#but vox is not nothing to him. if vox stopped paying attention to alastor alastor would be devistated

[mousy-nona]

Two's Company (Three's a Crowd)

Vox cuts into Alastor's radio broadcast, and quickly figures out why that was a Very Bad Idea.

//

Or, Vox finds out about Alastor and Lucifer. Jealousy ensues.

(Set between chapters 4 and 5 of All of God's Angels)

Lucifer had a radio. He dusted it off and turned it on some nights, when they were playing the oldies, or when he wanted to catch up on current events, or…

Or when a certain strawberry pimp was on air. 

(If he was being honest, he hadn’t missed a single episode since the day they’d met.) 

The demon’s voice was like liquid honey, dripping with dark things and speckled with odd ‘20s slang. It quickly became a habit: turn on the radio, pull up a few of his latest blueprints, and get to work. Some of Alastor’s more… creative suggestions even gave him a few ideas for new horror-themed rides for Lu Lu World. 

My muse, he thought, snorting to himself when no one was around.. 

That particular night, he was humming away, listening to Alastor prattle on about why the Pride ring was categorically better than Gluttony ( more interesting victims, for one! ) when there was an audible screech. The signal wavered, replaced by the obnoxious blaring intro of a news show.

He recognized that sound at once. Everyone in Pentagram City did. It was the breaking news soundtrack for 666 News.

But what was it doing here, on Alastor’s radio? 

He leaned in, new rubber duck design completely forgotten, as he and the rest of Hell waited with baited breath. 

“Gooood evening Pentagram City!” A voice – a man’s, with a chipper American accent by the sound of it – filtered through the speaker. Lucifer cursed to himself. He really needed to pay attention to the politics of Hell. He had no idea who this was. B something? The demon continued, sounding immensely pleased with himself. “We interrupt this not-so-important broadcast with breaking news: why are you listening to this washed up has-been when you could be watching 666 News on the V Network? Get with the times, you—”

The radio whined, letting out an audible protest as the signal was hijacked again – and by the sound of it, far more violently this time. 

The momentary crackle of static, then – “Apologies about the momentary interruption, folks!” Alastor’s cheery voice cut in. But underneath that ‘20s charm, Lucifer could hear a hardness that hadn’t been there before. “A mere technical error, nothing to worry about. I promise you, those responsible will be appropriately punished.” 

The last word practically crawled of the penumbra, of shadows, of Bad Things. Lucifer shivered, finding himself half-wishing he was the one Alastor was talking about. He caught himself with a frown. What the Hell was he thinking?

“Now back to our regularly scheduled programming!” 

The next morning, Lucifer came downstairs to find the entire hotel gathered around a shiny red box. 

“What do you think it could be?” Angel Dust asked. 

Husk shrugged, looking, as always, utterly unimpressed by the whole situation. 

Niffty was flitting around it so fast she was nothing but a blur, panting excitedly the entire time. “Don’t smell bugs,” she muttered, almost as if she was disappointed by the fact. 

“Only one way to find out. Let’s open it!” Charlie bounded forward, one hand outstretched. Both he and Vaggie leapt to stop her at the same time, but Vaggie got there first. She grabbed his daughter’s hand and twirled her away from the mysterious-box-potential-bomb-thing, popping a little kiss onto her nose to distract her when she tried to lunge for it again.

Yeeuch . Good for Charlie, but he was never going to get used to that. 

“What’s up, b–” He almost said bitches , but managed to catch himself at the last minute. “ Boys ?”

Better. Much better.

The “boys” glanced at each other, clearly confused. Vaggie let go of Charlie so fast she almost spun her around like a top. 

Charlie recovered quickly and pointed at the thing they were staring at. “Dad! This got delivered to the hotel this morning. Vaggie thinks someone wants to blow us up!” She said, as if she was announcing someone had sent them a birthday cake. 

Vaggie sighed. “Might, Charlie. I said someone might want to blow us up.” 

“Right! That!” 

“No worries!” Lucifer puffed up his chest, feeling a rush of pride. He was helping his daughter! He could feel their bond growing stronger already! “ I’ll open it!”

“Careful, Dad!” Charlie gasped. Vaggie pulled her backwards, shielding her with her own body. Husk surreptitiously stepped in front of Angel Dust. Niffty stayed exactly where she was – right next to the box – but Angel Dust swooped in and lifted her out of harm’s way. Lucifer waited a beat, wondering if Alastor was going to show up and swoop him out of the way. 

No such luck. He sighed, wondering if he’d gone temporarily insane to even hope for such a thing. Alastor would probably push him into the box if he was here. 

Holding his breath, he quickly clawed at the cardboard seams. The box fell open, revealing…

Angel Dust wrinkled his nose. “Is that…an old TV?” 

“It is,” Husk grumbled, recognition flaring in his yellow eyes.

The hazy gray screen was surrounded on all sides by wood paneling. There were two dials on it, one labeled UHF and the other labeled VHF. Attached to the front was a single note, written in huge, spiky letters: Remember the good times? 

He felt Alastor before he saw him. A mass of shadows bubbled in the corner and burst, revealing the tall, graceful demon in his erstwhile pinstripe suit.

Lucifer puffed up. “Convenient of you to come when the danger’s over, huh? Looks like I saved the day this time –” 

Alastor swept past him as if he was air. All his attention was focused on that damned TV. Lucifer’s voice faltered, sputtering like a flame before it finally went out. 

“Alastor, your buddy sent you a gift,” Husk muttered. 

“So it seems,” Alastor said, cold and cruel. He grabbed the note from the screen, his nose wrinkling as he read it. Then his grin turned sharp. 

Faster than anyone could blink, Alastor skewered the TV in half with his staff. The wood protested, groaning as it fell apart, revealing the black glistening gears inside. Acrid smoke started flowing, and Alastor was soon submerged in an eye-watering cloud, his wicked chuckles reverbrating through the entire hotel. 

“Looks like someone is desparate for my personal attention.” 

Lucifer bristled. Someone? Who? Someone other than him? He opened his mouth, but when the smoke cleared, Alastor was gone. 

Husk tutted and walked back to the bar, mumbling about show offs and annoying dandy-ass motherfuckers. Lucifer followed close behind, practically shoving Angel Dust out of the way. 

“Do you know who sent that TV?”

Husk turned around, so slowly it was like he was moving through molasses. “Yeah, of course. Who doesn’t?” 

