#sick vox

[somedscontent]

Lil radiostatic shitty doodle couse I forgor to post it i think

[ripelytoo]

Got a temporary tablet to draw on, so here you go! I think this one is one of my absolute favorites that I’ve done so far 🫣😶.

[roach-master]

Can I request a sick Vox? Seeing his ass miserable is just funny!

hell yeah!

Perfect timing because im sick too (covid 🥲) and i love projecting hhehe

[damseldistressgirl]

MDNI 18+ weird tummy sound kink stuff beware.

Im not going to finish this so uh. Yeah sorry

____

Imagine Valentino and Vox getting into a big argument, and as revenge, Val slips something suspicious into Vox's drink. Vox has an interview later, and he'd love to embarrass him in front of everyone watching.

Timeskip <3

Vox is live, and he feels like something isn't right. His tummy has been bothering him for a while since him and Val fought, and it's progressively gotten worse over time. He's in the middle of being recorded, so he'll just have to find some way to cope.

*gurgle*

Oh no.

He hopes the microphone didnt pick up on that...

He gently rubs and kneads at his mildly bloated stomach, trying to settle whatever chaos is going on in there.

Vox continues to interview his guest. Hopefully that bout of discomfort was just temporary; he couldn't stand the idea of getting sick on tv... His image would be ruined!

*grrr...*

An intense feeling of nausea hits him like a truck; hes immediately overwhelmed with the need to throw up. He covers his mouth, hoping, praying that he doesn't vomit in front of everyone. He can feel his stomach slosh and churn, as he subtly pats his gurgling belly.

"A... are you alright, sir?" His interviewee inquires.

Fuck. If they noticed, that means... Everyone watching must've, too.

Before Vox can say anything, a second wave of nausea comes over him.

"I just need water. I- Im fine."

Hopefully no one can detect the pained, uncomfortable expression on his face under his iconic, smiling facade.

"You sure? You sound a bit... Sick." The interviewee looks down at Vox's tummy, their reply subtly referencing the loud, relentless gurgling noises emenating from it.

[v-vox-v]

"You don't deserve a truth from me so, ahem, I dare you to tell everyone I'm better than you"

“Fuck yøų Ałaşťōr, I’m not d–dœing tħat!”

[highwaytosickfics]

Hazbin Hotel sickfic prompt 4

Applemedia prompt (bc it's applemedia week and i'm inspired)

Lucifer and Vox both get sick and whine about it until Alastor begrudgingly takes care of them. Then they figure out that Alastor is sicker than the both of them but refuses to admit it.

[hype-blue-fixation]

RADIOSTATIC WEEK - DAY 5 - SICK DAY/RAIN

Vox has a virus and he's trying to walk Alastor through the troubleshooting process.

Alastor was at the bar. Eyes on the clock. If he thought he showed up early for their business meetings, Vox always showed up even earlier. But the hand tipped past 12 and the box-headed sinner was nowhere in sight. Alastor fidgeted with his pen. Unable to help the thoughts running through his head. Visions of Vox being caught by thugs in an alleyway. A greedy demon breaking into his house. Blood. Wires. Gunshots. Is this what it felt like to worry about someone? He'd almost forgotten what it was like.

He waited a few minutes longer before deciding it was enough. Hurried clicks on the ground followed him on his way out the bar and down the road. The sound of his own footsteps thundering in his ears in spite of the usual screaming and chaos of the hellscape. Above the rainstorm rocketing down. He stopped at an old apartment complex. Going to Vox's door but not even knocking. Inviting himself inside with the spare key hidden under the doormat.

The apartment seemed to be undisturbed, but dark. As if Vox went to sleep and never woke up. More of those terrible images flashed in Alastor's mind. Pills. Nooses. Guns. Goodbye letters. A strange sort of fear went through his body at the mere thought of seeing any of those beyond the door. To the point that his hand was shaking on the bedroom door handle. Annoyingly so. What were these…feelings? And why were they stopping him? He had only a moment to be repulsed by himself before he forced the door open.

