Reader insert Hazbin Hotel Fanfic Blog

[looselyreadymade]

LooselyReadyMade's First Masterlist

Last Updated: 20/12/25

Total Works: 12

Trigger Warning: This Blog is heavily NSFW, U18DNI. Frequent themes of violence, sex, fighting, threats, drugs/alcohol, abuse, death. Please read the trigger warnings in each fic for more details

Hazbin Hotel Fanfics

Short Stories (50k or less)

The Jambalaya

Quick summary:

The thing is, you weren’t necessarily evil, or a bad person, just someone who made countless bad choices enough to land you in Hell. You were, however, petty. As FUCK. So when Lucifer humiliated Alastor by swooping in and stealing the crowd with his delicious pancakes, leaving Alastor's hard-work simmering in the crock pot, you decide to take some well-deserved karma into your own hands.

Longer Stories (50K or more)

Locked in a Memory

Chapter 1: Tasting a Memory Chapter 2: Facing the Dream Chapter 3: Answering a Siren Song Chapter 4: Kidnapped, Unintentional Chapter 5: Groundhog Day Dreaming Chapter 6: Lucid Dreaming Chapter 7: Worlds Apart Chapter 8: Buck, Meet Doe Chapter 9: The Broken, Bonded Chapter 10: Sharing His Sanctuary Chapter 11: Taunted by Trauma Chapter 12: Blood Down the Shower Drain Chapter 13: Under Lock and Key Chapter 14: Charlie's Admirer Chapter 15: Months of Dreams Chapter 16: Consequences of your Actions Chapter 17: Mending What's Not Broken Chapter 18: Twin Lines Chapter 19: The Imprisonment Chapter 20: Party Tricks Chapter 21: A Fork in the Road Chapter 22: The Powerless Stag Chapter 23: Love and Aftercare Chapter 24: Judgement Chapter 25: Not Running Far Enough Chapter 26: Evaded Chapter 27: Blackout Chapter 28: Checkmate Chapter 29: Caught in a Spider's Web Chapter 30: Now they Boil in the Pot Chapter 31: Thank You Gifts Chapter 32: There's Always a First for Everything

Quick Summary:

Alastor is fighting his nightmares head on, desperate for a restful sleep. The fallen angel Emily is creating illusions of Alastor's memories to try to help him heal from the trauma. In doing so, she tricks Alastor into creating his own perfect person to talk to in his dream state. The question remains - who's reality is the original one, when both Alastor and the reader meet in each other's dreams? For the reader, an AFAB fem, the tantalising thrill of meeting a true villain in her dream is too tempting to ignore. So much so, it drags her from everything she knows into a world she never imagined possible. Despite her powerful lover, the reader has to make a deal for her own powers, and learns some dark magic tricks of her own in order to survive Hell and the powerful enemies she faces. Her afterlife takes a sharp twist in fate when the fact she never actually died means she never became a sinner, leading to a very unplanned pregnancy. The secrets, the running and the final battle to save Alastor from the very worst of his nightmares are made just a touch more difficult by the baby bump. Fluffy AF ending.

Flame of the Hearth:

Chapter 1: In Death You Want Chapter 2: Inner Flames Chapter 3: Tensions at the Hazbin Hotel Chapter 4: The Dancer Chapter 5: Sacrifice For Freedom Chapter 6: Moving Out Chapter 7: Improvise, and Use Your Thighs Chapter 8: Vox's Offer Chapter 9: Alastor's Counteroffer Chapter 10: Misdirection Chapter 11: Evil Rooted Deep Chapter 12: Seeing the Cracks Chapter 13: Taming a Phoenix Chapter 14: The King and I Chapter 15: Focus in Flame Chapter 16: The Conference Chapter 17: Seen in Shadow Chapter 18: Curiosities and Questions Chapter 19: Happy Trails Chapter 20: The Fall Chapter 21: Paradise Chapter 22: Spend the Night Chapter 23: Six Days, Five Long Nights Chapter 24: No New Normal Chapter 25: Anger, Untempered Chapter 26: Falling Apart Chapter 27: Strings of Fate Chapter 28: A Walk in Sin Chapter 29: Greed and Regret Chapter 30: The Trial Chapter 31: Poisonous Roots Chapter 32: The Back-up Plan Chapter 33: Viscosity Chapter 34: Unforgiving Chapter 35: Playing with Fire Chapter 36: My Darling's Screams Chapter 37: The King, The Equal, and the Coward Chapter 38: Blind Spots Chapter 39: The Courts of Heaven and Hell Chapter 40: The Juror Chapter 41: The Strength of Seven Sins Chapter 42: Calm Before the Storm Chapter 43: My Final Goodbye to You Epilogue

Quick Summary:

Life had not been kind to you. Reaching the end of your limit, you turn to dark magic and demons to escape. Your call is answered by Evil itself, blessing you with a curse and releasing you in Hell to begin your new life. You deal in favours; a currency that collects as wealth in the Rings of Hell. Greater deals lead to greater risks, rendering you vulnerable to some very powerful demons. Escaping the Lust ring, you hide in Pride, only deepening the danger you're in as those close to you are getting targeted. Then Lucifer Morningstar came and upturned everything you thought you knew about this world. Your initial hate for him ran deep, hiding the undercurrent of attraction when he came near. He breaks down those fiery defences, tests your limits, and teaches you control over your flame. His mentorship is skewed by his desire to touch you, losing his self-control and giving in to temptation. Taking you around the world, his once broken heart revives as you fall dangerously deep in love with him. His distraction leads to far greater dangers in Hell than he previously anticipated. When conflict arises, the question is asked; who's side are you on?

Misdirected Affections:

Chapter List and AO3 link

Quick Summary/Intro:

The Reader is just that - she's a connoisseur of the Hazbin Hotel Smut. Indulging in a range of fanfics and authors, she's learned some off by heart, could dream about them. The strength of this little fixation has carried through to the Hellaverse; subtle shifts in their reality, unheard urges leading demons into new behaviours. Lucifer is dragged in by the force of her nightmares, the pressure akin to 'Locked In A Memory' calling him. Forming a relationship in their dream world, he's trying (failing) to find a way to bring her to the Hellaverse, so he could live moments from 'Flame of The Hearth' and other stories in his reality. Her loud mental voice carries through to more than just Lucifer; when she reads, Lilith often hears, and is getting sick of it. Having no idea about the dream fling with Lucifer, Lilith pulls the reader through, gives her what she thinks she wants, and lets her keep Alastor busy while she works on her agenda with Heaven and her daughter. For the reader, her only option is voluntary amnesia, so she doesn't carry through too many secrets from her old life that can unravel fates in Hell. Lucifer, who's relationship with the reader was basically just a dream, is forgotten to her. For now.

Set in the height of Season 2 of Hazbin Hotel, a lot of the events in the further chapters play out at the same time as the final episodes, with canon divergence to fit the reader and an alternative reality Lucifer in there. Meant to be a love story that reminds us all that destiny and fate can go fuck itself and we do what we want.

In The Shattered Mirror

AO3 and Chapter List

The reader has incredible powers that span from absorbing the Creation Crystal in Misdirected Affections, the prequel to this story. Her ability to shatter through walls between universes has caused immeasurable damage to the fragile timeline she stole a Lucifer from; by throwing him back into his world with all of his new knowledge, he's dead-set on improving the lives of Sinners and establishing redemption as a means of peace between Heaven and Hell. Ash, the alternative version of the reader, now has to deal with the consequences. Speeding up the timeline of their planned uprising, Ash, Lilith, Roo and their strategically placed assets are now at risk of detection and failure if the ignorant King has actually woken up to the intricacies of his own kingdom. Hopefully, the King continues to play checkers, while the ladies are playing chess. Only time will tell.

Multiple-perspective 3rd person omniscient storytelling from the alternate universe, with primarily 2nd person reader-insert or Lucifer perspective in the original universe. Heavily featured scenes from season 2 of Hazbin Hotel and key events from Flame of the Hearth and Misdirected affections, this is a direct sequel in the series that is currently an ongoing WIP.

Child of the Crater

Child of the Crater - AO3

Quick summary:

The reader bursts into Hell in a flash of light, as human as the day she was born, with a voice in her head screaming at her to RUN. The Hellaverse she adored as a fan has welcomed her with bloody, gory arms, with the Hazbin Hotel team taking her under their wing. With chaos and absolute fuckery abound, the reader takes on various scenarios such as: investigating a murder, challenging Overlords, freeing an imprisoned imp from a goetia estate, getting shot, getting rescued from being shot (but rescued is a strong word it's more kind of captured and eventually abused (it's a rough couple of chapters tbh)), escaping said rescue, only to get shot again. Her death leads to bringing a little mutiny and a whole lot of sluttiness to the pearly gates of Heaven, so she can find a way to make peace between the warring realms.

(This was my first ever fic and helped me write my way out of an abusive relationship so i'm absolutely not sorry for how appallingly bad the writing is, it was fucking fun and cathartic as Hell <3)

Smut Shorts

Secrets Between Our Shadows (Reader x Alastor's Shadow)

Part 1: Ice Breakers Part 2: Under the Table Part 3: Surviving the Soup Part 4: Confessional

Quick Summary:

Reader is a demon guest undergoing redemption at the Hazbin Hotel with an unfettered crush on the Radio Demon. Though he barely glances her way, his shadow is becoming more persistent in gaining her attention. The only time the reader is near the shadow is in public spaces of the hotel, leading to some very powerfully awkward moments trying to disguise the heat going on under the table at dinner. The best part? Alastor has no idea.

I Heard You Dear (Hazbin Hotel AlastorxAFABReader Breeding Kink Smutfic)

Chapter One: Awakening a Rut Chapter Two: Smoke Where There's Fire Chapter Three: Abhorred and Adored Chapter Four: Uncouth, Carnal, Divine

Quick-ish Summary:

You joined the Hazbin Hotel with good intentions, willing to work towards the promise of redemption. Whilst living there for a few weeks, your intentions became far less innocent as being near the only attractive stag-formed demon in the Pentagram began a whole new mating season in your doe body. You're overwhelmed by the breeding instincts, lost in the sight of the Radio Demon's form when he loses control, leading to private moments of pleasuring yourself to cope with the heady lust. Alastor has no such issues with his deer form until he stumbles upon you in the midst of your orgasm calling out his name; awakening an unrelenting rut that demands to be answered by her, and her alone, despite his attempts to cope. The sweet musk of her scent drives him insane as both his rut and her mating season worsen dramatically in the span of three very lustful days. Realizing each other's weaknesses to desire, you and Alastor play intimate games of petty revenge to allude to your needs. Despite the worry from the Hazbin Hotel staff, you're pleasantly safe and protected in the Radio Demon's arms as he satisfies the rut by breeding you thoroughly.

*** Back-and-Forth POV switch for extra horny fun effect. Enjoy! ***

When Else Will I Get A Chance Like This? (Hazbin Hotel AFAB Soul Swap SMUTFIC)

Chapter One: The Tower's Chambers Chapter Two: Seeking Shelter Chapter Three: Means To An End Chapter Four: Why The Fuck Not

Quick Summary:

The bright promise of reliving your fondest memories has lured you to the mysteriously appearing castle in the outskirts of the Pentagram. The bliss quickly turns to horror as you try to escape the twisted ghosts of your past, crashing through to find the Radio Demon devouring a manifested corpse in his own torture chamber. The grand host plays his wicked trick, swapping your souls between your bodies for optimal torture. The two of you fend off the Infestor Demon, fleeing back to the Hazbin Hotel. Poorly disguising the change in personalities, you hide in the Radio Demon's bedroom, working out how to persuade the King of Hell to swap you back without anyone else working out the soul switch and potentially exposing the two of you to immense dangers. Problem was, his body is constantly trying to seek entertainment, and yours is a mess of hormones and trauma. What could go wrong? And well, when else would you get an opportunity like this again?

SMUTTY SMUTFIC, very confusing gender switch, gender terms that often don't make sense because they're in the wrong bodies, story for fun, NO PLOT IN THESE PORNFLAKES.

Smut Longs

The Burn Within the Ice (Reader x Alastor's Shadow SMUTFIC, the sequel to Secrets Between Our Shadows)

Prologue Chapter One: First We Learn Chapter Two: Uncaged, Unhinged

MORE CHAPTERS (3 TO 32) (I RAN OUT OF LINKS ON MY MASTERLIST) (FIGHT ME)

Quick-ish summary:

Alastor's shadow takes an interest in the reader, seducing her with logic-and-physics-defying feats of romance and touch, bringing her to heights of pleasure at the most inappropriate times. Alastor himself is blissfully unaware, until forced to confront the obsession his shadow has over his favourite sinner. Secrets Between Our Shadows is only the beginning. Now the reader has to survive Alastor himself. Ruthless, powerful, and utterly furious at bending to his shadow's will, the Radio Demon is wrath personified, caged in infatuation that doesn't belong to him. Secrets become harder to keep the longer they're held, especially when it starts to hurt Moni. The balance of power shifts when you take on the shadow as your own, barely learning how to navigate the additional consciousness before you're vying for Moni's freedom with Vox himself. When you realize that the situation is a lot more complicated, you end up needing to decide who you had to let go in order to keep the other.

Velvet Choker (Hazbin Hotel Smutfic sequel to I Heard You, Dear) Chapter List (complete chapters 1-20 plus epilogue)

Quick summary:

Hazbin Hotel Smutfic with multiple different reader X relationships. Smutty, whumpy, angsty, fluffy, frustrating, hot, silly, etc After the mating season comes to a rough end, the reader ends up in another Overlord's bed; the fashion sovereign herself, Velvette. The fierce love triangle becomes only more complicated the longer it goes on, leading to sly attempts from both Alastor and Velvette to claim the reader's affections while pissing off their rival.

The Angel's Fall (Hazbin Hotel VOX Smutfic Dead Dove Do Not Eat Yandere Series)

Tumblr Chapter List and AO3 Links

BACKSTORY: The Reader has been granted the female body they always yearned for, after suffering a life of dysphoria in their assigned gender. The only caveat was that it was at their death, and required them to become an exorcist nicknamed 'Blue' by Adam upon arrival to Heaven. The training was gruelling, earning respect through sweat and agony, summoned to slay demons in the first-ever extermination. The reader's morality and shame won out over their training, opting to live with demons to try to atone for the needlessly spilled blood. ********************************

Smutfic brief summary:

You're given an undercover role in the Vees' tower, joining a team of tech nerds who run the server room like it's their whole existence. Which it sort of is? Your job is to keep them functioning, so they keep Voxtek running efficiently. A challenging task when the CEO, Vox himself, has decided to claim you, watching your every breath through hidden cameras. The tech Overlord's intentions are far from innocent; breaking down your resolve, showing you the world through his carnal gaze. Making you fall apart in a body you don't yet understand. Whilst also trying to hide your angelic identity and ties to a secret army. No problem, right? The events leading up to season 1 and 2 of Hazbin Hotel are part of Vox's downfall; his helplessness as he claws at his reality, fighting for control, yearning for what just isn't within reach. His own ego tears apart his relationship with the reader, hyperfocusing on his growth into God-like worship to prove himself as ultimately worthy. Then, following the events of season 2, we have Pathetic Whumpy Vox. Without spoiling the story, it's very heavily fluffy, whumpy, frustrating, smutty and complicated. Major character deaths in the final 2 parts, plus a little justice for both Angel Dust and the reader...

Please read the trigger/content warnings for each fic before reading!!

All comments and feedback are extremely appreciated, but please leave them on the relevant fics so i know what they apply to. Thank You for interacting!

Love, LooselyReadyMade

[thatgirlmendo]

In Want of Absolution (#16)

Series Masterlist

Notes: Some seriously overdue shadow smut…as always MDNI

Yum

Perhaps it was because all the news you had received over the last half day had finally begun to settle, or perhaps you had simply slipped into that strange numbness that comes when something life changing is looming and the mind tries to quiet the body in preparation. You were not entirely sure. Either way, you somehow made it through dinner in relative silence, and when Alastor slipped his hand into yours, you managed to offer him a flat little smile despite the possessiveness still coiling deep within your chest.

He was not out of the doghouse yet. But first, you needed to handle things on your end. After that, you would be more than content to address the small untruth he had bestowed upon you between the sheets while the two of you lay tangled together, confessing how the last century had unfolded in each other’s absence.

Truthfully, you probably should not have been too angry with him for taking up with someone else during the time he believed you were in Heaven. Hell was lonely. Painfully so. Still, the irony was hardly lost on you that the man he had chosen had once been in love with you and had also been your best friend. Oh, and there was also the minor detail that his ex boyfriend happened to be your murderer. There was that too.

Even so, when Alastor pulled you into his arms as the two of you crawled into bed that night, you already knew he was at least earning the silent treatment.

As he peppered kisses along your jaw and pressed himself against your backside, clearly attempting to initiate something more, you wriggled out of his grasp with the weak excuse of a headache. The utterly crestfallen look on his face almost made you laugh.

Good. Be sad.

The shadow was angry with him too and had been glaring at him all evening, though Alastor remained blissfully unaware of it. The shadow’s outrage stemmed from the fact that he was a far more recent addition to Alastor’s person than the relationship with Vox had ever been. You knew this now because, naturally, you had asked.

Apparently, Alastor’s first attempt at a shadow companion had perished, making this one shadow 2.0.

A shadow who, unfortunately for Alastor, had only ever had eyes for you.

A shadow who was entirely, hopelessly in love with you and deeply resentful toward his master for ever straying in the first place.

“That’s unfortunate,” you had said when the shadow explained that the first one had become too sentient and Alastor had destroyed him.

“You’re pretty sentient,” you had then pointed out.

The shadow merely shrugged, chattering something along the lines of Alastor not being able to kill him now because he knew you loved him.

Which, honestly, made sense.

You did love the shadow.

“But what are we going to do about Vox?” you finally asked, circling back to the issue as you and the shadow wandered through the halls of the hotel after Alastor had been dragged away to some management meeting Charlie insisted upon hosting.

You needed the excuse. More importantly, you needed the space to think.

At first, you had wanted Alastor to handle Vox himself. But after the little secret Husk had accidentally let slip, this no longer felt like Alastor’s mess to clean up.

No. This was yours. The shadow, naturally, agreed and eagerly offered his services.

Now it was time to take out the trash. A life for a life. A man for a man.

You knew enough about The Vees to understand they were dangerous. Well, at least two thirds of them were. You did not particularly have anything against Valentino or Velvette, and you were also painfully aware that both of them were likely powerful in their own right. You might have been able to handle one of them if things turned ugly.

But all three? Yeah. Absolutely not.

So you and the shadow plotted. You whispered theories back and forth through the empty halls of the hotel, tossing around plans that became increasingly ridiculous the more exhausted you grew. Every idea seemed to hit a wall somewhere. Too risky. Too loud. Too dependent on dumb luck.

By the end of it your head truly ached. You had barely slept the night before anyway, still too irritated with Alastor to properly rest beside him, and now the exhaustion was finally catching up to you.

So you retreated to your room, slipped beneath the covers, and let your head sink into the pillow with a long sigh. A nap sounded heavenly. Maybe sleep would clear your thoughts enough to start fresh.

That was when you felt the familiar coolness glide across your leg as the shadow climbed into bed beside you.

He chittered softly into the shell of your ear, sweet little noises vibrating against your skin as his shadowy hands slipped beneath your skirt, easing the fabric higher along your thigh.

“What are you doing? Are we allowed to do this?” you gasped softly as cold air kissed the sensitive skin where his hands suddenly stalled.

The two of you had fooled around before, of course, but always with Alastor involved in some capacity. You and the shadow had never truly done anything alone together.

At that, the shadow only shrugged, as if the distinction meant very little to him.

His hand slid slowly over your hip once he had pushed your skirt up, the cool touch making your breath hitch as he curled himself closer against you.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, something else began creeping into the edges of your mind. Because Alastor had probably done things with Vox.

The thought alone still made irritation flare hot in your chest, yet here you were feeling guilty over letting the love of your life’s shadow slip beneath your clothes.

Okay, honestly, that felt ridiculous when you thought about it too hard. They were practically the same person.

And unlike Alastor, you were not sneaking around behind anyone’s back. It was not as though you had done anything he did not already know about.

At least you were honest with him. So, throwing any lingering guilt to the wind, you leaned in.

Kissing the shadow was a little strange. Not unpleasant, simply unfamiliar in a way that made your pulse flutter. He had kissed you countless times before, pressing cool affection against your cheeks, your throat, your hands, practically every inch of you whenever he could manage it. But you had never truly leaned into him before. Never met him halfway. Now you did.

Cool lips met yours in a desperate crash that stole the breath from your lungs. The shadow made a soft pleased sound against your mouth as his tongue brushed along your bottom lip in a silent plea for entry, and you welcomed him eagerly. The kiss deepened instantly, cool and intoxicating, his touch somehow making heat coil lower and lower in your stomach.

