#thine own ocs

[kaworusbetterthanme]

First attack for Artfight! It's James with summer vibes, for @anarch0ratt. Late entry and a friendly fire, but I got inspired by the really cool star design on xyr back. I had a lot of fun drawing xyr!

[arlathen]

"it's unrealistic/ooc for lavellan to still be in love with or pining after solas after ten years" absolute skill issue. git gud at yearning and devotion idiot.

[herok1ng]

current au verses being worked on : >:)

dnd - based !

modern ! ( im always a sucker for a good modern verse lol )

stard/ew valley ! ( also adjacent with things like harvest moon & fields of mistria )

final fanta/sy xiv ! ( this is partially made already but i havent added the details yet )

final fanta/sy xvi !

final fanta/sy versus xiii (thanks ailli lol) !

sailor moo/n !

annnnnnd adding twe/wy to the mix :) and eventually kingdo/m hearts

current verses i have made but haven't written up / posted yet ( i will soon im sorry lol ) : final fantasy vii , fe:3h , fe: awakening , general fantasy

[lightyaoigami]

☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ how to resume ⋆｡ﾟ☾｡⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎ ﾟ

after 10 years & 6 jobs in corporate america, i would like to share how to game the system. we all want the biggest payoff for the least amount of work, right?

know thine enemy: beating the robots

i see a lot of misinformation about how AI is used to scrape resumes. i can't speak for every company but most corporations use what is called applicant tracking software (ATS).

no respectable company is using chatgpt to sort applications. i don't know how you'd even write the prompt to get a consumer-facing product to do this. i guarantee that target, walmart, bank of america, whatever, they are all using B2B SaaS enterprise solutions. there is not one hiring manager plinking away at at a large language model.

ATS scans your resume in comparison to the job posting, parses which resumes contain key words, and presents the recruiter and/or hiring manager with resumes with a high "score." the goal of writing your resume is to get your "score" as high as possible.

but tumblr user lightyaoigami, how do i beat the robots?

great question, y/n. you will want to seek out an ATS resume checker. i have personally found success with jobscan, which is not free, but works extremely well. there is a free trial period, and other ATS scanners are in fact free. some of these tools are so sophisticated that they can actually help build your resume from scratch with your input. i wrote my own resume and used jobscan to compare it to the applications i was finishing.

do not use chatgpt to write your resume or cover letter. it is painfully obvious. here is a tutorial on how to use jobscan. for the zillionth time i do not work for jobscan nor am i a #jobscanpartner i am just a person who used this tool to land a job at a challenging time.

the resume checkers will tell you what words and/or phrases you need to shoehorn into your bullet points - i.e., if you are applying for a job that requires you to be a strong collaborator, the resume checker might suggest you include the phrase "cross-functional teams." you can easily re-word your bullets to include this with a little noodling.

don't i need a cover letter?

it depends on the job. after you have about 5 years of experience, i would say that they are largely unnecessary. while i was laid off, i applied to about 100 jobs in a three-month period (#blessed to have been hired quickly). i did not submit a cover letter for any of them, and i had a solid rate of phone screens/interviews after submission despite not having a cover letter. if you are absolutely required to write one, do not have chatgpt do it for you. use a guide from a human being who knows what they are talking about, like ask a manager or betterup.

but i don't even know where to start!

i know it's hard, but you have to have a bit of entrepreneurial spirit here. google duckduckgo is your friend. don't pull any bean soup what-about-me-isms. if you truly don't know where to start, look for an ATS-optimized resume template.

a word about neurodivergence and job applications

i, like many of you, am autistic. i am intimately familiar with how painful it is to expend limited energy on this demoralizing task only to have your "reward" be an equally, if not more so, demoralizing work experience. i don't have a lot of advice for this beyond craft your worksona like you're making a d&d character (or a fursona or a sim or an OC or whatever made up blorbo generator you personally enjoy).

and, remember, while a lot of office work is really uncomfortable and involves stuff like "talking in meetings" and "answering the phone," these things are not an inherent risk. discomfort is not tantamount to danger, and we all have to do uncomfortable things in order to thrive. there are a lot of ways to do this and there is no one-size-fits-all answer. not everyone can mask for extended periods, so be your own judge of what you can or can't do.

i like to think of work as a drag show where i perform this other personality in exchange for money. it is much easier to do this than to fight tooth and nail to be unmasked at work, which can be a risk to your livelihood and peace of mind. i don't think it's a good thing that we have to mask at work, but it's an important survival skill.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ good luck ⋆｡ﾟ☾｡⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎ ﾟ｡⋆

[starriegalaxy]

Title : Birthday Delights (It Was YOU All Along) 

Posted on AO3 as well!

Tags : Fluff, romance, romantic-leaning, female reader, set in Fear Factor AU, FNAF daycare attendants, head chef bot (oc) 

Rated : General 

Synopsis : It's your birthday and don't your beloveds have a surprise for you! 

Note : I kinda based this on my b'day events a little but yes, enjoy reading hehehe <33 Also, there's like one suggestive-ish thing but it's more to like a grab but it's harmless HAHA okay go read and COMMENT PLSPLSPLS I need to hear thine thoughtssss ‼️💖‼️

Tagging : @crabsnpersimmons @amarynthian-chronicles @hexcii @kaprisvn @ping-ski and ALL MY MOOTS AND SUPPORTERS!! Thanks for making me feel loved 🥹💕

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Another day, another year. 

Except this time, it’s a special day for you. 

Where the stars aligned and paved a way for your existence to be carved into the world. 

A star was born. 

And that was you. 

Wonderful, exceptional and brilliant you. 

Of course, that didn't mean you were off work during this time. Quite the opposite really, it was devastatingly busy. So busy, you blundered a bit when giving directions to visitors and had to bring up the map in your watch several times for help. This helplessness escalated into kicking the mapbot for being too annoying today and you tripped over the caution bots more often. 

Just another day, with twice the mishaps. Normal to you but when explained to others, has people looking at you with bug eyes, wondering how you still existed at this point. Nothing short of a miracle and some kind of fate, you would jest lightly. Oh, can't be dreary on your own day so you metaphorically swiped those thoughts with a broom and continued with your patrol. 

As it hit around 6PM, your feet were beyond sore. It wouldn't hurt to take a quick nap at the office, right? Debating for about half a second, you shrug and take your chances. Stepping in with a yawn, you sat on the chair, put on your jacket like a blanket and dozed off….. phew! Good thing nothing more exciting will happen - 

Ah. Nevermind, strings were being pulled in the background and everyone was determined to make you feel just as special on your day and as much of it as possible! 

Freddy got to work preparing a heartfelt letter, Chica prepared some music selections with Music Man, Bonnie gathered some desserts from his own parlor, Monty tried to find something but ended up custom making a guitar pick for you somehow and Roxy was selecting some of the color palettes that they had in store to give you whereas the caution bots practised singing the happy birthday song, the S.T.A.F.F bots were practising their dancing and skits - everyone had a task to do and they were all determined to make it as close to perfect for you! 

Meanwhile, Moon swiftly kidnapped head chef bot, threatened him to stay quiet and obey his next orders. Too afraid to even speak considering this animatronic was notorious for dealing with the previous staff bots, he could only nod in acceptance. As they reached the daycare, Moon continues carrying head chef bot until they reach the playhouse where Hannah frequently likes to play in. 

“Stay here. Be silent.”, Moon commands, placing head chef bot delicately into said house. A tad cramped, it was a good thing robots didn't have nerves that would flare if they sat the way he did for that long. Head chef bot nods frantically and tries to melt into the wall. Even after there was reassurance that the daycare attendants would be more civil with head chef bot when you were present… It was another thing entirely when it was only both of them left alone together. 

“Good.”, Moon rasps, giggling mischievously before patting head chef bot’s hair and scuttling off to find you. As always, they were sooo excited to see you any time and day but today was the one time, they get permission to be extra excited. Hat jingling with excitement, its sound awakens you as it shook about near the security office door. At first, you thought it was your phone’s alarm but quickly tuned into it properly and judged that it was the daycare attendant's bells. 

Rubbing your eyes to shake off the remnants of the sleep spells, you sleepily opened the door just a smidge to confirm the person behind it. Moon’s glowing red eyes greeted you, almost like a zoomed in picture and it scared the sprinkles out of you which resulted in punching him fully on the face by instinct. That hurt your hand SO bad. Oh well, he was also reeling back from the pain that set off too, his head legit spinned like 3 times from the sheer force.

“Moony! What'd I tell you about doing that?!”, you exclaimed, rubbing your sore hand while fighting back the tears in your eyes. “... It funny. Sorry.”, he holds his faceplate, then proceeds to grab your hands gently and tries to pat away the pain, making small smooching sounds against your skin. That made your skin darken in hue and you flap your hand out of his grasp. “U-Um, anyways, what happened?”, you flit your gaze downwards at your shoes, fidgeting with your tie. 

“Follow.”, Moon orders, getting on all fours. Huh. You would do the exact action he was doing right now but you decide against it. Also, judging by your internal clock, it was already closing time and right on cue, the automated announcement rang. It was somewhat halfway to the daycare when you announced that you couldn't take walking anymore and asked for uppies. Moon does a whole acrobatic contortion before scooping you into his arms, making you hang off him like a koala bear. 

A cute imagery to the daycare attendants, an embarrassing position to be had in. Augh. You don't argue as he subtly turns up his temperature and the soft warmth almost lulls you back into sleep. He squeezes your thigh cheekily once to keep you awake and then laughs when you tiredly whack him at his ruffles. With your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs crisscrossed to enable stability around his waist, you could do little and just enjoy not having to exert more energy temporarily. 

Murmuring incoherent and silly sounds into his shoulders, he slows to a stop in front of the gates. “Here.”, Moon announces and settles you down on the floor. You gave him an absurdly cute pout but he doesn't yield into carrying you again. Instead, he opens the gates and pulls you into the daycare, the sounds of his gears turning a comfort to your ears. “How was day?”, Moon fills the silence with the default 20 questions starter pack. 

“Tiring. Eepy.”, you murmur. “Stay awake, Starlight.” You whine louder and he giggles all the same. Relentless. Why do you like the daycare attendants? Booooo tomato tomato tomato!!! You pat at his back, where his hook would've sunk in. Moon pays no mind and guides you to the playhouse. Wha….t? The windows and doors were closed and you hadn't the faintest idea what could be stored in here and why it felt like he was shaking with giddiness…

“Moony, if you're thinking of pranking me today of all days, I'll let you know-”, he silences you with his finger and says, “Open.” effectively making your curiosity peak. Oh no… hate it when that happens. He subtly changes appearances into Eclipse in the background due to Sun wanting to get in on seeing your live reaction too. Stomping your feet like an upset bunny and making a displeased noise, you begrudgingly begin opening the door. All of a sudden, you were nervous…. What if it was a scary item? What if it was weird? What if - 

You pull back immediately once you open the door, afraid of what might grace your sights but paused in pure confusion at seeing head chef bot. As you stood there, waiting for whatever scheme these jesters had in mind, head chef bot was dragged out of the playhouse gently by Eclipse. The slow realisation that came to you when you saw Eclipse set him up like a makeshift doll made you want to laugh a bit. Poor thing looked so distressed despite the lack of facial structure for it. He must've not liked being kept there for too long. 

“Hey… eggtart.”, you smile, loosening your arms from their folded position and opened them for a hug. Funnily enough, he zooms right into your arms and you could feel him shake from whatever jitters a robot could have. It wasn't like he could have that tingly session alike humans when they've sat on their legs for too long… You chalk it up to the daycare attendants not really being good at sharing. Plus, you've seen how intimidating they could be when jealous. It took a lot of coaxing via apology kisses and cuddles… Sigh. 

You pat his back comfortingly and send a soft glare the attendant’s way. They show no remorse in their body language. Tch, of course. They were anything but dishonest with their intentions. It's become better… they were willing to spare a bit more time to head chef bot whenever you wanted his attention but it wasn't easy. The incessant dramatic whinings and subtle threats while the sweet boy didn't know anything, actually no - he knew close to nothing about love so they could at least cut him some slack in that regard. 

And they did. Again, not an easy feat but it was successful regardless. Sometimes. 

You tuck some of head bot’s hair to the side and kiss his temple while standing on your tippy toes. “Did the big bad daycare attendant scare you again?”, you ask carefully. That earns you a tighter squeeze and repeated nods. Sighhhhhh. “What do you have to say for yourself, mister?”, your glare sharpening. Eclipse scoffs, exuding Sun’s stronger personality while crossing his own arms. “I have the right to remain silent. Lest, our lady gets upset with us.”, he evades skillfully. 

“No kisses for today then.” A comedic quick turn of his head that would've caused a normal human to be whiplashed was given as a reply, flashes of neon blue and red evident in his eyes. “You wouldn't.”, Eclipse’s tone turns raspier, bordering on tipping into sheer static. “Try me.”, comes your auto reply. A few puffs were let out from his joints and with a spin of his rays, he looks away while muttering a, “Fine. I'm sorry.”, with a hiss in his pitch. If words could burn… 

You sigh again and let one arm open to coax him into the hug. “C’mere, baby.” His rays twitch, a rapid jut of in and out before he's scrambling to get in on the cuddle action. A burst of giggles is let out from you. “You can have kisses after you tell me what's my surprise.”, you delicately wipe his smile after kissing your thumb in a semblance of an indirect kiss. He leans closer but keeps his distance respectful as he holds you alongside head chef bot. 

“Temptress.”, he affectionately jokes, kissing your forehead and grabs your hand. Head chef bot rolls along with you both. “This way then.” He does a cartwheel before Moon is reassembled at the end when he's standing back up again. He crouches in his default silly way and tilts his head, hat jingling loudly. “Starlight, promise?”, your Sandman rasps, blinking to mimic fluttering eyelashes. Oh for crying out loud! “Yes. I do. Now c'mon, I'm curious!”, you urge him. Moon giggles, full of delight at the promise before opening the gates for you and your fourth lover. 

The walk there is quiet and both Eclipse and head chef bot were insistent on holding your hands on the way to your destination : the food court. Feeling a bit giddy and embarrassed as you got nearer to said place, you slip out your hands and tell them, “That'll do, boys. Thank you.” Pocketing your hands into your pants pockets, you walk further in and discover there were streamers lined up on the ceiling somehow - must be Moon’s doing - a small yet wonderful orange coloured with dark chocolate accented assortments of cream swirls on top, chocolate spiders and white frosted webs on the cake placed on one of the food court tables you'd been escorted to. 

There was a plate set already with plastic cutlery and a pink plastic Chica-themed cup along with plushies of the Glamrocks, presumably from the daycare. Oh, right. They were confined to night mode charging… augh. “Take a seat, Nightingale.”, Moon gestures to the chair. You sat down gingerly and stared at the cake in front of you. It was so cute. Head chef bot rolls next to you and signs, “You like autumn, right? So, I made this with that in mind. Happy birthday, jellybean.” 

Your eyes well with tears, putting a hand over your heart. A teary thank you and slight hiccup was given as a reply. Moon helps to slice the cake since you were already wracking with tears. Your uniform was undoubtedly dotted with said tears and you ate the cake that was spoon fed to you by Moon as well. Happy. You were really happy. “Thank you, you two. I love you all. Sun, Moon, Eclipse, head chef bot, Love you. Oh…”, you wailed after chewing the cake piece fully. Oh, that made their heart ache yet full. They both sandwich you in another hug. Warm. Theirs. Yours. Together.

“One more surprise.”, head chef bot signs through your bleary eyes. Another? Your heart was so impossibly frail right now - How could anything top this? Moon wipes your tears properly and closes them, blocking your vision. Head chef bot holds your left shoulder. The faint sound of heavy metal footsteps rings throughout the food court. Eh? It stops right in front of your table and you hear a few rollers sound off too. “Happy birthday, Starlight.”, Moon whispers, pulling back his hands to rest his left hand on your right shoulder. 

