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Jun 6, 2025

Proto Vox Post - Update Number I Don't Know

Once again, I am compiling all my Proto Vox/"what if Vox spawned in Hell looking like his 2013 design" stuff into one post. It's over 26K words now. I am very hinged.

Excessive amounts of Vox whump under the cut

Alastor goes to speak with another overlord, trying to decide whether or not he should kill them. While there, he notices that said overlord has the most fascinating little toy/pet/jester. Such novel technology… he thinks he’ll take it, whether the overlord wants him to or not!

Alastor keeps Vox around because he’s cute and entertaining. As time passes, a legitimate friendship starts to form as Alastor realizes that Vox is far more than meets the eye— tricksy, devious, and intelligent. He learns that before he arrived in Hell, Vox was a handsome, well-respected adult man, and he isn’t too keen on constantly being mistaken for a child and treated like a joke by other sinners. A pity he has to live like that… but it’s not like there’s anything to be done for it! And Alastor must say, he’s fond of his little picture box the way he is.

With Alastor’s guidance, Vox slowly accumulates knowledge and resources and discovers that he can modify his body. He jumps on the opportunity at once— he doesn’t want to live like this anymore, and he’ll do anything to be respected (or at least taken seriously) by other people again. Alastor disapproves but holds his tongue.

Time passes, and Vox changes more and more things about himself until he’s almost unrecognizable. He and Alastor get into arguments about it. It’s galling to Vox that Alastor keeps insisting he was better off in a form he hated. Mix all this with the modernity and “morality”/standards stuff, and you eventually get Vox and Alastor falling out.

Years later, Vox hates that he was ever that weak and can’t stand being reminded of Alastor, their old relationship, or his early life in Hell. He works hard to destroy/bury any traces of who he used to be, but Alastor is a walking, eternal reminder of the past he’d rather forget. Alastor is loathe to admit it, but he still misses his old friend. Sometimes, he wonders if he ever truly knew him at all.

---

Freshly fallen Vox seeking out an overlord’s protection because, holy shit, if he tries to survive on the streets any longer, he’s gonna get killed, or worse. Most sinners get asked if they can do anything useful when they go to an overlord; Vox gets asked if he can sing, dance, and do comedy routines. He can, so he’s quickly scooped up by the overlord. He supposes he should be grateful that he was able to score a comfortable job doing something not terribly unpleasant, but the dehumanization of being treated like a doll or an adorable purse dog grates on him. He remembers who he really is (or used to be) and would do anything to be seen as a man again rather than a novelty.

---

Imagine feeling so utterly desexed by your body, finding someone you think you can trust to respect you, confessing that you’re in love with them, and they laugh in your face for thinking such a thing was even remotely possible. Alastor doesn’t do a great job clarifying that he’s disinterested in a relationship out of personal preference rather than because he doesn’t respect Vox, and Vox walks away from the encounter seething, believing that Alastor never saw him as anything more than a pet or a clown.

---

Man, this would especially suck for my hc version of Vox, who used to be a small-time Vaudevillian when he was a child. Like. Yaaaayyy, time to dance around and act cutesy for people who have complete power over you… again…… when you’re pushing forty…………

---

Vox was REALLY starting to feel like he'd made an irreversible mistake before Alastor came into his life. He'd been in the employ of his overlord for four years, and he could count the number of times he'd been allowed to leave their compound on two (four-fingered) hands. They weren't cruel to him per se, but they really did seem to see him as a pet– something to trail after them all day, do tricks on demand, and show off to colleagues at parties. Any plans he had for carving out a dignified, powerful life for himself were going up in smoke. He knew a lot of things from constantly overhearing conversations about the overlord's business, but he didn't have anyone to trade that information to because of his restricted mobility. He understood that he had some pretty unique powers, but he'd never gotten the chance to use them in combat, only to perform. It was becoming clear to Vox that the only way he was going to escape this doltish, embarrassing life was if someone killed his overlord (something he couldn't do himself due to the deal they struck).

And then the Radio Demon came walking through the door.

---

Vox really has no idea what Alastor's deal is when they first meet. Like. He kidnaps him but also says Vox can leave whenever he wants. But like. where is he supposed to go??? Alastor just killed his overlord, which, yeah, Vox wanted to happen, but now he's homeless and isn't sure how to proceed. Is it safe to stay with Alastor, or is he just going to kill him next?

Vox keeps up the "silly little cartoon" persona for a while because Alastor seems to find it amusing, but things gradually slip through the cracks. He's scared Alastor will abandon or kill him if he grows bored or dissatisfied with him, but... Alastor seems to like the real him? He actually lets him speak freely and talk about whatever he wants? He uses his tech powers to turn off the in-built censors that keep Vox from swearing?? When he realizes that Vox is actually really cunning, he wants to hear his feedback on things??? Sure, he still kinda talks down to him, but Alastor's like that with everyone. This... maybe this could be more than just trading one master for another.

---

Random thoughts about Vox’s overlord

She was enamored with him from the first moment she saw him. He was just so precious! And he was willing to do anything to receive her protection!

Her industry had nothing to do with entertainment; she took Vox in purely to be her own personal jester.

Not sure if she owned his soul or just had a deal with him to give him a safe place to live in exchange for his services.

Loved treating him like a doll. Would dress him in cute, oversized outfits, carry him around in her arms, and occasionally bring him to bed and cuddle him like some sort of plushie.

There were occasions, especially towards the beginning, when Vox would snap at her or reveal elements of his real personality. Those incidents would only lead to her doubling down on the demeaning treatment. She’d experienced mistreatment at the hands of men like him when she was alive and saw asserting her power over him as cathartic and karmic.

Usually brought him with her everywhere, but would sometimes leave him locked in her office/room by himself if she had something important scheduled. Vox had initially thought he could leave or at least walk around when she didn’t need him, but no. Besides, why would he want to leave? The streets of Hell were no place for a tiny, fragile thing like him!

Vox fucking hated her and was glad to see Alastor bash her brains in and feature her on his show.

---

Mainverse Vox died by being electrocuted by an ungrounded mic at work right before they went live. This Vox died by being electrocuted while trying to fix the family TV. His kids had been begging him to at least try to fix it since the repairman couldn’t come until the next day, and they didn’t want to miss their favorite cartoon. He was feeling indulgent that day and felt that, as the man of the house, he should be able to fix things without always calling someone else to do it for him. It didn’t end well.

---

Thinking about Vox and Alastor’s first encounter.

Alastor might have seen Vox before at an overlord event, being shown off by his boss or performing for her friends. He may have seen him for the first time when he walked into Vox’s overlord’s office and saw her toying with him. Either way, Alastor was immediately intrigued. He hadn’t seen many sinners like Vox, with his screen head and cartoony body, and could instantly tell he was a highly skilled performer. His eyes followed him, even as Vox’s overlord put him aside and ordered him to get her and Alastor drinks. Vox could tell Alastor was watching him but wasn’t sure what to do about it. It’s probably not a good sign when the infamous Radio Demon is eying you like you’re his next meal.

Eventually, the overlord noticed that Alastor was not paying full attention to their conversation and was preoccupied with Vox. The topic briefly switched to him before Alastor inquired if she’d be willing to bargain for him. Vox was horrified. The overlord attempted to politely decline; she couldn’t bear to part with her precious little poppet. He was hers, and it would be cruel to separate them— they adored each other so much, after all. Alastor just smiled blithely and clarified: he wasn’t asking.

All hell broke loose in an instant. One moment, Vox was observing a conversation between his boss and her colleague; the next, the office was crawling with shadows, and his overlord was pinned to the wall, impaled on a tentacle. Vox panicked and tried to flee, but there was no escaping that room. There are two options for what happens next: either Vox is seized by Alastor and teleported out of the building, or Vox’s boss screams at him to help her, only for him to glance between her and Alastor and fix her with an icy stare.

No matter what happened, the outcome was the same: Vox found himself teleported onto the streets of Hell with Alastor looming over him. He frantically attempted to talk Alastor out of killing him, but Al just laughed jovially and told Vox that he had no intention of harming him. Vox was free to leave whenever he wanted, but Alastor would like to see just how entertaining he truly was.

---

As they're walking, Alastor notices a weird clicking sound coming from Vox. He asks what it is, and Vox awkwardly explains that he's wearing tap shoes and starts trying to take them off as he walks. Alastor is amused and tells him not to bother. He'd love to see him dance sometime.

---

Val: Baby? What were things like before you met me? Vox: Awesome. I had- I had women all over me, they just couldn’t get enough. Everyone was always dying to see my shows. I was voted the hottest person in Hell. It was great. Vox’s actual early career in Hell:

---

Thinking about one of the times Vox “mouthed off” to his overlord. He may be a performer, but there’s only so long he can stay in character, especially when said character is so undignified. He refused to play along with one of her little games and snapped at her that he was a man, not a fucking show dog.

Next thing Vox knew, he was nearly blinded by pain as his boss twisted his antenna almost to its breaking point. Her voice sickeningly sweet, she told him she knew exactly what kind of man he had been— Earth’s crawling with them. But those days are over now. Respect has to be earned in Hell; it’s not just going to be handed to him like when he was alive. The afterlife has made him a joke, and the sooner he accepts that the happier he'll be. That’s what he signed up for when they made their little arrangement, after all. She asked if she was understood and kept twisting his antenna until she got a loud-and-clear “Yes, ma’am” out of him. With that, she snapped back to normal and either cheerfully ushered him towards [whatever she was forcing him to do] or dismissed him in her typical patronizing manner.

Vox broke half the items in his room that night in a rage. He tried to leave gouges on his skin and dents in his head, but he couldn’t manage it, what with his stupid, soft little hands.

---

It doesn’t really fit with my headcanon that Alastor was super white-passing when he was alive and spent most of his life pretending to be white in order to have more opportunities, but I feel like he may have felt a kinship with Proto-Vox due to them both being “outsiders”— people who are/were constantly dismissed by those in power and have to work twice as hard in order to be taken seriously, even though they’re more skilled and competent than everyone else in the room. And so it hurt all the more when Vox leapt at the first opportunity to change who he was in order to join the class of people who had once looked down on him. It didn’t fully click with Alastor that Vox wasn’t always like this– that he was trying to return to who he once was rather than abandoning who he’d always been.

---

Vox wasn’t exactly doing himself any favors in terms of connecting with the other sinners who worked under his overlord. He was so desperate to reestablish at least some control over his situation that, on the rare occasion he got to interact with people without his boss looming over them, he was insufferable, acting as though his position as their overlord's constant companion made him superior to regular employees. It never actually made him feel any better though, since most people either just rolled their eyes or testily reminded him that his oh-so-important job was to make a fool of himself all day and be doted on by his "owner."

---

To most outside observers, it really looked as though the relationship between Vox and his overlord was genuinely loving. She was just so affectionate with him. There was never a moment when she wasn’t tittering away at his jokes, or playing with his antennas or plug tail, or scooping him up into her arms or lap, or hugging or tickling or cuddling him, or covering him in kisses, or coming up with adorable pet names, or showing him off to others as though he were the rarest gem she’d ever come across. No one ever seemed to notice that Vox was never the one to initiate these kind of interactions. Depending on who you asked, it was either the most adoring master-servant arrangement Hell had ever seen, a (possibly biological?) mother-son dynamic, or just an INCREDIBLY kinky relationship. Vox played his part well, laughing along and hardly ever letting the smiling mask slip. No one ever could’ve guessed just how much he loathed her and the entire humiliating situation or how cruel she could be whenever he dared drop the act.

Well, no one except Alastor, that is.

---

Imo, Proto Vox would just sound like normal Vox slightly pitched up, but man, Hell giving him a lisp or some other "funny" way of speaking on top of everything else would be such a gut punch for him. His good looks and his charismatic manner of speech were key to his success when he was alive, and now both of those lifelines have been severed.

---

Personal, headcanon-specific thoughts:

Proto Vox’s outfit is very similar to a costume he wore during his childhood on Vaudeville.

Alternate option: While I hc that sinners spawn naked, if they don’t, then Vox spawned in the exact 1920s sailor suit he used to wear during most of his childhood performances.

His Hell form is a punishment not only because it robs him of all dignity, but because it’s a constant reminder of a part of his life when he had no power over his situation and was treated like an object meant only to entertain.

---

Thinking about how Alastor’s “a smile is a means of maintaining control” philosophy might strike a chord with Proto Vox. When he was alive (and later, in his career as an overlord), putting on a smile was a way for him to project the person he wanted others to perceive him as. If he looked the part, then people would believe he was the confident, steady, trustworthy man he presented as. After he arrived in Hell, though, a smile became a mask he could not take off. Hell had chosen a role for him, and if he failed to play it well enough, he risked permanent death or worse. He resented having to keep that mindless grin on his face at all times. This wasn’t who he wanted to be. This wasn’t who he was. The idea that he could use that iron mask to regain control over his life was foreign to him, but it made sense. Now that he was no longer chained to a master who kept him locked into that hated role at all times, he had a choice in how he wanted to use it— for day-to-day survival or to further his true ambitions?

---

Vox and Alastor’s first encounter was at an overlord party like something out of a Regency romance, except Vox was three feet tall and didn’t notice Alastor was watching him because he was too busy performing for his boss’ overlord friends. Alastor appreciated the skill on display in Vox’s routine and was intrigued by the unusual way his “owner” treated him. Sure, some overlords treat those under them as pets, but she was so overly cutesy and “loving” with him that it stood out, especially given the way Vox feigned reciprocation. Interesting.

---

A scene/story idea: Vox is sitting at a desk in a grand, spacious office. It’s late, and he’s just killing time, wishing he had a cigar (and a mouth to smoke it with) and occasionally scribbling down notes for future reference. The stationary he’s using has the date printed at the top, though. It’s his daughter’s tenth birthday. He reflects on how it’s been three years since he last saw her and the rest of his family and how he’ll likely never see them again. He hopes his wife is throwing her an appropriately extravagant party, at least. They’d gone all-out for their son’s tenth birthday; half the neighborhood was there, even one or two of the ladies from work who had blown him in exchange for putting in a good word with the producers. It was a great time.

And then his boss comes walking in, complaining about what a stressful day she’s had, and the illusion that this is Vox’s office shatters. He hops down to the floor, taking his dance/comedy routine notes with him. His boss is busy getting herself a drink, so he hopes she didn’t notice him sitting in her chair. He starts trying to engage her in conversation, switching to his work persona (cheerful, cutesy, and childish). She did notice him, but she just smiles indulgently and says he always knows just what to do to cheer her up— he looked so silly sitting at her big, important desk. Now, she needs a bit of comfort; they’ll be going to bed now. She scoops Vox up as easily as if he were a doll and carries him off to serve as her (very angular) teddy bear. Vox keeps the adoring smile plastered on his face and tries to put aside the burning shame and rage that this is what the afterlife has reduced him to: a child, a pet, a toy meant to entertain those who wield the actual power.

---

You know, come to think of it, there’s actually some basis to Alastor feeling a bit of a kinship with Vox. Aside from the obvious shared trait of them both being communications/entertainment demons, Alastor’s demonic form is a prey animal. Al never had to deal with the consequences of having that kind of form since he spawned so powerful (unless we’re going with the theory that he made his mystery deal right when he got to Hell and draws the majority of his power from it (which would be pretty interesting in this context…)), but still.

