#Vox Auxiliary

[hellscythearts]

Bandalores and Holograms

Artfight for @rockwell-light and @vinnybox

[iiotic]

VOX CANON FACTS

All of the information can be found on hazbin hotel viki (You can easily google it) and VivziePops livestreams.

His name may refer to the word "vox", a shortened form of the word "vocals", or from the Latin word "vox", meaning "voice". It may also be a portmanteau of "video" and "aux" (an abbreviation of auxiliary), which are the two main components of television.

Chronologically, Vox is the oldest of the Vees.

Sometimes, he moves his face towards the audience, essentially breaking the fourth wall.

Faustisse described Vox as being a dominating force when it comes to technology.

Faustisse stated that Vox was Caucasian while living, later also joking that he was "white, like really emphasizing the phlegm in your throat white".

According to Vivziepop, Vox and Alastor do not get along due to their opposing views on technology, with Alastor disliking anything invented after he died in the 1930s, and Vox embracing new technology.

Faustisse described Vox as having something of a fixation on Alastor and that he is interested in having Alastor notice him. Alastor does not have the same interest in return.

Vivziepop's headcanon voice actor for Vox was Mark Hamill.

When asked what TV shows Vox would like, Vivziepop stated Vox does not have a specific favorite when it comes to his preferences for TV shows, but that he likes to watch commercials and enjoys game shows.

Faustisse has described Vox as not being a polite person, but whether this is true or not is unknown.

[ms3ox]

w i f & e

In which, Alastor has his ego beaten into the ground, and still can't find a good reason to hate you.

Part I/???

Tags: Slow Burn, Really Petty Enemies to Lovers, Unintentional Marriage (soon)

Notes: I have a good ~40 pages of this already written. Lmk if you guys want more.

______________________________________________________________

At one point in time, Alastor could definitively say that he didn’t care what happened to his wife. 

You were… auxiliary at best and a nuisance at worst. A mess of naivety, youth, and a bumbling sense of goodness. Its truly a marvel how someone so seemingly innocent made her way down to the Pride Ring. But perhaps that was it. Pride. At least, that was his working hypothesis. He couldn’t say for certain what landed you eternal damnation, and perhaps it was none of his business anyway what with the way you kept it strictly under wraps. In another life, perhaps, Alastor would be curious, but time is wasted on flights of folly such as deducing the nature of his benefactor’s death. You had spiraling horns etched into your skull, so you were, in one way or another, just like the rest of them. 

It isn’t until he feels that tug that he realizes what he feels is nothing short of care. The phantom tugs at his chest, at his heart, a pitiful plea for help, but one that smells so familiarly sweet that he knows who it is and where its coming from.

And despite the way this growing humanity makes his fingers strain and curl, he dissolves into shadow and slithers toward your pull. 

---

Boredom is the worst part of Hell. 

Killing and eating can only be so much fun. After disposing of his… hmm, how many now? After disposing of his thousandth body, he finds that the appetite following the kill is nigh on nonexistent. He’s just… restless and bored. There are no turf wars around, no drama within the collective of Overlords, Hell, even Vox has been a doldrum of content lately- a stream of useless garbage that seems even more mind-numbing than the demon’s usual flare for juicy gossip and electric presentation. 

Deal-making is the same as it always has been, too. Alastor finds himself putting in all the work, all the fanciful and dandyish flare to impress his prey before ripping their autonomy right out of them with a handshake. And they’re all the same. Scared, hopeless, down on their luck. Reluctantly trustful of a smile before regretting it for eternity. When one owns thousands of souls… none of it feels… fulfilling anymore. The blood-red skies of Hell seem to fade to a miserable, dried brown- the same sky he’s been staring up at for the past century. 

God, he is so bored. 

This is the real torture. The real damnation. 

Rosie must see the apathy in his eyes and dullness in his smile because her face quickly contorts into something concerned the moment he enters her emporium.

“Alastor?” She would whisper with that soft concern the ladies in his life harbor for him. Even that has become dull to him. “You look all outta sorts, mister. What’s goin’ on, hah?”

And just like many of the concerned ladies in his life, Rosie is quick to offer a solution. He sits with his fingers steepled and his gaze far, far away as Rosie explains another deal opportunity to him. For once, Alastor doesn’t feel like being theatrical. Boredom has sucked the life out of this radio broadcast. Newcomer… Naive… Struggling in Hell, yada yada. 

