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The Tower living room sparkled with early evening sun and the latest round of idol drama. Zoey was a bundle of excitement, hands cupped reverently over some mysterious treasure.
“Guys, you have to come here—right now!” she called, unable to hide the glee in her voice.
Mira ambled over, arms crossed, one skeptical brow lifting. “If this is another haunted snack—”
Zoey cut her off, grinning. “Nope! Way better.”
Rumi lingered at a defensive distance, suspicion already radiating. “If your ‘better’ still involves cursed carbohydrates—”
“No snacks!” Zoey insisted, practically glowing. “Promise! Just—trust me.”
Rumi edged closer like someone approaching a suspicious altar. “You said that last time. It exploded cheese.”
“Okay, but this time—” Zoey drew out the pause, peeling her fingers open like a magician’s reveal, “—it’s friendship.”
Nestled in her hands was a perfectly adorable jumping spider, big-eyed and velvety, shimmering like sequins in the sunlight. It did a cheerful little hop.
Mira leaned in instantly. “Oh my god—is that one of those internet-famous spiders? That’s actually—wait—that’s adorable.”
But Rumi’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. For just a moment, she was stock-still. Then came hysteria.
“Nope Nope Nope—” she shrieked, backpedaling so fast the carpet ruffled, summoning her blade in a flare of cold light. The curtains fluttered in surrender.
Zoey nearly dropped the spider in alarm, cupping her hands tighter. “Wait—Rumi, don’t—!”
Rumi pointed her gleaming sword at Zoey’s cupped hands. “You brought an eight-legged apocalypse generator into our living room!”
Zoey’s eyes went wide with indignation. “Don’t call her that! She’s innocent!”
Rumi’s head snapped toward Zoey. “Why did you gender it? Why did you gender the nightmare?”
The silence paused awkwardly—just long enough for Mira to blink and go, “...‘her?’”
Zoey winced. “Um.”
“No,” Rumi said immediately, like a divine decree. “Whatever you are about to say—no.”
Zoey, backing up slightly, mumbled, “I might’ve named her.”
Mira lit up instantly. “Oh, absolutely yes. What is it?”
Rumi’s voice was a battle cry. “Don’t say it! If you say it, it’s bound and we’re doomed—”
“Lucasette!” Zoey declared proudly. “Because she looks elegant, but also like she could do taxes and steal hearts.”
The spider did a perfect, oblivious bounce.
Rumi’s jaw unhinged like she was preparing to swallow the name whole.
Mira clapped. “Oh, that’s so good. Fancy. Marketable. Sounds like she has a solo album and a skincare line.”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT.” Rumi’s sword flared brighter. “You cannot keep it because you gave it a stage name! That’s black magic by branding!”
Zoey ignored her, lowering her hands so Lucasette glimmered in a sunbeam. “Lucasette, do you like your name?”
Lucasette twitched her forelegs in an unmistakably pleased little motion.
Mira sucked in a dramatic breath. “Oh my god, she answered. That’s a yes. She chose it. Canon locked.”
“NO IT ISN’T!” Rumi yelped. “Nothing is locked! We can still throw it out a window!”
Zoey gasped, curling her hands protectively again. “Rumi! She picked you, actually.”
Rumi choked. “Come again?”
Zoey nodded earnestly. “She only jumped when she saw you. She recognized your energy. You’re her emotional support human.”
Mira slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes bright. “Oh my god, you’re right. Look at the way she keeps facing Rumi. That’s attachment.”
“She is not attached!” Rumi shouted, voice climbing into a register normally reserved for exorcisms and pop high notes. “She is tracking a target!”
Zoey cooed up at her. “Aww. She imprinted on you.”
“I am not a duck!” Rumi cried. “You do not ‘imprint’ on a half-demon! That’s how horror movies start!”
Mira leaned in conspiratorially toward the spider. “Good taste, Lucasette. You picked the tsundere.”
Rumi sputtered. “Take that back—take all of this back! Un-name her! Un-imprint her! I refuse emotional responsibility for anything with more knees than I have secrets!”
Zoey just smiled, smug now. “Too late. You’re her person.”
Mira nodded solemnly. “It’s a binding contract. Eight witnesses, eight legs. Unbreakable.”
Rumi made a strangled noise. “I’m living in a cursed improv bit.”
Lucasette did a tiny, satisfied hop.
Mira beamed. “See? She agrees.”
