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raisoramizu · 2 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel Fanfic - New Order

As promised, I'm starting to publish the third part of my NSFW saga, Hell's Flavour, titled New Order (the first part is a Guitarspear fic, which you can find on my AO3).

This story is a Radioapple – Radiostatic and Radiostaticapple (yep, you read that right vv).

⚠️ Content Warning: This story contains NSFW chapters and Non-Con situations.

For those who haven't read the previous part, Heaven is Not Forever, you can find the chapters on my Tumblr: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13

Remember, you can also follow my fanfics on AO3! I'm currently working on a Radiostatic story "Electromagnetic Interference" inspired by the amazing comic by The_Mad_Oryx (you can find their work on both X and Bluesky). And I SWEARRRR I'll start writing the Radioapple fic for Luciangstweek2025 soon. It'll be posted here and on my AO3 simultaneously.

If you'd like, feel free to follow me on Bluesky: Raisoramizu – for real-time updates on my creations vv.

Happy reading! .................. Intro - Old Obsessions

VoxTek: a towering skyscraper with a circular design, dominating the West section of Pentagram City with its psychedelic red and blue neon signs glowing day and night. Located in the media, social, and porn business district, this was where all the city's major TV studios resided.

It was another hellish afternoon, filled with work for the CEO of the company, the TV Demon. Vox moved through the ground floor of one of the modern corridors, the blue hues of the decor reflecting on his figure, making him appear ageless. His face was a television screen, topped with a small cap from which two antennas protruded. He wore a blue pinstripe suit, perfectly showcasing the vest underneath, along with a shirt and a red bow tie. The Wi-Fi symbol, which also adorned the wallpaper of this lavish and stylish space, was the final touch.

With his elbows bent and his hands clasped behind his back at waist level, Vox moved forward, followed closely by a nervous employee—a pathetic-looking sinner with large glasses and a tablet in hand, reading off a list.

"...a few days before the incident, some of our external panoramic cameras caught Alastor on his balcony, bound by the chain of a pact, which pulled him away, making him disappear."

"...and were you able to focus on the figure that appeared in Adam's room?"

At this question, the employee raised his head nervously toward the back of the TV Demon. "N-no, Mr. Vox. The cameras' angles weren't ideal, and as you know, Alastor's presence creates constant interference with our devices, b-but—" His voice raised slightly, as if anticipating a dangerous, sudden reaction. "...the purple shades of the ghostly fire and the feminine silhouette made us think of only one person..." He swallowed hard. "It's... it's just a guess, though."

Vox suddenly stopped walking, keeping his hands clasped behind him. He rotated his screen face, narrowing his eyes at the shorter figure of the employee. "...Who?"

The employee swallowed again. "Th-the Queen, Sir."

The demon jolted at the revelation, the antennas on his head briefly sparking with electricity. "Lilith...?"

"Yes, and given that Adam tried to kill Alastor, yet the members of the hotel, including Lucifer, don't seem to have any issues with him, it's clear they know he was under someone's influence."

"...Including Lucifer? Why would he care if Adam kills Alastor?"

"...Because, Sir, Alastor spends most of his time with the Sovereign... even in his private chambers. Otherwise, he locks himself in his room or the Radio Tower, where we have no cameras. Lately, his podcast has only been broadcasting 1930s music, and we haven't seen him leave the hotel."

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Vox unclasped his hands and fully turned toward the employee. "Fine. Send me today's updated schedule via email."

Before the other could nod, the Overlord transformed into a bolt of lightning, vanishing into the building's electrical system, disappearing from the hallway

....

The lightning bolt appeared inside the Control Room, instantly reforming into Vox's figure in front of the various screens. He took a step forward, gripping the back of the swivel chair so tightly with his blue claws that they dug deep into the black leather. His screen face displayed an aggressive, drooling expression.

His right eye flickered with static as cables from his body connected to the USB ports on his neck, powering up the numerous screens filling the circular room. Images of every common area inside the hotel began to flicker across the monitors—external views of the building, and its residents engaging in everyday activities, even preparing for the upcoming interview.

And Alastor? He was walking down the hallway toward the Radio Tower after parting ways with Lucifer, who had gone in the opposite direction. The interference from Alastor's presence caused minor glitches on the screen, but Vox's gaze was locked on him, a distorted growl rising in his throat, his grip on the chair tightening, sending electric shocks crackling through it. Damn Radio Demon. Had he made a pact with Lucifer? And what did Lilith have to do with all this? She'd seemingly vanished eight years ago, and now she was back at the hotel, but hidden from the rest of the damned souls. Vox hated not knowing something, hated not having control. He despised how Alastor had reappeared out of nowhere after so long and continued living his life as if nothing had happened, as if Vox wasn't even there... But I'm here, Alastor, and I'm watching you; every day, every night, wherever my eyes don't yet reach, they will. And time was running out. Every day was another step the Radio Demon climbed, a step closer to putting Vox's objectives at risk. You won't go any further. I'll break you with my own hands.

"With Lucifer, huh...?" Vox growled. "Could you really have pulled it off?" He paused. "There has to be something... some crack I can slip through... and this time, I won't wait any longer... I'll be the one enjoying my status quo, Alastor."

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raisoramizu · 2 months ago

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Digital Drawing Log:

...Today I experimented with other things... Complicated and sad 📺📻

I’ll be back to posting my Hazbin Hotel fanfics soon—I’ve been completely swallowed up by my attempt to learn digital drawing.

In the meantime, I’ve uploaded new chapters and stories on my AO3. My Bluesky 🦋 RAISORAMIZU

HERE’S THE LINK ~ AO3

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raisoramizu · 2 months ago

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WIP

I wanted to try drawing Alastor on Met Kalfou’s throne from my FanFic (Radiostatic/Radioapple/Guitarspear) NSFW "New Order"

This will take me a few days—let’s pray it turns out well 🙏

Fan Fiction NEW ORDER on AO3: LINK CLICK 💦

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raisoramizu · 15 days ago

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New Order - Chapter 4: Television Controls the Radio

Hazbin Hotel Fanfic (Radioapple/Radiostatic/Radiostaticapple) - Previous Chapter: Intro - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 Follow me on Bluesky or X - Raisoramizu https://x.com/Raima_chan https://bsky.app/profile/raisoramizu.bsky.social

The images for this fanfiction are for illustrative purposes only, and all credits go to their respective artists.