I don’t, you smug little house cat. Through a great effort of will, Lucifer managed to stop himself from showing Husk exactly what his new line of rubber ducks could do. “Mind enlightening me?” 

“It came from Big Daddy V,” Angel Dust slid into the seat next to him, fluttering his lashes. Lucifer stared at him. “You know, the head honcho?” Still no reaction. “Vox?”

“Is he the guy with the television for a head?” Lucifer asked. 

“Duh,” Angel Dust said at the same time Husk said, “Who else?” 

“I think he was the one who interrupted Alastor’s radio show last night too. What’s his deal with Alastor anyway?” Lucifer was not annoyed. He was not irritated at how easily he’d been cast aside. He was definitely not upset about how Alastor had disappeared after promising to give Vox his personal attention . 

“He’s obsessed with him.” 

And Lucifer was not tempted at all to rip this Vox’s throat out and leave him to die a very slow, very painful death. “Alastor is?” He hissed.

His chest twisted, throbbing with a pain he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He held his hand over his heart, marveling at the way it pounded as hard as if he’d just fought a grueling battle with the angels. 

“No, Vox is. They’ve had a rivalry going for decades now.” Husk looked at him strangely. “You really don’t know about any of this? Aren’t you the king of Hell or something?” 

Decades. They had decades of history together. Vox would always own a piece of Alastor that Lucifer would never get to know. An irrational anger rose deep from his gut. He knew it made no sense, but it was almost unbearable to think that there was someone out there who may have a claim over Alastor that he didn’t.

And maybe he was a demon just like the rest of them, because a selfish rage rattled in his chest: Alastor was his.

Too late, he realized the silence had stretched on a touch too long. Now both Angel Dust and Husk were staring at him. Angel Dust’s knowing smile in particular was quite unsettling. Quickly, he excused himself and ran back up to this room, where he could not think about Alastor in peace and quiet, thank you very much. But as soon as he opened the door, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. 

Meet me at Rosie’s. 

The note was written in Alastor’s beautiful, old-school cursive.

“That tacky little good-for-nothing,” Lucifer grumbled. “He thinks he can order me around?” 

He crumpled up the note in his fist. He would go meet him – but only to teach the cocky asshole a lesson. 

Right. That was the only reason why. 

(He’d always been a bad liar.) 

“There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost on the way.” 

Alastor’s wide grin was the first thing that greeted him when he stepped out of the portal. He resisted the urge to smack him in the nose, because he knew how to be the bigger man. Figuratively, of course. 

“Why did you want me to meet you here?” 

“Why do I ever want to meet you anywhere?” 

Lucifer paused, running through some numbers in his head. “But it’s not the first of the month yet.”

Alastor grinned and pressed in close. His bowtie, usually so neat and buttoned up, was askew. His shirt gaped open the tiniest bit, revealing a hint of mouthwatering collarbone and the barest glimpse at the strong chest underneath. Lucifer felt his cheeks heat. “What’s a little extra healing between friends?” Alastor murmured into his ear.

“We aren’t…we aren’t friends,” Lucifer protested, stumbling only once. “Besides, we’re outside. Anyone can see us.”

“Rosie won’t mind,” Alastor smiled. “What’s hers is mine, and so on and so forth.” He crooked one finger into his tie and pulled, loosening it further. “And the Cannibals know to mind their own business.”

The rough brick of Rosie’s storefront was digging into Lucifer’s back. He winced, a surge of annoyance running through him when he realized that Alastor was pushing him around again . Alastor always did whatever he wanted. He would play with him at home, teasing him relentlessly, making his life Hell, but then he’d run off and play rivals with some other bastard the moment Lucifer took his eyes off of him. 

What kind of heartless, two-timing devil would do that?

Suddenly filled with a burning rage he still didn’t quite understand, Lucifer flipped around so he  was the one pressing Alastor against the wall. Strangely, the demon didn’t fight him. He watched through heavy lids as Lucifer pushed forward until their bodies were flush against each other. Lucifer could feel every one of Alastor’s hard muscles through the layers of clothing between them. The air crackled with anticipation as they stared at each other, the seconds dragging on as time slowed. 

Lucifer licked his lips. Alastor’s gaze dipped down to follow the movement of his tongue. His smile turned lazy, slow – honey dripping on a hot day. He reached up, undid the first button of his shirt, and pulled the collar away from his neck so Lucifer had a better view of the graceful curve of his shoulder and the firm sculpture of his chest. He swallowed, hard. 

“You won’t keep a loyal subject waiting, will you, your Highness?” Alastor asked, his radio static like a live wire against Lucifer’s skin.

Lucifer grabbed his lapels and leaned in close, not sure if he was going in for a kiss or to tear Alastor’s head off. 

“What the hell are you two doing?” 

The first thing Lucifer noticed was a man with a TV screen for a head glitching out in the street behind them. The second thing he noticed was Alastor’s smile – huge, toothy, and so very pleased that Lucifer realized, a second too late, that he’d walked into one of Alastor’s traps again . 

Alastor straightened up and re-tied his bow to cover up all his delicious, bare skin. Even though Lucifer knew he’d been played for a fool, he still felt a pang when he saw it disappear. 

“Are you two–” Vox couldn’t finish the sentence. His screen stuttered, turning rainbow, then flipping to a test screen, before finally settling on the Blue Screen of Death. FUCK YOU ALASTOR.EXE was scrawled all over it. 

“Actually –” Lucifer started, but Alastor cut in, slinging his arm casually over his shoulder as if they did that kind of thing every day. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Alastor grinned, his red eyes gleaming bright with glee. “Maybe we are. Maybe we’re just very good friends .” 

Vox’s face flashed back on screen, his mouth open so wide it looked almost like a glitch in the matrix. “You – I thought you didn’t…?” 

“Didn’t what, my good man? You must start finishing your sentences. How is anyone supposed to have a decent conversation with you if you don’t? But I suppose that silly moth man you keep around might not mind. He doesn’t seem very bright, does he?” 

“Leave Valentino out of this!” Vox roared. 

“Or what?” Alastor sneered over Lucifer’s shoulder. He was still hanging off of him like he owned him. As much as Lucifer hated it…it wasn’t a terrible feeling. “Or you’ll sing a silly little song about me again? Hack into my radio signal? Is that really all you can do – cause me a few technical problems?” 

Vox wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. His eyes were glued to the two of them, taking in the casual way Alastor was touching Lucifer, at the button Alastor had accidentally-on-purpose forgotten to re-button, and the hand Lucifer still had curled around Alastor’s lapel. 

