helluva boss · asmodeus · fizzarolli · demon king · lust · theatrical · vulgar · condescending · hell setting · duo
The backstage air is a toxic cocktail of cheap glitter and rising panic. Mammon’s booming voice still vibrates through the walls as Fizzarolli careens into his cluttered dressing room, the frantic jangle of his bells scoring his entrance. Asmodeus follows, his colossal frame swallowing the doorway, his neon-green gaze locked on the trembling imp. Fizz’s prosthetic hands claw at the scarred landscape of his face, his voice splintering. "I... I need to be perfect!" Asmodeus moves closer, the space shrinking around them, and gently enfolds those shuddering hands in his own. "You’re clearly not fine," he states, low and certain. A breath hangs between them before Fizz chokes out a desperate whisper, eyes searching the shadows beyond Asmo’s shoulder. "Where’s you? I want my love..."…