#radiostatic that could have been but things went wrong

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Okay so, I have a headcanon that Alastor's distortion ability means that Vox just straight up can't see the guy properly even if they're face to face.

Imagine the rage you'd feel, the frustration and sorrow and anger, of knowing that what you want is literally within reach but what's the point if you can never SEE it properly?

What if the only time the distortion stops is if Alastor wills it, or he's unconscious and unable to project it. And after all this obsession, after everything he has had to do to just get a glimpse of his old friend, his rival, the person he-... well, once upon a time and all that shit.

The pathways between desire, obsession and violence are all melted blobs of plastic in his mind, and he starts to find a perverse joy in harming the other. Soemthing Valentino encourages because of course, sinners regenerate no matter what he does to them, why not indulge?

It's also infuriating because it stops Vox from using his hypnotic suggestion on the other. Sure, it hasn't worked before... but that was then, and he's almost more powerful and influential than any other overlord around these parts now.

He itches to try, to see if this time he could win. If he could turn things back to how they Should be, how he Planned for them to Be. Not whatever this shitshow is.

His ace up the sleeve comes in the form of the drone footage from the battle. Alastor would rather die a second time than allow that to fall into the public domain, of course... all ego, Vox would think with not the smallest iota of irony.

A lure, a call and a taunt across the radio waves that draws the other close enough to blur before him. Triumph spreads through Vox's chest, a smug satisfaction that even the snide dismissal he receives can diminish.

What does he want?

You.

A sharp laugh stings something inside that felt too fleshy to be purely mechanical. He clenches sharp talons into fists, fans whirring as he fights for calm.

'Alright fucker, what are you willing to do to keep your dirty little secret off the air?' he needles.

"...why, nothing, my dear box. If you release it, I will sway the peoples to my side... after all, I faced down Adam and you... watched."

Enraged, he lashes out, fury rising as the other dodges with ease. Or, no... wait, his mechanical mind caught something and he runs back footage from a camera across the room. Hah, fucker's still hurt, isn't he?

Well, no need to share that he knows, just yet.

He presses on, using just enough telegraphing to let Alastor know where he intended to strike and how... subtly moving the other in the right direction. He sees, SEES with a hundred hidden eyes, the distortion starting to fade... the tremble in the rigid limbs, the taut way the other refuses to bend and twist as he normally would. The hint of sweat on a brow and the quiet wheeze with each breath.

"C'mon Al, I promise that if you were to just... forget all the mess of the past and join the Vees, we could absolutely help you turn this PR nightmare into a campaign to get that shitty hotel at full capacity. You just need to play along for a bit, and maybe consider letting us try out some modern tech with you. It won't burn."

'I'd rather no- ack!'

Vox grins wildly as the cables of his command chair lash out about the other Overlord, ensnaring whatever it could to tangle the man into motionlessness. Normally, the other would drop into shadow... but this... was a victory unanticipated, it looked like Al couldn't.

He pulsed low currents through the cables, forcing the other to focus on not screaming instead of bantering with Vox. The urge to laugh maniacally came and went. Subsumed with momentary awe at this accomplishment... at the glimpses of Alastor's form he saw between the electricity. Fuck, he'd missed that face.

"Hey, just... stop fighting and we can get the ball rolling on our new collaboration, right?" Vox filled the silence, his hands outstretched to take the half-glitched face between his palms. "Shhh, c'mon, just give it up already. You know this is the best thing for us."

"There isn't. An. US." Alastor ground out, limbs shuddering in the metallic web. His next words fell into garbled static so distorted that Vox couldn't even guess at the sentence... but the world seemed to snap silent a second later anyway.

The distortion fell away, as the fully-defined exhausted expression of the Radio Demon came into his view. The man finally unable to cloak any longer as electricity crackled thrrough his veins and blood dribbled through several layers of attire.

Vox's heart thundered, his eye swirling, body tensed like a spring about to launch skyward. "Al... I see you. Fuck, I can-... no, just-..."

He takes a breath, letting the sensation of his power slip into place like a glove, even as he made certain to capture the gorgeous features from every angle for the future in case this didn't work out...

"It's okay, Al. You're going to be okay, and you're going to be part of the Vees... part of the Us we were always meant to be." Something hot pooled in his abdomen at the sight of swirling irises overtaking the radio dials in those beautiful, sinister eyes. "We can take as long as you want, I'm patient, promise. But the Radio Demon will join the future, if I have to drag you kicking and screaming into it..."

He laughs, but the sound trails off as the wet plip-plip-plop sound of crimson striking the metallic floor can be heard, and the subtle shuddering under his hands became more pronounced.

"Shit... seems like he hit you harder than we thought, huh? It was hot as fuck, but the Vees take care of their own. You're going to listen to my voice now, and push the pain aside to somewhere you can't feel it anymore... then when I say the word, you're going to take a nice long nap while we fix this mess you made of yourself. Get you all sorted out, huh? Then when you wake up again, you'll remember how badly you wanted to join us, and everything we talked about just now. Okay?"

Alastor shuddered, one hand clenching like he was tugging at an invisible string. Something green flared to life briefly.

"...lotte... lp" the Radio Demon mumbled around the hypnotic hold.

Vox wags a finger in front of that angular face, grinning at th audacity. "Uh-uh, that's being sneaky, Mister. I think it's time you went to Sleep."

As the form slumped, Vox took the other into his arms.

Well, if the stubborn beautiful bastard had really summoned someone here maybe he could use them to get a message back to that Princess and her father. See if they'd be open to a little deal or two for good press, if one of them could heal Adam's little 'love tap' here.

No sense going to all the trouble of capturing his beloved nemesis if the man died immediately of angelic stupidity.

He hurled them into the electicity stream through a nearby camera and stepped out into the combined Vee suites in the penthouse.

"Daddy's home, and he brought a friend!" he crows, as Valentino and Velvette move over to assess the situation.

"No fuckin' way, I can actually get a picture of the red-haired ponce!" Vel exclaimed, and lowered the phone. "Maybe not now, cause that's a right bloody mess, but soon... I'm going to have the rarest selfie in all of the 7 rings, I will. Might wanna let me have a go with my threads though, looks a bit fucked up, there."

"If you don't mind, babydoll, I would love for you to fix whatever mess he's got going on..." Vox responds, using cables to keep Valentino's hands from straying too far in any direction on the deer. "Hey, this is mine first, you know that, look but don't touch too much right?"

"Aw, but Voxxy, I wanna see what he's hiding..." Valentino grinned, but pulled back his hand as the wetness of the shirt made contact. "Ugh, maybe later then... I'm all for fluids, baby, but that's just gross."

The contact jarred the Radio Demon back to some level of wakefulness, earning Val a glare from Vox. The moth rolled his eyes and exhaled pink smoke over the deer, dulling the sharpness of whatever discomfort Alastor may have been experiencing.

"See? I can be kind, Voxxy... you let me know if you need more of that to keep him settled. Not that I don't want to see the feisty side, but... well, he looks a little close to second-death, which is a bit of a turn off."

Vel storms back in with a first aid kit the size of an imp in one arm and the Anti-Horni-Val squirt bottle in the other. He gets doused.

"Okay, everyone fuck off and let me fix this."

----

Across town, Charlie paused mid song as the chain at her wrist flared pitifully, tugged upon in something that felt like suffocating panic clawing up the back of her throat.

"Char...lotte... he...lp..." seemed to fill her mind, and she knew at once who had called her. Her head throbbed, unused to hearing the other through the links.

Vaggie stepped forwards, nearly slamming into Lucifer, as they both tried to find out what had happened. Why she'd stopped singing.

The link on her wrist flared again, and her father's eyes filled with rage.

She waved them off, desperately.

"Listen, I don't know how or what's going on, but I just heard Alastor in my head asking for help... and he sounded really hurt. We... we have to go find him."

"No."

"Dad, I'm going."

"Do you feel a compulsion to go anywhere specific?" Vaggie asks.

"...somewhere full of... my skin is prickling like there's static all over me now." Charlie replies, trying to wrack her brain for a clue.

"Reckon he's probably trapped at Vee Tower, and this has something to do with Vox, Princess." Husk interjects, holding a frantic Niffty in one arm as he entered. "That's where the chains are running to when we summon 'em. And if he's there, we gotta move fast. I hate the bastard but... he don't deserve what Vox will force him to do if he gets the chance."

"Hey, King of Hell? Can I speak now? Good. Charlie, forget the deer. I can get you a new overlord!"

"Dad, NO. It's part of our Favour anyway... I would have to go even if I wasn't planning on doing it anyway because he's my friend.