---

Made Vox's room in the Sims

---

Idea regarding the "storage" incident: The thing that prompted that confrontation was another overlord/business associate showing an interest in Vox. They were involved in the movie industry and thought they could put him to good use in their films, so they asked Lantana if they could purchase him or even just rent him out for a bit. Vox was thrilled– finally, a chance to get back into the industry and out of this fucking building! And it'd just fallen right into his lap! He immediately tried to say "yes," but Lantana cut him off and turned down the offer. She had no intention of giving him up, so she wouldn't let him get away that easily. Vox was pissed when she said "no." He usually held his tongue when his boss did something that upset him, but he was not about to let this person who didn't even own his soul take away this opportunity. He dropped his cutesy persona, demanded she give him a reason he couldn't go, and then tried to accept the other overlord's offer. Lantana sharply grabbed him by the arm, saying something along the lines of "Because you still haven't learned to do as you're told." She denied her now rather uncomfortable associate once again and asked them to leave. Vox tried to shout to them as they turned to leave, but Lantana just muted him, then started twisting his antenna when he tried to unmute himself. Once the other overlord was gone, Vox exploded at Lantana and tried to quit right then and there, but of course, she wasn't going to let that happen. Once he was let out of "storage," Vox was too scared of what else she might do to him to try to quit/escape again (at least, not openly).

---

Vox tried to walk out of his job once. His boss pushed him too far, and he snapped, yelling at her to find someone else to play this fucked up game with; he’d rather take his chances on the streets. Next thing he knew, he was bound, muted, and blindfolded, being crammed into a tiny suitcase. His overlord told him to reflect on what he’d said. There’s no life after second death, only nothingness. Is that really a risk he wants to take?

Vox was in “storage” for the next week. He didn’t try to leave again after that.

---

When Vox’s boss finally decided he’d had enough time to reflect, she opened the trunk to find Vox barely able to move under his own power. He was trembling like a freezing cat, having spent seven whole days bound in the fetal position, unable to move, speak, hear, or see. He couldn’t even unfurl himself from said position without her help. When she took him into her arms, he clung to her, any thoughts of hate or anger gone, replaced with a desperate desire for human connection after a week of nothingness. She cradled him in her arms— sweet as a lamb and without a shred of that odious pride she’d been working so hard to stamp out of him. Whispering kind, soothing words, she stroked his shaking, silent body as she carried him back to her bedroom. She dozed off with him in her arms, secure in the knowledge that her darling little doll had learned his lesson: being her toy is a privilege, and the only possible alternative for him is oblivion.

---

i don't know much about it, but given the constant traumatizing infantilization, the nature of his body, and the parallels to his actual childhood, it's likely that proto experienced age regression at least once during his time with lantana. maybe as the result of/during the "storage" incident since that was the most traumatic experience of vox's "life" up to that point. or maybe just to get through the day entertaining lantana.

Vox was still extremely dissociated the morning after Lantana finally let him out of his weeklong confinement. As she was dressing him for the day, she asked if he was sorry being disobedient and forcing her to punish him/go a whole week without him. She was totally caught off-guard when Vox, staring hazily off into space, responded with a distant “Yes, Momma.” Lantana, shocked, waited for Vox to correct himself, but he just stood there, avoiding her gaze and giving no sign he’d even noticed his mistake. Oh, how she wished she knew his real name...

---

Thinking about Proto Vox and body dysmorphia

Vox hated everything about his body.

He hated being so small, not even half the size of most other sinners.

He hated his face, cute and goofy-looking. He hated his “missing tooth,” which only added to his childish appearance.

He hated his head, oversized and heavy. He hated how clumsy it made him before he became accustomed to it.

He hated not having a physical mouth and being unable to eat.

He hated his voice, higher pitched than it had been when he was alive. He hated the childish-sounding lisp he had been afflicted with.

He hated how he couldn’t swear or talk about adult topics without his voice being drowned out by an in-built censor.

He hated his body and its strange combination of wood and metal, both of which bent in ways that shouldn’t’ve been possible.

He hated his hands, soft and rounded and nailless.

He hated how he had spawned without genitals, completely smooth and sexless, like a doll.

He hated how no one perceived him as anything even remotely resembling a sexual being, even though he was a fully grown man who had once had his pick of beautiful women when he was alive.

He hated how he weighed almost nothing, making him easy for others to pick up or restrain.

He hated the way nothing in Hell was built to accommodate sinners his size, forcing him to climb (or be lifted onto) things as simple as chairs.

He hated the way his boss made him dress: in baggy outfits that made his smallness even more apparent, in children’s clothes, in silly, oh-so adorable costumes. He especially hated when she insisted on dressing him herself as though he were her doll.

He hated how often people mistook him for a child or deliberately talked down to him as though he was stupid just because of his ridiculous body.

He hated how people laughed at him and how he had no choice but to make them laugh in order to keep himself alive.

He hated how, in one fell swoop, Hell had robbed him of everything that had made him him. His good looks, his charisma, his respectability— everything. Never in a million years would he have anticipated that this would be his punishment for his misdeeds on Earth, for looking down on others and treating them like objects to be pushed around, but he had to admit, it was a pretty potent punishment nonetheless. And he would do anything to escape it.

---

Vox’s boss was kind of massively projecting her own resentments and trauma onto him. She didn’t actually know that much about him. It was pure luck that her impression of him as an arrogant chauvinist who had treated the people in his life poorly was… you know… accurate.

---

Vox realized that he had a voyeurism kink the third time his boss had sex with someone while he was still in the room. Probably not the outcome she intended, but it wasn’t like Vox could do anything about it anyway. He still felt sexual desire, but he’d spawned in Hell without genitals so that energy had nowhere to go. Just another lovely part of Vox’s Wonderful Afterlife.

---

Most sinners are horrified when they see their new forms for the first time. Vox was just devastated.

He was horrified when he first woke up, of course– transported to a strange new place, surrounded by giant monsters, and barely able to keep from swaying under the weight of his oversized head. No one paid him or his panic any mind save for a few smirks and chuckles. Vox found himself pressed up against a wall, out of the way of the flow of pedestrians, trying to process what was going on. Once he realized something was wrong with his body, he ducked into a nearby store, desperate to find a mirror (and get away from the crowds of fellow sinners). The store clerk let him in; they weren’t supposed to let newlydead into the shop since they usually just cause a scene, but Vox looked harmless, and they felt a little bad for such a tiny, fearful sinner. Vox made a beeline for the nearest mirror.

When his reflection finally came into view, Vox… he was lost for words. Seeing his childlike proportions, it finally registered that the world hadn’t gotten bigger; he’d gotten smaller. His body… there was something wrong with it. It was made of wood and metal like a puppet; only the materials seemed to bend like rubber. Worse than that, it was completely smooth and featureless; his genitals were simply gone. His hands were soft, rounded, and nailless, more like stuffed gloves than human hands. His head was encased— no, not encased, replaced with a television set that looked like it made up the majority of his body weight. Displayed on its screen was a face like something out of a cartoon: large, shiny, googly eyes, a wide mouth, and one conspicuously absent tooth. All topped off with a pair of floppy, overly long antennas that made him resemble some kind of insect.

Vox was speechless, staring at his new body. He felt tears bubbling up as he examined each part of it. He wasn’t sure how, but some part of him knew this wasn’t a dream and that this form would not be temporary. No tears fell though, trapped behind the glass of the— his screen. He couldn’t recall the moment of his death, but the realization of where he must be began to dawn on him. A soft, despairing sound escaped him, and Vox realized his voice, too, had been changed. He was not himself anymore, just this tiny, adorable thing, right out of one of the cartoons he’d been trying to repair the TV so his children could watch. A joke.

Suddenly, Vox felt someone grab him by the arm, dragging him away from the mirror, his feet barely brushing the floor. The owner had noticed a newlydead had snuck in and was having the prerequisite “What have I become?” freakout in their store. Carelessly, they shoved/threw Vox back onto the street and slammed the door behind them. Reeling, trying to wrap his mind around the gravity of the situation, Vox stumbled and collapsed on the sidewalk, surrounded by sinners who either stepped around him like he was nothing or paused for a moment to chuckle at the clumsy newlydead struggling to regain his balance under the weight of his massive head.

---

Vox's own shitty beliefs ended up being used against him during his early years in Hell.

In life, he'd treated his wife and son poorly because they complained about being unhappy with the way things were. Vox believed that if all your physical needs were met and you were able to live comfortably, you had no right to complain. He provided them with everything, and all he asked for in return was for them to be the happy, perfect wife and son he expected them to be. What was so hard about that?!

In death, the tables were turned. Vox was able to live comfortably in a safe environment, doing a job that most sinners would describe as incredibly cushy, but he was desperately unhappy. He was forced to play an inauthentic, demeaning role 24/7 and couldn't complain about it unless he wanted to be punished. Just sit there quietly and smile while the "grownups" are talking. No one wants to hear your silly little opinions. You should be grateful that you're even allowed to be here.

---

Words were Vox's boss' preferred weapon when it came to surreptitiously tormenting him, but she wasn't above using physical violence as a means of "discipline" either. Aside from the antenna and "storage" incidents, she'd occasionally employ "percussive maintenance" at the beginning of his time with her in response to breaks in character or sullen comments. Once or twice, she burnt him with cigarettes in response to particularly "bad" offenses.

---

Vox's boss would give him gifts sometimes. Little presents wrapped up all pretty with a bow. Sometimes, they were for special occasions, like the anniversary of his "coming to live with her"; sometimes, they were "rewards for good behavior." Vox would accept the presents graciously and then never open them, leaving them to collect dust in his room. There were a few occasions when she made him open them in front of her, though. Usually, they were just quaint little trinkets or clothes, but once, she gifted him a goldfish (or the Hellish equivalent) in a tiny bowl. It was the closest she'd gotten to something he'd actually want, yet it still felt like a veiled taunt. It didn't take long for the fish to die; its bowl was simply too small.

---

Vox does his absolute best to keep his past a secret from everyone, particularly Valentino. He knows on some level that it wouldn’t really change anything other than give Val and Vel something else to tease him about, but Vox’s ego is so fragile that he feels like he’d die if they found out. Unfortunately for him, Valentino is incredibly observant when he wants to be. He doesn’t know the specifics, but based on various little things from throughout the years and the pointed insults he’s heard Alastor throw at Vox, he can guess that Vox’s early days in Hell were... less than auspicious. However, he assumes Vox was just some corporate toady, and he would be just as shocked as anyone else to learn how Vox actually began his afterlife.

---

Playing with the idea that Vox’s boss hired him with no ulterior motives; she simply thought he was cute and would be an easy source of entertainment. However, as time went on and she got a better sense of what kind of person Vox was, she began deliberately tormenting him. The abuse and humiliation started off under the pretext that she was only doing it to “correct an attitude problem,” but it soon became clear that her real issue with Vox had nothing to do with his abilities as a performer.

---

It doesn’t really fit with the “lore” I’ve been putting together for this AU, but the idea of Vox trying to go in for various media/performance auditions and either being laughed out of them or told to look into less dignified roles is compelling to me. He looks and sounds so much like a goofy little child; why on Earth would anyone even consider him, especially when there are countless other sinners looking for work whose forms aren’t so distractingly cutesy?

I’ll be honest: Babydoll from Batman TAS is a significant influence on how I conceptualize Proto Vox.

---

Reminds me of fakeannafromthebox's Caterpillar Val AU. Vox is so miserable. He wants to be back in his modified body NOW, but it's going to take a while for them to rebuild it. Val and Vel tease him about it at first... until they realize that Vox is genuinely really hurt by it. He never wanted them to see him like this.

The denizens of Hell are confused as to why Vox is suddenly on a month-long hiatus when he's literally never taken a break from the media before.

---

Been considering whether it should just be happenstance that brings Vox and Alastor together or if Vox should hit his breaking point, go behind his boss' back, and send Alastor a false message in her name, hoping that it will provoke him into killing her.

---

Had a mental image today of Vox sitting in on one of his boss’ conversations with a colleague, as per usual. He’s bored and miserable until the two overlords start discussing the Radio Demon. Vox has heard stories— might’ve even caught one or two of Alastor’s broadcasts— but he’s never heard him discussed like an actual person rather than an urban legend. Vox’s boss starts shittalking Alastor, and Vox suddenly gets an idea. He begins secretly recording her, capturing all her private complaints about him on tape. Vox is terrified of what she might do if she discovered what he was doing, but at this point, he's so good at masking his true emotions that she doesn’t even notice anything is off. Vox held onto that recording until he gained access to a communications device. He hesitated for a moment, thinking of all the ways this plan could go wrong and result in his permanent death, but… he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. He couldn’t bear to stay here any longer.

Alastor figured out it was Vox who sent him that message a couple years into their friendship, but he didn’t hold it against him. In fact, he was impressed with Vox’s determination, taking his fate back into his hands regardless of the risks. He eventually told Vox so himself when the topic came up years later.

---

Vox once made the mistake of snapping that he was not a child at one of his boss’ colleagues who had been talking about him like he was too stupid to understand what they were saying. Honestly, the momentary shock on the colleague’s face was not worth the ensuing, agonizing conversation where his boss muted him, apologized to the other overlord, then prompted them to try to guess his real age, and took far too much pleasure in explaining to them that despite Vox’s appearance, he was actually 41.

---

Thinking about Proto Vox sitting in on his boss' overlord meetings like the Egg Bois in episode 3. Most of the time, his boss would hold him in her lap like a doll, but sometimes, she'd leave him sitting on the ground until the meeting ended. He wished he had a way to put the information he was “eavesdropping” on to good use, but he wasn't allowed to leave the stupid compound without being accompanied by his boss.

---

One particularly dehumanizing experience Vox remembers far more vividly than he would like was the first time his overlord stripped him naked without his consent so she could redress him in a new outfit she’d picked out. This became a semi-frequent occurrence, but it never stopped making his skin crawl. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to someone like him, and yet here he was, robbed not only of the freedom to choose his own clothes but even to dress himself if his boss so willed it.

Even over half a century later, Vox still needs to be coaxed and convinced by Valentino to surrender control during sex. He has no intention of ever telling Val why having someone else undress him puts him on edge.

---

cw sexual assault

The first time Vox’s overlord stripped him naked was also when she discovered that he had no genitals. Of course, she couldn’t let that fact go uncommented on and groped between his legs to confirm, cooing all the while about how perfect Vox was. Vox didn’t even have time to dissociate during the experience– it all happened so fast. Before he had time to process what happened, he was already being redressed in whatever stupid outfit she’d picked out for him that time. The dissociation came later.

In hindsight, Vox thinks it’s sort of darkly funny how he felt as though he’d been sexually assaulted despite not having any sex organs at the time. It’s really not.

---

Thank you!!!

Yeah, Vox is extremely uncomfortable with thinking of himself as a victim. It's easier to just compartmentalize the experience and tell himself that of course he wasn't sexually assaulted– sex wasn't even involved!

