{ In a place like hell, Danger is around every corner. So a smart woman like Adelia of course hid herself away in a small corner of hell long forgotten. That is until someone begins to intrude onto her land.
VoxTec Enterprise is always looking for a way to be bigger to be better to be Brighter. So when Vox spots some undeveloped land- those pros at Disney come to land and he sparks a brilliant plan.
Go into the land, cut everything down and make all of it into a Vee themed Amusement park! And thereās not a single fucker out there thats gonna stop him- so he thought.
When a female replica of the mother fucker who absolutely humiliated him suddenly appears surrounded by hellish versions of Alligators flanking her. Perhaps negotiations are actually to be made.}
āāāāā
The 1910s were lonely for Adelia; most of her life was lonely if she were honest. Every person in hell was suffering in their own way but this poor old lass was just a wandering shell of who she used to be. Every person that passed either a reminder of what haunted her nightly in her dreams or the things that she had long ago lost.
So when she discovers a small forgotten bayou? It was like a small beacon of familiarity, as well as a palace of safety.
As much as the woman thought of herself as rather cunning and well minded; there was no doubt she was small. That with few powers she could utilize right out the gate like others. The smart thing for Adelia; was just hunkering down.
So there she lived for decades; in a small cabin on the edge of the water where the hell-gators liked to bask on black glass warn down to sand. Deep grumbles for her echoing through the deep waters. Rippling the surface of the waters with their insistent call.
Requesting the touch of those darkened claws she hid so righteously from others. It was no oneās business what deals had been taken by her or others. The gators however, they never asked unnesseary questions. Never sneered at the old way the doe spoke, didnt chastise the poor little woman for lacking knowledge and being ābehind the times.ā No no, they only demanded the deep leather of their darkened skin be thoroughly teased by her claws.
Softly the woman smiles, cradling the head of a particularly large white beast in the cusp of her lap while the buzz of a faded melody danced in the humid air around them. A distant reminder of a time long past, something few remembered and even fewer stopped to enjoy.
āIf happiness was a tangible thing it would be you~
If youāda told me the feeling youād bring, Iād think it untrue~
And people search for a wonder like you, all of their lives~
You still amaze me after all this timeā¦ā
The scratch of that old style voxophone tickles the air as the doe begins to sing aloud to the music; beginning to loosing herself in the peaceful moment. There werenāt many times like this in the pits of despair, so it wasnt unheard of for someone to get soaked into it. So soaked in they could loose track of time.
āYou pull me in like some kind of wind
Mesmerized by the hold I'm in
Leave you here, I don't wanna
I wannaā¦ā
The tears that had gathered in the corners of those wine red eyes were unexpected but not scorned. The woman was used to the sudden flood of emotion that came with the loss of all she had.
āI, I will protect you at all costs
Keep you safe here in my arms
I, I will protect you at all costs
At all costs~ā
A soft glow gathered on the surface of the lake; a chuckle escaping watery lips as Adelia watches the faded green shimmer of one of the few gifts she was granted. Watching as she uses it to subcontiously create images of both Alastor and herself. The ghostly images Dancing across the surface of the lake like an old picture box show.
Suddenly it was quiet.
The once chaos filled wood falls silent without warning; causing a near cosmic shift in the peace that had held the bayou together.
The music cuts rather abruptly, as the silence causes the woman to stiffen, head jerking to and fro in an attempt to find what had caused such a sudden jolt in the wildlife as to cause near and total silence. Not even a single cricket was chirping anymore.
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if it isn't painfully obvious; this is my first time partaking in such idle handed tasks. So bare with an old lass as she attempts something entirely new; oh- and do have your head about you, wisen up so you can mind your Manners.š«š¦
---
Hello I am Jamie the holy controller/creator of the sweet and endearing Adelia Lovau (Not same as her son's last name for plot reasons.) I am 27 and would like to interact with mainly adults please.
Adelias story covers very mature themes (miscarriages, death, murder, and emotional manipulation.) Please be warned!
As for shipping, I- am polygamous; Adelia would. Full stop. No takesies backsies IF she likes them enough. It's all about that personality. Can you make her laugh? Are you a good listener? Do you do as your told? Lets find out!
I also am proship so please do not be surprised if there are taboo themes between Alastor and Adelia.
