#I didn't want this to be short but I cut it short for time reasons

[mraprilfools]

Summary: After losing a bet to Charlie, Vox must make an earnest effort at the Hazbin for 3 months! During this time, Alastor and Vox's rivalry starts to clash and evolve in ways they didn't expect before his check out. Along the way, Alastor discovers a disturbing parallel that makes him unable to turn his eyes away.

Pairing: Alastor x Vox

Word Count:~10k

Contents/CW: Domestic Violence Heavily Implied, Banter, Bittersweet ending, Neither Idiots know how they feel about each other, Hurt/Comfort, A little Fluff

“I do not approve of your methods, hence our partnership became incompatible. But you are the reflection of the most exquisite and beautiful underbelly of humanity. The natural and artificial, Man and Beast, nature and nurture. Without one, we could never become fully aware of the beauty of one another”

Full Story under the cut

“It’s a deal then! If I win then you’ll give The Hazbin Hotel a genuine shot for three months! After that, you can leave!”

Those were the terms Vox agreed to in a gamble with the starry-eyed princess. The promise of getting cameras inside of the hotel was far too tempting for him to refuse. The problem was, Charlie was far better at chess than he’d anticipated. It was uncanny, and the glee as she embraced her girlfriend over her victory still rang in his ears weeks later.

The first month and a half was miserable. Alastor was there to taunt him at every turn, ridiculing his performance at every group activity even while he refused to participate. That taunting smile always watching with half-lidded eyes. But Charlie helped soothe that angry green beast eating away inside of him.

More than anything it was her encouragement and genuine praise that soothed it. After activities she’d even pull him aside and praise him for his work; more so when he put in a genuine effort. Before long, he started to enjoy his stay at the hotel and Alastor’s words started to have less of an effect on him.

Robbed of the joy of bringing Vox to provocation and revealing the ugliest side of him, Alastor finally invited himself into the activities. He carelessly let it slip the two used to be friends, something they both came to regret. As Charlie made it her new mission to reconcile their friendship.

It worked better than expected.

They fit back together like a puzzle piece they never knew they were missing. During the dancing competition, they blew everyone away. Vox knew exactly how to work and move in a kitchen to assist Alastor giving him exactly as much control over the main dish as possible. Charades, pictograph, the two worked on a wavelength that could have only been forged in decades of friendship.

But there was one place where they faltered: Trivia. Vox refused to answer a single question about The Radio Demon. But Alastor was ready to answer each one in exquisite detail, especially if it was embarrassing.

They ended up losing to Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb. Charlie attempted to assuage their duo’s bruised ego, but it was a pointless effort. Losing never felt good. With his head turned, Alastor commented, “Unbelievable. I know I make it a point to remain a mystery but have you truly learned nothing about me these past seventy years Vox?”

Vox clicked his tongue, brusquely turning his screen away as well. Even if he was forced to sit next to him, he still wanted nothing more than to strangle his neck. “I remember plenty. But those were all things you told me in confidence. Unlike you, I am capable of being the bigger man.”

Unexpectedly the radio signals that Alastor gave off then had a strange whine, one that Vox recognized to mean he was confused at the moment. Another reason he hated his presence so close, the radio waves were always louder when he was right next to him. They gave him a damn headache.

“How darling. The Princess's lessons are working. Should I expect you to be checking out by the end of your short stay here darling?” Alastor chuffed, rising from his seat. The frayed edges of his coat were smacked down, with Niffty running underfoot at that exact moment chasing a roach. Fondness temporarily broke the strained expression on the demon’s face.

Vox could only bark a raspy laugh. “Can you imagine? After all the shit I’ve done for over a hundred years, forgiven in three months because I learned how to say please and thank you? Or how to not plaster my former friend's secrets all over the media.”

Alastor’s fingertips tugged on the silken black ribbon on his neck, introspective. “You’re right. That would be quite the gaffe. I have no question you’d be stuck here forever, bumbling your way up near the top only to fall. You were born and doomed to be a failure Vox, and always will be.”

Vox clenched his fist, electricity dancing upon his palms. But before he could fire off a retort, it was Charlie who had unexpectedly jumped in. “Alastor! You’re also a host of the hotel, and Vox used to be your friend. Doesn’t that count for anything? You should be supporting them.” The blonde tried her best to get in the face of the elegant overlord, cheeks puffed out in some hilarious attempt to be more intimidating.

All the malice bubbling in Alastor’s chest faded at the sight, with genuine laughter spilling from his lips. He jabbed a finger into one of her cheeks, releasing an unflattering noise like flatulence. Charlie quickly bats his hand away.

“I’m serious Alastor. I think it’s sweet that Vox has honored a promise even when things between you aren’t great now. It shows just how important you are to him don’t you think? So don’t you think you can spare him at least a kind word?” Charlie refused to let herself be dissuaded.

Vox quickly cut in, “I never said Alastor was important to me. I was only trying to--”

“Very well.” Alastor agreed, ignoring Vox’s protests. The easy agreement shocked Vox to silence, stance quickly became guarded. Shoulders raised ready for some backhanded compliment. Alastor turned to face his former friend.

“Charlotte is quite correct. As the host of this hotel, I cannot believe I forgot something as simple as that. It won’t happen again. You are as always a surprisingly adaptable and quick learner Vox, making frightening progress that many of our guests have struggled with for far longer. And they come from a much shallower pit. Though your stay is only for a short four weeks longer, I hope you’ll consider extending it.”

Vox wanted to cut in halfway to say that wasn’t an apology, but the genuine praise had shocked him to pure silence. How genuine it was-- he doubted. He felt certain Alastor wanted him out of the Hotel as soon as possible. But it didn’t stop the bit of heat rushing to his screen, dusting his face in a light blue color.

“Thank you. But I’m still dead set on leaving the instant my end of the deal. The deal was that I make a genuine effort, so I am. That’s all.” Vox pointed an accusing claw directed at Alastor’s chest. Trying to mask his embarrassment with anger.

A pleased smile began to dance upon the malignant man’s face when Angel Dust brusquely ruined the good mood.

“Damn! Lookit Plasma! He’s all blue!” Pointing it out of course, only made him lose further color on his screen, now becoming a near white.

“Quit it, Angel,” Vaggie warned the porn star.

“What?! The man’s been standing by watching Valentino make my life a shit-hole for years! I have earned at least a little teasing!” Angel threw up four hands, kicking one leg over the other.

“He’s here making a good effort to redeem himself. Mocking others when they’re embarrassed even if you see them as your enemy won’t get you into heaven.” Vaggie interjected.

“Vaggie’s right Angel! You wouldn’t like it if we all teased you when you got all red would you?” Charlie added in. The moment everyone’s attention started to shift to Angel Dust, Vox took advantage of that and retreated up the stairs.

“Pssh, I don’t turn red! I’ve had more more than a single dick in all my holes, simultaneously! Ain’t NOTHING that can make me blush no more. I’d love to see somebody try.” Angel smugly argued, throwing two arms around the arms of the couch.

Husk lowered the bottle he’d been nursing long enough to dangle between his knees as he shot a glance Angel’s way. “A shame, you’d look real pretty with a bit of blush.” The mouth of the bottle connected back with his lips, taking a deep pull not even giving acknowledgment to the furious color he’d inspired on the spider. Only the faintest tug on the corner of his lips showed he knew what he was doing.

The familiar pattern of heart-warming bonds and laughter could inspire warmth in most, but Alastor only could exist on the fringes of such days. His mind was on the former companion who thought he’d escaped everyone’s notice. He followed Vox up the stairs after his hasty retreat.

It wasn’t hard to catch the man, as soon as he sensed Alastor on his tail he spun around and put up his metaphorical hackles. Electricity danced along his body, coils raised and poised to defend himself. It was quite impressive how ready he was to fight with him at the drop of a hat. Alastor continued as if it were nothing, waving him off.

“Oh please, you can calm down dear. While you are a guest of this hotel, I guarantee your safety. When you check out, well that’s another matter. You have my word.” The sincerity of that statement, he hoped to drive home with an elegant hand pressed over his chest.

Vox’s fingers flexed into a fist, then released along with the rest of the tension in his body. The air still crackled with the remnants of charge in the air, but Alastor wasn’t bothered. It was a familiar sensation, one he was quite fond of even if he’d never admit it. The two may be foils, but they were still both media demons. They were able to affect the senses of one another in ways no other could.

“Then, what do you want? I wanted to go to bed early. These redemption activities are ten times more exhausting with you.” Vox’s bitter tone had an artificial flavor to it. Even his stance couldn’t completely turn away from him. One foot still pointed his way, hands on his hips.

Alastor struggled for an answer. He filled the silence with a heavy-handed gesture of holding his chin and leaning his head to and fro. “When it was between entertaining the guests downstairs and your company… that is simply what I chose. Perhaps all these activities are making me grow far too comfortable with your presence again.”

Vox cautiously looked around the hall. Only settled on Alastor when he was sure they were alone. First, there was a bend in his brows of a man ready to cruelly reject him, but no words could come out. Vox was a dishonest man, even to himself. Refusing to meet Alastor’s eyes, he motioned for him to follow him further up the stairs. “I can spare ten minutes if you don’t mind how cold it is outside right now.”

“Nonsense. And even if I did, I can handle a little chill for ten minutes.” Alastor waved off the concern, brushing past the once wary overlord. With an audible huff, Vox followed Alastor who had stolen the lead.

The double doors that kept out the night air whooshed as the hot air from inside rushed outside. It was nippy, but only comparatively for Hell. For a man who had lived in Hell for a century, he’d long since become accustomed to the blazing inferno’s constant heat. And Vox, whose body was always frozen to the bone couldn’t maintain it for anything. Alastor made himself comfortable nestled in the corner of the balcony, elbow planted on the corner with his profile staring out over the city that glittered in what counted for the night in Hell.

Vox couldn’t get quite as comfortable. Hands thrust into his pocket, he lingered on the further end of the balcony well out of reach of the other. Refusing to even look at the company he’d begrudgingly accepted tonight. His view of the empire laid out before him was more of something waiting to be taken by his hand.