"...fine. But if he's pulling a prank, I'm gonna pull... his legs off and beat him with them."

"Well fuck me sideways..." Husk mumbles, catching attention from around the room. He turns around his phone screen. "Angel just took this, said Vox came into the penthouse with Alastor, and Val was so interested in the situation the moth forgot he was there. Looks pretty bad."

Charlie tugged at her hair as the image depicted an alarming amount of blood on her hotelier... and something wrong with his eyes. Then it hits her. "Wait, how did Angel take this photo? He does the..." she wiggled "to photos and videos."

"That's never a great sign." husk agrees, and rolls his shoulders, releasing Niffty. "Well, let's go beat the shit out of three overlords who need a reminder on the concept of consent, I guess."

Niffty was the first through the portal, her laughter shrill as the world filled with the sound of Valentino's horrified screaming, and the wet slick-crunch-slush sound of a blade in motion.

"Alright, hands off the bellhop, that's hotel property..." a bored Lucifer mumbles, blasting the sinners away from the red overlord on the couch. He glances at the wound, and winces as a sudden swell of Adamness washes over him. "Ugh, okay, I'm gonna throw up... and we'll need to patch that up later, alright? Don't you die on us, Busboy, because if I have to take on your paperwork tasks for the hotel I can and will launch myself into the Abyss between Worlds. So many fucking forms, I swear..."

As long as he's talking, the King doesn't have to acknowledge any kindnesses done to the daughter stealing motherfucker he's basically carrying out of there.

"Char-char, got your deer, let's go home!"

She's got Vox pinned under the trident, wrath on her face as he frantically tried to hypnotise her. "I think we can help you, Mr Vox, with our therapeutic approach to making Good Choices. Maybe Valentino too... a lesson can be learned about keeping our hands to ourselves, maybe?"

"Charlieeeeeeeeee my darling, we can kill them later, let's just go before my shirt turns red."

"Oh, oh shit... that's not great, huh?" Charlie is back to her regular self, frantic once more.

Vaggie, on the other hand, pointed her spear at the barely alive Valentino. "Hand it over, fucker. I'll call Niffty off if you give me the contract..."

He spat at her feet and used a truly heinous slur. But after a few more gentle prompts in the form of Niffty's knife and the spear, he grumblingly handed over the scroll binding Angel to himself.

"Much obliged."

"t-ttttake him from meeeee3333 and I will make sur3333e all of Hell sees that fight!" Vox yelled, desperate as control spiralled away. "He333'll be killed the next ttttti1111me3 you let him out of your s-iiii-iiight, Hell lov33335ss a chance to ki111lll an Overlo0000rdddd when they're WEAK!"

Vaggie swings her spear around. "What are you on about?"

Charlie has her eyes narrowed. "I think... when he fought Adam, something went wrong and he had to leave... and Mr Vox was watching. But we're not leaving him here. You can release the video, but hell will go through me first to get to him, to any of my friends."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Give me 45 seconds without all this drama and I'll have this fixed. What were you gonna do with it, stitch it closed and hope for the best with your little brain trick keeping the pain away? Now THAT'S weak planning at its finest."

"Yer a fuckin' creep, Vox... so we're going. Stay classy." Husk grins, tugging a stunned angel with one hand and holding a writhing Niffty by the back of her dress with the other. "Don't forget, we can always release Niff back into yer space anytime, and you gotta sleep eventually... so best back off. You know she loves Al almost as much as you think you do. Not a fan of you tryin' to hurt him, got me?"

That blank, feral eyeball falls on Vox. "He... hurt Sir?"

The knife raised pointedly.

Vox felt he was about to Download in his tailored slacks.

Charlie clapped, "Okay veryone, let's go home!" she chirped. Her eyes shinging as her brain caught up with the fact everyone had worked together to achieve this goal.

They stepped through the portal in a clump of bodies, leaving behind a decimated tower and at least one half-dead overlord.

Vel couldn't help herself. "Well that could have gone better."

Vox briefly thought about electrocuting her... but first he needed to switch pants.

----

etc.

[chihuahuawashere]

RadioStatic

Vox has cameras /everywhere/ around all of hell but he doesn't pay attention to those. He has imps and other sinners to do that for him.

The only cameras he actually pays attention to is the cameras he put around Alastors house.

Before Alastor disappearance Vox would crash at Alastors place when he was to tired to make it all the way back to his place.

But as Alastor slept in his room Vox took the couch but as Vox was in the living room he was placing tiny tiny cameras alliii over the place. In the corner wity a cobweb, behind the books, inside of the record player, behind the sink, on top of the fridge, on top of the lights and vents, on top of the door freams /everywhere/ each and ever time Vox went to Alastors place he would add more and more cameras.

And once Vox went back home he'll watch. Never saying a word and blindly watch all of the blue screens or Alastor, never leaving the chair. Vox would be stuck in the computer room for /days/ he would foraet to eat sleep breath he would even forget his application to his job obligation.

The one room with the most cameras in it is Alastors room. Every square inch and corner in that room has cameras it was tricky to do but to Vox it was worth it. He had back up of back up of footage of Alastor sleeping and he swears it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Sometimes when he watched Alastor sleep he has an insane urge to zap through the cameras and crawl in bed with him. But then Alastor would find out and kill hilariously on the spot so he just watches.

But it wasn’t enough //everything// wasn’t enough he wants to be closer to him. Taste touch, hear, smell. He knows he can’t so he drags a mattress into the computer room with him so that every time Alastor is going to bed he’ll lay on his bed to give the illusion that he was also laying in bed with him.

Vox would never sleep he just lays there watching Alastor sleep.

That all changed of course once Alastor disappeared. That completely rocked voxs world so hard he thought he was going crazy. At first he thought all of his cameras dead in Alastors home or he thought that something was wrong with his computers but he knew //something// was wrong he needs to see him. With seeing Alastor is a world not worth seeing at all.

After literally destroying everything in the computer room he tries to book it to Alastors place to replace the cameras and also see his beautiful face and crave that itch. But the house wasn’t there. No like the town seem to swallow it hole there was no empty space anywhere it as if his home wasn’t there at all.

Vox had walked down this road and turned to that corner so many times that he can do it with his eyes closed so… where is he? What happened?? Is he hurt??? Why didn’t he say goodbye???? did I do something wrong????? WHY DIDNT HE BRING ME WITH HIM WERE A TEAM???????

After 3 months Vox made a pillow of Alastor. Vox has been around him so long that he already knows he’s measurements by heart he cut the perfect silhouette of Alastor, made his clothes from scratch when to the same shop to get the same perfume that he always use to wear and dye and cut a wig, glued on some ears and antlers.

In the dark it look exactly like him except it has no face. Everything looks real you can even get confused it in the dark as the real Alastor.

At first Val thought he was crazy for doing that but coping is a weird thing also he was in /no/ place to try and kink shame someone so he just let it be, creeped the fuck out but tie better then some sinners he’s seen.

Vel on the other hand hates this whole thing she hated Vox for liking Alastor and he’s obsession with him but after Alastor disappeared she absolutely HATED pillow Alastor even more then anything she thought she could ever hate it so creepy especially at night. One time Vox try to make Vel have conversation with it and she blew up on him calling him a creep and weirdo that he should get and LET HIM GO.

After that Vox /never/ left the computer room. He’ll have imps come on once in a while to give him food and drinks.He was so busy looking threw all of the Security cameras around hell to see if he can find Alastor again it was his soul mission at that point.

After the year 3 mark Vox bought a RoBo Frizz and tweaked and modified it to make it look more like Alastor (basically the same thing he did with the pillow) but this time he grabbed all the files of Alastor speaking and cut chopped them all together to make answers, sentences, questions if it couldn’t get any worse it helped Vox fuel his delusion even more.

And after 7 long years of looking through all those cameras the one time Val came to visit Vox in his computer room looked terrible. Pictures of Alastor everywhere with notes and drawings and other sorts of fluids with pins on them and a bunch of colored sting all pointing to random things with new paper clippings and “Xs” drawn on them.

It all looked absolutely terrible. How can someone live like this? How long has Vox even been in here? He definitely needs to go outside. Val tries to reason with him “hey man let’s just go to the kitchen yea? Or how about we go to the bathroom? how does a bath sound?” But all Vox says is that he’s “busy doing something important”

And Val got mad at him and couldn’t bite his tongue any longer and accidentally slipped that Alastor was back. But of course Val can’t keep a secret for the life of him, always having to run his mouth even if cost him his life so it was no surprise that he let it slip that Alastor was finally back Val and Vel promised one another to /never/ tell Vox that he was back otherwise only god knows Vox would react to it.

