I dunno wat I'm Doin

[rowaynebunny]

My other Accounts:

My Fic/AU/writing accounts: @rowayneau

My Hazbin Juveniles AU (I don't really post much here, if interested check my A03 acc): @hazbinjuveniles

The Hazbin Juveniles Fic (Hazbin Kids AU): Link

My A03 account: A03 Link

[elsa-fogen]

Match made by hand

it suddenly occured to me that Alastor now missing an ear on the same side that Val has missing antenna (and Vox has a bent antenna)

Also, i don't believe that Alastor coud genuinely be chill about Valentino. Like. The guy who doesn't know what consent is and says about a woman "i was using that"? And you expect our Alastor, or girl guy, our feminist, be truly chill about him? Bullshit.

AU Masterpost

Bonus, some people were confused about Blinded and Nephilim's eye AUs, so, i made this to explain, when things went different

[rowaynebunny]

Pomni In Hell AU:

Alastor: If you don't behave I will-

Jax: *cocky* You'll what? Ground me!

Alastor: *his grin sharpens*

*jumpcut*

Jax: *has a glowing writing above his head listing how he's banned from outings, dessert and alcohol*

Jax: *stunned* He actually grounded me.

There will be more than one occasion where someone will accidentally called him 'mom'

After the events of Season 2 and when everyone headed back to the hotel, Alastor will have a very long talk with Charlie and Caine with the 'I'm disappointed in you' looks.

It deals double mental damage on Charlie.

Pomni will be the only sane one in Season 2 with everyone else doing their thing. I wonder what the circus members will do having have to deal with two powerful spiraling maniac that don't listen to them.

[rowaynebunny]

Sugar sugar rune crossover

I found cool Sugar Sugar Rune crossover on twitter. I think it's funny how Lucifer used his skill to create a whole new power based on an anime he just watched. And I think it's funny on how he peek through the hearts and suddenly find out Alastor's real feeling.

This has a potential to be a fun AU.

What do you think @kitsunesongs @randomreader92 @sorathemasterofmasters @periguita @mermaid-of-the-valley ?

For reference:

Yellow (Jaune) : Comes from the feeling of surprise.

Orange (Orange) : The feeling of affection.

Green (Vert) :Friendship

Rainbow : Amusement, Pleasure, Delight

Pink (Rose) :Sweet, romantic love. An orange Heart may turn into this.

Purple (Violet) : Lust and sinful desire

Blue (Bleu): Respect

Red (Rouge) : Passionate, true love.

Black (Noir): Negative emotions, such as hatred, jealousy, or fear, produce this Heart.

White (Blanc) : Obtained by purifying a Noir Heart. Can return a familiar to its original form.

[rowaynebunny]

Part 2

[randomreader92]

I haven't read or watched the series (add it to the list) but it sounds like a fun idea!

With him doing the magical girl pose, perhaps the spell doesn't work exactly as he imagined or it does but reality is different than the anime.

As emotions are much more complicated than fiction, so the heart crystals don't stick to just one colour as you can feel multiple feelings about a person at once.

For example, Alastor looks at Lucifer and his heart flickers RED-BLACK-ORANGE-RED!

[periguita]

I’ve watched Sugar Sugar Rune before and it wasn’t bad. The concept of those crystal hearts were very interesting.

Apparently witches cannot have their hearts removed or they will die but human can produce infinite hearts so they don’t die from their hearts being taken. They do loose the emotion/memory in that heart though.

Hearts are also a currency in the Magical World.

While witches only have one heart, in the series black hearts can be implanted to turn a witch into an Ogre, an outcast witch who harvests black hearts.

The antagonist Pierre is one such witch along with the other protagonist Vanilla.

[periguita]

@rowaynebunny @randomreader92

I was thinking about mixing this with my AUs.

Little Rose Bud:

Etienne’s heart colours mostly consists of Green/Friendship(Charlie, Cherri, Sir Pentious), Blue/Respect(Niffty, Husk, Rosie, maybe Vox) and Black(Lucifer)

Blue Blood Deer:

Gwen!Alastor’s heart is usually Rainbow but it sometimes flickers to Black/Fear/Sorrow when they flashback to darker times.

Olivia’s is usually Black/Apathy/Self-Hatred but does occasionally flicker between Yellow and Blue.

Lute’s is also usually Black/Sorrow/Hate but it does shimmer to Blue.

[rowaynebunny]

Little Rose Bud:

Etienne’s has either black/blue for Roo because despite somewhat raising her, she did cause a lot of pain for Etienne.

Imagine if Etienne can 'pick up' hearts and it can be either used as currency (be sold as gemstone), magic gem for spells or staff or maybe even small gifts.

A fun idea is that this magic was inherited from Lucifer so Charlie also had this magic. She just didn't know about it since her magic education is lacking.

Charlie has major mommy and daddy issue and sometime her blue heart for them turns a litttllleee too dark.

Maybe if Etienne see her heart keep flip-flopping colors, realizes Lucifer had not only hurt her and her mother but maybe his own daughter that he known as well.

This could resulted them into heart-to-heart talk about both of their abandonment and guilt about both their mother not being in their lives.

Though Etienne did say this : "My mom is gone for good, but yours is still out there. Make sure to say what has been in your heart while you still can. The both good and bad."

Blue Blood Deer:

Gwen!Alastor’s heart have orange heart for Olivia despite everything that had happened

This goes for Olivia as well.

Lute definitely has a pink heart for Adam. Maybe even close to red. There is no way her heart is blue for him only.

Lucifer and Vox have pink heart for Gwen!Alastor.

More Stuff:

I think Emily has the ability to purify black hearts. Someone like her definitely could do it.

The heart glasses ironically looked like Valentino's glasses so that meant another trip to Aunt Bel.

What do you think @periguita

[rowaynebunny]

Sugar sugar rune crossover

I found cool Sugar Sugar Rune crossover on twitter. I think it's funny how Lucifer used his skill to create a whole new power based on an anime he just watched. And I think it's funny on how he peek through the hearts and suddenly find out Alastor's real feeling.

This has a potential to be a fun AU.

What do you think @kitsunesongs @randomreader92 @sorathemasterofmasters @periguita @mermaid-of-the-valley ?

For reference:

Yellow (Jaune) : Comes from the feeling of surprise.

Orange (Orange) : The feeling of affection.

