There is so much discourse lately about Vox and whether or not he'd SA Alastor and like I get it!! He's an awful fucking person!! Do I think he's fully above it?? No! Absolutely not!
But canon just doesn't support it. The amount of times Alastor pulls away and Vox doesn't continue to engage physically is just too telling. Will he hurt him? Sure. It's what they do to each other, it's reciprocal. But Alastor being literally tied to a chair and pulling away when Vox puts his hands on his shoulders and Vox not grabbing him again??? There's just still some degree of respect there.
People try to go too hard one way or the other. Is Vox kind of a hopeless romantic? I think so. Is his view of romance completely fucked up and controlling? Yeah! Like him having emotions doesn't make him Good. It doesn't absolve him. And acting like he's just some cold monster doesn't work either, because it just doesn't fit the narrative. It's also boring af, honestly.
Does he not SA Alastor because he thinks it's wrong? Hell no. He doesn't do it because he still wants Alastor to actually want him. To acknowledge him. The thing that people miss so often with this is how badly Vox wants to be wanted. It's not a win to just take it, because it's not what he really wants in the end.
He wants Alastor's respect and recognition above all else. Like that's very clear from what we're shown. He loses in the end because of trying to get that. Not because he wants to fuck him.
nsfw ask game !! 49. what is your main masturbation fantasy at the moment?
*For the nsfw ask game!
49. What is your main masturbation fantasy at the moment:
- This one's a bit embarrassing but,,, lately it's been cnc Lester taking my virginity outside like a wild animal wanting to breed 🤡. My car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, my cell phone doesn't have service, it's hot, and I'm alone, so I just start walking. The first person I come across is Lester when he happens to be driving down the dirt path I was blindly following . . .
He keeps up an innocent act when it's a whole group of people who've wandered into Ambrose to lure them all in, but me? I'm so obviously defenseless. So unprotected, and easy to take advantage of all alone.
And I'm kind to him; giving him the politeness and respect that should be standard when meeting new people. I don't grimace at his appearance, don't treat him like he's got a disease. Maybe I look like a city girl to him; I don't exactly have the accent, and I don't wear collared button ups or work boots with my jeans, but I was born and raised in the rural south, so I'm not squeamish about the whole roadkill thing.
He's nice to talk to, he makes me laugh, and I genuinely like him, but there's an instance where his eyes darken like when he looked over at Carly when she had to change her shirt. He forces the truck to a sudden stop causing everything to lurch forward, and for a second I'm confused because he's just looking silently ahead with that same dark expression when nothing's there. Mulling over what he's about to do. Bo would bitch about it, but fuck it. Bo was always having his fun, and it wasn't every day Lester met someone even halfway decent. There'd be no harm in claiming me first, if I was just going to end up at the twin's mercy anyway.
Lester would get out, round the truck, and pull his knife. Yanking open the truck door, warning me not to try anything stupid as he forces me down and out, onto my back. I think maybe he's going to kill me, and I struggle, but he's far too strong, and I'd rather not die by being stabbed to death if I can help it. He'd bind my wrists with rope he snatched from his truck bed, and drag me to the nearby grass among the trees just a few feet away from the dusty, dirt road.
He'd make quick work of his belt- unbottoning his jeans, and sliding his underwear down just enough to thrust comfortably as I try to recover the wind knocked out of me on the forrest floor. He's less considerate of my clothes; tearing at my jeans and ripping them off along with all the rest before stabbing his knife's blade into the earth, not far from my head as a threatening reminder.
There'd be a moment where our eyes meet; everything becoming still as I pant from anxiety, and he does the same out of anticipation. The moment's shattered when Lester forcefully shoves himself inside; completely bottoming out in one painfully intense motion.
I'd hear Lester moan in satisfaction. My mouth opening in a silent scream at feeling my hymen tear. Tears already pricking at my eyes from the unfamiliar burn before Lester begins to fuck me wildly without giving me even a single moment to adjust.
