Boundaries
They were and they are still besties, but… Some things had to change.
when Rosie can’t resist the urge to pet the fluffy deer
Alasor has to give her a taste of her own medicine
1 month ago
tuned to the wrong station
@lowhellfrequency
20F/main:@cecilthefreakmostly reblogsoccasional original content (by accident)
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Forced Broadcast || Part 3
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I’ve colored all these pages today in like 5 hours (sketched much earlier). (though i had to redraw few panels). I’m doing these so fast i think i should do all my comics like this…
also, my hand is stuck in pen-holding position now. I don’t mind.
Anyway, your thoughts, your feelings, your theories? I already know how i end this and it’s gonna be OHHHHH….
Tag list under cut, if you want to be added or removed lmk in the comments
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HH & HB SINSMAS SPECIAL
Alastor
Alastor does not celebrate Christmas…
But he adores Sinsmas, because it’s delightfully wicked.
His domain transforms into a 1920s nightmare wonderland: red velvet, gold trim, glowing sigils, a vintage phonograph playing jazzy carols warped into demonic harmonies.
He offers you a dance, gloved hand extended, grin wide and carved-to-perfection.
“My dear, consider yourself honored. I don’t invite just anyone to my festivities.”
He prepares an elegant, eerie feast:
rare meats, spiced drinks, and desserts that move ever so slightly.
Your gift?
A beautifully wrapped box. Inside:
A charm enchanted to protect you, but it pulses with his magic, binding you faintly to him.
“Do take good care of that. After all… it’s a piece of me.”
Angel Dust
Angel turns Sinsmas into a sparkly, chaotic mess.
Pink garlands. Glitter everywhere. Booze. Naughty ornaments.
He sits you on his lap and covers you in kisses.
“C’mere, sugar~! It’s the one time of year I’m allowed to spoil ya without Valentino bitching about it.”
He gives you fuzzy handcuffs “as a joke” but blushes when you tease him about it.
Later, he wraps himself in Christmas lights and demands a photo shoot.
“You wanna unwrap your present now or later, doll?”
Husk
Husk pretends he doesn’t care.
He’s lying.
He decorates the bar with crooked lights and little devil ornaments.
He pours you your favorite drink before you even order it.
“Tch. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
He gives you a small gift, a keychain shaped like a mini playing card.
When you hug him, he turns red, wings twitching.
“…Fine. Maybe I like your company.”
Vox
Vox’s Sinsmas is a corporate-level spectacle.
Holograms, neon decorations, a massive digital tree.
He hosts a private show just for you, screens displaying your name in stylized VFX.
He lounges on a throne-like chair, pulls you onto his lap, smirking.
“Congrats, sweetheart. You’re the only person I feel like entertaining tonight.”
Your gift:
A custom device linked only to him, exclusive contact, VIP access, and powerful tech perks.
“Use it when you want me. I always respond to my favorites.”
Valentino
Sinfully extravagant.
Silk drapes, champagne fountains, sensual lighting.
He smothers you in luxury:
— jewelry
— designer outfits
— perfumed roses
— expensive sweets
He strokes your cheek with manicured fingers(?.
“You look better wrapped in my gifts than any decoration I’ve ever owned.”
Intense, possessive… but kinda soft for you.
Velvette
Velvette throws the ultimate aesthetic Sinsmas.
Pink-and-black decorations, influencer glow, cameras, glitter cannons.
She films a vlog “Sinsmas with my fave bitch 😘✨.”
She gives you a whole haul of designer items, perfumes, and custom accessories.
“Okay, babe, now pose with me… this one’s for the feed.”
She lets you sit on her lap while editing the video, head on your shoulder.
Charlie
Charlie LOVES Sinsmas.
She decorates every inch of the hotel with warm lights, candy canes, glittery stars.
She hugs you the second she sees you.
“I’m so glad you’re here!”
She organizes a cozy movie night with cocoa, blankets, and handmade gifts.
Your present:
A hand-painted ornament of you two.
She blushes, smiling brightly.
“It’s our first Sinsmas together… I wanted something special.”