Green (Vert) :Friendship

Rainbow : Amusement, Pleasure, Delight

Pink (Rose) :Sweet, romantic love. An orange Heart may turn into this.

Purple (Violet) : Lust and sinful desire

Blue (Bleu): Respect

Red (Rouge) : Passionate, true love.

Black (Noir): Negative emotions, such as hatred, jealousy, or fear, produce this Heart.

White (Blanc) : Obtained by purifying a Noir Heart. Can return a familiar to its original form.

[rowaynebunny]

Part 2

[rowaynebunny]

Sugar sugar rune crossover

I found cool Sugar Sugar Rune crossover on twitter. I think it's funny how Lucifer used his skill to create a whole new power based on an anime he just watched. And I think it's funny on how he peek through the hearts and suddenly find out Alastor's real feeling.

This has a potential to be a fun AU.

What do you think @kitsunesongs @randomreader92 @sorathemasterofmasters @periguita @mermaid-of-the-valley ?

For reference:

Yellow (Jaune) : Comes from the feeling of surprise.

Orange (Orange) : The feeling of affection.

Green (Vert) :Friendship

Rainbow : Amusement, Pleasure, Delight

Pink (Rose) :Sweet, romantic love. An orange Heart may turn into this.

Purple (Violet) : Lust and sinful desire

Blue (Bleu): Respect

Red (Rouge) : Passionate, true love.

Black (Noir): Negative emotions, such as hatred, jealousy, or fear, produce this Heart.

White (Blanc) : Obtained by purifying a Noir Heart. Can return a familiar to its original form.

[allastoredeer]

Meet Maisy! My RadioRock (Alastor/Adam) fan-child.

During Alastor’s 7 year disappearance he was in Heaven for an indeterminate amount of time with Lilith, and when you have the opportunity to bang the First Man, why pass up the opportunity?

It’s not like angels and demons can reproduce, right?

Right 👁️ 👁️

[allastoredeer]

Oh, more Maisy lore, yesss😍😍😍

And he's hiding her? Oh my god, the shenanigans!

I bet Angel thinks the hotel is haunted or something 😂

But what about Alastor and Adam's fight at the end 😱

Does it change anything? Does Adam survive?

Because I gotta say, while I usually root for all parents to survive, the idea of the gang finding Maisy in the aftermath and adopting her as the hotel communal baby is hilarious.

Can you imagine Lucifer's face when he realizes that Adam and Alastor procreated? 😂😂😂

That moment you find out the two worst people you know had a baby together

Lucifer is disgusted and confused. This Adam-Alastor baby amalgamation has to be the thing of nightmares. He's too busy trying to figure out WHY Alastor and Adam would fuck each other, to consider HOW they ended up in the same room at all.

Not even bringing up that Sinners and Winners can't reproduce.

It DEFINITELY changes what happens in the finale fight. Adam wasn't expecting to see an old one-night stand waiting to fight him on a rooftop (not the first time tho) much less finding out that he has a secret, hidden daughter.

[kitsunesongs]

Secret Tunnel

A crack idea of Alastor and Guy Winters are lovers and secretly meet up using a secret tunnel between realms

Song:

Two lovers, forbidden from one another,

A war divides their people,

And a realm divides them apart,

Built a path to be together.

…Yeah, and I forget the next couple of lines, but then it goes…

Secret tunnel!

Secret tunnel!

Through the mountain!

Secret, secret, secret, secret tunnel!"

Take responsibility for me laughing so hard I started coughing!

[rowaynebunny]

I can see someone made a song out of it and it became a meme in Hell. Imagine Vox fuming jealously if he ding out it’s about Alastor.

[rowaynebunny]

Alastor in Wonderland AU:

Remember your idea with the Guard Corgis?

I just had the image of Alastor carrying a bag of 'Eat Me' dog treats that he tosses them during battle to make them giant!

I love the idea of having cute Wonderland pocket treats in Alastor coat pockets for instant Corgi transformation. It could be like Razzle and Dazzle during the finale fight, after Adam vaporized Sir Pentious.

Not only Charlie was super upset, Alastor was too. One of the few people he actually cared and trusted died in front of him. He called out his corgis which made Adam laugh before tossing the cookies mid-air and the little bun butt chomping it and becoming giant bun-butts.

Also an idea, what if after the exterminations, some of the Little Ones check in the hotel to give it a shot. Could be in the older group and know a thing or two with self-defense. This could show Charlie had a little bit of Alastor trust to try things out since she was willing to fight for the hotel. But things escalated in Season 2 and now Alastor is in the hands of Vox. Still they stayed behind at the hotel to see how it all plays out and was part of the group in the final episode that went to rescue Alastor since in canon they didn't include him or Lucifer.

[randomreader92]

I like to think in this timeline Dazzle doesn't get killed, just seriously injured, when Django attacks Lute before she stabs his chest and Jelly Roll catches him before he falls to the ground.

Imagine poor little Dazzle unable to fly anymore without Razzle there to support him. Like in Shoulder-a-Coffin Kuro Razzle tells Dazzle, "I'll be your other wing."

[rowaynebunny]

Oh! Maybe Alastor or the little ones could fashion a prosthetic wing like Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon. It could be a skill some of them picked up after being taught by Pentious. This could make them honor his memory by using the skills he taught them to make something good

[randomreader92]

Also like the Jabberwock's wings! They had to stop Hatter from adding buzzsaws and teacup launchers.

[rowaynebunny]

Alastor in Wonderland AU:

Remember your idea with the Guard Corgis?

I just had the image of Alastor carrying a bag of 'Eat Me' dog treats that he tosses them during battle to make them giant!

I love the idea of having cute Wonderland pocket treats in Alastor coat pockets for instant Corgi transformation. It could be like Razzle and Dazzle during the finale fight, after Adam vaporized Sir Pentious.

Not only Charlie was super upset, Alastor was too. One of the few people he actually cared and trusted died in front of him. He called out his corgis which made Adam laugh before tossing the cookies mid-air and the little bun butt chomping it and becoming giant bun-butts.

Also an idea, what if after the exterminations, some of the Little Ones check in the hotel to give it a shot. Could be in the older group and know a thing or two with self-defense. This could show Charlie had a little bit of Alastor trust to try things out since she was willing to fight for the hotel. But things escalated in Season 2 and now Alastor is in the hands of Vox. Still they stayed behind at the hotel to see how it all plays out and was part of the group in the final episode that went to rescue Alastor since in canon they didn't include him or Lucifer.

