[ fizzarolli is becoming a household name, and it's all thanks to vox. well, maybe not all—fizz had put in a ton of work himself, obviously, that's how vox had found him in the first place—but the end result is, to be quite frank, fucking spectacular.
or at least, that's how fizz feels about it. two game shows, a ton of commercials with another in the works already, his face on cereal boxes, a toy line, and his own floor in the tower he can do whatever he wants with. he has guards when he meets with fans, and it's like not a single person has even tried to be weird at him, which is one of the things he appreciates the most. people can get real weird about clowns in hell.
he's even employee of the month every month, how does that even work?
in any case, he's happy with the arrangement.
it's come time for new merch, and vox had set up a contest to pick the best design. he'd told fizz he wanted to sweep over them first to take out anything they'd never use, and the imp had accepted it for what it is, an easy cleanup so fizz doesn't have to pore over tons of designs that just aren't feasible to make.
he's in the middle of practicing a new routine when vox pops up on his personal intercom, asking him to come see him. he readily agrees, hopping off the stack of boxes he'd spring-launched himself up onto, and touches up his makeup before heading out. he doesn't have to wear it all the time, of course, and he doesn't when he sleeps, but he just doesn't feel put together without it, so on it goes.
he heads to the conference room that vox asked him to join him in, leaning into it through the doorway and grinning. ]
Hey! You wanted to see me? Is this about those merch contest entries?
[ he's even bouncing on his feet slightly as he steps inside; that's how fucking excited he is to see what the kids he performs for want to see in his image. or, well, he really hopes that's what this is about: he's had a really good run, but he still always worries that he's done something wrong.
and that is what it's about! what a relief. he settles in the seat he's gestured too and picks up his glass, then sets it back down so he can use both hands to cover his mouth. ]
It's so cute...
[ he may or may not be like this for every design, but it is what it is. ]
I mean, it seems pretty clever, in context of my arms. They'd make good hooks to hang on each other, so...
no subject
or at least, that's how fizz feels about it. two game shows, a ton of commercials with another in the works already, his face on cereal boxes, a toy line, and his own floor in the tower he can do whatever he wants with. he has guards when he meets with fans, and it's like not a single person has even tried to be weird at him, which is one of the things he appreciates the most. people can get real weird about clowns in hell.
he's even employee of the month every month, how does that even work?
in any case, he's happy with the arrangement.
it's come time for new merch, and vox had set up a contest to pick the best design. he'd told fizz he wanted to sweep over them first to take out anything they'd never use, and the imp had accepted it for what it is, an easy cleanup so fizz doesn't have to pore over tons of designs that just aren't feasible to make.
he's in the middle of practicing a new routine when vox pops up on his personal intercom, asking him to come see him. he readily agrees, hopping off the stack of boxes he'd spring-launched himself up onto, and touches up his makeup before heading out. he doesn't have to wear it all the time, of course, and he doesn't when he sleeps, but he just doesn't feel put together without it, so on it goes.
he heads to the conference room that vox asked him to join him in, leaning into it through the doorway and grinning. ]
Hey! You wanted to see me? Is this about those merch contest entries?
[ he's even bouncing on his feet slightly as he steps inside; that's how fucking excited he is to see what the kids he performs for want to see in his image. or, well, he really hopes that's what this is about: he's had a really good run, but he still always worries that he's done something wrong.
and that is what it's about! what a relief. he settles in the seat he's gestured too and picks up his glass, then sets it back down so he can use both hands to cover his mouth. ]
It's so cute...
[ he may or may not be like this for every design, but it is what it is. ]
I mean, it seems pretty clever, in context of my arms. They'd make good hooks to hang on each other, so...