ze-writing-qprs

[ze-writing-qprs]

Sorry for being out of commission guys 🙏 School is kicking my cold dead corpse to a second death.

#aroace #aro #ace #qpr #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel writing #writing #x reader #queer platonic relationship #asexual

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Thank you!! I have about half of these saved lol

Does anyone have any Asexual or Aromantic song recommendations? I listen to all genres 👍

[ze-writing-qprs]

I am in fact.. not free at all this weekend. Thoroughly distressed about this

Hoping to post a few works this weekend once i'm free! How are you guys liking my writing so far? My writing changes sometimes with the mood I am in/how motivated I am while writing (I try to only write for this when I feel motivated so I can give my best and enjoy it). Comments/feedback are always appreciated. If you notice a spelling mistake in a story/headcanon just message me so I can fix it. Thank you!!

[ze-writing-qprs]

Cursed Cat Alastor but he's even more cursed

#when will the torment end #do not the cat #it looks demented #calastor #he looks like he carries 87 diseases

[ze-writing-qprs]

My interpretation of the aro ace flag

sanctioned by my aro ace friend @determinedowl23

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QPR/platonic headcannons of rosie and alastor?

Will add to the list! Thank you Anon!

[ze-writing-qprs]

This is not just literature, this is ART. I have been craving a piece like this about Alastor. He is so me fr (without the various crimes)

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

SYNOPSIS: "ALASTOR HAS NEVER FELT LOVE BEFORE, BUT HE'S CONVINCED IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE WAY YOU MAKE HIM FEEL . . . " gender-neutral reader ! reader loves very strongly cos ur a sweetheart . . . WC. 3.1k

WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT AHEAD ! heavy implications of cannibalism / cannibalism used as symbolism, toxic love, thoughts of violence and murder, blood, biting, reader gets a few small cuts, brief mentions of stitches, alastor's obsessed with you in the worst kind of way, manipulation, semi-stalker alastor.

LOVE NOTES: YES I know he's aroace BUT he's got something very very wrong with him so this is my take on a psychopath interpreting something that is very much not love as 'love'. very heavily inspired by [this post here]; I gladly accepted the challenge <3

Love was meant to be all-consuming. It was meant to seep through your veins and rot your bones with the insatiable desire to be with what you love. At least, that's what you had been told. This very sentiment lies buried between the lines of every story you had ever read and is soaked within the lyrics of every love song.

There was something beautiful about love, and something even more so—something so incredibly human—about an insatiable kind of love. A love that craves every inch of you, inside and out. A kind of love that demands focus from every nerve of your body, that poisons every inhale you take, that infiltrates every thought that enters your mind. It's insatiable: a hunger that can never quite be quenched.

It starts in your fingers with the simple desire to touch them until it becomes a desperation to feel their skin underneath your fingernails. It starts as merely a kiss, a fleeting peck to the lips or the cheek, before escalating into the hysteria of wanting to feel their flesh between your teeth. The warmth of their body seeping through pesky layers of clothes before burning into your own is enough to drive the most sane to complete and utter madness. The child-like joy of feeling sunlight against your exposed skin quickly starts to pale in comparison when you feel their touch. Your heart quickens at the mere mention of their name and doesn't ease until you're close enough to engulf yourself in the color of their eyes.

Love was meant to be all-consuming. It was meant to infect your mind and body, seizing your heart with need of every kind, with a desperate, insatiable craving, and making it impossible to sleep until it stops beating all together.

At least, that's what you've been told.

And luckily for you, love just happened to be the one thing you and Alastor see eye-to-eye on.

Discussions of love with him were fleeting and sparse—it simply wasn't a topic that often breached his fancy. But now that you're willing to indulge with him, your words on the subject have captured his attention more frequently than he'd care to admit. Even as you sit with Angel, your feet resting mindlessly in his lap as he recounts his various escapades on love, it makes Alastor sick to his stomach. There was nothing that Angel could tell you about love; nothing about what it truly meant and within the people it could be found, Alastor thought. As if Angel knew anything about love. What he offered was not love, it was merely a cheap distraction. No, the love that Angel spoke of didn't demand his every waking moment, didn't command every syllable that drew from his tongue and it didn't force his body to move in ways that he had never once before been inclined to move. Alastor should know.