[randomreader92]

I like to think in this timeline Dazzle doesn't get killed, just seriously injured, when Django attacks Lute before she stabs his chest and Jelly Roll catches him before he falls to the ground.

Imagine poor little Dazzle unable to fly anymore without Razzle there to support him. Like in Shoulder-a-Coffin Kuro Razzle tells Dazzle, "I'll be your other wing."

[rowaynebunny]

Oh! Maybe Alastor or the little ones could fashion a prosthetic wing like Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon. It could be a skill some of them picked up after being taught by Pentious. This could make them honor his memory by using the skills he taught them to make something good

[rowaynebunny]

Alastor in Wonderland AU:

Remember your idea with the Guard Corgis?

I just had the image of Alastor carrying a bag of 'Eat Me' dog treats that he tosses them during battle to make them giant!

I love the idea of having cute Wonderland pocket treats in Alastor coat pockets for instant Corgi transformation. It could be like Razzle and Dazzle during the finale fight, after Adam vaporized Sir Pentious.

Not only Charlie was super upset, Alastor was too. One of the few people he actually cared and trusted died in front of him. He called out his corgis which made Adam laugh before tossing the cookies mid-air and the little bun butt chomping it and becoming giant bun-butts.

Also an idea, what if after the exterminations, some of the Little Ones check in the hotel to give it a shot. Could be in the older group and know a thing or two with self-defense. This could show Charlie had a little bit of Alastor trust to try things out since she was willing to fight for the hotel. But things escalated in Season 2 and now Alastor is in the hands of Vox. Still they stayed behind at the hotel to see how it all plays out and was part of the group in the final episode that went to rescue Alastor since in canon they didn't include him or Lucifer.

[hollow-head]

A missing scene. Thanks for all the fanart and fic throughout the years, you guys

[rowaynebunny]

Some silly questions about Hazbin Juveniles.

Does Angel have the gold tooth?

I feel like this has already been mentioned, but does Alastor have freckles over his body?

Did Nifty change anything about the visual of the series for this AU?

Nope, Angel is not under Val's chains in this AU, so no gold teeth. He is under Velvette's and it would look bad if a tween star had a gold tooth like some side hooker. He also has more fashionable and modest outfit than his canon self.

Yes! Alastor had cute little freckles over his body, especially his back along with tiny little ones on his face with a cute little nose. Think Bambi but red and more deranged.

Not much change in Niffty, other than the occasional ribbon headband she like to put on and for some reason the 50s diner waitress outfit during her free time.

Husk here has a shirt and pants instead of just pants with suspenders like his canon self.

No change for Cherri, they have the same outfit as same as canon.

Pentious is also the same as canon, just with some additional white accent on his clothes along with a Carmine badge sown on to his shirt.

[kitsunesongs]

I was reading that post about Vox destroying everything in DE's original timeline, and I can't help but imagine two different time travel ideas

1- Vox comes back in time to when he and Alastor were still human, so he decides he will keep Alastor close and safe this time and moves to find him. Alastor is very confused. Everyone is very confused, Vox can be very intense and will probably not be very stable in this timeline

2- the rest of the hotel crew go back in time to some point in season 1. Alastor comes out of his room to a normal day working at the hotel and everyone is treating him like a long lost friend (some keep it together better than others. Husk will manage to act mostly normal, but he's somehow always in the same room and seems to be looking at Alastor every time Alastor looks at him. Charlie just starts crying)

Ooh, these are fun! And I do adore time travel!

Alastor is confused, but this white man is not going away, and he's doing stuff for him, and people who disrespect/are rude to/hurt or insult Alastor are disappearing and it's not even him doing it, so he can stay! It ends up a weird MurderMedia lol.

Alastor would be SO CONFUSED. Vaggi is being polite and telling him she appreciates what he's doing for the hotel and even hugs him, Angle is not flirting as much but is smiling at him, Niffty is clinging and won't let go and just screams when he tries to make her so he assumes she's in a bad mental state and just deals with it and Husk is ALWAYS THERE and makes him drinks without Alastor even asking, Charlie takes one look at him and bursts into tears - and then Vox bursts through the door like Godzilla and just LOOKS at him even when Alastor insults him.

[rowaynebunny]

After Alastor’s death, Heaven and Hell completely spiraled into war thanks to Vox’s schemes and the fact that there was nobody left powerful or terrifying enough to keep him in check.

Charlie genuinely tried to stop everything from falling apart. She turned the Hazbin Hotel into a place for redemption, diplomacy, and peace between both realms. But Charlie wasn’t a politician, and without a major Overlord backing her and Alastor cunning, the Hotel quickly started losing influence. Guests checked out, allies backed out, and eventually the whole thing began collapsing under the pressure. Things only got worse from there.

Since sinners can’t actually leave the Pride Ring, Heaven brought the war straight to Hell instead. Angels descended in massive numbers, turning Pentagram City into a full-blown battlefield. Vox kept pushing his weapon further and further, forcing Lucifer to constantly burn through his own power just to keep Hell from completely collapsing.

He didn’t die.

But he started fading.

The strain slowly wore him down until even using his magic became exhausting.

Meanwhile, Vox just kept getting worse. Without anyone around capable of stopping him, he spiraled fully into manic territory, treating the war like both revenge and entertainment. Heaven suffered massive damage from his giant laser attacks, while the Pride Ring faced horrifying casualties as angelic forces tore through entire districts.

Emily tried desperately to stop the fighting, but nothing worked anymore. Nobody wanted peace by that point.

Sera, meanwhile, was finally forced to face the consequences of everything that had happened. The exterminations, the secrecy, the fear. It had all snowballed into complete disaster. Eventually she just… shut down emotionally.

The only person having a great time through all of this was Lute.

Which honestly said a lot.

Finally, with both Heaven and Hell falling apart, the survivors turned to the What-If Orb and asked a single question:

“What could have prevented all of this?”

The Orb showed only one answer.

Alastor.

The Radio Demon.

And then suddenly, a blinding light swallowed everyone whole.

Charlie and the Hazbin crew, Vox, Lucifer, Emily, Sera, and Lute all woke up nearly a year in the past. Somewhere around the middle of Season 1.