The Glamrocks appeared when you were able to see again, each holding their own respective plushie, brightness exuding in their poses. “Happy birthday, Superstar!”, Freddy bellows, holding his plushie in the crook of his elbow. “You're all grown up now huh, Carrotcake?”, Bonnie continues with a tease. “Another day with you is always a better day, cutie!”, Chica chirps with a high pitch, sending a wink your way. You shake with the overwhelming happiness that seemed to flow endlessly tonight. 

“Guess you're not that bad, shortcake.”, Roxy puts a hand on the table, leaning forward with a smirk in her tone. That makes you crease your eyebrows a bit but you know it's harmless. “Birthday or whatever runt, keep living.”, Monty offers snarkily. he caution bots and the rest of the S.T.A.F.F bots joined in and beeped ceremoniously, the “Happy Birthday Song” being hummed harmoniously. They didn't…. They didn'ttttt - You sob harder and Moon frantically pats your back and head chef bot also frets over you. Maybe that was a bit too much?

“Sorry, sorry, too much?”, Moon’s worried whispers snaps your attention like lightning. You could only nod, you don't trust your voice right now. It would most likely be hoarse. Augh. “Precious thing.”, he places a placating kiss on your head while head chef bot nuzzles into your hat affectionately. What'd you to deserve this? And why does it hit harder than usual? Your tears still flowed but you then bursted into laughter, hugging your lovers closely as the glamrocks joined in, various words of congratulations being said, the caution bots beeping cutely and the S.T.A.F.F bots clapping. 

Hey, the party’s just getting started - Oh well. 

What a wonderful day… 

And you're just as wonderful, Starlight. 

Happy birthday!

The End. 

[moeitsu]

♡The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee♡

(Arthur Morgan x OC) Masterlist

Hey cowboys!

Below is where you'll find all the chapters to my Red Dead Redemption fanfic, I will keep it updated as I continue to post more chapters. But in the meantime, I wanted to make things a little more organized and easier for you to navigate.

Whether you just started reading, or if you've been keeping up with the story since the beginning. I want to thank you! This started as a little side project to keep me busy during my down time at work, but it's turned into something I'm really passionate and proud of! So thank you for all the support <3

!!Please be aware this fic is explicit. As it contains blood/violence, as well as other adult themes!!

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->-> Ao3 

->-> Wattpad

Summary: Kate McCanon, a young widow from the north, meets outlaw Arthur Morgan. When the two cross paths she discovers a complex man wrestling with his own sense of right and wrong. As their unlikely bond deepens, Kate becomes determined to guide Arthur towards a brighter path, even as tensions rise within his gang led by the enigmatic Dutch van der Linde. With danger lurking at every turn, Kate must navigate treacherous territory to protect those she holds dear, all while finding love in the most unexpected of places.

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

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Ch 1 - The Years Creep Slowly By Kate becomes entangled in a heist with two strangers, Hosea and Arthur, forging an unexpected bond amidst their criminal endeavor. Ch 2 - The Snow Is On The Grass Again A fisher of men and A strange encounter. Ch 3 - The Suns Low Down The Sky Welcome to Horseshoe Overlook Ch 4 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been It's time to collect a debt. Ch 5 - My Heart Beats On As Warmly Now A well deserved hunt with Charles, met with an unexpected surprise back at camp... Ch 6 - As When The Summer Days Were Nigh The battle begins, and the past is revealed. Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back. Ch 8 - Or Down Affections Cloudless Sky A blissful sunny day after a long hard night. Ch 9 - A Hundred Months Have Passed Kate and Arthur share a tender moment in the quiet of the night. Ch 10 - Since Last I Held That Hand In Mine The Course of True Love and other Revelations Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast Arthur and Hosea share meaningful conversation after a night of advertising some moonshine. Meanwhile Kate finds herself involved in a dubious mission with John and the boys. She patches up Arthur as the day ends with an air of unspoken desire. Ch 12 - Though Mine Beat Faster Far Than Thine - Part 1 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God in a world that is ugly with violence and hate. Ch 13 - Though Mine Beat Faster Far Than Thine - Part 2 Arthur’s life is ebbing out like the tide. Kate must work quickly and diligently to reverse the cruel hands of fate. She is aided by the help of an unexpected ally. Ch 14 - A Hundred Months ‘Twas Flowery May As Kate navigates Arthur’s recovery, she discovers that true strength lies within her trusted companions, finding relief in their unwavering support during the trials of his healing journey. Ch 15 - When Up The Hilly Slope We Climbed Arthur struggles to adjust to his new disabilities. Meanwhile Kate finds a job outside of camp for them, providing a few days respite and some much needed alone time. Arthur finally reveals his feelings. Ch 16 - The Past Is The Eternal Past Kate and Arthur welcome a new life into the world. The scene brings back tender memories of Arthur's past, he finally finds the courage to open up to her about his family. Ch 17 - To Watch The Dying of The Day Say, isn't it strange? I am still me, and you are still you. In this place. Isn't it strange how people can change? From strangers to friends, friends into lovers. To strangers again. Ch 18 - To Hear the Distant Church Bells Chime The gang finds a new hideout at Shady Belle, just outside the heart of the new modern America. With Jack still missing, Kate and Arthur must work together to find him. Amidst the tension, Arthur confides in Kate about his deepest regrets. Ch 19 - We Loved Each Other Then The Gilded Cage. Kate and Arthur attend an exclusive garden party hosted by the Mayor of Saint Denis. As the night progresses, their mutual desire intensifies.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━ If you're interested in reading about my OC, I linked the Kate McCanon Lore here :) As well as her Face and Voice Claim here <3 About me!

[mossdoesartshit]

Little note before we get into it, i did this AGES ago but im still really proud of it, so i thought i would post it while i work on the next sinner adam stuff, and kinda also segway to the fact that i REALLY like the idea of heaven in hazbin hotel.

no joke, i have like. maybe 3 ocs that are sinners or demons, and the rest are some variation of angel JIGNFDOIJN, there was a really popular set of designs for a lot of archangels floating around and instead i made my own versions. same with the design of god. oopsies, teehee JINGDFIJN.

(new sinner adam stuff soon i promise)(im like one panel away from having it done)(done rambling now enjoy the post and enjoy the art)

------

oh how it burns. oh how my body burns. grant me mercy please, i beg. o' father, could we not come to an understanding? o'father please, i was so excited for the big day soon, the coming of age. o' father, i beg yee change this now. i know i plead for nothing, that you wont hear my cries, but please atleast take pity on me, thine son. o' father i beg, allow me to meet my brother soon

is this what you meant when you told me that stars burn the brightest when theyre dying? in their own final moments? is this what you meant? is this why you dub us "morning star"? not for hope, but for despair, is that what you meant for all these years?

father i pleade, i beg, save me, father please, it hurts so much father, i am burning as you watch, i am in pain, please father, i'll pray like your creations do, please, pleasE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, PLEASE FATHER. IT HURTS. I DONT WANT TO LEAVE MY FAMILY BEHIND. PLEASE.

FATHER!!!!-

[rev-wrath]

Dropping by your inbox to ramble about my OCs (cause, the tag function lets me somewhat keep track of what I've written about them when I rb this from you) bc they're my blorbos that not many people know about.

So, as I've said before, it's a story mainly revolving around a god (Ares), a human (Genesis), and an angel (Samzaya). Basically, Gen moves to live her life as a lighthouse keeper (even though the job is mostly done by machines in modern times. but divine intervention pulled her there) and on her first night, a terrible storm brings Ares and Samzaya into her 'new' home. Somehow, neither of them can leave.

Originally, I imagined Ares to show his face from the very beginning, but looking at lore/myths, I figured it would be better if his face was hidden. By a motorbike helmet or a veil of a kind (to shove in the fact that he's not human). Samzaya's an angel who has watched humanity from afar, but never interacted or was close to them. They're a type of angel called a Watcher and those types of angels were the first to fall in love with humans and produce nephilims. They don't know shit about humans, and Gen + Ares (the most human god, as I like to call him) have to teach them how to act around humans ('don't go in all divine light ablaze, don't talk in that staticky way, etc')

Gen is... She's human. But she's also kind of not? Her mother was a Korean shaman and her father Catholic priest but before he officially became one. But she's also blessed by Diwonuso (which really shouldn't happen, and it's related to the apocalypse)

As said, the first half of the story line I have for the trio is them developing a relationship with each other, and the other half is around the mish mash of pantheons forcing hunters/exorcists/deities from different beliefs banding together to stop the angels and demons from making their own pantheon the sole one in the world.

Oh yeah, the three of them also drop into Tartarus at one point, and this results in trauma for everyone!

Have some snippets (+ some random footnotes and comments) of a WIP I was working on like three months ago.

“Not really.” Her voice sounded off to her own ears. Maybe she was dissociating a little bit. “My family’s religion is Buddhism.” “Thou dost not feel of the essence of Buddha.” She flinched at the trilling, high pitched sound coming from the incomprehensible entity’s general area as well as the sensation of their words being slammed into her mind instead of her ears. “For the love of Hades- put on a form that wouldn’t hurt the mortal’s fragile body-” the man said a word that she didn’t quite understand. But she could tell that it was an insult from the way the man’s lips curled and the way he all but spat out the last word. The incomprehensible entity seemed to turn their gaze directly to where the man was sitting. “Watch thy tongue, pagan god, lest I deem it fit to rip it from thine mouth-”

The Fates were bullshit, and Ares[1] could not care less about the children of Nyx. He hated the fact that he was all but thrown into the middle of his uncle Poseidon’s domain. He hated that he was all but fished out of the ocean by the mortal and the angel. And he hated that out of all his fellow Olympians, he was the most intimately intertwined with the mortals. Not Aphrodite. Not Hestia. Not his mother or his father. Him. Maybe Dionysus[SK1] . But his half-brother was of mortal origin, so he didn’t really count. He was Ares, God of War. He had died a thousand deaths with the soldiers on the field. He will die a thousand more. Unlike Athena, who strategized and commanded, only fighting with mortals when she deemed it needed, he had always been there. Had felt spears and arrows and bullets pierce and end the lives of soldiers. Out of all the Olympians, his ichor was the most mingled with red. The moment the angel unleashed their warning, he was shrugging off the towel- it was in Athena’s colour- and he was lunging for the mortal who had been surprisingly unperturbed in the presence of a god and a servant of ‘the Lord’. He covered the mortal’s ears with his hands, and he couldn’t help but pause momentarily when he felt how soft she was. He had forgotten how soft mortals were. Had forgotten how fragile their body and soul was. [1]Epithet to note; Ares Gynaecothoenas, the god feasted by women. The women of Tegea in Arcadia defeated the invading Spartans to defend their city, capturing the Spartan king whilst they were at it. Whilst the depiction didn’t show Ares’ involvement and seems to focus on the ability that Marpessa showed to take initiative. The women later partook in a feast that only women were invited + to honour Ares. And babe, he was literally the patron god of the Amazons.  [SK1]Do I want him to be Zagreus too? He’s also Diwonuso… A god that was once mortal is such a tasty idea, no matter how many times I’ve seen it done. Maybe Gen could mimic it to a degree? She could be the immortal cursed with mortality… Cursed to reincarnate over and over and over again?

Have I told you lately you’re cool? Because you are. I love this so much. Absolute patchwork relationship with three different beings from three different backgrounds. The absolute care Ares has for Gen? Oh, I love it. Samzaya’s a “I am so far removed from humanity, I know much and so little at the same time” which is fantastic. I love them already and look forward to hearing what the fuck their apocalypse is all about.

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

No One Is Alone (Into the Woods)

Hard to see the light now/Just don't let it go/Things will come out right now/We can make it so/Someone is on your side/No one is alone

People make mistakes/Holding to their own/Thinking they're alone/Honor their mistakes/Fight for their mistakes/Everybody makes/One another's terrible mistakes

"The idea that life is incredibly confusing, that it's hard to figure out who you can trust, to decide what's important to you and how to make those things real, but you don't have to do it by yourself. You're going to lose people, and sometimes you might even lose yourself, and sometimes your actions will have unintended consequences, but even in the midst of all that, no one is so hopeless that it's impossible for them to ever make a true human connection. Everything feels terrible and insurmountable, and it feels like nobody cares, but somebody does-somebody always will. No matter what happens, you have support. Somebody will be rooting for you and will be there to help you figure everything out and to love you. Genuinely every single time I try to sing this song I start crying, hell, I'm crying right now as I'm typing this."

"I listen to this song when I feel hopeless and alienated. And it has made me cry more than once."

The Mind Electric (��ラクルミュージカル Miracle Musical)

See how the serfs work the ground (See how they fall)/And they give it all they've got/And they give it all they've got/And you give it all you've got 'til your down/See how the brain plays around/And you fall inside a hole you couldn't see/And you fall inside a hole inside a-/Someone help me

Understand what’s going on inside my mind/Doctor, I can’t tell if I’m not me

Nuns commence incanting as the lightning strikes mine temples thus/Electrifying mine chambers wholly, scorching out thine sovereignty so/Spiralling down thy majesty, I beg of thee have mercy on me/I was just a boy, you see! I plead of thee, have sympathy for me!

"The lyrics just hit hard with all of the imagery and shit, being used alongside the song glitching and a 3 minute long sequence (an un-glitched version of the song) that plays backwards in full before the song begins, conjure up a very interesting view/idea/image of losing your sanity. Plus, the song has a really interesting history in terms of its creation."

"first listen: "damn its weird that this has itself backwards haha" second listen: ⚡️⚡️🧠SEE HOW THE BRAIN PLAYS AROUND🌩😈AND YOU FALL INSIDE A HOLE YOU COULDNT SEE☁️⚡️AND YOU FALL INSIDE A HOLE INSIDE A🤴🗣SOMEONE HELP ME⛈️🪐UNDERSTAND WHATS GOING ON INSIDE MY MIND🗣⚡️DOCTOR I CANT TELL IF IM NOT ME!!!🌩🌩☄️ anyway, there are actually 2 versions of this song !! since the first half of the song is the second half backwards, but one of the halves has a series of artistic glitches and repeats and skips! the "distorted version", which is what youll find on spotify, has the glitchy half played forwards, and the "nondistorted version", which is what the official channel posted on youtube, is reversed so the unglitched half plays forwards! its a remaster of a previous song Joe Hawley worked on as a member of Tally Hall called "Inside the Mind of Simon", and it has TONS of little easter eggs and details scattered throughout. distorted speech from old movies, clips from old songs, theres this part where chanting voices sing "axon, dendrite" and "help me" over and over which (imo) you really only hear if you know to look for them, theres an intricate synth arpeggio throughout the entire climax of the song that im in love with— its the source of the synth tune in the next song on the album, Labyrinth (the funny "i am the mouse" song)! i have yet to find a blorbo i cant picture to it but considering that my main oc's theme is madness, its her perfect chance to star. in conclusion, your honor, I love the mind electric."

"it's a story of a man getting sentenced to an asylum for a murder he didn't commit, and there he is subjected to electroshock therapy. the synth alone fucked me up the first time I heard it. not to mention the awesome lyrics and various styles throughout the song. oh also the first 3ish minutes of the song are in reverse. so there's that."

"Somehow I feel like it's the story of my life. Also, the first half of the song is the second half of the song played in reverse."