Vox completely stoped what he was doing and for the first time in forever looked away at the computer and monitors and he just *stared* but Val with a look Val has never seen before, then Vox broke out into the most creepy and unsettling smile you could ever see in hell. /OH/ Vox couldn’t be more happier then he is right now

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Nothing Above the Knee

Inspired by @eggcats post on Vox's hoof worship, here is my radiostatic hoof fic. OG post can be found here.

⪫ Pairing: Alastor/Vox (Radiostatic)

⪫ Wordcount: 4k

⪫ Summary: Alastor wants something from Vox. All Vox asks in return is a few hours with Alastor's hooves.

⪫ Content notes: Explicit sexual content, hoof stuff, contractual obligation, interdigital scent gland play, hoof licking, hoof fucking, electrostimulation, Vox is very much on top here, did I mention this is about hooves?

“You’re slapping the contract down on the table?” Vox narrowed his eyes. “What are you, twelve?”

“You’re the one stipulating such a juvenile… thing,” said Alastor.

“It’s called a kink, Al,” said Vox, shaking his head.

“I suppose you always were a twisted one,” rejoined Alastor, a spark of something returning to his eye. “I’ve specified my own terms. I trust you remember how to read old fashioned paper contracts?”

“Not like I haven’t been an overlord for the better part of a decade now,” grumbled Vox, to Alastor’s terse smile. He picked up the sheaf of paper, reading through it. He knew Alastor well enough to pay attention to the fine print. He didn’t expect any cheap shots in the clauses, no I own Vox’s soul forever with no conditions, Al was too classy for that kind of bullshit, but that didn’t stop Vox looking for them, out of force of habit.

The meat of the contract was as Vox had initially proposed; Vox would get to look, touch and manipulate Alastor’s hooves as he saw fit, between the proposed times, a binding nondisclosure clause preventing either of them broadcasting the event during or after the fact, with an exception for recordings for personal use. In return, Vox would owe a favor of Alastor’s choosing; nothing suicidal, nothing that would cost above a certain price, a list of caveats that went on for a page and a half. Vox stopped when he got to the clauses Alastor had added, reading them through a second time. “Nothing above the knee, huh?”

Alastor lowered his eyelashes. “Since you only seemed interested in my… hooves… I thought it was a fair addition.”

Vox grinned to himself, sensing the discomfort that radiated from Alastor as he ran through the wording. “No-one gets to touch you above the knee, your pants stay on throughout the act… you realize that this applies to you, too, right?”

Alastor sniffed. “If you’re implying that your inept pawings might cause me to become so overcome with lust that I divest myself of all dignity and jump into your arms, Vox, then you’re a bigger narcissist than I feared.”

The truth lay low and unpleasant between them, unacknowledged by either party. Alastor needed the other end of the contract, needed the unspecified favor from Vox, or he wouldn't be here.

And much as Vox would have enjoyed Alastor's complete subjugation, he suspected that the man would rather die than endure it. Which led them to this interesting compromise. It was something he had wanted for a long time; even when they had been friends, he had fantasized about that part of Alastor's body. And, as Velvette liked to say, you were only unalived once.

“I'm surprised you didn't put in a clause stopping me inflicting pain,” said Vox.

Alastor shrugged. “I've never seen you torture someone when you didn't have to. You're not much of a sadist, old chum.”

“I could prove you wrong,” said Vox, an eyebrow raised.

“But you won't,” said Alastor, comfortably. “Are you going to sign it?”

Vox produced a pen with a flourish, blue electricity sparking around it. “One more stipulation. You have to be paying attention. The whole time. No tuning out.” He added the line to the bottom of the document.

“As you insist,” said Alastor, his voice level.

Vox grinned and signed his name, sliding the contract and pen across to Alastor, who signed in turn. Their human names. Not in blood. This wasn't a contract for their souls, after all. Just a favor for a favor.

And nothing above the knee.

There was something about kneeling between Alastor's legs that made Vox feel a little light-headed, even if it was simply to remove his shoes. The signal that Alastor gave off at close range was so strong that it was nearly tangible to Vox, his antennae giving a soft quiver as he bowed his head, taking Alastor's right hoof in his hands, the sole of his boot against Vox’s palm.

Alastor didn't seem immune to the tension either, his red eyes lighting with something like interest as he looked down from his seat on the edge of the bed, his ankle flexing to allow Vox to pull off his boot. He wore black cotton socks with nearly no elastic to them, a sight that made Vox start, his gaze running up Alastor's leg to the knee.

Vox ran his hand up Alastor's shin, the bump under the fabric of his trousers confirming his suspicions. “You're wearing fucking sock garters?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Oh, you freaky fucker.” Vox swallowed an error message. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is.”

The sock was shaped to accommodate a hoof rather than a human foot, the toe wide for the spread of the standing toes, a woven circle at the back to protect the dewclaws and allow for the ankle.

Vox cuffed the leg of Alastor's trouser, rolling it up to the knee, staring all the while at the gracile limb beneath.

Taupe skin faded into dark fur, the slenderness of it making Vox's breath catch in his throat. He could wrap his fingers around the limb at any point. Cradling Alastor's calf in his palm and along his forearm, he lifted the hoof to his lips and breathed in.

Holy fuck, the smell. Even through the cotton, Vox could smell Alastor's musk, deep and earthy and pungent. Vox pressed in with his screen, until Alastor's hoof pressed squarely between his eyes, a groan escaping his lips as he felt his cock twitch to half mast just from the sensation.

Alastor himself was meticulously clean, Vox knew, but part of the curse of a deer body was the scent glands, constantly excreting musk that would help an earthly deer find its way but held little use for a demonic one. It was why Alastor rarely removed his shoes. It was also why, when Vox opened his eyes to look back at Alastor, he found the smile strained, eyes wide, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. Fuck, that was almost better than the smell.

“I love the smell of you, Al,” Vox purred, reaching for the clasps on Alastor’s sock garter. “You’re fucking musky, ripe, you stink like a damn animal. I am so fucking hard right now.”

“I can see that,” said Alastor, his smile fixed. “I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Oh, but the contract says I can talk as much as I fucking want. So I’m gonna talk.” Slowly, as if unwrapping a gift, Vox pulled the sock from Alastor’s hoof, eyes widening as he took in the sight.

Alastor’s standing nails were perfectly formed, the same crimson as his fingernails and lustrous, a beautiful end to the long, elegant limb.

“Holy shit, you are fucking beautiful,” breathed Vox, running his hands over the hoof, fingers over the smooth keratin, round and into the fleshy pads behind the standing nails. He felt Alastor shiver at the touch, and made a mental note to probe there some more later. “You have no idea how fucking perfect you are.”

He stripped Alastor’s other hoof in a similar manner and pressed his lips to each of them, learning the shape of them with his hands as he praised them.

“Are you quite done?”

“Oh, you’re bored?” asked Vox, taking a slender hoof in his hands and feeling the arch, the space between the crimson dewclaws and the pads beneath the standing toes. “Let’s see if I can fix that for you, Al.” With a grin, he pushed the knuckle of his thumb between the tendons in the arch, pushing hard into the flesh as he stroked up and down.

A strangled hiss from Alastor was his reward, another shiver through the Radio Demon’s body. “What’s that, Al?” Vox teased. “Speechless for once?”

“No, I-” Alastor started, but Vox picked the moment to push his knuckle into the pad of Alastor’s standing toe, and Alastor gave a little gasp instead, a noise that went right to Vox’s already hard cock.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying this, Al,” said Vox, continuing the massage with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Alastor snarled, his grin dangerous and sharp.

“Not on the menu tonight,” said Vox, his answering grin triumphant, his fingers kneading the pads of Alastor’s standing toes. “Nothing above the knee, remember? So, instead-” Vox ran fingertips over the red of Alastor’s nails, tracing the gap between the two. “Instead you get this.”

Vox pushed a finger between the two crimson nails, spreading the hoof apart, and grinning as he felt the fur around Alastor’s scent gland, oily and slick with his musk. The noise that Alastor made was everything; as if Alastor had just tuned to the wrong station, his voice thick with distortion. “What are you doing to me?”

Looking up, Vox noticed two things. First, Alastor was angry, antlers branching, eyes black with glowing red dials. Second, Alastor was hard.

“Holy shit. Fuck. Christ.” Vox stared. Al’s cock was pitching an impressive tent in his pants; any larger and he would be threatening to tear the seams. Vox had expected Alastor to endure the attention, maybe enjoy the hoof rub in a sensual sort of way, maybe be embarrassed. Not for it to do something for him. From Alastor’s expression, he hadn’t been expecting this either. Vox realized he was salivating, and swallowed.

