Hazbin-Brained since january (help)

In my humble opinion, Vox is easy. He's obvious. He's predictable–consistent. You, the viewer, get a very intimate portrait of him. He is very personable, very expressive–can’t hide a single thing he's feeling–and that's precisely what makes him so fascinating. You witness his whole range: from heartbreak and humiliation, to desperation and rage–to the brink of hubris.

First and foremost, as many others will have pointed out–he is Charlie's character foil for the duration of this season. They parallel each other constantly: both of them hyperfocus on defamation and insults from a third party that they each are desperate to prove wrong. This causes them to neglect the people who care for them most–the people who do all the work to make their dreams come true–and almost lose them. With their behavior, their each alienate their moth-coded Hispanic partner–refusing to acknowledge their contribution–as well as their other friends. What separates Charlie from Vox, however, is the moment she chooses to reflect. To acknowledge she’s been acting abominably and harming the hotel. But Vox? Vox is incapable of that.

In many ways he contrasts Alastor–they’re both serial killer entertainers driven by a desire to reach the absolute–but Alastor is a mixed, black, creole man in the thirties, who had to teach himself a transatlantic accent and hide behind a radio to gain respect. A voice and a shadow of a man. And he killed those who disrespected him, he devoured them. Vox had the easy way in–a white man in the fifties–still stepping on others, stealing opportunities from others, depending on their perception and desperate for more and more exposure. To be seen. To be gazed at. Him. His perfect image. “Is Vox Insecure? Pursuing allure?” Well! Yes! And he'll do anything to get it, stooping so very low.

Vox’s whole deal is attention. Relevance. Validation. Praise. He wants to be recognized, loved–no–he wants to be worshipped and he always has. In life, it was his undoing–and in death, it's his undoing once more. He's a man driven by emotion. Genuine emotion–that is his weakness. (Like Charlie! It's just that Charlie doesn't lead by anger.) His outbursts come from a constant build-up of anger. Any little thing can break him. He's the very definition of excess. Excess in feeling, in wanting, in raging. Excess–greedy, gluttonous excess. In everything he is and does. Nothing will ever be enough.

Let's examine Vox’s relationship to other characters. He surrounds himself with people that praise him and stroke his ego. One night ask–does he care about Valentino and Velvette? Does he love them? Earnestly?

It's complicated. Here–it seems he may not. It seems that they're a means to an end–tools that he uses, then plans to discard once he's reached the absolute. Once nothing can hurt him anymore. Once there's nothing left to want, to feel, to desire, because he's reached Godhood. (and he MUST reach Godhood to stop being insecure–which is so vague and impossibly final, in a world where not even death is final–) He doesn't need to ‘play house’ anymore. But his success as a TV man is based on other people–on playing house–on fostering an intimacy with his following, one based on his charisma.

One must not forget that Alastor is present when Vox utters these words–his perception of his goal is warped with Alastor near. Because he feels such strong emotions for Alastor, all the time, which make him always submit to his every bit of probing. He overcompensates his lack of need for Val and Velvette–his lack of want for them, too, because to admit any genuine care (like he had once done towards Alastor) is pathetic and weak.

Vox shows care for the Vees, when there's no cameras to speak of. He makes sure Val gets dinner after he skips breakfast. (Call it non-canon if you wish, but I think it serves his characterization perfectly.) With and Velvette, their care for him is clear. Val sings about it–Velvette shows that she doesn't consider spending time with the other two as transaction. (Or even just the fact they had every right to drop his screen and leave alone, but they still took him!) With Vox it's more complicated.

He's certainly more attached to Val and Vel than he wants to be. It bothers him. It definitely started as him wanting to use them as tools–to profit off of their labour–but they flatter him, humour him. They offer things to him. He loves them for what they can give him. I think both Vox and Alastor are Narcissists–Alastor more malignant–Vox entirely insecure. (not gonna claim to be an expert here, not a psychiatrist and definitely not trying to diagnose these vivziepop characters with anything real life people suffer from because that's irresponsible) And so, he loved the Vees as extensions of himself that stroked his ego. Still. They mattered. He wanted them. He craves the monopoly of Val's attention, being jealous of Angel Dust, yet he still refuses to label his situationship with Val as an official relationship–partners..... in business! Which suggests a man scared shitless of getting attached but desperate to be someone's #1.

But here's another question. Why did he love Alastor? Why did he want Alastor, so meanly, so endlessly, that he was willing to wipe himself and everyone else out merely to break his composure?

There's an acknowledgement here that Vox is fundamentally broken. He's on a wild goose chase for something he can never have–the glass is always empty and he always craves more. Alastor knows this, of course. But that's not all I find interesting here.

His obsession with Alastor isn't just, ‘romantic,’ or ‘sexual,’ and to call it that would cheapen it. Vox is technically not morally above satisfying his carnal needs without consent–his partner is Valentino, for fuck's sake–but that's not the point. He doesn't take what he wants because he wants Alastor to give it to him. He wants Alastor to want him–because that is the absolute.

“You can say your last "I told you so" while I slit your throat,” is genius. Not only because, at the end of the day, Alastor will still be right–but because of something far more devious.

It's envy that borders on desire and eroticism. It stems from envy, the root is envy.

It's true that in the past, Vox was mellow and soft with Alastor, not toxic or violent like in his life. I don't think he ever had someone like Alastor in his life. Someone unreachable–untouchable–someone absolute. If he could touch him, he could kill him. But he can't. Alastor is out of reach. Shielded by a smile sewn onto his face.