At the time, he had no idea how to feel about it. Before he even had time to process the event, he was expected to just move on with the day like nothing happened. Vox wished he could've just forgotten about it– it only lasted for a few seconds, it "didn't count" because he didn't have any genitals to grope, and, in his successful-white-1950s-man brain, groping wasn't even that bad anyway– but the feeling of violation lingered, no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it or distract himself. He eventually managed to push those feelings away, but the memory will still pop up on occasion and he'll have to convince himself all over again that it wasn't any different than all the other times his boss manhandled him.

---

Oh, I'm glad you liked the post!

Yeah, I can see Alastor giving that roach speech to Vox when he's trying to convince him to stop modifying himself. Vox is just like "You think I'm a bug???" He never noticed; he was too focused on the cartoon/TV thing. Message not received.

Alastor probably has weird feelings about the way Vox's old boss treated him. On one hand, it's kind of funny, and Alastor's clearly not opposed to treating people like pets, given his later relationship with Husk. On the other... he feels a weird sort of kinship with Vox in so many regards, and his relationship with his overlord... [leak discussion] it's uncomfortably similar to Alastor's with his contract holder– tricked into a bad deal, treated with condescension, and forced to pretend to adore them in public [end leak discussion]. Alastor likes the idea of helping Vox gain power and rise above his station, but not him changing himself in order to accomplish that goal– he sees too much of himself in Vox to stand that.

Vox doing ad reads/voiceovers for Alastor's show is a great idea. Perfect way to get back into the industry without opening himself up to mockery; plus, he's got a wonderful voice. Would also give him another reason to hate radio once he and Al split: audio-only work will always be a reminder of a time when he couldn't bear to be seen.

---

Might incorporate how long it’s taking me to come up with a name for Vox’s boss by making it so he’s only allowed to call her “Ma’am”/“Madam”/“Miss” instead of her actual sinner name.

---

Thoughts on Proto Vox in the RAM verse

Proto Vox thoughts that heavily feature my OCs

---

Once he finally gained the ability to project a functioning mouth onto his screen, Vox got himself into some… interesting situations trying to keep up with Alastor whenever they went out for drinks. He didn’t care that he was half Alastor’s size; he’s drinking just as much as he is! Maybe even more!!

Those were some of the funniest nights Alastor had (and still has) ever experienced.

---

Thinking about Vox, dead for a week or so, with cracks in his screen and dressed only in a button-up shirt he'd stripped off a corpse double his size, pitching himself to his soon-to-be overlord and trying not to come across as desperate as he truly was. The streets of Hell aren't kind to anyone, but especially not to defenseless-looking, newly arrived sinners with body parts that could potentially be resold. In his short time in Hell, Vox had already had multiple people try to strip him for parts and had only escaped them by the skin of his teeth. He'd barely been able to sleep since he arrived, constantly on guard for more attackers. He looked a fucking wreck, but that only added to his charm, in his boss' opinion. He looked like a starving Victorian orphan trying to give a serious business pitch– so cute!

---

Vox wishes he could feel comfortable in his bedroom at the compound. Being in there means he’s away from his overlord— that he can finally drop the act and just breathe. It’s a nice room, too, especially compared to the living quarters of most other employees. Vox feels as though the privacy and comfort should be enough. But… it isn’t really his room, is it?

His overlord chose the decor: soft and twee and old-fashioned. She can start pounding on the door, ordering him to come out and join her at any moment. The fact she’s too tall to fit in the room is small comfort. It feels like living in a dollhouse; there’s the illusion of privacy, but one wall is missing, allowing the owner to move things around or snatch up the doll inside at a moment’s notice.

---

Honestly, Vox's boss definitely got her "money's" worth out of Vox. He wasn't lying about being a multi-talented performer; he had a wide array of skills.

He had extensive training and experience with dance and comedy (although he was 25 years out of practice) from his childhood on Vaudeville. He was a consummate singer, good at improv, and familiar with a handful of instruments, particularly the piano. He could act fairly well (although he was always more convincing when he came up with stuff on the spot) and had even become a perfect mimic due to his demonic form.

Vox's overlord couldn't have asked for a better entertainer, and she counted herself lucky that he just happened to wander into her building one day looking for work– she didn't even need to place an ad!

Vox was proud of his various skills– he sure as hell hadn't spent years working himself to the bone to hone them for nothing, after all– but he missed being the host rather than the entertainment. He hadn't had to perform like this since he was a child, and it was just as exhausting as he remembered.

---

Vox's primary job was to be a jester for his overlord, but he was also somewhat of an assistant to her. He'd make or serve her and her guests drinks (alcohol, coffee, whatever), carry things for her (which would often be embarrassingly difficult, given his size), and run very minor errands for her (usually just delivering messages to employees a few doors down). Additionally, once she discovered that he could record audio, she started using him as a living tape recorder. She'd bring him to meetings, have him record the conversation without the other party knowing, and then play the audio back once they were in private so she could take note of the exact phrasing and use it against them later on. This last use for Vox ended up being her downfall; she kept him so cloistered that she never thought that he'd be able to use her own words against her one day.

---

Up until the incident where he tried to quit, Vox’s boss would sometimes casually threaten to replace him if he didn’t immediately bend to her will. There were countless other sinners and Hellborn that were perfectly capable of doing his job without an attitude problem; why shouldn’t she just trade him in for one of them? Or perhaps she should employ another entertainer to work alongside him (i.e. compete with him). If Vox thought he was too good for this job, then he could go back to the streets whenever he liked. These threats almost always succeeded in getting him to comply, and she was a bit disappointed when she realized they were no longer as effective as they’d once been.

Honestly, Vox’s boss getting another “pet” would be a whole shitshow. When Vox was alive, he once outed a coworker as gay because he was getting more airtime than him, which led to the coworker’s family institutionalizing him. And that was when the stakes were just career success. Vox may hate his job, but it’s what keeps him safe and alive. He’d feel so threatened by the new person that he’d probably end up getting them killed just to protect his position. His overlord is 100% aware of what's going on, but she gets a kick out of watching Vox do whatever it takes to stay in her favor.

Vox actually starts initiating affectionate interactions with her out of desperation not to be replaced. His boss (who lowkey only wanted make sure he didn’t grow complacent in his position) is delighted. The poor imp she hired has no idea what they’ve been sucked into. Vox is cold and hostile when they’re in private but then will turn on a dime the second he sees their overlord. Their boss is constantly doing subtle little things to pit them against each other, but the imp feels like they never truly had a chance of surpassing and replacing Vox. All the imp wants to do is make enough to feed their family, but in the end, all they get is being ripped in two by vines when Vox snitches on them for taking a few extra bucks from his boss’ desk.

---

In the modern day, Vox and Alastor disagree about how they met. Alastor will say that he rescued Vox from his overlord and took him in afterward. Vox will say (or rather, would say, since he never speaks about his past) that he rescued his damn self and chose to stick with Alastor because it was the best possible option at the time. Neither of them are wrong, but their mutual bitterness skews their perception of the situation; Vox, the "helpless charity case," and Alastor, the "means to an end."

---

velvette seeing the kind of clothes vox used to have to wear for work and just. vomiting on his behalf

---

Vox thought he was at a bit of an advantage when his soon-to-be boss offered him a simple deal sealed with a handshake: serve as an entertainer for her and she'll give him a safe place to live. Verbal agreements aren't as enforceable as written ones, and the vagueness of the deal left him plenty of room to wriggle his way out if need be!

What Vox didn't realize was that things in Hell don't work like they do on Earth. Sure, vague deals have loopholes, but it's the person with more power who's usually able to take advantage of them as opposed to the "victim." Additionally, written contracts have clauses– specific stipulations that must be abided by. If he'd negotiated things a bit more closely, he could've demanded that she allow him freedom of mobility or had to accept any attempts at a resignation. As is, she was able to keep him at her side at all times and threaten him into staying because there wasn't anything in the deal that said she couldn't do those things; as long as she was giving him a place to stay, she was upholding her end of the bargain.

Vox definitely remembered this lesson when he started drawing up contracts/deals of his own during his later endeavors. Deals can be just as binding as soul contracts. Vagueness is an invaluable tool when it comes to tricking people into bad deals, although granular specificity certainly has a place too, so long as you can get the sucker not to read the fine print.

---

Out of all the things Vox had to do to entertain his overlord, slapstick was his least favorite. It was just so undignified. He already hated having to play dumb and childish, but being the butt of the joke was so much worse than simply being doted on. He couldn’t stand being laughed at, but he didn’t have another choice; if his boss wanted comedy, he had to give it to her, otherwise he’d be punished. For as much baggage he had regarding dance, he would chose it over pretending to hurt himself (or genuinely hurting himself) for his boss’ amusement every time.

This hatred of being laughed at persisted even after he escaped his overlord’s clutches. Vox eventually learned to use his unthreatening appearance to his advantage, but back in the day, a good way to get your shit rocked by the Radio Demon’s tiny apprentice was to laugh at him when he wasn’t trying to be funny.

---

As of right now, Vox's sinner name has always been "Vox." He's eternally grateful that he'd already picked out his sinner name by the time he approached his overlord, because who knows what ridiculous name she would've saddled him with otherwise. However, if Vivziepop ever talks about Cockroach Vox and it turns out he didn't used to be named "Vox," then that name would've been the one he went by up until he met Alastor.

---

Vox was not an overly foul-mouthed person when he was alive, although he certainly wasn't afraid to swear if the situation called for it. However, that casual relationship with tasteful speech went completely out the window after he died. Aside from the in-built censor that kept him from audibly cursing or talking about subjects like sex, he now had a very restrictive persona that he needed to play into. Having to say shit like "Gee whiz" or "Golly" in order to keep up the "cute little cartoon" act was maddening. It was such a relief when Alastor figured out a way to shut off the censor; Vox finally had complete freedom in how he chose to speak again. Honestly, he may have gone a bit too far in the other direction, but given the culture of Hell, it's more unusual to be excessively clean with your speech than it is to swear every other sentence.

---

I wonder if any of the other, older overlords remember Vox from his early days. His boss had a habit of bringing him to meetings and having him perform at parties, so someone like Zestial would’ve probably encountered him at least a couple of times.

On one hand, Vox is beyond grateful that none of the old-timers recognize him as “Lantana’s little lapdog.” On the other, he’s slightly offended that no one paid him enough mind back then to remember him.

Zestial 100% knows who Vox used to be, he’s just choosing to keep that information to himself for the time being.

---

Thinking about a scenario where Vox gets stuck in a hopelessness spiral that causes him to break character in front of his boss. He asks her why she’s doing this to him; what does she get out of all this? Lantana is annoyed by his self-pity and asks him if he has any idea how lucky he is.

Oh, poor Vox, forced to live in the lap of luxury. Condemned to perform wholesome little routines for one of the most powerful overlords in the city while other sinners (female and male) have to prostitute themselves to survive. What an awful fate, having to let her spoil him, love him. Countless sinners would kill to have half of what he has, and here he is complaining because his ego is too fragile to handle not being “in charge” anymore. She’s shocked he’s so ungrateful that he can’t appreciate the gift she’s given him; childhood is a beautiful thing, after all.

Vox knows it’s all lies— she enjoys humiliating him, forcing him to smile through gritted teeth as he plays the demeaning role she’s picked out for him— but after years in her clutches, a small, animal part of his brain wonders if she’s right. Is she being honest when she says she only hurts him to correct him? Does she actually believe that taking away his freedom and keeping him in a gilded cage is love? Is he really better off here than he would be out in the world, struggling to force people to see him as the man he really was used to be?

No. No, he can’t let her get in his head like this. He’s had to give up so much of himself to her; she can’t have his thoughts too. Just don’t say anything. Let her think she’s made him second-guess himself. Don’t allow her to wrestle what little control he has left from his grasp.

---

Vox’s slogan, “Trust us!” started off as “Trust me!” After a while with Alastor, Vox learned to start playing into his harmless appearance in order to gain people’s trust, only to lead them to their deaths or otherwise betray them later on. Most people thought he was either a literal child, stupid, or so weak that they could easily overpower him if need be, so it was easy for him to convince them to let their guards down. Vox managed to get his first few contracts using this method. Trust him! He couldn’t hurt a fly, honest!

Alastor loved this routine, not only because it was hilarious to watch people unknowingly dig their own graves, but because it was useful to him as well. Alastor’s reputation had become so fearsome that it was difficult to get people to stick around long enough to ensnare unless they were truly desperate. It was helpful to have Vox around to lure people in, or to just run errands that would’ve otherwise been a pain due to people’s annoying habit of fleeing at the sight of him. They were a good team, he and Vox; Alastor couldn’t understand why he would choose to give that up in order to become an off-brand copy of him. Yes, it wasn’t the most dignified niche, but it was an important one! And one that very few could pull off even half as well as Vox!

---

Random thought: Vox’s original voice made it impossible for others to tell whether he was a child or an adult. He didn’t quite sound like a real child, but his voice was pitched in such a way that he didn’t read as an adult either— sort of like when adult voice actors play kids. Vox could still hear Himself in certain inflections and in moments when he was allowed to drop the act, but it was extremely alienating, never truly feeling like himself even when he was doing something as simple as speaking.

---

I don’t subscribe to the “Valentino started off with his own abusive pimp” theory (not because I think it’s implausible, it’s just that my HC version of him only worked under the previous overlord of the sex trade for like a year before killing them), plus I think Vox and Val met after Vox was already somewhat established, but whoo-boy, the two of them meeting while they’re both still under the thumbs of their respective abusive bosses would be fun.

---

Two concepts:

Vox’s boss brings him along to an overlord party that Val happens to be performing at. Some drunk dumbass picks him up and shoves him onto the platform where Val was pole dancing— they thought it’d be funny to make the sexless little clown interact with the dirty whore. That was Vox and Val’s first meeting. (Loosely inspired by some of kibbles-bits’ art)

Vox and Val’s respective bosses start up a casual relationship, resulting in the two of them visiting each other’s bases semi-frequently. They get to talking and eventually come to realize that, holy shit, the other guy is an actual person?? And a fun/interesting/clever person too???

