OhDeerfully Hazbin Hotel Masterlist
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Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
hello vonnie
dirt enthusiast
h
NASA
trying on a metaphor
Jules of Nature
cherry valley forever

Kaledo Art
will byers stan first human second
almost home
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

pixel skylines

oozey mess
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
noise dept.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
occasionally subtle
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Spain
seen from Venezuela

seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Switzerland

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
@ohdeerfully
OhDeerfully Hazbin Hotel Masterlist
My requests are CLOSED! Please click here to see my rules!
join my discord!
IM BACK !!! ♠️ IS BACK !!!! i had exams and i had stuff come up ouujfjfhh not fun . 🤬 and then i had to come back when i saw that valentines post AAHAHAHHA I LOVED IT 🥹 so sweet .. yess .. i forgot how much i missed alastor fics im gonna go rereading all my liked fics now YYAAAYYYYYYYYY well anyways how have YOUUUUU been 👀👀 i might disappear for like 3 or skmething months again but i will always come back ..
HI ♠️ ^_^!!! honestly I relate so much everytime a semester starts my online presence vaporizes into nothing.... also I lowkey started playing genshin again (💔) so whenever im not fighting for my life with assignments ive been rotting on da puter
Red on Red on Red
Part of a Hazbin Fic Collab!
Alastor x Reader (fluff)
TW: none
yayy hello! sorry i've been MIA lately college has been DIABOLICAL and its only been a few weeks. guys dont do engineering its stealing my life force. but anyway heres a silly little fic for a collab created by @sstanhoe-blog ! the masterlist is linked above. happy valentine's day!
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚════════˚ʚ♡ɞ˚════♡════˚ʚ♡ɞ˚════════ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
A stale, bitter taste lingered on your tongue as you sat on a small cushioned chair on the balcony railing overlooking the first floor of the hotel. Was it the taste of contempt? Or was it the 90% dark chocolate you had just taken a bite of? Probably both.
𝖍𝖆𝖟𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖑 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
welcome! this little get together is [hopefully] the start of something bigger, where we all come together, support each other and see what lies in store...
a little introduction, even though we're not that many [yet] every day for the next few days a fic will be posted on one of our blogs! This masterlist gives you a taste of what's to come and even if you miss a day, don't worry – the posts will be linked as soon as they're posted.
starting 14th February 2026 – Valentines day
title tbd — 14th February 2026
— alastor × reader
— Valentines Day is in full swing at the hotel. You weren’t sure what to expect with your first Valentines with the Radio Demon, but... it seemed he had no intention in recognizing the holiday. Too bitter to join the crew in their activities, you go to nap in your room, but get a pleasant surprise instead. [fluff]
written by the amazing @ohdeerfully
Demons do it Better — 15th February 2026
— vox × fem!reader
— something about Vox diving into his full demon form awakened a feeling inside you, you never thought existed [smut]
written by me and posted on @sstan-hoe
Not The Chair! — 16th February 2026
— alastor × wife!reader
— After Alastor returns from Vox’s captivity with a rolling chair as a “trophy” his wife fears she’s being replaced.
written by the amazing @writingisart-yes
Tease Me, Baby — 17th February 2026
— vox x reader
— Vox is intelligent, no questions asked...however when you started flirting with him, replacing your pants for skirts and shortened them he acted like the dumbest overlord in hell. Was he just not into you or avoiding you?
written by the amazing @activesplooger
if you would like to find out more just send a dm and maybe we can do this again sometime!
okay! there are weird awkward jumps and strange dialogue because it’s not finished yet but here’s what i have so far— in second person for fanfic purposes
——————
The whistling in the willows falls silent, in the lands of Éire upon your birth. Your mother dies upon your delivery, and your father flees into the night, the parchment in his wake citing a terrible omen.
It’s there, alone, you are left with your grandmother, Áine, in the valleys.
Áine raised you with a firm, albeit loving hand. She taught you how to read palms when you were but nine years old, she had you reciting ancient tongues at thirteen. At fourteen, when you began to grow into your womanly wiles, and the men of the village began to leer she handed you a stern warning.
“I’ve read your palm, little bird. Yours is a life of terrible luck, and witches tend to project their luck onto their kin, romance may be out of the question for you.”
You didn’t quite have the heart to tell her you had no such interest in the first place, having cursed the shoes off of any man who looked in your direction.
