[This was doomed before it started. The cracks in the foundation were there, sure, old pieces from decades prior and made weaker with years of growling rage and a seven-year secret abandonment. But taking him prisoner, every cursed word, every layered half-truth of hatred was a wrecking ball destroying it. Valentino wasn’t the catalyst; Vox himself was.
He blinked. He blinked and tried to smother the feelings of failure, of inadequacy, of that yawning void that was never filled enough to be complete. Each new bloody accomplishment, each violent ladder handhold, each dead body supplicated in worship or function, and it wasn’t enough.
Things had been, once. For one fleeting second.
Vox buried it, shoved it down like the corpse it should be. It couldn’t be his fault (it was). Fuck. Fuck.]
It’s not like you weren’t agreeing with all that! [The hate, the promise of death, the inevitable end.] You were all in even knowing and chirping it on back to me.
[Fuck, Vox – it’s just sex.
He stopped and stared at him. It was sex, was just sex, except for all the parts where it wasn’t. It was a door to a room being slammed in his face, locking him out in the snowing cold. For the first time in so fucking long, he had felt like-like he could have been part of this.
If it was just sex, Vox could be anywhere. He could be with Val. He could be with the Sinners that threw themselves at his feet when he was in the streets. Hell, he could have his assistant in here under his desk and not for the first time.
But that wasn’t what it was.
Vox laughed so he wouldn’t break, putting some distance between them. Currents of electricity danced between his antenna, casting an even sharper blue light onto his illuminated face.]
You’re right, Al, it is just sex. [He lied, like a lying liar.] Which means I can find a lot more important things to do with my extremely profitable and valuable time than spend it with my loser prisoner.
[Cables lashed out and grabbed that broken chair, holding it out for Alastor. His voice dropped, mocking and annoyed.] Your very visible throne awaits.
Ohh, Vox, honey... Complicated and sad and so very stupid.
[ He had agreed to it, and that was what made this shift in tone so frustrating. It was how everything should be, and it was how it could have been if the pair of them had just left well enough alone. It was Vox who had gone and ruined the moment, but it was Alastor who had allowed things to go this far. He had gone along with this farce despite knowing that it would end badly. It wasn't like him, and it couldn't be like him, and he had to take a moment to steel himself.
His hand ran through his hair as the other went on, fingernails scratching at his scalp as he grabbed a fistful of it. He pulled at his hair lightly in some vain effort to relieve the frustration that he felt, the nauseating disgust, and something else that he couldn't pin down. He wanted to snap, and he wanted to throw out every vitriolic word and statement, and he wanted to kill him right here and now. He wanted to start some fight with him so they might vent all those pent up emotions and find some way back to normal, but the shackles around his wrist were heavy, and there was nothing left for him to do but comply.
So he did the only thing that he could: He locked those feelings away. He shoved them in some closet where they couldn't hurt them; out of sight, out of mind. He kept the smile plastered on his face. If he could endure these things now, then nothing would be able to hurt him in the future.
One more little pull, and he dropped his hand back down and pushed himself off the desk. It was all just a game, anyway. It was just sex. It was nothing at all. And it'll be over soon enough. He just had to wait a little longer. And in the interim, these emotions would pass soon enough, and they could go back to how things were - how they should be. ]
Good. Do so.
[ Even if that smile hid all emotion, those icy and bitter words spoke volumes. There was plenty more than he could say, but that fury had built up in such a way that he didn't even want to spare words now. He only walked back over to that chair that had been indicated, sat back down on it, and crossed one leg over the other, as though nothing had happened. ]
But Vox, too, could throw his own silent temper tantrum, far more composed than anything Val would do, but heavy and barbed in its own way. His tells were always there: the red lines from his mouth, the bright dangerously manic shine in his eyes. This was falling apart, fast, and the part of him that wanted nothing more than to rewind time to ten minutes earlier was shoved into a box and kicked down the stairs.
He made a show of turning the phone back on, even flipping through his contacts in a speedy endless flicker over his screen before it was back to his own expression. One cable unlocked the door. Fingers pointed at the camera, hesitating for a moment before loosing the electricity and turning the camera back on.
No more privacy. No more hidden evidence. No more “just them”.]
Done.
[The determination to take Heaven, to own it, to fill that gaping black hole inside of him was maddening. A tower hadn’t filled it. A cult hadn’t filled it. A media empire hadn’t filled it. Maybe godhood would.
He needed to focus on the rally, approve the outfit designs Velvette sent over and the dancers Val was bringing in. He had meetings to prep for. He had things To Do.
But his day was productivity was ruined by whatever the fuck this had been.
