#hazbinhyperfixation

[snezario]

Sub-Optimal; Ala/stor & Vo/x

based from an idea that @sneezingfetishftw posted. I kind of want to expand on that beginning part with a prequel ficlet of Alastor being sick but idk if I'll actually get around to it... I think this is the longest one-shot I've ever written... somehow this turned out to be 1.7k words?

Alastor leans against the headboard of his bed and takes a sip from his mug, grimacing as the hot liquid travels down his throat. Coffee was probably not the best choice right now. The warmth of it was nice against his sore throat. Of course that wasn’t the only unfortunate telltale symptom of illness he had awoken with a couple days ago.

He had been pretty good at hiding the whole illness thing under wraps for the first half of the day, that is until he had to sneeze. Usually he was good at stifling them into oblivion, but this particular cold seemed hellbent on disrupting his ability to control his faculties. The first unstifled sneeze caused all the lights in the hotel to flicker, which wouldn’t have caught much of anyone else’s attention. It was the second, third, and fourth ones that well, almost destroyed it.

It was after that whole fiasco that he was banished to quarantine in his room because according to Vaggie Who the fuck knows what other chaos his sickness will wreak havoc on the hotel? Normally he’d be holed up in his radio tower, but his quarters within the hotel are not half bad. Hence, him still being in bed to begin with. A sharp prickle in his nose reminds him how miserable being sick makes one feel.

hih'ZZSSHHhue!

He tries to keep it contained, lest he face Vaggie’s wrath. Not that she’s much of a threat to him really. As Alastor recovers, he’s interrupted by a loud BANG! His bedroom door swings open to reveal Vox standing dead center in the door frame. Alastor rolls his eyes at the other Overlord.

“Do you mind?”

Vox ignores Alastor’s question and breezes past the threshold, plopping himself on a red armchair by the fireplace. 

“I was just passing through the area and a little birdy told me you were feeling a bit… under the weather.” He scrolls on his phone as he speaks, although the wide grin on his screen makes it obvious how much he’s relishing this moment. Alastor narrows his eyes, an unlikely story— Vox would never pass up the chance to taunt him, especially in a case like this.

“Well, I’m not quite on my deathbed as you can see. I didn’t realize that you missed little old me so much that you just had to come by and visit. It is flattering that you stopped by, in any case.”

Despite how awful he’s feeling, Alastor flashes Vox a cheeky grin, knowing full well just how to push the other demon’s buttons. The entertainment value of seeing Vox absolutely lose his cool is almost limitless. Although the pesky tickle is urgently becoming more than a mere annoyance. Alastor would much rather listen to Pentious’s Egg Bois spew nonsense to him for hours on end than be seen like this. Vulnerable and weak, in front of Vox no less. But it’s not something he can avoid at the moment.

Vox wasn’t someone who shied away from physical contact. He never denied himself the opportunity to encroach on someone’s personal space when he saw fit, it was mostly a tactic he employed to assert dominance or to emphasize a point. Or in this case, threaten his rival. Leaping off the chair, he’s in the radio demon’s face in a heartbeat, clenching the collar of Alastor’s pajamas in his hand.

“You arrogant prick, you think that I give a flying FUCK where you’ve been—”

Vox pauses when Alastor inhales sharply, no doubt to make a scathing retort. The radio demon raises a fist to his face and angles himself away from the other Overlord.

hhzh—hhh’ZTCHhiew! hih! ihĨ̴̢̛̘̠̪͍̠̣̪̪͗͒̓̃̎̀̓̕͜Z̵̪̝̱̪̘̺̣̗̘̍Z̷̡̜͔̱͖͉̰̭̽̽̎̆̿̉͝͝T̴̨̧̼̫̜̤͈̖̬͈̈́̄̒̓̾̀̎͠͝S̷̨̱̭͚̬̻̬͐̑̐̏͆͝ͅḨ̵̣͍͈͙͈̝̜͑̓͋̉͊͛̀̑̚H̵̤̯͔̱̓̎̈͘̚̕uu!

The space around them crackles with Eldritch energy, tendrils of which encompass the room. Vox’s screen glitches and completely shuts off.

“What the actual fuck?” The lights flicker back on and Vox’s screen illuminates again. He gives in to a full body shudder (not of his own accord though) as the static shock between them fizzles out. He jumps back from Alastor, his eye spiraling intensely. Alastor sniffles into a plain cloth handkerchief.

“Oh dear, pardon me. I’m not quite in control of my faculties at the moment.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your own mucus,” Vox snarls at him before storming out of Alastor’s room.

It’s humiliating but because the hotel has Alastor as its facilities manager, there is very little modern technology at Vox’s disposal. Meaning, he has to walk… out the front door like a common sinner. The hotel is located quite a bit away from the main hubbub of Pentagram City, which is both a blessing and a curse, depending on who you talk to. Vox makes his way to the edge of the city, a chaotic and desolate area and at the first sight of a screen (an old television set sitting in the window of a dilapidated pawn shop), he transforms into electricity and travels back to the Vees’ penthouse.

What kind of weird voodoo magic did the smiling freak do to me? Vox sits alone in his penthouse suite, glaring at nothing in particular as his eye dilates as he fumes about the outcome of his interaction with Alastor. One day, that pompous bastard would find something more than coffee in that stupid mug of his.

He idly rubs a hand down his screen as a fleeting fuzzy sensation runs through the circuitry in his head, almost like an itch he can’t quite reach. He proceeds to take a long sip from his mug, the coffee in it is only lukewarm but it’s the caffeine boost he wants anyways. Vox is feeling more drained from engaging with Alastor than he thought. It’s not entirely out of the question, but it does surprise him a little. Nothing a little caffeine wouldn’t fix. He downs the rest of the drink and settles into the sofa, turning the plasma screen television screen across from him on with a simple thought. The ambient sound immediately soothes him and the incident with Alastor floats into his memory archives to be forgotten.

An hour passes and Vox is sleepily scrolling on his phone. He could nod off right there. That is until a buzzing in his head catches his attention. It almost feels like tiny feathers caressing his internal wiring, not so much caressing as tickling. Similar to before, he can’t seem to reach it and quell the sensation. But unlike before, it’s not just a momentary annoyance. His deliberation is interrupted when his breath hitches once, then twice before he pitches forward.

“ih…ih'DZZSHHH!”

He blinks in confusion. That’s it? He just had to fucking sneeze? Again, he finds his thoughts disrupted by a familiar sensation. Vox tries to rub the tickle away but given his… specifications he realizes he doesn’t even have a nose to—eh'TZZSSHIEW! hih’IZZSHuhh!

What the fuck is happening? He sniffles. Ugh, gross. 

Between the sneezing, the developing tension headache, and the exhaustion it feels like—Vox’s screen lights up as it dawns on him. He fucking has Alastor’s cold. That motherfucker. His blood pressure skyrockets and sparks shoot off his frame, threatening to short out the electronics in the room (of which there are many). Before he knows it, he’s already electro-teleporting across the pentagram to confront the radio demon.

“ALASTOR, you pretentious manipulative fucking son-of-a—”

Although Alastor can’t determine the actual content of Vox’s plethora of insults and cursing, they do steadily increase volume as he approaches Alastor’s room.

“Hmm?” Alastor turns his head as Vox barges into his room for the second time that day. He is sitting in one of the red armchairs by the fireplace, with a book in his grasp. He wears his deceptively inviting smile as always, although it is slightly dulled down by his current illness. Vox breathing is heavy and ragged, his rage undeterred by Alastor’s placid expression actually seems to intensify as he stands face-to-face from his rival.

“YOU… you did this to me!” He jabs a finger in the radio demon’s face, mere centimeters away from stabbing him in the eye. Alastor calmly pushes Vox’s hand down.

“Careful now, unless you want to cause another city-wide blackout.” Alastor teasingly reminds him of their previous on-air encounter.

“Whatever stunt you phhhulled this m-morhhn—” Vox’s voice falters, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He sharply turns away as he succumbs to the persistent itch.

“hh—hHEHh’IZZSH! Fuh—hih…h’KSHHHIiiue! ih’Z̷͖̥̩͕͒́ͅZ̷̩̲̯̠̺̘̟��̕T̴̛͔͆̒͌̄̚͘Ć̷̘̒̌͐͝͠H̶̥̦͖̰͙͙͙̩̠̋͛ͅH̶͍͕̪̙̦͎́́̋͝uu! ”

The lights pulsate with each sneeze from the television demon. Vox groans, leaning against the wall. That last one hurt like a bitch. 

“Oho! I see the problem. Apologies, old pal. Snf! I thought someone so advanced as yourself would be immune to such trivialities.” Despite his flippant tone, Alastor is genuinely surprised. He wasn’t actually certain the static shock would have affected Vox when he did it. He is, however, quite entertained by the development.

Before Vox can respond, Vaggie throws the bedroom door open.

“Alastor, what the fuck are you even doing? I thought we told you to—” The ex-exorcist jabs her spear in his direction and is about to go off on him when she notices Vox is slumped against the wall. Spinning her spear, she redirects the point towards him. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh him? He’s no threat, at least not in his current condition,” Alastor makes a dismissive motion with his hand, a mischievous smile on his lips. Vaggie scowls at him, her hands crossed over her chest. Her gaze flits between Alastor and Vox.

“What did you do—Actually, wait I don’t want to know. Just… stop fucking with the lights.” She swiftly turns around and shuts the door behind her. Still smiling, Alastor turns his attention towards Vox, who’s looking quite pathetic. Well, more so than usual.

“You hear that, my dear Vox? Get a hold of yourself. Now if you’ll exhhcuse me I hh-have— (dang it, now it’s his turn) hh’iZTSHHuu! eh’D̴͚̼̊̂̒Z̵̳̥̈́̀̐͊̃̊̄͘̚Z̵̻͓̖̪̤͊͒̄̓͗́̂͑͜͝͝S̵̼̖͌̔̚HHHiew!” Unfortunate timing, but can’t be helped, Alastor thinks. He scrubs a finger under his nose and proceeds to pore over his book.

Vox narrows his eyes, adjusts his bowtie, and stands up. Vox glares daggers at Alastor, who appears to be ignoring him now. As he heads to the door, he feels an unfortunately familiar prickle at the back of his screen. NO! Not aga— heh’DZZSHHuh! Fuck. He catches Alastor smirking in his periphery.

“Gesundheit!” The radio demon calls out after Vox’s retreating figure.

[snezario]

Catch Me I'm Falling (Part 1); Vo/x

this is an adaptation of a vanilla fic i had been working on and there's definitely going to be some divergence from the original. i've been so hesistant to post this but i finally decided that i just don't care. i'm very much at rock-bottom and this ship manages to be the only thing that still provides me some happiness.

i know a majority of the fandom/shippers like one-sided radi/osta/tic, but i'm tired of acting like i wouldn't sell my soul for a ca/trado/ra ending for them. if you don't like it, don't read it :~)

it's supposed to be slow burn and there isn't a lot of Stuff yet but i'm throwing this out into our little community and maybe someone will enjoy it

part 2 / part 3

It all happened so fast. One minute he was preparing for tonight’s broadcast and the next Vox found himself struggling to pick himself up off the filthy streets of Pentagram City. Lightly pressing a hand to his throbbing head, he could see his reflection in a nearby puddle. He craned his neck to get a better view, doing his best to suppress a frown as he took in his appearance–he was sporting a crack that ran down the left side of his screen, a visibly torn suit, and a heavily bruised ego.

Vox staggered to his feet before brushing himself off. He self-consciously straightened his bowtie as sinners stared curiously at the VoxTek CEO, or ex-CEO now, but they didn’t need to know that just yet. He tried to keep his head high, shoulders square, and his attention forward as he plodded down the sidewalk, giving any passerby who looked at him for a millisecond too long a menacing glare.

It was more of a threat really, he couldn’t be bothered to use his hypnosis on anyone right now nor is he sure it would be successful.

As he marched further and further away from the tower, the television demon’s screen became clouded, a flurry of thoughts swirled in his mind. Sure the relationship with Val was never meant to last or turn into anything more than casual sex between business partners. But Vox did not see any of this coming, and in hindsight he really should have.

Valentino’s legendary temper had not shown any sign of letting up and if anything had gotten worse over the years, the fact that he tore up one of Velvette’s best models over Angel moving out should have set off the alarm bells in his head. He always thought he had been the glue that held the Vees together, the mastermind behind it all. Valentino was more conniving than he thought and Vox had been played like a fiddle.

It was all so textbook too. Valentino approached him after Alastor publicly humiliated him all those years ago. He was the one to suggest bringing Velvette on as a business partner. He was the one that initiated the volatile on-again-off-again relationship that they had shared for the better part of the past 7 years. Some nights Vox had wondered whether they could be just more than fuck buddies, but every time he brought it up Val would shoot him down.

And so Vox gave up on that idea and told himself he was happy to just have something between the two of them. A part of him was clinging onto the hope that Val would see reason and take him back. Maybe if he could just talk to Velvette, she’d get him to consider meeting with Vox, hearing his side of things.

Looking up he realized that he had been so lost in thought that he actually wound up further from the city than he would have anticipated and was now standing at the bottom of the hill to the Hazbin Hotel. His screen glitched and he ran a hand down the crack in his screen which came as a result of Val bashing his head into the wall. It was starting to interfere with his vision too, everything was a bit fuzzy. He looked longingly over his shoulder, back at V-Tower–despite how far away the hotel is, the neon sign could be seen twinkling in the distance.

Pulling a face, he trudged up the hill. Now standing directly in front of the hotel, he realized how gaudy it looks up close. Like a Vegas casino hotel, he snorted softly at the comparison. He moved towards the front door and stared at the stained glass windows. Vox hesitated, his raised fist precariously hovering an inch above the wooden door frame. Was he really about to stoop so low that he was going to his rival?

Long buried memories of Alastor started to resurface, as well as the burning hatred he had been harboring towards the radio demon flared in his chest. His screen chose that moment to glitch again, temporarily extinguishing his anger towards the smiling freak, as well as the pesky memories. He gritted his teeth and relented with a weary sigh. Vox raised his hand again before rapping three times on the door. What did he have to lose at this point, really?

He pulled out his phone to see if there was already any news on his spat with Valentino, he was almost certain that the moth demon was going to start a smear campaign against him. Before he could unlock his phone the door swung open to reveal Charlie, who was bouncing up and down slightly, clearly trying to keep her excitement contained. “Welcome to–” she began to say before her jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

While she had never met the other two Vees in person, she was familiar with them and what they looked like. This had to be the television Overlord, Vox. Although, he looked a little worse for wear, especially for an Overlord. She quickly reestablished her sunny demeanor and started again.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

It was almost too much for Vox when the Princess of Hell greets him at the door. He almost expected his knock to go unanswered, but now that he’s face to face with Charlie he has half a mind to turn on his heel and run back to V-Tower with his tail between his legs back to Val and beg forgiveness, not unlike the way Alastor escaped the fight with Adam.

