#she can come back from the dead

[mothnem]

Okay! This is based on a post where Godzilla dies instead of Mothra, and if I knew how to link posts on mobile I would.

But this is how I imagine the aftermath would be.

Monarch discovers an unknown egg, but Mothra is viciously protecting it. One day it hatches and out tumbles a baby Godzilla. Not a Rebirth of her beloved King, but an heir. However, this leads to her savagely keeping the other Titans in line... it's almost as if the gentle Queen died with her King.

Since humans were involved in the death of Godzilla, she only tolerates them now. Although there are a few exceptions. All in Monarch.

Well, for an MvK event, Mothra is out to eliminate threats to her son, Junior. Thus her attack on Kong. There is no reason for her to believe he won't harm a baby Godzilla. And MechaGodzilla? A twisted facsimile of her beloved, built on the bones of him and his greatest enemy.

Now, Junior hasn't been able use his beam yet. Which is how he got captured. In fact, that was the original reason Mothra attacked the first Apex facility. She was looking for Junior. Maddie, Josh, and Burnie find the baby Godzilla, and realize that's why Mothra is rampaging. Simmons intended to celebrate his fully functional Mecha by having it kill Junior.

So Mothra manages to beat Kong. She's slightly better off than him. But MechaGodzilla is loose now. And it has Junior as a hostage. So Mothra is trying to rescue her Godzilla Pup and... it's going.... strange. Sometimes it will try to attack her and other times it deliberately deflects the attack. Almost as if it's at war with itself. Yes. The spirits of Ghidorah and Godzilla are fighting inside. And Godzilla is encouraging his beloved to destroy this body. But there is a very big part of her that doesn't want to. He's BACK.

But Ghidorah is too, and he wants to kill the baby. Kong joins the fight, and during it, Junior finally uses his atomic beam for the first time. And charges the axe. Kong and Mothra come to an understanding, he won't hurt the Godzilla pup. And she won't try to shank him again.

But, Monarch wonders, if the Ghidorah skull is removed.... could Godzilla come back to life?

@paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 @weirdgirl92

[super-nova5045]

sylvia plath, todd anderson and virginia woolf (aka ACTUAL tortured poets) watching taylor “im breaking up with my boyfriend for his intense depression and blaming it on him, im dating a racist who enjoys watching woc being brutalized and harasses young woc artists, i sent my fans out on a hate train to attack a young woc actress for a line she had to say as part of her job to show how mentally ill her character was, im dating a maga supporter, i refuse to say anything about a current genocide despite being the most influential person in the world right now, i am a billionaire, i fly 13 minute flights and have the highest carbon emission of any celebrity, i am a known white feminist who only speaks about issues when it affects me and has constantly let my fans get away with extreme racism and even encouraged it by associating myself with known racists” swift call herself a tortured poet (her writing sounds like a bunch of thesaurus words slapped over gabba hanna and rupi kaur-esque poetry that was created purely as a trinket for an edgy pinterest board)

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Ohhhhhh!!

The Shannon saying to Eddie at the lake she thought he was someone else and Buck confusing who he has feelings for and ending up dating Tommy parallel!!!

[tornado1992]

A babyfied Tails would absolutely have a Sonic plushie, he never calms down till Sonic holds him so Amy made him his own personal Sonic to hug whenever she or Vanilla babysit him.

[s-aint-elmo]

I'm so glad I'm not the only one obsessed with the Marcille Laios Falin gang. Like they are a unit.... A team.... Even if the rest of the party fell apart they would stay together.... Idk it's just really fun to see all the different groups everyone falls into across the course of dungeon meshi and I love how you can tell that the three of them are a unit even as they are separated for most of the manga.

