vox

About Me / About This Blog

All of my alters will post, but this blog was primarily created for my alter who is a fictive of Vox

She is my only fictive

I am not a RadioStatic shipper! I think Vox and Alastor's relationship is queer as there is a very deep intimacy between the two, but I don't feel it's romantic or directly sexual.

Will blog a lot of rants that clearly exhibit a lack of empathy… sort of. I care about my image to the point that even on this anonymous blog, I will often soften my rants or outright lie to make my thoughts seem less horrid than they are.

I’m skeptical and critical of self diagnosis. The primary purpose of self diagnosis should be to 1) narrow down concerns you’d like to bring to your doctor, and 2) begin employing helpful coping skills at home if you cannot see a doctor. If the symptoms and coping skills for a mental disorder work for you, then of course you should use them.

Rules of Engagement

Do not roleplay with me.

In a similar vein, do not flirt with me. Do not ship me with yourself, other kins/fictives, etc. I am a real person, I am not a literal character. I don’t care what you do with the actual characters—just remember I am not.

I enjoy talking to other Hazbin Hotel introjects just because it's a shared experience. (Not in the sense of source memories; I don't have those.)

You are free and encouraged to ask me about my opinion on Vox or anything about Hazbin. I love talking about the show!

Further, you are free and encouraged to ask me almost any question! Don’t worry about being invasive! If it’s sexually inappropriate towards me or threatening, you’re getting blocked. If it’s merely a question I don’t feel comfortable answering, I’ll just delete the question—no hard feelings :)

Don't be a fucking bigot. I won't entertain it and I will make fun of you.

Oh, I know I'm so cringe! You're so mad!

She’s said in the last weeks since my birthday:

You’ll understand it’s not as easy to keep the house clean once you’re employed

Used the things I am ashamed I have done as a child (which she then corrected me and said “teenager”) under the force of my mother to try to compare me to billionaires.

I’m actually forgetting a lot of it now bc I’m so angry that it’s frying my memory. I just see red. What the actual fuck.

I’m fucking disabled, you bitch. I’ve had a full time job before. Don’t use that as some sorry excuse as to why I do 3x more house work than you.

I’m so disconnected from the part of myself that feared this outcome though. I feel so self-actualized and like I finally have direction in my life. There’s a latent part of me that worries about this, but any time I try to dwell on it, dissociation kicks in and I am back here.

I’m still somewhat worried then that this mindset is a result of a defensive mechanism and I’ll regret my actions in this state. I can’t just do nothing though… I’ll kill myself before succumbing to this limbo.