemies to lovers ships.

Nobody knows who runs the @.real-radio-demon account, with suspects ranging from Velvette to Niffty to Alastor, himself. Vox suspects the former, due to when the account appeared, but everyone seems to have their own take on the matter.

Hellaverse characters and IRL viewers alike are kept guessing by this account, which seems to have an uncanny amount of relevant information on Alastor and is simultaneously both in and out of character in its posts.

Vox can’t suspend the account because Queen Bee and Loona are fans and Vox knows better than to pick a fight with a Deadly Sin.

Voxblr Discourse:

Like Tumblr discourse, Voxblr discourse is, um… Well, it sure is something! Voxblr discourse is full of black and white thinking, parasocial hate, largely meaningless buzzwords, out of context drama, and a tendency to miss the point.

Niffty and Alastor are canceled. Radiohusk is problematic. Fizzaroli has antis. And of course, all discourse bloggers piss on the poor.

Obviously this is satire.

The discourse blog usually featured in my fake dash posts is @.creepz0 , run by Burnie Burnz A.K.A. Creepzo.

Websites and Brand Names:

.hell = general domain similar to .com or .org

.sin = domain name for websites owned by Deadly Sins

.vox = domain for all Voxtek websites

Archive of Our Souls = Archive of Our Own; free market fanfiction site not affiliated with Voxtek

AOOS = AO3; acronym for Archive of Our Souls

IHHOP (International Hell House of Pancakes) = IHOP (International House of Pancakes)

Sinstagram = Instagram

Tvitter = Twitter; owned by Voxtek; since rebranded to V, but nobody calls it that

Voxblr = Tumblr; owned by Voxtek

Voxflix = Netflix; owned by Voxtek

Voxify = Spotify; owned by Voxtek

VoxTube = YouTube; owned by Voxtek

VoxTV = an entertainment TV channel with no direct parallel; owned by Voxtek

WcDonnalds = McDonnalds

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Ashes

Author’s note: Nanael in Living Waters.

Summary: Nanael arrives on Ancient Terra in the oceans, and has decisions to make.

Warnings: None? Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Nanael wakes up, and is surprised that he's awake. He had been fighting with his shoal of brothers- so that the humans could escape the cruel claws of the Xeno threat that had been attacking the planet of Dolos VI.

He had his brothers had been fighting, and laying down their lives one by one until it was just Nanael left. As the last of his brothers died, he'd stopped holding back.

His primarch-blessed wings he used to shelter one of his brothers, not that it had done much more than block a blow or two before they had died.

Nanael had gotten revenge on the Xeno bastard that had killed him. But where is here? Nanael looks around. The taste of the ocean that he's floating in has pollutants, but is no where near so bad as some of the worlds of Forge or Industry can be.

He doesn't have the energy to try and hide his wings and his armor is pretty busted up. His injuries are complain to him and his vox is busted- so he can call for help.

Nanael had learned, why certain people had muttered about bad luck and the color pattern his scales had turned much later. But- despite how shit the Lamenters luck can be.

At least there were no Primaris Killers among his brothers of the yellow and black. His first born brothers, at first cautious, but then open heartedly accepting and almost tearful. Embracing him and his brothers with open arms.

But- that had been before the engagements that he'd been through. Dead, dying, death. So many died at each campaign. So much lost with each engagement.

Focus. Nanael thinks to himself firmly. He moves his tail and tries not to whimper, that hurt, but he can move. If he can move he can get somewhere safe. Thirst. Hunger.

He grabs a ration pack and ate it, with the wrapping still on, edible for a space marine to eat. He continued to swim, his wings tucked against his side and he swims through a kelpie forest and grabs enough of the kelpie to wrap around his body to hide his wings.

Nanael feels so happy when he hears voices- Astartes voices talking to each other in High Gothic. He swims closer- pausing to listen to the voice- no dual tones, no warped wrongness that means those astartes are Chaos and from the way they spoke, they didn't sound like renegades.

He gets closer and hides in more of the kelpie forest- by the edge as notices with his hearts sinking to his throat. Fuck. It's a pod of Black Templars.

Nanael knows that he doesn't have enough energy to hide his wings. That the Black Templars are complete lunatics, loyal servants of the Emperor, yes. But... very 'shun the mutant' and 'purge the witch'.