She’d stew the deer from the valleys in the long winters, string garlands of Kerry Lilies in your hair in the summers and delight you with tales of your vixen mother. When you began to show an affinity for bard magic, she refused to tell you what she had to lose to procure what must be the most beautiful lyre you had ever seen in your fifteen years, carved from the wood of one of the Five Sacred Trees and inlaid with spiralling designs and protective talismans. She sat you by the fire, wrapping a shroud around you both as she tuned the precious instrument— your eyes never wavering in awe.
“Since the First Songs, witches have been able to channel their magic through music. But I have seen none as proficient as you, little bird, you have a gift.” she said, reverent, “your mother was the same, she could compel anyone with that voice of hers.”
At the mention of your mother, you both go quiet. Neither of you ever comment on how she still haunts you both.
When you manage to sneak away from sweeping the floorboards and trimming the herbs, you take your harp upstream to the old oak tree. You don’t tell your grandmother that when you play there the wispy forms of old spectres jolt to life, and they whisper to you, oh the stories they whisper, the promises they make. At sixteen, you realise that the spirits would do you favours. What you didn’t realise was that nothing in this life came free. Spirits do not work charitably.
So at seventeen, you bury your grandmother beneath the hazel tree in your herb garden, and you are left utterly alone in the world.
That empty house drives you mad, the floorboards too cold under your bare feet and the kitchen notably absent of the smell of rosemary. The garden seems to wither when it notices her absence, and it infuriates you. Your songs grow lacklustre and stagnant, your spell work weak and aimless.
It seems that when your grandmother died she took all the light in the world with her.
Three days short of your eighteenth year, you bid farewell to that old house in the valley. You bury talismans at the foot of trees, your final act of love for the woman that raised you— to leave your sanctuary untouched, inaccessible to anyone but yourself.
You would not return.
You sang in tavern and castle alike, picking up Éire’s most unwanted as you pleased— your little troupe, your band, your songbirds. And if you slipped a tincture under a table here, sang songs of the future there it was not to be mentioned, you knew the danger that practicing your craft in public brought; you did what you had to, to get by, to protect your little birds. But your grandmother's words rang out every time you studied the lines on your palm, and you hoped (despite knowing that that woman could read any character this side of the Irish Sea) that she may be wrong, just once.
You would never mention it to the others, but Caoimhe had a very special place in your heart. She’s small and willowy, with long golden hair and deep brown eyes— and you think if you ever had a sister, it may have been her in the way her voice compliments yours in harmony and the way her fingers dance along the neck of her fiddle, she’s your little starling, apple of your eye.
So you feel no qualms about offering… less than savoury services to your clientele. After performances you slip tinctures under the table to a man set on assassination, you scrounge predictions for Lords hoping to quash rebellion, you convince husbands to sign away their earthly possessions before they conveniently meet their ends. People die, you’re sure they do, but so long as the money kept flowing and your troupe stayed fed and safe you were set in what you had to do.
You’re snapped from your reverie by a violent shake, it’s Ciaoimhe at your shoulder, you note your fingers mindlessly dancing on the strings of your harp and the sun has long since risen.
The caravan looms over both of you and the horses chatter and whinny in the background, the fire is on its last dying embers and it’s clear you were very lost in thought.
“Are you okay?” Caoimhe asks, her hand still resting on your shoulder and she’s glancing down at your fingers, still moving even with your attention fully on her.
“Just fine, little Starling, only lost in thought it seems,” you say considering the harp in your hands, “whatever is the matter, has Ruairí caught the caravan alight again?”
It seems he overhears you, because from within the caravan there is a shout of indignation, a ‘that was one time!’ that causes the pair of you to keel over in quiet, cheeky snickering.
“No, shockingly,” it’s then that you note her hair is hanging in loose, golden waves down her back, “Would you mind?”
She holds her ribbon and comb out to you, an unspoken question. This had become something of a routine for the two of you, you knew perfectly well that Ciaoimhe was able to braid her own hair and yet you took the tools and gently set aside your harp.
The day planned ahead was long, with you set to travel 20 miles south to a small Beltane faire in The Pale, a set of wonderful festivities ahead and a commission by a wealthy merchant hoping to sire an heir before he grew too old to operate his businesses. The light filtered through emerald leaves as you wound Ciaoimhe’s hair into two braids— a perfect day indeed.