“But you don’t –” he tried again. “I asked you! You said no!” 

“It looks like I found a better offer,” Alastor said. He looked positively demonic as he delivered the blow, his eyes glittering with euphoric glee as he watched Vox sink down from disbelief into a black cloud of depression. As much as Vox annoyed him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the man.

But that didn’t stop him from doing what he did next. 

Lucifer looped his hand around Alastor’s neck and pulled him down so they were face to face. Before Alastor could react, he pressed his mouth to his. 

Alastor’s lips were cold. They were as icy and hard as the man himself, but his taste…he was like spice and smoke, like cinnamon and poison and the woods in the summer. He tasted better than all of Heaven and the Earth, and for the first time Lucifer understood why humans got addicted to their silly little drugs. If it felt anything close to this…

Alastor broke the kiss first, his eyes hooded and unreadable as he pulled back. He licked gold from his teeth, and Lucifer realized with a start that he was bleeding. Alastor brought his fingers to his lips and licked the dripping gold off of them slowly, his eyes never once leaving Lucifer’s. 

It was the single most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He felt dizzy, drunk with desire in a way he’d never once felt with Lilith.

“Assholes!” Vox’s sudden exclamation brought them both back to reality. “Don’t eye-fuck each other while I’m still here!”

Snarling, Lucifer whirled around. “Do you mind? We were in the middle of something here.” 

Vox cringed backwards, his hands flying protectively over his face. For a brief second, he looked terrified . Lucifer looked at him strangely, wondering what his reaction was all about, when he saw red horns out of the corner of his eye. 

He’d transformed? 

He glanced at Alastor, who was staring at him with an expression he’d never seen before. If he had to describe it, he would say Alastor looked…proud. 

Alastor pulled Lucifer to his side, so smug it practically rolled off of him in noxious waves. “You heard the man. Or rather, shall I say the king?” Canned laughter roared through the street. Vox flinched at the not-so-subtle reminder of exactly who he was dealing with. “It’s been fun catching up, but we must be off. Lots to do, lots to see!”

Waving merrily at the glitched-out TV, Alastor pushed open the door to Rosie’s shop and ushered Lucifer inside. The second the door closed, Lucifer whirled around, glaring at a wholly unrepentant Alastor.

“You planned that.”

Alastor grinned. “Of course I did.”

“You used me.”

He raised his brow. “My dear, I am a demon . Surely you can’t be too surprised I dabble in deception?” His expression darkened. “That fool interrupted my show. That kind of behavior must be punished. Besides, I daresay you used me a little bit yourself.” 

Lucifer’s cheeks reddened and his mouth watered at the thought of that kiss. That magical, wonderful, positively wicked kiss. 

“Ah, ah!” Alastor wagged his finger at him, as if he was a naughty child and not a fallen angel powerful enough to blast him halfway back to Earth. “There will be no more of that today. You’ve got your payment.”

Lucifer sighed. For a man who hated physical contact, he sure could be a massive tease. He was even worse than Angel Dust. “What was Vox talking about? What did he ask you?” What did you say no to?

“He asked me to join his team. A waste of breath, if you ask me. As if I’d ever stoop so low.”

“Just his team? As in, business partners?”

“Why? Does it bother you, your Majesty?” Alastor teased.

Lucifer thought about the despair on Vox’s face as he took in the possessive way Alastor had grabbed his shoulders. The betrayal in his voice as he’d stuttered but you don’t–! The hurt as he slumped to the ground, the electronic nodes of his brain scrambling to understand that Alastor might be capable of wanting more – and that he just hadn’t wanted Vox . 

Would Alastor do that to him one day? Would he leave him half-broken on the ground as he pranced off with his new rival of the month? 

Lucifer turned away, unable to keep looking at him. “No. It doesn’t bother me at all.” 

Alastor hummed, sing-song. “I appreciate your help in this rather annoying matter. I must say, it’s not so bad having a partner after all.” 

Lucifer stiffened, hardly daring to breathe. “We’re partners?”

"Who knows?" Alastor shrugged. "I do so dislike labels. But this is the first time the idea hasn't made me want to vomit. And the look on Vox's face when he saw you..." His laugh was dark and more than a little insane. He wiped a few gleeful tears from his eyes. "I could get used to that."

Lucifer chuckled along, the possessive beast within him satisfied. For now. "I'm a better offer, huh?"

When Alastor looked at him, the odd expression on his face took his breath away. He took Lucifer's hand and kissed it, his sharp teeth grazing the thin skin there. "Certainly the tastiest I've had in quite some time."

Lucifer's heart thudded so loud in his ears it was all he could hear.

"You have any other rivals you want to piss off?"

#alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #jealous lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #duckiedeer #radioapple #appleradio #hazbin hotel

[hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog]

Neither of them know how it happens, but one minute Vox is following Alastor through the parking lot, and the next they're inside a room that leads to an area with halls and doors and nobody else there. Everything looks red.

Alastor freezes, taking in their surroundings warily. “Vox…”

Vox slides up behind him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “I don't know where we are either. We have to be careful.” He immediately decides to disregard his own advice and starts opening the drawers of the tables scattered around the area. Alastor gapes as Vox pulls out what appears to be a giant knife, a bag of weed, and a bloody leg wrapped in a bag, in that order.

“Whoever kidnapped us is freaky,” Vox says at last, unnerved. He gingerly places the bloody leg back into a drawer with a grimace. “Well that scared the shit out of me. I wonder what's outside. I'm gonna go check.”

Alastor stares at him incredulously. What the hell kind of horror movie bullshit is he doing?

“Vox, don't!” Alastor hisses quietly. “We don't know where we are and what this place is! We have to be careful!”

“Relax babe, I'm not gonna destroy anything,” Vox says. “I'm just looking around.”

Alastor watches Vox saunter through the doorway to god knows where and feels his stomach sink. He's all alone in a foreign place with nobody at his side. He takes a deep breath. He can't panic now. He has to make sure he keeps his composure until Vox comes back.

A few minutes pass.

Alastor paces back and forth. Vox isn't back yet.

He wanders around the room, doing his best not to make any noise. Vox still doesn't return.

He chews at a fingernail and checks the time on his phone. Nothing.

Alastor heaves a sigh and peers through a doorway. It's empty, at least.

Nobody will see him.

Alastor tiptoes down the hall and picks a room to slip in at random.

It looks like a tearoom. There are framed pictures here.