Ever since these discussions with you, the casual ones that slowly revealed even your most meager interests to him over time, he had felt himself starting to become more accustomed to this... love.

Is this why everyone seemed so obsessed with love on earth? This feeling of... insatiable desire, of carnal want, of the desperate need to be with the person you love at all times? Even the mere, sudden impulse to feel your hand in his own or to at least be the one to hold your attention when Angel had it all—which was becoming far more often now than before—left Alastor feeling as if he were weak, defenseless even. Alastor had never known love, at least not in this way. Sure, he had experienced the love of a mother at some point in time, nearly a hundred years ago, but this he was sure was different. It had to be. Never had anything filled his thoughts as frequently and as obsessively as you did now. Nothing in his life nor in his death could even come close. Not even all the jazz clubs in the world nor all the whisky in all of Hell could come close. Nothing except perhaps for his craving for blood.

Human flesh was certainly not an ordinary craving. The sensation of tearing flesh from bone or slicing through it with surgical precision could not be easily relatable experience. But Alastor was certain than the euphoria such a feeling gave him would equate to pleasure on some sort of dark and twisted scale. And pleasure was derivative of love, correct? Why, of course it was! Why else would humans hunt for it, suffer for it, crave it, and die for it if love were anything other than pleasureful. Yet, this pleasure he imagined coming from such carnal, ruthless events he found frequently in you alone. Without the blood and without the carnage.

You were clean to love. Easy too. Loving you, seemed to come as naturally as one might find immediate affection for a blooming flower or a baby bird. Innocent, that's what you were. At least, in comparison to him. No one ever arrived in Hell without deserving to be there, but you were far from tainted when placed next to him.

Was what Alastor felt, this supposed feeling of love, even normal? He hadn't often heard people speak of the ways in wish they dreamt of leaving their mark on their other half the way he often imagined of doing so with you. They never made it known if they fantasized about sinking their teeth into their beloved's flesh and letting their all-consuming desire to savor take over. To feel their lover's hands on them as they slowly became one, indulging in the copper taste that painted their lips, a taste that Alastor knew all too well, but somehow felt would be different—much sweeter—if it came from you.

Surely this wasn't normal, the way you infested his brain day and night like an infection he simply couldn't be rid of. The way you make his black heart race as if he were still alive enough to feel it beating. The way he thirsts for the feeling of his claws in your skin, painting you in beautiful hues of red as he fervently devours you whole.

This was nothing like the content of your discussions with Angel, those sweet conversations that were often propelled by humor or lengthy anecdotes that reminded Alastor just how much you loved. How you loved your books and your music and your friends. How much you adored your favorite color and the little details in your outfits and the ways in which different weather made you feel. How you'd smile so widely at seeing any one of your dear friends return to the hotel after a few measly hours away and how you'd embrace anyone who had brought you your favorite meal. To Alastor, you loved too many things, and you loved them so very deeply. It was odd to witness someone so perpetually surrounded by a feeling, a way of life, that he himself had never known. It took him months of wracking his own twisted, inner desires to come to the realization of why he too wished to reside somewhere on that list of yours.

But soon, that desire to simply be on that list took root and grew into something much, much more. Something far darker, something deeply carnal. Something far more corrupt. Soon, his desire to consume you became a reality that even he was slow to recognize. Even as a prideful man, his hubris barely allowed him to admit his feelings for you as one normally would. So he morphed them, tainted them and molded them into something he could and did understand—something he was more than familiar with. The simple desire to be drenched in you, the deep, saccharine red that flowed through your veins, became an obsession. A hobby. An infection.

Soon, he couldn't stand to be around you.

Everything you did taunted him, teased him and drove him to the edge of madness only to have him reeling back to sanity the moment you come closest to death. And the best part is that you simply seem to clueless to it all.

His appetite was insatiable and you mindlessly catered to him without a fault each and every time. It humored him as well, how you always seemed to have the worst of luck in these circumstances.

The first time it happened, you were resting on the couch in the lobby of the hotel, opting to remain open to the company of others if they so decided. That was when Alastor joined you, pulling a newspaper from inside his coat as he seats himself in the armchair across from you. Your gaze lingers on him for a moment, watching as his eyes scan the little lines of black ink, noticing how his monocle glimmers in the light of the fireplace before turning your own page. You hiss and the scent of ferric blood fills the air.

