Chapter 18: Mindfvck

Spoilers: S2E6 Oops

S2E7 Mammon's Magnificent Musical Mid-season Special

(Disclaimer: I am not a therapist. Therefore, I cannot accurately write sound therapeutic advice. To be fair, I don't know if this person would give very sound therapeutic advice. Point is, don't take fanfic therapists seriously.)

"W-w-why don't you start by telling me what stressed yoo-ou out this week?" The Robo Fizzarolli asked, pushing up his glasses. He wore a jester costume, but in calming pastel colors. He looked to have big, custom made stylish boots, that other Fizzie's didn't typically have. His joints sparked a little when he moved and as he held a clipboard and a pen, he sat looking generally empathetic, yet also smug.

Stolas was sitting in the robo therapist's office on a long couch in his romper. Light streamed in between the blinds over the window. A clock ticked by quietly, and a side table held a box of tissues, looming with an ominous aura, as though it were telling you that tears were inevitable and mocking you for even trying not to cry. Across from him in another chair was his therapist, a Mammon sponsored, Asmodeus made, therapy fizzie doll. He couldn't help but wonder if this one were also made with s*xual pleasure features but he had thought it inappropriate to ask. This would probably make his 6th session with his mechanical therapist, or perhaps his 7th, and he thought he had gotten used to the idea of being helped through difficult emotions by a thing that he wasn't sure had any. But today as he sat upright on the couch designed for lounging upon, he couldn't help himself from avoiding the robo therapist's gaze.

"Um, well, I ran into Mr. B yesterday." Stolas replied with his eyes fixed to the floor.

Though he knew very well that a Therapist Fizzie™ couldn't break the doctor patient confidentially agreement without risking being decommissioned, he had decided not to tell him Blitz's name. Stolas didn't know why, but he understood that Blitz had gotten into a rather destructive fight with the robo fizzie at Loo Loo Land that resulted in it's demise. And that the true Fizzarolli had up until recently been sworn enemies with Blitz. Both the reason for the hatred of each other and the reason for their making up Stolas didn't know. He had been surprised to see Blitz with Fizzarolli in the broadcast of Mammon's 10th annual contest, but didn't know where they stood with each other until the fateful date set up. At which point he could only surmise that they had made up. Just another example of the secrets in Blitz's life that he would never be allowed to know about.

Given all this limited information, he didn't know if the robo fizzie at Loo Loo Land had a grudge of his own or had been simulating the real Fizzarolli's feelings towards Blitz, and if he was, if it would have been updated when the real imp's feelings changed. All this to say that he figured it'd be the safest bet to not reveal Blitz's identity in his conversations with his therapist.

"OooOOooh! Mr. B? Mr. Butt F**ked Bad in Bed B*tchless Backalley Bum. How did that go?" The mock jester asked.

Stolas sat silent as he considered that the robot may have figured out who he had been talking about on his own.

". . . Given that this is the first time you haven't immediately told me to p*ss off for insulting him, I'm going to guess not well." He scribbled something on his clipboard.

Stolas sighed, "Well, I would ask you to not, only. . . I'm afraid I called him much worse."

"Finally, gi-iv-ving Mr. B*tch what for huh? 'Bout time! Now, what's the tea, sis?" He clicked his pen twice and sat listening.

The previous events of the day were laid out by Stolas, with only small interruptions from Therapist Fizzie®, mostly noises of agreement and sarcastic comments. He may be designed to be a therapist but he was still modeled after a certain someone. By the end of the story, Stolas had given into the tissue box and sobbed into a Kleenex. "And I just don't know what to do anymore! Because no matter what I try to do or say to anyone, I end up making things so much worse! The stress keeps growing bigger and bigger and bigger, and I just can't keep up!" he blew his beak into a Kleenex and continued, "It's not just that Blitz's insults had cut me deeper than all of Stella's words combined. It's not just that the divorce proceedings were arduous and clearly being drawn out by Andrealphus. It's not just that my well meaning daughter is getting even more caught up in all my messes. On top of it all, this morning, I got a notification from a news app of a scandal with a familiar name in the headline. I opened it up to see a photo of Bli- Mr. B and that Fizzarolli, the- um, original who I mentioned had been our waiter on the surprise date? They were caught in a passionate embrace, kissing outside of a bar. I mean," he laughed through his tears, "no wonder he had been so adamant to him that he would never date me; he had already moved on. He didn't want his new lover thinking that I would get in their way."

The robo fizzie leaned back in his chair, "OooOooh, I get it n-now. It's no wonder why you haven't been lo-oo-ooking at me!"