“...I’ll consider it.” Is Alastor’s simple and placating reply. 

—

The first thing Alastor notices is that you know your way around a knife. Not necessarily how to fight, but you seem to have a keen eye for all the mortal points on a demon’s body- and when executed correctly…

“Impressive, my dear!”

The dandyish facade and wide smile return again like muscle memory- perhaps that’s what it is after decades of tricking demons into eternal bondage. Your eyes narrow suspiciously as the tall, creepy man in the red coat takes measured, clacking steps toward you. Soon enough, Alastor finds himself on the sharper end of your bloodied little pocket knife. Come to think of it, Rosie had said something about the demon being somewhat adept with a weapon… He’s sure there’s more information that his boredom has glossed over and tucked into his memory, never to be found.

“Alastor,” He says without so much as a flinch, taking the other end of the knife and shaking it as if it were your hand. “Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure.”

He pays no mind to the way his blood seeps around it. He’ll visit the tailor for new gloves later. And… perhaps a dry cleaning, what with the violent spray of demon blood that the little demoness incurred with your paltry knife skills and scarily surgical precision. But you seem to pick up on the fact that no amount of ferality and intent to kill can bridge the sloping gap in power between you. Your eyes narrow.

“Do you want something?”

Alastor hums, tapping a finger to his chin. His polished shoes clack with every circling step he takes around you, you and your tattered rags you call clothes.

“Want is a strong word, my dear.” He taps your head with his microphone, then points to the disgustingly garish Embassy as another day drops from its count. “Our annual cull is coming soon. You won’t want to be a street urchin when God’s little pests arrive.”

The mention of God seems to set you off in some way. Your shoulders square, your eyes widen, and there’s some kind of hunger in your black irises that catches him off-guard for a moment.

Interesting…

“I believe it would be in your best interests to seek protection… Shelter…” He circles you once more before arriving at your front. Alastor extends his hand, bending down to meet the sprightly thing eye to eye. Your scleras are pure, white… untainted. Something he hopes to rectify.

“Let’s make a deal.”

A blade narrowly misses the underside of his rib, and he only realizes that when he sees one of his blackened, eldtrich tendrils squeezing at your wrist, keeping it firmly steady while it hovers just before his coat. Alastor clicks his tongue, straightening his posture. He could kill you…  but that feels like a waste of resources.

“Calm yourself, dear, I haven’t even outlined the terms!”

The girl’s eyes narrow even more, if possible, your thin brows furrowing in a way that casts angry shadows over your features. This was going to be a hard sell. But… Alastor’s been known to play with words. His hand finds your straining wrist, replacing the hardness of his power with a gentle touch.

“Pledge yourself to me and I-.”

“No.”

Alastor can’t help the sharp feedback his microphone makes at your sudden dismissal. You will just not let him get a word in edgewise, hm? His jaw hangs open in shock before he quickly rectifies himself, smoothing down his suit. Okay. He can work with no. He’s walked this path many times before. They always come crawling back, one way or another. 

“Hm. I hope you keep this conversation in mind then.”

He hums a jaunty tune as he leaves the stubborn girl to the shadows.

---

[prince-liest]

Random question because Once Bitten: Back for more made me think about it: what do you think Angel Dust's interactions with the other Vees are like, when they're forced to be in the same space (for example when Valentino is in a lovebombing mood and decides to make Angel Dust "hang out" with him/be his arm candy at an event/etc)?

I think that, first of all, Angel Dust and Valentino probably had a decently lengthy honeymoon period initially for Angel to have gotten invested and trusting enough in Val's intentions to sign his soul over, so they're probably all at least relatively familiar with each other! But I also feel like the Vees are characters who don't really care much about people that they see as beneath them, and they see most people, definitely including Angel Dust, as beneath them.

In current era, I suspect that Angel just kind of gets treated as an auxiliary attachment to Valentino and gets talked over a lot. Like, sure, he gets a hello from Vox and a "Cute outfit!" from Velvette or something, but if someone's ordering food then it's all, "Val, what do you two want?" and then it's up to Valentino if he asks Angel Dust at all or just tells them that it's fine, Angie's on a diet. And Angel Dust knows what the status quo is by this point, so he's grateful (or nervous) to be pulled back into Valentino's magnetism when he's being lovey, but I doubt he's going to push back much on getting treated like something between a cute pet and an actual boyfriend.