YEAH!!!! that day in the laughing wolf when falin first stopped marcille from perma-killing her brother that was fate in motion binding them together for the rest of their lives. (/hj but also i have a vague nebulous idea for a series of drawings of the toudens + marcille thru the years starting w the laughing wolf.) i love how we know that in both laios and marcille's ideal visions for the far future they are together with falin and that by the end they make it happen. i love that they both started off being connected only by the strength of their love for falin but eventually developed their own deep closeness that cemented their trio as a balanced whole.

i don't see laimar romantically the way i do farcille but those two for sure mean as much to each other as falin does to them. i love laios's strongest impression of marcille being the moment she gave it all to bring falin back. i love marcille speaking to laios's corpse with her cheek laid on his cold breastplate. i love laios looking out for marcille's comfort and enjoyment as the baseline for the party because she's the most expressive about her feelings. i love marcille always being the first to notice when laios is being dodgy as all hell and making him spit it out.

however it shakes out those three are family 5ever and we all know the lengths they'd go to if they were ever to be separated <333

[mc-critical]

1.06 / 2.09 (33)

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Jack au where he's a psychic who can commune with ghosts. Almost every major character from Supernatural is a ghost. Including Sam Dean and Cas. This would serve these major tennants of his relationships:

Isolated. The people Jack spends the majority of his time with are NOT part of the normal world. Sam, Dean, Cas and Mary live in a bunker and don't know how to be people. The AU hunters are literally from another world. His mom is dead. Kaia is split between realms. The only Real people he knows well are his young adult nerd friends and arguably Harper. You don't want 1/4 of your tie to reality to be a witch who wants to be Cheryl Blossom from Riverdale as her life's aspiration. That's no way to live!

Intangible. Because of Jack's immense power, he is, in a sense, untouchable. He is stopped when people hug him or push him or shoot him because he chooses to stop. There is a veil between him and them. There is also a scarcity of common ground. There is nothing else out there like him. Dean might stomp and bark and howl but, ultimately, what can he do to Jack physically? Nothing. The only power the ghosts have is emotional and social. Imagine being outcasted by the ghosts who can only see you and each other. Ouch!

Fleeting. Everyone he cares for is doomed to die. This happens even before he's born with Cas and Kelly and Mary, but also throughout his life. He both has long strings of tragedy in short periods AND he's immortal and worries about it. Loss and loniness are inevitable for him on a massive scale. Cas might claim that he'll be there with him but he dies like twice a year at least. Picture ghost!Cas midway through a reassuring speech that he's always going to be there with him fading out into the veil mid-sentence.

Guilt-ridden. Life is wasted on the living, isn't it? Youth is wasted on the young. He's got dozens of ghosts needing him to live in the way they want him to so they can feel alive again, and he's not capable of being that (literal) lifeline. He needs to learn how to say no and stick to it. He needs to learn how to live with the fact that he has to disappoint people to live well sometimes. He has to engage with the living, because the dead are going to kill him if he hangs on to them too long.

So if someone could write this devestating yet beautiful 25k+ fic for me that'd be really swell.

[thenegoteator]

👀 Happy New Year!

happy new year!!!

this was while the Ahsoka show was airing and I was feeling salty about how little Kanan came up initially. it's the "my death is unreasonably downplayed/ignored in recent star wars media" support group. but then we did get the barest of crumbs eventually so I didn't feel it was worth following through

[send me a 👀 in exchange for unposted art from 2023]

[silverthelovebug]

Redid my Brooklyn design :3

(Still under the belief that Nublar + getting jumped by Atrociraptors fucked her body up)

[hephaestuscrew]

In Ep55 A Place for Everything, when Minkowski thinks Kepler is doubting the likelihood of Eiffel still being alive after he's floated towards the star in his spacesuit, Minkowski says "Eiffel had plenty of air left, and let's not forget he survived for -" It seems pretty likely that she was about to say that Eiffel survived nearly 200 days stranded in deep space on Lovelace's shuttle. It's interesting to me that Minkowski uses that incident as evidence that Eiffel will survive this time too, because that's not really how situations like that work.