Vox gave his head a slight shake as he pushed down the impulse, even though it was so very tempting, planted his feet to the ground. He looked Charlie up and down, taking in her appearance. She was almost his height, to his surprise, much taller than she seemed based on her interview with the news anchor Katie Killjoy some months back. Which was ever so slightly intimidating for him, but no matter.

“Your royal highness,” he bowed his head in reverence to her before raising it again, fixating a sharp grin on her, “I don’t believe we have been properly introduced. My name is Vox–” Charlie was unable to keep her enthusiasm in check and interrupted him with a squeal.

“Mr. Vox, I have heard of you and I am so excited to finally meet you! We haven’t gotten as many guests as I would have hoped. Please come in! Come in!”

Without another word, she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into the hotel. Despite his aversion to touch, especially when he didn’t initiate it, Vox allowed himself to be dragged past the threshold of the front door.

He gazed around, privately impressed–the interior was actually nicer than he would have expected. During this time he realized this was actually the first time he had stepped foot in the building, well the newly rebuilt version of it anyways. It was not nearly as hi-tech as his VoxTek building, but it was most likely due to that radio bastard’s influence.

He turned his attention back to Little Miss Bleeding Heart and continued, “Right, so I hear the hotel is still looking for recruits and what better way to sell your hotel than to have another Overlord’s endorsement?” The media mogul maintained his grin as he spoke but faltered when he felt an uncomfortable increase in static pressure around him, which signaled the arrival of a certain pompous old-timey prick of a demon.

“Endorsement from you? I hardly think that’s something we could use here,” Alastor’s staticky radio voice grated against Vox’s audio input sensors and he couldn’t help but flinch before making the necessary adjustments. The radio demon’s narrowed gaze pierced through him, and Vox knew that the former was silently taking in his appearance, judging him. His fanged grin remained steadfast as ever, although he raised a brow as his eyes lingered on the crack in Vox’s screen. Much to Vox’s surprise, he chose not to pass comment.

“Alastor,” Vox curtly acknowledged his rival, “I’m just here as a professional courtesy.”

Vox shifted his weight as his last statement hung in the air between the three of them. Why did he lie? Didn’t they take anyone here? After all, they accepted Pentious without batting an eye. With his cracked screen and disheveled appearance, it wasn’t like he even looked like the all-powerful Overlord image he was used to exuding. He was positively exhausted, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth yet, especially with Alastor hovering around.

It was bad enough that he showed up on the hotel doorstep looking like a kicked puppy. At this point, he doubted his ego could take anymore of a beating today. He hoped that at least Princess Morningstar would accept his pathetic attempt of an excuse and not ask any follow-up questions.

Just as Charlie opened her mouth to respond, Angel’s voice cut her off. They all turned their attention to the pink fluffy spider sinner lounging on the couch by the bar.

“Yo, get a LOAD of this! Val and Velvette kicked Vox out of the Vees and have started a smear campaign against him. I’ll bet Val’s going to have me working extra this weekend.”Angel trailed off as he noticed how silent the hotel had become. Alastor and Charlie both slowly turned to look at Vox, his pupils constricted but his eyes were now as large as dinner platters. The sheer horror on his screen was undeniable–well now he was royally fucked.

Vox felt a flush creeping up his screen as the hotel occupants’ eyes bore into him. Angel’s exclamation had invited the curiosity of a few other members of the hotel–the television demon now commanded the attention of the former exorcist angel and cat bartender. And normally he lived for attention, but not like this.

His gaze flitted over each of their faces, most of which seem to be of bemusement. Although there was genuine concern in Charlie’s eyes, which almost made Vox sick to his stomach. Alastor’s expression on the other hand hadn’t changed at all. However, he was the first to break the silence.

“Care to explain yourself, old pal?”

Vox’s mouth opened and his lips moved but no sound came out. His screen flickered as he tried to manually override his audio interface. He was slightly alarmed as his backup fans whirled loudly and liquid cooling kicked in. Hopefully his soundboard hadn’t short circuited. 

“Why don’t we sit down and talk?” Charlie suggested, seeing the distress on Vox’s face. She placed a steady hand on Vox’s shoulder and guided him towards the parlor.

“Mr. Vox, I know you just got here but you’re welcome to stay here while you sort things out. Everyone is wel–”

“HA! Him? Stay here?” Angel interjected, tossing his head back as he laughed. “Pentious was one thing but this is one of the Vees. I’ll bet this is all just another ploy to infiltrate the hotel.”

The pornstar’s mention of Val and the Vees sent a sharp pain in his chest. His claws dug into his palm, but other than that Vox maintained his composure.

Charlie looked contemplative as she considered Angel’s words. She spoke slowly as she worked to process everything.

“Even if he was trying to undermine our efforts… Why did he come here himself? What do the Vees hope to gain from sending the face of their trio to us?”

“Don’t ask me!” Angel threw up all four of his arms in exasperation. “It’s not like I try to understand anything that goes on in Val’s fucked up mind. I’m sure he’s not much different.”

Charlie opened her mouth to speak but promptly closed it, looking reminiscent of a goldfish when she did it.

“Plus did you see the look on Smiles’ face when this guy showed up?” Angel jabbed a thumb towards Alastor. “I’m sure he wouldn’t hesitate to go full demon mode and tear Vox limb from limb.”

Charlie frowned at the imagery. She turned her attention to Alastor leaning on his staff-microphone stand in the corner of the room. Despite his initial question, he’d been eerily silent. The radio demon met her gaze before looking down his hands. She looked between him and Vox. When neither party offered up anything, she pursed her lips together.

“Well the offer still stands, Mr. Vox.” Charlie said definitively. She momentarily put a hand on his shoulder and he could feel her compassion radiating off her. Her angelic girlfriend who also hadn’t said a word the entire time, still leaned up against the wall. As Vox makes eye contact with her she scowled, although her expression softened as Charlie approached her and took her hand in her own. 

She looked over her shoulder and addressed him one last time, “I’m sure Alastor or Niffty can show you to a vacant room, should you choose to stay. Have a good night!”

Angel stretched his arms above his head and yawned loudly.

“Well this has been all sorts’a fun ain’t it? Imma turn in as well. See ya later, Whiskers,” Angel waved genially at the bartender before disappearing down a hallway.

There was an uncomfortable silence now that only Alastor and Vox were left in the parlor. Again, Alastor was the first to break that silence, much to Vox’s chagrin.

“When you first showed up on our doorstep, I was ready to throw you out. You’re quite lucky Charlie intervened and is showing you a kindness that I could never possess,” Alastor tapped his gloved fingers along his chin thoughtfully as he paused, “You know, this actually might not be so bad. It’ll be like old times–”

Vox was lost in thought but managed to catch Alastor’s last sentence. Thankfully, it seemed like his audio issue had resolved itself. He rasped, “Yeah well, you can forget that. I’m not planning on hiding here for the rest of my existence.”

He winced when the radio demon looked at him keenly, he had hoped that Alastor hadn’t also picked up on the hoarseness in his voice. Pressing a couple fingers to his throat, he frowned. Perhaps the audio issue wasn’t as resolved as he thought. 

“Suit yourself.”

Alastor threw up his hands indifferently, adjusting his lapels as he stood to leave.

“Alastor, wait– I didn’t mean… I just–” Vox’s voice wavered as he struggled to find the words, burying his head in his hands when he didn’t quite get there. A couple of tense moments passed and he was sure that Alastor had probably just shadow teleported away by now. But when he peeked between his fingers, he could see a figure still by the fireplace. Although Alastor’s back was turned to him now.

Just as Vox opened his mouth to speak, Alastor’s head snapped around–a decidedly horrifying sound that made Vox cringe. The radio demon’s grin widened in a way that caused Vox’s stomach to churn with anxiety. That’s never a good sign is it? 

“Let’s take this conversation to my room, hmm?”

The heavy radio static in the space between them made Vox recoil. Oh how he hated when Alastor did that. It always made his systems go haywire or well, it used to at least–with his upgraded components he was less prone to Alastor’s radio interference. He watched as Alastor melted into the shadows, his yellow cheshire grin being the last bit of him to disappear into the darkness.

“Do I have much of a choice?” Vox muttered under his breath before focusing his mind to channel his electrical teleportation abilities and follow his rival. He stopped in front of Alastor’s door wondering what horrors awaited him inside. As he stared anxiously at the ornately decorated door, he noticed that it was cracked open. He pondered his next move… Alastor did invite him in.

With a deep inhale, he pushed open the door. The room was dimly lit and Vox had to adjust his screen’s brightness to see much of anything. In his peripheral vision he noticed Alastor sitting in an armchair on the far side of the room. 

“I’m sure you’re dying to snoop around. I will permit you a few minutes to get it out of your system before we begin.”

He looked around Alastor’s bedroom. Huh. Creepy. It appeared to be a hybrid of rustic 1930’s cabin and a Louisiana bayou that stretched past what Vox could presently see. Despite the swamp-like environment, it was surprisingly cool in the room, which was good for Vox because humid climates tended to mess with his components. He idly rubbed a hand down his cracked screen as a fleeting fuzzy sensation skittered through the circuitry in his head.

The radio demon stayed in his armchair, simply observing Vox’s movements. He strolled around the room, picking up various trinkets. Some of them appeared to be remnants of his human life, while the presence of some others puzzled him because of their seemingly ordinary nature. He never really considered Alastor to be a particularly sentimental person but the objects in his room indicated otherwise. Perhaps he didn’t know the other Overlord quite as well as he once thought.

As he turned away from one of the cabinets, his gaze caught a glint of a metal picture frame on a high shelf. Despite the multitude of items, he realized that there are no photographs, let alone framed ones. He reached up to grab it but Alastor’s shadow slid up from behind him and snatched the picture frame before he could get a better look. Startled, Vox spun around to look at the radio demon.

“I think that is quite enough,” Alastor said, motioning for Vox to sit in the armchair across from himself. He waited for the television demon to settle into the chair opposite of him before speaking.

“As you may know, the hotel is a bit lacking in residents following the extermination. I dismissed the idea before, but it could be useful to have the endorsement of other Overlords. Therefore, I have a proposition for you: I help you get back into good graces with your former colleagues and you–”

Vox snorted, before letting out a derisive laugh, “You really think I’m stupid enough to make a deal with you?”

Alastor’s ears flicked back irritably and he rolled his eyes, “Not for your soul, although it would be lovely to own another former Overlord’s soul,” his eyes briefly sparkled mischievously as the thought delighted him. Vox clenched his jaw when Alastor implied he might lose his coveted Overlord status.

“No, my dear. Just an itty-bitty favor. It’s nothing really.”

“Uh-huh… and what favor would that be?” Vox now had his arms crossed in front of his chest as he raised a skeptical brow at Alastor, unconvinced.

“I will reveal more in due time, old pal,” Alastor said cryptically. The finality of his tone indicated to Vox that pressing the issue wouldn’t be in his best interests. He retracted his hand as Vox continued to cast a doubtful gaze upon him.

“Oooor, you become the laughingstock of the Pride Ring, lose your Overlord status, and worst of all what you’ve always feared–”

“Okay! Okay, I get it…” Vox cut off Alastor, which earned him a glare from the other demon.

“So, do we have a deal?” The radio demon leaned towards him, extending his hand again and smiling all the while. What Vox wouldn’t give to wipe that infernal grin off his face.

Vox narrowed his eyes and searched the radio demon’s smile for a sign that he’s lying, going to double-cross him, or worse. The possibilities were endless. Damn, the bastard was always good at masking his true intentions and beyond his usual mischievous grin, it seemed like a relatively normal deal. Well, as normal as deals in Hell went. And with Alastor no less.

And yet, something in the radio demon’s voice tempted him.

Vox stared contemplatively at Alastor’s outstretched hand. As a fellow Overlord, he was no stranger to deals, nor does Alastor’s notoriety for being THE dealmaker go over his head. Sure, it’s not like he was bargaining with his soul but still, deals held a lot of weight in Hell.

This is a mistake. Every fiber in his being was screaming at him to turn back–hightail it out of the hotel and never look back, to grovel at Val’s feet to take him back, that he’s sorry for every argument, every disagreement they had ever had, no matter how small, even if he wasn’t to blame. Before today the thought of begging on his hands and knees would have disgusted him.

There was something that Alastor said earlier in the parlor that brought his spiraling thoughts to a full stop. It’ll be like old times.

Before he had a chance to overthink it, Vox clasped his hand around Alastor’s.

“Deal.”

Alastor’s smile broadened ever so slightly when their hands connected. A brilliant emerald light cloaked the entire room as the two demons shook hands, along with a shrill radio frequency that threatened to overload Vox’s motherboard. Not ominous at all. Alastor’s pupils transformed into radio dials and his antlers expanded both in height and length tenfold. Huh, it had been some time since Vox had seen Alastor’s demon form. This wasn’t even a full transformation–his full demon form was truly a sight to behold, lesser sinners would have cowered in its presence.

Vox shielded his face with his free hand until the light faded. The radio demon released his hand, which he let drop almost lifelessly to his side. His heart was pounding in his chest. What did he just do? Before he could dwell on his actions Alastor piped up.

"Now that that's out of the way, let's say we patch up your screen, shall we?" Alastor brushed off his coat as he stood, one hand clasping his staff as he waited for Vox to respond.

Vox frowned. His scree–? Oh! Raising a hand to trace the crack, he clenched his jaw as he’s reminded of Val’s parting gift to him. He had been so wound up that he’d nearly forgotten about the damage. His attention was momentarily diverted when he felt the unusual fuzzy sensation flit along his screen. Although, apparently that was just the beginning of his problems because as soon as the sensation passed, he completely lost vision on his left side.

“Fuck! Give me a sec, I’m just going to reinitialize my visual system.” Vox’s screen went dark briefly. Upon reboot his face reappeared, but not before it’s covered by an error code indicating that his visual I/O ports are damaged and a warning to cease usage until they are replaced or repaired. He manually overrode the warnings and to his luck, his vision was partially restored not to its usual 4K quality but it would do for now.

Alastor rifled through a cabinet drawer, returning to his chair with a small tube of fast-drying glue. He presented the tube to Vox. “Think this will help?”

