♱ ◟ ❤️🔥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝘪𝘭 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍ℯ 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝙧𝙞𝙚 𝟏 ﾟ† ֵ ིܳ ๋
𝐅andom: Hazbin Hotel
𝐏airing: Alastor x Varang ! Reader
𝐖arnings: Mentions of cannibalism, violence, blood, substance use, misogyny, profanity, sexual innuendo, delicate times for the Catholic Church, indigenous rituals.
𝐒ynopsis: With the threat of the Exorcist Angels drawing ever closer, Rosie suggests something unexpected: seeking help outside Pentagram City, in the isolated plains of Hell, where an old friend lives alongside a people as ancient as they are distrustful. Reluctantly, Charlie accepts the idea, taking Alastor with him without imagining what he will find beyond the city limits. Unlike the violent and chaotic demons he knows, these people maintain traditions, spirits, and scars that not even Hell could erase. While Charlie tries to win the tribe's trust, Alastor finds himself intrigued by the mysterious blue-skinned, golden-eyed woman who leads the place, someone who carries the cold of death in her body, hates the city, and seems to see through the Radio Demon's smile.
Just a reminder that English is not my first language, so please forgive any mistakes!
The crimson lights of Pentagram City gleamed in the distance like open wounds in the eternal darkness of Hell. The cannibal district was more alive than ever. Loud laughter echoed through the narrow streets, mingled with the distant sound of old jazz from rusty gramophones. The strong smell of roast meat, cheap alcohol, and smoke filled the hot air as dozens of cannibals watched the Princess of Hell leave the main square alongside her newly conquered army. Down below, Charlie Morningstar practically radiated hope, gesticulating expansively as she spoke animatedly with some cannibals who had now agreed to help her against the exorcists.
High on one of the neighborhood's ornate balconies, far from the festive chaos below, two figures silently observed the scene. Rosie held a delicate lace fan between her fingers, moving it in a slow, hypnotic rhythm as she watched Charlie disappear down the street with the cannibals. The elegant smile on her dark lips was discreet, but satisfied. Beside her, Alastor stood perfectly erect, his gloved hands resting on the pommel of his cane.
The sharp smile remained motionless on his wide, artificial face, as if it had been stitched there decades ago. The faint sound of radio static occasionally escaped his body, hissing in sync with the shouts from the street. Rosie closed her fan lightly against her palm and sighed, breaking the silence. "You know… maybe this isn't enough, is it?"
Alastor didn't answer immediately. His eyes, red and static slits, followed Charlie's blonde silhouette until she disappeared completely into the grotesque crowd of the district. With a swift flick of his wrist, he slowly twirled his cane between his fingers before tilting his head at an almost inhuman angle. "Yes, but with Carmilla Carmine's weapons on our side, that means we have a chance~!"
His voice echoed too loudly for the distance between them, overlaid with the hiss of an old broadcast and laden with the exaggeratedly cheerful tone of a 1930s radio announcer announcing the start of a grand spectacle. He took a slight step forward, his shoulders rising and falling in a silent laugh; as always, he seemed genuinely amused by the impending massacre. Rosie let out a small laugh through her nose, straightening her elegant posture. "I know a friend who can help..."
The sentence wasn't even finished. A low laugh, punctuated by a sharp crackle of interference, escaped Alastor. In a fluid, theatrical movement, he twirled his cane in the air and used the blunt end of the microphone to touch the brim of Rosie's enormous hat, tilting it slightly over her eyes.
"My dear... We don't need any more help." His red eyes narrowed into vertical slits, gleaming with sadistic amusement. "A friend of yours? Ah, I don't know if I like the idea." Rosie rolled her eyes dramatically. With a firm flick of her fan, she moved Alastor's microphone away from his hat, readjusting the piece with a delicate touch of her hair.
"Come on, Alastor." She leaned against the cast-iron railing and pointed with her chin to the street below, where the last enthusiastic cannibals were still scattering. "Any help is welcome. And her people might be willing to fight… if we make a deal."
The last word came out slowly. Maliciously slow, savored like a piece of tender meat. For a brief second, the corners of Alastor's smile seemed to stretch even further, revealing the yellowish glint of his sharp teeth. The static around him hissed sharply, like a radio out of tune. Rosie knew that look; his pupils had briefly transformed into radio dials. Deals interested Alastor almost as much as gratuitous violence.
And honestly… she also had her own interests in that game. For years, Rosie had been trying to reach out and forge closer relationships with the groups that lived beyond the walls of Pentagram City. Ancient demons. Isolated. Too savage to accept the overlords' politics, but too organized to be mistaken for mindless beasts roaming the infernal plains. They possessed vast territories beyond the limits of civilization. Monstrous creatures. Rare resources. And, above all… legitimate independence. No overlord truly dictated the rules in those no-man's-lands. That fascinated Rosie's ambitious mind. Alastor raised an eyebrow, the microphone humming softly in his hand. "Go ahead."
