#what i'm talking about here is rather a sense of 'i'm basically fine i'm a decent person with some flaws who is ultimately well-meaning

[flameswallower]

I was just about to type something about how occasionally I manage to find a "cool zone" of ego where nothing can make me feel really bad about myself, but I also have a realistic sense of my own importance/relevance/competence and an ability to laugh at my mistakes. I was going to frame this as a happy medium.

Then I realized that actually, being insecure and prone to feeling bad about myself also tends to make me a lot more prone to bouts of arrogance or grandiosity or not being able to laugh at (or own up to) my mistakes because they feel like a super big deal, humiliating and potentially life or relationship or "career" ruining. Just as outsize feelings of "I'm the worst person in the world" and "everything's always my fault" are self-obsession and grandiosity in disguise, I think a lot of problems we often attribute to people thinking too highly of themselves or being too confident/secure in their abilities and ideas are actually, or at least can be, insecurity and self-hatred in disguise.

I dunno, man. Liking yourself and valuing yourself and seeing yourself as a lovable person is good. I don't think there's actually much, if any, danger that you'll accidentally like yourself too much and thereby cause problems. I think the more you like yourself, the easier it is to be considerate towards other people and act in accordance with what you value and not freak out every time you make a mistake or discover you were wrong about something or get told to change some of your behavior.

[pineconepie]

More Ellis <3

TW: Drunk Reader, party, arguments, forced infantilization, parental yandere, vomiting

Ever since the incident, you had basically started living with Ellis more than in your own dorm.

It's not... awful, per se, just a little awkward. He's always there, helping you with your homework and giving you tips, cooking balanced meals for you, and even decorated your room to your interests. You find it a little strange how it seems like he knows more about you than you told him, but you shrug it off as a coincidence.

"Where on earth are you going to?" Ellis asks with crossed arms. "It's nearly midnight, do you realize how dangerous it is to be out at this time?"

You open your mouth to tell him its a party, but you know he'd be against it. He's against most things, you've come to find out. "I'm going to study with some friends."

"At midnight?" he repeats incredulously. "No, no way. You're staying right here."

"But they're expecting me—"

"You don't need to worry about that. Call them up and cancel your plans," he instructs you. You don't move an inch, giving him a pleading stare instead. His gaze sharpens on you. "Now, (Y/n). I'm not changing my mind on this. You're under my roof, so you'll live by my rules."

"I don't even want to live under your roof!" you exclaim. "It's been, like, a week since I got beat up, and I'm fine now! I don't need to stay here anymore."

The past few times you had mentioned going back to your dorm, he insisted it wasn't safe. The only reason you never argued was because you didn't want to risk upsetting your own professor.

Not that you think he'd start abusing his status by marking your grades low or anything, but it's just not worth the risk sometimes.

Ellis has the audacity to look offended. "So you're telling me you'd rather endanger your own life than stay here with me? The person who gives you free clothes, free food, helps you with your school work..."

"That isn't true. I appreciate all that, really, but I also think I've recovered enough to not have to rely on you every day. I can take care of myself just fine now. You aren't my dad."

Maybe it came across as slightly rude, but it's true, nonetheless. You needed to get that point across. Hopefully it makes some sort of sense in his stubborn head.

In that moment, Ellis stiffens. "Go to your room." He points at the bedroom you're occupying.

"No! I'm a grown adult who can make their own decisions, whether you agree with it or not."

"Well, maybe you need to start acting like a grown adult, then!" he scolds.

"How can I when you're the one treating me like a baby?! Every day you coddle and fuss over me like I'm made of glass, then wonder why I might be upset! Do you really blame me for trying to sneak out just to do something normal?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me. I'll give you five seconds to march to your room. I'm not kidding."

"And what? You're going to ground me like you're my dad?"

"One."

Your breath catches in your throat.

"Two."

You blink.

"Three."

You consider staying put.

"Four."

Sighing in defeat, you spin on your heel and stomp to the bedroom you've become familiar with, then slam the door shut behind you. There, you collapse onto your mattress with an aggravated noise. What's his problem?

No, you refuse to miss that party, even if it kills you.

This is the first time your friends actually invited you to something in a while. Maybe they'd actually start talking to you again. But you know that won't happen if you don't show up.

So, you wait. And wait. And wait until an hour goes by.

Peeking out the doorway to make sure he's gone, you slowly creep past Ellis's room, holding your shoes in hand. Luckily, he must already be in bed, because there's not a sound.

Your heart races with adrenaline as you step through the front door, put on your shoes, then lock the door behind you with the key he gave you. The breeze is cold and biting, but you trudge ahead.

Finally, freedom.

...

An hour passes. Ellis can't sleep, he's been trying to read, but the argument with you has been in his mind on loop.

Sighing to himself, he closes his book and heads over to your room.

"(Y/n)?" he whispers, gently rapping his knuckles against the wooden door. No answer. "Sweetie, are you awake? I'm sorry for getting upset..." No answer. He hesitates, then opens the door, just to make sure you're okay.

But when he turns on the light, no one is laying in bed.

Fury runs through him, hot and white, then fizzles out into panic and fear.

"No, no, no." He looks inside your closet, nothing. Bathroom, nothing. The whole place, absolutely nothing.

He doesn't want to think you deliberately disobeyed him, but what other choice is there? You sneaked out. Who knows what kind of danger you're putting yourself in? He doesn't want to imagine you getting beat up again... he still feels guilty for being responsible the last time, even if it is what was necessary.

That's what he tells himself, anyway.

He picks up his phone and angrily finds your contact name. You're the only person he ever really bothers texting or calling anyways, he typically hates both phone calls and texts.

The phone rings as he paces back and forth.

No answer. He grits his teeth and tries again, only for it to lead him to voicemail.

"(Y/n)... come back home, please. Or at least call me to let me know you're okay."

...

You're a few drinks in already, and so drunk you feel sick. You glance down at your phone. You have five missed calls, and several texts.

Ellis: Please come home

Ellis: It isn't safe out at these times, sweetie. I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you.

Ellis: I'm sorry for snapping earlier.

Ellis: Please call me back when you can, (Y/n).

Ellis: Just let me know you're alright.

Ellis: Don't ignore me.

Ellis: If you come home now, I won't say a word about this incident. We can put it behind us, okay?

Ellis: Come home.

You almost want to text him back, tell him you're okay and you just wanted a break for one night. He's been a bit too stifling lately, it feels like he's trying to take over every aspect of your life. At first, it seemed sweet that he genuinely cared enough to help you when you needed it, but you can take care of yourself. You just don't understand why he doesn't believe that.

"Hey, (Y/n)," one of your friends say, but they don't seem very enthusiastic.

"Hey! It's been so long since we talked," you say. "You haven't been responding to my messages."

Their expression falls. "Sorry. Look, uh, this might seem a bit... sudden, but... we should stop hanging out." They clear their throat awkwardly. "It's been fun, don't get me wrong, but things are different now."

Your face scrunches up. "What? Why? Did I do something?"

"Not exactly." They rub the back of their neck. "We tried to explain to him, but he was insistent and, honestly, kinda scary—"

"What? Who?"

They click their tongue, annoyed. "Your dad. I wish you would've told someone that your dad is literally one of the professors."

"My dad?" you gawk at them. "Ellis?"

"Who else?" They shake their head. "Told us that we were all just getting in the way of your studies. And threatened our college admission and grades if we ever associated with you. Soo... yeah. We can't talk anymore. Sorry about that."

Once they finish that spiel, they hurry away and mingle with some other people. You stand alone in shock, mind reeling and thoughts fuzzy.

You drink more, just because you don't want to think about it for too long.

...

Ellis isn't stupid. He knows you were most definitely lying about the studying thing, especially considering the threats he had given to your little friends.

So of course, he assumes you went to a party. He's disappointed and beyond angry still, but his panic comes first.

It doesn't take him long to hunt down the house the party is happening in. He sees people stumbling around everywhere. How careless.

After a bit of searching for the front door, he slams the front door open and glances around. Loud music and the stench of alcohol immediately hit him in the face. People stare at him in surprise, but they seem too intoxicated to really care.

Some recognize him as a professor, and shrink back nervously. One even pulls a cigarette out of his mouth, thinking he would scold him.

He stomps further into the house, looking around frantically for any signs of you.

And lo and behold, he sees one of your friends, staring at him in shock. "You." He glares down at them. "Where is (Y/n)? Don't you dare lie to me."

"I didn't invite them!" they quickly blurt. "But... uh, I think they're in the bathroom, throwing up. They're super drunk."

Ellis huffs angrily, storming off towards the bathroom. He twists open the knob to see you, exactly as they said. Throwing up in the toilet. His eyes soften. Oh, you poor baby, he thinks. The things he does for you.

He kneels on the floor next to you and pushes your hair away from your face. Then, he reaches over and flushes the toilet once you finish emptying your stomach of whatever alcohol you consumed.

"Oh, honey." He dampens a paper towel and wipes your mouth and nose with it. "You should've stayed home where it's safe," he sighs. "But I'll take care of you. Just like always." He strokes the back of your head affectionately. "Do you think you'll vomit again?"

"I don' think so," you answer after hiccuping. He nods, stands up, then offers his hands for you. You take them and try to pull yourself up, but it proves to be difficult, especially with how much your vision swims.

"It's okay, I got you," he says, taking one of your arms and swinging it over his shoulder. Together, the two of you walk out of the bathroom. "Deep breaths, okay? There you go."

"Aww, (Y/n), is your dad taking you home?" one of the party-goers drunkenly mocks you. "Poor baby needs their dada?"

Usually Ellis is immediate to step in, giving a glare or even yelling, but he doesn't say anything. Even though you're too drunk to think, you still have enough of a mind to know why. He wants other people to think that. He likes being thought of as your parent, having you need him like a baby. That much is obvious.

Still, you're drunk and humiliated. You can't even keep track of your surroundings well enough.

"If this little party isn't wrapped up in an hour, I can promise the consequences won't be small," Ellis hisses. He specifically eyes the several students with beers in their hands, who he knows for a fact can't be legally drinking.

With that, the party dies down quickly. He gives everyone at the party a nasty glare before leaving with you still clinging onto him.

"How could you be so irresponsible?" he quietly chastises you, helping you in the front seat of his car. You stumble several times, but he's always there to steady you. Once you buckle in, he gives your arm a light squeeze. "You made me worry sick over you." He walks over to the drivers side and hops in. As soon as he does, he turns the heat on for you. You're grateful for it. He notices you shivering, too, so he takes off his sweater vest and drapes it over you like a blanket. "Here, kiddo."

"I'm sorry," you mumble. "I jus' wanted to hang out with my friends."

"They aren't your friends. They said so themselves, remember? Those ingrates don't even deserve your time. Do you know how many of them never lifted a finger to defend you when Brock and his group hurt you? Never once bothered trying to talk to you for the month you spent with me?" he snaps.

You visibly recoil.

Something about this conversation reminds you of one you had with them less than an hour ago, but you can't remember what words were exchanged.

"Yeah..." you trail off sadly.

Ellis's expression softens when he sees you upset. "Honey... its okay, though. You have me."

"That's it, though. Just you," you mutter.

He flinches as if he was physically wounded by your words. "...that's not enough?" he asks after a few seconds. "I take care of everything for you. And love you, and hold you, and make your meals..." He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. You're... you're just drunk. This is why I hate alcohol. It reeks and it causes horrible conversations like these."

Ellis focuses on driving and doesn't speak another word the entire ride back home. But his hands grip the steering wheel harder than usual.

Once the two of you arrive home, Ellis helps you to your bed. He even gets some medicine for you to help your queasy stomach and pounding headache, as well as water to cure the dryness in your mouth.

"Now, get some rest," he sternly instructs you. "Because we are going to have a long discussion tomorrow."

"W-wait..." you slur. "Please don't leave me alone."

The man blinks a couple of times, surprised. "Alright. Alright, sweetie. You want Dad to sleep here tonight?" You nod, mind too hazy to think about his words. He tuts lovingly. "Alright. Move over, then."

You scoot aside as instructed, curling up on one side of the bed. You watch tiredly as Ellis kicks off his shoes and takes his glasses off. Then, he goes to your side of the bed and crawls under the covers with you.

"There." He shifts closer and wraps his arms securely around your midsection. "That better?"

"Mhm. Thank you."

You feel warm, safe, and content being held by Ellis. You close your eyes, feeling fatigue catch up with you. His hand soothingly runs up and down your back, easing you to sleep. It makes your eyelids heavy, luring you into slumber.

You'll definitely be grounded tomorrow, but for now, he savors this sweet moment between what he believes to be father and child.

[lustlovehart]

Thoughts on either tweel eating a rival? Saw some fanart of og school boy Jade making a rival disappear the 'humanitarian' way and I guess they are basically sea predators so why not. It's not polite but neither is NRC so....

warnings: Human eating, courting, kissing, blood

Oh yeah, they 102% would eat a rival, not even would, they probably ALREADY HAVE. Not even just a romantic rival either, maybe a friend who walked too close to shore, a coworker who sailed alone on their seas, or a stranger who lingered too close and found themselves face to face with giant serpents and their unending appetite.

Their methods of feasting are definitely different, though.

Floyds meals are messy, they're messily consumed, or even WHOLLY consumed, with no trace of their existence. If there are any remains, they're haphazardly thrown the moment Floyd grows bored of them.

Right after, he'll look for you with a clear hint of mead and clothing threads stuck in his teeth. Questioning him will do no good, as he'll either tell you in his sing-songy voice to forget about that and come with him, or let his eyes fall and look at you with a clear emotion that say 'Don't ask'. You don't have the courage to tell him to wipe his lips when he kisses your cheek like an overjoyed boyfriend.

... and you don't think you can wipe the crimson off of your cheek, he might ask you if you hate him. Or, rather than incur his disappointment, he'll lean in with a soft smile, brushing hair, or maybe dirt from your face. It's so gentle you forget about the crime for a moment.

"Do you want me to kiss your lips instead shrimpy?" ... When you're done, your mouth will be stained with red too, and it's then you remember, why he's not hungry anymore.

Jade, however, eats his enemies like fine dining. Certain parts are left untouched as he uses a piece of a coral-like knife and cuts precise pieces of flesh. It's horrible, but he uses the entire human, not daring to waste a pristine ingredient.

When you see him on the beach, you assume he's simply setting up a table from memory. He'll turn to you with a smile on his face, his tail hitting the water once and having the ocean splash you. His face is clean, the typical facetious smile planted on his face.

He'll ask you to join him, gesturing to the spot on the sand in front of him, two plates set up on the ground, with a single covered platter. It's... mundane, normal as if he's simply a man who's asked you to dinner. Perhaps it's the single candle light that illuminates your surroundings at night, but a sense of encroaching dread surfaces.

"What... What's under the cover...?" A part of you hopes he'll pull the lid up and see seashells, but you remember who it is that sits on the other side.

"Hm? Well... It's only appropriate, after all, it's dinner time." His part-bone arm reaches out, slowly lifting the lid before you slam it down. "Oh? I thought you wanted to know? And I worked so hard on this for you, you'll make me sad...-"

You successfully stop his attempt at guilt-tripping you, your head resting on his cold shoulder from jumping over the plate and holding him. Your body blocks off the platter, the only thing you allow for his arms to wrap around, being you.

"I'm not hungry, Jade." Momentarily, he's shocked, but he's eager to hold you close to him. He'll turn his head, sharp teeth leaning into your earlobe as he whispers.

"If you're here, I don't think I'll be hungry. Well... not for now at least." you bring your head up to look him in the eyes before you feel lips graze the corner of your mouth, sharp teeth grazing you.

...

You taste iron, but you're not sure if it's from you, or his meal.

Afterwards, after drying your clothes from water and sand, when you return talk of a coworker of yours reaches your ears. He had disappeared after hunting smaller monsters in the rivers connected to Octavinelle.