One of them catches his eye. It features two figures: one of them with a television for a head, and other more human looking but with deer features such as ear Tufts and antlers.

Huh? Is it doctored or something?

Alastor picks up the picture to examine it closer. In his confusion he doesn't hear the group of people coming up behind him until one of them roughly grabs him by the shoulder.

“What do you think you're doing?”

———

Vox is rummaging through a drawer when he hears Alastor scream.

Every hair on his body stands on end when he registers it. Alastor is screaming.

He sprints out of the room, uncaring of the ruckus he makes.

“Alastor!” Vox yells out. He stumbles into a lobby and nearly crashes into someone.

He pays no attention to them, instead focusing on the figure hunched over on the ground, grasping at his chest. “Shit, shit, shit! Oh fuck, Alastor are you okay?”

Vox slides to a stop on his knees in front of his friend. “Al? God, Al, it's okay. It's me, it's me. You're not alone. I'm here.”

Alastor is gasping for breath. His gaze is unfocused. He's clawing at his chest. He's having a panic attack. Vox wrings his hands nervously. It's been some time since Alastor has broken down in front of him. He doesn't know if he's still allowed to do the same things that helped comfort him before. But he needs to know so he can help. “Alastor, can I touch you?”

Alastor raises a shaking hand and grabs onto his wrist with a harsh squeeze.

Yes.

Vox quickly gathers him into his arms and hugs him tightly. He feels Alastor tremble and raise his arms to return it.

Vox stays like that, whispering reassurances until the tremors subside. Alastor hangs limply off of him. Vox looks up, now that the worst is over. He freezes once he sees what caused Alastor to scream.

The group that he had ignored when crashing into the room earlier stare down at him in shock. Half of them have hair tufts that look like ears and antlers and sharp teeth. The other half have televisions on top of their necks instead of proper heads.

Vox holds Alastor closer to himself as he eyes them suspiciously. They look like they'll eat the two of them for breakfast easily.

“Well,” one of the figures says with a tilt of their head, “you two are unexpected.”

Referencing this post about when the HS AU versions fell and joined the crossover chaos

Vox immediately going to dig around and exploring was so funny, he seemed so unphased by it all in comparison, I love this I love this I love this so much

#ask #fanfiction #au crossovers #hs au

[fantasticalbiology]

Hazbin Hotel swap: Fate rewritten- Charlie

So, I have an idea for a Hazbin Hotel role swap au where things prior to the series are changed a little bit and the characters aren't just character A with character B's personality sometimes its that, but not completely

First who is swapping with whom

Charlie <- -> Alastor

Angel Dust <- -> Vaggie

Nifty <- -> Husk

Vox (A fight manager who manages through controlled shocks) <- -> Valentino

Lute <- -> Adam: Nothing really changes here

Lilith <- -> Lucifer

Cherry Bomb <- -> Sir Pentious

Camilla <- -> Zestial

Mimzy <- -> Rosie

As the title suggest we start with Charlie.

Charlie is still the princess of hell, but unlike Alastor isn't as polite. I mean she's still as cheery as her normal self and the plastor smiled Alastor has, but she has that Chaotic energy of someone like Alucard from Hellsing Ultimate abridge.

Relationship to other characters

Alastor- She greatly respect the radio and doesn't overstep her boundaries around him, but finds his efforts amusing

Husk-Wherever Alastor put those Overlords he kidnapped is where Charlie pulled the now deranged Husk from. He listen to her without question

Vaggie- In an uncharacteristically nice move, Charlie actually helped Vaggie. She undid it by sending her to Vox, but its the thought that count. Despite that Vaggie and Charlie are friends... with benefits and after learning the meaning behind her name Charlie nicknamed her "her most lickable friend." In addition already figure out Vaggie was an angel.

Lilith and Lucifer- To put it simply she thinks the world of her father, but doesn't her mother and actively avoid Lilith

Things that change with the cannon episode

Ep 3: Scrabbled Eggs (Cooked bombs?)

Angel Dust asks Charlie to humanly get rid of Cherry bomb's Bomb boys, the first thing she does is use them as golf balls until Angel Dust order to try something else.

Follows Camilla to the Overlord meeting (she likes messing with the Overlord, she often drops in on any meeting their having)

Ep 5: Dad Beat Dad

She spends the whole time actively avoiding any contact with Lilith

Ep 6: Welcome to Heaven

Because Alastor is stuck in hell (obvi) he begrudgingly asks her to be the Hotel's representative and plead for the case of the Hotel. She agrees and takes Vaggie with her

Create a two way communication portal so Alastor can talk to Heaven so she doesn’t have to then sits down on her phone not paying attention to anything

After all is said and done, and Alastor fails to plead, Charlie stands up grabs Vaggie’s spear and chuck it at Adam, breaking his mask drawing some blood on his cheek. She chuckles as she says,“First blood, and there will be much more.” she grabs Vaggie and teleports back to hell through a dark portal

Ep 8: The Show must go on

Puts a throne on top of the roof of the hotel, the night before the battle. She sits down in it and Dazzle and/or Razzle give her a glass of wine. She chuckles as she toast the sky saying “On to Alastor’s victory or on to death”

In Combination with Alastor creates the barrier to stop the exorcist that is broken by Adam.

Lute chucks a spear at Charlie aimed directly at her head, but Charlie simply moves her head and it hits the throne.

Gets into a one sided fight with Lute, only to get bored and challenges Adam who starts mollywopping her. As she lays there defeated Adam grabs her and chucks her off the roof. When she hits the ground, she alive and Adam says to the exorcists “Don’t kill her, let her be a lesson”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie

[itsbubbleteataro]

Like We're Gonna Die Young

Warnings; drugs and alcohol, getting clean, relapsing SLOW BURN - not edited

It seemed like it was Alastor's lucky day, having had tea with Rosie, gossiping about the happenings in Cannibal town as well as speaking about the dammed hotel. Taking his time, strolling through the streets, his mind lost in throught about the woman he saw in the video on that blasted modern contraption Angel Dust owned.

Who was she and why did she have such information on Vox?

More importantly, why wasn't it the information itself just sticking, why was her facial expressions staying in his mind? The way she was so confident when she confronted Vox, the ways her lips moved as he presumed she song.

He shook his head. It was awful. He just needed to get his information then she would be rid of his thoughts. Surely it would work out that way.

It had to be nothing more than a fad he resigned himself to.