The Mind Electric submitted by @lesleyn +@omegasmileyface +@that-bi-fan + others

[naraeragon]

[Mihawk x Reader/OC] The strongest swordsman who was raised by a witch

Reader is my witch OC - Yidhra. I have been making arts about them and this is my fanfic for them. This mostly based on 'The witch and the kid' trend

Tags: mentor Reader, pupil Mihawk, witch Reader, old English pronoun, horticulture, BB x shota, slight horror

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

Mihawk was 10 when he ran away from his home without much grief and frustration. He was abnormally calm for a young child and was able to live on his own as long as he could until he stumbled into the witch's wood. He was taken shelter inside a cave from the heavy rain, then the witch found him.

She could have penalised him for intruding her forest, Mihawk knew she would by the look on her face, and people rumored that witches always kidnapped and feasted on children. Mihawk would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of her but he knew well not to show it. After all, he had been surviving until now with some tricks under his sleeves.

To his surprise, the witch just asked if he wanted to stay at her place. It came with a price of course.

“ I shall be thy mentor and caretaker. Thou may learn as much as thee want until thou reach thy adulthood and leave. ” The witch offered.

There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch, was the first lesson Mihawk's learnt so instead of accepting the witch’s offer immediately, he asked.

“What do I have to pay?”

The witch seemed pleased with his sharp mind, not many children of his age are well aware of danger around them. Or perhaps any child who had suffered illed fate would develop that level of caution.

“Thou shall know until the time comes. Agree or not, the choice is thine.”

Even though Mihawk seemed to be more mature than other children of his age, there was no possible way he could survive alone without getting his hands dirty. He wouldn’t mind, yes, but if he had a choice to live a better life, he would definitely take it. In the end, he was just a mere child.

“I’ll follow you, mentor. My name is Dracule Mihawk.”

He thought maybe living with a witch couldn’t be worse than being a slave.

“I am Yidhra. I am a witch. Remember, thou art forbidden to speak of mi name to other individuals.”

Mihawk was adopted by a witch when he was 10 years old.

----------

[kaworusbetterthanme]

@artbyaffinno's OCs Charis and Sam for the Gallery Noir server's 2023 VtM art exchange!

[demonicangelics-world]

Redamancy - Zestial X Angel!OC

Chapter Eighteen: Misunderstanding

Word Count: 6,170

*********************************************************

The dining room of Carmilla's residence was bathed in the soft, golden glow of candlelight, its flickering flames casting shadows that danced playfully across the ornately carved walls. Amidst the array of delicacies on the dining table, was a steaming pot of sancocho, as Carmilla called it, a dish of rich, hearty stew that took center stage. Its fragrant steam swirled upwards, carrying with it the mouthwatering scents of slow-cooked meats, vibrant vegetables, and a blend of spices that hinted at the depth of flavor within. The aroma was warm and inviting, a comforting contrast to the chill of Zestial’s usual surroundings.

Each mouthful of the stew seemed to embody a warmth and richness that transcended mere sustenance, offering a taste of something deeply nurturing. The dish, with its robust flavors and comforting essence, brought an unexpected sense of home and belonging to Zestial.

Zestial sat at the head of the table. His lime green eyes glowed softly, reflecting the candlelight as he listened intently to the lively conversation around him. Despite his imposing presence, his manner was relaxed, his usual formal demeanor softened by the warmth of the late evening.

Carmilla sat across and presided over the table with an air of graceful authority. She watched her daughters with a tender smile, clearly enjoying their company and the relaxed mood.

Odette had just finished recounting a particularly amusing incident. Her red-tinted glasses reflected the light as she spoke, her tone measured but laced with a subtle amusement. “And just as we were about to finalize the deal, this customer—oh, you wouldn’t believe it—tried to claim that the weapons were defective.”

Clara, her cream curls bouncing slightly as she spoke, added with a smirk, “He insisted that our top-quality blades were rusted, and then tried to haggle us down to half the price. Can you imagine?”

Carmilla chuckled, her black lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “And how did you handle this… impertinent fellow?”

Odette’s eyes twinkled with mischievous satisfaction. “Well, Clara here decided that a demonstration was in order. She took out one of the supposedly ‘defective’ blades and sliced through a thick steel chain with it—right there in front of him.”

Clara shrugged nonchalantly. “The look on his face was priceless. He went from trying to cheat us to practically groveling for the same deal he’d initially rejected.”

Zestial’s lips curved into an amused smile. “And did this… lesson prove effective?”

Odette nodded, her expression one of satisfied triumph. “Oh, indeed. He paid up without further argument. And he even threw in a tip for good measure.”

“T seems Odette and Clara are making quite the impression,” Zestial remarked, his tone rich with approval. “A most satisfactory result, I do declare.”

Carmilla’s eyes softened as she looked at her daughters. “You two never cease to amaze me. Your professionalism and ingenuity are truly commendable.”

Clara, with a playful glint in her eyes, leaned forward. “Well, if anyone’s deserving of a commendation, it’s you, mom. You’re the one who taught us how to handle ourselves in these matters. We’ve just perfected your techniques.”

Zestial chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. “"Thou hast clearly absorbed her teachings and made them thine own. Beholding thy progress is a testament to how far thou have all come."

Carmilla’s smile deepened, her eyes tracing the empty dishes on the table before settling on Zestial with genuine appreciation. “Those early days were indeed fraught with obstacles,” she admitted, “But the progress we’ve made and the strength of our family now made every challenge worthwhile. Your guidance was pivotal to our success, Zestial.”

Zestial inclined his head graciously, his lime green eyes softening with appreciation. “It hath been a privilege to witness thy progress and the strength of thy bond. Thou have all become a family in the truest sense, and that is a reward beyond measure."

Carmilla, her dark eyes twinkling with gratitude as she observed her family and their esteemed guest, glanced around the table. The plates were nearly cleared and she placed her fork down and folded her hands gracefully in her lap.

“It appears that everyone has enjoyed the meal,” Carmilla remarked, her voice imbued with a warm, maternal tone. “I trust the sancocho met with your approval, Zestial?”

Zestial offered her a genuine smile, his lime-green eyes reflecting the candlelight. “Indeed, Carmilla. The dish was a revelation—both comforting and delightful.”

Clara and Odette exchanged a glance, the corners of their lips lifting in silent agreement with Zestial’s praise. Their mother’s cooking always held a special place in their hearts, and it was clear from their expressions that tonight’s feast had lived up to its reputation.

Carmilla rose from her seat with a fluid grace, her dress rustling softly as she moved. “I am pleased to hear it,” she said. “It is a small token of my appreciation, and many more to come, for the company and the continued support you have provided us.”

Carmilla’s eyes then sparkled with a hint of mischief as she rose from her seat. “But before we conclude our evening, I have a special treat that I recently acquired,” she announced, her voice carrying a playful note.

Clara and Odette’s expressions brightened immediately, their curiosity piqued. They leaned forward, eager to see what their mother had brought.

Zestial’s eyes brightened with curiosity as he inclined his head. “I’m intrigued, Carmilla. I look forward to savoring whatever special delight thou hast acquired.”

With a flourish, Carmilla returned to the table, cradling a bowl of exquisite candies and a bottle of fine wine. 

Carmilla placed the bowl on the table with a flourish, revealing the candies within. Each piece was a marvel of confectionery artistry, glistening with a mesmerizing array of colors. The candies were encased in delicate, translucent wrappers that sparkled under the candlelight, casting a kaleidoscope of hues across the table.

Some were shaped like intricate flowers, their petals dusted with a fine shimmer of edible gold. Others resembled crystalline fruits, their surfaces catching the light and reflecting it in prismatic splendor. There were also candies shaped like delicate, twisted ribbons, each one marbled with swirling patterns of vibrant blues, purples, and pinks.

And the wine, rich and deep, was a complement to the delicacies.

“Behold, a selection of rare confections!” Carmilla declared. 

Odette’s eyes widened as she reached for a candy, examining it with an appreciative nod. “These are exquisite, mom. Where did you find such a thing?”

Carmilla smirked, a hint of pride in her voice. “A secret acquisition, of course. I have my sources. One must indulge in the rarest of pleasures now and then.”

Zestial watched with subtle amusement as Clara and Odette enjoyed the candies, their delight clear. He knew that such treats were rare in Hell, often due to the rare ingredients, like sugar, or intricate processes required to make them. Observing their enjoyment, he was reminded of Celeste. The rarity of these sweets seemed to mirror the elusive quality of Celeste—a rare gem in a world where such things are hard to come by.

The scent of the candies, faint and intoxicating, drifted through the air like a whisper of forgotten enchantments. It spoke of distant, unreachable realms, of pleasures that danced just out of reach, evoking a sense of longing and wonder.  

Zestial’s thoughts were interrupted by Carmilla’s voice, breaking through his reverie. “I see you both are thoroughly captivated. I trust you will find these as delightful as the rest of the evening’s offerings?”

Clara and Odette exchanged grateful glances before Clara spoke up, “Thank you, mom. These candies are beyond anything we've ever tasted.” 

Odette nodded in agreement, her excitement evident. “Yes, they’re truly exquisite. We appreciate you thinking of us.”

Carmilla’s gaze softened with maternal affection as she looked at her daughters. “I’ve seen how hard you both work, and it’s only right that you get to enjoy something special. I’m so proud of all that you do and grateful for your dedication in the business.”

Turning her attention to Zestial, Carmilla noticed he had yet to sample any of the confections. “Zestial, would you care for one?”

Zestial’s gaze lingered on the bowl of shimmering candies, the allure of their rarity both captivating and faintly unsettling. He was cautious, not wishing to be stirred by more memories or emotions tied to their elusive charm. “I appreciate the offer,” he said, his voice measured, “but I believe I shall forego the sweets for now. A glass of wine would be more fitting.”

Carmilla’s eyes sparkled with understanding as she poured a glass of wine for Zestial and herself. “As you wish.”

Clara and Odette, finishing their exploration of the candies, stood and stretched with a shared sense of purpose. Clara stretched her arms, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Mom, we’ve been rehearsing our lines and dances for an upcoming play at the Orpheum. We could use some help with the choreography. Would you be able to assist us tonight?”

A wave of nostalgia swept over Zestial. His thoughts drifted back to a time long past, to his mortal life when the world was rich with the artistry of Shakespearean plays. It was during those days that he had fostered a profound love for theatre—a passion that persisted even into his demonic existence. This love had driven him to open the Orpheum, a grand edifice that now stood as the finest theatre in Hell.

However, in his current guise, Zestial remained an anonymous benefactor of the theatre, shrouded in secrecy due to his status as overlord. He had remained in the shadows, allowing his creation to flourish under the guise of anonymity.

As he had gotten to know Carmilla, he had been struck by her deep love for ballet, and the fact that she had named her daughters, Clara and Odette, after iconic ballet protagonists only deepened his admiration. Moved by this connection, Zestial had encouraged Carmilla to allow her daughters to showcase their skills at the Orpheum. This gesture was more than a mere act of support; it was a transformation of the theatre into a vibrant hub for both dramatic plays and exquisite ballets, blending the old with the new and providing a platform for young talent to shine.

Odette, her glasses catching the candlelight, nodded enthusiastically. “It would be wonderful if you could join us for practice. Perhaps Zestial could offer some insights for improvisation?”

Zestial’s eyes sparkled with a touch of amusement as he addressed Clara and Odette. “It seems the stage doth call for its most dedicated performers. Rest assured, I shall do my utmost to aid with thy lines. As for the dancing, I shall leave that to the more agile feet.”

Carmilla smiled warmly at her daughters before turning to Zestial. “I’d be happy to help, my dears. We’ll join you soon. For now, I’d like to have a moment with Zestial.”

With a sip of his wine, savoring its rich flavor, Zestial followed Carmilla as they made their way to a high balcony overlooking the studio, where Clara and Odette entered to start their rehearsal.

The studio below was a marvel of elegance, its walls lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors that caught every graceful movement. The wooden floor gleamed under the soft light of chandeliers, and the room’s expansive space seemed to stretch endlessly, perfect for the dancers' pirouettes and leaps. The high balcony where Zestial and Carmilla now stood offered a panoramic view of this stage, creating a serene distance between them and the bustling activity below. 

Carmilla took a deep breath, her eyes reflecting a mixture of warmth and nostalgia as she looked at Zestial. “Zestial, I’ve been thinking about the reassurance you gave me after that disastrous meeting, and I just want to express my deepest gratitude for all you’ve done for me and my daughters. You’ve been a true ally, and your support has been invaluable. I must admit, when I first met you, I was terrified.”

Zestial’s thoughts drifted back to that fateful night. He recalled how, amid the chaos of the extermination, he had moved through the shadows, offering fleeting safety to the desperate. Most souls accepted his offers without a second thought, driven by sheer fear. 

Amid the turmoil, a piercing cry had cut through the din, compelling him to investigate. He followed the sound and discovered a heavily pregnant Carmilla, wracked with pain, alone and vulnerable.

Zestial approached her, his presence and offer both terrified and reassured her. Despite the agony she was enduring, Carmilla had looked at him with a mixture of fear and assessment. Most souls accepted his offer of temporary refuge without hesitation, but she had paused, her gaze sharp even in her distress.

When she finally took his hand, Zestial felt an unexpected pang of empathy, a gesture of unusual compassion that marked the beginning of their complex relationship.

Zestial chuckled softly, a touch of amusement in his eyes as he took a slip of his wine. “Ah, Carmilla, it is quite understandable. One’s first impression of me is often rather... formidable.”

Carmilla took a sip of her wine, her gaze steady on Zestial, reflecting a mix of sincerity and warmth as she continued, “But presence has been a pillar of support for us, Zestial. I’ve seen how your dedication goes beyond mere friendship. It's clear that your sentiments for me are deeper.”

Zestial, caught off guard, nearly choked on his wine. The revelation was unexpected, shaking his composure. He had long suspected that Carmilla might never acknowledge his affections, and her admission was both surprising and disarming.

After regaining his composure, Zestial said with a reflective sigh, “Tis true, Carmilla. Yet I have ever been cautious not to overstep the bounds of our relationship. I feared to risk disturbing the balance we have established."

Carmilla’s eyes softened further, her expression a blend of appreciation and regret. “I admire your restraint, Zestial. It truly speaks to your character. But I must be honest: while I deeply respect and value you… the feeling is not mutual."

The words hit Zestial like a quiet storm.

He had always suspected that Carmilla might not share his affections, but he had allowed himself a glimmer of hope, driven by the warmth and depth of their connection.

The confirmation of his long-held doubts stung more than he had anticipated. The truth had always been a shadow at the edge of his hopes, and now, hearing it articulated with such honesty and grace, it felt like a quiet but undeniable impact. 

Carmilla, sensing the weight of Zestial’s internal struggle, spoke with a reassuring tone, “I want you to understand, Zestial, that while my sentiments may not align with yours, my gratitude is profound. Your support has been a beacon in my life, showing me that not all men are monsters. You’ve proven that kindness and integrity exist, even in the darkest corners of Hell.”

Carmilla's eyes glistened with a sadness that spoke of deep, unspoken memories. 

Zestial, despite the rejection, was respectful of the sensitivity of her emotions, and he felt a familiar urge to offer comfort. Recalling the comfort he had shown her during their previous encounter, he extended his clawed hand with careful grace. It was the same reassuring warmth he had offered before, a silent promise of support and understanding in the midst of her vulnerability.

Carmilla looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, and the faint touch of his gesture bridged the final gap between them. 

“I respect thy choice, Carmilla,” Zestial said, his voice steady and sincere. “I wish thee to know how much I value what thou and thy daughters have brought into my life. Thou have made a greater impact on me than I ever anticipated."

Carmilla’s curiosity was piqued. “How so?”

Zestial’s expression turned introspective. “Before meeting thee and thy family, I was entrenched in the shadows of Hell, solely engrossed in my own power and dominion. Yet, through aiding thee in thy trials, I have come to perceive things anew. ’Tis shifted my view of both this realm and my place therein."