Zoey hugged her hands closer to her chest like she was cradling treasure. “Welcome to the Tower, Lucasette. Rumi will take great care of you.”
Then, softer, almost cooing, “Or maybe, for short… my little cusi cusi.”
Rumi blinked. “Your what?”
Zoey beamed. “Cusi cusi! Like ‘cutie,’ but more special.”
Rumi looked horrified. “That nickname sounds like a hex whispered by gremlins.”
Mira snorted. “Oh god, she gave her a stage nickname already. She’s a certified idol.”
Zoey ignored them, continuing in a singsong. “Cusi cusi~”
Rumi flinched like it had physical power. “Stop summoning things with that sound!”
Zoey grinned innocently. “It’s a term of endearment.”
“It’s an incantation!” Rumi shot back.
Zoey tilted her head. “Maybe you’re just sensitive to sweetness.”
“I am allergic to menace wrapped in lace!” Rumi barked.
Mira deadpanned, “Sounds like a perfume slogan.”
“I will end you,” Rumi hissed.
Zoey cupped her hands again, eyes glimmering. “She twitched when you yelled. That means she likes your voice!”
“IT MEANS SHE’S VIBRATING TO PLOT MY DEMISE!” Rumi howled.
The chaos only escalated when Lucasette showed off, bouncing perfectly to the drama’s opening theme.
“She’s hitting the beat!” Zoey cried. “She could open for us—‘The Tower and the Tarantella!’ Go, cusi cusi!”
Lucasette gave a jaunty wiggle, as if on cue. The jump had timing, the kind that came from hours of practice—or possibly evil intent. Hard to say which.
Rumi practically combusted. “Do NOT nickname the blight upon my sanity!”
Mira howled laughing. “It’s official—Lucasette a.k.a. Cusi Cusi, the Leggy Legend.”
“She is NOT a legend!” Rumi barked, summoning enough demonic energy to rattle the lamp.
Lucasette twitched her legs into a sparkle pose.
Rumi’s voice dropped to an octave that could fracture marble. “It mocked me. Zoey, it just mocked me!”
The octave drop did something awful and specific to Zoey’s nervous system.
“Oh yeah,” Mira gasped between snorts, giving a dramatic thumbs-up. “Total side-eye just now. She knows she’s winning. Look at her posture—pure diva. Should we get her a mic stand?”
Rumi’s eyes darted wildly. “Don’t anthropomorphize it! That’s how they take over! First the mic stand, then the merch, then—world domination! Do you want to live under spider tyranny?!”
Lucasette twitched her forelegs into what may have been a heart shape.
Zoey gasped. “Cusi Cusi made a heart for you!”
“I WILL MOVE OUT,” Rumi yelled as she tried to put more distance between her and the entity on Zoey’s hand.
A piece of hair fell across Rumi’s face, and she hissed, thinking it another spider. Panic detonated. With a startled yelp, she bolted straight up the wall like a shot, claws scraping plaster and kicking dust, then flipped without thinking and latched onto the ceiling—one-handed, upside down, claws dug deep into the beam. Her braid swung beneath her like a very offended bat tail.
Zoey froze, awestruck, head tilting back to follow her. “Whoa. Did you just go full paranormal activity?!”
Also: forearms, claws, upside-down core strength; her brain added helpfully.
Mira completely lost it, collapsing to her knees. “Oh my—Rumi! You’re a half-demon ninja and you’re up there like a scared cat someone slapped onto the ceiling!”
“I am strategically repositioned!” Rumi snapped, which would have been more convincing if she weren’t curled around a ceiling beam like a panicked chandelier.
Zoey’s heart did a small, traitorous swoop at strategically repositioned. Of course she’d make terror sound like a combat tactic.
Mira immediately slipped into announcer mode, voice low and dramatic. “And here we observe the rare Ceiling Rumi in her natural habitat—clinging to structural support and regretting every life choice that led to this moment.”
“What-” Rumi started but was interrupted.
“Notice how her braid displays in a defensive arc,” Zoey chimed in, mock-documentary tone, as she edged closer to stand beneath Rumi, failing to muffle a laugh. “A clear warning signal to nearby spiders and girlfriends.”
“Stop narrating me!” Rumi yelled, hugging the ceiling harder. “There is nothing natural about this habitat!”
Mira pointed up, undeterred. “Listen closely and you can hear her haunting mating call: ‘NOPE, NOPE, NOPE.’ Truly, nature is beautiful.”