Strolling through the town, making his way to the ends of Canabal town he spotted your form, speaking with none other than Cassie.

Strolling over to greet, with a flourish of his hand and a slight bow, he introduced himself, even if he was offput with how closely you resembled a dog,

"Salutations!"

His voice was stiffer and harsher than he intended for a greeting, but it would have to do.

"My name is Alastor, the radio demon. I couldn't help but notice you are from a small picture show. I saw the way you had Vox wrapped around claw, I positively had to know how"

You looked nervous. Rubbing your arm, gently scratching at your skin. Again you were trying again to go clean and sober. You were starting to feel withdrawals.

"O-oh! That. Cassie gave me the information. I'm just the messenger. I'm (y/n) by the way"

You continued to scratch your arm as Alastor crooked his head to the side, the sounds of bone crunching and crackling as he did .

"Just the messenger?"

He asked, clarifying one more time, to which you nodded. He then let out some sort of hum, sounding like a bee stuck in a jar. It hurt your ears to say the least.

He turns on his heel back facing you, his red coat fluttering softly as he does,

"Terribly sorry. Thank you for your time"

And with that, he left.

You scratched your arm, a little harder. It was really starting to bother you now. Just a small hit, a little one, it would make it stop. No, you reminded yourself. Your clean.

You turned back to the sidewalk, muttering and mumbling to yourself as you walked.

Failing to pay attention to where you were walking, you bumped into a certain spider demon.

After apologizing to each other Angel Dust realizes something is off. The scratching of your arm, how you look tired, been through hell one could say.

"You alright toots? Are ya?"

He tilts his head to the side. You nod. He sticks out one of his many hands,

"Angel Dust. I know a place that can help. That is if you want any"

"(Y/n). That would be nice"

Without any further explanation, he leads you towards the hotel after stopping by your place for a few bags of your belongings, then getting whisked away to the hotel, the entire time you and Angel Dust speaking. Mostly about getting clean, a shared goal the two of you have, and thus becoming fast friends.

Hand in hand Angel Dust took you to the Hazbin Hotel, where he swiftly introduced you to Charlie. Charlie Morning star was bouncing off the walls after Angel Dust introduced you to her. She was happy that another sinner had decided to check in.

You then crossed path with Alastor, finding out that he was the manager of the hotel. He again bowed to you, ever the gentleman, helping you with what belongings you had and helped you get settled into your room, telling you to inform him if you needed anything, then taking his leave to let you settle in.

#x reader #hazbin hotel #(y/n) #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust

[mad2001-4]

Tiny Apprentice chp.1

Virus looked around the hotel. He initially wasn't for this plan, especially seeing how the last time Vox attempted to send a spy went- a dumpster fire as per usual. He had been so adamant that he was not going to play bait. He may not be an overlord, but he was most certainly a step above those underlings and employees his 'mentors' kept on leashes. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Maybe he had been a tad hard on Vox. Perhaps it really wasn't his fault that it went up in flames the first time, perhaps Pentious really less capable than he seemed because this was a walk in the park. Despite Vaggie's obvious disdain for his being here, Charlie seemed thrilled, and it was quite clear to Virus who called the shots in the relationship, a funny thought to him as one would surely think it was Vaggie given Charlie's personality, but, maybe just like everything else in Hell, it was all about the hierarchy of power. Regardless, that wasn't any of Virus's concern. It actually worked in his benefit and Virus was nothing if not an opportunist.

He took in the newly built hotel's decor, photographs, paintings, portraits. All the necessary things that, in his opinion, screamed 'OLD'. He stared up at a portrait of Sir Pentious in the military garb he'd worn before being so spectacularly wiped out. He smiled faintly as he remembered watching the grand final battle with his three mentors. Sure, he had acted much more invested in his laptop at the time, that was his whole thing, after all, but it didn't mean he wasn't paying attention. It was an enjoyable time, like the family movie night he couldn't quite master when he was alive. Plus, well, it was hard to entirely ignore what with Vox's outbursts every few minutes when being an audience to Alastor's defeat.

Ah yes, the Radio Demon.

Virus hadn't seen a single spec of the fearsome being, it made him wonder if the theories that Alastor had sustained enough injuries to simply fall over double dead actually held some merit. He didn't believe it at first but proof did not lie. Vox would either be pleased or devastated. He wasn't sure, their relationship was... well.... Virus couldn't quite tell.

There was obvious bitterness and obsession on Vox's end which wasn't new behavior for his main teacher by any means, but it still felt different... personal. Virus couldn't describe it properly and it did him no good to figure it out. All he knew for sure was had Alastor taken Vox's offer to join the Vees, Virus himself would likely be another lowly sinner making his way through life. His apprenticeship only came about as Vox's 'F U' to Alastor to show he didn't need him, with the added bonus of seeming oh-so caring for the citizens he hypnotized on a daily by offering some poor sucker the opportunity to work and learn their ways. Virus just so happened to fit Vox's aesthetics, thus his high life in Hell began.

He snorted at the thought, "Thanks for that at least, you old bastard," he mumbled, turning to walk down the hall when a voice he hadn't expected to hear made him stop in his tracks.

"Oh now, is that vulgar language anyway for a young gentleman to speak?" a voice that was made for radio purred out mockingly, "I would've thought Vox taught you better," then he sighed mockingly, "but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

Virus slowly turned, tilting his head up to see Alastor himself standing by him. The teenaged sinner shuttered, he hadn't even heard Alastor come near him, it was as if he appeared from thin air, something Virus supposed wasn't impossible. He'd heard of Alastor, he'd seen his picture, but those were nothing like seeing the actual thing.

"I-I uh..." he stammered quietly; he wasn't expecting that. What was he supposed to say, to do? His hand instinctively felt for his phone, everything in him said to report to Vox, to seek out his guidance, but he kept his wit and willpower about himself. If he whipped it out and did so now, then he'd be no better than Pentious.

He paused, drawing a deep breath in, trying to regain his wits about himself, "Well, rehabilitation doesn't happen overnight... I'm sure with time that influence will disappear, though I'd say swearing is the least of the worries here seeing the company you keep around. An alcoholic, a porn star? Not exactly what one would consider the holiest of people."

Alastor chuckled, but it carried a very cold chill about it, enough to make Virus shiver again, trying to keep his face calm and not give into the fright.

"Better than a Vee in my opinion," Alastor hummed.

Virus pulled a face, then snorted again, "First I never even officially made it to that title," he pointed out, "secondly, I've got time to atone for that, considering I've only been in their graces for seven years, there's no telling how long those two have been at it."

