#@voxuli

[visage-of-hell]

🫂 - @voxuli letsgoooo

Send 🫂 to comfort my muse after an upsetting or traumatic event -- With angry flourish, Visage slammed the back door to her apartment behind her as a slow-burning fury smoldered like dying embers in her chest. A close friend had come to visit her at her club that night--Gnash, a hellhound that was almost more akin to a brother, with the two of them having grown up together for a good portion of their childhoods. As much as she usually adored his company and they had a great time more often than not ... tonight had been different. Oh, how she hated when he got so damned preachy. 'You're hitting the bottle too hard tonight, Vizzy.' 'This isn't a healthy way to cope, Vizzy.' 'Have you tried talking to someone instead, Vizzy?' On and on and on. It didn't matter that it was coming from a place of genuine concern, what mattered was that it was peeling away the protective layers of escapism that kept the worst of her pain from lying fully exposed. 'Talking' about it wasn't an option. There wasn't anything to say. No amount of words was going to change things now--it was far too late for that. Even sober, Gnash's concerns would have gotten a prickly reception, but in the aftermath of four shots and two cocktails? Visage was not having it. Some angrily-shouted words and a few thrown objects around her apartment later, she was angrily storming down the secluded back streets of the entertainment district, leaving her home and her club further and further behind her. If only the malignant specters that haunted her were so easily left behind. When the anger had begun to gradually cool a few blocks down the street, she paused at a corner to lean against the outside of a building she didn't recognize (some hoity-toity rich snob bar, from the looks of it) and pull out a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. A quick smoke to calm her nerves, that's all she needed. That, and some time alone to gather her thoughts and regain her composure. But being alone just wasn't in the cards for Visage that night, it seemed. Little did the Overlord know that a familiar face had already taken notice of her presence...

[visage-of-hell]

"Oh, fuck me..." The words were muttered low enough to pass for an incoherent grumble of displeasure as the TV Demon made his approach. Of all the demons in Hell to run into that night ... she just couldn't catch a damned break. The hellhound knew better than to bleed in shark-infested waters, though ... and masking came to Visage as instinctively as breathing. Stuff it all down, put on a good performance. In an instant, the slump in her posture straightened and a sharp-toothed aggressive 'smile' creased her muzzle to replace the brooding scowl that had occupied her face mere moments before. "We all got out metaphorical crosses t'bear, Vox. Some made of wood, others made of shit. Y'know how it is." Visage kept it vague and superficially philosophical, for the moment. Something that sounded like a valid response without offering up anything of actual substance for her 'rival' glean meaning from. The fine art of saying nothing and everything all at once. Would it stick? Hard to say. And so she endeavored to pivot the topic of conversation away from herself, just as an added layer of protection. Better that way, keeping the focus off herself. Nonchalantly tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette, Visage eyed the other Overlord up and down thoughtfully. "And what brings you down this way at this time of night, mm? Y'seem to be a bit out of your element."

continued from here with @visage-of-hell!

--

Of course, such a spectacle wasn't about to escape the notice of the Overlord of Surveillance. Vox found it prudent to keep tabs on the other power-wielders in the city, to varying degrees. Visage held a rather uncommon status in that list of people, being considered a medium priority for surveillance due to the probable threat she could pose. At the same time, Vox had found it an interesting challenge to try and get cameras anywhere inside her turf, especially at either the club or her apartment.

Naturally this just meant he'd had every street outside fitted with CCTV if it didn't have it already, and added Visage to the training data for a recognition model.

Tonight it had paid off, with an alert turning his attention to the CCTV monitors. Even without sound, her mood is clearly evident in her posture and movement. Vox taps his claws along the desk as he watches her drift from screen to screen, contemplating whether or not interfering might be worth it--and if so, to what degree.

It's not until well after she stops for a smoke that Vox makes up his mind. The night is slow, and he thinks his lone presence will probably be better received than anything else bearing the VoxTek name.

