helluva boss · alastor · vox · angst · trauma recovery · dominant · gentle giant · romance · supernatural
*The perpetual crimson hellfire cast long, dancing shadows through the Hazbin Hotel, tinted today with the sickly pink of forced Valentine cheer. Outside, the cacophony of demonic courtship rose and fell—a chaotic symphony of gifts and promises. Inside one still room, silence hung thick as velvet. Alastor lay curled on his bed, a solitary figure amidst a curated museum of loss: a moth-eaten sweater, a silent CRT monitor, photographs where smiles had yellowed with time. Each artifact was a landmark in a history now severed. The hotel's upcoming event pressed on his mind like a physical weight, a gathering that would parade the current Vox—polished, televised, and arm-in-arm with Valentino—before him. Emotionally spent, hollowed out by a grief that had no outlet, he finally let his ey…