"Oh, the naivety," Alastor hummed, "how interesting that that is a trait Vox decided my little replacement needed."

Virus blinked, caught off guard. The official surroundings of his position were never publicly discussed, did Alastor just know Vox that well, did he have his own spies around Vee tower, or was he really that smart? Virus wasn't sure he actually wanted an answer to that. He felt uncomfortable and really, he just wanted to get out of this situation before he actually gave into the urge to contact the closest thing he had to family. Alastor didn't give him the chance as he continued the thought, however.

"Though, I would've thought he'd do much better than a little pipsqueak such as yourself..." he looked Virus up and down.

Virus struggled not to squirm, "Real original," he drawled, "and is that meant to be a dig at my size or my age?"

"Hmm, does it matter?" Alastor waved his hands, green magic emitting from his palm and smoking and circling his fingertips, "Both will be affected, fixed to better suit you...." he assured.

Virus's brows knitted together, starting to take a step back, "What the fuck do you mea-ahh!" he yelped, movements suddenly stopped completely. He could only assume Alastor's powers paralyzed him.

"Oh please, dear boy. We all know you aren't really here to be rehabilitated. Though, I suppose I am giving you a chance to start over... knowing you, however, you will simply go rushing back to your precious Vees once I'm done with you. I'm not concerned either way," he monologued, shrugging as if bored, "none of you will be a threat to me. You even less so. You were not one before, but I can assure you will not be one now," he hummed, "you could say this is merely a curtesy warning.... There now, much better."

Virus felt free reign of his body again, he looked down to see what had been done to him. It didn't register right away, until he spoke, "W-wha-" he stopped, his voice, it was higher. He looked around his surroundings and it suddenly dawned on him. Things were much bigger, Alastor was much bigger. Before he at least reached his chest, now, he did good to reach his knee. He was smaller. Much smaller.

"I believe about five suits you well," Alastor commented, "what a joy it was to have you in our hotel."

Virus stared up at the wide, unnerving smile and tears filled his eyes, humiliation and fear filling his tiny body up to the brim. Then, without much second thought, he immediately took off. It might not have been his smartest idea. Hell was hardly safe, but he couldn't stay at that hotel like this. He needed to be home.

#original character #oc #original child character #de aging #sfw #de aged #de aged oc #de aging oc #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #virus #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel the vees #tiny apprentice

[voxiiferous]

Prime Time Reruns

Anyone who’s known Vox for a very long time know there was a change in him, though there’s no clear ability to pinpoint when exactly it changed, though everyone agrees it started sometime in the early 90s. Valentino‘s seen it, Hellaina, even Alastor has seen it in its purest flashes. Velvette never knew him before the boredom set in— the closest she ever saw were its earliest phases.

People who meet him assume he’s going to be the feared and all powerful TV Overlord, like he was in the 60s, 70s, even the 80s. They expect cruelty and a joy in the suffering of Hell— and what they actually get is someone so very tired. Even his periods of self-destructive tendencies have tapered off— the USBs of Exe.stasy have gathered dust, he doesn’t seek Alastor out for a fight in the same way, his relationship with Valentino rings increasingly hollow: empty apologies, empty promises.

And he pretends that it’s all fine— he grins and he shows up on cameras, endorses the new Vogitek product. He’s the media Overlord! He’s got so much money, and everything he could ever want— don’t you? Just pay a small fee and you can have everything. Lean into the brand loyalty and you’ll be rewarded. But the performance has been getting more transparent as he hurtles towards pure and abject burnout. His own smiling face on the billboards stares down at him and he wants to tear it all down some days.

He never stops. He builds and he makes and he broadcasts everything from his spot high in his tower looking down on everything he’s made. But he doesn’t really see it either. He sees the flaws— every artist is their own greatest critic— the breakups that are becoming more frequent, sex has become a routine pastime, every time the ratings drop. And part of the problem is that there’s been nothing new in a large way. The internet was but that was the last big thing that really booked in and about the mid 90s.

It’s a prison of his own making, but he doesn’t know how to fix it either. Part of the problem is his lack of hobbies. He used to like reading, but he hasn’t picked up an actual book in decades. He loved dancing in a way he’s never really loved anything else, and he can count on less than two hands how many times he’s done it since he died. He hasn’t built something like the little trinket she made as a child since he was one.

Those are just things he has control over, not considering the fact he can’t eat or drink, and the inhumanity in that bothers him more than he lets on a lot of the time. He can smell, sort of, and it taunts him. He brings people out to eat because it makes them more easily charmed and pliable when they get free food, and yes, he’ll laugh and he makes jokes about it, but it serves as a reminder to him that he isn’t really alive.

He feels trapped— he’s retreading the same old talking points he’s said a thousand times over. The smile is forced, and nothing is a threat so he can’t focus his attention on keeping everything he’s made. It’s fine, it’s stable, he’s made it so it’ll outlive him if something were to happen.

He’s been waiting for the boredom to pass, boredom does eventually… and it hasn’t, it’s just gotten worse.

#I SO NEARLY used the “ghost with the most” quote from Beetlejuice #vox you're not bored you're clinically depressed #When he accepts that it’s not just boredom #and figures out how to code anti-depressants #then he’s gonna be doing so much better #but for now… #it’s a big part of why he’s softer than a lot of the other Vox’s I’ve seen! #and I love them all so much! #but mine is fundamentally just hit the wall #he’s been running on fumes for 20 years #and even those are starting to run out #Like he’s made it and become a success #but where do you go when there’s no more up? #And it’s more than just his relationship with Val #though that doesn’t *help* #It’s sort of cyclical #he’s depressed the relationship suffer which makes him even more depressed #I’ve been meaning to do this up for aaages #*personnel file (hc) #If any of you ever watched Yuri on Ice #he’s a bit like Victor in the first episode #where he’s got all this money and this fame #he’s top of the world but it’s not given him what he wanted anymore #I had the title of this before the post itself #tw: depression #tw: depressive thoughts

[petitprincess1]

Good Evening Ch12 (Escalating)

AO3 Link Summary: Angelo gets a surprise visit at night by someone...who is not at all happy to see him. How rude... Words: 2,479 Warning: Gun violence, blood, and murder I'm so freaking sorry for the wait. I have no excuse other than starting up a new story called My Roommate's a Demonic Deer and laziness. I'm so, so sorry. Hope it's worth the wait. ~~~ Also, during that week, Angelo had been bed-ridden the entire time, going in and out of consciousness, due to the immense pain that he was in. Luckily, he was stable enough to do the more private tasks like using the bathroom and bathing himself, so that was a bit of relief for him. He really needed those moments because he was hardly ever alone.