We don't know exactly how much Minkowski knows about Eiffel's time on Lovelace's shuttle, but the reality is that he survived for those 193 days due to an extremely specific combination of impressive ingenuity, incredible perseverance, access to the right resources, a fair dose of stupidity, and an extraordinary amount of sheer luck. Without just one of those ingredients, he would never have made back to the Hephaestus alive. The ingenuity and perseverance could serve him well in this situation too, but the other factors don't exactly apply in the same way.

In my view, it isn't really that Eiffel's survival on that shuttle serves as evidence of any specific attributes that will guarantee his survival this time. I think it's more that the events with Lovelace's shuttle - Minkowski thinking Eiffel was gone forever but then being miraculously reunited with him - have given Minkowski a non-specific sense of Eiffel as a person who survives, a person who ends up in nearly inescapable peril and yet somehow always escapes, a person who makes it back alive against all the odds. It's not a piece of logical practical evidence. It's just an emotional instinct that allows her to believe that she's not going to lose him, allowing her to focus on what she can do to try and find him.

Minkowski's 'Goddamn it Eiffel' when he floats towards the star in Ep53 is so much less dramatic than the way she yells his name as the shuttle drifts away in Ep28. And that's partly about what the story calls for in those moments. And it's partly about the specific situations and the agency Eiffel has had in them. But it's also that in Ep53 she already believes that he will be okay, that he'll come back. He's done it before. He'll do it again.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Fanfic idea: Nocturna, after disappearing during the crisis, wakes up to find herself in the current universe, where she spots the Red Hood, and can't help but compare him to the blood night sky she last saw, and oddly, the young Robin whom she had tried to adopt

[puhpandas]

Tony and Vanessas relationship through Gregory can be something so personal

[goldenvarlkyrae]

I did it. I just finished chapter 40 of Crooked Kingdom.

Everything is pain and I should've left at chapter 39.

[ananke-xiii]

Rowena and the thick, bloody umbilical cord between choices and faults.

In a previous post of mine I’ve explored a little bit how Mary and Kelly represent a sort of “missed opportunity” for, respectively, Sam and Jack.

At the beginning of s13 Sam resents the fact that he hasn’t been proactive in seeking to create a relationship with his mother and now that she’s (presumably) gone he doesn’t want to deal with that reality. He had wasted his second chance. Jack, on the other hand, never even had a first opportunity to begin with but, unlike Sam, has experienced a sense of unity with his mother so extreme that one of the first things that he tells Sam is that he was his mother(!!!).

S13 reinforces the Mother-Son symbolism because, after Jack’s birth, a rift is opened in space (apparently not in time?): Kelly stays (dead, rip girl I love you) on one side of it while Mary crosses it and finds herself in Apocalypse World. To make things even more clear, this is no random parallel universe: this is the alternate reality where Mary didn’t deal with Azazel. So mothers and their choices/faults are a central theme in this season. Or, well, more or less.

To complete the mothers’ trimurti or, better, tridevi we’re missing the final mother, the destroyer who is, of course, Rowena. It’s therefore quite apt that Rowena reaches her highest potential this season and even confronts Death. What motivates her in an interesting blend of (missing)love and (lacking)power. Lucifer is as part of her story as Kelly’s and Mary’s. Unlike these two, though, she doesn’t have a son who resurrects her, nor a turned-benefactor cosmic being who offers her resurrection as a gift to her son. Rowena has to resurrect herself. Not once but twice. She is, perhaps, the loneliest character in the whole series.

This is actually quite ironic because, if we look back on previous seasons, her “choice” to kill Oskar, her putative son, was what triggered the whole chain of events (the freeing of Amara first and Lucifer second) that directly link Rowena with Mary and Kelly.

It’s only natural, then, that s13 Rowena keeps representing the reversal of the Mary and Sam/ Kelly and Jack relationships because there is no son who’s looking for her, rather she is the mother who’s looking for her (dead) child. Like Sam, she also needs someone who can access another dimension to bring Crowley back but, unlike him, she’s not successful. Now, ngl, this pisses me off to no end, like of course I can understand the real reasons why Crowley couldn’t be brought back, still I kinda hate how it was narratively framed.