But this is all my theorizing! I suspect (or hope, maybe, haha) that we'll learn more about that dynamic in season two.

[talizmyn]

2020 January: Keyleth Portrait

Here is a portrait of Keyleth of Critical Role's Vox Machina.

I've been trying new things with my portraits, being less afraid of hard edges and bold lines. Experimenting is fun!

Do any of you watch Critical Role? Which Player Character should I paint next? Eventually, I want to get all of them and perhaps move on to a couple of auxiliary characters after. :)

Created in Clip Studio Paint.

Find more of my work on my ko-fi page: Ko-fi.com/talizmyn

[battle-sister-ames]

Guardsman Kendra "Kenny" Pearson, Cadian 212th Attack Battalion (Inquisitorial Auxiliary).

Loudmouth. Card cheat. Sharpshooter. Loyal. Very stupid. Extremely tired. Fires for the *other* artillery school, if you know what I mean. Likely to hit the vox with her fist to get it to work.

[gloriousmonsters]

@whittertwitter the key to happy relationships is to find two people roughly as morally bankrupt and mentally ill as you (and, most importantly, as hot as you) and enable/check each other's issues to the extent where you all function remarkably well, considering how all your other relationships went! Agreed on the rough timeline thing, her dying in the 00s sounds right for sure (assuming that the show starts around where the pilot was released, that gives her a bit of time in Hell but still makes her obnoxiously new on the scene compared to other Overlords).

That said, a summation of Vox and Val's daddy issues (cw for abuse, suicide mentioned)

Vox:

I still need to flesh out details/timeline of Vox's childhood, but I know that his dad was distant to the point of seeming to forget about his existence, sarcastic and emotionally cruel--primarily to Vox's mother, but the kid would occasionally come in for some--when he did remember he lived with other people, and was overall just an. intensely negative person, like sucks-all-the-energy-out-of-a-room vibes. (vox's mom was also emotionally neglectful and uncaring, but not ''''abusive-abusive''', if you get my point). He then proceeded to have an 'accident while cleaning a gun' when Vox was a young teenager, which Vox overheard his mother talking about the truth of--that it was suicide--with a friend. probably with a side helping of 'i can't believe he would be so weak/do something that shameful'.

I think his mother probably remarried very quickly, and Vox developed some auxiliary issues around not being able to become Man of the House when he was like, fourteen (although he would have hated it, he and his mom just did not like each other lol). But his relationship with the new guy was more just teeth-gritted tolerance, helping Vox build up his fake-ass geniality--his dad left him with some of the deep shit. Always be on guard, always control what you can. Power is cruel--and it might make people hate you, so hide it behind a smile, but even so it's better to be hated than weak. Being ignored is starvation, being judged and found wanting is a gut wound.

this mainly manifests in the intense desire to be needed and appreciated and affirmed in image whilst having behavioral patterns that mean only people who don't know you will like you

also there's just like, the bigotry and sexism he soaked up, but that's on his surrounding environment as much as his dad

Valentino (his mom is also heavily involved in Issues, so this is partly about her)

extremely physically and verbally abusive father, solely focused on his mother when Val was very young, but turning to include Val the moment he got old enough you could look at him and go 'something vaguely queer about this kid' + he could be judged as not being sufficiently cowed and respectful, which only got worse over time bc Val could not avoid making him angry and so usually gave up on even trying

his mother only managed to get away when Val was around 13, partly spurred to desperation by his father injuring him badly enough she was terrified Val might actually get killed if she stayed any longer (said event caused a concussion that left Val with vision/memory problems and headaches his entire life)

due to things getting that bad and the health issues that were clearly left over from it, his mom was intensely guilty for not being able to protect him/get out sooner, and compensated by investing herself completely in him; babying him physically and emotionally, never setting proper boundaries, taking his side in literally everything, etc etc. this lasted until she finally hit a limit and tried to point out he had anger issues (Kind Of Like Someone We Knew) when he was in his mid-20s

output: mother is cruel? mother is unyielding? i must leave for California i can no longer thrive in this environment

but seriously, anger issues + downplaying of said issues because he's not like his dad, he gets angry for legitimate reasons, and he can be so nice! all he wants is unconditional love, loyalty and commitment that doesn't waver or END like SOME PEOPLE who are apparently just waiting to ABANDON YOU

[singthesongsofsin]

@outofradios | Guest muse!Vox can have a guest PA from a parallel reality!