Of which they would deem him both. Fuck. The Lamenter's luck has struck him again. He needs to find away to avoid the Black Templar Shoal and find a place to hide and heal.

Try to find a hopefully friendly Tech priest or tech marine and trade for help with patching up his armor. He's learned over the years since he donned the yellow, black, white, and red checkered pattern and bleeding heart of the Lamenters that most shun and despite his chapter for their bad luck.

[voxofthevoid]

I would like to ask about the gojo fucking other gojo may we see it?👀👀👀👀

Anon 2: Living for all the crumbs of teen Gojou x adult Gojou

Hello, two gentleanons with excellent taste 😌

I've talked about this a bit here: https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/post/744571539772588032/omg-vox-i-am-so-happy-to-find-you-on-tumblr-holy

Here's a bit more from the outline, following after the parts described in that link (be warned that these are my raw notes, possessing neither grace nor grammar):

Yuuji joining in after a point to blow Satoru, who doesn’t last long under the dual assault. Maybe Yuuji venturing lower to tongue his balls and put his mouth to where Gojou’s fucking Satoru—might need a position change: Gojou tipping back with Satoru still on his cock? Continue in that vein with an overstimulated Satoru until Gojou comes.

Gojou asks Yuuji to take Satoru for a bit so he can sit up—100% a ploy to better fuck with Satoru, and they all know it, but Satoru doesn’t manage to muster a protest before Yuuji’s scooping him up. Yuuji taking 6'3" of man like he weighs nothing. Satoru experiences rapid-onset strength kink. Gojou moves to sit against the headboard, and Yuuji lays Satoru down on the bed—ass at the edge, legs kept around Yuuji’s waist. Barely asks permission (Senpai, can I—hello, dick) before sliding into Satoru, who protests maybe. Yuuji promises to be quick; it’s just that Satoru looks really good. Satoru’s endeared by the sincerity/politeness for 0.5 seconds before Yuuji starts fucking him like a goddamn machine—the kind of speed and friction that makes Satoru’s insides numb. Satoru clinging to Yuuji’s shoulders, Yuuji kissing him wet and messy.

After, Satoru’s a panting, whining mess. Yuuji asks if that was too rough, apologizes while adding he’s used to what Gojou can take. This predictably does not make Satoru happy. Yuuji’s solution is to eat him out until he cries. Maybe Gojou decides to get in on the fun by sitting on Satoru’s face.

[redvexillum]

A/N: It was supposed to be a raunchy one-shot but somewhere along the way, the feels have been caught. Also, special thank you to @glitterypeachy for the amazing Vox fanart on my title banner!

SUMMARY: Your boss, Vox, is a class-A hole, and you had envisioned tormenting him for all the overtime he was forcing you to work. Truly, he was ensuring that your time in Hell was...Hell. Perhaps it was you burning out, but you had a very vivid, steamy dream of your boss.

...At least, you were pretty sure it was a dream.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, assistant!reader, dom!reader, sub!Vox, dual POV, hating your boss to confused h*rny, reader is extremely sleep deprived and is so done with Vox's shenanigans, mutual attraction, pining, p in v, fluff, soft, edging, electrostimulation (brief)

<- PREV

“Ugh, fuck!” Vox cried out, panting heavily, his body writhing against the cords binding him. You giggled softly, your hands hovering tantalizingly close to his desperate cock, begging for release.  

This game had been going on for a while; you’d tricked him into thinking he was going to fuck you. Instead, you lay on his legs, your breasts pressed up against his quivering thighs, slowly stroking him.  

“What’s wrong, boss?” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin. You trailed the tip of your tongue along the sensitive curve of his head, tasting the salty musk of his arousal. With a sigh, you gently pulled back the foreskin, placing a soft kiss just below the tip.  

He groaned deeply, a sound filled with both pleasure and frustration, his cock twitching in your grasp. The throbbing pulse under your touch was irresistible, and his obvious tell when he was about to cum made it impossible not to edge him, again and again. 

“Ho-how long?” he whined, shifting his hips desperately, trying to press his cock against you, rubbing against you, anything to relieve the pressure building inside his balls.  