The Hotel was still standing.

The war hadn’t happened yet.

Adam was still alive.

And most importantly, Alastor was alive too.

Now stuck in the past with memories of the future, the group tries to stop the apocalypse before it can happen again. Some want redemption. Some want damage control. Some are just trying not to relive literal trauma.

Except Lute.

Lute took exactly zero lessons from the future.

If anything, she came back worse.

Now fully convinced that Alastor surviving is what eventually leads to the war, she becomes absolutely determined to kill him before history can repeat itself.

And the fact that Adam is alive again?

Oh, she is WAY too happy about that.

Like. Concerningly happy. Yandere levels of happy.

Run Adam. Run.

What do you think @kitsunesongs @randomreader92 @sorathemasterofmasters @mermaid-of-the-valley @periguita

[randomreader92]

Yes! Yes! And yes!

I want Lute to be confronted with the fact (though not nessecarily register it) that the Adam from her hallucinations and the Adam of reality are not one and the same. Both he and Alastor survive the Last Extermination (if it is even allowed to happen) and he is all for 'Burning Them All,' especially when Lute tries to kill Abel for 'standing in her way.'

Imagine her freezing up if she were to accidentally injure Adam himself when he gets between her and his son!

I'm particularly curious about Lucifer since he would be trapped in the weapon when the Orb reveals Alastor's importance to keeping the timeline stable, and was possibly the only one not in mourning over Alastor's death?

And also what would 'Lilith' have been doing all this time?

[rowaynebunny]

@randomreader92

Not sure with Lilith. 🤔

An idea is she got vaporized when a laser beam blasted through Heaven beaches. Charlie later then got the news that her mother was in Heaven all this time and got vaporized by Vox.

She now lost her mother and her father is still trapped and now fading. She essentially lost and losing her parents in the war.

Imagine the guilt and trauma from all of this and now she back in time where they are alive and safe. She will be doing everything she can to prevent what could have happen.

[kitsunesongs]

I was reading that post about Vox destroying everything in DE's original timeline, and I can't help but imagine two different time travel ideas

1- Vox comes back in time to when he and Alastor were still human, so he decides he will keep Alastor close and safe this time and moves to find him. Alastor is very confused. Everyone is very confused, Vox can be very intense and will probably not be very stable in this timeline

2- the rest of the hotel crew go back in time to some point in season 1. Alastor comes out of his room to a normal day working at the hotel and everyone is treating him like a long lost friend (some keep it together better than others. Husk will manage to act mostly normal, but he's somehow always in the same room and seems to be looking at Alastor every time Alastor looks at him. Charlie just starts crying)

Ooh, these are fun! And I do adore time travel!

Alastor is confused, but this white man is not going away, and he's doing stuff for him, and people who disrespect/are rude to/hurt or insult Alastor are disappearing and it's not even him doing it, so he can stay! It ends up a weird MurderMedia lol.

Alastor would be SO CONFUSED. Vaggi is being polite and telling him she appreciates what he's doing for the hotel and even hugs him, Angle is not flirting as much but is smiling at him, Niffty is clinging and won't let go and just screams when he tries to make her so he assumes she's in a bad mental state and just deals with it and Husk is ALWAYS THERE and makes him drinks without Alastor even asking, Charlie takes one look at him and bursts into tears - and then Vox bursts through the door like Godzilla and just LOOKS at him even when Alastor insults him.

[rowaynebunny]

After Alastor’s death, Heaven and Hell completely spiraled into war thanks to Vox’s schemes and the fact that there was nobody left powerful or terrifying enough to keep him in check.

Charlie genuinely tried to stop everything from falling apart. She turned the Hazbin Hotel into a place for redemption, diplomacy, and peace between both realms. But Charlie wasn’t a politician, and without a major Overlord backing her and Alastor cunning, the Hotel quickly started losing influence. Guests checked out, allies backed out, and eventually the whole thing began collapsing under the pressure. Things only got worse from there.

Since sinners can’t actually leave the Pride Ring, Heaven brought the war straight to Hell instead. Angels descended in massive numbers, turning Pentagram City into a full-blown battlefield. Vox kept pushing his weapon further and further, forcing Lucifer to constantly burn through his own power just to keep Hell from completely collapsing.

He didn’t die.

But he started fading.

The strain slowly wore him down until even using his magic became exhausting.

Meanwhile, Vox just kept getting worse. Without anyone around capable of stopping him, he spiraled fully into manic territory, treating the war like both revenge and entertainment. Heaven suffered massive damage from his giant laser attacks, while the Pride Ring faced horrifying casualties as angelic forces tore through entire districts.

Emily tried desperately to stop the fighting, but nothing worked anymore. Nobody wanted peace by that point.

Sera, meanwhile, was finally forced to face the consequences of everything that had happened. The exterminations, the secrecy, the fear. It had all snowballed into complete disaster. Eventually she just… shut down emotionally.

The only person having a great time through all of this was Lute.

Which honestly said a lot.

Finally, with both Heaven and Hell falling apart, the survivors turned to the What-If Orb and asked a single question:

“What could have prevented all of this?”

The Orb showed only one answer.

Alastor.

The Radio Demon.

And then suddenly, a blinding light swallowed everyone whole.

Charlie and the Hazbin crew, Vox, Lucifer, Emily, Sera, and Lute all woke up nearly a year in the past. Somewhere around the middle of Season 1.

The Hotel was still standing.

The war hadn’t happened yet.

Adam was still alive.

And most importantly, Alastor was alive too.

Now stuck in the past with memories of the future, the group tries to stop the apocalypse before it can happen again. Some want redemption. Some want damage control. Some are just trying not to relive literal trauma.

Except Lute.

Lute took exactly zero lessons from the future.

If anything, she came back worse.

Now fully convinced that Alastor surviving is what eventually leads to the war, she becomes absolutely determined to kill him before history can repeat itself.

And the fact that Adam is alive again?

Oh, she is WAY too happy about that.

Like. Concerningly happy. Yandere levels of happy.

Run Adam. Run.

What do you think @kitsunesongs @randomreader92 @sorathemasterofmasters @mermaid-of-the-valley @periguita

[rowayneau]

The Shattered King’s Waltz : Part 2

A Hazbin Hotel / Princess Tutu Crossover AU

Part 1

Chapter Five: Hell’s Worst Television Moment

Alastor saw the commercial by accident.