He wrenched open one of his desk drawers and grabbed the fuzzy handcuffs left by Val. Stronger than they looked and blue, a gift for him, really. The rope was gone, but at least there was this.]
Hands behind the chair. Soap operas always did give shitty ratings.
[ Vox was throwing a tantrum now, and the Radio Demon hardly cared. This was a problem of his own making, so he could whine and cry about it as much as he wanted. It made it easier to accept what had happened, in fact, because of course he would act pissy the moment he didn't get what he wanted. It was always like that. And they would move on, just like always. It would be like nothing ever happened after awhile. But not yet.
Alastor moved to do as ordered before pausing. His eyes settled on one one bare forearm arm. It drew a frown out of him. It wasn't like him to forget something so important, and it made him feel even worse about the entire affair.
As little as he wanted to say anything more, he wanted people seeing that he was missing clothing pieces even less. That wasn't favorable for either of them. Besides, he felt undressed without it. ]
Toss me my coat.
These two fools. Also, sorry about Vox's bitchy temper tantrum.
There was an urge to let his cables tear the fabric apart, ignite all the seams with his electricity. But the two of them were nothing without their appearances, and Alastor without his coat would get people talking. Especially if Vox was without his own, too.
He picked up his own first and slid it back on like some suit of armor to protect himself from the mess that happened here today. Teal claws buttoned it, and only after he smoothed a hand over his lapels did he pick up Alastor’s and hold it out for him.
…Annnnd let himself drop it before the other demon could grab it.
Ha.]
Don’t give me orders. I thought your entire job was about being a welcoming person at your stupid hotel; I guess manners doesn’t really translate.
[Now, now, he was just being petty. He needed out of here so he could lick his wounds.]
Especially when I’m being kind enough to give you a gift.
Edited 2026-02-18 21:49 (UTC)
It's fine, is it really Radiostatic if somebody isn't making an ass of themselves?
[ He made a grab for it as it fell, but in the end the coat wound up on the floor. He leaned over and picked it up wordlessly before he put it back on. He fixed his shirt, ensuring it was properly tucked, smoothed the sleeves of his jacket out, then buttoned it up. The final touch was fixing his bow-tie. The entire process took less than a minute, and it was like nothing had ever happened.
Much better.
It was only once that was done that he did as previously instructed. He slid his hands behind the chair in since. He wouldn't bother to respond to the provocation, though he recoiled slightly at the mention of a gift. His eyes slid down from Vox's face to the handcuffs in his hand for the sake of having something to focus on. Tacky. ]
[There was a glimmer of satisfaction as the coat landed on the floor and he got the extreme pleasure of watching him retrieve it. Sure, the effect was over in a minute and it nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it was a satisfying minute.
Vox slid over to the chair before watching Alastor’s gaze mov-]
Not these! Please; they’re from Val and I just don’t have more rope to make sure you don’t mess with the important work a CEO like myself does when I leave you alone.
[Which was a dangerous gamble, he knew, but he couldn’t work around him and he couldn’t trust him around the others, not with the secret of earlier still haunting them both. Why wouldn’t Alastor tell them and try to split all three of them to the winds?
…he should really gag him.]
No, I’m giving you a backstage pass to the rally and the dramatic fall of one weak king. [His smile turned fanged.] People would kill for a seat like that.
lbr Alastor is being pissy and petty too, just in the opposite way.
[ That wasn't why he was staring, he was just tired of looking at the man's face. In the end, it was a reasonable assumption though, and he didn't give a damn what the man was thinking right now. There was only the subtle raise of an eyebrow and a look of unadulterated disgust before he turned his head to look away entirely. He wasn't just ignoring him, he was shutting the man out entirely.
A "backstage pass." He had expected worse than something he was already going to be given. Vox could be petty when he wanted to be, after all, and there was plenty that he could do now. It was therefore a small relief to know that this was one more effort to show off. He already knew Lucifer's little secret, so it wasn't difficult to guess what would happen. Alastor couldn't stand the man, so he should have been delighted by this "kindness," but instead he just felt bitter and disappointed. He would think differently later, once he'd cooled off, but right now he wouldn't mind seeing him smited. ]
Giving him the silent treatment is weirdly effective.
[The real question is: which one would he enjoy being smited more, Vox or Lucifer?
A stretching silence did little to smooth the anger, and the disappointment deepened. All of this was a mess, everything, and the victory of having him as a prisoner tasted like ashes in his mouth. Of course it wouldn’t have been enough.
Nothing was ever enough.]
Finally, the Radio Demon shuts up and Hell fucking rejoices.
[If Vox thought about that statement, he might have realized what sort of power that was.