When, in "Funeralia", Rowena says that life is unfair she is right but not in the general, pessimistic sense of the phrase: she's right because in-universe some deaths are more important than others and people get back on board depending on whether or not they're still a role to play for them. Rowena's faith in magic is actually justified because magic is the only thing that can help her. And the tragic thing is that it's also what damns her in the process because it's the only form of power she can have access to. There are no angels or cosmic entities looking out for her. She's just... alone.

So, perhaps, it's not that I necessarily hate how her failure to bring Crowley back is described, I just see it as further proof that Rowena is the best example to show how in Supernatural the game is rigged from the beginning and we didn’t even need an interfering and pervy God to realize it. That's all we've been seeing it since S1. All those infinite, booooring talks about being good/evil or doing good/bad actually mean nothing because, at the end of the day, in this show what really matters is how useful you can be, to whom and why (and this is way less booooring, you learn a lot of interesting things about these characters if you go down this road, it's grim but it's more rewarding).

S13 is also when the final connection between Rowena and the Winchesters, Sam to be more precise, is established which is indicative of the fact that she will inevitably die. Before S13 her story was her own, after “Funeralia” it cannot be extricated from Sam’s. To some degree, it’s quite similar to what happened with Crowley and Dean. What’s more, just like Crowley’s powers and shrewdness are what really carry the plot from s6 to s12, magic and spells (and therefore Rowena’s role in the story) will be the key for many plot points from s13 to s15. But there is a big difference.

Both Crowley and Rowena’s sacrifices are described as heroic but, let’s be honest, only Rowena’s was. Crowley’s demise was a clean-up after his own mess at best. It also proved to be unnecessary. Rowena and that awful MBOL’s egg thingy would have managed to confine Lucifer, like, they actually did it. It was Crowley who perverted the spell for reasons that I personally find OOC. I would’ve liked the Crowley vs Lucifer power struggle but not the way it was done in s12 because it felt very nonsensical to me. As in: I can see you need a reason to keep Lucifer around and this is what you’ve come up with but it’s still quite illogical.

At its hidden and secret core S13 is the season of the “let’s reframe the sons’ stories and blame it on the mothers”. Just like Kelly is blamed for Castiel’s ideal vision of Jack and Mary’s "choice" is established as the most important point in the whole show, Rowena-as-Mother must face the same fate: it was her fault if Crowley, Fergus!, ended the way he ended. It’s a naaaaaaaaaaaaaah for me.

This is what we’re told in “Funeralia”:

Rowena: Oh, but it is. Death has something I want. Sam: What’s that? Rowena: My son. After you told me he was gone, how he died, I had an unexpected reaction. We had our differences, but it’s my fault he went down the path he did. I left him. Dean: We’re talking about Crowley-- demon, King of Hell? Rowena: We’re talking about Fergus-- a man abandoned and loveless, tricked by a demon, died in a gutter. He deserved better from the world. From me.

Now, just to be clear: yes, Rowena had the responsibility to do better; yes, she was the absolute worst; yes, she played no small role in her son’s story. However, I personally don’t like all these negative associations between “worlds” and “mothers” as if every fucking thing in the universe is dependent solely on them. How did we end up here? It’s almost as if absent fathers are, like, not THAT bad after all (and the show, as far as I'm concerned, ultimately approves of and absolves absent fathers). So I’m very suspicious of the way motherhood is portrayed specifically in s13 and Rowena’s attempt at redemption well demonstrates that there is reason to be so.

