#hazbin hotel dead dove

[crows-ace]

Heavenly ordeal - pg2

What’s that - Gods meeting with the angels look sinister?? Noooo what do you mean??? Look at that pastel background~ nothing bad going on there 👀

First/prev | Next

[crows-ace]

Screeches in delight!!!!

I looooove this!!!!! 💖💖💖

Look at the cute embarrassed baby!!! What a doll~ 🥹💖🥹💖🥹💖

fanart for @crows-ace story I've got my mind set on you on AO3

[ennvisin]

Yep, that’s my man. 👍🏻

I’ll probably be crucified for this one…

… but this meme is for my fellow degenerate horny ValentinHOES specifically

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere valentino x reader x angel dust

contains: reader w/unspecified genitals, gn reader, nsfw themes, noncon/dubcon, dehumanization, degradation, heavy abuse (brief mentions of physical violence, manipulation, sexual exploitation), dacryphilia, overstimulation

word count: 2,160

It’s not unusual for sinners to throw themselves at Valentino’s feet, but it is the first time the red skies of hell have thrown one directly onto him. The impact sends you both to the ground, collapsing in a startled heap.

He scrambles to throw you off, having every intention to rip you to scraps. Upon lifting your head, he suddenly has grander schemes in mind. His towering figure and lascivious grin send shivers down your spine.

“My, what lovely specimen do we have here? How kind of heaven to send a beauty like yourself directly to me.” His flirtations send blood rushing to your head, making your face grow warmer. You shyly break eye contact, swiveling your head to get a look around. Where is this place?

Valentino must notice your growing confusion and distress, interrupting your thoughts with a low chuckle.

“Welcome to hell, dollface.” Oh, you must be dead. You never thought you were perfect, but you never could’ve imagined you’d go to hell! Where did you go wrong? Suddenly thrust into hell with murderers, rapists, and monsters alike, you wondered if you could die twice.

“Don’t look so down, baby; you’re in luck! There’s no better demon you could’ve crashed into.” He goes on to introduce himself as a powerful overlord with a well-known and successful business.

“I’m feeling awfully generous right now. Why don’t you come work for me? I know just where to put you! You’ll fit right in! I’m sure my patrons will love you too.” He pauses to let you digest the information. “As my employee, you’d be provided housing. I could easily protect you from the creeps and losers on this side of hell. I’ll even forgive you for dirtying my coat! Sounds like a steal, right?”

He takes a long drag from a cigar that you're not sure where came from, then whips out a contract and pen.

“So, how about it, baby?”

Stranded in an unfamiliar place, you easily accept his kindness. As you take hold of the pen, something about his grin makes you uneasy.

If only you read the fine print. So began your life of torment.

What Valentino neglected to mention was that the “successful business” he ran was a porn studio. You spent hours doing photoshoots, films, and shows. Like Valentino suggested, you became his star attraction—the shy and delicate pornstar all of hell’s degenerates thirsted for. Yet they would never get a taste. Valentino didn’t share his personal toys. 

Inexplicably, he couldn’t get enough of you. He wanted to own you the moment he saw your pretty face, drawn to the light in your eyes.

Even with your skin bruised by his fingers and your throat sore from careless treatment, you still desired his rough affection. You didn’t mind that he left you battered each night or his harsh comments when you couldn’t keep up with his demands.

You could even forgive him for cruelly allowing his customers to take advantage of you and fuck you back into submission.

“I said I could protect you; I never said I would. Perhaps you’ll think twice before disobeying in the future.”

You would do anything if it meant receiving his violent devotion.

Being the personal toy of an egomaniacal moth could never be easy, but at least you weren’t alone. You had befriended none other than Valentino’s former favored pornstar, Angel Dust. Despite your differences in character, your shared experiences created a bond neither of you could find anywhere else. Misery always finds company.

Angel felt conflicted upon meeting you. That bastard had finally found a new toy to replace him! His joy only lasted until he heard your voice, so soft and sweet.

Valentino would break you.

Angel dreamed of the day Valentino would grow bored of him and find a new toy to play with. Now that that dream was a reality, he couldn’t push down the guilt. Shouldn’t he feel happy?

There was nothing Angel could do to protect you, but he could give you advice on how to protect yourself.

“Just do what he says. The consequences aren’t worth going against his word.”

He hadn’t planned on getting so close to you; he had tried to scare you off with cruelties, but you never minded. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake you. He tried to keep his distance and went out of his way to avoid you. You must have taken the hint and stopped bothering him like he’d wanted.

He didn’t owe you anything, so why did your absence make him feel worse? Why did he feel like something was missing?

Angel found his answers not long after.

He'd followed the muffled sound of choked sobs to your studio, pausing outside the cracked door. Against his better judgment, he peeked inside.

He’s met with the sight of you huddled in your vanity seat, knees raised to your chest, and your face buried in your arms.

“Doll?”

You raise your head at the sound of Angel’s voice, rushing to wipe away tears. You greet him with the best smile you can manage.

How miserable you must look to him, with smudged mascara and puffy eyes.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so often, Angie.” With how hoarse your voice is, he suspects you’ve been crying for a while. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just felt so alone, you know?”

He does. He knows better than anyone.

It suddenly occurs to him how much of an asshole he’s been. You didn’t deserve the shit he’s been giving you.

He'd put up walls ever since he signed away his freedom; he couldn’t trust anybody. He thought nobody could understand what kind of shit he’s been through, but then you came along. You do understand because you’re going through it.

You’re all each other has.

“Don’t cry for the bastard. He doesn’t deserve your tears.” You look like you’re about to apologize again, but he continues. “Listen, I’m sorry for being such a douchebag lately. You didn’t do nothing wrong. We’ve only got each other in this shithole.”

You smile brightly, unsure what caused the sudden change in attitude, but happy nonetheless. “Right, together, we’re not alone.”

So began your unlikely friendship.

Unfortunately, Valentino wasn’t nearly as enthused. His obsession grew to new heights when you befriended Angel Dust. This manifested itself in the form of longer studio hours and even rougher sex.

Seeing you get along on set made his blood boil. The final straw was the stupid grin you sent Angel’s way. How dare you flirt with that slut! How dare he grin back!

You both clearly needed to be reminded of your status. Since you liked each other so much, he would be happy to give his blessings. Why, he’d personally see to your union.

Later that evening, you found yourself back on set, blindfolded and gagged. The cold nipped at your bare skin. Valentino kept the studios cold to keep your nipples perked. The handcuffs keeping your hands pinned to the bed post provided little comfort.

The sound of the film crew setting up around you sent heat to your sex. You couldn’t swallow the feeling of disgust residing in your throat; how could you enjoy this? Even amongst the buzz of conversations, you could easily pick out the click of Valentino’s healed boots. You wait for the familiar call to begin filming, yet you do not find it.

It’s only when a pair of hands, strangely familiar, find their way to your chest that you realize the set began. The whole situation strikes you as strange, but what could you do anyhow? Nothing would change the outcome. In the end, all you’d receive for your curiosity would be a nasty bruise.

So you brush off your worries and focus on the sensation of soft hands groping at your chest, teasing your nipples. You can’t help but lean into their gentle touches; the familiarity comforting.

The way they glide across your skin—as if searching—you wonder if they’re blindfolded too. Shivers run across your spine as they spread your legs, the cool air kissing your core. The bed shifts as your film partner settles between your thighs, their hands never leaving you.

Fingers prod at your entrance, sinking in easily. Your head spins at the sudden intrusion. As they finger and stretch your hole, you struggle to maintain composure. Each motion was intentional and practiced. You could feel the slick gather below you in a thick puddle. Somehow, they knew how to work you just right.

Droplets of pre-cum smeared against your skin as their cock brushed up against your thigh.

Unable to wait any longer, you tried lifting your hips away from their fingers. You wanted more; you wanted to be filled.

Your desire clouded any creeping shame or embarrassment. You never wanted this; why shouldn’t you enjoy the pleasure being given?

The hand lingering on your hip stills you with surprising strength; another set of hands you didn’t know they had pushes your thighs up to your chest. Desire clouds your thoughts, never once questioning the owner of said hands.

They guide their cock to your entrance, driving it in without warning—the sudden stretch takes your breath away. Though easier to accommodate than Valentino’s, you still find yourself pushed past your limits.

Little time is given to adjust; their pace is rough but controlled. Waves of pleasure burn through you. 

Your moans and pleas are swallowed up by the gag. Tears of pleasure and pain gather in your eyes, darkening the fabric of your blindfold. It hurts so good; the intensity building in your core threatens to snap. A particularly rough thrust sends powerful shockwaves throughout your body.

They shudder against you, their pace stuttering for only a brief moment. They were too busy changing their own bliss. You writhe against your binds as the heat within tightens once more, all too soon. Your pleas for clemency are muffled.

Valentino watches with great interest, languidly stroking his own length as you're brought back to the edge of pleasure. You were so sensitive and expressive.