...

"Alastor, come here."

Vox called out to the demon, turning toward the loft. Just hearing those words was enough to make Valentino flinch, stepping back and letting go of his grip on Vox's collar. Three large shadowy tendrils emerged from Alastor's back, quickly spilling over the balcony railing. As they touched the floor below, they brought down his disheveled form, now standing beside Vox.

"Here he is!" The TV Demon exclaimed, adjusting his rumpled collar before extending an arm toward the Deer Demon, as if presenting a brand-new, exciting product. "He's been hypnotized for hours! And it didn't even take much effort." Vox's voice shifted, brimming with pride as he straightened his back, placing both hands on his hips. "With him, we'll have total control of every communication channel. You know I can't control radio waves." He continued, "Tomorrow, I'll have him sign the contract: he'll give us his soul and work here. Forever." Vox let out an excited laugh, a crackling spark lighting up his right eye.

Valentino remained silent, staring at him with skepticism throughout the entire monologue. His doubtful expression persisted as he shifted his focus to Alastor, scanning the demon from head to toe: Alastor was motionless, his gaze vacant, and his smile barely noticeable. He looked disheveled, still damp from the rain, clearly injured on his face, and scorched in several spots. Valentino's sharp eyes noted the torn shirt exposing his bony chest, marked with red hair and especially adorned with Voodoo symbols.

"Mmmh... he's looking pretty rough," Valentino finally commented in his smooth voice, resting his second right hand on his hip, rubbing his purple chin with his first left hand, and adjusting his heart-shaped glasses with his first right.

"I'll fix him up by tomorrow!" Vox replied with a smile that was far too strained, the corners dipping into a worried frown when Valentino began moving toward Alastor.

As Valentino reached the Deer Demon, Alastor let out a low, static-like radio hiss when Valentino forcefully grabbed one of his antlers. Narrowing his eyes, Valentino examined Alastor's mismatched red hues, then spoke, addressing Vox while still staring at Alastor. "You were going to screw him, weren't you... hmm?"

"..." Vox froze, a nervous bead of sweat dripping onto his screen.

"After all these years, you still haven't gotten over it. It eats you up inside that he's never let you touch him, huh?"

At those words, a spark of fury shot up through the TV Demon's antennae, causing him to tense up in anger. His expression twisted. "Screw you! He's just a stress relief!" He growled, leaning toward Valentino, who merely smirked maliciously and continued to circle Alastor's motionless figure at a leisurely pace. "He needs to pay for everything he's done. I'm going to humiliate him!"

"Oh, how quickly you get worked up!" Valentino chuckled, lazily waving his second right hand in the air. Now standing behind Alastor, Valentino wrapped one of his four arms around his own slim waist, sensually exposing his side as he pouted slightly, casting his red eyes down at Alastor's bony backside. "With that scrawny little ass of his, screwing him is going to hurt a lot. I doubt you'd even fit." His lips curled into a sly grin. "But I can help you loosen him up. Split him right down the middle." Valentino snapped, landing a sharp slap on Alastor's rear. The Deer Demon's eyes widened, black veins creeping through the whites as he stumbled forward a few steps.

Vox immediately panicked, rushing to catch Alastor by the shoulders to prevent him from falling. In an instant, he wrapped his arm around Alastor's waist, allowing the smaller demon to cling to him and bury his face into his shoulder.

"..."

Valentino raised an eyebrow, perplexed by the scene. "Humiliate him... right?" He then exploded, storming toward them with a menacing snarl, shaking a fist in the air and baring his pale teeth where a gold tooth glinted. "You think you can bullshit me, Voxy? ME?!" He pointed to himself with both hands, shaking a third fist in Vox's direction. "You still haven't gotten over him!" ... "So now you're going to tell me everything! About the queen, about your deal, and what the hell you're planning... or I'm going to blow this fucking deer's brain out!" Valentino shouted furiously, grabbing a small crystal figurine shaped like the Vees Tower and hurling it at the two demons.

With practiced ease, Vox dodged the throw, stepping sideways with Alastor still slumped against him. The crystal shattered noisily against the wall behind them. Vox barely flinched at the impact, but the electricity crackling through his antennae betrayed his anger. His fiery red eyes glared at Valentino from over Alastor's head, and without even realizing it, he held the Deer Demon tight to his chest as if he had become something precious.

Valentino noticed. He had noticed for a while.

"Alright! Enough of this!" Vox's voice buzzed electronically. "Come with me." He swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. Tightening his grip on Alastor's shoulders, Vox gently peeled him off his chest, looking at him with concern. They were about the same height, but Vox was slightly more built than the Radio Demon. "Alastor." He called out, making the other demon lift his face. But when their eyes met, Vox's cheeks reddened, and his mouth quivered. Damn it. He could feel Valentino's burning gaze on him... He had to protect Alastor, or Valentino would tear him to pieces. "Go wash up and put that ointment on from the first cabinet in the bathroom. Then, go to bed." Vox ordered, his tone suddenly cold and commanding.

Alastor took a step back, his face expressionless, his usual smile almost gone. It seemed that even under hypnosis, he struggled to pretend.

"Yes," he replied, turning to walk past Valentino and head for the bathroom.

As the Deer Demon passed him, a vortex of air swirled up around Valentino, making his coat billow dramatically. But before the Moth Demon could make any—dangerous—moves, Vox had already wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Heeere we go, dear Val!" Vox's voice suddenly became bright and enthusiastic, his sharp-toothed grin wide.

Valentino leaned in closer, his red eyes glowing like cracks splitting open in his skull. "I want to try my angelic metal bullets on his brain."

"Oh, I'm sure you do!" Vox tightened his bioluminescent claws on Valentino's shoulder, preventing him from bolting and maintaining his sharp smile. "But once I explain everything, you'll change your mind. We're a team, right? I always share my plans and intentions with you, don't I?" He began pulling Valentino toward the door as Alastor disappeared into the bathroom behind them.

Valentino kept staring at him with suspicion, but he was gradually calming down.

"And besides," Vox continued, letting one corner of his mouth curl seductively, "for tonight, I had a special surprise planned... just the way you like it." He waved one hand theatrically, sliding the other from Valentino's shoulder down to his backside.

