#verse ;; 🖤 won't wake up this time 🖤

[radioiaci]

@electriccapitalist ⧐ On the phone that Vox had given Alastor comes a message from the tech head. A simple but perhaps cryptic; 'hey al. we need to talk. in person & in private. it's important.' The fact that he hadn't just called or face timed was notable. He's not even sure if the man can navigate into messages or if he'd notice he had one but it's all Vox can muster. As he hits send and forces himself to eat something. UNPROMPTED ASKS.

It does, in fact, take a few moments for Alastor to register that the thing is going off at all. He does not tend to look at it except when he needs to contact Vox discretely - and the landline that has been disconnected in his room for a good while now had apparently not been acceptable enough for ease-of-access. He'd relented - and now the little device buzzes at him occasionally from his desk where it mostly sits.

When he does notice that there is a message waiting, he pulls it up into his hand to give it a squint as he reads through the message. He is not expecting anything significant - so nothing drums up any alarm as he taps out a response that takes him a few moments to manage.

[txt] I AM READING A VERY GOOD BOOK. WE WILL HAVE TO MAKE IT QUICK SO I DONT LOSE MY PLACE. WHERE DO YOU WANT TO MEET?

[queers-gambit]

In wpmp verse, I wonder who aemond would choose if he was given the choice of saving his wife or the babe during childbirth... would he choose the same as his father?

[ When Pride Married Prejudice ]

first and foremost, thank you so kindly for sending this in, my angel. i adore reading your guys' ideas and thoughts!!

as i'm writing the two alternate endings to the final, i weighed in my head this exact situation. i made the executive decision to remove it from the work because i personally thought this would be better as a one-shot, but now that you've brought it up, let's chat about it!

Aemond's heard only rumor about what happened to Queen Aemma. and he's asked sweet girl a few times, but she doesn't like talking about it because her mother doesn't like thinking about it. so, out of respect, sweet girl just tells him the basics and leaves it at that. but he's still curious over the truth.

so, he'll read. once sweet girl is pregnant, he's obsessed with learning as much as he can, and that includes learning about what can go wrong. he'll start to understand complications that can occur, so, he's a little more educated when his wife goes into labor.

i would actually imagine that if this situation arose, Aemond would refuse profusely. he's got the mentality that babies can be conceived at any point but he'd never find another wife like his - who actually cared for him, loved him, stood by his side.

he's got some experiences in court and the reason he wears an eyepatch is because of the horrified looks he used to receive. so, he worries he'll never find another wife who will understand him like his sweet girl does.

when the Maester pulls him aside to tell him the news, let's be dramatic, and imagine that he literally stabs the Maester for even suggesting a forced C-section. he'll grit in the Maester's ear that it's treasonous to threaten the life of a Princess, and lets the dead man fall at his feet.

in Aemond's mind, the Maester couldn't do his job and that wasn't for the Prince to deal with.

Alicent's in the room and while she's horrified at her son's actions, she can't really say she's surprised. Alicent's at her side, though, using cool watery rags to lay on her sweaty skin.

sweet girl's in pain, wriggling on a bloody bed, never noticing the murder, and Aemond has to make a decision. he refuses to let her go, and instead of cutting the babe from her womb, holds his wife securely as the babe has to die first before being removed from her womb piece by piece.

it'll be a painful procedure but Aemond makes sure she's got plenty of Milk of the Poppy, and refuses to leave.

he watches the Maesters work, and when he sees the aftermath, he won't feel even a tremble of guilt because he chose to save his wife's life. her life, which he thought was never replaceable, that was worth more than anything in his life.

he'll be there when she wakes up and though she's battling infection, he still thinks she's as beautiful as ever before. one look at his face and she knows the worst has occurred, but she still asks, "where's the baby? Aemond, please - where's the baby?"

"didn't survive, love," he'll have to tell her through his own thickening emotion. "Maester gave me a choice of you or them..."

"you chose me?"

he'll smile softly, leaning his forehead to rest on her own. "i'll always choose you, my love."

all my love 🖤

[alwaysdjarin]

INFINITY

CHAPTER 4: DON‘T GET LOST

(Image: The Mandalorian, Star Wars/Disney)

Warnings: Language, angst, harassment, violence

Summary: Adjusting to life on the Razor Crest, you have a terrifying encounter on Corellia.

Notes: Aaaww, there are so many feelings and thoughts in this Chapter. I hope you like it as much as I do. 🖤

Words: 3.2k

-*-*-*-*-*

You notice something tickling on your arm and scaring up. You are sitting in the middle of a small pile of blankets that you had found in the hull and made them a place to sleep on. The child looks at you with wide eyes. It was probably he who woke you up by mistake. You breathe out with relief.

You look through the hull. The lights are dimmed, almost as you are used to from the cantina. Mando sits on the opposite wall and looks in your direction. He hadn't planned that you would wake up now and catch him being down here too.

"Oh" you say. The cold air of the ventilation system gives you goosebumps. You take one of the blankets and put it over your shoulders, snuggle up in it.

"This is one of my cloaks." The helmet nods in your direction. Oh no, you thought it was a blanket all the time. Your face is getting hot. "Oh fu...l-I didn't know that. It...it was lying in front of the box and I thought…" - "It's okay. I'll let you know if I need it. I have another one."

Maker, you are so uncomfortable right now.

————————

The journey to Tatooine takes two or three days. You can't say exactly. Locked up in this ship, you lose your sense of time. The constant noise of hyperspace and the ventilation system completely surrounds you and you need some time to get used to it.

You spend most of your time with the child. You cuddle, he sleeps on your arms, or you talk. Okay, you're just pretending to understand him. But since Mando is not the best interlocutor, you need someone to talk to.