This dialogue in “Funeralia” confirms my gut feeling:

Sam: You know, what happened with Crowley? That wasn’t your fault. Rowena: He never had a chance. Dean: He made his choices, just like we all do. Look, every one of us has done something that we have to live with, that were trying to make up for. Every one of us. Sam: Even without all that extra juice, you’re still the deadliest witch around [Sam's flattering Rowena. He's gonna ask for her help in 3,2,1...]. Rowena: Flatterer. Sam: Yeah, well, we, um... we may need your help [Here we go!]. To save our family. To… hell, to save the world. Dean: You wanna be redeemed? This would be a pretty big step. Rowena: And do you think I still can be? Dean: Yeah, I do.

I mean, not to be rude, but who the fuck cares if Dean Winchester thinks that Rowena can be redeemed? Like, how is Rowena’s redemption (which is strictly connected to her being a bad mother and not, among other things, a zero-regret murderer, which she also happens to be, for instance) connected to saving the Winchester’s family? Don’t get me wrong, I understand that this is SPN and that Sam and Dean’s problems are Apocalypse-level problems (lol, they really did that, when I say that their story is like a cosmogony maybe I’m not that wrong) but, as I’ve said, I cannot help but notice the similarities between Rowena’s arc this season with Mary’s and Jack��s, i.e. you can be redeemed if you either do something useful for the Winchesters or... realize that it's not your "fault" that your sons suffered terribily because "choosing" to deal with Azazel was actually the right choice... for the world. How come fathers saving the world are framed as heroic while mothers actively creating worlds by making hard choices that benefit the greater good need redemption?

So to sum up: while fathers invade S13’s main storyline as solvers, restorers and fixers, mothers are the bones of the story, they carry its weight and its sins but get little if nothing in return: Kelly stays dead, Mary ends up helping out a world that absolves her of her Original Sin but that’s nevertheless a mess (you can never win lol) and Rowena can’t get her son back (but she can save Sam and Dean's family the world!). Looks good, right? Hurray mommy!

[sneezingfetishftw-fics]

Insufferable (1/7)

My sick!Vox fic is finally up, or at least part 1 is! Decided to break into what I think will be 2 chapters. Featuring an insufferable bastard, plus caretaking from the Vees.

Next chapters: 2 3 4 5 6 7

Wavs: 1 3

———————————

“Why are the lights so fucking bright in here? Are you trying to give me a headache?” Vox was often a bit of an insufferable prick, but today he was far worse than usual. His interview for Voxtech Angelic Security was just an hour away and he’d already managed to insult pretty much everyone in the room. The lights dimmed, he returned to a previous complaint. “And why haven’t you turned the AC colder already? It’s like a sauna in here!”

“The AC is already as cold as it goes, sir.”

“Then fix it! God, what am I even paying you for?” He paused, then pulled out his cell phone. “Hey Val, are you free right now? I got an employee I’d like you to knock some sense into—or rip the limbs off of, whichever you prefer. I could do it myself, but I know how much you enjoy that thing.”The employee shuddered. “Great, thanks! See you soon.”

Vox looked around. “Where is my water bottle? There should be one on the interviewing desk. Is anyone around here doing their goddamn job?” Another employee rushed over with a water bottle. “Finally.” He took a sip and immediately grimaced. “Where did you get this? Normal water doesn’t scrape my throat like that! Disgusting.” He threw the water bottle aside, pausing only to make sure the lid was on first.

He took a deep breath, which immediately triggered a coughing fit, his voice crackling like a broken speaker. His screen went grey and fuzzy, static flaring with each cough. “Who did the last maintenance on the filtration system?” A sheepish woman stepped forward. “Fix it! Actually, no. Get out. You’re fired. The air is so thick in here I can hardly breathe.” She hung her head and wandered off. It wasn’t like she was the first to be fired on a whim, and at least Vox didn’t literally tear people apart. “I’ll take a look at it along with the AC, then, sir,” the employee from earlier offered.

“You’d better. But don’t think that’s enough to save you,” Vox said, standing so close the employee could hardly hear anything over the fan. “Val’s still on his way.” The employee gulped.