Vaggie
Vaggie sets up a quiet, intimate Sinsmas.
Warm lanterns, a small dinner, peaceful music.
She wraps her arms around your waist from behind.
“Thanks for spending your holiday with me. I don’t say it often… but you mean a lot.”
Your gift:
A switchblade with your name engraved.
Practical. Protective. Her love language.
Blitzø
Blitzo’s Sinsmas is a disaster.
A fire hazard.
Half the decorations are stolen.
He gives you a gift in terrible wrapping paper:
A plush horse.
He looks away, scratching his cheek.
“It’s dumb but… You smiled when you saw it last time, sooo… whatever.”
He drags you under the mistletoe every chance he gets.
Stolas
Stolas decorates everything in purple-gold starlight.
Luxurious, celestial, romantic.
He pulls you close with a gentle smile.
“My darling star, thank you for gracing my Sinsmas.”
He reads you soft incantations by firelight, voice velvet-smooth.
Your gift:
A grimoire page enchanted for your protection, written in his personal hand.
He kisses your forehead, then your lips, lingering.
Octavia
Very soft, very quiet.
Dark lights, calming music, a blanket fort.
She gives you a plush shaped like a little bird.
“I… thought you might like it.”
You talk for hours about space, dreams, music.
She falls asleep on your shoulder.
Loona
Loona pretends she hates holidays.
But she got you a gift.
And hides it behind her and denies everything.
When you unwrap it, a collar/bracelet matching hers, she turns bright red.
“It’s not a big deal! Just shut up and take it.”
She lets you pet her ears later.
She growls but doesn’t move away.
Verosika
Pink flames, scented candles, sultry music.
A sensual, glamorous Sinsmas.
She pulls you into her lap, tracing a finger down your spine.
“Sweetheart… you’re the only gift I want on this holiday.”
She gives you designer perfume and kisses that leave marks like signatures.
Fizzarolli
Fizz sets up a playful, circus-themed Sinsmas.
Glitter, juggling ornaments, silly music.
He bounces on you excitedly.
“Lovebug! Open your gift open your gift OPEN IT—!”
It’s something cute and handmade.
He blushes when you hug him.
He curls up around you, surprisingly affectionate.
Lucifer
Elegant. Regal. An overwhelming amount of ducks.
Ducks in bowties. Duck ornaments. Duck-shaped cookies.
“Do not comment on the ducks,” he says, guiding you by the hand.
He spoils you with rare gifts:
A cloak woven with heavenly thread.
A crown of infernal feathers.
He places it on you himself.
“You may stand beside me as my equal. At least for tonight.”
Satan
A powerful, passionate Sinsmas.
Crimson lights, roaring fire, roaring everything.
He gives you a weapon, beautiful, deadly, forged specifically for your hand.
“Use it well. And know that it marks you as mine.”
His kisses are heated, intense, hungry. (He might end up eating you, but… I’m sure you knew it.)
Bee
A massive party with neon lights, drinks flowing, music pounding.
Bee flies up behind you and hugs you from behind.
“Baaaabe!! You came!! Let’s get WASTED it’s Sinsmas!!!”
She gives you rare honey in a jeweled vial, intoxicating, magical.
Dances with you for hours.
Belphegor
Softest Christmas in all Hell.
Cloud-like beds, warm colors, gentle whispers.
She drags you under blankets and refuses to move.
“Mmm… your warmth is the best present.”
She gives you enchanted sleep balm that guarantees perfect dreams.
Leviathan
Her underwater palace glows with bioluminescent ornaments.
Waves crash softly in the distance.
She gives you jewelry carved from deep-sea gemstones.
Her voice trembles:
“I don't… want to lose you to anyone else. Stay.”
She clings a bit tighter than usual.
Mammon
A Sinsmas made of gold.
Shiny. Flashy. Extravagant.
He gives you a mountain of presents
coins
gems
clothes
rare artifacts
anything your eyes land on.
“C’mon sugar, you deserve TOP-TIER spoilin’!”
