Aurorasilverthorne

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!! Hazbin Hotel and all of its characters belong to Vivziepop and Amazon Prime. ______________Overlord meetings either made her feel awkward or uncomfortable. It depended on who was in attendance. Rosie didn’t mind Zestial or Carmilla most of the time. Zeezi and Kilian were alright. She adored Alastor. But the Vees…ugh! Velvette—the loudmouth little shit talker was the most tolerable. Vox was a raging, petty bitch boy. And Valentino…his lewd remarks and unwelcome advances were enough to make Rosie’s stomach turn, which was saying something considering her cannibalistic tendencies. She waited as long as possible before entering the conference room. Walking in with Alastor was usually enough to deter the pimpmoth, especially if they sat beside Zestial. Unfortunately, Alastor had yet to arrive. Part of Rosie feared he’d disappear again for another seven years. The thought formed a lump in her throat she forced herself to choke down. The others were already inside

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!! Hazbin Hotel and all of its characters belong to Vivziepop and Amazon Prime. Note: Tipsy is my OC. She belongs to me. If you use her in fanart or fanfiction, please remember to credit me as her creator. Thank you. ______________ The Radio Demon and The Cannibal Queen made for quite a pair as they strolled through the streets of Hell. Alastor twirled his radio staff, whistling an upbeat tune while Rosie carried her parasol. Every now and then he’d make a joke or say something else to get her to smile. She’d laugh at his quips and swat him gently on the forearm or shoulder. “Oh, my stars! Alastor, you are so bad!” Nobody bothered them. Crowds parted like the Red Sea upon their approach. Alastor Dubois ignored them. He only had eyes for Rosie Hunt and she for him. Their afternoon walk took them from Cannibal Town to the Jazz Quarter, then onward to the Hazbin Hotel. They reached the doors, and he held one open for her with a polite bow. “Such a

Rosie took a deep breath to steady herself before knocking on Alastor’s door. “Al, dear, can we talk?” No reply. She turned the nob only to find it locked. Undeterred, she took a pin from her hair and picked the lock until she heard it click. Rosie pushed the door open and poked her head inside. “Alastor?” The room was equal parts swamp and luxury suite. Rustic, yet quaint, like The Radio Demon himself. Rosie stepped through the entry and the door swung closed behind her. Another sharp click told her the deadbolt was in place. She kept moving her heels clacking against the dark hardwood. Two plush chairs sat in front of a giant marble fireplace, the wall above adorned with a set a massive antlers and picture frames whose portraits were half hidden in shadow. Fire crackled and hissed, a myriad of white, orange, yellow, blue, and red licking at the grey stone hearth. Alastor occupied one of the armchairs, a glencairn full of homemade whiskey in his hand. Rosie sighed. “Oh, Alastor…”

Charlie stared up at the portrait of Sir Pentious. Her father had painted it himself in honor of the snake sinner's bravery and self-sacrifice. Tears blurred the corners of Charlie’s eyes as she placed her hand on the picture of her fallen friend and bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Pen. You deserved so much better,” she whispered, curling her hand into a fist. “I won’t give up. I’ll prove redemption is possible, I promise.” “Charlie!” She turned at the sound of her name. Vaggie stood at the top of the stairs overlooking the Hazbin Hotel’s lobby. “Your dad needs to talk to you! We found something in the records. You’re gonna wanna hear this.” Charlie ran up the stairs and followed her girlfriend into her father’s private suite. Lucifer was seated at the table pouring over Hell’s law and regulation tomes. “Dad? What’s up?” “We have a problem,” he answered, straightening his back. Charlie frowned. “What’s wrong?” Lucifer handed her a copy of the book he was reading.