He jumps into the grid, producing a barely-noticable flicker as breakers trip and reclose in nanoseconds to ensure he reaches the correct destination. Vox surges into the wires of a camera a little ways down the street to emerge almost instantaneously, just on the peripherals of Visage's view.

"It's not often I get the pleasure of seeing you on this side of town, my dear," Vox says, putting his hands in his pockets as he approaches. "Though I wish it was under better circumstances! You seem rather out of sorts. No trouble in paradise, I hope?"

[staticintone]

He’s not being passive aggressive.

Not at all.

This is normal.

[the-devil-less-known]

Continued from: vox, valentino, velvette

To say that he wasn’t surprised that there would be some push back and testing of his authority would be an understatement. Save for those that had survived and lived in Hell long enough to remember his activities in Hell prior to the Exterminations, or even until he had stepped back from Hell’s public view entirely, the younger sinners that had usurped their way into being Overlords would have little basis for knowing just how powerful the King of Hell was… and just how difficult or easy that he could make their damned lives in this space.

Or strip them of status and souls.

Now, that wasn’t to say that he would do so, especially during a critical turning point in Hell’s history and future in the balance — however, that was what was expected, since that was how any sinner in a position of power generally operated. With a tight fist of control, a careful managing of those underneath them, and a harsh removal of threats — or, allying with them if victory cannot be certain. Where Lucifer was concerned, it was more that major disruptions in the status quo of Hell’s operation and pillars of power that held it up would do more to aid Heaven’s eventual retaliation than simply coming to an arrangement, with a mixture of threats and privileges. Perks the new ones would have gotten if they had simply went through the proper channels…

But why would the old guard inform them of that when it behooved them far more to keep the new lot in the dark?

He had already made an arrangement with Alastor, the slick bastard, and it was possibly the worst audit out of all the others combined, by the sheer fretful stress of the Radio Demon having leverage with Charlie and also being classified as one of her people. Even though the sinner had been… strangely agreeable to the terms and oh-so-gratingly-polite save for the normal digs at Lucifer’s pride… It had only made him more uneasy, and stricter on the other Overlords.

The Vees, for example, were about to get the brunt of it in his official reply — and pay for their insolence afterwards. In degrees, as he wasn’t entirely unmerciful.

Only two replies are written this time, one sent to Valentino with a personalized reply and the other to Velvette which held, once more, three seperate envelopes. Vox, in much the same way as he snubbed Lucifer with no personal reply, was snubbed in kind.

The three seperate envelopes once more hold some personalization to distinquish the recipient on the outside, but all three hold the exact same message and no safe guard from opening any of them dishonestly.

“It appears that there was the misunderstanding of the instructions being optional. If that is your final answer, know that numbers will not provide advantage, nor territory.

By the end of this meeting, we shall know if there are even Vees that can meet together — or none at all.

Changes can be submitted up to one week from now. Silence will count as an answer. I trust I will be met with an agreeable arrangement, regardless.”

There was no official signature, save for the crest of Lucifer in the bottom corner, in deep blood red ink that gleamed in the light, giving the illusion of the snake writhing with a flicking tongue. Its cold empty gaze staring up at the viewer.

Valentino’s personal response appeared again in much the same manner as before, as if patiently waiting, in his script. Upon opening it, tiny ghostly glowing moths appear on the page, slowly flapping their wings or toddle along the margins harmlessly. In large looping font again, it read as follows:

“Valentino Vee,

Your tact and mindful reply is noted and appreciated. Aside of any possible changes of heart that the Vees as a whole might have about meeting seperately, I will hold you to your promise of a leisurely discussion. If you have a favored place in mind to meet, name it and room shall be made.

Awaiting,

Lucifer Morningstar.”

Time see how they would jump and which way before making further plans to add onto the pressure. He couldn’t afford to make any further leniencies. Not now. Not ever. And these sinners were about to feel what it might to be making Deals with the Devil.

@voxuli @hellmxses

[a-hazbin-spider]

Cue a shrill shriek!

His tail has been YANKED. It has been Violated!

… do it again.

