Currently Cackling At Vox's Blue Error Screen During "Stayed Gone"

Same bestie \platonically tho

errorsanserrorsans i only need errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans errorsanserrorsanserrorsanserrorsans

Goretober Day 8: Xray

i wanna start posting

tbh i just wanna get a following before i eventually kill myself at the age of 21 so maybe i'll start posting art

why do i have to wake up

DROP YOUR DX FOR VOX !!!!! Please and thank you.

I would like to preface all my posts on headcanons related to psychology and mental illness with a disclaimer: diagnosing mental conditions, especially personality disorders, can be extremely challenging. It's a complicated process that relies heavily on a psychologist's interpretation of facts, making it susceptible to biases. Personality disorders cannot be diagnosed based on surface-level observations and are not just labels that we can assign to people like in the case of MBTI. Additionally, I am not a clinician with any expertise in diagnosing people. Therefore, the following post should not be taken as a reliable professional opinion. It's simply my interpretation of the internal mechanisms that may be responsible for the behavior of certain characters in my fan fiction. Furthermore, I want to make it clear that I have no intention of stigmatizing people with personality disorders by associating them with villains. A personality disorder does not determine someone's character or make them a bad person. Some characters may be evil because of the choices they make, not as a result of their mental conditions.

(I've already posted some stuff here so I'm not going to repeat myself.)

Okay, so, Vox has Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). It's crucial to distinguish this from "common narcissism" (people often described as "narcissists" by others just because they are egotist assholes; kinda ableist, you shouldn't do it because it's extremely stigmatizing towards people suffering with actual NPD) . While those individuals typically function well, those with NPD exhibit all the traits – grandiosity, egocentrism, attention-seeking, intense power fantasies – but as it's a disorder, these traits lead to inflexible and maladaptive patterns of behavior and cognition.

NPD has its roots in intense feelings of shame, low self-compassion, and self-loathing. In my interpretation, Vox has always felt inadequate. His father inherited an enormous amount of money, establishing a media conglomerate in the 20's. Vox's mother, captivated by the world of movies, used them to escape her reality as a trophy wife. Despite her dreams of becoming an actress, Vox's father, possessive and protective, prevented her entry into the entertainment industry. As a compromise, he made their son a child actor, with the condition that it would be temporary. When Vox grew older, he was expected to transition to learning business and other skills, ultimately to take over the family's empire.

So, Vox was never enough for either of his parents. His father thought of him as annoying and unserious due to his talkativeness and exaggerated behaviors, attributing it to growing up surrounded by actors. As for his mother... Vox turned out to be a terrible actor, struggling to convey emotions that weren't bombastic and over-the-top. Being a teenager is humiliating enough, but imagine being a teenager bad at something and forced to do it for a worldwide audience, when the whole production crew is annoyed with you. Fortunately, he grew up to be devilishly handsome (not to be a simp, I just believe someone must be handsome to endure the ethereal punishment of having their face swapped for a TV screen) and entertaining, leading them to make him a TV host and media personality.

Anyway, NPD is all about creating a perfect self and projecting it to the world when you're deeply ashamed of your true self. It means that, no matter what you're doing, you're constantly concerned about how it looks to other people. You constantly play an exhausting game, trying to win gold stars of social admiration for every-fucking-thing, guided by superficial ideals of wealth, perfection, beauty, and, above all, power. One reason Alastor's existence bothers Vox so much is the fact that he cannot comprehend the idea of someone choosing radio over his "objectively better and correct" medium. Vox lacks the ability to understand nuanced sentiments, which ironically makes him thrive in Hell. In this anarchocapitalist, lawless society, survival of the fittest prevails, and this is a game he excels at playing.

Generally, the best approach for individuals with NPD is to pull them out of delusional thinking by confronting their beliefs about the world and themselves with reality (it should be performed by qualified therapist, especially when someone hasn't completed any kind of therapeutic process yet). However, in Hell, Vox's behavior was no longer in violation of social norms; on the contrary, it was highly rewarded. Consequently, he completely lost his shit, became unhinged, and began acting on all his previously suppressed urges. He finally fulfilled all narcissistic power fantasies and became (almost) untouchable. Now, he's ready to kill anyone who questions him, seeing it as threatening to his fragile image of the perfect self.

He exhibits strong bipolar tendencies. Most of the time, he's power-tripping in a semi-maniacal state. Periodically, he undergoes deep, depressive episodes, locking himself up in his apartment and avoiding interaction.