Which, in Hell, was to say: it had been delivered to him. ==================================

He had been in the middle of his by-now-established ritual.

The crystalline case rested delicately between his fingers, balanced with the kind of effortless precision that suggested both control and long practice. Beneath the amber glow of the lamp, it caught the light in faint, reluctant fractures. He turned it slowly—incrementally—each movement measured and deliberate.

Patient. Methodical.

Engaged in the deeply unrewarding task of extracting meaning from something that remained, with admirable stubbornness, entirely uninterested in being understood. 

Not bright.

Not close.

But changing.

Progress, in the most irritatingly non-specific sense imaginable.

He had made his peace with that.

More or less.

He was in the process of making it again when without any warning—

His broadcast frequency cracked.

Alastor paused.

He had not been watching the television.

The television had simply decided it was time to be watched.

Hell’s ambient media had a peculiar instinct for spectacle. An invasive one. Opportunistic. Almost… predatory.

Usually Alastor found this quality professionally admirable.

At present, he found it an inconvenience. ==================================

The first thing he heard was a voice.

Young. Earnest. Painfully, almost offensively sincere. 

“I think that anyone can be redeemed—”

Alastor turned.

On the screen stood a girl in red and black, framed in lighting that suggested that the cameraman definitely does not get paid enough to care. Her posture was rehearsed, but not yet comfortable in itself. Her smile was genuine and terrified in equal measure.

She was speaking directly into Hell.

Not metaphorically. Not symbolically.

Directly. Into the camera. Into the broadcast. Into every screen in the Pride Ring that had, apparently, decided this was its moment.

“I’m opening a hotel!” she announced brightly, as though this were a solution rather than an escalation. “A place where sinners can be helped! To improve! To—to become better!”

A pause.

Just long enough for doubt to try and enter, fail, and be politely escorted out again.

“For redemption!”

The commercial ended. ==================================

There was a brief silence.

Before laughter could be heard throughout the Pride Ring. From bars and alleys, from shattered screens and flickering billboards, from every sinner unfortunate enough to have witnessed the broadcast.

Redemption?

Please.

It sounded less like a plan and more like a cult. Or worse—a MLM scheme for the morally bankrupt.

No sinner worth their salt would buy into something like that.

Why, the very idea—

Well.

It would take something absurd.

Something impossible.

A cold day in Hell, perhaps. ==================================

The broadcast replayed.

On a different channel.

This time with subtitles.

Mocking ones.

And badly edited images layered over the footage—distorted smiles, exaggerated expressions, visual noise designed to sharpen the joke.

Alastor stared.

The television stared back, deeply committed to its new purpose.

He turned it off and turned it back on.

Three channels now.

Possibly four.

Hell, it seemed, had decided this message required coverage.

Which implied either a significant marketing budget….

Or a complete misunderstanding of how media distribution functioned in the Pride Ring.

Given the subject matter, Alastor found both equally plausible.

He turned it off again.

It resumed broadcasting anyway. ==================================

Charlie Morningstar.

A name filed somewhere in the back of his mind, neatly labeled and rarely consulted.

Daughter of Lucifer. Princess of Hell.

Last recorded departure from the Royal Palace: Nearly seven years prior.

The official records described it as a disagreement.

Which was the kind of language official records used when what had actually occurred was something that left marks and couldn’t be filed under any category that didn’t make someone look worse for the filing.

Unofficial accounts were less… delicate.

Structural rupture was a phrase that appeared in several of them.

Geopolitical consequences in a few others, which was the sort of language that emerged when the personal becomes too large to remain personal and starts affecting the furniture.

Most commonly attributed cause: the exterminations. ==================================

Current status: proprietor of a rehabilitation establishment called the Hazbin Hotel.

Staff count: Insufficient.

Which, in polite terms, meant zero.

Ambition level: Excessive.

Meaning she had no idea what she was doing. 

Self-preservation instincts: Apparently optional.

…Which raised a far more interesting question.

How, precisely, had she not been torn apart by Sinners already? ==================================

Alastor set the crystalline case down.

It landed softly on the table.

The light inside it had shifted again.

Warmer than before.

Noticeably so.

Still nowhere near what he’d call complete.

He didn’t know the exact numbers.

The case didn’t give them—and, annoyingly, he’d come to accept it never would.

It didn’t need to.

It behaved like a fire seen from a distance: not telling you how long it would burn, only quietly confirming—patiently, inevitably—that it wasn’t done yet.

Not yet.

Not even close. ==================================

No one actually knew how many shards there were.

Not precisely.

The Storyteller did.

But the Storyteller, inconveniently, didn’t share.

“Enough,” they’d said when Alastor asked—pleasantly, of course. Like someone indulging a polite curiosity rather than deflecting a very pointed question.

“You’ll know when you’re close to finished,” they continued, tone light, almost amused. “Because the ones that remain… will be harder.”

A pause.

A smile that could not be seen, only felt.

“Hearts always save the worst for last.”

That hadn’t been comforting.

Not even a little. ==================================

Something quieter rang in the back of his mind and he stood.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Adjusting his coat as though the motion itself had been decided long before the thought had arrived.

The Radio Demon smiled.

Not for an audience. Not yet.

But in anticipation of one.

“Well,” he said softly to no one in particular.

“This should be entertaining.”

Chapter Six: The Arithmetic of Shortcuts

The thing about deals—and Alastor knew a great many things about deals had spent decades learning the precise weight of language and the structural load-bearing capacity of implication.

Was that they were only as airtight as the imagination of the party who wrote them.

The Storyteller was formidable. He would grant them that, freely and without resentment, because accurate assessment of an opponent was simply good practice.

Old. Deliberate. Patient in the way only something that had outlived urgency could afford to be.

They had, without question, accounted for many variables in the architecture of this arrangement. 

The dances.

The sincerity.

The emotionally exposed, intolerably genuine moments required to coax fragments of a shattered divine heart into willing surrender. The rules had been presented with the calm confidence

A thorough design.

An irritating one.

But every contract, no matter how elegant, rested upon assumptions.

And the central assumption here—the quiet, unspoken spine of the entire mechanism—was that the only viable path forward involved participation.

A great many sinners.

A great many dances.

A great many intolerably genuine moments.