It's truly a shame that you never made it to that Faire.
The caravan was intercepted by a band of men wielding pitchfork and torch alike, you were wrangled into a nearby church and it seemed then that God would decide your fate.
“Witch,” the priest speaks, “your time has come to face the Lord’s judgement. We have been watching you, and your brazen displays of unholy magick— it’s irredeemable.”
His Hand chimes in, “There is not need for trial here, Your Holiness— this Beast has been seen by many-an-eyewitness. We’d do well to burn her before she curses us all.”
The Priest looks, between His Hand, and you and the grand stained glass window depicting what seems to be the Holy Virgin, weighing up his options— considering. Your heart has long since stilled in your chest, in the chaos you did not see where they took Ruairí and the others.
You pray to whichever spirit, Virgin or God that listens that your voice stays calm and stable as you say, “The children are innocent in this, only I bear your so-called ‘unholy magick’, release them and I will go quietly into the long, dark night.”
You did not want to die.
In all of your seven and twenty years the desire to see what went on on The Other Side remained at an even zero, a non existent interest in the unknown. The woods were safe, the known, you could bend the spirits within them to your whim and live out a calm, quiet existence. You should have known not to be so brazen with your power, you should have known, heeded your grandmother's warning all those years ago (where now that life in the cabin in the woods was but a distant dream), that your luck indeed was contagious.
You didn’t want to die… But if your life spared your band, it was an easy choice.
It took three days for the men to drag you from the stone room hidden below their church, you went quietly, and for the second time in your life— you prayed.
You prayed these men saw sense, prayed these men had mercy, and selfishly, prayed that fate would spare what was yours, for once.
The two long, golden ropes of Caoimhe’s hair sway gently in the spring breeze. They’re messy now, far messier than when you first weaved them together this morning. How that felt like a lifetime ago now, a silly soft vision massacred by cruel reality. There was no chance at happiness here. From the moment you were born into this world, you were doomed to an eternity of bad luck— a despicable cosmic joke. You should have known you would bring about their downfall. You should have left them alone the minute you got that damned vision. You should’ve listened to your grandmother, and her warning all those years ago— at the time sounding just a silly reprimand of a grandmother for her granddaughter that grew too pretty as the years went on.
You should have known that fate would not spare your songbirds.
The priest leers at you, drinking in the sight of your trembling, battered frame, your wide eyes which fill with tears against your better judgement.
“You should never have dragged them into this, Beast,” he sneers, “this is the price for your transgression, they die with you here. Today.”
You don’t even murmur a reply, too transfixed on the soft curve of your starling’s jaw, swollen where they saw fit to beat her in your absence. She shakes now, with fear, or anger you cannot tell.
A million apologies could not begin to atone for this grievous sin. Your loneliness— your selfishness— murdered your poor birds. Would they follow you to Hell? Would God punish them by mere association with you? They’re dragging her now, atop a pyre that seems to have appeared from thin air with how quickly it is assembled— you think you may be screaming, with the hoarseness in your throat, but it’s hard to tell over all the noise.
And they set her aflame, you watch that little girl, your starling, who danced like a flickering lamp in a gentle night, who sung so beautifully all the birds in the woods stopped to listen, who taught you, solitary you, a love you have never known.
A love you will never know again, and you watch in horror as your only place in the world scattered like ashes in the night. You burn there, still.
THIS IS SOOOOO COOL this story is SO COOL and so sad )))): caoimhe ))))): (how do u pronounce that)
ugh if u make more TELL ME INSTANTLY! feed me more i starve
WAIT IM ACTUALLY SO SURPRISED U WERENT A FAN .. well not really i remember being flamed for existing no matter where i went LMFAO .. its bcus a lot of hazbin fans were dsmp fans too so i thought maybe u were one of them .... wow great times
♠️anon
LOL honestly I wasnt even a hazbin hotel fan at the time. I liked the pilot but never ventured into fandom space... I fear I was a genshin impact and bnha liker
angel dust made me realize i like men
greatest gay awakening ever
LMAOO honestly so fair. I suppose a congratulations is in order.. ????
this is so random and i could be very wrong but were u a dsmp fan in 2020 .....
super cool ♠️ anon
LMAO no I actually vehemently hated DSMP at the time..... I was so anti dsmp in my life and I always hated how the fandom made that one song rlly popular from one of my favorite bands.....