One of his hands brushed over your breast before gently squeezing, drawing a helpless moan from you that he greedily swallowed down. The pleased chatter he made afterward was almost smug, and he repeated the motion immediately just to hear that beautiful sound leave your lips again.

The shadow never asked for anything. He only gave. And oh, how he loved giving everything he had to his sweet love.

Your shirt vanished in an instant, tugged over your head between heated kisses before being discarded somewhere across the room, forgotten entirely as the shadow crowded closer to you like he had been yearning for this moment far longer than either of you wanted to admit. He had you alone. You were his, finally.

He wanted nothing more than to explore every inch of you. To drag his cool tongue along the places that made your breath catch and your body tremble beneath him. He needed it with an ache so deep it bordered on desperation. Needed you to understand the depth of his devotion, the way every part of him belonged to you and you alone.

His master might make mistakes. Might still carry traces of something pitifully human that had hurt you and caused you anguish. But the shadow did not. There was nothing human in him, no weakness. He was yours. Utterly. Wholly. With a love so complete it threatened to devour him from the inside out.

Which is exactly what he planned to do with you.

Parting your legs he leaned down to inhale you, he could smell the arousal as it dripped off you. That pleased him. To know that he could make you want him a fraction of the way he craved you.

Letting out a breath of cool air onto your clothed core made you involuntarily clench around nothing, the shadow smirked. Soon his love, very soon.

The panties were the next thing to go, but not before he took a moment to lick along the inner seam, that sent a shock to his core, well it would have if he truly had one. So sweet and utterly dripping with your desire for him alone. Alastor in his solid form hadn’t done this. No, the shadow had. And he had barely touched you.

Tossing them behind him he parted your legs settling in between them and stared lovingly at the site in front of him. You were perfect and his to indulge in. He planned to take his time, as he was not confined to the limits a regular man might be. He didn’t have a cock that would ache and weep, begging for attention when he went down on you. He had nothing but an ache deep within him to have you writhing and begging him not to stop as he brought you orgasm upon orgasm.

He’d studied the way Alastor ate you out, and he was sure he could do it better. He was a man with something to prove and the love of his life was laid out in front of him waiting.

He couldn’t contain the moan that escaped his lips as he dipped to meet you at your core, the taste straight from the source made him shiver. Or was that you shivering? He lifted his gaze just a moment to watch your face, as it contorted with pleasure of which you’d never experienced. The cold tongue against your hot slit was such a contrast it took a moment to adjust to the feeling.

But God when you did you wanted it to never end. The long tongue lapped at your core with such fervor you could hardly think. Swirling around your clit with just enough pressure to set your body ablaze. And when the shadow slid his claws under your thighs to draw your legs further apart and angle himself so that he could push his tongue into your cunt, your hand flew to his head, desperate to hold onto something. Instead you had to make do with grabbing at the sheets beside your thighs as you held on for dear life as the shadow prodded into your core lapping up desire and wet before it could fall from your sweetest lips.

It was long, and cool, and perfect as it prodded against the spongy part deep within you that had you seeing stars. Your back arched up as the shadow tongue fucked you harder. He could make it grow, make it wider, longer… just say the word, whatever you needed dear. He’d do it for you.

Your moans were utterly erotic, you couldn’t hold back the way he had you rolling beneath him trying to chase that beautiful orgasm. You whimpered as you tried to rock your hips down onto his face faster, chasing more.

“Please,” you whined begging him to give you his all and that’s when he pried his cool claw off your plush thigh and rubbed his thumb over your clit. Anything for you, love, anything to see you come undone on his face, around his tongue. He’d give you all of Hell and then some. With every clench of your velvety walls around his tongue, he knew he was pleasing you. It urged him on. It made him hunger more. You tasted too good, looked too beautiful, he kept having to steal glances.

He’d give anything to see you looking at him, when you came undone…but maybe another time… this time was just about you. As much as he loved your eyes, the way they were screwed shut told him all he needed now. You were loving this just as much as he was.

Go ahead and cum sweet thing, finish around his tongue, squeeze him until it hurt. And as you finished he’d tongue fuck you through every single wave. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t think. And when you were done and had caught your breath….well then of course he’d have no choice but to flip you onto your stomach and devour it from the back.

[looselyreadymade]

You ever read something so delicious you just wanna give the author a lil forehead kiss as a thank you 🫶💕

[looselyreadymade]

Not me WHEEZING at 3am because i started updating my taglist and found this little internal crisis from months ago

Figured i should update them since my 'smut short' accidentally hit this many words ⬇️ and it's still not finished so yeah

Fuckin' oopsies i guess

[luna-azzurra]

Chaotic gremlin best friends!!

⟢ "I need an alibi for Tuesday." - "What time." - "You didn't ask what I did." - "What time."

⟢ "Hypothetically." - "No." - "You didn't hear the question." - "Hypothetically no."

⟢ "I did something." - "Scale of one to ten." - "Depends who's asking." "Me." - "Seven." - "Police." - "Four." - "God." - "Thirteen."

⟢ "We need to leave."- "Why." - "I'll explain in the car." - "Why." - "I'll explain in a different country."

⟢ "This is your fault." - "You literally came up with the idea." - "I have bad ideas all the time, you're not supposed to DO them."

⟢ "Okay hear me out." - "My lawyer has advised me not to hear you out." - "You don't have a lawyer." - "I'm getting one specifically for conversations with you."

⟢ "Nobody got hurt." - "Physically." . "Nobody got physically hurt." - "Yet." - "Nobody has gotten physically hurt yet, which is a win."

⟢ "I have a type." - "Yeah?" - "People who are bad for me and you specifically." - "That's not a type that's a pattern." - "Same thing."

⟢ "What's the worst that could happen." - "I have a list. It's laminated. I made it specifically for when you say that."

⟢ "Rate my decision making." - "Historically or right now." - "Both." - "Zero. Consistent zero across the board."

⟢ "You're the only person I trust." - "I dropped your birthday cake last year and told you it arrived like that." - "Yeah but you still got me a cake."

⟢ "I need your honest opinion." - "It's bad." - "You didn't see it yet." - "I've met you. It's bad."

⟢ "Why do you even keep me around." - "Honestly? Entertainment. And you're warm in winter."

⟢ "I wasn't thinking." - "First time for everything." - "I resent that." - "Statistically valid though."

⟢ "On a scale of fine to not fine." - "Remember that time in Prague." - "We don't talk about Prague." - "That fine."

⟢ "Nobody panic but." - "I'm already panicking." - "I haven't said anything yet." - "I know you. I'm getting ahead of it."

⟢ "Promise you won't be mad." - "Absolutely not, that's a trap and I won't fall for it."

⟢ "I have good news and bad news." - "Good news first." - "The car is fine." - "And the bad." - "Define car."

⟢ "You're my emergency contact." - "I know." - "You're listed as my next of kin." - "I know." - "You're also listed as my therapist, my lawyer, and my spiritual advisor." - "I know." - "Do you want to talk about that." - "Nope." - "Cool."

⟢ "I'm a responsible adult."- "You once called me crying because you got your sleeve caught in a door and didn't know what to do." - "I was panicking." - "For forty minutes." - "It was really stuck."

⟢ "I regret everything." - "No you don't." - "No I don't but I feel like I should." - "Same honestly."

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Forty Eight: Epilogue

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

*************************************************

You took Vox back to the apartment you two now shared, with his clothes being moved into the empty cupboards from all the clothes you’d insisted you’d never wear getting cleaned out. The room came to life with his memories and his cherished sentimental gadgets, gifts and decor, filling the space with a distinct sense of comfort. You found it remarkably easy to navigate your new role as both the Overlord of the underground shelters and the partner to a fallen megalomaniac, pushing his body around on the wheelchair until he was settled somewhere to plug into.

He was insanely obsessed with your new look, absolutely feral for the way your blood-tainted feathers caught the light of his screen, especially when it came to you riding him.

The hooks remained in your wings, with the metal cables dangling from them now sharpened into decorative points, like overdramatic earrings. Vox loved delivering gentle shocks through them as he massaged your wings, taking every moment he could to use any part of his body to worship yours.

The only thing that took a while was persuading all the kidnapped angels to come to the Hazbin Hotel for therapy.

You’d tracked them all down remotely, after finding out you were now trapped by the Pentagram as much as any other sinner was down here.

Angel had been exceptional in getting the studios in line, firing and threatening off anyone who tried to sell off ‘products’ the way Valentino and those two directors had. The vile associates had gone deep underground, cleaning up after themselves as they kept out of sight for now.

It meant the exorcists no longer had owners, no longer bore the chains; but they still held the scars, and each of them came to the hotel without their wings.

Since there was no way to heal them back on, you gave each of them a choice. They could keep the wings as the dress they were made into, have you hide it for another day in case they changed their minds, or they could burn them.

Nearly every single angel chose the flames, as a way of washing clean what Val did to them in that prison.

The more angels that joined the hotel, the stronger the camaraderie grew.

Vaggi told her story, over and over again, while the exorcists held onto it like a lifeline, a chance of hope that one day they might heal enough to get their own wings back.

Charlie supported her wholeheartedly with counselling activities, sharing the obscene amount of joy and light that had brought Vaggi out of her own dark mind.

You lost touch with Alastor since the fight, though he never came to you with a reason. There was always that lingering reminder in everything you did, the looming ownership in exchange for your powerful deal. Yet, he had made no further moves to enforce or enact any demand for you. Not yet, anyway.

Lucifer’s POV: The Two Goats 

He sat alongside his old friend, perched on the highest mountain that surrounded the Pride Ring. She had taken new form over time, finding a place amongst the Seven Rings of Hell as a wanderer, unbelonging to any one Sin.

“Your story is as old as language can recall, millennia even. What i don’t understand is why now, and why so many. In the original, wasn’t there just two goats?”

“There were, and there is now. You are merely casting judgement on the wrong party, dear friend. An easy mistake, i assure you.”

“Then... explain it to me. Enlighten me, Azazel. Burden me with your wisdom-”

“You make a mockery of all, Lucifer, including the Lord’s will. You are fortunate he has the patience for such.”

“Yeah, I'd have been smited forever ago if not. So?”

Azazel drew in a deep breath of the warm Hellish air before she began. “It is not as simple as casting goats from a cliff anymore. The sins are rooted too deep, the evil too dark to forgive without consequence. In Hell especially, after a Holy War was declared, there had to be a cleansing.”

“Of angels?”

“No. They merely carried the burden for their own sins, as such was for the souls who sought forgiveness so very many years ago. Our two goats of present day have bore the lots bestowed from the suffering of the unforgiven, and endured the fate that granted their healing. Two goats; two lots. The first lot carried the weight of desecrated angels, and thus the sinner who bore such a lot was sent to the Lord in his name. The other lot was bestowed to a second sinner, a scapegoat, and sent to the wilderness as before. The comparison was... perhaps a little on the nose, what with the scapegoat’s limbs being utterly shattered, and the sinner of this ritual having been tore from his own.”

“The angels, they’re... not the goats? They’re the sins!”

“Yes. Each angel has been sworn to lose their Heavenly wings, tying them to the sinner, or ‘goat’, through sacrifice. We have the wings of the uncaptured angel, which had been cut off during one of the many exterminations, alongside her eyeball. The latter of which we secured as a penance of sight, adding to the cleanse. The final angel, the one with her physical wings intact yet immeasurably tainted, is now bound to Hell by sin and servitude. We do not care for literal interpretations, so long as the ritual is complete.”

“I get that, i just don’t understand why the one who turned into a demonic Overlord was essentially ‘forgiven’ for all the sins she committed. Isn’t she basically evil herself now?”

“Evil is part of the human nature, Lucifer. As is the good. No, she was the lot bore to the scapegoat, carrying a prayer she whispered in a time of fear, heard through the Lord’s might. All she had asked was for saviour of her sisters. It was a prayer sent from a soul who had understood and sought to atone for her own transgressions, as well as those of her people, the exorcists. She’d seen the iniquities, known the sins that each had committed, and asked the Lord for forgiveness for them. Perhaps in not so gracious wording, yet the intent remained. Do you understand now?”

“I... believe so. It’s been a little while since i dealt with any holy command or anything like that. Is this going in a new bible?”

Azazel smiled, a glimmer of amusement in her viper-like eyes. “Only through the telling of mysterious dreams and tall tales. Wonders hidden in works of the people, whispers in the depths of fantasy. One day, someone might even tell the full story, and none would be any the wiser to the truth of it. Such is the fickle nature of the human mind, is it not?”

Lucifer met her smile with one of his own, thinking back to the long span of misunderstandings and mistakes all tied in to religious interpretation. “That it is. Tell me, what ever did happen to that second goat? The one cast into the wilderness, red string turning white as it got thrown off the cliff...”

Azazel cast a glance across the city, looking over the districts and their shifting territories with secured peace in her mind. “I do believe, if memory serves me correct, it was found and nursed back to health. Never the same, never to be known for the sacrifice it carried, but saved.”

“Is it wrong to be jealous of a goat?”

Her eyes sparkled, alight with humour and the knowledge she held. “Most certainly not. Especially with how much promise your own future seems to hold, Lucifer Morningstar. For all our sakes, i do hope you find happiness.”

“... Me, too.”

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Forty Seven: Nachos in the Sky

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

The moment we've been waiting for, vengeance wrapped in soul-crushing heartbreak. If you stuck around for the entire ride, i hope you get to enjoy this scene with all the pain and promise it deserves. And if not, and you're just here to see Valentino get a little karma? Be my guest 🍽️✨

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You followed Velvette as she carried the lanky moth over her shoulders, struggling down the ladder as his frame engulfed hers. You let her make the effort for him, knowing she didn’t want the help.

Down the spiralling staircase, along the metal corridor, back to the angelic prison where they’d lost their wings to this very monster.

The door opened, with three very powerful beings already inside.

Lucifer, squatting next to a very bloody but alive Alastor, while a serpentine demon with viper-like eyes stood calmly near the decimated cage. You met her gaze, automatically tensing for a fight.

Lucifer held up his palm, warning you back with a look. You studied the unflinching expression on the stranger, the calm in Lucifer’s poise, the will to live in Alastor’s every forceful breath as he healed under Lucifer’s glowing palm.

Velvette stood frozen beside you, with the massive frame of Valentino still coughing up blood, wheezing with small gasps of pain.

The serpent stepped to the side of the shattered orb, watching you intently.

Her movement wasn’t judgement or patience; it was an invitation.

“Velvette... i think it’s time” you whispered, staring down into the mangled remains of your cage.

Velvette’s whole body shuddered, jostling Val as she took a few small steps forward, intimidated by the powerful demons watching her approach.

She sank to her knees, resting Valentino back with far more care than he was owed. A final kindness for the demon she used to call ‘friend’.

You saw as he met her eyes, a relief in his expression that betrayed the lack of understanding.

Her face contorted, a sting of regret and loss hitting her all at once.

“I... i can’t. I can’t do this. He’s my... he’s everything. A brother. I can’t-”

“Then make your decision, Velvette. You know i won’t be kind. I won’t be quick. I’ll starve him, beat him, tear bone from muscle, render his sanity into shreds. I want to. If you care about him that much, you’d make it gentle.”

The Overlord began to break down, tears rolling freely, gold shimmering across her hands and wrists compelling her to complete her deal. You came closer, feeling each step bring you deeper into a fate you chose for yourself.

The high was fading. Your muscles were tense, but unbound by soreness. Your wrist healed, the bullet wounds sealing shut. Golden flames licked at the edges of your feathers, turning a crimson red that stained the edges of your wings in the blood of sinners you’d killed.

The serpent held her hand up, summoning a sacrificial knife with delicate scripture in symbols you couldn’t read etched into the blade. Paler than angelic steel, this blade was the purest form of metal you had ever seen. Even the handle seemed carved with a living entity in the grains, a slow undulation of the black streaks as if the wood was shifting and reforming by the second.

When your hand reached out to take it, you saw the black creep up your fingertips, seeping through the skin up to the forearm, vivid red taking over your claws.

The moment you touched the blade, your fate was sealed.

The changes became permanent, a new darkness to your soul that tethered you to Hell as the sinner, and the shield. Protecting your sisters and all those who Valentino had hurt was worth the price of damnation.

Velvette looked up, the same fear crossing her expression as you’d seen in the many faces that surrounded Valentino; her eyes silently screaming, don’t make me do this, please, i don’t want to do this!

You lowered gently to your own knees beside him, letting your gaze wander over the pitiful moth as he laid back in the shards of metal and broken glass, his face not turning to you. In the slew of pain, the concussion, the exhaustion, he could only see her. His little sister in the Hellish plane. His best friend.

She ducked her head to his, cheek to cheek, her tears dampening his face. Her shaking hand reached over to you, the fingers extended blindly. You passed her the blade, genuine sorrow for the loss she felt before she’d even let him go.

“H-hey Val, you’re gonna be okay, alright? Yeah? You and me. We’ll get nachos and wings. We’ll watch ‘Pretty Girl’ and do our nails. We’ll make fun of Vox and buy shit we don’t need just to piss off the accountants. We’ll take the blimp up for a joyride, drinking champagne and tequila above everyone else in this shithole. Just us. And one day, we’ll get to show everyone who’s the baddest bitches again. But... not today. Today we’re gonna... we’ll...”

He croaked out a cough, licking the blood from his lips before he managed to tell her “that sounds nice, chiquita. Can i have a nap? I’m so tired...”

“Yes baby, you... you have a nap. I’ll keep an eye out, alright? You’re safe.”

He smiled peacefully, too dazed to think any longer.

Eyelids gradually shutting, strained breathing slowed; he fell into a steady sleep.

Velvette was far kinder than you.

She counted five slow snores, pressing her lips to his forehead as he slept, before ramming the knife straight into his heart.

His body jittered, spasming under the sudden assault; yet, as his body overcame with shock, he didn’t scream, nor struggle. He lay frozen, eyes shut, mouth agape, while the blade took on a divine glow that rippled beautiful rays of light. Pale as the feathers he’d carved from the angel’s backs, the light now pouring from his chest shone across Velvette’s cheeks, highlighting each tear that fell on his face. His blood trickled freely, slowing as the pulse no longer urged it to flow.

Velvette sensed as he finally died, his soul no longer in his body. You heard it in the way she sobbed, screaming into his shoulder, clutching his body as she let go of the knife to cradle him.

The serpent waved her hand, the blade disappearing from the sheath of his chest, leaving only a bloodied wound and a heartbroken Overlord.

Lucifer took Alastor in his arms, even to the muted objections of a barely conscious Radio Demon. You tilted your head, receiving a reassuring half-smile from the King to confirm his ward was okay, just obviously tired and in pain.

The echo of you and Lucifer leaving the room sounded harrowing in the cold metal as Velvette sobbed.

Just as you turned to check if the serpent was following, you saw her dissipating into a dark glittering cloud of black and grey, thinner than smoke. Her eyes were the last to fade, watching you intently until the air claimed her fully.

You felt your own body shudder with foreboding, eyes lingering on the macabre chamber for a few more seconds before following Lucifer out.

Velvette sat across from you at the broadcasting desk, her eyes downcast and cold, but listening. You were central in the chair, while Vox sat on the armrest, one ankle casually crossed on the other knee as his arm rested behind your back.

This body still required the plug sockets, but you’d found clever work-arounds for the time being until his other one had been finished.

At least now, since it had been a few weeks of rebuilding from the ashes, you all felt ready to finally sit down and broker a new treaty.

The door to the broadcast room opened, with Angel and Husk laughing almost the entire way to the desk with their inside jokes and sarcasm. When they finally drew near enough, they stifled back the laughter, keeping close as they took the opposite side of the desk to Velvette.

“Morning, boys. Glad you could join us this time.”

“Hey, not my fault you can’t plan ahead. We’re here now, toots. So, you were saying about this big, juicy business deal?”

Vox leaned forward fractionally, his eyes darting to you, a brow raised to ask permission. Your mouth ticked up, entertained that the last few days of breaking him down and scraping him back up off the floor as a drooling, sopping mess had left him a little more obedient. You gave a tiny bow of your head, letting him make the offer.

“We, the remaining two Vees, have an opening, in a very broad sense. The studio brand has expanded far across Pride, with branches in Lust and Envy, that now need reforming into something a little more respectable. The deals our ex-associate made are unacceptable to our image. Now, we all have a pretty shitty history. This isn’t water under the bridge. But maybe, for the sake of a lot of soon-to-be unemployed and helpless souls, we can come together to make something work for them?”

You rolled your eyes, almost wishing you’d just spoken. “What he means, without all the political bullshit, it we don’t know how to run a porn studio. Gambling sure, could probably wing that. But porn has intricacies, and Angel, you’ve been a leader in the circuit for a long time. You ALSO became an Overlord recently, which took me by damned surprise-”

“It was an accident and you know it, baby. But yeah, it happened, and it sounds like I'm about to get a whole ‘notha promotion too. You’re basically asking me to be Val?”