Carmilla seemed relieved by his candidness. “Thank you, Zestial. For everything.” 

The studio below buzzed with Clara and Odette’s rehearsal as Zestial and Carmilla lingered on the balcony. Their movements flowed gracefully, a blend of discipline and artistry that reflected their dedication. The mirrors lining the walls captured every pirouette and leap, showcasing their skill and commitment.

Zestial now leaned slightly on the railing, his gaze contemplative as he watched the rehearsal unfold below. "Moments such as these," he said quietly, "remind us of what truly matters, especially in a place like Hell. Despite the chaos and darkness surrounding us, all our deeds are for their sake. We wish to grant them a chance to rise above the errors of our past and carve a better path amid these harsh conditions."

Carmilla, standing beside him, looked out at her daughters with a mixture of pride and melancholy. “Yes,” she agreed softly, her voice tinged with sorrow, “I only wish I could have helped her too…”

Zestial sensed the weight behind Carmilla’s words and the sadness in her eyes. It was clear she was referring to Velvette, who had once been close to her—a girl Carmilla had hoped to guide and support. He recalled Carmilla’s genuine affection and high hopes for Velvette, as she reminded her of her own daughters, her desire to offer her a better future in Hell.

But Velvette’s ambitions had taken a different path. Instead of embracing Carmilla’s guidance, she had allied herself with Vox and Valentino, betraying Carmilla’s trust. The memory of Velvette’s betrayal, aligning herself with those Carmilla despised, was a painful reminder of the consequences of failed expectations.

And the true reason why Zestial maintained his composure at the overlord meeting. His calm demeanor was not just for show; it was driven by a deeper purpose. He had kept his cool to shield Carmilla from further humiliation and to protect her from the emotional fallout of Velvette’s betrayal. His restraint was a silent act of support, aimed at sparing Carmilla from additional distress in a moment when she needed his solidarity the most.

Carmilla took a deep sip of her wine, her frustration evident as a vein throbbed at her temple. “That girl,” she said, her voice trembling with anger, “had the audacity to walk into that meeting with such disrespect… She spat on everything I tried to offer her…”

Zestial cut in gently, “We can only offer our aid to those who are willing to receive it. Velvette’s choices will, in time, come to bear upon her. We should not permit her errors to overshadow what truly matters,” he said, as he gestured at Clara and Odette.

As Clara and Odette’s rehearsal continued below, the music softening to a close, Carmilla’s anger began to dissipate. She took a deep breath, her gaze lingering on her daughters. “You’re right,” she said, her voice softening, “I have more important matters to focus on now.”

Together, they watched in quiet companionship, each finding solace in the shared vision of a brighter future for Clara and Odette.

As Carmilla took her leave to join her daughters, Zestial stood alone on the balcony, the distant hum of the studio below faded, leaving him with his thoughts. Zestial took another sip of his wine, savoring the last of its rich, velvety taste before setting the glass aside. The wine had been a pleasant companion throughout their conversation, its complex flavor both soothing and stimulating. 

The revelation that Carmilla did not return his affection had been a sobering moment. 

What he had once mistaken for romantic longing was, in reality, a deep sense of kinship and respect—a recognition of kindred spirits rather than a romantic pursuit. His grasp of these emotions had been muddled. In his mortal life, and throughout his existence in Hell as an overlord, the concepts of genuine affection and familial bonds had been foreign, leaving him to navigate these feelings with uncertainty.

With this clarity, Zestial now felt a sense of liberation. His connection with Carmilla was not the romantic bond he had hoped for, but rather a profound, familial one. This realization allowed him to acknowledge his true sentiments, which were now directed towards Celeste.

Her presence resonated with him in a way that transcended mere admiration or friendship. It was not just her rarity that drew him, but the profound depth of her mysterious essence that seemed to mirror his own desires and needs. Her aura carried a purity and complexity that spoke to the very core of his being, evoking a sense of connection that felt intense.

He wondered if Celeste could possibly feel the same way. 

The thought now stirred a mix of anticipation and uncertainty within him. He had never before experienced a connection so profound, and the possibility that Celeste might share his sentiments both exhilarated and intimidated him. Could she recognize the same sentiments he felt? Would she understand the depth of his emotions and see beyond the surface of his formidable presence?

He knew there was much he still didn’t understand about Celeste. Her presence was an intriguing mystery, and he was eager to learn more about her. The idea of helping her uncover her past was not just a way to get closer, but to discover whether her heart aligned with his own. 

*********************************************************

—Present—

Zestial’s world froze as Celeste pressed her lips onto his. 

Even after leaving Carmilla's residence, his mind had been consumed by thoughts of Celeste. He found himself restless, seeking solace in more wine at his sanctum, but it did little to quench his agitation. Desperate for clarity, he decided to take a walk through the city, hoping the twilight air might clear his thoughts.

The city, eerily quiet at that late hour, was still fraught with danger. For most, wandering these streets at night was risky; for Zestial, his mere presence deterred all formidable predators. As he walked, the shadows seemed to pulse with his unease. Despite the city’s ominous silence, his mind remained fixed on Celeste.

The ever present smell of brimstone and sulfur in the air forced him to go Celeste’s residence, even though it was well past the appropriate visitation time. Her aroma, tinged with her sweet fragrance, had become an irresistible lure. He longed to be in her presence again, to bask in the soothing essence that seemed to comfort his own restless thoughts and desires.

To his surprise, as he approached her window, he found it empty. A wave of bewilderment and worry swept over him. He continued his anxious trek through the city, now on edge, his senses alert to every sound and movement.

Then, amidst the familiar stench of brimstone, he caught a whiff of Celeste’s sweet fragrance, and his mind raced. Hidden in the shadows, he saw her in scandalous attire, surrounded by a predatory demons. One of them lay on the ground, writhing in pain, clearly having failed in an attack. The sight of her vulnerability and the demons' profanities ignited a fury within him.

The scene was a brutal reminder when he had been attacked and outnumbered in his childhood. 

Driven by an overwhelming rage, Zestial unleashed his demonic powers with a savage force. A swirling, pitch-black cloud of shadow descended upon the assailants, thickened and coiled, enveloping them in a suffocating shroud of terror. Inside this malevolent mist, Zestial's wrath manifested in grotesque and horrific ways.

The demons’ screams erupted from within the darkness, sharp and frantic, a mixture of agony that sliced through the screams. His dark energy lashed out with brutal intent, each surge of his force digging into their flesh with a horrifying, almost surgical precision. Limbs were wrenched from sockets, bones splintered into jagged shards, and skin stretched into grotesque, gaping wounds. The very essence of their forms was contorted into nightmarish shapes, their features distorted beyond recognition.

Zestial’s energy clawed and tore at them, a relentless assault of searing pain and disfiguring torment. Blood and viscera splattered across the blackened mist, their suffering palpable in the thick, acrid air. It was a brutal, unending cycle of mutilation and suffering that seemed to stretch into eternity. The demons’ forms were systematically deconstructed, their flesh peeling away in strips, their bones snapping like brittle twigs.

When the dark cloud finally dissipated, the screams ceased abruptly, replaced by an eerie, oppressive silence. The demons were gone, banished to an endless dimension of bleak void and ceaseless despair—a fate Zestial had inflicted upon many before. The air around him was thick with the acrid stench of sulfur and blood, the grim aftermath of his unrelenting fury.

As the smoke cleared, the scene shifted to an unsettling calm. Zestial, his anger still simmering, found Celeste standing there, visibly terrified. Her fear was palpable, cutting through the aftermath of the violent assault and starkly contrasting with the eerie quiet that now enveloped them.

When she sensed his presence and turned to face him, her fear seemed to wane. But before he could offer reassurance, she turned and fled, much to his surprise and irritation. In his urgency to keep her safe, he followed after her, but his attempt to protect her only seemed to escalate the situation.

Desperate to stop her from further danger, Zestial conjured his tendrils and captured her. In his haste and frustration, Zestial's tendrils wrapped around Celeste with an almost desperate urgency as he pinned her against a wall with unmeasured force. His claws, razor-sharp and unyielding, gripped her arms with a force that left her wincing. His intentions were muddled, driven by a tumult of emotions—protectiveness, anger, and a deep-seated worry that clouded his judgment for the first time in a while. 

From Zestial's perspective, the intensity of the moment was overwhelming. He drew closer to Celeste, his dark figure casting elongated, menacing shadows in the faint light of the streetlamp. He could see her fear reflected in her wide, terrified eyes as he clutched her arms, feeling the tremor of her panic beneath his grip.

“What’s your deal Zestial?” she yelled, trying to mask the tremor in her voice. 

In the intensity of the moment, Zestial's emotions got the better of him. He recalled his initial impulse to keep Celeste in his sanctum. In his mind, it seemed logical to ensure her safety within the confines of his own domain. Yet, in believing so, he had inadvertently revealed his intentions and the conflict within him. 

“My matter is that I’m beginning to believe granting thou freedom may have been a misjudgment,” Zestial’s voice rumbled, low and dripping with an echo that seemed to vibrate in the night air. 

The words felt like a chilling confession, each syllable steeped in a mixture of frustration and regret.

His green eyes bore into hers, their luminescence almost hypnotic against the dark backdrop. The stark contrast between his brooding presence and the harsh light made his features appear even more formidable. “Though mine day hath been occupied with… other concerns,” he continued, his voice softening slightly as his face drew nearer to her, “I still cannot cease to ponder upon thee, Celeste.”

The cryptic nature of his revelation only deepened Celeste’s confusion and fear. He felt her heart racing, as she attempted to mask her terror. 

Then, in an unexpected twist of fate, Celeste’s lips met his in a sudden motion. The sensation was electric, a shocking contrast to the intensity of the moment. His mind went blank, the surge of raw emotion freezing him in place. The contact, though fleeting, was a jolt that cut through his tumultuous thoughts like a sharp, unanticipated flash of light.

The immediate effect was palpable: his conjuring powers, previously vibrant and menacing, dissipated like smoke in the wind. The dark tendrils that had held Celeste vanished, leaving him bereft of his control. He let go of his grip and Celeste fell to the ground, the impact jarring her from the tumultuous moment.

Zestial stood, motionless and stunned, his complex emotions momentarily stilled by the unexpected kiss. The chaotic maelstrom within him was abruptly silenced, replaced by a profound, bewildering stillness. 

The brief contact tasted of Celeste’s own essence—like a hint of rich, velvety sweetness that seemed to blend the sharp tang of fine wine with the delicate, sugary notes of candy.  It was as if her very being had been distilled into that fleeting touch, a tantalizing blend of warmth and allure.

But as he took in the sight of Celeste, trembling on the floor, the warmth of the moment was eclipsed by a cold rush of regret. The terror in her eyes was a harsh reminder of the unintended fear he had caused, jolting him from his bewildered reverie.

But then Celeste closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. 

The act seemed to ripple through the air, casting away the lingering shadows of fear. In an instant, the terror in her eyes evaporated, replaced by a serene calmness that seemed to envelop her like a cloak. Slowly, she stood up with newfound composure.

The frightened, trembling figure he had seen moments before had vanished. Zestial could sense a profound spiritual fortitude within her. The shift in her aura was palpable, revealing a depth of strength and serenity that he did not anticipate. 

Zestial regarded Celeste carefully. “Thy spiritual strength is excellent,” he said, his voice a blend of careful admiration and bewilderment. “In mere seconds, thou hast qualled thy fear…” 

Celeste looked into his eyes and spoke. “It looks like the root of all this mess was a misunderstanding,” her voice steady but reflective. “In the heat of the aftermath of the attack, I didn’t react well. I panicked and ran, and I understand now that your intent was to protect me, not harm me. If you had meant ill will, you would have killed me by then.”

Zestial absorbed her words, a wave of relief washing over him. The weight of his own tumultuous emotions began to lift, replaced by a sense of calm. Her acknowledgment of his protective intent and the insight into her reaction eased the tension he had felt.

Celeste slightly hesitated, her cheeks flushing a soft pink as she searched for the right words. “I realize that my… actions might have caused you distress,” she said, her tone faltering as she stumbled over the final words. “I... I hope that, um…” Her voice trailed off, her face growing redder with each passing second.

Zestial’s relief was palpable, and an unexpected chuckle escaped him, surprising Celeste. "I am the one who should apologize," he said with a softening tone. "I thrust thee into an uncomfortable situation, driven by my own turmoil. I should have been more mindful and considerate."

As he replayed the moment of Celeste’s unexpected action, a thought tugged at the edge of his mind: If she had initiated such contact in an impulsive surge, does that mean—

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to head back to my residence and die of shame,” she said with a weak, wry smile, her cheeks still red as she turned to leave.

Before she could retreat further, Zestial’s concern reasserted itself. “"I shall escort thee home.” he said firmly, stepping closer.

Celeste glanced around, her gaze catching the dim, shifting hues that marked the passage of time in the infernal realm. “Look,” she said, brushing off his concern, “it seems like the sky is starting to brighten a bit. I think I can—

However, in a sudden, dramatic twist, a loud, sharp rip echoed through the air. Celeste's eyes widened in alarm as her dress, strained and torn, began to unravel. Her face went pale as she reached for the tear, but before she could scream, Zestial acted swiftly. 

With a fluid motion, he shed his dark cloak and draped it around her, the fabric moving like a protective shield. His cloak enveloped her, concealing her and offering a moment of cover. 

Celeste’s initial panic melted into a mix of surprise and wry as she felt the warmth of his cloak enveloping her. She looked up at him, her face a shade darker from the ordeal. “Oh, what a gentleman you are... Now I really want to die… again.” Her tone was light but edged with the strain of the unexpected mishap. 

Zestial’s lips curled into a reassuring smile. “"I assure thee, I shall let nothing else go amiss this day. Let us see thee safely home."

Celeste, clutching the cloak around her like a lifeline, nodded gratefully. They began to walk together through the dim, shifting hues of Hell’s endless sky.

As they walked together, Zestial noticed Celeste glancing at him from time to time. Her gaze seemed particularly drawn to his back, where his bat-like wings, now exposed, were clearly visible.

Curiosity tinged her voice as she asked, “I didn’t expect you to have wings.”

Zestial’s eyes flickered with amusement. “I usually keep them concealed beneath my cloak. Not something I display about, truly."

Celeste tilted her head, now intrigued. “So, what exactly are you, Zestial?”

He chuckled softly. “"Well, it seems I am a bit of everything—demon, spider, vampire, the boogeyman. I’ve heard it all. Yet, truly, I believe I am but the embodiment of fear, a manifestation of my own making."

Celeste nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”

Then Zestial’s gaze shifted back to her, taking in the way his dark cloak draped around Celeste. The fabric swirled like a shadowy shield, obscuring the tattered remnants of her once-sensual attire beneath. 

With a sly grin and a raised eye, he said, "So, what precisely werest thou doing out here so late in this... unsavory part of the city? Pray, tell me thou hast not embarked upon a new vocation… as one of Hell’s more, shall we say, enterprising souls?"

Celeste’s face turned red again, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and indignation at his insinuation. “Hey, don’t jump to conclusions!” she stammered, her voice flustered, “I was just helping out a friend at a lounge to pick up some extra cash. Unlike you, I’m not the middle manager of Hell, so I have to take whatever I can get, within reason of course. It’s not like I’ve joined the ranks of Hell’s... more entrepreneurial souls.”

 Zestial chuckled, catching Celeste off guard. “Entrepreneurial souls, indeed? That’s a charming way to phrase it,” he said, his grin widening. 

He couldn’t help but reflect on their first encounter, when he’d casually explained his role as an overlord in Hell with a mix of casual light-heartedness and wit. It gave him a peculiar sense of satisfaction to see her remember his offhanded remark from that conversation. 