It was one thing to know she was cutting it… close with the exterminations, the problem was they could start anywhere in the twenty four hour span, and it had seemed worthwhile to take the risk of making it back to the tower before it started than staying at the auxiliary studio.

And then the heavens had opened up, and well, that had answered that. But, in her defence she hadn’t died. Well, not properly. She’d know this apartment, however strangely different than the one she’s used to, beyond death. Which, considering the circumstances, is testing that.

Thirty seconds ago she’d been experiencing death by exorcist. Now she was standing in the middle of Vox’s (strange) apartment. “When the fuck did you redecorate? I think I’d remember that happening in the last 24 hours.”

[ziel-soundwave]

Dark Earths Zodiac

The Sparrow

The Sparrow is the quickest of the signs, flitting between the dangers of the forest floors and the glory of the treetops with a gleam that borders sometimes on anxious, sometimes on reckless, and forever free. Despite their love of laughter, those under the sign of the Sparrow tend to be independent to the point of accidental isolation; they crave connection, but tend to fly away at both distraction and danger of the love that comes too close to their own heart. To become close to the Sparrow must be a process of solid steadiness without the feeling of weight. A Sparrow never allows another to clip their wings. Their keen sense of observation can make the people they love feel known, and the sparrow wishes that the same eye could be turned upon them-- they both crave and flee from attention, never landing for too long where shadows might grow. Sparrows are natural scouts, exploring their worlds with an honest eagerness that sometimes pushes into obsession. They tend to keep their eyes moving-- first towards the woods, then towards the clouds, but always, always, back to the horizon; the Sparrow is a creature of the future. They long for a thousand futures all at once, but struggles with committing to a path.

Stolen From Tagged By: @galaxofmuses

Tagging: @needlenxggin , @vox-auxiliary , @atimelesslullaby , @everglow-synth

[voxiiferous]

What’s the neighborhood like?

Living Space Headcanon | @kugel-bitch

Awwww yeah! My chance to wax poetic about the Blue Light District again. This is thrilling, I love this. Also the fun benefit of having the ability to cross-reference my own hc. This gets longer than I expected so most is under the read more!

Right, so first part is just where is it? In my hc, Vox's domain is the part in blue of the following image. His portion of the Pentagram isn't tiny.

It's somewhere thereabouts to that gray dot that is his tower, and heart of the Empire. The Vogitek tower is the tallest building in the Blue Light District (BLD), and he lives on the topmost floor.

So what is it actually like? During the day, the BLD looks like most of Hell, with a few key exceptions. If most of the buildings in Hell are in some state of disrepair, with growing ears or eyes, or other mutations born of the amount of sin, then the BLD is comparatively free of that, because of how frequent construction is. In addition, while the city itself has a lot of skyscrapers, the BLD has the tallest, and the highest percentage of them. It towers above the rest of the city, and is kept in somewhat good maintenance.

Vox keeps an increasing number of architects and urban planners on his staff for that reason. A decent amount of the inspiration comes from Tokyo, where there is a limited amount of space, but a lot of people, so instead of building out, they build up. When there is a disruption in the normal flow of things, be that gang warfare or an Extermination, it tends to be the part of the city that is the quickest at recovering.

But at night...You know how New York is described as the city that never sleeps? Well down in Hell, that's only more true. The district as a whole is the most technologically advanced part of the whole city, and where new things tend to get introduced first, like the slow-going transit system. It's the part of the city Vox has the most direct control over, and where the bulk of his infrastructure and people are. It's a lot easier to do things when you and your company own everything in this whole corner of the city.

Because that's sort of the main thing, is Vox died, and decided he didn't much like the idea of suffering, so he's just done his best to recreate New York. A large part of why it's so distinctive, is that, unlike large portions of the city that have traded hands a dozen times over the last century, or somewhere that never has a permanent Overlord presence (or, Heaven-forbid, the Hellborn nobility who have never taken into account urban luxuries or population increases).

The inner reaches of the district are the most brightly lit after dark, and it's where it shines the most. There are people, music, lights. Most of the stores are open 24 hours, and it has all sorts of modern amenities, like a dozen different tech stores, convenience stores, some cafes, restaurants. The overarching colour is blue, but the closer you get to the middle, the more muddied it gets. the outer parts of the district are still well lit, but the blue is far more the staple colour. This part is more likely to have things like apartment buildings.