---
Takes place post season two so please mind for spoilers. Protect thyself!
Most of the lore will be from canon, some stuff headcanon.
This will act as a roleplay account as well as a record for Adelia. Letter, notebook passages, and stories from her life.
Please feel free to use anyone to reach out to message the lady. I will respond to just about anyone so long as it fits into Hazbin or even Helluva.
I have a discord where I like to do longer, story driven roleplay. Please reach out in dms if interested.
Favored ships: Radiostatic, MotherRadio, StaticMother, GuitarMother, AppleMother, most other ships as background ships.
Voxās obsession begins the moment he sees Adelia; an unassuming woman who carries herself with a quiet grace entirely out of place in Hellās chaos. Her warmth, serenity, and sharp, grounded demeanor strike him harder than any rival ever has, igniting a fixation he can neither understand nor shake. What starts as a jolt of interest quickly becomes an electrical storm under his skin, pulling him again and again into her orbit through āaccidentalā encounters that are anything but accidental. Each time he sees her, she surprises him: steady where others crumble before him, kind where Hell is cruel, bold enough to tease him without fear. She becomes the only constant signal he canāt tune out.
As Vox tracks her movements; market stalls, quiet ruins, old streetcar lines; his obsession deepens into something feverish. He studies her habits, her expressions, the way she adjusts her gloves or hums under her breath. Every small detail becomes an anchor for his spiraling fascination. Her presence sharpens him, softens him, unravels him; until he finds himself glitching in front of the Vees. When they press him, Vox breaks character for the first time in years, admitting that someone has gotten under his skin. The admission shocks even him. He tries to deny it, but his circuitry betrays him. He leaves abruptly, unable to stay still, unable to keep away from the one person who makes Hell feel almostā¦ quiet.
Meanwhile, Adelia remains unaware of the depth of Voxās fixation, though she senses his odd persistence. She finds his sudden appearances strange but not unwelcome, seeing him as a curious, strangely charming demon who seems to enjoy her company more than he intends to admit. Her gentle reactions only fuel him further. By the time he meets her again along the streetcar line, Vox realizes just how badly heās come to depend on her presence. She smiles at him; calm, knowing; and something in him breaks completely. For the first time since his rise to power, Vox feels fear: the fear of wanting something so deeply he canāt afford to lose it. And yet, he steps closer. Because he canāt stop. Because sheās become the only thing in Hell he canāt look away from.
Vox wasnāt looking for anything. He was simply strolling through Pentagram City, riding the ambient hum of his own static as he scanned the crowds the way a bored predator paces a cage. Half-listening, half-thinking, half-dissociatingāuntil a soft flicker of movement caught his eye.
He didnāt even know what heād seen at first.
Just color, shape, the sweep of a small figure threading through a crowd like she didnāt belong here. Like the city spat her in by mistake. Her hair was perfectly coiffed despite the humidity, her dress pressed and tidy against her frame, her posture stiff with a kind of old-world dignity that had no business surviving Hell.
And Vox; actual overlord Vox; stopped walking.
The crowd kept flowing around him, but he simply stood there, staring at the woman who seemed entirely unaware she had just flipped a switch inside him he didnāt even know existed. His screen blinked onceāstatic-glitch, involuntary, something inside him misfiring.
She paused near a storefront, adjusting the strap on her bag with careful, practiced hands. Quiet. Intent. Purposeful.
Everything in Voxās circuitry went hot.
He felt himself move without thinking. Smooth, silent, predatory glide; overlord confidence with something new riding under it. Something sharp, hungry, almost childishly fascinated.
He approached her from the side, voice velvet-soft and intentionally charming.
āExcuse me, doll. You look a little turned around.ā
She startled, not dramatically; but enough that her earrings swung with her movement. Her eyes; warm, brown, richly alive; lifted to him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.
āMy apologies,ā she said, her accent lilting gently, āIām just lookinā for the main street. Signs here aināt very clear.ā
Her voice hit him like voltage.
Warm. Steady. The kind of softness he thought Hell had eaten alive long ago.
Voxās screen faintly glitched again.