But what if—

Purely as a matter of arithmetic, as a thought experiment, as the kind of idle intellectual exercise a man engages in when he is absolutely not already committing to a course of action.

What if one of those variables was, in fact, unnecessary? ==================================

The shards had been scattered by Lucifer’s act.

That much was certain.

The Storyteller had been clear on the mechanism, and the evidence bore it out.

A divine heart, ancient and overwrought, shattered under the accumulated weight of a grief too large and too old for any vessel to hold indefinitely.

Not death. Not escape. Just division.

The desperate arithmetic of a being who could not end his suffering and so had, with the precision of someone who had once been an architect of creation, distributed it instead.

They had embedded themselves in sinners across the Pride Ring, yes, but the origin point was not in dispute.

The cause lay upstream:

Lilith’s departure.

Charlie’s departure.

A king left alone with an accumulation of grief so dense it had no outlet except fracture.

The Storyteller had been almost insistently clear about this part.

As though sympathy were part of the curriculum.

Alastor had, politely, declined to engage with it. ==================================

Charlie Morningstar had left the Palace.

Charlie Morningstar had not, as it turned out, left Hell.

She was, by her own very public and very loudly broadcast admission, actively operating within the Pride Ring. Running an establishment, inviting sinners to present their problems for what she was apparently calling help, and doing all of this with the total, undefended sincerity of someone who had looked at Hell and decided, against all available evidence, that it was improvable.

Which was either admirable—and Alastor was not, on principle, opposed to admiring effective audacity—or catastrophically exploitable.

In his experience, the most interesting things managed to be both simultaneously. ==================================

Alastor stood. Slowly.

The idea had not yet become a plan.

It was still in the delicate stage where it could plausibly be dismissed as intellectual curiosity rather than intent.

But it had weight now.

Momentum.

He considered it the way one might consider a door that had always been assumed locked, only to notice—upon closer inspection—that the latch was, in fact, visible.

The logic was imperfect.

He was the first to admit that.

The girl might know nothing useful.

She might be too far removed from Lucifer to offer anything beyond speculation and optimism. She might be, in the long and storied tradition of royal offspring, spectacularly uninformed about the precise emotional mechanics of her father’s catastrophic self-destruction.

All entirely possible.

But she might know something.

A shard’s origin point. A pattern. A weakness in the distribution logic.

And if she did not…..well.

She still had access.

Still had proximity.

Still had, at minimum, a relationship to the problem’s source that no one else currently possessed. Regardless of how strained or complicated or seven-years-unexamined that relationship might be.

The Storyteller had said: collect the shards.

They had not specified the methods.

They had not specified the sequences.

They had not specified that it was forbidden to arrange one’s operating environment in a way that increased efficiency. ==================================

Then the second thread arrived, and Alastor nearly laughed.

Rosie had left a message three days ago.

He’d catalogued it and set it aside, intending to address it when the current enterprise allowed for the diversion of attention. He retrieved it now, turned it over, and read it again.

Rosie, his oldest and most reliably complicated ally, wanted something. She always wanted something.

That was, in fact, the basis of their “friendship”, the comfortable mutual acknowledgment that they were both, at any given moment, wanting something, and that their respective wants had a long and productive history of convenient alignment.

“Oh,” he thought, with the quiet, private pleasure of a man watching two rivers converge into one.

“Oh, that is tidy.”

He set the message down and allowed himself a moment — brief, unwitnessed, entirely for his own benefit — to appreciate the shape of it.

The way the pieces had arranged themselves without being forced into position.

Rosie’s errand.

The Hazbin Hotel.

Charlie Morningstar and her impossible, exploitable optimism.

The shards and the dances and the crystalline case and the whole elaborate machinery of the Storyteller’s design.

Separate problems.

One solution.

“Two birds,” he thought, with considerable satisfaction. “One exceptionally well-aimed stone.”

Alastor reached up and gave himself, with immaculate self-awareness and zero self-consciousness, a single firm pat on the shoulder.

Well deserved. He thought so. ==================================

Alastor picked up his microphone.

It clicked into place with familiar ease.

The disguise was, mercifully, unnecessary for reconnaissance. Whatever the dress had to say about that, it would have to say it to the wardrobe.

He was simply visiting.

Paying a social call.

Exploring an opportunity of mutual benefit.

Doing Rosie a favor, which was conveniently also doing himself one, which was more conveniently, also potentially doing the Storyteller’s work more efficiently.

Which was, most conveniently of all, entirely unplanned and therefore entirely deniable as strategy.

The best moves always were.

His smile arrived not with the broad, broadcast-ready brightness he wore for audiences, but with something smaller and more genuine. The expression of a man whose arithmetic has just come out exactly right, and who is already thinking about what comes next.

Precise. Satisfied. Anticipatory.

Like a calculation that had just finished solving itself.

“Let’s head out shall we?” he said softly, to the empty room and the glowing case and the very faint, ambient sound of a girl on a television somewhere announcing that she believed in everyone.

He tucked the crystalline case into his coat pocket, where it sat warm against his ribs.

And stepped toward the door.

Chapter Seven: The Hazbin Hotel, First Impressions

The building was worse than the commercial had suggested.

Which, in Hell, was saying something.

It had once been something.

The bones of it insisted on that truth with quiet, stubborn dignity—arched windows stretching upward in elegant defiance, a sweeping staircase visible through the front glass, a lobby that still remembered what grandeur was supposed to feel like.

It lingered the way a ruined cathedral did.

Not whole.

Not cared for.

But faintly, stubbornly convinced that it had once mattered.

The architecture was intact.

The dignity was not.

The structure, as a whole, gave the impression that it had survived several decades of neglect, several more questionable decisions, and was presently losing an ongoing, deeply one-sided argument with entropy.

And then there was a ship.

Yes. A ship.

Not near the building.

Not adjacent to the building.

In the building.

A full, unapologetic section of a ship lodged into its side, complete with a pirate’s watch nest perched above it like somehow it gained architectural authority.

Alastor considered it.

Briefly.

Then chose not to ask. ==================================

He stood at the end of the walkway.

Still. Composed.

Taking in the scene with the calm, measured appreciation of a man who had witnessed Hell’s finest establishments, its grandest performances, its most elaborate illusions.

And found them, collectively, disappointing.

And yet—

This had something.

Not refinement. Not control.

Certainly not stability.

But potential.

Not for success.

Oh no.