His favorite slut being forced to use his personal toy wasn’t a sight he thought he’d enjoy. He’d initially been reluctant, only convinced by the masses demanding your collaboration.

Now he couldn’t wait for the reveal—to see the despair of fucking your only friend. Commanding his toys to fuck like dolls was fun; maybe he’d do it again some time.

He watched closely as Angel’s hips stuttered, pace becoming erratic, and fingers pressing deep into your thighs. The heat of his climax sends you over the edge. With your ears ringing and your heart pounding, you feel dizzy. Darkness swallows up your vision.

Valentino makes note of your limpness, suddenly struck by an idea. He strides over to Angel, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you flirting with my toy?” He didn’t miss the way Angel tenses. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Wasting no time, he wrenched the blindfold off.

Angel’s reaction is more than he’d hoped for. Horror and disgust flash in his eyes as he scrambles to pull out of you. He tumbled off the bed in his urgency and crumpled at Val’s feet in despair.

Angel can feel his stomach in his throat, panis rising.

“Aw, did you not like my gift?” Valentino mocks him, relishing in the pitiful display. “Well, too bad. Pick yourself up and get ready to do it again.”

For a moment, Angel is unresponsive. He has to do that all over again? He has to violate you? He can’t do that to you; it would break you.

Buzzing under the thick layer of disgust creeps darker desires: to touch and tease your skin, to sink into your warmth. To do it all over again.

He doesn't notice the way his dick responds, but Valentino certainly does. How unexpected!

“Holy shit, are you hard again? Does the thought of raping your friend turn you on that much? I wonder what your friend will think?” He can taste your fear and anguish already. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

Angel's fear is palpable and thick. He doesn’t want to lose you. When you open your eyes, the little sanctuary you've built together will never be the same.

You should feel something, but you can only feel empty as your only friend splits you open against both of your wills. Averting his eyes, he rocks into you. Valentino’s voice hardly registers at all. 

“Don’t act so shy, Angelcakes. Go on, fuck them with your eyes like you usually do. If I don’t see some eye contact, there will be consequences for your dearest friend.”

With your eyes connected, you can’t pretend anymore. This is happening. This is real. 

You only have each other, but together you created a nightmare you can’t escape. At least you’re not alone—closer than you’ve ever been.

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Fem!Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1'882

Warnings: Yandere, Abuse, Abusive relationship, Choking, Degradation, Manhandling, Threats, Possessiveness, Alastor is a massive asshole and mean as shit. Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Hindsight was always 20/20.

A bit of an understatement, really. Looking back it was hard to believe just how much one decision could impact your entire afterlife, and you wanted to kick yourself.

Desperation was the excuse you gave yourself whenever you thought about why you made a deal with Alastor.

What he proposed wasn’t something you thought too much of at the time. In exchange for your soul, he offered you security - solidarity in a realm where most were keen on focusing on the weakest among them and tearing them to shreds. Not only would you be protected on a daily basis, but you had, essentially, a guarantee that you would survive extermination day whenever it inevitably rolled around.

Seemed almost too good to be true, but knowing the risks involved in refusing, you had accepted.

He never asked much of you in return, much to your surprise. Nothing that ever seemed too unreasonable, at least. If anything, the things he asked of you felt more like exchanges that would occur between friends - taking on small tasks he’d otherwise find too boring to entertain.

Sometimes you’d even go as far as to call them domestic.

Oh, but you knew better than to assume your relationship fell anywhere close to friendship. Amicable was a better word, not good nor bad, but certainly nothing to be overtly confident about - which made what you intended to ask so much worse.

The very thought of it made a shiver go through your body as you walked through the Hotel hallway. A voice in the back of your mind, your conscience perhaps, whispered that it wasn’t too late to turn back. To do a complete 180 and march right back the way you came.

You didn’t listen.

By the time you came to a stop, the hairs on your arms stood completely on end. The door in front of you looked exactly like the others that lined the hallway, deceptive in its mundane simplicity. It only made the feeling of foreboding that much worse as you held your breath and raised your hand to knock, knuckles barely grazing the polished wood at first but connecting more solidly the second time around.

A part of you prayed there wouldn’t be an answer, nails digging further into your palms as the silence extended onwards.

Please don’t answer, please don’t answer-

All hopes were dashed by the dark wood swinging open to reveal a wall of red.

Alastor bent slightly at the waist when greeting you, bringing his eye level slightly down to yours, “My, my, what a pleasant surprise this is!~”

The smile you could muster in response didn’t even come close to matching his own, and your greeting not nearly as jovial.

“Hi.” You said, pausing briefly between words. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes?”

The signature clicking of his vertebrae accompanied the tilt of his head as he stared down at you intrigued. “Whatever for?~”

You began to pick at your nail beds. “Just to talk.”

Alastor hummed, amusement dancing behind his eyes before he opened the door to his suite a little bit wider.

“Oh, I suppose I could spare a moment or two for somebody like you.~”

The way he said it made you unsure whether such a statement was a compliment or an insult, but regardless you followed him inside.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you…” You began to say, looking around the space. No matter how many times you’d been inside, you’d never get used to it.

“Not at all, sweetheart!~” His arm came around your shoulders, leading you further into his suite and towards the table he had set up in the swampland that seamlessly blended in with the decor.

With a flash of green another chair appeared beside his own, and he gestured towards it with the end of his microphone staff.

“Have a seat.~”

You complied, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you did so. Foolishly, you had hoped to stay standing for this conversation in order to keep it as brief as possible. The cool metal of the chair dug into the skin of your thighs despite your clothing and you found yourself staring at the tabletop rather than at Alastor himself.

“Now,” There was some rustling of paper as Alastor picked a newspaper back up off the table, half paying attention to you when he spoke. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

This was it. No going back, no cutting corners, better to rip the bandaid off than to beat around the bush.

You bit your cheek harder and you could already taste the blood on your tongue before you opened your mouth.

“I want out.”

Alastor barely looked in your direction, but the subtle twitch of his ear was hard to miss once you spoke.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow but never took his eyes off the paper in his lap as he turned the page. “Care to elaborate?”

“Our deal.” The words felt thick when you spoke them. Heavy. “I want my soul back.”

Alastor’s pause made the atmosphere feel nothing short of dreadful as he turned his head to look at you directly. His ever-present smile widened while his eyes narrowed.

“Now what makes you think you deserve that, sweetheart?~”

“It isn’t about deserving anything.” You stated, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. “It’s… renegotiating.”

Alastor snickered, the sound accompanied by a pre-recorded laugh track.

“Well, aren’t you simply adorable?” He placed the newspaper off to the side and rapped his claws against the table. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not how deals work.”

Your hands curled into fists in your lap as he continued speaking.

“While the deal we made was a fairly simple one, the end result is the same.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. “I own your soul. There aren’t any take-backsies on the matter.”

Nails bit into your palm at the syrupy condescension in his voice. It made anger brim in your chest, but acting on emotion was not a smart move here.

You took a deep breath. “Our deal has run its course, though.” You did your best to ignore how his eyes narrowed further at that. “Now that I’m at the Hotel… it offers what you originally did, so your part of the bargain is no longer necessary.”

His eyes flashed, glowing a brighter red and illuminating the space between the two of you for a moment.

“Ah, I see. You think our deal is now void because I’ve been replaced in a sense.” His smile was anything but reassuring or kind. “And therefore you shouldn’t be expected to uphold your end of the bargain, am I correct?~”

You swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

Alastor tutted. “My dear, who are you to get to decide when our deal is void in any way, shape, or form?”

The question was clearly rhetorical, but you answered anyway.

“Because it’s my soul.” The firmness in your voice did little to cover how weak of an answer that truly was. “I should be able to get a say in when we’ve reached the end of our contract-”

A green flash and the cold snap of metal around your neck cut off any further words you had to say. You barely had any time to register your air getting cut off as you were yanked forward harshly into the dirt - leaving you coughing when the chain slackened enough for you to breathe once more.

“It seems to me that you are forgetting a few things, darling,” Alastor said, pulling sharply on the chain once more to force your face back up to his.

Green stitches lined the seams of his clothes and wove at the edges of his smile - antlers growing with each word he spoke, and it took every bit of courage you had to bite back a whimper.

He was pissed.

“Firstly, the Hotel,” He cooed sweetly,” is the sanctuary you rave it to be because I keep it that way.”

Alastor stood from his chair and stalked towards you, wrapping the end of the chain around his microphone as he went.

“Secondly, might I remind you that it was you who approached me.” He hissed, faux kindness mixing with the barely contained anger you could see in his eyes.

“You,” He nudged your chin with the end of his microphone, “ came to me with the proposal of offering yourself in exchange for my services, not the other way around.” His eyes scanned over your form - lingering on the way your chest moved rapidly to accommodate your breaths before returning to your face.

“I've grown... accustomed to you, my dear, and our deal stands until I say so. Since you are seemingly incapable of understanding the subtleties of that, I’ll put it in simple terms so you can understand.”