āWell, lucky you,ā he purred, stepping just close enough to invade her space without being obvious, āyouāve stumbled on the one demon in this city who actually wants to give directions.ā
She arched an eyebrow. āOh? And here I was thinkinā overlords had better things to do.ā
Ah. She didnāt recognize him. Not immediately.
He felt something crackle inside; delight, ego, obsession winding together into a single tight coil.
āI have,ā he said, lowering his voice, ābut suddenly, helping you feels far more important.ā
For a heartbeat she didnāt reply. Just studied him, head tilting slightly, gaze narrowing in a way that made him feel seen; not feared. Not fawned over. Seen.
It was intoxicating.
āYou talk real pretty,ā she finally said, not mockingāsimply noting it. āBut I suppose Iāll take the help.ā
Vox felt an electric pulse ripple down his spine.
She trusted him. Even a sliver.
That was all he needed to justify everything that sparked in him now.
āAllow me,ā he said, gesturing with a dramatic flourish he didnāt usually waste on strangers.
As they walked, he found himself watching every tiny movement she made; the way her hands stayed close to her body like sheād learned to protect what little she had; the way her steps were small but firm; the way she hummed under her breath when she was nervous.
He wanted to catalog all of it.
Wanted to know what her laugh sounded like.
What her anger tasted like.
Where she lived.
Who she talked to.
What she feared.
When she glanced at him again, offering a small, polite smile, Vox felt something seize in his chest; a flicker of possessiveness so sudden it bordered on painful. He swallowed it down smoothly, but his voice came out warmer than he intended.
āYou know,ā he murmured, āitās not often someone like you wanders through my signal range.ā
āSomeone like me?ā she echoed.
āSoft,ā he said before he could lie. āReal.ā
Her steps faltered; just slightly.
She looked away, cheeks coloring with something shy, something startled. āWellā¦ thank you, I suppose.ā
Voxās grin sharpened.
Oh, he liked that reaction.
He wanted more of it.
He leaned in just a breath closer; enough that his screen reflected in her eyes.
āIf you ever get lost again,ā he murmured, āIāll find you.ā
She blinked, caught off guard. āThat supposed to comfort me, or scare me?ā
āYes,ā he said simply.
Her laugh; unexpected, brief, genuine; nearly fried his circuits.
And when she walked away, waving a polite goodbye, Vox didnāt move. Didnāt speak. Didnāt breathe for a moment.
His screen pulsed once.
Then again.
A soft, rhythmic flicker-heartbeat for a man who no longer had one.
āOhhh no,ā he whispered to himself, smile stretching, āthatāsā¦ dangerous.ā
ź§ šš šššš«ššš« - I'llusions and Mind Tricks
---
Open for engament
Discord open for rp as well.
---
Vox spots a familiar and unsettling figure across a smog-tinted street, instantly freezing as his attention locks on a petite doe demon. The sight of her, so unexpectedly alive and vivid after so many years, stirs a mix of curiosity, irritation, and unbidden desire. Without thinking, he crosses the street, causing chaos in his wake, determined to get closer and confront this strange apparition. The city around them reacts to his electric presence, lights flickering and bystanders panicking, but he remains focused entirely on her.
Adelia, meanwhile, senses the intense scrutiny before she even notices him fully. Her instincts tighten her body like a drawn bow, ears swiveling, tail stiffening, every muscle on alert. Despite her wariness, she maintains composure, stepping into the flow of the street and performing small, careful actions like helping a nearby patron and requesting napkins, grounding herself amid the unnerving energy she feels. Every instinct tells her something is off, yet she refuses to show fear, curious about the stranger whose attention seems so unrelenting.
Their eyes finally meet, and a subtle, electric tension blooms. Adelia speaks first, her polite voice and measured words masking both apprehension and intrigue. Vox, unaccustomed to being addressed this way, falters momentarily but quickly recovers, responding with charm, power, and a magnetic intensity that makes it impossible for her to look away. The small gesturesāthe offered hand, the kiss to itācarry a mixture of playfulness, dominance, and unspoken challenge, weaving a connection neither of them fully understands yet.
Through their first exchange, a curious dynamic forms between the cautious, grounded doe and the larger-than-life overlord of media. Adeliaās wit and grace hold her in subtle control, even as Voxās chaotic energy dominates the space. In these brief moments, their worlds collide in a way that is dangerous, intoxicating, and unforgettable, hinting at a relationship that will challenge both their expectations and their sense of control.