“Couldn’t hurt, I suppose,” Vox responded with a half-shrug. He shifted his weight to take the glue from Alastor, but was surprised to see the other demon unscrewing the cap.

“Might be best if I apply it,” Alastor said quietly. Vox simply nodded, still a bit stunned that Alastor had not only offered to help but was actually initiating physical contact. He inched towards the radio demon so that the latter didn’t have to reach as far.

“You know, when you rejected my offer all those years ago I thought you were joking,” Vox paused, gazing at a point past the radio demon’s shoulders at the foreboding darkness of the swamp. It was so quiet the sounds of their breathing seemed to overpower the ambient noises of the bayou. Alastor remained quiet, focused on applying the glue to the crack in his screen but Vox can tell he’s captured the other’s attention with the way his ears twitched.

That was until the dull flickering in the back of his screen that he’d been trying to ignore, decided enough was enough. He only barely registered the sensation when his breath hitched urgently. He angled as far away from Alastor as possible as the tickle crested.

“ihh–ih’DZZTSSHhhuh!”

Alastor blinked at him in surprise. Vox’s screen felt unusually warm as he cleared his throat and tried to breeze over the interruption by continuing from his previous statement. “I thought you’d come around eventually. We both had the highest numbers either of us had ever seen and people’s tastes change so quickly here, I just felt that we needed to stay up with the times. But I guess some things never change, eh?”

Alastor opened his mouth to address the intrusion, only for his teeth to clamp down as he let out a pained hiss. He dropped the tube of glue as he jerked away from Vox to cradle his chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Vox tilted his head. He couldn’t help but ask, even though he knows that Alastor would probably rather get his ass handed to him by Adam again than admit anything to him. Although he's not the only one to be loath to admit weakness of any kind, it seems like nearly everyone in Hell has the emotional intelligence of a teaspoon, barring a select few. Perhaps that was part of the “being in Hell” package, keep them at each other’s throats so they wouldn’t amount to anything.

Despite the minor incursion, Alastor’s smile hadn’t wavered in the slightest. He addressed Vox coolly, “I’m fine, don’t worry your noisy picture box of a head about it.”

However, the wince following his statement indicated he’s in more pain than he was letting on. Vox stretched a hand towards him but Alastor flinched away. He bristled, baring his teeth at the startled television Overlord, “It’s none your concern.”

“For once, will you stop being a pompous ass, and just let me take a look?” Vox snapped irritably at him.

As the lights flickered dangerously, Vox pressed up against the armchair fearing that he pushed too far. Alastor’s full demon form began to loom over him and Vox would be helpless to do anything. To his surprise, he shrank back down, his black eyes reverting to their usual crimson sclera, and his antlers returned to their normal size. He made a non-committal sound and motioned for Vox to move in closer.

Vox peeled back the soiled bandages and examined the wound, careful not to aggravate it. He’d never been the squeamish type but still had to swallow the urge to make a face. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he was surprised when he caught wind that Alastor had not been missing for that long and had already returned to the hotel. From what Vox had seen through his drones, the radio Overlord had taken much more pure angelic power to the face than most demons would be able to handle, let alone live to tell the tale.

“A parting gift from the first man,” Alastor said bitterly, jolting him from his musings. He felt a bit exposed, not having realized that the other demon had been watching for his reaction.

Turning his attention back to the injury, Vox inspected it further. He’s no doctor, quite far from it, but it seemed to be healing, albeit slowly. Probably would hurt like a bitch for a good long while, and no doubt would leave a nasty scar.

“You should probably change the dressings more often,” Vox advised, to which Alastor gave him a withering look. Typical. He rolled his eyes and shrugged, “Unless you want it to get infected.”

Alastor hummed, returning back to the cabinet that Vox saw him sifting through earlier. He pulled out a pack of gauze, ointment, and a roll of medical tape placing it on the table between them. If Vox had to guess, he’d probably been taking care of it himself, and was not being attentive enough from the looks of it. Before Alastor had a chance to object, Vox picked up all the items and removed the old bandages swiftly.

“Hold still,” Vox mumbled with the tube of antibiotic ointment between his teeth. He squeezed a thin but more than adequate layer on the gauze before pressing it against the wound, hesitating at the hiss that escaped Alastor clenched teeth. Powering through, he secured the dressing with medical tape, so that it was snug against the wound but breathable to encourage it to heal a bit faster. “There.”

The radio demon blinked at the fresh dressing but said nothing. Vox didn’t expect him to express any gratitude and just a little acknowledgement would have been nice, but he wasn’t about to hold his breath for it either. Against his better judgment, he circled back to their previous conversation.

“I know things weren’t always perfect between us but there were moments where I thought you genuinely enjoyed parts of it at least. And now, I just… Knowing that all this time you cared so little for our partnership,” Vox deflated into the armchair with the last sentence and dragged a hand down his screen. Behind the charismatic businessman persona he put on for the press, he’s tired of it all and being around Alastor again was messing with his head.

“That’s not entirely true,” Alastor murmured, staring pensively down at his hands folded over one another on his lap.

Vox did a double-take, did he hear that correctly? Alastor had spoken so quietly he had to turn up his volume to max, only to barely catch what he said. Did his audio system get fused together because he could have sworn that Alastor just debunked his theory. He alternated between letting the comment pass by or bringing attention to it. Fuck it. He decided to probe, just a little.

“Oh? Care to elaborate, old pal?” Vox smirked as he threw Alastor’s nickname back at him. He passed a hand along the back of his vents, which seemed to be a bit sensitive at the moment.

Alastor scoffed, looking up at the ceiling as he started to relay his thoughts, “We had a good thing going. When you first brought up the idea I wanted nothing to do with it, but you were persistent. You started to wear me down and I thought, maybe the idea wasn’t so far-fetched, maybe I was just being stubborn.” Vox was completely enraptured as Alastor recounted his version of the past.

“Ultimately, it felt like your proposal was inviting too many cooks to the kitchen. I have always worked best alone and our partnership was very much an outlier. After that last night, well…” Vox braced himself to relive the painful memory as the radio demon mentions the night, the night that everything fell apart. But Alastor merely trailed off.

His expression warped into something unrecognizable as he continued, “I thought about apologizing and the next morning I went to your apartment but you were already gone. Within the hour, your alliance with Velvette and Valentino was announced.”

Vox’s eyes widened, he had never heard about any of this before. “I-I had no idea. I–” His words got caught on the lump in his throat as he imagined Alastor at his doorstep.

Alastor shook his head, “Of course not. I left for my seven year “sabbatical” shortly after.” Vox angled his head slightly to see a wistful expression written on the radio demon’s features. Caught up in the moment, he asked the question that’s been on his mind since Valentino first alerted him to Alastor’s return.

“Where did you go all those years?” As soon as the words left Vox’s mouth, there was a sharp uptick in static interference around them.

“You never did know when to keep your nose out of matters that don’t concern you,” Alastor sneered. And just like that, the moment evaporated, gone. Alastor’s mask slid back up, shutting Vox out again. In turn, he shoved down whatever feelings had started to bubble up, back into the furthest recesses of his heart.

��The crack is sealed but I doubt it’s fixed. I’m no electronics expert,” Alastor’s tone was matter-of-fact and he pointedly avoided looking at Vox. Instead, he picked up a book left on the table and began to flip through it.

“Figured as much,” Vox sighed wearily. He craned his neck to examine the drying glue in a mirror on a nearby shelf–hmm, Alastor didn’t do half bad. “I’ll have to visit the electronics store tomoro–hihh’IZZZSHuhh!”

Vox barely managed to curl into his elbow as the sneeze sent him pitching forward. The unexpected outburst caused Alastor to jump and Vox was stunned as well. When he straightened up, Alastor was staring at him with an odd expression on his face.

“Uhh… sorry again,” Vox apologized, rubbing his arm sheepishly before turning to leave. With his hand on the doorknob, he tilted his head back slightly, “Thanks for… this I guess.”

Without another word, he slipped out of Alastor’s room. His screen is warm with embarrassment, having sneezed not once but twice in front of Alastor. As humiliating as it was to lay out his feelings in front of him, this was so much worse.

Wandering the halls aimlessly, Vox found himself thinking about the moth Overlord. Vox was never enough, he could never satisfy him. Reflecting their relationship made his chest ache and tears pricked at the edge of his screen. He stopped in his tracks, choking back a sob, as the emotions threatened to tumble out. Which turned out to be a mistake as he found himself leaning up against a wall when he doubled over with a harsh fit of dry, ticklish coughs.

When it finally subsided he heaved himself off the floor and went to find a place to curl up for the night. He was too humiliated to find the small cyclops maid demon and ask for a room so he settled for a chaise in the lobby. He shivered violently before laying his makeshift bed.  As Vox brought his knees to his chest, the events of the day replayed in his mind. How fast his whole world has come crashing down. One moment he had it all–a company with his name plastered on it, the status and title of being an Overlord with several hundred, if not thousands of souls to boot (he never really kept track), and a so-so situationship, the next he was at rock bottom–stuck at this tacky hotel for redemption, of all things. Redemption. The ridiculousness of it.

He squeezed his eyes shut as his head throbbed. God, he really needed to get his screen fixed.Although… the idea of righting one’s wrongs did have some appeal. His fingers grazed the patched up crack, the crack that Alastor helped patch up. They had a long way to go but maybe, just maybe, things between him and Alastor could follow suit.

[snezario]

Catch Me I'm Falling (Part 2); Vo/x

as i was writing this part i realized that this is the first fic i've ever written that has an actual plot, with snz just woven in (because i said so!). i have most of it plotted out but who knows if i'll actually commit to the bit...

also i said it was slow burn but it's probably going to be more like a medium burn because i didn't want to drag out illness to force it to be a slow burn but it's also to encourage me to finish

part 1

“Mr. Vox?”

Vox mumbled incoherently as he slowly opened his eyes to see Charlie crouching in front of him, her eyebrows knitted with concern. He blinked blearily before remembering that he spent the night in the lobby and immediately scrambled off the lounge seat. The swift action made his head spin and he swayed on his feet.

“Woah, take it easy,” she reached out and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, “Did you sleep down here?”

“I– uh,” Vox averted his gaze, trying to stammer out an excuse. In the midst of his blubbering, his screen let out a high-pitched buzz and began to display various error codes. He had to stop speaking as well because the malfunction garbled his speech.

Great. What better way to start off the day than with more technical difficulties?

“Oh! Your uh, screen is, looking a little–” Charlie made a wavy motion with her hand.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Vox sighed and hit the side of his screen with the palm of his hand a few times before his face flickered back on the display. Jesus, it had been a while since he had to do that. The action was not without consequence however–the resolution was fuzzy and rainbow lines were streaked across the display. Looking in an adjacent mirror, he carefully ran a finger along the dried glue that filled the crack and saw fissures criss-crossed over half his screen, beyond what he had seen yesterday.

He dropped his hand as his stomach churned. As Charlie stared at him, her expression soft but uncertain, Vox fidgeted, why was this so difficult? It was one thing to act suave and professional for the public but the princess’s genuine kindness was so unorthodox he didn’t really know how to navigate the situation.

“Thanks for allowing me to stay the night but I’ll be going now to get my screen fixed.” As he turned to leave, Vox looked down to find Charlie grasping his wrist. Before he could say anything more, she spoke.

“Look, I know you and Alastor don’t exactly get along,” Vox let out a disdainful laugh, which Charlie ignored, pressing on, “But like I said last night, you’re free to stay at the hotel… actually, here–”

While she was talking, her face suddenly brightened and before she could finish her sentence she pulled him up the stairs. Walking briskly, she escorted them down the corridor stopping in front of the last door. Spinning around to face Vox, Charlie began to unload what sparked the sudden shift.

“I know you probably don’t believe in redemption, which fine, I get it, most of you don’t (yet). Buuuut I’d like to think that the hotel can be more than just that. Like right now, you need a place to figure things out and I think we could be that for you!” She beamed at him, an expression that Vox didn’t return.

“Look… Princess, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I don’t think–”

“You don’t have to decide now but if you want to freshen up, the room is unlocked, unoccupied, and equipped with everything you might need,” Charlie interjected while finally letting go of his wrist, “I have to go now, but just think about it. Please?”

Not giving Vox a moment to respond, she spun on her heel and left him staring after her. He stood in front of the door before placing his hand on the doorknob and slipping inside the room.

As the door closed behind him, Vox felt prickling along his neck, like he was being watched. He spun around to see that the room was still empty, aside from himself. After a beat he decided he was being paranoid and began to look around the room. Just as Charlie had said, it was fully equipped with what was to be expected for hotel guests. He picked up a glass bauble on the nightstand, dropping it when he saw movement in the corner of his vision.

“Whatthefuck?!” Vox sprang back, poised to discharge the electricity crackling from fingertips at the intruder. That is until he realized the “intruder” was Alastor’s shadow. In the past, he wondered if it only did Alastor’s bidding or if it was actually sentient.

“Oh, it’s yohh—” Vox’s voice hitched when he felt a tingling at the back of his head. His chest expanded as the sensation progressed into a more urgent need until he snapped forward with a particularly harsh double.

“hh…hih’KSHHHhuue! ’IZZSHH!”

Lights danced in his vision and Vox had to steady himself against the wall. He gave a staticky cough and glared at the shadow, which seemed to be laughing at his plight.

“What! What do you want? Can’t you just leave me alone?” Vox moaned into his hands before slumping against the wall. He felt worse than yesterday, which he didn’t think was possible. And now he was feeling silly for speaking to a fucking shadow. It slithered to the door and stared pointedly at him then back to the door.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” Vox asked it, although it was mostly a rhetorical question. He continued to lean against the wall for another half a minute before sighing and begrudgingly pulling himself up onto his feet.

“Let’s get this over with,” Vox grumbled. The sooner he could find out what Alastor wanted, the faster he could get his screen fixed and be out the door. His expression clouded. Although, he wasn’t sure what lay in store for him outside the hotel. 

The door to Alastor’s room was closed. Guess he had to knock. Although the last time he bothered to knock on Alastor’s door, he was nearly choked out. With a half-shrug, he rapped lightly.

“Come,” Alastor’s voice resonated from the other side of the door.

“Oh dear,” Alastor clucked as he took notice of Vox’s screen. He was sitting in the bayou-side of his room, soft jazz music played in the background as he nibbled at an animal carcass splayed on the table. Eugh. Vox’s mouth twisted into a grimace. How could he forget Alastor’s unusual tastes?

Vox would have continued to wallow in self-pity if the radio demon’s shadow hadn’t been pestering him the rest of the morning. So here he was again, standing awkwardly in Alastor’s creepy-ass room.