"Oh... really?" Valentino's expression shifted, intrigued.

"Of course... but all this impatience of yours might just ruin it."

Valentino shuddered and blushed as Vox gave his buttock a firm squeeze before disappearing with him out of the room.

...

That was a long night for Alastor; if the first hypnotic sleep had been dreamless, this one was thick with nightmares.

He had done everything he was ordered to do. But why? Was he really obeying Vox? Of course, Vox knew what to do, he had control over everything, every decision he made was surely the right one. Vox hadn't told him what to wear after washing and treating his wounds, nor where to find his clothes, so Alastor had decided for himself. He grabbed the first blue shirt he could find. Fortunately, they had about the same build, and the shirt was slightly oversized, just enough to resemble a nightshirt.

He missed his room. The sounds of the swampy woods, his radio—he even missed the old, musty smell of his furniture. This place was sterile. Everything smelled like plastic and metal. Those satin sheets were too smooth, too slick, annoyingly uncomfortable. And he was... hot. It was so hot now.

He was sweating. His red hair clung mostly to his skin, and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt hadn't helped much. The sound of the aquarium's bubbling water smothered him, and the bluish lights cutting through the dimness only irritated him more. He tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. A deep sense of claustrophobia washed over him. Was his chest hurting? He couldn't sleep, but he had to. He'd been told to sleep. Sometimes he drifted off, only to jolt awake with no memory of what he'd dreamed. He couldn't breathe. He gasped and drooled against the mattress, gripping his chest with his claws, emitting faint radio static.

...stor.

That anxiety gnawed at his gut, making every muscle in his body tense. He couldn't settle in any position and rolled over onto his back.

Alastor.

A comforting hand rested on his shoulder. That voice... and then, an image. Just a fraction of a second: the back of a young man, blond, dressed in white with a red-striped vest. He's so short. And he thinks he can scare someone? I can't see his face.

"Lucifer..?" he called. Was it him? Yes, it was him, Alastor could see now: that round, pleasant face with that almost nonexistent nose, impossible to pin an age on him. He looked like a little clown, or maybe the circus ringmaster? He seemed harmless, yet his smile carried all the divine knowledge, malice, perversion, and sin.

Vox, sitting on the bed next to the Half-Deer, his hand still clutching Alastor's shoulder, stared in shock, his mouth twitching at the right corner of his screen. Alastor's vacant eyes were open in a trance-like state. He had just muttered Lucifer's name in his sleep.

That morning, Lucifer looked like he'd had the worst night of his life.

Hungover, he sat at one of the round tables on the veranda outside the bar. Even that part of the Hotel had Alastor's distinct taste for the 1930s—or even earlier. The tables were finely decorated in white metal, the plants and decor outdated, with rather unsettling paintings hanging on the wall outside the French doors. Along the columns, intricate, antler-like branches twisted around.

Wearing a white robe emblazoned on the back with the royal emblem of a golden serpent coiled around a red apple, the angel slumped over the table, one hand buried in his hair as his swollen eyes stared into space.

He was paler than usual, dark circles under his eyes, his face lined with wrinkles from lack of sleep and a badly worn-off hangover. He could have healed himself with a bit of effort, but the problem was more mental than physical. He felt awful. He'd been on the road to recovery when he moved here, he had felt it, and now he was back in the pit. Lilith had disappeared again and... Alastor? Did he hate him? Was he angry with him? Alastor hadn't listened, hadn't understood—he'd been a damn selfish fool. Could he still fix things? But why the hell didn't that stag trust him? He had gone against his wife just to save him, just to be with him.

"Here's a biiiiig, long coffee for King Meanie, ehehahaha!" Niffty suddenly bounced onto the table, balancing a small tray with a huge, steaming cup of American coffee.

Lucifer snapped upright. "..." He stared at her, his face puffed up like a balloon. "Yeah... thanks," he mumbled, realizing and grabbing the cup with one hand.

Niffty, still standing on the table with the tray under her arm, leaned toward him, blinking her single eye a few times. "You look awful, just terrible!"

"Oh yeah, Niffty, Short King went hard last night. Give him some time to recover!" Angel Dust shouted as he appeared in the doorway, waving one of his four hands in the air like he was shooing something away, then came up behind Lucifer.

The little bug jumped off the table and scurried away as the Seraph absentmindedly conjured up about fifteen sugar cubes, all of which dropped straight into his coffee.

"..." Angel Dust twisted his lips, puzzled. "Hope everything went alright last night. You two seemed to leave a bit... uh..."

"No," Lucifer said, his voice flat. "But I'll talk to him properly. It's my fault, anyway."

"Dad!" Just as Lucifer responded to the Spider Demon, Charlie's sharp, impatient voice broke through the dreary morning in Hell. She appeared at the doorway with a stack of handwritten papers under her arm. "Dad, have you seen Alastor? He said he'd help me with tomorrow's interview, but we can't find him." She stopped in front of the table.

Lucifer looked up at her, surprised. "He's not in the Hotel..?"

"No, Vaggie even checked the Radio Tower. He's not there. Maybe he went to see Rosie..?" She rubbed her chin, then her golden eyes darkened. "...but... are you okay?" She frowned.

At her question, the angel went pale. He straightened up against the back of the chair, forcing a painfully fake smile. "Of course..." he lied. "No." He admitted, burying both hands back into his already disheveled blonde hair, his trembling eyes betraying his distress. "It's not okay at all. I think I messed up..."

Charlie stood there, confused, casting a glance over at Angel Dust.

"..." "Ah," Angel said, resting a hand on the edge of a chair and arching his back, his furry chest visible through his pink crop top. "Look, under normal circumstances, I'd say it's insane to try and get through to that stubborn deer, but last night, he seemed really pissed. Like, he was about to put another hole in my chest," he growled, rubbing his abdomen nervously. "...and I'm sure Val would've found a use for that one, too."

"CHARLIE!" Vaggie's voice echoed from inside the bar, catching the attention of the three still on the veranda. "Come here! Alastor's on TV!"

Charlie jumped. "On TV?!"