“NO” Velvette cut in, a fierce glare in her eyes, before biting back the temper and cooling her tone; “No. You won’t be Val, and you won’t ever go as fucking insane as he did. You’ll be your own fucking dickhead, with your own fucking problems, and we’ll probably have to deal with that too. You just need to get a hold of the studios that are running all the shady shit Val set up, get it all up to code, and get some proper deals in place so it doesn’t go all ‘black market murder porn’ again. Same with the tower. Turns out, he had some real nasty deals going on here, which we’ve stopped dead, but there’s still interest. Get a hold of all that, keep the profits rolling, and you can have all the fame and fortune that comes with this tower. Can’t really call it the Vees’ no more, but I'm sure Vox’ll think of some dumb shit to call it instead.”

“That will come in time, Vel. We’ll leave it as it is, me and you are still basically the faces of the whole company. One which we’ll have a lot more control over now, and some very good connections!”

Husk snorted, amused; “those connections are only as good as you make them. Piss off any of the hotel staff and they’ll ALL turn on ya. Remember Al still owns her ass too, so you’re on a pretty short leash.”

“All in hand, my friend, don’t you worry” Vox preened, an air of confidence that he always seemed to project when he was in a body. “That’s the beauty of give and take, we always have room for negotiation. Alastor has been a force of nature in Hell since he arrived, and will continue to be for a long time. Just like all of us will.”

You slid your hand into Vox’s elbow, silently praising him for not taking the bait.

In the following few hours, you all brokered terms, discussed the direction of the company, decided on what needed removing from the brand completely, and other logistics such as who owned and ran each floor.

By the end of it you were all hungry, slightly grumpy, but relieved to have not butchered one of the biggest Overlord mergers Hell had seen in decades.

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Forty Six: Vengeance of Angels

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

*************************************************

At that, everyone set off.

Angel acted calm, putting on the show of a leisurely stroll to avoid suspicion. He went via the public corridors to get to the server room, leaving the bedroom door wide. Vaggi and Lucifer rushed down the passageway as he squinted into his phone to type. You gave it a few seconds before doing anything, waiting by the glass, listening. The hatch was lifted, followed shortly by the King promptly falling down it, knocking Vaggi off the ladder she was halfway down. You were a little too high to not laugh, stifling giggles. You made sure you heard the hatch close, shutting the sliding door to try and slow the water from getting to the underground prison, buying them a little more time.

Almost in slow motion, you watched as your fist connected with the tank wall, easily forcing through the barrier as it shattered into pretty fractals. There was a couple seconds of physics taking hold before a massive gush of water crashed through; the pressure opened the hole in the tank wider, forcing a torrent of chilled water straight into the studio floor. You leapt onto the bed, dodging the main stream, before taking a leap and flying through the narrow doorway.

Electrical systems were already going haywire, with multiple shouts overlaying the jittering music. Lights flickered as the water flushed into the power sockets, fizzing and sparking with a strong hum of electric jolting through the water. You heard a few blood-curdling screams as the shocks got to them, before the power went out completely.

That was cue enough for you to kick your way into the closed-off studio lounge, shrouded in darkness as the blacklights flickered every few seconds, revealing stop-motion flashes of teeth and neon painted bodies.

Demons charged forward, making a hasty exit, tripping and scrambling over each other in the rushing water. Emergency lighting came on, illuminating the small space in a putrid green glow, revealing the demons stood on the booth cushions, keeping out of the water. Two bright-pink glittery suited demons glared at you, mirroring the fury on Valentino’s face as he too crouched on the chair. His wings lifted high, keeping from getting wet, while Velvette summoned a poll on her social media, creating a spinning ring of orbs ready to fire; sized like a catherine wheel, mimicking the chamber of a revolver. You took a crouch on the table near the door, measuring the postures of each threat, taking note of the cowardice in which the demons either side of the leaders held their shaking guns.

Behind them, bound by thick chains and large shackles around their necks, were two terrified looking angels.

Your heart stilled, wishing more than anything you were seeing wrong.

The recognition in Rory’s eyes confirmed the worst.

Projectiles shot from all angles; regular bullets ricocheted off you or missed completely, leaping and darting around the room as you got them to waste their bullets. Velvette’s magic was easier to dodge as the colours were far brighter in the dark room, but did far more damage to the furniture with small explosions, making it harder to find things to rebound off from. Val had come prepared, landing a couple of hits with angelic steel through one wing, making you crash into the bar with a loud shattering of half-poured liquor from the shelves.

The bullets began to run out and reload, giving you the chance to charge.

Velvette immediately took off, using her powers to get high, sending small blasts in your wake. You only had eyes for Valentino, kicking one of the pink suits aside as you went hand-to hand combat with the moth.

He fought fucking dirty, trying to grab the hooks on your wings and sneak in kicks, managing to grab your wounded wrist while you were deflecting the second pair of arms. Far stronger than him, you wrenched him around, forcing his back to take the full force of two of Velvette’s blasts.

Bursts of flame took to the wing, halfway through a scream that you cut off with merciless glee.

Your hand gripped around his throat, holding tight enough to cut off the airway, but not to break the vertebrae. Yet.

The door crashed back open, forcing through the water as backup arrived. Unfortunately, it wasn’t YOUR backup.

As the new demons pointed their guns and moved to fire, Valentino got in his punishing kick. You flew across the space, smacking back into the wall, meeting a spray of regular bullets that made your skin sting. You shielded your face so you could see, only just narrowly avoiding the blast from Velvette’s summoned arrow.

A comical cry and a yelp came from the door, followed by the distinct sounds of fighting from outside in the studio corridor. You scrambled out of the water, ducking from another of Val’s bullets, cursing him out as the narrow space cut off any chance of using flight to your advantage.

Vox’s voice thunder-clapped over the speakers, low and mocking, but very distinctly laced with pride.

“Hello! My esteemed guests, i hope you’ve been having a good party. I must say, you’ve been quite the troublesome guests. Now, let’s make things a little more exciting, shall we?”

You laughed once, a grin of relief taking over, climbing up the wall to get free of the current you knew was about to electrify the water.

The music came on, a powerful bass that shook pictures off the walls, making the demons cover their ears.

The water came alive with lightning, crackling with dazzling arcs and brilliant fizzles, catching all who dared be in reach. Val scrambled onto the back of the booth, alongside one of the Hellborns he was with; the other wasn’t so lucky, being too close to a very tired and pissed off fallen exorcist. Now you could see the hands as they wrapped around his neck and forced his head into the water; the angelic steel had bruised the skin into dark greys and golds, catching the green emergency lights in sickening marks, the muscles beneath straining from the desire to exact revenge.

Val screeched, reloading his gun and cocking it at Rory, the trigger finger moving almost as fast as you did.

You leapt from the wall, thinking of nothing but protecting her; the shield flashed bright where you willed it, forming such a vivid outpour of gold that it dazzled Val, his bullets carelessly ricocheting off without a single indent.

The second you landed in the water, the lightning shattered your focus.

Velvette screeched a laugh as you jittered and splashed, fighting to stay still enough to get to your feet. The electricity cut off immediately, proving that someone was indeed controlling the power, and they were on your side.

You splashed into a stand, claws bared, catching the shift in Valentino’s glance as he saw something behind you. Dropping to the water on instinct, the thrown weapon whizzed above you, a gleam of steel that was alarmingly pale.

Also alarming was the decreasing volume of water; you were losing your advantage.

Charlie and Cherri came rushing through, chasing Velvette down. The flash of Charlie’s gold, Velvette’s purple, and Cherri’s pink made the place into a rave, playing a game of dodging more than fighting.

You made it over to the two angels as more fighters came rushing in, now joined by Vaggi with her spear. You grabbed the chain from the D-ring set in the wooden platform, wrenching Rory free first, then the other angel you hadn’t recognized. One of Amara’s girls who you’d met once or twice; she had far less trust for you, flinching away the second she was freed.

You tried to help them move, spinning as Rory’s eyes widened in horror.

Valentino’s gun pressed to the back of Vaggi’s head as he held her up, Charlie’s cry a pinched scream as Cherri held her back, yelling about angelic steel bullets.

“Checkmate, bitch! You want this cunt to live? BACK OFF-”

His head rocked sideways, the gun firing upwards as Vaggi ducked, missing her completely.

Angel stood behind him, eyes burning with scorned rage, holding the smoking gun with a sneer. You met his eyes, understanding the meaning. He gave you a single nod. Permission.

It was all you needed.

Charlie and Cherri deflected Velvette, keeping her off your back.

Angel held off the Hellborn’s reinforcements, his bullets flying in a merciless spray.

The two pink suits were scrambling against two small figures that were popping out of the darkness, raining sneaky attacks. The movements were so quick, it was like a dance; occasionally revealing the silvery needle-like blade of Niffty’s favourite weapon, or the bright jolts of electricity from Baxter’s high-voltage taser.

Val tripped back, nearly falling over on the low stage, grabbing onto the pole for support.

You tucked your wings back, coiling to leap, meeting his eyes as they locked onto you.

Your legs shot you forward in tandem with the bullet fired from his gun.

It almost didn’t work how you’d intended, a single second of delay when trying to throw out a shield. You’d spied that one scared face as she leapt for the weapon, Rory risking her life yet again for your stupid decisions.

If you hadn’t been so scared for her, wanting to protect her, you might not have been able to form the shield in time.

It raised against your palms just before the bullet met it, flattening the angelic steel with a useless tinkle as your massive shield blocked Val from seeing you, or from noticing the angel slamming into his right.

Rory, engulfed with a soul-aching rage, with sheared-short hair and abused fury, laid into him without mercy.

You heard bones crack, watched blood spill, heard the wheeze of cracked ribs.

Amongst it all, you saw an angel who’d lost herself to the torture.

You put your hand on Rory’s shoulder, gently holding her back from killing him like this. She froze, shaking like a newborn fawn, staring back at you with terror in her eyes. Your palm cupped around her cheek, pressing your forehead to your sister’s, before throwing her back across the room. She hit the wall with a crash, two purple blasts landing exactly where she had been two seconds before. You turned and faced Velvette, who threw a shield of her own up against Charlie and Cherri, verbally warning you back from Valentino.

The moth was slumped against the pole, hanging his head limply as blood trickled from his face, neck, abdomen, and leg. He could hardly breathe in his state, let alone fight.

He hadn’t had pity nor mercy for you when you’d been at your weakest; it was hardly reasonable to consider anything kinder for him.

“Don’t you fucking dare. I see what you’re thinking. You fucking kill him, and you’ll be just as bad as the fucking rest of us. A monster. A sinner.”

“That’s what i AM. I know i belong here. And i know he doesn’t. Pride can’t handle a soul as fucked up and cruel as his, but he can’t leave to any other Ring. The only option left is to hand him back to God himself. I gave you an offer, Velvette. It still stands.”

She sneered, shivering with rage, magic sparking in pretty fireworks at her fingertips.

The room fell into complete blackness; every emergency light, every flash and blast, ceasing in a matter of seconds. Velvette’s shield was the only glow, reforming into a circular spinning wall of ‘blocked’ signs to defend herself from all angles.

Not everyone halted; but since no-one could see, no-one could fight.

The only one visible was Velvette.

You heard multiple guns cock, saw flames poise from Charlie’s hands, Baxter’s taser crackle, purple gleaming reflections shining off Niffty’s needle and Vaggi’s spear.

She was trapped, with every single enemy around her waiting for that shield to drop, knowing she couldn’t escape fast enough to dodge the multiple fatal weapons.

In her body, you saw the rage falter into visceral fear.

In her hands, came the violent shaking and unsteady force as she held the shield spinning faster, her last resort to stay alive.

But it was the look in her eyes that confirmed it was all finally over.

In her expression, you finally saw that one moment you searched for in every angel you’d persuaded to leave the exorcist army.

Acceptance.

You straightened up, letting your wings hang limp, raising your chin as your voice rang clear; “Vox, baby, please turn on the lights.”

You heard the disembodied laughter as he brought power back to the emergency lighting, not risking setting the soaked floor into another wave of shocks. It contrasted eerily with Velvette’s shield, a mesmerizing image of doom as the trapped Overlord spun her head at every surrounding threat. Everyone else who had stood with Valentino had been incapacitated or subdued, leaving her sorely exposed and utterly vulnerable.

She finally met your eyes, lingering there as she swallowed, suddenly looking far younger.

Charlie spoke, clear and commanding; “Everyone, stand down, but keep your weapons out. This battle is over. Velvette, Valentino, we’re bringing you-”

“No, Charlie. Stop. There is no forgiveness, no redemption. Not this time.” Your voice carried just as clear as hers, a reckoning of your own will ready to be delivered.

“There’s ALWAYS a chance for redemption. You don’t get to make that decision. Yes they’ve gone too far, and yes we have a LOT to work on. But we don’t execute, we don’t sentence. We teach, and we learn. Stand down.”

You didn’t look at Charlie. You didn’t need to.

Velvette lowered her shield, holding your gaze steady. She’d heard what you said. Knew you weren’t talking about her.

She took cautious steps over to you, her hands shaking by her side. The others watched her cautiously, expecting a trick, ready to fire non-angelic weapons if she tried anything.

“Let me get him out of here. He’s in no fit state, and we’re in a room full of volatile demons and some fucking angels. I’ll... take him somewhere private.”

You stared her down, watching for any signs of deceit. From the steadiness in her gaze and the grim set of her jaw, you believed she was really going to follow through.

It didn’t hurt to make a deal out of it, though.

Holding your hand out silently, you implored her to prove it.

To anyone else watching, they assumed you were making a deal with Velvette about her taking Val away to be safe from other demons.

If you kill Val, I’ll let you live.

As she reached her own hand out, meeting yours, the pact became sealed. Gold ribboned around the two of you in wide streaks, small circular discs like tiny versions of your shield flowing through the sorcery. The light receded, leaving only the knowledge held between you and Velvette promising either the end of her life, or Valentino’s.

The tension in the room simmered, with Charlie warning back the Hellborn guests and their associates, having them be escorted from the building.

Vox and whoever was with him managed the technical side of things, restoring power where they safely could, sending an urgent repair team into the room with the cracked tank wall now the waterline was just below it.

The Hazbin Hotel team checked each other over, confirming no major concerns to freak out about. They got the keys from the Hellborns, supporting the two angels out of their shackles. Vaggi in particular held both of them tight, pouring her own regret into not realizing they were missing sooner. The angels, having seen the horrors beyond your own comprehension, were too numbed to either reassure or object. They looked to you for guidance, to which you nodded your head in Vaggi’s direction, gesturing for them to follow her back to the Hazbin Hotel.

As bodies gradually left the room, Lucifer’s absence bothered you.

Was something that wrong with Alastor that he couldn’t help in the fight?

Was there something even worse happening out there?

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Forty Five: Strings of Fate Intertwining

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

*************************************************

As soft as butter, the regular steel yielded beneath your grip as you tugged the exit door free from its locks, an awkward bend to the yanked hinges. You threw one quick glance over at Alastor, silently reiterating your promise to return.

For just a second, a streak of white caught your eye, drawing you to notice the long row of locked cupboards just across the wall from Alastor. The metal doors had blended near perfectly with the walls and floors, only remarkable now as you noticed the obscenely crisp white through a tiny gap between connecting doors. Your head tilted, a curiosity you couldn’t resolve tugging you forward, despite the urgency of your mission.

Something about the brilliance of the white, the way it almost shone through the gap.

Too pure to be anything from Hell.

You crossed the floor almost as if floating, feeling a wave of unease take hold; slipping your fingers into the handles, you held your breath and carefully eased the doors open.

Almost as if curved in dance, the wing had been poised in a delicate curve around soft gold fabric, glistening with utter beauty. The feathers were pure, holy, divine; the subtle glow gave it away. These weren’t fake. They were the real thing.

On the frame of a headless mannequin, the dress appeared ready for a grand ball in Heaven itself, the kind of beauty that only a Godly being should be allowed to wear. And yet, it remained in Hell, clearly designed with the morbid desires of a demon in mind.

The world stopped spinning as your fingers brushed the soft feathers, heart aching for your sisters.

You looked left, counting the number of doors, fear spiralling as you realized there was a chance a dress lurked behind each one. Fourteen slender doors, fourteen potential dresses.

You opened each one, finding dress after dress, each unlocking a part of your mind which swore crueller and longer deaths for all who’d touched an angel like this.

Behind the thirteenth door, there was no dress on the mannequin. Only a nametag, which you hadn’t noticed on any of the other dresses, too distracted by the unspeakable horrors.

It just said ‘BLUE’.

You knew instantly this wasn’t a suggestion for what colour to dye the fabric.

Your hand shook as you reached the final door, heart stopping as you saw the nameplate beneath the empty mannequin, with a spelling that was no longer even correct; ‘VAGGIE’.

Alastor’s static broke your frozen stare; glancing back at him with an almost pleading look, wishing he could speak, to tell you it was a lie. He could only furrow his brows at you, imploring you to move on.

Your own wings rattled as you turned, the embedded hooks now dangling like earrings from the bends. Leaving both the Radio Demon and the wings of your sisters behind, you held only pure wrath in your soul.

The slim corridor had similarly dark metal lining all the way through, leading to a winding staircase. You climbed it with growing determination, fuelled rather than fettered by the high. It made the bloodlust stronger, softened the aches, distracted from the fear. There was just you, and the slaughter you craved.

At the top, a short ladder led to a manual hatch, a curious exit for such a high-tech company.

Learning where you were revealed why.

An extension of Valentino’s studio, blocked off by a false wall, with not one single camera in sight; this place was made to not be seen or detected by anyone other than him.

You studied the space as you found the near-invisible door, sliding it manually as it opened up into one of the worst places of your afterlife, no more reassuring than the cage you’d just been in.

Your old studio bedroom welcomed you, only partially shrunk from the secret wall now hiding the passage. Your old mirror hid the secret door, with no surveillance visible in this room too.

There wasn’t enough hatred left to stack onto the abhorrence you already carried.

Outside of the room, a dulled bass thudded the walls, far enough away to indicate the main studio lounge had been closed off. You mentally walked through the cameras you knew were installed in the corridor, well aware that you were going to be hunted the very second you were in eyeline of ANY technology. It forced you into two choices; find some convoluted way out to call for help, risking yet another capture... or take a gamble on crashing the party as an army of one.

You sorely wished your room had been near a goddamn window.

Although... it wasn’t far from a shark tank.

The idea hit with a pitchy giggle, beginning to tear into the plaster and wood in the walls like it was breaking down all the heartache that had formed in the confines of this studio, this room. You tore, grinning wide enough to split your face open, gripping and bracing to tear with renewed energy. The crack and splinter of the wooden frame invigorated you, a climbing thrill only heightened by the Love Potion’s blissful effects.

The moment you saw the shimmering blue peeking through the wall, you felt the taste of justice.

Shredding enough of the remaining wall out of the way to give yourself a decent span of glass to work with, you remembered that the door opened inwards, not out. You hummed cheerily to yourself as you crossed the room, opening the door to the hallway.

The bright corridor welcomed you, alongside a very surprised face.

You froze, eyes wide as saucers, staring into Angel Dust’s pretty irises, hardly clocking on to the slutty get-up.

He lunged at you, though the body language didn’t say attack; it screamed hide. You leapt back, blinking in shock as he fell over and scrambled up, shutting the door with panic in his expression.

In a shocked hiss, he whispered; “what the FUCK are you doing? Why are you fucking naked? And bleeding? AND NAKED?!”

“Shhhh! I’m trying to fucking escape, asshole. What are YOU doing here?!”

“Trying to rescue Al! And apparently you, now! I’m the bait, while the others are trying to find a way down to where they’re keeping him. Seriously, can you put some clothes on? That’s real fuckin’ distracting-”

“Okay, okay. Fine” you muttered, glancing around. Your old wardrobe still stood, yet hardly anything was left in it, mostly taken over by generally indecent outfits for multiple whores to use. You picked out a pretty leather set, beginning your dazed humming again.

Angel spun you around, staring into your eyes in disgust. “Babycakes are you high? Fuck... how the shit am i supposed to keep you safe like this? Jesus shit-”

“I’ll be fine. I’m leaving soon anyway. Was gonna go make the studios a little slippery first. Wanna help?”

“What? Slippe- oh fucking shit, is that the fish tank?!”

You followed his gaze, where the distant shadow of two sharks passed by in blissful peace. “Yup. Big fishies. Good boys. Shocky used to be in there... wait, wait,” you shook your head, trying to clear the daze, “you said others. Is there anyone with you here, in the tower?”

“Not specifically in here, no. They should still be outside ‘til i give them the go-ahead that Al’s not in the party itself. We’re kinda blind here, since Vox thinks there’s some tech genius on the evil team keeping an eye on all our messages and shit.”

“Vox?... you’re shitting me, Vox is NOT helping you?”