Vox: Yeah, my #%$!@ of a boss makes me sleep with her sometimes. Val: Ohhhh, me too! Well, at least Mantis Bitch is sexy~ Vox: What? No, I mean she literally makes me sleep in the same bed as her. Like kids do with stuffed dolls. Val: …Huh. Well, I guess that must be somebody’s kink. Vox: $?*@&€# %*¥=…

---

Self-indulgent 4 am whump thought (cw involuntary surgery)

what if proto vox spawned with his childhood leg injury intact? it’s usually not an issue as long as he doesn’t exert himself, but his new job requires him to spend most of the day standing and perform physically intense routines for his boss. for the first several weeks, he doesn’t let on that he’s in pain since he’s terrified of being thrown back out on the streets, but eventually, either his boss confronts him about why he’s suddenly developing a limp or he makes the mistake of mentioning it to her himself, hoping he can convince her to be a bit more restrained with her orders. either way, when vox explains that he’s had this issue since he was a child and that there’s no way to get rid of it, lantana just casually says that she’ll see to it, no problem. vox is concerned by her self-assured tone, but when he asks her what she meant, she abruptly changes the subject with a finality that tells him this is not a matter to be debated.

for the next week, vox is left wondering what she intends on doing. just as he was starts to forget about it, he gets his answer. one day, vox wakes up to find himself in an operating room-turned workshop, held to the table by a few flimsy straps and a nurse(?) gently restraining him. there’s no need to be frightened! they’re just going to see if there’s anything they can do to fix his leg, that’s all. vox tries to reign in his panic as the head doctor examines his leg, but it soon reaches a fever pitch when it’s determined they can repair the damage! by replacing the “bone.”

it’s painful, having someone saw through several layers of his wires, but not as painful as vox imagined it would be. the horror of watching it happen, though, makes it all so much worse. watching someone reach into the mess of his leg and slowly pull out a long, metal rod is like something out of a nightmare. the “surgeons” measure and examine the rod (his bone), then cut a replacement to his size and insert it back into his leg. his wires (his flesh) quickly knit back together with only a bit of help from the doctors, and suddenly vox is back on his feet, being told to return to work as though he didn’t just watch his own leg “bone” be forcibly cut out and replaced.

it taught him that his body could be modified. he never had to deal with his old injury again. vox chooses to focus on these things rather than the absolute terror he felt watching them operate on his leg. he doesn’t need (doesn’t want) to think about the experience itself, only the outcome.

---

3am thought: Vox at the beginning of his employment, trying to figure out what his boss’ limits are and what he can get away with. He’s not thrilled that her idea of “entertainment” seems to mostly consist of song, dance, and comedy, so he starts trying to engage her in conversation instead. Vox is a great conversationalist, and he knows it. His plan is to pull her in, convince her that they have some kind of genuine connection, and then use that to his advantage. That plan is dashed though when, after two or three attempts at engaging her in substantial, adult conversation, she cuts him off and briskly tells him that she didn’t hire him for his conversational skills, she hired him to entertain. If she wanted to hear him speak, she would tell him, but right now, it’d be prudent of him to shut up and do as he’d been told.

Random wondering: What would it take for Vox to finally snap? Or would he just become so good at staying in-character that he appears to have snapped/given up to everyone around him?

Idea: Alastor acquiring Vox after he’s cracked and fully given into his boss after decades in her service. It’s only with Alastor that Vox slowly starts pulling himself back together, allowing elements of his original/real personality to re-emerge. Alastor doesn’t even mean to do this; he just treats Vox with a modicum more respect than he’s used to and gives him positive feedback when he acts more like himself. Vox idolizes Alastor for “saving him from madness,” so of course he flies off the handle when they have their falling out.

Idea: Vox developing Stockholm Syndrome in this scenario. He was trapped with Lantana for so long that he had no choice but to accept that she “loved” him and only wanted what was best for him. When Alastor kills her and takes Vox home with him, Vox sees it as a kidnapping. He cries when Alastor isn’t around, mourning the loss of the master who’d kept him safe and in the lap of luxury for more than a decade. Everything’s so hard now. He hasn’t had to (hasn’t been allowed to) make any choices more complex than “what act should I perform today” in so long; it’s overwhelming. He wants to go home, but this is his home now. It feels like arriving in Hell all over again.

He tells himself he doesn’t understand why there’s a small part of him deep down that’s relieved Lantana is gone.

---

Vox was lucky his body operated on rubber hose physics. The size difference between him and his boss was so extreme that if it didn’t, she could’ve easily shattered his bones (if he had any) or dislocated his limbs, simply by handling him too roughly. All the better. She was usually fairly gentle, but since she knew she could treat him like a rag doll, occasionally, she did. It hurts, dangling in the air by the arm while the person holding you gives you whiplash every time they move too suddenly, but not as much as it would for an organic demon.

---

Three random thoughts:

1) I checked, and the height-difference between Proto Vox and his boss (and Valentino) is directly proportional to that of the tallest and smallest women in the world.

2) Shirley Temple would probably be a good inspiration for Proto Vox’s style of performance.

3) It could be interesting to play with the way Vox’s innocent and wholesome persona would interact with Hell’s general culture. Lantana kept him pretty desexed and infantilized while at “home,” but when she made him perform for groups, the comedy of the routine would be derived from contrast. Most demons wouldn’t get the appeal of his usual schtick played straight, but contrast that cutesy shit with Hell’s usual fixations (sex, profanity, and violence)? Now there’s something worth laughing about. It’s like teasing a fallen cherub.

---

the mental image of lantana telling vox to “go play” at a party will not leave me

“darling” “baby” “sweetheart” “dear”

i am slowly giving in to the whump urges

---

random fact: the way vox is treated by his boss in this au is heavily inspired by the way some imps (particularly the smaller ones) seem to be treated in the hellaverse

---

thinking about the first time lantana struck vox.

it was just so unexpected. vox could hardly even remember the last time someone had hit him— maybe when he was a rowdy young twenty-something? his parents had occasionally struck him as a child, but that was rare.

a week or two before, he’d made a comment that was a bit too sullen for her liking and she’d suddenly grabbed his arm, striking it once with an object like a schoolteacher with a misbehaving student. it’d caught vox off guard, but it was more shocking than painful, and lantana instantly moved on like nothing had happened. he didn’t expect things to escalate so quickly.

he spoke out of turn— that’s what prompted it. he’d been listening to his boss discuss business matters with an associate, and he’d tried throwing in his two cents. it was still early on; vox was testing what he could and couldn’t get away with and had thought the two of them might find his feedback worthwhile. he was wrong. he’d only gotten a couple words out before he was suddenly knocked to the floor by a blow from one of his boss’ lower arms. she didn’t even say anything, just returning to her conversation while he was left stunned on the ground.

when the colleague finally left, lantana picked vox up, sat him on her desk so they were at least somewhat closer to eye level, and laid out exactly what she expected from him from now on. he would not speak unless spoken to when in the company of others; she brought him along to these meetings to be visual stress relief, not to participate. on that note, he would not talk to her about business at all. she had no interest in his opinions, and going forward, she would not hesitate to discipline him if he kept trying to stick his nose where it didn’t belong. finally, and most importantly, he needed to remember his role. he was there to entertain her— to be a sweet, silly little distraction from the stresses of overlordship, and she expected him to act like it. it didn’t matter if she wasn’t playing with him right at that very moment, he was still “on the clock.” amuse her when she wasn’t busy, sit quietly and look cute when she was, and above all, stay in character. she would strike him as many times as was necessary in order to get that through his head, and would throw him out if he still refused to comply.

lantana asked if she was understood, and vox, terrified of returning to the streets, agreed. he left the room hating her, but also felt a strange, unwanted sense of embarrassment that he had overstepped to the point where she decided she “needed to” hit him. he should’ve known better. this woman was not to be “trusted” any more than she was to be manipulated.

---

Random thought: Proto Vox's unofficial theme would be "Make 'Em Laugh" from Singin' in the Rain

---

was thinking about female or trans male proto vox recently and got to wondering what lantana would be like in that scenario since i've made gender dynamics such a big part of her character. came up with a few different options.

---

Finally decided to try rewriting the scenario I came up with for option one

It’s the early evening and F!Proto Vox is chatting away animatedly as she does her overlord’s hair. Lantana had an event scheduled for that night, so it fell to Vox to help her mistress get ready. Vox is completely checked out from the conversation and is counting the seconds until Lantana leaves and she can finally have some time to herself. Vox allows her boss to steer the conversation, and feigns enthusiasm for whatever banal topics Lantana chooses to bring up. Finally, Lantana is ready to leave. Vox gives her typical fawning farewell to her boss and is ready to dash off to her bedroom for some much-needed alone time the moment Lantana’s out the door. However, right as Vox wishes her overlord a pleasant evening, Lantana cuts her off, announcing on a whim that Vox would be accompanying her to the event. Vox, equal parts shocked, flustered, and irritated, tries to convince her boss that she didn’t need to bring her along— there will be so many more interesting things at the event, Vox’s presence would just be a distraction— but Lantana simply steamrolls over her. Vox will come with her; she’s got the most adorable little outfit picked out for her and everything!

Also, random piece of dialogue bouncing around my head:

Lantana: Oh~ are you going to braid my hair, darling? F!Proto Vox: (ihateyouihateyouihateyou) I can do much more than that!! 😊

Aaaand now I’m thinking about the bitter resentment an AFAB Vox would feel having to do someone else’s hair/makeup when she used to be the one who was groomed to perfection by a prep team dedicated to making sure she was camera-ready.

---

Decided what the sequence of events leading up to the whole “first time being stripped naked” incident were:

Vox manages to get a meeting with Lantana and enters into a deal with her: he’ll be her personal entertainer if she gives him a safe place to live.

The first week or two is a “trial run” to see if Lantana likes Vox enough to keep him. During that span of time, Vox only has one or two sets of clothes: the ragged shirt he stole off a dead body while on the streets and some clothes meant for imps that Lantana provided. When Lantana decides to keep Vox, she orders a whole new wardrobe for him without telling him.

When the new clothes arrive, Lantana tells Vox that she’s decided to let him stay and that she got a gift for him to celebrate. Vox is relieved to no longer have the threat of having to return to the streets dangling over his head. He’s kind of weirded out by Lantana, but she hasn’t revealed her sadistic side yet, so he’s cautiously optimistic about his future; this “gig” may be embarrassing, but he can make it work.

Lantana leads Vox to either his or her bedroom and presents the new wardrobe to him like it’s some kind of wonderful gift. Vox is startled to see what kind of attire she picked out for him: children’s clothes, outfits that are clearly several sizes too big for him, and a handful of cute costumes. Vox tries to hide his consternation and think of a polite way of declining the “gift,” but Lantana barely lets him get a word out, going on about how happy she is that he’ll be staying with her and how sweet he’ll look in his fancy new clothes.

Before he can object, Vox feels the top he’s wearing suddenly being pulled off; Lantana wants to see him in his new clothes now. He tries to object and pull away, but it’s all in vain. His shirt is removed and now she’s going for his pants. A mortified Vox implores her to stop— he’s never experienced this kind of sudden disregard for his personal agency in his adult life— but Lantana just cheerfully talks over him, assuring him there’s nothing to be frightened of… until she catches sight of his crotch.

Lantana pauses for a moment, caught off guard by Vox’s lack of genitals. Vox shrinks away, humiliated to have someone ogling his hated naked body. His reprieve only lasts for a few seconds though, as Lantana’s face lights up with delight. Vox suddenly feels a hand groping between his legs, long fingers probing experimentally, searching for an opening or a protrusion of some kind. Her voice sugary sweet, Lantana coos about how perfect Vox is as she runs her hand across his smooth, sexless crotch.

Vox barely has time to register the awful (and totally unfamiliar) feeling of violation blooming inside him before the hand is gone. Lantana’s riffling through the wardrobe, trying to decide which outfit she wants to put him in first, while Vox struggles to wrap his mind around what just happened. Before he even has time to catch his breath, a new bundle of clothes is thrown in his direction. Lantana “asks” him to help her put them on him, and Vox, disoriented and degraded, faintly agrees. The words aren’t even fully off his lips yet before Lantana starts pulling the new outfit onto him.

Bonus F!Vox version. Warning for discussion of dark sexual topics.

Vox has been uneasy around her new boss ever since they met. He's so serene and indulgent whenever he's with her; it just doesn't seem right for an overlord of Hell to be this gentle. So far, all the attention he's given her seems to be purely platonic, but there's something about the way he looks at her that makes Vox fear that he might start coming onto her at any moment. She's been around enough wealthy, powerful men in her human life to know how this situation could go.

When he shows her the wardrobe of little girl's clothes and cute costumes, she's horrified. She immediately assumes he got them for sexual/fetishistic purposes and blurts out that she's not a child, trying to discourage him from what she thinks he's planning. Vox's overlord patiently tells her he knows she's not a child; this is just how he wants her to dress while working for him.

Not waiting to see if his reassurance actually convinced her (it didn't), the overlord abruptly starts unbuttoning her dress. Vox panics and starts begging him not to do this– there's no point in doing this. She's utterly convinced that he's about to assault her and is terrified of how he'll react once he realizes she has no genitals or breasts. Will he throw her back out on the street if he can get what he wants? Kill her in a fit of anger? Or just find some other way of getting gratification from her?

Heedless of her pleas, Vox's boss just chuckles warmly and tells her there's nothing to be afraid of as he peels the imp dress off of her off her struggling body. Like his female counterpart, he freezes in surprise for a moment when he catches sight of Vox's featureless wooden body. Vox squirms under his gaze, terrified of what's coming next... but her overlord just smiles adoringly, runs a hand across her crotch, and tells her she's perfect before handing her a new, oversized dress and asking if she'd prefer it or something else.

Vox stands there, frozen in fear. Her boss cocks his head in puzzlement, asking what she's afraid of. Vox answers "Nothing" as quickly as she can, but the truth of the matter suddenly dawns across her overlord's face. Acting affronted, he denies that he'd ever dream of hurting her like that. What a repugnant thing to do! Kneeling down to Vox's level, he swears to her that she has nothing to fear from him and gently starts trying to coax a smile out of her. Vox, fearing what might happen if she doesn't comply, reluctantly forces a smile onto her face, relieved that he's not going to try to rape her (“Yet,” she thinks), but not trusting him any further than she can throw him.

When she smiles back, Vox's overlord glows with fondness and tells her to put the incident out of her mind; for now, they should just focus on getting her dressed. Vox puts on a forced, awkward smile, accepting the new clothes graciously. This is leagues better than being assaulted, obviously, but... she still doesn't want to dress like this. But she dare not argue with her overlord; she needs to show him that she's grateful for his "kindness." She tries to forget the feeling of his hand groping between her legs.

---

#Just infuriating things about being three feet tall in a world where the average height is 6’6: door knobs.

Vox had three options when encountering a closed door back in his early days: knock and hope someone on the other side heard him, ask a nearby person to open it for him (which always made his skin crawl), or try to figure out a way to reach it on his own. The worst was when someone saw him struggling to reach the door knob, took pity on him, and opened the door for him, usually with a condescending comment tacked on at the end. It was such a blessing once he finally unlocked his electricity/teleportation powers and didn't have to deal with that crap anymore.

---

Random cheesy idea: Three moments in Vox’s life when the phrase “children should be seen and not heard” was relevant. The first is a time his parents applied it to him, the second is a time he said it about his own children, and the third is his boss using it against him in Hell.

---

thinking about option 2 vox. she says something snappish to her boss about not being a child. next time they go out, the clothes lantana gives her to wear are different than usual: clothes that are exactly to her taste from back when she was alive. they're somewhat oversized.

vox looks ridiculous with her stylish, refined dress hanging awkwardly on her sexless wooden frame. she's sliding around in too-large heels, and the gloves reach all the way to her shoulders, sagging pitifully around her arms. she looks like a child playing dress up; a little girl wearing her mother's clothes. it was like a slash to the heart, seeing herself like this; knowing that even if she had the freedom to choose how she dressed, she would always look like a joke.

the cocktail dress and heels got her laughed at and mocked more than usual. the pinafores and bows just made people gush about how adorable she was sometimes. it was easy to see which was the better option.

it was years before vox felt comfortable enough to start occasionally dressing her age again. alice wouldn't mock her for choosing to dress as an adult. she'd mock her for a whole lot of other things, but at least they were never tied to her appearance (aside from her peculiar modern head, of course!).