They all stared at each other, stunned for a moment, before rushing inside. Angel Dust and Charlie led the way, followed more slowly—and with less enthusiasm—by Lucifer, who stopped at the French doors, leaning against the frame as the others crowded around Vaggie. Husk watched from behind the bar, Niffty from on top of it.

A flat-screen TV, mounted on the wall just past the bar—since Alastor didn't allow any TV sets in his rooms—was broadcasting a live interview with the CEO of Voxtek: the TV Demon himself.

Vox's image filled the screen, impeccably dressed in his navy blue suit. He gestured and smiled with his sharp, toothy grin, speaking enthusiastically despite the slight glitches that occasionally disrupted the broadcast, though they didn't interfere too much. Behind him, more in the background, was Alastor. He, too, was wearing his red jacket, freshly cleaned from the laundromat—likely even from the tailor, since the frayed hem was now perfectly stitched. He smiled, but his eyes kept drifting toward Vox rather than the cameras, because every time he looked into the lens, the interference on the screen worsened.

- "As I told you, my dear viewers, after so many years, we've finally reached a fruitful agreement. The Radio Demon, Alastor, will be joining our wonderful company with a podcast that will please both lovers of the old and modern youth alike!" -

Charlie found herself standing with her hands over her mouth, almost touching the floor in shock, when she was intercepted by the shorter figure of Vaggie.

"Something doesn't seem right to you?" Vaggie asked.

The Princess looked at her, confused. "Are you kidding? He hates television and all modern electronics!" She replied, waving her hands in the air.

Meanwhile, the broadcast continued. - "The podcast will launch in a few days, it will be broadcast on the radio, on TV, and on all electronic devices with internet access; you'll be able to listen to it and watch Alastor live in his booth. Later, we'll reveal the schedule of programs..." -

- "This is a historic event, Mr. Vox. Do you think it'll be a success?" - A journalist asked, stretching the microphone toward the TV Demon, who responded by wrapping one arm around the Radio Demon's shoulders.

- "Of course!" - Vox answered with a grand gesture of his other hand. -"And this is just the beginning!" -

"Look where Vox has his hand! He's as much of a perv as Valentino!" Angel Dust exclaimed, pointing at the screen where the TV Demon's claws were gripping Alastor's side, dangerously close to his backside. It was clear Alastor stiffened at the touch.

"Alastor doesn't like that guy!" Niffty suddenly chirped from atop the counter, pulling out a duster and getting back to her cleaning.

Husk's face twisted in a disturbed grimace, glancing absently at the others before focusing on Angel Dust. "You alright, Angel?"

The spider demon was frozen, staring wide-eyed at the screen, and shivered at Husk's question, nervously biting his nails. "There's no way he joined the Vees."

"..." Charlie looked at him, curious. "Your boss is one of the Vees, right?"

Angel Dust nodded. "They must have forced him."

"Nah," Husk snorted, skeptical. "That bastard wouldn't let himself be forced. If they tried, we'd have heard half the city blow up."

Charlie stared thoughtfully at the half-cat, starting to rub her chin with two fingers. "He wouldn't let himself be forced, unless..." She suddenly turned toward her father, who was still leaning against the doorframe, staring blankly at the screen. "Dad!"

At her call, Lucifer snapped to attention, stiff and rigid, as Charlie hurried toward him. "Alastor might not be able to..." She abruptly stopped, glancing around. There were too many people, and she had promised not to mention his weakened condition. "I mean... you know what I mean." She waved her hand vaguely. "You should go check if everything's okay, don't you think? It's absurd for him to do something like this, right? You know him..."

Lucifer's smile was strained, awkward, out of place. His purple-tinged lower eyelids made his golden eyes seem even more intense as he looked up at Charlie. "Ehhrr, I don't know him that well, Charlie." He admitted, leaving his daughter stunned. "I mean... I've only known him for a few months, and you... how well do you know him?" He glanced around at the others, seeking their doubtful expressions. Husk grunted. "...Maybe, maybe it's my fault. Maybe he preferred it this way." He mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"But-but-but he said he'd help me with the interview! He's our frontman, the host of the Hotel. He's here to help us! There's no way he'd just up and leave without saying anything, he—"

"He could call me whenever he wants!" Lucifer suddenly exploded, clenching his fists. "..." Still staring at the floor in the heavy silence of the room. "...I mean, if he needed me... we made a pact. He can summon me in an instant. If he's not doing it... it means everything's fine."

A stunned silence followed his words, only broken by the crackling voice of the Radio Demon on the broadcast.

- "Of course ~ As my dear friend Voxy said, my ~ wonderful ~" - He emphasized the word with a lilting tone, placing a hand vainly over his exposed chest. -"talents can be heard everywhere, even on your lovely little electronic gadgets!" - His eyes were half-closed, an egocentric smile spreading across his face. - "And you can watch me live as I speak to you, as I make you dream, as I ignite your..." -

As he continued speaking, the interference on the screen grew more intense. Gradually, he opened his eyes, now pitch black, with radio dials replacing his normal pupils. - "...worst nightmares. Who will be the next demon to scream... on my show?" - The interference became unbearable as the screen went dark, showing only Alastor's eyes and grin. And then... *CRACK* the TV burst, shattering and emitting smoke as if something had hit it, causing Charlie to scream and alarming everyone present.

All it took was one glance at Lucifer to know who was responsible for the damage. His eyes and horns were ablaze, and he was surrounded by a thick, dark mist rising toward the ceiling, his growl rigid and feral.

"Dad, calm down! Have you lost your mind?!" Charlie, unafraid but clearly alarmed, rushed to him, her hands resting on his shoulders to soothe him.

"!" Lucifer deflated, his posture relaxing as he let out a final puff of smoke, returning to his human form. "...ah, sorry, I... " He began to apologize with a half-smile, but it froze on his face when he realized the others were staring at him in shock. "..." He hunched his shoulders in guilt, but his daughter smiled again, her sharp canines showing as she bent slightly toward him and began to push him away.

"It's fine, nothing happened, eheh... let's go. I'll walk you to your room so you can rest a bit. You're too stressed. We'll figure out this Alastor problem, we just need to talk to him, right? He surely has a good reason for being there and not calling you... let's go, come on." She led him away, disappearing down the hallway that led to the stairs and the upper floors of the Hotel.