He shows off with flashy stunts just to see you laugh.
Asmodeus
A glamorous, sensual Sinsmas soirée.
Champagne fountains, velvet lounges, sultry music.
Ozzie pulls you close with a purr.
“Mmm, darling~ you look like the perfect Sinsmas treat.”
Your present is…
luxurious
intimate
and chosen with perfect knowledge of your tastes.
He lavishes you in affection all night.
@lofasofabread @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @luleck @n-ioykak @aquaamethyst96 @fries11 @genderlessdude92 @fifiyaps @yvanill4 @that-b-word-lol @shadowolf993 @luckyangelballoon @dap11 @fubbbubb @mysticwitchcraftco @qardasngan @tjmaxx556 @th3-lady @anonymousewrites @alastorscutetushy @sirens-and-moonflowers @theylovethesky @actuallyshard @atashiboba @himikoquack @mommyl-o-n-glegs @theylovethesky @fishfetus @miaudow @viczvaporub @whimsiecat @blueish-flower @notlikeothernerds @lelewright1234
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I loved the helluva short so much!! It was awesome seeing more of Millie and her dynamic with Sallie May!
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Charlie: “We can redeem everyone if we just believe!”
Alastor: believes in absolutely nothing except chaos and good radio reception
Angel Dust: gets banned from the hotel group chat within 3 minutes
Vaggie: holding the entire establishment together with rage and duct tape
Husk: has been tired since 1912
Niffty: appears, cleans one object, commits three crimes, vanishes
Meanwhile the hotel has been open for 12 hours and somehow:
- nothing is redeemed
- everything is on fire
- Alastor is smiling, which means it’s definitely his fault
✨ redemption pending ✨
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Credit to @stolitzkiss on twitter
Its like an alternate reality where Blitzø and Stolas stayed in touch and fell in love and blitzø adopted loona way earlier because he was more responsible and stolas and stella got a divorce right after producing an heir.
Thats so sweet
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BECAUSE WHY IS THIS TINY DEMON ABLE TO CALM SATAN
ARE THEY LIKE, THERAPY ORDERED?
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How your partner would react to you being a powerful overlord (w/Vox, Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie, Adam, Abel)
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Warning: angst, betrayal, obsession
Genre: love and angst with betray mixed in
Summary: You’re an undefeated Overlord even Lucifer would step around carefully, but no one has ever seen your true face. Not until today. Can be read as Women reader, GN reader, Male reader.
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📺 VOX⚡️
Vox freezes only long enough for his software to catch up, then—
OH. MY. GOD.
He EXPLODES into excitement. Static flaring red, eyes glitching like fireworks, voice blown out by microphone distortion:
“BABE—OH MY FUCKING GOD, BABE—YOU’RE THE MOST POWERFUL OVERLORD IN HELL?!”
His ego SPROUTS WINGS.
He literally storms into the Vees boardroom and demands a new sign be built immediately:
V V V V
Velvet goes “why the extra V?” He smirks: “Vox. Velvette. Valentino. AND V(you).”
Next day? Billboards. Ads. Commercials. “VOX + THE STRONGEST OVERLORD—UNSTOPPABLE COUPLE OF HELL.”
He livestreams your relationship announcement like a wedding.
He kisses you on camera. He flexes you like a trophy. He posts fan edits. He plays your clips on repeat behind him in interviews.
Normally you’d throttle him— but you love him, so you allow it.
He literally hugs you from behind during broadcasts and whispers into your mic:
“Let Hell see we’re the apex predators. Together.”
Obsessed doesn’t cover it. He’s delusional-proud. He thinks you and him are Hell’s royal power couple.
And honestly? You kinda are.
🎙️ ALASTOR📻
Alastor’s smile goes dead still—radio static ringing behind him like a glitching memory.
He speaks slowly: “My dear… you?”
His voice lowers into a dangerous velvet confusion: “You—of all souls—an Overlord equal to the beasts I hunt?”
He genuinely cannot compute it. It doesn’t match anything about you.