“Oh yeah. He’s the one practically leading the charge, even from the arms of his assistant. He’d fight Val himself if we let him.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples, the vivid imagery of the flailing cables of an angry television too embarrassing to take seriously. “God he’s so fucking stupid. I love him so goddamn much. Right, Val. Yeah. Dead man walking. No, wait, you wanted to know about Alastor? Yeah, you can get to him down the stairs in here, it’s where i just came from.”

Angel, beyond stunned at how easy this was, followed you to the mirror, watching as you slid the secret door to the dark passage.

“You. Are. Fucking. Shitting me.”

“I mean, do you think I’m sober enough to lie?”

He arched a brow, smirking at the massive pupils with teeny tiny rims of gold. “Fair. Well, this makes things interesting. One sec, gotta get creative.”

He pulled out his phone, sitting on the edge of your old bed. You scowled at the clean sheets, minorly wishing they were on fire.

Peeking over his shoulder, you checked to see who he was texting; to your surprise, it was Husk.

Hey hot stuff, won’t be home tonight, there’s a big party in the studio lounge. Gonna be a real good one, bumping into old friends from work already

He hadn’t sent it yet, clearly deliberating as his fingers hovered over the keys.

“What does any of that even mean? Surely you’re not actually-”

“No dumbass, it’s code. I’m telling everyone through Husk that the party IS on, and that I've found YOU, but i didn’t exactly have a code ready for that so I'm trying to think of what to say. Any ideas?”

“Try this...” You took the mobile, correcting it to something you figured might make more sense, you hoped.

Hey hot stuff, found something fun to take home tonight. Looks really good in blue. Thinking we can try using the back way tonight. Wanna come find out?

Angel snickered at the double-entendre, commending your wording.

A few seconds later, a bright flash of flame made you squint; dazzling and divine, a portal revealed Lucifer’s stunned face, breaking into a huge grin as he jumped through, followed by Vaggi. His arms wrapped around you tight, suddenly reminding you of the deep-seated muscle pain that had hidden behind waves of bliss.

At your groan, he released you, worry etched in his expression. In the background you could make out Husk, stood by the Hazbin Hotel bar, giving you a cocky wave. You flipped him off, smiling from the gesture.

The portal closed, Lucifer’s apple cane tightly clutched in his hands, looking between the three of you with apprehensiveness. “Okay, so, uh, this is new. In a good way? Uh... yeah, didn’t think we’d get this far. Is that the mission over?”

You looked at him with contempt, amazed he’d be this ignorant to the entire situation.

Vaggi spoke first.

“Sir, with respect, we’re nowhere near done. This is a surprise, a good one, but it’s only just started. Blue, you look like shit. Have you literally been kept in a cage all this time? Were there other angels with you, or Alastor?”

“Alastor yes, other angels not so much. Just... parts...”

Your head went fuzzy, a strange slur in your voice as you felt confusion begin to take hold. The deal, the goddamn fucking deal, of course...

You realized you hadn’t had any issue speaking to Angel, though the dizziness was palpably strong with Vaggi. Had Angel made it to Overlord status?!

You looked curiously to Angel, forcing your mind through the confusion as you studied him intently, looking for any single signs of being powerful in any way.

Honestly? Aside from being dolled up for this mission, he didn’t look any different.

Vaggi snapped her fingers in front of your face, breaking your study. You blinked at her, biting back speech, afraid of letting any more dizziness take hold.

“Hey, you with me? I saw that. You went off as soon as you talked to me, not Lucifer. Is that the ill thing you mentioned?”

You nodded, glad she’d twigged on without explaining.

“Okay, yeah. Kinda glad you weren’t lying. Can you, uh, talk to Lucifer and tell him what you know?”

You gratefully turned to the King, relaying your side of the story, trying to keep it brief. He nodded, losing focus as he made quiet ‘yup’, ‘ahh’, ‘uh huh’ noises throughout. Vaggi and Angel looked far more horrified, especially when it came to the ‘dresses made of wings’ part.

“Guess that means the other girls are still alive, just being kept elsewhere for... God, i don’t even want to know what. We’ll find them, i swear” Vaggi promised, fixing her determined gaze on you.

You nodded once to her, looking over to Lucifer to speak, though he still seemed very distracted. “Lucifer? You with us? What’s going on?”

He glanced up, seeming surprised, as if the world in his head had taken up all his attention. “Yeah? Uh, sorry. I’m just thinking. This all seems weird. The way you’re describing it all, like it’s some big mission to wipe out the previous existence of every exorcist angel that’s stuck in Hell? They’ve each been trapped, tortured, had their wings cut off, and not one trace is left of them out there aside from actual memory. It just... it seems way out of any demon’s league that i can think of. It’s stumped even those nerdy guys for days, and that’s WITH a supercomputer to dig through. I just... i have a hunch. And if I'm wrong, then you can call me the happiest Devil to ever dance. But... if I'm right? I don’t necessarily think you’re coming out of this alive in the end, Blue.”

His tone had lowered to a pained whisper, genuine fear crossing his expression, along with something that made your gut twist; apology. Like there was nothing even HE could do.

Vaggi snatched his arm, demanding to know what the fuck he meant. He held his hands up, trying to mumble out deflections, ending your patience.

“Guys, shut it. Lucifer, is your ‘hunch’ going to affect rescuing Alastor?”

“If we get there quick enough, probably not.”

“Okay, great. Will it affect whether Valentino survives the night?”

“Huh? Uh, probably not, no?”

“Then that’s good enough for me.”

His eyes burned into yours, seeking beyond whatever he saw. It set you on edge, unable to look away, yet feeling the weight of a fallen seraphim casting sorrow like a goodbye.

Vaggi gave his arm a squeeze, trying to bring him back to the situation. “Sir, there’s a Hell of a lot going on right now, and i don’t really understand any of it. Can we just get everyone out and safe, and THEN we can talk about whatever the fuck you meant about Blue?”

Lucifer swallowed roughly, turning his pained eyes on her, trying to force a false smile. Her stare fixed on his too, seeing the exact same as you did. He didn’t think Vaggi was going to survive this, either.

Your stomach just about plummeted, your knees going weak. Angel saw, holding you up as you coughed against the wave of nausea. You pushed him back, pointing to the open secret passage. “Down there, Lucifer, is where you’ll find Alastor. He’s literally stapled to the wall, so you and Vaggi might be best off going together, since it’ll take some decent strength to get him out. Angel? Where is everyone else?”

“Courtyard, in the bushes, waiting for another coded message.”

“What’s their plan?”

Vaggi interrupted, “They were supposed to be the rescuers. Charlie, Baxter, Niffty, and Cherri. We were supposed to be the back-up in case we needed portals.”

You tried to ignore her enough to not get dizzy, speaking to Angel instead; “How did Lucifer even know where ‘here’ was, and why did he just blindly portal in on just a text?”

“Vox gave me a tracker. It's detectable to all the crazy tech people here, but since it’s standard Voxtek shit, we figured it’d blend in with all the others in the building, including the one we found on his fuckin’ scooty thing. We basically agreed that if i gave any hint that i wanted him to show up, he’d just do it, no question.”

“It’s true, and we got the cat to do the interpreting, since he knew this guy would come up with some weird shit-”

“Hey! I wasn’t the one who even wrote that!” 

“Guys, seriously? Right. Lucifer, please go get Alastor out, take Vaggi. Angel, can you go cause some chaos? If you can get down so my old workplace-”

“Don’t worry toots, chaos is my thing. I’ll have the place going nuts before ya know it. Pretty sure your boys are ready to rain Hell anyway. Good peeps.”

“No kidding. Oh, uh, can someone text Charlie and tell her to hang fire? We might need backup later, don’t want to show all our cards at once.”

Lucifer became nervous again, looking between you and Vaggi. “I... don’t think that’s a great idea. You’re gonna need all the firepower you can get. I’ll text her; but when i do, it’ll basically set off the whole thing like a bomb. No going back. You ready?”

Not if you keep looking at me like you’re already writing my eulogy.

“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Forty Four: Feral Unfettering

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

*************************************************

Your POV: Antidote

You were so. Fucking. High.

Time didn’t mean anything. REALITY didn’t mean anything.

Between you and the complete loss of all physical sensation other than huffing straight Love Potion, nothing mattered.

You’d giggled so hard, for so long, your voice had completely gone to scratchy wheezes and croaky groans.

The munchies were almost torture, except you were so high you couldn’t comprehend the hunger being in YOUR belly. Just that hunger existed, furious and demanding, like a raging moth banging on your glass cage.

It made it that much funnier to realize that it WAS a raging moth, complete with the scowl that rippled and folded in on itself like a kaleidoscope. His presence appeared and disappeared, with the passage of time known only to those who weren’t in the clouds.

The last time he came, he was spitting venom for longer than you could keep your eyes open, curses that didn’t make sense blending with the frequent use of the word ‘wings’ and ‘bitch’ like a loud zipper clacking in a washing machine. You practically swung from the restraints, too physically exhausted to hold yourself, and too busy with your forceful chants.

With everything you’d managed to muster, you’d forced those damned wings to stay in.

The shouting and banging disappeared once more, leaving a semi-conscious storm of hallucinations and disembodied concepts that were oh-so far from your mind’s reach.

Even as you heard the clack of heels, it came to you as more of a song beat than a damning approach. You tried to whistle to the tune, frowning dizzily as no moisture accommodated the attempt from your parched mouth.

A loud fist on the glass triggered the weakest attempt to look upwards, sucking in a massive lungful of air as you moved. Through impossibly long blinks, Velvette’s face hovered through frosted clouds, her much quieter hiss too low for you to understand. Your head rolled, trying to tilt curiously, but just ended up resting on your upper arm like a pillow.

Then... the screaming.

Louder than a siren, reverberating off glass, in a perfect echo chamber that had you curling in on yourself. Your body felt as if it would cave in on itself through sheer will, fleeing from the agony in every strained muscle. Your organs, starved and abused, gave off just as much objection as the rest of your body. Only as the pain in your jaw increased did you realize the screaming was coming from you.

This time, Velvette was far easier to understand, smacking the glass. “Oi, fucking shut it, bitch! I’m not fucking dealing with you bringing the whole pissing building down to see what’s making that noise. SHUT IT!”

Your voice, laced with croaks and pained cries, cut off without oxygen anyway. You sucked in air through aching lungs, sounding closer to death than you’d realized. Your mind, no longer held aloof by a brilliant high, was now forced to face every single tortured aspect of your body. Coming down this quickly gave you no time to prepare, nor to cope.

A strange shudder and jolting came as your body willed you to cry, yet you were too dehydrated for tears to come. Over the screaming of agony in every thought, came that one demand, time and time again.

Keep your wings IN.

“That’s better, such a good little bitch. Now, I’m getting a bit tired of waiting for you to give up. The dope didn’t work, the high didn’t work, so now we’re trying something a little more fun. For ME anyway. Welcome to the worst comedown of your fucking life. You won’t get one drop of water, one minute of rest from those shackles, not until you give us your fucking wings. I know you can hear me, worthless cunt. You think you had it rough before? Babe, you haven’t SEEN rough.”

She rested her forearm high up on the glass, lowering her head to smirk at you. You met her eyes through a tormented squint, trying to read her expression. All you could manage was a single word; “why?”

“Why? Why what?! Why are we torturing you for your wings? Why are we selling you off as a little pet for the worst of the worst? Why we’re-”

“C-comedown. Why?”

“Pffft, that’s the least of your fucking problems. I’d be more concerned that if you don’t have your wings out and cut off by this time tomorrow, you’re going to be the star of the show for a very large pack of sickos to pull apart and break for their entertainment. Play along, give us the shitting wings, and you’ll get treated FAR nicer.”

Struggling to comprehend how that option would be nicer, you gritted your teeth and squealed as a flash of pain tore through your shoulders, a reminder of your days-long hanging.

“Oh, baby, you in pain? You could just make it easier for yourself now, i might even be able to persuade Val to send you off to your new home before his party. Then you get to avoid ALL the psychotic cunts making you dance. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

A loud fizzle and tune of radio static overlaid the pulse hammering in your ear, reminding you Alastor had been stuck here as long as you had. But for the life of you, you couldn’t see him.

“Shut up, radio prick. You’ll get your fucking freedom when this bitch is out of Pride. You’ve got ME to thank for that, since Val was just happy to kill you slowly in front of his new friends. But i got him to agree to let you go, since I'm not dealing with Vox losing BOTH of his fucking obsessions in one go. If you wanna throw that shitty look at anyone, turn it to HER. She’s the one stopping you from wanking off to your radio show.”

A quick, sharp screech of radio pitch answered and cut off, Velvette laughing before turning back to you. “Hear all that? You’re making HIM suffer too. Your little deer friend... oh, got something to say there?”

She watched you try to gather the momentum to speak, to interrupt the sting of each breath.

“I’ll make... offer.”

“You? YOU? HAH! Except the wings, you don’t have jack shit, and even then, you’ll give them to us eventually. But? Fuck it, I’m curious.”

“... If you kill Val, I’ll let you, -ah!-, live.”

Her eyes widened, stunned at your confidence, the seriousness of your offer emphasised through the expression fighting to stay awake. The grogginess was beginning to win, like lead balloons hung on your eyelids.

She threw her head back, rocking with hilarity, clutching her sides as the very idea seemed the funniest joke she’d ever heard. She even pretended to wipe a tear as she grinned back at you, tapping the glass. “I sure do hope you keep some of that fire when they take you. Would be a shame to find out you didn’t at least give them a little trouble for all you put us through. No babe, this is just business, and I’m not about to bump off my biggest source of revenue while we’re at an all-time high, just because a cunt on the brink of death is making scary eyes at me. Honestly, starve, break, die off, do what-the-fuck-ever you want. Not my issue. I’M trying to get you out of here sooner so this is all fucking over.”

“My offer... stands.”

She shook her head, bemused you’d carry on with the stupidity in the wake of your torture.

“Fuck it, I'm done here. The next time we come down will be around midnight, so if you want out, i suggest you pop your wings before then. After that, it’ll be with a whole lot of Hellborns with far fewer boundaries than the Vees. Now THAT you might not survive. Ah well, your choice to make i guess!”

The chipper tone in her voice hit you like a slap, knocking the very last of your will as your head slumped forward, surrendering to the void.

The static came and went, rousing you every so often, as if trying to wake you. It didn’t work. Not for long enough to make you WANT to be awake. Each time your mind crawled from that perfectly safe darkness, you only found pain. Ignoring Alastor in favour of ignorant bliss felt like the only way to survive your entire-body withdrawal as it got gradually worse.

Wordless, dry sobs heaved as your body retched; too nauseous to stop, yet completely empty of anything to release. Waves of heat became glacial chill, your body irritated to high hell from dehydrated sweat sticking to your skin. The comedown had well and truly broken through to the worst withdrawal you could begin to imagine.

By midnight, when Val, Vel, and an unknown demon came to visit, your willpower had nearly broken.

They made quiet conversation, making sure to keep you awake every so often.

Val in particular made a game of it, waiting until you were nearly passing out before waking you up again.

“I do hope you were right, Velvette. She’s un puto lío. Next time, don’t mess with my fucking products without my say-so, yes?”

“Fucking got it, Val. Let me GO-”

“Ahhh, not until we’ve seen the footage. When i know i can trust you, and that i don’t need to lock you down here too, then you’ll be out of those pretty bracelets mi chiquita.”

A quiet jangle of metal chains followed as Velvette was shoved towards the console, accessing the footage that could only be reviewed by manual download. You heard the video playing, with the two Vees just out of earshot, as the third demon came closer.

Tall, slender and serpentine, you didn’t recognize her at all. Her eyes were that of a viper, with brilliant greens and golds surrounding narrow black slits. She regarded you intensely, hardly moving a muscle even as another wave of retching forced your agonized body to spasm and heave.

“Mi dama, i believe we’re in the clear. I suggest we keep an eye on her though, perhaps remind her how delicate our products are. Shall we bring her to the party?”

Velvette wasn’t even invited? Was Vox? Who the fuck else was even coming?

The serpentine demon studied you a few seconds longer before turning away abruptly, her hands neatly folded behind her back. You lost focus on her as she gained distance, nearing where Valentino was unshackling Velvette’s wrists, barely visible beyond the frosted glass.

“I do question her ability to remain loyal to you, Valentino. She has shown elements of defiance. Our records are too clean to risk such an outlier.”

As much as you hated Velvette, a tiny part of you fluttered in unwelcome fear for her. Everyone seemed to be getting trapped in Valentino’s web right now.

“Of course, she understands what is at stake. She’s only young, even for an Overlord. Rather hot-headed. This kind of patience comes with time. I’ll have her strictly on her best behaviour, won’t I, mi querida?”

Velvette hissed, forcing her answer through gritted teeth; “YES, Val. Ow. I’ll be... so fucking good.”

The stranger remained doubtful, giving a tense ‘mmmhmm’ in response. “We shall see how she acts in the evening. I’ll have two escorts keeping an eye. We have spare angelic steel chains for our two dolls, so if worst comes to worst, we’ll put her in some, too. No chance of her putting a dent in them, unlike these flimsy things.”

“I do apologize, it was all i had for the time being. Very little accessories to hand while keeping my heartbroken associate out the loop.”

“Yes. Speaking of, has he remained distracted?”

“Pathetically so. He’s trying to rebuild his company from the shambles it was left in. Apart from thinking he’s been dumped yet again, he’s now relegated to working in the shithole with the cockroaches, that ‘server room’ or whatever. Hasn’t even come by the studio much, he’s been so stressed. Trust me, we have nothing to worry about.”

“Good. Keep it so. I don’t want him anywhere near the studio floor while our guests are there. Have you installed the tracker?”

“It’s been attached to his scooter, which he doesn’t leave without. We’ve had his location every single minute, not one sign of him leaving the tower since she left.”

“I suppose that only leaves the product to be concerned with, then. She still hasn’t released the wings, yet she’s hardly conscious. Are you very certain they’re not broken? Trapped perhaps?”

Valentino laughed under his breath, clicking through the keyboard until he found what he was looking for. “That right there is proof she knows what she’s doing. She tested the cage, made the grabbers trigger, then pulled her little stumps back in. She can bring them out. She’s just resisting. Her body will fail her soon enough, just like the others-”

“The others gave in days before now. She’s being far too problematic. At this rate, even trying to tame her down is going to be an impressive obstacle. Not that they won’t have fun trying.”

Valentino approached the glass, meeting your dazed eyes as a throbbing headache made it hard to even lift your head.

“I’ve seen much feistier demons brought to their knees in the pits of Hell. An angel just has a little further to fall.”

Your eyes drooped as the stranger led the Vees back out, confirming final details as their voices trailed into muffled distance.

You heard a desperate crackle of static, a calling to keep you awake.

Trying to squint through the bright white orb, no red figures met your eyes. You coughed dryly, flinching as the pain rippled through your shoulders once more.

I’m sorry, Alastor. I only have one last chance at getting out of here, and it’s not yet. Please hold on.

The convulsions grew worse as the withdrawal actively tried to kill you.

Your body threw itself around, jittering and aflame with brutally sensitized nerve endings. Your body screamed for even a drop of water, a moment of rest, anything. You’d even take a heavy gulp of straight Love Potion if it meant you could wet your lips, sate this scorching thirst.

Yet, no such relief came. Only more time, dragging out each heartbeat, a blind procession towards the sweet promise of either freedom or death.

By the plummeting of your rational mind into insanity, you were far more convinced you’d be meeting the latter.

Wrenched back into screaming, the muscles tried to tear themselves apart as the fever burned you alive, a victim tied to the stake and generously doused in petrol. No matter how hard your lungs forced air into your cries, no relief or saviour came. Only yet another scream.

Waves of torment, thrashing and brutal, biting flesh in your wrists and ankles as your mindless struggle urged your need to escape. Your body, free from the silly binds of rational thought, yanked against restraints with the force of desperation-laced adrenaline. The kind that made humans lift cars, break bones, just for sheer survival. Sticky heat travelled down your forearm as metal pierced flesh, jagged and sharp, torn into a blade. Your hand wrenched free, claws drawn wide, slashing the air as if an invisible enemy was the one keeping you trapped. Snarls, animalistic and savage, echoed in the confines of glass as your entire body wrenched and yanked, no longer consciously caring if anything broke or dislocated, too far gone beyond humanity.

A leg came free, bracing against the glass as you threw your torso back, screaming out bloody murder as either your wrist restraint or the glass gave in first.

To the disappointed anger of your blind rage, it was the glass. You roared at the massive crack, the kicked-through gap where your best leverage had been. In fury, you kicked it further, breaking it in sheer spite.

Where the glass fell, new colours appeared.

Blue-ish grey floors, lines of circuitry, dark shapes on the walls. You barely processed anything worth seeing, a new gush of agony tormenting in your withdrawal. The scream came out far quieter this time, no longer echoing in your cage, jittering with each throw of your body as you fought the remaining two binds. You tried throwing yourself down, using bodyweight and sheer will to break the hand rather than remain trapped. Your teeth bared, flashing gum, snarling at the unyielding chamber holding your left arm up.