…

The door to the room creaked open, revealing Charlie's exhausted figure. She leaned back against it, closing it with a soft thud, and sighed deeply.

"Charlie..?" Vaggie quickly lifted her head, placing her phone down on the bed.

Their suite was cozy: two rooms and a spacious bathroom. Behind the king-sized bed, draped in crimson sheets, was a massive window that let the outside light flood in. Even though they had only been there a couple of months, the room already felt like home. There was a wardrobe for Vaggie's spear and other weapons, a punching bag for her training (and perhaps for her repressed anger?), while across from it, a desk piled high with papers, drawings, rainbows, and photographs of everyone at the Hotel, taped all over the wall. There were even notes for the upcoming interview the next day.

"He fell asleep," Charlie answered, moving away from the door and walking toward the bed, slipping off her red jacket, which was starting to feel too warm.

Vaggie stood up, meeting her halfway, her face filled with concern.

"What happened to him..? His reaction was a bit... mmh..."

"Exaggerated?" Charlie finished the sentence for her with a slightly awkward smile. Vaggie looked at her, searching for reassurance in Charlie's eyes, reaching for her arms. "Yeah... um, Dad and Alastor... I promised not to say anything, but I think it's obvious, and you deserve to know."

Vaggie's single eye widened. "SERIOUSLY?!"

"Shhh!" Charlie quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. "Yeah, that was my reaction too, believe me! Ehehe... uh..." She let out a nervous laugh, stepping back awkwardly.

"Para todos los demonios en el infierno..." Vaggie muttered under her breath.

Charlie stared at the floor, nervously rubbing her right arm with her left hand.

"Don't worry, they're adults, right? If you're okay with it, then I am too. But I don't want you worrying about that bastard Alastor. You know how he is with his secrets and lies... If it comes to it, your father and I will protect the Hotel. Honestly, I'd rather he keeps his distance so he won't have a chance to force you into fulfilling that deal of yours. He's probably up to something, something he won't or can't tell us, but he can definitely take care of himself—"

"I'm not so sure he can take care of himself right now," Charlie interrupted.

"What do you mean?" Vaggie asked, urging her toward the bed. "Come on, lie down, you need some rest too."

Charlie, still deep in thought, kicked off her shoes and lay down softly on the mattress. "I really can't tell you that. I promised my dad... please understand."

Vaggie's lips trembled, but she sighed. "Yeah, I get it. I kept something important from you for years... It's only fair you have your own secrets, especially when it's out of respect for your father." She stared at the floor, guilt flashing across her face.

"But one thing's for sure... If Alastor needed help, he could call my dad in an instant. You heard them, right? They've got a deal. So, if he's not asking for help, we can relax..."

"Yeah, sure," Vaggie replied with a smile, kneeling on the bed next to her. She leaned over Charlie, letting her long silver hair cascade down her face. "Now rest... I'll take care of you..." she whispered, her embarrassment lighting up her cheeks, while Charlie's already clownish blush deepened as she gently stroked her face.

...

That was another long night. Vox just couldn't sleep. After finishing with Valentino, he had tried, evidenced by his nightshirt—a long-sleeved blue robe with the electrified "V" printed on the back, lazily tied at the waist, leaving the fabric hanging messily over his bare chest. His build wasn't overly muscular, but he was definitely more defined than Alastor, and his skin was a sleek, odd shade of blue, darker than the bioluminescent tips of his claws. Even his rectangular nipples glowed faintly in the dim light of the Control Room, like the gill-like slashes along his ribcage.

His coffee had gone cold as he absentmindedly tapped his claws on the keyboard controlling the myriad of screens in front of him. They wrapped around him in a circular array, making the room look like the cockpit of some futuristic ship, deep in the bowels of V Tower, where he lived and ran his TV empire.

One of the cameras pointed at his bedroom, specifically at the large circular bed covered in velvet blue sheets. Right in the middle, Alastor was curled up, sleeping soundly, his breaths echoing like low radio static.

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous to have that old bastard in such a state—fragile and defenseless—in his bed. Could he have ever imagined this? No. But had he hoped for it? Maybe, in his darkest dreams, the ones he kept hidden from everyone, even from himself. Until today, at least. He'd thought he lost him seven long years ago when, after a fight about joining his team (Alastor hated all the modern tech they used), he'd tried to hypnotize him, and it hadn't worked. A fight had broken out—during a massacre, no less. He had thought Alastor was dead, killed by some exorcist... and yet, here he was. Out of nowhere, in the Hotel run by Lucifer's daughter, and now? Sleeping with the King of Hell himself, weakened to the level of an ordinary demon, with his magic spiraling out of control and some kind of deal with... Lilith? That was something Vox couldn't wrap his head around. If Lilith had tried to kill him using Adam, all because she was jealous of Lucifer? How painfully banal.

But his feelings for that strawberry-haired sinner were anything but banal. He wanted to destroy him, but also cage him, use him at his will. But he didn't want to erase his vitality or his personality. Hell, Alastor was perfect as he was—reserved, insolent, cheerful, especially when he got drunk and danced the tap like a fool. Or when, in his aristocratic demeanor, he turned feral, tearing into raw meat and letting the blood drip everywhere.

Vox smirked at the thought, pressing Enter on the keyboard. Everything was ready for the interview: there would be no redemption. Every sinner would be under his control.

He sighed, slouching back into his swivel chair, arms hanging limply by his sides. He tilted his head back, half-closing his glowing red eyes, then reopened them to gaze at Alastor on the screen.

"Looks like you've really gotten yourself into a mess this time, huh, darling?" he muttered with a concerned smile. "And it's insane that I keep getting tangled up in your crap..."

He paused, staring at the screen with a frown. "I could just kill you. Valentino would stop being a problem, and yet... because of you, I've got to deal with him even more."

"This time... I really am losing it... and something tells me I'll go down with you, in the end."

"So, don't fall, Alastor."

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raisoramizu · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 11: Lilith's Wrath

This is the eleventh chapter of my Hazbin Hotel fan fiction, "Heaven is Not Forever" Radioapple and Guitarspear. You can find the other chapters on my blog.