@voxuli

[voxxisms]

@voxuli whispered a line !! pick up my muse ( accepting! ) Eighteen hours is enough work today. Time to have a break. Bridal style if he cooperates. Fireman's carry over the shoulder if he doesn't.

HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN GETTING USED TO THIS. vox ( other vox? they should figure that out sometime ) was proving to be very disruptive to his work almost every time that they got together.

yet, too shocked to fight when he was lifted, blinking in surprise before settling with a pout on his face.

❛ you just keep dragging me away, huh? i still had an hour left on my timer. i've been cutting back, you know! ❜

fifteen minutes at a time, sure, but he worked half an hour less this week than last week!

[sabers-and-other-ocs]

@voxuli desperate starter from

Ran has been told about the exterminations but didn't expect the exorcists to break in, they must have cleared the streets of the area to start breaking into homes and once again her brother risked his life to protect her but this time she could do something about it as well, glad that her vocal powers worked on some level against the angels, to calm their bloodlust and motivate them to leave.

Of course now Yen was seriously injured having taken a spear, even with his durability angel steel was still no joke and Ran had not learned the city well enough yet to know who could help or how to help besides bandaging him up to try and stop the bleeding, she did manage to soothe him into a form of sleep but otherwise didn't know what to do now.

A thought crossed her mind and she peeked out to see the angels finally returning to their portal, letting out a sigh though followed it up with a groan before grabbing her brother's phone to turn it on and check for a contact, kind of surprised to see it saved though likely added it more recently with his career making a turn.

She glanced back at Yen before pressing the call button with Vox's number, not sure if he'd even answer but if she wanted to find someone for help quickly who better to ask than an overlord that spied on everyone?

Desperate times called for desperate measures and she wasn't losing her only family again.

"C'mon answer you cross-wired dick," she hissed even though the phone had only gone through about three rings.

[radioiaci]

▹ @voxuli liked for a Vee!Alastor starter.

"I am busy."

It's was a short 'greeting' given as Alastor leaned over his extended console, a pair of headphones pressed over his ears as he listened to a few adjustments he was making to a composition he'd been working on for at least two or three weeks now. Being interrupted by the other barging into his workspace was not going to make him especially pleased, pointedly ignoring Vox otherwise as he tried to get through the remainder of the song.

Brows creased, it was clear he was focused.

[papermint-at-your-service]

Vox chucks a balled-up piece of paper at Papermint's head. "Hey, Papermint, are you even listening?"

(Hi hallo this is @voxuli i like ur funny eel man)

Papermint looks up just in time to have the projectile bop him directly in the face, he blinked as it tumbled onto the table. He furrowed his brows a little while nodding. "Yes Sir, Miss Carmine sent the revised version for her part of Angelic Security which needs to be forwarded to the technology design department, you want to cancel your afternoon and anything that can't be moved I can attend in your stead, and you wanted an update report on the hotel."

See? He was paying attention. He just also happened to be writing fanfiction at the same time, his laptop screen mostly taken up with work notes and in the bottom corner there had been another application open for his...extra writing. Which as soon as Vox drew attention to him was deleted with a premade shortcut.

What the eel hadn't noticed that the end of his tail had started to wag as he was typing, which likely lead Vox to think he wasn't paying attention. He was. The writing surprisingly helped even if it wasn't work related. Not that he wanted Vox to know about his writing fancies, especially when the man himself was often a large role in them.

"I can send the revision to the team after this meeting as well as cancel your afternoon and I will get you the update report on the hotel by the end of the day."

[mothvalentino]

@voxuli redemption verse starter

The elevator ride down to Vox's office had never felt this long. Val's pointy heel tapped nervously on the metal floor, all four arms crossed as he watched the numbers descend. With a ping noise, the doors slid open, almost startling the moth with how tense he felt.

Walking much slower than usual, he approached the other Vee's desk and waited until he turned around to acknowledge his presence. After staring at him for a moment, Val inhaled deeply and decided to just say it outright.

ཐིཋྀ "I'm leaving the Vees."