On the bed laid Vox's limp body. Screen dark. But there were none of the things that Alastor imagined there to be, which was at least some sort of relief. He unhooked the charging cord and knocked against the side of the clunky box head. “Vox. Vox. Wake up. We're supposed to have our meeting at the bar at the current moment.” His usual tone sounded a bit louder. A bit faster. Is this what it was like to speak frantically? It had been a long time since he heard his voice sound that way.

His whole body shook with some kind of… joyful rush… when the screen finally flickered on. Vox's face was visible, though distorted by several rainbow colored lines and misplaced pixels. It meant nothing, really. Alastor had seen several broken down pieces of technology in his life. That unreliable stuff had no shortage of glitches and weaknesses. But for some reason, knowing this was the face of someone he'd  come to care for in some arcane way, it deeply unsettled him. Made his stomach want to crawl out of his mouth. If that was even possible.

“What is wrong with you? What can I do?”

He pressed his ears against those speakers, trying to make sense among all the garbled buzz. Nothing. But then he saw one of Vox’s antennas flicker to life. His voice faintly broadcasted into Alastor's head. He focused. Attuned himself to the frequency to hear it more clearly. The voice came faintly.

“I got a bug. Can you help me get rid of it?”

Alastor squinted. A bug? He began checking the other's body, as if expecting to find a wire-eating roach or something boring through the plastic.

“A glitch.” Vox clarified with a weak chuckle, “Open my head. There's a screwdriver in my drawer.”

Alastor wasted no time in answering the whim. He'd already seen the entrails of animals and humans, surely this couldn't be worse than that. Except that seeing the mess of cords inside, knowing they were the only things sparking his business partner to life, gave him a nauseous feeling. What if he bumped the wrong one? Pulled too hard and it snapped? Technology was fickle and fragile.

“There's a green board in there. Do you see it?” 

The deer squinted… finally seeing the green board. His hands shook as he went to unscrew it. Nervous that he'd mess it up. Feeding into the shakiness. A vicious cycle. The voice of Vox echoed in his head to calm him down.

“It's okay. You're not going to hurt me. Just relax.”

One deep breath and some fidgeting later, the board came unscrewed. He held it in his hands like a baby bird. One wrong move and it could snap. The wires going in and out looked so thin. Breakable. It surprisingly wasn't too much different from a human body. One very small piece could be the entire secret to life.

“Alright. Now you see the red wire? I need you to unplug that and put it back in. I'll go offline for a moment, but don't worry.”

Panic really started to settle in. Of the several wires going in and out, he could not decipher all their colors. The oranges, reds, and yellows all blended into one amalgamation of color. “Which one is the red one!?” an unsuspected panic crept into his voice, and he had to clear his throat to make it seem like an accident.

A sweet, staticky chuckle from Vox. “I knew you were colorblind, so I tagged all my wires. It should have a triangle.”

Alastor didn't have time to question how or why Vox would do such a thing, so he only gave it a few moments of thought. Searching arduously for the tag. Humming with delight as he found the triangle. Wasting no time in unplugging it. Startled as the monitor died and all signs of life faded. He nearly forgot where to plug it back in. A moment passed. Another. Still the screen was black. He tapped. Shook. Flicked. Impatient.

He checked the cords again. That strange shaky anxiety building up again. Had he messed up? Was there another instruction after the wire that he didn't give Vox enough time to explain? Suddenly he felt like his chest sank to his feet.

If only he knew more. Had taken the time to study Vox half as much as Vox had studied him. He fondled around on the green board until his finger found a moving piece. A small black sliding button. With no hope left, he switched it from one side and back to the other. Suddenly fans kicked on. Hope returned.

“Vox? Vox, hello?” Alastor tapped and shook as if it would make the booting process go any faster. The spinning circle on Vox’s screen was at least some reassurance that something right happened. Then suddenly a black screen with thousands of tiny white monospace words. Flying down the screen. Registers. Directories. Databases. Drives. It was nothing but senseless garble. But he knew one word: “Deleted”.