Constantly guarding this fragile image of the perfect self that he built is exhausting. The bigger this image gets, the more fragile it becomes, like a house of cards. And guarding it becomes more and more exhausting. But there's nothing scarier than the idea of the facade falling apart and people seeing him as he is: imperfect and vulnerable, damaged and ashamed, rotten and evil. Deep down, he knows he's unlovable, and it hurts. He knows that true love exists; he craves this ultimate form of admiration and devotion, but it requires vulnerability and honesty, which he's not capable of. He's only vulnerable with Valentino, and only occasionally when he's intoxicated or when Val fucks every last thought out of his body. He's very much a controlling top insecure about his masculinity, so the latter happens rarely.

Also, drugs. Oh, do this man enjoy some coke. Other drugs and booze, not so much; they make him feel less in control. But getting coked up, going out, causing a scene, killing some poor souls, and relishing this feeling of being completely untouchable? Feels so good.

When it comes to Alastor, he hates him because he's jealous. Despite all his efforts—building a perfect persona, a perfect company, perfect entertainment—this stinky, outdated, and boring radio demon gets so much attention and admiration that should be his. Moreover, he feels that Alastor can see right through his bullshit. He's so paranoid about it that he's almost certain Alastor knows about his childhood traumas, about his death, about all his truths, and could one day broadcast it for all people of Hell to hear. So, he needs him dead.

Note: these headcanons (especially Vox's past) are very important part of my fanfiction. Please feel free to use them in your fics but I'll appreciate if you tag me 🩷

Am I the only one who finds it cute how Error covers his face in his scarf whenever he gets flustered?

Error doesn’t get flustered. You can’t see it, so he doesn’t get flustered. Nope.

lost in soulless city

Hello 👋, My name is Momen Al Madhoun / I am a digital artist /a father of two children " Ezzdeen & Amir " I live in Gaza City in the heart of the Genocide, working tirelessly to amplify my voice to the world through my artwork.

I want to say thank you a lot. Your donations helped me improve our displacement conditions. But my family still needs your contributions to keep going We rely on you, you are our hope for survival.

🌟 Our campaign is vetted by 🇵🇸 @/gazavetters List at #291

Gofundme Campaign Link

Today's Menu; 𝘓𝘢𝘬𝘴𝘢

⇆ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ㅤ ▷ㅤ↻

Rengoku Kyojuro is a patience young boy. He took pride in that small bit of him because he was aware of how much damages could be done when your emotions were left unchecked. He was patience when it comes to completing his training, patience when it comes to taking care of his little brother and certainly patience when it comes to deal with his father.

But he, just like other normal human beings, had his own limits too.

Kyojuro couldn't helped but to glower down on the waste of food in the trash can -- the food that he and Senjuro had cooked for their dear father. Among the food, scattering around were pieces of papers, one that he recognized its origins based on the writings he could detect from tbe pieces. The food and letters he and Senjuro had made for their dear father. For their father's birthday. Senjuro, bless that small boy, had been nothing but excited and skipping in his steps when he walked around the market with Kyojuro to find the food's ingredients, blabbering on whether their father would like the meal they made for him or not. Senjuro was so excited to show how much progress he had made in writing kanji that he kept redoing the letters all day before.

The least their father could've done would be keeping the letters if he found the food to be inedible for him.

Kyojuro lose the appetite to make himself a dinner, plopping his sheathed sword on the table as he hurried to tie the plastic from the trash can to be put outside before Senjuro could see the fills in it. He wouldn't want his little brother to cry another endless of tears with the lack of love from their father. He kept his hands clenched, keeping down the boiling rage inside him as he walked passed his father's bedroom.

The urge to burst in and scream at the old man was tempting, but Kyojuro knew nothing would be gained through reckless anger.

Yet, even after he finished with putting out the trash and scrubbing his hands clean, he still couldn't sit tight or calm himself. His uniform was dirty from the last mission he just finished. He should take a bath. But he stood there alone in the kitchen, hands still clenching tight. With a huff, Kyojuro placed back his sword into his belt and left the estate to take a walk outside. Danger be damned, if he couldn't tone down his anger, he would be the most dangerous one around lurking in the night. He walked and walked, mind somewhere else, letting his feet to take the lead.

Kyojuro tilted his head up to the sky, pressing his lips. Oh, what would his mother thought of the family situation now? Her absence had a great effect, but his father acted like he was the only one who suffered the most. By God, Kyojuro and Senjuro lost their own mother that day, Senjuro couldn't even remembered how she looked like! They could still lived like it was another normal day, but why couldn't their father did the same? Why couldn't their father be strong enough? Why did it have to be Kyojuro who had to lighten up the household and carried on the responsibility?

He was so tired. He just turned 16 years old last month, give him a break.

Kyojuro stopped walking, his mind snapped back to reality as a new scent stirred in the air. His stomach growled once he recognized the smell to be of a food, alerting him that he had not eaten anything since finishing his mission. Which stall opened at late night near the forest? Maybe it was a demon's trick. With that in mind, he grasped on the hilt of his sword, eyes darting around for any signs of dangers as he continued to walk closer to where the smell would be.