[visage-of-hell]

(Starter for @voxuli: The hellhound made her way into the main lobby of the Vee Tower, her posture tense as she remained on edge. If he knew she was doing this, Alastor would want to kill her (metaphorically speaking). Regardless ... she couldn't help but sense an opportunity and she was compelled to seize it. If one of the Vees was so eager to make contact with her, then surely there was some way to twist this to her advantage. Granted, Vox's close proximity to her main rival made the matter more complex, but ... she wasn't without options. She just had to determine what he wanted and how she could turn that motivation against him. Keeping tabs on her surroundings from the corner of her eye, Visage approached the front desk with an air of forced confidence and stared down the receptionist with a steady even gaze. "I'm here on invitation from Vox."

[visage-of-hell]

With a soft chuckle, the hellhound poured a glass for herself. "Only the best for my guests, after all..." Setting the bottle back down, her nostrils flared for a brief moment as she paused to take a savoring inhale before bringing the glass to her muzzle. She usually wasn't keen on hard liquor straight up like this, more inclined to partake of strong cocktails, but she had learned to develop an appreciation for less 'nuanced' experiences ever since elevating her station in the Overlord hierarchy. Times changed. Lowering her glass, she gestured towards the languid figure still draped across her side with a faint cant of her head before casting Vox a devilish grin. "This lovely thing? Calls herself 'Maraschino' ... used to be one of Valentino's contracts. And she's just been oh so grateful, haven't you, baby...?" A long black talon lewdly traced the line of the succubus' jawline, simultaneously tilting her face to look the Overlord in the eye. "Very..." came the sultry response, leaving her full dark red lips in a tone that was almost akin to a purr. Without missing a beat, the lupine Overlord pulled the she-demon in close to press a shallow teasing kiss against Maraschino's bottom lip before turning the full of her attention back to the TV Demon with a wicked smile. "Consider her part of the ... 'refreshments', if you're into that sorta thing. All part of the authentic Kingdom Cum experience, after all ... And I don't mind sharin' my toys." Toys. An ironic word to leave Visage's lips, seeing as how there had once been a time where she would have vehemently opposed the idea of treating others like possessions. From the very moment of her ascendance, she was adamant about shaking up the adult entertainment industry in bold new ways ... favoring freedom of expression and autonomy above all else. It was, after all, that very same sort of objectification that she had once detested about the demon whose position she had now usurped. But high off her own supply and basking in the position of power and prestige afforded to her by becoming one of the Vees, the moral decay was lost upon her. All that mattered was the here and now.

With a relaxed shrug, the hellhound does indeed help herself, picking up the cigar cutter from the tray and deftly snipping off the tip before lighting it with a snap of her fingers and a brief jump of bright blue flame. "A shame, but the afterlife can be a real sunnova bitch, mm? These are my favorite, 'cause there's something almost espresso-like about them that just makes they really rich but still smooth at the same time. Very nice sorta after-dinner kind of cigar, y'know?" Taking a long drag from it, she lets the smoke linger in her mouth for a moment, savoring the taste before exhaling with a long sigh of pleasure. Pausing to set the lit cigar down upon the corner of her ashtray, Visage moved to twist open the whiskey bottle and began a generous pour into Vox's glass. His words brought a bemused smirk to her lupine lips. "Y'know, one of these days I'm gonna start takin' it personally. I'm starting to think she doesn't like me or somethin'!" The jesting tone to her voice was obvious--it wasn't much of a secret how much disdain the other female Overlord seemed to have towards her ever since she had taken over Valentino's domain. She couldn't rightly blame her, really--how does one trust an Overlord that's already killed one of your peers to get where she was now...?

[staticintone]

“Please do not make bombs out of your own heads…”

These are the two Voxs he fell in love with? Great.

[angie-long-legs]

starter for @voxuli

Fizzle. Pop.

Thunk.

This particular combination of sounds coming from the conference room was certainly unusual enough to intrigue Angel, who had been idly passing by on his way from the studio.

As usual, he should have stayed curious.