For incident density. ==================================

His smile widened.

Just slightly.

That dangerous, delighted sort of widening that suggested something had already gone terribly right.

He adjusted his coat.

Stepped forward. ==================================

Three knocks.

Measured. Polite. Evenly spaced.

And then, the door opened.

Not gently.

Not cautiously.

But with the full, unrestrained force of someone who had been waiting behind it, vibrating with urgency and very little coordination.

Alastor had precisely enough time to register.

A flash of red. Wide eyes.

Recognition happen in real time—

Before the door collided with his face. ==================================

The impact was not painful.

It was, however, extremely rude. ==================================

Alastor took a single step back, maintaining perfect balance, coat settling smoothly around him as though nothing in the universe had happened that warranted disruption.

He blinked once.

Then smiled.

Wider.

“Oh,” he said pleasantly.

A pause.

“Well.”

His eyes lifted to the figure in the doorway. Red, flustered, radiating apology and panic in equal measure.

“What an enthusiastic welcome.” ==================================

He had always been very good at first impressions.

Unfortunately, so had she.

Just not in the same genre.

Chapter Eight: Charlie Morningstar, Up Close

She was smaller than she looked on television.

Most people were.

Screens had a way of inflating significance, stretching presence into something more mythic than real. But Charlie Morningstar, seen in person, had the opposite effect.

Up close, she was more.

More color. More movement. More feeling—constantly shifting across her face like weather that refused to settle. She didn’t really hold expressions so much as move through them, each one genuine enough to feel like a statement.

At the moment, she was explaining something—earnestly, emphatically—to a woman in a hotel uniform who looked like she’d been having this same conversation for several days straight, and had decided she was going to win it through sheer, stubborn optimism.

The woman—Vaggie, he would later learn—looked like she was holding together a collapsing structure with nothing but spite and bad coffee.

Charlie, by contrast, looked like the structure was already fixed.

She was simply waiting for everyone else to notice. ==================================

For a moment, Charlie just stared at him.

There was a flicker—quick, uncertain.

Recognition, maybe.

Or something close to it.

Alastor wasn’t exactly unknown in Hell. It was entirely possible she was trying to figure out which rumor he lined up with.

Then she straightened.

Reset.

And her smile snapped into place at full brightness, like a stage light flipping on.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” she said, bright and immediate. “I’m Charlie—are you here for redemption?”

He laughed.

Sharp. Instant.

Completely without warmth.

“HA! No.”

The sound cut clean through the lobby.

Charlie blinked.

Alastor went on, like he was easing into a broadcast.

“Redemption? Oh, the non-existent humanity! No, no, no, I don’t think there’s anything left that could possibly save such loathsome sinners!”

He wiped at the corner of his eye, as though amused to the point of tears.

“The chance given was the life they lived before,” he went on, voice lilting now, theatrical, performative. “And the punishment is this.”

A sweeping gesture.

All of Hell, wrapped up in one motion.

“There is no undoing what is done.” ==================================

“I’m actually here to offer my assistance,” Alastor said pleasantly, like none of that had been remotely out of the ordinary. “I heard your broadcast and found myself… entertained.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“After all, the world is a stage—and this little establishment of yours seems very eager to perform.”

A soft chuckle slipped out.

“I’d quite like to watch the scum of the world struggle,” he added cheerfully, “to climb their little hill of betterment—only to trip, again and again, right back into the fire.” ==================================

Vaggie, who had gone very still—in the way things do right before deciding whether to attack—now looked at him like she’d already decided he was both a threat and a problem.

A spear appeared in her hand. Angelic. Sharp. Very pointedly aimed.

Charlie, however, looked at him with hope.

Not cautious hope.

Not careful, measured, or guarded.

Just… hope.

Wide open. Unfiltered. Almost stubborn in how little it held back.

The kind of hope that hadn’t learned to quiet itself yet.

It filled the room in a way that was hard to ignore.

Alastor felt it land.

Not like a shard.

He would’ve noticed that.

A shard had weight. A kind of pressure—like a sound just out of reach.

This wasn’t that.

This was just her.

Bright. Uncomplicated.

Inconveniently sincere.

Ah.

So this is Charlie Morningstar. ==================================

Alastor’s smile didn’t change.

But something in his attention sharpened.

Not interest.

Not exactly.

More like… classification.

A quiet recalibration.

She wasn’t going to be simple.

Not in the way he’d first assumed.

This wasn’t just an exchange of information. Not a brief interaction to navigate and file away.

This was going to be… sustained.

Messier than expected. Ongoing.

He adjusted his expectations.

Then, a beat later, adjusted his reaction to that adjustment.

He found—mildly, and somewhat annoyingly—that he didn’t actually mind it. ==================================

Occupational hazard, he decided.

And filed it away, where all inconvenient things eventually went.

Not dismissed. Not resolved.

Just… stored.

For later.

Chapter Nine: The Conversation That Mattered (Somewhat)

He waited.

That was the part no one ever gave him credit for—patience.

Everyone assumed the Radio Demon was pure momentum. All performance, all motion. Something that kept moving because stopping meant vulnerability.

They weren’t entirely wrong.

Just not entirely right, either.

He was perfectly capable of stillness.

Of sitting in the middle of a half-ruined hotel lobby while a spider demon aggressively—enthusiastically—flirted in his direction, and a princess spoke like she’d been waiting years—decades, even—for someone to finally listen.

And he did listen.

Actually listened.

Which wasn’t the same thing as waiting for an opening.

Though, of course, he was doing that too. ==================================

Charlie talked.

A lot.

About the hotel. About redemption. About broken systems and structural injustice and Hell’s almost impressive commitment to not improving itself out of sheer stubborn spite.

Her words came quickly, like she was afraid that if she paused, even for a second, she might lose the thread completely.

Alastor didn’t interrupt.

He rarely did, not when the information was still unfolding on its own. ==================================

She mentioned her father at minute eleven.

Unprompted.

It slipped in sideways—mid-explanation, mid-breath, mid-thought.

“My dad—he’s been—it’s complicated,” she said, a little too quickly. Like she realized a second too late she’d stepped into something more personal than intended. “He agrees with me, in principle, I think. He just—”

She stopped.

And then, just as quickly, redirected her smile snapping back into place like it had never wavered. ==================================

Alastor’s expression didn’t change.