Valentino began shivering the moment he stepped in the door, but he ignored that and made a beeline for Vox. “Where’s the victim?” he asked with a grin.

Vox pointed to the man cowering in the corner. “He won’t fix the AC.” Val nodded, still shivering. “He says it’s already as cold as it can go, but I’m boiling here!” Val raised an eyebrow at that. A loud whirring started as Vox’s fans kicked in.

Val put a hand on Vox’s forehead, and jerked it away almost immediately. “Amorcito, you’re incredibly hot!”

“Save it for later, Val,” Vox chuckled.

“No, I mean it’s hard to believe how much you’re overheating. And in a freezing room, no less. I thought my hand was going to burn!” Vox crossed his arms and shook his head. “I mean it, Vox, you’re obviously running a fever!”

“Shut up. I’m fi… hi…” his screen flickered with each hitch. “Hi’tzzzcht! Fine.”

“Sir?” The employee raised a finger tentatively, regaining some boldness now that neither of them was ripping him apart. “One of the lights just broke.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me? Just fix it! Ugh, it’s a wonder anything gets done around here.” He gave a long sniff, trying to stave off the buzzing tickle. “And send a cleaning crew in. It’s way too du… huh… huh… hut’TZZZZSHT! Dusty in here.”

“We just cleaned yesterday…” the employee said weakly, trying not to look at the speaker that had just popped.

“I didn’t ask you when the last cleaning was, I asked you to clean the damn studio! Now get on with it before I change my mind and let Val rip your arms off.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” The employee practically ran off to begin his tasks as Val gave a toothy grin, looking menacing despite the intense shivering.

“There you go. I’ll be back here for the sound check. And this place better be fucking spotless.”

Vox and Val walked out the door. “I’ll catch you at the penthouse,” Vox said, activating his teleportation powers. He only made it a few feet. “Hhh’dzzzzcht!” The hallway lights flickered.

“How about we walk together?” Val offered, wrapping his arm around Vox. Vox sighed, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. Repeatedly teleporting a few feet at a time sounded even more annoying than walking. While they walked, Val pulled out his phone with his free hand to text Velvette. “Meet at the penthouse ASAP.”

Velvette almost dropped her phone when she saw the pair of them walk through the door. “Walk” was actually a bit of an overstatement. Vox was practically staggering, leaning heavily on Val for support. His screen was dimmed, except for a bright spot in the center where his nose would be, if he had one. His fans were still whirring loudly. His normally immaculate suit was wrinkled, as if he’d crumpled in on himself repeatedly. The man was, quite obviously, a mess.

Velvette stared in silence for a moment. “Wow. He really does look awful, doesn’t he?”

Vox glared. “I’m fine. I’m just taking a quick break before the studio’s ready for my interview. Those morons still have a lot to set up.” The pair stared at him.

“Um, Vox? You sure now is the best time for an interview?” Velvette asked.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, his hypnotic eye swirling so slowly it might as well be a broken Ferris wheel.

“Right,” Velvette said, rolling her eyes as Vox’s screen flickered again. “Totally fine, and definitely not about to sneeze.”

“I’m not going to… hih’tzzzzch!” He opened his mouth to protest more, but no sound came out. Damn it, were his audio drivers glitching too? Or was it just his vocal cords? He smacked the side of his head with a grimace. “The interview has to be today. If I delay it, it’ll look like we’re hiding something.” Thank god that worked. Vox without his voice was… well, he really didn’t want to think about that.

Velvette raised an eyebrow. “You literally just smacked yourself in the head cause you couldn’t talk. You really think you’re in a good state to be giving an interview?”

Vox’s screen brightened for a moment. “I’m fine! It’s fixed now.” His screen dimmed again, then started flickering. “I’m perfectly heal… heh… hhh… healthy! Just let me go to the godda… ehh… ahh… hah’TZZZZSHT! The goddamn interview.” Valentino’s phone instantly shut off. Velvette, seeing this, clutched her phone tightly to her chest.