You also often sit up in the cockpit and look at the passing stars. You can never get enough of that view. Once you fell asleep in the co-pilot seat. When you wake up, your blanket, Mando's cloak is laid over your legs. He must have covered you with it. You smile at the idea that there may be a real person under the armor.

When you get an overview of the food rations, you decide that you absolutely have to shop more soon. Mando's rations are far too monotonous. He doesn't seem to care much about variety. But since this is now part of your task in addition to babysitting, you want to cook a little more varied. Even if Mando doesn't care, at least the child should get delicious meals.

For a short moment, you feel as if you have a maternal obligation to the little bug. You laugh inside. You are a mother. Wow. That sounds big. When you think about who is his father you quickly shake the thought out of your head. Oh Maker! No! Never!

Mando continues to remain silent and you have the feeling that he is avoiding you. You don't see him eating or sleeping. His portion of food is just gone after you have slept. Maybe there is no human under the armor and his species can do without food and sleep for an extremely long time. You are not well versed in other forms of life, but the possibility actually exists.

You are sitting in your sleeping place with the child when Mando comes down the ladder.

"We will land in about an hour."

"Couldn't you have chosen something cooler than Tatooine as our first destination? Sand and heat...really?" You look at him bored.

Mando only shrugs his shoulders as he walks through the hull. "You can't care, you won't leave the ship anyway."

"WHAT? I wanted to buy some things! We need..."

"NO!" He interrupts you with a strict voice.

You look at him angry and just nod. Every word from your mouth would now only mean quarrel and you want to prevent that.

"You're here to take care of the child, that was the deal. The area here is not safe. I will be back in three days at the latest." His tone leaves no room for discussion.

"THREE DAYS???" You moan and let yourself fall backwards on your temporary bed, while Mando opens his weapon cabinet and gets ready for the bounty hunt.

———————

You spend the next few days waiting again. You clean up the entire hull, set up all the boxes neatly and sort your stuff. You brought a small radio from Nevarro. It actually receives a radio station and you turn up the volume, sing and dance with the little, laughing child in your arms. You love music, but didn't dare to ask Mando if it's okay if you turn on the radio when he‘s around. He probably wouldn't have wanted it anyway.

On one day you go to take a shower. A long hot shower. You close your eyes and let the hot water run down your body. The hot steam fills the small room immediately. You reach for the soap with your eyes closed and foam your body. After a few seconds you notice the smell of the soap. Oh no, you took Mando's piece. A woody smell, some musk is in the air and you immediately realize that it’s the same smell adhered to his cloak. Your blanket. You take a deep breath. That smells masculine. Wow. You wonder for a moment if it also smells like this under the armor and what kind of man is under the helmet. You quickly turn up the water to ice-cold and squeak shortly. Stop thinking about something like that.

———————

Again, you lose your sense of time completely. You don't know how long Mando has been gone.

You just fell asleep when suddenly a loud noise roars through the hull and the ramp opens. You blink into the dazzling bright light that flows on you and realize that two people are walking up the ramp.

You didn't expect that. You jump up without to notice that you are not dressed. So there you‘re standing in your wide sleeping shirt that hangs from your shoulder on one side and your underwear beneath.

Mando leads the bounty through the hull and you look at him disgusted. The creature looks terrifying. Blue wrinkled skin, no hair and huge red eyes that look at you from top to bottom.

"Mando, if you had told me that you have such a sweet thing with you, I would have come along voluntarily. Can I also taste her?"

You swallow and stumble back a step.

"Shut up!" Mando pushes him into the carbonite chamber and hits the button. It hisses and smokes, then the bounty is frozen in carbonite.

You let yourself fall to the ground. "You could have warned me. I had just fallen asleep and then...then suddenly there was this…monster."

Mando turns his helmet to you. "Sorry, I'll come up with something so that it doesn't happen again."

The child crawls out under your blanket, climbs on your legs and babbling in the direction of his father. He seems to be happy that he is back. Mando is approaching you. "Hey my little friend, did you have a good time?"

He bends down to lift the little one up and when he does, his gloved fingers briefly touch your bare skin. It's only seconds and Mando doesn't seem to notice it at all, but a hot wave goes through you directly, suddenly you have to think about the smell of his soap again.

Meanwhile, he is standing again and walks right to the ladder. "Put some clothes on, we'll take off right away."

You sigh loudly and let yourself fall back, pulling the blanket over your face. Fuck, what was that?

——————

The next few days in hyperspace will run as usual. You and Mando mainly live past each other. You have your usual conversations with the child and even dare to turn on the radio quietly while Mando is busy upstairs in the cockpit.

More and more often Mando is now staying there while you make yourself comfortable in the co-pilot seat to watch the stars. Cuddled up in your favorite blanket, his cloak. You‘re sitting there for hours while the child sleeps in his crib and sometimes you wonder if Mando is also sleeping, as quiet as he is.

He caught the next bounty surprisingly quickly, so you don't have a long stay on the dark planet. You are not allowed to leave the ship again and climb the ladder quickly up when you hear that he’s back. So this time you don't have to see the bounty.

Your next stop is on Corellia and you are allowed to walk down the ramp and breathe fresh air for the first time since your start in Nevarro. You look around, the port where the Crest landed seems to be on the outskirts of a city.

You look at Mando happily. "And I really ca...?" - "Don't let anyone touch the child, don't get lost and be back before night falls." His voice sounds deep and serious.

You're smiling. "You sound like my father. I'm a big girl, Mando." You tap on the chest plates of his armor and look up at him.

He grabs your wrist in a flash, you love to challenge him like that. "I'm serious."

"Me too." You wink at him.

He still holds your wrist and starts attaching something to it. "This is a comlink, use it just in case of emergency."

"Be honest, you just want to hear my voice in between." You want to test how far you can go, but he's already blocking. Of course.