Vox pushed his fingertip further into the gap between Alastor’s toes, feeling the weeping slit of his scent gland, the stink from the hoof intensifying as Vox smeared the musk back and forth.

“You frivolous piece of technological frippery- ngh!” Alastor’s grin was unhinged now, gums bared as well as teeth.

“I’m just doing what you agreed I could,” said Vox, drinking in the scene before him, glad he wasn’t the one coming apart at the seams this time. He kept his fingers moving, back and forth, looking at the spread of Alastor’s beautiful toes. “Speaking of which, uh…” Vox trailed off. His cock could fit between them, at a stretch. “You didn’t stipulate that I couldn’t use your hooves to jack off.”

Alastor was silent, but the widening of his eyes told Vox that he hadn’t considered the possibility. His poker face wasn’t that good, smile or no.

“If you object, I won’t,” said Vox, quietly. “I’m an asshole, not a monster.”

Alastor gave an annoyed little huff, staring at the two fingers that Vox had wedged between his toes. “I signed the contract. I don’t need your pity.”

Vox smiled when he heard it. “Atta boy,” he growled, spreading Alastor’s toes further apart as he freed his cock from his pants. His first glimpse of the slit of Al’s scent gland, the whitish discharge beading on it like dew, set an ache to the base of his cock, and he swore under his breath. “Oh, that’s fucking pretty, Al. Jesus, look at you.”

Vox lifted the hoof to his face, fingers still forcing the standing nails apart, and opened his mouth, curling his tongue into the gap. Oh, Alastor tasted fucking filthy, organic and overwhelmingly male. If Vox’s head had been biological, the combination of smell and taste would have made him gag, but as it was, he simply pushed away the mounting pile of error messages, keeping his senses as highly tuned as he could without shutting down entirely, feeling the emotion in his gut flicker from disgust to arousal and back again like a fucking metronome. The stink was soaking into his casing; he was going to smell like hoof for weeks. Tongue laving wet between Alastor’s toes, Vox groaned, teasing the slit of the scent gland as he made the crevice nice and slick for his cock.

From a secondary camera, Vox watched Alastor’s face, the quivering at the corners of his smile, the bobbing of his larynx. The tent in his pants, where an honest-to-god wet spot was forming, dark against the red. Alastor reached for his own crotch, looking to find friction, only to have his wrists snapped back into place by the chains of their contract. Vox groaned into the crevice of Alastor’s hoof as he watched Al snarl at the chains, hand going to his own cock and giving it a slow pump as he drew his head back.

“I’d love to help with that,” leered Vox, Alastor’s ankle still in his hand. “But no-one touches you above the knee, Al, not even you. You put it in the contract yourself.”

Alastor stared down at him, dial-eyed. “Fuck you, you tacky rectangle fuck.”

“Is this your idea of dirty talk?” Vox matched Alastor’s grin as he lowered Alastor’s hoof to his dick, a shock through his system as he made contact, pushing his dribbling glans against the pads on the undersides of Al’s standing toes, rubbing small circles into the yielding flesh there. Alastor made a soft, animal noise in his throat, and Vox guided himself to the gap between the toes, rubbing his glans there. “Haah- I think you need practice.”

“Why?” Alastor’s gaze on him was intense, even as his breath huffed between his teeth. “It seems to be working, after all.”

Vox glitched, freezing for a second before shaking it off. How the fuck did Alastor always seem to know just how to get under his skin? Vox watched Alastor’s face as he smeared his glans between Alastor’s spread toes, the pearly white of Alastor’s musk mixing with the neon blue of his precum, back and forth until the space was slick with it and Vox could push the shaft of his cock between Alastor’s toes without much friction. The contract compelled Alastor to watch, so he did, his hips rolling futile as he sought friction the air above him could not give him.

“You’re looking pretty out of it there, Al,” teased Vox. “Sure you don’t want any help?”

“What-” said Alastor, chest heaving, monocle askew. “-can you do to help, Vox?”

“Roll over,” said Vox, sitting back a little. “You can hump the mattress.”

Alastor gave a radio hiss. “Fuck you.”

“Would love to, believe me,” Vox shot back.

“The contract says I have to watch you.”

“Is that all?” Vox snapped his fingers, feeding his visual inputs through to the screen on the wall on the other side of the bed, his view of Alastor’s hoof, the lustrous crimson of his standing nails spread apart with Vox’s shaft between them, Vox’s electric blue claws wrapped around Alastor’s slender arch. “There- that should count.”

Alastor glanced at the screen, then back at Vox. “Are you going soft?” Alastor hissed. “Why give mercy? You want to humiliate me.”

“Says who? Says you?” Vox pulled a face, stroking his hand up the delicate bones of Alastor’s ankle. “I’m not here to play carnival freak show dominant, Al- god knows I get enough of that at home. I just wanna worship your hooves.”

“And stick your garish dick between my toes.”

“Yeah. And stick my garish dick between your toes, so sue me.” Vox shrugged. Just hearing Alastor say dick was a pleasant little throb. “I think you’re enjoying this, Al. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Another heave of Alastor’s chest. “You’re wrong, Vox. You’re wrong and you’re tacky.”

“Then why are you still hard, Al?” Vox raised an eyebrow. Alastor didn’t have an answer for him, so he continued, pushing the head of his cock back between Alastor’s standing toes and into Alastor’s intercapital notch, as far as it would go, wedging the two halves of the hoof apart. Vox slid himself back and forth, and Alastor shivered, blood running from his lip where he had bitten it, his grin fixed as he refused to make a noise, refused to groan, or whimper or gasp.

“You wanna know what I think?”

Alastor stared at him. “No.”

“I think,” Vox continued, unperturbed. “That you’re just too fucking proud to admit you like this. You like me, on the floor in front of you, you like my touch, and you like me fucking your hoof like the sloppy little pussy that it is.” With each like, Vox gave a thrust of his hips, Alastor’s hoof slick and tight around him, his thumb curling round the standing toes to the flesh underneath, pressing through the fascia and against the cruciate ligament. Alastor cried out; ears back, eyes wide, still deliciously hard in his pants, as Vox continued. “I think you’re too fucking proud to take me up on my offer and roll over and hump the mattress like the rabid animal that you are. Because you’re afraid that you’ll like it when you cum from me fucking your hooves.”

Alastor snarled at him, arms lashing out and catching on the chains of the deal. “You’re pap,” he growled. “Slop. Mass-marketed, overhyped, underproduced, noisy garbage. Your viewers are idiots and so are you.”

Usually this would get right under Vox’s skin, but usually he wasn’t using Alastor’s hoof to jerk off, so the insults lacked their usual barb. It was easy to see who was in charge, which one of them was an animal snapping at the bars of their cage. Vox grinned, radiating smugness. “Are you gonna roll over and hump the mattress for me or not, Al?”

“Go fuck yourself,” growled Alastor, which meant yes. Vox pulled himself out of Alastor’s hoof, and got to his feet as he watched the Radio Demon roll over for him.

With Alastor face down, Vox ran his fingers over each of Alastor’s hooves in turn; one slick and covered in the blue smears of his precum, the other untouched, the scent gland still beading white with musk. Alastor’s narrow ass, fully clothed, flexed back and forth as Alastor found friction in the bedding below him, grinding himself into the bedding with a strangled groan that seemed to thrum through Vox’s loins.

Vox felt an irrational surge of jealousy for the mattress, and dismissed it.

“It’s a shame an old fucker like you gets pretty hooves like this,” said Vox, running a talon over the edge of one crimson nail, dipping his fingers between the toes of the unfucked hoof and smearing the musk over it, watching Alastor watch him do it on the big screen in front of them. “Anyone else, and they would be out on display, for the world to see, all shiny and crimson and shit.”

“Really? I thought you’d appreciate exclusivity.” Alastor’s tone was sarcastic, but his words made Vox’s cock ache. The thought that he was deflowering Alastor’s hooves. Despoiling them. A part of Al that pretty much no-one else would even see.

“Oh, I do, Al.” Vox’s voice was a groan as he stacked Alastor’s hooves one atop the other, lined up so that he could slide himself between both sets of toes, and pushed himself in.

“Fuck,” hissed Alastor, his voice lower in his register now, his eyes losing focus. Vox wondered what his O-face looked like, wondered if he stopped smiling when he came. Al’s hips were still twitching, still grinding himself sordidly into the bedding, and Vox matched his jackrabbit place, grinning as the motion brought a whine to Alastor’s throat.

“Look at you, Al, you wanton little minx,” purred Vox, listening to the obscene squelch his cock now made sliding in and out. “You’re gonna cum with my cock in your hooves, arentcha?”