“I was on my way to the repair shop but your fucking shadow wouldn’t stop bothering me. What do you want, Alastor?” Vox snapped and folded his arms across his chest.

“Oh! In that case, I will accompany you,” Alastor said brightly.

“Yeah right,” Vox rolled his eyes, pausing when he realized Alastor was serious. “Oh for fuck’s –dare I ask why?”

“Mmm best not to,” Alastor hummed. Vox shrugged. Always an enigma. Of course he wouldn’t have changed in the last 7 years. The radio demon–perpetually stuck in the past.

“Fine whatever,” Vox relented, pressing a hand to his temple. This guy was starting to give him a headache. “Just don’t get in the way.”

“Splendid, I’ll meet you in the lobby once I finish breakfast!” Alastor said nonplussed, returning to his meal. Taking that as his cue to leave, Vox backed out of Alastor’s room down to the lobby.

He stared apathetically at the ceiling as he waited for Alastor. Normally he’d have been scrolling aimlessly on his phone but that wasn’t exactly an option at the moment. Since last night, his phone had been buzzing non-stop with messages and alerts, all of which he had ignored. Up until an hour ago wherein he finally decided he had enough and turned it off. Actually, he nearly shorted out the device altogether but thought better of it.

“Vox, dear, ready to head out?” Alastor’s disembodied voice perplexed him at first until he saw a shadow glide along the hotel floor. The radio demon materialized from the shadow and he stood by the front door, looking at Vox expectantly.

“Technically I was the one waiting for you,” Vox groused before dragging himself off the couch and trudging out the door after him.

Vox told Alastor the address but kept a step behind him, he was surprised that the radio demon was risking being seen in public with him. Not just because of their well-known rivalry, but the sheer number of billboards and posters they’ve already passed by, framing him as an embezzler, a fraud, and a coward were enough to make him want to run back to the hotel.

Vox would have preferred to traverse the city through the power lines but he found himself struggling to muster up the energy to do so. Surely Alastor could have traveled through the shadows but he seemed to enjoy the walk.

He tried to keep his head low but with his stupid television screen for a head, he was easily recognizable. If he had cheeks he’d be sure they would be burning right now. With his mind preoccupied, he nearly crashed into a sinner on his phone.

“Hey, watch it!” the sinner complained, looking up angrily before recognition dawned on his face. His expression transformed into pure disgust, “Oh look who it is. I’m surprised you’re showing your flat-face around these parts after what you did.”

Say something damn it! Vox’s throat closed up, his eyes widening as he scrambled to say something, anything. “I, uh…”

“Ha! I guess the radio demon was right, you’re really powerless without the other Vees,” he sneered, taking a step towards Vox.

“Perhaps, but I don’t think you want to test that theory right now,” Alastor stepped in between them, a menacing grin on his face. The sinner, having not seen Alastor, squeaked when he was addressed. His eyes narrowed and he gave one last glare at Vox before slinking into an alleyway.

“I’d stay on your side of the street if I were you,” Alastor’s voice, ladened with radio static as he warned the passersby that had been attracted by the commotion. They quickly scattered as his shadow loomed over them.

Fuck. He felt utterly pathetic. Alastor didn’t exactly come to his defense, but it was close enough. How far he’d fallen that he was nearly cowering behind his rival. He opened his mouth and thanks was on the tip of his tongue but nothing came out and he trained his eyes back on the walkway. Luckily for Vox, the rest of the trip was uneventful. 

Both Vox and Alastor had to duck under the door frame as they entered the repair shop. It was smaller than the one that Vox usually went to but it was across the street from the Vees’ tower. Conveniently located before, but now the idea of being close to the tower made his stomach churn. There was an array of electronics on the shelves and on display tables, most of which he was certain eluded Alastor’s knowledge.

“What can I help you–” The incubus slowly looked up from his phone, fumbling with it as he realized whom he was speaking to. Sitting up straight, he stammered, “Mr. Radio Demon sir, and Mr. Vox, I apologize for my rudeness! W-what can I do for you?”

Vox flashed him his businessman smile–which normally was second nature to him but presently felt like a monumental task.

“As you can probably see, I need some technical assistance,” Vox said, gesturing to the cracks spider webbing across his display.

“Right, I can get that replaced right now! I’ll just measure the dimensions so I know what size to cut the glass,” he squeaked, pulling out a measuring tape. After writing down the numbers he headed to the back of the store.

“This’ll just take a minute,” the incubus called out over his shoulder.

“Efficient,” Alastor remarked with an arched brow.

“Just one of the many upsides of modern technology,” Vox replied pointedly. The radio demon sneered, opening his mouth to respond only for the incubus to trot out with the replacement screen.

Having his screen handled and his circuitry fiddled with was apparently not the best idea at the moment. Not this shit again, he cursed as a delicate skittering along his internal circuitry steals his attention. Another one of those times that he really despised having a television screen for a head–try as he might, he could never manage to hold back a reflex that he believed himself relieved from when he first spawned in Hell.

“Would you mind hh! hurrying it hh–up?” Vox hissed, unable to suppress the audible hitching that bled into his speech.

“Oh! Sorry, almost done… and there!”

The glass clicked into place within the plastic frame, which seemed to be the last straw–Vox tore away from the incubus as the tingling reached its tipping point.

“hihh'ZZTSHHH’uh! ihhDSHH! hh!... Fuhhucck.. ehh’Z̴̠̮͛̓̃̾͂D̴̞̳̕Ṱ̵̬̭͉̒̾C̸̘̠̥̝͓͌̊̎͝͝C̷͖̫͚̫̩̈́Ḣ̸̥̮͝Ȟ̴̡͇͚̟̈̓̂͝hiew!”

The incubus and Alastor looked around the store in bewilderment as all of the intact devices flickered on briefly or gave off sparks. Vox groaned and he let out an exhausted, wet sniffle.

“Gesundheit,” the incubus offered, while Alastor tilted his head and gazed at him suspiciously.

“A bit dusty in here I take it?” Vox said, trying to play it off. This did not bode well but he would be damned if he was going to admit to anyone that he was feeling a little more out of sorts beyond the cracked screen. Especially Alastor.

The incubus piped up again, “I thought you should know but I did a malware scan and it detected a–”

“I’m fine. Your scanning software is not sophisticated enough to conduct a comprehensive exam,” Vox cut him off sharply, his eye swirling threateningly. The incubus’s mouth snapped shut and he nodded vigorously, scampering to the back of the shop.

“I guess we’re done here,” Vox said and headed for the door with Alastor trailing behind. As they stepped out of the store, Vox shielded his screen as the afternoon sun threatened to blind him. Swiveling his head to address Alastor, he found himself about to speak to nothing–the radio demon wasn’t next to him anymore.

He turned around to see Alastor lingering in front of the door. Now what?

“I suppose it wouldn’t be completely terrible if you temporarily stayed at the hotel.”

Vox blinked. Did Alastor just–

“Not that it matters to me whatsoever,” Alastor followed up hastily, “Charlie seems to have taken a liking to you. I for one could care less what you do!”

With that, he breezed past Vox towards the hotel. Vox stared after him. He didn’t just imagine it, did he? He could have sworn that Alastor hesitated for a fraction longer than he normally would have. Right? 

Giving his head a brief shake, he jogged behind the radio demon not wanting to get left behind.

Later that day...

Why did Alastor accompany him to the repair shop? It’s not like anything special happened. Vox drummed his fingers along the counter, ruminating on the day with Alastor. He had been sulking at the bar for the past hour and thankfully only Husk was around. Seeing that he was feeling like shit, he really did not want to see or talk to anyone at the moment.

“You gonna drink that?” Husk drawled, pointing at the shot he poured out for Vox several minutes ago.

“I was getting around to it,” Vox grumbled as Husk let out a hmph and turned back to polishing the glass he had been working on. Staring at the glass, he threw his head back and downed the shot of vodka, the liquor burning his throat as it went down. Guh. Maybe it would help soothe his aching throat.

Placing the shot glass down, he jumped as the front door burst open. There went his peace and quiet. 

“Hiya, Husk. How’s things been?” Vox recognized the New York accent of his former partner’s favorite pornstar. He had heard it often enough, between Val bitching about Angel on a near daily basis and whenever he dropped by the studio during the middle of a shoot. Turning his head, he watched as the pink and white spider demon situated himself on a stool in front of the bartender, who immediately slid a cocktail towards him. 

“Oh you know the usual, Val working you hard today?” Husk responded easily, his tone more gentle and friendly than when he had been speaking to Vox.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! But it’s nothin’ I can’t handle,” Angel ran a hand through his hair as he relayed the details of his day to Husk.

Huh, something was definitely going on there—no way things between those two were strictly platonic. Vox noticed the way that the bartender’s pupils dilated while Angel spoke and the comfort with which the pornstar held himself in his presence. It was surprising to see. Actors always put up a front, especially those in the porn industry, even more so for those that were contracted with Valentino. Angel was no different and on the handful of times Vox had interacted with him, he was flirty but emotionally closed off. Good for them, he mused.

“Sooo, it seems like you’ve decided to stay?” Charlie sidled up to Vox, plopping into the bar stool next to him.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” Vox dragged his gaze from Husk and Angel to the Princess of Hell. She seemed particularly chipper at the moment, although he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if this was normal behavior for her. Before he could excuse himself, she launched into a monologue, her voice climbing with excitement as she prattled on.

“How are things between you and Alastor? I saw you both leave the hotel earlier today! That seems promising! From what I’ve heard, you two have a complicated history. But that doesn’t have to be forever! I was thinking that maybe, while you’re here you could work on some things together? We do trust-building exercises, sing songs, and–”

Vox’s temper flared, his hypnotic eye swirling rapidly at the suggestion. How dare she! He wasn’t about to become one of the hotel’s redemption targets.

“I am not one of your fucking charity cases! I don’t need your pity!” he snarled, sparks of electrical discharge coursed along his frame as he snapped around and roughly grabbed Charlie by her collar.

“Hey Flatscreen, lay off Charlie will ya?” At Angel’s interjection, Vox froze and released her, stepping back sheepishly. Before he could apologize his throat seized up and he curled into himself with a harsh coughing fit.

“Mr. Vox, you don’t sound so good,” Charlie said, taking a tentative step towards him as he attempted to get the coughing under control. He weakly waved his hand to indicate that he was fine, which everyone ignored.

“Husk, can ya get the guy a water?” Angel called back towards the bar. After Husk slid a glass towards him, Angel sauntered over and placed the water beside him. “You don’t look so hot either.”

Vox only managed to nod his gratitude, gratefully accepting the water and taking a generous gulp.

“I-I’m fine,” Vox panted as the tickle in his throat subsided. While his breathing leveled out he realized that everyone was crowded around him. A flush of embarrassment crept up his screen, “Sorry Princess, I didn’t mean to–”

“No need to apologize Mr. Vox, you’ve been through a lot lately. Just get some rest and maybe, think about it?” Charlie smiled hopefully at him. There was that phrase again, think about it.

“Very well, but don’t count on it,” Vox said warningly. The princess’s eyes lit up and she proceeded to sob happily in Vaggie’s arms, who he hadn’t realized had probably seen everything. Jesus, was he getting soft? This was the second time he considered Charlie’s suggestion.

Her insistence on having him stay was kind of touching. Charlie had been the first one to show an ounce of compassion to him—the minute he stepped foot in the hotel.

Vaggie gently held Charlie, her wings encompassing both of them protectively. Between Husk and Angel and Vaggie and Charlie, it was a nice change of pace to see healthy relationships. Something he never thought would never be possible in Hell. The thought was merely a pipe dream and made his heart ache, along with the rest of his body.

“Anyways, uh thanks for everything Princess and again I’m–”

“You don’t have to call me that, Charlie works just fine!” Charlie said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Noted,” Vox cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve had a long day so I’m going to head to bed.”

“Callin’ it quits already?” Angel taunted, “Val always said you were a lightweight. Guess that applies to more than just your alcohol tolerance now.”

Vox paused halfway up the stairs, his hand resting on the rail. Normally he’d let a little barb like that slide off his back, but the constant jeering and insinuations that he was weak had knocked him down more than a peg or two. Plus, the mention of Val didn’t help. He turned to snipe back only for a familiar and unfortunate flickering in his head to derail his train of thought. Rather than embarrass himself again and have them all witness another outburst, the television demon continued to his destination, albeit more urgently than before.

As soon as the door shut behind him, he gasped as the irritation refused to be kept in check any longer. Vox barely managed to shove his arm in front of his face to hopefully muffle the sound as the sneezes barrelled out of him.

“hh’DTCHhieew! ehh’ZTTSHH!”

Vox moaned, dragging a face down his screen. When his sneezes started turning into doubles, triples, and more he knew it was only a matter of time. Why were they always so vicious too? Just as long as he didn’t start bursting light bulbs and shorting out electrical sockets, it would be fine, he would be fine.

He flopped face down onto the bed and passed out.

[snezario]

Power Outage; Vo/x

This took so much longer than I anticipated and I kind of got frustrated with it towards the end so it's not proofread at all. The scenario is based off an anon ask I got about a month ago.

Nursing a steaming mug of coffee, Vox plods his way down the spiral staircase from his penthouse. He drags a tired hand down his screen as he stands in front of the door to the room he had been heading towards. It looked plainer than he remembered it. Best get to it. He wraps his hand around the doorknob and enters the room.

The motion sensors detect his presence immediately (at least those were still working) and the overhead light flickers on to illuminate the mess of an office–files scattered along the floor, various colored sticky notes on the desk, and an outdated computer. He squints at the harshness of the fluorescent lighting. After his screen adjusts to the lighting, he places his mug down on a free spot on the messy desk and surveys the room.

It had really been some time since he spent time in his private office, rather than in front of his multitude of screens. Especially after upgrading his personal hardware and software, he didn’t see the need to be down here anymore. 

He had to be very careful moving shit around with the amount of dust coating all the surfaces. Vox mentally berates himself, closing any unnecessary vents. Why oh why did he not send his personal assistant to grab the file? Gingerly sifting through the folders, he lets out a frustrated sigh. Of course, he wouldn’t have left out a file of this importance just strewn amongst these mundane ones.

Vox gazes around the room, thoughtfully tapping his clawed fingers along the bottom of the screen. His gaze finally falls upon a dingy metal cabinet, with a stack of folders perched on top, nestled in the far corner of the room. Bingo. The television demon saunters over to it and reaches to grab the drawer handle, frowning when it doesn’t open immediately. He grunts as he tugs harder on the handle but the drawer won’t budge. His eyebrows knit together after he gives  a couple more forceful pulls.