He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on her like a predator before curious prey. "And who would this friend be? Because the way you so desperately want her to make a deal… doesn't exactly sound benevolent towards you." His voice gained a cavernous, distorted echo at the end of the sentence, almost like a stage performance. Rosie chuckled softly, her shoulders swaying beneath her sophisticated dress. "Her name is S/N." Rosie's fan snapped shut with a dry, echoing click between her fingers. For a moment, under the spell of that name, even the chaotic sounds of the city seemed to fall silent around them.
"She lives outside Pentagram City, with her people. A group of demons… ancient ones, like you and me." Alastor watched silently now, his head slightly tilted, his deer ears perked up atop his red hair. Intrigued. Rosie continued, turning her back to the street and facing her business partner:
"They don't like the city. They don't like the overlords. They don't like technology. And they definitely don't like visitors." She grinned playfully, displaying her sharp, cannibalistic teeth. "Honestly? I don't even know if they like me." Alastor let out a small, static laugh, a dry sound reminiscent of recorded applause. "Charming! We have that in common!"
Rosie merely waved her free hand, ignoring the comment; she knew Alastor well enough to know it was purely to provoke her. "They live on the plains beyond the mist. They hunt, build their own structures, tame and train enormous creatures… some truly impressive." She took a sideways step, glancing sideways at Alastor, gauging his reaction. "And S/N is the worst of them all. Hostile. Territorial. Silent. Suspicious. Even with me, and we've known each other for decades…"
Rosie's smile slowly widened, her eyes gleaming. "But powerful." That finally caught the Radio Demon. The cynicism in his posture gave way to attentive rigidity. Alastor lowered the microphone and rested both hands on his cane, leaning his weight forward. "Go on, darling."
Rosie walked to the edge of the balcony again, letting her eyes wander over the distant, decaying lights of the horizon. "Her people possess abilities most of us have forgotten. Some manipulate the lesser spirits of the very soil of Hell. Others can control the behavior of those beasts of the plains. And S/N… Well. Let's just say even the most arrogant overlords avoid setting foot on her territory without an excellent reason." Now Alastor's interest was palpable, almost electric. Rosie noticed the change in the air immediately; his static was no longer an irritating hiss, but a constant vibration that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
"And you know the best part?" Rosie turned, her eyes half-closed in pure cunning. "Our dear Princess Charlie possesses exactly what can buy that woman's attention." Alastor tilted his head slightly, waiting. Rosie smiled broadly, letting the words fall like sweets: "Legitimate power… And angelic steel."
The silence that followed was dense, heavy, almost suffocating. Then… a low, hoarse, and deeply distorted laugh escaped the Radio Demon. The static around him exploded violently, causing the balcony lights to flicker and distorted shadows of red-eyed deer to momentarily dance across the brick walls.
"Ahhh…" Alastor straightened up, his red eyes gleaming like live embers in the darkness. "Now you have my full attention!"
The way back to the hotel was filled with the routine chaos of Pentagram City. Neon lights flickered intermittently between decaying buildings, distorted music with booming bass echoed from infernal bars, and hysterical laughter rose from dark alleys like background noise in the eternal night. The crimson sky seemed even heavier and more oppressive after the meeting with the cannibals.
Even so, Charlie Morningstar walked a few steps ahead, practically skipping, with a golden, hopeful glow on her face. She gestured in the air, counting on her fingers as she talked to herself, lost in her own world of optimism.
"...and what if we organize the left flank with the cannibals, and create a shield with the barriers..." she murmured, her eyes shining. For her, that meant real progress for the hotel, proof that her cause was not in vain.
Behind her, Alastor walked with his usual elegance, silent and measured steps, his hands calmly resting on his cane. His usual smile remained motionless on his features. But his mind was miles away. "S/N" The name ricocheted in his thoughts with the rhythm of a military march. Rosie rarely showed genuine interest in or respect for anyone, much less in that way. The fact that the Overlord of the cannibals so desperately wanted an alliance with these isolated people made everything immediately intriguing. Demons living outside the urban borders. Without contracts. Without submission to the big names of Hell. This was a delicious anomaly.
The static around Alastor hissed softly, a satisfying sound. Rosie had coveted access to that territory for decades. If he could extend his own claws there first… His smile widened slightly, revealing more of his teeth. Perhaps this trip would yield far better fruits than mere soldiers for Charlie's foolish cause. Perhaps he would find a powerful new tool. Or a refuge outside the chessboard of the overlords.
Charlie stopped abruptly and looked back, her blonde hair swaying over her shoulders. "You're very quiet, Alastor…" Alastor blinked, his pupils returning to normal, and immediately resumed his usual vibrant persona. His shoulders relaxed and his cane made a full turn in his hand. "Ah! Just reflecting on our splendid current situation, my dear princess!"
Charlie smiled slightly, though there was still a hint of weariness in her eyes. She crossed her hands behind her back. "So… what do you really think of what Rosie said?" The Radio Demon twirled his cane between his fingers before resting it firmly on the cracked asphalt. "I think our dear Rosie might be right." Charlie frowned, genuinely surprised. "About that friend of hers? S/N"
"Precisely~!" His voice shot up, echoing excessively loud and clear through the deserted street, accompanied by the sound of a cheerful radio jingle. "We must admit, however painful it may be for your optimistic little heart, that a small army of cannibals armed with kitchen knives may still not be enough against the entire celestial phalanx!"