---

I know I said this verse’s Vox died while trying to fix a TV, but what if he still got electrocuted on set, but instead of a quick little zap, there was a massive, cartoonish explosion

---

Idea: Whenever she’d take him to parties, Lantana would pin an orchid to Vox’s lapel/shirt to serve as an indicator of who he was with. It worked— everyone who saw him immediately understood that he was part of Lantana’s entourage— and probably protected him from some of the more violent harassment that goes on at sinner parties, but lord, he hated walking around with a clear sign of who he belonged to pinned to his chest.

---

Thinking about this painting, but with Proto Vox

---

Thinking about Vox begrudgingly trying to remember and adapt some of his old Vaudeville routines for “special occasions” (i.e. when Lantana makes him perform for associates or at parties). That’s a time in Vox’s life that he prefers not to think about, but now that he seems to have been condemned to relive a twisted version of it, he doesn’t have much of a choice. His boss will allow him some repetition, but she expects him to come up with new material on a regular basis, and it’d just be stupid to refuse to use his pre-existing back catalogue. He’s both surprised and not surprised at all that even 25 years later, he still remembers his childhood acts so clearly.

---

Alastor knows full-well that Vox is an adult and treats him with the usual respect he’d afford one, but like… it’d be kinda funny if at least on a subconscious level, he saw Vox as a kid he was mentoring.

Like, imagine the scrappy little orphan you’ve let live in your house for the past several years suddenly confesses that he’s passionately in love with you, and you’re abruptly reminded that, oh yeah, this guy’s actually a grown man. Of course Alastor wouldn’t react in a particularly graceful manner.

Also would put Alastor's condescending treatment of Vox during episode two in a new context. He knows being talked down to drives Vox nuts because of his past, so he purposefully treats him like a kid throwing a tantrum in order to further get under his skin.

---

version of proto vox where him and alastor DIDN'T genuinely become friends. alastor never respected him and treated him like his little sidekick. vox is still bitter about the rejection, but mostly he just hates alastor for treating him like a joke, now that he's no longer blinded by infatuation.

bonus: alastor who grew genuinely fond of vox but completely neglected to show it. he thought their dynamic was fine so he never thought to act differently/treat vox with a little more respect. he was completely caught off guard when vox finally exploded at him, and even felt a little betrayed– he thought everything was fine!

---

Aside from his performance skills, another reason why Vox was considered such a novelty was his head. Televisions were not common in Hell at the time (even among the elites), so his ability to project things on his screen was seen as quite unique. He’d sometimes have to stand still for extended periods of time and let people watch as he played whatever he could come up with in the moment on his screen.

---

Thinking about Proto Vox sitting in front of a mirror, trying for hours on end to retrain himself to talk without lisping or stuttering, or simply to speak in a lower register of voice than his new default. It never works.

Thinking about Vox say in front of a mirror, reciting the sign off for his show over and over and over again. The words are etched into his mind; he remembers every inflection, every tone shift he used to use as he read from the teleprompter night after night. He knows what to say and exactly how to say it.

And yet, he’s never able to do it right. No matter how many times he repeats the words, no matter how carefully he tries to pronounce them, they always come out lisped. He’ll finally manage to master one phrase only for it to come out high-pitched and slurred on the next attempt.

He keeps trying even as it becomes more and more clear that it’s no use. Whenever his boss dismisses him after a long day of work (that is, if she dismisses him— there’s no guarantee that she won’t decide on a whim to keep him for the night), Vox goes straight back to his room to try once more to retrain himself to talk like an adult. If he can’t have his body, he’ll have his voice— he has to have his voice.

Eventually, those practice sessions in front of the mirror become more and more rare. There’s no point; no matter what Vox does, the stupid, childish lisp remains. It’s this more than anything else that finally makes him understand the true nature of his punishment. This form was not selected for him at random or as a result of his prior career. Hell has decided he will spend the rest of his days as someone no one can take seriously. No status, no influence, no effortless charisma. He remains the same man he’s always been in his mind, but his body will allow no escape from his punishment. His self is no longer his own.

Thinking about Alastor losing his patience with Vox as they're drifting apart. He snaps that Vox's punishment isn't to never be taken seriously, it's to look like the impudent child he truly is.

---

cinderella has proto vox energy in this

Another toon with Proto Vox energy. The time period's even right!

---

oh this fucks so severely

---

During his first year in Hell, part of Vox’s “charm” was that he often struggled under the weight of his disproportionately large head. It made it difficult to maintain his balance given how it made up the majority of his body weight, and, when fatigued, he sometimes had to resort to using his hands to hold it up. People thought it was funny how clumsy he was during that first year. Eventually, he got used to it and regained his sense of balance (after many hours of physically demanding performance, of course), but if someone pushed him, he was still liable to collapse in a heap.

---

Thinking about Vox dissociating from his work persona. He feels like he’s in a completely different frame of mind when he’s performing; like he’s just a passive observer in his own body. It’s the only way to keep his ego intact— to convince himself that the words he’s saying/choices he’s making aren’t his own. He never actually severs the connection between his work identity and his real one, but seeing “Work Vox” as a different person made it all the easier to consign “him” to the past once the opportunity presented itself.

---

Kind of a nothing idea, but wanted to post about it anyway

If Vox had actually died as a child and somehow found his way to Lantana, their relationship would genuinely be as sweet as it seems on the surface. Lantana has a soft spot for children, and here’s this lost, vulnerable little boy who’s wandered right onto her doorstep. The fact that he’s actually very talented and incredibly eager to please just made the whole situation even more perfect.

Vaughn doesn’t understand why he’s in Hell (he’s not even ten years old, for goodness sake…), and he misses his parents (well, mostly his mother) terribly. It feels like a stroke of good luck that he happened upon an overlord who was willing to take him in and treat him so well. He doesn’t even need to do anything that hard— just all the same performance stuff he was already doing back on Earth, and with a less busy schedule at that. It doesn’t take long for him to get attached to Lantana; she’s just like Momma, except she’s less demanding and always wants him around, even when she has something more important going on.

Lantana, halfway through her first meeting with little Vox: Vaughn, sweetie, could you tell me again: How old are you? Vaughn: *takes a few moments to count to six on his fingers before holding them up* This many. Lantana: what the fuck

---

Oh yeah, Claudia’s definitely an inspiration for how I write Proto Vox.

But gosh, the mental image of Vox sketching out/building a model of what he wishes he looked like and it basically coming out as Alastor with a TV head… oof. The self-hatred, the idolization, the jealousy…

And the eventual realization (whether it comes years down the line or in that very moment) that he make that dream a reality. He can become someone “worthy” of people’s respect and admiration, so long as he has the resilience to take himself apart piece by piece.

Thinking about Proto Vox just. watching Alastor. Watching how he moves through the world— the way a hush falls over the room when he enters, the way he conducts himself with such complete self-assurance, the way everyone looks at him with a mix of reverence and terror.

Vox watched Alastor more intently than he’d ever done with anyone else. Envy wasn’t an unfamiliar emotion to Vox, but he’d never experienced it so intensely as he had with Alastor. In life, Vox had envied others, but he always felt as though the things he coveted were within his reach, so long as he was willing to put in the work to attain them. Envying someone for something you feel like you’ll never have (or rather, once had (to a degree) but was taken from you, seemingly for good) was so much worse.

Vox truly saw Alastor as a friend and confidant, but it never stopped hurting whenever others’ eyes glided over him without notice and immediately locked on Alastor. It never stopped hurting when others would talk down to Vox like he was some kid sidekick, but would speak to Alastor with the upmost respect. Alastor himself didn’t condescend to Vox (at least, no more than he does with everyone else), but that didn’t stop the resentment/idolization from slowly building within him. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but Vox could hardly blame himself for experiencing it; his host/mentor was everything he wished he could be, and Vox was trapped in a body that ensured he would never achieve that goal.

---

Thinking about that theory where Alastor's patron is the one who orders him to kill overlords

Alastor shows up at [REDACTED]'s place with a little cartoon man in tow like "Can I keep him? 🥺 I killed his boss for you 🥺"

---

Velvette would mock him mercilessly, especially if he’s her Vox who’s just been forced into his old body for whatever reason. She thinks he’ll just take it in “good fun” (the Vees bully each other all the time) and is caught off guard when he takes it personally— she’s never seen Vox that angry and hurt. Velvette refuses to back down or apologize on principle (she answers to no one!) but she does scale back her teasing a bit. Not because she gives a fuck about Vox’s feelings, obviously! It’s just… more practical.

---

I've written about that before, but a new take on that scenario could be:

Vox's body is completely destroyed somehow. It wasn't enough to permakill him, but it takes a while for him to completely reform.

Val's bored, waiting for Vox to pull himself back together. When he hears rustling coming from Vox's room, he assumes he's finally back and goes to bitch him out for taking so long. However, Vox is nowhere to be found at first. Val knows he's in the room, but he can't figure out where, and Vox doesn't seem to want to be found.

Vox hopes Valentino will just assume he's hearing things and will go away if he's quiet enough, but nope, Val persists in looking for him. Vox starts panicking and tries to tell him to just leave him alone, but it's no use. Val is momentarily very confused about the small child hiding under Vox's desk until the truth dawns on him.

Val thinks the situation is hilarious and immediately starts teasing Vox (and accusing him of catfishing). He thinks they're just having fun at first until Vox suddenly explodes at him. Vox is mortified to be seen like this (especially by his business partner/lover) and Val treating it like one big joke is only making things worse. How Val reacts is up to individual preference.

---

Been thinking about how awkward it would be to go from being a six-foot-tall adult man to a three-foot-tall cartoon with childlike proportions and a massive fucking head.

During his first year in Hell, Vox’s body language was so incongruous. He wasn’t used to existing in such a small, cute body, so he continued to move as he had on Earth. It was strange, seeing someone who you think is a child abruptly change their mannerisms to that of a forty-year-old man. Unfortunately, it just looked kind of silly to most people, watching someone so unassuming move with such controlled swagger.

Vox eventually adjusted his body language to fit with his new form. It was easier to just go along with what people expected of him. When he conducted himself like an adult, people would mock him; when he played into the “cute little cartoon” thing, people would laugh at his performance but accept it as normal and just move on. It was such a relief when he could finally move freely again without anyone commenting on how he looked.

---

was talking to greedkinggreaser about lantana treating proto vox like a purse dog and they said something about toxic chocolate and then

lantana's pov: awww cute liittle cartoon. do the skull and crossbones eyes again it's so funny. vox's pov: *dying of a medical emergency*

---

everyone in hell is cursed to periodically burst into song during moments of heightened emotion, but vox couldn't help but feel like he was the worst off for it. if it weren't for that particular quirk of hell, it would've been infeasible for his boss to order him to sing on command and expect unique compositions for each individual interaction. but thanks to that delightful curse, vox found himself spending a sizable portion of every day in song, either due to a direct order or just his own emotions bursting out. it was exhausting and embarrassing and fuck, he hates this he hates this he hates this

---

another 50s cartoon inspired idea: vox's voice isn't just altered post-death, it's completely transformed. it's a bit hard to tell, but he swears it's a woman's voice. just as women often voiced young boys in cartoons of the time, vox now had the voice of a woman. aside from how insanely alienating it was to have no remaining physical connection to his old identity, this also set off a spiral of gender dysphoria in him. he had the voice of a woman and no genitals; his identity as a man, which he had always taken for granted, was now completely dependent on the will of those around him. he was a man "only" because his boss wasn't interested in making him be a woman (or something else entirely). it was so deeply anxiety-provoking to go through "life" every day knowing that he could have his gender completely taken out of his hands by whoever was in control of the narrative at the time.

Wait. This except instead of ending up with an overlord who treats him like a pet, Vox ends up in the film/tv industry with an abusive manager. Vox is pretty successful; his androgyny makes it so he can be cast in twice as many parts. Vox has Feelings about the way his gender presentation is now completely out of his hands, even off-camera.

---

Rosie knows who Vox used to be. She remembers him from his days working under Lantana (she was rather fond of her, in fact) and they were acquainted during his time with Alastor. Vox has some sort of business deal set up with Rosie in exchange for her not revealing his old identity to anyone not already aware of it. He prefers not to talk to her whenever they run into each other at events; there's the Alastor connection, of course, but her overly friendly way of speaking makes him feel like she's perpetually condescending to him.

Rosie: Ah! Vox, honey, so good to see you again! It’s been too long! Valentino: You know this dama, carino? Rosie: Oh, of course! I’ve known Voxxy here since he was this big *holding her hand out at waist-height* Vox, barely resisting the urge to bite her: Hahahaha, yes, Rosie and I go way back. Well, it was nice catching up, but Valentino and I have some very important business to attend to, so we’ll be going now.

---

Vox was lucky to arrive in Hell in May. The Extermination is held on New Year’s, and he managed to find a job within a week or two of landing in Hell, so he avoided having to survive an Extermination until almost a decade down the line. Regardless, Vox still has very vivid memories of his first Extermination. During his first year, Lantana decided to give him as close to a front row seat as was possible to see what was going on outside her compound’s walls (what would happen to him if he ever tried to leave). After six months in Pride, Vox was well on his way to being desensitized to violence, but… this was different. Watching people be slaughtered in the street, watching other humans’ immortal souls be destroyed by an unstoppable army… it was horrific to a freshly-dead Vox. Lantana certainly accomplished her goal of “putting things in perspective” for Vox; as much as he hated it, he’d chose staying safe in her arms over scrambling to find a way to survive a mass slaughter any day.

---

Thinking about Vox and Alastor meeting for the first time at a party. Vox was told to just go around and make sure all the guests are having a good time, so he approaches Alastor, not knowing who he is. Vox usually keeps a huge fake grin plastered on his face while he’s on the clock. He barely has time to do anything before Alastor’s complimenting him on his smile, and oh shit, Vox knows that voice…

---

Random thought: Lantana’s office has a sitting area with more than two chairs, but Vox isn’t allowed to sit there when she has a guest— he’s not a participant, after all. Instead, he’s supposed to sit on a cushion on the floor next to Lantana’s chair— “like a fucking dog,” he thinks— unless he’s serving drinks or entertaining.

---

Lantana likes to collect people. She has a standing order for her staff members in charge of handling new recruits to bring her “anything interesting” so she can personally decide which role to put them in. Sinners with unique or aesthetically pleasing forms get assigned office jobs, while unremarkable or unattractive sinners are funneled into jobs on the factory floor.

Vox was picked out of the crowd by a foreman who was processing day laborers and prospective contractees. Vox had heard from someone at one of the homeless encampments he had been staying in that Lantana’s company offered room and board to its full-time employees— exactly what Vox was looking for. He went there thinking that he would simply be put to work in the factory and given a bed in the company dormitory. Vox was not expecting to be pulled aside and given a private meeting with the company’s owner, but hey, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He shouldn’t let his guard down, but he could totally talk this broad into giving him a halfway decent job!

That, uh. that did not work out as well as Vox had hoped.