The click-click-click of the handcuffs tightening echoed in a high-ceiling room, and Vox straightened up before he grabbed his laptop off the table. He needed some time, to think, to fucking scream where no one could hear him.
Heels clicked as he walked to his office door. When he spoke, he didn’t turn around, and his voice was quiet, tired, a little more telling than he liked.]
Everything was better when you were gone, Alastor.
[Another lie. He was so good at them, so good at saying them that they almost didn’t sound like lies anymore. Maybe one day he would even believe them.
He slid out the door, and if not interrupted, would lock it behind him.]
Edited 2026-02-19 00:20 (UTC)
He needs his wife's attention to live... :( cries we can probably wrap here tho
[ Lucifer, lbr he's the biggest idgafer in all of Hell so Vox dying would fuck him up.
He found it easier to breathe once Vox was out of the room and the resounding click of the lock reached his ears, but only a little.
Maybe things were better for Vox when he was gone. After this was over, Vox would be wishing that he had stayed gone. This was where he wanted and needed to be, though. He still had things to do. He still had plans that were unfolding. Vox's success and failure would be the start of that.
He comforted himself with that idea. It allowed him to pretend that this humiliation was worth it, far worse than anything that had been done until now, was worth it. He could still spin it and utilize it for the greater good. It was the best possible outcome, even, because Vox would throw himself more completely at his ridiculous goal.
But that warmth that had briefly graced him had already gone cold, Vox had left, and Alastor was left alone in the room with only exhaustion and regret for his own foolish behavior his only true company. The only sounds that reached him was the faint clink of of metal when he tried to move his hands, the creak and rattle of the chair when he let his weight shift toward the broken wheel, and the bubbling and flowing of water behind him.
[If nothing else, Alastor was correct: You’re so obsessed with me. Vox was. He wouldn’t admit it, probably didn’t even realize it himself, but the second he was out of the room and locking the door, he was going to find a camera. It wasn’t far, two feet, maybe three, before he dissolved into electricity and rode the lines.
Only seconds passed until he arrived in a closed, dim room illuminated by the cool flickering lights of dozens of stacked screens. Vox took his place in the chair they surrounded, leaned back, and watched as images started appearing in all their 8K glory. Two were of Velvette as she streamed her live content, three of Val from different angles while he went out to a club, one was of Ethan to make sure he was actually following up on the coming agenda items for the stakeholder meeting.
But in the center, the majority of them had a view of one demon, handcuffed to a chair, alone in the office. The angles were different, the sound quiet, and Vox just stared to see if there was anything, anything at all to read. Several cables seated themselves in the back of his head, giving him the comforting jolt of being connected, part of something larger.
One cable brought a cigarette to his hand, sparking enough to light it. In the low glow and embers of his smoke, he let himself do what he did best for hours: be an obsessive master of entertainment.]
[ooc: Okay, now it's done! Have something else in mind before Vox is on his heavenly throne, or should we jump there? I’m good for either!!]
[ooc: perfect! I'm in the office today so I can't write a starter until tonight, but you are more than welcome to if you want to! I miss working from home on this gloomy day. ]
[ if you could, that'd be great! take your time on it... i feel ya, i don't have to anymore but i hated going into the office. more places should allow it. ]
[I do 50% in the office, 50% home, but if it were up to me, I'd be working in the place that lets me wear my jammies and reach down to pet a corgi when work pisses me off. LOL
[ 50% of the time is better than nothing, but for real!! I just have two kitties, and their favorite past time is coming to start trouble while I'm on the phone... I wish I had an emotional support corgi, lol.
excited for the mental illness duo... round 2!!! :') ]
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This man is sobbing on the inside.
He blinked. He blinked and tried to smother the feelings of failure, of inadequacy, of that yawning void that was never filled enough to be complete. Each new bloody accomplishment, each violent ladder handhold, each dead body supplicated in worship or function, and it wasn’t enough.
Things had been, once. For one fleeting second.
Vox buried it, shoved it down like the corpse it should be. It couldn’t be his fault (it was). Fuck. Fuck.]
It’s not like you weren’t agreeing with all that! [The hate, the promise of death, the inevitable end.] You were all in even knowing and chirping it on back to me.
[Fuck, Vox – it’s just sex.
He stopped and stared at him. It was sex, was just sex, except for all the parts where it wasn’t. It was a door to a room being slammed in his face, locking him out in the snowing cold. For the first time in so fucking long, he had felt like-like he could have been part of this.
If it was just sex, Vox could be anywhere. He could be with Val. He could be with the Sinners that threw themselves at his feet when he was in the streets. Hell, he could have his assistant in here under his desk and not for the first time.