“N-no-” Alastor groaned, gritting his teeth, a quiver through his body as he willed himself to stop humping the mattress. A good attempt, but futile.

Alastor’s assessment when writing the contract hadn’t been wrong, per se; Vox didn’t much enjoy torture. But, long experience as an overlord had shown him a thing or two, and his powers. Well, his powers were quite useful for this sort of thing.

The electricity that ran through power sockets and the electricity that ran through nerve endings were pretty similar, after all, and Vox could feel all of Alastor’s nerve endings, firing through the strands that wrapped the bones of each hoof, up into the braid of nerves that ruled his body. What sensation went where wasn’t an exact science, but Vox was practiced. A zap to the prostate was always surefire, but hooves had a lot of nerve endings too, enough to get someone off.

Carefully, Vox brought electricity to the surface of his cock as he pushed it once more between the pads of the prone Alastor’s feet, enough to tickle the nerve endings. The reaction was instant; not an orgasm, but a quiver through Alastor’s body, a strangled capacitive whine in his throat. Alastor’s fingers clenched, rending the bedsheets with his claws.

“Good?” asked Vox, gentle because gentle pissed Alastor off more than rough did. “We can stop anytime, y’know. Nullify the contract. Just say the word.”

“Cheap tricks-” gasped Alastor, trying to turn in on himself and finding he could not, too stubborn to do anything save submit as the electricity from Vox’s cock made him quiver again, whine again. His breathing was shallow, his eyes wide as Vox fucked his hooves, squeezing his delicate ankles as the sound of electricity arcing through air and into skin sounded at the apex of each squelching thrust. “-fuck.”

“Good boy,” Vox ground out, his voice breathy as he applied a little more voltage. “Give in. Lemme make you cum.”

“Damnable -ngh- picturebox,” whimpered Alastor, a sweet sound on his lips as he came, quivering, into the bedsheets.

“A picturebox who makes you cum,” growled Vox, wishing to hell that he could touch more of Al than just his calves and shins as he fucked the still-slick still-sensitive space between Al’s standing toes. “How does it feel, Al? Getting fucked senseless by a clout-chasing, mediocre video podcast? Fucked by mass-marketed, overhyped- ngh- noisy garbage?” Vox could feel himself getting close, his audio lagging and glitching, the movement of his hips becoming irregular, a pressure in his shaft, his balls hitting the underside of Alastor’s neatly manicured crimson nails at each stroke.

Alastor gave a noise that wasn’t even a word, half animal, half distorted signal, and Vox came, hard, one arc hitting the side of the bed, the second hitting the backs of Alastor’s legs as he pulled out, vivid blue stripes over dark flesh and fur. A third and fourth spurt drizzled over his own hand and Alastor’s sublingual pads. Vox stood there for a moment, cock in hand, staring at his handiwork as he blinked away the error messages displayed on his screen. The great Radio Demon, covered in his cum. His cock, smeared with Alastor’s musk. Fuck.

Alastor sighed into the bedsheets, a slightly sulky edge to his tone. “You’ll clean that up, I hope.”

Vox felt a swell of something other than triumph in his chest; something warm. “Yeah, I’ll wipe you down, Al.”

There was something nice about both being in a post orgasmic haze, Vox thought, as he knelt again at Alastor’s feet, a warm cloth and basin in hand. Alastor, now back in the position he had started in, had little inclination to do anything other than regard Vox with languid red eyes as he wiped the evidence of their encounter from Alastor’s ruby red hooves, the bones delicate in his hands.

Vox planted a soft kiss on the front of Alastor’s hoof, below the dewclaws. “We should do this again sometime.”

Alastor lifted his leg from Vox’s hands, and in a fluid, measured movement, pressed his hoof to Vox’s forehead, grinding it back and forth with a twist from his hip, leaving a damp, scent-laden mark on Vox’s screen. “Absolutely not.”

“Say next week? I have the quarterly review Tuesday, so I’ve gotta keep the board happy, but Wednesday I don’t have anything I couldn’t blow off.”

Alastor gave Vox a level smile, pushing his face with his hoof. “If there is one quality of yours I have never had reason to doubt, Vox, it is your capacity for blowing things.”

Vox grinned. “That sounds like Wednesday night to me.”

[alice-after-dark]

okay wait ive got 2:

1) when people portray vox as a cringefail loserboy whos whipped to heaven and back for either al or val

2) when people act like r*dioapple has more foundation in canon than any other alastor ship

Hello friend!!!

Okay, hard agree on both fronts.

(putting under a cut cause this got long oops)

On the first one, fucking THIS. Vox is flamboyant and theatrical and he definitely has a temper, but everyone seems to forget that he is LITERALLY introduced to us as a manipulator of the masses. Like I adore the press conference scene. This is who Vox is to the rest of Hell. People take him very seriously. When the accelerated extermination is announced, people rush to get his opinion. Fuck, they don't even do that to Charlie, the literal Princess of Hell! Vox has his moments sure, but defining him by the occasional cringe is like defining Charlie by that one instance where she was having her conspiracy board red string moment and losing her damned mind trying to figure out what to do to get her plan to work. That's not who the character is at their core. And Vox is most certainly not whipped. There may have been a time in his life where he was for Alastor, but even if that was the case, that time is long dead. Literally the moment he finds out Alastor is back, he launches an attack. That's not whipped and I don't think he really ever could be. Whatever happened between them clearly caused him a good amount of pain and even if things get better between them, I don't think they'll ever have what they once did. At least not right away. As for Valentino, it's called damage control, not being whipped.

On the second one, not gonna lie, I don't pay all that much attention to R*dioApple (censoring out of courtesy because that's how the ask was sent) so I've never seen this claim, but I totally get why that would be frustrating and kinda bs. I may be a ship-what-you-want-to-ship kind of person, but uh...yeah it's made pretty clear at every opportunity that Alastor and Lucifer don't like each other, so to claim they have the strongest foundation in canon as a ship is a little...yeah, no. Like, I get it, I'm a RadioStatic shipper and there is definitely problems between Vox and Alastor, but we know that they have some kind of history and that they, at minimum, were friends (referencing the photo and Alastor's "old pal" comment"). We know canonically that Lucifer and Alastor met for the first time canonically in episode 5 and Alastor instantly felt threatened and went on the attack. That's not a solid foundation for canon.

Again, if you like R*dioApple , THAT'S TOTALLY FINE! YOU DO YOU! It's not my cup of tea, but that doesn't matter! If you like it, go forth and enjoy! But be realistic. There is nothing wrong with liking something that doesn't have a strong canon basis and you don't need to force one to ship something. Fuck, I do it all the time! My favorite ship in this fandom also currently hate each other! And I love me some good ol' they've-never-even-met-but-fuck-they-would-be-so-interesting. Shipping something purely because you enjoy the potential dynamic is totally legit!

[inviisiiblelee]

One-Sided Date Night

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Word Count: 3,034 Rating: Teen and Up Audience Relationship: Alastor/Vox Additional Tags: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Vox is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Vox falls apart easily, Vox is just an idiot, He has no idea how to be actually direct, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, I'll probably write a second part from Alastors POV later, radiostatic, staticradio, porting from AO3, link included above if prefered.

Notes: As always, heavily based around discussed concepts between friends who write Alastor. This is a submission for the tumblr RadioStatic Week of 2024, Day 3: One Sided/Date Night. I love them a normal amount.

Summary: “You’re a great friend,” Vox said sincerely, placing a hand over the one on his frame, leaning into the touch. “Thank you, Alastor.” “You’re welcome, Vox.”

This would be fine. It was supposed to be fine. Why did it feel like heartbreak?

------------------------------

The music in the lounge was gentle and soft, lulling the space between Vox and Alastor into something smooth and easy. There was a sense of tenseness across their personal frequency, but it was slowly melting away into something familiar and pleasant the longer they sat at their table, chatting happily over their appetizers. This wasn’t really that new, Vox knew, they went out for lunches and dinners plenty often, and they’d definitely been to this spot a few times. He had taken an extra step to order things he knew Alastor liked from the menu, and it hadn’t been an issue at all. Alastor had smiled at him, chuckled a little when he floundered to say that he would stop if it was weird, but he said he didn’t mind, he wasn’t wrong. 

It was nice, all of it was, but Vox was here for a little bit more of a reason than just to have dinner. It was the height of their relationship, he felt. They’d been living together for decades already, but they were so much closer than ever, spent nearly every moment they could together. There was hardly a person in Hell that wasn’t aware that if you messed with one, you would face the other with no hesitation. Vox … was also head over heels for Alastor, and had been for some time. He had been so hesitant to express it to him, but he thought that close to fifteen years of keeping quiet was long enough to have decided that it was definitely real and not at all something that would fade with time. So he figured, he could take Alastor out, sort of like normal, take some initiative in the whole thing, try to woo him a little – something he knew he was theoretically good at, but had never tried on Alastor – and hopefully broach the subject of changing the status of their relationship. 