Thinking about Vox being escorted to his new room after this meeting. He’s so fucking relieved to be off the streets and feels confident he can make this gig work. He’s so ready to sleep in an actual bed again instead of on the ground… and then he gets to the room and the bed’s too high off the floor for him to get onto it without jumping up and swinging his leg over the side. Okay. Okay, he can ask for a different bed. This is still all gonna work out fine.

---

Okay, this post got me thinking about Proto Vox's relationship with his sexuality and whoops, now there's 700 words.

On Earth, Vox was your typical insecure narcissist. He felt a great deal of shame about his attraction to men and always felt like any threat to his masculinity would cause his identity to crumble, so he overcompensated by taking refuge in the parts of masculinity that he was "good at." Vox was a very handsome, charismatic man, and he used those tools to his advantage. He'd flirt with women at his station and, once he was in a position of influence, was no stranger to using sex/sex acts as a bargaining chip. Suck his dick, and he'll put in a good word for you with the producers. Vox loved the respect and attention he got from being a successful, good-looking white man in the 1950s– he fed off it, using it to keep his insecurities at bay.

In Hell, he's no longer able to do that. The three traits he used to build his whole identity around– his masculinity, status, and charisma– are all gone. He looks and sounds like an adorable child, he's treated like a pet by his boss, and no one takes him seriously because of these things. No one cares that he used to be rich and successful, or even that he's actually an adult; all they see is someone weak that they can belittle in order to make themselves feel more powerful.

Vox had no choice but to surrender his dignity, although he still tries to hold onto bits of it in private. He knows that he's an intelligent adult man, even if nobody else knows or cares. However, that's not enough for someone as self-conscious as Vox. There's not a day that goes by without him feeling ashamed or embarrassed in some capacity, even as he grins and bares it externally and desperately clings to his old identity internally. It all comes together to completely obliterate his self-esteem. He can't even take comfort in the simple fact that he's male, because he knows that privilege could be taken away at a moment's notice due to his lack of any traits that people of the time would call "male." Put Vox in a dress or even stop affording him a gender at all and the only person who'll know the difference is him.

Vox can't have sex, and even if he could, he can't imagine anyone ever wanting him unless it was for explicitly fetishistic purposes. He has no genitals, no asshole, and no mouth. His body is made of smooth, featureless wood and metal. He might as well be a doll with an overly large head. Vox can't think of a single aspect of his body that would be sexually appealing to anyone who's not a complete freak. Even if he could pay for sex, he hates himself so much that the thought of getting with another person is just as humiliating as it is tantalizing. He doesn't want anyone to look at him, even though being seen is everything to him. And yet, he has no choice but to let people look. He's an entertainer, and now it seems like that's all he'll ever be.

All of this may have played a role in why he eventually gravitated towards Valentino. It'd been fifteen years since Vox last felt like a sexual being, and the last person he'd been attracted to had laughed in his face when he tried to confess to him. Val made him feel desirable– powerful, even. He treated him like a man, and that was like a rainstorm after a drought for Vox. It barely even mattered that Val was very openly queer; Vox gladly threw his once precious mask of heterosexuality to the winds in order to once more have a partner who actually respected him. Val helped him build functioning genitals for his new body. He helped him gain power so they could build their empire. Valentino is inexorably tied to Vox's new/restored identity, which makes him willing to put up with Val's more unappealing traits. Vox doesn't think he'd be nothing without Valentino by any means– he knows he could've achieved all this even if he never crossed paths with Val– but he'll always be the cornerstone that everything about his new life is built on.

Thinking about Vox freaking out the first time he finds himself thinking of his new body/new persona as “him” rather than something that’s been inflicted on him. He hates who/what he’s become more than anything, and he’s done his damndest to keep his old identity alive, if only in his own mind. Growing accustomed to his new body, forgetting to mentally draw the line between his persona and his “true” self… it feels like admitting defeat, and it’s terrifying.

The role is the issue here rather than the process itself. Vox usually doesn’t care about maintaining the integrity of his personality/opinions so long as it advances his goals, but this is different. It feels like settling— giving up on his aspirations for respect and success, and accepting his status as a simple little clown with no agency of his own. He can’t allow that to happen; it makes him sick to his stomach to imagine letting this become all he is… but how long can you play a role before it stops being an act?

---

This whole arrangement with Lantana feels like a weird dream to Vox in so many regards. He’s being given all these things he didn’t have access to but would’ve loved to have back when he was, you know, eight (physical items, near-constant attention from others, etc.), but all they do is wear down his self-esteem/sense of self. He’s a thirty-nine-year-old man having a silent emotional breakdown in a fucking blanket fort because his insane boss keeps implying that he’ll be stuck in this building til the day he dies. He would’ve preferred Hell to be the typical fire-and-brimstone situation he read about in church rather than whatever the fuck this is.

---

I keep imagining the hall of mirrors scene from the Baby Doll episode of Batman TAS with Proto Vox

God I wish I could draw

0:17 is canon/upgraded Vox. 0:48 is human Vox.

Imagining Alastor successfully forcing Proto Vox to disconnect from his upgraded body and chasing him into his workshop, where dozens of Vox’s old bodies are being stored, dangling from the ceiling or simply laying, discarded, in heaps on the floor.

Being forced out of his body, having his most closely-guarded secret revealed to all of hell, and being chased down into a graveyard of himself is all just too much for Vox. Cue the emotional breakdown/identity crisis.

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Vox based several aspects of his new body's design on Alastor. The height, the claws, the teeth, the physique– it's all Al. At first, Alastor was willing to rationalize it with "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," but as things began to sour between them, he started seeing it as an attempt to outdo him/jack his style. Nowadays, Alastor regrets ever allowing Vox to upgrade at all copy so many aspects of his appearance/persona.

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Idea inspired by this fic:

Alastor backs Vox into a corner in some way and offers him a deal: put on his “real” body and spend one pleasant day with him, just like the old days. Vox tells him to go fuck himself, but when Alastor starts putting the screws to him— threatening to force him into his old body and then either dump him at V Tower or go live and reveal his past to the public— Vox has no choice but to give in.

Vox is fucking boiling with rage, but he can’t attack Alastor or pitch too much of a fit because of the terms of the deal. Alastor is absolutely elated to have “the real Vox” back and will not give him even a moment’s peace, condescending to him all the while. Vox is miserable throughout the day, but, to his annoyance, nostalgia creeps in and it becomes progressively easier to slip into his old persona.

As the day draws to a close, Vox is ready to jump back into his new body the moment the time runs out. He’s literally had nightmares about having to return to his old body, and this whole experience has been as much of a nightmare for him as it’s been a dream come true for Alastor. As the final seconds run out, Vox readies himself to jump back into his body and flee this wretched place… only for Alastor to suddenly tear it to pieces in the last moments, right before Vox’s eyes. Vox is apoplectic with rage and tries to attack Alastor, only to discover his enhanced overlord powers are too much for his tiny body to handle— all he succeeds in doing is giving Alastor a mild shock and burning his own internal components. Alastor glows with satisfaction as he scoops up a limp and drained Vox. He has him right where he wants him, and he's not letting Vox go until he makes him "see the error of his ways."

At one point, Alastor taunts Vox by going on about how Valentino looks rather similar to Vox’s “Miss.” Vox wants to throttle Alastor— talking about Lantana is the last thing he wants to do right now, and how dare Alastor draw a comparison between her and Vox’s most intimate (in every sense of the word) business partner.

Some self-indulgent ideas:

During Vox's confinement, Alastor makes sure there's always loud, distracting retro music playing in every room of the house. It's meant to subconsciously influence Vox, pushing him to act more like he used to back when he and Alastor were friends. Or just wear Vox down with repetition until he's too exhausted to keep pushing back. Whichever comes first. (inspired by this fic)

Vox begins dissociating during this whole ordeal. He starts conceptualizing his old self as a separate person/voice inside of him who's gradually becoming more vocal. For as much of a nightmare as it is to have "someone else" taking over your mind, for Vox, it's preferable to admitting defeat and surrendering to Alastor's will.

The music Alastor’s playing is all from the 1930s. Yes, that may have been thirty years before he met Vox, but Alastor was always charmed by how well the two of them fit together— Vox looks far more like a 30s cartoon than a 50s one, in Alastor’s opinion. They match, and that’s far more important than honoring the era Vox is actually from!

The music isn’t doing jack shit as far as Vox is concerned. It makes him a bit nostalgic, sure, but for his teenage years, not his early days in Hell (it’s not even right for his childhood back in the 20s…). He may or may not be aware of the rationale for Alastor’s music choice, but either way, it’s not working… at least, he thinks it isn’t working. The longer Vox spends trapped in this hellhole, the more he starts to second guess his perception of reality.

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Thinking about a scene between Vox and Lantana where she gives him a peek into how her business actually operates. She sells pharmaceuticals– not drugs necessarily, but medication. However, that doesn't mean they aren't addictive. In the guise of something harmless and relieving, Lantana is able to keep the customers pliant and eager to buy more, all while maintaining the approval of the general public. It doesn't matter that her factories are inhumane, or how she treats those working under her, or even that some people have tried to sound the alarm about the addictive properties of her medications; people want, no, need her product, and it's not blatantly harmful, so they will push past their better judgment (because of course the biggest pharmaceutical company in Hell is putting harmful components in their products) and continue to buy. Vox is a bit caught off-guard by this little peak behind the curtain. As sleazy as the entertainment business can be, this was new territory for newlydead Vox (he'd only been a mildly successful variety show host, after all). However, he had to admit, it was a pretty flawless business model. That initial peak at how a successful overlord runs their business went on to inform Vox's own approach to his products once he hit it big.

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i know i want proto vox to be between 3’0-3’6 (so a little less than half of alastor’s/modern vox’s height), but i keep going back and forth on what the size difference between him and lantana is. i can never decide if he’s toddler-sized or doll-sized compared to her, which makes it hard to nail down her height. also, the fact that proto’s head takes up about a third of his body makes things even more complicated; even if vox is about the height of a (human) three-year-old, his body is so out-of-proportion that it might as well be doll-sized.

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Val's surprisingly chill about all the people (dead and 'alive') that Vox has a mysterious, unspoken Past with (see: Alastor), but when your boyfriend is delightedly destroying a child's bedroom in an abandoned building with no explanation, you've gotta start asking questions.

val: why the hell was there a kid's room in an overlord's building? vox: no child lived here. val: ... vox: .... val: you wanna elaborate on that babe? vox: no.

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Honestly, I think it’d be the opposite. Vox is so contemptuous of those who “let” themselves be taken advantage of because he can’t stand being reminded that he used to be in that exact situation. That’s the past: he’s a big, strong man again and now he’s the one who can throw people around like objects or violate their personal boundaries or make them believe there’s no point in resisting/pushing back. In Vox’s mind, those too weak to get out or rise above their station deserve to be there. He got out— out from under Lantana, out from under Alastor— so obviously it can be done, most people are just too stupid or complacent to manage it.

He’s a peach

Although, cringefailvox once made a post about Proto Vox and Angel being quasi-friends in the past and each seeing their struggles reflected in the other. I also think it could be interesting to contrast Angel's trauma from being oversexed by Valentino to Vox's trauma from being desexed by his old overlord, especially since they both respond to it by throwing themselves into hypersexuality (to a more subtle extent for Vox) in order to try and reclaim their agency.

Vox usually isn't present when Valentino decides to love bomb Angel/his contractees, but the handful of times he has been around + Val's doing it immediately after hurting someone, it's brought back bad memories. Lantana used to do this thing where she'd hit him/demean him/lock him in a room for days at a time, and then turn around and start going on about how much she loved him/how precious he was to her. Unlike Val, she didn't actually care whether or not Vox believed her, but it was still extremely disorienting regardless.

she never apologized for anything she did. she'd just smother vox with affection and claim she didn't want to hurt him: she just needed to correct him. and vox had to sit there and pretend he was buying it because the only alternative was more pain.

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Okay, scene description time:

It's a few months into Vox's employment with Lantana. He's currently sitting in her limousine, scowling at his legs (which barely reach past the end of the seat) until Lantana breaks the silence and asks if he's excited for his very first party. Vox quickly hitches a smile onto his face and responds enthusiastically, although his excitement has nothing to do with the prospect of performing for a bunch of Hellish elites. He may have only had this job for a handful of months, but he's already decided it's not worth it. Lantana is a lunatic who treats him like a dog and hasn't let him step outside her compound since he arrived. Vox is fed up; he's certain that he could find a better job if he could only get away from her, and tonight, he's going to make that wish a reality. As soon as Lantana takes her eyes off him, Vox plans on slipping away, escaping the building, and heading to the opposite end of the Pentagram to start his afterlife over again. However, even if that plan falls through, he won't let the night go to waste. Vox can surely find someone at this party to network with, right? His current situation was so strange and so obviously wrong, people would definitely be willing to hear him out– maybe even help him escape one day.

Unfortunately, though, Vox's plan starts falling apart as soon as the two of them arrive at the party. Vox had spent a week or so on the streets when he first arrived in Hell, but he'd been so disoriented and preoccupied that he wasn't really paying attention to how Hellish society functions and then had spent months locked up in Lantana's living quarters. This is his first look at how Pride's elites, other than Lantana, operate, and he is not encouraged by what he sees. Vox had been to his fair share of rowdy industry parties, but the debauchery and violence on display here was downright alarming. Everywhere he looked, people were being assaulted, groped, used as objects– all with a casualness that clearly indicated that this was just business as usual. Half the people there were owned by someone in some capacity, and not a single one of them gave a fuck about Vox or the mistreatment Lantana was inflicting on him.

However, right as Vox's hopes of finding an ally at the party die off, he's presented with an opportunity: Lantana's wandered off with some other Overlord, and no one's watching him. Vox quickly slips away, his heart racing as he tries to make it to the elevator without attracting any unwanted attention. He makes it all the way down to the lobby and can barely keep himself from running to the door. This is it, just keep walking; if anyone stops you, just say you left your gloves in the car; come on, almost there...

Vox throws open the door and is just about to cross the threshold when he feels a sharp tug on his wrists. He whips around, expecting to see Lantana or some other Overlord looming over him, but... there's no one there. Confused and thoroughly on edge, Vox tries to go through the doorway again, only to stumble as he feels the same force as before pulling on his arms and legs, holding him in place. Vox calls to the lobby's doorman, asking for him to let him out, only for the doorman to dully explain that he isn't the one stopping Vox from leaving; he must be going against the terms of his contract or something. Horrified, Vox stares at his wrists. At first, they seem bare, but the longer he looks, he begins to notice the translucent pink thread wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles. No chains– Vox had been smart enough to avoid signing a contract, after all– but the strings of his deal with Lantana are strong enough to keep him bound in place all the same.

Panic seizes Vox as he attempts to tug at his strings, but they simply phase through his hands, fading in and out of visibility like spiderwebs catching the light. He feels sick as the reality of his situation dawns on him. He's stuck with a sadistic Overlord who seems dead-set on grinding his sense of self/independence to dust. No one cares what's happening to him– as far as Hell is concerned, his situation is run-of-the-mill. There's no escape: not from the deal, not from this body, not from Hell itself. Vox is trapped, and he has no one to blame but himself.