During Lute's recent visit, she hadn't realized just how immense it was. Maybe it felt bigger now because it was empty? Her heels echoed against the pale walls, adorned with divine paintings and large, watchful eyes. Those eyes were part of her creation, her guide, her protection... and yet, the apprehension gnawing at her chest remained. How could one live in Heaven with this constant fear? Perhaps it was because she was an angel, not a Winner—she was created to serve this place, not to enjoy its beauty. She was meant to protect it, to ensure that no written or moral laws were broken. She was the divine sword, the judge... or the accused?

She shuddered at the sound of wings behind her and stopped in the center of the grand hall, with its towering circular ceiling. Around her were the currently empty balconies, and in front of her—backed by the large golden double doors—was the one reserved for the Seraphim. There was no artificial light, nor any windows to let in natural light, and yet everything shone, including the figure of the High Seraphim, who landed softly before her.

Sera was tall, imposing. Her form was feminine but unnatural, with six large wings and chestnut-colored skin. She wore a flowing gown in shades of white, sky blue, and gray, and her halo resembled a crown. Lute's, on the other hand, was black and simple, like the standard uniform she wore. Her bobbed hair framed a tense face, her expression tightening into a nervous frown that deepened when Sera regarded her curiously with large blue eyes.

< Emily...? > the commander asked, glancing around. < She's not here. You'll have to make do with me, Lute, > Sera replied with soft assertiveness. < You want to talk about Adam again...? > A faint tension crept into her voice. < With all due respect, don't you care how he's doing? Aren't you going to do anything? > < And what would you have me do? > Sera's tone shifted as she placed one hand over the other at her waist. Raising her chin, she leveled a stern gaze at Lute, who was barely half her height. < Let's talk instead about how you learned he's in Hell. A tip-off from whom...? >

Lute flinched. < Do you have contacts with demons? > Sera pressed, but was met with silence. < Or do you think you can use the portal without me noticing? >

A wave of terror froze the exorcist in place. She staggered back, stunned, her mouth open as if trying to put some distance between herself and Sera, who hadn't moved but whose cold, severe gaze pierced her. < Yes... yes, I did! > Lute blurted out, finding a burst of courage, furrowing her brow and pointing to herself with her remaining hand. < But because I'm truly worried about him! Because... > She paused, pressing her lips together in a mix of anger and fear. < Because I care about him. > < Don't you care, Sera? How can you— > < Silence! > Sera's voice thundered, cutting her off. < Of course, I care, > she softened her tone to something gentle and comforting. < I care for all my children, my brothers, and sisters. I care for all of you. > She waved her long arm as if gesturing to everyone, though the room was empty. < And that is why I cannot be lenient when it comes to Divine Judgment. Adam wasn't judged by us; he died and was reborn directly into Hell. He's a demon. >

Lute took a step forward to confront her. < Emily told me about the guest at the hotel, the serpent who was reborn here as a Blessed! There's a chance Adam could be redeemed too! > At this revelation, Sera's gaze sharpened with disapproval, but she sighed and continued. < Apparently, that sinner earned Heaven just as Adam earned Hell. >

< You can't say that, Sera... I mean, with all due respect, High Seraphim, > Lute replied with the same frustration but quickly composed herself, standing at attention, her back rigid as she tried to find a tone more appropriate for the situation and her superior. < This is Adam. You know him. We can help him... maybe reevaluate our decisions. Perhaps... they weren't as correct as we thought. >

The angel turned, giving Lute her profile as she began to pace—or rather, float—around the room, her gown's hem fluttering just above the floor. < Not correct, you say? I know more... > She paused, bowing her head—her long gray curls cascading—and resting a hand on her forehead as if suddenly struck by a headache. < I know he harbored a demon in Heaven for years... >

Lute went pale. Did she know it was Lilith, or were her insights incomplete? Fear took hold of her again, as if all the apprehension she had felt for months was about to boil over. Was this the moment everything would come crashing down? Ever since the Extermination... had she been waiting for this moment all along? < How long...? > Lute swallowed hard. < I've known for some time, and... > Sera froze, shooting her a piercing glance. < I know that you knew too. >

< Why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you stop it...? > The angel didn't answer immediately. She turned toward Lute, her cold gaze softening into an intense sorrow—a regret so vivid that Lute herself felt it weigh down on her. < Because I cared about Adam too, > Sera admitted, gently spreading her arms. < We all did. >

At that exact moment, to Lute's astonishment, the room began to fill with angels of the highest hierarchy: Thrones, Powers, Dominions. Born from beams of light, they flew toward the many balconies, each taking their place. The High Seraphim flapped her wings vigorously, ascending above the others to her rightful place as chief judge. She left Lute standing in the center of the hall, a small figure on the floor decorated with the enormous image of a ghostly eye.

Lute felt tiny, overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness and guilt. Had she made a mistake? Of course she had. Was this to be her day of judgment? Along with the guilt came anger—the frustration of knowing they wouldn't listen. She knew how trials worked: they had already made up their minds. That's why Sera had granted her request for this meeting.

With that last thought, all her tension drained away. She felt empty, devoid of any emotion except helplessness. < ...Lute, > Sera's voice brought her back to reality. Her hands still clasped at her waist, the angel stood motionless like an inhuman statue, staring down from the high court. Below her, the numerous balconies were filled with other angels. < This trial accuses you of being complicit in Adam's conspiracy against Heaven, > she announced. < What do you have to say in your defense? >

Lute looked around. Every angel's eyes were on her—some curious, some puzzled—but Sera's gaze... it was heavy. Why didn't you call Emily? Are you afraid of being contradicted? You bastard. Damn you.

She clenched her fist. < I'm guilty, > she declared, standing tall and lifting her chin, shocking the entire court. < Guilty of wanting to protect someone I care about, even at the cost of my duties... > She paused, her voice steady with the same passion that had always driven her. < ...of the good of Heaven, of the established order. > Her words rang with pride—pride she wouldn't let falter. It was all over. Adam was lost. She was lost.

Sera's gaze grew even colder, more distant, as if a wall of light had risen around her—light that swirled, opening countless blue eyes across her hair, forehead, chest, and robes. At that moment, it seemed every part of her was connected to the divine, as though she herself were made of pure mystical energy. < Based on this confession, with my authority as High Seraphim, I hereby sentence you to be cast out of Heaven. The Golden Gates will be closed to you forever, Lute. >

At these final words, terror exploded within Lute, shattering like the metallic clink of something falling to the ground. She looked down. Her black halo had fallen. She shuddered and raised her golden eyes once more to seek out Sera, only to find herself surrounded by a dozen sisters, hovering in the air, masked and with spears aimed at her.