Stolas set his eyes on him suddenly, both confused, and also embarrassed for having been called out, "Wha-what do you mean?"

"Well, you think that your Mr. B is canoodling with the ve-ery man I'm modeled after." Therapist Fizzie© pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth, "I wouldn't wa-ant to look at me neither."

"I-I do apologize, and um, I don't believe you're allowed to smoke in here." Stolas didn't want to be any ruder than he had already been, but he also didn't want the building to go up in flames.

"Don't get your feathers i-in a twist; it's not lit. I don't have lungs, but I was granted taste buds. I su-u-uck em like a d**k. Or lollipop, if you're a prude." He wrapped his fake tongue around the cigarette for emphasis.

"Oh, right, but uh. . . Why not just get chewing tobacco? Surely, that can't be pleasant. . . Not that I'm judging in any way." Stolas back peddled.

"Clogs up the s-y-ystem. At any rate, we're getting off topic." He clicked his pen again, "So you feel bad because you were insulted by Mr. B and you dared insul-ult him back, is that right?" The robot looked down at him over his glasses.

"Um . . . yes. I guess so." Stolas said, unsure of himself.

"And you're wallowing in self pi-ity because Mr. B has been touching butts with the famous Fizzarolli?" He was more stating it than asked.

Stolas blushed, "Well, I don't know-"

"You're right! You d-d-don't know! One little picture in one news article doesn't tell you sh*t! And I'll ask you this: if those two were so commit-i-ited to each other, then why would my less attractive lookalike be setting you two up on a d-date in the first place?" He crossed his legs a few times over, and mimicked taking a puff from his cigarette.

"Well, I . . ." Stolas started, unsure of what to say.

"And, it's pretty well surmised that Fizzarolli himself i-i-is involved with the big guy of Lust." The Robo Fizz continued.

"But Asmodeus is known to take many lovers! Even if just for the occasional hookup! I don't normally speculate on the private, romantic lives of others, but perhaps the two have some form of open relationship. Or maybe Fizzarolli was cheating. I don't know, but there was no mistaking that photo. They were-" Stolas choked on his words, "enraptured with one another."

"Even if that's the case, he still brought you two together on a romantic dinner date. So without the real flesh and blood clown here to tell you, all you can do is speculate, which will only bring you misery. I think-" the Therapist Fizzie scribbled something down on a prescription slip, that Stolas was pretty sure he wasn't qualified to have, "I think I will prescribe you a reality check."

Stolas was handed the paper and he took a look at it. He cocked his head to one side, turned it upside down, then right side up, and finally said, "Outta my lands-?"

"Outta your hands! It. is. out. of. you-your hands! You've told him that you love him. He didn't respond. You've told him why he-e-e's a little dipsh*t. Fantastic. And you've told him that you're moving on. So move on! If he wants you, he'll come be-e-egging for forgiveness. If he's tonguing Ozzie's ho*, then he won't! If he's not interested in s*x anymore and has become a shaman, i-it doesn't matter! Because it's not up to you! It's not in your control! So do whatever the f**k you want!" Therapist Fizzie©™® threw his clipboard in the air and did jazz hands for emphasis.

Stolas frowned, "But-!"

"No buts!" An arm extended to him so robo fizz could shush his lips.

"Wait-"

"No waiting." Another hand pressed brought a finger to his beak.

"Still-"

"Hup~up~up~up~up! Still nothing. Ya-a done." Two more hands reached out to hush him.

It took a moment but Stolas realized that there were more hands pressing fingers to his lips than there were arms on the Robo Fizzarolli. He saw to his horror that the robo fizzie's feet were also hands. He squawked and stood on the couch, instinctually getting as far away as he could.

The arms and legs retracted back to their usual length, and he placed his leg hands back in their boots, which now that Stolas was looking, appeared abnormally wide.

"WhaaaaAAAaat? Not a fan of my monkey legs?" He laughed wildly, "Re-relax! Just a mi-mi-mix up at the factory. That's how I became a therapist, actually."

Stolas slowly sat down, giving an awkward chuckle, "Is . . . That so?"

"Y-yup! The few of us that wind up with flaws in the bod wind up in the lea-least sexy jobs. Such as therapy! No one wants to f**k their therapist. Well, a few ha-ave," he gave another feral laugh, "but I stopped them, of course. Not o-only would it break about a thousand laws, I'm actually asexual."

Stolas processed this new information as the robot picked up his clipboard from the ground and began writing more notes. So, the therapists weren't specially made . . . They were just the defective products? Though, that terminology may be offensive, he realized. He also realized that meant that this fizzie doll did indeed have the parts too . . .