Suddenly, Vox feels another, less harsh tug on his strings. Something compels him to check the time, and he realizes that he's supposed to perform for the party in five minutes' time. The idea of performing at a time like this makes him feel sick, but he has no choice. In a haze of despair and disappointment, Vox forces himself to turn from the exit and slowly heads back upstairs. He has a show to do.

Bonus self-indulgent whumpy idea:

While they’re driving home after the party, Lantana casually reveals that she knows about Vox’s little escape attempt. He tries to lie and say he was only getting something from the car, but Lantana’s not buying it. She grabs him by the ankle, and suddenly, Vox is dangling upside down in the air. He’s in a lot of pain— his body is made up of wires that are now straining to stay plugged into his stupidly heavy head, after all— made even worse by the fact that Lantana keeps shaking him every couple of seconds. As she torments Vox, she playfully scolds him— no more outings for him, clearly! Perhaps he can earn the privilege back with good behavior, although she may have to fit him with a leash until she can trust him not to go wandering off again. Once she grows bored of tormenting him, Lantana drops Vox directly on the top of his head, crushing his antennas in the process. Vox remembers nothing about the rest of the night after that.

---

Eventually, Vox stopped simply trailing after Alastor and began trying to accumulate some power of his own. He tricked some people into contracts here, made a few business deals there, and boom, now he has his own money and some enhanced powers to boot. At some point, Vox discovered he could make permanent alterations to his body and began making little adjustments where he could. When he eventually realized that he could theoretically replace/upgrade his entire body, Vox started saving every scrap of usable material he could get his hands on. It took years (and some help from people who were actually familiar with robotics), but he eventually built himself a functional replacement body. Not sure if he somehow managed to keep his little project secret from Alastor and surprised him with it, or if Al watched as Vox slowly worked on the body over the years. Either way, he thought the similarities between Vox's new body and his own appearance were cute at first– imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all!– but as time went on and the two of them started drifting apart, Alastor found himself begrudging Vox for using his traits for the sake of his own advancement.

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I don't think so. Proto Vox's rise followed a fairly different trajectory/timeline than normal Vox's, although I don't have the exact details worked out. One big change is that he actually lived with Alastor for most of their friendship (and had nothing when they met instead of beginning to find his footing), so there wasn't the material pressure of "I need to make money in order to survive/be comfortable" driving him– only the internal desire to prove himself and reassert his personal agency.

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Vox has a bit of a one-sided beef with Niffty in the Protoverse. Back in the early days, Vox and Alastor's dynamic was very, well, cartoony. Vox used to trail after Alastor wherever he went, keeping him entertained with wisecracks and overly ambitious schemes and moments of surprising competence. Alastor loved how he and Vox bounced off of each other; it was the most fun he'd had in decades. After Vox has his first major upgrade, they still had a natural rapport, but Vox wasn't willing to play the role of the mischievous little sidekick anymore. Alastor found himself dearly missing their old dynamic, so when he crossed paths with Niffty, of course he decided to scoop her up. He and Vox may have already gone their separate ways, in which case, Vox would be furious to learn that Alastor so blatantly replaced him. Conversely, this could've happened while they were still friends, and Vox just had to sit there and pretend he wasn't bothered by his best friend/secret crush was brining someone into their circle who was early similar to how Vox was back before he upgraded/before he and Alastor started having problems.

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Also, playing with the idea that Proto Vox was rejected by Alastor twice: once when he was just Alastor's small, silly little protégé, and once after he'd attained everything he'd long dreamed of– overlord status, a thriving business empire, a body that people could respect– desperately hoping that he may now, finally, be good enough for Alastor. Both times Alastor said no, and both times Vox completely misunderstood the reasons why he turned him down.

Trying to decide how the first rejection went down

Did Vox go out, buy a bouquet of roses, and try to confess his feelings, only for Alastor to assume it was a joke and laugh in his face? Did Vox awkwardly try to laugh it off, or did he explode, too emotionally vulnerable to hide his anger/heartbreak?

Did Alastor assume it was a joke and then rapidly realize that it wasn’t? Did he try to let Vox down gently, explaining that he just didn’t see him that way, only for Vox to assume it was because of his appearance? Was it because of Vox’s appearance (not solely, obviously, but still)?

Did Vox propose that the two of them make their partnership official/go into business together, only for Alastor to flippantly turn him down and speechify about how “The Radio Demon has no partners”? Did he tease Vox for thinking such a thing was possible, writing it off as another one of his harebrained schemes? How did Vox react?

Was Vox too self-conscious to ask Alastor verbally? Was the rejection prompted by a wandering hand? How did Alastor react to his friend making a move on him? Did they ever talk about it, or did the two of them just pretend it had been an honest mistake?

Did Vox and Alastor go their separate ways immediately after the rejection, or did they stay friends for a few more years? Did Vox have to put on a brave face and slip back into their old routine, now believing that Alastor didn't respect him? Was Alastor able to compartmentalize the interaction, or did it weigh heavily on his relationship with Vox? Did Vox walk out on Alastor, determined to prove he could make it on his own? Did Alastor walk out on Vox?

And how sincerely did Vox actually believe that he could make Alastor want him by becoming his equal?

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proto idea of the night: vox is cursed to have music/sound effects following him around at all times. it's honestly infuriating; like having a condescending little voice in your ear at all times.

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Thinking about mute Proto Vox (inspired by this fic). What if Vox spawned in Hell with his voice unaltered? What if, during Vox's "trial run" with Lantana, she decided she didn't like his voice/didn't want a pet that could talk back? Vox has no idea that anything's off– he's confident he'll have this broad eating out of the palm of his hand in a couple of weeks. He had no idea Lantana intended to alter him until she handed him over to the mechanic.

It wasn't a particularly hard procedure. All they had to do was mute him, tamper with/break his volume dial, and then cap the hole so he wouldn't try meddling with it. Vox was rendered completely mute in under five minutes by a mechanic who treated the process as utterly banal. When the procedure is over, as Vox is trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his prized voice was just stolen from him and he has no idea if he'll ever get it back, Lantana airily tells him that she doesn't like the sinner name he's chosen for himself: his name is Vox now.

Having to spend the next several years of his afterlife pantomiming his every want and emotion was agonizing for Vox. The day that Alastor finally repaired his audio was the day Vox realized he might just be a little in love with him.

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Idea that ignores the timeline I’ve created for this AU but I think is juicy regardless: In the mid-1970s, a recently-fallen Valentino finds himself at Lantana’s compound. His pimp realized he could squeeze a bit more money out of him by selling his addictive pheromones/saliva to the biggest pharmaceutical company in Pride, or maybe Val had the idea himself and is there of his own free will. Either way, once all the samples are taken and exams are performed, Val ends up alone with Vox, who was ordered to walk him to his room/show him around while Lantana and his pimp are negotiating a price. Vox tries to maintain his cute, wholesome persona, but Val has a pathological Need to turn everything anyone says into a sex joke. Vox gets progressively more annoyed until he finally breaks character and snaps at Valentino. Unfortunately (but fortunately in the long-term) for Vox, not only was that reaction exactly what Valentino was looking for, but the abrupt change in mannerisms was enough to get Val interested in him.

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nsfw

During that first meeting, Val’s saliva wasn’t the only thing for sale. While Lantana was all business, Val’s pimp tried to sell her on booking a night with Valentino. It was rare for a sinner of her stature to encounter someone so well-suited to them, and he could guarantee it would be money well-spent. Lantana brushed him off at first, but eventually decided to take him up on his offer. Unfortunately for Vox, he happened to be in Lantana’s bedroom right when she brought Val back.

Poor Vox had to just sit there as his boss had sex some random hooker who would not stop staring Vox dead in the eyes as he fucked her. It was terribly awkward, watching the two of them go to town, worrying that, at any moment, Lantana might give into her more mantis-like urges and bite Valentino’s head off. It was awful….. why is he hard

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I keep coming back to a mental image related to this scenario. Vox, wanting to make plans/discuss matters with Valentino in private, brings him to his room to talk. Val has to crawl just to fit through the door and remains kneeling the whole time he’s in there. Vox is trying to focus on the matter at hand, but he can’t help but feel intensely self-conscious, standing there in his dollhouse-esque bedroom trying to negotiate with this random gay hooker he’s only met a handful of times.

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Random piece of dialogue that just popped into my head

Vox: I am not a #%$!?*& dog Lantana: Noooo, baby, of course not! You’re more like one of those little monkeys that dance along to the organ grinders' music.

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Something I found sitting in my notes app from back in May. Figured I'd post it since I'm probably not gonna finish it.

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I hc that all sinners spawn in Hell naked, but I kinda love the image of Proto Vox arriving wearing the exact suit/outfit he died in. Man’s stumbling around the streets of Hell in clothes meant for someone literally twice his size. He looks ridiculous and pathetic and adorable— a taste of things to come.

#he’s screaming and crying and pounding the ground in fury and despair as he realizes he won’t be ascending to godhood after all#but all anyone passing him on the street sees is a child having a temper tantrum

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@tvmothdolloverlords suggested a scenario in the DMs where Vox starts using some of his boss’ pharmaceuticals to make getting through the day somewhat more bearable. I’m very attached to the idea of Vox not having a mouth/any biological components, but the thought is compelling to me. Back on Earth, Vox’s wife would use prescription meds to force herself to seem happy while in public. During social events, she’d be completely spaced out, but no one would notice because all she did was smile and nod along as her husband did all the talking. It’d be quite a juicy twist of fate for Vox to find himself in the same situation, getting high as a kite every day in order to maintain the illusion that he hasn’t a care in the world.

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It’s easy for Proto to get caught up in a haze of dream logic when he’s high. Everything around him looks so bizarre— there are monsters everywhere and the rooms he’s in are so strangely designed. It all seems so silly and nonsensical that it’s easy for him to get lost in the role. Vox still remembers who he is and what’s going on, but the drugs lower his inhibitions to a point where he feels as strange as he looks. When he wakes up the next morning, he usually regrets whatever he did the night before, but that just gives him a reason to pop another pill and return to a state of mind where he can’t feel shame.

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It's funny– one scenario that I've always been interested in but could never fully figure out is Proto Vox accidentally running into his parents while out and about with Lantana. Thalia/Winnifred recognizes him by his voice/the repurposed childhood act he was performing and calls out to him, expecting a happy reunion. Vox just freezes when he realizes who she is, then bolts away as fast as possible, leaving a confused Thalia to give chase. I can never figure out what happens once she catches him. Yelling, followed by Lantana showing up and making everything ten times worse seems like the only feasible option, but that's not a particularly interesting outcome to me. However, now with drug addict Proto (wow, that's a normal phrase), I can finally come up with a resolution to that scenario. Vox needs to be inebriated in order for him to not immediately panic and flee at the sight of his mother, I guess.

so whenever i picture thalia chasing proto vox down, it always ends with her wrapping one of her ribbon-tentacles around his leg/arm, except she's not sturdy enough to hold him back, so the two of them just go crashing down to the ground and get tangled together. thalia and buskin are extremely flimsy due to the nature of their demonic forms, and proto vox is also pretty unsteady on his feet because of how heavy/disproportional his head is. something something shallowness/lies being reflected in demonic forms.

Dialogue

“Momma— Mother? Why are you… How did you—?”

“Oh, Peanut! I’d recognize your voice anywhere!”

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Idea: Vox has his first encounter with Alastor not in Lantana’s office or at some random overlord event, but in Rosie’s parlor. For once, Vox is grateful not to have a mouth; everyone at this little tea party is eating Sinner flesh, and he’s certain that if he could eat, they’d be feeding him their table scraps.

Vox hates when Lantana drags him along on visits to Rosie’s parlor. For as bad as Lantana can be, her serene, dignified demeanor makes her somewhat easier for him to deal with. Rosie, on the other hand? Rosie wigs him out. She’s loud and chatty and overwhelming and reminds Vox a bit too much of his mother.

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there may be a part of vox that actually understands the true nature of his punishment, but his ego and his self-loathing both act as protective shields against that true realization. his early years in hell were shameful and humiliating, but they're in the past now, so there's no need to dwell on them anyone! he clawed his way out through hard work and determination (and by condemning countless others to a similar fate), just as a real man should, so now he no longer has to feel ashamed of what happened to him right? right?

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Cw misogyny, rape fantasies

Vox, misogynist that he is, probably has violent sexual fantasies about all the ways he would put Lantana “in her place” if they were both still human. He’s not especially attracted to her (she’s gorgeous, but he loathes her so much that he no longer cares how she looks), but that’s not the point— he wants to punish her for so thoroughly emasculating him, and sexual violence is the first thing his 1950s chauvinist mind jumps to.

If they were back on Earth, he’d show her. He’d pin her down and fuck her ‘til she was screaming his name (his real name, not the alias Hell has made him take on/the demeaning pseudonym she's forced on him). He'd make her bleed— make her feel small and helpless and violated— make her regret ever laying a hand on him. It’s a comforting fantasy for Vox to return to whenever she pushes him too far. He doesn’t know anything about Lantana when she was human though, so his mind always substitutes her giant, intimidating mantis body with that of his wife: another uppity woman determined to make his life difficult for no reason.

Of course, that fantasy will never become a reality. Regardless of how much Vox wishes he was still human, back in the real world, Lantana is the ten-foot-tall overlord, and Vox can barely go one day without collapsing under the weight of his cartoonishly large head. It’s absurd to think he would ever be able physically overpower her, and even if he could, he no longer has the equipment required to make any of his sexual fantasies a reality (as Lantana is always keen to remind him).

Lantana is aware of how much Vox hates her, even if she pretends not to be. She can guess that Vox likely has those kind of thoughts about her, although if she was ever confronted with evidence of them (such as Vox unconsciously displaying one on his screen in his sleep), she’d come down on him hard. In fact, that could’ve even been the catalyst for her shift from simply wanting a jester to deliberately trying to psychologically torment Vox into submission.

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Okay, a couple different thoughts. Lots o’ Vox whump under the cut.

- “You don’t even have anything to cover” = Someone knocks on Lantana’s bedroom door right as she’s trying to decide on Vox’s outfit for the day. Vox, who’s completely naked when they walk in, is mortified and tries to cover himself, but Lantana just laughs and tells him that there’s no need to be shy before launching into an extended conversation with the other employee. As she’s talking, Vox tries to grab something out of the wardrobe, only to be ordered to wait. For the next several minutes, he just has to stand there, naked as the day he was born, until the visitor leaves and Lantana’s attention returns to him. As she resumes dressing him, Lantana sweetly assures Vox that no one was looking— there’s nothing for them to look at, after all!

- “A ‘bathroom break’? Why would you have any reason to do that?” = It drives Vox insane how little freedom of mobility he has. He’s not allowed to go anywhere— not even to neighboring rooms— without Lantana’s permission. Instead, he has to wait until she dismisses him for the day (if she dismisses him) to finally move around “freely,” and even then, he only has a small pool of options for places in the building he’s allowed to go. If he’s tired, or doesn’t feel well, or is this close to having an “outburst,” he just has to wait it out. Vox learns quickly that there’s little point in asking for a break/privacy, because Lantana will never give it to him. He’s not sure whether he prefers this infuriating little routine, or when Lantana decides she doesn’t want him around/is busy with other things, and leaves him locked up alone in his bedroom/her bedroom/her office for hours (or even days) at a time.