...

The same coworker he saw you talking to.

[consultingfujoshi]

everyone else is giving their take on this so I feel as if I should too. I am angry about burt and irving now having two almost-kisses and them still finding a reason for them to never close that gap. like, yea it makes narrative sense that neither of those scenes contained a kiss, it's compelling even, if I view it objectively I actually love that because I care deeply about these characters and want them to be written realistically and with nuance.

but I am not gonna sit here and pretend that I'm fine with how this compares to the straight couples that have had so much more this season. if burt and irving's story existed in a bubble where markhelly and all the rest didn't serve as points of comparison I don't think I'd be half as upset at the way this ended. I'd be able to appreciate the impact of their being unable to kiss TWICE now in different universes because of forces outside of their control without looking across at every. single. other. couple. who are all straight. and going. why do they get that and we don't. why is it only the gay couple that have to be written "realistically" where they're still not ready to kiss. why can allowances and indulgences be made for dramatic effect for EVERYONE except them. I don't know if it's intentional homophobia, or queerbait, or if they're really just that squeamish about the idea of two old men kissing each other, but the double standard is there no matter the motivation behind it. and when you combine that with irving's innie being effectively killed off four episodes into the second season, and now his outie potentially written out of the show too, all I'm saying is it becomes hard to give them the benefit of the doubt.

we're all aware john turturro may not return for another season and that's why they felt the need to wrap up irving's two storylines somehow so they weren't left on a loose end should he decide not to come back, and I get that, and I'm glad there was some sense of finality to it, but then why not allow us just this one thing. just one moment of indulgence. because it might actually be our, and their, last chance. would it have killed them to just let them kiss this one time if there was a chance we'd never see them again, a chance they'd never see each other again. the truth is, no, it wouldn't have been hard at all. but they still made the decision to withhold that. because they can't allow us or them even the most basic kindness whilst handing the straight couples everything on a silver platter.

I'm not gonna get into the pacing issues of their relationship this season, how we jumped from them shyly asking each other out on another date to burt carrying out the hit on irving, how there feels like a missing scene in between those two events, because that relates to a wider problem with the structure of the show itself that is beyond the scope of this criticism. but i think it's telling that rather than giving us that extra time with them, they took a whole episode away from our main cast where even cobel got to kiss a one off male character that we will never hear from or see of again, and the supposed flagship romance of season 1 can't even get that. at what point am I allowed to call that thing in the corner that looks, acts, and talks like a duck a fucking duck?

if it sounds like I'm bitter, and jealous, it's because I am. because whether or not the double standard is intentional or not, it's still there. and I really did think a show that was able to present such special, compelling, meaningful queer characters would be a little more self aware about the message they're sending. and it fucking sucks that this has become just another show where I have to swallow my frustration and accept that they're not writing this for me. I and my fellow queer audience will never be the priority. even now we are still begging for scraps

[undead-cypress]

Some more shitposts and Jpn new game + notes

I THINK (because it's not like I have a script nor am I particularly observant) this miiiiight be the first instance of a personal pronoun? 自分 is a pretty impersonal one though, which makes sense in this context because this is the scene announcing Will's entry into the tournament. The dialogue choices here are, in response to (paraphrased because I don't remember it exactly) "Entry to the tournament? With this runt?"

> It's me who's entering

> not a runt

> don't answer a question with another question

I picked "not a runt" because it is endlessly amusing to me how obviously Will was supposed to be even younger. We're not a baby :((( not born three weeks ago :((((

(please ignore how, in my blazed out state, took me several minutes to try to type in "Jingles" - long story - on the PS4 while still forgetting to add the " to シ so now I'm stuck with "Shingles" for a mc name. Oops. The Japanese PS4 keyboard mapping is NUTS. You know how they put the English keys in alphabetical order?? When you're wired to use QWERTY?? It's kinda like that. It's hard when you're high.)

In other pronoun stuff, all the street vendors (not shop keepers though) refer to the MC as お兄さん, even though they're all universally WAY older. It's more of an informal way to show deference to a potential customer, a rank thing rather than an age or family thing.

Brigitta's pronouns for her dog are basically it/it's 😂. Mostly because she refuses to give it a name, so she refers to the dog as コレ, コイツ, etc

I think it's funny this is Strohl's default mode. I never noticed until now, when one of the ranked events had him going up to the landlord guy like this and for a second I wondered if we're supposed to interpret it as "we saw you across the street and we hate your vibes". But nah that's just his normal. Nobody else's idle pose has clenched fists, this is excellent. I've said it before but his line deliveries are a bit more aggro/seething in Japanese and maybe that's why I'm noticing.

Also, Rangief calls him Leon-bocchama. While "bocchama" translates to "young lord" it's pretty rare and embarrassing to call anyone over the age of eh.... 14 that. It does make the sub theme of Strohl's ranked episodes of coming to age as an adult come through a bit more when Rangief drops it at the end. Also it's funny. The English version places more emphasis on worthiness and responsibility rather than the growing up aspect, which I think is fine tbh because that IS the main thing. Age hierarchies matter less in the anglosphere and it would just be kind of baffling without explanation on why East Asia is obsessed with age hierarchies. And just hierarchies in general.

(it's Confucius's "trickle down ethics"'s fault)

Oh yeah the "my kind of strange" line everyone keeps screenshotting is less interesting in Japanese, it was something like "we'll get along well".

Fabienne is much more forceful sounding in Japanese and her tone was pretty scary at times. In English she comes off as more tired, but in Japanese it sounds much more like she's kind, yes, but she will beat you down with a stick with no hesitation if she must.

Bardon doesn't have an equivalent accent in Japanese and I'm not immediately picking up anything special about the way he talks. Aww. He does still sound very much like a hapless goober though.

Gloddel is even hammier, if that was possible. My god, this is what every middle schooler going through anime phase wishes they sound like.

Neuras has an accent though! He's very much still a wacky scamp.

I kept joking that Hulkenberg is horse coded so my friend made her a horse in miitopia. Then the Mind Horse (draw a horse without using references) challenge started trending again on Bluesky, and people wanted to see my mind horse. Unfortunately my mind horse is just a regular lookin horse and not very funny, so I drew Hulkenhorse instead

You're welcome?

[stargirlie-sharon]

my brain: hey

me: what

my brain: what if you made headcanons about team prime with a chronically ill/disabled human

me: THAT'S GENIUS LEVEL SHIT LET'S DO IT

Team Prime taking care of a chronically ill/disabled human

Fandom: Transformers Prime

Ft. Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Arcee (+ Jack), Bumblebee (+ Raf), Bulkhead (+ Miko).

Content: Headcanons, platonic comfort, fluff. Reader's illness isn't directly stated. Mentions of mobility aids, flare-ups, pain/discomfort (caused by said chronic illness). Reader is implied to be an ambulatory wheelchair user. Dividers by dollywons.

A/N: this was very self indulgent (and comforting to make), i have plague psoriasis and god it is not easy living with it with all the flare ups, skin issues, psoriatic arthritis... >:( i'm doing a lot better now, i first wrote this while i was having a pretty bad flare-up. as of now i'm fine, but even now it still scars me

to ya'll who are suffering too from a chronic condition, i want you to know that you're loved, and your illness doesn't define who you are. you're not alone. this journey won't be easy, but there will be others willing to support and share that burden with you. take care! <3

tfp banners made by me in picsart! i would prefer if you didn't use these, since i have made them specifically for these headcanons, but i can't exactly stop you, can i? lol. just don't claim as your own

soft autobot hijinks ensue. long post ahead!

After they had been newly introduced to you, the Autobots had swiftly picked up on the fact that you were in need of a bit of extra assistance than the regular human, considering your condition. And they're more than willing to give the support that you need.

Optimus Prime

Optimus takes on the role of a protective maternal figure for you rather quickly.

He reminds you to take it easy, and that your body needs its rest. He wouldn't want you to strain yourself.

He may collaborate with Ratchet- whether that be to ask for advice, research together about your illness(es), or for the both of them to care for you.

If you're a wheelchair user, he'll request Agent Fowler to make modifications to the base so it's more accessible to you and easier to get to certain areas. Ramps, platform lifts, and disability-friendly stuff in general will be installed. Also, your meds/supplements, comfort items and things you may need will be easy to retrieve here at base. He wants to make sure you have the best quality of life here.

It makes his spark ache to know you're in so much discomfort. He wishes he can do more to ease your pain, and feels guilty that he can't do much more. He wants nothing more but for you to feel safe and happy.

Optimus is a good listener. He likes hearing about your interests and hobbies, even if he may not understand it the most. And you're more than welcome to vent to him.

If you want, he'll tell stories from his past back on Cybertron, before he was a Prime. Maybe you could share some memories with him, too. Optimus is just happy to talk with you, and it brings him a sense of warmth when he sees you in an uplifted mood.

Sometimes, he'll cradle you in his servos, his touch giving you a sense of security. As he does that, he'll reassure you with encouraging words and remind you of how much you are worth.

"You're so strong, little one. Despite everything, you strive on and keep going, even in the darkest of times... you're truly more than meets the eye. I'm proud of you. I mean it."

Ratchet

As a medic, he cares. Ratchet educates himself about your illness and does whatever he can to aid you. He'll research your illness's effects, triggers for flare-ups, basically everything. Also, expect him to ask you questions from time to time.

He is a bit more prepared to care for you, since he has dealt with patients back on Cybertron that were disabled and/or ill long-term.

When you're around, he's always sure to keep a watchful eye on you. He's also visibly more concerned and caring when it comes to you. (The others find it endearing. Don't tell Ratchet, though!)

"Have you taken your meds/supplements already? No? Go take them. You need them, after all."

"Do you need a boost? Here, let me help you."

Ratchet opens up more than usual when he's with you. He's even more soft with you when you have flare-ups! He can't help but let his usual grumpy self falter when he sees you in this state... He orders you not to move around too much or put yourself in more discomfort.

If you ever need to vent about your struggles and insecurities, Ratchet's there for you. Sure, he may not be the best with handling emotions, but he'll be there to listen. He'll try to the best of his abilities to console and reassure you. He has your back, and is never leaving your side.

Arcee (+ Jack)

She's sooo protective of you. Seeing you as part of her extended family, along with the other humans, she is fiercely protective when it comes to you. She'll go above and beyond to ensure of your safety and well-being. The last thing she'd want is for you to be in pain, let lose you.

Being the smallest of the team has its perks! With her size being the closest to a human, Arcee can easily fetch you your aids and medications whenever you need it. Just say the word, and she'll speed off to get your desired item (and you might not even need to say the word, it's like she already knows it by instinct).

She'd be really good at giving advice. Honest and firm, yet reassuring and gentle.

"You're doing awesome. Keep up the good work." She'd say to you after you've done even the smallest of achievements. Had your breakfast? Well done! Drank water? Good job! Took time to rest? Amazing!

She's the greatest at hyping you up. "You can do this. You're unstoppable!"

She isn't usually one for physical affection, but she enjoys just.. being present with you. You'll have her sitting by you or silently supervising you.

Jack also is frequently concerned about you. Not to the point where he is a constant worrywart, but he does care. You'll get a "How are you doing?" or something along the lines of that from time to time.

Arcee is a mama bear. Anything or anyone trying to hurt you? They're as good as scrap. Speaking of mamas...

Jack's mom? Every time June visits, she always wants to check up on you. She brings in monthly care packages specially made for you, filled with snacks, medications and supplements! Jack was a little embarrassed at first when she started giving those to you, and with her coddling you, but he's gotten used to it. As long as you're okay and cared for, he's okay too.

Bumblebee (+ Raf)

Bumblebee was initially quite concerned about you. This was the first time that he's ever heard of humans being ill long-term. And the fact they have to go through so much? It makes him feel bad.

He's very clingy and caring to you! He likes spending quality time with you, and he may invite you to fun drives out with Raf! That is, of course if you are physically able to. If not, then maybe a video game or movie will do.

Bee joyfully beeps at you in greeting. "Bee's happy to see you! He's asking how you've been." Raf helps to translate.

Bumblebee is your source of emotional support and comfort. He really does love and cherish you, and is super affectionate!! He wants to make sure you're happy as often as possible.

Headrubs, hugs, a hand- or rather, a finger on your shoulder, holding you- all of it is a must!

During dark days, he's always there to provide support for you. Vocal comfort isn't exactly the best option for consoling, so physical comfort is the next best thing for him to bring you comfort. Hugs, nuzzles, pats, anything to give you those warm and fuzzy feelings.

He may not be able to voice his love for you properly, but he certainly can and will express it with whatever way he can to make sure you are constantly loved by him, regardless if you have you have your illness or not!

Bulkhead (+ Miko)

Bulkhead treats you as if you were made of glass (not like he does it with the other kids). Extremely gentle and careful. He's a gentle giant to the core.

He also asks a lot of questions to know how your illness works and what you may need.

Miko likes cracking up jokes or offer to watch movies and/or play games in order to make you happy.

In all honesty, she isn't very confident in comforting others verbally, despite her talkative and outgoing personality. But Miko still wants to give support whenever you need it!

Cuddle pile!! Bulkhead and Miko will set up a cozy little area for all three of you to just relax, filled to the brim with blankets, pillows and snacks. You and Miko will be resting against both sides of Bulk, while his servos gently hold both of you, acting as a warm, secure blanket for you two.

Your smile never fails to make him smile as well. "Aww, well aren't you just precious. Glad to know you're feeling happy."

Seeing you in pain, whether it be physical or mental, also never fails to stab him with a pang of sorrow. Immediately comes to your side to comfort you. "Hey, hey. It's gonna be alright. Here, lean on me."

Bulkhead is always there to lend a hand- or servo, whenever you are in need of it. If you just want to spend time with him for a while or cry your feelings out, he'll pat your back reassuringly with kind words.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to request something if you'd like. you can request for more disabled/chronic illness related stuff, too!! ^_^ i'd be happy to write for it, and i'll do it to the best of my efforts. INTERACTIONS/REBLOGS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!! i worked hard on this

[axolotl4days]

Batfam fans i promise I'm gonna post part 2 to the "batman Dead Daughter" story soon (I intended to post it after the first part but I keep getting distracted and haven't finished writing it)(i have adhd and autism and I've never actually posted my story ideas before-)

However, part of why I haven't is i accidentally started thinking of a completely different story-

And it's so much angstier, and I haven't decided if i want to actually write it or if it lives in my head forever

It takes some slight inspiration from the "little misfortune" game, but tbh the most it takes is the name Misfortune

Side note:I have no fucking clue how old any of the characters actually are in canon, so for this it's just going off age order rather than numbers the reader would be in between Tim and Damian age wise but thats about it

Anyways here's the idea lemme know if anyone would be interested in reading it

The basic premise:

Backstory: The reader was adopted by the bat at the age of like 6 or 7 after the bat found reader just kinda... wandering Gotham one night covered in dirt and dried blood, when asked about their parents the reader just stays silent so bats like "Well I guess i have a new kid" because what else do you do? Takes the kid homes, cleans em up, and gifts them a scarf to try to gain their trust (he noticed reader kept covering their neck, he sees a pretty nasty scar but doesn't push reader to talk about it)

And the story would basically be the bat siblings realizing they don't know where reader came from (not even tim knows and he knows like, everything about his siblings cause it's tim)

And they don't ask because they're detectives they can figure it out right? But then they start to notice certain behaviors, subtle things that wouldn't normally raise alarm bells for anyone

But they don't get anywhere and after a few incidents (aka moments where they see reader experience ptsd but don't know what caused it) they decide to ask (I have an idea where they don't ask upfront but try to do the thing where they're all talking about their backstories so it doesn't feel so confrontstional) and reader very casually drops a lore nuke and tries to brush it off like it's nothing because "it happened a long time ago I'm fine" (spoiler alert, they are not fucking fine)(i want them to violently start sobbing while telling the story and they don't even realize it until one of the others points it out) and shenanigans ensue as they learn just how not fine they are :D

Because the story has only been in my head I've got a bunch of alternating scenes and plot line ideas so it's hard ti describe what it exactly is about but it mske sense in my head

This one would have a lot of mention to heavy child abuse, death, and other stuff, but apparently I'm sadistic cause I can't stop thinking about it

Depending how it goes it could be considered platonic yandere batfam but it'd get their gradually, but I haven't decided yet

[northwest-cryptid]

This may only be my opinion on the matter, and I know a few Natives myself who all have their own ideas about this. However; to me if you want to make a Native character, be they for a game, as an OC; whatever doesn't matter. All you need to do in order to make sure you're not being offensive? Just do like, the bare minimum research.