“- alright?” Alastor’s voice cut through his thoughts, which he was carefully monitoring so as not to project them across the frequency between them, unspoken words that he did not want coming across uncontrolled.

“Oh, what? Sorry,” Vox replied quickly, finding himself somewhat embarrassed, a hint of hue change on his screen, he knew. Across the table, Alastor’s ears dropped just slightly - it was almost imperceptible, but Vox was well attuned to these small movements by now. It wasn’t as though he needed more than the thirty years he’d had to figure them out. His expression was easier typically to read, an eyebrow raised in questioning concern. 

“I asked if you were doing alright. You look a little lost, friend,” Alastor said, though patient at needing to repeat himself. It had become more common recently, Vox knew, for him to get a little caught up in his own thoughts or just to blatantly stare at Alastor and get a little … lost, as Alastor put it. It was a kind way to describe it, considering it was often just Vox staring at him longingly, with a dumb, lovestruck look on his face. He admittedly wasn’t sure if it was Alastor just being sweet about it, or if he actually didn’t notice beyond the fact that when it happened, Vox was often tuned out of the conversation. 

“I’m okay! Sorry, just thinking, that’s all.”

“Oh? You aren’t sharing much today,” Alastor quipped with a little smile and a laugh. Even now, they weren’t actually speaking aloud, despite being in public. Rather, it was especially since they were in public. Nearly all of their communication involved them speaking silently, through their shared radio frequency that was uninterrupted and unmonitored by any unwanted ears. Vox had recently learned how to put a death grip on specific thoughts, to prevent them spilling over while conversing. It was easier that way. And certainly safer for their friendship. 

“I know,” Vox said, evading the question just a tad. “Just a lot of nonsense, that's all, I promise.” Alastor seemed amused by the idea, leaning his chin against his interlaced fingers. 

“Well, that hasn’t stopped you before.”

“Well- hey!”

The deer demon laughed again, the sound softer and gentler when they were together like this, quiet in the fray of the frequency. It always had a different sort of quality when he laughed aloud, more abrasive and usually for a different reason. But between the two of them, it was like hearing the ocean rolling up against the shore, soothing and sweet. Homely. He just wished he could play it on repeat sometimes, bury himself in the sound.

Before their conversation could go too much further, their entrees were placed before them, and Vox could see Alastor’s eyes light up a bit as he was quick to dig in. Vox allowed the topic and talk to die down while they both ate, though Vox’s enthusiasm was less than his friend’s. Nothing at all to do with the meal and much more the nervousness running through his system. Electrical little surges that made his fingers twitch. It was a real problem that some of his emotions ended up manifesting so physically these days. Once more his eyes settled on Alastor and he found himself lost in watching him, seeing him enjoy his meal and appear just … generally happy in the moment. Vox felt like he’d spent years memorizing every facial expression Alastor could make, tracing the lines of his face and committing every little quip and compliment to memory. What else could he do in times like these? Alastor was … still hard to read, though. They were both clearly happy with the current state of things, no issues to be found for the last fifteen years, certainly. But he had no way to tell if Alastor would ever want more than that from him. Maybe he wouldn’t, but if he brought it up, would it destroy things? Would they be able to go back to normal after that? And would he be able to stay okay with things as they were?

“You’re doing it again, Vox.” He jumped slightly, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What’s on your mind? It’s not very like you to keep so quiet.” Maybe Vox should have found some offense, but he knew that he was a rambler at heart, and he did imagine it was coming to be a surprise that he was clamming up so much. He was usually also just as easy to convince to open up, and his resistance was probably giving something more away than he wanted. 

“I’ve just been thinking about … us?” It was almost a question, a hesitating, curious question of how that sort of response would even be taken. But very little changed in Alastor’s expression, although he was sitting back in his chair and watching him, clearly ready to listen. 

“In what way?”

“Sort of in general, I guess. We’re pretty close these days, and spend a lot of time together,” Vox said. “It’s been really nice, you know. So I guess I’ve just been reflecting on it a little.”

“Yet that seems to be something you don’t want to share.”

It wasn’t an accusation, but it felt like one anyway. He didn’t know what to say, at first. Maybe if he changed the subject, he would figure it out later. But no, it was a pointless thing to do, to dance around this all so much. He would do it a little regardless, it was just how he talked, something Alastor teased him somewhat for, never able to really get to the point without thirty minutes of preface. 

It was what he knew.

“I just think it might be annoying, if you listen and all you hear is me thinking of you,” Vox responded finally with a laugh. He felt embarrassed and unsure, and he rubbed at his screen briefly as though he could scrub away the feelings. It didn’t have to be this hard, he knew that, but what was he going to do if he said no, and if he took offense?

“Nothing you go on about has annoyed me before, why would it be different now?” Alastor replied, punctuating the thought by taking a last bite of his meal. He offered a smile, too, and while it could have eased Vox’s mind, he found himself that much more anxious. 

“I don’t know.”

It was the best he had to offer, though it wasn’t much. He really didn’t know why he felt so strongly about it all, or why he worried so much. Realistically, Alastor was right. There were many things he went on about that were much less serious and often quite silly, but through it all, Alastor always sat and listened thoughtfully. Even if he might have teased, he never held it against him. Couldn’t he trust it just like that? He knew the answer was yes, but it wasn’t about trust. It was about any possibility of losing the demon sitting before him. 

“You like what we are, don’t you?” Vox heard himself say directly, and he immediately wished he could snatch the words back, pretend they hadn’t come from him. That definitely wasn’t how it worked, but what he would have done for it …

“Of course. I’ve always thoroughly enjoyed your company, Vox.” Alastor’s reply was so quick, smooth, and lacked any sort of reproach. It had the potentially unintentional effect of melting his heart and easing him a little, putting a little goofy smile on his screen that he couldn’t hide. 

“Alastor, you know I would do anything for you, right?” It was a little bit of a silly admitting question, more serving the purpose of pointing it out in case he didn’t know it, for some reason. Not that it hadn’t become blatantly obvious over the last few decades, he was sure. 

“Well, I’m sure there are some limits, but yes,” Alastor replied, though Vox shook his head slightly. He wouldn’t argue, but he knew well indeed that there were no limits. Not exactly the … healthiest thing, but he meant it. “Is this you trying to ask a favor, Vox? You know you can just say it and it’ll be done.” 

“Oh, no, nothing like that.”

“Well, if it were, I would be happy to help you with whatever is going on in that cubed head of yours.” Vox smiled in response, chuckling at the little comment, but still trying to gather his own thoughts. Alastor gave him time now, it seemed, and finally, he was able to say something more … relevant to what he wanted.

“What do you think about dating?” Vox finally said, making a little leap. Even just a generic idea about it could be helpful, it wasn’t exactly a topic they ever spoke on.

“Oh, I don’t.”

“Oh.”

Well. That wasn’t particularly helpful, was it? Not altogether surprising, though, which made the nervousness return to Vox’s mind as he cast his eyes away from his friend quickly, as though searching the room for the right words.

“Has there ever been some sort of consideration?” he said after a moment.

“Hm … I suppose I don't really need to anymore. What about you…?” Alastor seemed more confused about his line of questioning than anything else, and Vox found himself panicking a little bit.

“Well, yes, I have a tendency to, myself. Not that much though! Haha. It’s just one of those things that pops into my head, you know, without a reason.” Idiot. Word salad at its absolute finest, certainly. At best, it seemed to make Alastor laugh a little, though he didn’t offer much else, the line going a little quiet once more, the music and other patrons keeping pure silence from forming, thankfully. They finished their main course and everything was whisked away, Vox telling the waiter they’d like some time before getting the bill, which they graciously acknowledged. Vox took a sip of the wine he’d sent ahead, a pinot noir that he’d found Alastor liked a few years ago. Alastor was not much of a wine drinker, but this one he knew he liked.  They spent a few minutes in the quiet of the lounge, enjoying themselves individually, but Vox knowing his mind was elsewhere still, just as restless as ever. He was trying to figure out how to phrase his next words, but he had lost his grip on his thoughts and one slipped through unbidden.

“Do you think you’d like to be closer to me?” 

The moment the words passed through the frequency, he clammed up, tense and worried, though Alastor didn’t seem bothered by the question. In fact, he appeared to consider the question for a long moment, before finally answering with a question of his own.

