slothlo
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Summary
1920s New York City.
An ambitious young reporter and a celebrated radio star find themselves tied to the same fate by a murder. In a world shaped by newspapers and airwaves, they influence public opinion while gradually reshaping one another's lives.
Under Alastor's influence, Vincent begins to break free from the rules, institutions, and authorities that once confined him, setting his sights on ever greater power.But some chains are only forged after others have been broken.
No one escapes unscathed.Bookmarked by slothlo
24 May 2026
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Who cares about the Radio Demon anyway? He just wanted to see if karma had finally caught up with him.
With that, he stood in front of the desk, his chair pushed aside, leaning over the keyboard as he opened VoxTech’s security software.
And… the image that appeared before him was unlike anything he’d ever imagined.
On his screen was a clean, non-glitched image of Alastor, lying unconscious in a pool of blood and wreckage.
To Vox, karma didn't seem to taste as sweet as it should have.OR
A Vox at his healthiest decides to help an Alastor at his lowest, despite the risk of being dragged down again, while Alastor has to learn how to let people in after a century spent building walls.
Now with art!
Bookmarked by slothlo
17 May 2026
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“Evening, my good fellow. I’m sorry to be so forward, but is that a television set on your head?” The man asked pleasantly, a faint laugh track going off from somewhere Vincent couldn’t see.
“It is my head,” Vincent replied dryly.
The man burst into wheezing laughter. “Oh! Well that is unfortunate.”
Vincent looked at him. “You’ve been here a while, I take it?”
“Quite some time, yes.”
“You don’t look like it.”
The man’s smile broadened exponentially. “What an interesting thing to say to a stranger.” He extended a hand. “Alastor.”
The name landed in Vincent’s chest like a coin dropped into still water. He reached out and shook Alastor’s hand.
“Vincent. Vincent Whittman.”
Bookmarked by slothlo
29 Apr 2026
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At the next lingering glance, Alastor leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. The action clearly makes Vox regret looking, and he snaps his gaze back to Valentino so quickly he may have pulled a muscle. Time to strike.
“Is it working?”
The way Vox tenses at Alastor’s question is gratifying, almost as much as the look of utter confusion on his face when he turns back. “What?”
“Is it working? This little demonstration—is it making you feel powerful?”
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OR: Instead of just sitting in the cuck chair and glowering, Alastor doms the shit out of Vox.
Bookmarked by slothlo
22 Apr 2026
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“Alastor looks both ways before he crosses the road outside Cannibal Town, and promptly steps into nothing where tarmac had been a millisecond before.
The first warning sign that something has gone spectacularly wrong is, of course, the golden, shimmering portal opening silently beneath his feet. The second is landing on his face on hard, rocky ground and not in the cradle of the shadow he’d tried to summon.
The third is a startled scream and the thud of Vox slamming into the stone next to him.”
When Lucifer decides to punish them for declaring war against Heaven, Alastor and Vox have to work together to get back to Pentagram City, or freeze to death in the wastelands on Hell. But the storm is getting worse, and hypothermia is setting in, and desperate measures must be taken.
Or: oh noooo it’s blizzarding and they need to huddle naked for warmth And More… >:)
Bookmarked by slothlo
05 Apr 2026