The cool metal of your collar was soon replaced with the warm, smooth texture of his glove as he kneeled in the dirt and wrapped his hand around your neck. The gesture made you gasp, reflexively drawing in as much air as possible before he could choke you, but Alastor didn’t squeeze. Instead, he let the weight of his hand do the work.

“I own you. Every breath you take, every little thought in that empty head of yours belongs completely and solely to me.”

The black of his gums peeked out as his smile - which felt more akin to a snarl - widened. “Besides, what would you even do if I gave your soul back?”

Another rhetorical question, but the humiliation and inequity of the situation caused you to answer once more despite everything inside screaming at you not to.

“That’s my business.”

The sheer volume of emotion that passed through Alastor’s eyes told you that was the wrong fucking answer to give.

He snickered and leaned closer to the point you could smell the rot of his breath. “See, you might think that, darling, but since you’re mine, it’s my business too. So here’s how this is going to go.”

The hand around your throat began to squeeze.

“My business is to keep you. You’ll keep doing each and every little thing I ask of you, and you certainly won’t voice complaint when doing so.”

You choked and sputtered again when he hauled you to your feet by your throat and pushed you back into your seat - the armrests catching you directly in the funny bone, causing you to yelp. He placed his hands on either side of you and leered over you. It was the smallest you’d ever felt in your life.

“I’m more than willing to speak to you about anything you wish, darling, I truly am.” He said, inhaling deeply before continuing, and you swore his smile dropped the most you’d ever seen it.

“But if you ever try to speak to me about this again, you’ll learn just how easy you have it with me, is that clear?”

You felt yourself nodding before your mind could even register it. “C-crystal.”

A mixture of relief and dread sunk in your stomach when his smile returned to its normal state and he reached his hand up to pat you twice on the head.

“That’s my girl.~”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[aliceattheart]

Can I request a Yandere Alastor, Vox, and Valentino(separate) please?

Yan! Hazbin Hotel x AFAB reader

Yeah! I totally don't mind at all :]

Sadly at the moment the only character I feel comfortable with writing for is Alastor. I don't know much about Vox and Valentino. I do apologize 😭

I kinda skimmed it for slight spelling mistakes. All in all, I got it done. :D

Yan! Alastor

Alastor is deadly obsessed with your scent. That's what led the Doll maker to you. His little Doll.

Alastor is sickened with existential possessive tranquility. To gaze at your smile only makes him yearn for your touch.

It was only a matter of time before he put his nerves beside and spoke to you. "Well hello there Miss, may I aquire a little bit of your precious time." Kissing the back of your hand. The charmer he appears to be. With a mouth full of sharp teeth and sharp claws. You found it weird that he was so gentle.

You have no one to blame for failing madly in love with his elegant charm and sweet voice. A voice that carried endless symphonies of love and no regrets.

You were content with his lack of Physical affection but none the less you did want to embrace and fall into his lips. He would give in every now and again but you couldn't shake of the somber ravenous guilty of intimacy.

Deciding that you couldn't keep a facade, you wanted to break things off. "Y/n, my Moon in the Red sky. Are you saying you don't want me?" When he put it that way you feel disgusted with yourself. But you can't give in.

"Alastor, my heart yearns for something more. Something you can't give. It's not because you've failed to love me. I'm just greedy and selfish."

The last words that came out of your mouth. Did you really mean it? After that you started to spill like an over flowing sink. Words you've never thought came out. "I was wrong for ever thinking of leaving you. I'll stay with you for all eternity, even if I don't have that. In death I wouldn't want to part from you." You were confused and apparently your mouth wasn't listening to your wants and demands.

Alastor sat facing you with big dark eyes, smiling benevolently at you. Opening his mouth to speak he said. "Y/n, you are my muse I can't just let you run off. No need to think or hide away. Let's keep you as my favorite Doll for all eternity, please?" He formed it as a question but in reality he wasn't giving you a choice.

With a snap of his fingers your body became silent to your pleads for movement. Alastor humming a tune, picked you up. You felt like a sack of potatoes heavy, yet weightless in his arms. Opening a demon circle to his residence. He proceeds to take you to his basement. Strapping you into a chair.

"My Sweet Doll Face. He whispered into your left ear. "This will only hurt for a while. I shall break you and put you back together. For my love for you is true. You shall move to my wishes and mine alone. Your heart shall not want for more." He kissed your lips. And sewn them shut.

For the first time in all your existence you wanted to beg for mercy, to god. Irony isn't, you couldn't speak.

Alice here :D

I this would be my first ever request. I want to make it short. In the future I'll specify the characters I right for. I pray that I'll be able to build the courage and make a Master list.

[crows-ace]

Omg!!! This is so cool!! 💖💖💖

Al is so mean~

Based off of the Doe!Luci AU from @crows-ace and art by @im-not-paying-my-taxes

My own take on the designs!! I spent a long time on this but I love how it turned out!

And a closeup!

[procyonloser]

Pt 4 Serial killer au (same warnings, serial killer dead dove stuff)

Adam's appetite was waning as the next few days stretched on, or at least he imagined more than one day had passed. There was a longer period of time that he wouldn't see Lucifer for, and then he'd arrive once more, in different clothing. He knew he was being toyed with, and it began to seem like he was just waiting for Lucifer to grow bored on him, and they always grew bored of him. He'd wear on people, he'd annoy them, until they wanted him gone. Except, this time, there was no place to retreat to.

Lucifer knelt beside him on the tile, picking up the bowl he'd left him, looking over the amount of stew that had been left over. His expression was blank as he walked over to dump the remnants in a trash can, walking past his still newer work in progress, a body that he'd begun to articulate the way he wanted. A swan this time, Lucifer had said.

"You're not hungry?" Lucifer asked, and Adam just shook his head. "No? Maybe you need a change of scenery."

Yeah, he wanted to get the fuck out of here. He wanted to call his foster mom and apologize, he wanted to call his bandmates - fuck, he'd apologize to that girl he'd cheated on. He missed Lute, he had no real friends, he couldn't remember why he'd pushed her away. He just assumed she'd leave eventually.

Lucifer came back a few minutes later with a wheelchair, and handcuffs. He snapped them around Adam's wrist, and then took a key to the chain locked into place at his throat. The heavy metal eventually fell away, down to the ground, but the collar stayed in place.

"Can you get up?" Lucifer asked, and Adam tried to push up onto to his knees, but he was unable to get back onto his feet. Lucifer helped the last push to get him into the wheelchair, and Adam felt pains he didn't realize he had make themselves known. He'd not had anything soft in days.

Lucifer wheeled him out of the room, and Adam tried to take in as much information as to where he was, just in case he could ever get free. It was hard to tell if the building used to be a hospital or a school, but Adam was still leaning towards an old school. A small one, broken down and forgotten by time, but the rooms he passed, as empty as they were, didn't appear to be exam rooms.

His assumptions were correct, when they passed by what had to have been the gymnasium. Except, it was full of corpses. They were hung and strung in different poses, different styles, contorted to the point it was impossible to tell they used to be human.

"This is my art room, my works waiting for a home to find themselves in so the world can see them." Lucifer said with pride in his voice as he looked upon them. There had to have been at least 15. Adam could maybe vaguely recall hearing about a few murders, but this was far more than he could ever imagine. "These days, there's security cameras everywhere, people with cameras. It takes time to find the right place, but this will be my largest show. I will be the ringleader of the circus."

Adam's eyes widened as it sunk in how the bodies had been set up. It was a circus. Tight rope walkers, a lion tamer, a strong man, a clown, a knife thrower, it just went on.

"I see it," Adam whispered, and Lucifer looked intrigued, kneeling beside the wheelchair.

"You do?"

It was horrifying, it was revolting, but Adam had to admit... It was impressive. In the same way a tornado was impressive, or a shark ripping a seal in two as it jumped out of the water was impressive.

"I've never heard of any other serial killers doing anything like this," Adam said, and he saw Lucifers expression twitch slightly; maybe he didn't like being called a serial killer. "You're one of a kind."

Lucifer's smile returned quickly, he enjoyed that at least. "How does it make you feel? Art is supposed to draw out emotions, so you're able to interact with a piece in a completely unique way."

Adam said nothing for a minute. "...One time as a kid, I got lost at a fair. I had different foster parents then, and they fucking hated me. I think they were happy I vanished. I walked into a circus tent and stayed there for... hours, wishing they'd take me in. That I could go on the road, perform, that everyone would love me."

He'd just ended up being taken to the police station when the fair was supposed to end, and one of the workers realized Adam was alone.

"This feels like that," Adam said quietly, "I feel like...w...when you kill me, I want...I want to be important. I want to be your best, I want to be a star." Lucifer made a noise of understanding, before he wheeled him away from the gym, back down the hallway. Lucifer turned into a room that was clearly where he was living, at least part of the time. It was set up with fairly normal amenities, even a couch, though Adam wondered if this was the remains of a break room, and the couch was already there.