Sighing when his efforts prove fruitless, he crosses his arms in front of his chest as he glares at the stubborn storage container. Does he even really need it? He has half a mind to give up the venture and get back to preparing for tonight’s broadcast. No, he came all the way down here to fetch the file and he’s not about to leave the room without it.

Marching back over to the cabinet, he rolls up his sleeves and grasps the handle with both hands, one leg against the cabinet and one anchored to the floor. Put your back into it you prissy fuck! Vox grits his teeth as he yanks the handle with a truly unnecessary amount of force. Aha! The drawer squeaks as it finally gives way, a grating sound to Vox’s audio system but he’s grateful because it indicates to him the sweet, sweet sound of success.

However, Vox’s triumph is short-lived. His eyes widen with excitement that quickly devolves into horror as the cabinet drawer finally bursts open and the tower of folders on top of it teeters dangerously before toppling over. It all happens faster than he can react and before he knows it, the whole stack of dust-laden folders smacks him in his face. Shitshitshit.

Vox swallows uncomfortably watching the dust motes swirling in front of him as a result of the commotion. He really was beginning to regret coming down here. That’s what he gets for neglecting to assign cleaning staff to this office, despite not having used it in several years.

It was just a bit of dust, no biggie. Or so he thought all those years ago when he first found himself in the chaotic realm of Hell. Turns out that he and dust don’t really mix. He learned the hard way that despite the excitement and power that came with his abilities, they tended to go haywire at a time like this—as in, he had no control over them whatsoever when he sneezed but especially when he suffered from an allergic reaction.

The delicate skittering across his internal wiring is becoming harder to ignore. He’s pretty certain he’s overthinking it but it feels like someone blew dust directly into his vents because of how itchy it feels back there. At this point it won’t be long before–hh! Vox feels his screen glitch which accompanies the breathy hitch that spells the end of days. Without an actual nose, he can’t really quell the tickle either and no amount of holding back ever did him any good. After a few more decidedly desperate gasps, Vox snaps forward.

“hh–hhZZSHHH! ih…ihh? H-hell… ihh’ZCHH’uh! ”

Vox groans after the outburst, slumping in the desk chair as he scrubs at his screen. The tickling feeling is quite literally beyond his reach, given that the sensation is rooted in his internal wiring. Sure he could try and get back there but what exactly would he be able to do. There was also a high likelihood that he would damage something vital. Especially with how persistent the tickle is. What made it worse was he could never stop at just one, it always had to be at least two or three minimum.

“ehh'ZZTCHHhiew! hihh'TSHHH’uh! hhKTSHH! Guh…” Vox pants, hunched over in the chair as the trio of sneezes leaves him winded. His reprieve is short-lived as a shaky inhale escapes his throat, and he finds himself pitching into his elbow as the sensation peaks again, “ih…ih’DTSSHhhuh! hh’Z̶̨̛̙͙̱̤̰͋̊̋́͊̓Z̷̬̞̦͕̦̃̃̆̿̊̃͌̐̅̍͊͐̒̑̚Ş̷̧͍̺̯̘̱̯̱̈͛͑̔͐̋̊͝H̷̡̦̤̘͓͓͓͎̳͉͎̘̒H̶̹̼̣̦̍H̸̠̞̹̻̘̗͉̼͍̄́́̕hiew!”

He frowns when sparks shower him as the overhead light fixtures burst, engulfing him in darkness. It’s only momentary, as the emergency lights kick in. A warm yellow glow fills the room since these lights utilize an older type of lightbulb, but Vox isn’t sure they’re exactly protected from his involuntary outbursts.

The television demon jumps as Velvette slams open the door. He hazards a glance at his business partner while avoiding eye contact. She is positively fuming. He’s actually surprised she knew he was her, given that she wasn’t around when he even used this office.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Velvette?” Vox flashes her a sharp grin and tries to keep his voice level while he plays dumb.

“Oh piss off! You know exactly why I’m here, Vox,” the social media Overlord snaps at him, her hands on her hips.“The ceiling lights in my department flickered a bit, which isn’t usually cause for concern. But a couple minutes later it happened again and then the whole fucking floor lost power. We were going to reroute power from the floor above but it looks like that’s out too. Care to explain yourself?” She taps her foot rapidly as she waits for him to make up an excuse. 

“N-nothing you can’t h–hh!–andle,” Vox tries to dismiss her concern with a wave of his hand. Velvette’s eyes narrow at the audible hitch in his voice, which he had hoped would have gone unnoticed.

“I swear to fuck, if you blow out the power on another floor–” Velvette warns him as Vox visibly struggles to keep a lid on the feathering in his head. He chuckles nervously, taking in Velvette's imposing demeanor. He really didn’t want to get into it with Velvette. Due to her smaller stature between the Vees, Val was a fucking bememoth of a demon as it was, Sinners tended to dismiss her. A huge mistake on their part, she was the youngest Overlord for a reason, which is why Vox had taken her under his wing as she began acquiring power.

He presses a hand to the back of his head, against the vent that’s been giving him the most trouble. A futile attempt of course, as the irritation in question is far deeper in his components.

“ihh'TZZSHh! Fhh–ucck me… hh’DTCHhieew! hih’IZZSHuh! ehh’Z̴̠̮͛̓̃̾͂D̴̞̳̕Ṱ̵̬̭͉̒̾C̸̘̠̥̝͓͌̊̎͝͝C̷͖̫͚̫̩̈́Ḣ̸̥̮͝Ȟ̴̡͇͚̟̈̓̂͝!”

The lights in the office momentarily dim but remain intact. Small victories. On the floor immediately above them, Vox can hear a cacophony of sounds–no doubt caused by his latest fit. Vox pinches the middle of his screen where the bridge of his nose would have been. Never before did he want a nose as much as he did right now. At least he knew how to deal with it, but this was something else.

“THAT’S IT!”

Vox’s pupils shrink as the younger Overlord stomps over to him.

“N-now, Velvette let’s take a moment–” The television demon stammers, his screen glitching slightly, as she swiftly crosses the room. The expression on her face is beyond annoyance now. She backs him into a corner of the room. Despite being a whole head shorter than him, Vox shrinks under her glare as she looms over him menacingly. The intense magenta glow of her eyes are the last thing he sees before everything goes dark.

Valentino looks up lazily from the show he was watching as Velvette slams open his door. His gaze tracking her trajectory as she trudges past him to flop on the couch beside him with an exasperated sigh. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, before nonchalantly blowing the ruby colored smoke into the air. “Seems like you got Vox under control.”

Velvette scoffs and rolls her eyes, before returning her gaze back to her phone, which she is simultaneously posting on her Sinstagram, ordering the two of them takeout, and texting 3 other sinners. “No thanks to you. But I couldn’t have him short-circuiting and causing another city-wide blackout.”

“So… what happened?”

“I just knocked him out,” Velvette says in a very matter-of-fact tone.

“With a sedative?” Valentino raises an inquisitive brow.

“Something along those lines,” Velvette finally looks up from her phone and smirks mischievously at Valentino, whose eyes widen at her coy response.

“Crisis averted, I suppose. I have a couple of whores already tending to repairs on the affected floors.” Valentino shrugs and goes back to scrolling on his phone.

[snezario]

Catch Me I'm Falling (Part 4); Vo/x

WOW. okay! honestly, i wasn't sure i was ever going to get around to finishing this installment and i did not proofread the latter half at all. at this point, i don't think i will be able to finish, mostly because of how burned out i am from work. that being said, i'm not entirely closed off to the idea of finishing because it really has been a labor of love and i do like what i had planned.

i don't know how coherent this is but it is what it is. also fair warning, this installment delves into the shippy stuff. i hope it's not too OOO but i rly wanted to subvert certain fandom/ship tropes abt them.

That evening, Alastor laid in bed staring at the ceiling. His mind was restless, he had been struggling to fall asleep for the better part of the past hour. He kept finding himself ruminating on his interaction with Vox from earlier that day–continuing to be perplexed by the whole ordeal, from his own actions to Vox’s fever-induced delirium.

When he finally drifted off, his last thought was of Vox. Most nights his sleep was a bit restless but typically dreamless. However, Vox stepping back into the picture seemed to have disrupted his subconscious. He shielded his eyes as a camera flash went off, finding himself in the midst of a vibrant and upscale social gathering.

Elegant chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, illuminating what appeared to be a spacious ballroom. From across the room he saw Vox, sporting his old unwieldy television monitor and donning a sleek navy suit. The television demon was conversing with someone, before he abruptly looked up and met Alastor’s gaze with an eager grin.

As Alastor tried to approach him, the bystanders twisted into shadows, not unlike those that he was capable of summoning. They whispered taunts and insults that became louder as they circled around him, blocking his way to Vox. Before long, darkness completely engulfed him.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed but the next thing he knew, he found himself in a dimly lit room, rain pelting the roof above him. Vox was standing in the doorway, again with his boxy monitor for a head. This time the expression on his face was starkly different from before. He was absolutely livid but there was an undercurrent of melancholy and desperation, tears welling at the corner of his eyes. As Alastor gazed at the other demon, a peculiar feeling started to bubble up within him. He couldn’t exactly place the feeling but one thing he was certain about - it was unsettling.

They continued to stare each other down, both of them frozen in place; although now he sensed the feeling evolving. He still had yet to figure out exactly what it was but it was definitely increasing in complexity and intensity. Before Alastor could say anything he jolted awake, his chest heaving up and down rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. There were beads of sweat along his hairline, which he quickly wiped away.

What was that? The nightmares seemed vaguely familiar, almost like long-forgotten, deeply buried memories. Preposterous! He shook his head as he dismissed the thought. Yes, he and Vox had a business partnership before but that’s all it ever was. Alastor didn’t regret how things turned out–the dissolution of their association was inevitable, they were always diametrically opposed. He certainly never felt a shred of anything beyond that. Never.

After taking a few measured breaths to get his heart rate under control, he glanced at the antique grandfather clock on the wall adjacent to him. It was already half past seven, a bit later than when he usually started the day.

It was probably best to check-in on Vox before he went on with his day. Alastor adjusted his tie in the mirror before slipping into the shadows.

“Ah you’re up!” Alastor remarked as he rematerialized in Vox’s room.

“Motherfucker–will you stop doing that?” Vox swore loudly, tripping backwards as Alastor fully re-formed, his shadow wearing the same sinister grin before appearing to laugh at having startled Vox. The television demon straightened out his hat with a huff, which had become askew, before fixing his intruder with a steely glare, who grinned back at him, nonplussed.

“What do you want now Alastor,” Vox glowered, folding his arms in front of his chest and trying to disregard the faint but annoying fluttering at the back of his head.

“I see you’re still ill-tempered as always.”

“And I see you’re sti–ihh! ihhHH!–” Vox’s retort was cut short as his breath caught. As much as he would have liked to push through the interruption, he knew his body would not give that kind of mercy. He at least had the good sense to cover as he forcefully pitched forward with the irritation that refused to be ignored.

“ihh’DZZSHHH! ehh… ehhHKTZZSHhiew!”

“Gesundheit. Emphasis on the ill,” Alastor added with a smirk, the contempt in his tone did not pass Vox by. Despite his frustratingly persistent grin, Alastor’s disgust was apparent– a painful reminder of the Overlord’s distaste towards himself, which seemed to have been increased ten-fold by his current health condition.

Vox sniffled damply as he straightened up, a faint blush to his screen’s usual blue hue. He grimaced–there was still a hint of irritation skittering along his circuitry.

“Can’t I just drop in on an old pal?”

“Ha yeah right,” Vox snorted, “I know you have some ulterior motive, so just gehh… gehhht–ehh’DSHHhuu! ISHHhieew!”

Vox groaned as he uncurled himself from the crook of his elbow. He saw that Alastor maintained his haughty demeanor. Well if he insisted on sticking around and refused to divulge anything further, Vox might as well try to get something from him.

“Snf! Fine, whatever. Are we ever going to talk about our deal?”

“I suppose so,” Alastor hummed, casually flicking off a loose thread from his suit, “As I promised before, I’ll help you get back into good graces with your former colleagues and you can go back to swindling sinners in no time–”

“Yes, I already know that. Skip to the end old timer,” Vox snapped, although the congestion reduced the biting quality of his interjection.

Alastor narrowed his eyes at the interruption but continued, the displeasure bleeding into his words, “Oho, how could I forget? Patience was never your strong suit. Anyways, once that’s all in order, all I ask from you is to borrow your power for a day.”

Wait what? Vox blinked rapidly, his brow furrowed as he slowly processed what Alastor said. He said so blasé as if he were merely commenting on the weather. It wasn’t uncommon for an Overlord to absorb another’s power after usurping them but borrowing it? That was unheard of. Could it even be done?

“Yes, it can,” Alastor said, reading his mind, the smug prick.

Vox scowled, placing his hands on his hips, “Okay well, if you know so much about this, please do enlighten me.”

Alastor shrugged, “There really isn’t much to tell, my dear. It’s quite simple really, it’s similar to owning another’s soul but without the immutable contract. And as soon as the day is over, your power will be reinstated. You’ll hardly notice it was gone in the first place!”

The crimson pinstriped demon continued to smile at him creepily, waiting for his response. Vox opened his mouth to inquire further, when he felt another distant but telltale tickle. Alastor’s ears flicked back when Vox inhaled sharply, his eyes watering as he tried to fight the urge. He brought a closed fist to the middle of his screen, an old habit.

“Again?”

Vox rolled his eyes, which was not an easy feat to do when his body was preoccupied with a decidedly urgent need. He brought a quivering fist to his screen as his breath caught in his throat. Why he attempted to speak was beyond him.

“Ihht’s not like I’m–hh! doing it…hhHH! ihhh? fuck–purpose.”

Stuck in an embarrassing and vulnerable position, Vox sniffled after another precarious hitch before dissolving into a frustrated bout of coughing when the sneeze failed to manifest. He scrubbed the back of his hand against his screen, knowing full well he would not be able to rid himself of the fuzzy tickle in his head, despite his best effort.

Alastor, who had previously looked expectant, was now regarding him with what was undoubtedly contempt, mixed with exasperation. He rolled his eyes when Vox stalls on the precipice of another sneeze.

“Must I do everything around here?” Alastor muttered before flicking out his hand towards Vox. 

“What are yo–”

Startled by the sudden movement, Vox flinched. The virus ravaging through his system made certain systems more susceptible, so Alastor when lightly dragged a claw along his sensitive vents the irritation swelled as it reached the threshold. His body provided no warning before he snapped forward with the release he had so desperately craved.