As for the tower itself, there is usually someone, aside from Vox there. It's the epicentre of his Empire, and while there are auxiliary studios, often for larger movies or the 666 News, the tower itself has countless meeting rooms, offices, smaller recording studios. There's places to eat, bathrooms. It is the thing that he is proudest of, and it all works efficiently. Some nights, when he can't sleep, he's liable to wander, and more than a few of his higher ranking employees are people he found working late. It's not uncommon that will be a large part of the workforce, especially if something had recently gone wrong, or if there is a big deadline coming up. A few of those and it had become worth it to invest in some space blankets and pillows, so people could sleep there, especially for people stuck over Extermination days.

An additional benefit of keeping everything largely contained, is it makes it much easier to shuffle things around if need be. If anything happens within a production, he can take over, or assign someone else, and with a limited period of adjustment, can get back on schedule, without having to travel half-way across the city, just up or down a few floors. For something like the big blockbuster movies that need more space, they don't tend to be in the tower, but anyone who deals with R&D can, musicians, smaller shoots, like gameshows or sitcoms, and the aformentioned non-show business people like lawyers and engineers can all be found.

From his penthouse, it's the streets upon streets of blue lights that he thinks of, always lit up even at the darkest, latest points of the day.

[voxiiferous]

He watches as Lucifer vanished, and not even ten seconds later Hellaina walks in, arms full of two different tablets, her cellphone and her fair share of physical papers. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” She says in greeting. “What’s the damage?” Trust his PA to be the most level-headed person in any given situation.

In response, he plays back the audio recording of Lucifer’s decree, and she listens with a pursed expression.

Everything Lucifer said may have been true a century ago, but he really should have checked back in with the whole system after Alastor came and decided to kill off most of the Overlords. No one had ever actually bothered to explain the hierarchy to him, he’d just come in a week to the slaughter and then kept going. He tugs on his awareness of the power grid. Good, all still there. The Overlords of old may have worked off an assumption of invincibility, but Vox is a paranoid, high strung bastard who spun contracts and safety nets in case something ever went pear shaped. His power, despite what Lucifer may have thought, was actually his own.

She sits in his chair, because he still hasn’t moved, and whatever professional hierarchy that may once have existed between them was long gone, as she deposits her armful of documents on his desk.

The change in rules is unfortunate, but not untenable. The Pentagram knew he could be hurt thanks to his Voxtagram posts, but they didn’t know just how much or how quickly that could all be repaired. His form was mostly mechanical, and that meant replaceable. No sins meant his connections to the other rings would be useless, but he was expecting that anyway. And no magic? He laughs. That had always been Alastor’s domain, no Vox had thrived on science and understanding in life, Hell had just made those rules a little strange but he’d never abandoned that core tenet.

“So what you’re saying is we’re fucked, but not nearly as much as he might think?” Sometimes, it feels like Hellaina can read his mind.

“Pretty much,”

She nods, pleased, and pulls up two screens, one, a running feed of the social media attention from the broadcast, the other a map of the city.

“Lucifer’s not the only person you drew the attention of with that broadcast. All our employees are standing with you, and the lobby is currently full of every creative person that seems to exist in Pentagram City. You connected with them, who knew? Anyway, they want a job.”

He nods, “Give it to them— we can use all the supper we can get.”

The map is divided into coloured districts, his, Val’s, the Cannibal Colony, all the other smaller pieces. No help from the other Overlords is unfortunate, but also not make or break, the power grid ran through the whole city, the Blue Light District was just the highlight of it all.

“We can’t let the longevity get away from us this time— gather every urban planner, architect, and engineer we can spare from the metro project, and get them working on some solutions to the food crisis. I’m thinking rooftop gardens, because we don’t have the land to sustain it on the ground." They couldn't afford to sink into comfort and ease-- not now, and not earlier.

"Get the 666 News to run an update that until further notice all phone plans are free, and replacements will be 3/4 off. Assign the new people to propaganda— tell everyone working on something right now that if they’re in any auxiliary studios to move to the tower."

And if they had a sudden influx of people there would need to be place for all of them... "You and Dia should take the spare room in mine. Anyone else that doesn’t feel safe leaving can stay. There should be bedding down in the basement.” Because with the Exterminations, it had always been a smart choice to keep everything a towers worth of people might need to survive in case of an emergency on hand. "We’re getting Pride back on our side, and smoking Gier Guld out. Send out a mass text for an opinion poll. What do the people want? The stats department should have some fun with that.