which is crazy cuz I actually NEVERR bothered to give it a chance LOL and ive always loved roleplay? I was just a hater for the sake of it. always loved a lot of the art and animations that came out of it though
okay so i haven’t done any art in a WHILE so excuse the fact that it looks like i scratched it together in 10 minutes (because i did) but pulled out the ol reliable pencil and paper to fashion a really quick sketch of my own hazbin character— invented specifically to pair with al because i love that little freak.
i was thinking about what kind of person alastor would actually be interested in and came to two conclusions:
1. they have to be on equal footing (i can’t imagine any world where al treats an inferior as his equal)
2. they have to have something he wants or is intrigued by
so with this in mind i decided my character would have to have a different kind of magic than al is used to; and have lived in a time period completely alien to him that he can learn from. highly doubt he’ll be at all interested in any modern demon considering how he loathes the modern tech.
i decided to design her after a western meadowlark, because i thought it would be funny if she had a nictitating membrane and if she were a SONGbird. a bit on the nose i know.
she goes by lark (formally, the meadowlark) a witch from the late 1400s ireland (1464-1491) who specialised in bard magic and ran a little nomadic musical troupe of young outcasts, she’d do anything and everything to keep them safe and well, so a few unsavoury things had to be done. she mainly specialised in fortune telling in life, so her songs become prophetic in death and she can call upon spirits to do her bidding— at a cost, of course, nothing is free. their price tends to be a living memory, as they feed on sentiment so the more important the memory the more powerful the spell.
she’s an overlord, who specialises in prophecy and protection, and offers sanctuary (for a price) and rose in the ranks after realising that the spirits will barter with human souls. other overlords will come together to offer souls for a vision, the songs are always riddles and they don’t choose their subject, but they’ve been known to be incredibly helpful for business and territorial prospects.
as she grew in power, more weaker spirits began to follow her around— so there are literally birds EVERYWHERE she goes (she favours the starlings for mysterious plot reasons)
her favourite souls are those with musical talents, and she often enlists them in her magical tasks (a whole orchestra is far more powerful than a lone musician, and widens the influence of the spell).
i have this scene in my head where (as per fanfic plot) the hotel has a party. normally lark plays a very folksy classic sound, such is her time period (think emily by joanna newsom, which is where the whole character idea came from) and then for this party as a favour to charlie she plucks her favourite soul to perform with her and locks into an insane and out of character rock number (i was listening to cutthroat by shame when thinking of this, with her soul charge singing the main bits and lark singing the chorus) and SECRETLY (cheekily) lark had enchanted the song to make everyone get along with eachother. so, yes the event was a success. was it the work of charlie? no not reallyyy ;)
not sure how i’m going to mash lark and al together but i’m leaning more to an “enemy of my enemy is a friend” thing because i love when the pairing just has separate beef with vox they can bond over
i have a little bit of the backstory written out if you’d like to read it :P
GOD I LOVE THISSS im so obsessed with her whole origin and theme and her very musical nature like YES that would go so well with Al!!!!! especially someone from such an older time period yeassss and ur sketch is so scrumptious omnonnonniom
I would love some backstory... *starts shakign* if u would be so kind...
hello king my birthday has spurred this thought shhshs do u think death days are a thing in hell 🤔 or are even birthdays celebrated 🤔🤔🤔 idk this is random but it got me thinking ab how alasor would probs not give a flying fuck whether its his birthdya and probably gets a lill stressed that charlie could possibly find out 🤔 she'd throw a party i think
♠️♠️
HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY!!!!!
I feel like celebrations in general might not be the biggest in sinner culture (i would 1000% celebrate birth AND death day tho 😛) BUT I KNOWWW charlie would go crazy with those to boost morale and friendship and rainbows and roses and blah blah blah
and she would probably angst so hard over not knowing alastors bday..... she would try soo hard but he would definitely avoid it on account of keeping up his all powerful mysterious edgy persona. I figure death days are easier to know so she'll settle but thats just not as fun ),:
lalalalalalalaalal how do u feel ab radioapple possibly maybe being canon .. okay bye ♠️♠️♠️
im going to admit something controversial..... ... I dont really like lucifer as a character so my opinion on radioapple is influenced by that BUT I honestly also don't get into shipping much in general so?? i barely have an opinion on it anyway
I doo love their dynamic already.... like alastor fucking with him for the love of the game (like he probably didnt even know in s1 that lucifer couldnt harm sinners?? #1 rage baiter) also the art ive seen ppl make of alastor being lucifers executioner 😍 scrumptious... love that one
hiiii 🥄here! how are u today?