“Well,” you whispered, your finger trailing lightly from the head of his cock, collecting the bead of pre-cum and painting it down the thick vein of his shaft, “when I’m ready to fuck you, sir.” You said ‘sir’ with a cheeky grin, your voice pitched high in mockery.  

A soft, needy whine escaped him as he wiggled his body, trying to find any relief from the intense need that had him in a choke-hold. His chest rose and fell rapidly, pixelated sweat streamed down his face. Stifling a giggle, you pressed your lips against the middle of his shaft, closing your eyes to savour the searing heat of his skin.  

“Ah, fuck,” he moaned, his hips jerking upward as you trailed barely there kisses down his length. Your fingers curled around the wires wrapped tightly around his hips, and as you tugged them down, Vox unexpectedly let out a loud yelp.  

Startled, your eyes flew open as you saw Vox wince. You glanced down at your hand and noticed the wire you had tugged on had an exposed section. Realization dawned on you that you had accidentally shocked him. “Oh, shit,” you cringed as you carefully tried to unravel the surrounding wire. “Are you alright?” 

When Vox didn’t answer, you looked back at his face and saw a red tint flushed across it. He didn’t look upset or in pain. In fact, the way he was panting with a grin plastered across his screen, he looked rather…excited.  

You glanced down at the wire and experimentally pressed it against his inner thigh. The reaction was immediate. He cursed, his back arching while his cock stood straight and a pool of pre-cum began to form at the tip.  

Oh. He really liked this, didn’t he? 

You pressed your finger on the exposed wire, but you didn’t feel anything – not even a tingle. But judging by Vox’s reaction, he definitely felt the shock that your body couldn’t register.  

Humming, you gave him a smirk and hovered the wire just above the tip of his dick. You looked up at him, tilting your head with a teasing glint in your eyes.  

Vox’s eyes were transfixed on the open wire, his breath hitching. Hesitantly, he lifted his hips, slowly inching closer. He paused when the tip of his cock was just a hair’s breadth away from the wire. You stood still, watching him, waiting for him to embrace the sensation on his own.  

With a deep breath, Vox surged forward, making the decision himself. The moment his cock touched the open wire, he cried out loudly, his voice echoing off the walls. His hips shuddered violently as he continued to press his leaking tip against the wire, pre-cum smearing around.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh, fuck me!” he moaned, his face glitching with pop-ups warning of overheating before his expression returned, contorted with pleasure.  

As soon as you pulled the wire away from his cock, he sobbed, his hips thrusting in desperate, tiny stokes into the air, as if he were fucking an invisible pussy. His body craved the shocking sensation of the open wire, the lust in his eyes undeniable.  

“Let me,” his tone wavered with the glitches, “let me fuck you. I’ll fuck you so good,” he promised, or maybe he was begging, as he shut his eyes and tiny shivers wracked his frame.  

“I don’t know,” you said in a sing-song voice. Moving up, you sat on his abdomen, enjoying the view as his shirt rode up, exposing his chest. You pulled on the wire, lightly patting it against his skin, trailing it up his abdomen as he continued to buck his hips, pressing the tip of his cock urgently against your backside.  

“Fuck me,” he groaned, his bound hands trembling above his head.  

“You know, you cock blocked me for the past two years, boss,” you said casually. You dropped the damaged wire next to him, unreachable. Vox whimpered as he saw the wire lying far from him, the stimulating sensation just out of his reach.  

Vox blinked once, then twice, as your words seemed to finally penetrate his pleasure-fogged brain. His eyes snapped back to your face. “Cock block?” he asked, his voice regaining its normal timbre.  

His brows knitted together as he searched your eyes for meaning. “Are you …uh…seeing somebody?” he asked quietly, and the atmosphere between you shifted into something uncomfortable and heavy.  

With a sharp, bitter laugh, you shook your head. “Not anymore. She officially dumped me today,” you shrugged, trying to sound casual.  

“Oh,” Vox replied, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips.  

That bastard. He was probably mocking you in his mind right now.  

Widening your thighs, you presented your cunt to him, giving him a full view of your dripping, swollen folds. His eyes widened as he took in the sight, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at your glistening, sopping hole.  