Val tried turning his phone back on, but it was unresponsive. “You broke my phone, Vox. You broke my fucking phone! What else are you gonna break if you go back in there?”

Vox frowned. Loath as he was to admit illness, it really was in his best interest to minimize property damage. Especially with a live audience.

“I’ll do the interview,” Velvette offered.

Vox gave a laugh that quickly turned into a coughing fit, his screen a sputtering mess of static again. “No offense, Velvette, but I’m pretty sure you’re not familiar with the ins and outs of the system.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re not recognizing you don’t have a lot of options. Would you rather send Valentino?”

The other two recoiled at the suggestion. “God, no!” Vox replied. “Ugh, I guess if you really want to, go knock yourself out. My notes are on that tah… hhh… ahh… hah… hah’TDZZZCHT! Tablet.” Said tablet was now stuck in bluescreen. “Shit.” He rubbed his aching head, trying to think.

“Are the notes backed up like the rest of your files?” Vox nodded, not even trying to speak this time. “I can pull it up on my phone, then. I’ve got this. Backbone of the Vees, remember? You just stay here and get some rest,” she said, blowing a kiss as she left.

Velvette strutted out the door, taking with her the responsibility that had been keeping Vox together, and it was like a switch had been flipped. Vox immediately plopped himself down on the couch, limbs dangling limply. “Everything huuuurts, Val.”

“I know, Amorcito, that’s why I’m here.” He gently stroked Vox’s arm. “Now, is it really everything? Or can you be a bit more specific so I can actually help you?”

Vox’s mouth moved, but no words. A frown. A throat clearing sound. More mouth movement, still no words. A deeper frown. A self-inflicted smack on the side of the head. Still no words. The fans kicked into high gear as Vox was about to spit steam out of his head.

“Shh, gentle, Voxy. Let’s try not to blow out the power grid again, hm?” Val patted Vox’s screen. “I’ll get you something for your throat.” He searched through the fridge for some Gatorade. Electrolytes had to do something for an electric being, right? In the absence of any speech from Vox, the fans were even more noticeable. Better grab a cold compress from the freezer too, then. He placed the cold pack on Vox’s screen and handed him the bottle. Vox took a sip and shook his head. His voice still failing him, Vox made images appear on the screen. Val blinked, trying to figure out what he was looking at.

“Something wrong with the drink?” A nod. “Tastes bad?” Head shake. Val tried to think what could possibly be wrong with a drink. “Too liquidy?” Vox rolled his eyes. “Wrong color?” A facepalm. “Uh… too cold?” Vigorous nodding, and then a wince and a dizzy expression. “I got it. Just rest here, Vox. I’ll find you something.”

Val returned a few minutes later with a steaming mug of tea. Vox’s screen was dim and pale, the colors washed out. His weak fingers could barely grasp the handle of the mug. “Oh, Voxy, you poor thing,” Val said, his wings wrapping around Vox for support. The steam from the drink got into Vox’s vents and his screen started flickering. Val noticed immediately and set the mug on a nearby table, holding Vox through the buildup.

“Hhh… hhhh… hhh… hhht’dzchhht! Hhhh’zzzzch! Hhh’ZZZZZSHT! Htchh’RRRRGZZZZZZT! Ugh.” The demon clawed at his throat, then paused in realization. “Fucking hell that hurt!” He winced. “Talking hurts.” Still, better to have a functioning voice, he supposed. He gestured to the mug, and Valentino handed it to him. He took a sip, grimaced, and then finished the rest of the mug in one gulp. Val surveyed the room and realized that a few of the TV screens were out. “Let’s get you into bed, hm?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “Not like that! Unless you want to, of course…” he added, licking his lips. Vox shook his head, exhausted. Val led Vox to the bedroom, the TV clinging hard to the moth as he took a few shaky steps. Val paused, then nodded to himself. He hoisted Vox over his shoulder, ignoring the spluttering protests. “Amorcito, you can barely walk. Let me carry you for a bit.”