“It’s weird. Almost feels like the old days but, a whole lot less bloody. The bartender also knows us a little more than I’d like” Vox broke the silence, one hand uplifted from his pocket in some attempt to break the ice that settled back over.

“Indeed.” Alastor couldn’t deny that. His crimson gaze drifted over to the figure leaning against the rail. There was no trace of the gentleness that once existed in that man. Everything soft had been carved out and the festering wounds walled off until he’d become a rather model example of a demon. His interior was starting to reflect his exterior in every way. “You’ve changed a lot, but it’s comforting to know that some things will continue to stay the same.”

“Funny you say that. I find it more comforting that things… can change. Us talking right now, that is change. If there is a possibility that you can I can ever be something other than enemies again, It could only happen-- because something has changed.”

Alastor had broken away from his perch in the corner, coming to stand a little closer to his old friend. Not enough to touch, but enough so he could feel the familiar static of the other media overlord tickle his senses. “We’re talking, but you're right it’d be premature to say we’re anything but foes! Once you’re out of this Hotel, why there is nothing to stop me from trying to hunt you right down.”

Vox barked a laugh. “You couldn’t catch me back then, couldn’t catch me now! And let’s say I did agree to give this silly hotel a shot after this month is up. How long can you vigilantly keep watch until I check out from under your nose?” Vox grinned wickedly, finally meeting Alastor’s gaze.

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes, now seating himself on the railing. One leg extended, the other woven between the bars as his support. A hand planted on each side while his unwavering gaze never left the artificial eyes of the Tech Overlord. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep my eye on you until then. I’m a patient man, we’ll see who breaks first. Me or you.”

Vox met his challenge, flashing a boastful grin. “Be careful to not oversleep then Alastor, or I’ll slip out from right under your nose.”

Hell had begun to grow dull in the growing decades. There were only so many ways you could prey, tear apart, and terrify the helpless before it became dull and routine. But the back and forth of a rival who challenged him? It was invaluable for staving off the ennui of his existence. Vox didn’t need or want to change him. Vox was the whetstone that honed his cruelty and his claws.

“I had forgotten how much fun it was to have you around. Would you like to make a bet Vox?”

Vox brushed his claw beneath his screen, sucking through his teeth in consideration. “Hmm- sure. Depends on what we’re wagering of course, and the terms of course.

The cherry-tipped hand slid against the guard rail, bringing his body closer to Vox as he whispered to him in a volume that could be easily swallowed by the wind. “If I manage to catch you before you make it back to that little tower of yours, we get to keep you for another three months. If you manage to slip away without using your… powers to slip away through the power lines I’ll refrain from sabotaging your cameras and men for three months.”

“That’s hardly fair.” Voxargued. “Things would get boring without you around. How about this instead, if I manage to slip away without my powers then you have to get a new beeper.”

“A beeper?” Alastor repeated, having to hide the laughter beneath his fist. “And what good would that do you?”

With a confident smile, Vox spun to face Alastor with his screen supported against the back of his hand. “To keep in contact of course. I trust you still know how to get a hold of me through the Radio. I work late at night, so the company would be nice once in a while. I know you’re always up until the asscrack of dawn.”

The period when most of the world was asleep was indeed a lonely one. Alastorusually would his hours away with Jazz, books, pondering his machinations, or the occasional late-night hunt. But a conversation with a man who had more than a couple of brain cells to rub together and not ruled by his lower head? It was an attractive proposition. “Very well.” Alastor conceded. “On the condition that my company will only be given when I decide to. No more and no less.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I take it a verbal agreement’s enough?”

Typically no. Alastor thought about it for only a moment. Bothwagers sounded pleasant enough that he could take either. He had to not think very hard about the fact both meant he’d be hearing a lot more of Vox. “Very well! If you don’t hold your end of the bargain I’ll simply drag you back kicking and screaming I suppose.”

A fist was raised as Vox cleared his throat, hiding the dusting of light blue that danced across his screen. A long drawn silence settled between the two. Vox tried to not think about how enticing that thought was either, trying to push it away with an abrupt change of subject.

“Your favorite color is red. Like blood. Not the kind that spills from a flesh wound, but darkened and festered under a wound. Your favorite Song is Smile by Chaplin, but sometimes you’re more fond of Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile. A secret you don’t tell anyone else is you don’t like dogs. Your favorite flowers are white daisies. And… you have this habit of twitching your right ear when you’ve caught somebody in a lie.”

Alastor was dumbfounded as this stream of information about himself was related all at once. Admittedly flattering, but it felt like a non sequitur.

“The answers to Trivia tonight. To show you, I knew the answers. They’re right, aren’t they?” Vox answered. There was a dance in those technicolor eyes, searching for some rare honesty from the Radio Demon.

Before Alastor realized it, his smile had become more genuine, softer around the edges. “I’m surprised you bothered to remember so much useless information.”

“As did you, Alastor. You aced every question tonight.”

A gentle wind tugged and pulled at his hair, feeling almost refreshing. As if it didn’t reek of death and decay, and carried with it a height he didn’t know he’d been carrying this whole time. The two slowly took one another closer, making the vast distance that much smaller. “They’re right. Do you remember… that night at Franklin’s bar? It was shortly after we ‘took care’ of Mimzy’s ex. You ended up drinking far too much, and started flirting with a lampshade.”

An intense bright blue blush immediately covered Vox’s screen. “I don’t rememb---” The phone in Vox’s pocket began to ring, cutting him off. With an apologetic smile, he raised a finger.

“One moment.” He spun around to check the name on the display. Valentino. He hung up, tucking it back into his pocket with a mental note to call him back later. But not even two seconds later the infernal ringtone came back.

Alastor impatiently watched the scene, keeping his head propped through the use of his palm. His distaste was clear with the way his ears pinned back. It was tempting to snatch the device and dash it against the concrete.

The process repeated for a third time, and with a heavy sigh and resignation, Vox answered the phone. Some attempt at privacy as he held his palm over the receiver. A pointless gesture, as Valentino’s screaming from the other line nearly blew out his ‘ear’.

“Vox! When the fuck are you coming back from that tacky little hotel?! One of my newest girls has fucked off with another pimp! I need your help! I want to know everything about this fucking pendejo!”

“Val.” Vox began, summoning what spoons he had to deal with the situation. “My bet with the hotel is still in motion for another month. Just hold out for a little while longer and we’ll deal with this other pimp when I get back.”

“You think I CARE about that? What about me, Vox? You’ve been sitting in a circle singing Ring Around the Rosies with a bunch of buzz kills making nice while I’ve been having the WORST of times without you. You can get off slacking with your fucking arts and crafts for ten minutes.”

“Do I have to remind you that I am here against my will? I said I’d help you with it when I get back so just--”

“YOUR SELFISH LITTLE PRICK! YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT YOURSELF! I bet the real reason you’re blowing me off is because you’re fucking Alastor right now, aren’t you? I catch you fucking him? Sucking on his big fat shlong? Well, I DON’T need you! Go choke on it!”

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Without even a chance to respond, the other end of the line hung up. Stunned to silence, Vox silently exhaled and shut off his phone. When he met Alastor’s gaze, the demon simply cocked his head. “Sorry, seems I’ll have to cut this short. If I leave Valentino alone he’ll end up trashing the entire tower. I need to go calm him down in person.”

“Now now.” Alastor began, “You promised to stay here for another month my dear. No amount of temper tantrums going on back home can have you breaking that contract.” A dark feeling nestled in Alastor’s chest, something he struggled to define. But he knew that its source was Vox leaving right now to tend to that unsightly moth.

“I’m not being held here under house arrest though, I’m only told to make an earnest effort. Stopping by the tower for a few hours to calm down a child isn’t going back on that. I’ll be back when he’s stopped his rampage.” Vox replied. He hung his head, and for the first time, Alastor had a glimpse. A brief look into the kind of life Vox lived inside the Vee’s tower. Like magic, the once exhausted man’s face transformed into a picture-perfect smile.

It felt completely inhuman, sterile, and false.

He watched the retreating back of his rival, but in that flash of a moment, he saw the beautiful smile of his mother ready to face his father and her figure disappearing into a place where he could not follow her. The march of somebody ready to stand before a monster for the umpteenth time.

And a haunting question lingered. Did she ever look as exhausted as Vox did at that moment before she put on that brave smile to face the world?

That question was his companion in the hours after everyone went to bed, sitting in his reading chair with a book that had only sat open in his lap. The bookmark pinched between his fingers showcasing his hope, but not the reality. It was only when he heard the telltale footsteps in the hall that he finally looked up. It was almost 2 in the morning, several hours past the time he wanted to go to bed. The click of the door several down the halls said Vox had kept his word and returned.

Alastor hated to admit it, but he was curious as to what could be so important to have Vox called away. But he filed it away as not his business and returned to his book.

Once the ice had been shattered, it was closer to fighting a magnet drawing them back together more than anything else. They often found themselves lingering by the bar as Husk served drinks, speaking of nostalgic days and the latest group activities. Or work and the little acts of inspired cruelty they’d acted upon. When they got deep enough in their cups they’d even sing and dance, once Vox even tried to play his acoustic guitar but the strings snapped from lack of care over the years. Alastor mended them and they played together until the Radio Demon fell asleep on his shoulder.

By the end of the month, they were even finding excuses to spend more time together. Vox began to volunteer his help in the kitchen when Alastor offered to cook. He would even linger in the lobby making an effort to speak to everyone instead of squirreling himself away in his room immediately. Alastor even showed Vox around his new Radio Tower, with some strict stipulations he did not touch anything. The sight of hell through that red-paned glass over a glass of whiskey quickly became three and five.

The bonds that Vox once held with Husk and Niffty were reforged bit by bit. Husk and Vox had more than a little chemistry complaining about the Radio Demon when they thought his ears couldn’t reach. Vox’s endless patience and paranoia around Niffty had made their games delightful to watch as she strung up necklaces of roach corpses to drape around his neck. And each of them was at least a little curious about the way their lives had diverged.

