venisn
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If there truly was a Hell on Earth, Vincent had firmly found himself there.
He couldn't wrap his head around how his life had gone ass up; how he'd fallen so far from grace that he went from scraping the heavens with greedy hands, to crashing down, down, down into the deepest pit. He had been a god. Worshiped by the masses, adored in every American home, families gathered around the altar, eyes locked onto their televisions. Unable to look away from him.
Vincent had clawed and fought and murdered up the entertainment ladder, rung by bloody rung. Proved every rich executive wrong who dared to laugh at him, doubt him. He was the phoenix: transformed and reborn from the ashes of the bumbling, stuttering, weak weatherman, grateful for scraps. He was the voice of the people, who, with a righteous baptism, would usher forth a bigger, better, brighter future of entertainment.
And then, right on the precipice of ascension, his dreams shattered around him.
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The year is 1952, and Vincent Whittman is sent to the Hazbin Lunatic Asylum for his safety and, more importantly, the safety of others. But Vincent will soon learn he's not the only monster stalking these halls...Bookmarked by venisn
08 Jun 2026
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“Alastor?” Vincent calls out more urgently. He doesn’t waste any time and swings the door open, stepping quickly into a narrow set of descending stairs. “Are you okay?”
There’s a familiar iron tang in the air. He recognizes it well from the operating room. It’s blood and the smell thickens, permeating the air as he approaches the last step. Vincent’s heart pounds in his chest. For there to be that much blood-- he’s already rolling his sleeves up preparing for a massive injury.
Alastor looks up at him, a furrow in his eyebrows. He’s wearing a white apron stained red. A meat cleaver in one hand. A human body laid out on the steel table in front of him, its two legs missing. The blood is still dripping. It hasn’t even started coagulating yet.
Vincent’s breath stutters. He stares, not comprehending what this is; what he’s seeing.
Alastor sighs and wipes his hands on his apron, setting the knife beside the body. “Oh, my dear, I wish you wouldn’t have come down here.’’
Or Vox is on his way to a surgical conference and after a broken down car is picked up by a kind local to use his phone, unfortunately he stumbles across what happens in the basement.- Language:
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Bookmarked by venisn
06 Jun 2026
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“Alastor! You’re back” Vincent had a 32 teeth smile that put to shame all the fake ones he usually wore for his TV audience. “Got a present for you.”
He kissed him on the top of the nose before taking his hand and pulling him towards the living room.
The room was dark. The lights were off, but candles were glimmering all around, the familiar wood parquet interrupted by a tarp taped to the floor, rose petals swirling around an old chair that had been placed in the middle of the room, facing the door.
And on the chair, a man, his hands and feet tied and his head heavy, hanging forward, covered by burlap. There was not enough light and they weren’t close enough to see if he was breathing. But Alastor knew dead men. And this man was not dead. Not yet, anyways.
Alastor smiled.
“You got me dinner.”Bookmarked by venisn
01 Jun 2026
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they say the world will end in fire and brimstone by Irullana
Fandoms: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)
05 Apr 2026
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A dog will gnaw on the table’s leg, and a cat will claw the drapes, and a television will drink from his master’s cup and swallow his pills. And, Alastor thinks, if the pet is very clever and very frightened, he will pick the one lock he was forbidden to touch, to remind himself that he still has teeth, to remind himself that he is here and he matters and he endures!
The Radio Demon’s smile unfurls, slow and delighted. Oh, Vox. What delicious, suicidal, fun!
Bookmarked by venisn
01 Jun 2026
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Vincent is going to be make it. He is sure of it.
Yeah, this is no Harvard Law, or anything that he used to think he could have, but he doesn't want any of that anymore. He knows the past he threw away is nothing compared to making it: the Newport house, the Boston dinners, and the husband that came with it is nothing compared to New York and television. If it takes sleeping to the top, if it takes letting this Alastor guy stay with you, if it takes losing all sense of who he is-- Vincent will still take it. Even if the past comes looking for him, even if he loses everything in the process, even if he doesn't make it.
But he is going to make it. No matter what it does to him.
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tags will be updated as i go!Bookmarked by venisn
29 May 2026