Ikicki
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“I must say that, at the very least, the content was mildly entertaining. For all my good listeners, our friend “Vox” here wishes to one day be a big name in the “idiot box” industry. Haha! What a joke!”
He actually used that slang for TV. Vincent's face flushed hot.
“Now, you know my thoughts on the television. To think one of my fans– ”
I’m not your fan, I fucking insulted you in the letter! Vincent silently raged, gripping his rye glass so tightly he feared the glass would shatter in his hand.
“– would chase after such a boring and ridiculous dream crushes my heart! And being so sloppy in your execution is... well, it’s shameful! Where is the sophistication?! The cunning?” The commentator broke down into a series of sharp, rattling cackles, each laugh louder, more dismissive, than the last. “Probably shouldn’t brag then, eh?”
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Or, a universe where Alastor and Vox are both alive in the fifties, they hate eachother, and they bring chaos.
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Silence filled the alley for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Vincent took in every detail of the man — not quite a stranger, not quite an acquaintance —, the way his glasses framed his golden eyes, how his dark hair twirled with playful elegance, how his smile widened with every passing second, a vulture looking at a cat; two predators in very different sizes.
— Where Vincent gets caught red-handed by another killer.
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Desperate times call for desperate measures by Chimchim835286549
Fandoms: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)
14 Dec 2025
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In 1956 New Orleans, radio star Alastor Delaroux is forced into a new television-radio hybrid program as the broadcast industry shifts beneath his feet. What begins as a career threat becomes something far more dangerous when he is paired with Vincent Whittman — a rising TV prodigy with ambition sharper than his smile and secrets darker than his polished image.
Their partnership sparks rivalry, rivalry becomes obsession, and obsession twists into a volatile bond shaped by desire, power, and blood. Together they rise, fall, kill, love, and destroy each other in equal measure, until the line between enemies and lovers blurs beyond recognition. This is a story of two men built for fame, wired for violence, and doomed by the parts of themselves they cannot escape — even when they reach for each other. -
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He feels his shoulders sinking, and his ears shift, not pricked up at attention but not flattened down; completely at ease.
He’s… so relaxed. When was the last time he’d felt this relaxed? Had he ever? A tiny shiver goes down his spine as another wave of tingles passes through him.
The voice next to him has been droning on and on (and oh, how very far away it is now, and it almost sounds soothing instead of mildly irritating, interesting), but it suddenly halts. There’s a beat of silence. Then the voice is back and its tone has turned inquisitive. Distantly, Alastor registers he’s just been asked something to which a response is expected, and ah. He can’t appear weak, can’t appear affected by whatever this is, no matter how much he longs to just sink down, down, deeper and deeper into this lovely feeling and never ever come back up.
…Actually, perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad…
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OR
--Alastor and Vincent are... acquaintances. Acquaintances who have met every Thursday night at the bar for the past 5 months.
When Vincent modifies his hardware to be able to send out radio frequencies, things take... a turn. For both of them. But mostly for Alastor.