Yet…

Some nights, those same calls from Valentino would pull Vox away. With apologies, he’d dismiss himself. And his return always came in the early hours of the morning, with Vox looking a little more hollow the next morning.

Once in the middle of an exercise he’d even been pulled away. Alastor tried to stop him, it was a clear infringement on his deal and he felt justified keeping his claws dug into his old friend at least this one time.

Everyone was meant to give something important to another in the group and speak of its significance. A sweet and endearing game no doubt. It was no dumb luck that the two had become each other's recipients too and after agonizing it for so many hours he even found something suitable to offer.

And still, Charlie gave her blessing! Her lessons with Angel Dust and Valentino had scarred her in a way he never thought would backfire on him!

Valentino would have Vox for the rest of eternity, and beyond all of Alastor’s expectations he found himself feeling bitter he couldn’t tolerate letting them have him for three meager months.

Vox didn’t come home until near dawn.

Alastor had been reading the same page in this book for the past half an hour, unable to absorb a single word. If anyone asked him what he just read, he couldn’t give them a single clue. There was something different to Vox’s gait, uneven weight on each foot that was the tell-tale sign of a limp. As his eyes uselessly poured over another sentence he snapped the tome shut and slammed it onto his table.

Alastor tugged on his bow tie and slipped into the shadows. It was imperative he caught him unaware. If he had made himself known, no doubt that daft little picture box would hide his weakness. He should, as any rightful Overlord should.

But Alastor’s curiosity was too great to see what exactly happened in that tower to have him returning in such a state. He stepped out right from Vox’s own shadow, and immediately his nostrils caught the coppery scent of blood. His pupils turned into pinpricks immediately. Most of it was red and smelled of that insect always stinking of unnatural roses. Though there was a trace of that thick coppery scent of Vox’s blue blood staining the clothes around his torso.

A dark screen turned to face him, eyes bright red with crackling claws ready to strike. A wounded animal was the most dangerous, something Alastor had not forgotten so he couldn’t fault him. He leaped back in time, clicking his tongue as if scolding a child.

When Vox realized who it was, the familiar blue face returned, but he was no less suspicious. “What is it? I’m not in the mood to entertain you right now.”

“I couldn’t help but hear you limping like a rabbit with a broken foot, my dear. Frankly, you are lucky I had not decided to bite into your neck. Luckily I am honor-bound. Your ‘talk’ with the moth did not go well it seems.” Alastor motioned to the bloody and battered body of the Overlord. Alastor then noticed another oddity. The screen itself was pristine, but the frame was filthy with blood.

Vox turned his back to Alastor and his concern. Stumbling toward his room as was his original goal. “We got into a fight. It happens. I’ll heal up enough to attend whatever activity we’re doing tomorrow I promise. But I need to get some sleep now.”

Alastor ignored Vox, following him right into his bedroom. Even if his stay was temporary, it was still kept… dreadfully bare. The only hint of a man living there was some day-old laundry sitting in a chair and a singular stuffed shark on the bed. “You need some assistance. Charlie would no doubt say something about accepting a hand from a friend when you’re in need. And you-- are in need.”

Vox whipped back around, teeth bared in a silent snarl when he saw his intruder follow him inside. “I don’t need your help, Al! I’m used to this! I don’t need anyone’s help, especially yours. You may not be out to hurt me now, but you are more than capable of manipulating a weak point when you see one later. I can’t trust you won’t use this against me later.” All his performative rage was a mask. He could smell the fear on him, and the way his body shivered from the recollection of his ‘fight’.

Normally fear would make his mouth water and wish to bite down on the source. Tonight proved to be a confounding exception. When he saw Vox, he also saw the wooden door to his mother’s bedroom refusing to let him in even when he could hear the wailing. No, the only one he wanted to set those teeth upon was that disgusting pimp. His teeth clenched, and his mouth salivated at the prospect as the dark anger simmered in his chest.

“That’s hardly necessary Vox. If I wanted to destroy you, I don’t need to suss out some weakness or another. I...” The proud man didn’t know what to say. It came out with a sigh. “Hate seeing you like this. As my rival, my old friend, and something a little more I can’t put a word to.”

Vox clenched his claws around the wound on his side. He grimaced as he weighed his choices. It didn’t come easily but he gradually eased the tension in his shoulders. “Fine. Could get me a wet rag so I can wipe myself down and change? I’ll worry about undressing myself.”

The door was opened. Instead of pushing the injured man to accept more help than he was willing to take he obliged. One of his shadow servants was called and ordered with a wordless gesture.

In the meantime, Vox was already undressing, removing his blazer first and then his bow tie. The sweater underneath was torn and ragged. It was more like peeling off strips of rags than a shirt anymore. Alastor could see the… exhaustion and emptiness in Vox at that moment. The resignation was like he was having some out-of-body experience removing his clothes.

Dark blue skin revealed itself, with hardened glass along his ribs where the inner workings of the bio-mechanical man could be seen. Not quite man, not quite machine. Weaving of flesh and metal in an unholy harmony that powered his life for the past seventy or so years. Dark purplish bruises rose like dark flowers on his skin, marking the places clearly where the moth had put his hands earlier.

Did his mother also look like this when she nursed her wounds and covered her bruises in the mirror the next morning?

Alastor had to rip his eyes away. He’d be lying if he couldn’t appreciate the beauty of blood pooling beneath the skin, but only if he had been the culprit to put it there. And only to the animals who deserved it. Vox was a horrible man, but he wasn’t a brute. He had once been his dearest friend.

As Vox tossed the last of the bloody scraps of cloth onto the chair, he could hear the telltale steps of his shadowy minion returning with the wet cloth. He dismissed it back to the void to play with the others once he retrieved it.

“What are you planning to do with those?” Alastor asked.

Vox only showed a bit of life in his face again when Alastor’s voice reminded him he wasn’t alone. He glanced at the bloody pile and shrugged. “Burn it I guess? It’s ruined now. I have spares anyway, this happens all the time.”

There was a flash of recognition in Vox’s eyes as he realized what it was he just said. He spun around, hastily adding, “That is! We get into fights all the time. But I always give him worse than I get. The man seriously never learns.” All the grandstanding in the world couldn’t make that smile of his match his eyes.

“I’m hardly surprised. That moth is truly a brute. He represents all the worst in humanity, I never did like him.” The minion returned moments later, the wet cloth clutched in his hands. Alastor took the cloth and was just about to put it against one of the bloody wounds when a cold claw settled around his wrist. Cold metal met bone, harsh and painful. But not unpleasant...

“I said I’ll take care of it.” Vox reminded him. With resignation, the deer let him take it and tucked both his hands behind his back. The chill of the hand lingered long past their release. With a shoulder turned to block Alastor from view, he watched the other man through the corners of his eyes. Squinting when they locked eyes.

“What now?” Alastor asked.

“Stop… watching. It’s weird.”

“Tch.” With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Alastor spun around. “You say that as if I might gawk like some cretin. I’m honestly offended.” The offense was even genuine. His right ear continued to bat and flick with annoyance.

“I can’t… settle down if you’re looking at me.” Vox begrudgingly admitted. When he was sure Alastor wasn’t looking, he started to clean the blood. He was more careful the closer he came to the edge of his wounds where the flesh was still tender. The shadowy minion held up a bucket so he could wring the cloth and mop up more of the conjoined purplish blood.

“We’re both gentlemen. I hardly see any reason for it to put you in disarray. I’ve seen more than enough on the dance floor I assure you. And it wouldn’t even be the first time you’ve been shirtless around me.” Alastor argued. He’d patched up Vox numerous times over the decades. When he’d gotten into fights too big for his britches, or repairing his screen.

“I know but-- things are different right now. You wouldn’t want me to see you injured would you?”

A good point, one that Alastor didn’t bother to answer. Silence was just as good, so Vox asked his next question,

“Do you happen to have a first aid kid anywhere? I need to bandage this wound.”

With something to do, Alastor opened his pocket dimension with the flick of his wrist. A medical kit was retrieved and held out without him ever turning his head. For the briefest moment, blue and red clashed as their fingertips touched. Vox took the medical kid and laid it out on the dresser inside.

Alastor filled the silence as Vox went through the motions of patching up his wound. Fumbling with keeping the pad in place while he tried to adhere it to place with the gauze roll. After stretching his arm out too far one way the pad slipped through onto the floor. “Tch! Damn it, get back here...”

From the corner of his eyes, Alastor watched Vox bend down to pick it up and try again. Unable to sit and watch, Alastor shook his head and took both the gauze and the pad from his hands.

“Give that here, we’ll be here all night if you insist on doing it yourself.” He adhered to the pad and applied the gauze personally.

Vox’s whole body went stiff, head bent back trying to ignore how close Alastor was then. He could feel the radio waves wavering with concern, and something else he struggled to recognize. Their years apart had put many mysteries. But he was certain of one thing, there was no malice.

His shoulders relaxed as he let Alastor take the lead, watching him keep the bandages tight but not restrictive. When he was done he grabbed one of Vox’s hands and used a finger of his to cut it clean like a blade.

“Excuse you?” Vox exclaimed, face bright blue now. The incredulity in Vox’s voice inspired laughter from the Radio Demon.

“You are excused, my lad.”

“Wh- NO! You just used my fingers like a knife! Without asking.”

“Indeed I did. And now you are bandaged. Here you are, old friend.” Without a hint of an apology, he thrust the bandage roll back into Vox’s unwitting hand. The middle of the roll slid between his thumb, resting against his palm.

“Thank you…?” Vox’s voice was fragile, feeling a mixture of gratitude and confusion for how quickly Alastor had demolished the walls he’d been guarding so carefully.

The gratitude was unnecessary, but Alastor silently accepted it with a nod of his head. His aid wasn’t even for Vox’s sake, only his. Though he wished that was the case when he saw how much gentler Vox’s expression was at that moment.

“Of course, watching you flail about would have ruined my perfectly peaceful reading time. Now-- are you hungry? Or will you be able to sleep without interruption?”

Cyan claws traced over the bandaged wound. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks again Al… you won’t tell anyone what happened tonight will you?”