“Is there some way we could be? I don’t think it’s even possible at this point.”

Air escaped Vox for a long time. He knew he was staring, he knew he was sort of … losing himself in his thoughts, in a whirlwind of wordless emotion that he knew was ringing true through the frequency. Fear and worry and hope and everything that could be in between. It was overwhelming, and he could tell it was even a little much for Alastor, whose ears seemed to drop back a little. If he said anything, Vox couldn’t hear it. His internal mechanisms were starting to make noise, noises he hadn’t heard before, and he realized it was a bad thing when the color blinked out of his vision. 

“Uh oh.”

It spiraled out of control much faster than Vox could keep up with. Electrical currents shot through his body, from his head to his toes, and the glass in his hand was shattered between his convulsing fingers. His vision was blinking in and out, and he felt like he was watching each moment frame by frame, rather than live. Alastor was standing suddenly, and then the scene blinked, and it was clear he had fallen from his chair. In the next frame, Alastor had moved to hover over him, and he could tell he was asking him something, trying to talk both aloud and between them silently, but the static and buzzing was so loud that he couldn’t hear. And then his vision went completely dark, and all he could hear was the faint buzzing of himself.

----------------------------

Vox didn’t know how long had passed, but when his vision returned, and his audio just as slowly, he was back at home. The little place they lived together in, half built into the bottom half of the radio tower that Alastor worked out of. It was a pretty normal little hovel, a simple living room, a single bathroom, nice kitchen, two bedrooms, and … well. Half a marsh for the Radio Demon, of course. But for now, Vox was resting on the couch, it seemed. He still couldn’t see in color, couldn’t hear everything, but he was awake and aware again. He cast his gaze around the room, and as he did, Alastor came through the doorway towards the kitchen. Vox was almost tempted to try to pretend he wasn’t back yet, but the light of his display would always give him away, so there was little point to it. Alastor was bringing in a small tray, setting it down, and leaning in close to his face, peering closely at his display and screen, before offering him a small, strained smile.

“There you are. You took your time coming back around,” Alastor said simply, leaning back a little now, and Vox offered him a small smile of his own. His head was blissfully quiet now, except for Alastor’s voice, and he tried to respond. It took him several minutes before he was really able to gather enough thoughts to do so, but Alastor sat there with him patiently, helping him to sit up when he tried. 

“I’m not very sure what happened. And I still can’t really see properly,” he admitted. “I think something … broke?”

“It sure seemed like it. Started smoking a little, and you were … unresponsive for the walk here. You’ve been out for a few hours now.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I know, I just … I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.” A little laugh escaped him. “I’ve never … I didn’t think I could break internally?”

“What exactly happened?”

Vox hesitated to answer, but decided in the end, it couldn’t hurt.

“I got a little … emotionally overwhelmed, I guess. I was thinking way too many things all at once, feeling a lot all at once. Just … fried some things.” A twinge of electricity shot through him, making him shudder. Alastor seemed concerned by this, reaching out to steady Vox again. Once he was fine, Alastor’s hand moved from his shoulder to the side of face, the frame of his display, and there was a moment of flashing and stuttering on his screen. It was a terrible feeling, and Vox tried to pull away from Alastor, but he seemed intent on holding him there. Alastor turned Vox’s head, and he felt his fingers prying open the back to release the smoke building there. 

“You’re overheating… is there something to fix that?” Alastor asked.

“Oh, uh. I think so, I just need … I’ll have to order a part or two, I think. I usually only do that for upgrading, but it’s probably a good plan.”

“Right. Whatever you need, you just say it.”

“Just … yeah, just the parts. Thanks.”

“Of course, what else are friends for?”

Right. Friends. That was all they were, and all that Alastor wanted from him, could imagine wanting from him, right? That could be fine. It had to be fine. He loved him so much, but it was okay. Alastor cared about him, he knew that, that was fine. This was fine.

He could love him with his whole soul, and he would be fine to have him as his friend.

“You’re a great friend,” Vox said sincerely, placing a hand over the one on his frame, leaning into the touch. “Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome, Vox.”

This would be fine. It was supposed to be fine. Why did it feel like heartbreak?

[s-creations]

Comes in Waves - Vintage & Modern

Entries for the 2024 RadioStatic Week.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audience Relationship: Alastor/Vox Additional Tags: Cursing, Angst, Fluff and Angst, I'll try and write a good mix of both happy and sad, They're both idiots when it comes to love.

“Yes, no, I get that- Fucking excuse you? You have the audacity to say that to-” Vox let out a warning growl into his phone. Taking slight pleasure in having the demon on the other end stumble over his words. “Listen here, you little shit, you work for me. This ‘promotion’ was just because you had somehow come up with a clever idea. That’s it. If I didn’t think your shit was marketable, I would be consuming your soul without a second thought for even approaching me with your stupidity. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a weak noise of confirmation.

“Good, then you figure out how to make it happen. I gave you a deadline. Get it done. Don’t bother me with this again.” 

Pressing the end call harder than he meant to, Vox let out another aggravated growl. Great, now his screen was cracked. One more thing to sour his already poor mood. 

He looked up as the elevator let out a small ‘ding’, announcing his arrival to his penthouse. Vark was already waiting by the front door. Happily bounding around as Vox entered the area. 

The Media could hold back the small smile as he tracked Vark. “Hey you…at least someone’s happy to see me…”

Feeding his companion and getting his own food, Vox took a quick glance at the time. 

6pm. 

He had an hour until the show started. Plenty of time. 

He ate, cleaned up both the kitchen and himself, changed into something far more comfortable, and locked down his penthouse. The area went dark as Vox walked into his bedroom, Vark not far behind. The hammerhead shark made himself comfortable on the large bed while Vox wandered over to a bare stretch of wall. 

Knowing he had no reason to, Vox double checked to make sure it was just the two of them before typing a code into the wall. A small portion slid back, allowing Vox to reach inside and pull out a small radio. An old fashioned one, an very early model that the Media Overlord had been very fortunate to find in his early years in Hell.

When he’d purchased it, Vox had just barely started his climb in the ranks. A little more than a nobody, biding his time with his inventions and grand ideas. No one batted an eye when he purchased the radio. He wasn’t the technology tycoon yet, he hadn’t been vocal about his disdain for vintage items. 

Because he didn’t have a reason to fuel his hatred into the items yet. 

Vox carefully placed it on his bedside table, getting comfortable with Vark laying into his back, before he turned the radio on. It staticed for a few seconds. Vox fiddled with the knobs as he helped it try to focus on the correct station. And, just like magic, Alastor’s voice started to pour out and into the darkened room. 

“Salutations, my wonderful listeners. I have returned to bring you proper entertainment for you to indulge in. I have a few stories I plan on sharing with you tonight, a particularly interesting one involving a sinner who thought he could best me. Poor lad, I believe he was new to Hell and didn’t know better. And will never learn his lesson now. As well as a wide selection of music to listen to in between. There is a theme for this evening. If you think you’ve figured it out, I would love to hear from you from your sent in letters. I’d love to tell you how wrong you are on the next show.”

Vox settled down in his bed further, bunching his pillow under his chin as he listened. He felt Vark wiggle a bit more before getting comfortable himself. The shark started to snore soon enough. Vox smiled softly at the sound before he focused back onto Alastor’s voice. 

Allowing the words to wash over him as another blanket to calm his nerves, to take him away from the stresses of the day. 

Vox was fast asleep before the show reached its hour mark. Screen dim with  ‘sleep mode’ text just barely visible. All the while, Alastor’s voice filled in the quiet, filled Vox’s mind and dreams. 

“And it appears we have reached the end of our run time, dear listeners. Midnight is fast approaching and I must give you all a fond farewell. Until next week rolls around, that is.” 

“Sleep well…and I look forward to the time when we can meet once more.”

_____________________________

Despite the protest that he made, Alastor was vetoed at every turn to get that blasted picture box out of the hotel. Charlie insisted upon it. Said it would help keep everyone up to date as to what was happening in Hell.

As if he wouldn’t already know. But lesser demons need lesser tools to get the same job done, he supposes. 

Regardless, Alastor has made his point clear that anything to do with that box or anything connected with it was not going to be handled by him. Especially after that commercial disaster. Ugh. At least he had a deal with Vaggie to never be bothered by it again. Small victories…

His footsteps barely made a sound as he made his way through the darkened hallways of the hotel. The many windows providing the only illumination for that time of the night. All were fast asleep, tucked away in their beds, uncaring about the world around them. A break from the worries and strife that always seemed to be closing in. 

How he wished he could join them. But sleep always seemed to elude him these days. Which left him to just wander the halls of his new confinement. 