It didn't really matter.

Lucifer got him onto the couch and then spread his legs, fitting between his thighs, and fucked him face to face - except this time, he wrapped a hand around Adam's cock, pumping him until Adam groaned, cursing and coming onto his fingers. Lucifer pressed a short kiss against his lips, that Adam tried to deepen, rolling his hips as Lucifer fucked him through his own orgasm.

"I changed my mind about you," Lucifer said, still deep inside him. Adam blinked tiredly, sleep threatening to pull him under as the warmth of the room, of Lucifer within him, all dragged him towards sleep. "You're cute."

[trashogram]

Dicentra

Husk/Reader

WARNING: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Includes Cheating/Infidelity, Heartbreak, Mental Breakdown, Betrayal, Despair, Alcoholism/Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Hurt No Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Not Huskerdust Friendly, Pretentious Title

(I kinda lost motivation to finish the ending, apologies. Oh also I cried.)

You stood there in silence.

      The cool mahogany of the door and its frame held you in place. The doorjamb dug into your side, the only thing grounding you. It was a minor discomfort that kept you fixed to the floor of the hotel rather than sinking through it the way your heart had sunk down from your chest. 

Husk and Angel seemed none the wiser to your accidental voyeurism, so caught up in the moment were they. You might’ve expected as much, given how unapologetically loud the spider demon was being. His vocalizations were what led you to this room. 

To listen at the door.

     Husk’s expression was one of concentration, eyes closed as he took the pornstar from behind, almost punishingly. 

The doorstop. 

Digging into you.

It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds that you stood there. Less than that. Maybe less than 20 seconds with your whole world crashing down around you. 

     The door closed without a sound before you walked away. 

-*- 

You took the elevator down to the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel in a trance. Everything was eerily quiet as the normally raucous area proved to be vacant when you arrived. 

      It was so quiet. The lobby, yes, but also inside of you. There was no rush of thought or pounding heart to remind you that you still existed. You walked through space and time without feeling. 

A gentle susurration of whispers stopped you, and your eyes slid to Alastor materializing from his living shadow to greet you. 

       His ever-present smile did not waver, but his claret eyes were knowing. The cluck of his tongue was the closest signal to pity that he seemed capable of, though the sincerity behind it was suspect. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear.” He said. The words were sticky with overly-exaggerated compassion. “It’s unfortunate that you had to find out this way.” 

The Overlord’s words caused not so much as a twinge of surprise. It slotted into place in your mind the way pieces of a puzzle did. If anyone knew Husk’s deepest, darkest secrets, it would be Alastor. 

“…Do you know… for how long?” You asked, emotionless. 

“I wouldn’t waste my time keeping a record of how my pets carry on outside of their duties.” Alastor’s tone curdled with disgust. “But, I think the time for playing pretend is over my dear. You know very well that this isn’t the first time he’s betrayed you.”

You looked past Alastor, taken by an instant of dismay — Husk had been cutting back on the booze for you. He hadn’t done it as a grand gesture or even verbalized it, but the gradual change wasn’t unnoticeable. 

     It made you proud. Happy. To have that effect on someone, especially someone you cared for so dearly. Someone you loved. 

    A month ago you’d felt a flash of concern as he emptied a second party-sized bottle of hard liquor. It had been a long time since he’d needed more than one to get through the day since you and he had started dating. At the time, you hadn’t said anything. There were numerous possibilities as to why he might need another pick-me-up. And you’d convinced yourself that pushing him on the subject would only inspire an argument. 

     You hated to argue. So you kept your worries to yourself as that instance turned into multiple. 

“Yes.” You said softly. “I do.” 

Alastor’s head cocked to the side as he studied you. 

He sighed. 

“Naturally I detest meddling with affairs of the heart.” He informed you. “But, if you’re willing to make a deal with me, I may be able to help you. Memory charms aren’t as difficult as you may think and I—”

“Thank you, Alastor.” You cut him off. “… For your honesty.” 

Numbly, you turned your back on him and continued your journey out of the hotel. 

-*-

Tangled up in warm fur, face pressed into the white stripe of his chest. You breathed in the scent of vodka and faded cherrywood that had become such a staple in your afterlife. You couldn’t imagine going a day without it now. 

It was absurd to say in Hell, but you swore to yourself that you’d never felt safer than you did here. In Husk’s arms. 

You peered up at him, meeting his luminous yellow gaze before you pulled away briefly. 

“I love you.” 

-*-

     Angel took a deep drag of his cigarette, eyes scanning the room for the hundredth time. It was an exact copy of the room that he and Husk had used last time on the 3rd floor, and the time before that on the 10th floor. 

“Would it kill Charlie to use a different theme for these rooms once in a while?” Angel Dust thought aloud. “All that remodelin’ just to get Deja vú no mattah where ya go...” 

He inhaled another before glancing at Husk. The cat demon was facing away from Angel while he sat on the edge of the bed, a bottle of nondescript alcohol clutched like a lifeline at his side. His head was hung so low it nearly disappeared behind his slumped shoulders, ears peeled back in shame.

      “Aw, come on babe.” The spider quipped. “Ya bein’ too hard on ya’self again. I told ya, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘er.” 

Not even a grunt to acknowledge what Angel said. Husk didn’t move, just sat with his wings tucked against his back tightly. 

The pornstar frowned, finally crushing the cig on the nightstand. “You ain’t the first guy that had somethin’ on the side while he was already spoken for, ya know. Lotta people don’t got it in ‘em to be faithful, dead or alive.” 

    Angel Dust sat up straight, knees pulled up from beneath the covers. The urge to stroke Husk’s feathers as his wings quivered just the slightest bit went untouched. 

“‘Specially in Hell. All the stuff that goes on down here; this is like nothin’. Bet even Y/N would agree wit’ me.”

Husk flinched at the mention of you, and internally Angel Dust swore. He was babbling and breaking the rules (Don’t talk about the Missus) like some kinda hourly amateur, but he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not a bad guy—”

“Yeah.” Husk replied brusquely. 

The mattress sprung back into place as Husk stood up and began to gather up his things from the floor.  

-*-

You were a shivering mess when you arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, but you still responded amiably as Charlie offered you an enthusiastic hand in greeting. 

The bar, and subsequently the bartender, was one of the highlights of the tour that new residents received. You had been perfectly polite — warm, even, when you greeted him. And if Husk had given a shit, he might’ve been suspicious of your sugary front. 

Instead he muttered a ‘hello’ and went to bed that night with the image of your eyes looking up at him through damp locks, and the curve of your lips when you gifted him with a small smile.

-*-

     He headed for the bar as soon as he was done showering, and settled in with an inaudible sigh. 

Niffty was pitter-pattering around with a dustpan, eye to the ground as she searched for insects to torture. A few newer residents milled around as well, putting the time at or around early noon. The bartender noticed that all of them were glued to the screens of their phones. 

Husker grabbed his own, stuffed in his pocket. He’d forgotten to turn it off Airplane mode (one of the weirder pointless things that Hell had to offer, since commercial air travel didn’t exist here). 

The mix of joy and dread that filled him at seeing a notification from you left him mildly nauseous. Previous messages from you lit up his screen: 

‘Sorry I forgot to say good morning!’

                                                             ‘You just did.’

‘I meant in person sourpuss.’

                                                        ‘😒 I resent that.’ 

‘Awww, poor baby you’re proving my point.’

‘Here i'll make it better’

‘❤️❤️❤️ Good Morning ❤️❤️❤️’

               The cat demon smiled as he reread them. 

‘Feel better now?’ 

                                         ‘Yeah, yeah, like a million bucks. Thanks kid.’

‘☺️ yay’ 

        Husk scrolled, smile waning at himself from just a few hours ago. 

                           ‘How long you gonna be gone for?’

‘Bleh, probably all morning. Charlie gave me a list. A LIST!’

                                                      ‘I’m sorry baby.’

‘No sorries. I volunteered. Just gotta get it over with. I’ll let you know when I’m almost home!’ 

‘Love you!’ 

                                                                           ‘❤️’

     His own cowardice staring back at him, Husk scrubbed a hand down his face. You hadn’t messaged him since that morning and the notification was merely you ‘heart-ing’ his reply. Like it was worth a damn. 

What he wouldn’t give to go back to bed and never wake up. 

-*- 

“You can do a lot better than me.” Husk told you one night, nonchalantly. 

You perked up from where you sat, blinking rapidly to dispel the sleep from your eyes. “Huh?”

The bartender’s maw quirked up into a smirk as he watched you from the corner of your eye. The ice in your drink had already melted, barely touched since you’d hopped up onto a stool and ordered it. 

The pretense was adorable. You were a sweet kid with a crush, thinking Husk didn’t notice how you stared and sighed in his direction everyday. 

“‘Said you can do better ‘an me. Unless you got a Daddy you’re lookin’ to piss off by bringin’ an older guy home with you.” 