The beast inside broke free, using every single asset it had to fight for escape.

Including your wings.

Leaning as far to the left as you could, your back braced tight, throwing out the feathered limbs directly above as you hurled yourself to the floor, kicking back to aid the momentum.

The force cracked the chamber right open, freeing your second hand.

At almost the exact same time, sharp hooks pierced your wings, yanking them up to the ceiling, locking tight.

Your breath caught, just about realizing what you’d done, even as the beast within struggled in carnal bloodlust.

One shaky glance to the top of your mangled cage confirmed it.

Large curved angelic steel had pierced straight through the bends in your wings, holding them taut to the ceiling.

Your wings weren’t as sturdy as your arms, not by a long shot.

It was a sacrifice you’d have to make, in exchange for your life.

Survival was the only thing you were capable of at this point. You’d come this far, bled, starved, broken and bestial beyond hope. No going back now.

Your hands dug into the broken remnants where your foot had escaped, using all the flexibility you owned to brace your other foot on the orb ceiling. The stretch hardly even bothered you, compared to the rest of the agony still flaying you alive.

Throwing yourself forward, lunging down, wrenching against the tight hold of the hooks, you felt flesh starting to tear; trapped by thick bone, the angelic steel was yet to yield, pushing you to the very brink of sanity as you thrashed and kicked.

A loud charge of radio tuning and static cheered you on, a chorus that sung directly to the part of your soul that had nearly forgotten who you were.

Not just an angel.

An Overlord.

Something between a chuckle and a screech croaked out as you rolled, semi-cradled on your wings as you turned to face the hooks. Only a few centimetres of steel cables were visible, much stronger and thicker than the water bottle appendage had been. This was sturdy, made for resisting a good fight.

But it wasn’t meant to resist magic.

Your palms spread wide, willing yourself to push through the pain, the wrath, the withdrawal. You needed to think, to feel, to know who you were fighting for. And right now, the only connection that kept you tethered to reality was the pitchy static reaching your ears.

For him, for the angels who had already suffered, and for Vaggi – you threw your hands forward, moving as if to physically block, mentally willing a shield as if to protect everyone all at once.

Your spine hit the floor, cold and merciless, the back of your head bouncing off thick metal as you saw stars.

All at once, the dizziness wracked through you, sending another course of convulsions and heaves. You remained in place, trapped by the final cage of your foot, struggling to even breathe. Over the burning muscles and throbbing headache, you felt a distinct sting at your wrist; shaking and lurching, you forced the hand to flop by your head, spying the deep slash from the base of your thumb to just past your wrist, narrowly missing opening major vessels by millimetres.

Beyond the hand, you noticed a blur of red and black, striped with silver.

Your eyes unwillingly focused, finally locking on Alastor’s.

Chained many times over in thick steel bindings, protrusions stabbed through each limb, keeping him bound to the wall. The red blood had dried and crusted from where he no longer struggled, having given in to his capture long before you had. His coat still stained with smears of gold, the fabric clearly having not been changed or washed since the night you were both taken.

You almost couldn’t comprehend how any of this was real.

How the fuck did they manage to trap HIM?

Your eyes lost focus, rolling back as you spasmed, your body fighting against your every movement with flinches and shudders.

In no state to fight any longer, you let your eyes roll back, blacking out for a brief span of time.

Hardly anything had changed when your eyes cracked open, just a few drops of golden blood on the ground below your slashed wrist. It must have only been minutes, or your wound just looked far worse than it was.

Alastor tried to rouse you further, calling to you in static, his mouth gagged tight with thick steel pinning his head to the wall. Even his ears were pierced and pinned, no room for the poor bastard to move whatsoever beyond dragging air through his nose.

You rolled your head forward, looking to the curve of your leg where your foot was still trapped. A quiet groan left you, shuddering as you forced your arms to push your body closer to the broken cage.

Where the fuck you were supposed to find the energy, you had no idea.

Instead of energy, you found impatient grit; ripping one of the thick lengths of torn metal free from the other leg chamber, you jammed it into the tiny indent you’d already made by your trapped ankle in the struggle. It stung, the angelic steel biting your foot as you forced it down, a minor issue compared to everything you had already suffered. The metal slowly yielded, both the chamber and the improvised crowbar bending as you used your entire bodyweight in the pull, wrenching your foot free with a loud crack.

Tripping backwards, your ass hit the cold floor as the startled laughter left your body.

The laughter broke into a coughing fit, sending a vicious throb of headache and nausea crashing through you.

You’d escaped the cage, a miracle in itself.

Yet, there was far too much left to achieve, and very little time. It felt like it had been too long since the Vees and that stranger had left, dragging you too close to potential visitors. For yours AND Alastor’s sakes, you needed out, and you needed clarity.

Ironically, that meant you needed to get high.

Crawling, pathetic and slow, the console loomed closer as you just about dragged across the floor to the base. It had two locked cupboards, a mere pin-coded barrier between you and the chemicals to be fed into the ventilators. You punched through, wincing at the sound of cracking glass behind the smashed-in metal door. Yanking it outwards, a few broken vials rolled out, while MANY more of various colours remained unharmed. The hues distinguished them better than the tiny labels, since your head hurt far too much to squint-read them anyway.

The only vials with pink fluid were both labelled with the distinct symbol for Velvette’s Love Potion; the only difference being one made to fit the aerosol chamber, and the other meant for liquid consumption.

You pulled the stopper off the concentrated drinking version, mentally screaming ‘bottoms up’ as the bitter liquid hit your tongue. You gulped it down, relieved by the fluid making a dent in the ravenous thirst; so much so, you reached for another, slamming that back too. You almost went for a third before a wave of vertigo hit, the high cutting off your withdrawal with a Heavenly warmth flooding your veins.

And fuck, if you could have cried, you would.

The headache eased, blooming into a sweet relief like you’d never known. A full breath filled your lungs, precious and life-giving, a soft meadow for the rest of your body to lay upon as the muscles received their dose of relaxing high.

The vial rolled from your hands as you leant back, simply existing, eyes shut to the cruel world.

Alastor’s static tried to call for you, your mind trying to block him out; just one more minute, asshole.

Yet, he persisted, growing louder as you considered a quick nap, just to let your weary body properly rest. Your head rolled, barely minding the sting of your shoulders, finding your gaze gradually locking onto his form. A pang of regret became a tsunami of guilt, horrified that you’d nearly chosen a nap over saving him.

Your feet and calves objected, clumsy as you found the balance to stand. Each step felt like wading through concrete, though you got stronger as the will to reach Alastor won out.

With a moistened mouth, you could finally speak. Not that he could answer.

Your hand, the one still lightly trickling, reached up to brush the edges of his gag, searching for any sort of release or lock.

All you could find was the very thin seams between the metal and the wall, clearly built to prevent means of escape like this.

“I’ll give them credit, they did a fucking number on us, huh. Did they hurt you... more than what i can see?”

His eyes, concerned more than pained, bore into yours as he gave a low hum of static. You gave him an apologetic half-smile as you traced your fingers along each bracket, confirming each and every one was plugged into the wall, with an external locking system.

“I’m... so sorry. I don’t think i can get you out without wasting time. I need to go... I’ll come back for you, okay?”

His pupils shrank, a palpable fear in his expression that seeped dread through your gut. Just one short buzz of static answered as he slowly blinked, agreeing to your promise.

He trusted you. It was all he could do.

Your eyes lingered on his as you began to turn, finding the strange link between brain and body as the high made you unstable. Yet, compared to the relentless overdose you’d been swimming in the last few days, this was hardly a tickle. You could walk like this, think straight enough to engage with your next task.

Killing Valentino.

[thatgirlmendo]

When I see a bug zapper or anything moth related, lavender bubble bath, (plus now glow sticks 😉 ) or anything Alastor’s shadow related - I think of @looselyreadymade (and my dearest Blue and Ron 🩵)

When I see anything with cute little deers or anything totally Wen coded 🖤 (that’s my girl Frfr Wen is my spirit demon) - I think of @dawn-of-fawn

When I see an Apple/Apple tree, or write a piece where Alastor is a total voyeur, cannibal (alligator sausages!!!), and totally obsessed with y/n/cher 💜- I think of @redfoxwritesstuff I love you queen! Keep your head up! You’re so strong and amazing 🙏🏽

And whenever I see a funny Alastor doodle or now anything Friday the 13th related 🤦🏻‍♀️♥️- I think of @terriblealastorart and their beautiful movie poster and all the work they poured into that beautiful piece!

As someone who’s only been back on AO3 and Tumblr for the past five months, I genuinely can’t put into words how grateful I am for the awesome people I’ve found. Reading some truly amazing stories, seeing beautiful art. Ugh I love it here.

Also, if you haven’t read or seen any of their work that I mentioned in this post YOU ARE MISSING OUT! Please get to reading, hearting and freaking reblogging!!

[looselyreadymade]

All of the above, I can't begin to express how much this fandom has helped me explore myself and who I am beneath all the craziness of life. These fanfics and art, plus the overwhelmingly funny and interesting community, have been better than ANY therapy.

We're out here sharing love, ideas, stories and dreams - and every single day I appreciate the creativity on Tumblr and AO3 that just somehow keeps going.

My little (fucking massive) found family, I love you all and thank you so so much 💕

Please PLEASE never stop writing, drawing, reading, talking, making, and just existing in creative spaces. Even if you take breaks that last days or years, you're appreciated, loved and valid. That is a threat 😈🙂‍↕️

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Forty Three: The King, The Nerd, and The Fish

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

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Phil met Vox’s eyes across the desk, having been disturbingly silent for over ten long minutes. By now, Vox’s mind had spiralled to the very worst, wondering what Phil could have possibly been stewing on after they found the scheduling for tomorrow evening’s party.

With a series of methodical clicks, the room was brought into digital darkness, cutting off all external and internal signals from prying eyes.

The other nerds noticed immediately, with Frith and Gale both obediently going for a ‘coffee run’ without being asked.

As the glass door slid shut, Phil tapped the mouse to bring up the damning email sent between Valentino and one of the Lust directors, not waiting before lurching into his worrying thoughts.

“Timing’s different from this to what he told you, right? The ‘dancers’ will be arriving well before the directors will, so they should be in the studio ahead of the party. It’s not much, but we might-”

“Stop, stop. You’re wasting your time. If they’re keeping things as quiet as it looks, then every single slut they bring through those doors will be under deals and contracts that prevent them from saying a single word. Was that the only thing you were thinking?”

“Not really, but it’s the easiest one. My next idea was to spike the drinks, get them distracted and doped up enough to lose track of their stuff. Wouldn’t take much to get a hold of their phones that way, if we have someone on our side sneaking in.”

“Probably not possible. All the drinks have already been shipped in and set up, and they’ll be watching the place like hawks. If even I’M not invited, then there’s no fucking way anyone else we have will be. Why’d you go for the phone angle?”

“Pretty much just to dig through, get any more hints. Messages, emails, photos, locations, anything.”

Vox considered it, eyes loosely scanning the itinerary as his mind spun. “I’ve been through Val’s phone before, nothing there that gave away this whole shitshow. But... I might be able to get us some real-time phone use that we could watch from my broadcast room. Shouldn’t be an issue, i already have a clone made with the mirroring programme fully set up. Find it, switch it with Val’s real phone, and we have eyes and ears into that party. Alright, not bad-”

“Hold on boss, what do you mean ‘find it’?”

Vox scowled, “i mean, it got ditched somewhere in the tower, probably when the Radio Demon was being captured.”

“That’s... sloppy. Way too sloppy. You don’t think it could have been hidden for someone to find?”

“I... fuck it, I've got no idea. Maybe. This is all a big fucking riddle” he groaned heavily, eyes shutting with the frustration. “All i do know is the location data says this tower specifically.”

“Where, specifically?”

“Unfortunately, i can’t show you jack shit from here. We can go to the broadcast room, but we’re risking catching a little attention. It won’t tell you what floor it’s on anyway, just a top-down pinpoint.”

“Might be our only shot. You and Ethan go to your chair, get hooked up, and we’ll get the screens mirrored on here.”

“Wait, you can do that? To MY computer?!”

“We’re tech nerds, boss. Kind of our thing.”

Vox stared up at the datapoint, hoping they could see exactly what he was.

He’d never zoomed in this much, not to the point of locating exactly where the phone had been left, having been satisfied that it was still just somewhere in the tower.

Now he drew the map nearer, the little dot grew further from the main building, to a spot just to the side of the fountain.

Right where the underground chambers had been made to store The Might of Lilith before he’d taken on Heaven.

His circuits fizzed, entire system overheating and crashing, forcing himself to stay conscious while the realization tore through him.

Right. Under. His fucking. Nose.

If there was any doubt before, he had none now. Val was running this whole fucking thing.

He almost didn’t dare allow himself to think that maybe, just maybe, she was alive and down there too.

The trip back down to the server room passed in a blur, mercifully requiring nothing but a controlled facial expression as Ethan wheeled him to ‘work’.

The moment they were inside, the signals were cut off again, with the three nerds practically clamouring over each other to speak.

“It’s right there, with the blueprints! The coordinates match up-”

“There’s even been an energy spike recently, since the disappearance! There must be utilities, lighting, maybe a computer?!”

“We won’t even need to be hidden, there’s no cameras or audio signals down there at all, you can stride right in-”

“Plus, the party can keep them busy-”

“ENOUGH!” Vox shouted, finding his voice crackling with tightly-held fury, invigorated with terror. “Enough. One at a FUCKING time. Allon, what were you just saying about the signals down there?”

“I’ve been trying to track anything whatsoever since you found the map pinpoint. There’s nothing. Every remote signal you had before has been stripped or destroyed. Complete radio silence, if you’ll forgive the expression.”

“I won’t. Now, how the fuck did they get down there without anyone fucking noticing?!”

Phil cleared his throat, tapping the desk to draw Vox’s eyes to him. “Don’t think that matters right now. You got a bigger problem. That ‘afterparty’ on the itinerary doesn’t have a time or place. Who’s willing to bet it has something to do with the Radio Demon being kept so close to the tower?”

Vox’s screen jittered, a quick flash of white and black interrupting his vision as he faltered, dread pooling in his central processors.

Allon’s hushed voice, whispering to Cam, made him snap.

“You stupid fucking cunts had better be coming up with something stupidly clever right now. Don’t you fucking DARE waste my time.”

They threw their hands up, reasonably alarmed with wide eyes. They began to stutter, before Allon let Cam speak up first.

“I- uh, just had an idea, wanted to run it by Al first. I know we want to go charging down there and get some answers, whether they’re being kept there or not. But i bet there’s gonna be some real decent security measures just to get IN the place, let alone out. Second we trigger that off, you’ll have demons who can apparently kidnap exorcists and wipe their digital existence off the face of Hell after you. You don’t just run into that blind. Allon made a good point, you wanna tell him?”

“Sure. This party, it’s a big deal. Got a few big names as guests, ones who are already linked to this pair of directors. Everyone else we don’t recognize, and there’s a few broad terms used for their extra guests and entertainment. So, presumably, that’s a decent chunk of their network kept busy, in one little lounge, with intoxicants on every table. Especially if they’re expecting an afterparty in that underground chamber, they probably won’t be keeping as close of an eye during the party itself, as long as we don’t set off any alarms or suspicions before then.”

“You’re... suggesting we do nothing?” Vox uttered, somehow only sinking further into dread. If she was down there, right now, within reach-

“Not nothing, playing the part perfectly is a HUGE deal. We need to get back to work, do our jobs just right, and go back to our beds as normal. Same with tomorrow. We wake up, we get dressed, we show up here, and we find a way to get downstairs AFTER the party has already started. From there? No clue. Haven’t worked that out.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You think Alastor would be down there without some sort of insanely powerful restraints? He only played along last time since he wanted something out of it. We all saw when he broke the deal in front of everyone at that gala, like he’d been orchestrating the whole thing. This... doesn’t feel like that, you know? So whatever is holding him there, it’s stronger than the literal strongest demon in Hell.”

Well, fuck.

The silence carried oppressive weight as the words sunk in, each demon ruminating on their own rabbit holes; whether through anxiety or courage, trying to think up a solution.

Ethan, of all demons, was the one to break it first.

“S-sir... maybe we can go back to the Hazbin Hotel-”

“DON’T start, E. I’m not asking that angel for help, she’ll be fucking next-”

“No! I didn’t mean her... not that one anyway... doesn’t the King of Hell live there?”

Vox huffed a short laugh, arching a brow. “You think he’s gonna believe us? The Vee who captured and tortured him, and his merry band of Voxtek employees? ‘Oh, please do come to Voxtek, where we can promise your least favourite deer is possibly being held captive, just follow us into this secret underground lair’... yeah, that’s what i fucking thought. Prick.”

Ethan’s cringe was interrupted by a roaring crackle, a flaming gold-trimmed portal opening up beside the computer.

Lucifer stuck his head through, cheeks puffed like he was trying to be cute.

“You rang? You know what they say, ‘speak of the Devil and he will appear’... hey!”

“Excuse me sire, but you’re in the way! Excuse-”

Multiple voices called out Baxter’s name in shock as he hopped through, followed by Lucifer’s full body, Charlotte Morningstar, and Vaggi. The corner of the room was getting awfully busy, but mercifully out of sight with server blocks obstructing view to the internal glass wall. The portal dissipated, leaving a very close-packed gathering of unlikely allies.

Baxter hopped up to sit on the edge of the desk, quickly tapping into the keyboard to adjust the lockdown settings to remove his spyware link. Phil laughed as he realized what the demon had done.

“You created a backdoor? WHEN?”

“Only in recent times, dear Phillip. It became a necessity after we realized the Radio Demon had gone missing too, and we had suspicions of Voxtek being involved. We had to confirm Vox was trustworthy, even if Vaggi was quite certain. Don’t look at me like that Vox, you know full well how serious this is. We HAD to be sure” Baxter proudly explained, studying the room with a smirk.

“That’s not the point, Bax. How the fuck did you get past the lockout?!” Vox exclaimed with wholehearted confusion, having seen the lengths Phil went to keep the signals fully blocked.

Baxter snorted, grinning at Phil. “Your team is good, but no match for me. You forget that i learned from the very best, and i was an evil genius even BEFORE i met Ron.”

Vaggi rolled her eyes at him as Charlie took command of the situation, keeping everyone on track. She went through the information everyone had gathered, confirming what they’d heard through Baxter’s spyware, adding to it with the very limited knowledge they had gained on their end. Overall, the conclusion kept circling back to the same point; the only shot they had at freeing Alastor, and any imprisoned angels if they were there too, was to sneak in during the party.

But now? They had portals.

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Forty Two: Et Tu, Vee?

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

*************************************************

Valentino grinned excitedly at Vox’s entrance to the studio floor, welcoming him with wide arms. Vox, as tense as a head on a handlebar could be, accepted the brief embrace before Val tried to tempt him with the two films currently being made, one of which starring their newest cross-Ring contractor Lettiore, a legend in his own right.

The temptation genuinely caught his mind, though his hunt was far too pressing to get distracted.

“Thanks, but i just wanted to check on you. You’ve been so patient with me the last few days, letting me vent and lose my shit, hearing all my bitching... i kind of forgot you must be stressed too. Aside from the business going well, is everything else alright?”

“Papi, you are adorable. I’m just happy to see you doing better. You were so angry, it was... well, I'd be lying if i said i didn’t enjoy it.”

Vox felt a faint blush creep across his cheeks, biting his tongue in embarrassment. “Yeah, uh, well, I'm... you know what I'm like, and i guess you know I've been trying to dig up what happened to Blue that night. I just wanted to ask if there’s any chance-”

“Voxxy, we’ve been over this. I don’t have any clue why she ran off, nor why you’re so obsessed. I thought you were finally waking up to how toxic she was for you, mi amor.”

“It’s... yeah, well, I'm sure there’s reasons-”

“Don’t go down this spiral again. She hurt you, time and time again, and she’s doing it now. You know that stupid deer freak has gone off the air since she left, they definitely shacked up together. For how long until he kills or sells her, we don’t know, but that’s not your problem Voxxy. You promised you wouldn’t go crawling back.”

“I know... i just have one quick question, you haven’t noticed anything weird or missing in the studios, have you? Like, nothing taken or broken into-”

“MY studios? No, not a thing out of place, aside from half of my actors’ guts. It’s all good here, i have a handle on things. Why? Did your crazy ex steal something from you?”

“No, nothing, it’s... i don’t know. Guess I'm still in the dark here. I just want to know why, you know? Even if it was to be with him... why’d she come back, for one night, just to leave again? Right after telling me she’d stay?”

“You poor thing” Val cooed, stroking Vox’s jaw between the bracket hooks on his scooter. “You forget how manipulative that buck piece of shit is. He probably planned this with her, has a whole hideout ready to chain her down in. Who else sneaks out of a window in the middle of the night except una puta infiel? Don’t feel bad. You were just too trusting. A weakness we can work on, i promise.”