Step 1. Pick a location for your character.

If your character exists within some fantasy world or whatever then it can be a bit harder to pinpoint something like this. At this point skip to step 2.

If your character is of Earth, or is of our known universe (yes this includes sci fi settings), then trace their bloodline back to where they originally are from.

I say this because it will help you with step 2.

You need to know where, or at least roughly where your character is from.

Step 2. Pick a tribe from that location that makes sense for the character.

Again, even a basic level of research goes a long ways here, I know fanfic writers who would get put on a list looking up the ins and outs of some criminal shit just to accurately write a character, I know you have the ability to research shit so I trust you can do this here.

Figure out based on the location you picked for your character, what tribe they would reasonably be a part of. If you find that you'd rather have them in a specific tribe; perhaps one that's important to you or something; you can do Step 1 and Step 2 in reverse order.

The important thing here is that: If you have to make up a tribe, I'm going to understand you don't actually care about them being Native. If you have to give them a specific tribe but you don't bother to give that tribe the basic respect of knowing where they're from I am once again going to understand you just don't actually give two shits about Natives.

Okay so now that we have an understanding of what tribe our character is from, we can begin looking into that tribe's culture. This may be a bit difficult in some cases since not everything is going to just be out there on the internet, and you may also not have a fundamental understanding of the culture and how it's changed over the years. Guess what, that's fine! I'd rather see a character who's specifically said to be Lakota, and who knows about our deities and teachings even if they're the sort of thing most modern Natives don't believe in or care about. Accurate depiction of culture is not a stereotype!

Once we know what sort of things might be important to this character culturally, we can begin to weave small noticeable traits into them, or you can even make those traits a much larger part of the character. As a quick example, for my Vtuber's design I included not only the colors of the Four Directions but often depict them with a braid and use owl feathers as a sort of symbol of them. This all comes directly from the fact my Life Shield uses owl feathers to represent my family, includes the Four Directions, and I literally grew up with a braid and continue to grow out my hair as to have another; it's all part of the culture I was raised in, even if I amplified the importance of some aspects to sort of make them a trait for a character. Again, accuracy isn't a stereotype.

I also want to briefly mention that when you're naming your character I urge you to look up how people in the tribe are actually named, please don't just do the old "color + animal" thing or whatever and think it's fine. Just again, do the bare minimum research to figure out how people in that tribe are named and go from there. I once joked with my partner that "the only thing about the Natives in Twilight that's remotely accurate is that they have the most generic white American names"

If you want an actually pretty good example of what I'm talking about, look no further than Prey. No not the movie, no not the modern remake; but the game from like 2006.

Our main character here is a Native man named Tommy, or rather Domasi "Tommy" Tawodi and he's actually said to be Cherokee. Now you can say what you will about his spirit powers and such, I get it.

But from a sheer design perspective?

Yea that's not bad at all! Everything from the facial features to his name to his general aesthetic is spot on for the Cherokee I've met out at the reservation. This is what I mean when I say accurate depiction of a culture isn't some harmful stereotype.

I'd love to see more Natives in things, I'd love to see Native OCs; but I feel like people are so scared to make Natives a thing because doing so could be racist if you misrepresent us or something. Like okay let me tell you right now you're not gonna do it worse than people who have made millions off selling books and movies whether it's westerns that depict us all as uncivilized killers or whatever the hell was going on in twilight; you're gonna be fine so long as you TRY.

And yes it's actually as easy as a 3 step process, the same sort of thing you'd do for any character really.

I mean think about it, let's say I was some weeb who really wanted to make a Japanese character but I didn't want to do any research. I could make the mistake of putting them in these overly traditional outfits and settings and maybe at least some of the details would be accurate but overall it'd be pretty bad rep, or I could go the polar opposite direction and just make them look like they're some British street punk with their whole aesthetic being way off from the sort of actual street fashion of places like Tokyo; again misrepresenting a whole subculture there. Or maybe I could do what everyone does to Natives and deem them to be some fantasy race who must have super powers and make them into essentially just an anime character; obviously that would be some severely bad rep. All of which could be fixed if I just bothered to go "okay where do I want this person to be from? What sort of culture do people from there abide by in their day to day life? How could I reflect that in a character?"

Honestly that's just good practice for making any sort of character based on a real world group.

And going back to a point I stated in Step 1. If you want to include a Native character in a fantasy world where ya know, America doesn't exist and therefore we couldn't logically have Native Americans; pick a tribe and go off that. As long as it's accurate I don't believe it would be seen as disrespectful.

At the end of the day there will always be people who get up in arms about anything; like it's their job to twist anything into being racist. You will never make those people happy, don't bother trying.

[crazy56u]

It's late, I'm bored, I wanna ramble about a thing.

So, a while back, I did that thing again where I had an art commission made (shoutout @thenovika); it never got shared on here, but it was shared on other places. And I feel like talking about it a little bit, just for kicks. And also to share the deep lore that's been burning in my head concerning it, some of which might not 100% track, but fuck it, it's my imagination, and I decide the path it takes.

To start, said commission is this:

(shifting to "Read More" mode now)

Firstly, yes, this is using "Quantum Leap Jesus Painting" as a reference.

Believe it or not, this is the last time this becomes relevant in this rant; things are gonna deviate quick here.

Secondly, this post is mainly a (very long delayed) response to some people's interpretation of what is going on in the image; namely, that Julie-Su is dead.

This was never my intention... however, admittedly, my intention is somewhat worse. Essentially, the intrusive thoughts were angry.

Let me explain: For those unaware, in the Archie comics, prior to the Big Legal Kerfluffle that resulted in the SGW reboot, Rouge was, to be blunt, a self-serving bastard, and basically didn't give a shit that Knuckles had a girlfriend.

Later on in the comic, Knuckles was going through The Shit due to briefly being evil (long fucking story) and trying to "free" people from technology and shit, and decided after everything was said and done that he needed to self-isolate.

Fast forward two issues, and Knuckles decides to return to public life... mainly thanks to Rouge wanting to further an agenda (that I don't really think gets revealed, given how the comics soon quickly fall down a cliff in terms of #shenangans and #lawsuits).

And here is where the thoughts started getting loud; Rouge could've tried to have it both ways: Get Knuckles back in to the fight, and also keep him to herself.

After all, Knuckles did have a good reason to stay away from Julie-Su after The Shit happened...

Yeah, he almost did that; stands to reason he could be convinced to keep his distance... or, rather, be convinced Julie-Su wanted to keep her distance.

Here is where the real shit kicks into gear with how this plays out in my brain: In order to play both sides (and, this is important, there is a very small window of opportunity Rouge would have her to prevent Knuckles from properly reuniting with her), Rouge confronts Julie-Su privately shortly after The Shit and, upon pushing just the right buttons (basically insinuating to her that it was her fault Knuckles went through The Shit at all), Rouge manipulates her into having that long-awaited rematch between the two of them in a private location... where she basically wipes the floor with her (she can kick Knuckles' ass just fine, this wouldn't be nothing in comparison; plus, cybernetics can be shorted out, just a tip), and knocks her out (see the first image).

Now.

You may have noticed my decision to use the phrase "play both sides".

Well, that's because that was what I was thinking of.

As much as she wanted Knuckles for herself, Rouge wouldn't kill Julie-Su directly.

She'd kill the idea of her.

She'd take her home. To a familiar face.

Who is on the record not above screwing with Julie-Su's brain to get what she wants.

(Plus, it's implied that chip never came out...)

And now also has a new partner in crime to help make the transition process smoother.

And Rouge 100% would A) know how to contact Lien-Da, B) talk her into taking part in this plan, and C) turn a blind eye to it all after the fact.

So, yes, in a very warped sense, everyone wins.

Knuckles gets to start moving on from The Shit, no longer burdened with one of the biggest reminders of how deep that went.

Rouge gets her prize.

Lien-Da gets to clear the slate and start fresh with a new ally, and a new member of the Dark Egg Legion.

And as far as everyone is concerned, Julie-Su has left for greener pastures, for her own good.

Rouge wouldn't kill Julie-Su. Not directly. Too many lost resources that way.

...but maybe it'd be merciful the other way around...

[burningcheese-merchant]

I've never really understood getting mad over what people ship or don't ship honestly, I like the two ships that you've mentioned you don't doesn't mean I have to be mad about it, doesn't mean anyone's wrong for liking or not liking different ships.

Maybe I'm just a multishipper but I've never understood arguing over which ones better should be canon or any of that either.

Basically I don't get it, you can not like a ship you can talk how much you don't like the ship or why but going out of your way to find and get mad about ships you don't like is stupid.

I'd say that's a good thing to think

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Shipping is just playing dollhouse. There's no rhyme or reason to getting mad over how someone chooses to play with the dolls. Play with yours the way you want and extend that gesture to everyone else. Play together if you want, play separately if you don't like their game. Play on opposite sides of the room and face away from each other if you really need to. But don't go swat at them or try to take their dolls or whatever. Shipping is already a touch childish, you don't need to go full tilt and become a tantruming kindergartner about it.

Hate the ship, love the shipper is the ideal for me. Plenty of people don't like BurningCheese. Plenty of them like ShadowSpice. Whatever, that's fine. We can still be buddies. Your life will end up really lonely really fast if you turn away every single person that doesn't march lockstep with you in every direction at all times lol

(And look. Since I'm here and on break. I will explain myself one single time. ShadowSpice just does not make sense to me. Square peg in a round hole. I try to give ships I dislike the benefit of the doubt, usually. I don't like Hollytaya but I understand its appeal. I've read a couple of fics and they were actually quite nice. I tried to read one ShadowSpice fic and I quit 3 paragraphs in. I just cannot do it. It makes me feel gross and itchy. I saw someone's explanation on here for why they ship it, don't remember who, and it still didn't add up. I felt like a toddler trying to read Finnegan's Wake. The gears just will not turn, not even with force. I can't stand them together like that, so I don't seek out any content like that. The occasional jab I make is where it ends. I'd otherwise rather talk about stuff I actually like instead of stuff I don't lol)

(Also I don't multiship. Hollyberry and Dark Cacao are the only exceptions. I like them together and with their respective Beasts. I don't do it with anyone else, I attach myself to specific pair bonds and simply refuse to let go. Whatever ships I like are the be-all end-all for me. But that's just me personally, more power to you if you think differently)

[icejinlov3r]

Headcanons of my DB Boys

(Frieza, Frost, Cell, and Zamasu)

So, imma make this into one large post, since that's just gonna be easier for me. I'm also gonna split up the headcanons from SFW and NSFW in case people don't feel like reading anything dirty. In any case, here are my silly headcanons.

Frieza Headcanons

SFW:

Frieza is a wine lover (borderline alcoholic) tends to be his cope when dealing with just about any negative emotion.

Has trouble expressing his emotions with words. His actions speak louder.

Has a pretty short temper. Quite a few things annoy him, but things such as stupidity and arrogance infuriate him the most.

When not being an emperor, he often enjoys reading and studying, but can also enjoy playing advanced games, such as chess.

Thinks highly of his appearance - especially appreciates and admires his tail.

Has a high standard when it comes to food. When done right, he favorites tend to be any sort of seafood; crab, lobster, fish, things along those lines.

His only real insecurity is his height (most who make fun of his shortness end up dead lol)

Hates when his father - or anyone - refers to him as "princess"

Bears great shame for his initial defeat against Goku on Namek, though attempts to keep it hidden (and often fails). Also gained immense PTSD from the incident. Yay.

Has a naturally intimidating presence, but just about everyone knows that.

Always enjoys having his ego stroked, no matter what the situation

While not necessarily a light sleeper, his senses are so keen he often can notice even the slightest changes around him.

If there is a person who he actually cares about (which is very few) even he can't resist sparing his occassional moments of softness.

Closeness and intimacy frighten him on an emotional level - afraid to allow himself become "weak" and risk someone hurting him. Or worse, afraid of hurting them in turn. (He's an emperor, but he has feelings dammit!)

NSFW:

Frieza (and his entire race) are intersex/are hermaphrodites. Meaning they are single sexed, and also have both male and female genitalia, hidden within their cloaca.

He is bisexual, enjoying the company of both men and women, though he slight preference towards men.

Isn't necessarily picky about a person's appearance, so long as it's appealing.

Personality wise, it depends on the person - he can enjoy dominating over someone shy and nervous, but can also enjoy *being* dominated by someone strong and confident. Though any and all disrespect is a turn off.

He has no preference for roles; he's fine being top or bottom. Again, mostly depends on the person he's with.

While he may be a sadist outside the bedroom, he can be quite different in bed. He can be however rough or gentle his partner wants. He gets more satisfaction in getting reactions from whomever he's with.

Frieza is surprisingly affectionate. Enjoys kissing, sweet talk, gentle caresses, and etc.

Has a praise kink. Can't help murmuring words of praise and compliments to his partner and seeing their reaction.

Being addressed by his proper title is a huge turn on for him.

Never likes to skip to the main event. Thoroughly enjoys foreplay, giving and receiving.

Doesn't necessarily have the largest dick, but is average size for his race.

Frost Headcanons:

SFW:

Similar to Frieza, is a wine lover. Though doesn’t have nearly as big a problem as Frieza.

Often wants to avoid direct fights as often as possible, especially if he has no chance of winning

Can often be annoyed, but unlike Frieza, doesn’t lash out unless necessary.

Is and has always been a lonely person, especially after his cover as a hero was blown.

If he did have more free time, he’d rather enjoy lazy activities, such as watching TV, playing video games, and listening to music.

Is actually pretty skilled with electronics. Can usually hack many basic technology.

Is rather insecure about both his abilities and his looks, especially compared to Frieza.

Frost has a sweet tooth, and enjoys several desserts, parfaits being his favorite. Though he also likes pastas and some crab dishes, like Frieza.

Despite what people might think, he’s actually a very sensitive person. It’s easy for him to feel guilt or shame or sadness.

Has *serious* trust issues. Is extremely paranoid and fearful that everyone is out to hurt him somehow, especially after he becomes a fugitive. The world is a scary place to him.

His erasure at T.O.P was a traumatic experience for him.

Has lots of trouble sleeping, as he’s very prone to nightmares.

Keeps several hidden poison needles on his person; including wrists, heels, tail, and even the tip of his tongue.

Honest to Kami, this poor baby just needs a hug and a shoulder to cry on!!! 🥺🥺 (wow, I have really sad headcanons of Frosty boy)

NSFW:

Like Frieza, he is intersex/hermaphrodite.

He is bisexual, though with a heavy preference towards males (I use to headcanon him as gay, but that has changed)

Is almost certainly a virgin, though mainly out of fear of intimacy and vulnerability. Has immense trouble trusting anyone with his body (and his heart)

Has an extremely sensitive body, especially on his neck, his tail, and between the legs.

Is usually attracted to men with bigger builds and strong personalities - anyone who makes him feel weak. Or rather, feels safe enough to allow himself to be weak.

Has an extremely sensitive body, especially on neck, tail, and between the legs

Does NOT enjoy pain of any sort. Is quite terrified of it actually.