Your eyes crinkled with your grin. “Noooo. No daddy.” 

“But if you’re offering, I might be in the market for one.” 

Husk turned to you fully, brows raised as you giggled. 

-*- 

         The afternoon passed slowly, ramping up only slightly as it got later. He’d made himself more than a few drinks, and it did nothing to dull the prickling at his spine. Residents trickled in and out, Charlie and Vaggie had returned from whatever outing they’d planned that morning, Angel Dust had just left for work (not a word, not even a shared look, like it never happened), and Alastor was — well who fucking cared where that asshole was. Husk sure didn’t. 

But you hadn’t texted or called. You were nowhere to be found. 

Husk had tried messaging you a couple times, holding off on a call because… because… 

Paranoia had its claws deep inside the old cat, eating him up to the point of hissing with his hackles raised as Charlie appeared on the other side of the bar. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Husk!” The Princess exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to startle you!” 

Husk patted his fur back down, shaking his head. “‘S fine! It’s fine. What can I do for you Princess?” 

Charlie’s expression changed from remorseful back to peppy so fast it gave Husk whiplash. 

“Oh right! Yeah, I was gonna ask if you knew where Y/N was!” The blonde said, “She was helping me out big time this morning, but I haven’t heard from her so I was just coming by to check…” 

     Charlie paused, her words trailing away at the look on Husk’s face. His fur was raising again along his arms as he leaned heavily against the tabletop. 

“You haven’t heard from her?” He asked, a lump rising in his throat. 

“Um, no… not-not since this morning…” Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Uh… and I’m getting the feeling that you haven’t either…?”

Husk swallowed, staring at the polished wood beneath his claws. “No.”

Vaggie had appeared by Charlie’s side in time to listen to the tail-end of their exchange. She looked from her girlfriend to Husk with a frown. 

“We can call her again.” Vaggie stated. “If one of you wants to try that, I can round up our other patrons and ask if anybody’s seen her.” 

“Good idea!” Charlie said, plucking her phone from her coat pocket. “I’m sure everything is fine! Maybe the FMV requires people to turn off their phones!”

-*-

“I don’t think it’s possible to ‘lose the ability to love’.” You sighed with your head on his shoulders. 

      You could almost see the other side of the Pride Ring with this view. Husk hadn’t been lying when he carried you up to the very top of the hotel on sure wings. 

His arm had wrapped around your waist and pulled you in closer. You laid your head on his shoulder contentedly. 

“You’d be surprised how much you can lose when you live long enough, babydoll.” Husk said. 

There was something about the silence after that that made you hold your breath. The air between you two felt oddly electric, buzzing with something on the tip of the tongue. 

“I used to be an Overlord, ya know.” 

-*- 

Husk’s eyes bore into his phone. The flurry of activity around him had become a dull roar as he stayed frozen. 

     All the messages he’d sent you simply showed as ‘delivered’. You hadn’t read any of them. 

He’d called you. 

And called you.

And called you. 

     Adrenaline would coarse through him before each attempt, heart hammering at the chance to hear you finally pick up. Every single one had gone straight to voicemail. 

-*- 

“What’s‘a matter?” Husk’s smooth voice, and the way he lifted your face up to his own, soothed your soul. 

“It’s stupid.” You shook your head. “Angel Dust snapped at me today and I just… still feel bad about it. I wish I knew why he didn’t like me.” 

-*-

“Now what’s all the hullabaloo about?” Alastor manifested without warning, surveying the lobby as a small but determined search party began to file out of the hotel.

Night had fallen, and Husk was still trapped by his phone. The screen remained dark. 

-*-

      Your whimper was swallowed up by Husk as he darted forward to kiss you. He lifted your leg to hook it around his waist, feathers tickling your knee as they fluttered excitedly. The move allowed him to go deeper, to crush you against him until you moved in-sync as one being. 

Heat pulsed inside, prompting an involuntary squeeze from you that elicited cries and long, drawn-out moans. You were left spent, head lolling in bliss.

Husk refused to let you go, face buried in your neck as he shuddered. You didn’t question it. 

-*-

Husk made the drink for Alastor robotically. Half-formed thoughts of how he should be the one leading the search party for you, not Charlie, wouldn’t develop properly. 

      The cat demon’s hatred for the ghoul that owned his soul felt like a drop in a bucket compared to the fear that had been growing steadily throughout the day. 

Husk gripped the latticework at his knees, tips of his claws clinking against the good liquor bottles tucked inside.

“You seen Y/N today?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Ah,” Alastor chimed. “Yes, I did in fact. We crossed paths earlier today in the lobby.” 

“This morning?” Husk said.

Alastor tipped his glass back and let the drink spill over his tongue. He took his time appreciating the taste before setting it back down and returning Husk’s gaze, his hands folded beneath his chin. 

Ruby red eyes glittered. “Not quite. I’d say it was nearly noon when I found her coming down the elevator. She was a tad green around the gills, but I thought it impolite to mention.”

[crows-ace]

Heavenly Ordeal pg3

Co-artist

Heavens making moves~

First | Prev

[crows-ace]

*heavy breathing*

I think I’m going to love this~

I already do!!!! 💖💖💖💖 - look at the boi!!!!! I’m so hyped for the next part and the next and the next -

No pressure XD (srsly if you only do this I’m so happy!!!)

I really can’t wait to see the story this way tho if you do end up doing more 👀💖💖

Here is the first panel of the comic, I'd like to post more, but only this took me 6/7 hours to make.

It's going to take a really long time to make this, but I will enjoy this!

[yerproblematicfav]

Hello Tumblers and Baddie Fumblers, this is my first attempt at a promo post so please be gentle. 😊

Hazbin Hotel is my current hyperfixation so I figured I'd try and break into the role play scene on this site. 🤗

For obvious reasons, be 21+ ONLY. Mun is 25+ themselves. MINORS DNI. 🤬

Other than being of the legal age to consume alcohol in the United States, my ideal writing partner would be someone who enjoys writing dark and/or dead dove subjects. And although it isn't an absolute necessity to write with me, I do find that when the plot is vanilla for too long I tend to get bored and lose interest. I crave drama. 🔥

I'm happy to write any type of relationship between our characters, be that familial, friends, romantic, enemies, etc. if you can dream it, we can write it. 🌈

I do enjoy writing ERP, but we don’t have to include that if it makes you uncomfortable. I’m also always more than willing to do a ‘fade to black,’ moment. 😌

As far as ships go, I am willing to write just about any MxM ship. TW: I am what you'd consider a comshipper or proshipper myself, because I do ship AngelNiss and ValAngel, but I also ship the normal stuff like Huskerdust. I understand that most people find those types of ships repulsive, so I will always use the appropriate tags when posting content of them so that you can block the tags. If that’s a deal breaker for you then I am very sorry, but I can’t stop being me, babes. 🤷‍♀️

I actually enjoy writing some of the more taboo and weird stuff including dead dove topics such as: incest, mpreg, age gaps, gender swaps, futas, dubcon, noncon, and so on and so forth. So if you want to rp something but you’re afraid of it coming off as strange, please don’t be afraid to reach out. The worst I can say is no, right? ✨

I tend to write multiple paragraphs per reply and in the third person style but I don't mind matching my partner's style instead. 📝

If you’re interested in writing with me, drop a like or DM me and let’s start hitching some kind of plot together! 💙

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere valentino headcanons

contains: nsfw themes, noncon, heavy abuse (manipulation, physical violence, sexual exploitation), dehumanization, orgasm control, mind break, dacryphilia, fellatio, sadomasochism, rough sex

yandere valentino

who’s affections are destructive and suffocating; to this egomaniacal mack, you’re no better than his contracted whores. from his hands that paint your skin deep purples and blues to his lips that steal your breath, nothing about val is gentle. yet, even when he sharply pulls your hair and degrades you, you find yourself entranced by him.

who’s malicious and cruel; you’re an object, his personal toy—a fact he won’t let you forget. you eat, sleep, and fuck on his command. he’ll remind you of your place if you so much as blink without his permission. perhaps he’ll have you roughed up a bit by his patrons. they’re sure to fuck some sense into you.

who rewards good behavior with praise and affection. you know you’ve done well when he guides you to your knees, lascivious grin encouraging you to open wide. your stomach twisting in knots when he calls you his good girl while roughly pulling you closer by the hair. dance around his cock with your tongue like he trained you and he may even feel generous enough to return the favor. be careful though, no good deed goes unpunished. he’ll push you to your breaking point, tease you till you’re begging for release only to force climax after climax out of you.

who’s unpredictable; his temper has you feeling unsteady, as if you’re walking on eggshells and broken glass. one moment you’re his treasured toy and the next he has you on the ground, begging for forgiveness as his boots violently meet your sides. you’ll scramble to keep his affections, never having felt so worthless without them. though you are his treasured toy, he’ll never let you forget that toys are replaceable—something that can be broken or thrown away at his discretion. of course, what makes yandere val unique compared to his normal counterpart is that he would never give you away or damage you beyond what can be repaired. his words are empty threats to keep you in line; you’re far more precious than he lets on.

who is vehemenemously possessive; you’re his, don’t forget it. keep your eyes on him unless you want a reminder of what he does to disobedient brats.

who’s merciless; this man relishes in your torment and gets off on your fear. nothing gets him harder than your pained tears as he fucks you too roughly. he delights in your cracked pleas for him to slow down and your fearful shudder as he traces your skin with his teeth. he especially loves provoking you to act out and then punishing you for it. eventually, the pain will become a familiar constant, it may even grow into a guilty pleasure. broken down and reshaped into the perfect toy, he’ll never grow bored of you; you’re stuck as his beloved stress toy for all of eternity.