As they continued their walk, the earlier tension seemed to dissipate like mist in the morning light, replaced by a comfortable silence that settled between them. The streets of Hell, with their usual sinister ambiance, now felt more like a backdrop to a tranquil stroll. Celeste, wrapped snugly in Zestial’s cloak, seemed at ease, and Zestial’s mood lightened as he walked beside her, their earlier discord fading into the background.

The quiet was punctuated only by the occasional distant crackle of Hell’s chaotic atmosphere. Zestial’s mind began to wander, an idea slowly forming amidst their conversation.

When they finally reached Celeste’s residence, Celeste turned to Zestial with a grateful smile. “Thanks for walking me home and for saving me. once again,” she said, her eyes twinkling with a mix of warmth and mischief. “And about this cloak…” She gave a playful, mock-serious glance at the dark fabric still draped around her. “I’ll make sure it gets returned in better shape. Unless, of course, you’d like to keep it as a memento of our little adventure.”

Zestial chuckled, a deep, genuine sound that resonated with amusement, I believe I shall manage quite well without it," he replied, his eyes dancing with mirth. "But regarding today’s little adventure…"

Celeste’s curiosity was immediately piqued. “Oh?” she asked, her tone curious as she tilted her head slightly.

Zestial’s expression grew thoughtful, as if weighing his words carefully. "Learning of thy financial situation hath given me an idea,” he said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

Celeste’s interest was visibly heightened. “An idea?”

A sly grin spread across Zestial’s face, his gaze sharpening with mischief. “I was contemplating that thou might join me at thy workplace before it opens today."

Celeste remained still, though her concern was growing. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

Zestial’s grin widened, revealing a glint of something almost roguish. “I intend to have a simple discourse with thy boss.”

Celeste’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait, what!” She took a step closer, her voice tinged with a mixture of worry and concern. 

Zestial gave her a final fleeting, enigmatic smile before turning smoothly on his heel. “See you soon,” he said. 

At that, He left, leaving Celeste to grapple with his cryptic promise. 

*********************************************************

Thanks for reading!

Story available on AO3

Chapter Nineteen: Sooner or Later

[thekinkyleopard]

Caught’cha

A Zilya x Tassian Canon Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Snz Fic, Forced Induce, Dom/Sub, Bratty Sub,

Edging, slight CNC

Description: Tass has been invited to stay in the Vampire’s den. Zilya is trying to remain a good host, but they find the little Jackalope snooping in places he doesn’t belong, and something inside Z snaps.

Based loosely off a prompt by Mochisnz

Author’s Notes: oops another ship. Can you tell what inspired these two ? 🫠🫠🫠 It’s Baldur’s Gate. Ok. Zilya is a product of my unhinged addiction to the new RPG. I needed a vampire OC because god damn does my blood kink run deep. Anyway! I hope you guys love these two 🫠 @aller-geez owns Tass and did the art as usual!

In the night, crept a tall figure, pale salmon eyes scanning over the landscape as if it had a deadline to meet. They did. Zilya was on the hunt, starving after neglecting their thirst for an extra day. It was hard to go out and hunt between campers and nearby hikers. They often found the best times to hunt were the colder months, when people were less likely to be wandering their property. There was a scent, one they’d been trailing for a minute, stalking through the tall unkempt grass of their land.

Under the glowing moonlight, they stay silent as they crept through the brush, eventually the smell of irresistible crimson liquid was getting closer and closer. Then, they spotted them, horns in the distance. More than likely a young buck of sorts. Zilya licked their lips with anticipation, if they lucked out, it would be practically bursting with blood. Almost salivating at the opportunity, the vampire squatted down, keeping those diluted coral eyes locked on target.

Waiting a few moments, making sure the creature wouldn’t stir, Z leapt from position their hands immediately grasping hold of the velvety antlers that essentially was their target. They both collapsed to the ground in a struggle.

“Hey what the fuck?!” A voice cried out upon being tackled. Zilya, realizing sooner rather than later, they were gripping a…hybrid creature of sorts? They scrambled backward, eyes widened with shock.

“Thee…is no buck? What’s this?” Tilting their head with confusion, scanning the creature in front of them. Seemed human, but adorned long ears like a rabbit, and horns like that of a deer. Zilya was properly perplexed, having never heard or seen such a being.

“Yeah, no kidding, I’m a fucking person, you creep! Why’d you do that??” Brushing the dirt off his sleeves, and rear end from having been tackled into the ground, he narrowed his eyes sharply at the practically frozen being in front of him.

“If thee a person why does’t thou look like an animal?” Looking at the other up and down, his dialect threw the jackalope off but he instead crossed his arms over his chest and looked back at the other with a questionable expression.

“You sure ask a lot of questions for someone I don’t know,” throwing out a bit of attitude as a deflection from how absolutely terrified he felt inside. Who was this person? Why were they out here? Why were they manhandling deer at 1 in the morning?

“And thee sure aren’t keen to answering thy questions of thine owner to this property,” Standing straight again, Z also crossed their arms in reflective defense.

“W-what?” Blinking with surprise, it was news to him that anyone owned this hunk of junk land, he couldn’t even remember seeing a house nearby just an old abandoned creepy castle.

“This is my field, I own all 28 acres of this land around the Castle…what? Did thy think it was just free ??” Zilya scoffed at the other, rolling their eyes a bit at the audacity of this land intruder.

“Kinda yeah….well, my bad, I’ve been staying in a tent nearby I hope that’s….cool?” Scratching the back of his shoulder nervously, looking around for an easy escape INCASE the other wanted to turn violent upon learning of his squatting. Never letting his guard down.

“Cool? Thee sleeping outside?” Zilya raised a thin white brow, almost unnerved to hear that someone was just, sleeping outside in the grass.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal though right?” Tassian shrugged his shoulders, it hadn’t been the first time and it wouldn’t be his last, he was like a traveling nomad! Yeah! Not homeless, that sounded….well, pathetic.

“Well if thee need somewhere to sleep, and swear not to drive a stake through my chest…might I offer a stay in the castle til thee find other arrangements?” the tall figure spoke with elegance, almost high society with a slight accent.

“You’re the stranger offering me a place to stay, usually isn’t that the first warning sign that YOU’RE in fact gonna kill me? Also why a stake? That’s oddly specific…” he stepped back one single step, squinting his eyes again.

“Uh, no reason just a metaphor,” Z quickly recovered. If they told the man now, it was bound to scare him off and truthfully, it would be so nice to have company for once. “Zilya Fae, nice to make thy acquaintance,” sticking their hand out for a proper greeting.

“Tass,” the dark haired male responds apprehensively taking the other’s hand in his own. The strange being’s skin was cold to the touch, it caused Tass to shiver unexpectedly, pulling away he looked the other up and down.

“Okay….let me just grab my things and I guess you can just lead the way?” Already starting to walk in the direction of where he was camping out at. Z following close behind.

“Sounds swell, shall I help thou carry thine things? I do have some decently working hands,” they came across a small clearing of grass with a tent, and backpack set up in the middle. Tass walked over to it and began to deconstruct the tent, slipping the parts back into his bag. Rolling up the tarp, and clasping it to the bag it self via straps and buckles.

“No need, it’s all made to be carried in one heave,” Tass shrugged his shoulders simply, he had made sure his setup wasn’t too complicated, or risk losing things when having to leave in a hurry. Together the two walked in awkward silence before reaching the front of the castle, they stopped. Tass was feeling apprehensive, unsure of this decision with how darkened the area was. Clearly no electricity.

This place was strange, completely out the ordinary. Half of the large “abandoned” castle was dilapidated, crumbling at the seams, and the other half was almost unscathed. Possibly a fallen tree or bad storm had taken down the left hand side. Tass looks over at the tall, dark, looming presence in front of him. Does he accept the invitation into the other’s home? His down stretched pierced rabbit ears twitched with caution, it had been so long since he hadn’t slept on the ground….it might be nice.

“You’re sure you’re not going to rip my skin off and wear it like a Halloween costume later?” Raising a questioning brow, taking one step back, with the strange, almost grey skinned, being leering at him. Zilya couldn’t help but let out a genuine chortle of laughter. Almost unsettling how quickly, and exponentially the sound was that escaped them.

“Of course not…I don’t celebrate Halloween,” their attempt at a joke that only caused Tass to hesitate within the doorway as they were making their way in.

“Alright well….can I use the bathroom? It’d be nice to shower,” trying to brush past the awkwardness of the entire conversation, and situation, he figured he could at least get clean before settling into the scariest place he’d ever stepped foot in.

“Sure but, let me start up the broiler, least thee want a cold sho-…” already making their way toward the large hall before he was stopped with Tass’s sudden response.

“I do,” Zilya paused, he turned and looked at the Jackalope with a puzzled expression.

“Thy guest…wants a cold shower?” Nodding in response before they could finish the thought, Tassian interjected.

“Yes, I do,” repeating himself once again, orange eyes looking Zilya up and down for any more context clues of what kind of person he was up against. Truthfully, the Jackalope just didn’t want to burden the other more than he was, but also, couldn’t be left alone in this place nor have the courage to follow the stranger any further into the darkened domicile.

“If that is what thee so wish, I shan’t be the one to cease thine actions…do as thy will, please,” they nodded toward him now. Tassian thought this whole gentleman’s tone was strange, also probably full of shit but they hadn’t seemed to drop the act yet, so he couldn’t help but wonder if this really was just who they were.

“You’re a weird man….” Shaking his head slowly back and forth in bewilderment. He’d never met someone so, peculiar before.

“Oh, I am not a man, but thank you,” Zilya responded almost too casually. Tass couldn’t put his finger on it, there was something off about this person, and not how they identified, everything they were.

“You’re not?” Asking for clarification on what exactly he was confronted with.

“No, I do not identify neither male or female, I simply am Z, or Zilya, nothing more or less,” Tassian nodded with understanding, Zilya just seemed to intrigue him more and more by the minute they spoke. He’d never met someone who didn’t resonate with either male or female before. How interesting.

“Noted, alright then Z, you strange…being you,” floating his hands around like the other was made of magic or from another planet, which made the vampire’s lip turn up into a delighted smirk. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” setting his stuff lazily onto the ground, he rustled through it, picking out a pair of pajamas and his toiletries bag.

“Enjoy!” Neither of them acute enough to realize Tass had never been here before, and it was a relatively gigantic place to be inside of. Tass turned around and waltzed his way through the hall way. After a while of walking, Tass only started to realize, he’d forgotten directions.

He’d also, already made a few turns in hopes his instinct could find where he was going. It couldn’t. Well, he WAS inside a giant cool castle, why not explore then? Creeping around the halls silently the Jackalope turned a corner and noticed a very large stone chamber. “What’s this?” He wondered out loud, stepping through the intricately carved archway. Ivory vines and roses littered the surfaces of trim along the walls of the area, and one large black coffin that stood out, in the middle of the room. “…a coffin?” At first, Tass didn’t think much of it, maybe Z just slept in a coffin. The other was off putting, awkward and weirdly beautiful. It didn’t make sense, until it did.

“Mother fucker….didn’t invite me to be nice, they’re trying to eat me!” He stumbled back, but found himself hitting a wall. Or was it? Zilya quickly brought their hands up to his shoulders and gripped them tightly.

“This doesn’t look like the bathroom to me,” a much darker, and deeper voice than the one he’d met before, echoed from behind him. Tass froze immediately within the other’s grasp.

“I uh…I…you…” taken completely off guard he could speak, like the cat had gotten his tongue.

“I, uh, me? What?” They chuckled after mocking the stuttering jackalope. “That I’m a Vampire? Yes, I am, and thou also, snooping where thee don’t belong,” clicking their tongue with disapproval, there was one thing Zilya didn’t like, was those who couldn’t ask or mind their own. So much for secrecy.

“N-no! You didn’t tell me where t-to go!” Trying to excuse himself of blame. It was true, he didn’t know where to go, but also, there was an easier way to fix that problem besides venturing further into the unknown.

“Thou didn’t think to turn around and ask, hm?” Z turned their head to look up at them now, fingers gripping the prey’s chin tightly.

“I-…..got lost,” his legs buckled, this strange new aura, almost like he was conversing with a whole new person. Was this Z? Or was this the vampire? Were they one and the same? Or was he just manipulated?

“No, thee went SNOOPING,” snapping from their once calm and cool composure, their fingers curled inward as they clasped around the other’s delicate jaw, squeezing it with the intention of showing the other they could easily crush his jaw into dust. Though they wouldn’t. There were two sides of this creature, one they weren’t so proud of, and who they presented to be. They couldn’t control the rage, the bloodlust, the power.

“Get off my ass will you?” Trying to brush the incident off as an accident, and trying to appear tougher than he really was. Truthfully, it was a no big deal Oopsie poopsie moment, but Zilya wasn’t going to let it go. There were morals, principles one should stick by. Snooping someone’s home in the guise of not knowing better, as an adult, was crossing a line.

“No, you need to be punished,” Z stated firmly, towering over the slightly shaking Jackalope.

“W-?! PUNISHED?” What did they mean by that! Surely not….killing him right?

Without a word more, Zilya gripped the other’s throat tightly in their grasp, dragging him over to the coffin, shoveling the lid aside. It crashed to the floor with a loud “Bang” as Zilya crawled inside and forced the male into his lap.

“H- Hey!” Blushing profusely, his heart racing and his body reacting the opposite of which he thought it might be, ya know, being forcibly grabbed by a monster and what not. “Let go! St-stop! Don’t suck my blood!” Protesting loudly.

“Hah! Suck thy blood? I don’t need to do that to teach thee a lesson, please,” ridiculing the other for even suggesting such a low level way to show who’s in charge. “I have other ways of making thee squirm, hm?” With their free hand, Z pulled a single feather out from the inside of their jacket. The feather was black, sleek, that of a raven or crow. Tass watched as it slowly came to his face. “Now thy is going to count to ten, hm? Don’t fuck this up, or thee will start from the beginning,” they gently brushed the softened material against the other’s nose, already twitching and twisting to fight off the sensations it cursed him with.

“N-no! Stop it!” His face tickled, he tried to squirm and fight it but being trapped within Zilya’s grasp was unmatched. His nose already flexing and stretching against the feather.

“Count to 10 without exploding,” Z responded calmly, ignoring the other’s fussing and fighting as they dragged the feather across his ticklish flesh.

“Hnnn…n-no!” Swiping his face back and forth but only making his situation worse by helping the feather move across his nose to a faster pace. He could feel the walls of his nostrils filling up, that familiar itch in the back of his throat, the tingle of movement as it threatened to overflow.

“The faster thee cooperates, the sooner thy will be out of this predicament, now count,” the vampire commanded sternly, never letting up on their affairs. Eyes fixated on every twitch and jerk of Tass’s defiant nose.

“……O-One h-H…” it built up, Z continued to tenderly brush the feather underneath the smaller’s twittering nostrils. His breathe caught in his throat, and he swore it was going to be the end of him, but he had to hold up. He sniffed softly, trying his best to contain any mess from escaping down his face.

“Now two,” Z’s velvet like voice almost brought a sense of comfort now as it softened with each accomplished count. It was a double edged sword, while he hated it, he also found himself reacting positively, his mind frenzied with lust. Yet, he would die before admitting it. He continued to fight.

“T-..hAh-…Hi’—…Two…” he struggled against that one, the feather splitting and tickling upward the little hairs living inside those holes. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make it.

“Three,” the other continued to encourage him through it, hand delicately wafting and swiping the feather over the very tip of Tassian’s struggling face. All the while, their whole body turned hot, enjoying the sight of this far more than he would have drinking the blood of some random animal tonight. No, he could hold off a few more hours so long as this could satiate something inside of him.

“Th— TS’GKNT!!!” There it went, decorating the vampire’s busy hand in glistening droplets of projectile saliva. Zilya swallowed the urge to moan by biting their lower lip.