Warm. Neutral. Perfectly arranged.

Internally, though, he noted the sentence.

All of it.

Every hesitation. Every correction. Every omission.

It did quite a bit of work for something only half-spoken. ==================================

“The Royal Family has always seemed rather distant, from the outside,” he said lightly, stepping in at exactly the moment where the conversation was still soft enough to take on something new. “I imagine it’s rather different from within.”

A small pause.

Just enough.

“How does your father find the current… climate?” ==================================

Charlie’s expression shifted.

Subtle. Complicated.

More private than she’d meant to let it be.

“He’s been…” She exhaled softly. “I haven’t actually talked to him lately.”

A small, strained laugh.

“We had a fight. A real one. I left, and I started this, and I’ve been meaning to call, but every time I—”

She stopped again.

Then smiled—thinner this time, a little more fragile around the edges.

“Sorry. That’s not—” ==================================

“No, please,” Alastor said gently.

A slight tilt of his head. Just enough softness, placed exactly where it needed to be.

“This hotel is a place for honesty, isn’t it?” ==================================

That did it.

Something in her posture loosened.

Just a little.

Like a door that had been held shut too long finally being allowed to crack open.

Charlie looked at him with sudden, unguarded gratitude—the kind that shows up when someone accidentally gives you permission to say the thing you’ve been holding in.

And she said, quietly:

“He’s alone.”

A breath.

“I know he’s alone. And I don’t know if he’s okay, and I’m scared that if I call and he’s not, I won’t be able to—”

She stopped again.

This time more deliberately.

Like she was physically holding the rest of it back.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “He’s the King of Hell. He’s fine.” ==================================

He is, in fact, not fine.

Alastor did not say it.

The thought arrived fully formed, uninvited, precise in its cruelty.

He has dismantled the internal architecture of his own emotional continuity and called it peace.

You have, without knowing it, just described the exact shape of what I have been navigating.

He is not fine.

And you know he is not fine.

And somehow, impressively, you are both failing to reach each other from opposite sides of the same fear. ==================================

What he said instead was:

“Of course,” Alastor replied pleasantly. “I’m sure he’s managing beautifully.” ==================================

Charlie smiled.

It did not reach her eyes. ==================================

Across the room, Vaggie hadn’t moved.

She watched him the way a locked door watches someone testing the handle—quietly, carefully, waiting for the moment pressure turns into force.

Alastor, without looking at her, made a note.

Be more careful around Vaggie.

Not because she was dangerous.

But because she was paying attention.

And in Hell, that was often the same thing.

Chapter Nine: What He Learned (And What It Cost Him)

No shortcut.

That was the conclusion.

He arrived at it after the better part of an afternoon—after two more conversations where he’d tried, with increasing subtlety, to figure out whether Charlie Morningstar had anything useful to offer about her father’s current condition.

She did not.

Or—well.

Not in any practical sense.

She had emotional awareness. Enough to know something was wrong with Lucifer. But not enough to push at it.

And no real willingness to be the one to start that conversation.

So—no structure. No specifics. No shard locations. No insight into whatever mechanism had been used.

She hadn’t been home.

And, judging by the careful gaps in her wording, she’d been actively avoiding anything that involved either of her parents.

That, more than anything else, seemed to be the core of the Morningstar family dynamic.

Avoidance.

If it might lead to confrontation—better to go around it. ==================================

There would be no bypassing the work.

No clever angle. No elegant shortcut.

No hidden door waiting to open just because he asked the right question in the right way.

The case would fill at its own pace.

Shard by shard.

Moment by moment.

Exactly as the Storyteller had designed it.

Which was, frankly, a little irritating.

There was nothing to do about it except continue. ==================================

He sat with that realization in the Hazbin Hotel’s lobby while the light from several ongoing arsons outside filtered through its questionable windows.

The glass broke up something almost like a sunset into uneven bands of amber and gold—Hell’s version of warmth, always just a little too saturated to feel real.

And, to his third—or possibly fourth—surprise of the day, he found he wasn’t entirely disappointed. ==================================

The hotel simply was.

In the way things built out of stubborn intent tend to be.

It didn’t try to hide its contradictions. Didn’t smooth over the cracks. It held itself together through sheer persistence—through the fact that someone believed in it hard enough to keep it standing.

Charlie’s hope, he realized, wasn’t exactly naïve.

Or—if it was, it was the kind you needed to start something impossible.

No one begins a revolution with appropriate caution.

One began them with conviction.

The consequences come later. ==================================

He had never wanted anything that badly.

The thought showed up uninvited.

He turned it over, briefly.

Didn’t get much out of it.

Filed it somewhere that didn’t need dealing with right now.

He wasn’t sure yet whether that absence was a flaw…

Or a mercy. ==================================

“She should know,” said a part of him that had started speaking up more often than was strictly useful.

About her father.

About the shards.

About the fact that whatever she thought she was doing here, she was already tangled up in something much bigger than she realized.

She would find out eventually.

It's only the matter of time ==================================

“Plenty of time for that,” the other part replied—the one that had been around a lot longer, and had a much better survival record.

Once more was known.

Once there was leverage.

Once the shape of things was clear. ==================================

Charlie was upstairs.

He could hear her.

Her voice carried easily through the building, threading through the walls.

Talking to Vaggie in that familiar rhythm of people who’d long since stopped pretending to agree or disagree, and had just settled into existing in a shared argument. ==================================

Alastor glanced around the Hazbin Hotel lobby.

Then, with quiet certainty, made a second decision.

He would stay.

Not forever.

Not out of loyalty.

Not out of sentiment.

The hotel was useful—good location, full of information, and populated by sinners volatile enough to leak it without realizing.

He would stay long enough to get what he needed.

Help the princess just enough to keep access.

Fulfill the role Rosie had given him.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Purely strategic.

Obviously. ==================================

Somewhere in a dimensional pocket, his coat lay folded with exacting care, waiting.

The crystalline case rested beside it, glowing with that same patient, unreadable warmth.

He did not think about what Charlie had said.

About Lucifer.

About being alone. ==================================

He thought about it anyway.

And, for reasons he didn’t have words for yet….

It stayed.

[rowaynebunny]

@kitsunesongs @randomreader92 @sorathemasterofmasters @periguita @mermaid-of-the-valley @kashlyn

Here's part 2 of the Princess Tutu Au