Frost is a submissive bottom. His biggest preference, but also because he’s often too shy to ever take charge.

Always prefers a slow, gentle build up towards the main event. A chance to relax and adapt. Though when sucked into the main event, will finally demand for something a bit more rough.

Is certainly not a quiet lover. Has rather loud vocal chords.

Also has a smaller than average dick, but it’s not his main concern.

Has a praise kink, but prefers being the receiver.

Enjoys being “dominated” over, but only with someone he truly trusts.

Perfect Cell Headcanons:

SFW:

Can and is an arrogant ass. No one is more perfect than himself.

Obviously thinks highly of his own looks and abilities. Truly loves himself.

Often enjoys teasing and mocking others whenever he feels like it (especially people like Vegeta or Frieza)

Similar to Frost, enjoys watching TV and playing video games. But he also enjoys more athletic activities.

Also has a short temper, and isn’t afraid to express it through his fists

Is the smart ass king. Full of snarky comments and sarcasm.

In spite of what people might think, he’s actually very observant. Very good at reading people for who they really are or what they’re really feeling.

Has amazing healing abilities due to Piccolo’s DNA

Is not picky with food. Like just about everything - except anything with bugs. He *refuses* to eat bugs of any sort!

Despite his high self esteem, he does feel a certain shame when being referred to as a “monster” or “freak”. Often turn out to be trigger words for his rage.

Claims he’s a lone wolf, but in truth can be quite lonely at times, even if he ends up pushing others away.

Is a heavy sleeper and a loud snorer. An explosion could happen outside his bedroom and he’d hardly be phased.

Never lies. Always tells the truth, sometimes even bluntly. This is cause he *despises* lies.

NSFW:

Only has male genitalia but keeps it concealed under the black sheath on his groin.

Cell is pansexual - is attracted to all races and genders alike. He’s into everyone and everything.

Tends to have a dirty mind, though never to the point of disgusting or depraved.

You know this guy has a porno collection and is proud of it

There is little Cell isn’t into; has a wide variety of kinks. Though one of his favorites tends to be biting.

While normally fine with either role, Cell prefers to top (and almost always does).

Isn’t afraid to flirt or talk dirty. It’s practically his first language at times.

Usually adapts to whatever preferences his lover wants, since he enjoys sex either way.

Similar to Frieza, isn’t necessarily picky about appearances, so long as it’s appealing.

Usually likes people who are “hard to get”, or aren’t easy - tsunderes really.

Theres no soft way of putting this - he has a big dick. That’s all I’m saying. Moving on.

Enjoys most attention on his face and dick, since the rest of his body is covered in bio-armor, and thus has no real nerves to feel pleasure.

Straight up, is an *amazing* kisser.

Zamasu Headcanons:

SFW:

Has little patience for people in general, though especially regarding mortals.

While he’s a skilled fighter, doesn’t really like fighting. Finds it to be primitive and barbaric.

Puts himself on a higher pedestal than all mortals, and even some immortals.

During his free time, he’ll often enjoy the peace and quiet with his reading, practicing calligraphy, cooking, and meditation. Anything to ease his thoughts.

Claims he hates mortals, but really he’s just frustrated he doesn’t understand them and their illogical decisions.

Absolutely hates loud noises. Something about them just brings him immense anxiety. He attempts to keep hidden earplugs on his person.

Often asks the big questions in life, searching for his true purpose in the universe.

Enjoys foods that don’t necessarily have a strong flavor. Simplicity is appealing to his taste buds. Like a nice cup of tea.

Is very good at holding his composure - but only for so long.

Is a light sleeper. Tends to make him rather grumpy.

NSFW:

Possesses “typical” male genitalia (I heard somewhere that apparently Kai don’t have anything down there - my headcanon doesn’t agree)

One would assume he’s possible ace, both in means of attraction and romance. But Zamasu is actually gay - he’s just very very closeted. (Not about being gay, but about being attracted to anyone in general)

His standards for a partner are high. In fact he firmly believes there’s no one who could both appeal to him and understand him. BUT! Should they happen to do so, he tends to enjoy bigger builds on men. As for personality….all he really wants is someone he can understand, and in turn understand him.

While he does feel arousal and love, he can’t help feeling ashamed at doing so, thinking he should above such primitive feelings.

Is incredibly shy in bed, both with exposing his body and committing to the act.

When eventually relaxed enough to have sex, he does enjoy and appreciate foreplay, but only certain kinds.

Has the most sensitive ears. Enjoys having them touched, kissed, and bitten.

Is almost always a bottom role, often as a preference and because he lacks experience.

Just like Frost, is probably a virgin - in fact even more likely to be one.

Keeps quiet for most of the time, at least unless he’s close or is during the main event.

Like Frost, doesn’t enjoy pain in the slightest.

Okay, I think that’s everything (literally took me a few hours to complete this, but it was worth it). Now keep in mind, these are just MY headcanons. They are not fact, and you do not have to agree with them. I just wanted to write my interpretation of my favorite DB boys.

What do guys think? Tell me yours thoughts if you’d like! In any case, hope you enjoy!

[robitherat]

Thinking about the fact that most of Tims character arch is based around him actually dealing with the things from his past

Like a major part of tims character is his denial of the things that happened to him-- his repression of memories, chalking things up to hallucinations, suffering in silence, brushing off any concern from those around him ("Tim what's that?" "Just some medicine I need to take" "Are you sick, do you need to go home?" "No I'm fine.") The fact that he never mentioned his medical history or his time at the hospital to Jay until he was basically forced to.

And what was it that finally made him tell Jay about the hospital? The operator directly attacking him and making him relive scenes from his past. It wasn't until he was forced to realize what was at stake, forced to essentially confront the danger he was in by bottling up his past, that he willingly (at least somewhat) shared that information with someone. I do like to think that maybe Tim opened up to Brian in college, but as far as cannon evidence, we only really see Tim willingly talking to Jay about it. Brian knew, sure, but it's just as easy to assume he found that after the fact-- that he caught Tim in the lie, rather than Tim telling him outright.

And Tim really isn't a great liar, either. Like I know we talk about Jay being a little bit of an idiot (rightfully so) but Tim's main course of lying is. The most obvious deflection in the world. When Jay mentions the tape in his house, Tim's response is to immediately deflect ("I'm a little more worried about my house right now.") which would be a smaller thing if Tim wasn't intimately aware of how important it was to find and watch any tapes they possibly could. Tim's only method to coping with things that happen to him and the people around him is through denial, even in times when it would be infinitely more beneficial to acknowledge the issue at hand.

What's even more interesting to me is that Tim is seemingly the only character that makes any genuine progress in fighting against the operator. But that comes with the caveat that Tim is only able to do so when he actually confronts the operator, and by association, the issues of his past.

The only way he and Jay are able to make amends and move on is by Tim telling Jay about the hospital, which was only spurred on by Tim being forced to relive his trauma. Right after Tim tells Jay to stay out his life, he (by force of tta) has a relapse and ends up paired with Jay anyways. The only way he's able to get Jay and himself away from Alex's house in one piece is by literally physically standing up to the operator. In the fight against Alex, the whole time he's being ported around, he is monologuing about his past-- he's finally acknowledging the things that happened to him, that they weren't his fault, that they affect other people, and that violence isn't the answer to dealing with them-- that isolating yourself and denying the truth of what's happening isn't the answer.

And of course this is all tied back to the metaphor of mental illness: the fact that you cannot deny the things that have happened to you if you have any hope of moving on from them. you can't lash out or harm others because of your trauma if you have any hope of moving past it. The reason Jay, Brian, and ultimately Alex all died is because they were incapable of facing their issues head on; they all turned to anger, isolation, violence, and otherwise feeding into what the operator wanted, or alternatively, feeding into the misery spiral of their mental illness, rather than finding healthy coping mechanisms to heal from and move on from it.

God I need to write a full analysis essay about him OKAY I'm ending it here these aren't all my thoughts this doesn't make sense but I'm ending it here thank you for watching goodbye

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my mother not to do certain things?

Let me start off by saying i'm homeschooled. I've been homeschooled my entire life. I don't have any friends offline, so I've pretty much come here to ask for outside opinions from my friend groups (online).

Prefer not to state ages, if that's okay. It makes me uncomfortable.

I have ocd, suspected autism, and either auditory processing disorder or misophonia (we're not sure which.) as well as a plethora of other issues. my mother is very aware that i have ocd (she has it herself) and i've mentioned misophonia to her several times. she doesn't know about my other mental issues, as for reasons you're probably going to see here, as i don't feel comfortable or safe telling her. (or, i've tried, and she doesn't listen, or tells me i'm "being dramatic.")

my ocd is quite crippling, to the point i've tried medication, herbal tea (chamomile seems to work a bit!), asking friends for advice, and even asking her for advice. as of the last year, it's had a grip on my life and has been quite a problem for me. i'm unable to do things i want or need to a lot, and especially struggle doing most things, even basic tasks. i'm unable to see a therapist/counsellor or psychologist/psychiatrist for personal/financial reasons.

a lot of my triggers (well, not exactly triggers for the ocd, but they stop me from doing things.) revolve around sound, especially people talking. whistling is a major trigger for my misophonia/apd, as are other high pitched noises.

my mother has a tendency to watch tv a lot, and i often ask her to not do this when i'm trying to do certain things, as it makes my ocd a bit worse, and it's often rather loud. (please note i wear headphones a lot of the time for sensory issues.)

however, when i ask her either to turn it down, pause it temporarily, or ask her to turn it off for a bit, she has a tendency to get mad/upset. to the point of throwing a bit of a fit over it, in a way that to me seems a bit attention seeking (in the bad way). she says things like "fine, whatever." and flaps her arms about dramatically or slaps her legs, or she says "i don't even wanna watch it now, it's ruined."

i'll go ahead and say she's a bit self-centered in a lot of ways. for years she has said i've "targeted" her and "treated her terribly" even though any time i was (to her) doing these things, i was usually defending myself or telling her to do something that she needed to do that had been requested for days/weeks/months/sometimes years. i also have a tendency to ask her what she's doing, either out of genuine curiosity, or because she has done something strange to me that i didn't understand. which she gets mad over.

she also gets mad if i ask if she's coming over here (i have a tendency to walk/pace in certain areas to music, it helps with stress/adhd/also helps me write/act things out. she is very aware of this and this isn't really a problem.) or ask how long she will be over here. she seems to think me asking this is telling her she can't come over, or desperately trying to get her to move. admittedly sometimes i DO want her to move, but 90% of the time i am just asking so i know if i need to move to a different area to walk or just stop temporarily.

sometimes when i am having a particular peak in my ocd/anxiety/whatever else, i ask her not to talk for a moment/few minutes, either so i can do something i need to, or because i'm afraid it will make it worse. she'll either get mad about this, or go on a tangent about "not catering to me" and saying things "the real world doesn't work like this, and nobody cares that you have ocd/issues." she has a tendency to take my issues as a personal attack on her, when in reality i would ask anyone to stop for a moment.

she has a tendency to belittle me in a sense for it. i've tried to explain some of it to her (without revealing details of my trauma she doesn't know about, as most of my ocd is linked to severe ptsd.) and she says it "doesn't make any sense" and i "need to stop" and i "need to just make myself stop." she has ocd, and knows compulsions are not always rational, and yet still says these things.

part of my desire not to go to a therapist is because of her. she claims they will either try to put me away take me to another home/put me in foster care, or drug me up on medication that will make me dull. (the other part is more personal, and unrelated to her, but to my aforementioned trauma.)

one of the things i especially ask her not to do is whistle, or make a few other certain noises (eating loud, using nail files around me, etc) because they are especially triggering to me. she'll either blatantly refuse and say i "don't get to tell her what to do" or i don't "control her" (please note i am just asking, but when i DO specifically tell her to stop, it is because she either already knows this sound is triggering to me, or i've already asked, and i'm losing my patience.) or she'll do it louder/more just to trigger me further (my father also does this. sometimes as a joke which in some ways is worse.) or she'll go on the "not catering + nobody cares" tangent again.

i know my ocd and other issues can be a bit interrupting, but i don't ask huge things of her or anyone else. all i ask is for them to not make certain sounds around me, temporarily ask them to not do something/stop doing something, or ask them to do it a bit quieter for me. please note she has the ability to watch tv/videos on other devices with headphones easily, she just chooses not to. and worse of all, they treat it like it's not interrupting to me, when it affects my everyday life in ways far worse than asking/telling them not to do something.

it makes me feel unwanted and unappreciated, and i'll admit, i've contemplated....not existing, if you will, many times over this issue and others.

i just don't really know if i'm asking too much, or if they're just being shitty. i want outside opinions on this.

so, AITA?

(id put a tl;dr in here, but i don't really know what to put. feel free to do it for me. also, i know this was kinda long, but i needed to put some extra things in, sorry if thats like an inconvenience or anything!)

(adding my sideblog here so i can get notifs, @ocdaitathrowaway)

What are these acronyms?

[corviddetector]

This is a vent I suppose. I just need these words out of my head and I need them gone now.

There's going to be swearing. And it's gonna be pretty descriptive. Especially in very dark directions.

I'm not writing this post to be read. I'm writing this because I am a writer, and talking about the feelings I have in my head helps me calm down.

If you seriously want to read it that's fine with me.

Don't blame me tho.

There's so little I care about in this world, it's depressing as shit. Like seriously

I hate waking up in the morning, and feeling like shit. And it's never changing.

My body is so utterly broken, that it's just painful to exist. What else do I expect at this point really. Miracles don't fucking exist. I've proven that plenty.

And the only friends I ever made are dead.

I fucking hate this sometimes. Sometimes I'm not even sure why I'm even still here. And it sucks because I know that in a while I won't feel this way.

But it sucks. When your feeling joy and then you just remember dread and pain. It's fucking awful.

A lot of people tell me how they remember good times in their lives, and all these wonderful memories they have.

I fail to barely count enough to make it possible to fake a smile. My school life was so shit I spent basically my entire time running away from it.

Nothing hurts as much as even your own mother asking you (hey, are you, actually happy?)

I told her yes that day, and I was lying. I fucking hated it and I wanted to die. Because those times were so shit I'd have rather died then continued.

And while running away from it, I found friends, friends that ran because their life was awful too, and I could only relate. But I couldn't help them

What the fuck is even the point then.

The fuck do you do against terminal cancer, and how could they fucking smile during it.

I don't get it. And I'm never going to get it because I can't ask them.

And no matter who I met. Over and over and over and over and over again.

Either treat me like shit, or they are nice- but for all the wrong reasons. They are nice because they always get treated like shit.

I struggle to barely find any decent people.

And whenever I manage to fit in, it just all goes wrong over and over again- it's so shit.

It's such a pathetic thought thinking about "ending it" or something like that.

It's not like I want to, or intend to.

And yet I can't remember a time in my life where I didn't think about it.

The amounts I had tried while I was younger are pretty intense too. I mean. It's so many.

And I'm lucky to basically even be here at this point.

My body is so fucked up. My back got broken so many times. My hips broke, my fingers got shattered, I stepped on nails or walked till I bled just to achieve some goal, that later I realized didn't matter at all. I've literally shattered my ability to even practice my own passions.

Even if I wanted to I can't anymore.

I can't draw because my hands shake. I can't sing because my voice is fucked. I can't dance because I don't have a sense of gravity-

My eyes are fucked and I can't even stare at the moonlit sky without changing my glasses monthly.

I gave it my all. Literally. I mean. Literally. There's nothing left. And it hurts.

It didn't matter how many bones I broke, or how much I sweat. Didn't matter at all in the end, how much I bled to find a solution.

If all I'm able to do in the end is just continue the exact same way. Over. And over.

And all I'm able to do is visit the graves of the people I fucking loved.

I really hate agonizing over the past since it doesn't matter anymore, since it's the present now. But in reality that's just the comfort I tell myself because all I feel is pain and dread.