“You’re gentle. And hopelessly softhearted. And you laugh easily. And you feed stray demons. And you forgive everything…”
His head tilts, voice barely audible: “…so why are you one of them?”
He stares like trying to read secrets written under your skin.
Then his smile returns—too sharp. Too possessive.
“You should have told me.”
Not angry. Not loud. But wounded, possessive, hungry for truth.
“No more lies,” he murmurs, touching your cheek with gloved fingers. “You belong to me, and I cannot protect what I do not fully know.”
There it is—the yandere edge.
He steps closer, voice honey-sweet with ownership: “You are mine, mon chéri. Every secret. Every power. Every ruthless part of you… I’ll love even those.”
His smile drops one more octave: “And if Hell fears you… wonderful. It means they’ll never dare take you from me.”
He kisses your knuckles like claiming territory.
👑 LUCIFER🐥:
Lucifer hears the reveal through a dozen screaming demon tabloids and televised reactions all at once—news choppers outside, sirens, gossip websites crashing.
He’s in his office doing paperwork and suddenly—slam—every screen broadcasts your overlord form unmasked.
He freezes.
Then sets his pen down very slowly.
“…oh.”
Not angry.
Not horrified.
Just stunned.
He leans back in his throne chair, staring at the footage, eyes widening in growing realization:
“…oh my stars… she’s magnificent.”
There’s fear in his chest—not fear OF you—but fear FOR you.
The knowledge that you survived Hell alone, climbed higher than anyone predicted, became something colossal without help.
He whispers to himself:
“What have you endured, my love…?”
When you return home Lucifer stands at his balcony, hair swaying in the wind dramatically (of course), heart pounding.
“You could’ve told me,” he murmurs, voice tremoring just slightly. “I’m ancient—I’ve seen terrors—but you… you frighten me in a way I don’t hate.”
Yes, Lucifer Morningstar is intimidated.
Yes, he loves that about you.
He steps closer, tracing your arm with gentle fingertips:
“I’ve always attracted powerful women… but you? You are a force Hell itself bows to.”
You start to apologize and he hushes you with a soft touch to your cheek:
“No, no apologies. Only… no more hiding. I want every part of you. Even the parts that terrify the universe.”
His tone drops—
warm,
devoted,
a little desperate:
“And I hope… I pray… that when I can’t guide Charlie, you will. Hell needs people like her. And it needs people like you. Together.”
He kisses your forehead,
a reverent gesture,
almost worship.
“My queen,” he whispers against your skin,
“I’ve never been more proud… or more afraid… and I love that.”
Then, joking shyly under his breath:
“I can’t believe I’ve bagged another terrifying goddess. Truly, an addiction at this point.”
He laughs nervously—
Lucifer Morningstar,
nervous.
And in love.
💫CHARLIE💕
Charlie freezes when the mask slips. Her smile falters—just once—because the thought hits her immediately: How long were you carrying this alone? Why didn’t you trust me?
She tries to stay composed since millions just saw the reveal live, but you can see it in her eyes—confusion mixed with a sting of betrayal. Later, when cameras are off, she quietly asks:
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Not yelling. Not accusing. Just soft hurt. She squeezes her tail nervously and avoids eye contact for a moment.
“When we decided to be together, I thought we promised honesty…”
Her voice shakes, but she doesn’t pull away from you. Because Charlie isn’t someone who gives up on love easily.
But then, understanding floods through her: “You must have had reasons… Hell doesn’t treat the powerful kindly.”
Her heart aches at the idea of you going through centuries of punishment ALONE. She gently takes your hand and smiles—wobbly but loving:
“Just…please don’t keep things like that from me again.”
And then—because Charlie always dreams forward— “If you’ll help the hotel—with your powers—and with redemption… then of course I forgive you.”
She kisses your cheek and whispers: “I love all sides of you… even the terrifying ones.”
🦋 VAGGIE🪽
When the whole internet of Hell erupts over your livestream identity reveal, Vaggie shuts the screen off before the comments could get hateful.
She doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t accuse, doesn’t raise her voice. She just sits beside you quietly, knees touching your knees, and says in a painfully soft whisper:
“…I’ve hidden who I was too.”