Alastor lingered by the door, already making his exit now that his business was done. “Hm...” A crimson-tipped finger tapped his chin. “I suppose tonight can stay our little secret. Goodnight Vox.” The door closed behind Alastor, almost as if it was by its own accord.

A month was going by quickly. Too quickly.

The two were only starting to recapture the laughter that used to have. Laughter that would have Alastor spilling out of his stool in the early hours of the morning. Or the triumphant victory when the two had them demolished the competition in their daily activities. It had even come to a point that Charlie had to pry the two apart.

That had only put them back as rivals. But there was something intrinsically changed. It was a passionate drive to push the other to further new heights and a bond that could both be bubbly and sweet like champagne but burn like whiskey.

It was fun.

More fun than either had known in years.

The moth still forced Vox to leave at the end of some nights, but Vox never returned bloody and broken again. It became what Alastor found himself listening for every night, waiting to hear the even gait so he could relax again instead of anticipating the worst. But the days were counting down until he wouldn’t be hearing that man returning to the hotel anymore.

Then the last day came.

Instead of participating that day, Alastor decided to lock himself in the Radio Tower. Surrounding himself instead with all the things he ought to focus on. The suffering of a single man was inconsequential to his machinations and pride. But try as he might, he kept turning back to Vox again, and the overlaid images of him and his mother.

It was one of those rare occasions that night when he decided to lay in bed, hands folded over his chest staring at the ceiling. The grandfather clock in the hallway had given its chime thrice, but not a wink had come to him. Nothing but dancing shadows and a zen state as he tried to not think about what would happen tomorrow.

There was no position where he couldn’t feel the springs and lumps of the mattress below him. The pilling on the sheets should be brand new. Or how the blasted hissing in the pipes was far too loud. Everything felt too loud-- Especially that knock at the door!

Alastor’s ears flicked up, twitching to listen for anything to prove that wasn’t a mirage. Suddenly the thunderous rushing of blood in his head wasn’t drowning out his thoughts. The night felt as still as it should be.

“Al, I know you're awake. Will you open the door?” It was muffled, but that voice was unmistakably Vox’s. The Radio Demon shot up and immediately fixed his hair and his clothes. He did not dare to let anyone witness anything other than perfection. He couldn’t bear to think of explaining what he’d been doing.

It’s 3 am and all I’m thinking about is you. Preposterous.

The instant the door had opened, white filled Alastor’s vision. Something soft smacked him in the face. Moments later he realized it was a damn pillow.

“Your damn radio signals have been keeping me up all night! What the hell is bothering you?”

More stunning than the pillow was the bombshell that Vox dropped in that instant. The pillow fell unceremoniously to the floor, pinched between their legs.

“You can… hear them?”

“Hear is...” Vox waved his head in a so-so gesture. “One way to put it? I can feel them Alastor. It’d be like trying to explain to a man born blind what color is. The point is-- it’s been non-stop all day and I can’t sleep. What the hell is wrong?”

“Why would you… assume anything is wrong my dear?” An unfiltered voice answered Vox. His mind was still racing to catch up to this revelation while Vox continued as if he hadn’t been holding onto a secret as large as who held his shackle.

“Because it’s...” Vox threw up his hands in frustration. Waving his hands wildly to mimic some erratic line. “Pyuueeww biiing chi-iiiiiing bing bing krsshh! It’s damn annoying that’s what! And usually the more stressed or negative the feelings the more grating they are. I could talk about this in the open where everyone else is but… do you want me to?”

Good point.

Alastor grabbed Vox by the shoulder and dragged him inside. Then he tucked the pillow into the room with his foot and slammed the door. With a tentacle, he picked up the discarded pillow and tossed it to lay on top of his bed where he could thrust it back onto his true owner later.

“So Vox, you mean to say you’ve had this little insight on me for… how long?”

Vox shrugged. “Always?”

Without words, the radio demon retreated into the room and took a seat on the bed. One leg crossed over the other, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d need an awful lot of time to process this. But more time than he had, Vox would be gone in a few hours.

“So… what’s wrong?” Vox repeated the question, joining him on the bed. Alastor wanted to give some offense for him inviting himself. But this may be his last chance to speak to Vox like this. In a few hours, they would be back to rivals.

“Are you going back to the Vee’s tower in the morning?” Alastor asked.

“Uh--” A claw tugged around the collar of Vox’s pajamas. “I’m… not sure to be honest. It’s complicated. Part of me wants to stay, I’ve been enjoying my time here. But it’s… not so simple to just give everything I worked so hard for over these years you know?”

His dear protege had indeed grown fat since he stepped out from his shadow. Not in the direction he would have liked, but… wonderful in his way. Still, Alastor found himself uncomfortable, shifting in his seat knowing that a weakness had been bared to his greatest rival all this time. If he had known, he would have gotten rid of him far sooner! A world where he was known?! That anyone could look beyond the mask he worked too hard to perfect?!

But there his word had kept him from doing anything. His safety was guaranteed as long as he stayed here.

“What is that moth to you anyway? Why do you allow him to treat you that way?”

Vox loosened all the tension in his shoulders. His elbows rested against the tops of each of his knees as he bent forward. “He’s my business partner. Sometimes he’s… incredibly sweet and good to me. Makes me feel like I’m worth something to somebody at least. Then other days… he tells me I don’t care enough. That I don’t do enough to justify my worth to be part of the Vees. That I expect him and Velvette to do everything.” It all came freely, these thoughts Vox kept locked in his head and heart for far too many years. His screen buried itself further into the palms of his hands as he continued.

“I don’t know what to call us. There’s no love, but it doesn’t feel like friendship either. Maybe once there was something genuine, now it feels like we’ve become co-dependent on one another.” There was no such thing as a shoulder to cry on in the cutthroat world of an Overlord. But for a fatal second Vox almost forgot that. He broke away, smacking his knees.

“I’m-- this is stupid. Why am I telling you of all people this?” Vox threw up his hands. “You’re going to laugh right? Well! Go ahead! Laugh! Most powerful Overlord in Pentagram City and he STILL manages to be so fucking pathetic. He’d be nothing without the other Vee’s! Some loser who can’t step out of your fucking shadow no matter how hard he tries.”

Sulkily he turned his screen away, bouncing his knee impatiently. His face was bright blue, with a bitter scowl stretching the length of the screen.

There were echoes of Alastor’s own words there. Maybe the echos of many more. If this confession had come out at the beginning of Vox’s stay at the hotel he would have laughed. Laughed until he shed tears. Happy to see the prideful box that had broken free from his master’s leash face to face his just desserts. But Now?

“The bottom feeders of this world will do anything they can to cut down those above them my dear. They’ll use everything they have at their disposal and if they can find a weak point? Trust they will use it without mercy. Trust in yourself, have faith in what you’ve made and you’ll be indestructible. No overlord rises to the top by mere accident.” These belated words of wisdom from an old mentor were spoken in a tone gentler than usual. Inspired, he turned to face Vox. Meeting his eyes with a stalwart glance.

“I do not approve of your methods, hence our partnership became incompatible. But you are the reflection of the most exquisite and beautiful underbelly of humanity. The natural and artificial, Man and Beast, nature and nurture. Without one, we could never become fully aware of the beauty of one another.”

A sleeve obscured Vox’s face from view. Then came a hiccup and a sharp inhale of air swallowed behind grit teeth. Through his struggle to control his emotions, Vox nodded. The tell-tale signs of his failure came in the shifting picture alternating between multi-colored blacks and static. Clenched fingers dug into Vox’s knees, threatening to puncture the thick skin beneath.

Alastor pried that hand from his knees. He turned over the wrist and slipped his hand over Vox’s to weave their fingers together. Red and blue, co-exist without becoming purple. Their contrast makes the other more striking for it. Hot and cold, steel and flesh, meeting palm against palm.

The flickering light of Vox’s screen dimmed as his head bent in. The artificial blue light danced upon Alastor’s features, finding the digital display up close changed from a fantastic imitation of a cartoonish face to pixels and static on a screen as the true nature of what he was looking at. Only reflections of the soul inside.

Glass met Alastor’s forehead, static and electricity dancing on their one point of contact and between their palms. It intensified Alastor’s signals, humming like a melody that was greater than any music to Vox’s ears.

“I could think of a world without a great number of people. My parents, my brother, Valentino or Velvette. I can even imagine being born in another time or gender. But the only thing I can’t imagine… is a world that doesn’t have you in it.” Vox whispered. He could feel the shifting of those fingers between this, tensing to squeeze his hand beneath.

“You will have to live with being an existence just below my mother, but I feel much the same way. Hell would have become dreadfully dull long ago without you in it.” Picking up that foolishly brave and clever picture box seventy years ago was not one of Alastor’s regrets. Even if he did waver between his decision on whether he should kill him once and for all.

The tip of Alastors nose met the glass, and he could hear the other hitch his breath. Alastor closed his eyes, keeping a firm hold on the hand settled in his. Listening only to every beat of his heart, surrendering to the feel of the static dancing in his hair and across his body leaving goose-flesh behind. A touch, without the rotten feel of another flesh dragging across him. Something soft and slightly moist pressed against his cheekbone, for only a second then the faint warmth of the screen faded.

“If… you were in my situation Alastor, what would you do? I know that-- it would never happen. But, hypothetically?”

Those crimson eyes fluttered open, finding that Vox had restored them to the distance they ought to exist in. The bridge that burned may have the foundation built, but it would take more than a few short months to rebuild what once was there.

“If it were me? Why! I certainly wouldn’t throw away everything I’ve built! That’s ridiculous! But I would never tolerate that filthy moth laying his hands on me like that either. Hell is far too full of the talented, and many willing to offer their soul to escape obscurity.”

There was a secret smile shown then, something meant once only for the Vox of old. Of a time when it felt like the company they held in each other would continue forever. It was only for a fraction of a moment, enough to make Vox question if it were a dream. But for the first time, he felt as if a road had been opened ahead of him after it had been shrouded for so long.