But it's not like I can stop it either. And that's the worst part of it.

Anyways, with that off of my chest, I'm gonna take a walk. It's another beautiful day outside, and in reality I hate nice weather. I want it to rain, be cold, and miserable

I like the cold. But I know so many people that like the warmth that I can't be mad.

[zhuoyichenpretty]

ep 24 commentary (brain fried edition)

my head is a little empty after ep 24 tbh!! brain is not braining after all the zyc hurt no comfort (-:

some scattered thoughts here and there, painstakingly corralled like cats out of my vacuous brain and into a list (spoilers):

ZYZ is really emo this episode poor dude like he is having a hard time keeping it together it seems. Every other word out of his mouth is depressing as shit, which is saying a lot considering how depressing he usually is already (': I kind of wanted this episode to pick his brain more, give him room to emote in the aftermath of all that. But it almost feels like the character refuses to be alone, like he might spiral if he has too much time to get in his own head. I'm still so curious to know, though, what he thinks about the state of their promise in light of how far ZYC went trying to save him. “He has us,” ZYZ said to WX. When the time comes, I wonder how he'll reconcile that with what he’s asked of ZYC.

PSJ and Ying Lei bonding! shenanigans! I did laugh thank you guys. Also, not that the team didn't operate separately before, but I really get a sense of how much ZYC held things together with how apparent his absence is. It's obvs heartwarming seeing how hard everyone is working to save him (PSJ especially for me bc I love their mutual tacit trust and respect and all the ways they're alike and different), but ultimately it's still so angsty (':

Kind of love the couple instances where ZYC has been referred to as fragile/weak/of delicate constitution (depending on how you wanna translate it) like that's a very interesting quality to assign to basically the tank of your team. Even if the comments are made facetiously, it just reminds me of how often we witness his mortality, and of course how everything about the styling, aesthetics, and content of the flashbacks to his childhood reinforce a characterization of vulnerability at the very heart of him. I saw someone mention how the Cloud Light Sword responded to ZYC's tears and to that vulnerability rather than brute strength, and I totally agree. I love how this "fragile" characterization plays into the whole fate weapon deal. ZYC's strength is (imo) unconventional, and it is his sensitivity, his compassion, and his deep capacity to feel that the sword acknowledges, resonates with, and empowers. Almost like it protects his tender heart rather than making it something he needs to overcome to get stronger.

One thing I will never get over is how incredibly they styled TJR as baby!Yichen, adult ZYC, and Bingyi. What do you mean this is all from one drama and not three separate productions. Insane. I'm out of my mind with how gorgeous every change in costuming is.

A tangential note is I've seen people mention (paraphrasing very much here) ZYZ's demon form being nicely subtle in its eerie inhumanity and tbh I have a similar feeling even just about human adult ZYC imo. Especially when his hair is down and he's got that thick eyeliner on and we get a close up of his contacts, if you told me from the start that he's half-demon half-human or something I'd believe it. Along the same vein, baby!Yichen reads completely human to me, and Bingyi of course completely demon. Something something the Cloud Light Sword bridges the gap something. This point is unintelligible and not narratively based but I had to make it because I've been thinking "wow ZYC elven" for days now.

Saw a tag about yuanyi getting us through some dark times but man they are PUTTING me through some dark times rn help?/

Been trying to put off talking about the baby Yichen scenes because wow I cried immediately. Well, no, I was like "yay! I love seeing baby Yichen!" and then they crushed me into demon dust lol. And then WX had to tell that absolutely precious story about when she got sick and ZYZ had to go like "actually ZYC was probably lonely as fuck" and yeah that's fine I didn't need my heart anyway.

Ending on this point so I can put a pretty screencap here: There is so much gravity to just the short scene of Bingyi removing his mask and dropping to his knees with that anguished and fatigued expression. TJR's acting is the gift that keeps on giving (me angst).

so sorry if anything here didn't make sense, i currently have the same thousand-mile-stare as Bingyi the more i think about how this all might end and how long I'm gonna have to wait to find out.

[coraxonxcall]

More to the Story: Chapter 33: Shark in the Water

"I don't... get it." Vox sat on the couch, screen in hand, elbow resting on the arm of his seat as he finished watching a rather long and high-energy musical number from the Princess about a snake in Heaven. "Is it... a metaphor?"

"What?" Charlie stared at him blankly. Everyone else in the Hotel looked thrilled by the display. Cherri seemed almost brought to tears. "No... it's..." The Princess blinked, glancing around her at the others. "Were you not listening? Sir Pentious got into Heaven! Redemption works." She looked so ecstatic that Vox really felt as if he should be feeling a lot more from this revelation, aside from skeptical, of course.

"And... who is that?" Vox really felt there should have been more buildup to this particular song. He was missing some valuable backstory.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Vaggie was thoroughly unimpressed with Vox's response, which was just fine as Vox was thoroughly unimpressed with everything he had just seen. So, no one was happy. Vox shrugged.

"Pretend I'm not."

"He might not be, he is on the stupid side." That stupid, echoing voice was just as annoying as the wide, smiling face from whence it came. Alastor was eyeing him, grinning ear to ear like he was a part of some sort of inside joke to which Vox wasn't privy. (But that was impossible due to the simple fact that Alastor had no sense of humor, and thus jokes were an absolutely wasted art on him. It was a sad, pathetic truth, and was truly only one of the many reasons the Radio Demon was less than his television counterpart.) "But can you blame him? Spending all his time connected to that brain rot he puts on the television?"

"I wasn't here for whatever the fuck we're talking about. Remember? I've only been here like... three days and one of those was spent cleaning up your dad's fucking mess." He glanced over at Charlie, taking a sip from his coffee. He could lower himself to Alastor's level by clapping back, but he was above such behavior in the presence of royalty. "But I understand you being forgetful in your old age. It must be difficult learning new information when you can't even figure out how to work a basic television." On second thought, Vox wasn't above such behavior.

"Yeah, but you hired Pentious to spy on the Hotel. That..." Charlie was giving him a weird look, "that is how we ended up with him."

"Did I?" Vox put a hand to his chest in disbelief.

"Yeah, you fucking did." Vaggie didn't like him, she had made that painfully clear despite the fact that Vox had actively saved all of their respective asses during the Shoggoth attack. That they were willing to forget, but some one-off attempt on the Hotel they were apparently holding to like some treasured memory.

"Do you have any evidence?" Vox met her gaze. "Because that doesn't sound like anything I would do and I would hate to be slandered while I'm trying to redeem myself."

"We caught him red handed!" Vaggie was clearly getting frustrated. Charlie put a hand on her arm, gently pulling her back.

"Pentious was an inventor. He had a big hat and a bunch of eggs in tiny business suits that were just adorable."

"Not ringing any bells." Vox gave a shrug.

"Are you fucking serious?" Even Angel was mad at him, which wasn't surprising, given his history with Val. He was just projecting onto Vox. Vox was always cleaning up one PR nightmare after another thanks to his fellow Vees. Sometimes an alliance seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. "You hired him to pretend he wanted to get redeemed so he could feed you info on this hotel and when he got caught, ya bailed on him!"

"Alternatively," Vox sipped his coffee again, "I saw the potential in Pontious-"

"Pentious." Cherri corrected; her eye narrowed.

"That's what I said," Vox corrected, "and tricked him into bettering himself as a sort of... sponsor. And since it worked, you're welcome. I knew he could do it."

"If I showed you three pictures of Sinners, could you even tell me which one Pentious was?" Angel was still glaring daggers into him.

"Is." Vox corrected. "He's not dead, Angel. He's in Heaven as the Princess explained in her wonderful and not at all tacky song number." Vox could not, in fact, pick Pentious out of a lineup, but he could assume from context he was the snake guy in the portrait in the Hotel lobby.

"Listen here you sack of dick-" Angel's other arms appeared for a moment and Vox felt someone climb onto the couch beside him, grabbing the arm that wasn't holding the coffee.

"Leave Vox alone! He's an Overlord." Mimzy was practically cuddling up to his arm. Vox tried to shake her off.

"If we kill him, we can take his power." Niffty popped up from behind him, resting her arms on the back of the couch, and caressing the back of his screen with her hand. Vox jumped to his feet before moving to a completely different chair. Niffty scrambled over the back of the couch and flopped into Vox's prior seat grinning up at him.

"No one is killing anyone!" Charlie clapped her hands together laughing nervously. "Vox, I know you're new here, and that you only wanted to come to the Hotel so you could get an invitation to my dad's mansion. But surely, as a businessman, you have to see the ramifications of Pentious actually ascending. That means it's possible!" Redemption, Ascension- it was all the same thing. The ability to get into Heaven. The final paradise. Vox was doing quite well for himself in Hell, so the idea of moving up seemed like a waste to him. But to the weak, and suffering lower rungs of the ladder, this could mean a lot. And the marketing potential was unmatched.

"You really should get the word out. You know, I could do a few commercials for you. Spencer and Avery could sell ice to a polar bear. You could have this place crawling with Sinners." Vox knew good business when he saw it, and he wasn't about to let fucking Alastor be the only one with his hand in this goldmine. Assuming, of course, this wasn't just a massive fucking con from Heaven, which was incredibly likely.

"We actually had a commercial, and you interrupted it when it aired." Charlie replied, her hands clasped together. Vox looked up from his coffee, relaxing once again.

"The news is important, Princess."

"So, do you think we can talk to him? To Pentious?" Cherri interrupted Vox's pitch for that stupid Sinner who had somehow weaseled his way past the Pearly Gates.

"Maybe? I have the Archangels' phone numbers. I might be able to ask one of them to put him on the phone." Charlie seemed fine to move on from the topic of advertising.

"You have the Archangels' phone numbers." Vox was a little incredulous at the idea of being able to phone up an Archangel at whim. He wasn't sure what to do with that information at the moment, but seemed worth storing away for later use. "Were those the angels who bailed your dad out with the Shoggoth attack?"

"Um... yes." Charlie seemed a little uncomfortable with the line of questioning. "But they are super nice! I think they would be supportive of the Hotel! I mean, Michael seemed to really like the idea when I mentioned it..."

"Ah yes, they seem very open minded what with all the slaughtering." Vox kept his tone even, though his curiosity was peaked.

"That's a bit more of a complicated situation." Charlie looked even more uncomfortable. "But the point is that we finally have proof that Redemption works! Straight from Heaven itself!"

"Absolutely! And it's not like Heaven would lie to us! Isn't that right?" Alastor wasn't looking at Charlie, he was looking at Vaggie. Vox assumed it was because she used to be an Exorcist. If the Radio Demon was trying to be coy with this information, he would be woefully disappointed to learn it was a point of discussion at one of the Overlord Meetings that he had missed. They had ongoing bets on how long it would take the Princess to be murdered in her sleep. So far Missi Zilla, Zestial, and Val were out of the running. Vaggie was tellingly silent.

"N... no they wouldn't. Pentious is up there! Michael told me himself." Charlie was somehow willing to believe what was so obviously bullshit, that Vox almost felt bad for her.

"And the leader of the Exterminations would have no reason to lie about anything!"

"He didn't know!" Charlie's argument was... lackluster at best. Unless Heaven was incredibly out of touch with its own employees and excuses like: he didn't know was more bullshit than Vox's explanation about his desire for Redemption.

"Apologies, Princess! You're right." Alastor relaxed backward, kicking his leg up as he took a long, purposeful drink from his stupid, pun-ny mug. "It is far more believable that Heaven was completely unaware of a massive genocide than it is that they would lie to our faces. I am sure that targeted attack on your father after he pissed them off was purely coincidental."

"I know it sounds crazy but-" Charlie looked from face to face, Alastor's words were clearly worming their way into every ear. He... actually had a valid point. But since it was Alastor, Vox was obligated to disagree. He cleared his throat.

"I think they're telling the truth. I'm sure that Pendleton-"

"Presterghast." Mimzy corrected.

"Pentious." Husk practically growled from the back.

"Whatever." Vox waved off the correction. "Is living his best afterlife up in Heaven, playing the harp and fucking all the angels he could want. I mean, you could actually prove it, right? Call. Ask to talk to him."

"I have to use the phone in the Church." Charlie looked less sure of herself. "Maybe later." It was likely that she was being lied to, but Vox had to assume that he was not going to live in a world where Alastor was right. Sure, he had done some bad things in life, but nothing deserving of having to exist in a reality where the Radio Demon had a valid point. "Actually, Vox," Charlie cleared her throat, "while I have you. Yesterday, when I came home-" Vox quickly cut her off.

"If this is about what happened with Mimzy, I was simply demonstrating cut throat sales tactics. Angel Dust will back me up here."

"Yeah, we were just showin' her the ropes of show business." Angel wasn't Vox's usual source of support, but they had both gotten fed up with Mimzy in Charlie and Vaggie's absence and things had gotten a little out of hand.

"You had her tied up and were trying to shove her in the trashcan." Charlie sounded unconvinced of their explanations.

"Because her pitch was garbage. Please try to follow along." Vox was hoping to have the lid taped shut and the can rolling out into whatever danger it could find before the Princess had opened the door, but alas, time had not been on his side.

"I learned a lot about how to climb the ranks in DamnWay!" Mimzy was too desperate to realize she should be upset.

"They do have great knives." Niffty reached behind her and pulled out a large kitchen knife and stabbed it into the couch far too close to Mimzy for comfort. Mimzy didn't even flinch. She pulled the knife from the cushion, holding it up for the others to see.

"And look! No residue or fuzz! No indication of how many bugs, things, or people Niffty has killed with the knife at all!"

"A lot." Niffty snatched the knife back from her hand, giggling excitedly. That was actually a decent pitch, not that Vox would ever admit that DamnWay produced anything other than garbage. But at the same time, Mimzy had somehow picked up legitimate sales techniques when Vox and Angel had been attempting to kill her. (Though, really, most of the credit should have gone to Niffty, for stabbing the couch.)

"Let's not murder anyone, please!" Charlie tried to reign in the chaos of her patrons. "Or stab the furniture. People sit on that." The Princess was in so woefully over her own head that if by some miracle that snake guy was in Heaven, it was probably sheer dumb luck that redeemed him.

"Stabbing is for later." Niffty nodded understandingly.

"No. No, no, no." Charlie shook her head. "Well, maybe. Hopefully not."

"The monsters will come back. And I didn't even get a chance to clean them up before." Niffty flopped down on the couch beside Mimzy, almost cuddling the knife in her arms.

"Shoggoths." Vox made a face. "Even uglier in person, and nothing prepared me for the smell." Vox vaguely wished his screen-like face didn't function as an actual human head because the putrid smell that emanated from the Shoggoths was enough to permanently churn his stomach. All the vomiting he had done prior thanks to that old hag Lucifer and his poison fucking apple did little to help.

"R... right." Charlie was giving him a weird look. Did she not think they reeked? Maybe she was just immune to the smell because she had to hang around Alastor's putrid personality. "But as I was saying, when I was coming home after Vaggie and my vacation, before I stopped you from putting Mimzy in the trash, I got... accosted by reporters about how I murdered my dad."

"You murdered your dad?" Vox raised an eyebrow. "Damn, that is stone cold. I had no idea you had it in you, Princess."

"Uh, no." Charlie looked a little irritated. "I did not murder my dad. You should know that." Vox briefly looked up from his coffee.

"I don't know how you spend your time, Princess, that's none of my business. But I will be a little pissed off if I spent all these resources trying to cover up the attack on your dad, just for you to murder him anyway."

"I didn't murder my dad! He's fine!" Charlie insisted. (Not that it really meant anything one way or the other. Of course, the primary suspect would insist everything was fine.) "But you were supposed to be helping cover this shit up! Not sending your reporters out to make up bullshit accusations about my dad being dead."