But that wasn’t what it was.
Vox laughed so he wouldn’t break, putting some distance between them. Currents of electricity danced between his antenna, casting an even sharper blue light onto his illuminated face.]
You’re right, Al, it is just sex. [He lied, like a lying liar.] Which means I can find a lot more important things to do with my extremely profitable and valuable time than spend it with my loser prisoner.
[Cables lashed out and grabbed that broken chair, holding it out for Alastor. His voice dropped, mocking and annoyed.] Your very visible throne awaits.
Ohh, Vox, honey... Complicated and sad and so very stupid.
His hand ran through his hair as the other went on, fingernails scratching at his scalp as he grabbed a fistful of it. He pulled at his hair lightly in some vain effort to relieve the frustration that he felt, the nauseating disgust, and something else that he couldn't pin down. He wanted to snap, and he wanted to throw out every vitriolic word and statement, and he wanted to kill him right here and now. He wanted to start some fight with him so they might vent all those pent up emotions and find some way back to normal, but the shackles around his wrist were heavy, and there was nothing left for him to do but comply.
So he did the only thing that he could: He locked those feelings away. He shoved them in some closet where they couldn't hurt them; out of sight, out of mind. He kept the smile plastered on his face. If he could endure these things now, then nothing would be able to hurt him in the future.
One more little pull, and he dropped his hand back down and pushed himself off the desk. It was all just a game, anyway. It was just sex. It was nothing at all. And it'll be over soon enough. He just had to wait a little longer. And in the interim, these emotions would pass soon enough, and they could go back to how things were - how they should be. ]
Good. Do so.
[ Even if that smile hid all emotion, those icy and bitter words spoke volumes. There was plenty more than he could say, but that fury had built up in such a way that he didn't even want to spare words now. He only walked back over to that chair that had been indicated, sat back down on it, and crossed one leg over the other, as though nothing had happened. ]
It's a wonder that Al puts up with him.
But Vox, too, could throw his own silent temper tantrum, far more composed than anything Val would do, but heavy and barbed in its own way. His tells were always there: the red lines from his mouth, the bright dangerously manic shine in his eyes. This was falling apart, fast, and the part of him that wanted nothing more than to rewind time to ten minutes earlier was shoved into a box and kicked down the stairs.
He made a show of turning the phone back on, even flipping through his contacts in a speedy endless flicker over his screen before it was back to his own expression. One cable unlocked the door. Fingers pointed at the camera, hesitating for a moment before loosing the electricity and turning the camera back on.
No more privacy. No more hidden evidence. No more “just them”.]
Done.
[The determination to take Heaven, to own it, to fill that gaping black hole inside of him was maddening. A tower hadn’t filled it. A cult hadn’t filled it. A media empire hadn’t filled it. Maybe godhood would.
He needed to focus on the rally, approve the outfit designs Velvette sent over and the dancers Val was bringing in. He had meetings to prep for. He had things To Do.
But his day was productivity was ruined by whatever the fuck this had been.
He wrenched open one of his desk drawers and grabbed the fuzzy handcuffs left by Val. Stronger than they looked and blue, a gift for him, really. The rope was gone, but at least there was this.]
Hands behind the chair. Soap operas always did give shitty ratings.
Codependency is a Hell of a drug.
Alastor moved to do as ordered before pausing. His eyes settled on one one bare forearm arm. It drew a frown out of him. It wasn't like him to forget something so important, and it made him feel even worse about the entire affair.
As little as he wanted to say anything more, he wanted people seeing that he was missing clothing pieces even less. That wasn't favorable for either of them. Besides, he felt undressed without it. ]
Toss me my coat.
These two fools. Also, sorry about Vox's bitchy temper tantrum.
He cared about his coat.
There was an urge to let his cables tear the fabric apart, ignite all the seams with his electricity. But the two of them were nothing without their appearances, and Alastor without his coat would get people talking. Especially if Vox was without his own, too.
He picked up his own first and slid it back on like some suit of armor to protect himself from the mess that happened here today. Teal claws buttoned it, and only after he smoothed a hand over his lapels did he pick up Alastor’s and hold it out for him.
…Annnnd let himself drop it before the other demon could grab it.
Ha.]
Don’t give me orders. I thought your entire job was about being a welcoming person at your stupid hotel; I guess manners doesn’t really translate.
[Now, now, he was just being petty. He needed out of here so he could lick his wounds.]
Especially when I’m being kind enough to give you a gift.
It's fine, is it really Radiostatic if somebody isn't making an ass of themselves?
Much better.