Making his way down the large staircase, Alastor found himself in the main area. Pausing to look around the area, letting his mind work on small problems and details that would hopefully help this place look less like a joke. Even if it wasn’t his most passionate project, he did have some pride poured into this place. His image was attached to it after all…

Eyes eventually land on the picture box. He felt his skin prickle at it. If anyone was around to witness this, they would have concluded it was his silent objection towards the piece of technology.

Puffing out his chest, he walked over to said contraption. Standing by the couch as he glared the item down. It didn’t respond back. Because of course it wouldn’t. The screen was as blank as every other time Alastor has gazed upon it. Barely any light reflecting off of it. 

He did hate this thing. That wasn’t a lie. But the reasoning behind was not always…truthful. Alastor will always stand by the fact of radio being the more superior version of entertainment. The picture box made those who looked at it mindless, drooling zombies. So his detest for anything ‘modern’ was not unwarranted. Why change what works so well? 

But the picture box, the TV, was a more…physical reminder. A harder thing for him to push past and forget. 

Because it looked like him. 

Vox’s original head, original face. The big, clunky, and very heavy set that made it difficult to walk on occasion. Alastor remembers teasing the other Overlord about it so many times.

He moves forward. Sitting down in front of it, legs crossed, cane placed to the side, Alastor indulged himself. Let’s the world fall away as his eyes focus on the screen. His reflection eventually fades away and is replaced with Vox’s face that he remembers fondly.

‘Well, there’s my darling doe…’

He could pretend that Vox is there and it’s just them. No hotel, no obligations, just them on their time. Hands moving away from the carpet, Alastor places them on either side of the screen. Vox’s face flashing that smile that made his heart stutter in the best way. Alastor swears he can feel the heat coming from the other, even if his hands tell him the unresponsive TV is cold. 

“Hello…my beloved entertainer…”

And just for a moment, Alastor can find peace in that TV. 

[boldlygreatsuit]

Why I love one-sided radiostatic

Before I start this little rant I must disclose that I’m aroace (so please know that this isn’t me trying to erase his orientation and present asexually as a problem, this is me trying to explore these complex and flawed characters) and so naturally I love the representation of alastor also being aroace so maybe me shipping radiostatic is a little hypocritical of me but I can’t help but love the story and tragic character exploration behind it.

Personally I like to believe that Alastor GENUINELY loved Vox, just not in the way he wanted. (They had some kind of queer platonic relationship but Vox wanted more and Al felt uncomfortable) And I think it killed Alastor to hurt his closest friend so much when he turned him down, I’ve been through something similar with an old friend I used to have. I know what’s it like so maybe I’m projecting onto Al but ehhhh.

It’s easy to just paint alastor and a evil psychopathic serial killer, a cannibal, and sadist, who loves torturing and tormenting people, don’t get me wrong, he is all those things but don’t forget he’s also human, he still has emotions no matter how much he represses them for the sake of his pride, reputation and self preservation. I could totally see him struggling to understand why’s he’s different and just brushing it off, after all, it’s never been an issue before now. He never had many close friends, nobody he’d ever be interested in pursuing. And now the person he loves the most wants him and he cant bring himself to want him back no matter how much he wants too.

I like the idea that Alastor wants to want him so much but he just can’t and it absolutely destroys him. He feels guilty and ashamed that he cant reciprocate Voxs feeling towards him (remember he’s from the 1930s, I doubt he knows what the LGTB is, let alone asexually so he’s probably under the impression that’s he’s broken in some regard. He probably never gave romantic and sex much thought, assuming that he would start feeling something eventually but nothing ever happened). While Vox just cant understand why he doesn’t like him back and keeps trying and it creates an uncomfortable situation for both of them.

I think radiostatic can be so tragic, they both love each other but in different ways and it tears them apart and they lose their closest friend due to it. Which ends up with them both bitter, raw and angry. Both blaming each other outwardly (Vox hating that Alastor rejected him while Alastor is upset that Vox went and caught feelings, complicating their perfectly platonic relationship) but internally hating themselves (Vox thinks he did something wrong to scare alastor away while Alastor hates that he couldn’t feel the same way).

I know Alastor is a very prideful person but I think behind closed doors his incredibly sentimental, after all, he’s pretty much a snapshot of the 1930s and he doesn’t seem to happy about change. So I could just imagine him up at night staring at the ceiling struggling with what he could do, whether or not, he should just lie to keep Vox happy and enter a relationship He does not want to be in so he can avoid losing his best friend (but also risk leading him on); or he turns him down and is honest with himself, not forcing himself into a relationship he doesn’t want but irreversibly hurting Vox in the process, and also risking losing Vox forever.

This could also create an interesting situation where Alastor agrees to date Vox and really tries to love him, hoping that maybe he’ll start feeling something eventually or at least get used to it. Of course this doesn’t really work and just creates resentment and pent-up emotions. Due to lying to Vox about wanting him and digging himself into this hole and the longer he stays the harder it is to leave without hurting Vox, this could lead to a messy breakup when Al just cant take it anymore and leaves.

I think “never love an anchor” and “tongue and teeth” are such perfect songs to encapsulate this kind of situation, the guilt and remorse but also the inevitability and hopelessness of it, the knowledge that there ISNT a right answer, no fairytale ending, this isn’t something to be overcome only accepted, and no matter what is done someone gets hurt severely and the only question is who and by how much. 

I want to see a Alastor and Vox confrontation where we see how upset they are and how they’re equally heartbroken. Al for the first time shows actual vulnerability as he’s expressing his self loathing and guilt towards his choices but even so he stands by them and tries to defend them. He hates that he did what he did but there wasn’t another option for him and he didnt know what to do.

They both struggle with their emotions but also their pride and respective personas, not wanting to put aside their pride and admit their own shortcomings and guilt, and be genuinely honest and vulnerable with each other. They want to comfort the other but they’re just at a point where they don’t know if they could, if it would make it worse. they both still love each so so so much (in different ways) but it’s all wrapped up in fear, resentment, guilt and heartbreak which complicates things.

Ngl the best outcome is these two going to therapy, probably Charlie, and actually learn how to communicate.

[jaybarou]

i found that the ship name of radiostatic when it is onesided is radiosilence and that's incredible funny and clever!

Anyway, my prompt for a fic that I don't have time to write.

Alastor was tempted. Not by Vox's offer, but by the power it would grant him. He didn't have much in common with the other Vees and he wasn't a team kind of demon, but he could imagine a collaboration with Vox. He had some promise if he changed a few things, so Alastor was considering it. Vox was young, had some charm, and Alastor could get used to the adulation. The guy would be like putty in his arms if he could isolate him from the others.

And to evaluate exactly where he was getting into he was giving the TV a chance. Volume up and screen facing away, after all, he knew how Vox's tricks worked and he was not going to let the fawn sway him so easily.

It was a late night show. Specially focused on mocking the King and his love life. Alastor couldn't be less interested if he tried, but content was not the point.

As luck would have it, they were discussing gossip about the lack of intimate love life between the monarchs. Vel had been stalking their social media and she said it was obvious the regal couple was not fucking.

Vox had brought an "expert" from the lust ring to parrot how any healthy, meaningful relationship shuld have copious amounts of sex.

Another guest had agued that copious may not be right, but sure, sex was basic and needed, otherwise it is not love.

Vox in his moderation role had agreed wholeheartedly. Valenttino had added, in what only he thought was humor, that sex might be needed for love but he had a business that said the opposite was not true.

Then they had kept eviscerating the Morningstar marriage. If there was no sex, there was no love, and if there was no love, the only love in hell, the thing they had built their power on, was there any point to royalty?

Because surely no relationship could be solid or strong if there was no attraction or love or at least something! That was just a big sign on the door saying "overthrow me".

They all laughed....

So much for progress.

Clearly the media was modern, but the talking points had been stuck in a time Alastor was done with.

Like the middle ages.

Was this what Vox meant when he had offered Alastor to join his team? This mockery of power based on the exchange of body fluids, and the fleeting solidity of feelings? Oh but Alastor had been wrong about Vox then. So wrong. And he had been so close to saying yes.

(then alastor interrupts the program, talking like a narrator over the lot, rejecting Vox publicly, mocking their lack of taste regarding their content)

(Vox went off air before Alastor's full rant could make it out and on air, but the tv color bars in every tv in hell was a clear sign that after Alastor's voice joined the fray, Vox had lost)

(That's why when Alastor goes home there is a summons, from Lilith, to thank him for stopping the vile rumors, and to offer a deal)

(and that's how Alastor goes from almost making a bad deal to really making a much worse deal)