"What are you talking about?" Vox sent his reporters to make shit up all the time, mostly for ratings. But he hadn't sent them out to fabricate a murder, especially not a murder of the King. He was supposed to be fabricating a story of how fucking great the king was doing. A murder would definitely undo his late-night from the night after the incident.

"When Vaggie and I got back from our vacation, Katie Killjoy fucking cornered us, with this whole fabricated murder plot. I thought you were handling this." Charlie's explanation did little to elaborate. Katie was Vox's employee and while she did make a few juicy suggestions for stories, all major bullshit was run by him. He checked his phone for any missed texts, but Katie's last message to him was about how Tom snored and she was about to splatter his brains out all over their bedroom wall. (They were married for the ratings only.) To which Vox had responded with a simple thumbs-up emoji. (If Katie HAD killed Tom, he was better now.)

"I didn't tell her to run that story." Vox began scrolling through the 666 News app, seeing rather laughable photoshop attempts on what looked to be a Muppet in an attempt to make it look like Lucifer's corpse.

"Losing control of your employees?" Alastor was suddenly standing right behind him and Vox nearly flew out of his chair.

"No!" Vox's voice crackled with electricity. He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself, he wouldn't let Alastor get under his skin, he didn't want him to have the satisfaction. "This was probably just a miscommunication."

"You know, if you need new reporters," Mimzy fluffed her hair, "this face was made for the screen." Vox cringed a bit.

"I think we're fine."

"Miscommunication? Say it isn't so, Vox my good man! And here I thought your new-fangled gizmos were supposed to make things easier. We don't have these kinds of mistakes with the good, old-fashioned radio!"

"Look, I need to go into work tomorrow, anyway." Vox had to struggle to actively ignore Alastor. He was contracted to the Princess and he couldn't cause a scene without real fucking consequences. "I'll bury this shitty story and we can all move on with our fucking lives."

"Thank you, Vox." Charlie seemed to accept his explanation.

"Oh, come now! Is that the best you can do my Flat-headed compatriot?" Alastor's voice was like a drill to the brain. Nothing could make a migraine manifest more quickly than hearing that stupid, echoic, staticky voice. Vox's jaw clenched, his teeth grit, his hands balled into fists as he had to restrain himself from lashing out the way the Radio Demon wanted. Vox wasn't stupid. He knew he was being provoked.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Why, you've caused poor Charlie so many frustrating and tedious problems due to your negligence, and all you're going to do is bury the story and move on!? What kind of apology is that! What about the pain! The suffering! The crippling inconvenience of it all! You're supposed to be on the path to redemption, my good man! You should not just be trying to fix the problem! You need to make up for causing it in the first place!"

"Alastor, I appreciate you looking out for me," Charlie gave an awkward smile, "but so long as Vox fixes the problem, I'm happy."

"Ah, you're absolutely correct, Princess. I doubt anyone like Vox would actually be able to offer you anything worth your while that a better, more powerful, and overall, more delightful Overlord hasn't already gotten for you."

"Really," Charlie tried to speak, "it's fi-" but Vox was getting fed up with Alastor's fucking speech. If he wanted the Television Demon to completely show him the fuck up then Vox would welcome the opportunity.

"And, a commercial, made in my studio, with my crew, ten times better than that garbage you submitted last time. AND, a prime-time TV spot to air it."

"O-oh!" Charlie looked a little surprised by the addition. "Um... yeah! If you're willing to do all of that I won't say no."

"Good. Then it's settled." Vox got quickly to his feet, solely because that was what he was going to be doing anyway, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Alastor was hovering directly behind his chair. "Now, unlike the rest of you losers, I actually have a successful career to get to in the morning, so I am going upstairs."

"I work for your fucking ex." Angel retorted bitterly. While Angel wasn't exactly Vox's favorite Sinner, neither was Val at this fucking moment, and he had a point.

"Okay, fine, all of you except Angel Dust, who does inadvertently work for one of my sister companies."

"My job is more just wanton destruction." Cherri examined her nails.

"I'm a DamnWay boss babe!" Mimzy added.

"My job is to kill." Niffty held up her knife again, her eyes glistening with anticipation. Charlie quickly reached over grabbing the knife delicately between her thumb and index finger, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Okay, maybe we don't do that, Niffty."

"This has been fun." It hadn't been. Not one bit. Vox hadn't intended to start a fucking conversation about everyone's fucking career paths, but here they were. "But like I said, I have an actual fucking job and I feel like if I stay any longer someone else is going to start singing and I have had more than enough of that for one day."

"Is sitting behind a desk barking commands at your more qualified underlings really considered a job? Color me shocked."

"Shut the fuck up." Vox didn't have the energy to argue. Ever since he had started feeling sick and few months ago, he had been struggling with fatigue. He would currently place blame on the Shoggoth, on the Angels that had butted in, on the Devil and his stupid fucking apple- though after eating the apple was the first time Vox had felt any sort of relief since this stupid cold had started- on anything other than his own actions. So, he left the group to head back up the stairs to get any kind of rest in that cheap, pitiful excuse for a bed in this run-down motel. How anyone could sleep in here was a fucking miracle bigger than the one that sent Penguin- or whatever his name was- up to Heaven.

Though, that was probably a lie.

Still, it would be interesting if it was true.

Night was such an uncomfortable time at the Hotel. Vox wasn't sure if it was always the case, or if people were still recovering from seeing a Shoggoth in person. (How anyone was able to sleep in the same building as Alastor was a fucking mystery. The asshole radiated an aura of raw unease. If Vox had a choice, he'd rather be sharing a building with the Shoggoth. At least that knew it was a horrible abomination. And it seemed to be a better conversationalist. Sure, Vox didn't speak the language, and every time it spoke made his head sear and his non-existent ears bleed. But conversations with Alastor were basically identical with the added misfortune that Vox could understand him.) But it seemed as if no one in the Hotel had an easy time sleeping. Vox could sometimes hear them crying out in the dead of night.

It wasn't like nightmares were uncommon in Hell. But recently the dreams had felt more... intense, realistic. Not that Vox really remembered them. But he always seemed to wake up with the feeling that he wasn't alone in the room. And he felt... nostalgic? It was the strangest feeling. He hadn't thought too much about his life, about his home since he had died and began to climb the ranks of Hell. But over the past few months, Vox awoke thinking of restless nights back in Arkham. For such a small town in Massachusetts, Vox's home had an almost constant state of mystery about it. Someone always seemed to be missing or acting strangely. The crazy noises of Hell were nothing new compared to the odd scratching or squelching sounds in the walls a night when he was alive.

Vox wasn't sure what exactly felt so reminiscent of home, but it was probably nothing important. The people in Arkham were a paranoid lot, probably all in the Doomsday District. (Not that Vox had ever seen anyone from home. Which was odd, because he knew a lot of his old friends had done some shitty fucking things in life.) Maybe it was just that he had actually seen a Shoggoth. He had heard about them, seen very basic sketches (that did no justice to the real thing), but never thought they were real.

Maybe it was that sense of overwhelming... homesickness that caused Vox to oversleep. And from that point on the day went downhill. He was late to work; his employees were scarce and the ones he did come across only piled more work on him. There was news that Lucifer was hiring a handyman so he had to try and send his own people there. Long story short, a bunch of his employees got burned on a fucking lawn and some random asshole got the job. So that took up a large part of his morning.

Then it turned out that tomorrow was Halloween and Val hadn't helped Velvette do shit all to plan the Halloween Party. So, Velvette was drowning. The VoxTek Halloween party was legendary AND incredibly important to the company image. So that took up the rest of Vox's day and worked him well into the evening.

By the time he made it back to that lowly hotel, no one was awake except that grinning bastard for whom Vox held nothing but the deepest resentment. (Though it was good for him that Charlie was already asleep as he had done shit-all about her problem.)

"Good day?"

"Fuck off and die."

"I am taking that as a no, then." Alastor's smile peaked out over the rim of his teacup as he took a sip, sitting casually in a chair in the lobby. Vox ignored him, heading up the stairs to his room. He could hear the sounds of cowering from the other rooms as he walked past. This was becoming typical, but Vox heaved a sigh and slapped his hand against the doors as he went by to rouse the residents from their waking nightmares. Fuck it. He didn't want to listen to them scream when he was trying to sleep. Hopefully this wasn't long term, and even if it was, it wouldn't be his problem for too much longer. Just a few weeks. Then he was free.

Who would have thought seeing a Shoggoth could cause all of this bullshit? They lived with Alastor who was far uglier. But maybe they were just dealing with the fact that Shoggoths were real. Vox was still reeling from the fact. He had a... Friend... once when he was alive who had told him stories about monstrous creatures, the Shoggoth included, that he insisted were real. Vox always thought he was either full of shit or simply off his fucking rocker, but if he ever saw Danny again, he felt as if he owed him an apology.

There are gods watching over us Vic, and they can do both great and terrible things if you know how to worship them.

Vox hadn't even remembered laying down in bed until he was awoken by the sound of that old friend's voice ringing in his head. He felt a little nauseous, but that wasn't unusual. He went to the bathroom, wiping his screen with a cleaning cloth as he looked in the mirror. Ugh. He still looked like shit. But the good news was that it was fucking Halloween, so looking as undead as you actually were, was a definite plus. He was too tired and too fucking busy to but effort into a costume, so he put on his business suit, and then climbed into a comfortable, one-piece shark outfit. It was easy, it was soft, and Vox was putting forth minimal effort on his costume because he had more important shit on his plate today. Just because he was trapped in a stupid deal and all of Hell was going to shit, didn't mean the VoxTek parties could be any less phenomenal.

He headed down the stairs to find Charlie in all white with a make-shift halo over her head and a pair of white wings.

"An angel?" Vox hadn't had his coffee yet and therefore he couldn't be held responsible for what came out of his mouth. "A little tasteless, don't you think?"

"Actually, I'm a Winner!" Charlie pointed to the halo. "No eyes. I just thought it made sense because that is basically the end-goal of this hotel! To get everyone up to Heaven! Where... I am sure we will find Pentious waiting for us." She was definitely trying to convince herself of that fact, so Vox let it go. It wasn't his place to crush her dreams. "I like your shark costume!"

"Thank you." He got the coffeemaker started. He saw Vaggie in a black dress with black wings hanging off her back. "Oh, I see, it was a whole couple's thing. Cute."

"You're a shark?" Vaggie looked him up and down. Vox looked at the coffeemaker, willing it to move more quickly. Thankfully, he was the Overlord of Technology, Master of all things new- that, and the coffeemaker was a VoxTek product. So, it went into overdrive, and Vox was able to pour a nice, piping hot coffee into his Fuck Alastor mug, before having to respond.

"Sharks are cool."

"You are wearing way too much." Angel was up early. He was in a pair of tight grey shorts, a grey midriff tube top, fishnets and thigh high black boots.

"What are you supposed to be?" Vox raised an eyebrow. Angel let out a huge sigh, before pointing to his head where there was a pair of round, fluffy, gray ears and turning to show his ass, where there was a long, thin gray tail.

"I'm a fucking mouse."

"Aw! That's cute, Angel!" Charlie applauded cheerfully.

"Oh, Cherri and I forced Husk into a group costume! We're all gonna be mice. The Three Fine Mice. Get it?" Angel was far too upbeat for this early in the fucking morning. It was obvious he hadn't been dealing with Val as of late, because if he had there would be no way Angel would be in this good of a mood.

"It's three blind mice." Vox remarked dryly.

"Not with an ass like this it ain't." Angel snorted as he made his way to the coffee maker, helping himself to what Vox had just brewed.

"Angie! You look fucking great!" Cherri jumped from the top step and landed on the lobby floor with a little flip. She was in an identical outfit to Angel's, complete with the cheesy ears and tail. Vox tried not to roll his eyes. He needed to get out of the house on time today. Starting a fight would just slow him down. "Where's Husk?"

"Still getting ready, I guess. All the good shit doesn't start till night, so he has time, but I wanted to get some pics before Hell gets fucking wrecked with the partying tonight." Angel grabbed a pink mug with a pig on the front and filled it up.

"You're really excited for the Hotel Halloween party, I see!" Charlie was in a great mood she looked toward Vox. "You are coming tonight, right?"

"I have prior commitments at VoxTek." Vox replied flatly. He had to be sure nothing went awry with the party since he and Velvette had been left scrambling to put it all together.

"Oh yes, your shitty Halloween shindig! How could anyone forget? The god-awful noise leaves the entire district with migraines." Alastor's commentary was as unwelcome as his face, which currently had a small amount of red paint on the tip.

"Oh... right..." Charlie looked a little saddened by his response, which was weird because Vox knew that most, if not all the patrons hated his guts, so his presence would probably be more of a mood dampener.

"Nonsense! You are under contract, my flat-headed companion! Is your party more important than your deal with the Princess!?"

"I highly doubt that the Halloween party counts as a redemption activity." Vox's obligation was to give Charlie's batshit plan the old college try, it had nothing to do with socializing with the pathetic losers she had gathered off the streets.

"Nonsense! Of course it is! Bonding with your fellow Sinner is instrumental in the Redemption process, probably! Right, Charlie?"

"I mean..." Charlie seemed put on the spot. "It worked for Pentious... I think."

"Sure it did." Alastor's sarcastic little comment was either missed or ignored by the others as the Princess's guard dog stepped in.

"It's an official hotel activity. You have to fucking show." Vaggie had her arm around her girlfriend trying to look intimidating.

"Seriously?" Vox looked over at Charlie for confirmation.

"Well..." Charlie looked a little sheepish (Velvette was right about her needing to remember she was fucking royalty). "This is a bit of a Redemption activity. I feel like you should at least... make an appearance."

"Goddamnit." Vox rubbed his screen with his hand, hopefully not smudging it as he had just cleaned it off. "Fine, I'll find a break in the VoxTek activities to stop by and do..." he waved a hand at all the spooky little decorations Charlie must have put up in the dead of night after he had come home because they certainly weren't here earlier. "Whatever the fuck this is."

"Why, it's nothing but costumes, comradery, and of course candy! What is the Spirit of Halloween if not that!"

"The fuck are you even supposed to be?" Vox scowled over his coffee wondering if he could grab any vodka from the bar to add in to make this interaction more tolerable. He had already been practically bullied into attending some lame fucking hotel party. Alastor grinned at him gesturing to the bit of red on his nose.

"I'm Rudolph, my dear boy!"

"That's Christmas." Vox took an angry sip of his drink.

"It's still a costume."

"It completely misses the spirit of Halloween." Vox countered. The fact that it was minimal effort was just icing on the cake. Angel piped up.

"I'm pretty sure none of yous is slutty enough for the real spirit of Halloween. Not like me, Cherri, an' Husk- HEY!"

"What?" At that moment, Husk had opened the door and was wearing something more akin to Vox's shark onesie, but it was a mouse.

"You're not in uniform!" Angel pouted as he saw what Husk had chosen to wear. "We were all supposed to match!"

"I'm not wearing that." Husk's reply was flat.

"Cheer up, Angie! He's still on theme!" Cherri put an arm around Angel's shoulders. "And that's just one less great ass to distract from yours!"

"Ey, you're right." Angel seemed to accept the answer, which was for the best as Vox knew Husk from his Overlord days, and Angel was not getting him in booty shorts no matter how much he begged. "We'll just have to be extra slutty to make up for him."

"Bitch, we look fan-fucking-tastic." Cherri assured him.

"You guys do look great!" Mimzy came out in a soft purple dress with flowers in her hair. "Niffty and I are doing a group costume as well!" She gestured to Niffty who had about ten knives strapped to her body and a look on her face that was somewhere between excitement and complete euphoria. She was almost vibrating where she stood. "Mary-Lu made a challenge to dress up as your favorite DamnWay product. I'm Lavender scented essential oil and-"

"I'M THE KNIVES!" Niffty couldn't let her finish.

"Yep! The DamnWay Slice'N'Dice Set!" Mimzy gestured to Niffty. "Which, if you are interested, you can buy directly from me!"