[velvet-games]

fucked up staticmoth time! (no idea if this is good or not lol; I've never written dead dove-adjacent stuff before)

cw for dub/non-con, (extremely) unhealthy relationship dynamics, acephobia, racism

I wrote vox as kind of a disaster bi that fell in love with everyone in favorite, which I thought would be incompatible with aroace vox, but! I think it's perfect actually.

I present to you:

aroace vox who was rejected by everyone, who never had enough actual romantic/sexual experience in life to realize she'd never felt allo attraction (she does love very deeply, just not like that)

asian vox who feels emasculated by the stereotype that asian men are impotent/undesirable and will fight to the death to prove that he does indeed fuck (she doesn't)

transfem vox who is so unbelievably repressed that she overcompensates by playing the role of a dominant, hypersexual man after death

vox who is so immediately enamored by valentino's attention that she interprets the feeling of validation as love

vox who starts to believe that alastor's criticisms of her must've meant he was just a heartless asshole and never really her friend in the first place

(mildly) sex-repulsed vox who learns from valentino that love and sex are supposed to feel uncomfortable and scary

valentino who implies on several occasions that aroace people aren't real; they're just boring prudes who aren't hot enough get laid! sex is a part of human nature, mi amor; relax, it's all in your head.

sex-repulsed vox who loves valentino anyway, because the moments of genuine comfort and affection are special to her

they'll always be special to her, unfortunately

sex-repulsed vox who is so paranoid about valentino getting bored of her that she discovers her hypnosis powers while trying to convince him to fuck her

he still wants to fuck her, right? she's still worth something?

maybe val never really liked her, maybe he was lying about finding her attractive, but vox can make sure he wants to stay. and it's supposed to feel bad when it happens; it's the least she can do to endure it ...

vox who starts to feel sick to her stomach thinking about valentino touching her, but it's just butterflies. she's just nervous. she's just in love.

vox who gets trigger happy and starts hypnotizing val when he shows any signs of being out of her control

vox who eventually can't tell how much the hypnosis has done and how much of val is actually intact

vox who wants to care about that last part, but who does she have if valentino leaves her?

[crows-ace]

Love love love 💖💖💖

Ok so I was super bored and stuff so I decided to draw alastor right but ya know is deal thingy and shit so I well yeah so I drew him puppet style he isn’t happy bout it tho

[cherri-balms]

♡﹕𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓, 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓! — CH.1 — Normal Girl

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ ၊|• 0:01

↻ PREV ◁ || ▷ NEXT ↺

A/N ﹕Chapter 1 is finally out!! I apologize if this took a little while, I have an idea for an Alastor fic brewing and if all things go well, the prologue/pilot chapter will be the next thing I post!

As always if you would like to be added to the taglist, shoot me a DM and ill get back to you asap!! <3

This chapter is primarily exposition and fluff, so there are no content warnings for this chapter aside from a brief description of making oneself vomit.

𝐄 × 𝐌/𝐅 × 𝟓.𝟐𝐤 × 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 × 𝐀𝐎𝟑

♡﹕Bring-your-reader to work day as one of the most famous idols in hell! Or, what it's really like working as one of the most famous idols in hell under the thumb of the VEES.

6:00 PM

Your alarm begins your morning with its typical assault to the ears and dragging  you out of what was once a beautiful slumber, for a while your subconscious was even able to create a darling little wonderland blend of hell and personal heaven, but all good dreams had to come to an end at sometime soon.

Sitting up, you begin your typical morning work routine of getting dressed, brushing your teeth and whatever other morning activities that needed to be done. Surrounding you are dozens of printed posters and scrolls of yourself watching you get changed, most of which being limited edition merchandise from your concerts, and almost all of them had in bold letters “MONΛRCH” somewhere on the prints. After your meeting with Vox that day, he insisted that if you were going to work with the brand of the Vees that you were to take on a stage name to said brand. Before you could go through your mental filing cabinet to find something that would fit, Vox informed you that he had already picked your name from the moment you walked in: Monarch. It took a second for you to realize, but the patterns currently adorning your body with the resemblance of a monarch butterfly made it click. Plus, you did like how powerful the name sounded.

The last step of your routine was always to consult yourself a sprint checkup on your voice synthesizer and then perform some finetuning. Your current synthesizer is nowhere close to your first one, hell the damn thing originally couldn't even get wet, nor was it surgically bolted into your neck, though the two still shared similar parts in case the need for a quick repair arose.

… Aaaand of course speak of the fallen angel, that said scenario was precisely why you keep a constant eye on the quality of your synthesizer, because the screw connecting your voice bank and vocal chords was chipped. Sure, it was minute but even the smallest imperfection could lead to rust and infection that you just couldn’t afford.

The bottom half of your dresser vanity would appear to be nothing but a foundational box with a front facing panel and some regal metalsmith carvings  if not for the card-slot keyhole poking out the right side. You keep the key hidden on your person at all times, while the contents inside hold no value in money or power you’re sure the reactions to what could be construed to be a stalkerish shrine to your boss would be the end of your reputation.

And his too you guess but you’re the cute one here.

Lifting your pointer finger to the back of your neck, using the slight dent of your nail to nudge out a tiny rectangular panel of your synthesizer. Or, it would be rectangular if not for the carefully cut notches on one of the sides.

You slip the key into the slot as far as it will reach, bypassing all 4 clicks then rewarding you with a 5th at ths decompressing tightness of the spring lock hinge. The once stiff panel now slides open, though not exactly with grace with it getting friction jammed against the frame caused by lack of use.

Not quite having time to spare getting distracted by your keepsakes you reach to the glass case to the left containing your prototype voice bank collar displayed like a diamond atop a blue silk pillow. You’re absolutely certain if  Vox discovered you still held the beta technology he would gag like you were saving a meal that's gone bad. Absolutely adorable, knowing if you’d present it to any sinner in hell it’d be easy to convince them it was state of the art, brand new.

One screw acquired and you’re out of there, locking everything the way it was before, box, vanity, bedroom door, apartment door. The commute to the VHQ could barely even be considered a walk, actually, most of the housing within a 3 mile radius of their building was ultimately owned by the Vees reserved for employees. Smart way to both keep their people in line and control exactly who’s around at all times, gotta give them credit when credit is due.

The dredging silence over the span of two months had you in an urge to claw beneath your skin to tear out the stabbing anticipation that seemed to grow within. Should that evolve into a spiral well of anxiety you'd been worried the business plan sealed in ink turned into a ghost, but you were informed before your leave that Rome wasn’t going to be built in a day so you were left with nothing to do but respect his unspoken wishes.

When the hour struck and you received the details for the date and time of your next meeting in a bare bones text, you wish you could say it put your short term torture to a close, but the years worth of screaming in static was finally going to be over. You couldn’t make time move any faster, only make yourself move faster to prepare for your next encounter with the overlord that could now be considered your master.

“Monarch! Good, right on time, Now come sit.” Your overlord spins around the chair to your direction, beckoning you his way. You silently do as you’re told sitting legs pressed together handbag in your lap, before you even had a chance to touch the zipper for your tablet he waves your hands away.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t need to bother yourself with that anymore. I’m sure you know why I called you?” By the way his smirk stretched across the screen while his left hand reached below his desk you’d nearly assume he was just as excited as you for this day. You feel your eyelids pull back and you swore your eyes reflected twice as much light than when you first sat down if you could catch a glimpse of yourself.

The device presented to you in his hands looked identical to its future self if not for the fresher coat of polish it bore. You must confess you weren’t too sure what you were envisioning for this gadget to come out looking like, actually you realized you were never imagining something metaphysical at all, the technological cure to your aid came in the mental form of an intangible concept closer to a myth. But what was before your eyes was.. actually pretty underwhelming.

It looked like nothing but a steel box speaker attached to a collar with a dial, bare and simple. You caught a peek at something poking out on the other side behind it, but it didn’t catch your interest long enough to retain the observation. You weren’t aware enough to try and hide your confusion but you may have done a better job than you thought at not letting it show since he didn’t react until you cocked your chin to the side.