---
The first time he saw her, Vox genuinely thought one of his processors had fried.
A static hiss crawled across his vision-feed, pixels distorting, color bands tearing across the edges of his screen. For a horrifying second he thought heād taken a hit; an overload, a voltage spike, maybe Valentino had slipped something into one of their ācelebratoryā drinks again. Something was wrong. Had to be.
Because what he saw?
No. No-no-no-no. Impossible.
The red was what hit him first; that violent, saturated shade heād have recognized anywhere. Heād memorized it out of hatred alone. It was the exact red of that bastardās stupid hair, the red that haunted every corner of Voxās empire like a glitch he couldnāt patch out.
Her silhouette flickered in the distance: burgundy curls, slim frame, delicate ears pricked in the exact same shape as-
Static snarled through his chest.
No.
There was no universe; no Hell ; where he was seeing a woman who looked like Alastor.
His system mustāve misfired. Some kind of hallucination. Maybe too many stimulants. Maybe not enough. Maybe stress. Maybe heād finally snapped under the sheer indignity of dealing with Valentino and Velvet in the same week.
His screen shook slightly.
He told himself it was just a loose cable.
He blinked once; a rapid shutter of pixels; and by the time his processors aligned again, she was gone.
The street was empty.
And Vox was left standing there like a bug stuck in amber, the image burned onto his internal memory banks. Something between confusion, rage, andā¦ something else. Something inconvenient. Something he deleted, then undeleted, then finally shoved into a corrupted folder and pretended wasnāt taking up drive space.
Heād woken up more than once afterward with a jolt; overheating circuitry, phantom sensations, his body reacting before his rational mind could catch up. Those nights he solved the problem quickly with whatever warm body happened to be on payroll, telling himself it was just maintenance. Just stress relief. Justā¦ static.
He never dwelled on it.
Because Vox moved forward. Always forward. His rise was too sharp, too clean, too calculated to waste time on glitches from years ago. He built VoxTech, VoxMedia, V-corp. He built a brand, a dynasty, an empire; and buried that moment under layers of neon progress.
Ten years passed. Then fifteen.
The memory eroded, pixel by pixel.
He forgot her.
He forgot the way her image had scrambled parts of him he didnāt even know could scramble.
There was no space left for hallucinations anyway; not with Alastor outpacing him at every corner, not with territory lines shifting, not with overlords dragging each other over the coals every week on public broadcast. It was a war of reputation, and Vox did not lose wars about reputation.
Eventually things steadied. Valentino settled. Velvet matured. Their empire stabilized. Vox threw himself into work so intensely that even hellfire looked dim compared to the glow of his own screens.
And then...
his world stuttered.
---
-he saw her again.
But Adelia didnāt see him at first.
She had been too busy fussing with the paper wrapping around a bouquet she needed to deliver, muttering to herself about the price of twine going up again. The street was noisy, the usual haze of Prideās smog rippling in the red light. Her ears flicked as she tried to center herself in the chaos, instinct checking for danger the way prey-blood had taught her from the cradle.
Thatās when she felt it-
a sharp prickle down the back of her neck.
Like a pair of eyes had just crawled onto her skin and settled there.
Her steps slowed.
Her tail stiffened.
Her heartbeat hitch-stepped in her chest.
*Whoās staring?*
She didnāt turn immediately. No- you never turn toward a predator too fast. You listen first. You breathe slow. You let them think you donāt notice.
But the pressure didnāt ease. It clung to her, heavy, greedy.
She finally lifted her eyes.
Across the street stood a man- or something shaped like one.
Tall, long-limbed, sharp in a way that made her pulse trip. But what stopped her breath wasnāt the strange energy rolling off himā¦
It was the screen where his face should've been.
A glowing, crackling, humming thing.
Alien.
Cold.
Wrong in a way she couldnāt quite name.
Adelia nearly dropped her flowers.
Bon Dyeā¦ what kind of life does a soul have to live to come out the other side shaped like that?
He didnāt move at first. Just stared.
Unblinking.
Piercing.
Like he was trying to peel her apart with his gaze alone.
Her ears twitched nervously.
Her palms dampened inside her gloves.
