qichie
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Summary
1933. New Orleans.
Vincent Whittman’s assignment (punishment) seems simple enough: recruit Mr. Alastor Hartfelt, the city’s famed radio star.
But his trip derails the moment he meets the man dressed in a smile too sharp, with secrets too deep, and a presence that hums with something far beyond him.
One broken ritual binds them for decades, pulling them back to each other again and again, to the one soul neither can quite break away from.- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 81,223
- Chapters:
- 6/16
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Bookmarked by qichie
19 Jan 2026
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WAVELENGHTS OF AMBITION by ALMurderMediaVOX, fangcavities
Fandoms: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)
17 Jan 2026
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Summary
New Orleans, 1926: In a world of ink, paper, and rigid social lines, 21-year-old Vincent Whittman is still a shadow who’s chasing the light. A former copyboy with a grey streak in his hair and a revolutionary invention in his satchel: the future of sight and sound.
After a brutal rejection from the city’s elite, Vincent finds an unexpected witness in Alastor—the magnetic, "Creole" King of Radio whose smile is as sharp as a razor and whose influence knows no bounds.
A glass of Sazerac, a note hidden under a coaster, and a cryptic quote from Walt Whitman. Vincent wanted to change the world; Alastor might just be the one to help him burn the old one down.
"Where do I sign?"Bookmarked by qichie
17 Jan 2026
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“Yeah, this is not what Val is doing,” Vox says, gesturing to the foot of space between them. Alastor has to snicker to himself again. “…unless?”
Vox performs a miraculous recovery from emotional turmoil to open lasciviousness. Alastor doesn’t know why he’s at all surprised.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” Alastor says bluntly.
“Technically not what Angel Dust is doing.”
Alastor smiles sheer incredulity across the bedspread until Vox tries again.
“Fine, we don’t have to do that,” Vox says, still creeping forward. Alastor heaves an open sigh—frankly, he’s a bit theatrical about it. It does little to deter Vox from coming to straddle him again.
Nor to reach between his wrists, and—
Fuck. He’d almost forgotten about that. Vox’s claws pluck at their deal chain, suddenly heavy and tangible where it hangs like manacles from his wrists.
“But you did mention something about this, the other day,” Vox croons, in a tone that Alastor has heard him use with Valentino several times. “Want to play ‘contract?’”
(In which Vox and Alastor spend some quality time together, Angel Dust is circled by sharks, and Rosie haunts the narrative. Set in S2E6.)
Series
- Part 7 of They Could Have Been Worse
Bookmarked by qichie
17 Jan 2026
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A collection of my Radiostatic drabbles, vignettes and longer scenes, all connected and set during the time Alastor is held captive by Vox
Ridiculously careful, Vox combs his sharp claws through the red hair. Through the lush bangs, over the velvety soft ears folded back. Alastor doesn’t stir. His face turned away from him. Yet every now and then he blinks. Slowly, so slowly that Vox can almost believe he’s enjoying it.
Bookmarked by qichie
16 Jan 2026
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Vox was pointing to Alastor, then putting his palm flat on his chest. His expression, as much as Angel could see of it, looked pathetic, beaten down, a sad little doggy that someone tried to drown in the river. Oh fuck, oh fuck, Angel thought, is he in love with him? It’d explain a lot. Was an honest-to-Lucifer soap opera playing out in their own backyard? Could Angel possibly be so lucky?
Angel sees something he shouldn’t and decides to take his fun where he can get it, which means inserting himself into a resistant Alastor’s life as his new gay BFF and confidante. Meanwhile, Alastor tries to make sense of the changes he’s gone through over the decades, and Vox struggles with the prospect of losing his fragile empire.
- Language:
- English
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- 22/?
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Bookmarked by qichie
13 Jan 2026