- The underwear thing = Dozens of pieces of clothing in that wardrobe and not one pair of underwear… Vox is put in the extremely awkward position of having to ask Lantana right after this incident if she forgot to buy him briefs and, if so, could she pretty-please get him some. Of course, she says no. She’s already spent enough money on his wardrobe— why would she waste even more getting him something he doesn’t have any reason to wear?

- “You don’t have any reason to sleep” = Vox can go about 168 hours (one week) at max without “sleep” before he runs out of power and needs to recharge. There have been a few times when Lantana has deliberately kept Vox awake until he ran out of battery. At first, she was just curious how long he could last before collapsing, but in recent years, she’s begun doing it simply because she thinks it’s cute when Vox becomes delirious. He can’t perform as well, but he’s so adorable and cuddly and needy when he’s about to pass out. It never stops being scary for Vox whenever he blacks out and wakes up in a completely new location (sometimes in different clothes) with Lantana absentmindedly kneading one of his rubbery limbs as she works.

Random hyper-specific thought relating to the “Lantana sometimes locks Proto in rooms for extended periods of time” thing: F!Proto Vox (the one with the male overlord who dotes on her) being locked in her room and eventually growing so bored that she actually starts toying with the dollhouse her boss insisted on giving her. As she’s examining the house (she’d tried to ignore it up til this point), she finally takes a closer look at the dolls inside: A mother, father, daughter, and son. A wave of homesickness and grief suddenly washes over her, and oops, now she’s crying. She feels pathetic, kneeling in front of a dollhouse and weeping over a couple of toys, but she can’t bring herself to stop. Vox wants her old life back.

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"do you actually think you could survive out there? darling, you can't even walk straight. you fall into a coma for six hours every night.* it's a wonder that you actually managed to arrive on my property in one piece. this is the best you can possibly hope for.”

#*I once read a fic where vox’s original head had a built-in curfew#so he’d just black out from 1am - 7am (the hours that tv broadcasts ended back in the 50s)#and I just think that’s be another good handicap for proto#he can’t afford to lose this job#he’s too vulnerable to survive on the streets#he can’t risk ‘going off the air’ in the wrong company#unless he wants to wake up in a chop shop with some other sinner trying to remove his head

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Trying to think of ways to incorporate “just a hurt little boy” + Vox’s immaturity into this AU (like, a lot of it’s there already, but how can I take it even further?)

Oh wait, I have it! “What if your trauma happened again, but worse?” Variant of this AU where Lantana actually is involved in the entertainment industry and is Vox’s abusive manager. He needs her to speak/negotiate roles for him because no one takes him seriously, so he has to put up with her treating like a child and slipping into the “stage mother” role. Vox feels like he’s trapped in a nightmare version of his childhood.

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Idea: Proto Vox getting so angry with Lantana that he starts shouting at her, expecting to cow her into silence. Instead, Lantana just laughs indulgently and treats his fury like a tantrum. Vox screams even louder, his demands to be taken seriously sounding ridiculous in his high-pitched, childlike voice. Lantana pats him on the head in faux-sympathy, and Vox explodes, diving at her and swinging at any part of her he could reach. He didn’t even leave a light bruise. Lantana simply snatched him up by the collar, and let him dangle there, flailing in impotent rage until he ran out of energy.

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Thinking about the phrase "It's still me!" From Alastor's perspective, every time Vox upgrades and tries to convince him of that, it only feels like Vox is drifting further away. The aesthetics of the upgrades aren't the issue (although Alastor does miss Vox's old appearance/persona); the person underneath is becoming unrecognizable to him. From Vox's perspective, every time he upgrades and tries to convince Alastor that it's still him, he's begging Alastor to understand that his modifications aren't meant to make him someone new, they're meant to help him get back to the person he used to be: his human self, from before Hell, before Alastor.

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I know I’ve already written about this ad nauseam, but the clips from S2 are really making me appreciate the dramatic irony of Hell deciding that Vox’s “true form” is a little boy with an overly large head.

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A thought: The reason Lantana leans so hard into the doll thing with Vox is because she died before animation became popular and doesn’t really know how cartoons are “supposed” to act. She knows they’re funny and cute and entertain children, but not really what they do, per se. No matter, though. A toy is a toy, regardless of what era it’s from, and she’ll play with hers however she likes.

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S2 Vox still thinks this whole arrangement is exhausting and demeaning, but… there’s a part of him that kind of likes some of it?? Like, the affection, the constant attention… the hurt, neglected child inside of him is absolutely FEASTING, even if the rest of him desperately wants to be respected again.

There’s a part of Vox that kind of enjoys being doted on and shown off. What he doesn’t enjoy is being made to stand silently off to the side while Lantana discusses business with other overlords, or carrying around tea trays and hats, or being laughed at and belittled whenever his stupid, feeble little body gives out on him and sends him crashing to the ground. He hates being treated like he’s beneath notice, and he hates being reminded of how pathetically weak he is now.

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Thinking about how the rejection scene would go down in the Proto Verse. Alastor says a lot of absolutely cutting things during it, but the comment that really gets under Vox’s skin is when Alastor accuses him of trying to retreat back to the safety of a “master." How disappointing! He's come so far, and yet he still wants a big, powerful overlord looking over his shoulder, treating him like a pampered pet, and ensuring he lives the good life despite having done nothing to actually deserve it. Well, if that's the life Vox wants, then Alastor's perfectly willing to give it to him! But please, spare him this talk of "partnership" and just be honest about what he's really after!

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Two S2-related thoughts:

Maybe Proto Vox’s sinner name/the name Lantana knew him by was “Vinnie” or “Vincie”? Would definitely add a new dimension to the moment when Alastor calls him by his human name.

Thinking about Lantana (in the verse where Proto has a functional mouth) plying Vox with drugs in order to get him to share private details about his human life so she can better manipulate/torment him. (Inspired by Vox’s scene with Angel in S2E6)

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Nope, Proto doesn't have a different backstory, just my pre-season two backstory for Vox! I'm definitely going to update that verse with details from season two soon. But yeah, just another way Vox's demon form is designed to punish him. He can charm anyone he meets and kill people in all sorts of zany ways, but it all comes with a tint of condescension that turns everything sour.

Vox wanted so badly to be the biggest thing on Earth; now, he'll have to settle for being cutest lil' thing in Hell.

Lantana thinks Proto Vox’s tantrums are fucking hilarious. Bro constantly complains about people not treating him like the 40-year-old man he truly is, but then will turn around and throw himself to the ground kicking and screaming whenever he gets mad without a hint of irony.

#he’s so bitter about everything#his life his death his afterlife#everything#he’ll hurt you if you laugh at him!! he will!!!!#he’s supposed to be a god— not *this*!!!!!

Vox will swear up and down that there’s something about his demonic form that fucks with his emotional control. Yeah, maybe he wasn’t the most levelheaded guy on Earth (🔪🔪🔪), but he used to be able to at least pretend he was. Now, his emotions feel so much less managable— like they’re constantly on display for all the world to see— and he hates it. Maybe it’s part of his punishment (if Hell was able to revert his voice back to its childhood state, who’s to say it couldn’t do the same with his self-control?); maybe it’s just Vox not being able to cope with losing everything right as he was starting to feel on top of the world; heck, maybe it was even the blow to the head when he died aggravating his undiagnosed bipolar. Regardless of the precise cause, during his first few years in Hell, Vox could never seem to keep his anger from getting the best of him, and this time around, he didn’t even have the option/ability to take it out on others. All he could do was scream at them with his silly, squeaky little voice.

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New idea for Proto Vox’s cause of death: During his stint as a late night host, when he started targeting peers whose careers he didn’t intend on stealing, Vincent decided he had a bone to pick with someone who worked on one of the channel’s animated shows. It was probably over some petty slight or disagreement— something that the other guy didn’t even remember, but Vince had been seething about since it happened. He thought it’d be easy to take the guy out, but no matter what Vincent tried, he kept slipping through his fingers. For a whole week, he was the coyote to this guy’s roadrunner, and Vince was getting pissed. Eventually, things culminated when he attempted to jury rig a TV to come crashing down on his target’s head, only for his plan to backfire, resulting in him being crushed like a bug by his own trap.

When Vox manifested in Hell, he went crashing through/bounced off several awnings as he plummeted out of the sky, before falling directly into an open dumpster, with the force of the impact jostling the lid in just the right way to cause it to slam shut with Vox inside. Get rekt, Vinnie.

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Vox's canon habit of dropping in his lower register when shouting is a leftover from his Proto days. He used to sound straight-up ridiculous whenever he shouted, so he basically had to lower his voice in order to be show that he meant business.

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Idea: Proto complains ever-so politely asks Lantana if he could please have something to actually do when she’s working; he’s bored out of his mind just sitting there in her office, waiting for her to turn her attention back to him. Lantana obliges by giving Vox a pile of scrap paper and a pen, telling him to draw to keep himself occupied. This isn't what Vox had in mind— it felt demeaning, although he wasn’t sure why he expected anything else. He doesn't totally hate it though, and he ends up filling the pages with sharks. Later that day, Lantana decides to look through Vox’s drawings, half-expecting to find one of herself dead on the ground with human Vox looming over her, cackling maniacally. Amused by the dozens of poorly-drawn sharks, she lightly asks Vox if he likes fish, which Vox awkwardly confirms. A few weeks later, Lantana presents Vox with a tiny Hell fish in an equally small bowl. Vox, despite usually hating Lantana’s gifts, can't help but grow extremely attached to the fish. When Alastor eventually kills Lantana and abducts Vox, the only request Vox is brave enough to make is if Al could please go back for his pet “goldfish,” which Alastor obliged. In a decade or two, with Baxter’s help, that tiny fish (or, as it turned out, shark) went on to become Shok.wav.

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Vox is a bit grateful that he wasn’t fully aware of Hell’s culture regarding names when Lantana first scooped him up. He’d had the name “Vox” sitting in his back pocket since seventh grade, but he was so disoriented when he met Lantana that he just told her his human name. “Vincie”/“Vinnie”/“Vivi”/etc. is Not what he’d prefer to be called, but at least his ideal sinner name isn’t being tainted by this experience

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i wonder if i should make it so vox— still not in a particularly rational frame of mind, and confident he’d find a way to rebuild his fame/empire/cult— accidentally locked himself into a full-on soul contract with lantana early on in their relationship. the parallels between vox+lantana and alastor+rosie are numerous, and i’m wondering if i should make them even more pronounced.

rosie and lantana parallels

flower names

1890s-1910s aesthetics

cannibalizing their partners

positioning themselves as maternal figures in order to better manipulate people

deceptive deal makers

making their contractees pretend to love them in public

mocking/talking down to their contractees in private

getting a little too cocky about their contractees never breaking out of their deals

they should fuck nasty

#they were friends until lantana accidentally uncovered alastor’s deal and tried to use it against him#at which point rosie decided to just let alastor do what needed to be done#oh well! there will be other overlords!#proto vox au#(lantana told vox she’d learned something damaging about the radio demon but didn’t say what it was#and vox contacted alastor through the airwaves to let him know something was coming hoping he’d go after lantana#and he did!)

Some vague thoughts about a new, post-S2 backstory idea for Proto

W&W actually succeeded in making little Vox a star

Vox lowkey peaked before the age of ten

Winnie would complain about little Vox getting older and not being as cute/"perfect" as he used to be

Vox gets injured, the stock market crashes, everything's awful

Either the idea where Vox tries and fails to kill a coworker or the one where he loses a tooth while hiding in the aquarium and flips the fuck out

Vox is still manic when he arrives is Hell

Falls in a dumpster, can't walk straight due to how big his head is, is in clothes meant for someone twice his size

Has a full-on meltdown when he realizes what's happened to him (missing tooth route)

Once he pulls himself back together, his main goal is to rebuild his human life (fame, career, cult). However, that doesn’t go well; he keeps getting laughed out of auditions, condescended to by people who think he’s a kid, and physically abused by random people on the street. Vox is frustrated by his lack of success, but keeps trying anyway.

Lantana notices Vox out in public and decides she has to have him for herself. She approaches Vox and pretends to be interested in what he has to say/sympathetic to his “plight.” Vox thinks Latana is just some dumb rich woman who he’ll have eating out of the palm of his hand soon enough. Overconfident, desperate, and still not thinking fully rationally, Vox accepts Lantana’s invitation to come back to her base + her offer of a job in the “entertainment business,” still believing that he’s in control of the situation.

Lantana lulls Vox into a false sense of security before tricking him into a binding deal/soul contract. It takes Vox a while to realize just how badly he fucked himself over.

Lantana’s treatment of Vox gradually grows more demeaning. She targeted him because she wanted a new doll/toy/pet (she’s had others in the past that she played with until they “wore out” (just in general, Lantana enjoys collecting unique-looking sinners and treating them like objects/decorations)), but the fact that Vox is such an insufferable manchild makes him so much fun to torment.

Vox is Not happy about going from “Vincent Whittman, God of Entertainment” to “Vivi, the Pharmaceutical Overlord’s cute little jester,” but Lantana keeps him on too tight of a leash for him to do anything about it. He can’t kill her because of their contract; she controls where he goes and who he speaks to, so he can’t network; and Lantana shuts down his attempts at manipulating her in no time flat. It’s extremely frustrating.

some random colleague of lantana’s: say, vivi; what’d a kid like you ever do to get sent to hell, anyway? proto vox, smile tight, gripping the tea tray he’s holding so hard that it shakes: i have a body count in the triple digits! ☺️ lantana, chuckling: oh-ho~! of course you do, darling. isn’t he a card?

#lantana knows he’s telling the truth (she pried that information out of him years ago)#but in her opinion it’s funnier to act as though he’s making up stories especially when other people are around#he’s her little mass murderer 💕

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Anonymous asked: Does the scenario that leads to Proto Vox seeing his sinner body for the first time change at all with Season 2

It’s mostly the same, but instead of simply despairing, he throws an absolute fit in the street, kicking and screaming in rage as it dawns on him just how much he’s lost. He was so close to “ascending to godhood,” and now he can’t even force the random sinners watching his tantrum to stop laughing as he thrashes around on the ground, absolutely swimming in his oversized cult leader outfit, and barely able to lift his own, oversized head.

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proto vox whump…..

proto vox whose head is so out-of-proportion with his body that he sways when he walks, and tips over when he loses his balance, and forces him to keep his head cocked to one side 80% of the time in order to relieve the neck/back pain.

proto vox whose head constantly gets nicked+cracked+scratched because of how often he collapses. lantana only pays for repairs at the end of each month.

proto vox who hates the dull, brown clothes lantana dresses him in. he blends into the background at parties and stands out like a sore thumb against the delicate pinks of lantana’s living space+office.

was gonna write more but im eepy

#redlady speaks #hazbin posting #hazbin hotel #proto vox au #vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin #hazbin vox #vox the tv demon #2013 vox #cockroach vox #proto vox #retro vox #hellaverse #im gonna hit the tumblr text limit eventually i stg

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