RANDOM KISS MEME / @fever-sugar said : 💏
35. …to gain something.
❝ you’re not having a conflict of interest, are you ? ❞ a heavy sigh slips through his teeth. slowly, he rises from his chair, having had to pull his attention away from a pile of notes he’d been relentlessly expanding upon. irritation is evident on the subtle curve of his mouth as he approaches. IT SEEMS ORGANICS CAN BE UNRELIABLE, TOO.
❝ if you want to keep getting paid as well as you do, you’ll take those weapons & destroy that gaudy hotel. you staying there has become a hindrance to your productivity. ❞ venomous’ hand rises to take hold of a pale cheek, claws raking through white fur. then, he tugs the spider’s face gently down, but a threat can be discerned beneath his touch. not one of a physical sort, but rather, a financial one. thin lips press into the corner of angel’s mouth & the professor draws back. eyes locked intently with those of his employee.
❝ now, can you do that ? or should i send one of the robots, instead ? ❞
Venomous has never so much as raised a hand against him. Angel almost wishes he would; at least then it’d be easy to understand why these soft touches seem to hurt so much.
It’s just money. It shouldn’t matter. And it doesn’t. But he likes this job, (even if Vaggie disapproves, even if it makes Charlie sad, even if fucking Alastor smiles at him in that condescending, knowing way that screams lost cause lost cause lost cause) and he likes this boss, and he likes feeling wanted, feeling needed... (and doesn’t this feel familiar, being drawn in until he’s a puppet on someone else’s string. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. he didn’t think it’d be like this — not again.) It doesn’t matter whether he tells Venomous no or smashes Charlie’s hopes and dreams with his own six hands; someone is going to look at him and remind him that he’s a good for nothing waste of space. Always has been, always will be.
“I...” He what? “Listen, I can - I’ll figure something out, I... I just need a lil’ time to - to find a new place."
this blog (like all my blogs) used to reserved for mutuals only, but i've decided to let go of that. this is a pretty big change for me, so i want to share my reasoning and add some context!
there are three basic components to this:
1. chronic exhaustion!! the big one!!
2. i like to read my dash like a newspaper. pros: i know what's going on everywhere with everyone at all times! cons: a busy dash becomes overwhelming really quickly.
3. meticulously going through blogs to figure out if they'd make a good addition to my newspaper dash takes a lot of my limited energy.
so instead of clinging to the mutuals model, i'm opening it up! me not (immediately) following back does not mean i don't want to write with you! im sorry about the triple negative there i couldn't figure out a better sentence
“That so. Y’might look like a muppet, but your talent is sizable enough to null out your Elmoness, sweetness.” The disbelief in his expression just spurs on his desire to drive in the moot point, smile fiendish and cocky as he continues to assert his ‘what could have been’esque plans. “First– we’d cause a big ole scandal. Somethin’ flashy ‘nd explosive that would make them both crave ‘nd hate ya at the same time, then we’d humanize ya via an ‘accidentally’ leaked video - or rumors dependin’ on the era we wouuuld have met, ‘ND THEN we’d finally drive your talents into the mix, wowin’ even those who hated your very same mystic fluffiness. We could take your path to fame with more respectability ‘nd slowness (that borin’ ole shit), but you seem to like a fast ‘nd hard kinda guy.”
He’s not sure if he should feel flattered or insulted, (both, maybe?) but he suspects that’s just a regular side-effect from Vox’ inflated ego, so he doesn’t give it too much thought. In fact, he doesn’t give anything Vox says too much thought, just smiles that pretty whatever you say hot stuff smile that men who enjoy hearing themselves talk love to see. (The snort of laughter at the end, however, is genuine.)
“Ya got me, fast an’ hard suits me juuuuust fine.” But he’s been in this industry long enough to spot an empty promise. All talk about fame but none about the work, his vague undefined ‘talents’ (of which he has many!) doing the lifting for them. He’s seen it all before. And at the end of the day, isn’t that just what business is about? Putting hopes and dreams into some sucker’s head to then extract them for all they’re worth? Pah.
“You sure paint a pretty picture, Mr Populi.” Angel steps closer, lashes lowered, lightly biting his lip. He puts a finger on the lapel of Vox’ suit and slowly traces it downwards. Let the bastard think he’s got him hooked. “I assume at this point we’d be rakin’ in the cash. What happens next?”
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