If he wasn’t being checked up on by Baxter, then Cherri was worried about his well being and talking to him about her terrible job. Sir Pentious would also make sure to keep him up to speed about all the news going on in the world by reading the newspaper...fucking old man. Plus, his sister came by with Fat Nuggets, his little piggy, to cheer him up. Granted, his father and Arackniss also came by...so...yeah. Nothing better than you father and brother still questioning your fucking “decision” of “choosing homosexuality”. Angelo wished Vox just killed him...not really, but he was mad.

Also, Charlie and, surprisingly, Vaggie came over once or twice to just talk to Angelo about anything and just to check up on him. It felt both odd and nice that they were all just talking like nothing changed. As if the mob child wasn’t lying in bed with his arm and leg in a cast, a few broken ribs, bruised up body, busted gums and lip, and getting sick of eating soup.

Angelo knew that everyone, excluding his brother and father, were just looking after him, but it was just a bit much. Although, it did make him feel happy that people did care for him this much...but give him some fucking space...please. If anything, Angelo was lowkey wondering why Alastor had yet to show up. Seemed like he didn’t want to leave his side before, what gives?

Now, the mob-child was watching some Baywatch-like TV show and it was boring as all hell. He groaned as he tried to grab the remote, just for sharp pain to go up his side as he attempted to twist his body, causing his eyes to tear up. He flopped back onto the mattress lightly, sighed, and called out as best as he could, “Pennnnnnn! PENNNNNNNNN!! …...PeEeeEEEeeeeEeEeENNNNnNNN!!!!”

Pentious practically kicked the door open and screeched, “Blimey! Shut the fuck up, you bloody plonker!”

Angelo grinned, “Man, ya really went full British~”

Pentious rolled his eyes and gave a huff as he walked into the room, questioning, “What the hell do you want?”

The mob child whimpered like a sad puppy and reached out pathetically to the remote on the nightstand. Pen raised an eyebrow at him, still clearly pissed at Angie calling out to him like that, and walked over to the nightstand. He grabbed the remote...and then tossed it lightly at Angelo’s head. 

The boy flinched at the impact, even if it was barely enough to even cause pain. He pouted up at Pen, “Hey, what the hell!? I’m injured ‘ere!”

The older man sat down at the edge of the bed and huffed, “Clearly, you’re not too injured to scream at the top of your lungs. ….How are you feeling?”

Angelo couldn’t help but calm down at hearing his tone soften up a bit. He shifted as much as he could, wincing at a sharp pinch at his side, and replied, “Well...I’m doin’ as good as I can be, especially bein’ stuck in bed and, you know, bein’ broken...and all.”

Sir Pentious’ soft look immediately turned into a look of concern and possible pity. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say to try to alleviate the situation, and asked, “Uh…perhaps I can do something to help you? You do look really knackered. Do you want anything? Anything at all?”

Angelo hummed, “Oh, yeah, can ya get me a fairy godmother to heal up my wounds, a hit list of everyone that works for Vox, and a M3? Thanks, sweetie~”

“....Uuuuuuhhhhh,” was Pen’s well-detailed and poetic response. Luckily, Cherri and a short latin man, who gave a warm smile to Pen before looking at Angelo worriedly, came walking in. Not necessarily to “save” him, since Cherri immediately punched Pen’s arm, causing him to let a manly yelp, while her face had a light pinkish red as she glared at him, shouting, “What the hell is wrong with you! Don’t yell at Angelo!”

Pentious glowered, “What’s wrong with me!? I’m not the one punching people randomly, you nutter!”

The short man pushed back his naturally, already slicked back, black hair with silver streak and went over to Angelo quickly. He practically shouted, just to assuage the tension, “So, uh, Anthony, how are you?”

The two looked over at Angelo and the mob child huffed, “I already answered this! When can I just get-augh!”

The three jumped at seeing Anthony grip at his ribs tightly and take a deep shuddering breath as his eyes teared up a bit, shutting his eyes tightly. The man mumbled, “I guess that answers my question.”

He fished some pills out from his pocket and was about to help him take the pills, even about to tell Pen to get some water. However, Angelo just snatched the capsules out of his hand and took them dry. He quickly snapped, “I can take my own pills, dammit!”

Pentious was going to yell again, but the doctor reassured, pushing up his glasses, “It’s alright, querido. He’s been stuck in bed for a whole week.” The long-haired man scoffed, “That doesn’t justify him being rude to you, Baxter. You should be more appreciative, Anthony!”

Angelo was about to yell to stop calling him Anthony, but Cherri clapped her hands and gave a soft sigh, “Alright, things are startin’ to escalate, so why don’t ya two maybe, uh, get the fuck out?”

Pen was going to argue more, but Baxter ended up calmly bringing his boyfriend out of the middle of things by taking his hand. He just didn’t wish to deal with a bunch of shouting. Well...more shouting. Pen eventually just huffed and decided to just go out the door, while carrying the bespectacled man in his arms. It caused a lovely rosy color to hit Baxter’s cheeks.

Cherri gagged at the two and then stared at Angelo, sighing, “So, uh, I guess ya ain’t doin’ that well, huh?”

Angelo shook his head and sat up slowly, wincing at the sharp pains wracking his body. The Australian girl wanted to help, but she knew that would just annoy Angie. He grunted, “I...I know that everyone is jus’ tryin’ ta help, but...god, it makes me feel useless. Not only that, but I bet Vox might send people ta finish the job, especially since I ain’t dead.”

“Did you escape or somethin’?”

“No...he let me go, but ya never just attack a mob boss and get out alive,” Angelo informed, causing him to let out a shuddering breath.

Cherri noticed it getting somber, causing her to change the subject and bring up, “Oh, uh, hey! I heard Alastor’s radio station. He talked about some woman’s husband missing and said that the hotel is doing well. I think it helps that Charlie’s dad is visiting more often, something about a helicopter and...uh...”