"Only for emergencies! And now go before I change my mind. My bounty is not far from here, maybe I'll be back tonight."

And so your ways part and you are traveling alone on an foreign planet for the first time in your life. You walk through the streets and are impressed by the architecture. You intuitively follow the crowd and end up on a market. "Perfect, finally I can buy us something great to eat." You look down at yourself, the little green child sits in a cloth bag and also looks around curiously.

You stroll along some market stalls and are amazed at the diversity. You buy some spices, fresh fruits, vegetables and meat. The people here are so kind that you‘re feeling good.

You discover some trees in the distance and as you get closer to them, you notice that it is a small park in the middle of the city. You are amazed, you have never seen anything like it.

You sit down on a bench and get the child out of his bag. Then you give him one of the fruits and you have a small picnic. You can completely relax here and are just happy. For the first time, you have the feeling that the trip is really worth it.

The little one on your lap smacks his fruit with pleasure and you‘re suddenly thinking of Mando. You wonder if he ever has moments like this. Just relax and enjoy the here and now. Don't be on the hunt.

After some time, you continue walking. You discover a small shop with clothes. Because it’s always so cold on the Razor Crest and you don't have a jacket, you buy a beautiful black tunic. You've never owned anything like this. Your complete wardrobe in Nevarro consists only of tank tops or T-shirts. You notice that the child has now fallen asleep in his bag and put the tunic over him so that he is covered.

When you come out of the shop, the sky turns into a beautiful dark blue. It will be evening soon, so you decide to walk back to the ship.

Of course, you remembered the way back, but you want to take a shortcut. But after a few minutes you are standing in a rather dark alley. Shit, I can't go on here.

When you turn around, suddenly a man stands in front of you. He is one head taller than you and wears a baseball cap so that you can hardly see his eyes.

"Well, what do we have there?" His voice hits your body like an electric shock. You walk a few steps backwards.

"Listen, I don't want any trouble. Just let me go on and ..." You are frightened when you notice that you bump into another person behind you and turn your head to look at him. Another guy.

„We don't want to cause any trouble either. Let's have some fun instead.“

You stumble a few steps away from him. Okay, now stay calm. Your big mouth has already saved you a few times at home. „Wow, on Corellia the men are so cowardly that they need to harass a girl for two. Didn't your mothers taught you manners?"

One of the two laughs while he walks towards you. "Manners? Of course. I almost forgot that. What's your name, my beauty?" He bows politely to you and you take this opportunity to kick him between his legs with full force. The next moment you run and shout "I'm called ‚Angel‘, I have no idea why."

He sinks to the ground cursing and you try to run as fast as possible. After all, you also carry the bag with the sleeping child and the purchases.

After a short distance, you get overtaken by the other guy. He catches your arm and pulls you around. It seems like he has touched the Comlink somehow. The small lamp glows red and indicates that the line is open. However, your attacker also notices it and tries to turn it off.

"Mando! Help! Man-" That's all you can say before the line is interrupted again.

Meanwhile, the second guy is back on his feet and comes to you. While you are being held by the other one, he starts tearing away your bags, throwing them on the floor.

A loud "No!" make it out of your mouth when you notice how hard the bag with the child is falling on the ground.

"Shhh, beauty. We don't want to attract attention," says one guy and press his hand firmly on your mouth. You try to dodge backwards but quickly notice that there is a wall there right behind you. Fuck, this won't work.

You fight back with all your power, but it is impossible to free you from their clutches. You ultimately manage to bite the hand that covers your mouth. "Damn you stupid bitch." He hits you in the face with full force, pulls a knife out of his pocket and waves in front of your eyes. "Do it again and I'll stab out your beautiful eyes."

At this moment you both realize that the other guy is a few feet apart from you. He grabs his throat and it looks like he's suffocating. You see the child standing on the street, his eyes closed, his hand stretched out in his direction. What the hell?

„Stop!“ A deep modulated voice echoes through the dark alley. The child leaves his victim and staggers dazed before sitting down. His victim sinks to the ground, struggles violently for air.

You are still in the grip of the other guy, he turns and pulls you around so that you stand in front of him now. His breath in your ear gives you goosebumps while he holds his knife to your throat.

"If you get one step closer, I'll let her bleed miserably." You notice the knife on your throat trembling and close your eyes with fear.

"It's okay Mando, take the little one and leave me here. I am....I'm not angry with you." You feel a tear running down your cheek.

At this moment, two blaster shots sound through the air and you can feel the knife sink from your throat. Both men are dead. Shot. You have no idea how Mando did it so quickly.

"Can you walk?" Mando puts his blaster back in his holster and approaches you.

You nod dazed, your can't understand what just happened.

"Then come! We have to get out of here! Quickly!" He grabs the bags from the ground, puts the tired child back in one of them and grabs your wrist.

You follow him, stumble more than you run, but you make it to the ship somehow. The ramp opens and he pulls you into the hull. His hand pulls so tightly on your wrist that it already hurts.

"Outch, Mando, that hurts!!!!"

He turns around to you, the visor tilts towards your hand before he lets go of it.

„Damn, what was that? Do you know how dangerous that was? Was that your intention? Fucking with two guys?“

You look at him totally shocked. „WHAT? Do you think that was my intention? Do you think I wanted to be harassed by two disgusting guys?“ You are stunned. „I told you to take the child and leave. I didn’t force you to shoot these idiots. You don‘t have to protect me. Fuck you Mando!“ Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces. That he thinks that way about you hurts you deep down.

The man in Beskar stands in front of you and does not move. There it is the silver statue again. He just stares at you. You can see how his chest moves more under his breath than usual. He seems to be angry, very angry. Either at you, or at himself.