It was only once that was done that he did as previously instructed. He slid his hands behind the chair in since. He wouldn't bother to respond to the provocation, though he recoiled slightly at the mention of a gift. His eyes slid down from Vox's face to the handcuffs in his hand for the sake of having something to focus on. Tacky. ]
You're definitely not wrong!
Vox slid over to the chair before watching Alastor’s gaze mov-]
Not these! Please; they’re from Val and I just don’t have more rope to make sure you don’t mess with the important work a CEO like myself does when I leave you alone.
[Which was a dangerous gamble, he knew, but he couldn’t work around him and he couldn’t trust him around the others, not with the secret of earlier still haunting them both. Why wouldn’t Alastor tell them and try to split all three of them to the winds?
…he should really gag him.]
No, I’m giving you a backstage pass to the rally and the dramatic fall of one weak king. [His smile turned fanged.] People would kill for a seat like that.
lbr Alastor is being pissy and petty too, just in the opposite way.
A "backstage pass." He had expected worse than something he was already going to be given. Vox could be petty when he wanted to be, after all, and there was plenty that he could do now. It was therefore a small relief to know that this was one more effort to show off. He already knew Lucifer's little secret, so it wasn't difficult to guess what would happen. Alastor couldn't stand the man, so he should have been delighted by this "kindness," but instead he just felt bitter and disappointed. He would think differently later, once he'd cooled off, but right now he wouldn't mind seeing him smited. ]
Giving him the silent treatment is weirdly effective.
The real question is: which one would he enjoy being smited more, Vox or Lucifer?A stretching silence did little to smooth the anger, and the disappointment deepened. All of this was a mess, everything, and the victory of having him as a prisoner tasted like ashes in his mouth. Of course it wouldn’t have been enough.
Nothing was ever enough.]
Finally, the Radio Demon shuts up and Hell fucking rejoices.
[If Vox thought about that statement, he might have realized what sort of power that was.
The click-click-click of the handcuffs tightening echoed in a high-ceiling room, and Vox straightened up before he grabbed his laptop off the table. He needed some time, to think, to fucking scream where no one could hear him.
Heels clicked as he walked to his office door. When he spoke, he didn’t turn around, and his voice was quiet, tired, a little more telling than he liked.]
Everything was better when you were gone, Alastor.
[Another lie. He was so good at them, so good at saying them that they almost didn’t sound like lies anymore. Maybe one day he would even believe them.
He slid out the door, and if not interrupted, would lock it behind him.]
He needs his wife's attention to live... :( cries we can probably wrap here tho
Lucifer, lbr he's the biggest idgafer in all of Hell so Vox dying would fuck him up.He found it easier to breathe once Vox was out of the room and the resounding click of the lock reached his ears, but only a little.
Maybe things were better for Vox when he was gone. After this was over, Vox would be wishing that he had stayed gone. This was where he wanted and needed to be, though. He still had things to do. He still had plans that were unfolding. Vox's success and failure would be the start of that.
He comforted himself with that idea. It allowed him to pretend that this humiliation was worth it, far worse than anything that had been done until now, was worth it. He could still spin it and utilize it for the greater good. It was the best possible outcome, even, because Vox would throw himself more completely at his ridiculous goal.
But that warmth that had briefly graced him had already gone cold, Vox had left, and Alastor was left alone in the room with only exhaustion and regret for his own foolish behavior his only true company. The only sounds that reached him was the faint clink of of metal when he tried to move his hands, the creak and rattle of the chair when he let his weight shift toward the broken wheel, and the bubbling and flowing of water behind him.
The silence was deafening. ]
Just one last one, first!
Only seconds passed until he arrived in a closed, dim room illuminated by the cool flickering lights of dozens of stacked screens. Vox took his place in the chair they surrounded, leaned back, and watched as images started appearing in all their 8K glory. Two were of Velvette as she streamed her live content, three of Val from different angles while he went out to a club, one was of Ethan to make sure he was actually following up on the coming agenda items for the stakeholder meeting.
But in the center, the majority of them had a view of one demon, handcuffed to a chair, alone in the office. The angles were different, the sound quiet, and Vox just stared to see if there was anything, anything at all to read. Several cables seated themselves in the back of his head, giving him the comforting jolt of being connected, part of something larger.
One cable brought a cigarette to his hand, sparking enough to light it. In the low glow and embers of his smoke, he let himself do what he did best for hours: be an obsessive master of entertainment.]
[ooc: Okay, now it's done! Have something else in mind before Vox is on his heavenly throne, or should we jump there? I’m good for either!!]
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cracks my knuckles and gets to typing]
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excited for the mental illness duo... round 2!!! :') ]