“I had the most… horrible little thought. One that would make me quite unworthy of staying at this Hotel. I find that I’m rather… curious as to what kind of new techniques have been developed on Earth we may be missing out on.” Vox laughed, “But… maybe we can get a drink again one night?”

Alastor shrugged. “I suppose, so long as I can choose the venue. Your… obnoxious little clubs are far too noisy for my tastes.”

“Alright, but you’re paying for the drinks!” Vox's smile returned with a triumph, rows of sharkish cyan teeth on display with such a pure joy that now felt like it was taking Vox back in time. And it hit him so hard nostalgia forced him to rise.

Alastor abruptly turned a course toward his bookshelf. An old book on plants, boring and innocuous. Almost out of place among the more macabre of the collection Alastor held, but the treasure was buried within one of those pages. The torn half of a black and white photo slipped out, caught between two of Alastor’s fingers. He pushed the tome back into place and held out the slip.

“That reminds me! We never DID get to exchange those gifts, did we? One treasured item from one to the other. I’ve been holding onto this for far too long, maybe it’s time I returned it to you.”

Vox reached out to take the slip, turning it over in his hand. It was an old black and white photo, with Vox’s old crt face staring back at him. A man captured in a time of happiness. “I… thought this was thrown away or burned.”

“You know how I am about old things. No matter how ugly the future looks, it doesn’t diminish the beauty of the days that passed.” Alastor fondly answered as he summoned his cane. It became his support as he leaned back.

Those cyan pupils glanced up from the old photograph, meeting Alastor’s. The grin faded into a gentle smile tugged to one end. “Thank you. My gift is still in my room but I’ll bring I’ll be sure to bring it to you before I leave tomorrow.”

“Am I to be left in suspense until then?”

“Afraid so! But...your signal seems to be doing a lot better so I should get what little sleep I can before the morning. But-- this isn’t goodbye yeah?” Vox pushed himself off the bed, with only a bit of hope resonating in those ruby pools.

“So long as an angel doesn’t get you, there are no goodbyes in hell my dear. You are always welcome back at the hotel for a visit. The group activities will be far less fun without you around to muck them up.”

“Pfft- don’t try to put all the blame on me. You set the lobby on fire.” Vox countered.

“And that little gadget you brought for show and tell blew up, let’s not forget that!”

“That was a feature! A self-destruct in case somebody was about to find out your search history.”

“And what exactly is on your search history my dear that we need to worry about it?” Alastor leaned forward, grinning smugly.

“Nothing! Mostly… Gen Z slang and social media sites. I have to keep my eye on the trends for work you know. And be able to understand what they’re saying half the time.” Life was tough when you were an old man trying to keep up with the changes in modern-day language!

Alastor laughed. “Heavens do I know it dear! Sometimes Angel Dust says the most baffling vocabulary known to man and I can’t help but wonder if he had a stroke or something. But-- rest up. I won’t have you blaming me for your lack of sleep from this point on. But before you go--” Alastor snapped his heels together, and like an old habit fussed with Vox’s clothes like a mother hen putting them to straights. “How far away can you sense my signals?”

The familiar habit made laughter spill from Vox’s lips. “It depends. If there’s metal between us, how high up you are, the weather. But on a good day? No further than a hundred yards or so. They’re harder to make out from a distance. Fifty yards is about when I can tell more accurately what you’re feeling.”

“Good to know… Good night Vox.”

“Good night Al.” Vox lingered by the door, sparing one last glance at his old friend. A smile was shared between them as closed the door behind him.

Click.

“How bizarre that you noticed I was feeling better before I did,” Alastor spoke to nobody in particular, fondness seeping his every word. Settled back on the bed, Alastor found himself staring at his hand where the cold metal hand had sapped away the heat. The minor chill still remained, and the faint dance of static on his skin tingled.

“I’ve missed you, old friend.”

Vox was a nasty little liar. Checking out without ever saying goodbye. Alastor had only himself to blame of course. Doing something he normally never did, sleep in! Peace and warm feelings truly were as dangerous as he remembered. They only invited weakness! His prey slipped through his claws before the hunt ever began.

Alastor didn’t blame him. The two had made a wager and Vox did what he could to guarantee a win. It was underhanded but as his former mentor? He even felt a little proud. Even if a little disappointed. Alastor was about ready to resign and return to his room when Husk called him over.

“Hey Boss, Vox left something with me that he wanted me to give you when you woke up. Said this was yours.”

There were two items: An envelope and a beeper left on top. Husk immediately lost interest the instant it was delivered to its recipient, turning to return to his work for the morning. A trait that had unfortunately made Husk one of his favored servants. And what kept him from becoming like some of the more unfortunate souls under his command? It took everything in Alastor to continue to act indifferently even when curiosity was burning inside of him when he picked up the items.

The denizens of the Hotel were all far too eager to barge their nose into his business and peel back the shroud that was his mystery. Vox may have a backstage pass, and be allowed to live. But he would be the only exception.

The first item was a beeper. A proud and taunting way of Vox claiming his victory over their bet. Alastor snorted and tucked it into his pocket. It’d been a dog's age but he had confidence he could remember the old codes.

The mystery of the envelope, however? That was enticing. A letter opener was conjured from the ether, tearing the adhesive so that he could pry out the prize inside:

It was a photo.

An old black and white photo of the two of them standing side by side. A jagged line ran through the middle and adhered back together with transparent tape.

[anzulvr]

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader || Chapter: 9 ୨୧

PREV || 09 Relationships || next

Kanzaki was over at [Names] house working on a project. Korosensei had randomly paired up students for a school assignment. Kanzaki had always been a likable person, but [Name] couldn't help but feel conflicted. After everything that blew over the first year, could the two really be friends again?

Prior to either of the two girls dropping down to End Class, Kanzaki was close with [Name] and Kaho by association. Out of the blue it felt like [Name] became distant for reasons Kanzaki never knew.

"Make yourself at home Kanzaki!" [Name] smiled, she felt a bit awkward having an old friend over, how long had it been since they last hung out here?

"Thank you! And you don't have to be formal [Name], not calling me Yukiko sounds out of place coming from you."

"Really? I've gotten pretty used to saying Kanzaki. But okay, Yukiko?" [Name] gave a stiff laugh, It was difficult to make conversation with each other after so long.

The girls laid a blank poster on the living room table and got to work. For a while it was quiet. They just focused on the project. Kanzaki wasn't willing to ask the questions she was thinking of, she kept it cordial, and opted for mild questions.

"Sooo [Name], How have you been?"

"Pretty good, and you?"

"I'm good too."

that was cut short.

Alright next topic!

"How's your family?"

"Same as always, and yours?"

"Yeah mine too..."

Before Kanzaki could try again, [Name] unexpectedly spoke.

"Kanzaki I'm sorry."

"Don't be, we haven't talked in a while so it's natural to be uneasy!"

"That's not what I'm apologizing for." [Name] laughed and shook her head, breaking the troubled look on her face for just a moment.

"I'm sorry I stopped hanging around you."

"Was it… something I did?"

The truth was it was never Kanzaki's fault. [Name] just couldn't take it anymore. Constantly being compared to her by friends, even family.

Kanzaki had always been easy to like, she's popular and near perfect. That's what made her so easy to dislike.

Before she met Karma, [Name] had a tiny crush on Sugino, it was the very beginning of first year and it wasn't serious or even mutual. It was obvious he liked her best friend- that in itself was a hard pill to swallow. But the problem in their relationship wasn’t just over a guy, it was everyone. [Name] couldn’t feel appreciated around Kanzaki, still, it wasn’t her fault.

Karma was the first person [Name] felt unconditionally seen by. It didn't matter how amazing her friends were, because he'd always pick her. That was the feeling she was looking for when she stopped hanging around Kanzaki, though now she sees her methods were unnecessary.

It wasn't like Kanzaki showed interest outside of being friends with Sugino at the time, but all the self inflicted hate [Name] harbored throughout the friendship bubbled over. She couldn't help but feel insecure. Not wanting to take it out on Kanzaki or admit her feelings, [Name] stopped going over to her house then she started talking to other girls at school, then she joined the student council and "didn't have time to hang out" anymore.

"You didn't do anything, I'm sorry for being a bad friend."

Kanzaki's shoulders dropped in relief, "It's good to hear you don't hate me, I'm sure you had your reasons."

"...not very good ones."

"I want to be friends again. If you're okay with it."

A series of knocks came at the door, "I'll get that..." [Name] unlocked the door and it swung open in an instant. It was Kaho, her eyes were puffy from crying. Kaho draped herself over [Names] body.

"He broke up with me! Completely out of nowhere!"

[Name] dragged her friend's dead weight back to her living room where Kanzaki was. Kahos awareness came back to her body when she saw her, she turned her head towards [Name] "What's she doing here?" She didn't mean to come off rude, but she'd always been a blunt person.

"We're working on a project for school."

"Actually we can finish up tomorrow if that's okay with you [Name], my parents want me home soon."

"Oh, yeah that's cool with me. I'll see you tomorrow then- Yukiko." Kanzaki smiled on her way out, maybe this meant they’d go back to how things used to be.

Kaho and [Name] went up to [Names] bedroom. The second Kaho plopped herself on [Names] bed the tears began to flow down. "Everything reminds me of him!"

"Alright firstly which one broke up with you, secondly what are you talking about?”

"Preed broke up with me, and I meant your room smells like cologne..."

[Names] eyes widened.

"Wait, Have you had a guy in here?!"

"No! I just. I got an oil diffuser thingy.."

"Hmm alright then. Anyways Preed was saying he lost feelings. How's that even possible?"

There was a big thud sound from under the bed, and a hiss of pain coming from beneath the bed frame.

"What was that?" Kaho turned to [Name] in concern.

[Name] grabbed her own ankle and made a hurt facial expression. "Ouch… I hit my leg really hard…! Do you mind getting me an ice pack from the fridge?"

Kaho nodded and paced down the stairs. [Name] crouched down and threw the oversized covers of her bed from one side to another to expose whoever was underneath the bed frame.

A certain red haired boy poked his head out from under.

"I could report you to the cops for breaking and entering if I really wanted to.”