“Start over,” clearing their throat, Z’s eyes narrowed, and that domineering attitude was back, almost impossible for Tassian to get a grip over.

“Pl-please…” he tried begging. He couldn’t do it, there would be no way to survive this. He snuffled loudly. “Sndf…”

“No, I didn’t ask thou to beg, I asked thee to count,” again, they were stern, the words harsh as they spoke them. Tass sighed, trying to catch his breath, before soon he found Zilya returning to their motions. It drifted over his nose, cheeks and chin, only for it to get dragged back up, and under his tormented, leaking nose across the top of his shuddering lip. A glimmer of moist sheen reflected off the edge of the feather now making them both aware that Tass was unable to keep up the act much longer.

“Nnnnh..O-One,” Tass tried once more, he would at least put his best foot forward.

“Good, now two,” Pressing him further, Zilya rapidly flittered the top of the softened object against Tassian’s nose, fast and uncalculated.

“Tw-………..” he paused, his breath caught and he hicked slightly before catching himself. His jaw slung open in response but quickly he snapped it shut and swallowed the feeling of it about to burst from within him. “Two,”

“Three,” impressed by the other’s will and strength to keep himself at bay, but Zilya was determined to get him to crack again. Their groin burning from want and need at the sight of him struggling against it.

“Thre-..three Hh’ih…” the sweet sound of each hitch and hick was only furtherly driving them mad, the silence between each one filled by their labored breaths.

“Aht don’t crash now, come on, four,” Pushing the other further down the rabbit hole.

“Fah….fahwr SNndf,” maybe if he could just inhale some of that ick that threatened to leak out, he could manage to get himself to the count of ten. A loud snort emitted as he tried to clear his sinuses, but only managing to stop himself from pouring out all over his own mouth. He was still determined, he could do it.

“Five,” Tassian heard the next number and then his resolve faulted, wavering in uncertainty that he could manage, because as the word fell off Zilya’s lips, the jackalope found his body trembling just trying to keep himself from erupting loudly.

“Fiiiiii-..ve..” struggling to get through it, he managed, releasing a breath that wasn’t almost a sigh of relief.

“Almost there, half way, come on,” Zilya was feeling prideful in between the carnal lust they were also feeling for the sneezing hybrid. Look how far he had come, just 5 more to go.

“S…sih’ S’ih…S’HI’TSCH!” So close but yet so far away as the jackalope felt crushed under the weight of his own inability to just hold it in. He sniffled loudly, rubbing the back of his nose with his hand trying to erase himself of this painfully ticklish predicament.

“You were so close….come on, start over,” Z clicked his tongue, shaking his head back and forth before commanding the other to continue.

“Please…I’ll give h’Hi..you anything…” the vampire laughed, fully, it boomed and bounced off the stone walls. The little jackalope just didn’t get it.

“This is what I want, to see thee suffer under the fate of my hands….watching thy face exhaust itself as I relentlessly tickle it…marvelous and delectable, the perfect punishment,” pink eyes seemed to shimmer with lust, almost mistakenly similar to how someone could look when they were starving. Was this really the same person he’d met outside?

“How?!” Tassian furrowed his brows, sick of the shenanigans and riddles.

“I’m a vampire, little one, I crave the power…” Z’s lips pulled into a cocky smirk, one that made Tassian a mix between extremely turned on, and outwardly annoyed.

“You’re si— H’GXNT!” Bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, this one came out unexpectedly, so half way through, Tass just tried to simply stifle it from happening, sick of the other having this type of control over him.

“Tsk tsk, don’t hold them back like that little one, you’ll only prolong your punishment, now get back to it…” their voice dropped and suddenly Z was incredibly serious once more. “One,” the word dripped off his tongue like a shard of ice.

“One..” Tass repeated without hesitation now, the sound of Zilya’s voice not giving him much an indication he could win the argument he wanted to start. Determined to best the vampire at his little game.

“Two”

“T-two,” the Jackalope continued to count along, orange eyes staring dangerously back into stone cold pink ones. His body shuddered involuntarily.

“Three,” Zilya continued.

“…….”he paused, Tass physically swallowing the saliva that built up under his tongue that was desperate to release. His sinuses so incredibly full from being played with.

“Three??” Zilya furrowed his brows, gaze darkening as he forced the feather to tickle the inside walls of Tassian’s nostrils, a line of snot embarrassingly trickling down his lip.

“Three….” His voice shook in response, half because he needed to sneeze so incredibly bad but also from trying to avoid consuming his ick. Zilya’s eyes fluttered, noticing the mess enough to grab at their own sleeve hem, and wipe the glistening substance clean for him.

“Four,” voice gentler as they started to coax the other through it. They also, wished to see the little Jackalope beat the odds. It was fun, was it not? They were having fun.

“F-f-Four…” Tassian closed his eyes momentarily, just trying to focus on the in and out motion of breathing deeply, hoping it would get him through the rest of this god forsaken punishment.

“Five,” Zilya noticed the other was powering through as much as he could manage, and that could only mean one thing for Z. Up the stakes. They needed to see more suffering, Z brought the hand that wasn’t busy tickling Tass’s nose, to his thigh. Gauging the other’s response before sliding upward with his slender fingers, gripping the area.

“F-Fih…ve….” Tassian’s breath became more unsteady as Zilya’s hand started to creep up his leg. A mixture of pleasure and discomfort now, shit, he’s gonna be so embarrassed when Z finds out how hard he is. He blushed, bright red.

“Six,” Z’s volume steady, consistent, while they reached, and unzipped the jackalope’s jeans. Soon after, Tass’s pants button was popped open and a cold hand slipped inside. He gasped.

“H-Hah…Si…x” he stuttered and whimpered, his eyes glazing and glossy as he struggled to get a hold of himself. His nose and throat tickled, burned and agitated his comfort, body writhing and wiggling beneath the hypnotic vampire. Why didn’t he just run? Simple. A fantasy come true, he never thought he’d have? No. Simply he wouldn’t allow the other to see him beg any further for mercy, lurching and twitching underneath the other. No, this was now a challenge between him and the beast. One he thought if he could win, would humiliate the vampire from ever trying to best him again.

“Seven,” Zilya’s silky tone caressed him, his palm gripping hold of Tassian’s hard, leaking length and began to pump inside the space of his boxers.

“S’heh’ven,” he almost lost it there, if he wasn’t concerned with how good Z’s hand felt on his cock, he might be able to push away the insistent urge of needing to sneeze. It wasn’t so lucky. He was faltering, bursting at the seams trying to keep himself steady. He just needed to get to ten. His eyes teared over, drops trickling down reddened cheeks.

“Eight,” Z’s movements turned fast, fingers squeezing tightly around the other’s throbbing shaft, slipping the pad of their thumb carelessly around Tassian’s tip.

“Ei—ght,” his eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to focus through the force of the next two numbers. That was it. Just two. He could make it through two more numbers.

“Look at you, you’re almost there, ready?” Z praised the man for his resilience to get through it. Upping the ante, Z gently wafted a soft breeze of air from pursed lips, allowing in a cooling sensation to stiffen, Tass’s numbing nostrils. This was the edge needed to get those sensations back. All the while being stroked and edged.

“H’ah!!” Tassian almost forgot he was in the midst of a punishment, it felt so good. He hadn’t been touched in a very long time, and something about the forcefulness of this creature only made his cheeks hotter. He was losing. In a matter of minutes he went from determined to putty in the creature’s hands.

“Not yet, hold it back…Nine,” Zilya commanded, their own voice turning strained as they had to fight the gnawing desires to swallow the jackalope hole, or at the very least pierce his fangs into the flesh of his softened neck and have many different ways with him.

“Nih….Nine….” Almost there, then he would be rewarded, yes? For being so good, for being so brave?

“Goooood boy…now Ten,” the long drawn out praise, like music to Tassian’s red tipped ears. His body shuddered, his glistening maw open wide. There was no chance of catching even a single atom of oxygen through his stuffed up nostrils. Who was this? Who had he become? The pleasure was too great.

“T-t…Hi’h…TEN—K’TSCHIEW!!” He almost completed his mission, almost reached a perfect ten, but the feather assault proved to be too much as it teased and tickled him. Out shot a loud sneeze in place of a cry for pleasure, his body shaking violently. He spritzed the vampire across their face, whom could only roll their eyes in lust as they felt the cooling sensation across their flesh and watched the other release all their pent up energy. Zilya squeezed their palm tighter around Tassian’s now leaking member.

“Ohhhh, y’know? I’ll give thee that…thou at least made it to ten, before breaking apart,” Z chuckled with a toss of their head, hand never ceasing to please the little hybrid. Bodies smushed up tight within the space of the coffin.

“Hnn..hah~” he moaned with labored breath, it wafted across Zilya’s intently watching features.

“Does that feel good?” Licking their lips predatorily, yet with a softened tone of voice. His eyes glancing swiftly between the other’s face and bare open neck. It wasn’t something they could help, just pure instinct, but they fought it back.

“S-so…hah~ good…” Tassian peaked open with those gorgeous orange orbs and Zilya almost felt themselves soften, almost. The instinctive animal inside of them, burned hotter.

“Good…” watching the other get closer and closer to the brink of losing it before, right there, Z could see it. Swoop, just at the moment Tass thought he could blow his load. Zilya had stopped all motions and allowed the other to suffer at the loss of a much needed and long awaited orgasm.

“H-hey! Wa-wait! You can’t just….” Suddenly cut off.

“This was a punishment, remember? Thee wish to cum? Then earn thine reward with good behavior,” Zilya smirked, confident, smug. That fucking bastard.

“Good behavior? Earn it? You asshole!” Shoving the other away from him, trying his best to scramble out of the coffin. “No! I will do no such thing… I don’t need a reward from you!” Sticking his tongue out and clasping his hands at his hips.

“We shall see then, won’t we?” Z sat against the edge of the coffin, confidently licking the tips of his wet fingers, tasting the jackalope on his tongue, pink orbs watched the other carefully.

At a stand still, the two stared each other down, Tassian blushed profusely watching the other sip his pre cum off their hands. Neither of them moving from position. “So….I can stay here still right?”

“Would thee still like to? I am a monster, after all,” raising his brow in an almost challenging response.

“I never—“ cut off again.

“You didn’t have to,” Zilya almost looked hurt, looking to the side. This was why they didn’t say anything at first, about being a vampire. People always thought the worst of them immediately and never truthfully gave them a chance.

“Look, so long as you don’t go sucking my body dry of all its nutrients, I don’t care that you’re a vampire, okay?” Tassian clasped his arms across his chest, hip hooked with a hint of attitude. How dare the other think that he was immediately judging him!….well…he kind of did. It was fair. His demeanor softened. “And no more using that shit…” pointing aggressively to the feather. “Against me!”

“I can promise I won’t drink thine blood…..without thy permission…..but the other request? Denied, I’ll punish thee as seen fit,” winking at the other with a cheeky resolve. Tass rolled his eyes but couldn’t help feel his heart skip a beat with excitement. What on earth was happening to him? Was he seriously crushing on a creature of the night? This was a new low, even for him, but he might as well get settled with it. If he was to be staying with him after all.

To be continued….?

Author’s Notes: OOOOOOOO towards the end I decided I was gonna make a second to this. 🫨🫨🫨 so stayed tuned for that eventually. I have so much stuff I have to accomplish and post, I’m very behind but enjoy this of our new babies! 🫨🥰 @aller-geez owns Tassian and did the art!

[the-journey-was-the-point]

Taran's Prologue, Part 1

Something I wrote for my OC, Taran!

Summary: Following a mistake made in good faith, Taran Ashvaen struggles to earn back the Dark Lord's favor. Relationships: Some heavily implied familial feelings between Sauron & Taran

The Mouth of Sauron strode through the halls of the tower, purpose in each step. He had just come from an audience with his master and now had a fresh set of orders to enact. He stopped in front of the armory, where a lone figure clad in black armor sat, sharpening his sword. 

“Ah, young Ashvaen. Orders from our master.” 

The Ashvaen, or Taran as he called himself outside Mordor, looked up from his work to find his master’s most trusted lieutenant with a rolled up parchment in hand, and a smile on his face. He couldn’t find it in himself to return the smile.

“He sent you?” the young lord huffed, “He will still not speak to me himself?”

The Mouth of Sauron made a small sound of indulgence, recalling the young master’s recent escapade into the archives of Minas Tirith. It was done suddenly and without warning. One day Taran was safe behind the Black Gate, the next he had taken the form of a bird and flown towards their enemy’s capital city. He stayed there for months and their dark master had been practically frantic the whole while. 

Taran was special– anyone working for the dark lord knew that. He was created from a relic of Morgoth’s, using Sauron’s own power, given life against all odds. Sauron had raised him himself.

He was powerful. He was valuable.  And for three months, he had been behind enemy lines with no word. Sauron, who was still considerably weak from his defeat in the Second Age, did not appreciate the prospect that should Taran be caught, he would have to choose between a sure defeat, or losing his indispensable creation.  

 “Thy previous foolishness has upset our master,” the Mouth of Sauron said fondly, “indeed, venturing unescorted into the territory of our enemies was unwise, and greatly risked his Age-long plans.”

“I was trying to help,” Taran reasoned, “surely he sees that. And I didn’t get caught. 3 months I was in the archives of Minas Tirith, and the Gondorians were none the wiser. Now we know for sure they don’t have Isildur’s ring hidden away, nor any idea where it may be.”

I just need to be sure, Taran had thought that time before he left. He simply didn’t like the idea that the One Ring was unaccounted for, and could fall into the wrong hands, which could bring an abrupt end to his master, his creator, the one who reared him. 

(And if there was a small part of him that wanted to see what was beyond the Black Gate, well, two birds with one stone.)

“The state of our master’s ring is work for the Nazgûl. Thine, is to see to our armies, and remind the men of the East and South of old alliances.” And at that, the Mouth of Sauron handed him the parchment– a map of his next assignment. 

Taran took the map and surveyed it, silent and chastised. The Mouth of Sauron spoke after some time.

“The master asked about thee. I spoke of thy success garnering support from the Easterlings at Rhûn. He was very pleased. Perhaps continued victories will earn thee back his good graces.” The Mouth of Sauron placed a black-gloved hand on the Ashvaen’s shoulder, “Perhaps he may one day be more amiable to give thee that which you seek.”

The Mouth of Sauron left Taran alone to ponder on his words.

[eilinelsghost]

10 First Lines

Thanks to @sallysavestheday for the tag to share the first lines of my last 10 fics and consider whether there are any patterns in the way I start things off:

It unnerved him each morning to be greeted by the same quick smile across the breakfasting table, to find that table laid with those same berries he knew from Nargothrond, the same fresh loaf and pitcher of spiced cream.  Seedlings 1 G: Bëor, Finarfin, & many others Technically this is the second line, but since it was part of the "give me a line and I'll write the rest" prompts, this is the first I wrote.

“There is a line of smoke to the north-east.” Darkly the Sundering Flood T: Finrod, Beren, Edrahil, OC

He is nearly weightless. An Anchor Incarnate G: Gelmir & Gwindor

Arafinwë knew the path without thought.  In Memory Beside You G: Finarfin & Bëor

The laugh rumbled through Finarfin’s bones.  Fight With Thine Own Hand T: Finarfin, Orodreth, Morgoth

Finrod’s dive cut through the surface, hardly leaving a splash as he slipped beneath Ivrin’s mere.  In These Holy Waters T: FInrod/Bëor

Once again, Finrod caught sight of him through the trees. And Still the Light Returns T: Finrod/Bëor, Belen, Gildor, others

I rise. Alone upon the crested brine A Bitter Wine G: Eärendil/Elwing A sonnet, so I wasn't quite sure whether the first line should be the first line or the first sentence, so I did the former and you all can choose for yourselves.

