#veestowers

[overlordish]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈, 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒: you point a gun at me again, i'll kick the living shit out of you. / THIS CHERRIPEN 🥰🥰🥰🥰 SHE IS FLIRTINGGGGG

the thick smell of burning rubber has invaded the space around them, billowing clouds of black and red smoke choking all visibility with one sure fist. pentious whips over his shoulder toward her voice, the sparking pistol in his hands fighting with itself to stay intact. the thick tendril of his body undulates and rises, an effort to see over all the calamity. as it is, it only makes his eyes water. "is that so, miss bomb? funny - to do so, you'd have to cease this cowardly skulking and show yourself!"

two shots ring clear, the jetstream of pentious' heavy bullets carving clean lines into the smoke. "i don't remember you being too adept in close quarters, my dear. always off somewhere with your projectiles." the cracked plastic of his weapon creaks dangerously in complaint when he adjusts his grip. pentious fans his neck-frill out further, an effort to catch the sounds of cherri's footsteps over the din of his collapsing workshop. "are you brave enough to prove me wrong?" @veestowers.

[assassimp]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐇: "i've been up and down and over and out."

"and did it do you any good? fuck no, it didn't." he can speak pretty solidly from experience there. blitzo's been eating more shit than any sinner in hell, just objectively, and he's assured that it hasn't benefitted him even slightly. if anything, all of his charm, patience and desire to work hard has all formed in spite of the eating shit. those prudish whores in heaven better be thanking their lucky stars that he can't be redeemed at this rate, or the whole place would be getting torn up at the root. "face it, you're as fucked up as the rest of us. what is it, wills? minimum wage at a slop-factory? mediocre dick from a washed-up bassist who thinks fingering is the height of romance? get fuckin' real." @veestowers.

[magiskat]

𝐅𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 & 𝐉𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑. are you nervous? your hands are shaking. / fizz and jumper he is fr not even being a bully he just says shit

magic kat's one of the last places in hell where the clientelle still has to smoke outside. jumper's loitered by enough joints with steamed up windows to know that nobody bothers to head out for anything but throwing up on the sidewalk elsewhere. it's got something to do with the fancy upholstery, the playing cards and their stiff edges, keeping everything lived in but not grimy; he learned early not to ask too many questions. mister house can be funny about what you bring over his threshhold.

jumper doesn't mind talking with them so much when they poke their heads out and pull their furs tight. usually they're gossping about each other and want him to weigh in. could be they're bemoaning a loss or trying to keep a win nice and quiet. doesn't bother him. he's been told he's a good listener. "'s cold out," he manages after a moment, curling his fingers against his fist and pressing them to his thigh. fizzarolli sounds kind, which makes it worse, somehow. jumper tilts his nose upward and looks into the sky, the rippling red clouds peppering the night. "couple hours 'till i head back in. don't worry about me." @veestowers.

[magiskat]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 & 𝐒𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐘. “ love turns us into drunken golden fools. ”

or drunken bitter broads. seffy leans heavy on her forearms, one ankle crossed neat behind the other so none of the guys glancing over can see up her skirt. she's gotta be one of the 666 news girls. they all have that sort of tightly-wound look, like one loosened button might just be what they finally need to orgasm properly after years of rocking along the edge. vox employees have a distinct energy - window-cleaner squeaky, sharpened along their sides.

"men are dogs," she coos, thinking of jumper at the door. no offence, hounddog. her romero's sweet as a kitten, wrapped around his piano and her finger both. when she talks of love like this, teeth and wit, she doesn't think of him at all. whatever man this is that she's picturing, he's nowhere near romero's honey-soft hands. "what did he do? you wanna throw darts at a picture or somethin'?" @veestowers.

[chavahs]

*Ꮺㅤ▬▬ㅤ𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ◞ㅤ[ @veestowers | Peter ]ㅤpreaches:ㅤ“It's all right; I forgive you,” ( I hope the condescending-ness that he speaks with comes through here! )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ The air is sharp with ozone & sanctimony as Heaven’s gate still stands open behind them; ] Lute turns her head just ever so, expression smoothing into something dangerously polite, “Forgive me?” digits hook beneath the edge of her gauntlet, tightening the strap, “What are you forgiving, exactly?” tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Was it the comment about your hair? The one where I said it looked like a frightened little girl? Or was it when I suggested the gates run smoother when you’re not watching them?” Brows lift, [ contrary to what most think, Lute has the ability for theatrics… at times! ] “I lose track,” Wings give a compact adjustment, feathers snapping back into place with military neatness. “You’re speaking as if I’ve wounded you spiritually. Did I bruise your fragile ego? Dent your pretty halo?” Gold gaze travels up & down him once, unimpressed, “Would you prefer I submit a written apology for failing to curtsy at your little gate? Fuck off already, Peter… You suck at your job,”

[mitisangelum]

@veestowers said: 🧸 to give my muse a giant teddy bear / platonically from peter! :)

BE MY VALENTINE! (ACCEPTING!)

opal hues beam, SPARKLE with adoration when the large fuzzy plush catches her attention. lacing her basket of yellow roses over her wrist, letting her feet gently kiss the ground as she draws closer. smiling so wide, she cups her hands together with an adorned appreciation. ❝ peter ! you shouldn't have ! ❞ really he shouldn't. with all the smaller plushies she's received, she'll soon run out of room for them all. even so, adores it, slender hand reaching out to shake the plush paw, she beams at him.

❝ i didn't expect to run into you till later if i'd known i would've brought you your gift ! ❞ her basket sways as she releases it's paw, gazing at it fondly till an idea suddenly makes itself known. hushed gasp, she turns her attention to the bundles of yellow roses. skimming through them with nimble fingers, a quiet hum as she bobs her head in search of PERFECTION. she exclaims an 'a - ha!' plucking one with beautifully blossomed bud, three petals lining along it's stem. it's extended to him.

❝ consider this your first gift ! i'll soar by later with your second after i've run out of roses to give out. could you hold onto him for me till then ? ❞

[overlordish]

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐑, ft. @veestowers.

it's been a long night. rook's kicked back with his feet on the table, one heel knocking lazily into the arch of his foot as he paws through the news. expects to be in it soon enough, nameless and faceless, a boogeyman they feel obligated to print. he chews on his unlit cigarette absently, waiting out the dawn.

his tail twitches, then rears. not a second later, the door grinds against the thick concrete floor and light spills in, cut in half by baxter's shadow. "mornin', chief," he calls cheerfully over one shoulder just as the bundle of rags under his chair starts to moan. "big drop-off pendin'. figured i'd bring a little o' the merch in early. see what you think of 'em."

[overlordish]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘, ft. @veestowers.

it's her first in-house shoot. just a couple pictures, maybe an ad that someone else will voice, that kind of thing. molly hasn't been given the exacts. the lobby is kind of loud and unfriendly, certainly the nastiest place to be in vee tower, and nobody told her she couldn't wander. valentino has her number - he can call if he really needs her.

"it looks like a little instrument!" she's been getting her kicks around some of vox's girls, all pencil skirts and puffy blouses. they like it when she coos over their hairstyles and neat handwriting, and she likes to coo. betty's a little bit of a tougher cookie. "you, like, put words on it? how do you know where they are?"