What else, what else? Internally set, external plans being made... nothing short term. "Right, make some... soup kitchens around the city. Give it a cheap entrance fee-- not for the food for the entrance to encourage them to stay longer, talking with one another. We're giving Pride dinner and a show."

Hellaina nods along, his orders already being sent out, notes kept. "It doens't matter how much money we lose to keep the city, if Gier Guld succeeds it'll all be for nought. Can't spend money if you're dead. Get Sloth on the line, I want to know how they unionized the ring."

"You want to unionize?"

He shrugs, "I've always considered it, why else do you think Vogitek's such a tempting place to work? Conditions are a fuck ton better than anywhere else int he city. Might as well make that final leap."

"Contravene the order we're not going the route of a hostile takeover, and get a message to Gier Guld drafted. It's not our first choice, but maybe show him some good old fashioned Pentagram City hospitality."

Unintended consequences.

He watches as Lucifer vanished, and not even ten seconds later Hellaina walks in, arms full of two different tablets, her cellphone and her fair share of physical papers. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” She says in greeting. “What’s the damage?” Trust his PA to be the most level-headed person in any given situation.

In response, he plays back the audio recording of Lucifer’s decree, and she listens with a pursed expression.

Everything Lucifer said may have been true a century ago, but he really should have checked back in with the whole system after Alastor came and decided to kill off most of the Overlords. No one had ever actually bothered to explain the hierarchy to him, he’d just come in a week to the slaughter and then kept going. He tugs on his awareness of the power grid. Good, all still there. The Overlords of old may have worked off an assumption of invincibility, but Vox is a paranoid, high strung bastard who spun contracts and safety nets in case something ever went pear shaped. His power, despite what Lucifer may have thought, was actually his own.

She sits in his chair, because he still hasn’t moved, and whatever professional hierarchy that may once have existed between them was long gone, as she deposits her armful of documents on his desk.

The change in rules is unfortunate, but not untenable. The Pentagram knew he could be hurt thanks to his Voxtagram posts, but they didn’t know just how much or how quickly that could all be repaired. His form was mostly mechanical, and that meant replaceable. No sins meant his connections to the other rings would be useless, but he was expecting that anyway. And no magic? He laughs. That had always been Alastor’s domain, no Vox had thrived on science and understanding in life, Hell had just made those rules a little strange but he’d never abandoned that core tenet.

“So what you’re saying is we’re fucked, but not nearly as much as he might think?” Sometimes, it feels like Hellaina can read his mind.

“Pretty much,”

She nods, pleased, and pulls up two screens, one, a running feed of the social media attention from the broadcast, the other a map of the city.

“Lucifer’s not the only person you drew the attention of with that broadcast. All our employees are standing with you, and the lobby is currently full of every creative person that seems to exist in Pentagram City. You connected with them, who knew? Anyway, they want a job.”

He nods, “Give it to them— we can use all the supper we can get.”

The map is divided into coloured districts, his, Val’s, the Cannibal Colony, all the other smaller pieces. No help from the other Overlords is unfortunate, but also not make or break, the power grid ran through the whole city, the Blue Light District was just the highlight of it all.

“We can’t let the longevity get away from us this time— gather every urban planner, architect, and engineer we can spare from the metro project, and get them working on some solutions to the food crisis. I’m thinking rooftop gardens, because we don’t have the land to sustain it on the ground." They couldn't afford to sink into comfort and ease-- not now, and not earlier.

"Get the 666 News to run an update that until further notice all phone plans are free, and replacements will be 3/4 off. Assign the new people to propaganda— tell everyone working on something right now that if they’re in any auxiliary studios to move to the tower."

And if they had a sudden influx of people there would need to be place for all of them... "You and Dia should take the spare room in mine. Anyone else that doesn’t feel safe leaving can stay. There should be bedding down in the basement.” Because with the Exterminations, it had always been a smart choice to keep everything a towers worth of people might need to survive in case of an emergency on hand. "We’re getting Pride back on our side, and smoking Gier Guld out. Send out a mass text for an opinion poll. What do the people want? The stats department should have some fun with that.

What else, what else? Internally set, external plans being made... nothing short term. "Right, make some... soup kitchens around the city. Give it a cheap entrance fee-- not for the food for the entrance to encourage them to stay longer, talking with one another. We're giving Pride dinner and a show."