“You see, boss,” you said, your voice thick with desire, “with all the shitty overtime you have me doing, I haven’t come in ages.” You slid your fingers between your lips, stretching your hole open, feeling your inner walls clench and twitch, desperately craving something – anything – inside of you.  

“We could fix that,” Vox said, his tone eager as he tried to inch closer, his head straining forward.  

“How about,” you began, slowly stroking your clit with your other hand, moaning emphatically, “I finish all over you and then go home?” 

Vox chuckled at your empty threat. “Or you could untie me, and I’ll make you feel really good, sunshine.”  

The cocky smile on your lips froze, along with the fingers pressing against your bare centre.  

Sunshine.  

You hadn’t heard Vox call you by that nickname since you’d started avoiding him after catching his tongue down Val’s throat.   

“Sunshine?” You had asked one night after you and Vox had wrapped up the latest project together. “That’s new, sir,” you giggled, feeling a flutter of happiness and nerves in your chest.  

“I thought it suited you, since you brighten my day!” Vox had exclaimed, flashing you a cheeky grin before both of you burst into laughter.  

Your hands slowly withdrew from your cunt, and you tilted your head, a look of defiance in your eyes. “Boss,” you responded, unwilling to give in to his demands.  

Vox’s eyes widened. Despite his wrists being bound, he reached out toward you, his desperation palpable. “Sunshine, untie me.” 

“Yikes, that’s so cheesy!” you had said with a laugh, covering your lips as elation filled your heart. You stood up from your desk and slowly began to pack up your documents. Vox, who was sitting on the edge of your desk, slid off and swallowed the space between you.  

His hand landed heavily on the document, stopping you from keeping your mind and your body busy. Stopping you from thinking about anything else but him. His frame cast a shadow over you – inviting you to sink deeper into his presence. 

“What if I don’t want to, sir?” you cut off the memory, pushing it away. You didn’t want to think about that right now.  

“Vox,” he said, grinning at you as he wiggled his bound hands in front of you. “I have my dick out, and you’ve been torturing me for the better part of the evening. At least call me by my name, sunshine.” 

His sharp red eyes had softened as he leaned closer. “Call me by my name, sunshine,” he murmured, his lips inching ever closer to yours.  

Your smile slowly faded, you hadn’t intended to stay late tonight. The office that was shrouded in darkness, transformed with Vox’s presence. The large, clear windows absorbed the soft golden light from the gates of Heaven, turning the usual dull office space into a resplendent dimension.  

It felt as if you and Vox were transported to a place far, far away from prying eyes and expectations.  

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer to him. “I don’t think it would be appropriate of me to start calling the CEO of VoxTek by his name,” you said, stepping even closer until the toes of your shoes barely grazed his. “Sir.” 

Vox grinned, that sure, cocky grin that made his employees feel that if they followed him, their path would only be filled with success. “Luckily, no one’s around to hear you,” he chuckled. With the tip of his claws, he gently lifted your chin, aligning your gaze with his. “So, it’s Vox,” he said softly, almost conspiratorially.  

You found it difficult to say no to him these days. In truth, you didn’t want to say no because deep down, it was what you wanted. “Vox,” you repeated quietly.  

His eyes searched yours, and yet neither of you made the next move, teetering on the threshold between boss and employee, waiting to see who would dare to cross it first. The surrounding air was thick with unspoken desires, the golden light casting a romantic glow, as if the universe itself was urging you both to take that final step.  

You stared at Vox’s wrists as memories from years ago faded into the back of your mind. Slowly, your fingers gently pulled the wires off; they were already loose, and if he had chosen to, he could have escaped on his own. Holding his wrists carefully in your hands, you found yourself stunned, unable to face him.  

With a forced smile, you tried your best to feign nonchalance, “I didn’t know I was still your sunshine." After all, you thought all the previous, frivolous flirting had died the moment your boss made his intentions with Valentino clear.  

“It suits you,” Vox said softly. Sitting up slowly, his claws traced a gentle line down your cheek before stopping below your chin, tilting your head to face him just like he did so many years ago.  

“Because I brighten your day?” you asked, raising a brow, pretending his words and the memories you shared didn’t affect you.  

Pretending you didn’t feel anything for him.  

But your pretense was pointless. The moment you recited his lines from the past, his face brightened, and he played a quirky sound, like a game show, signifying that you were correct.  