A paper cut? From turning a page in a book? How juvenile. But that didn't stop Alastor's mouth from watering. His fangs sink into his own bottom lip to run interfere with his instinct and his pupils narrow, morphing into dials. He forces himself to remain perfectly still, aside from his claws which dig deeper into the arms of the chair he resides in with each passing second.

"Are you alright, my dear? Those pesky paper cuts often cause more trouble than they're worth," he watches like a hawk as a single bead of red forms on the tender pad of your thumb.

"I'm okay. It's just a paper cut," you say, brushing off the situation entirely before bringing your thumb to your lips. You completely miss the way Alastor's tongue glides over his bottom lip for a brief second before he stands, the tails of his coat swaying behind him as he makes his way to you. Without a word, he grabs your wrist and lifts your hand to his face.

"You need to be more careful," is all he says before squeezing your thumb, watching with a sadistic sort of glee as you squirm at the feeling, and more blood pours from the surface. The words are most likely meant to be soothing, but he says them in such a way that makes you feel as if you're being scolded. It's not until there's enough blood to begin running down the length of your finger that he decides he's had enough, and with a single, swift movement, he runs the tip of his tongue along the cut before melting in a pool of shadows.

Yet unbeknownst to you, he only leaves for your sake. He leaves just in time for you to miss the way his eyes turn black as green stitches strain to contain his smile. Some might consider the way he basks in the lingering taste of your blood on his tongue to be a gruesome display of warped affection, but it's all he can do to keep himself from taking more. Or perhaps, from taking all.

The second time you unknowingly tempt death is during your weekly use of the hotel kitchen. You're chopping vegetables, helping Angel prepare some type of Italian dish he claimed was his specialty before Alastor joined you under the pretense of ensuring you both were 'using the kitchen properly.'

Of course he meant to do it on purpose, but he wasn't going to outright tell you he wanted you to cut your finger again. He wasn't going to simply ask you to do so, no. That would surely make him sound insane. But the simple fact that he was able to so expertly engross you in conversation not only fueled his pride by proving that he knew you so well, but left a magnificent opening for him to surprise you with information that would surely catch you off guard. Just as long as he got his timing right. Which, as a well-trained hunter, he was bound to.

You hiss again, releasing the handle of the knife and letting it fall to the floor with a clatter as you inspect your hand.

"What the hell, are you okay?" Angel gasps, shocked at the sudden amount of red that now glistened on the cutting board. You were never this careless.

"I don't know what's wrong with me lately," you huff, frustrated by the sting you've now felt for a second time this week.

"I'll... be right back," you say, taking your leave to find Vaggie—you heard she was rather good with stitches in case this was particularly bad—and perhaps a bandage too.

But yet again, you miss the way Alastor's smile grows wide at the mere scent of your blood. The fleeting wince of pain that etches across your pretty features, even if only for a moment, is enough to fuel his imagination for the next few days alone. The agitation that fills your eyes as you willingly give in to a distraction that he has laid out for you is so beautifully tasteful. Knowing now, with proof, that he can so easily influence you has him wondering just how far he can push you with this newfound, ravenous tendency of his. Just how sadistic will you let him become? Just how much can you take until you're begging him to rip you apart?

You've sent him deep into a delirium that he has long since forgone any notion of breaking free from. You're all he can crave now. All that he sees, whether his eyes are opened or closed. All he can focus on with each desperate inhale. All he can search for in a sea of wayward souls, you're all that he desires. And nothing will ever be enough.

But luckily, Alastor is a patient man. At least, when it comes to what he truly wants most. As a hunter, as a predator, he has learned how to blend in with his surroundings well. He has mastered the art of infiltrating your defenses and taking down each and every wall from the inside. Alastor is a renaissance man of all things deceptive and immoral. If he must upturn all that he has become thus far to ensure you grow to trust him and only him, unfaltering and unwavering, over time then so be it.