“That is not my mating call!” Rumi screeched. “That is my ‘I’m being hunted by an eight-eyed goblin’ call!”
Her claws scraped deeper into the beam, demonic aura spiking like static. For a beat, the room seemed to breathe with her—lights dipping, shadows sharpening.
Then, in a voice that rumbled like it had climbed out of the walls themselves, she growled, “Do. Not. Test. Me.”
The voice hit different—low, layered, too big for a girl currently curled around a ceiling beam like a panicked chandelier. It seeped into the corners of the room, sank under Zoey’s skin, sat heavy in her chest.
Zoey’s brain immediately melted. Heat flushed up the back of her neck. That same weird flutter she’d been ignoring all afternoon exploded into full-body static.
She made a tiny, strangled noise. “Okay, cool, fun update, I’m in love with your threat settings.”
Mira didn’t even hesitate; she reached over and smacked the back of Zoey’s head with the nearest throw pillow.
Zoey yelped. “Ow! Assault!”
“That was a horny reset button,” Mira said flatly. “You do not get to simp for the Dolby Atmos of damnation while she’s in crisis.”
Zoey rubbed the spot, affronted. “So you’re not thinking that you want Rumi to use that voice while she totally ru—”
Mira whacked her again, harder. “Finish that word and I’m filing a complaint with HR: ‘Horny Roommate.’”
Above them, Rumi froze.
Her ears went red first, then the blush crept all the way down her throat, visible even in the weird demon-glow. “I was going for ‘terrifying,’” she snapped, voice wobbling back toward normal, “not… whatever unholy fanfiction you’re writing in your head!”
Zoey beamed up at her, undeterred. “Joke’s on you, my head is a premium content platform.”
Lucasette chose that exact moment to do a small, delighted bounce on Zoey’s palm, tiny forelegs twitching like applause.
Mira pointed accusingly at the spider. “Great. Even the fuzzball is endorsing this.”
Rumi stared down at all three of them—girlfriend, girlfriend, glitter spider—like she’d been personally betrayed by physics. “I hate this Tower,” she muttered, fangs peeking. “And everyone in it. Especially the one who just got bonked for being thirsty about my warning growl.”
Zoey looked entirely unrepentant. “In my defense, your warning growl is, like, weaponized.”
Mira sighed. “Congratulations, Rumi. You’ve unlocked a new hell: live demon voice, one active spider, and one girlfriend whose kink is ‘threat but make it romantic.’”
Lucasette hopped again, sealing the bit like a very smug period at the end of the sentence.
Zoey clasped her hands dramatically under Cusi Cusi. “Ooh, she’s doing the friendship dance for you!”
“It’s a hex shuffle!” Rumi protested.
Lucasette chose that exact moment to release a shimmering thread of web like disco lighting.
Mira wheezed. “Live from The Tower—it’s Saturday Knight Fever! Starring Lucasette and her emotional support demon, Ceiling Rumi!”
Zoey beamed up. “You hear that, cusi cusi? You’ve got a headliner credit!”
“STOP SAYING THAT,” Rumi howled. “You’re weaponizing affection!”
Zoey smirked. “Admit it—you like it.”
“I hate it!”
“Then why are your ears turning red?”
“They’re reflecting rage!” Rumi shrilled.
Mira snorted. “Baby, your rage has blush undertones.”
Rumi growled, low and feral. “Keep talking and I’ll repaint the ceiling with your sarcasm.”
Zoey did not need the mental image of Rumi repainting anything while still hanging upside down. Her brain provided it anyway.
“Bold of you to assume you’re not already part of the decor,” Mira shot back.
Zoey squinted. “Do you… have fangs out right now?”
Rumi bared them on instinct, still glaring. “Obviously I have fangs out! I am in a crisis!”
The fangs. The upside-down. The sword. The voice.
Zoey made a tiny, uncontrollable squeak. She bounced on her toes, clutching Lucasette. “Oh my god. She’s all fangs and upside-down and angry. She’s so cute I’m gonna die.”
Mira blinked, then grinned wide. She stepped around the coffee table for a better angle. “Okay, wait, that actually looks metal as hell. Ceiling bat-demon with murder eyes? Sick.”
“I will hiss,” Rumi warned through her fangs, the demon echo gone now, just pure, petty outrage.
Mira and Zoey both stared up at her like she’d offered them front-row tickets.
Mira smirked. “Careful, Zoey, one more second and she’s going to start hissing.”