Upon entering the expansive room, the spider was greeted by nothing and no one: the noises had appeared to come from somewhere entirely empty. That was until the presence of a shark gliding in his peripheral, a resident of the aquarium that encircled the entire room, drew his vision to a shadowed heap within the confines of the glass barrier.

A heap that appeared to sport a television-shaped head.

The CEO of VoxTek, Angel's not-quite-boss, was lying, limp and listless, at the bottom of his own shark tank.

That fucking idiot; was Angel's first thought. He's fucking drowned.

His second thought was only somewhat more coherent: what the fuck was he supposed to do? Val and Velvette were on a business trip that landed them on the other side of the Pentagram, leaving Vox to hold down the fort (and Travis, the idiot, to direct at the studio), so there was no hope of a fellow Vee rescuing him from his watery prison. Angel couldn't leave him there - not least because it would prick his conscience, but also in the knowledge that the cameras that guarded every inch of Vee Tower would collect video evidence of his disregard. Video evidence that would no doubt make it back to the absent Overlords; and, when he regenerated, Vox himself.

With a silent groan, Angel brought a hand to his face in sheer annoyance. He was going to have to drag him out.

Of very literal shark-infested water.

If the Overlord hadn't been as dead as it was possible for a sinner to be without angelic weaponry entering the picture, his nifty powers of teleportation would have really come in handy right about now: there was no way Angel was about to dive into a shark tank to rescue someone he tolerated at best. As he made his way to the elevator, pressing the button for the floor above, he hoped to god that fate wasn't setting him up to be lunch for his boss's preposterous pet.

Thankfully, his ponderings regarding his role as potential shark bait were cut short, a far simpler solution presenting itself as Angel entered the room directly above the conference room, in which the open top of the tank was accessible. A moderately-sized podium that Vox presumably used to lower food into the shark's habitat lay flat against the floor of the aquarium, and, somewhat fittingly, Vox himself appeared to have sunk directly onto it's surface - a high-voltage snack to his exotic pets, should they choose to indulge. Fortunately, they seemed to be entirely uninterested in their doting owner's lifeless corpse, most likely on account of his mechanical viscera. How much of Vox was organic matter and how much was technology eluded Angel, but when it came to the sharks, he strongly suspected that wires and circuit boards were not their preferred diet.

The podium operated from a small control panel beside it's access point, and, fortunately for the Media Demon, it's workings were simple enough for Angel to figure out. Like some topsy-turvy mockery of an arcade claw machine, the actor used the panel's joystick to slowly raise the podium to the water's surface, hoisting the CEO's ragdoll body in tow like a novelty prize.

Now came the task of hauling his unwanted award from the podium to... where exactly did Angel plan on taking him? Dragging the drenched form of the Overlord out of the water was a start, at least, even if his body was slack and his screen was blank. The spider rolled the unconscious Vox over so that he lay face-up on the floor.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Would he just regenerate on his own? How long would it take? He couldn't just leave him there.

That was when a truly zany idea crossed Angel's mind. Weren't you supposed to put waterlogged technology in rice? He was sure Cherri had told him to do that last time Val threw his phone into his pool, and... well it wasn't like he had anything else to try.

Between leaving the demon to regenerate on the cold floor surrounding the shark tank and dunking him in a rice like a child in a ball pool... the weirder of the two options sounded at least more productive. It had to do something, right? Otherwise, why would people do it?

Using Vox's ridiculous supervillain computer set-up to order rice, of all things, was stupidly easy now that Vox was offline. For someone so security-conscious, Angel would have thought he'd have some form of backup should he become incapacitated like this. But here the porn star was, using the man's bank account to buy thirty-five gallons worth of rice, under which he intended to submerge the poor bastard in the hopes of reviving him quicker.

Lugging his body from the entertainment section of the tower and up to Vox's personal quarters was a far more taxing endeavour. The man was lucky Angel was stronger than he looked, that was for sure. Tipping packet after packet of rice into Vox's en-suite bathtub was also laborious and time consuming, leading Angel to question multiple times throughout the duration of this process why exactly he was doing this.