Vox gave a half-hearted smile, both a little crushed and mildly reassured by Val’s well-meant words. “Thanks. So, uh, about that offer, mind if i come crash? I could do with getting my mind off her.”

Val’s dirty snicker matched the hungry smirk as he waved Vox through, allowing Ethan to park the scooter outside the studio set where Lettiore was working his magic off-script.

Honestly, it was one Hell of a performance, and felt as passionate and driven as if he really cared about the recipient’s satisfaction. There was even a decent chance some of those orgasms were real, judging by the muscle flutters and shaky legs.

Sat in the seat between Ethan and Valentino, tasting the familiar venom-laced cigarettes that usually brought him comfort, he found something niggling at him.

He replayed the conversation in his mind, mentally trying to walk through whether he’d said anything too far, or heard anything that set him on edge. Only when the script went through the dramatic betrayal reveal scene before the four-way did it click.

He hadn’t told Valentino about the window. He’d hidden that detail, too ashamed to admit she’d fled in such a way. It had made him feel crushed, pathetic, utterly humiliated; like she’d been so desperate to escape him that she’d thrown on the nearest coat, not even bothering with underwear or shoes, and made a run for it. He couldn’t admit to Val, who’d been pressuring him to kick her out for months, that he’d been dumped like that. Instead, he’d focused on the sudden disappearance at the same time as the Radio Demon, loosely talking about them probably leaving together as a way to cover up the shame.

At the time, Val had wholeheartedly agreed it was likely, absolutely furious on Vox’s behalf. It’s not like Val wasn’t overdramatic anyway; this was nothing new.

But facing the possibility that Val had known how she left, and basically lied about it until now, made Vox’s systems jitter with an unsettling chill in the currents.

The nagging doubt persisted, even as he tried to gaslight himself in his own head, thoughts warring between the facts that just weren’t lining up.

He needed to get to the Hazbin Hotel, maybe poke around a bit, look for his own answers.

The question was, could he do it without being seen?

By the end of filming, Vox was an unsettled mess. Hiding behind a faux smile and non-existent confidence, he let Ethan hook him into the scooter, asking him to pop by the server room while the nerds were still there.

They glanced up, not making any move to welcome him beyond anxious glances, with Phil rounding the end server block with crossed arms.

“Sir. Need anything in particular?”

Vox felt as if the words weren’t ready to form, much like his conclusions. “Uhhhm, uh, yes. Yes? Yes. Blue. Any updates-”

“Nothing. Complete silence, not even one iota of activity on any of her devices that we can see. No camera flagging, no messages, no bank transactions. Completely gone.”

Vox studied the lead nerd’s eyes, sensing a hostility alarmingly close to blame. “Do we need to talk somewhere private? Without additional eyes?”

Phil snorted, his eyes as tense as his shoulders; “not unless you want me to quit on the spot, sir. My job isn’t worth my afterlife.”

Vox’s brows shot up, quickly checking the reactions of those around the room. Each of the nerds in view were avoiding his gaze, except the unyielding dare from Phil.

“I’m not threatening you. I just want to know if you have any information that can help me find her” he answered quietly, trying to put his pride aside to ask for help. It wasn’t received as intended.

“We can’t help you. We’ve exhausted every skill and trick we have, got nothing. Wherever she’s gone, we can only hope she’s safe, and that she’s there by choice.”

I fucking hope so, too.

“I... need a favour. I’ll pay you triple overtime. What assurance can i give you as a way to trust that I'm not out to hurt you?”

Phil paused, measuring the sincerity against the suspicions. “Wait here.”

He turned on his heel, striding over to the desk he often shared with Blue, before she’d broken her deal. Ethan carried Vox around the corner, watching at Phil accessed and executed a full-system lockout for every camera, microphone and device within the span of the entire server room.

Vox huffed, impressed at the quick thinking. It must have been the same method they’d used during the first few exterminations to hide her angelic nature from him.

Phil straightened, the arms crossing again, signifying he was ready to listen. The rest of the nerds turned, curious, free to listen now none of their devices or applications would be receiving or sending signals anyway.

“I still need this to be a private conversation, Phil. I don’t know who i can trust. Out of everyone here, the only ones who’ve been here consistently and long enough are you, Cameron and Allon. The other two, Frith and... Gale, is it? I need you to leave. Just for ten minutes.”

Frith didn’t bat an eye, clapping Cam on the shoulder as he walked out, eager to not be involved. Gale bitched under her breath, her rant as petty as it was inaccurate as she complained about misogyny and personal attacks.

With the room now clear aside from those three nerds, him, and Ethan, he laid out everything he knew. The time skips on the camera loops, the opened notifications, the way Valentino had known about the window, and the conflicting behaviour between being with him so happily in the evening then leaving during the night without so much as a whisper anywhere else in Pride, including the Hazbin Hotel’s hidden cameras.

Allon asked if there had been any sightings at all in the Radio Demon’s tower, since her main computer was there, and she’d never abandon it. Vox paused, brows knotting, confused at what he meant. Halfway through Allon beginning to speak, he remembered the computer she meant.

“Wait, no, that one’s... actually I'm not sure who that belonged to. When she moved back here, she told me it was PC parts that she needed to pick up, supposedly faster than even the computer I'd given her down here... but then never actually came back down from his radio room with it. You think she’d take it with her wherever she’s gone now?”

The three nerds paused ominously, while Phil glanced over at the glass internal wall. He made a ‘not now’ gesture at Gale and Frith through the glass, subtly buying Vox more time to talk.

Allon continued; “I promise you, if that computer’s been abandoned, then she’s more than missing, she’s in serious trouble. We didn’t get to know much, but she once hinted that a lot of sinners rely on that one computer being kept out of Voxtek’s sights, hence why we needed to shut our mouths if we ever saw her on any shady programmes.”

“... And you never thought to mention that to the guy who owns the fucking company she’s using as a front?”

“With all due respect sir, she’s saved our lives multiple times. We’re far more loyal to her than we are to Voxtek.”

Vox wanted to complain, to rage about the audacity, but the situation was too alarming. “Fine. We’ll put a pin in that for now. I need to check the computer, maybe have a sniff around the hotel, but it needs to be completely off-record, just like this conversation. So, uh, who wants to go on a field trip?”

Ethan had returned to the server room with the large suitcase as requested, keeping Vox out of sight of the windows and any hallway cameras while packing him into the padding. He didn’t grumble about the embarrassing means of sneaking out, just relieved the nerds were playing along.

Ethan left with the scooter, heading off to the broadcast room to await any instructions. Cam took the suitcase handle carefully, heading out to the lifts and leaving before Phil re-activated all the signals and device functions in the server room, finishing off their workday as if nothing had happened. Gale and Frith played along after a few warning glares, with even the nosy lass realizing this wasn’t something to pry about in public.

The journey wasn’t too bad; Cam took a taxi, carefully doing all his own luggage-lifting in and out of the trunk, careful to avoid big rocks or potholes when walking up to the Hazbin Hotel lobby doors. Vox listened out carefully, ignoring the usual chatter of a new sinner being invited to take their place at the Hazbin Hotel. He recognized Vaggi’s voice, strangely relieved she was still fine. It meant there was a chance this was just a runaway angel with cold feet, and not a kidnapping; that maybe all those whispers about a Radio Demon with a collection of captured and killed angels was all a wickedly cruel rumour...

Cam thanked her, asking for a tour before deciding.

They got to the third-floor recreation room before she finally twigged on to where she recognized him from.

“No, it IS you! I’m sure of it. You came to check Blue was okay, when she made that deal with Al in front of everyone, right? You and those two other guys, you said you were friends of hers. I know it’s a long shot, but have you seen or heard from her recently?”

Vox heard the fret in her voice, his own anxious circuits racing.

Cam answered in a cautious tone, “no, but maybe a friend of yours has. Can we speak to him? Upstairs?”

“Friend? Who?”

“Ehhhhhrm... Radio Demon?”

“Oh God, why the Hell do you want to speak to him? You’re not looking for a deal too-”

“No! Seriously, not on my afterlife. There’s really good reasons, but it’s private. Please?”

Come on bitch, just shut up and show him. We might be on a clock.

“... Fine. But if this is a trick, i can and will kill you.”

Cam followed her, wheeling the suitcase along to the lifts, while Vaggi’s footsteps had a subtle wooden clap on the floor every few paces, the tapping of her spear now held in reminder of her warning.

He heard loud knocking, Vaggi shouting for Alastor through the door, threatening to kick it in if he didn’t answer. She banged harder, a sudden scraping noise as the previously shut door now gave way to the fists. “What the fuck? Is that... broken?”

“It looks it. Been pulled shut, but it must have been kicked through before. I, uh, brought someone, please don’t freak out.”

Vox heard Vaggi groan as she realized what he meant. Cam started undoing the zipper and lifted Vox’s head out of the stuffy luggage. He gave a tight grin to the angel, making a brief effort to give greeting as his eyes darted around, taking in the scene.

The radio studio was in darkness, visibly messy, and apparently unlocked by force. As Vaggi flipped on the light, Vox saw where the wood had splintered on this side of the door frame from the lock being kicked in, though the sturdy door itself bore no damage. His processors almost misfired as he glanced around the rest of the room, clapping eyes on the clothes strewn across the sofa, exactly where he’d watched her undress through the drone at the window. The whole scene came back to him vividly with a surge of disgust and regret, having not made moves to stop Alastor literally cutting and bleeding her right there on the chair.

Vaggi slowly crossed the room, having a clear path of intent. A subtle scrape of glass on wood sounded, catching both Vox and Cam’s attention as she held up a jar, filled perfectly to the notch with angel blood.

Her face was taut with horror, a faint shake in her hands that matched the unsteady realization. She whispered, partially just to herself; “Al would never leave this behind. He’s gone too, isn’t he?”

Vox, silent with pure horror, felt his universe coming crashing down as the two people he hated to love were both in mortal peril, if not already dead.

The hardest part was playing dumb.

He could act cocky, persuade the masses, charm his way through any deal, any publicity stunt. But acting like he didn’t suspect Valentino was behind his girl’s abduction? That was almost as difficult as trying to find her.

The best he could do was play the CEO role, using the business front to cover up his absence from the studio. Pretending to be so busy, so invested in repairing his image as Voxtek’s pioneer that he couldn’t possibly waste any time on leisure and sluts right now, body or not.

A strange peace brokered with the nerds, finding himself cautiously welcomed into the server room as one of them, using their tactics and knowledge to try and unearth anything in the systems that revealed where she had been taken, and who else was involved. There was no way in Hell Val was smart enough to pull this off.

Val was distracted anyway, gearing up for a multi-Ring celebration of success in light of recent expansions. Two directors from Lust had hired out an entire lounge just for one night of drink, drugs, and dances. The sort of thing Vox would have revelled in, now only brought suspicion and cold dread, wondering if every single stranger that walked through the Voxtek lobby could be in on the kidnappings.

It had been five days since she disappeared, and one day remained before this big party. For the life of him, Vox had absolutely no idea what to do.

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Forty One: High, Hello?

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

*************************************************

The percentage notched back up as you cut off your breathing once more, facing the dilemma. There was no way in almighty Heaven OR Hell you could coordinate an escape if you were high. Especially not if this was an upgraded version of what held Lucifer.

Valentino’s silhouette came closer, the beaming grin widening until he laughed raucously, enjoying the shallow snatched breaths you relented to.

“Try all you want, chica. You need to breathe. The sooner you give in, the sooner we can move on. You just need to unwind, relax, let everything out.”

Your brows furrowed, fighting off the sting in your chest until the reality won out. They weren’t relenting, and you didn’t have a way to get out.

The only shot you had was your wings, still tucked in your back. If i can throw them out quick enough, maybe hit a weak spot, or even use them to pivot, i might be able to wriggle free...

A gradual dampening of your alert mind indicated the first spell of the Love Potion’s effects, time running out at a rapid pace. Valentino waited, seeming to predict your thought process, his expression growing more excited as you looked around the glass.

Your back shifted as your arms tensed, readying to throw out your wings before the drug hit too strong.

The softest whir, almost indistinguishable from the vents, made you freeze. Completely still, you listened for the sound, noticing it gradually stop. You risked a few gulps of air, aware of the limited time before the drug took you; but, Val was clearly waiting, an eagerness that felt far too correlated with that sound.

You tested it again, even as you felt a little lightheaded, flexing your shoulder blades as if you were going to unfurl. The quiet whir immediately began, directly overhead, continuing as you held the posture.

Ignoring Valentino, you studied the roof, trying to spy where the noises were coming from.

While you had the control, you had the chance to test it.

Bulging out just the tip of your upper wing bend to push out from the skin, trapdoors in the ceiling immediately opened and shot two pale silver metallic hooks out, straight towards your back. You flinched the wings back in, hissing as angelic steel bit into your back and yanked.

Piercing, not bladed; they had latched into the skin, trying to take some of the muscle with them as they pulled taught. Your face scrunched against the pain, coughing out a cry as the hooks forcibly unlatched and left you with two small stab wounds, exactly where your wings had poked out.

You shuddered, abject horror washing over you as you realized what they were waiting for.

They needed your wings.

Your eyes met Valentino’s, who was sneering in fury at having missed his opportunity. His anger confirmed your fear, leaving you frozen with absolutely no fucking idea how you could get out of this.

Velvette tugged at his arm, reminding him about the Love Potion, pointing out how high you were going to be in a few hours from the constant intake. He seemed to relent, accepting this information as reassurance as he slowly let her drag him out the room.

His absence was far from a relief, now you knew what he wanted.

Your eyes shot to the air composition screen, studying the percentage bouncing between 28% and 31% as the current regulated. Your own nervously tight breaths forced a constant low-dose addition to keep the percentage at around 30%.

Your mind felt almost ticklish, a humour gurgling in the back of your throat. It wasn’t funny. None of this was funny. You couldn’t even think of a good joke to make yourself laugh. Not really. Lucifer’s sarcasm made you laugh, sometimes. Vox’s dumbass face, his smile...

Your eyes snapped open, realizing the high had truly begun to kick in. A panic laced with heavy confusion, a quilt over your tremors, steering each thought away from common sense into a dangerous lull. You cringed, trying to keep focus, even as you felt your head roll in a full circle, bumping your nose on your upper arms as it swung. A heady groan filled your cage, frustration boiling over amongst a vague hunger.

Under your breath, licking your lips between every few words, you found your own curses for the bastard of a moth. Reams of insults, promises and threats, pausing with the dull sway of a rising high only rendering you further from rational anger.

You found your head had tilted fully back, the bend in your neck aching as you wheezed; yet, the angle brought you inspiration.

The little circles had spatters of gold near them, where the blood from the hooks had sprayed during the quick retraction. You studied them intensely, learning the exact location, the pretty spray pattern, the diameter of the port.

The more you learned, the more sense it made, even over the effects of the high.

Your laugh wasn’t so much tangible as it was just echoes in your mind, the strange whuff of your exhales pausing every few seconds between an attempted giggle. Your eyes never left that ceiling, forcing logic and reason into every crevice of your mind, regaining control only through the flood of information preventing anything else from taking your thoughts.

On repeat, as fierce and demanding as a scream, you forced yourself to remember not to let your wings out.

You associated it with every shifting muscle, every change in tension, every millimetre you could see. No matter what you looked at, what you scented, what you felt; it was all tied into keeping your wings tucked inside. Like a ringing chant, your mind clung to it, reinforcing every single wandering thought as if holding hands with the determined notion.

If i keep my wings in, this metal might eventually give way. I’ll get more thirsty, even if i keep my wings in. If my wings stay tucked, they won’t disturb the air flow. If i hide my wings, those ports wont open in the ceiling. If my wings, wings, wings...

Another silly thought mingled with the ones currently swirling, the thought trail leading you to a very fascinating new idea to add to your focus.

Lucifer had his wings when he was in this. I hope he kept his wings in. If he got out, he might have not let his wings out at all, not once. His wings were pretty, but they had to stay inside. Lucifer had his wings in when i bit him. I wonder if he’d help me escape if i keep my wings in. I wonder if I'd bite him again, especially if my wings weren’t out so i couldn’t hurt him when i comedown like last time. I was too strong in my last withdrawal, even with my wings tucked. I broke the angelic steel with my arms, as my wings were still in my back.

Your vision had blackened from the heavy lids resting closed, forcing a rush of bright white and faint pink into your pupils as you tried to peek around the room, continuing your insane narrative the whole time.

If i get the comedown like i did before, i can be strong enough to get out, and they won’t have my wings, because they’ll be hidden. I can get higher, holding my wings in. I’ll drink the potion like i need it, keeping still so i don’t let my wings out.

A harsh giggle choked off into a coughing fit, staggering the percentage on the screen when you managed to spy the numbers and loosely interpret them.

With an absolute vengeance, you threw your mouth wide and inhaled, a reverse scream that arched your back, naturally helping you keep yourself guarded from letting your precious feathers fly. You peeked across to the television as you did, letting out a joyful squeal as the volume shot down to 16%, clearly absorbed into your lungs and not released the way a typical air component was. You banked on that, studying the screen until you went so dizzy the entire room span, gleefully cheering with loud ‘whoops’ and ‘wheees’ as you felt everything tilting around you. And yet, you still climbed higher.

Vox’s POV: Time Loop

How badly he wanted to tear the entire apartment to pieces, to decimate every ghost of her memory with claw marks and lightning. He had the body to achieve it, even if it needed plugging in. He had another one that might even be ready soon, ahead of schedule, thanks to Val’s pity.

Relentlessly, vile insults desecrated her name in his head, rueing the day she’d shown up in his fucking server room.

It was all a front.

A rage, a vicious spite; covering something so fragile, he could have sworn he died for a second time.

When she’d disappeared, the only trace he had was the open window and the missing jacket. That was it. She’d not even taken anything valuable, nor destroyed anything in the tower. Just fucked him and broken his fucking heart like it was a damned game.

A monumental slap in the face, which was all he had right now. Body being recharged and upgraded in the lab, he was relegated back to the scooter or Ethan’s arms, playing the bitter CEO until it was finally just him and his assistant in the broadcast room two days later.

Ethan unhooked him from the bracket and lowered him to the chair, standing awkwardly off to the side. Vox sighed, telling him to just take a seat, they were long past boundaries like that anyway. Ethan tucked into the thick cushioning with a mild cringe, setting Vox’s head at an angle tilted up so the chair cables could attach.

“Are you sure you want to do this again sir? Is this not just excessive-”

“I need answers, E. Anything. Even if i get proof, if i can see her with him after she left, I'll be... at peace.”

Ethan swallowed loudly, adjusting his arms several times before resorting to tucking his hands between his knees, limiting the amount of space he took up. Vox ignored him, watching the mass of screens come to life as they responded to his signals.

Just like yesterday and the day before, he trailed through the footage, finding the exact second her features were visible from a street camera taking flight from the window. Also just like before, it crushed him.

Steely determination held in her expression. The angelic flight took his breath away, pausing the frame just to drink her in.

It was the only footage he could find.

Everywhere else, from the many street cameras to the hidden ones in the Hazbin Hotel, showed nothing whatsoever. Even with the search protocols reinstated, with every single drone active, he had nothing.

Her departure was too careful; Vox must have fallen asleep not long before she left, not using a single door to exit, as if she specifically wanted to avoid being seen. It set him off, mentally spiralling at the thought that yet again, she was evading him.

No. Not anymore.

At least, he wasn’t going to search for her, to try and bring her home.

This time, just like Val suggested, he was going to hunt.

She’d never get a chance to break him like this again.

But for that to happen, he’d have to remove certain other obstacles. The current one being the Radio Demon.

The double-crossing was hardly a surprise; he’d not trusted Al from the second the asshole had suggested the terms. Yet, he’d gone along with it, only thinking of bringing her home, out of his clutches.

“All i ask is one little favour, and you will receive a generous one in return considering the dangerous circumstances. I want Valentino’s phone, unlocked and accessible, left somewhere inconspicuous for me to find in the studio. Do that for me, and i shall bring you your little sweetheart, and let her stay with you for as long as she wishes at the Vees’ tower. I will not move to stop or persuade her, nor will i shelter her in my radio tower. What she does from there will be her choice alone.”

“Not a fucking chance am i putting Val on the fucking line just to get laid. I know what you’re doing, kidnapping exorcists, stocking up angel blood for your stupid rivalry-”

“Ah ahhh, you’re letting twisted words and circumstance cloud your judgement, Vox. Try considering just the evidence before you, yes? As it is, your beau has quite the target on Valentino’s back, wanting him dead regardless of any angelic kidnappings. If he’s to blame, and the signs are not in his favour, i fear you may need my help in restoring power to your company regardless once he’s no longer living. Shall we consider this a bridge not worth burning?”

Oh, how he’d seethed with rage at the audacity. Bleeding out his girl as he defiled her, only to barefaced-lie to Vox’s face that he wasn’t the one harvesting from angels? If he’d had the body at the time, he’d have strangled Alastor then and there.

