ashes and rot
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Summary
"It was icarian, the way Vox longed for him. The way he orbited Alastor like a celestial body too small to withstand the gravitational pull of another. The way he would send himself into a tailspin searching for a warmth they both knew would spell certain doom for him, that would melt the metal bindings of his joints and send him plummeting back to whatever wretched land he came from as a smoldering ball of molten magma. Yet he persisted. A lesser man may have been afraid, may have wavered in the face of the television’s undying devotion, but Alastor was no longer a man."
or...
Alastor's take on the volatile nature of his and Vox's relationship...
Series
- Part 1 of ashes and rot
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Summary
"The worn-down heels of Vox’s shoes were not ideal. Alastor had been pestering him to get the things replaced for months, and Vox bitterly wished he’d done so. In the best of situations–on mildly tacky linoleum, and within the temperature-controlled safety of an office–they were a minor safety hazard. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d slipped and lost his hold on an important paper or a cup of coffee because of the complete lack of traction they offered. Which meant they most certainly were not the shoes one wanted to be wearing while running from a gang of pissed-off loan sharks."
or...
Although the opposite was less than true, Vox has always been obsessed with Alastor. After a brush with death, however, the radio demon is left to wonder if perhaps the feeling was a bit more mutual than he assumed...
Series
- Part 2 of ashes and rot
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Summary
"Vox’s moans and whines and needy whimpers played on repeat in Alastor’s frazzled mind, burning themselves into the ever-spinning record of his consciousness.
Horror - cold and disturbing in its intensity - wormed its way beneath the strained veil of his skin.
Fuck."
or...
After receiving a late-night transmission from Vox, Alastor learns some interesting things about his friend's sleeping patterns...
Series
- Part 3 of ashes and rot
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analog disasters and newfangled atrocities by orphan_account
Fandoms: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)
28 Mar 2024
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Summary
“By this time next week, you try and find a way to run your ‘technology’ that doesn’t rely on radio, and in return, I’ll attempt to find something worthwhile in your sick mockery of art.”
Alastor extended his hand - extended his signal - buzzing with all the ferocity of life itself. Thick and obtrusive and unrelenting. He was the murky waters of a bayou, swarming with untold amounts of potentially dangerous creatures, choked by the grasping vines of mangroves. He was a wolf hunched over the bloodied corpse of a deer. He was beautiful.
"So, do we have a deal?"
or...
Vox and Alasor argue over the merits of their respective technologies.
Series
- Part 4 of ashes and rot
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Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery by orphan_account
Fandoms: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)
17 Mar 2024
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Summary
“Well, you know what they say. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”
Alastor’s frequency changed again; growing steadily heavier, almost sticky. It clung to Vox’s antennae like honey, a deceptively sweet trap intended to drown the television should he indulge for just a moment. One taste is all it would take. One moment of vulnerability, and Alastor would have him. Vox couldn’t bring himself to mind.
“That mediocrity can offer to greatness. It seems almost fitting that you should forget the second part. You younger generations…always so quick to the draw, yet so clumsy with the trigger. Quality over quantity, my friend. Always remember that.”
or...
Some pre-canon radiostatic banter in a bar (ft. Vox being biblically down bad)
Series
- Part 5 of ashes and rot
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Summary
The sounds of shattering bone and frenzied static thrummed in the air, and Vox’s antennae drooped as the intensity of Alastor’s signal increased to a near-suffocating degree. He could feel the other man’s skin strain beneath his palms as whatever skeletal structure he possessed fought desperately to expand beyond the confines of its physical barriers. Even still, Alastor laid a comforting hand on the small of Vox’s back, tracing absent-minded patterns into the bloodied fabric of his turtleneck with a razored claw.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” he murmured, his voice a whisper, a promise, of unimaginable violence. “I’ll ensure he never does such a thing again.”
Vox clutched Alastor closer, praying—for the first time in decades—that the deer couldn’t feel the shape of his smirk through his clothes.
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Vox gets treated poorly by an overlord who doesn't want any part in his bullshit, and makes it Alastor's problem.
Series
- Part 6 of ashes and rot
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Summary
"Sorry, but I have picked up a couple things in my short stay here, and the most pressing of all was ‘never accept a handshake from an overlord’. So we’ll have to stick to verbal agreements if it’s all the same to you.”
Satisfaction pooled low in Alastor’s stomach and he offered Vox an approving glance, one that had the television preening instantly.
“Clever boy, we may make something of you yet.”
or...
Five times in which Alastor's perception of Vox changed for the better, and one time where it all came crashing down.
Series
- Part 7 of ashes and rot
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Summary
“Val, is that you? I didn’t realize you were going to stop by today–”
Vox’s words stopped just as suddenly as they had started, stunned out of him as they were by the sight of the man standing before him. In the place of Val, whom he had expected, there was a spider demon glancing airily about at the apartment’s sparkling ceiling. He was unfamiliar. He was beautiful. He was svelte, elegant even in stillness, and covered in pearlescent fur that seemed almost silken in the moonlight. Pink patterns—whorls of rose and peach that led the eye to the delicate swell of his hips and chest in the manner of a well-constructed painting—adorned him as well, the same color as his extra eyes, which, alongside his main pair, set upon Vox intently.
or...
Vox laments on his condition and suffers through being "second best" even within his relationship. Shit sucks.
Series
- Part 8 of ashes and rot