“ehHZTSHH’uhh! hh’KZZSHH! Oh fuhhck–ihh’ZZSHHhiew! ISHHuu!”

“Goodness, a trifle sensitive are we?” Alastor commented looking up briefly at the flickering light fixture on the ceiling before he narrowly sidestepped the bolt of electricity that shot out from Vox in his direction.

Vox lifted his head a fraction during a brief reprieve and barely managed to catch Alastor’s comment. He opened his mouth but wasn’t able to complete his snarky reply, as a hazy expression clouded his face and he jerked forward again.

“ihhh’DZZTSSH! ehhH…ehh’TSHHHhiew! snfsnf! hh’ZSHHh!”

While he didn’t see it, he heard the lightbulb from a nearby lamp burst. Vox cringed internally, hoping that losing control of his powers wasn’t affecting the rest of the hotel. He heard another snide exclamation from Alastor, but wasn’t able to comprehend any of it.

He collapsed in on himself as he attempted to fight the sensation and avoid a power outage to the hotel.

“NNGXXT! eh’GNXXTCHh!”

“Ah-ah, don’t do that. I’m afraid you might short circuit holding them in like that,” Alastor chided him.

As if to punish him for his act of defiance, Vox gasped before bending over with four rapid-fire sneezes, each one just as vicious as the previous one.

“ehHH’KZZTSH! ihhDTSHHHuhh! ISHHHhiew! hehKTSHHuu!”

After that disgusting and frankly embarrassing display, Vox felt like his body was finally content with the release. Jesus fucking Christ that was intense. Cracking open an eye, Vox was startled to see a handkerchief obscuring his vision. For once he was grateful for Alastor’s old-fashioned tendencies. Without looking at him, he accepted the extended cloth, immediately proceeding to bury his face in it.

“Would it have hurt you to give me just a little warning?” Vox muttered congestedly from behind the handkerchief, hoping that it also provided a visual barrier to his embarrassment.

“But that wouldn’t be fun at all would it?”

Vox’s mouth formed into an annoyed frown while a spark of electricity bounced between his antennae. Of course! What was his purpose if not to serve as Alastor’s entertainment? As Vox dabbed his vents, a thought crossed his mind. He side-eyed the radio demon, lowering the cloth.

"Why didn't you make it a soul deal?" The question slipped out of his mouth before he could think twice.

Alastor blinked, looking slightly taken aback at Vox’s question. He hummed thoughtfully, taking a second to think before answering.

"It is simply unnecessary for what I need from you."

“Sure… I bet mine was too powerful for you to handle,” Vox ribbed stuffily, elbowing him playfully.

Alastor rolled his eyes but surprisingly didn’t flinch away from the contact, “Nonsense. I see you’re also still as arrogant as ever.”

Vox narrowed his eyes, unconvinced but he let the matter drop. Truthfully, Alastor needed Vox's soul “free” so to speak. Having him locked into any contracts would make things complicated but he didn't need to know that.

“I must be off but why don’t we agree to meet this evening, half past six. Ta-ta for now and don’t be late,” Alastor’s demon form flashed as he warned Vox of being tardy before slipping into the shadows.

Vox pushed the door open and peeked his head in. No radio demon. Tapping his foot impatiently on the floor he contemplated his next plan of action. He could wander the halls and try to locate Alastor on his own but that sounded exhausting and he really wasn’t in any state to exert himself more than it had already been through the past few days. On the other hand if he got lost and kept Alastor waiting, he would most likely be chastised ‘Punctuality was never your strong suit and it would seem that is still the case.’ He bristled at the thought.

Perhaps it was better for him to just wait for Alastor here. Walking towards the center of the room he marveled at the eccentricity of it. The bayou section was kind of calming but still mildly disturbing.

Before Vox could explore further, he felt an all-too-familiar prickling at the back of his head that caused him to stop in his tracks. He sighed internally, he should have come to expect it now. As he uselessly scrubbed his wrist against his screen, an urgent gasp escaped his lips as the sensation grew.

“Fuhhck, not ag-hhehH! hehH’KZSHH! ihhDSHHiew! ehh?...ehh’Ẕ̴̡̱̮͙̱̞̇̈́̓̈̏͌̑̐̈́͠Ẑ̶̰̰͈T̷̨̙̮̱̰̗̪̫̮̍́͑̆̈́͑̈́͗̀̂̚͜Ĉ̴͙̣̆̾͌̾̿̚H̶̪̪͍̙͍̮̓́͌̔͘H̴̨̢͉̗͕͊̈́́͋͝͝huuu!

The last sneeze sent him stumbling backwards into one of the bookcases, knocking over several of Alastor’s knick knacks in the process. Fuckfuckfuck, he did not want Alastor thinking he was poking around his room.

When he finally regained his footing, Vox hastily began to put everything back in place before Alastor returned. As he started to adjust the placement of the last object he paused, feeling drawn to it. It was the picture frame that Alastor’s shadow wouldn’t let him get a good look at that night they made the deal. He removed it from the shelf and his eyes widened as examined the photograph nestled inside.

The sepia-tinted photo scrap, the ragged edge on one side, it was unmistakable. The only picture he ever managed to get Alastor to pose for.

No. Fucking. Way. Alastor actually kept it?

Gently tracing a claw along the glass separating the image from the outside world, Vox stared at his older self–the old unwieldy CRT tv screen for a head he had jarringly woken up in Hell with and the pale mustard turtleneck that he had been so fond of. He had kept the half with Alastor, who was as timeless as ever, looked almost exactly as he did in the present. It was buried at the bottom of one of his drawers and although he hadn’t looked at it in years, he never had the heart to get rid of it for good.

He gripped the frame tighter as the memory flooded his mind.

Vox beamed as he stepped into the spacious foyer where the annual Overlord gala was being held that evening. The marble floors glistened, crystal chandeliers above the guests twinkled, refracting the warm lighting throughout the space. It was everything he could ever have dreamed of. He glanced around, scanning for a familiar face amongst the sea of guests. He and Alastor agreed to meet at the gala rather than arrive together because according to Al, he

“Oh Vox, we are delighted to have you join us in the ranks of Overlords.”

Vox turned around at the sound of Carmilla Carmine’s voice. She approached him adorned in a chic black and white cocktail dress, Zestial at her side. His eyes widened, he shouldn’t have been so taken aback to see them but since becoming an Overlord he hadn’t hadn’t actually had much time to speak with any of the other Overlords let alone the legends themselves, Carmilla Carmine and Zestial.

“C-Car-Carmilla and Zestial,” Vox stammered as he fiddled with his bowtie, which seemed tighter than he remembered putting it on. He vigorously shook each of their hands, “A pleasure to meet you both in the flesh.”

“The pleasure is all ours. We just wanted to extend our hospitality and ensure that you are properly enjoying yourself,” Carmilla said with a rare grin.

“Your generosity is deeply appreciated. It really is an honor to be here, amongst you all. I couldn’t have done it without the support of my business partner, Alastor,” Vox responded enthusiastically and tried to fix them with his most charismatic smile but it felt unusually awkward and stilted.

“Where is your business partner? I heard you two were inseparable.”

Vox felt his screen heat up at Carmilla’s comment. He laughed self-consciously before whipping his head side-to-side as he tried to locate the famed radio demon.

“Ah well he should be here. We spoke about it yesterday. Alastor–”

“Oh dear, are my ears burning?”

At the sound of the familiar radio-filtered voice, Vox’s smile softened and the pit of anxiety in his stomach dissipated instantly. He turned in the direction that the voice came from to see Alastor right next to him. Jesus, he was going to give Vox a heart attack one day. Even though he looked exactly as he always did, Vox swore he seemed to exude a touch of radiance that he had never sensed from him before.

“Ah Vox, I see you’ve met Carmilla and Zestial. Now tell me, what gossip have I intruded upon?” Alastor asked brightly with his ever-present grin. Vox occasionally wondered if he ever got tired of smiling all the time.

“Alastor,” Carmilla nodded in acknowledgement, “We were just congratulating your friend on his new title.”

Vox had to bite back his surprise at Carmilla referring to him as Alastor’s friend. He was always quick to correct people when they made the assumption that they were nothing more than business partners. He studied Alastor’s face after she said it, but his expression remained neutral and to Vox’s astonishment he didn’t correct the weapons dealer.

“Right, well don’t let me get in the way of such scintillating conversation,” Alastor said breezily, as he made eye contact with Rosie. He dipped his head a fraction, turning back slightly towards Vox as he spoke, “Do join us when you’re finished, hm?”

Before Vox could ask him to stay, he was already halfway to the cannibal Overlord, leaving Vox feeling slightly awkward. He grinned sheepishly at Carmilla and Zestiall and shrugged.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind, Vox was constantly being congratulated or introduced to other influential demons. None of which he had any qualms about, but he was starting to feel just a little weary when he vaguely heard someone ask him about Alastor.

Actually, Vox hadn’t seen him since he’d first arrived and realized that he had been so wrapped up in the glitz and glamor of it all that he had forgotten to link back up with Alastor…  He scanned the ballroom until his eyes fell on a scarlet demon in a similarly colored, pinstriped suit. He nodded curtly and excused himself from the present conversation, not that he had been paying much attention for a while.

“And here I was telling Rosie, you’d blown us off,” Alastor hummed as Vox pushed his way through the crowd to the table where he and Rosie were occupying. The radio demon looked understandably perturbed, but Rosie flashed him a sympathetic smile. Vox felt a flush creep up his screen.

“Sorry, I got a little distracted with everything–”

“Excuses, excuses…” Alastor chastised him mildly. Snapping his staff back into existence as he stood, he nodded at Rosie, “A pleasure as always, my dear, but it’s about time we head out for the evening.”

Vox trailed behind him, feeling guilty for forgetting about Alastor during the gala. He held Alastor in such high regard that the palpable disappointment weighed on him more than he’d like to admit. As they made their way across the floor, Vox heard his name being called and he turned around to see a photographer looking at him eagerly.

“Mr. Vox! Would you and Alastor mind posing for a picture for the–”

“I’m afraid not,” Alastor replied snippily, continuing to head to the exit, “We were just on our way out, if you’ll excu–”

“Come on Al, just one picture! It’s the least you could do,” Vox whined playfully as he dragged Alastor back, an action which earned him a look of displeasure and an irritated radio wave pulse through their shared connection. But Alastor compiled, rolling his eyes as the photographer lined up the shot.

Vox beamed as the flash went off, basking in the exhilarating energy of the social gathering. If he could relive any moment in the afterlife over and over again, it would be this one.

“There. Satisfied?” Alastor said tersely, fiddling with his cufflinks–a behavior that he did when he was anxious or distracted. It didn’t happen often and Alastor was too prideful to ever admit it, but Vox knew otherwise. He downed the rest of his champagne and thanked the photographer before turning his attention back to his business partner.

“Oh come on, Al. It wasn’t that bad,” Vox responded exasperatedly, before linking his arm with Alastor’s. His pulse quickened as he turned his head to ask Alastor something that had been on his mind for a while–

“And here I thought you got it all out of your system.”

Shit!

Vox fumbled with the photo, he had been so absorbed in nostalgia that he didn’t hear Alastor approach. So much for avoiding detection. “Al! I-I was looking for you–”

“Yes, I am aware. Apologies for my tardiness but unfortunately, we will have to cancel today’s plans. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to,” Alastor cut him off and stepped into his room.

As Alastor stepped into a more illuminated position, he could now see that Alastor’s smile was overly taut and he stood with an unusual stiffness. Again, he wouldn’t say he was a radio demon whisperer, but being in his presence again seemed to have re-awakened a few of the subtleties he used to be able to clock with ease.

“Is… is something wrong?”

“Aha! No! Whatever gave you that ridiculous idea?”

Vox’s mouth flattened into a thin line. He thought they had moved past all this. It wasn’t perfect by any means but their relationship hadn’t been as antagonistic as it was a few days ago. Vox sighed as Alastor continued to grin patronizingly at him. He was a fool to think that his former business partner was remotely capable of even thinking about dropping the mask or showing an ounce of humanity. In fact, Vox doubted Alastor had any in his human life.

“No wonder you ran away after the fight with Adam, you were always too pussy to face anything head on,” Vox muttered bitterly under his breath.

When Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously Vox realized he struck a nerve. In a split second, the radio demon was up in his space, towering over him in his partial demon form with several shadowy tentacles raised behind him.

“I will not tolerate your continued impudence and attempts to undermine me!”

Despite every warning bell going off in his head, Vox stood his ground. 

“I wouldn’t need to if you just let down your guard for once,” he countered, puffing out his chest defiantly. Boy he wasn’t just walking a fine line, he was throwing all caution to the wind and stomping on it like it was nothing. Furthermore, he stepped towards Alastor with such brash confidence he almost thought someone else was controlling him.

Vox saw Alastor’s lips moving but the increased radio distortion made it difficult to hear, let alone to understand what Alastor was saying. A tentacle forcefully shoved Vox against the wall, while the radio demon stared at him menacingly.

Although Vox hadn’t understood a word Alastor had said in the past thirty seconds, his intentions were clear.

Vox closed his eyes and braced himself for the inevitable shadow tentacle to smack him to the floor or asphyxiate him. Except it never came. After a few tense heartbeats he decided to hazard a peek. To his surprise, he opened his eyes to find Alastor pressed up against him. No, not just that  his mouth was on Vox’s mouth. After a moment’s hesitation, he leaned into the kiss, his eyes closing once again.

[snezario]

Haz/bin Hot/el V/ox Headcanons

a collection of Thoughts by your fellow television demon enthusiasts, me & @stormyweaver

Different malware/viruses affect him differently. Some can cause cold symptoms, other flu, some mono, etc. Some just simply make him itchy and sneeze and he absolutely HATES IT BC THOSE ARE THE EASIEST TO CATCH

He doesn't have a nose/sinuses so it's just this all-encompassing sensation stuck in his head and he can rarely ever sneeze once and be done with it because it's just THAT intense of a feeling. He's at least gotta get two out before feeling any sort of relief.