But all he’d had was wit, sharp and cunning.

“It’s... a difficult decision, you know. I don’t trust you, obviously, but i also don’t think you’re competent enough with technology to really get anything helpful out of his phone. I want to add one more rule to this deal, and I'll agree.”

“Now this should be interesting, do tell?”

“Don’t fuck her.”

“Ah, ahhHAHAhh, really Vox? You think I’M the one that needs restraining from that? Sweetheart, you don’t know your little angel anything like i do. She chases thrill, hungers for control, either to submit to it or to claim it. Something i very well also enjoy, in almost equal if not excessive measure-”

“I don’t fucking care what you’re into, freak. I didn’t even think you could get off, let alone... point fucking being, i want her the way i want my coffee; without your fucking prick in it.”

He’d laughed, heartily and unashamed, waving off the demand with a concession. “My, aren’t we a touch jealous? Very well. If you give me the phone then i can assure you, i will not engage in coitus with the darling angel, to the extent of, well, let’s specify the line being drawn at no penetration. She will likely be expecting foreplay, at least a little bit of fun, and i have no intention of telling her no. But that line will not be crossed by my own body. How does that sound, old chum?”

Sounds like you need your head ramming up your ass. “You leave the blinds open, i get to be sure you’re not breaking your part of the deal-”

“Vox, you know the deal would make an obvious shatter anyway. You’re just seeking to satisfy your depraved fetishes. No recording, no media share of the footage, no publicity, and one single drone.”

“Done. I want her in her Voxtek apartment the SECOND she has her fucking deal with you paid off, not once single drop extra.”

The nuances of the deal had trickled through in the rest of the conversation as Vox was carried around the bunker. The tour was meant to prove the Vees’ innocence to his girl, far more than to that prick.

The moment he’d gotten back to the tower, he’d swiped Val’s phone, cloning it and giving the original back to Val while he didn’t realize. It meant he’d have a remote uplink to see exactly what was accessed, basically screen-recording the entire time it was switched on.

Vox had opened the mirroring programme during his meltdown, scouring any sign of what happened, only finding it was briefly opened and basic messaging apps scrolled through before the phone was left untouched completely. A complete waste of time, and made exactly no sense. Exactly why Vox thought the deal was a distraction, a red herring to make Vox think that maybe Alastor wasn’t to blame for the angel disappearances.

The phone had clearly been binned somewhere, abandoned in the tower, further proving that it was a tool for deception. Even looking at the map of the Pride ring now, the phone’s location pinged from the Voxtek network tower, on one of the many floors, wherever he’d thrown or hidden it.

The one thing he couldn’t understand is why.

She’d cried, held him, slept with him, cuddled him to sleep. The emotions had felt so visceral, so real, he hadn’t doubted it for a second. Why even bother putting on all that show when you’re just going to go running off with the Radio Demon anyway?

Ethan cleared his throat, quietly asking Vox if he was okay. He blinked, realizing the damp streak on his own screen, a single drop of weakness betraying the blinding heartache. Without speaking, Ethan wiped off the tear, not mentioning it further. Vox sniffed, fixing his gaze back on the computers. He’d been staring blankly, unseeing, for far too long. He needed answers. Now.

Bringing up the massive span of drone feeds, he did another quick run through the spacial coverage, making sure there weren’t any major hiding spots they were missing. He checked the search settings, humming at the many active protocols in place for both Blue and Alastor. He navigated into the notifications, looking to check when exactly either of them had been detected by any cameras at all.

The notifications from that night had already been opened, despite not expecting there to be any. He hadn’t known Alastor had actually been detected on any of the studio cameras at all. He had no recollection of reading these notifications himself, yet there they were, from between 8:34PM and 9:12pm. He’d been picked up on seven cameras spread out amongst three studio rooms, triggering off several alerts along the way.

Vox paused, wondering how that was possible. The only way to access this particular notification system was through HIS computer, or HIS phone. Neither of which had been touched by anyone recently except him and Blue, and there was no way she’d have been able to access either on that night. Not while his phone was locked away, specifically so Alastor couldn’t fuck with it, and since she’d left directly via the window, there was no way she got to his computer.

He felt a tinge of unease, recalling his own frustration with finding absolutely nothing from the studio cameras that night. Once again, he went back through the footage records, finding the ones that corresponded from that exact timespan of those exact studio rooms.

“Ethan, do me a favour. Bring me closer to that screen? I need to see something.”

He complied, cupping Vox’s head underneath to line him up with the central monitor. Up close, watching the clock timer in the corner, he saw it.

The milliseconds jumped by 0.43.

The unease grew into dread as he skipped forward to the final notification time period, watching the timer do the exact same lurch, but by only 0.27 milliseconds this time. Miniscule, extremely easy to miss. But proof the cameras had been looped, covering up whatever happened in the timeframe that had sent those notifications through.

Vox’s eyes widened, mind reeling from the shock. This was way out of Alastor’s abilities. He can’t even send a text, let alone manipulate his high-security personal computer and set a half-millisecond changeover between feed loops. Not even Ron could have done something like that... probably.

That meant Alastor had worked with someone external, getting them to clean up after him, covering up whatever he did or took. It wasn’t the phone, and nothing else was obviously missing.

“E, we need to go for a little walk. I need you to be your normal self, just try not to talk much. We’re going to the studios, so... maybe just don’t touch anything, or wash your hands when we leave. Don’t need another fucking pollen re-run.”

“Agreed, sir. What exactly are we looking for? Can you see something on the cameras-”

“It’s what i can’t see that’s the issue.”

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Forty: Captive

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

*************************************************

You flew low over the Hazbin hotel, dodging sight of the drones. Tucking your wings in tight, you landed with a soft thud onto the concrete balcony, sticking to the shadows.

I just have to get to Lucifer. He can get me and Vaggi to Heaven, and we can go from there. Maybe he should come, too...

One of the drones zipped across, nearly spying you. Hiding behind a large vase, you slunk in the shadows, angling your spear upside down so the staff poked up into the greenery.

The faint hum of the motor slowed, rotating on the spot, pressing you to shuffle carefully back around the vase. The drone moved in, as if it could see you, even through the ceramic. Your heart raced louder, wondering whether it was Vox on the other end, or someone else. You heard a subtle click, a chamber being loaded. No, that definitely wasn’t Vox.

Clenching your fist around your spear, you wound your sore muscles tight, ready to leap up and take an angelic bullet if it meant getting this drone off your back and gaining a chance to flee.

A slight change in the wind to your back was the only indication you had to say it was too late.

You felt their presence, a pair of eyes in shadow as they landed on the penthouse glass ceiling, their own wings splayed wide. The bat-like ears trained directly on you, holding your attention as the drone moved across, now directly in your eyeline. Your heart slowed, a feeling of impending doom tolling like a heavy bell, ringing out with one single shot of a bullet.

You lunged, narrowly avoiding the projectile, leaping to the sky and charging past the drone.

The Hellborn was fucking fast, but you were an angel.

Faint orange flickers rose to the sky as you shot across the city in flight, trying to lose your chaser; yet, always seeing the shadow everywhere you turned. No matter where you’d dart, duck, or dive, he appeared.

That’s when you clocked onto the drones; every single one you came across gained that faint orange light over the normal blue one. You swore under your breath, doubling back to race to the Hazbin Hotel, your only chance at getting to Lucifer.

The Hellborn knew it was your only choice, too.

Even if he couldn’t keep up with your flight, he knew where you were. Knew where you’d eventually run to.

That first drone, with the slightly misshapen gun barrel, modified from the normal Voxtek drones, waited for your flight path.

The second you were within range, even as a burst of golden light, it fired.

You hit the bullet in direct collision, piercing your shin as you tried to make a pivot out of the bullet’s course. You hissed angrily, weaving out of the drone’s view, making a dart for one of the windows.

A body smacked into you from above, locking your wings into the crook of their knees and yanking you backwards, resisting your struggle with the spear attempting to stab upwards. You tucked your wings back into your body, trying to force yourself free from his grasp, kicking away while trying to slash. He seemed to get faster... or you got slower. He had a hold of your leg, dangling you from the sky, easily fending off the clumsily waved weapon.

Impossibly heavy, your spear became immobile, locked in your fingers as they too refused to move. The Hellborn no longer had any resistance as your muscles froze, giving faint spasms of life as their only movement. Your eyes no longer swivelled, breath halting as all meaning faded from your grasp.

You came to with one Hell of a fucking headache, blinking into Heavenly white light.

It was like the worst rebirth ever, with maelstroms wreaking havoc on every lobe in your brain, preventing you from controlling your mind, your muscles, even your motor functions. Dizziness choked you as a bitter tang filled the air, making you cough violently until you could drag air in again.

Piece by piece, the storms subsided, leaving you a groggy, aching, but alive mess.

For how long that would last, you weren’t sure.

A lingering burning in multiple areas persisted even as others faded, claiming your attention to your body’s position.

The sting of your wrists led you to blink up at two separate large chambers that engulfed each entire hand, plugged into the ceiling. That sting led down to the fatigued underarm muscle, being overstretched from where you were hung for an unknown period of time. At your feet, a similar vice-like pair of chambers held you prisoner, a dangling starfish spread like the Vitruvian Man. You swallowed back bitter tasting saliva, trying to scrape the residue off your tongue, though it still lingered in the air.

Your knee screamed out as you tried to look around; any jostling at all triggered a strong objection, pinpointed at the bullet hole in your shin. You glared down at it, trying to decipher why there was no blood, despite the pain being far worse than any bullet you’d ever taken before. There was a definite indent, with a small circle like a burn, but no blood. Just a few small puckers, like you’d been bitten many times over in the same small area by a mosquito.

It took another thirty seconds of distorted thinking to realize you hadn’t been given one single stitch of clothing, and you couldn’t feel the curve of your steel shoes in the arch of your heels.

Your head swam again, a painful ringing too loud to think over forcing you to shut your eyes.

You breathed through your nose, trying to hold back the urge to break into a new coughing fit as the bitter air irritated your throat.

A new sound caught your attention as the ringing faded; a pump and a whuff, like a machine regulating air with an old bag-valve system.

Then came the voices.

“She’s awake now, she’ll try to get herself free in no time. Besides, we’re in no rush. Just got that last one left, and we’ll have the full flock until more come down.”

You didn’t recognize that voice. Too gravelly, with a scratchy pitch like they smoked a pack of cigars every few minutes, with a faint occasional hiss.

“Mi dama, please do not fret. We have a one-hundred percent success rate so far, and our products are second to none. We’ll pay you for this one as standard, with a little tip for Gallow for such excellent hunting. He certainly earned it. We’re going to make rather a hefty sale on the footage alone.”

That voice, however, you did recognize.

Every single crevice in your frightened soul wanted to scream, to vomit, to tear flesh from bone. Yet, as Valentino’s purr drawled closer to your ears, all you could do was freeze in pure abject terror.

You heard a glassy tap; through the bright heavenly light, you could make out Valentino’s sickening visage, a salacious grin spread wide. His tongue rolled out as he appraised you, drawing a heart shape in pink saliva on the glass.

Behind him, vague shapes began to make sense, your struggling eyesight only just beginning to register form and meaning. You tore your eyes from his, darting them around the room, finding it particularly difficult to see beyond the white-clouded glass.

“Good morning, mi pequeña paloma. How much trouble you’ve given me with this little runaround. I’ve been trying to get you pinned down for days, away from that shitty radio fuckhole. Poor Voxxy was worried sick,” he teased, as if that would somehow make the situation any worse than it already was. “As it so happens, you timed your little escapade better than even my new associates could have written it. A true masterpiece, a tale for the ages-”

“Sir, I’m leaving you with the product. Please inform us when you’re ready for collection. We will be in touch regarding the one-eyed angel in due course.”

“Ahh, do have a safe trip. You know how Hell is nowadays. You never know what’s lurking in the shadows, hmm?”

A faint bristle of radio static caught your ear, sending your panic into total shutdown.

They had Alastor.

Fuck.

The second voice departed, leaving Val alone with you in your blurry glass prison, and Alastor somewhere in the room. Why the fuck is he not escaping by the shadows?!

Val dragged the pad of his forefinger across the glass, smearing a line through the pink heart to make it look broken. “I have an Overlord to go comfort, so please don’t wait up for me. Your little lover is gagged, so don’t expect decent conversation from him. And, before you ask, there’s not a single radio or wireless signal in this room. His powers, much like the bitch who owned him, are pretty fucking useless now. Adiós, chiquita.”

You hardly waited for him to be out of hearing range before testing out your voice, croaking out Alastor’s name a few times until you accepted the only response you’d get was a faint crackle of static. Your head lolled forward, impossibly heavy with what felt like a wicked comedown.

Even your eyes didn’t want to open again, too relieved from the darkness behind your lids to block out your bright cage.

I’m too tired... I’ll escape when i wake up...

It wasn’t so easy as just waking from sleep. Not when your entire mind fogged in a swirling mist, unable to latch onto what was reality or nightmare. The two seemed perfectly intertwined, neither making enough sense to belong in one before you’d surrender to the other.

The tapping of glass sounded like bullets fired directly next to your ear, jolting your slow pulse into a gallop. Your head shot up, overestimating the weight, neck spasming as the overstretched muscles screamed in objection. A short cry wrenched free before you cut it off, holding back a cough until saliva came; which, inevitably, it didn’t. You were too dry, too thirsty, relenting into a coughing fit as a faint mechanical hiss welcomed bitterness into your painful gasps.

“Eugh. She’s either fucking stubborn or she’s too drugged up. Can you not reverse it? We don’t have that fucking long before your guests are coming around, and they’ll want the star of their fucking show ready. What about the dehydration? She sounds like she’s sucked off a chainsaw, Val.”

“Don’t worry, it’s taking time. We knew she’d be a feisty one. Always has been.”

You scrunched your face, trying to control the scratch in your throat at every breath, finally processing the two Vees outside your cage. Forcing your eyes half-open, the cloudy white glass shrouded Velvette and Valentino like ghosts among the strange room. Your head dipped forward without your control, a fight just to keep looking at them, let alone even considering escape.

“There. Sent the update. When she’s out, we’re getting WiFi put in this fuckass place. I’m sick of manual downloads.”

“It’s a precaution, mi reina. Not something i can negotiate. You can handle a little more of this for just one more angel, yes?”

“Fffff... ugh. Fine. But we need to speed this up, Val. Get that shit out of her system and try something new.”

A long pause stretched; faint echoes of voices moved further away, out of your earshot.

So. Damn. Thirsty.

Finding just a hint of energy, you forced your gaze to explore the cage, searching for weaknesses. The protrusions holding your hands and feet were still exactly in place, with no visible seams beyond where your flesh bulged in their tight bounds. The glass was frosted, again with no seams, clearly thicker than your average window. No obvious doors, no clear sign of how you were even placed inside. A circular black bulb from the roof of your orb-shaped prison held a reflective gleam, the exact style you’d seen in some of the newer Voxtek security camera models. Not that it was a surprise, given your captors; but you’d still hoped there was at least some chance Vox wasn’t involved. With the CEO’s tech lining your cage, the evidence was too strong to ignore.

You just couldn’t figure out why.

Why the angels, why the cage, why the drugs. They knew how to kill angels, and surely they must have done so since the others had disappeared without any trace whatsoever, so why were they keeping you alive right now? What were they trying to ‘speed up’?

The voices came marginally closer, followed by the whuffing of a manual vent circulating new air. You felt the breeze stir, the bitterness fading into a relieving cool fresh airflow.

You sucked in the air like it could save you, or at least help you regain your senses. A screech and a click preceded a new shape appearing inside your prison; dangling from a thin metal rod from a small hole in the ceiling, filled with mercifully clear water, was a container with a metal straw and ball exactly as you would see in a fucking hamster’s keep.

Spite won out over your daze as you glared, astounded by the inhumanity.

“Oh, now that’s a fiery little face, you feeling a little more awake now chiquita? Go on, take a drink. It’s clean water, gotta keep you healthy. Give it a good suck.”

Your eyes narrowed further, even more venom dripping into your expression. You assessed the distance of the glass container compared to the straw, flexing your limbs just enough to judge the movement.

You lurched upwards, snatching the glass in your teeth, wrenching it free from the metal rod. The glass cracked in your mouth, releasing a stunning gush of fresh water straight down your throat. Trying to avoid swallowing glass, you pressed your tongue against the largest cracks, keeping the worst chunks from breaking off.

Outside the orb came a highly satisfying slew of curses, Valentino garnishing each Spanish insult with his own personal wrath. You spat the now-empty container to the floor, giving him a smirk.

His fist clawed, raised to near his head, looking as if he wanted to punch through the glass. He regained composure, forcing his arms by his sides, glaring with utter hatred. The pole, at a slight angle from your harsh yank, retracted into the ceiling and closed off with another soft screech. Your eyes probed the place it had been, taking note of the very faint circle that evidenced the port.

Now you knew what you were looking for, it was all you could see.

Circles, rectangles, grated lines and criss-cross hatches all concealed by tight-fitting seals and clever lighting. No clear indication for what each of them hid, you gave up searching that part, and resumed exploring the floor for similar seams.

Val knocked on the glass, demanding your attention.

“Not the smartest thing to do, you little cunt. Now we have an even shorter fucking time limit before you start losing quality. I’m not manually giving you water, and we can’t just get this piece of fuck repaired without a huge fiasco. You know we managed to keep Lucifer fucking Morningstar in an exact replica, with lower tech, LESS EXPENSIVE, and even HE didn’t cause this much of a fucking issue? Qué jodido... Puta madre...”

You refused to dignify him with an answer, controlling your face to hide the fear chasing through you at his meaning. Lucifer? They had Lucifer?!

You spiralled for a few seconds before you remembered the past tense, the ‘we managed’ part, meaning he’d found a way to escape before. Or, someone had come to save him. Your jaw flexed, biting back a sigh of relief from the minor glimmer of hope.

“Val, just start using the Potion. You know she’s susceptible. You know it’ll work. Just get on with it.”

Valentino paused, glancing at Velvette somewhere behind him before returning his glare to you through the heavy white frosted blur. “Ugh, i know, but she’s probably got a tolerance from last time. It’ll cost through the ass, we could just wait-”

“Val, stop dicking around. I’ll make more. We can’t risk her breaking out while we’re repairing her fucking water bottle. Do it.”

The long black hand pressed to the glass, sending a chill through your spine. He let the fingertips drag across the glass, a casual laziness that insulted your restriction with his calm ease. He approached the barely-visible console, bringing it into life with a few noisy buttons.

A television monitor flickered to life near the glass, placed on a wall at a slight angle to where you were hung. With a head tilt, you could just about read the details, including the analysis of air components.

A very slowly descending value revealed a drug you hadn’t heard of, with a status bar that showed progress until it had been purged. You squinted, trying to read anything else unusual; the rest seemed logical for Hell, with a relatively high oxygen content, much to your relief.

A new tab appeared, with a green block just a few centimetres at first, slowly creeping along the status bar to indicate the volume added to the air. A scientific name you couldn’t recall, meaning nothing beyond yet another drug.

You smelt it before you noticed the very faint pink tint, eyes bulging wide as you realized what they meant.

The air ran gradually thicker with pink mist as you held your breath, wishing more than anything you had clothes to breathe through. Your eyes remained on the television even as the glass clouded up, making it even harder to see through.

The bar settled at a constant 30%, only dropping to 29% when you tried to gasp in the tiniest bit of air, losing to the fire in your lungs as they sought oxygen.

There was no escaping the very air you had to inhale.

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Thirty Nine: Hiding in Blind Spots

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

Notes: Let's pretend this is a fantasy novel and not scientifically or technologically accurate, i'm well aware computers and cool tech shit doesn't work like this but for the sake of plot and shenanigans please bear with it <3

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Most of the Hotel was in darkness by this time of night; nobody particularly glanced up, even as a few tired demons existed in the public spaces, minding their own business. It was eerie, like an absence that stifled each passing moment, the shadows far too empty for your liking.

The radio tower door was locked, to no surprise; yet, it was the complete lack of response that had your pulse increasing. Taking a leap of faith, you gave it a strong kick, breaking the door and finding it exactly as you left it, complete with your clothes strewn across the long sofa, heels discarded by the desk, and an open jar of golden blood just out of reach of the gold-stained chair. You approached cautiously, screwing the metal lid on the jar, panic increasing as you realized how much time must have passed since Alastor took you to the Vees’ tower. Far too long for him not to be back by now, and he’d never leave it in this state, most certainly not abandoning the literally hard-earned angel blood.

You slipped on the angelic steel heels, momentarily pausing before making a decision you really wished you didn’t have to.

Breaking into your old bedroom, you were relieved to find no-one else had moved in, with all the items that no one had helped to collect still abandoned inside. You slid your claw into the wallpaper by the skirting boards under the bed, tugging out where you’d hollowed the wall to hide your spear. Perfectly intact, the shining metal gleamed, weighted in perfect balance even after so long. It felt like a full breath of fresh air, pressing your forehead to the side in relief.