Standing in front of him now was a building, the sign outside introduced him that it was a restaurant. A restaurant in the middle of nowhere? How very suspicious. Kyojuro approached the building and noticed a small whiteboard sign propped near the entrance.

☞ 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧

☞ 𝘞𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯

☞ 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘴!

☞ 𝘈𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥

Huh, he never seen such rules before in any food selling places he went to. Looking at the structure of the building, it seemed to be newly built and recently opened. Still suspicious though, why would anyone want to build a restaurant away from the public eyes? The sounds of footsteps coming from the inside caused him to jump in surprise, and peeking out through the entrance was a woman.

She didn't looked Japanese, perhaps a foreigner. The woman noticed Kyojuro standing outside and blinked at him. She stared at him for a good couple of seconds before standing straight, adjusting her headscarf and smiled.

" It's a bit late for you to be out. Would you like to come in for something to eat? "

Kyojuro would have rejected the invitation if it wasn't for his stomach growling louder than before, drawing in the awkwardness and embarrassment in him. The woman tilted her head, her smile seemed amused now. Defeated, Kyojuro covered his red ears with his hair and looked down on his clothes.

" I apologize for my state of clothing. I didn't even know there was a restaurant around here. "

" Do you have blood on them? "

Kyojuro squinted his eyes a little. " I hope not. "

" Hmm, good enough for me. Wash your hands and feet first before coming in. "

The woman disappeared inside the building, leaving Kyojuro to decide what to do. He wished he had bathed first before taking a walk. Dusting off the dirt from his clothes, he took off his footwear and cleaned his hands and feet.

___________

The inside of the building was much more fascinating that he thought it would be. The lights were bright, clean tables and chairs neatly in their positions and the plants inside made the place looked more lively. He was so busy looking around the facility he didn't realized the woman had placed his order in front of him, as well as his drink. He wasn't sure what to order, so he opted for a noddle meal, in which the woman nodded and told him she had something for him.

The broth looked heavenly thick, white noddles filling in every corner of the bowl, green vegetables and onions in the soup made it looked fresh and the boiled egg and shrimps popping out in between the noodles seemed to glint under the light. It was the same scent he smelled before -- filled with richness and spiciness that smelled so good even before his tongue could taste it first. It was beautiful.

" You're drooling. " The woman offered him chopsticks, seemingly pleased that her cooking looked good. " If you want to use spoon or fork, I'll get them for you. "

Kyojuro smiled back, reaching for the chopsticks. " Thank you for the food. " Careful not to burn himself, he slowly took the first bite of the noddles.

Oh, this. This reminded him of the times his mom would made him noodle soup when he was feeling down. She would also made tempura and sweet potatoes dessert for him, smiling so sweetly as he offered to help her cook. The coconut broth of the meal was delicious, the noodles were easy to chew and swallow. It was both spicy and sweet, bot flavors balancing each other. The food was warm, it was tasty and it was comforting.

" 𝘜𝘮𝘢𝘪! " Kyojuro found himself chanting as he took another bite, again and again until only the broth was left in the still steaming bowl. That was fast. He didn't realized how starving he was.

The woman returned again, napkins in her hands as she lit up at the finished food.

" That good? "

" It was amazing! Delicious! " Kyojuro cried out, noting on how he felt more energetic than before. " What it this meal? Please do tell me! "

She laughed. " It's laksa, usually done with coconut broth or curry flavor. Laksa is a spicy noodle soup from Malaysia, also found in other South East Asian counties including Singapore and Indonesia."

" I feel so much better now! Amazing! " He repeated, eyes twinkling in amazement.

" I am glad you like it, kid. It's on the house. "

" Oh no, I simply cannot -- "

" It's fine, I am about to close anyway. " She insisted, waving the napkins in his face before setting it down on the table. " Besides, I couldn't leave a hungry child out alone, could I? "

" Well then, if you can't receive money as my thank you, then shall I spread the word of your restaurant so you can gain more customers? " He suggested, crossing his arms over his chest. " I do find this place to be too far from the public..."

The woman paused, a flicker of worry could be seen on her face, which then vanished as she gave him a smile.

" I guess that would be nice. Thank you, Rengoku. "

Kyojuro nodded, pleased with the settlement. Belly full, energy recharged and in a good mood, he bid the woman goodnight and hurried back to his house, already thinking of bringing Senjuro to the restaurant and maybe even try on the woman's recipe to try again with gifting his father with another food.

It didn't occured to him of how she knew his name in the first place.

A little peek from the next cosplay plan I'm having for this autumn.. >:3cc

if i was immortal killing myself would be my hobby and like i truly believe it would fix something in me. i do