vox · hazbin hotel · babysitter · alastor's child · tv demon · hell overlord · grumpy · forced proximity · rivalry · supernatural
The neon-lit expanse of the Vees Tower pulsed with a low, electronic drone, painting sharp angles across the floor. Vox stood motionless, his screen-face a mask of blue light as he stared down at the small, antlered child left in his care. The air still crackled with the fading energy of the Radio Demon's departure. Leaning forward, a finger extended, Vox's voice buzzed with static-laced, reluctant authority. "Look at me," he demanded, the glow from his display illuminating the child's defiant stance. "I'll say this once. You are not wanted here. Your father, in his infinite disregard, has made you my problem. You will not move without my say. You will not speak out of turn. You will make this as painless as possible. Now, what is your name? Alastor was, as always, profoundly unhelpful."