By the time Angel had actually filled the bath to the brim, the only task that remained was to manoeuvre Vox himself into the tub of grains. Gingerly, Angel slung the other demon's arm around his shoulders, hoisting him upright before unceremoniously shoving him sideways so that he toppled face-first to his carbo-loaded fate.

That would do.

Exhausted by the whole ordeal, Angel collapsed at the side of the bath, grains of rice sticking to his damp skin and hair.

All that was left to do was wait.

[a-hazbin-spider]

✉ - @voxuli 👀

Left Unsaid // @voxuli

Several times now, he has found himself staring down at a screen with a number that doesn’t belong in a place of familiarity. So many instances of reaching and at the last moment flaking out. Despite knowing he was above him, despite knowing he was nothing short of a hindrance by now. Somehow this felt like one of few options he could contact. Why? No clue.

[Txt: mister vox im trapped on set] gross. Despite this being a struggle to do with everything stuck, he’d managed to get a message typed out behind his back. He hated to ask- But, being rigged up in rope and forgotten without a means to even nick the rope? Not a lot he could go for. And the options go to zero soon as the phone slips from his grip and clacks to the floor. Yep. That wasn’t sending.

What else could make him feel like a fucking loser? How about the text that was begging for some kind of cover, some solace from anger that he was for once innocent of. Shame ate away at him, and he couldn’t get to Vox before he was facing a tantrum anyway.

So tired…his head droops forward, bumping into the silly little device occasionally. His head was a bit fuzzy, missing something. He remembered a little, remembered Vox was in some rough shape… [Txt: i hope ur feeelin bettr with] huh… with what? His head? Or was it… the more he attempt this thought the further he drifts. Mercifully falling asleep before it was sent.

Hrm. One of those cameras is aimed right at him. He swears he saw that damn thing move, swears Vox was actively watching. A sneer moves over his expression, what was he looking at- huh? Didn’t he have something better to do? A few seconds tick past, and he starts tacking a message down. Siiigh. No. That’s stupid. He resigns to his fate of changing and mooning that asshat again.

As hell may have it, even when Val partnered with a tech genius, he still managed to make fire hazards like it was nobody’s business. Typical. He felt a little like bitching, writing down a quick message to ask Vox to tell him what for, or something. But, it never got sent. He just had a picture of a disgusting misuse of an outlet device he had to get rid of.

Leading up to this night. He really needed somewhere- just to hide out, and catch his breath. He didn’t know if it’d work, or if Vox was still mad at him after everything but he bit the bullet and hit send.

[Txt: i kno it’s a lil bit weird to ask, but can i just sit by ya shark tank for a lil bit? just wanna watch em swim a lil bit, that’s all]

[voxxisms]

@voxuli whispered a line !! m!a: rp sentient ( accepting! ) [[oof... That's a rough one, Vox. You seem to be taking this pretty well, but do you think you'll forget all of this once the event is over? Would you like to? ]]

vox. this one was a whirlwind of an experience, always would be, whether they were pressed against a wall somewhere or dancing along to music and waving off reporters. he liked him a little too much, and now he had every bit of knowledge to why and where it would go and every world that existed between them, whether in small part or large.

but vox wasn't the one talking to him, so skyward his gaze went.

a name whispered in the wind: ace. and wind it was. going whatever direction it desired, fast - paced and energetic, swirling up the unsuspecting leaves and fluttering cotton and wheat. the scents of a fresh start, a new day, morning dew. cool to the touch, an aura of something soft and melodic, but with a glow behind it, a sky blue. the room felt refreshed and calm. this being seemed so benevolent, compared to some, and he didn't get so much a sense of pity, as a feeling of curiosity.

❛ i don't ... i don't know. it's a lot to think on. to know. but would forgetting mean good or bad things? i'm a big proponent of knowing is better than not knowing ... i think i would rather know, but maybe not always have to see it all. being given a choice between the two would be ideal. like a switch, you know? ❜

he was trying to be analytical about it, but it also felt terrible being the only one to know. maybe forgetting would be better? he didn't know.