Electronics and rain/water do not mix, if he's ever caught out in a storm he shortcircuits, which lowers his immune system (?) and makes him prone to catching a cold

His air filtration system for overheating is essential but if something gets in there and mucks it up, he's done

Allergies: dust (oh man do you know how much dust my pc tower collects? this is prime pickings my dudes), cats/animal fur (the hair gets trapped in his vents and it's game over for him)

When he first manifested, he didn't know that he could even sneeze in his new form until he came into contact with an allergen, which was a Disastorous event and memory he'd like to forget

Can lose control of his electro-teleporting abilities, especially if the sneezes sneak up on him or during extended fits

His sneezes have an effect on electronics and electronically-powered things - from lights flickering out to complete building power outages

Val and Vel have a nickname for him "Sparky" (that he hates ofc) because he has the tendency to give off sparks during particularly intense fits

Definitely one of those workaholic CEO types that would try to ignore/work through the beginnings of illness until the point of collapse

Building off the last HC, he would also be one to squirrel away in his office and avoid interacting with anyone when he's ill, probably the only time he's away from the multitude of screens

Downright terrible patient - will be in denial for as long as he can get away with it and hates being coddled when he's found out

I also LOVE the idea that Alastor is able to set him off with radio wave manipulation

[snezario]

Closet Conundrum; Vo/x

Back again with more television demon. I am down SO bad for this flat faced prince it's embarrassing. This was written for my dear friend @stormyweaver's birthday (which is today at the day of posting this, go wish them a happy birthday pls!!).

As the Overlords are filing out of the conference room, in the corner of his vision, Alastor notices Vox lagging behind before slipping into the shadows of a darkened corridor and heading back towards Carmilla Carmine’s office. His crimson eyes narrow before taking on a mischievous glint. A sly smile also follows.

“Well, that’s interesting!”

Although sending one of Pentious’s Egg Bois was convenient the last time he had someone trailed. It would be much more fun if he did it himself, considering that the person he was following was Vox. He sinks into the shadows to tail his so-called rival. As Alastor watches from the darkness, he catches a glimpse of the flat screened demon sliding into a partially open closet right outside the office.

“Oho! Spying on the other Overlords after your little failure at the Hazbin Hotel.”

Vox stumbles back in surprise as Alastor manifests next to him with a soft fwoop! bumping into the closet shelves, barely managing to balance the supplies before they topple over onto the floor and expose him, and presumably Alastor. He tries to quickly recover his composure after being startled and his shocked expression immediately morphs into one of annoyance as evidenced by the spark zipping between his antennae.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Get. Out.” he hisses and tries to push Alastor away from him. A very futile attempt due to the lack of unoccupied space in the closet.

“I thought I’d drop by and see how my dear old pal Vox was doing.” Alastor responds brightly and a bit loudly.

“Is someone there?” Carmilla’s voice drifts into the hallway, her tone suspicious. Vox and Alastor freeze in place in the supply closet, both holding their breath. Not that the two can see from their position, but she pokes her head out and looks around before giving a shrug and returning to her conversation with Zestial. Vox exhales and whips around to snap at Alastor.

“You better shut your old-timey mouth,” Vox’s eye spirals as he growls and slaps a clawed hand over Alastor’s mouth.

“I’d like to see you try.” Alastor pries Vox’s hand off his face and shoots back threateningly, his hackles raised at Vox’s audacity to lay a hand on him. The menacing tone and intimidating flash of the radio demon’s eyes is enough to make Vox back down. He knows better than to pick a fight with Alastor especially without the support of Val and Vel.

The radio demon is quite literally up in his personal space, not that there’s much room to begin with, but it’s not like Vox planned to have company while eavesdropping on Carmilla and Zestial’s post-meeting conversation. The rouge glow from Alastor’s eyes illuminates the near-pitch black closet and highlights how cramped the supply closet is. Not to mention the notes of dust floating in the air around them that were stirred up by Alastor’s intrusion.

Vox can already feel the dust particles swirling around in his vents, tickling and teasing their way along his internal structure. He’s always been a bit sensitive to dust, not like a full blown allergy, but enough of an inconvenience that he typically kept his living and workspaces dust-free. He did not want a repeat of the last time he neglected to have attentive cleaning staff, cringing at the memory of the whole incident. Needless to say, they had to cancel the night’s broadcast and there were quite a few floors worth of electronics that needed to be replaced. Neither of which ‘backbone of the Vees’ Velvette was particularly thrilled with.

Vox squirms slightly as the dust settles more deeply into his vents, delicately brushing up against his wiring like a thousand tiny feathers, threatening to—hh! Fuck. He’d been doing a decent job of keeping a lid on the sensation, but it seems like that one hitch just opened the floodgates. His screen glitches when he hitches again, drawing Alastor’s attention. The other Overlord looks at him curiously, trying to make sense of the spectacle in front of him.

Vox presses a shivering fist to his screen to try and tame the sensation, his eyes flutter, as he tries to suppress another hitch. Realization dawns on Alastor and his initial bewildered expression is quickly replaced by a more cavalier one. The knowing smirk that Alastor now has plastered on his face is positively infuriating and makes Vox want to wipe the smug expression off with an open-handed smack, but he can’t really do anything about that at the moment given his current predicament.

“Is something the matter?” Alastor feigns interest in his hands, although the broad grin on his face indicates how delighted he is to have front-row seats to Vox’s apparent struggle.

“Ihh.. I cahh-n’t—” Vox teeters on the edge, desperation crackles in his strained voice.

Before the television Overlord can say or do anything else, Alastor presses a clawed finger hard against Vox’s vents. The VoxTek CEO resists the impulse to immediately pull away from him since it’s actually… keeping the outburst at bay. He relaxes a little as the sensation abates, which Alastor notices as well and drops his hand.

This turns out to be a crucial mistake, as the tickling sensation surges back with a vengeance. Vox sharply inhales and tries to turn away from Alastor as much as he can, which given the confines of their location is not much. He crushes a hand to his face to try and contain the sound.

“ihh’ZSCHHT! eh’ZDTSCCH! ih.. hih’NZSCHHiew!”

Despite his best efforts, the final sneeze is a bit more audible than the other two. The intensity of it also has the unfortunate effect of causing Vox to snap forward and whack Alastor square in the chest, causing them both to tumble out the closet into the hallway. 

The two demons look up to see Carmilla and Zestial looming over them. Their expressions to be of the puzzled sort rather than outrage, to Vox’s and Alastor’s relief.

“Alastor? Vox? I thought we adjourned the meeting 20 minutes ago.” Carmilla trails off, tapping her fingers along her arm as she waits for an explanation.

“Aha, yes. Well I got a bit lost, as it’s been a while since I’ve been a frequent attendee of these little meetings of yours and Vox here was simply guiding me to the exit.”

The weapons dealer narrows her eyes at his excuse— she doesn’t look entirely convinced but she also doesn’t really care what Alastor does, never has and never will. “Right… Well, see yourselves out then.”

She turns around and pointedly shuts the door to her office. When the two are out of earshot, Vox shoves Alastor, not that hard but enough to annoy him.

“Asshole,” Vox snaps at him with a sniffle, swiping a hand across his screen (mostly out of habit). They walk in tense silence to the elevators before Alastor speaks up.

“Ta-ta! It is always so entertaining to catch up, my dear.” Alastor remarks over his shoulder, casting a mocking grin at Vox as he turns on his heel to depart, only to see the television Overlord flipping him off.

[snezario]

Catch Me I'm Falling (Part 3); Vo/x

dipping a bit into Ala/stor's POV. it's also been a while since i've written a fever-induced delirium scene so hopefully readable.

the next part will probably take a while because like i mentioned before, this fic is adapted from a vanilla fic and i used some scenes from it, but this one is diverging a lot now so i don't have anything already written to springboard off of

part 1 / part 2

Alastor sipped his coffee, it was lukewarm now, but the drink’s temperature was of not of much importance to him anyways. He mainly enjoyed the bitterness of it, so he always had it black and sneered at those who had the gall to add cream or sugar to it. checked his pocket watch again. Not that they had agreed on a specific time to meet today but Vox had yet to show up and it was almost noon. How much sleep did a television need anyways?

After waiting for another half hour, he sent his shadow to badger him into dropping by Alastor’s room again. However, when his shadow returned to him in under five minutes looking puzzled and with no silly picture box demon in tow, he decided to pay Vox a visit himself. He faded into the shadows and made his way to Vox’s room.

Rematerializing into the room, he rolled his eyes when he saw Vox facedown, splayed across the bed. He really should not have been surprised to find the Overlord still asleep and proceeded to prod the demon with his staff. When Vox didn’t stir, he approached the foot of the bed only to recoil at the heat radiating from him.

Did Vox always run this warm? He squinted at him suspiciously.

“I don’t have all day, you know,” Alastor said to the unconscious demon. Again he was met with silence. Fine, if Vox wanted to waste the day away by sleeping then so be it. He had other matters to attend to.

The radio demon turned to leave but hesitated, finding himself rooted to the spot. Despite his better judgment, Alastor slowly turned around. After a few seconds, he stepped towards him, looming over Vox’s motionless body. Now that he was closer, the temperature emanating from him was somewhat alarming. He knew more about modern technology than he tended to let on but he most certainly had no clue how to “fix” it.

But perhaps an “old-timey” remedy could prove helpful. With a snap of his fingers, an ice pack appeared in a flash of green light. He proceeded to place it on the back of Vox’s head. As he stared at him, Alastor debated the merits of staying. On one hand, it seemed like a waste of time, after all he had other things to do, more important he might add… but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to postpone his other engagements for a little while.

It had only been about fifteen minutes before Alastor heard Vox stirring. Finally. For just a second, he was afraid that–no, no, of course he wasn’t actually worried about the other demon, he just wanted to make sure that Vox would be able to hold up his end of the deal. Nothing more, nothing less.

Snapping the book he was reading shut, the radio demon approached the bedside once more. He leaned forward, putting his entire weight on the staff.

“It’s about time you… you–Vox?” Alastor trailed off and his brow furrowed when he realized that Vox was still asleep? At least that’s what he thought. Vox’s screen had switched on but it was glitching every couple of seconds and his face was contorted into a grimace.

“What’s going on in that absurd box of yours, hmm?” he murmured.

“Wait!” Vox’s unexpected outburst reverberated in the confines of the small hotel room, causing Alastor to shrink back, startled. Guess he was awake now?

“Well now–”

“Don’t go–” Vox pleaded. After the second outburst, Alastor looked over to see that the demon’s eyes were still closed. His ears flicked back in annoyance. Sleep talking wasn’t that uncommon, he mused and turned away.

“It doesn’t have to be this way! Please stay! We can work this out.”

Alastor stopped in his tracks, his ears pinned to his skull. He heard those words before. Not only that, but it was the tone and cadence with which Vox had said it.

“Alastor… please.” 

The utterance of his name hit him square in the chest, the corners of his smile dropped a fraction. His jaw clenched as the once buried memory glimmered to the surface of his mind, flashes of it coming to the forefront. Alastor forcefully shoved down the memory before it could fully manifest.

He waited to see if Vox was going to say anything else but the television Overlord merely whimpered and rolled onto his side. The ice pack flopped onto the floor. He already melted through it? Must be one hell of a fever. After a beat, Alastor conjured a second ice pack, a slightly larger this time, and snapped the other one out of existence.

Gently placing the new ice pack on his head, Alastor meandered back to the chair and pulled out a newspaper, silently waiting for the demon to awaken.

Lo and behold, his patience was rewarded, a mere two hours of his time.

With a sharp gasp, Vox sat up breathing laboriously, the ice pack sliding off his screen onto the bed, unnoticed. How long had he been out? He grimaced. His entire body ached, it felt like he’d been run over by a truck multiple times. Just as he was starting to become oriented to his surroundings, Vox’s breath caught. Because why wouldn’t it?

“Oh, for fuhh–ck, seriously?–ihh–ihh’KZZHHHhuu! hh…hh’DZTCHhiew! KTSSH! ihhZ̷͕̟̭̓̑̐͛̂͌̎̍̈́͆̔͘͝͝Z̸̖͇̜̝̈́̀̑̌T̵̢̛͉̩͈̓̈͆͑Ç̴̧̭̼͕͖͙̻̣̫̘͎͗͑͊̋͜͜H̸̛̺͋̉͆͗͒̈́͐͌̂͘͠!”

When the lights in his room flickered and one of the bulbs burst, Vox cringed and hoped that it was only his room that was affected. He gently pressed his index and middle fingers to his neck, the last couple really ripped their way out of throat, leaving it feeling terribly raw. There was no denying it now, somehow he managed to pick up a virus.

When it rained, it poured. To be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been ill, or well felt this horrible–from the incessant itch in his head, which also felt like it was filled with cement, to the overall malaise and achy feeling in his muscles. Considering everything that had been going on lately, it didn’t seem too far of a stretch for anti-virus software to malfunction, admittedly it picked a terribly inconvenient time to do so.

He could probably get away with locking himself in the room for the next couple of–

“My my, you really don’t do anything by halves.” Vox whipped his head around at the sound of Alastor’s voice. Bad idea. He squeezed his eyes shut as the room spun in a way that made him nauseous. When was the last time he even ate? When he opened his eyes, he could just make out Alastor perched on the chair in the dark corner of the room, the day’s newspaper in front of him.

“A-Alastor?” Vox croaked, cringing at the sound of his voice. He cleared his throat before continuing, “What are you doing here?” 

“In case you’ve forgotten, I live here,” Alastor reminded him lightly.

“You know what I mean,” Vox said flatly, muffling a rough sounding cough into his fist. Alastor opened his mouth, but closed it, looking puzzled. He couldn’t really pinpoint what prompted him to check on the television demon himself or what compelled him to stay but luckily Vox was overtaken by another bout of coughing so he could shift the focus away from himself.

“Goodness, you sound positively awful,” Alastor abruptly stood up from the chair, approaching Vox with a condescending smirk. He leaned on his staff, looking annoyingly expectant.

“I’m fine. Why do you care anyways?” Vox growled, swiping a hand across his screen. Also, was he just imagining it or did Alastor look a little…perturbed? He had come to recognize some of the radio demon’s eccentricities but the demon was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Aha, I don’t! I just thought it would be fun to confirm my suspicions about your little malady,” the demon exclaimed with a flourish of his staff. 

Fucking asshole.

As he shifted his weight on the bed, his hand grazed the melted ice pack, surprising him. Vox looked down at the object. He definitely did not remember falling asleep with that. As he reached out to pick it up, it disappeared in a cloud of smoke and green light. What was that all about? Then it dawned on him.

Vox slowly turned back towards Alastor. He couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice as he asked “Did… did you do that?”

Alastor looked askance around the room, appearing not to have heard him. And before Vox could stop himself he blurted out the question that had been on his mind since the conversation with Alastor on that first night.

“Do you ever think back to when we first met?” He said the whole sentence in one breath, the words bleeding into one another. Vox worried that the radio demon would simply ignore him again. Alastor tilted his head as he contemplated Vox’s question.

“You mean when you stalked me for weeks before finally plucking up the courage to approach myself and Mimzy at the speakeasy?”