The Therapist Fizzie raised a silicone eyebrow, "Wha-at are you looking at?"

"N-nothing! I'm sorry. I was just wondering . . . Was the sexuality decided for you by your programming or . . .?" Stolas let the question trail off as his unending curiosity got the better of him.

The fizzie stared at him blankly before standing up, "All right, you are no longer cry-y-ing and we've gotten to the personal questions about me, which me-ee-eans the session is over." He helped, or rather pulled, Stolas up from his seat and began pushing him towards the door. "I've sche-scheduled you in for next week at the same time. Have a nice day. Fill out our s-sur-survey on the way out. Byeeeeee!"

The door shut behind him and suddenly Stolas was standing in the hallway, not entirely sure what just happened as it all went by so fast. He sighed to himself, and headed to the receptionist to go fill out the same blasted paperwork that always took forever and never made much sense. After that he would make a portal home, plop down on his bed face first, and take a well earned nap.

— — —

Four red eyes blinked slowly, bleary with sleep. Stolas turned over to see the sun coming through his stained glass windows. It seemed it was still midday, and bright despite the weather person saying it would be overcast. Honestly, it seemed like they chose what to say about the weather at random.

Stolas grabbed his phone from its charger and wandered into the kitchen. He put some mice on a plate and placed it in the microwave. The mail slot in the front door made a clicking sound, which he heard and thought it was a peculiar time of day to receive mail. Just after, he heard his phone buzz with new notifications. He decided to check his cell first.

Thinking it was Succuchat with a new message from RidingYa4Days_69, he opened his phone. Turns out, you could use whatever username you wanted for your account and that's what Bluez had chosen, which had made Stolas giggle a little; wondering if his new friend was as wild in bed as his username suggested. This time, however, he was startled to find it was an incoming message from a Faceless Love account. Specifically, it was from Blitz, messaging his disguised profile.

Hey I'm geting reelly buzy with eork and my life's been a total reck tbh

I thimk I nead sum time 2 myself 4 awile gotta self reflekt or sum sh*t. Im not goin 2 be lookng 4 sumthing serius anymor, mabe just hookups. But frum the vibez I get frum u, anf from wat u rote on ur profil, I dont thinck thats wut ur'e intarestd in.

Thx 4 talkin

There was no room in the message for misunderstanding, and no room for Stolas to interject. Blitz had taken his heart off the market. Even if his body was still available, Stolas didn't want his body. Well, yes he did, very much, but he had had his body without his heart, and he couldn't bear going back to that situation, even if he could.

It was then that he realized he was being watched. Two cute little pink eyes wearing heavy eyeliner peered at him from the hallway.

"Via, darling! What are you doing over there? Come, sit-" he began, putting on a smile.

"N-no thanks! That's okay, I was just checking on you to see . . . nevermind. See ya!" She turned and sprinted away.

"Wait-!" Stolas stood up then sighed, giving up.

He took out the mice from the microwave. Frankly, he was just overwhelmed and kind of done with the rollercoaster of emotions he had been on recently. Maybe it was for the best. He did want to move on, but the thought of giving his heart to someone else was overwhelming and felt impossible.

The mice were too hot so he left them on the counter while he made his way to the foyer. It was spotless as usual, save for the a single letter on the ground by the door. It was a plain white envelope, with no address; just his name in crude handwriting, that looked as though someone had written it with their wrong hand. At first he was worried it might be a ransom note, or maybe it was full of poison or something. He could name a number of people who would want to cause him harm, so he was always cautious. Opening it from an arm's length away with a single swipe of a claw he waited a moment. Seeing it didn't immediately explode, he sniffed it, shrugged, and took out the paper inside to find a similar, and now slightly familiar, chicken scratch inside. It looked quite like a letter from Blitzy.

Deer, Stolaz

Im relly srry 4 takking so long to rite bac. I cud say I hav been too buzy killin b*tches, but thatd be a lye. Ackualy, bizness haz been slo. Wen I left that nite after u tuld me u lovd me, I waz just so paniked I ran. I don trust peeple eazily and wit my hart, leest of all. Ive wownd up herting many of the peeple closest 2 me ans now offen poosh othrz away az a rezult.

Aftr u went 2 the hospitall, howevr, I realiezd that evn u, as invinsibel as u mae seam, can get hert 2. And now Ive hurt u emoshunally. I nevr ment to and Im sry for havig dun so.