"On that note," Vox threw back his head, downing the rest of his coffee before getting to his feet, "I'm leaving." The idea of having your underlings dress up as their favorite product was actually clever, and he hated that fucking Mary-Lu had beaten him to the punch. It was all the more reason to squash DamnWay once he was back in his office full-time and he could stop doing these idiotic activities. The only reason he was even humoring these tasks is because of his stupid contract with the Princess, all so he could see a gaudy, overhyped mansion from the inside. It was, honestly, a waste.

"Why the rush?"

"I'll see you tonight, Vox! Don't forget, okay!" Charlie sounded far too excited about what was looking to be a lame-ass party. "If you do, I'll just have to come get you!" She was clearly trying to be lighthearted, but Vox wasn't really in the mood.

"Right." Vox didn't feel the need to say goodbye, so he simply headed out the door. He walked down the path until he was far enough away from the Hotel to be able to teleport back to the tower. He couldn't leave quick enough. Dealing with Alastor left him feeling shittier than he did already. He appeared in his office, a stack of work waiting, despite everything he had done yesterday. He pressed a button in his phone to page one of his underlings. "Janie, my dear, I could go for one of your wonderful lattes." Sure, he had just had coffee, but that bitter, cheap mud from the Hotel was nothing compared to his high-end coffee prepared by his staff.

"Mewow look who it is!" The doors to his office swept open to see Velvette in a black leather mini-dress and massive heels. "Two days in a row! Did the princess finally let you off your little leash so you could play?"

"You're... a cat?" Vox looked her up and down. He finally noticed the kitty ears sitting in her perfectly styled hair.

"Um, duh." She gestured at herself. "I'm a slutty cat. Val was supposed to be a slutty butterfly, and I thought you were going to be a slutty shark."

"Val's really stretching his limits with that one, huh." Vox shuffled the papers with the flippers of his shark suit.

"Between you and me, I don't think he's really trying. He's been such a fucking dick recently, I mean... more so than usual." Velvette was clearly still upset with being left with the brunt of the Halloween party on her shoulders.

"I've been gone for less than a week, I'm sure things haven't escalated that much in my absence." Vox replied flatly. Velvette was a fantastic Overlord, and she did good work; but she had a flair for the dramatic. So little things bothered her, a lot.

"You'll be surprised." Velvette took a seat on the edge of his desk.

"Oh, I have been meaning to talk to you, but yesterday we got thrown into last-minute panic, so I didn't have the chance: Did you give Katie a story about the King being murdered? Because the royal family has paid me to keep them out of the limelight."

"Really, are you talking about the fucking Muppet thing? That was so bloody stupid I literally thought you had just flipped your shit. Look, I don't fucking talk to Katie. She's such a two-faced, backstabbing, little bitch"

"What about Tom?"

"Tom follows my Sinstagram and literally thirsts after my every photo. Outside of his desperate comments, we don't really associate."

"So, it must have been Val then." Vox wasn't exactly surprised so much as he was just frustrated with everything. "And where is Janie with my fucking latte!" Vox hit the button to call her again. "Latte?" Now? Please?"

"Janie?" Velvette blinked. "You leant her to Val, didn't you?"

"Why the fuck would I lend her to Val!? She was a barista before she died and she makes the best goddamn miso caramel lattes in this entire conglomerate!"

"I don't bloody know! That's just what Val said!"

"God fucking damnit," Vox put a flipper to the side of his screen. He could just force Janie to his side with the chain, but his powers hadn't been as reliable as he was hoping, as of late. And he wasn't ready to fuck up in front of Velvette. As much as they were allies, no one in Hell could truly be trusted. "I'll just have Stevens make it." He hit another button on the phone on his desk. "Stevens, Janie's on break and I would love my latte. Please and thanks."

"And a soy milk pumpkin spice latte for me too, Stevens! Thanks, luv!" Velvette had to just jump into his coffee order. Fuck. She knew Stevens was the next best thing if Janie was MIA. "So, you are going to the party tonight, right?"

"Of course."

"I'm serious, Vox. There's talk around the office, people are saying you got killed at Lucifer's mansion by Angels. You need to show tonight."

"Velvette my dear, there is nowhere else I would rather be." Vox still needed to cameo at the Princess's lame little soiree, but if he waited till later in the night, a majority of the VoxTek staff would be far too wasted to care about his whereabouts. Velvette certainly would be too busy posting videos of herself to care if he left.

"You had better." She got up from his desk, pointing her index and middle fingers toward her own eyes before pointing them at Vox's. "I'm sick of covering up for you."

"Are you serious? It was your stupid fucking idea for me to go to the goddamn hotel in the first place!"

"I didn't expect everything to come unraveled once you left!"

"It's been less than a week-"

"Lattes?" The door opened and one of the aquatic-looking Sinners appeared holding a drink in each hand. Vox and Velvette instantly returned to neutral stances, fighting in front of the employees suggested weakness, and the Vees were doing just fine.

"Oh yes, thank you." Vox took the cup.

"You're a doll, Stevens." Velvette blew him a playful little kiss as she took her cup. She headed toward the door, looking behind her at Vox. "Be there."

"I will, I will." He waved Velvette and Stevens both away so he could get to his work. Surely there had to be some sort of digital trail to figure out why Katie was acting without orders. Vox had a feeling it was Val. But the question was why the fuck was trying to undo everything he had done to cover up the Shoggoths. He had no desire to show those things on 666 News. He wanted people to want to watch the news and throwing that nightmarish image on every TV in Hell seemed like a recipe for disaster, especially seeing how it affected just the Hotel. Vox was a bad man, he had done terrible things to climb to power, but even he didn't want Hell to go any further to shit. There was nothing marketable about raw chaos.

"Mister Vox?" There was a page from Stevens as Vox was going through old company emails about some barbeque that one of his employees had hosted, that apparently, one of the other employees hadn't been invited to, resulting in some incredibly juicy back-and-forth. (He had gotten a little side-tracked from his research, but he couldn't resist good gossip.)

"What is it, Stevens?"

"You have a guest here to see you."

"I'm busy."

"He... was sent by the king."

"Sunnovabitch." Vox's finger tapped on the table, a nervous tick, as he tried to think of how to handle the situation. He didn't really want to talk to the King after everything that went down at the dinner party, and he certainly didn't want to talk to the king while wearing his oversized shark costume. At the same time, Vox knew ignoring him directly wouldn't work. He needed to ignore him on a more... subtle level. "Let him in, thank you Stevens."

"Yes sir." The line went dead and Vox waited for the inevitable whoosh of the door sliding open. A part of him was ready to make the door malfunction to spare him from the conversation, but it was unlikely that the Devil would believe such a dumb fucking excuse like: the door was stuck. Before he could fabricate anything better, the door opened and a Hellborn strolled into his office. He was remarkably tall, about Val's size, even without the horns.

"Vox?"

"Yes, how can I help you this fine, hellish afternoon?" Vox straightened his posture, folding his hands on his desk.

"I am from the estate of Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, sent here on his behalf to bring you in for an interview."

"An... interview?" Vox had not seen this Hellborn before with his dark red skin, yellow and crimson eyes, braided white hair. The only Hellborn Vox knew to be on Lucifer's staff, was that fucking blue asshole with the sniper rifle who kept taking out Vox's very expensive spy drones.

"Yes, he has things that he needs to discuss with you."

"If this is about that whole murder story, I'm fixing it."

"No, but good to know it's being handled."

"It would be easier if your boss made more public appearances." Vox was truly hoping this was about the Princess's alleged fratricide because all the other options pointed to the Overlord having to admit to some... less than savory behavior in the past. The King of Hell was not someone you wanted to be pissed at you.

"I will let him know; but if you are available, Mister Vox, I have been told this is a matter of great urgency and he would like you to come to the mansion at once."

"No." Vox sat back in his chair. The Hellborn courier looked a little taken aback by the suddenness of his response.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No, I am not available." He used his fin to gesture to the stack of papers beside him, then to his multiple computer screens, as well as the monitors that overlooked the rest of Hell that sat behind him. "I am actually quite busy. Today is the company Halloween Party, as I am sure you were aware." This Hellborn wasn't invited, but it was who you didn't invite that really made a party.

"This shouldn't take long."

"I don't have time. I will come see him later when things have calmed down at work." Typically, one did not tell the King no but Vox wasn't in a place to tell him yes either. If this was so goddamn important, the King could get him himself. He seemed to be feeling better in order to go on that trip with Charlie and Vaggie.

"I see." The Hellborn nodded. He was too polite; it was a little unsettling. Vox had the distinct feeling he was about to thrown under some metaphorical bus. "Then I will schedule you for later."

"You do that."

"Your costume is fun."

"Thank you." Maybe Vox was wrong about the Hellborn as it seemed he could at least appreciate a good shark outfit. "You may leave." He waved his fin toward the door.

"Of course." The Hellborn may not have been satisfied with the response, but he was at least obedient. This gave Vox time to fabricate a convincing lie. Hopefully it was convincing enough so that he wouldn't be forced to eat another one of those god-awful apples. He watched the Hellborn leave before paging Avery's office.

"Avery, to my office, please." Vox would make sure this whole murder fiasco was handled before his inevitable confrontation with the Devil. It was best to make sure everything was settled and there would be no loose threads for Lucifer to grill him about.

"You called?" At least Avery was still here- though if Val had touched one of Vox's top dogs, there would be blood. The Vees shared employees, but it was always mutually agreed upon. Vox was still fucking pissed about Janie. (Not that Val could entice Vox's highest-ranking employees. He treated his high earners very well.)

"Avery, very good, have a seat." Vox gestured to the chair before him, and Avery obediently sat down. She was dressed in a glittering skeleton dress, the bones seemingly carved from gems. Vox cleared his throat. "Did you authorize Katie to run a story about the Princess murdering her dad?"

"No sir. I was updating the CGI on the... "firework" that damaged the King's mansion." That was the official cover story for the giant hole.

"What about Spencer?"

"Spencer was putting together found footage for the "exciting and exclusive mansion party that Lucifer threw for Hell's Elite" that we gathered from various phones' memory banks."

"And you made sure to cut Alastor out of every shot?" Vox's official story for the disaster at the mansion was that it was a wild and exclusive party for Hell's finest leaders. Sure, it gave Carmilla a little credit, but she literally had her head ripped off, so she deserved a little break. (And after Velvette's actions at the Overlord Meeting, he owed Carmilla something.) If anyone saw the Shoggoths, they were told that those were simply very ugly strippers. It wasn't a great alibi, but weirdly enough, no one seemed to be asking about them. Either they had somehow avoided being witnessed by any bystanders during the fight, or anyone who saw them just... didn't follow up. Whichever it was, it was working in Vox's favor. The story made Vox look good, and kept those angels out of the spotlight. Vox had no more desire to admit his ass was saved by angels than Lucifer did. Avery nodded.

"Of course, he wasn't impressive enough for an invitation."

"Did you happen to find out who authorized Katie to run that story? I highly doubt she thought of it herself, and even if she did, there's no fucking way a kiss-ass like her would air it without someone very high up backing her." There were too many lawyers in Hell for Vox not to be watching his ass with his bullshit. (At least when it came to high powered Hellions who would fight back.)

"It was Val, from what I heard."

"Of course it was." Vox's voice crackled with electricity. That moth was flying too close to the flame for Vox's liking.

"I will admit, I thought it was counterproductive."

"And you didn't say anything!?" Vox immediately sighed, it wasn't like Avery had the power to stop Val, even if she had tried. "Never mind. Did you at least see Janie?"

"I wish. I need a fucking cappuccino. I heard you moved her contract to Val, and I was pretty fucking shocked because she's one of the good ones. As good as they come in Hell." Her testimony just confirmed all of Vox's suspicions. Sure, Janie wasn't exactly a CEO, but she was a damn good assistant. Vox would need to start keeping a closer eye on his employees.

"I'll get her back; the transfer was only supposed to be temporary." Vox didn't want Avery to concern herself with the Vees' relationship. That would only demonstrate weakness in the hierarchy, and he couldn't allow himself to be questioned. (Especially now, with rumors of his own death circulating.) "Until then, we need to undo Katie's fuckup."

"Of course, sir."

"Let's run a story, saying that whole murder plot was a publicity stunt. It was advertisement for our new project: Muppet Murders. Also, we need to create a project called Muppet Murders."

"Muppet Murders?"

"Yes. All our actors are puppets due to the... issues with live actors recently." Anyone who worked on Love After Death didn't really appear in any additional projects.

"We'll still need puppeteers."

"Yes, but people have magic it can't be that fucking hard to find someone who can manipulate puppets. It doesn't have to be good it just has to exist." Chances were that no one would watch it and they could cancel it after the pilot.

"Of course. We'll throw together a trailer to air with the story."

"You're the best."

"I know I am." Confidence was key in show business. Avery got up, looking down at her tablet, Vox didn't need to see the screen to know she was drawing up concepts for their new show. It was almost funny how much of Vox's media come from desperation and cover ups. One of his most popular reality shows came from his attempt to cover up a spy drone flying over Zestial's territory. Now Vox had to record The Extreme as Fuck Drone Flying Race every few months.

"I will see you at the party tonight."

"Of course." Avery wouldn't miss it. Every employee would very chomping at the bit to attend, to rub elbows with the upper echelon of Hell. This was their chance to schmooze, to make an impact on Sinners who fucking mattered. Or, alternatively, to fuck up and humiliate themselves, dooming their afterlife to one of misery and shame. It was a fifty-fifty shot. But regardless, they would be attending.

Vox spend the rest of his day catching up on paperwork, taking extra-long to complete it due to his insistence on keeping his shark outfit on and doing everything with his hands snugly in the fins. He could take it off, sure, but that was like admitting defeat. It was Halloween, Goddamnit. Now was the time to fucking celebrate.

He finished what needed to be done, and finally headed toward the VoxTex conference rooms all of which had been completely gutted, leaving the entire first floor as one, giant ballroom filled with lights, food, speakers, a live band, and Vox Tek employees already starting to enjoy the festivities. At least, he assumed it was filled with people, the CEO of VoxTek was stopped outside the elevator, the moment he stepped off by a rather irate looking Missi Zilla and Zestial who must have been ready to ambush him. Of course, this confrontation would have been much more intimidating if Missi hadn't been wearing an inflatable unicorn suit (how the fuck did they get one in her size?) and Zestial had a little button that simply said: This is my Halloween costume. (How could someone have a lazier outfit than fucking Alastor? That seemed wrong somehow.)

"Where, the fuck, is Valentino?" Missi bared her teeth as she slammed her hand against the elevator door, the inflatable unicorn head swishing back forth with the abrasive movements. Her tail must have been inside the inflatable.

"Good question." Vox pressed his fins together. A unicorn interrogating a shark wasn't exactly on his Halloween bingo card, but it might as well happen. "I am looking for him too. If you have a message that you want me to deliver, I would be happy to do so, however, I'm afraid I can't do much else at the moment as I have more pressing obligations at hand."

"Thy party 'tis not an obligation." Zestial's eyes all narrowed.

"It is I'm afraid. My employees work hard and deserve their rewards. So, if you have a message, please, just tell me." He ducked underneath Missi's arm.

"We got people in there, our people!" Missi snarled and the unicorn inflatable squeaked as she whipped around to glare at him.

"That gent is stealing from us." Zestial was suddenly behind Vox and the Technology Overlord found himself literally trapped in a PR disaster. (Wasn't Halloween supposed to be fun? Why was he not able to catch a single, goddamn break today?)