To call him 'greedy' now would be the greatest of understatements. He has become abhorrent, wicked, demented when it comes to you. With each passing day, the yearning to becoming permanently intertwined with you in some type of way becomes more than he can bare. It has him teetering on the edge of sanity and pure madness, and you still remain so blissfully unaware.

But there is most certainly a well-tailored, methodical method to his madness. One that he has trained well and thoroughly during his decades of wreaking havoc. After all, one must be able to maintain their composure when watching the life drain from another being's eyes. Not only is Alastor able to do that, but he revels in the power such a feeling gifts him. So it is no surprise that after months of wearing you down, day in and day out, night after night, that you slowly begin to become obsessed with him as well.

He's a clever man, able to leave you reminders of himself in the most random and regular places so that the idea of him seems to come to you naturally despite this manhandled deception. It begins with the mere idea of Alastor floating in and out of your mind from time to time, seemingly on a whim.

Perhaps he's left a radio on somewhere he knows you'll end up or he's placed a book he mentioned to you somewhere he knows it'll catch your eye. He'll hum catchy tunes as he strolls the halls, lingering for just a moment longer by your door to ensure that you hear it too—he knows you'll ask him about the name of the tune later on.

After that, he sets in quick.

You begin to see him in every shade of red that bleeds across Hell and you find yourself beginning to glance at every shadow you find, hoping he just might reside within one. All until he soon becomes your new obsession as well. Suddenly, you're asking the others if they've seen him and where he might be, where he's headed and if he has any plans for the day. He watches, savoring each time you hang on a syllable. He searches, proudly soaking up the way your eyes light up when they finally land on him.

He tricks you, deceives you into believing what you truly share is love. But surely it much be?

He plays you, ensuring that you're just as stuck on him as he is on you, hoping that you'll simply fall apart if he leaves your side. He may feel as if he's going insane when you're not around, but he will never be satisfied until you need him like a drug in your veins.

And finally, that time comes: the third time you share your blood with him. But this time, it's entirely your idea. Isn't it? Wasn't it? Of course it was. How could it not be? He would never force you into this. And you're sure of it. Because he loves you too much to ever hurt you.

He loves you too much to ever hurt you.

Those very words run on repeat like a broken record though your brain as his razor-sharp teeth sink into your shoulder. Your head begins to spin at the pain, or perhaps it's the loss of blood, but you're able to focus just enough to recite those words over and over again like a prayer. A prayer that...slowly begins to... melt...away.... before it turns into something different. His name.

Alastor. Alastor. Alastor. Alastor.

Perhaps you were simply weak. Surely this pain means nothing if it's for love. Because the pain we feel for love is ultimately the greatest sacrifice of all. If there's anything being in Hell has taught you, it was that. Certainly not Alastor's sick little games that he's tricked you into thinking were of your own volition.

Because there was nothing sick and twisted about your love, simply because it was love. But the promise of love alone was enough for you.

Oh, if only the same could be said about Alastor.

There may very well come a day in which he will finally revel in the entirety of your essence, of your blood and of your flesh as a whole. But for now, tasting your blood like this, soaking in the warmth of your body under his sharped claws, feeling you tremble like helpless pray beneath him, seeing you willingly let yourself become so vulnerable for him like this, will do.

@XPHNTMHVX 2024 — feedback and interactions are eternally appreciated

[ze-writing-qprs]

Alastor x GN!Reader - 2

Headcanons [🩷QPR]

PART I

Alastor and Reader are aroace

Queer-platonic Relationship (do NOT read as romantic)

Fluffy n cute

Nothing is meant to sound or be s*xual (I am aroace and some stuff I say comes off that when I don't mean for it too)

Considering making a part 3

TW: Mention of cannibalism

PART 2

Alastor cooks for you

He listens to the radio while he does (I mean he is the radio demon-)

Has offered to let you try venison (raw) and demon (also raw)

You both give each other song recommendations (I like to think he enjoys most genres of music)

Dancing in the evenings as sunset peeks through the windows

He taught you a lot of dances (If you know how to dance, you taught him some as well)

Will sing to the songs he knows while you dance together

If you ask he might sing you to sleep

Has asked before if he could take a bite of your flesh (Again, he is a cannibal. But he respects you)

You take walks together

You try to find decent cafès or hole-in-the-wall restaurants to go to, this is usually difficult and most of the time you end up taking him to somewhere in cannibal town