He smiled as he made his way out onto the top of the bed and sat down. "You should lock your windows, I'm just testing security."

"Okay seriously why didn't you use the door like a normal person?"

"I left my phone here and I wasn't sure if your parents were home... I needed to get it back so I thought I'd just use your window."

“Here I was thinking you missed me or something.”

“Nah not at all.” He smiled and leaned into kiss her

"[Name] I couldn't find an ice pack so I brought ice cubes..."

[Name] pushed Karma off of her and he fell back onto the floor.

Kaho dropped the ice cubes onto the floor. "Akabane?!"

[Name] panicked "I've never seen this guy in my life!"

"[Name] that's not funny you're gonna get me really reported." He said it wasn't funny but he laughed a little bit. Karma rubbed his head after hitting it for the second time today, hopefully he didn't end up with memory loss after today.

[Name] panicked even more, "Kaho, you've got to keep this a secret! Please?"

[alexanderwales]

Movie Review: Upstream Color (2013)

I watched Primer when it came out on DVD. It's one of the few movies that, when I finished, I immediately watched a second time. I loved it. It was dense and opaque, and benefited greatly from a second watch, which made the whole thing slot together like a nice little puzzle. It was filmed on a razor-thin budget, with one of the main characters being a writer, director, producer, and editor. I immediately put Shane Carruth on my (then short) list of directors to watch.

So I've been meaning to watch Upstream Color, his second movie, for a full decade now. The reviews for it were never very good, and every Primer fan I knew of said that it was no Primer, and I guess I had other stuff going on for literally a dozen years. I keep a "to watch" movie list, which is usually 20-30 movies deep, and other stuff kept taking priority for one reason or another. I wanted to be in the right mood for it, that was definitely part of it. So I watch a movie every two or three days, something like 100 movies a year, and that means that since Upstream Color came out, I have watched more than a thousand movies instead of watching it.

Spoilers Follow

Let's start with the obvious: Upstream Color is no Primer.

I think that I could fit the story of Upstream Color into a single paragraph. It's not complicated. When we start any movie that my wife doesn't think she'll like, she goes to look up the synopsis and reviews and trivia and stuff, and she quoted me a review that said it was an "opaque mess", and ... I don't agree with that, but I can see where they're coming from.

Here's my plot synopsis:

A man (credited as "Thief") discovers some worms that can be used to induce a hypnotic state. He uses them to hypnotize a woman, Kris, and makes her give him her entire net worth while under hypnosis. When that's done, he leaves, and she writhes around under worm control until being summoned by some music by a different, unconnected man (credited as "Sampler"). The Sampler takes the worm out of her body, implants it into a pig, then releases her. She wakes up with no memory and her life is shattered. Later, she meets Jeff, who had the same thing happen to him, they fall in love, they have a psychic connection to these pigs, they gradually get more in touch with what happened to them, then they go kill the Sampler and rescue the psychic pigs.

I don't think that there's anything in there that anyone could be confused about. The movie spells everything out. There are one or two plot beats aside from that, but this is about it.

It's how the movie does this which is unusual. It's taking show, don't tell to its limits, almost never with dialogue that clarifies anything, and its scenes muddle into each other, with none of them feeling like they last more than a few seconds. There is essentially no grounding, even when it felt to me like there should be, and the movie doesn't ever really stop being a visual tone poem. I found this grating in the first five minutes, then got used to it, and eventually started to find it grating again. I guess my best point of comparison is Terrence Malick's Tree of Life, which I thought was more effective but also did grate on me a little bit.

When a moviemaker does something like this, particularly an auteur (or would-be arteur) like Shane Carruth, I always start by assuming that this is part of the point, that we're being fed the plot one way instead of another because it ties into whatever is going on thematically. And here ...

Where I thought it was most effective was the sequence when the baby pigs were being drowned, since we're almost required to have that whole thing be done with Kuleshov effect, cutting back and forth between the pigs and Kris and the pigs and Jeff. It's a nicely evocative little bit of cinema, even if I didn't think that it emotionally landed for me. Where it's less effective is when we really would have been better served by just having some straightforward exposition, or more standard filmmaking, but I guess if you're committing to the bit, you're really committing.

So what's the story about? What's the analogy, what's the theme?

Kris and Jeff are drawn together because of the psychic connection from the worms/pigs, but also (in my opinion) because they've both been victims of this horrible thing that's happened to them, their entire life having been torn down by some thief, then made to believe that they were somehow responsible. So they've got the psychic thing going on, yes, but they also have parallel traumas, and the same sort of gap in their lives. I think this what I'll call Thesis One, the shared bond of trauma.

Another major thing that struck me when watching the movie was that both our protagonists seem insane from the outside. They have this weird connection to each other that no one could understand (though they don't seem to have friends or family or anyone to talk to who could find it weird). They mix up their memories, and sometimes fight about that. They have bouts of irrationality, paranoia, anger, grief, with no explicable-to-them source. They feel like there's somewhere they're meant to be, but they try to follow that sense, and it leads them nowhere. To me, this immediately said "mental illness", so I'm going to call this Thesis Two, the terror of knowing that something isn't right with you, but having no idea what it is, having this internal feeling inside of you, patterns of behavior that make sense at the time. This movie is basically not shot like a horror movie in any way, and does not use the language of horror films, but I think it does share a lot thematically with the subgenre "mental illness horror" where the protagonist thinks they're crazy. That our two protagonists seem intensely codependent helps push that line.

Lastly, at least some of the movie is about personal identity and meaning, though I'm not sure that I would called that Thesis Three, mostly because I don't know what it's trying to say about personal identity. Clearly both Kris and Jeff are attempting to construct meaning in the wake of what's happened to them, and their identities bleed together with their overlapping memories, but this is just not fulfilled very much, and some of it is wrapped tightly in what I'd call the mental illness stuff.

Even if I'm reasonably confident in what literally happened in the film, and what it's about, there are a few things that don't really click for me.

In a normal film, I would expect that the sequence goes:

woman gets hypnotized and wormed

life is ruined

lots of strange thoughts and adventures with another man who is equally crazy

revelation that she's not crazy after all

revenge and catharsis

But in Upstream Color, the Thief and Sampler are implied to be operating entirely separate from each other. There's a little gap which can't entirely be closed through inference, but it's implied the Sampler incidentally pollutes the water with dead worm-pigs, the organism infects plants, those plants get (totally be coincidence?) taken up by exotic plant foragers, then bought by the Thief. So the Thief and Sampler apparently don't have any relationship with one another.

And yet, it's the Sampler, who removes the worms from people and puts them into pigs, that gets killed in the end. Yes, he was the one to kill the Kris-pig's piglets, but ... I don't really understand this narrative beat. Do they assume that he was the Thief? The Thief gets away with it, and all we see of him in the end is that he's sadly shaking his head because the magic worms are all gone.

I mean, yes, the Sampler is a creep who uses his psychic connection to peep on stranger's lives, and yes, most of these people (seem to be) victims of the Thief, and it's fucked up to not give them information or closure. But if the Sampler and Thief are unrelated, which seems likely to me, then it feels like the Sampler is taking bullets better meant for the Thief? Or is it just because he killed some piglets?

And what does that mean?

I am, moreover, confused about what the function of the Sampler is when compared to what the themes are. Does he tie in with the mental illness angle? No, not really. Does he tie in with shared bond of trauma? Only in that he's preventing people from getting closure, I guess. He's a voyeur, a failed artist, some of this ties to personal identity, but again, it doesn't feel like a strong thesis, it just feels kind of random, especially since we have virtually nothing to go on as far as the Sampler's motives or history. He seemed to me like he was mostly just an artist, with the sounds of nature as his primary art and the experiences of other people as his secondary "art".

I'm going to give my hot take on this movie now, which is that I would have liked it a lot better if it were more traditionally structured. The opening five or so minutes really made me think that I would have been better off leaving it on the to-watch list. The "piecing together the location of the Sampler and getting revenge" stuff was super rushed and kind of nonsensical, and offered no catharsis, only confusion.

Overall, I would say I didn't like the movie. I think it was trying too hard to be deep (for me this is a very high bar to clear), and didn't benefit from the experimental aspects, and would have been better if it at least had a stronger idea of what it was trying to say.

I will now go read some reviews, and maybe that will help something click for me. Hopefully I haven't missed anything major.

[shadystranger]

the switch from worry for sam to appealing.. oh he knows how to fuck him up so perfectly tailored for him

[front-facing-pokemon]

[talkorsomething]

I have Got to get more transgender

[burningcomputerpersona]

ahhhhhhhh guess who made the mistake of getting a haircut

[keeps-ache]

[staring out the window but it's just a sticker on the wall] i actually need to make something right now or i'll espode

[inthecarpets]

I'm not sure if i have anyone to ask so i got a question regarding Good Omens season 2 here

i'm asking pretty much:

Does the second season of Good Omens get better?

Like: i watched the first episode and felt disappointed given how well written and throughrough the first season was. And the second season in the very first episode felt as if it was lacking.

Dad, who i was watching it with, thought it wasn't good. And he's one of those people who can actually tell if a production is well done, bad or just mid. (and He thought the first season was good and enjoyed it even tho he dislikes when authors play around religions in fiction as he finds it mocking toward religions.)

Maybe it was a mistake to re/watch the first season hours before watching the second one, but honestly i'm unsure whether i should watch it further, i might simply skip it? In this case for me the fandom fun is not important, i just want it to be actually good and as thought through as the first season, and i fear it is not the case.

[zo1nkss]

that went horribly. Plz don't read the tags if u don't wanna know about how royally my mom fucked up tonight. It was genuinely so so bad.

[moe-broey]

SORRY FOR CRYSTAL BLOGGING BUT

Oooughghghh I'm so proud of my guys....

I didn't think I'd actually keep playing this file cause it's on my busted 3DS, except for if I REALLY wanted to double hunt Celebi. But I have decided I AM getting a Houndour for my new file, my journey goes on....

This is what I'm working with. By the way. Victim of sudden hinge snapping 😢😢💔💔💔 (this motherfucker has been through it all though like. Ancient well-loved and deeply cherished artifact, WELL used by the point where the hinge broke off)

Some notes!