At first, you think she means her life—she shakes her head. No who she was.
“No. That’s only part of it. I hid because I didn’t know who I was. And I thought if people knew, I’d be targeted, or used, or hated.”
A long pause. A long inhale.
Her voice trembles:
“I was an Angel, an exorcist” I thought being honest would mean losing everything… I’m sorry my love”
And it hits you—she understands in a way almost no one else possibly could.
Then she takes your hands in hers, squeezing so tight her gloves creak.
“Thank you for surviving long enough to meet me.”
You blink—she’s crying silently.
There is no judgment in her touch. Only empathy. Only understanding.
Then she confesses: “I’m terrified most days. I pretend I’m strong for everyone. But I know what it’s like to carry fear alone… so now that everyone knows your truth, let me share mine.”
She leans into your shoulder, voice small and fragile:
“Don’t hide from me. I won’t hide from you anymore either.”
She doesn’t kiss you. She rests her forehead against yours—the most intimate acceptance she’s capable of.
🗡️ ADAM🎸
Adam’s shock slowly turns into something forbidden and intoxicating. He laughs—half panicked, half flustered:
“Of course you’d be an Overlord. Because this relationship wasn’t already sinful enough.”
He paces, visibly stressed, visibly turned on, visibly annoyed with himself:
“I should condemn you. I should. But… I can’t. Because I love you and your—entire physical situation is—very distracting.”
Eventually, Adam corners you gently, voice dropping: “But there have to be rules. If we’re doing this… you need to help me with exterminations.”
You cross your arms, “Only if exterminations get cut in HALF—and only every two years.”
Adam scoffs, dramatic: “That’s ridiculous…”
Silence. Then quiet surrender.
“…Fine. I’ll make it work. But you owe me for this.”
His fingers slip around your waist: “And yes, we’re still together. Even if Heaven would smite me if they knew.”
🪽 ABEL🪽
Abel looks at you with a shattered expression. His voice almost gone:
“You’re one of them? The ones they warned us about?”
He retreats a step, wings tucked back, trying to breathe through the disappointment, through fear of losing you:
“You killed, you ruled, you conquered—was any of it necessary?”
Your silence hurts him more than any confession.
Then you take him to your territory— not violent, not chaotic, but structured, peaceful, organized.
Like a strange functioning kingdom instead of Hell’s chaotic madness.
Abel looks around, amazed: “This is… civilized. You protected these people…?”
He turns to you slowly, expression softening into stunned relief.
“My love… maybe you were surviving, not destroying.”
He cups your cheek gently, voice breaking: “But you can’t keep secrets from me anymore. Not when we’re partners.”
Then, with serious warmth: “And I want something in return… join Charlie’s redemption plan. Help your people rise. Help yourself rise.”
Finally, soft, hopeful: “I think… I can still believe in you.”
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Hello this won the polll and I enjoyed writing this a ton!!! I hope you all enjoy it, request are still open I am trying to do 2 a day so please be patient with me!! 💗💜
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No more eyes privilege for Alastor.
Start your new year with new au!
Under a sketch with my variations of Alastor losing an eye, someone suggested a scenario, where both happen……
i couldn’t resist the urge. MORE ANGST! WE NEED MORE ANGST!
I’m gonna make at least 2 more comics, with right eye loss and Rosie’s reaction to this whole… situation. More? Who knows.
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Angel Dust: I don’t cause problems.
Husk: You are the problem.
Angel Dust: Wow. Rude. Accurate, but rude.
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I ship StaticBelle in an intellectual and philosophical way and few could even begin to grasp the image of them that i have created in my mind. Its also hot.
Staticbelle is either a multi-layered character study regarding how they’re both desperate dreamers who would do whatever it takes to make a change in the world, even if it throws their love ones aside and they’re blinded by their pride, it’s all worth it to have one touch of Heaven.
Or they’re two business owners on varying levels of unhingedness(?) infodumping about their fixations of choice while looking pretty.
There is no inbetween.