Anárion grew tired of pacing. Atanatárissë G: Anárion, Silmariën, Hiril, Andreth, Adanel, Belen, Bëor, Finrod

He looked a small, frail figure outlined beside the white crags of the shoreline. Little Lords of the Brine G: Finrod & Orodreth

So apparently I really like to start with short lines. Much like @sallysavestheday noted in hers, these are usually followed by and inseparable from a longer sentence that does much of the work.

Tagging @that-angry-noldo, @searchingforserendipity25, @outofangband, @swanmaids, and anyone else who thinks this sounds fun!

[hazbin-hazwas]

Take Me or Leave Me

Rating: T

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Vox/Original Character(s), Vox, Original Character(s), Valentino, Rosie, Alastor, Zestial, Mentioned Velvette, Mentioned Charlie, Major Original Characters, Original Characters-Centric, Confrontations, Love Triangles, Love Squares, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Business, Rivals to Lovers, Established Relationships, Complicated Relationships, Lies, Threats

Description:

Vega (Vincent), a singer Overlord who has consistently been pestered by Vox to join the Vees, is once again approached by him with the same offer. However, there's a new pre-tense: The Vees are planning something big, and Vox doesn't want them to get caught in the crossfire. For the first time, Vega genuinely considers his offer, but someone else steps in to stir the pot:

Vera, a woman who Valentino so hatefully refers to as "Vox's bitch."

Or:

I looked at my OC, looked at @timeslugarts's OC, and went "Oooo, the girls are fighting."

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54235564

Notes: Thank you SO MUCH to @timeslugarts for letting me use Vera (and Jericho) for this, I had SUCH a blast writing these characters. Additionally, a HUGE thanks to @beansisarat7 and @starchaserbaby for beta-ing this. Reblogs are VERY much appreciated and I enjoy any feedback that you may have ^.^

The bi-monthly Overlord Meetings weren’t mandatory - far from it, actually, if Alastor’s prior disappearance and Valentino and Velvette’s consistent absences were anything to say about it. However, that didn’t mean it wasn’t in any Overlord’s interest to attend. The Vees shared information, anyway, so as long as one of them showed up things were usually fine, and Alastor was… Alastor. But Vega preferred to stay up to date on what other Overlords were doing, so she found herself sitting to the right of Rosie at an office Carmilla Carmine owned.

This meeting wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, save for some surprisingly positive updates on the Princess’s passion project. Now, they were going around the table, sharing any updates they had on their own territories or concerns they had towards others’ actions. As per usual, Vega had none either way - she doesn’t have any permanent territory and the only Overlords she had to be concerned with were the Vees and Alastor since they have (an uncomfortable) amount of control over whether her music got out into the rest of the Pride ring. Vox had nothing new to say, though, and Alastor was too busy with the Princess to focus too much on his radio show anyway.

All she wanted to do was exit this building and go back to cannibal town with Rosie for a cup of tea. These meetings were almost never enjoyable, especially when the time could be spent doing literally anything else.

Finally, just as Carmilla was about to conclude things, Vox spoke up. Vega barely bit back a curse.

“Actually, just before we leave, I wanted to let everyone know that Valentino is throwing a party later. It’s a much more quiet event than what he’s used to - Velvette and I made sure of it - so the… sexual content,” he glanced not-so-subtly at Alastor, “You all are used to will be mostly toned down. Think of it as a bonding exercise of sorts. And, of course, some more higher-class sinners will be in attendance as well, so some souls are up for grabs. I mean, who would the Vees be if we didn’t have something to offer?”

It’s silent for a moment as Overlords look at each other and consider the offer. The air isn’t tense, no, far from it, but it’s definitely not relaxed, either.

“What i’ thine catch, Vox? Surely, thou might not but summon something from these events,” Zestial asked, speaking the collective thoughts of the rest of the room.

“No catch,” Vox says, using his signature charming smile. “It’s simply an invite to relax and return to a semblance of normalcy after last month’s failed extermination.” There’s a pregnant pause, and Vega rolls her eyes while fighting back a smile. She had a soft spot for his theatrics, as annoying as they were at times. “ But! I know how secretive this group can be, and what better place to form new alliances than a formal event? Hell beat the Angels in a failed extermination, surely there are new business opportunities - and new dangers - on the rise. As I said before, who would the Vees be if we didn’t have something to offer?”

The ‘something’ dipped into his distorted tone and, for a split second - she wouldn’t have been surprised if most of the other Overlords in the room missed it - his left eye swirled.

“You don’t have to accept now. It’ll be held at Vee Tower at 8pm, tonight. Drinks and catering will be provided if any of you decide to show up.”

And with that, Vox sits down and folds his hand. It’s silent for a second again, and Vega takes the moment to look him over. His hands are folded and, on further inspection, his usual charming smile is much more akin to a smirk. He’s up to something. But then Vox makes eye contact with her and raises a brow so she looks away at Carmilla.

Carmilla clears her throat. “Alright, then. Now, if no one else has any last minute announcements,” she pauses, leaving room for someone to interject, but when no one does, she continues, “Then this meeting is adjourned. I will see you all either later tonight or in two months.”

Vega doesn’t waste time standing up and exiting the room. She feels Vox’s eyes on her as she leaves and ignores the urge to turn around and tell him off. She waits by the stairs for Rosie and Alastor to leave as well. Vox leaves last, not counting Zestial, who most likely stayed back to talk to Carmilla alone like he usually does. They make eye-contact again, though Vox is forced to look away first this time to make it to the elevator in time. She looks away just in time to see Rosie walk up to her with Alastor in tow.

“Oh, don’t tell me ya thinkin’ of takin’ the stairs down! This is a very tall building, y’know, and there are betta ways to avoid claustrophobia. You have wings for cryin’ out loud! Just open a window!” Rosie laughs, placing a hand on Vega’s shoulder. “I’m just kiddin’ with ya, I know you have a reputation on the line just like the rest of us, you gotta save the flyin’ for performin’, I’m sure. Now, are we still on for tea? Because I’m definitely not flyin’!”

Vega smiles - it’s hard not to smile with Rosie - before sighing. “Unfortunately, no. I think Vox is up to something, so I’m going to get ready for tonight to see if I can learn more.”

“Honey, when isn’t Vox up to something? Why, just ask Alasta, I’m sure he could tell you all about Vox’s shenanigans!”

“Yes, but that would require Vox’s shenanigans to be worth telling, now wouldn’t they, my dear?” Alastor jokes as well, leaning into Rosie.

Vega laughs quietly compared to their loud laughter before continuing, “True, but it’s always nice to be ahead of the game. The last thing any of us needs is to be caught off-guard because we underestimated him.”

“Oh, just come ova for tea and we’ll get ready togetha. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to any sort of party outside of Cannibal Town, it could be a’ good use to get out again. What about you Alasta, will you be joining us?”

Alastor laughs and shakes his head. “As if I’d ever set foot in Vee Tower. I’m afraid I must be off back to the Hotel, anyway. The Princess can be quite annoying if people aren’t back by the time they said they would be.”

“Ah, well, then I guess it’s just us girls tonight,” Rosie says with no disappointment - it’s not like it was hard to predict Alastor was going to say no - before hooking her arm with Vega’s and turning the group in the direction of the elevator. “Now, let’s get going. I’m parched!”

.

Vee Tower is weirdly empty, Vince notices, as he and Rosie enter. There was always someone working either in or around Vee Tower, so the fact that there’s only a few people present, each of which looked in the other direction or helped direct them to the party, felt off.

It’s a long elevator ride to the top of the building, but Rosie makes it all the much shorter with her chatter. It was like she never ran out of things to talk about. In terms of outfits, Rosie was wearing a dress with a layered, black skirt. The top layers are lace, showing off a branch pattern that Vince was sure she made herself. He would have deemed the off-the-shoulder sleeves as out of character if they hadn’t held the same embroidery as the lace and looped in front of her. There was a red, metal band that acted as a sort of belt and accentuated her high waist. It probably wasn’t considered ‘semi-formal,’ but when Vince pointed that out, she waved him off with a smile and said, “Live a little, wontcha?”

Vince went for something slightly more toned down. He’s wearing a long, blue, almost Victorian jacket with silver accents. It was backless so that his wings could breathe, meaning that he didn’t actually bother putting on a shirt. Instead, he buttoned the jacket in the middle and wore high-waisted, black trousers. His blue heeled boots and silver accents matched the jacket. He brought one of his microphones with him - the mic gloated in-between two angular prongs - although it really functioned more as a staff. When Rosie saw him grab it, she joked that between the switch in presentation and the mic, Alastor might as well have joined them.

Finally, the elevator dings and the doors open. Rosie cuts herself off, mid-sentence and steps onto the floor. Immediately, she notices the small amount of Overlords present - obviously there’s the Vees, but Zeezi and Zestial were also present, and while not technically Overlords, Odette and Carla are floating around the general vicinity of Zestial as well.

“I’m gonna go say hello to Carmine’s girls if that’s okay with you, Vincent. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been able to talk to them and just look at how much they’ve grown! Honestly, Carmilla needs to start making ‘em sleep in the drawer, y’know, get ‘em to stop growin’.”

Before Vince can respond, Rosie unlinks their arms and makes their way over. Zestial broadens his chest when he notices someone talking to them, but immediately relaxes upon realizing who it is. Carmilla must have asked Zestial to watch over them while they were here, and Vince doesn’t blame her. Who in their (non-horny) mind would willingly stay around Valentino.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you around here,” a voice says into Vince’s ear.

Vince stifles a flinch while he fans away the pink smoke emanating from behind him. 'Speak of the devil.' “I have personal business I need to attend to with the Vees,” he lies.

“Hm? And what could be of trouble now?”

Vince turns around. Valentino didn’t even bother dressing for the theme, still wearing the same stockings and pimp-jacket he usually wore. He assumes that Valentino doesn’t see him roll his eyes. “I need some dancers for a couple concerts.”

“And what do you have to offer me, instead?”

“I continue to give you business instead of finding some souls of my own.”

Vince could have been nicer about that, he supposes, but he wasn’t too keen on dealing with Val’s bullshit tonight. Val’s eyes narrow for a second before he takes another pull from his cigarette.

“How many are you looking for this time?”

“Twenty, maybe. Ten at the least.”

“Hm. Alright, then. I’ll send them by you by the end of the week. The usual spot, I presume?”

“Of course.”

Just when Vince thought that Val would leave him alone, he smirks and blows some more smoke in Vince’s face. This time, he curls his wing around to block it from reaching him.

“Y’know, I’m surprised you’re not more of a dancer yourself, ruiseñor ,” he all but purred, looking Vince up and down. “You have fantastic hips . For a man, maybe not, but for Vega -” he reaches to trail his free-hand down Vince’s side, but Vince raises his microphone to block him.

“Don't touch me,” he bites.

They glare at each other, neither moving from their positions. The smoke from his cigarette swirls around them and Vince can’t help but let the surrounding air chill.

“H-H-Heyyyy! What’s going on here?” Vox’s voice breaks the tension as he slips in next to them.

Almost instantly, Vincent relaxed. He lets Vox move his microphone away from Val, who’s arm he also moves back.

Immediately, Vince notices Vox’s change from his usual attire. The navy blue with electric pinstripes he usually donned was replaced with a sparkling turquoise. His red bowtie deepened in shade but remained nonetheless, this time with gloves to match. The top hat, of course, stayed the same. It’s simple, at least by Vox’s dorky, overdramatic standards, but it somehow works.

“Tonight is not a night for fighting,” he says, looking between the two of them. “Val, why don’t you go talk to Velvette? She said she wanted to have a word with you about your outfit.” He’s more hostile now that he’s only addressing Valentino, causing Vincent to force back a laugh.

Val crosses his arms and pouts, all the while still glaring at Vince. “Fine,” he states, taking another pull. “But be careful,” he teases, getting in Vox’s face, “You don’t want your bitch getting upset.”

Vincent tilts his head, unsure of what Val is implying as he walks away. Vox groans and mutters something indiscernible under his breath about Val before turning to Vince.

“Drinks,” he implores, gesturing towards the bar. His charming smile is back, although not as wide. Vince ponders for a second if it’s genuine.

Vincent returns the smile, ultimately unable to tell, and turns in the direction of the bar. Vox puts his arm around Vince’s back as they walk together. Vince lets him.

The bar is decently crowded, but a group of three sinners move out of the way when they see them coming. Vox leans an arm on the bar and orders two martinis. Vince mirrors him for a second before leaning his back against the bar and placing his microphone between them.

“It’s been a while since Vincent has made an appearance. It’s only been Vega for at least a year, now,” Vox jokes

It’s a shallow attempt at breaking the ice, but Vince chooses to humor him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Vox at an Overlord meeting. It’s been Velvette for at least six months now.”

Vox laughs. Vince is unable to tell where it’s coming from. “Yeah, well, what can I say? VoxTek has been busy with the Extermination having been moved up and all that jazz.”

“So have I.”

The bartender comes back with their drinks. Vox immediately takes a sip of his, but Vincent only pulls him closer.

“How so?”

“TV and porn aren’t people’s only source of entertainment. People also enjoy listening to music and going to concerts. I spent all of the six months leading up to Extermination Day touring the city.”

Vince was surprised Vox didn’t know - half of his dancers on that tour were Valentino’s and at least a fourth of the outfits he had worn were from Velvette’sSex on the Beach collection. Still, Vox looks as though this was his first time hearing about it. He hums in acknowledgement and looks away from him. Vince, content with the silence - their conversations are never good for long, anyway - looks down at his martini and contemplates actually drinking it.

“Do you ever dream of touring the other circles?”

Vincent’s head snaps up to look at Vox, again, who is still looking away from him. He looks distant. “Pardon?”

“The other circles. Greed, Envy, Lust, Wrath, Sloth, Gluttony, do you ever dream of touring them? Seeing what they have to offer? Expanding your reach, your power, your career?”

Finally, when Vox finishes speaking, he looks back at Vincent. For a second, Vince forgets what he came here for. There is something undoubtedly genuine in Vox’s eyes and it actually scares him. Everything about Vox, all of the way down to his name, is fake. So why is he being real ? Vincent looks away first, this time.

“Doesn’t matter. Sinners can’t leave Pride,” he responds. Hell was Hell, after all; even dreams have their limits and contorts into nightmares eventually.

Vox hums again before putting a hand on Vince’s shoulder. Vince almost doesn’t let him.

“Do you want to?”

The reality of why he’s here hits Vince like a truck. He pulls away from Vox as he collects his thoughts. “Why did I even begin to think that you would just want to talk? You even said you wanted to form alliances,” Vincent says, more to himself than Vox.

Vox stands up straight. “Technically, we already have an alliance, this would just be making it official.”

“You provide me with dancers and clothes every once in a while and in return I let you use my songs in your commercials and movies. That isn’t an alliance, that’s polite business.”

“Just hear me out for a second,” Vox asks, voice partially digitalizing.

Vincent looks Vox over. His fake persona was back. Maybe Vince shouldn’t have reacted the way he did, then this conversation could be pleasant and one of them might actually have a chance at changing their minds. He narrows his eyes.

“You have 30.”

“You have a lot of inference. Specifically, you have a lot of influence in the realm of entertainment. The Vees do entertainment. Movies, social media, television, fashion, and you bring music . It works well, together. We would work well together.”

“Twenty.”

“It’s obvious that you’re powerful. You let this,” he grabs Vince’s microphone, “Inhibit your powers or use it as a crutch or something , but imagine what you could do if you fully unleashed. I want to help you with that. The Vees want to help you with that. You don’t keep many secrets, obviously you must be one dangerous opponent if your demon form has yet to see the public’s eyes.”