Hellaina nods along, his orders already being sent out, notes kept. "It doens't matter how much money we lose to keep the city, if Gier Guld succeeds it'll all be for nought. Can't spend money if you're dead. Get Sloth on the line, I want to know how they unionized the ring."

"You want to unionize?"

He shrugs, "I've always considered it, why else do you think Vogitek's such a tempting place to work? Conditions are a fuck ton better than anywhere else int he city. Might as well make that final leap."

"Contravene the order we're not going the route of a hostile takeover, and get a message to Gier Guld drafted. It's not our first choice, but maybe show him some good old fashioned Pentagram City hospitality."

[hellscythearts]

Hard Light - Solid hologram; functions like glass. See through, shatterable. Can be used like a weapon when formed in a sharpened state. 

@rockwell-light 's AU boy because I cannot resist drawing him ✨

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

I offer you Vox and MZ as potential friends because yes--

It is not simply looking like Rock that gives the Maverick pause. "I know this one. He... is my Mate's alternate." And yet behaves nothing like the puppy that MZ had learned to adore. He only knew of this individual through the Light-bot's conversations with... an Other so far removed, it was hard to believe they were the same person.

Red optics glance away, analyzing the data retained. There is certainly not much. "...His personality is... reminiscent of... Verse? But there are still actions..." That MZ couldn't always follow, like Rock.

He thinks for a long moment. The grin that follows is immediate, fangs baring like daggers.

"I would like to see how he fares against me. Perhaps then I will decide." If he was just as fun as the vampire's own lover, maybe that could warrant some sort of further interaction.

[falze-noize]

"You know me too well." (FALZE-NOIZE HEY VOXXXX)

@vox-auxiliary

The statement shouldn’t sound so ominous coming from Ziel’s lips, but it does. Everything about this felt wrong, pricking at some long dormant instinct in the back of the of Vox’s mind.

The blue one stepped backwards, green eyes searching his companion’s face. Finding not the kind softness he knew so well, but something else. Something that made his chest tight.

Until this moment, he tried to play it off as mere exhaustion. Even an alternate of his beloved partner friend must be working hard all the time. The uniform he had trouble explaining away, but he’d hoped… judging from Ziel’s face, the former rebel had caught on to the sudden distress.

Vox wanted to say something, but failed to find his voice, lifting his hands carefully to sign instead.

You are not yourself. You need help. Let me help you.

Wrong. What was with that expression? The one of horror and fear and surprise, what was that, Vox? The man, machine, Dictator frowned, a deep, unsettled and thoughtful indentation of his lips into an almost thin line. What was wrong? What was it?

It was mostly confusion that stripped at his face, eyebrows raised, eyes wide. There was no lie in that, and it only increased in intensity at the fingers cautiously making shapes at him, talking to him. Strange. He’d given the blond the impression that he could talk if that helmet was no longer adorning his face.

Hands behind his back, posture straightening as the former Rebel leaned back, eyes wide but dull... Wait. “It’s true that I need help, but it’s more that I’m realizing I’m displaced, not that there’s something wrong with me.” This was not his Vox, after all. Still gentle, caring, stormy quiet blues, just like his Knight, but...

There’s nothing to fear here.

“What are you talking about, then?” A smile that didn’t reach his eyes, or did, but did not supply the same glowing grin that he used to do, a shadow of what it-- he-- once was. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I... am fine.” I have to be. “Because you’re here.” 

[vox-auxiliary]

A4

[[-makes guilty noises- I haven’t drawn him iN SO LONG so I cleaned up the sketch a bit and slapped some colors down because VOX MY BOY I’M SORRY.]]

[rcseburnt]

@vox-auxiliary​ | relocated here.exe 

-> following ost applies. 

oh. 

Surtr quickly responds back, hands detaching from her hip. ; Willing to prove that she’s not hostile, or planning to attack. You’ll never know on your travels.  ‘Hello to you too. Please forgive me that my sign language is rusty. ; I haven’t used it as of late.’ Violet orbs observing him, but with tact in mind. Huh, he’s... blue, but with a light hue in mind? What kind of person is Vox...? 

...Ah. Sign language? Shit, it’s been a long time or awhile since she practiced. Let’s see. It seems to be common tongue. That’s a hello right? A serious expression on her gentle facial features softens up, a firm lip frowning lightly, blatantly hiding that nervousness. Let’s see now... For now, gather information because this place is... Really colorful, to say the least. 

��May I ask where I am, mister? My name is Surtr.’