You snorted at the silliness of it all because this was the side of him that had made you fall in love in the first place.  

“That’s right,” Vox said, his hands cradling the sides of your face. “You still brighten my day, so that makes you, my sunshine.” 

His words finally carved a place in your chest, or perhaps, he always had a place there. As you let the meaning, the intention, behind his words sink in, you...

Ah, fuck.  

You hated him. 

You really, really, hated him.  

Your fingers reached for his head, grasping the sides firmly as you pulled him toward you. “You owe me a lot of kisses, Vox,” you whispered, your lips so close that even the slightest movement would bring them together in a soft kiss.  

All those missed opportunities, you were going to take them now with maximum interest.

“You’re right, I do,” Vox agreed easily. In a flourish of strength you hadn’t expected, he crashed his lips against yours. You felt the screen of his face soften, the warmth and wetness of his tongue glided into your mouth. The wires snapped from the force as Vox pushed you down to the floor, his body covering yours.  

He pulled back, panting, and you managed to say, “Those cords were a bitch to order, I just wanted you to know.” 

Laughing, Vox covered your lips with his again, ravaging the inside of your mouth, his tongue mapping out every inch, tasting you, leaving traces of himself so you could still feel him even after he parted. His hands roamed your body, each touch sending shivers down your spine.  

Your bodies moved in sync, the heat between you building with every kiss, every touch. The world outside the office ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other. The culmination of years of tension and unspoken feelings finally being released.  

The heat of his cock pressed against your folds, and he moaned as he slowly sank in his tip. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he mumbled, making short thrusting motions, sinking deeper into you with each stroke.  

Your legs wrapped around his waist, signalling him to fully bottom out. You yelped, feeling the unexpected depth and stretch; it had been a while since you last had sex. The molten heat of his cock prodded deep within you before he withdrew and quickly snapped his hips forward, driving his cock back inside.  

“Ah, fuck!” you cried, your claws clinging to his back as moans threatened to escape your lips.  

His breaths were short and uneven as he continued to hump you, his hips snapping into you, wet, meaty flesh slapping together. The sounds of your union echoed in his office.  

“Feels good, fuck, tell me it feels good, sunshine,” he panted, stretching and fucking the sensitive bundles of nerves deep within you.  

You couldn’t stop yourself from goading him, especially to a man as prideful as Vox. “Ah — you -” you gasped as he circled his hips, rubbing his pubic bone against the sensitive clit before fucking you again, “if you make me cum, maybe I’ll leave a five-star review,” you said, grinning before the pleasure overwhelmed you.  

Vox choked out a laugh, lifting your body until he was sitting on the floor. Your breasts bounced up and down as he grabbed your hips, lifting and dragging you while moving his hips in tandem. His cock plunged deeper with each motion, hitting spots inside you that sent electric shocks of pleasure through your body.  

“Oh fuck,” you whined, closing your eyes as this position perfectly targeted your g-spot. The coiling heat and pressure built inside you, making you tremble. “Oh, please, please, don’t stop,” you cried, feeling your nerves buzzing and your body steadily climbing towards the peak. “Don’t stop, Vox, don’t stop,” you moaned, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.  

“Yeah, let me see you cum, sunshine,” Vox panted, his moans mingling with yours. “Fuck, I want to see you cum all over my cock,” he growled, his tongue laving against the sensitive peak of your nipple. The way his teeth grazed your skin sent jolts of sensation directly to your heated core.  

The targeted bundles of nerves were all you needed. Your head fell back as you mewled and sobbed, your walls fluttering around the thick length of his cock, trying to milk him with everything you had. It was as if all the stress you carried within your body was released at once, your mind woozy as the rush of pleasure pierced through you.  

You screamed as your climax hit hard, your entire body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. You were sure at this point you were babbling, and you didn’t give a damn what words came out because fuck, this was what you needed and wanted for years.  

Feeling your cunt tighten around his throbbing cock, Vox groaned loudly, swearing and praising your pussy as he filled you with his release. His hot cum spurted inside you, filling you to the brim, the sensation sending another shiver through your already hyper-sensitive body.  

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he moaned, his thrusts slowing to deep, deliberate strokes, ensuring he painted every inch of your walls.  