> Dizzy is the Tyrogue (now Hitmontop) from that original Odd Egg hunt I did, where I was determined to get The Rarest Pokemon from it LMAO. He's from a deadname file though, cut short and deleted. He'd rejoin a new team on this file, which also was cut short due to hinge snapping. So I thought, anyway... 😳

> Henry and Asriel were hunted using the breed with a shiny method, which like, I HIGHLY recommend if you're just fucking around in gen 2. 1/60 Odds! Yeah hatching eggs can take a while but it balances out w how fucking high the rates are. Plus it's perfect how it lines up, for building your team early game! You do need a shiny to start with, but like, literally the game gives you one for free. From there, you can either get yourself a glitch shiny Ditto in a gen 1 game using the shiny Gyarados OR just like. Map out a complex family tree starting from Gyarados LMFAO (I will say it if you're starting from Gyarados I'm p sure you have to have at least three badges, AND do the Lake of Rage stuff, a little inconvenient for team building esp from the egg but not the end of the world -- source, been there done that 👍)

ALSO Lily-Frog and Asriel were the real MVPs, who pulled the most weight and kicked the most ass, AND Lily-Frog was the last one standing against Lance when I ran out of healing items 🫡🫡🫡 (Ice Punch is a fucking life saver against Lance 😭😭😭)

🔥🔥🔪🔪🔪KILL!!!!!!!!!🔪🔪🔪🔥🔥

[js337]

branching off that last post

do any other boob-havers like their boobs/like having them but at the same time don't want them perceived by others lmao or is that just me

[freakyandcool]

.

[sharkylass]

ALRIGHT, I ASKED FOREVER AGO, BUT WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT MY ISA LOOPS AU??

Heads up this contains a lot, and I mean A LOT of spoilers for In Stars And Time. Including: = Act 6 spoilers, including main mystery and secret encounter = Minimal Act 5 stuff = And a bunch of extra stuff that happens through Act 3 and 4. SO BASICALLY ALMOST EVERYTHING, FINISH THIS GAME COMPLETELY BEFORE READING (ESPECIALLY THAT ACT 6 ENCOUNTER, IT WILL LITERALLY BE THE FIRST THING I MENTION UNDER THE CUT)

With all those warnings out of the way-

IN REPETITION AND CHANGE

Initial Concepts:

I feel it's important to show these sketches because they were the first ideas I ever had. I wasn't even entirely sure I wanted to make an AU at this point, I didn't even know how I'd approach it. But I started sketching and it's been on my mind since- SO! Isa is stuck in the timeloop. I know what his wish is and he DOES have a Loop equivalent! The grumpy dandelion guy is Roboro (it/they/he). Their name is a very small play on Ouroboros and they call Isa "Seedling". However, this post is not about them, as I'm gonna talk about it and Isa's dynamic in a separate post. In short, Isa is his normal loud self up until Act 3, right? They beat the King, they reach the end, and whoops, the loop isn't broken. So now, what happens is that Isa starts getting his brains out. He starts thinking more analytically and tries to problem solve.

The more stuck he gets in his head, the less he's able to perceive his friends as real people, and more like them holding him back. Because even if Isa explains that he's smart, that they shouldn't be surprised if he says something, shock of all shocks, reasonable- They'll forget it the next loop.

So Isa is stuck with trying to portray his confident, loud, supportive facade- Which is fine! It wouldn't be the first time! But it progressively gets more and more frustrating, as he tries to find answers and simply looses the energy to pretend to be stupid.

TL;DR: Isa in the timeloop, unlike Siffrin, becomes more distant and cold rather then something more akin to Sif's mania.

NOW, MORE ART!!!

KILL KILL KILL:

I imagine Isa didn't have this encounter the same way that Sif did. Yeah, frankly, Isa is pissed with the sadness- But that's not why he goes through with this.

In this moment, Isa is trying to kill two birds with one stone. He's trying to get through this quickly, as well as reassure Mira that they can do this! If he shows how strong he is, then she'll feel safe right???

Poor Isabeau forgot that whenever he shows that he thinks ahead, he scares people. How could he forget that? How could he forget that he's inherently---

Family Quest:

I still think Odile is the one to call out to him (same with sus quest).

The hangouts I'm still figuring out, cause I don't think they'd too similar to base game- But, fun fact, at the end of this run, everyone agrees to keep travel together!

Isabeau brings it up, can't hurt if you can fix your mistakes right? And everyone agrees. The relief on Siffrin is the most palpable thing Isabeau has ever seen.

In this moment they love you. In this moment they all love you. In this moment---

Death Screen:

He loops back anyways. (This is one of the initial concepts that I ended up animating. This line in particular is when he reaches the end)

Act 5 Tarot Card:

NOW TO SEE MORE OF HIS PASSIVE AGRESSIVE SIDE

Thanks to @the-bitter-ocean for prescribing tarot cards to Isa (THEY ALL FUCK SO HARD) and for the RAW ASS LINE

If interacted with in act 5, predictably, Isa tears it apart. He doesn't need the divine judgement upon him, he's faced everyone's perception his entire life.

However, he tears it methodically. Tears it once in even pieces, twice, three times, and one of the pieces once more. In a way he isn't even getting his emotions out, it's like he's actively trying to tear it apart so it stops nagging him, like he wants to shut it up. Though, the Judgement card symbolizes rebirth, absolution and inner calling. In Act 6 he'd be able to look at it and find comfort and confidence in the card.

Act 5 Mirror:

And lastly, I have the Act 5 mirror picture. I haven't quite figured out how to make the normal ones work yet, however, I couldn't let go of the idea that Isa would not want to be in the picture.

The idea of seeing himself at all makes his head hurt and his stomach squeeze. The memory haunts him as he stands to the side and says the word. He didn't think the mirror would catch him.

AAAAND THAT'S ALL THE ART STUFF FOR NOW!!

I still have quite a bit of it to post, especially about Roboro, but I'm gonna leave it here for now.

I still gotta figure out the hangouts and potentially the dagger equivalent- but I have ideas for Bad Touch, the glass equivalent, and some extra little things that didn't happen in Siffrin's loops.

I needed to yap about this, because I've been slowly stacking up ideas and writing and I needed to share it at some point- If anyone read all this and has questions and stuff I fully welcome 'em!!

[arminsumi]

★ Satoru's undercut

★ Synopsis : He fears the hairdresser like it's the dentist. One day, he accidentally gets an undercut style. He would have thrown a tantrum if it weren't for your positive response — because all he really cares about is that you enjoy his haircut.

★ Content : soft fluff, romantic tension, some mutual pining??

★ Library ★ reblog for a cake slice! 🍰

"This will ruin my life..."

"It will not ruin your life."

"I'm gonna die!"

"You're not gonna die."

"Yes, I'm gonna die! They're gonna cut my head off."

"They're not gonna cut your head off."

Satoru had a haircut appointment which you were accompanying him to as per his desperate demand request. Suguru was there also, helping Shoko with something technical on her phone. He laughed when Satoru was whining to you.

The four of you were on the train; Suguru and Shoko stood tightly packed with their backs facing other people as if they were the group shield. And Satoru sat next to you, clinging to your arm as if he were a kid on his way to the dentist.

"Don't laugh. You know I feel the same about hairdressers as people feel about dentists!" he pouted.

"Satoru, you're so weird." you said.

“I'm not!”

You shook your head at him. Satoru grumbled.

"No one understands me!" he said dramatically.

Suguru commented, "I do understand why you dislike hairdressers, Satoru; most of them don't cut your hair how you want."

Shoko nodded and chimed in, "— yup, and you usually leave with a fake smile and say "oh wowww... I love it!" but you actually hate it." then she went back to frowning at her phone with Suguru.

“My hair is important, I can't afford to have a bad haircut." Satoru said.

"Haha, you make it sound like if you have a bad haircut it could cost you millions." you laughed.

Satoru sat up straighter and spoke seriously, "It may as well cost me millions!"

You didn't understand why Satoru was being so dramatic.

****

The hairdresser looked at you, Shoko and Suguru and then wondered why so many people were accompanying this grown man to his haircut, as if he were about to get a root canal for the first time.

Suguru whispered into her ear, and she blushed at his alluring charm like anyone would.

"He's scared of bad haircuts... so please do your best, he has a girl to impress. See that one sitting there?” Suguru pointed to you, “Yeah, that's the one."

He accidentally flustered her, and he smirked about it when he returned to you and Shoko.

"Suguru, your head looks as big as a bubble about ready to pop." you joked, noticing his smug demeanor as he took a waiting seat with you.

"I think I just flustered the hairdresser on accident." he said.

Shoko chuckled, "Is it ever an accident? I think you do it on purpose — oh, Y/n, I think Satoru is trying to get your attention. Give him some comfort."

Satoru recoiled when the cold blade of the scissors touched his neck, and looked distressed when the hairdresser touched his hair.

You knew he was highly sensitive to touch, especially his hair — he hated people touching his hair (reason X for hating hairdressers). The only person who was allowed to touch his hair was you. Suguru and Shoko needed a "valid reason" for touching Satoru's hair.

But you could comb your fingers through his hair any time, any place for no reason and Satoru would go limp with a smile on his face, completely melting for the act of affection.

Sometimes when it was just you and him alone together in his apartment, especially during his sleepless nights, Satoru would lay his tired head on your lap and ask you to play with his hair. Each stroke of your hand mellowed him out. He especially loved the feeling of your fingers running through his hair when it was fluffy and long.

So really, he feared not the hairdresser or even the bad haircut, but the fact that it might be too short or not fluffy enough for you to enjoy. It had to be just right. He had to maintain his fluffy hair for you.

He wanted to make sure that when you saw him at every party and get-together, you'd think "Wow, Satoru's hair looks so good.". He wanted you to compliment his hair and make him feel good and blushy.

And most of all, he just wanted to please your eyes. He wanted you to be starstruck when you looked at him.

So, a good haircut was critical.