Picking out a quick change of clothes, you went for anything dark, and covering as much skin as possible. Even if it wasn’t necessary, stealth was always a good option.

You ditched the jacket, deciding a light chill wouldn’t hurt; not risking the noises of the buckles or zips.

The sight of your old gaming PC caught your eye, reminding you of a good way to get your bearings before you went in half-cocked.

Up in Alastor’s radio tower, amongst the eerie abandoned scene, you tucked into your seat at Ron’s computer. It came alive in an instant, responsive and fast, the programme pathways easy to navigate through to the security feeds.

One by one you searched for any sign, any indication of whether Alastor had gone anywhere in the tower, or if there was anything else out of place. You pulled up Vox’s mainframe services, flicking through until you found his notifications, stilling when you saw the hits confirming Radio Demon detection in various rooms.

Predominantly the studios.

Your stomach pelted to the floor, while your heart did flips in your throat.

The notifications appeared across just three main studio rooms, between the hours of 8:34PM and 9:12pm, which must have been fairly soon after he dropped you off with Vox.

You recalled the camera history, stunned when you found every single one of them wiped clean.

Oh no you fucking don’t.

You started a war.

Every single trick you knew of data recovery, you pulled. It. Was. Gone.

Almost as if it was never there.

You sat back, stumped, fretting over the next potential course of action.

The only one you could really think of was tracking the network use of any mobiles in the vicinity, but that would take a while, and might not be relevant if they were actual professionals.

Except on the off chance you could find a new network invitation?

The keyboard came alive with your speedy clacks, filtering through until you identified a series of mobile data accesses who hadn’t logged into the Wifi, but had been invited to through the automatic system protocols. Most of which belonged to general sinners, except for one, which immediately caught your eye for the distinct lack of product information. Not one key feature was registered beyond a single network invitation and an IP address, with clear gaps in the system registry where the mobile was blocked from detection. Now you knew what you were looking for, your brain went into overdrive, feral with the hunger for a new mystery to uncover.

Searching only for blind spots, you found multiple gaps in the servers where the usual processes had been wiped or blocked, leaving inconspicuous trails like skipped beats in a song. You’d only notice it if that was what you were looking for; otherwise, it was completely off-radar.

The trails linked through a communication pathway with a vehicle that had fake plates from Wrath, flagging back to a car dealership that had a lot of dodgy reviews. A dead end there for now, but not altogether worth forgetting.

The vehicle’s arrivals, showing up as one of the normal delivery vans, followed a pattern of only showing up during a spike in purchases, flooding the databanks with a mass of irrelevant information that neatly disguised the blank spaces. You pushed on, unable to find anything beyond one single security camera two streets away that had caught and retained the fake licence plate.

The driver wasn’t anything you’d consider suspicious in his typical delivery-man uniform, flat cap, empty eyes. It was only the slight shift in shadow in the glass divider behind the driver that roused your attention, knowing there shouldn’t be anything moving back there beyond just boxes.

You squinted harder, doing your best to magnify the image with all rendering programmes running multiple image filters, trying to detect anything identifiable in the shadow. For one brutally long second, you thought you might have seen a pair of deer ears. Your heart stuttered, maximising the programme that had caught the faintest colour gradient shift, showing the point of ears that were slightly too short, too rounded to be Alastor’s. You allowed yourself a few seconds to regain your composure, utterly relieved.

It still didn’t answer who they were, what they were delivering, whether they had anything to do with the angels, and especially not anything to do with Alastor’s mysterious disappearance from Vox’s notifications despite not coming back to his tower.

What felt like a rabbit hole began to unfurl into a wider network of a much bigger issue.

You ran the shape of the shadow’s ears against the search protocols, hitting masses of positive results, narrowing it down through logic and a little trickery with the system. You had it tweaked so it tracked all the closest hits around a few hours before the shadow appeared, and had the computer exclude all demons it matched with and found during the half hour either side of the shadow’s appearance. It was a bit of a broad snatch in the air, but it paid off.

Down to four demons, only one of which flagged up by appearance alone, not registering with any identifiable personal records linked to their key features.

But once you had that demon’s full form, you found them fucking everywhere.

Across Lust’s wide span of cameras, the Ring dedicated to desire, Hellborns were under almost constant spotlights. This Hellborn was no exception, casually strolling as if a normal citizen, heading into distinct blind spots of wiped data just as they had in Pride. You found the general map, tracking the gaps in data and pinpointing the geographical locations to create a trail of suspiciously clean building records. Four of which were decisively large, well-blended office spaces, with unassuming decor and tired looking demons from the cameras you had managed to hack into from nearby mobiles. You wouldn’t bat an eye if you’d been walking past.

An hour of digging like an obsessed stalker, and you finally struck gold.

One tiny slip, in one tiny group photo, that made its way through social media just through coincidence of the two faces passing by a street at the same time.

One face you knew off by heart because you’d been stalking him like a hunter possessed.

The other you knew off by heart because you’d saved her once.

You’d taken her in, got her set up with a job in a little coffee shop, staying in the apartment above it. It took a painfully long few seconds for your old faulty memory to kick in, only just remembering her name through the haze of pre-deal abilities. Lorna.

It only got worse when you remembered why you’d felt so attached to her, why it had hurt so much to see her wounded and broken during the fifth extermination. She was one of the girls you were named with, in your first few days in Heaven. She’d stood alongside you, another terrified human soul, thrust into a war you were never meant to be in.

I wonder how terrified she is now.

That single part-shot of her face, catching a slight blur as she turned to smile at someone, being followed by none other than the bat-like Hellborn, was the last trace of her even existing online that you could dig up.

Your phone startled you into leaping up, the vibration across where you’d left it on the sofa slightly muffling the incoming call. You cautiously stepped over, stomach sinking to see Vox’s caller ID on the other end. Guess we’re running out of time.

You wouldn’t have long before he’d start getting jumpy; you glanced at the window, relieved to see no drones spying on your work. The screen was tilted away from the sky, but your face wasn’t. He’d have no issue confirming you were in the Radio Tower, if he hadn’t already.

You swore under your breath, feeling no closer to actually finding Alastor or the angels, only just beginning to unearth vague hints of evidence. You memorized the photos you’d seen, the locations, the patterns, the gaps leaving a trail, and most importantly the features of that one Hellborn.

Ignoring your phone as it rang out one more time, you turned the computer off, locking it down out of Vox’s reach, and made a run for it.

Leaping from the penthouse balcony, spear in hand, you took a quick dart upwards without triggering a gold streak, trying to keep to standard speeds to be as subtle as possible. A few drones were approaching the radio tower; not one of them seemed to pivot upwards to look your way. You sighed in relief, getting yourself above the flames as you hovered to mentally regroup.

The tower was too dangerous; the gaps led directly there. Whether the Vees knew they were involved or not, they were linked. And as badly as you wanted to keep Vaggi safe, she already had enough very powerful royals as her side. A regular exorcist wasn’t going to be much help.

While you pondered, you took a steady glide above the Pentagram’s flames to the Entertainment District, using the height advantage to hide your presence as you stared down, hoping for a miracle, or at least even a Radio Demon-shaped explosion to indicate where he was.

Your wings began to ache, reminding you that it wasn’t possible to hide up here forever.

You’d mentally exhausted every option for a hideout, now other Rings and invisible trails were involved. It wasn’t like before, just hiding from Vox. Now, you were hiding from all of Hell.

The only option you could think of was to play them at their own game; cover your tracks, blend in with deliveries, use disguises, the whole shebang. But without enough time to dig out their full schedule, it was far too risky.

Your shoulder blades cried out for relief, pleading with you to rest, even if that put you in mortal peril. For the life of you, there was nowhere to really go.

For the first time since you were a young child, you sent a prayer.

[thatgirlmendo]

This week has kicked my butt, but @looselyreadymade has a fic I get to binge this weekend, I had sushi for dinner, polished up #17 for AWTAB, AND finished my dissertation question and just have to submit it for approval but my chair basically said it’s good to goooo 🙂‍↕️😀

[looselyreadymade]

I'm also squarely on my butt looking up at life wielding the steel chair, we're in this together ❤️‍🩹💕

You did SO GOOD getting all that smashed out with everything going on and y'all deserve all the praise AND the good grades AND the horny moots going wild 👏✨️

We vibe (like angry bees in a can pointed at our enemies, but we still VIBE) 🐝

[looselyreadymade]

Angel Soul (Hazbin Hotel Dead Dove Series Part 5) Chapter Thirty Eight: Seeing Cyan

TW: Slow burn, eventual smut, sub/bottom and internalised homophobic Vox who's in denial about it, lots of whump, angst and fluff and bullshit, trauma recovery, inappropriate use of a sentient IPad, Alastor taking a strong lead in the reader's destruction. Vox gets cucked (sex-favourable Asexual Alastor because i actually can't help myself), but gets the reader back. Plot getting THICC. Violence and gore present. Val gets into Angel Exorcist trafficking and ends up on the wrong side of a parable. VAL GETS SHANKED AND IT'S SO CATHARTIC. Justice for Angel Dust.

*************************************************

The air was completely different when dim light hit you, startled to see a familiar ceiling above where you had been laid on your back. You shot up, head spinning as you recognized your apartment in the Vees’ tower.

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic instantly rising, all need forgotten over the illogical awakening.

For a moment, you wondered if you’d been kidnapped.

Your eyes caught a flash of red, a feral grin carved into the shadows with curved eyes, tilting as if enjoying your fear. The presence hardly brought you relief; whispering harshly, you asked him what the fuck was happening.

The smile disappeared, his silhouette blending within the room’s shadows, blinding you to his presence. You whispered his name again, clutching an arm over your breasts. A warm dampness remained where the trickle of blood had almost stopped, now smeared across your torso.

Your hand reached to allow you to move closer to the side of the room you’d seen Alastor’s shadow, freezing as you felt a solid mass beneath your thick quilt. You drew your hand back, terrified, wondering if you were about to star in your own horror movie. Before you could move the quilt, a startling knock came at the bedroom door, preceding an equally startling voice.

“Can i come in yet? Are we in there? Is she okay?”

Alastor reformed in his vivid reds, now stained heavily with golden blood all down his front. The suit crotch was completely soaked, a comical distraction as he threw the door open to interrupt Vox’s impatient tone.

“No sense of anticipation, no wonder you go diving in headfirst before even thinking things through. Yes Vincent, she’s here, all safe and unsullied, as you demanded. Much to her disappointment, i can attest-”

“Yeah fucking yeah, i got it. Mind doing your fucking part of the deal so i can have mine?”

Your heart lurched, a flutter in your stomach as you started to put two and two together.

“A-Alastor? You brought me here? Why?”

He summoned his cane, a massive black tentacle rising from a void in the floor and reaching across into the living room, beyond what you could see through the doorway. You heard Vox’s yelp, having been grabbed and now roughly carried through the air by Alastor’s magic. You coughed out a short laugh, watching the screen fly well over your head, nearly dropping as the tendril lost grip. Vox spat curses, his cables shooting out to cling onto the limb as it lowered him down to the pillow across the far side of the bed from where you sat. In puzzled amazement, you quietly gasped as the cables plugged into the mass below the quilt, sending a bright flash of blue into the room as the systems awoke. You blinked, heart stilling as a hand beneath the covers moved to push the quilt off its torso.

A brilliantly, gorgeously, perfectly Vox-exclusive torso. 

He sat up with a stiff groan, stretching out the limbs with a knowing smirk, head tilting as he watched you devour him in your gaze.

“Hey baby. You miss- MMPH!”

You slammed into him, arguments and pettiness and bullshit be damned. You were his angel. And he was your demon.

His lips parted to accommodate yours, muscular arms wrapping around your waist that felt so good you almost cried on the spot. When he tugged you closer, your abdomen pressing into his, the strangely cool press of his body nearly choked you with relief. He was breathing. His muscles twitched. The biceps flexed, the knees bent, hips shuffled to accommodate bringing you closer. Your hands roamed freely, hungrily, tracing every single millimetre you could reach, even when he flinched from a light tickle.

What truly broke you was the gentle scratch of his claws down your back.

A pitiful choked sob interrupted your kiss, an ache in your chest deepening far beyond the ability to breathe. You lost yourself as your hands clutched around his back, holding him tight to you like he could disappear.

“Hey, hey, shhhh... I’m here. You’re safe baby, i promise. Nobody’s gonna take you. I’ll protect you-”

“I d-don't care, it’s... it’s YOU. You’re here, all of you. How?!”

“We had a little bit of a boost in sales, so Val threw a bunch of money into the lab. Got us some extra materials and helping hands, got Baxter’s prototype finished by yesterday. You like it?”

You couldn’t lean back enough to look; nodding vigorously, your cheek pressed flat against his face. Your tears streaked the warm screen even as he tried to kiss them away.

He moved a wonderful, perfectly formed hand up to stroke your cheek, the massive cyan claws catching your eye and making your chest crush inwards once more. You held your breath, forcing your eyes to remain open. Catching the huge hand in your comparatively dainty one to explore, it seemed impossible to believe the evidence before you. Bringing the claws back to your cheek, you nestled into it, a comforting place where you fit just right.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful when you’re happy. Even if you’re covered in fucking blood. How bad did he get you?!”

You couldn’t have given any less of a shit. You gave a half-hearted shrug, not moving away from the curve of his palm, the claws extending to near the top of your head as he cupped you gently.

Peeking through damp lashes, blinking droplets away, you hardly gave his face a glance before you were exploring his body, using your free hand to roam where your eyes traversed. He groaned quietly, hips shifting beneath the quilt, responding to your touch.

“You know i CAN feel all that, right? It’s not super sensitive yet, and we’re still working on settings-”

“Shut up and let me touch you.”

His brows show up, an entertained half-smile crossing his wide screen. “Yes ma’am. Please, do carry on. Do you want this quilt out of your way?”

You bit your cheek, trying not to smile too wide as you nodded.

The thick covers that you loved so very much had done an excellent job at hiding everything beneath, including the cyan-detailed cock standing to attention. His claws curved under your chin, trying to bring your attention back up to his face. You didn’t much care, too distracted by the blinding flash of memories from so many years ago.

Pretty much every surface in this apartment, too many times to count. The positions, the toys, the accessories, the electricity...

Your hips bucked, a pitchy whine escaping, almost forgetting you were allowed to make noise now. He groaned, hot and heavy, capturing your thigh and tugging it to straddle his. Your hands moved of their own volition, wrapping around the thick member as he dragged in a choked breath. “W-woah, baby, be gentle okay? That’s st-st- ah, fff-”

You ignored his objections, too fascinated to stop now. Both hands twisted in slow, rhythmic pumps as you took the head into your mouth, tasting a silicon-based coating over throbbing circulation. A tiny ridge caught your tongue as you swirled and sucked, curiously new to the cock you’d had in your mouth plenty of times before. You released it with a playful ‘pop’, his hips bucking upwards in objection. You kept your face low, using a thumb to stroke over the ridge, recognising the crescent-moon shapes along where the silicone had been sealed anew. Repaired, after some crazy bitch had bitten it in half once.

At that, you lost it.

Howls of laughter, shaking too hard to breathe, nearly rolling off the bed as you lost your balance. Vox caught you, flipping you onto your back, diving his pelvis straight between your thighs as you parted on instinct for him. Your laughter stuttered, the hilarity warring with the mind-numbingly hot sensation of a proudly wide cockhead nudging your entrance. This man put Alastor to shame. You giggled a little further, twisting into a piercing cry the second he thrust the head past your entrance. Your back bowed forward, head sinking into the crook of his neck; one handsomely muscled arm curved behind your shoulders, keeping you there.

“My fucking- holy shit you’re so fucking tight, baby. Did he even, ha, haHAH, was he that small?! You feel like a fucking virgin again. Fuck, I'm gonna have to stretch you –hhng, ah- out!”

His engorged cock did exactly that; this silicone toy replica perfectly mirrored the shape and size of the real thing. He chased both your pleasure and his with each nudge, forcing your walls into a blindingly relieving stretch; it sent a thrash of pressure and heat through your core, tipping you over the precipice you’d been edged towards all evening.

“Oh, OH fuck, you cumming already baby? I’m not even- God, shit that feels good. You’re so good for me, squeezing like... ah Hell, I’m gonna wear this body out if you keep tightening around me like that. Fuck that’s good. Can i go deeper? Yeah?”

You whimpered out a begging plea, the throb of your pussy unrelenting and hyper-sensitive, crying out with every tiny centimetre he managed to nudge further into with shallow thrusts. You threw your head back as you clenched harder, a wave of release too strong to control. You hung over his arm, head hitting the pillow, legs shaking like YOU were the battery-powered one.

He almost buried himself inside to the hilt, your strangled whines and whimpers filling the room, lost to bliss so good it destroyed you. He kept still, a merciful pause, freeing your body to finally adjust without still triggering off waves of spasms. He adorned you with praise, holding you close to his firm torso even as you went limp, your arms wrapping tight around his waist to hold him prisoner. He let you, lowering his face to press tender kisses to your temples, cheeks, forehead, until you finally sought his mouth for a hungry kiss.

His breath caught as you clenched, the need not yet completely sated, unimaginably eager for him to push even further into you. You pleaded up at him with wide, damp eyes, mouth parted with little pants, an unspoken beg that melted him completely.

He held your gaze, even as he braced himself. His mouth twitched, a brief colour distortion as the sensitivity pushed his own limits, a rough gasp as he thrusted another inch deeper, the base of his cock almost brushing your sex. Your voice squeaked out recklessly, something between worshipping his name and begging for more in the breaks between needy moans. His groans matched the fervency of yours as he drove his cock as deep as you could take, forcing you to take the full shaft, his ribbed pseudo-flesh igniting heat and friction into a dizzying crash of pleasure and pain. You weren’t sure if you were screaming or silent, only that the world had enclosed into this one moment, gifting you the past wrapped in a cyan-blue ribbon.

The sweat clung to your skin, markedly absent of his own as he cradled you to his side.

You hugged onto his left, leaving the wall-bound cable plugged into the back of his body’s neck port to dangle to the right, out of view. Your hand lazily stroked the ridges of his abs, over the curve of bicep, the valleys between the pectorals. He groaned in sleepy pleasure, tilting his face enough to plant a soft kiss in your hair.

You smiled, keeping your eyes closed, unwilling to break this perfect moment.

His thumb stroked your ribs, stirring you from almost falling asleep.

“Hey, don’t go snoozing on me yet, sweetheart. I wanna talk.”

“Hmmm... can we talk later? This is too nice...”

“Please babydoll, i don’t wanna risk waiting ‘til the tensions are too high again. I can’t... i can’t lose you. Not again.”

“Mmm, i always seem to come back. Like a boomerang. Or a weird rash.”

He chuckled under his breath, using his free hand to stroke your cheek, stirring you enough to peek up at him with a peaceful smile.

It was too nice. Too perfect. Headless Vox wasn’t this perfect. This one was just right.

Or, you were just delusional enough to believe that.

“If you stop leaving, then you won’t need to do all that travel. How does that sound?”

You paused, making a face as if you were seriously thinking about it. You gave him a cheeky smile, nestling into his chest as he pulled you in tighter. “I guess that sounds okay. If you’re done being a dickhead.”

“Nah, that’s a dealbreaker- hey!”

You flicked at the slot where his nipple was supposed to be, making him laugh and grab your wrist. You stared, mesmerized, still struggling to even believe his body was even this real.

“Seriously baby, you gotta hear me out. Things are gonna get complicated, and we still have a lot to get through. But i want you to know, underneath all the mess and mayhem of being a Vee, this is who i am. Yours. You remember that, okay?”

A strange feeling washed over you, as you kept your gaze soft, controlling your lips to make them look relieved by the words.

In truth, it was far from comforting. Something fearful curled deep inside, slowly spreading like poison through your veins, settling in your bones as you pretended to drift off.

Vox, feeling secure and safe with your steady breathing, let himself fall into a gentle sleep. You heard the power-down as the fans went into rest mode, noticed the gradual dimming of the screen through the cracks in your lashes.

You gave it enough time to be sure he wouldn’t stir, pretending to get comfy so his arm flopped to the side without interrupting his sleep too badly. He hardly even stuttered in the gentle snore, persisting in sleep as your own anxieties only spiralled.

You replayed what you’d heard earlier over and over again, sinking deeper into dread at the thought of the two trickster Overlords who were already at each other's throats making a new deal. It must have just been made today, while you were out, and clearly involved sex. So what the fuck did Alastor get out of this? The blood was part of YOUR deal with him. For the life of you, you couldn’t think what he would even want from Vox.

You tiptoed out of the bedroom, debating on going for a walk through the tower, before deciding that was a horrifically bad idea. Slipping on a long jacket for decency, you opened the window and took to the skies, darting back to the Hazbin Hotel.