“Well what are we waiting for! Let’s get this show on the road and try it out, yeah? Turn around.” You were practically standing and turned before he could even finish the command. Sharp blue needles brush over your cheeks and under strands of hair lifting them behind your ears. You make the sound of the buckles on the collar before it’s veiled over your vision and behind your neck. “Fair warning, this will definitely be painful!”

Mayhaps you should’ve taken a bigger note on what you saw behind the box earlier, because you instantly got to discover what it was as spear headed clamps bury dormant in your throat through your neck so sharp it could pierce bone. Pain didn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling, it was like your brain tossed you back in time to repeat your lungs combusting to ash and your body soon reacted like you were suffering such fate again, causing you to start jumping and swatting out of the arms of your savior as if he were your next next killer.

“AAAAAAHH-aaahhhh?” Was that y- there’s no way. 

You tested again in case this was another instance of your psyche filling in the gaps of a voice once more.

“aaahhhhhh~AAAHH~~” You weren’t dreaming. What you were asking from him from the start felt like asking the impossible but the result you were given far exceeded any daydream you conjured to cope with your situation, but not only had the overlord given you a brand new voice by some miracle, the voice he gave you was the same you had in life, the same smooth melody you forgot you could produce.

You turned around to face him, this time with tears blurring your view. Not an ounce of anger from your embarrassing attack his way earlier, only intrigue in your reaction to the gift. For the first time in years, you could speak and say anything in the world you wanted and now your mind was white noise. All you could do was bow your head in gratitude, though you aren’t sure if he was expecting that just based on the noise he made after.

“Hey- woah, no need for that now, not that I’m necessarily complaining,” You raise your head and you aren’t surprised by the shadow of ego stretching his grin across the screen. “I did some investigating into your mortal life to find samples of your work to make sure your voice would be nothing short of yours! Getting hands on anything in the overworld is a royal pain in the ass, though. I hope you keep that in mind.” 

Was he jesting? You were going to keep every bolt and circuit in mind for the rest of your afterlife. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or the subtle new feeling of electrical surges flowing down the rivers of your veins, but just standing still with the amount of energy pumping in your body currently had you revived into a frankenstein marionette. 

You suppose a start could be a proper thank you, but when you attempted to mouth the words the frequency in which the simple “thank you, sir” stitched themselves together didn’t carry harmoniously, more like a broken collage of vocal pitches. Your hand cuts off your lips with a flare of pink to your cheeks, the oncoming cackling from your new boss turns that shade into deep red.

“Hahaha! I was wondering when you were gonna find that part out!” The laughter settles to a halt and he lifts a finger to wipe away a pixelated tear that doesn’t actually budge. “This model is just a beta voice bank and synthesizer, speaking will take some getting used to and once I get enough data from your use of it in the following weeks, I can begin working on improvements. I have a manual in my drawer containing the details for maintenance but for now, I have some people you need to meet.”

You were nodding your head along but you had to admit, you were not following completely. True you were unfamiliar with the recent spike in tech, but you didn’t think you were this poorly informed. You make a mental note of this as something you should start fixing asap if you were going to continue your career this way. Meanwhile, outside your thoughts, your boss is leading you to the front elevator.

Before you could prepare for a silent and awkward ride down, the TV filter breaks it again. “Oh, and can you stop with the whole “sir” talk, it’s a painfully stuffy-outdated form of addressing authority. Just address me as Vox, and everyone will know I’m your boss.” The elevator bell rings signaling the stopping floor. Your vision is brought to what looks like a madhouse production with women bustling in every direction skewing fabric across the space. It didn’t take long to put two and two together that this was some kind of clothing production, but seeing a fashion lineup in what you thought was a tech company put you in uncanny valley.

“No! No! No! Fucking disgraceful- what the hell is this shit Shae? Did you get sick all up on our silk or are you actually using vermillion and oli- VERMILLION AND FUCKING OLIVE SHAE DID YOU LEARN COLOR COORDINATION FROM THE COLOR BLIND?!” Alright that definitely drew your attention. The voice sounded like a female Gordon Ramsay for fashion instead of cooking, so it wasn’t difficult to assume she was the one in charge.

“Velvette! You’re as bitter as ever before.” The woman turns over, you had to admit her namesake fit well with her appearance and instantly the aesthetic made sense. Something about that cute white swirl she has in her hair reminded you of a sweet cheesecake frosting you could've devoured her on sight.

“Vox fuckin’ piss off mind you can’t you see I’m in the middle of somethi- who the fuck is this” Velvette squints in your direction like your appearance sucked away the rest of her eyesight. Seconds go by, and then a few more without a word being exchanged, only the next electrical surge from the nervous gulp of saliva reminding you that things didn’t have to be this way anymore.

You introduce yourself unashamed of the robotic slurred speech pattern and the face she makes could only be described as bewilderment.

“I- what in satan’s name was tha-”

“She’s mute, Velvette. Sweetheart this is the cornerstone of my little “Monarch” project I informed you of, and I actually came here to discuss that with you.”

“Wait a second the star of your new network is a mute bimbo- Vox did your motherboard circuits go fucking smooth?!” Self control was a virtue you’d mastered since life one, through thumb-tacks in your heels to schmoozing slimy pigs with deep pockets, the poker face would remain sewn to your cheeks. But here, you could feel the slightest twitch anytime this woman spoke. You couldn't give a damn how powerful she thought she was, the kinds of implications she was making towards Vox only made you want to shove bars of soap down her throat until it cleans the filth coating her mouth.

There was no fucking way you were ever going to tolerate that cunt.

The frosted blast of studio AC and diamond perfume became your standard morning welcome when clocking into work, upon so being greeted by the models and seamstresses on the floor of your first stop with your typical “good mornings” and “how are yous”. One of the newer interns approaches with multiple cardboard cup holder trays of coffee, and it didn’t take very long to find the cup with your favorite order, even if it weren’t for the bold lettering of your stage name on the outside.

You finish up your typical greetings making your way over to the dressing rooms where the rest of your stagemates are already gathered looking at the schedule. First on the docket was choreography training, no surprise since your instrumentalists were nowhere to be found, and then after lunch iss… oh wonderful! Outfit fitting! Which meant the whole afternoon with just you and Velvette.

This was going to be a perfect day, wasn’t it?

Speak of the devil and she shall not only appar, she’ll kick the front door down like it cheated on anniversary night and throw what was- probably a brand new Goeccia hand purse in the face of whomever was closest.

“EACH ONE OF YOU BETTER BE FUCKING CLOCKED AND AT YOUR POST IN THE NEXT MINUTE OR YOU’RE ALL SEWING THE ANGELIC!!KILLS LINE BY TONIGHT EVEN IF YOUR FUCKING FINGERS ARE WORN TO NUBS ARE WE CLEAR?! Now where the ever loving fuck is- There she is!!”

“Velvette!!”

The two of you run and embrace in the middle of the room like you had just returned from the great war and reuniting with your long lost lover at the end of a shitty romcom. This display, was one that also became a tradition between the two of you at the start of the work day, one you weren’t ignorant to the handful that still felt the need to eyeroll or squint.

Okay so,, your seeded disdain for Velvette was one you admittedly locked away in the vault of embarrassing memories to reap its head around only when trying to get a good night's sleep. You initially had spent the first month or so practicing every torture method known to man on the images your eyes sent you because of how she talked down to Vox like a dog, this was… before you found out she was an overlord too and suddenly the context of the relationship they shared made sense. A bitter part of the pride that landed you where you are today still wanted to leech onto any grain of malice toward her, eventually turning into a humiliating envy and possessiveness over Vox’s attention. In that span of time you made no effort to get to know Velvette or care about her work, even while she was making the outfits you wore on stage for you and she somewhat mutually felt the same about you. 

Luckily for the two of you, there was a third much more obnoxious V that was too perfect of low hanging fruit in the art if feminine hazing for you both to latch onto and find common ground on.

“I think this new hair style might be my new favorite! Locs look good on you~” Compared to how you felt the first time speaking with the prototype that sat in your vanity, the newer model of your synthesizer had a way more diverse voice bank and finetuning that made speaking feel and sound much more natural. Even with the mounds of progress from your prototype to present day, it was still obviously unnatural and robotic. These became factors that slowly mattered less as your gratitude increased, and you were content that not everyone was going to see it that way.

“See? I fucking told that nasty bed bug upstairs that I’d eat butterfly locs but what the fuck would he know when I can read my damn future in his forhead,” Velvette went a total of two minutes of the conversation before she pulled her phone out to check her instagram feed, a new accomplishment. You were proud. “Just so you’re aware by the way, Verosika Mayday announced  the release date of her Paint it Pink album like 35 minutes ago and people are already bringing your name into it. You got a lot to deliver with this upcoming tour.”