"I mean... if he's sniping your prospects, then you should probably start offering better shit." Vox looked between the two. It wasn't uncommon for Overlords to steal future contracts from one another, Sinners were a commodity, and growth was instrumental to success in Hell. "Look, I have several classes on the art of seduction when it comes to fresh souls in Hell. Not like the romantic seduction, if you need help with that, talk to Val." Vox took a deep breath and started to cough, shit, he had actually been feeling better since the dinner-disaster. Zestial reeled back, as if he had been struck. Missi simply made a face, barely visible in the small eye-window in the neck of the pink unicorn suit. "Oh, that's right, none of you can get in touch with him. That's on me." Vox gestured to himself. "Oh well." Then, in a burst of electricity, he teleported out of that situation and into the party in question. Thank fucking God the teleportation worked because Vox needed an escape. (His teleport ability had failed him once before, during the Shoggoth fight, so he was relieved that it hadn't crapped out on him once again.)

"Oh thank fuck." Velvette must have seen the burst of electricity because she honed in on him the moment he appeared.

"I told you I would come." Vox was pleased to see a rather large crowd, already dancing and celebrating the holiday. The costumes were wild and elaborate, which wasn't surprising given the costume contest that had a rather hefty cash prize.

"I was worried." Velvette admitted, taking a sip of the drink in her hand. "Val's here too. Somewhere." The room was massive, the crowd thick, Vox wouldn't exactly have an easy time finding Val if the moth Sinner didn't want to be found.

"Missi and Zestial are outside, they want to talk to him. They are pissed." Vox snapped and a drone with glasses on the top appeared and he took one of the drinks. Velvette made a face of annoyance at the new information.

"At me? Fuck those pompous little bitches."

"At Val."

"Oh, then join the fucking club." She tapped her glass against the glass in Vox's hand. "At least the party had a good turnout. Better than I was expecting." It was better than what Vox had been expecting as well, it seemed almost more crowded than usual. "You gonna announce yourself? It's not like you to just slip in unnoticed."

"I am." Vox downed the drink he was holding in his fin and vanished in a burst of electricity, reappearing on the stage right as the band finished their song. "Hello VoxTek and VoxTek subsidiaries!" He had a huge smile plastered on his screen, his voice projecting over the speakers. "I hope you are having a Hellish Halloween!" He paused, allowing the crowd to cheer. "I know there have been some... concerns as of late but I assure you that news regarding my death has been greatly exaggerated." He paused for laughter. There it was. "Look around you, look at the celebration, the festivities, the best of the best that surround you here tonight. We spared no expense. So, you can put those wandering minds at ease! We at VoxTek, are like a family. And we have your best interests at heart. I have just been away, rubbing elbows with the King of Hell himself. He has trusted me with a lot, but we're a family, and I trust you." Vox didn't trust anyone of these assholes, but that was irrelevant. "So, I will let you in on a little secret: The Exterminations are over." The room was suddenly dead silent. "I talked to Lucifer, told him what I had planned for the Angelic Security System, showed him our prototypes, and he took that shit right to Heaven. When the angels saw what we could do- what VoxTek could do- they knew coming down here would be a death sentence. We'll still be releasing the system- so good it could scare angels- for when Heaven inevitably changes their minds, but for now, relax, celebrate harder, and know that if you don't see me around quite as much, it's because Lucifer himself has begged for my advice- which I am happy to give! For a price. And that price will trickle down to benefit each and every one of you! Now let's PARTY!" He dropped the microphone and the crowd went wild they roared in response. Vox's screen glowed at the praise as he lifted both fins in the air, urging them to cheer louder, and they did. With a bow, he vanished from the stage, reappearing in the VIP lounge set up above the party so that the highest-ranking employees could observe their underlings from a distance. It wasn't two minutes before the door flew open and Velvette was in front of him, her eyes narrowed.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?"

"A speech." Vox finished his drink.

"The Exterminations are over!? Are you bullshitting right now!?"

"No." Vox relaxed into a blue, plush chair, "well, maybe a little. Just about the 'Angelic Security` bit. We don't have a prototype- at least not a fully functional one. Spenser is working out the deal with Carmilla's goons for more Angelic steel."

"How the fuck do you know they stopped the Exterminations!?"

"That was an announcement at Lucifer's stupid party before things got out of hand." Vox hadn't told Velvette the actual story. He hadn't told anyone. Even Spenser and Avery who were doing the footage touch-ups didn't know why. (Though apparently a good bit of the footage was unusable anyway. The Shoggoths didn't agree with the camera, which was fine because Vox didn't want images of those fuckers saved on to any of his servers.)

"And you didn't tell me!?"

"I just did."

"You don't make a big announcement like that and not tell me first."

"Apologies Velvette, it was-" Vox started coughing again- "it was a spur of the moment decision. But you're right, we should have discussed it. Also, we're doing a new show called Muppet Murders, if you have any puppet-based Sinners, or Sinners with puppeteering experience, send them my way. And, I'll need you to make puppets."

"Puppets!?" Velvette was mad, rightfully so, Vox had jumped the gun a bit on the announcement, but the limelight was an intoxicating force. "Why don't you ask your new best friends the Morningstars to help out!?"

"I could. I mean, I am fairly certain that Charlie made the original puppet. So, I could probably just ask her if this is too complicated."

"Fuck you." Velvette would calm down in due time. The shock was still fresh, Vox just needed to back off and let her stew. That was easy to do because Vox felt a hand on his shoulder and nearly came up out of his seat as he saw Val behind him, his wings decorated, wearing just tight shorts, fishnets, and leather heeled boots.

"Vox, it's been a while." Val was grinning ear to ear, his heart shaped glasses hiding his eyes. "I heard you got broken over at the mansion."

"I'm fine, thank you for all your concern." Vox cleared his throat, flipping the hood of his shark costume back on, as it had flown off when he jumped. Val slid out from behind Vox's chair, drawing close to him again. Velvette rolled her eyes, choosing to take her leave rather than deal with the other two Vees. There was a party to attend after all.

"I was concerned! I hadn't seen you in a few days."

"I'm taking a brief leave, helping the Morningstars with some important, official business. It's classified, unfortunately."

"You can tell me, mi amor."

"Don't mi amore me. You've been a fucking dick." Vox wasn't in the mood for Val's flirtations. "You wanna tell me why there are two Overlords in our lobby pissed as fuck at you?"

"I'm surprised it's only two." Val looked amused by the interrogation. "But why do you get to ask all the questions. I'm not the one who ran away." Vox tensed as Val put a long finger under the bottom of his screen tilting his head up.

"I didn't run away-"

"Hmm... you're looking a little... less... sickly."

"You sound disappointed." Vox narrowed his eyes.

"Disappointed only by how you went about it." Val's answer didn't really make a lot of sense. Vox could only assume his improvements were because of the medicines finally taking affect. Sure, the improvement aligned with his visit to the King, but those results were purely coincidental.

"What? Was I supposed to use fucking essential oils? Don't tell me you buy in to all of Mary-Lu's, DamnWay bullshit."

"Oh, fuck no." At least Val hadn't completely lost touch with reality. At least not yet. "I just mean that you have a lot of potential. And you're wasting it." Val let his hand drop from Vox's face and the Technology Overlord felt relief wash over him.

"I'm keeping this company going."

"The company can only do so much." Val walked over to the banister, looking over the celebration with a look of wistfulness that Vox hadn't seen from him before. "Look at all those souls, all that potential. Many of them already understand..." he trailed off and Vox found himself walking to his side, staring over the crowd, trying to see whatever Val was staring at. Even from behind the glasses, Vox could see Val's eyes were wide. He looked... enthralled, almost... hypnotized by the scene below. "But one day, all of Hell will know what we have accomplished." Vox looked below him, there were many faces he knew in the crowd below, and many more he couldn't recognize. Perhaps it was simply due to the fact that they were all dressed up for Halloween, but Vox couldn't help but wonder how many newcomers he had missed in his few days of absence. "Vox," Val still wasn't looking at him, "my prince," his gaze was steadfast on the crowd, "what happened at the mansion?"

"A party, I was blatantly clear on that." Vox tore his gaze off of Val and, instead, tried to see how many underlings he could recognize in the mob below.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." Vox wasn't lying so much as he was omitting information. There had been a party, it had just been rudely interrupted.

"I heard you were attacked." Val snapped and a magazine appeared in a puff of pink smoke. Vox felt his blood sizzle in his circuits. Demonic Deets. The title wasn't much, but the little picture of the author on the cover was the blonde DamnWay rep that Vox had tried to put in the trash. (He clearly should have tried harder.)

"You believe a trashy gossip magazine? Wow." Vox kept his expression as stoic and unimpressed as possible.

"She's one of the Hotel Residents, isn't she?" Val gestured to the woman on the cover. Vox looked at her, then back up at Val.

"I mean, yeah. But she's not really a reliable source. Unless you think we're missing something with her: Fifty Fun and Flirty Ways To Secure an Overlord."

"She seduced Cain, didn't she?" He flipped open the magazine to prove his point. There was a photo of Mimzy in her best outfit drinking wine with...

"That's a rock."

"It could be Cain, we don't know. But fine, be coy with me, I can always just talk to Angel Dust, unlike you he'll have to talk."

"Angel wasn't there." Vox had to think on his feet. Val was absolutely right; Angel would crumble under interrogation. He didn't have a fucking choice. And Vox didn't want Val to know the full story. He didn't even know why he wanted to keep it so secret. But something about Val realizing the Devil had been attacked, maybe even hurt filled Vox with a strangely potent dread.

"Wasn't there? Bullshit." Finally, Val was looking directly at him. "He's so far up the Princess's ass he should be giving her free colon screenings." Vox snorted at the comment. He reached up, putting his soft, fabric shark fin against the side of Val's cheek, caressing it gently.

"He didn't want to go because I was there. Can you believe it?"

"No. I can't."

"Yeah, he threw a fucking fit about it too. He was a total pussy." Vox had his most charming smile; he kept that eye contact strong. He had one chance; he couldn't fuck this up. "Said he couldn't stand to be in the room with: trash like me." Vox, lowered Val's sunglasses, his hypnotic eye starting to swirl as he upped the brightness on his screen. Val had a weakness for light.

"You're lying, mi amor." Val was struggling, resisting. He was such a hard mind to control already, but he felt even harder for Vox to push. He didn't need much, just for Val to believe. His eyes swirled faster, his screen lighting the whole room.

"I would never lie to you." Vox lowered the glasses more. Val gave him a look. "At least, not about something like this." He could feel the strain from pushing Val's thoughts to align with what he was saying. His head was starting to hurt. "Angel... wasn't... there. Believe me." Vox's head was pounding, his legs felt like gelatin, but he stood firm even rising up onto his toes to lean closer to Val's face. Vox's own vision was getting blurry- he would blame the brightness of his screen. He could feel Val's will starting to give way under the weight of Vox's mental abilities. His eyes felt like they were burning, boring holes into Val. He just had to keep pushing. "Believe me." Vox felt dampness in the corner of his eyes., his mouth. He ignored it, feeling Val's mind at its breaking point. Vox pulled the glasses off, leaning so close that their lips nearly touched "Believe me."

"Ugh, that's a damn shame." Val's mind finally gave way under Vox's power. The relief was palpable as Vox struggled not to show it in his demeanor. He tried his best not to tremble, not to gasp for breath. "Awe, you got something on your face." Val's hand slid into the mouth of Vox's shark costume, tracing down his chest to his handkerchief in the pocket of the suit he wore underneath, pulling it out, and wiping Vox's screen.

"It's makeup, this shark outfit is hot as fuck and I've been sweating it all off." Vox kept his voice as steady as possible as he took the handkerchief from him. He didn't wear makeup, typically, since his facial features moved around more than most. He could but it was unusual. Though if he did wear it, it was on Halloween. So, Val believed him without any pushing. (Which was for the best as Vox was mentally and physically exhausted.) "We should get back to the party, right?" He gestured behind him at the crowd below.

"You're right~ They have been far too long without me." Val's wings spread out as he straightened his posture, his hands gripping the banister as he looked at the crowd. "Look how boring it is." His body turned to smoke and he spilled into the crowd, reforming in the center of the room, immediately getting an excited mob around him. Vox collapsed to the ground; he couldn't even make it back to his chair. He was panting hard; he could still feel the wetness dripping down his face. He assumed it was sweat, though he didn't often sweat on his face. He took his handkerchief out again, wiping his screen once more. He looked at the cloth before tucking it away again. The fabric was stained an almost pink shade of red... blood? Vox didn't have the time to dwell on it because the panting slowly devolved into coughing and the Technology Overlord found himself curled up on the floor, coughing hard. Damn. If he had known he was going to feel this shitty he could have left Angel Dust to rot. Vox struggled to catch his breath; his body ached all over.

"Vox, are you all right?" The voice of Lucifer came as a shock. Vox struggled to sit up. He hadn't heard anyone enter the VIP lounge over his own coughing fit. He saw the Devil standing over him, his typical white suit shed for one of black with orange accents. There was a spiderweb over his orange top hat. The cheesy apple was replaced with a Jack-o-Lantern on both the hat and cane. The snake coiled along the top looked skeletal.

"Your majesty!" Vox gave a winning smile as he scrambled to wipe his screen one last time before facing the King of Hell. "I am doing just splendid!" He wasn't. "Thanks for asking! You are looking rather well, yourself!"

"Indeed."

"No offense, your majesty, but... um... how did you get up here?"

"I'm the King of Hell. They let me in."

"No... that... that makes sense." He could probably have forced his way in if he really wanted. No one on Vox's staff was stupid enough to stop the fucking King.

"I am glad I found you." Lucifer offered him a hand to get to his feet and Vox, hesitantly put his fin in it. Lucifer pulled him effortlessly up. "I summoned you, did I not?"

"No... you did." Vox wasn't winning. This was turning out to be a particularly shitty day for him. "I just have a lot on my plate today."

"This is important, more important than anything else-"

"Vox! There y- dad?" The door opened again and this time the Princess came running in. (Vox was beginning to question the exclusivity of his VIP lounge.) Charlie looked her dad up and down in surprise. "Wow! You are looking better!"

"Hey apple-pie! Raphael's healing was surprisingly potent." Lucifer smiled. Vox wasn't really sure what was going on, but the princess nodded.

"Oh, well, I was just hoping to grab Vox! He's late to my Halloween party at the hotel! He has to come! It's..." She looked as taken aback to see Lucifer as Vox felt. "It's our first big party since the Grand Reopening!"

"Oh." Lucifer looked between the two. "I see."

"D..." Charlie looked a little hesitant. "Do you want to come, too?"

"Yes!" Lucifer's reply was so quick it took everyone off guard, even the Devil himself. He cleared his throat, straightening the lapels of his holiday-themed coat. "I mean, if you have the room for me." Vox kept quiet, letting the Morningstars talk. He would MUCH rather go to the princess's stupid fucking party than deal with the questions the King had in store. That would mean admitting to what had happened with Adam.

"O-oh! That's great! Of course we have room!" She seemed excited by the idea. "I know parties aren't always your thing at least, not small ones BUT!" She clapped her hands together, "we have a pumpkin decorating station!"

"Are you kidding!? That sounds great!" Lucifer almost seemed to forget about Vox entirely, thanks to Charlie's interruption.

"Aw! Yay! Vox, are you ready to decorate a pumpkin!?" Charlie gestured toward the door.

"Yes! Sorry, princess, I was just getting everything going at the VoxTek party." Vox brushed himself off. Now was NOT the time to look weak. Charlie headed out of the door, back down the stairs. Vox went to follow but Lucifer grabbed him by his fin, pulling him back.

"I was wrong. Charlie's party is more important. But tomorrow, you will come to my office." He was smiling, but Vox could feel the intensity in his gaze. Vox was forced to lean down to look the Devil in the eyes. "Does that sound good to you?"

"I..." Vox wanted to argue, wanted to protest. He looked down at the hand gripping him. "Yes, of course." He smiled, despite falling apart on the inside. This was... going to be fine. He had till tomorrow. Surely, he could think of a good lie by then.