His arms wrapped around your sluggish body as your head comfortably rested against his chest. You heard the heavy thud of his heartbeat against your ear. Strands of hair stuck to your face, the room too hot from the running computers and the heat of your union, yet you didn't want to move away from his embrace.  

You didn’t want to wake up from this dream and leave him.  

His claws gently carded through your hair as he sighed in contentment. It was then that exhaustion hit you with full force, the post-orgasmic haze serving only to relax your body further, rendering the caffeine you had consumed utterly useless.  

Your eyes started to flutter closed, but you forced them open despite the stinging tiredness. You had to wear your clothes and leave; you couldn’t fall asleep in his arms.  

Ah, but since this was a dream, maybe you’d wake up back in the office again. A sudden surge of emotion hit you, and you pressed your face against his chest, savouring the warmth and comfort. You forgot how nice it felt to be held.  

“Sunshine?” Vox called out quietly, his claws gently brushing your hair in a soothing motion that made your muscles relax to the point of melting on him. 

“Mhm?” You hummed softly in response.  

“Stay with me?” he asked, his other hand wrapped around your waist, tightening. “I want to renegotiate on your contract.” 

You huffed out a quiet laugh, your eyes now fully closed, and your arms loosely wrapped around his torso. “Really, Vox? One good fuck, and you want to renegotiate on our contract?” 

“Well, we could add fucking to our contract, where I give you at least one good fuck every day,” his voice was whimsical and light, and you felt a light kiss against the top of your head.  

“And how long would this next contract be?” you asked, playing along with him, knowing that none of his and your words would come to pass.  

“Forever,” Vox said without missing a beat. “It would be for forever.” 

Your muscles seized momentarily before relaxing once more. This was a dream, right? Your subconscious was seriously contemplating working forever with him? How much of a masochist were you? Did you really enjoy working that much? 

“Will I still have to work mandatory overtime? Cause that’s incredibly shitty,” you murmured, rubbing your face against his chest, wanting to burrow deeper into him. “Will you still be an asshole?” you added quietly.  

There were so many other questions you wanted to ask, knowing you would never get an answer to any of them. “I’m tired,” you said, your voice tinged with sadness and fatigue. The words slurred slightly as each strand of your muscles started to relax.  

The simple words were weighed with meaning – tired of working overtime, tired of pretending that you didn’t have feelings for him, just overall tired. 

“Oh, that’s…” Vox hesitated, then you felt your body being lifted. “How about you rest up in my suite tonight, and we can talk about this tomorrow morning?” 

The last thing you remembered was opening your mouth, but you weren’t sure if you answered him at all before darkness and fatigue finally claimed your vision.  

You cuddled closer to the source of warmth, relishing the feel of another body beside you. Could it be? Did your girlfriend come back? Your eyes slowly opened, and you were first greeted by a bare torso, the skin colour a deep navy blue.  

Furrowing your brows, you slowly got up from the plush bed that was way too comfortable compared to what you were used to, with sheets as soft as something you couldn’t even compare to.  

Blinking slowly, your eyes flicked down to your body, and you smothered a sharp gasp, realizing that you were completely naked. Your eyes immediately looked at the face of the body’s owner, but you already knew who it was without having to look. 

The moment you saw the VoxTek's logo bouncing on your boss’s face to indicate he was in sleep mode, a groan escaped your lips, muffled by your hand.  

You had to be kidding yourself. You didn’t just do the most clichéd thing imaginable. But when memories of last night came flooding in to your mind, each one raunchier than the last, you bowed your head in defeat.

It wasn't a dream.

Fuck.

As if to confirm your worst fears, you felt his arms wrap around you with a firm, possessive grip. Before you could react, his lips planted a loud, affectionate smooch on your cheek. “Good morning, sunshine!” he said, his voice warm and teasing, filled with cheerful energy that contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions brewing inside of you.  

Your heart raced as you tried to process the situation, your mind still tangled in a web of confusion and regret. You shifted slightly, feeling the heat of his body pressed against yours and the weight of last night’s decision heavily on your shoulders.  

You had a thousand and one excuses ready: how last night was a mistake, how you weren’t in your right mind, how the sex was meaningless. 