I'm scared.

" < If you get yourself killed again, I'll drag you out of the Primordial Evil by the neck. > "

Lute's voice echoed in Adam's head just as Lilith's eyes flared with dark, black energy. All the exhaustion, pain, and the damn effects of her voice surged into a burst of fiery rage and strength. Tensing every muscle in his left arm, he tore through the enchanted ropes binding his wrist, bringing it up as a shield over his head just in time to block the spear.

The spear and part of its shaft pierced through the flesh and bone of his forearm, the tip stopping just shy of his forehead, right between his wide, blackened eyes. He stared in horror as a thin stream of blood trickled from a small scratch and then began dripping heavily from the spear.

Lilith's face had twisted into a demonic mask, radiating suffocating, cursed energy. Adam heard her growl, baring her sharp canines, and he channeled all that adrenaline—numbing his body to the pain—into the spear.

He pushed against it, forcing the weapon, and with it, Lilith, backward, slamming her into the wardrobe with such force that the doors shattered, sending her crashing noisily inside.

Panting heavily, Adam clenched his jaw, his face a mask of blood, sticky enough to glue his hair to his ram-like horns. He rolled onto his hands and knees, bracing himself with his right hand. < Fuck, I came way too close that time... > he muttered as he glanced at the door. The exit. He had to get out. He needed to get out of there.

Grimacing, he conjured his leathery wings, the sudden rush of air causing the TV to wobble dangerously. He dashed toward the door, ready to ram through it if he had to. But just as he was a mere foot away, Lilith's form reassembled amid swirling shadows, an amused, aggressive grin on her face as she raised the spear once again, aiming it at him.

< Where do you think you're going, little bug? ♫ > Her voice was singsong.

< !! > Adam felt the searing pain of all his wounds hitting him at once, just as the tip of the spear impaled his left shoulder, piercing straight throug

...

Meanwhile, Lucifer and Alastor were on their way back.

The Seraph was grinning from ear to ear, radiating joy as he chatted with the demon, who listened silently, his own ever-present grin plastered on his face. Though his mouth was closed, there was something genuine in the half-deer demon's smile, as his mismatched red eyes were focused on Lucifer's lively gestures, the angel even waving his apple-topped cane in the air.

< Ahh, I'm stuffed with all those sweets Rosie gave me... > Lucifer sighed, patting his vest over his stomach with a comically exaggerated exhaustion. < Delicious, I must say! >

< ...? > Alastor's smile faltered briefly. < Sweets? > he asked, his ears twitching slightly as a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. < Ohhh! The sweets... of course~ > he teased, his voice laced with a playful radio static. < I hate to burst your bubble, Your Majesty, but I've got some bad news for you... > His smile stretched wider, but just as Lucifer stepped onto the first step leading to the hotel, his expression froze, eyes wide as if struck by a sudden jolt of electricity.

< What's wrong...? > Alastor barely got the question out when Lucifer shot him a glance, filled with palpable apprehension, before quickly conjuring a golden portal and stepping through it, sealing it shut behind him.

Alastor was left standing there, his smile frozen on his lips, eyes wide as he glanced up at the towering structure of the hotel in front of him. As his gaze reached the sign perched at the top, a strange, familiar fear crept over him, so thick it made him let out a distorted radio hiss.

Just as he began to melt into the shadows with his staff in hand, Charlie flung open the door. < You're back—! > She squealed with excitement, but her voice trailed off as the sinner vanished right in front of her eyes.

Adam was literally crawling toward the window—it was his only shot. One arm was completely useless, and he was dragging himself across the floor with the other, scraping his knees against the ground, smearing it with the blood still pouring from his two wounds. The pain was excruciating, and Lilith's voice behind him—humming a twisted lullaby—was tearing apart any last shred of sanity he had left. She followed him step by step with the calm of someone who knew her prey could never escape.

< How pathetic you are. >

< Go to... hell, you blonde... bitch. > Adam spat, his words coming out in ragged breaths.

With a single long stride, Lilith positioned herself between his legs, raised her right arm, and pointed the blood-soaked spearhead directly at his back. She licked her violet lips with a wicked smile.

< Goodbye, First Man. >

...

< LILITH! >

Lucifer's voice froze the spear mid-air—literally. A thin layer of ice crackled over the weapon, burning Lilith's fingers until she dropped it to the ground.

Lilith took a few steps back, locking eyes with the Seraphim as he appeared in a flash of light. He stood tall, framed by the window, just inches from Adam's bloodied hands. Lucifer's wide, crimson eyes, void of pupils, dimmed and shifted to a stunned gold. He blinked several times before lowering his gaze in disbelief toward Adam, sprawled on the floor.

< What—what's going on here? > he asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Adam let out a weak, bitter laugh. < Guess the plot armor finally showed up, > he muttered.

Lucifer shot him a sharp glare. < Okay, shutting up, > Adam grumbled, gripping the floor in an attempt to push himself up.

< I'm just cleaning up our mess, like I said I would, > Lilith replied smoothly, though her eyes blazed with the same fury that made her long blonde hair sway in a non-existent wind.

< In the hotel? You were going to kill him here, with... with... > Lucifer glanced at the spear on the ground in disgust and fear. < ...that? > < You're putting everyone at risk. >

< There's no risk, > she countered coolly, < he's just a demon now, and he's almost dead. Look for yourself. >

Lilith took an exaggerated step forward, pressing her bare foot into Adam's gaping shoulder wound. He collapsed back to the ground with a groan.

< Fucking hell! > Adam spat out blood. < Talk about marital bliss, huh? > He clawed at the floor with his good hand.

< Lilith, > Lucifer called again, circling Adam's limp form with hesitant steps. < It's... it's not necessary anymore. >

He forced a strained smile, one meant to calm her down, waving his hands, even the one holding his staff. But her eyes were as cold as the ice that had coated the spear.