Charlie's smile faltered for a moment. She swallowed hard and looked down at her own shoes. She hated being pessimistic, but the reality was a punch in the gut: Carmilla's weapons would help, but Adam and his exorcists were still a devastating and relentless force. "So… you really think we should go after her?"
She asked, searching his eyes for some reassurance, however distorted it might be. Alastor tilted his head to the opposite side, his smile stretched to its maximum. "Honestly? I'm absolutely curious."
That word... curious... coming out of Alastor's mouth was enough to trigger an alarm bell in Charlie's mind. She knew that his curiosity usually involved blood or entertainment at someone else's expense "Rosie said they live completely outside the city…" Charlie began thoughtfully.
"Oh, and doesn't that make it ten times more interesting?!" His cane tapped rhythmically against the ground as they resumed walking. "Isolated demons… living far from the clutches of the overlords… oblivious to modern infernal civilization… and apparently strong enough to make Rosie bite her lip in envy." Charlie remained silent for the rest of the journey. Her eyes followed the silhouettes of the buildings. She had never really stopped to think about what existed beyond the limits of Pentagram City. For her, Hell had always been that urban anthill of sinners sinning and overlords fighting over territory. The idea of entire tribes or peoples living in isolation seemed almost… like a fairy tale. A dangerous, but fascinating fairy tale.
When they finally crossed the iron gates of the Hazbin Hotel, the large wooden doors were already open. Vaggie appeared almost immediately in the reception area, arms crossed over her chest, a tense expression, and her good eye fixed on the entrance. "Finally!" Vaggie took a few steps forward, visibly relaxing her shoulders as she saw Charlie in one piece. "How did it go with the cannibals in the district?" Charlie immediately released the tension from her steps and broke into a wide, radiant smile. "Vaggie! It was incredible! They agreed to help! We have an army!"
Vaggie let out a long sigh of relief, closing her eyes for a second… until she opened them again and focused on the slender silhouette entering right behind her girlfriend. Alastor crossed the lobby with a victorious and overly amused air. The static around him seemed to hum a mocking melody. That was never, under any circumstances, a good sign.
Vaggie narrowed her eyes, her hand instinctively falling towards her hip, where she usually carried her spear. "...Why the hell is he smiling like that?"
"Because maybe we've found even more potential allies!" Charlie replied quickly, trying to deflect her girlfriend's mood before the two clashed. "What?" Vaggie frowned, taking a step back. Alastor calmly walked past them, tipping his hat in a chivalrous and overly polite greeting before placing it on the reception desk.
"Our lovely Rosie mentioned an old friend who resides outside the borders of Pentagram City." Vaggie clenched her jaw instantly. "Outside the city? Are you crazy?"
"Exactly~!" A faint canned applause echoed from Alastor's chest as the static around him grew louder. "A group of apparently very peculiar and interesting demons." Charlie approached Vaggie, gently holding her girlfriend's hands to try and calm her down. "We're thinking of going over there to talk to them, Vaggie."
Vaggie raised an eyebrow, looking from Charlie to Alastor with pure disbelief. "Are we thinking, or did that radio psycho convince you?"
"I heard that, my dear!" Alastor hummed from across the room, leaning elegantly over the counter with a glint of pure mockery in his red eyes.
Vaggie ignored the demon and pulled Charlie a little further into the corner, lowering her voice, though the firmness remained: "Charlie, this seems incredibly dangerous. Leaving the safety of the city to go after wild demons that even Rosie can't control?"
"I know, Vaggie, I know…" Charlie hesitated for a brief moment, biting her lower lip before looking into her girlfriend's eyes with that unwavering determination that only she possessed. "But if there really is a whole people out there willing to fight for our home… we might need them. And, to be honest… I want to understand who they are."
Silence reigned in the reception area for a few seconds, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock and Alastor's subdued humming. Then, the Radio Demon's grin stretched from ear to ear, his teeth gleaming in the dim hotel light. "Wonderful! So it's formally decided!"
He dramatically twirled his cane between his fingers, tapping the tip on the floor to emphasize his words. An ancient fanfare sound echoed from nowhere. "Tomorrow morning, we'll leave the comfort of Pentagram City to meet the mysterious S/N and its lovely wild people!"
The syrupy, drawn-out way he pronounced the word "lovely" sent a chill down Vaggie's spine, and she clenched her fists immediately. "I hate when you sound so excited. It means someone's going to die."
"Oh, Vaggie…" Alastor placed a hand on his chest, leaning back with a theatrical, feigned expression of sorrow. "You almost broke my poor heart." A distorted, echoing laugh, like that of a macabre talk show, filled the entire lobby as he climbed the stairs, leaving the two women alone in the dim light of the hotel.
Interesting fact about this one-shot: Based on an idea I've had since December 2025, one that has been constantly rewritten, reshaped, and brought to life over time, this character’s origin is not entirely fictional. Parts of her story were inspired by real events experienced by Indigenous peoples from Canada, Central America, and Brazil, blending historical pain with fictional narrative.