And the screen was filled with lines of code. Deleted. Deleted. Deleted. More worries filled his mind, if that's what such thoughts were called. Perhaps every aspect of Vox was being deleted and all he could do was watch helplessly. His personality. His memories. What if he woke up and it was just the same as when they first met on that raining bridge? On a night not so different from now?

A playful chime and startup sound pulled Alastor back into the moment. The screen flashed on. It was Vox's usual face without all the distortion and lines. Text across the screen read “restoring backup.”

The Radio Demon had a vague idea of what that meant. But how far back did the backup go? Would Vox remember him? Would he remember their meeting that they were due nearly an hour ago? Suddenly Vox's voice graced his ears. Not just a broadcast in his head, but something audible and real.

Vox's eyebrows furrowed. “IF YOU SHUT UP FOR 2 SECONDS, I COULD SAY HELLO, TOO.” This explosive display let Alastor know that his business partner was back in his right mind. “I still can't move. Can you unplug the blue wire and stick it back in, please?”

“Vox! Did I do it correctly? Hello? Hello? Hello?” Alastor kept repeating like a broken record. Caught on a scratch of concern. That's what he'd decided this emotion was.

Alastor couldn't be more delighted to. But once he did, Vox's whole body jolted and he rolled out into the floor. Crashing head first on the green board. Whatever this new emotion was, Alastor's face managed to get even more pale. The paralyzation of his business partner possessed his body instead. “VOX!? I'm sorry, I didn't have a proper hold on you!”

I'm sorry? Where did that come from? He'd never felt the need to apologize for anything. Vox slowly pushed himself up. Oddly…laughing? “You're so nervous about messing me up, huh? It's adorable. Really! But I'm not that easy to break.” He offered out the green board. Unscathed. “Can you screw it back in for me, pal?”

Pal? That was something they'd called each other for convenience sake or for jokes. But Alastor got the sense that Vox meant it in a different way this time. Not just a business partner. Not just someone to lick your wounds and be a convenience. But a real friend.

“Of course I can. Pa…p…” Alastor couldn't get the word out. What were all these biological malfunctions today? He wasn't any better off than Vox was only moments ago. But as he screwed the board back into Vox's head, a warmth came over him. This wasn't just a normal favor. Or something done for an advantage. It meant something.

“There. Now shall we have our meeting? We're an hour late as it is… friend.”

The word came out effortlessly. A silent understanding was shared between them as they went to the bar for their meeting. Although this had been a sick day for Vox, perhaps they were both a bit healthier that evening.

[yudol-skorbi]

they are late for the season 3 premiere

[smthaboutusss]

cw blood, mild gore?

rdst comic I had fun with 😽

[smthaboutuss]

tbh just wanted to draw sick vox but it turned into a comic abt him and carmilla LOL their dynamic is fun to think about

[damseldistressgirl]

+ he can hear gurgling noises reverberate around the room because Vox's tummy is so poor and sickly. Val is rushing to take him to the bathroom in case he vomits again; it seems like there's more to come, from the sound of it...

I sit in a quiet room and imagine vox, weak feverish and sickly, and val picking him up like a small dog. Especially if vox just spewed onto the floor moments before being picked up and all the while he's like 😵‍💫

Ah yes, an ideal scenario.

[mr-malumm]

Throws this at you and runs away 🏃💨

[ripelytoo]

I love torturing him.. I still have more ideas to torture him and make him miserable..

[agerasiaa]

A crack fic about Lucifer, Vox and Husk making an Alastor Hate Club. And it’s just them once a week bonding over how much they hate Alastor and Husk realizes more and more how he doesn’t actually hate Alastor and is bitter about it, Lucifer randomly trauma dumps about his tragic life, and by each meeting Lucifer and Husk notice how Vox’s sheer hate borderlines on obsession and they share awkward glances every time he starts ranting and shows them his Alastor shrine or something. And when he makes some comments like “Alastor does this and that every day” (some very specific detail about him only a stalker/someone with a long history with Al would know) and the other two are like “how do you know” and he’s like “I just do.”

[mistersillyyy]

[v-vox-v]

You’re gonna make urself worse by not resting sir..

“Ręsț iş før tħę węaķ!”