vantesjin
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“I didn’t ask for you help, you damn bellhop!”
Lucifer’s pride was drowning in the fact that every one knew that he had no power against his own consequences. And the problem with sinners was that they would test the boundaries until they were stopped with power… power that the king couldn’t use freely.
What he hadn’t expected was to ask for help from the most manipulative sinner who was more of a snake than the devil himself.
The Radio Demon, Alastor.
Bookmarked by vantesjin
20 May 2026
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During a gala hosted for local media representatives, Vincent Whittman meets the dazzling radio star and toast of New Orleans, Alastor Dubois.
Although he grapples with his own guilt-ridden conscience and the murderous secret behind his success, Vincent begins to fall for the mysterious man. But his obsession with the radio star leads him to find out a horrifying truth about Alastor, which could either bind them together forever or destroy their relationship.
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My take on the human, murder media, murder husbands AU we all want
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Alastor had the voice of an angel. That's what everyone said before they saw him. It was easy, on the radio, to sing and talk his heart out without the look. The look that people gave him. Usually, it was the white folk. In the booth, they'd look at him with disdain and resentment. How tormenting it must be, to their feeble minds, to be doing work to support a mixed-Creole man with brown skin. Other times, it was other black folk. His skin was too dark to be welcomed by the white man, and too light to be accepted by his own community.
So he found his comfort behind a microphone. Where no one could see him, and everyone would listen.
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Or: An AU where the characters of Hazbin Hotel lived in 1930s New Orleans. Alastor is a singer/entertainer busting his ass off to make himself known. He comes to meet a young, lively man that goes by Vox. An entertainer, too, at least he says he is. Vox has many, many ideas that involved Alastor. Many that Alastor does not take kindly too, or, at least he says he doesn't.----
Author's note: Many, many 1930s music will be mentioned in this fic :) it will be a semi-slow burn. I'm obsessed with S2E4, can you tell? -
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Abbot lifted his head to look down at her. “See, that’s the post-traumatic stress. Something happens that your brain decides is a life or death situation. You have a massive adrenaline kick while it’s all happening, and then when it’s bleeding out of you on the comedown, your brain throws out anything that’s not completely vital. The amount of car crash patients we have who don’t even remember coming to the ER when they submit requests for their medical records for insurance… the brain’s a weird thing, Mohan.”
“Yeah,” she said, shooting him a look out of the side of her eyes. “It can even make you convinced you have to hurt yourself in order to seek external validation when the most logical course of action is rest.”
He snorted softly, shaking his head and leaning it back. “God,” he muttered, his cheeks stained pink. “Robby was right. You should have gone into psych.”
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A night shift from hell ends in Mohan giving Abbot a ride back to his place, where tensions finally boil over.
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you say we're smaller (and not worth the mention) by foxesjosten
Fandoms: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
15 May 2025
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4 times Jean brings up different dimensions + 1 time Kevin does.