i literally devoured those hcs tysmmm 💓
also i hope your trip went well lol i personally hate long car rides sm
anywaysss yeah take care and again ty, looking forward to anything u decide to write💓 mwah mwah
-🥄
YAYY IM SO GLAD U LIKED THEM 💛💛
the car ride was....ok. I was cacooned in the very back but also had direct access to snacks so? not too bad I guess. but now back to college grind for finals coming up 💔
guys I want to see all ur hazbin x reader self-insert/oc's pls im so serious rn I need to see them ALL!!!! *hypnotizes you* i will probably post and share and gush if you're comfortable with that
also for my ppl waiting on a request... IM COOKING THEM UP I PROMISE
HI!! SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😓🙏
I have some drawings of my HH Oc :D
His name is Neil (I'm not really sure if I'm going to change his name or not-)
Anyway I have some SPICY backstory for him 🔥
Living in the 30's as a cannibal that liked to play with some hunting equipment. He had a very important purpose in a cult he joined just to make some profit out of it since he had a hard time finding a stable job, that included.. some dirty work.
And suddenly it came out that he was supposed to be a part of the ritual himself, being a perfect sacrifice for the demons. Naturally he did not submit and in the end he ended the cult with his blood-thirsty nature.
He didn't make it past that day, he knew this was the end for him so he decided to end this sacrifice (himself).
Turn's out being a comedian in hell wasn't so bad after all, he put up a show from time to time, even wrote some poems in his free time.
I LOVE MY BABY 💞
WAH HES SOOOO CUTE AND I LOVE HIS BACKSTORY AND THE FACT HES literally a sacrificial lamb 😭😭 so cute i genuinely love ocs that are hooved mammals they're SO CUTE EVERY TIME
HIIII
this is my first time ever asking sth in tumblr (and ive been here since 2017 😭😭😭)
but ive been dying to know your thoughts on drunk alastor..
yeah thats it.
(also can i be 🥄anon if thats not taken? im literally obsessed with the way you write i cant go on without interacting with u anymore 😭😭😭)
HIII SPOON 🥄 🥄🥄🥄🥄 IM HAPPY TO HAVE U HERE!!! kind of short list of headcanons butt I hope u like it anyway!!!
once again in a car for 23 hrs so bare bones formatting from me today.. lazy.. and i hate mobile
Drunk!Alastor Headcanons
It would take a gooood few drinks before he starts getting drunk, and for the most part he holds himself pretty well at the early stages of intoxication
He is especially careful with how he drinks when he's in a group setting (probably doesn't drink at all.. bros ego)
But in a more private setting, with some close friends??
He's a lot more loose with himself and his drinks
Hii it's me again, with the succubus oc, sorry if im spamming but I finished the chart and i remembered i can animate. Idk if u still wanna see the ocs or if im late 😭
I WILL ALWAYSSS BE SO EXCITED TO SEE OCS u can literally never be too late... her demon form looks so cool and PURPLE i love purple. I also love the expressions in the animation lol shes so silly ;3
HEHE! I did it, here is Elara’s angel form. You inspired me so much that I was able to finally finish it. So thank you so much!
Her before her Fall: And Her after:
ELARAAAA U ARE SO PRETTY in both forms SO PRETTY i love her golden eyelashes ohhhmy gosh I love colored eyelashes 😭😭💛💛💛💛 does she have a similar personality as an angel too??
sharing my own oc now in the spirit of asking everyone else for theirs....
this is AMBROSIA!!! i won't go on a yapfest about her (i have a whole doc written out abt her) but very short and simple.... Regina George horse girl
Very two faced. Friendly with everyone but also a GRADE A HATER! the same person who is her "best friend" can also be "that ugly shit" to another person. just depends who's asking
overachiever in life (to her own detriment) and died after a very bad fall at an international horse riding competition. worked her ass off to get to that level of competition and died at it lol sucks to be u girl
besties with velvette. wont actually talk bad abt her. LOVES talking shit and gossip. she is not a good person but I love her so much 💛