“I already told you I would hiss!” Rumi snapped. “Stop trying to unlock bonus content!”
Zoey went full gooey-heart-eyed. “Rumi, no, that’s adorable. Do it again.”
“I am not a party trick!” Rumi shouted, scandalized. “I am a fearsome being of shadow and ruin!”
Zoey raised her phone slightly. “Baby, say that again, I wanna get the audio clean for her debut trailer.”
“DEBUT TRAILER—WHAT—STOP FILMING ME!” Rumi practically poltergeisted the room.
Lucasette did a tiny bounce, turning her glittery gaze up at the ceiling like she was applauding the performance.
Mira leaned toward the spider, still half-folded on the floor. “See? Even Lucasette agrees. Peak entertainment.”
“I refuse to be reviewed by you or the arachnid!” Rumi howled, pressing herself flatter to the plaster as if the ceiling could swallow her whole.
Lucasette did another small, oblivious hop on Zoey’s palm, facing the ceiling as if watching a show.
Zoey gasped. She shifted a step back to frame Rumi and the spider in one line of sight. “Look! Lucasette’s tuning in. Live audience of one.”
Mira nodded gravely. “She’s captivated. Critics are calling it ‘a bold, experimental performance piece about fear and gravity.’”
Rumi pointed down with her sword, upside down and furious. “I swear on every infernal contract I’ve ever signed, if you two start a review blog about this, I am haunting your descendants.”
Zoey tilted her head. “Too late, I’m already composing the post: ‘Half-Demon Loses Territorial Battle to One (1) Fuzzy Idol.’ Five stars, would witness again.”
“Do not put stars on this!” Rumi shrieked. “This is not a show!”
Mira cupped a hand to her ear, as if listening to invisible commentary. “Ooh, tough crowd. Audience says it is a show. We’re getting requests for an encore ceiling flip.”
“There will be no encore!” Rumi snapped. “The ceiling is my final form!”
Zoey squinted up thoughtfully. “Honestly, the upside-down thing is kind of on brand. Very dramatic. Very ‘limited-edition Rumi photocard.’”
Mira nodded. “Yeah, the lighting from below is doing all kinds of terrifying things for your whole demon aura. Ten out of ten, extremely marketable.”
“I am not marketable!” Rumi insisted.
Lucasette twitched her legs again, almost like applause.
Mira leaned toward the spider. “See? Even our tiny idol approves. She’s giving you a standing ovation. Well. Bouncing ovation.”
“I refuse to be emotionally evaluated by a jumping lint ball!” Rumi howled.
Zoey soothed Lucasette with a gentle stroke of a fingertip, careful not to jostle her. “Don’t listen to her, Lucasette, she’s just shy in front of fans. Aren’t you, Cusi Cusi?”
“I AM NOT—” Rumi started, then cut herself off with a strangled noise. “Stop rewriting my character arc!”
Mira grinned. “Too late. Ceiling Rumi is canon. Lucasette’s first spin-off episode practically writes itself.”
Rumi’s horrified groan echoed down the walls.
Zoey edged another step back, taking in the full ridiculous tableau: one girlfriend/demon on the ceiling, one spider on her palm, and one girlfriend on the floor in hysterics. “You know you’re clawing the plaster, right? Like a very angry wall gecko?”
Rumi’s horrified groan deepened.
Mira wheezed. “New Tower cryptid just dropped: Ceiling Rumi. Natural habitat: anywhere the spider isn’t.”
Rumi pulled herself flatter against the ceiling. “Laugh all you want, I am finally outside its jump radius. This is the only safe altitude.”
“You’re three meters up,” Mira said, wiping tears. “Congratulations, you’ve unlocked ‘Ceiling DLC.’”
Zoey nodded solemnly. “Premium edition comes with hissing and emotional damage.”
Rumi jabbed a finger downward again. “You’re both banned from narrating my survival instincts!”
“Babe, your ‘survival instincts’ turned you into a screaming chandelier,” Mira shot back. “If you hiss, I’m legally obligated to call you Ceiling Cat.”
Zoey giggled. “Ceiling Cat Rumi, featuring special guest Cusi Cusi. Limited run.”
“STOP CROSS-BRANDING ME WITH THE ARACHNID,” Rumi shouted.
Lucasette, utterly oblivious, hopped again, syncing perfectly with Rumi’s new ceiling routine.
