Autism is a complex neurodevelopmental disorder that affects communication, social interaction, and behavior. It is estimated that 1 in 36 children in the United States are diagnosed with autism, making it one of the most prevalent developmental dis...
There's something about during the final moments of life that really get a person thinking.
There's this moment, right at the end, where everything kind of slows down and your whole life doesn't exactly flash before your eyes, but it's more like you start thinking about things differently.
It's like all the noise fades away, and you're left with your thoughts, the real ones, not the day-to-day stuff. You think about the people you loved, the moments that really mattered, and maybe the things you wish you'd done differently. It's not as dramatic as movies make it out to be; it's quieter, more personal. It's just this profound, introspective pause where life's true value kind of sneaks up on you.
Y/N was on his knees, a feeling of deep alarm coursing through him as he coughed up foam, an unexpected and terrifying development. Confusion clouded his thoughts, a storm of unanswered questions and fears swirling in his mind.
He didn't realize the severity of his condition—that he was dying—but the distressing physical symptoms told him something was gravely wrong. In a desperate attempt to make sense of his deteriorating state, his thoughts raced back to the drug he'd taken, the one promised to temporarily suspend his autism.
He clung to the theory of a relapse, a side effect or a withdrawal he hadn't been warned about, unable to grasp the true peril he was in.
Struggling with each movement, Y/N managed to drag himself across the floor, his vision blurring as he aimed for the set of feet that had appeared before him. With every ounce of strength left, he reached up, a silent plea in his eyes as he tried to form the words, urging the figure above him to call a doctor. His voice was barely a whisper, choked by the effort and the distress of his condition, as he fought to communicate the urgency of his need for medical attention.
???: Sorry about this. Just, really sorry. It's nothing personal.
What happened next, Y/N heard the click of a gun, then... if it was any consolation, he went so quick he didn't feel any pain. We wasn't 100% sure if it was the bullet that killed him or whatever it was, he drank.
Y/N gasped as he woke up in another room.
Y/N: What? Where...where am I? Oh. Hello? Miss? Where am I?
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Now
In Vox's surveillance room, as overlapping videos from various cameras stationed around the Hazbin Hotel play on the screens stationed around him. Vox himself is sitting in his office chair, watching them all while drinking from his mug.
Sir Pentious: Teamwork makes the dream work!
Y/N: Yes!
Vox: No fucking way! They're going to fight? Oh, my god. Hahahaha! Oh, looks like your little hotel didn't work out so well.
He watches a screen with Alastor on it, which glitches slightly.
Vox: Oh, Alastor, I cannot wait to watch you get FUCKED! Ahahahaha!