There's no point in screaming out here, no one will hear me, and I feel ashamed as I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist and hook my wrists over his neck. I want to keep him as close as possible so the intensity of his thrusting eases up, even if only by a fraction, but Lester takes this as reciprocation and bottoms out even deeper. His cock reaching my cervix, and his mouth on me- kissing me deeply, swallowing my pained whines.
He wouldn't fully grasp my position until he looks down to admire his dick stretching me out and sees the blood; effectively causing him to stutter still, and look up at my pained and teary face in disbelief.
"Hell, sweetheart, this yer first time?", he'd grin wickedly, "Didn't know ya was savin' yerself fer me".
I'd be trembling, clutching at his shirt pathetically in a silent attempt to beg for something I can't even think of anymore.
"Sorry darlin', I'll treat ya softer", he'd say before forcibly bottoming out in me once more.
I'd scream once from the sudden intrusion; my voice weakening to choked up sobs, but he'd lick away my tears, and kiss my neck like a man starved. Eventually moving up to my lips and telling me to part them so he can spit in my mouth. He'd be rolling his hips deep within me rather than thrusting which starts to feel good, and then starts to feel better than good, and I can't stop myself from shamefully moaning in pleasure as he resorts to jackhammering in me once more.
I don't care anymore, I want this. We're sweaty, covered in dirt, and made warmer still with the way Lester lets his body fully engulf me, but I want this. I begin kissing any part of him I can reach in such a manhandled position with my wrists tied and now pushed back above my head with one of his strong hands. Desperately keening and pressing my mouth to his neck, his jaw, his cheeks, until he captures my lips all over again. He's surprised. Pleasantly so, but surprised all the same. Did I enjoy being fucked like an animal, or was his dick enough to make me go stupid?
"Fuck, yer really gettin' off on this, huh?", he'd mock thrillingly, "Want me t'fill ya up? That it? Need me t'breed this virgin cunt?"
"Yes, I need you- ngh, I need you, Lester!"
It's begged, and it's the first coherent thing I say to him since he's claimed me. I find myself instantly orgasming around him; clenching him close, and trying to milk him for anything he'll give. My ability to speak replaced with delirious moans and a euphoric exhaustion now rendering my eyelids heavy, and my virgin-sensitive body limp and violently trembling all at once.
He'd bruisingly still my hips attempting to jolt away from his electrifying touch, and force himself as deep as physically possible before releasing directly into my cervix. I wouldn't be able to control the sigh that leaves my lips at the feeling of his warm seed filling me up; my legs tightening around his waist further still to prevent him from pulling out even if he wanted to.
Lester would remain fully sheathed within me to keep his now softening cock warm- his body weight completely pinning me down as he pants and catches his breath against my neck. Going so far as to even press a few thankful kisses to my skin and mumble out a few words I don't entirely catch in my fatigue.
However I do hear when he says, "Think I'm gonna keep ya t'myself after all", just before I'm taken by sleep. ♡
I fuck with a million different character interpretations, but you'll have to pry Alastor's weird obsession with Vox's attention out of my cold dead hands.
Ok, ok, I'm thinking more about the whole...the characters memories would be different thing in that interview and just...we already have confirmation that Vox was genuinely opening up for the first time so I can't imagine the meat of the memory will be that different??
Like maybe it's just more that Vox glossed over the mentioned tantrum and that's what Alastor's own memory is more focused on?
(...) television was first regarded by many as “radio with pictures".
This is so funny. Alastor absolutely said this to Vox at some point.
Television was still in its experimental stage in 1948, and radio remained the number one broadcast medium in terms of profits, audience size, and respectability. Most of the big stars of radio—Jack Benny, Bob Hope, and the team of George Burns and Gracie Allen, for example—were at first reluctant to risk their substantial careers on an upstart medium like television.
I'm losing it with them calling television an upstart medium and radio still being number one so close to when Vox was supposed to have died. I'm also calling it here that Vox had to have been involved with radio at some point because moving from radio to television was the natural transition point. Especially with how old he already was.
Like just imagine when Vox died that he had a LOT more experience in radio than he ever did in television. This has got to play into his name choice too. He's specifically the Voice not the Image.