You can‘t look at him any longer, his reaction hurts you too much. You lean against the cold wall and your feelings overwhelm you. "Fuck!" You whimper and hold your hands in front of your face. You don't want him to see you like that. You sink to the ground and cry. Your whole body is trembling and you are now realizing what you have just witness. You let your emotions run wild a few minutes before there‘s a hand on your knee.

You shrug back. "Leave me alone!"

"No, you are hurt. I have to take a look at it."

You don't know what he means until he touches your cheek. You hiss when you realize the pain.

"That's a nice cut, but I can fix it."

You reluctantly let him doctor your face, but don't look at him. Only when he is almost finished you notice that he has taken off his gloves. For the first time, you realize that there is really a human under als this Beskar. His hands are huge and feel warm on your skin.

You look into the dark visor in front of you. Again, your eyes unknowingly hit his gaze directly.

"Do you have any more injuries?" His voice sounds calm and no longer as angry as before.

"No, I don't think so. Thank you. I‘ll take a shower now."

He nods as he always does and helps you get on your feet. You stumble into the refresher and take a hot shower. You foam yourself three times to wash the disgusting experience of today off your body and only when you're done do you realize that you have used Mando's soap again.

You dry yourself, put on your sleeping shirt and stagger into the hull to lie down. You stock up on Mando's cloak, breathe in the scent of his soap and fell asleep before you can review the day in your mind.

>>>>> Chapter 5: Like fire and ice

[radioiaci]

▹ @electriccapitalist said: There goes his tail...

"Getting accustomed to new features, are we?"

Alastor is much more practiced at controlling his tail. But that means very little when he is face-to-face with this little surprise. And his own is not exactly still as he circles around Vox with distinct interest. And maybe just the slightest hint of predatory intent.

[radioiaci]

@electriccapitalist ⧐ "I should probably properly introduce you to my business partners shouldn't I? Before Valentino ends up in one of his moods and gets the wrong idea... I've had to talk him out of attacking the hotel a couple times already and there's only so many ways to appease that man." UNPROMPTED ASKS.

The name strikes a sour note in his otherwise mediocre day. He's not spared a singular thought for Vox's associates, as it were, having long since written them off as largely unimportant. The fact that Vox has brought them up at all is irksome, though Alastor knows that it is in his best interest to not stir up a calamity in pursuit of his more possessive tendencies.

The radio demon does not want to put the other overlord on a leash. But nor is he very eager to see the man fiddle about with others that are not himself.

Despite his desire to believe otherwise, Alastor is prone to envy. And it radiates from him in waves he cannot quite control as he responds.

"If you must," he says dryly. It is clear he is not enthused by the prospect.

[radioiaci]

anonymous ⧐ *pops a confetti canon at him* CONGRATS! UNPROMPTED ASKS.

Annoying noise aside.. There really only is one explanation for someone congratulating him.

"Ah yes, I thought tonight's short story was quite good and worth the praise! I'm sure the listenership was higher than usual. Poe is a more popular author when it comes to the classics. I'm glad he can be recognized properly."

[radioiaci]

▹@electriccapitalist

He is looking disrespectfully.

[radioiaci]

new ship verse tag drop teehee verse ;; 🖤 won't wake up this time 🖤 - electriccapitalist

[radioiaci]

anonymous ⧐ got any baby names yet? UNPROMPTED ASKS.

"No. It's not a baby."

Not yet, anyway. Not until Vox decides that he wants it to be.

[radioiaci]

▲ ALASTOR ▲

▹ The Radio Demon ◃@radioiaci ◃

Non-Exclusive but Selective RP Blog for ALASTOR from HAZBIN HOTEL

Canon-divergent & 18+

Para/Novella/Narrative (Long Posts!)

Multiverse Friendly

| ABOUT | RULES & OOC | HEADCANONS | // Ask Memes // Starter Calls // Art & Images // Thread Tracker // Affiliates: voxtekoverlord ; daddymothxxx ; ducktastic-dad ; cannibalxroses ; sirserpentine ; infernal-blaze ; videokilled

SHIP VERSE TAGS >

verse ;; 🌹 la vie en rose 🌹 - cannibalxroses

verse ;; ⭐ nobody's eyes but mine ⭐ - voxtekoverlord ; daddymothxxx

verse ;; 🔥 the fire in the sin 🔥 - ducktastic-dad

verse ;; 🐍 i'm ready now 🐍 - sirserpentine

verse ;; 🤡 fools and kings 🤡 - circus-frog

verse ;; 📺 crimson nights like these 📺 - videokilled

verse ;; 📶 two birds on a wire 📶- hypnotic-broadcast

verse ;; 🌖 just too much for you 🌖 - the-devil-less-known

verse ;; 🖤 won't wake up this time 🖤 - electriccapitalist

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

IMAGE/ARTWORK TAGS >

Vox - ▽ mediocre video podcast ▽

Lucifer - ◬ path of most resistance ◬

Angel - ⧩ effeminate fellow ⧩

Charlie - ⧋ potential to guide ⧋

Nifty - ⨞ twisted little mind ⨞

Valentino - ⧊ morality in a chokehold ⧊

Rosie - ⟁ delightfully debonair debutante ⟁

Husk - ◭ graduate of bad beats ◭

Sir Pentious - ◥ remember you now ◥

Vaggie - ⨻ re-formed ex-exorcist ⨻

Cherri Bomb - ◺ explosive late entry ◺

------------------ OTHER/BASIC TAGS >

▲ sense of self ▲ : images & art of alastor

△ on the air △ : in character posts

⨹ tune on in ⨹ : posts containing snippets of the broadcast

⨞ dash commentary ⨞ : commentary on dash happenings

▶ after-hours broadcast ▶ : out of character posts

▲ promotional material ▲ : promo posts

◭ ask memes ◭ : ask memes free for anyone to submit

⟁ starter call ⟁ : posts that can be liked for a starter

⨻ answers ⨻ : answered asks

⧊ hellish headcanon ⧊ : personal headcanons for alastor

⨺ white noise ⨺ : music or inner thoughts

⨨ nsfw ⨨ : nsfw threads or images

⧍ queued ⧍ : posts from the queue

◸ saved ◹ : saved posts

------------------ Credit for Icons/Avatar/Header:

Official Art - Hazbin Hotel Fan Art - @/alloplush

[radioiaci]

It is with patience that Alastor awaits the other's response - knowing that it is not an easy decision to be made, nor one that Vox will make without his own input. Input which he has yet to even really decide on. He is not meant to be any sort of parent, his hang-ups for being such hinging entirely on his own raise and knowing the sins of his father and the betrayal of his mother. And is he expected to be any better? To not strike a child in the face for back-talk or to look upon his own progeny with disdain for turning out wrong?

Questions he does not have answers to.

"Made in our image..." Alastor repeats, his gaze drifting elsewhere as he considers that descriptor specifically. His mind is in the same place as Vox's in that regard - a combination of their abilities and powers? Something to carry on on the off chance that either of them meet their end in the next extermination? One that he is certain will be worse than all those that have preceded them - if the battle at the hotel is anything to go by.

But that would require the creature to get that far. To be able to come into its own. And how would a Sinner-born beast even age? Would it be as expected? Would it take longer? Would it be in their control? There are many questions that none other have even dared to consider, let alone himself.

Vox's last addition draws his gaze back over. If he weren't the father. Well, of course. If he weren't, he would have insisted that the thing be destroyed and might flay the individual responsible. For implanting something so parasitic into the body and being that he considered his own.

Thankfully, that is not the case. If all of this is to be believed.

"No, the misguided and long-since illusion of a nuclear family is not something that I would permit, even if it were an achievable ideal," Alastor says with a moderate sneer. He will not relegate either himself nor Vox to be a vapid housewife. They have facets of the ring to continue to control. There is no time to abandon those responsibilities in favor of playing mother.

"...Honesty prompts me to warn that any parental role that I would take would be as I am in all other aspects of who I am and what I do." Harsh. Firm. Judgmental. Expecting control and viciously ensuring it for himself and all things in his grasp. "Ideal role models were far and few in between in my day." His father's face reflects in his own terse expression before it is gone. Fleeting.

"And there is no doubt there will be a target painted on not only this spawn but on the two of us as well. There has never been a Sinner-born entity. The moment it is discovered, the Pentagram will talk of nothing else for ages."

The thought makes him bristle.

"However... To have some sort of successor... or, at the very least, another player of our own making within the weave..."

That is interesting indeed.

Ignorance truly was bliss. As the tech head is spared from the worries of the queen's influence. Although there was grand difference in Alastor being taken or ordered vs him choosing to leave. It was that belief that Alastor simply didn't want him that hurt so much and it's that needling worry that's chased back away. 'I will be with you'. It's enough. More than enough when coupled with his actions thus far.

A brow arched at his lack of additional input. Merely curious. Wondering if he'd said something wrong but not having long to dwell on it as his lover continues. Right. The issue at hand. No more dancing around it. Now that Vox was back in control. Though he grimaces.

"A moment my dear." Pulling away from Alastor's arms slowly. Trying to communicate that he isn't ripping himself away, isn't fleeing or upset. He reaches out and pulls out a carton of cigarettes from out of thin air, a trick all overlords know well. As he makes the short distance over to one of the luxurious leather couches he kicks off his shoes. Getting comfortable.

Patting the cushion beside him as he lit the stick with a spark. He's stalling again. The smoke helps ease his nerves though and he genuinely does need time to gather more of his thoughts. Trying to think of it like he would matters of business. Practicality.

"I'm confused for a start. How did this even fucking happen? Why us? I'm conflicted. We could just abort the damn thing and be done with it. Or..." Vox's eyes glance at one of the many paintings on his walls. "Or we could have a kid. Assuming nothing went wrong. A son or daughter made in our image."

A dynasty.

And a legacy that could outlive them.

The embodiment of their combined power. Audio and visual. Light and dark. All in one. Something created and given life from their dead souls.

"And I'm scared. There's so much to consider. So much that could go wrong or that we could regret." What if. What if. What if. It was exhausting for a chronic over thinker. The cigarette brought to his lips. Cobalt smoke escapes the gaps of his shark like teeth.

It's not a feeling but it bears saying. "If you weren't the father, I would have cut it out of my stomach by now." Which is Vox's way of saying that if it was with Alastor... he was open to the idea of trying... "Though I don't see us ever getting the typical picket fence and yard."

[radioiaci]

It is an unfortunate thing that Alastor knows he has to lie. His intent and what may actually occur are two different things. If Lilith pulls his number, he has to go. Regardless of what he wants and what Vox wants. But how can he say that? How can he be honest in the face of what he knows to be a distinct desperation?

He cannot.

But his hands come up to cradle Vox's face in them - all sharp points and yet the touch is disarmingly soft. A precursor to the reassurance he knows he has to provide if it means keeping the other rooted in a place where he will not dissolve in panic or depression. Though he knows he may not be able to avoid that entirely.

Alastor will try.

"So long as the world continues to revolve, I will be with you," Alastor says, hoping that it is enough. It does not feel like it is. And he certainly cannot say anything about love - he does not know what that is like (or believes that he does not). There is no confidence in that line of dialogue. He will be sniffed out far more easily if he tries to lie about that. But what he knows is that his name is distinctly carved on Vox's core - and Alastor may not know love, but he does not what it means to belong to someone or something. And Vox belongs to him.

That will not change.