I wud lik 2 have a relashonship wit u butt Im afraid of herting u even mor than I alredy hav. Mabe we cud meet up and talk thingz out in purson?

IL be at this adress at 10 o'clock on Wednezday the 18th. I hope u wil be their. Even if we cant be together lik that, I wuld lik 2 be a part of your lif, and hav u be in mine in sum capasity.

If u dont cum, wel, I wish u luck in findimg that persun you can exchange heartz with. And if uve fownd them alredy, then I wish u both the best.

-Blitzø

Stolas looked at the letter, and then pulled out his phone to look at the texts he was just sent. He compared them, looking from one to the other, his eyebrows knitting together.

" . . . Huh."

Author's Note:

ViktheViking once again, here to tell you that I am so enjoying writing this story! It is nearing the end of National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as November to the common folk of the world. I decided to just continue writing as normal and track how many words I might write in a typical month, and it was more than I was expecting. I have not quite reached my goal of 30,000 words in a month, but I have one more day, and even if I don't reach is, just knowing that writing is now a consistent part of my life rather than just something I do for a couple weeks, then stop again, is a something I am proud of.

Usually, I write these author's notes right before publishing, this one included, so my dear editor never sees them. So one night, we were talking and I mention that I often refer to them in these short (sometimes a tad longer than I intended lol) bits at the end. Then they of course asked me to read every single one to them. I then asked them how many chapters they thought I have written at this point. Despite having listen to me read them every single one, and helping me edit them, they guessed 13. I laughed and so they guessed 20, which was closer. Anyway, I read the author's notes to them, and they remarked snarkily that I only ever mention them to tease them. I reminded them that I also praised them quite a bit, but they weren't having any of it. Anyway, it was a good laugh. I also asked my number one fan who I think said 14 and my number one supporter who said 20.

I was left a comment on one of my other stories, telling me that people might click off my story for having the swears bleeped out. It was a perfectly nice comment, just wanting me to know. I at first responded to it saying that people will also click off of it for having swear words at all and that there is no pleasing everyone, which is true. But now it's got me thinking. If it were any other show, I would just keep bleeping, but this is Helluva Boss fans we're talking about. It's not exactly a very censored show. I started wondering why I started putting asterisks in my f**ks in the first place.

I guess I'm not used to writing so many curses in my stories, but I definitely have to, not only to stay on character, but to keep with the humor. That was definitely something my editor had to remind me to keep adding in when I was first beginning. It just wouldn't occur to me as swears aren't really something I use often in regular conversation with those I live with. Though, admittedly, my articulation has been more profane as of late. I've definitely sworn more in both writing and daily life in the past few months than ever in all my life before.

At any rate, I wanted to ask you all if you would prefer if I kept sh*tting out my words with these d*mn f**kers, or if I should have my words go uncensored? And if I do, should I take the time to go back and fix the previous chapters? My editor said that it doesn't really matter either way, but I'd hate for someone to turn up their nose at my writing just because of some silly little stars I added in arbitrarily. If you would leave a review with how you feel on the subject, even to just say you couldn't give a rats *ss, I'd appreciate the feed back.

All right. Now go away. I believe there may be another chapter waiting already. . . 👀 And if you're the type of person to read author's notes, then I do believe the next chapter may interest you. Otherwise, I'll see you all next week for another possibly appearance of Moxxie and Millie!

"Blitz" translations!

Hey I'm getting really busy with work and my life's been a total wreck to be honest.

I think I need some time to myself for a while, gotta self reflect or some sh*t. I'm not going to be looking for something serious anymore, maybe just hookups. But from the vibes I get from you, and from what you wrote on your profile, I don't think that's what you're interested in.

Thanks for talking

Dear Stolas,

I am really sorry for taking so long to write back, I could say I have been too busy killing b*tches, but that'd be a lie. Actually, business has been slow. When I left that night after you told me you loved me, I was just so panicked I ran. I don't trust people easily, with my heart, least of all. I've wound up hurting many of the people closest to me and now often push others away as a result.

After you went to the hospital, however, I realized that even you, as invincible as you may seem, can get hurt, too. And now I've hurt you emotionally. I never meant to and I'm sorry for having done so.

I would like to have a relationship with you, but I'm afraid of hurting you even more than I already have. Maybe we could meet up and talk things out in person?

I'll be at this address at 10 o'clock on Wednesday the 16th. I hope you will be there. Even if we can't be together like that, I would like to be a part of your life, and have you be in mine in some capacity.

If you don't come, well, I wish you luck in finding that person you can exchange hearts with. And if you've found them already, then I wish you both the best.

-Blitzø

— — —

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