But when you faced Vox, his eyes sparkled with genuine happiness and his arms wrapped around you with such tenderness, every excuse, every justification dissipated from your tongue.  

“Good morning,” you said, forcing a smile that felt as brittle as dry leaves. Your arms lay limp and loose in your lap as Vox sidled closer, his body radiating warmth. He tried to fully embrace you, but you felt the tremor in his arms when you didn’t return the gesture. The tremors were like an earthquake, splintering apart the ground of your resolve.  

The pad of his thumb drifted up to your cheek, gently stroking your face. Each touch was a soft caress, yet it felt like tiny needles prickling at your skin. His gaze roamed your features, his eyes dark and searching. Heat climbed up to your cheeks, mortified by how intimate his gesture was especially when both of you were stripped bare.

The air was thick with the scent of his cologne, a heady mix of spice and a sharp cool, tang of mint, wrapping around your throat as memories of last night flashed through your mind.  

“Sunshine?” Vox’s voice was a whisper, his breath ghosting across your skin as he pressed his body closer to yours. The pressure of his chest against you was a contradicting blend of comfort and a burden.  

“Yes...” you closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself, then opened them again, reigniting the determination and resolve you had nurtured for years. “Boss?” 

Vox chuckled weakly, the sound rough and strained. He continued to embrace you, his refusal to let you go was a silent plea. “So, it’s boss again, huh?” 

Your eyes stung as if salt had been rubbed into them, while your stomach churned, feeling as if it were filled with hot lead boiling your insides. You wanted to push him away because things would never work between you. 

You had two years to truly observe his relationship with his psychotic lover, and you were sure that the moment he found out about your affair with Vox, that shitty moth demon would kill you.  

“You can’t honestly think this would work, right, sir?” Your voice lacked the cruel, hard, edge needed to cut away the tender moment tying you two together. You looked at him, your heart once again held in your hands as you made an offering to him.  

You should push him away.

You must push him away.

You needed to push him away.

Yet, your treacherous hands touched his sides, pulling him closer to you. His response was an instantaneous sigh as he sank deeper into your embrace. The warmth of his body pressed against yours was almost unbearable, the heat between you intensifying the pain in your chest.  

“We won’t know unless we try,” Vox’s voice trembled, his smile tightening at the edges. “Are you going to leave me too?” he asked softly, his smile becoming lopsided as he tried to keep a light-hearted tone.  

Your brows furrowed, confused. What did he mean by “too”? The question lingered, but it was quickly overshadowed by the same chaotic thoughts that always swirled in your mind: your desire for him versus the stark reality of your situation. Your heart and mind were locked in a bloody feud that had raged on for years, neither side willing to concede.  

“Do you honestly think this would work?” You repeated the question, your voice tinged with desperation.

You needed to hear him say no.

Humanity had always done stupid things for love, willingly deluding themselves despite knowing that heartbreak lay at the end of the road. Yet, they would foolishly pick love over and over again.  

You would pick love, over and over again because... 

If there was even a small chance of obtaining a typical fairy tale ending... 

“Vox?” your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. You leaned in closer towards his warmth, his embrace tightening around you. The cries of victory within your chest resonated as your mind finally relented.  

If there was even a small chance that you could be happy with him... 

“Sunshine,” Vox’s claws gripped your hips, pulling you closer and closer to his chest. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice wavered with desperation despite his attempts to remain calm and collected. “Stay with me.” 

If the road ahead that were surely filled with bumps and hardships but promised something worth fighting for at the end, then... 

With a slow, shuddering exhale, you smiled softly at him. The pain and distress in his eyes began to melt away. You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. You didn’t need a grand declaration to affirm each other’s affection. The quiet, simple connection was enough.  

As you felt his muscles relax, he returned your kiss, his eyes slowly closing. His hand cradled the back of your head, refusing to part from you, as if the very act of letting go would make you disappear from his grasp.  

If Vox believed this relationship was worth trying, then you wanted to believe that too.  

You pressed your chest against his, wanting him to feel the doubt that had plagued you for so long crumbling away with every beat of your heart. As you slowly parted from him, his breath mingled with yours, warm and reassuring.  

Right now, all that mattered was this moment, this connection, this unspoken promise of a future together.  

💠 MASTERLIST 💠