"The reassessment of paranoid assumptions could help, yes," he replies to the other's offer to him in turn. But he hesitates at the mention of expectation - it is always such a heavy word that he does not know what to do with. And Alastor looks far more uncertain when asked to define what that means, his gaze diverting for a few brief moments before he says anything at all.

"I will tell you. When it comes to that."

He cannot summon up the articulation just then. The way that Vox has phrased it makes him feel inadequate. Alastor falls silent as a result, though he does not pull himself away from the other's proximity, preferring to fixate on Vox's feelings and thoughts for the time being. He himself is a much more difficult puzzle to parse, even for himself.

"...Tell me your feelings on what you now have to decide," he instructs. About this... pregnancy.

The formality and slip into a script is so natural. Vox doesn't even feel it anymore. He hasn't for a very long time. Always acting whether or not any cameras were present. And they always were because he had to have a record. Had to see everything. Be everywhere. He's split himself up so many times. Spread himself so thin. Is it any wonder the cracks are starting show under the weight of this revelation.

Pulled out the beginnings of his dissociative line of thinking by his lover's voice. Quite literally helping ground him. As much as he'd like to disappear after all the shame and fear.

With the door closed and them sealed properly away from the rest of the world Vox wraps his arms around the other and searches his face once more. "Say again that you won't leave, please. It helps to hear it. Reinforces the truth against my own delusional worries."

Tell me you love me.

Vox allows his eyes to close. All of them. Even the thousands spliced elsewhere. Though he's not hooked directly into his network it helps to severe the connection more deliberately. To distance himself. Perhaps he'd be less flighty and like a frayed wire if he was more intact.

"If I start to static or glitch, shake or pinch me. Talk me back. Don't let me leave or get lost. I don't do that on purpose I swear, happened when I was human too." He'd just fade off into his own mind. Could take seconds or hours. Like a lost signal without input. Drifting.

"I am sorry. I... s-shouldn't have tried to ru-un. I just couldn't handle losing you again because of this. I panicked. I know it's weak. I'll do better." More purposeful. Determined. Less pitying. Sincerely despising his own awful hang ups. Wishing that he were stronger and less affected. Trying not to linger on it least his wallowing be even more humiliating.

"This helps too. Just talking. Having you close. But then I always enjoy that."

Easing up more and more as he filters air in and out through his vents. Causing the air around them to warm up as he tries to literally cool off. Managing a tired sounding laugh. The tears have let up. Rather than an outpouring of bottled up emotions they merely twinkle in the corners of his eyes. "I appreciate your patience and how much you're willing to tolerate. Most wouldn't bother."

He loosely wraps an arm around the redhead's waist. Lowers his head to rest on his shoulder with what can pass as a nuzzle. "And what can I do for you? To not... To not overwhelm or stress you out as well? You don't like to feel chained by expectations or forced to accept accountability for what you haven't done, I understand and agree with that. What else? I should probably avoid making paranoid assumptions for a start."

[radioiaci]

No, now is not the time. Not until he can gather the other into some relative privacy and give himself a few moments to properly parse what, exactly, he has been told. Alastor permits the taking of his arm as they leave the tower to make their way to the home which he has never stepped foot into, curiosity only taking him so far as he gives the entry a glance over in vague interest.

It suits Vox. The way that he is. It's not very appealing to Alastor - but then, not much is. It really only is Vox himself that the radio demon seems to care anything for, his eyes wandering back to the other overlord as he seems to be making an attempt at acting as a suitable host to his presence. And while he might have soaked up that sort of attention any other time, Alastor is not very keen to have Vox - in the state that he's in - have to act as though nothing is amiss.

He may not be very in tune with normal emotions - but he is not dense.

"Don't worry about my coat," he says, waving a hand dismissively. With the act itself, the coat is gone - disappeared into some sort of space between planes where his staff often goes when he needs both hands free. With them free of any burden, he extends one to snag one of Vox's. Manhandling as he tends to do, but it is one way to get what he wants out of an interaction, tugging Vox closer to himself.

"Tell me what you need to settle your mind a little." It is prompted in a steady, quiet tone. He has to appear as soft - as approachable - as he can. Empathetic, despite not truly knowing what that is like to be such with sincerity. He can play the part. To ensure that Vox does not see fit to draw away from him, regardless of this small (small, he reminds himself) obstacle that has placed itself into their path.

He will not lose Vox to the fear. Alastor is much more frightening than anything he can fathom, especially something as banal as an unwanted(?) pregnancy.

Vox startles a little at being grabbed yet quickly settles into the touch. Leaning into it. Gradually half lidded eyes have been losing more of that manic edge. The spirals faded and bolt shaped pupil stabilizing. Despite how close they'd gotten, Vox hadn't affected the technology around them. A small testament to keeping the peace before more potential for disaster.

There's the wish to be held. Even the more fleeting of touches helps ease the ceo back from that precarious ledge. He doesn't push for more than Alastor is willing to offer. Conscious of how greedy he can be and how now isn't the time to keep asking for more.

"You say that but the first person I see might be getting shot anyway." Since his list of coping mechanisms is being dwindled out of concern for the... fetus? Yeah. He'll go with that for now. "Maybe eating someone's soul would make me feel better."

Always made him feel stronger at least.

Leaving it at that. He takes the deer by the arm (as opposed to grabbing his hand) and guides him out of the room. If Alastor bothers to notice than he'd see that all of the cameras and bugs are down. No recordings audio or visual. The entire floor is dark. For someone as surveillance crazy as Vox that's odd but he didn't want to risk a breach of security and have these developments potentially used against them.

It's a short walk to his home proper. A convenient aspect of Vox's decision to work and live all in the same place. With everything the tower had to offer there was hardly a reason to leave and in his more reclusive years Vox often just didn't. Often you could say he was as much a prisoner here as their actual slaves.