He loves when you discuss music with him

You bash on Susan together

Alastor hates when you mention the “box faced man” that “seems to have a homoerotic crush on him” (your words, not his)

He gets all quiet and won’t look you in the eye when he is mad

He tries to distance himself and you take that as a sign to give him space to cool down

If he is just annoyed he will roll his eyes

But for you though, he doesn't seem to take the hint when you get annoyed or mad

This may cause you to give him the silent treatment (He understands at that point)

It’s a little unhealthy

You’ll learn to communicate better (he just might be a little.. difficult at times)

Like a true gentleman he will give your hand a kiss as a greeting

You both give each other forehead kisses

I like to think that he will just hold your hands randomly and play with your fingers

It’s cute

If you make him flustered he will lay his ears against his head

If you want to and play your cards right, he might let you cuddle together

You guys are cute.

#alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x gn!reader #gn!reader #gn reader #hazbin #aro #ace #aroace #asexual #aromantic #aromantic writer #asexual writer #aroace writer #aroace writing #queer platonic relationship #qpr #qpr alastor #alastor x reader qpr #suffer allos #please do not the cat (alastor) #writing #alastor fics #fanfiction #headcanons #alastor headcanons #alastor hazbin hotel headcanons

[ze-writing-qprs]

Alastor x GN!Reader - 1

Headcanons [QPR 🩷]

Alastor and Reader are both Aroace

Queer-Platonic Relationship (Do NOT read as romantic, I will beat you with a stick)

a little fluffly n cute

Nothing is meant to sound or be s*xual (I am aroace and some stuff I say comes off that when I don't mean for it too)

PART 2

TW: Part 2 will have mention of cannibalism (it's Alastor guys)

PART 1

You have known each other for a while

The transfer from friends to being in a queer-platonic relationship was slow and natural over the years

Alastor became more comfortable with you

Obviously this isn’t a ‘normal’ relationship, but you both wouldn’t trade it for anything else

You enjoy just being in his captivating presence

Alastor finds you to be enjoyable to speak to

Even if you aren't able a hold a conversation well, you could talk to him for hours

Whether this be back and forth or just one listening to the other

Comfortable silence is a must

You like to hangout in the radio tower with him while he does his broadcasts

Sitting down doing your own thing or watching him

If you go out for drinks you either have a group conversation with someone, speak between yourselves, or have seperate conversations right next to each other

Rarely does one leave the other’s side

If someone you are talking to has a comment particularly “gossipable” about you cast each other a side glance that says: “We are definitely talking about this later.”

Alastor and you gossip with Rosie all. the. time. (gossip buddies unite)

Eyes speak louder than words, you can almost communicate telepathically with how easy it is to read each other

You have matching Ace rings (Charlie thought you were married at first)

You had to explain what being Asexual and Aromantic was to Alastor (Unless Rosie had already)

Queer-platonic relationships too

He asked if that “Describes the two of us” (How to get into a QPR 101 lesson right here guys)

Your response was asking “Would you like it to?”

Took him a few days to think about it for sure

First ever slowburn QPR recorded in history

Boundaries were basically the first thing talked about after that

Mainly agreed to just ask before doing anything and the rest stayed the same from your friendship

You have been allowed to pet his ears at least once

If you have a phone he MIGHT let you take a picture with him if you really, really want him to

It may not seem like it, but he takes a keen interest in your hobbies as well as behaviors

“How did it go?”

“Do you need me to get you more of this?”

“Are you feeling alright?"

He holds doors open for you

You wanted to do this for him as well

He find this adorable

So now it's a race of who can be the polite one

You keep score (It’s a tie so far)

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #gn reader #alastor x gn!reader #gn!reader #aro #ace #aroace #asexual #aromantic #hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #queer platonic relationship #qpr #x reader #writing

[ze-writing-qprs]

Hoping to post a few works this weekend once i'm free! How are you guys liking my writing so far? My writing changes sometimes with the mood I am in/how motivated I am while writing (I try to only write for this when I feel motivated so I can give my best and enjoy it). Comments/feedback are always appreciated. If you notice a spelling mistake in a story/headcanon just message me so I can fix it. Thank you!!