Vox huffed, and Val felt the static shock. “You could at least have the decency to carry me like your partner instead of, I don’t know, a corpse?”

Val chuckled. “Have you seen yourself, darling? You practically are a corpse at this point.” Still, he switched to bridal carry.

After what felt like an eternity, dragged out by Vox’s complaining that he was on death’s door, they finally reached the bed. Val laid Vox down and sat next to him. “Now then, does everything still hurt? What can I get you?”Vox’s lips moved silently, then rapidly into what Val assumed to be a string of curse words. Hard to tell without audio. Val sighed. “You really are feeling awful, aren’t you?” Vox nodded. Val stared at Vox for a while until the moth’s singular brain cell finally came up with an idea. He blew a puff of smoke in Vox’s face. Vox flinched, and his screen flickered rapidly. “Hhh… hih… hhhh’dzzzzzzcht! Hih’tzzzzsh! Hah’TZZZZZCHT! TZZZSH! Tzzzsch’TZZZZZST’dzTZZZZZSSHHT! What the fuck, Val?” He rubbed his throat. “Oh. Uh… thanks, I guess? I don’t know. That fucking sucked.”

“If you’d rather not repeat that, then I suggest you get your words out now before you lose your voice again.”

Vox scowled, but he knew it was a valid point. “I just… I’m sore all over. It’s not fair! What did I do to deserve this?” Val raised a finger. “Besides everything that got me into hell.” Val shrugged. “Ugh… my throat hurts, my head hurts, all my muscles ache, there’s this constant buzzing in the back of my head that won’t go away, everythig is blisterigly warmb whatever I try… oh for fugck’s sake, I get congestiod dnow too? Ughhhh…” He groaned and rolled over, faceplanting into the bed.

Val tutted sympathetically. “You never do anything half-assed, do you?” Vox nodded, dragging his screen across the blanket. “Vox, if you’re feeling so warm, why are you still wearing all those clothes?” A pause. Vox wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “There’s no image you need to keep up right now, Vox. Let’s get you comfortable.” Vox sat up and let Val get to work. The crumpled suit was set on a nearby chair. The sweater and shirt were pulled off and tossed to the same chair, Vox dropping his arms instantly the moment he no longer needed to put in the energy to keep them up. The shoes were removed and the pants taken off and folded up with care. As soon as it was done, Vox collapsed face down into the bed again, breathing heavily from the effort.

“You said you’re sore all over, would you like a massage, Amorcito?” A thumbs up. Val got up to find the massage bar. They’d found that using a more solid form helped avoid any accidents… they did NOT need a repeat of the time poor Vox got massage oil stuck in his vents. Val began massaging Vox’s arms, but paused when he felt Vox’s shoulders shudder.

“Hhhh’dzzzzzzchmp!” The sound was muffled into the bed. Vox slowly dragged himself up until he was facing Val. “Hit’chZZZZZZZCHT!” Sparks flew from Vox’s screen and landed on Val’s arm.

“Keep your sparks to yourself, Vox!” he said, wincing at the static shock. “Hmm… that might explain the electronics failures…”

“Sorry, Val.” He said, rubbing his screen. “Wasd’t expectig it to comb that fast.” He gave a long sniff. “Hhhhh’dZZZZZZT!” He pointed at the massage bar. “Can you put that away? I think the scent is too strong right now, my sensors must be acting up.”

Val switched to an unscented massage bar and resumed the massage. A few soft moans from Vox let Val know that his attempts were effective. Eventually the sound dropped off entirely, except for the occasional sneeze, which Val assumed meant the video demon’s voice had given out again. After a while, there was no sound at all except for congested breathing. Val gently turned Vox on his back, revealing closed eyes. Val breathed a sigh of relief. The man was much less exhausting when he was unconscious. Maybe now both of them could get some rest.