“Five,” Vinent counts, yanking his staff out of Vox’s hand and already turning around.

“I want you with us.”

Vince freezes.

That’s… New.

“You are everywhere . If it’s not Angel Dust or that damn hotel on a billboard, it’s you. And I don’t know when that stopped being annoying, but it did. I want it to stay that way. The Vees have a plan. Valentino may not like you and Velvette may not really talk to you, but I want you to be a part of it. Don’t make me hurt you, Vincent - Hell needs more Angels like you.”

Vincent turns around, mouth agape. Suddenly, if feels as though the rest of the party - the rest of Hell - doesn’t exist, He got what he came here for: a confirmation that the Vees were up to something and even an, albeit loose, idea of what that plan entailed. By all means, he should be leaving. There should be absolutely nothing stopping him from leaving. Yet, he’s stuck to his spot, frozen in time.

Vincent didn’t like Vox, or any of the Vees for that matter. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. They were rude, disrespectful, egotistical, brash, dramatic, know-it-alls who, unlike most Overlords, directly profited off of sinners’ suffering. It’s not like he could say too much - he was in Hell for a reason and was close friends with Rosie, the Overlord of Cannibal Town - but he was known as ‘The Angelic Demon’ for a reason. He had to have some standards, and the Vees didn’t live up to a single one.

But, just as Vox said it had for him, somewhere along the line it changed. At least, in terms of Vox. There was a fondness in the fights and comfortability in the competition that transpired between them. Their back-and-forth between Vox2Night and live performances had become his favorite part of performing. Vox was the only reason he even downloaded social media - so that their silly feud could continue on their off-hours. Every time he visited Vee Tower on behalf of business with Valentino or Velvette, they found a way to talk, alone for a little bit before things eventually turned sour and they stopped interacting for a while, only to rinse and repeat once one of them did something overly petty. It was a nice routine that was built on definitely not hate, Vince realizes now, and obviously Vox had to have felt the same way.

Because now they were here.

Vox looks genuine again and Vince loses the ability to form words. It’s scary how open and vulnerable he’s being when there’s still so many people around. If Vince didn't know any better, he’d assume Vox was begging him to accept the offer. Vince almost accepts it.

“Is there something wrong here, darling?”

The illusion of solitude shatters as a woman - a sinner, Vince concludes since he doesn’t recognize her - with blue hair, a sleek, black dress, and fire around her neck walks up to Vox. Recognition and fondness flashes in his eyes for a second before he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer.

“Just talking with Vincent about joining us, again. We could always use someone with such a strong hold on the music industry on our side,” he responds, and Vincent can’t tell whether it was a complete lie or not. More importantly, if it wasn’t, whether he had fallen for something that was never even there.

“It doesn’t seem like he’s very keen on the idea,” she glares, and Vincent takes the hint.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it, Vox. I appreciate the offer.”

Vox’s expression shifts to that of shock for a second before his usual facade slips back on. “You know where to find me when you make up your mind.”

Vincent turns to leave and find Rosie, but not before grabbing his martini and downing it in one gulp. He wanted, no, needed to leave. After all, he had gotten what he had come here for.

.

“I don’t like the way you look at them,” Vera states, slipping off her gloves and tossing them aside.

Vox yells from the bathroom as he undoes his bowtie. “Excuse me?”

“The Angelic Demon. You look at them the way you look at me. I don’t like it,” Vera repeats, more annoyed this time. There’s no immediate response, so she scoffs to herself and sits down to take off her heels.

“I don’t look at anyone the way I look at you,” Vox reassures, exiting the bathroom. His suit jacket is hung over his arm and his gloves have disappeared as well

Vera deadpans, “Alastor.”

Vox hesitates as he opens his closet. “That’s different. He’s… unobtainable. And a bitch.”

Vera finds it in herself to laugh at that, but doesn’t loosen up for long. “They aren’t unobtainable. Bitch? Arguably. Probably. But not unobtainable.”

“And how do you know? They have never once even begun to consider any of my offers.”

He sits down on their shared bed beside her now as he unbuttons his shirt. Vera raises her brows.

“They said they’d consider it, this time. Besides, there has to be a reason why you keep offering and they keep listening.”

Vox’s eyes widen and he looks away. He doesn’t respond.

Vera scoffs again and mutters, “Exactly.”

They finish getting ready for bed in silence. The air is thick with tension, but Vera doesn’t say anything - she wasn’t going to be the one to break it. Just as she’s about to turn off the lamp on her bedside table, Vox speaks:

“I love you. You do know that, right?”

“I never said you didn’t.”

“But you said-”

“I didn’t say anything except that I don’t like how you look at them. I was letting you know; there’s no need to put words in my mouth.”

Vox frowns but doesn’t say anything else. He turns off his lamp, which signals Vera to do the same. Vera sighs as she closes her eyes.

“And I love you, too. For the record.”

.

Vera sits outside of a coffee shop, waiting for Vega to walk by. She had checked the security cameras in the area immediately surrounding Cannibal Town - where Vega had been known to frequent - and was banking on her walking down this street like she usually did on the way to whatever studio or club she was working at that day.

Vox didn’t say anything about her when they had woken up that morning, seemingly forcing himself to forget that their dispute even happened.

Vera didn’t forget.

She didn’t entirely know why she was here. She didn’t entirely know what she was going to do, either. She does know that it’s dumb to act this impulsively, but something was telling her that Vega was going to accept Vox’s offer this time and she needs to let her know her place, Overlord or not. Vera laughs bitterly at that thought. Since when was she the jealous type? And since when did she consider Vox something worth being jealous over?

One of the flames around her neck shoots off to the side, taking her away from her thoughts. It hovers on the other side of the street. A few seconds later, Vega passes it.

Vega navigates Pentagram City too carelessly for an Overlord, but Vera isn’t complaining. It made her easier to find, after all. Just as Vera is about to slip out of her seat to tail her, Vega turns to cross the street.

“Shit,” she swears and attempts to hide her face in her cup of coffee. She attempts to tell herself that it’s a coincidence, but she knows she’s been caught. Not once in any of the archived footage had Vega stopped here.

Only when the flame returns to her neck does Vera look up. Of course, Vega slides into the seat across from her. She’s smiling politely and Vera is already annoyed.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Yes.”

They lock eyes for a second. Vera’s gaze hardens, daring Vega to leave. Vega laughs and looks away.

“I’ve worked both with and against the Vees long enough to know when I’m being watched.” She pauses, waiting for Vera to say something. Vera says nothing. “I just wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

“And who am I, exactly?” Vera pushes, leaning forward. Maybe this was good. It took away some of the impulsivity but still let get done what she wanted to get done - intimidate Vega.

“Vox’s bitch,” Vega laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Valentino’s words, not mine.”

Vera scoffs. “Of fucking course he said that.”

“So you’re not Vox’s bitch then?”

Vega is smirking, arms crossed. Vera glares the best glare she can while taking another sip of her coffee. “That’s a way to word it.”

“But you’re not fond of it.”

“ No. Who the fuck would be ?”

Vega bites her tongue. “What would you like me to call you? I’m Vega, as I’m sure you-.”

“I know your name. I’m Vera.”

Vega looks Vera up and down at being cut off. She was wearing a burgundy leather jacket with  a black tank top and her hair was up in a ponytail. Vega couldn’t make out the rest of Vera’s outfit, but she was sure it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary, either. Save for the flames circling her neck, she didn’t look like much of a threat. Humming to herself, she pushes out her chair and stands up.

“Excuse me, where do you think you’re going?” Vera asks, standing up as well.

Vega looks over her shoulder, walking away. “Leaving. You’re not who I expected to be talking to, nor are you a threat to my well-being.”

“Oh, I’m a threat. I may not be an Overlord, but a reputation means a lot to someone who is. Don’t underestimate the kind of power I have on these streets just because I’m not invited to your special meetings,” Vera growls.

Vega huffs. She doesn’t believe that Vera is bluffing - she’s seen first-hand the kind of things that can be done to someone’s power because a sinner with none gets determined - but she still doesn’t think that her bite is necessarily worse than her bark.

“There isn’t anything you can do,” she starts, looking back in front of her to cross the street again, “That the ‘Angelic Demon’ can’t do to herself by agreeing to work with the Vees.”

Vega doesn’t wait for a response before crossing the streets. And when Vera yells, “Leave him alone!,” she doesn’t dignify her with one, either.

Vera watches as Vega crosses the street and turns back the way she came. Once she’s out of sight, Vera leaves the cafe as well and starts to make her way back to Vee Tower. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Vox, even if he is a concern, it’s that she doesn’t trust Vega. Whatever her reputation may be, when it comes down to it, she’s a sinner. And while Vera is 100% sure she can handle whatever Vega throws her way, that doesn’t mean she wants to have to catch it.

.

“I don’t get your point!” Vox yells, slamming his fist against his desk. He turns around and throws his arms out. “Vega joining us helps us. All of us.”

“Oh really?” Vera yells back, running her hands through her hair. Her flames are scattered around the room, floating in place. “Because the speech you were giving her at the party sure didn’t seem like it was to benefit all of us!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, we’ve been together how long and you don’t know I’m good at manipulation? And obviously I have her falling for it if you did!”

It’s been like this since Vera got home. Velvette was here, originally, but she left once they started raising their voices. Valentino called to ask Vox about something or another, but was quickly hung up on. He sent someone up to bother him but then that worker was friend almost to his second death, so now they were completely alone. They were both sure that they could be heard throughout Vee Tower, but neither was exactly keen on quieting down, either.

“Shut the fuck up, Vox, you and I both now that that wasn’t manipulation,” Vera sasses, crossing her arms. “Because if that was manipulation, then everything us has been as well.”

“That means it was good manipulation, Vera!!”

“You think you’re so slick, you know that?” Vera says, walking up to Vox. “You can admit whatever you want to yourself and you can deny whatever you want to yourself, but everyone around you can see right through your screen. You love her, or at the very least are interest-.”

“Oh my Satan, you are such a fucking HYPOCRITE!” Vox interrupts, voice glitching. He grabs the hand that Vera is pointing at his chest to stop her before dropping it and continuing, “You don’t get to stand here and yell at me about how you think I’m going to fucking cheat on you with that prude when you have Jericho in your fucking life. If you think I don’t see the way you two look at each other, the way you two touch each other, then you must think I’m the stupid one and fucking newsflash, I’m not.”

Vera backs up. “Me and Jericho aren’t-”

“Anything that you’re going to say, I’m going to call bullshit on because, first of all, it’s bullshit, and second of all, I’ve definitely said the same things about Vega. You don’t trust me? That’s fine, but then you’ve lost the trust I have for you. Which is insane , by the way, because you know how few people I trust. I fucking love you, Vera, so much that it scares me, but what goes for you in this relationship I am trying to have for you goes for me, too, so if you get to have your side-piece, then I get to have mine.”

Vox stares at Vera, waiting for her to say something, anything, but when she’s silent, he groans and starts to make his way towards the elevator.

Vera wants to say something but isn’t sure what exactly to say. Vox isn’t right. He can’t be. But maybe he’s not wrong, either? She hasn’t thought about what she and Jericho were to each other, so it’s not impossible to say that maybe there was… Something there that they hadn’t put a proper label on. But for Vox to bring it up now was fucking absurd , right? Jericho was one of her only still-living friends, it was wrong of him to imply that he shouldn’t be a part of her life.

Before she can get her thoughts together, the elevator door shuts and Vox is out of sight.

Out of the corner of her eye, however, Vera notices him show up on one of the screens on his desk. She sits down and notices camera footage from the lobby as well - Vega was standing at the secretary’s desk. She frowns to herself and pulls herself in closer to the desk. The flames return to her, floating closer to the screen as if watching, as well.

Okay, so maybe Vera was a bit hypocritical. But if anything, she was territorial, and this bitch was not about to take was hers before she could correct what was wronged.

.

Vega leans against the front desk of Vee Tower. The day had gotten unbelievably slower since she met with Vera, having gotten back to Cannibal Town to discuss potentially, temporarily joining the Vees with Rosie. Just her luck, Alastor was also there, and was incredibly upset at the very prospect of one of his allies joining the Vees. It was a mess and a half of a conversation, with the verdict being that Rosie would continue to be friends with her, and while any agreements - not deals, never deals - she had made with Alastor will continue to be upheld, any camaraderie they had had would be no more.

So, in other words, she pissed off the Radio Demon.

First a sinner with fireballs around her neck and a romantic attachment to Vox threatens to destroy the reputation and therefore status she’s built for herself, and next, one of Hell’s most powerful Overlords is no longer on friendly terms with her.

Fucking fantastic.

Now, she was waiting for Vox to be free. Apparently something had come up last minute, and the addition of a fourth Vee was just so much less important than whatever he had going on.

Not that she was upset that she wasn’t one of Vox’s priorities.

Because she wasn’t.

Vega is brought out of her thoughts by the elevator dinging. Vox exits, looking incredibly annoyed, but freezes in his traps when he notices Vega.

“Uh, Mr. Vox, Sir? The Angelic Demon said she had important matters to discuss with you-”

“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, cutting off the secretary and dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “You’ve thought about my offer, I presume?”

“I think you’ll be happy, for once.”

Vox gestures in front of him to the entrance. “Walk with me, why don’t you?”

He wraps around her back and begins to lead her outside. Vega notices the cameras following them. Vera, she assumes. Leaning in slightly closer to Vox - if Vega had any flaws, pettiness was definitely one of them - she walks with him.

The cameras outside of Vee Tower continue to follow Vox and Vega, as well as the other cameras in the surrounding area.

“So,” Vox starts, still sounding on edge from his fight with Vera, “Has your answer changed at all, or did you not wanna say no to my face.”

He’s attempting to make humor of the situation, but there’s disappointment there. For a second, Vega feels guilty at repeatedly saying no, before remembering that she’s only saying yes this time for more information. She’s not becoming a permanent part of the Vees, so there’s no need to feel any sort of guilt.

Right?

“It has changed, actually,” Vega answers, pushing that train of thought aside. She pretends to not notice Vox freezing for a second. “I don’t have confidence that what you’re planning is going to work, but there’s always a chance. And if I’ve learned anything from this awful place, it’s that you have to do what it takes to survive. I’m in.”

Vox freezes completely now and turns to face Vega. For a second, he’s back with Vera, thinking about everything she had said. But then the second passes and he forces himself back to the moment and sticks his hand out.

“Shake on it?”

“I know better than to shake on something, down here,” Vega teases, so Vox drops his hand. She looks behind him and sees one of the security cameras from the club behind them focused on them. She smirks and holds out her arms. “How about a hug? A little bit of my style and a little bit of yours.”

Vox doesn’t hesitate before closing the distance. Vega closes her eyes for a second, feeling a sense of satisfaction that she wasn’t expecting, before opening them to continue staring at the camera.

When they pull apart, Vox rewraps his arm around Vega’s back and pulls along the sidewalk with him. “I came down here for some air, so how about you continue to walk with me and tell me what exactly it is you expect from a partnership with the Vees. I’ll message my employees to start setting up one of our vacant floors for you.”

Vega laughs before winking at the next camera she notices following them, fully aware of the double-meaning of what she’s about to say next: “Of course, what else are partners for?”

Vera stands up, knocking her chair over in the process, and rushes to one of the couches to find where she left her phone. She’s not one to make an empty threat. Pulling up her contacts, she scrolls down to the J’s and clicks on one.

“Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I’m gonna need your help with something.”

She pauses, looking back at the computer screens and zoning in on Vox. He’s completely rid of the frustration and anger he was displaying earlier and his arm has now dropped to be around Vega’s waist.

Two can play at that game.

“Actually, Jericho? Make that two things.”