Lucifer bless Velvette for having the brain cells to keep up with surfing the modern social media tides you continuously wipe out on with every attempt. You could stomach social media enough for your job, but Velvette made sure to get you a top notch social media advisor to handle your accounts to make it seem like you were more active than you were. True as it was that your vocal synthesizer brought a new flair to the world of music; especially in the rise of electronica, techno and pop where your new voice couldn’t compare to any other sinner in the genres, this factor has also lead to a cluster headache of… Let’s just say controversy. Old fashioned demons in particular were the bane of everything you deemed holy just because how fucking annoying they were making their periodic hangups your god damn problem.

Before you could properly offer your gratitude your attention is taken by an obnoxious thump and “A-hem!” in the direction of the dressing room. Turning you can see the green lop bunny ears of your costar and you can assume she’s trying to tell you to move your ass. Drama was the last thing you had energy for so you blow a kiss goodbye to Velvette and made two shakes of a lamb's tail into the dressing rooms.

Today you didn’t need to worry about outfit planning, just something comfortable that you don’t mind sweating in for the better part of the day. A simple pair of running shorts, tank top and loafers should work more than fine for today, hopefully as long as Valentino didn’t decide to sit on today’s choreography exercises…

It wasn’t exactly the norm for dance practices for the remaining member of the V trifecta to sit in and give his shit commentary- kind critiques on your movements and appearances. If it were up to you or any of your coworkers, Valentino wouldn’t be anywhere near your production but alas, contractual standards came first. One of the stipulations upon starting your career as Monarch was your introduction to the Vee network and the ongoing partnership the three overlords held to upkeep their power within hell. Long and short, this meant that with each contract the Vees delt the other two business partner would also have to reap some sort of benefit; typically monetary gain.

In your case, Velvette easily got her reward by using your team as breathing mannequins to advertise her fashion line, not to mention she would ultimately be credited in every comment of the flashy costumes you wore at concerts and venues. Valentino’s side had free royalties to your music to play in his clubs and this usually came along with him having a say in the dances that go with the song. Every fucking time it was a Valentino session you all knew you were in for a long day of overtime, muscle pain, and playing sexual harassment bingo.

Two knocks on the door put your thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Monarch dear, are you descent~” Ah, it was your favorite voice in all of hell~ you run to the door with a skip in each step like a puppy listening for dangling keys outside the front door.

“Never~”

“Are you dressed?”

“Yes!”

“There’s the answer we’re looking for,” You welcome him inside with a pleasant “come in” and Vox follows as such. You maintain a safe distance and subtly restrain yourself by clasping your hands behind your back but you weren’t going to deny, days like today the tightrope beneath your feet of professionalism and your heartache was especially loose. You’re certain the love you felt for the man who saved your spirit was last year's news to everyone in the building, actually your “inappropriate devotion” has been the source of countless catfights among your bandmates.

“Monarch love! Horrific morning isn’t it~” You could listen to him talk all day, and when he approaches you and clasps a hand over your cheek leaning into the touch feels like second nature.

“Every day in the studio is a horrific morning, but I know that’s not what you came to talk to lil’ ol me about, isn’t it?”

“Why, you hurt me! Can’t I just start my morning visiting a beautiful painted lady?” You blink in a moment of silence until he finishes. True you loved soaking in his flattery, but not in feigned procrastination. “Valentino and I spoke this morning, or rather he threw a tantrum because I didn’t tell him I put Pomp and Circumstance on your schedule today..” 

Aaand there it is, of course you get to not only work with STI Patient-0, but he was already off to a shit mood to start the day. If the scales of fortune decide to tip your way at all during today you hope this tips in your favor, given the… technique you developed to avoid interacting with him as much as possible.

When you lift your head to meet your reflection, you have to tilt your head a bit higher than you remembered last, and your arms were now coiled around his waist. Oh, it seems matter won over mind again. The hand that once danced feathers over your cheek now caress massages in your scalp. Scandalous, sure. But there was nothing wrong with comforting a friend after a rough morning, right?

“Come, everyone else is already in the studio. Sorry I couldn’t start your day with anything pleasant, I hate being the reason you have a frown. So,” Your vision cuts into frames of bright white and a following zap, once, then twice again. In what feels like an instant Vox disappears and reappears within the electricity, but the second time he holds a brown fast food bag and a bright green M.

“OH MY GOD I LOVE MAMMONALDS! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU!!!” Stars of reflected light build in your eyes when you saw the bag. Reading the receipt taped to the front you can already tell the breakfast order is your favorite even down to your specific requests that made the receipt  go down past the bag but you knew the employees wouldn’t even dare try and get Vox’s order wrong. 

“Take a minute to eat and come to the studio, I didn’t get you a drink because I knew you were going to get coffee so I’ll get you a milkshake after choreography, kay?” You nod your head while already pulling out your side of hashbrowns and chowing down like a hamster nibbling a sunflower seed.

It was a sight so cute Vox wanted nothing but to squeeze you so tight your eyes pop out of your skull.

But there was no time to waste. Vox vanishes with a flicker of the lights and bolts yet again, and you take a couple last chews before you’re sure hes gone.

Standing up you make way to the connected bathroom to your dressing room and open the toilet seat. Immediately you shove two fingers into your throat and probe the back until it triggers your gag reflex enough to regurgitate every last bite you took. The slime of cheap grease and burn of overused salt always made you restrain a gag without fail anytime fast food was given to you, but god Vox just would not stop ordering that shit for you. Perhaps there was a chance you sold your “love” for Mammonalds a little too hard the first handful of times he’d gifted it to you; actually, you probably wouldn’t be in this situation at all if you just refused his offer to hand feed you a fry earlier on in your contract, and by all means you wanted to, but your body’s impulse had won that that day.

Tossing out the remaining food out of the bathroom window to the dumpster in the alley below you and flushing and cleaning any remnants of bile, you give yourself one last tidy up and make way to the next place you’re needed: the dance studio.

By some unholy miracle when you stepped out of the elevator, you weren’t met with condensed red smoke to the ceiling and a moth throwing a drink at your head. Drink or a bullet, whichever he thought would please him more.

“Fucking christ all mighty, the “Princess of the Hour!” finally arrives.” As expected, everyone had already gathered long before you while you were caught up with Velvette and Vox, the first one to greet you being the same moody green bunny from earlier, rolling her eyes and doing little jazz hands mid sentence to hammer in her sarcasm.

“Good morning to you too, Tea!! I’m glad you’re feeling well~” You made a decision to go on the dismissive today, Tea in particular always seemed to be in sour moods when it came to you being as chummy as you were with the Vees for a mere contracted soul. At the end of the day you couldn’t give less a shit about that twats petty jealousy issues if she only had the decency to keep it to damn self instead of making it your problem, and your problem at work nonetheless.

“Oh shut the fuck up Tea we aren’t in the mood for this today,” The lanky azure colored salamander man gently flicked Tea on the back of the head with a roll of the eyes and a vertical reptile blink. Out of all the members of your little group, Sirius was the closest thing you had to a voice of reason and it made him the most tolerable out of the bunch. In the corner too engrossed in their own conversations to even pay mind to any of you were two harpy girls, sisters actually. Black Marlia on the left and White Russian on the right, both of them added a much needed flare to your concerts and were the only two who could go airborne long enough to perform choreography above the stage, you liked to think they were valuable assets even if you could count the amount of times either has spoken to you on one hand.

“I hear we have to deal with Valentino’s bullshit today…” Sirius attempts to continue the conversation as the five of you start properly getting into position for when said moth comes in, it would look as if you’d all been wagging your tails for his arrival this whole time.

“You are the third to remind me of his existence today, if that number goes up I might have to fly away and leave you hanging~”

“Oh and here I thought you’d be ecstatic to be commanded by one of your masters for the better part of today.”

“Not the one who immediately calculated my ass and chest size in his head as an introduction.”

“Was he right though-”

“EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW!” And just like that, any hope of this being a well off- or even standard Valentino work day just died on arrival. You all do exactly what he says and don’t utter a peep until he says bark. Throughout the early hours of the rehearsal, it was evident that he wanted to be here the least out of any of you which was something that as much as he made your skin crawl, you had to respect. No one likes work already but you could understand how the brand you had was so softcore in comparison to what he was used to, the whole choreograph just looked like a bunch of pillows flopping around on stage to him.

Your understanding should not be confused with sympathy however, simply put knowing how your bosses think is rule #1 when it comes to maintaining a proper work/life balance, and in this case it would be minimizing the amount of halts and rechoreographing out of nitpicks. So, while your brand was one that strayed away from deviance and sex to keep the illusion of ownership, being a bit more risqué than your typical sets here and there wasn’t a crime and would give Val more to look at even if only teasingly.

“No! No! NO THIS IS ALL FUCKING WRONG!!” Yeah who the fuck were you kidding, if you all weren’t having an orgy this jack off was never going to be pleased.

“Did you all learn how to dance in a fucking church?! Are you all such angel cunt lickers that you can’t handle presenting any TNA is that it?!”

Yeah… This was going to be a long work day…

TAGLIST﹕@hurtworld401 @feral-ratatattat-king