Vox’s screen glowed pink. He had a suspicion that Alastor knew that he’d been tailing him for a while but the embarrassment was quickly replaced by shock. His pupils shrank, what was Alastor talking about? 

“Wait, I don’t remember–”

“Yes, well you were quite intoxicated so I would have been surprised if you did remember that. If I had as much to drink as you had that night, I would have not been able to stand, let alone dance like you did that night,” Alastor’s grin widened at the memory. Vox quickly turned away as the whir of his fans increased, trying to push down his escalating embarrassment. He touched the side of his screen–unfortunately for him, his older configuration didn’t have the memory capacity of his current model and that particular memory seemed to have been lost in the upgrade.

“I can only assume you’re referring to the evening you barged into my radio tower then.”

“I did no such thing,” Vox scoffed, although he couldn’t look Alastor in the eye. To be fair, he hadn’t “barged in” but the radio demon was not known for welcoming visitors of any kind. He merely invited himself over.

“I’m surprised you managed to climb all those stairs up to the booth, with that egregious head of yours,” Alastor said snidely.

His first encounter with Alastor was not a memory he could ever forget.

Alastor was just about wrapping his radio show, and despite showing up at the booth unannounced, Vox at least had the decency to knock on the door. He nearly short-circuited when the door flung open (almost hitting him in the face) and he found himself face-to-face with an understandably irritated radio demon, dark Eldritch tentacles bound him where he stood.

“To what displeasure do I owe this visit, you insolent miscreant?” Alastor snarled, his tentacles yanked Vox from the doorway until their faces were less than an inch away from each other.

“You might want to consider changing up your program,” he managed to breathe out as the tentacles threatened to cut off his oxygen entirely. As he was about to lose consciousness, he felt the tentacles’ grip loosen before he tumbled onto the floor. He coughed violently as his lungs lapped up the oxygen that they had been robbed of and shook his head trying to clear out the stars that were clouding his vision. When he looked up, Vox noticed that Alastor had reverted from his demonic form.

“Apologies, but it sounded like you were criticizing my radio show. I would skin you alive right here, if I weren’t marginally impressed by your brazenness,” Alastor said as he stood over Vox’s crumpled frame. 

“You’ve already captured everyone’s interest but you have to be able to maintain your audience,” Vox panted as he struggled to catch his breath, “Otherwise, people will move on to the next thing.”

“Oho and what do you know about entertaining an audience, my odd square-headed friend?” 

Vox smoothed down his shirt, stood up, and faced him. Huh, he was about Alastor’s height now that the radio demon had shrunk down to his usual form. “Well there’s this new thing on Earth, called television. It’s all the rage there. In fact, radio has already started to become irrelevant.”

“And what is this visit, you telling me to watch my back? That you are going to one-up me because you’re doing a fine job so far,” Alastor jeered. Vox took a deep breath and stood up straighter. This is why he came all this way. He couldn’t back down now.

“No, actually I had an idea. I believe that television and radio can work together, a mutually beneficial relationship.”

It was subtle but Vox caught the briefest expression of shock on Alastor’s face. They silently stared at each other for several seconds. Just as Vox thought he was able to become the next “guest” on Alastor’s show, he responded.

“Very well, let’s hear it,” he sat down in front of the panel of dials and switches before motioning for Vox to pull up a chair.

“You then proceeded to annoy every Overlord or demon that held an ounce of power,” Alastor said, abruptly cutting through the flashback.

“Oh fuck off, you liked that I was assertive, you liked where things were headed. I pushed the envelope in ways you never would have!” Vox shot back. Alastor’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t push back.

“I will admit that I did grow to value our alliance. At first, I merely agreed to your proposal because it seemed mildly entertaining. And when our combined efforts began to pay off and both our individual shows were thriving. So who was I to put an end to our success?”

Vox blinked, staring down at his hands while Alastor traced his fingers along the microphone part of his staff, which induced sharp feedback sounds that made Vox shudder. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost rueful.

“If things hadn’t gone south all those years ago, perhaps… matters could have turned out differently.” 

He clasped his hands behind his back, turning away from Vox and dissolving into the shadows. The television demon had been rendered silent, his screen buffered as he processed what Alastor said.

That evening...

Staring at his drink, Vox thumbed away the bead of condensation that was trailing halfway down the glass. His thoughts drifted back to the earlier conversation with Alastor and his increasingly odd behavior. Surely the guy had an agenda or some ulterior motive, he always did. He gave up the notion that Alastor could ever care about anyone else, especially him, ages ago. Unless–

“Something bothering you?” Husk’s baritone voice startled him from his musings and he slowly looked up from the glass to see the cat bartender staring at him curiously.

“You could say that,” Vox said with a sigh before returning his gaze back to his glass, “Do you ever think back on a particular memory and wish you could have done it all differently?”

Husk said scornfully, “Who hasn’t? You’re not the only fuck-up in Hell, far from it.”

Vox picked up the drink and took a sip before lowering it from his screen. He gently swirled the glass in his hand, the amber liquid sloshed against the walls of it as he spoke, “Okay, but I’m not talking about forgetting to wish someone a happy birthday or picking up the wrong brand of soap from the store. I’m talking about life-changing interactions.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Husk’s tail flicked back and forth, agitatedly. “Are you going to continue to be vague or are you going to fucking spit it out?”

Vox tensed at his tone but his annoyance died down as quickly as it surfaced. He couldn’t help but smile a bit at Husk’s bluntness. Between all the posturing, smoke and mirrors, and general underhanded behavior that he had become accustomed to dealing with whether it was from dealing with the press or his colleagues, it was kind of refreshing. His mouth became a thin line as he thought about where to start, or rather, what he felt comfortable with sharing.

“I’m not sure if you were aware but Alastor and I used to be business partners before I formed the Vees. I honestly was waiting for him to get bored or kick me to the curb one day but we chugged along for a good while. But eventually I had to go and fuck it up… I wanted to keep pushing the envelope and well, you know Alastor–he was content to stay in the past, relive the golden days. When push came to shove, he wouldn’t budge and we parted ways.”

“‘Parted ways’ huh? You make it sound fucking cordial. I heard you two nearly leveled a section of the pentagram,” Husk snorted in disbelief.

Vox shot him a dry look before staring melancholically at his glass again, “I was putting it nicely. Technically, the initial dissolution wasn’t so destructive or public but uh, we ran into each other before he disappeared for seven years, exchanged some barbs that escalated into well… what you probably saw on the 666 News.”

He lightly dragged a claw on the rim of the glass, his brows knitted together as he frowned, deep in thought. Husk started to turn back to the shelves of alcohol behind him, only stopping when Vox sighed again.

“I’m starting to wonder why I even want to go back to the Vees. I don’t want to lose my Overlord powers or status but I’m not sure I’d be able to hold my own if I try to do a solo act again. Maybe Alastor was right, I am powerless without them,” Vox slumped in his stool. Not usually the type to play into the “woe is me” shtick, he realized how far he had really fallen.

He felt like absolute shit and it didn’t help that he was simultaneously fighting, and losing, to the virus running rampant through his immune system. As luck would have it, he was about to be reminded of its presence. What started off as a ghost of a tickle was escalating into an urgent need. Not again, not here! He blinked rapidly and pressed a closed fist to his screen, a futile attempt of course. This one didn’t even give him a chance to–

“ehh’KTSSHhhuu! ih’DTSHHiew! hh’TSHH!”

“Fucking Christ,” Husk frowned and slid a stack of napkins towards him as Vox lurched away from the bar. He flushed, grabbing a few to muffle the rest of the fit into the handful.

“Kill me now,” Vox grumbled, congestion muting his pronunciation. He snatched up the remaining napkins and proceeded to mop up the ensuing mess.

“You good?” Husk was staring at him, a skeptical brow raised.

“I’m fine,” Vox said icily. Boy he was getting tired of saying that. Husk rolled his eyes, no skin off his teeth if the demon was too proud to admit it.

“You know, I used to be an Overlord too,” Vox raised a skeptical brow at Husk’s admission but stayed quiet. Husk looked towards the ceiling, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it was before your time. Back when we got souls the old-fashioned way, you newer Overlords really have it down to a science. But I had a bit of a gambling problem and it worked well for me, in terms of acquiring souls, until it didn’t.”

Now that Husk mentioned it Vox vaguely recalled the commotion surrounding an Overlord with a gambling habit who lost everything in one fell swoop. He was only a lowly news reporter at the time and the story wasn’t assigned to him. Although, the story hadn’t gained much traction because at the time, there was more clamor regarding the identity of the sinner who was toppling Overlords left and right. Of course, Alastor eventually revealed himself to be the culprit by broadcasting his victims' screams.

“One night, I was on a hot streak and someone I’d never seen in the casino before asked if I wanted to make a wager of a lifetime. Real creepy, mysterious fella. Anyways Alastor–”

Vox choked on his drink and did a double-take, “Wait, you’re on Alastor’s leash?”

Husk’s eyes narrowed briefly before his shoulders sagged and he nodded solemnly. Vox cleared his throat, realizing he had interrupted Husk’s story. He motioned for Husk to continue.

“Didn’t think much of it at the time, but I should have been more careful with all those missing Overlords. ‘Course I didn’t know he was behind it all, none of us did. Pretty fuckin’ sure the bastard cheated somehow but I can’t prove it. At least he let me keep my power but if I could turn back time, Hell knows I would,” Husk grumbled disgruntledly.

Vox let out a low whistle as he processed the information. Vox always knew Alastor was calculating, conniving. In his early days, he had been envious of anyone who knew anything about the enigmatic individual who was taking down renowned Overlords. By the time Vox had met Alastor, he had already made a name for himself as an established Overlord.

They shook their heads simultaneously and Husk took a swig from his bottle before holding it out to Vox. After a beat, Vox accepted the bottle from him and took a large gulp himself. He coughed, ugh Tequila, before handing it back to the bartender. No wonder Husk always looked so miserable, Vox couldn’t imagine someone owning his soul, let alone Alastor of all Overlords.

“Do you miss it, being an Overlord?” Vox rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He’d become so accustomed to the Overlord lifestyle he couldn’t really imagine trying to survive Hell without it. Sure he was known for being a bit extravagant and despite what people probably thought, it wasn’t about the money. It was the power and adoration, god it was intoxicating. He used to worry he’d have to choose between having others fear or respect him but here he had it both ways. Just how he liked it.

“Eh, sometimes,” Husk shrugged, tossing back the rest of the bottle, “But it’s been kinda nice not having to keep up with the power creep and territorial disputes. Don’t get me started on those Overlord meetings.”

When Vox pulled a face, Husk held up his hands. “Look, I’m just saying it's not as bad as you might think. But hey, you didn’t become an Overlord for nothing, wouldn’t you like to prove everyone wrong? Show them that you aren’t some washed-up motherfucker that you’re actually Overlord worth his salt?”

Vox stared at his drink silently as he mulled over Husk’s words before polishing what was left and stood up from the bar. He tugged his blazer down before glancing over his shoulder at Husk, who proceeded to whisk the empty glass from the counter. Before he could respond, Vox gasped and doubled over.

“hh’DSHHH! ihh..hh…ihhh’TZSHH’uhh! ehh..hheH?” If he wasn’t so preoccupied with the stuck sneeze, he would laugh at the ridiculousness of his plight. Vox shook his head trying to coax out the lingering buzzing in his head. “hihh… Motherfuhh–ehhSHHhiew! ZTTCHhuue! eh’Z̵̛̺͉̞̓̽͊̄̏̚͜͠S̵̡̨͇̫̻̦̱̦͇̫̱̐̄́̂H̵̢͈͈̹̣̎͋͐̎͐́̏̆̋̇͋́̂͜͝H̴̢̢̥͚̝̫͓̦̺̽̃̈̇͠ͅH̸̡͇͔̞̪̳͈͖̺̼͚̯͍͂͒̋̄̅̕uu!”

“Maybe you should take it easy,” Husk suggested, eyeing the flickering lights as Vox tried to suppress a couple of staticky coughs into his fist. “Or not,” he said, when Vox gave him a withering look.

“I, uh, thanks for listening, but I’d appreciate it if you could keep all of this between us. I hope Angel knows how lucky he is to have you. Relationships like that are hard to come by in Hell.”

Husk stiffened, taken aback at the mention of Angel, his ears flattened against his head. Vox was more perceptive than he seemed. He raised a finger in defiance, his mouth opening to argue but chose not to follow through. Instead he dipped his head as Vox gave him a knowing smirk before he teleported into the old 1970s television in the parlor.

[snezario]

just scrolling though twt and stumbled on this... like but why does this look like al is trying to help vox hold back??

also i am working on that fic suggestion... it's just taking a while

[snezario]

Im losing my mind over this.. Vox not having an external nose/having vents means that no amount of rubbing/pawing at his face with quell the tickle, he just has to let it happen (which he HATES) he has no known allergies but coming in direct contact with any irritant can set him off (one time he had to be knocked out by velvette to avoid short-circuiting the whole city)

STOP anon this is so good... the thing about velvette having to knock him out is so big brain of you

someone posted abt hh headcanons a couple days ago and i cracked up bc one of the things they wrote was "They keep telling me" TV Man cannot sneeze! He is TV Man, he has no nose!” And do I listen? No!" and that just summed up my entire view on Vo/x snz

i said i was done writing for hh for a while but this definitely has the ol' wheels turning

[snezario]

hello it's been a While but i'm feral for ha//zb/in ho//tel if anyone wants to hyperfixate w me, pls be my guest 🤪

[snezario]

vox being allergic to 'cursed cat alastor' send tweet

not the cursed cat alastor aliwjfaljfielfj

honestly i see it and him being rly annoyed/frustrated abt it. i also hc him to have cat allergies, so in a way this is kind of meant to be

[snezario]

Plsplspls make more of the Vox snz fic, or perhaps one where he’s just ill with a cold but still wants to work all the time and the other Vees notice him suffering. the hotel fic was SO GOOD

ahh thank you! i don't think i'll continue the one i already posted since was meant as a one-shot but i do have some bits and pieces saved that i didn't end up using

i don't have an illness fic set up for him but i like what you're putting down anon!

[snezario]

anyways i literally think abt ha/zb//in hot//el 24/7... i think this is the most intense hyperfixation i've had in a long time...

if anyone wants to scream into the void abt it/send prompts/RP hmu!! i'm absolutely FERAL for the tv and radio demons 🤪

[snezario]

things i never saw coming: me being down BAD for a flat screen tv demon

[snezario]

me to me: stop writing snzfic abt a fucking television screen

also me: but what if i just....write. one. more