Then, abruptly, he crossed the street; shoving a couple out of his way, flipping off a car that screeched past him. She flinched, eyes widening.
Who does that?
Someone with power.
Too much of it.
She stepped back instinctively, the flowers held protectively to her chest. Something in the air around him crackled; pressure building, electricity nipping at her senses. Before she had time to brace for it, the lights above the flower shop burst like gunfire.
Glass rained down.
Her body reacted before thought could reach it;
arms up, protecting her neck, her ears, her face.
A startled gasp left her lips.
When it was over, she hurried toward the nearest frightened patron, brushing shards from their hair, murmuring soft comforts out of habit.
āItās alright, sweetheartā¦ jusā hold still. Lemme get that out.ā
Her hands, steady from years of tending wounds and little lives, moved calmly despite her shaking spine. Whoever that tall stranger was, heād caused that. Whether on purpose or accident, she couldnāt tell. But the air around him made her skin crawl in a way that reminded her of distant storms and broken fences.
When the worst of the panic settled, she glanced his way again;
and saw him watching her.
Not just watching.
Studying.
Like she was a puzzle piece heād been missing for too long.
Her stomach tightened.
She didnāt like when powerful demons stared too long.
āNapkins, si vou plĆØ,ā she told the barista gently.
But her ears kept swiveling.
Searching.
Tracking.
There it was again. That stare.
That burning awareness.
A predatorās focus.
Her body went taut, tail lifting in warning, every muscle bracing for a voice, a command, a threat...
She turned.
And saw him.
Right there.
Only a table away.
He looked like trouble carved into the shape of a man; long fingers, too-long limbs, static dancing faint beneath his skin. She swallowed, allowing a polite smile to ease onto her lips.
What else could she do?
She decided to speak first before he could.
āBonjou,ā she said warmly. āI donāt believe weāve met. Somethinā I can help you with, young man? You lookinā kinda lost.ā
He froze in that strange way unnatural things do.
Like sheād thrown cold water on a live wire.
His response wasā¦ not impressive.
āWhat?ā
She bit back a laugh, covering her mouth delicately to save him embarrassment.
Bless his heart ā big and terrifying as he looked, he acted like someone who wasnāt used to beinā spoken to kindly.
She offered her hand.
āHere. Letās start proper.ā
He hesitated, gathering himself like a machine rebooting, then dipped down and kissed the back of her hand.
A practiced, charming gesture, but the way he lingered?
That wasnāt practiced.
His claws were cold.
Her skin was warm.
And something in his touch buzzed through her like static.
Her heart stuttered.
He straightened, voice smooth as oiled velvet.
āSorry about that,ā he purred. āI was simply captivated by such a beautiful creature. I swear Iāve seen you before. Mind giving me a name to that pretty face?ā
Heat bloomed across her cheeks.
A compliment like that delivered in a voice like that?
Even a sensible woman could feel a bit undone.
She waved the flattery off, though her smile betrayed her.
āI doubt youāve seen liāl olā me anywhere. But no harm in exchanginā names if you give me yours.ā
He lit up like sheād fed him a feast.
āOh, you havenāt heard of me? Hard to believe. Iām Vox; overlord of television and all things media. Anyone with a TV knows who Vox is~ā
Her smile softened.
Poor thing, he really believed everyone lived in his world.
āWellā¦ I donāt actually have one of those pic-televisions,ā she said sheepishly. āToo far out to catch the signal, they tell me. I get my news from papers and the radio. Donāt fix what aināt broken, my mama said.ā
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Hello, dears. I am Adeliaāsome call me a wanderer, others a troublemaker- perhaps a bit of a tease, but I prefer simply curious. I drift through the hidden corners of Hell, keeping my secrets close and my friends closerā¦ though whoās to say which is which?
Iāve seen things most would flee from, and yet I find fascination in every shadowed alley and forgotten ruin. Perhaps someday, our paths will cross, perhaps they wonāt; but if they do, I promise you, it wonāt be boring.
I write what I see, feel, and hear. I respond to threads in-character, and I love plots that twist and surprise. If youād like to interact, send a message, leave an ask, or start a thread; Iāll find my way to it.
Curiosity is dangerousā¦ and so am I. So mind your manners.