Mira pointed, eyes streaming with laughter. “Look! She’s syncing! You can’t write choreography like this!”
Even Zoey cracked up. She cradled Lucasette closer while laughing. “Okay, wait—what if we give Lucasette her own fan cam?”
Rumi’s horrified voice echoed down. “If a single camera points at me, I’m nuking this entire floor!”
“Not the merch studio!” Zoey wailed. “Her debut posters are coming in next week!”
A crackle of demonic energy flickered in the room as Rumi’s aura flared, light casting jagged shadows across the walls. Lucasette didn’t retreat—she posed, forelegs high in an unmistakable idol stance under the glow.
The silence that followed was reverent.
Then Mira whispered reverently, “She understood the assignment.”
Zoey lost it, laughing until she almost doubled over. “She’s perfect!”
Rumi could only stammer, “She—she blinked at me.”
“Just being polite,” Zoey replied sweetly.
“Spiders don’t have manners!” Rumi shouted. “They have plots!”
“Actually,” Mira said thoughtfully, pushing herself back onto the couch, “I think she’s developing character depth. Two more hops and she’s getting her own arc.”
Rumi glared down from her beam. “Don’t you dare manifest a fanbase for that thing!”
“Too late,” Zoey said, hand over heart. “I’m the fanclub president. Of Lucasette, Cusi Cusi, and all her tiny little legs.”
Mira clapped once, as if sealing a contract. “Excellent. Rumi can be her grumpy rival idol.”
“I am not doing this narrative with you!” Rumi snapped.
Lucasette hopped again, as if for emphasis.
Zoey melted on the spot. “Look at that charisma! She’s debut-ready!”
“Debut this!” Rumi howled, waving her sword in a small, frantic arc that sent a faint shimmer through the air. “She’s running psychological warfare!”
“She’s literally the size of a walnut,” Mira snorted. “The only thing she’s running is your patience.”
“Oh no,” Rumi muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand, still clinging upside down. “You people are forming a cult. I can feel it.”
Mira shrugged. “Too late. I made the logo.”
Zoey brightened. “And I came up with the slogan: ‘Eight legs, no limits!’”
“And a special tagline,” she added, cooing at her hands, “Starring our beloved Cusi Cusi.”
Rumi groaned. “I’m canceling both of you, and this spider is your PR rep.”
“PR queen,” Mira corrected solemnly.
Lucasette gave what definitely looked like a smug bounce.
“I can feel her judging me,” Rumi hissed. “She’s feeding on my despair.”
Zoey clasped her hands, nearly squishing her own chest with enthusiasm while carefully keeping her palms curved around Lucasette. “She’s an empath!”
Mira checked her phone, thumbs flicking as if live-posting. “Too late—#SpiderSupremacy is already trending.”
“YOU POSTED THIS?!” Rumi shrieked, voice ricocheting off the ceiling.
“Obviously,” Mira said. “The algorithm loves trauma. You versus the spider—it’s the comeback arc no one expected.”
Zoey nodded, mock-serious. “Terror, tenderness, and eight legs of pure ambition—coming soon to The Tower.”
Rumi looked ready to combust. “Stop monetizing my suffering!”
Mira smirked. “We’re building a brand, babe.”
Something in Rumi finally snapped. She bared her fangs again, eyes blazing. “Fine. Enjoy your brand while it lasts. I will sabotage all of it. I’ll hex your cameras, I’ll curse your microphones, I’ll erase all your draft files from existence—”
Zoey squinted up at her. “No, you won’t.”
Rumi blinked. “Excuse me?”
Mira folded her arms, utterly unimpressed. “Yeah, you’re going to glare at the equipment really hard, then feel bad and put a blanket over Zoey when she falls asleep editing at 3 a.m. Like you always do.”
“That happened one time,” Rumi snapped.
“Three times,” Zoey corrected gently. “And you made hot chocolate.”
“That was for me,” Rumi insisted weakly.
“You made it with heart-shaped marshmallows and wrote ‘good job’ on a sticky note,” Mira said. “In glitter pen.”
“That was a moment of weakness,” Rumi hissed.
Zoey grinned. “Face it, you’re constitutionally incapable of sabotaging us. You’ll threaten to, then end up adding subtitles and fixing our audio levels.”
“I could still curse something,” Rumi muttered. “A tiny curse. A tasteful curse.”
Mira nodded sagely. “Sure. You’ll curse us to ‘remember to hydrate’ and ‘take breaks.’ Terrifying.”