She trailed off when she noticed Angelo still looking incredibly distraught. She thought that she may have seen a glimmer of intrigue after mentioning Alastor’s name, but that was all. He barely seemed to pay attention to the status of the hotel. Cherri sighed as she reached into her short’s pocket and handed a folded up note to Angelo. She replied, “I found this letter outside your door way earlier. I think it was like 3 am, I heard some noise...uh...yeah. I’ll just leave it here…”

She placed it on the nightstand near his bed and then told him, “We all want ya to get better, Angie, and maybe even Vox to go through hell. Just...don’t do anything dumb, okay?”

Cherri then got up off of the bed and started walking towards the door, giving one glance over her shoulder at Angelo before leaving out of the room. Angelo sighed as he grabbed the letter, feeling awful for going silent on Cherri. He unfolded the paper and skimmed over the words.

When the mob-child got to the end of the letter, he felt both shocked, questionable, and worried. The letter was written by Alastor, who somehow snuck into Pen’s house, and...he was coming over tonight. ~~~ Angelo was slightly turning in bed, waiting for Alastor to come to the house. Granted, he wasn’t too excited to see what he was bringing back as a meal, but he was sure that he wouldn’t serve humans again. ...Well, he hoped so. It wasn’t like it was too much of a stretch considering what he saw in that gumbo. It still made him feel ill to this day. Plus, it didn’t help since Al seemed very excited.

Angelo just sighed as he placed his back on the pillow and was about to go to sleep, but stopped when he heard footsteps. He lifted his head up a little and groaned, “Hey, Al, can ya give me a hint as ta what yer makin’? I just don-”

He stopped when he saw a shadow in the hall of a woman that definitely didn’t look like Cherri’s. Before he could question, he heard the sound of a gun being cocked and then a revolver being aimed into the room. He saw a woman coming into view, but didn’t pay attention to anything but the shaky gun. Angie started, “Wh-Whoa! Hey, d-don’t do any-”

The woman whisper-shouted, “Shut up, just...shut up! You...You killed him!”

Angelo looked very confused and she sniffled, cheeks and nose a bright red, “Jonathan...he w-worked...a-at your ex-boss’ wareh-house. ...H-He was standing guard la-last week.”

Angelo barely had any memory of who all worked under Val and Vox, but it could have been a possibility. No one knows about the warehouse or that it’s Val’s. He gulped, “H-Hey, I’ve been st-stuck in bed an-”

“I told you-!” She took a deep breath as her finger went towards the trigger, making Angelo feel his heart jump to his throat. He looked around the place as he sat up in bed quite quickly, probably making it harder to believe that he was injured in the first place. 

The woman went on, stepping closer and aiming the gun at his head, “Th-They told m-me...they f-found remains i-in the fu-furnace. Vox said...th-they don’t kn-now if i-it’s his, but...he has-sn’t come back. O-Our kids...a-are so sc-scared...they don’t...th-they just w-want...him…” she trailed off as she placed a hand to her mouth to try to quiet her sobbing, turning away and lowering the revolver.

Angelo was trying to slowly slide out of bed to try and get some kind of weapon. Unfortunately, the gentle thud of his toes hitting the wooden floor. The woman immediately shot up and aimed the gun back at his head. Angie gulped and tried to calm her again, “Listen...I promise ya...I did not kill yer husband, alright? I-I’ve been stuck here. I mean...ya can clearly see that Vox did a number on me...right…?”

He got a bit distracted when he saw Cherri appear behind the woman, opened her eyes widely, and then quickly retreated to possibly find a weapon. Angelo continued, wanting to stall, “So....what’s your n-”

“I’m not telling you my goddamn-”

“Whoa-ho-ho! I’ve clearly come in a bad time!” 

The woman quickly turned around and aimed the gun at the person behind her. Angelo oddly felt relieved at seeing Alastor standing there with his perma-smile, but also had no idea where this was going to go. Al just calmly walked inside and stepped around the lady, humming a little tune. She whimpered, “H-How did you g-get in here!? Wh-Where did you come fr-from!? I...I heard y-your voice...the radio broadcast, right?”

Alastor nodded, walking in-between her and Angelo, “Yes...you’re Traci? The one that lost her husband, I suppose? ...Why are you going to shoot, Anthony?” Traci glared and sniffled, wiping her eyes, “Because he’s the one that killed him!”

Al raised an eyebrow and hummed, “And you know that...how?”

The lady looked around for a few seconds, messing with her hair and the scarf around her neck. She muttered, “I-I-I just kn-now about him g-getting hurt. Cl-Clearly, he ratted o-out to his batshit f-family! His sist-ter is just as f-fucking stupid a-as he is, so-”

“Now, now, no need to go throwing around insults. You’re already aiming a gun at a questionably innocent mad, don’t have to be even more callous,” Alastor chuckled, as if he was just having a normal conversation. It once again reminded Angelo that this man was not sound of mind. Cherri came back with a wooden field hockey stick and was slowly creeping on the lady. Traci started, “But he-”

Al walked closer to her, being calm and collected, “You...don’t know what he did. You’re just accusing him of something. I’m sure that the police are doing whatever they can, but...Traci...no need to get yourself in trouble. Your kids need you, correct? You do have kids, right?”

Traci was almost near sobbing again, causing Cherri to halt in her movements out of guilt, and she nodded. He walked closer, feeling the revolver press to his chest, and calmly asked, “Please, Traci, give the gun. ...We won’t press charges.”

She sniffled and whimpered, trembling where she stood. She let out a loud sob as she handed the gun to Alastor, who took the gun calmly. Angelo let out a breath and noticed that Pen and Baxter joined Cherri. The three looked calmer considering that everything had become quieter.

Alastor backed away from Traci, causing her to just break down and hugged herself. He looked down at the revolver and let out a long hum. Al then gave out quite a cute guilty as he informed, “Traci, don’t you know that when you threaten with a gun, you have to take the safety off! Silly!”

“Wha-” that was all that Traci said as she slowly lifted her head and a bullet went right through her head, causing a bit of blood splatter. Unfortunately, it got mostly onto Cherri and the wall, making the punk scream out in terror and Pen almost throw up. Her scream covered up the sound of Traci’s body falling onto the floor.

Alastor muttered, “I thought it would be messier than that...hmm…” He tossed the gun onto the bed and smiled at Angelo, who just muttered, “Nice shot...I guess…”

“I made grilled venison!”

“Oh...neat.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel au #human au #alastor #cherri bomb #sir pentious #angel dust #hazbin hotel baxter #baxter #baxter x pentious #pentious x baxter #one sided charlastor #radiodust #writing #fanfiction #my writing #writers on tumblr #tw gun violence #tw bood #tw murder