Every time, when Vox was alive–when there was someone he wanted to surpass–someone stronger and better, someone higher-up than him–he’d simply slit their throat and take their place. But he couldn't do that to Alastor. Alastor was, ‘inspiring,’ Alastor was the ‘strongest sinner in hell,’ supposedly. So there was this envy first upon meeting him, which turned into a desperate desire for validation, for praise, for companionship–and all his typical already existing insecurities were now directed on this man. Because, if I can't surpass him, I want to be with him. I want him to love me. Together we can rule all of hell, radio and video. Together.

Him being shy and bashful wasn't out of character. It was him striped down to his most basic of traits. Because for the first time, the ‘more’ he wanted was a man. An unshakable man. And he wanted to shake him and know him and to be loved by him. By the absolute. Vox never stops being easy to fluster, flatter or embarrass, neither as man nor as demon, because that's his core.

And what happens when his ego isn't stroked? When the object of his desires mocks him, laughs at him, calls him weak and pathetic and dependent? (And Alastor is partially wrong: Vox doesn't need him to succeed, he wants him. It's his want that's his undoing, not his need. He's capable himself–he just always wants to step on others to succeed.)

Well, his love turns to hateful obsession. If he can wipe the smirk off of Alastor's face, it will be a comfort. He cries because he's lost. He's reached that last, ‘I told you so,’ that, ‘no victory will ever be enough.’ So, what's left, if not to end it all? End Alastor, end himself, end everything.

He wants Alastor to stop smiling. He wants to get the last laugh. He wants to make Alastor feel as broken and as desperate as Alastor made him feel. He wants to break Alastor's spirit in a way he could never truly be capable of, because Alastor isn't Vox. Alastor's own narcissism may be stroked by the semi-false idea that Vox ‘still needs him’ but he doesn't care for Vox’s validation. He doesn't want Vox to want him–he’s averse to it. All fondness and respect he had for Vox–deep enough for him to tolerate touches he typically despised–vanished the moment Vox’s feelings became clear. Alastor is immune.

Alastor is the ultimate goal–always composed, always smiling, aways one step ahead, always in control, always this, always that–and Vox is none of these things. So if it takes dying and taking eveyone with him to make Alastor feel a fraction of the narcissistic injury (if you can even call it that, probably not,) he caused Vox, then so be it.

Leaving behind the conversation regarding his relationships, let's look at Vox by himself again. Enough doomed radiosilence–let’s remind ourselves of exactly which asshole we're talking about.

So, this ridiculous clinical case of megalomania is also accompanied by the fact that as mentioned before this is a white man from the 1950's. Toxic masculinity can explain why he shifts all his (very varying) emotions to either unbridled rage or glee as a default, why he wants to appear controlled and stoic, why he speaks degradingly towards displays of femininity, (like him calling Alastor a twink unprovoked and just how he generally looks down on Val. I'm not here to say Val deserves better, because he doesn't, but Val isn't nearly as stupid as Vox treats him. He's straightforward. Why should we take over heaven over your kinks and vices? How would we even get up there? Those are not semantics. Also how he suddenly belittles Vel to Carmilla as young, foolish and inexperienced. I'd put it under the same category of mild misogyny. He respects Velvette but not enough to not use that vocabulary when throwing her under the bus. You can say you support women in STEM and still be an ass!)

And now the racial aspect. Ignoring the fact Vincent Whittman is the WHITEST NAME I'VE EVER HEARD, he's just blatantly micro-aggressive over and over. Other people have already pointed this out so I don't have much to say. He greets Carmilla with maracas, a sombrero, and a pathetic attempt at Spanish. He tells Val he doesn't understand him when he uses that ‘island language,’ even though they've already been together for years and he should at least know to make an effort/know Val is from fucking Florida. He also just doesn't bother trying to pronounce horchata and calls it milk. He uses the phrase manifest destiny. He–he’s got no excuses.

Vox based his entire personal development on people of color (Val and Vel) without whom he would have been a failure, profiting off their contribution, while he doesn't even acknowledge it. Not to say that Val and Vel are better than him, they deserve him, but it's interesting that when given power, authority and acceptance, Vox becomes the exact disrespectful, micro-aggressive, arrogant type of man that Alastor would've killed when he was alive.

To conclude:

Vox is clingy, needy, touchy-feely. He's easy to fluster. He's expressive. He's emotive. Hyperactive, like a little gleeful boy. He's always full. He craves touch, he craves validation, he craves praise. Vox is also a conservative, arrogant, populist, propagandist–vox populi vox dei–wannabe fascist dictator, with very few redeeming qualities. He crosses people's boundaries, gets off on others suffering and feeling small–it makes him feel bigger. He mistreats his employees, he mistreats his partners, he does anything and everything to keep the ratings high. He kills. He cheats. He lies. He steals, plagiarizes, copies. All to feel that he's at the top. All to feel wanted. All to reach the absolute.

To be rid of the fear–of being irrelevant.

Obsession. Envy, bordering on desire, bordering on insanity. Bordering on excessive, desperate, twisted love.

That, is Vox.

And look at the state of him now. A loveless television with no body–the symbol of his undoing in life and death both. A symbol of him losing his mind and going too far. He can no longer leap, or jump, or dance.