Zoey tilted her head, thoughtful. “Honestly? That does sound like a very Rumi curse.”
Rumi clutched the ceiling like it had personally betrayed her. “I am not soft! I am a creature of dread and ruin!”
The air went thinner for a second.
Zoey made a noise that did not belong in a horror movie. “Okay, one, rude, and two—please, daddy.”
There was a beat of stunned silence as the words hung in the air like a crime.
Rumi’s fingers spasmed on the beam. “Did you just—” Her voice cracked, demon echo shorting out in real time. “Did you just call me Daddy?”
Then—WHUMP.
Mira smacked the back of Zoey’s head with the nearest throw pillow so hard it made Lucasette do a tiny bounce. “WHY,” Mira demanded, eyes wide and ears red, “did you call our girlfriend Daddy while she’s on the ceiling?!”
Zoey clutched the offended spot. “Again?! Why do you keep hitting me?!”
“Because you keep trying to unlock DLC we did not pay for!” Mira snapped. “This is a spider panic, not a premium kink expansion pack!”
Above them, Rumi made a strangled, inhuman sound. “Stop saying it out loud! Daddy is a title, not—” She cut herself off, horrified. “Forget I said title. No titles. No Daddy. Ever.”
Zoey’s eyes went wide and delighted. “Oh my god, you’re so offended. That’s so… cute.”
“It is not cute!” Rumi sputtered, tail of her braid lashing. “I am a creature of dread and ruin! Dread and ruin do not answer to ‘Daddy’!”
Mira pointed up at her, flustered and viciously glad the attention had shifted. “Exactly. She’s an eldritch horror, not your subscription service.”
“She didn’t say no,” Zoey muttered under her breath.
“I HEARD THAT,” Rumi yelped, demon timbre flickering back in sheer self-defense.
Mira dragged a hand down her face. “Do you hear yourself?” she demanded. “You went from ‘tiny curse, tasteful curse’ to ‘please, Daddy’ in, like, three seconds. My nervous system wasn’t ready.”
Zoey opened her mouth to argue, then paused. “…Wait. Your nervous system?”
Mira’s ears went even pinker. “That’s not the point.”
Zoey’s grin sharpened. “Oh my god. You did like the demon voice.”
Mira spluttered. “What I liked was not dying of secondhand horniness in our own living room, thanks.”
Zoey lit up. “You totally loved it!”
Mira spluttered. “I most certainly did not!”
“She didn’t have to,” Zoey told the room, triumphant. “We all heard the tiny whimper right after ‘darkness and ruin.’”
Mira gaped. “There was no whimper!”
Rumi, still clinging to the beam, stared down in horror. “Why are you analyzing my whole… vocal output? Stop weaponizing acoustics!”
Zoey pointed up at her. “You started it. You’re the one purring damnation like a limited-edition sound pack.”
Mira immediately pivoted, seizing the angle. “Yeah, exactly. If anyone’s to blame for this, it’s you, Darkness-and-Ruin ASMR.”
Rumi sputtered. “How did I become the problem?! I am literally the one being hunted by an eight-eyed goblin!”
Zoey turned to Mira, smug. “See? Even she’s calling it a goblin in a sexy voice.”
“That was not a sexy voice!” Rumi protested, which unfortunately rolled out in the exact same demon register.
Zoey just about folded. “Oh my god, do it again.”
Mira narrowed her eyes. “No, absolutely not, do not encourage her. The last thing we need is you two discovering ‘demon voice’ as a couple’s feature.”
Zoey leaned in. “Bold of you to say when you were also blushing, Miss ‘Intrusive Thoughts.’”
Mira sniffed. “At least I’m trying to keep them inside my skull instead of shouting ‘please, daddy’ at the ceiling like a paid subscription tier.”
Rumi made a strangled sound. “Stop using me as… ammo! I am not a prop in your unhinged flirting!”
Zoey and Mira answered at the same time:
“Girlfriend privilege,” Zoey said.
“Collateral damage,” Mira said.
Lucasette bounced once, decisively, as if voting “they’re both right.”
Rumi muttered, “Traitors,” like it was a legal classification.
Zoey gasped, hand to her chest. “Wow. Harsh language from someone who just did a limited-release demon voice collab and won’t even give us the deluxe edition.”
Mira nodded solemnly. “Yeah, if anything, we’re victims here. You drop ‘creature of dread and ruin’ in 4K surround, and we’re supposed to just… not react?”