< Not necessary? > Lilith raised an eyebrow, her voice sharp with disapproval. < He canceled the Extermination, blackmailed you, and tried to kill Charlie! >

< ...but Charlie has... uh, forgiven him? She let him stay here, even though I... didn't want to... >

At those words, Adam felt a pang—something like loneliness, or gratitude? God, he never thought he'd find himself thanking the heavens—or maybe hell—for Lucifer being there... and actually on his side? Was this for real?

Meanwhile, Alastor had been sneaking through the shadows of the hallways, trying to avoid the others who were all in a panic after his sudden disappearance. Charlie, especially, was likely impossible to calm down at this point.

The hotel had so many rooms, far too many floors, most of them still vacant with no guests to fill them yet. But then, Alastor found himself there, in the long red-and-black corridor leading to Adam's room. His grip tightened around his cane, his smile anything but serene. He perked up his ears at the sounds and voices from inside the room—they were in there.

He continued toward the door until he stood just a few feet away, recognizing the muffled voices of Lucifer and... Lilith? A crackle of static echoed from his radio-like interference.

< Things have changed, yes, but we'll find another solution... can we talk about it? > Lucifer's smile was sharp but sweet, a plea as he looked up at his wife from his shorter height.

< Talk about it?! > Lilith hissed, suddenly snapping her wide, furious eyes toward the closed door. Alastor, standing on the other side, froze. < We'll talk, my little angel, ♫ > she sang, masking Alastor's presence. She pulled her blood-soaked foot off Adam's wounded shoulder, allowing him to let out a shaky gasp.

At that exact moment, Alastor heard the metallic clang of something falling at his feet. He barely had time to glance down and see that it was the lower part of his staff—split in two just as the ex-commander had severed it during the last extermination—when the upper half, microphone included, crumbled between his fingers into dust.

He froze—not just from the sudden, terrible realization stabbing through his mind, but because... he was trapped! The violet collar of his pact lit up around his neck, cutting off his breath...

...and Adam, with a monstrous snarl that twisted his face into something bestial, lunged forward. In a blur of speed and fury he hadn't displayed before—at least not in his Sinner form—he grabbed the spear from the ground. Black matter streamed from his eyes as he shot toward the room's entrance, aiming the blood-stained blade at the door. With a violent thrust, he drove it straight through the wood, sending the spear's tip bursting out the other side.

Everything happened in an instant, right under Lucifer's wide-eyed gaze.

< ..what the— >

The spear smashed through the door, completely ripping it off its hinges and slamming into Alastor, driven by Adam's massive frame.

Alastor barely had time to lift his ash-covered hands before he registered the door crashing toward him. His pupils shrank to tiny dots, eyes wide as the spear tore through his chest, emerging from his back and pinning him against the corridor wall.

From inside the room, Lucifer stood frozen, watching in shock as Alastor coughed up blood, the door disintegrating on impact. Adam, entirely consumed by his rage, bled the same black viscous matter from his jaws. He growled again, shoving the demon harder against the wall, driving the spear deeper, until the ice burning his hand snapped the blade in two.

By now, the commotion had spread throughout the entire hotel. Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, and Niffty were desperately searching for Alastor. Charlie had become convinced he was somewhere inside the building, and something told her he was in Adam's room. She wasn't as naïve as they thought; all these oddities, these secrets, had started the moment Adam arrived. Was it her fault all of this was happening? Should she not have forced her father to take him in?

As Charlie, followed closely by Vaggie armed with her angelic spear, raced down the stairs, she suddenly heard her father's voice.

< ALASTOR! >

His shout echoed from the end of the hallway, just as a fiery explosion erupted, sending Adam flying down the corridor at terrifying speed, the force shaking the walls.

The towering figure of the First Man shot past Charlie, narrowly missing her as Vaggie tackled her out of the way. Husk and Angel Dust pressed themselves against the wall to avoid him, while Niffty looked up with wide eyes.

< Whoooa, what a ride! > she giggled, spinning her cyclopean head in the direction Adam flew, crashing into a door several feet away from where Lucifer stood, his small figure at a distance as he darted toward Alastor.

< Dad! > Charlie cried in alarm, scrambling to her feet and running toward the two of them. From the now-doorless room, Lilith vanished in a wisp of ghostly fire.

A violet shimmer flickered in Charlie's eyes for a brief moment, but she was forced to refocus on her father, who was now hunched over Alastor, lying still on the ground. The Radio Demon wasn't moving. His body had left a long, bloody smear on the wall, and that same blood was pooling on the floor beneath him.

Charlie sprinted forward, but she and Vaggie were forced to stop abruptly as the intense heat radiating from Lucifer became unbearable. Both girls shielded their eyes from the scorching wave that burned their skin.

< What's happening... Dad! > Charlie cried out, squinting through the searing light to see the spear lying on the floor. < Alastor! Oh my God, Alastor! > she panicked, stamping her feet in desperation. < He's hurt, he's hurt! Dad, let me get to him!! >

Charlie was frantic, stomping her feet in place as the heat melted the wallpaper and dimmed the lights along the walls, plunging that specific part of the hallway into a deep, eerie darkness.

A darkness that also filled the screen, which moments before had been broadcasting the corridor's scene. Vox, sitting in his swivel chair, stared wide-eyed at the flickering static as the signal cut out in his Control Room.

Lucifer, now fully transformed, seemed oblivious to everything. Flames blazed between his curved horns, and his eyes were devoid of pupils. Every part of him, even his clothes, was covered in spectral yellow eyes that writhed like his tail, which ended in a sharp black spear.

The sudden appearance of his six feathered wings sent out a shockwave that knocked Husk and Angel Dust backward as they tried to reach him. Niffty, on the other hand, had already darted over to where an unconscious Adam lay, far down the hall.

< Dad, please! I'm begging you! I care about Alastor too, we all do! > Charlie cried out, collapsing to the floor where she had fallen. But Lucifer only leaned over Alastor, wrapping him protectively in his wings, hiding them both from view in a soft embrace.

A cone of darkness surrounded them, then lit up with a vibrant, laser-like golden light that hummed with a strange sound. That same sound cut through the sky outside the hotel, bright enough to be seen from the windows overlooking the courtyard.

The explosion that followed shook the building violently, sending dust tumbling down onto Charlie's head. She curled up, wrapping her arms around her skull, gasping in desperation.

< What the fuck is happening now!? >

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