Code punched into the lock Vox walks in before his guest. Rather than be polite he's practical. Thankfully it's clean and tidy. What you'd expect from a billionaire eccentric like himself. All very new hyper tech and cyber design. With a touch of the nostalgic of his era. A contradiction, how fitting.

"Make yourself at home." He waves at the general area of his living room attached to the entryway. Sleek couches and foot rests. Large tv mounted to the wall. A restored and modified old diner styled jukebox in the corner. Walls lined with abstract and impressionist paintings adding more colour variety than just the neutrals and blues. He even has what appears to be a forgery of one of Claude Monet's (no relation) works. "I can take your coat if you'd like."

[radioiaci]

If he lacked any social awareness, Alastor might stick out his tongue to lap at those strange tears to see what they taste like, if anything, but that is not where his mind is. Instead, he is eyeing the other as he comes down from his emotional peak to something more manageable. It is expected, however, to the point where Alastor will not chastise him for it for longer than need be, settling himself as Vox seems to find some stability.

The reassurance that he will not run is what permits Alastor to remove the tendril, bringing it back to himself to disappear again as he reaches with both hands then to take Vox's head in them. To keep him centered with his focus on the radio demon. Not to say anything significant or profound. He's not entirely sure why he does it. Maybe just a gesture that is making an effort to root Vox in the present.

The future can wait a while. Until the are settled once again.

"Mm. I make no provisions for carpets," he says, leaning to press his forehead to the other overlord's. Despite it all, he is still attached. He can figure out the details later. "Better to just let them live for the day. But we can relocate." Ideally, that will keep him from running headlong into the moth who he will need to contend with eventually.

In a perfect world, Valentino would have simply packed up and left at the realization, but Alastor cannot envision that scenario playing out in that way. He'll think about it later.

"Go on, then. Let's go."

He makes no attempt to remove himself from the close proximity of the other. Vox will have to take charge for just long enough to get them there.

"I'm trying not to." God it feels pathetic to be so weepy and fragile. It's like he's some irritating woman that needs a slap across the face. Sympathetic in how troublesome it must be to deal with. Lord knows if their positions were reversed he might lack the tact or patience Alastor shows him. He can't even entirely blame the possibility of hormones. It just seems like once his grip on his emotions, rage or grief, becomes too much it's difficult to regain control.

Nodding along although it's not as simple as Alastor makes it out to be. Those women aren't biomechanical monstrosities. They were built for it. Trained and hopefully taught what they needed to know about their own bodies. Though Vox relents internally that he has time to learn. And that letting his paranoia control him would only make this entire ordeal infinitely worse. Easier said than instilled however.

"I'm sorry..." Having returned to some level of normalcy, feeling less like everything is going to be destroyed at any moment, he deflates a bit. Broad shoulders slumped and antenna drooping forward. Feeling awful about the circumstances and for what he's putting Alastor through. "I know it's a pain."

"Just- just give me a bit. To recollect myself. I'll get it together."

Gesturing to the tentacle wrapped around his wrist, "I promise I won't run. Though we should move to my apartment. It's not far. We can sit down and cool off. Kitty can get you another drink if you want or something to eat."

He needs his smokes, personally. Breaking out an attempt at a smile and lighthearted joke to perhaps ease some of the tension, "I've got an intern or two that wouldn't be missed. I'd just ask that you avoid getting any blood on the carpet."

Clearing his metaphorical throat after a prolonged and deep set sigh from his vents. "We can start over."

[radioiaci]

Of course, Valentino. So he likely knows about this little snafu, too. Lovely. That is a matter for another time, Alastor thinks, as right now he has to deal with the one presented before him, only breathing moderately easier when Vox seems to accept his desire to keep the television around as truth. Alastor is nothing if not possessive. He is not about to permit some strange hanger-on to ruin something he has been trying to build his way back towards for years now. That would be foolish.

Vox's response to him does not feel satisfying. There has to be more than just that - there always is. Just talk. Just decide what to do. Just take responsibility. Just keep it. Just destroy it. Just act as you should act in such a situation. Do what normal people do. Do that or else be cast aside for not living up to it. And on and on. Swallowing back his own hesitations, he focuses again on Vox's panic and fear. Again that he will leave. Things that are outside of his actual control - if Lilith wills it, he will have to go. But that is not something he will bring up here and now.

"First," he replies, a hand raising to take Vox's face into it. To steady him.

"Quit crying."

He knows that's a fruitless request. Vox will cry if he wants. But he has to make some effort to settle down whatever tide of distress keeps threatening to pull the man under.

"Second- Do you see me walking away? No. Now put that out of your mind."

Because he is here. He does not know what to do. But he's here. And that's a feat in and of itself, isn't it? Be grateful, says his internal thought process. That he is entertaining conversation about this at all and not simply telling Vox to make a decision one way or another. Though he wants to. Why is this reliant on his own input?

"Women have been bearing children for eons," he mutters. "That this is Hell and that you are not a woman only makes a marginal difference. Whether you keep it or destroy it, it's not going to kill you." He says it with conviction despite not truly knowing. "So calm down. If you want to talk then we'll talk. But I won't while you're in hysterics."

Because Vox is bad at listening when he is. Alastor does not want to put forth effort for nothing.

"I'm letting my heated conversation with Valentino and my own doubts infect things." Vox admits quietly. And that wasn't fair to Alastor and this conversation. Fueling the miscommunication taking place.

Not fighting it when he's pulled back. He searches his face. Even now that smile is ever present and it looks exhausting. Despite the whirlwind they find themselves in Vox has the desire to close the remaining distance and kiss his cheeks. He remains where he is and pushes the fleeting thought aside.