#hazbin hotel writing #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #aroace writer #aroace writing #hazbin #hazbin hotel fics

[ze-writing-qprs]

me too 🙏

I NEED to gossip with them

[ze-writing-qprs]

2nd person reader who is in a qpr with alastor, though he hasnt told anyone, except maybe rosie.

they go to the hotel, for some reason or another and they meet the rest of the people (like charlie, vaggie, angel etc). also, maybe lucifer too, just because their rivalry is funny, you don't have too though.

its a short story btw.

I have been DYING to do an Alastor QPR request. Loving this request. I will put it on the list. Thank you Anon!

[ze-writing-qprs]

I cannot believe I got sick for 2 days and made a whole sideblog with 5 fics already. Hazbin hotel has taken over my brain (i'm gonna vanish like the avatar as soon as I have like 10 projects for work/school 😭)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel writing #writing #sideblog

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I have an addiction to saying "sorry for being a homosexual" whenever I open an x reader fanfic on this platform (I am aroace)

#sorry for being homosexual #hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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I keep forgetting to put tags on my posts 💀 oops

#hazbin hotel #writing #x reader

[ze-writing-qprs]

Redemption

Charlie x GN!Reader

Platonic Relationship [💛]

Angst & Comfort

PART 1 (Part 2 has not yet been written)

Anon Request: "based around the reader leaving the hotel with almost no notice (perhaps another guest upset them with something unintentionally hurtful). Charlie's obviously worried when she can't find them anywhere , hours later she finds them back in their room but they're reluctant to speak to anyone initially."

I hope this is up to your standards! Sorry if I didn't include everything (I'll try to do the rest of your request aka: more comfort in part 2)

TW: Angst, panic/anxiety attack (not sure which one it would fall into mainly)

No one wants me here.

I can't be saved.

I can't be redeemed.

I can't do it.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I need to leave.

I’ll let her down.

I don't want to see her face, when she realizes I’m a lost cause.

My fingers twitch painfully against my face as tears start to fall from my eyes.

The salt burns.

It burns more than when I was alive.

It burns more than the voracious death that walked me to hell.

Every step down was painful enough, I don't want to imagine the climb up.

She is going to hate me.

They already do.

Their eyes: filled with more hate than mine with tears.

Their mouths: armed with words sharper than the blade of an exorcist.

It burns me like a circle of salt, my tears, their words, their hate, determined to push me away like the demon I am.

I deserve this.

I deserve to be damned to Hell.

I have no place in Heaven.

I ran.

I ran from her, my best friend. My only hope, Charlie.

I wonder if she will worry.

She shouldn’t.

I hear a voice, calling me.

My back slid against a harsh textured brick wall, the surface threatened to slice through my skin. My face turned up to the red hot sky, mourning Heaven. I was no longer crying, but a phantom of the salt blazing in my eyes and down my face remained.

I heard my name

“Charlie?” Why was she here? Was she looking for me?

Again, I heard it. My name, closer this time.

“Where did you go? Please come back,” Her voice was full of pain, worry, and panic… for me.

“I'm here,” My voice was shallow, my throat sore from mourning.

I heard my name said once more before footsteps made their way into the alleyway.

“Oh thank goodness I found you. Are you ok? What happened? Why did you leave?” She asked all in one breath. I couldn't find my words, only able to spit out a simple statement.

“I'm sorry.”

Charlie’s gaze softened even more than it had been, understanding laced with worry. She embraced me, soft strands of her loose blonde hair tickled my face, “You don’t need to be sorry, let’s get you back to the hotel and we can talk about whatever is bothering you.”

I leaned into her, allowing myself a moment of her comfort.

#Charlie #hazbin charlie #charlie hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #charlotte morningstar #charlie x #charlie x reader #charlie x gn reader #gn reader #gender neutral #writing #hazbin hotel #platonic #platonic charlie x reader #angst #comfort #part 1 #not even a little silly #all sad #deal with it hazbin hotelers #suffer with angst #i hope you cry #don't actually

[ze-writing-qprs]

Does anyone have any Asexual or Aromantic song recommendations? I listen to all genres 👍

#asexual #aroace #aromantic #ace #aro #asexual songs #aromantic songs #aroace songs #song recs