****

Satoru's panic calmed after you took the empty seat next to him. He watched in admiration as you struck up a friendly conversation with the hairdresser. She turned out to be kind. She was an apprentice (picture nervous Satoru stiffening his shoulders when he learned this) and her mother owned the establishment next door.

Satoru was mostly quiet and focused on his reflection in the mirror. He squinted in suspicion when the lady brought out a hair buzzer.

But then you distracted Satoru by asking about what the four of you were doing after this. He stuttered a bit, half-looking at the hair buzzer and jumping a little when it turned on.

You talked so much that Satoru was completely distracted, and the lady could work. Though, it was hard, because Satoru didn't really specify what he wanted... so she winged it.

She thought hey, this guy would look good with an undercut. So, she cut an undercut for Satoru, and looked at you and smirked. His girlfriend will appreciate it, she thought as she looked at you and Satoru talking with hearts in your eyes.

You weren't his girlfriend. But you may as well have been. The two of you were anyways soulmates since kindergarten. Sure, you went away for five years to work abroad, but the link between you and Satoru wasn't broken by the distance.

****

Satoru gasped and nearly fainted when he saw how short his hair had been buzzed at the bottom. His neck felt exposed and suddenly it felt more drafty.

"What the—"

"— oh, you look hot, Satoru." You said.

He immediately shut up and went red in the face.

"Thanks, yeah it looks... yeah." Satoru hesitantly complimented the hairdresser's work.

She beamed proudly and wrapped up the haircutting session. Satoru took off the black dressing gown and stood up and shimmied the white hair off his pants.

"The cat is shedding." you joked, making Satoru grin with sealed lips.

You picked a white strand of his hair off the back of his shirt when he stood in line to pay at the checkout. He didn't notice. Such a cute boy.

Satoru was just grumbling to himself about how he'd need a scarf or turtleneck to compensate for his "practically naked" hairstyle now.

You stared at his undercut and felt your heartbeat get a bit frantic.

Then you kept staring as you left the barber shop.

Satoru wrapped an arm around your shoulders out of habit, as if he were your boyfriend, so the hairdresser felt sure that you two were dating and said something as you two left that really made you and Satoru blush;

"Your girlfriend loves it." she winked.

"I'm not his—"

"She's not my—"

"She sure does! Thanks for everything, see ya." Shoko cut off you and Satoru from responding and shoved the two of you out the door.

****

That comment lingered in the back of yours and Satoru's minds for the rest of the day.

On the train home, you grazed your fingers over Satoru's undercut and it elicited the funniest reaction out of him; he shivered like a cat that had just been scratched in a sweet spot.

"Haha, does that feel good?" you asked.

"It does. But my neck feels naked." Satoru shrugged.

Oh my god, do that again, he thought. It felt so good.

"Aw, then Y/n should wrap her arms around your neck." Suguru said in a flirtatious murmur.

Shoko laughed and propped a cigarette between her lips.

The four of you got off the train, you parted ways. Suguru and Shoko lived in different places and had to wait for their respective trains to take them home. So, you said your goodbyes and went with Satoru.

When you and Satoru moved out of your university housing, you both decided to live on the same street. You can say it was for X reasons, like oh it's a good neighborhood or oh the prices are great or oh the apartment walls aren't thin... but let's be honest; you and Satoru just didn't want to live too far from each other. You were inseparable, even cry-babies whenever the two of you were separated.

Satoru was always clinging or touching you in some way – hanging off your shoulders, resting his chin on the top of your head, draping an arm around you, holding your hand, snuggling into your neck. The closeness brought him more comfort than his own bed. He even claimed once that he could fall asleep on you more readily than on his bed.

Sometimes he was just shy of kissing you when you two met up, or when he knocked on your apartment door some mornings. His lips would graze over yours by accident in some circumstances, and though the two of you would laugh it off, there was an unmistakable spark in the air between you and him.

****

“Do you like it?” Satoru asked.

“I love it. You look really good.” You replied.

Satoru smiled to himself, hiding his face in your lap.

The TV was playing the most recent episode of that trashy romance soap opera – the episode where the two love interests kissed in the rain. Satoru stared hard at their lips connecting, and thought of why he hasn’t attempted to kiss you again. He didn’t want to ruin anything, so he kept his confession to himself even if it was obvious that he liked you.

You noticed he went a bit silent as you ran your fingers through his hair. He made a soft, long groan when your fingertips tickled up the back of his neck and over his prickly undercut.

“You sound like a cat.” You laughed.

His eyes were closed, brows relaxed into a sleepy arch. Whenever he got drowsy in your lap, his lips would part and show his two front teeth.

****

After getting an undercut hairstyle, Satoru was living in heaven with how much attention you gave his hair. Every day you’d find an excuse to play with his hair.

It made his heart beat harder and his mind go blank whenever you touched his neck and hair. He’d get shivers and close his eyes each time you did it, and would even stop talking mid-sentence.

In time it grew out. He refused to go back to the hairdresser, and instead insisted that you cut his hair for him. At first, he attempted to do it himself, but then he wimped out as soon as he held the scissors to his hair.

So, after he practically begged you on his knees and voiced his fear for the hairdresser, you agreed.

Cutting Satoru’s hair was a whole event. You invited Suguru and Shoko over to your apartment, and the four of you were laughing in the cramped bathroom together.

You had no idea what you were doing, and the online tutorials didn’t help much.

Satoru was dramatic when he thought you were cutting it too short or jagged, and he was so very picky that it drove you nuts to the point of putting the scissors down and leaving. But then he hugged your legs and apologized cutely, so you came back. Suguru and Shoko had to get it on camera because it was pure comedy.

“Alright, fairy princess. How did I do?” you asked Satoru.

He checked himself out in the mirror. His jawline and shorter hair drove you a bit wild, it was hard to contain yourself.

“It’s okay.” He replied cheekily.

“Just “okay”?! I put my soul into this!”

He grinned. “I’m just teasing.” He said, “I like it. Now let’s test it out.”

You looked confused. “Test it out?”

“Play with my hair.” He explained, “And tell me you like how it feels or else I’ll cry.” He added dramatically.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[radiance1]

There was a boy walking towards the invading army.

There was a civilian child walking towards the invading army from the infinite realms lead by their tyrannical ruler. The Justice League tried to stop force their way through, save the boy.

Instead of that, however, they were blocked by multiple ghosts, all hellbent on not leaving them alone. Superman tried to get close to the kid? Piles upon piles of ghosts knocked him back. Wonder Woman? The same thing happened.

The thing was, that wasn't even the ground army who did it. But the ones in the sky.

So the kid was walking towards an entire army by himself. One hellbent on taking over Earth and have no qualms about ending the short life of a human boy.

Instead of watching a child die, a life they failed to save. Something else happened.

The army parted for him.

Just as Moses parted the Red Sea, the same happened with the ghosts. They made a clear-cut line for him to walk straight towards their king with no obstacle, even clearing the way of anything that could pose as one.

Again, the Justice League tried to go down to drag the boy away, only to again be denied by the ghosts flying through the sky. Only to stop chasing as soon as they retreated a certain distance.

The ghosts stood still, and only moved as they got close, unlike their previous acts of causing havoc and mayhem. So, the Justice League, as much as they didn't want too, stood still and watched.

The boy stood at a stop before the king, painfully tiny in comparison to the massive ghostly tyrant standing before him with his arms crossed.

"Yo, dad." The boy said, and the Justice League froze in shock.

===

"Yo, dad." Danny lifted a hand up in greeting, before dropping that hand to rub at his neck. "Funny seeing you here, I guess."

"Phantom..." Pariah Dark's voice was soft yet booming and seemed to echo throughout the battlefield. "We meet once again on the field of battle, come to challenge me again, little one? Without your armor, no less?" Pariah tilted his head to the side slightly, questioning.

"Oh that? Yea that got destroyed ages ago," Danny shrugged, as if not having it didn't bother him at all. "Parents couldn't exactly, you know, finish it. Plus, they had other things to work on, so they just decided to scrap the thing altogether." He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged again. "So, yea..."

Pariah looked the boy over, his eyes hardening and he clicked his tongue at what he saw.

"You come here, not with armor," Pariah began, strength in his voice and a fire (literally) in his eyes. "Nor a weapon, or a shield, and no allies of any kind-"

"Well those guys are there" Danny pointed behind him, straight at the Justice League.

"-Walk up to a hostile force with no gauge of their strength." But Pariah just barreled on as if the Justice League were an afterthought. "And face their leader and do not expect to come to harm!?" The Ghost King scowled, and the Justice League tensed.

But just tilted his head slightly. "Well, are you going to harm me?" He asked.

Pariah Dark blinked, then whispered. "I could, child. I could kill you." He put a strong emphasis on the word kill.

"You could," Danny nodded. "But are you going to hurt me?"

The Ghost King remained silent, but his gaze intensified.

Danny shrugged, this time with a smile. "See? You wouldn't hurt me so it's fine. Ya big softie."

Pariah's scowl intensified. "I am not soft, child."

"Oh really?" Danny leaned forward and his smile took on a more playful edge. "Then what's you're reason for visiting Earth, hmmmm?"

"To wage war and fight against this world's mightiest heroes." The Ghost King answered quickly.

"Annnnnnnd?"

The king remained silent for a moment and Danny stepped forwards before he face planted onto concrete. "C'mon, dad. Tell me the other reason you came here." Danny crossed his arms, mimicking the Ghost King's pose.

They stared each other in the eyes for a moment, before Pariah looked off the side with green dusting his cheeks. "You have not visited in 50 years, son..." He whispered, but everyone heard it.

"Hah! Knew you missed me!" Danny said shamelessly with a satisfied and smug smile.

"And your father forced me out of the realms because I upset him." Small embers started igniting themselves on the tips of the king's hair.

Silence echoed over the battlefield, before Danny burst out laughing. Pariah Dark's hair fully exploded into green fire as he reached a hand to cover his face. "Of course, alongside the shameless and cheekiness, you get Clockwork's sense of humor as well..."

The Ghost King, at least this very moment, seemed more and more like a tired dad than some fearsome, tyrannical Ghost King.