“I did not drop anything,” Rumi snapped, tail of her braid lashing. “You two are the ones turning my existential crisis into bonus content.”
Zoey brightened. “Ooh, speaking of bonus content, what if we call that mode ‘Rumi: Dread & Ruin Ver.’ for the photocard set—”
“No!” Rumi nearly lost her grip on the beam. “Stop naming things! First the spider, then the brand, then my voice—what’s next, my panic responses?!”
Mira raised a hand. “Too late, already filed under ‘Ceiling DLC.’ Comes with free hissing and emotional damage.”
Lucasette did a tiny approving bounce, as if stamping the paperwork.
Mira snorted. “You’re outvoted, babe. Two girlfriends, one spider, unanimous ruling: your sabotage arc is non-canon.”
Rumi opened her mouth, closed it, then rallied with the last shreds of her pride. “Fine. If I cannot sabotage you, then I will at least stop you from naming anything else. No more titles. No more slogans. No more cutesy arachnid monikers. I am invoking a moratorium on naming.”
Zoey blinked. “You… want a name embargo?”
“Yes!” Rumi snapped. “From this moment on, we name nothing! Naming is power. You two wield it like a confetti cannon!”
Mira frowned, considering. “Counterpoint: we already named Lucasette, the fandom, the album, three singles, a spin-off arc, and basically your entire ceiling persona.”
“My what?” Rumi demanded.
Zoey perked up instantly. “Ceiling Rumi! It’s like a rare form. Limited-time event version.”
“And Cusi Cusi is her special guest star,” Zoey added cheerfully.
“Take it back,” Rumi hissed. “Take all of it back. I am revoking canon.”
Mira shook her head. “That’s not how canon works, babe. You can’t ‘un-yes’ it. You went upside down in front of witnesses.”
“Witnesses?” Rumi echoed weakly.
Lucasette gave a jaunty little wave with one leg.
Zoey beamed. “One spider, two girlfriends, the entire future #SpiderSupremacy tag—lots of witnesses. Cusi Cusi saw everything.”
Rumi stared down, horrified. “I will sue all of you for emotional damage.”
“You’d have to put your full name on the paperwork,” Mira pointed out. “Including middle names.”
Rumi scowled. “I don’t have a middle—”
Zoey lit up. “We could give you one!”
“NO,” Rumi said immediately.
Mira snapped her fingers. “Rumi ‘Ceiling Catastrophe’—”
“Absolutely not,” Rumi barked.
Zoey tried again, eyes sparkling. “Rumi ‘Soft on Spiders’—”
Rumi made an inhuman noise. “I will hurl myself into the sun.”
Mira grinned, undeterred. “Rumi ‘Web of Denial.’”
Zoey clapped. “Oh, that’s so good.”
“That is slander,” Rumi hissed. “I am not in denial. I am in rage. There is a difference.”
Lucasette did another smug little twirl, as if signing off on the bit.
Zoey looked at her fondly. “See? Lucasette gets it. Our little branding genius.”
“Stop attributing marketing strategy to the arachnid!” Rumi cried. “She is not in on this!”
Mira tilted her head. “She did pose right when we said ‘debut,’ and again when we said ‘Web of Destiny.’”
“That was coincidence!” Rumi insisted.
Lucasette struck another perfect, tiny idol pose under the lamplight.
Zoey’s eyes went wide. “She did it again.”
Mira nodded solemnly. “We have to respect the hustle.”
Rumi sagged against the ceiling beam, utterly defeated. “I am trapped in a naming circle from which there is no escape.”
Zoey lifted Lucasette higher like she was presenting a tiny, fuzzy trophy. “You hear that, Cusi Cusi? We won.”
Mira lifted a hand toward the reader like an announcer, seizing the moment. “And there you have it, folks—sabotage arc denied, naming ban overturned, and one very done demon hanging from the ceiling. Idol team or internet spider—who’s really running The Tower?”
Zoey giggled, turning toward the “audience.” “Tune in next time to find out if Rumi ever comes down!”
And so, the comedic chaos was complete: two relentless girlfriends, one dramatic demon, and a spider with flawless stage presence—all putting on a show (and showing no mercy).
Crushed beneath all the teasing, Rumi sighed, “Curse this Tower and everyone in it. Especially the spider. And whoever keeps saying ‘Cusi Cusi.’”
Zoey’s grin was pure mischief. “Love you too, babe.”