It is an immense relief and comfort to hear that Alastor isn't going to just straight up abandon him. Understandably one of Vox's largest and most damning concerns. People had forsaken all sorts of unions for far less than an unplanned pregnancy. Considering the short time in which they'd been reunited, could anyone have really blamed Alastor for getting cold feet?

As Alastor goes on Vox makes a genuine effort to listen and actually try to consider the words being said. Rather than just react and respond as he is so often prone to do.

Brows furrowed at that word. The weight of it. 'Expectation'.

"Us to talk." And he realizes with a shameful glance to the side that he is indeed a hypocrite. Considering he'd been preparing himself to run when facing what he thought was going to be another break up. Continuing on despite his own cowardice, "We made this thing together. And we should figure out what to do, together."

Vox really doesn't know fully how to envision or refer to it either. Hard to wrap one's head around things that way. Really he's making up most of this shit as he goes. There were no manuals or scripts to fall back on.

"I don't need you to coddle me or start playing picket fence. I'm not expecting you to be overjoyed to tears or demand a termination right this minute. I was worried you'd be disgusted or angry, enough that you'd leave, but that's different. I brought you here because I can't do this alone Al and I don't want to!" He doesn't know if he's explaining himself well at all. If he's getting his intentions across. "I don't expect you to have all the answers or solutions and I don't want to pin it all on you. But I need you! As my friend and as my partner, to at least be here."

"We need to figure out how we feel about all of this. What our options are. What we each want. What we think is best. And start considering what we should do." Wiping his face on his free arm. Voice finally breaking, "I mean f-fu-fuck! What do we do!? I don't know, no one does! And I'm so fucking sc-scared."

.

[radioiaci]

"And where did I accuse you of doing it on purpose?" Alastor replies, exasperated with the ordeal already, and he has not even delved into how he feels regarding the reality of the situation. "I am upset that I engaged in something with you without fully understanding the situation. If you want to blame me for that, then fine. So be it. And I would not put it above you to wield it like a weapon against me for the things I've done, but only after it happened upon you. But do not pretend as though I immediately pinned you as the orchestrator of the damned... thing."

He doesn't know what to call it yet. Creature? Beast? Baby? Machine? God, what even is it? Maybe this is all a misunderstanding. Maybe it is a parasite. But saying that aloud, given Vox's present state, will likely not do him any favors at managing it.

And now, after a moment, he understands that Vox may consider this to be what one might call a deal breaker. Something that will render that carving upon his core inert. And Alastor means to nip that in the bud, immediately. No manifested spawn will take away what is rightfully his. To that end, he uses that tendril to tug Vox back towards himself. To have a proper conversation. Or, at least one where he is not concerned that the television will simply walk away.

"Tell me what you want from me," Alastor says, though anger is quickly making way for something that is tinged with just the slightest air of desperation. He knows this changes things, no matter the outcome. "If you want me to stand here and tell you that I do not mean to toss you away like day-old refuse, then that is what I will do. Because I took your center as my own for a reason. There is nothing that will change that."

Getting that out of the way off the bat. And perhaps he should have led with that.

"But I do not know why else you come to me with this. What is-"

He hesitates. As always, speaking of - giving finality - to any sorts of expectations weigh on him. Heavily. The reason he'd run all those years ago was because of those perceived expectations. To be partners, to be... something more. Things that he does not believe himself to be wholly capable of. Romance and love or what have you. Things he still does not believe himself capable of. And what now? With some sort of... child thing?

"What is the expectation?"

What he expects, after all, is to not be able to clear the bar.

Regardless of what it is.

Humourous isn't it. Valentino has yelled and screamed at him similar sentiments. Although worded in distinctly different ways. If Vox wasn't so overcome with emotions he might even laugh at the parallels. It really does drive in just what exactly is wrong with him and his shortcomings when it comes to relationships. He expects too much too soon, assumes far too much. He pulls and pulls and then flees when it pops.

This time it had been the word villain that really had him feeling flighty. An overreaction maybe to Alastor's understandable failure to immediately handle the situation with grace. Though it was a failure they shared.

He wrenches his hand in the tentacle's grasp but it's more out of instinct than a general desire to get away. That gut reaction when pulled back to pull against. Settling after a moment. That anxious frightful energy still coils around his limbs, sparking off his antenna as it tries to dissipate.

It's rather petulant that Vox just wants to scream back that he didn't need a million diamond words or to be immediately swept off his feet in a comforting embrace. He just didn't want to keep feeling so fucking guilty about everything! Rightfully derailed when this ordeal was lumped together with their past. A point so hurtful that it festered and latched onto the nearest well of doubt.

To his credit Vox bites his tongue rather than scream what he's feeling. At least lucid enough to know that it would only make things worse. Between Valentino yesterday and Al today, he actually takes much of it to heart. Though it feels like a knife being stabbed into his chest repeatedly.

Letting Alastor say his entire piece. Granting him a few moments of quiet even before finally adding, "I just don't want to be attacked for something I had no c-control over... I didn't do this on purpose to hurt anyone!" He didn't expect a script. He just didn't want to feel responsible and scorned. To stand accused.

Rather than sound angry or inconsolably upset Vox is just immensely worn out. He'd worn himself ragged these past couple of days. From one hysterical level of emotion to the next without any chance to catch his breath or regain his footing. It felt like someone was always yelling at him for something he'd done wrong. Though none of that was an excuse for his own lackluster handling of the situation thus far.

After that one point is made he falls into the silence Alastor asked- no, demanded from him. Continuing to cry regardless because once it starts it never seems to stop. The arm the tentacle keeps a hold on hanging at his side. Chewing on a finger as he just weakly stares a hole into the floor mulling it over again in his head. Impatient sop. That's a new one. Although not entirely inaccurate is it.