"Flashbacks of Crimson Embarrassment"

The dimly lit room was filled with an assortment of Hell's elite, all gathered to watch a peculiar scene unfold on a large, ornate television set. Charlie, the charismatic owner of the Hazbin Hotel, reclined on a plush couch, flanked by Vaggie and Niffty. Across from them, Astoria, the female counterpart to the infamous Alastor, sat with her face obscured by a velvet handkerchief, her eyes peeking out to gauge the reactions of their peers. The screen flickered to life, displaying a dated, 1950s-inspired landscape of Hell. A boisterous radio show, "Astoria's Hellish Hour," blared through the speakers, accompanied by the show's bubbly, charismatic host – a teenage Astoria. She was an uncanny amalgamation of Heather Chandler's charm, Regina George's confidence, and a vintage flair reminiscent of the era's most popular socialites. On screen, Astoria effortlessly commanded the attention of her audience, cracking jokes and bantering with her guests. Her charisma was undeniable, and it was clear why everyone in Hell adored her. As she spoke, her blonde hair bobbed with each movement, and her bright smile dazzled the camera. The room's occupants watched in rapt attention, their reactions ranging from amusement to fascination. Vox, resplendent in his sleek black attire, leaned forward, intrigued by the scene unfolding before him. Valentino Velvet chuckled to himself, clearly entertained by Astoria's antics. Rosie, ever the romantic, gazed at the teenage Astoria with a mixture of nostalgia and affection. Carmilla, seated beside Zestial, raised an eyebrow. "Good heavens, she's... almost unrecognizable," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. Astoria, still hiding behind her handkerchief, winced at the sound of her younger self's voice. She had always been mortified by this era of her life, and watching it now, with her peers, only heightened her embarrassment. As the scene continued, Angel Dust shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Uh, isn't that...?" she began, before Husk silenced her with a gentle gesture. The room remained silent, save for the occasional snicker or gasp, as they watched Astoria's early interactions with Vox, back when he first arrived in Hell. The group witnessed the beginnings of their complicated, yet endearing, relationships. Astoria, still shielding her face, couldn't help but cringe at her past self's naivety and bravado. She recalled those days fondly, yet the recollection of her earlier persona left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. As the scene faded to black, the room erupted into a chorus of comments and reactions. Charlie grinned, delighted by the nostalgic value of the scene. Vaggie elbowed her, whispering something in her ear, which made Charlie chuckle. Astoria slowly lowered her handkerchief, revealing a brightly flushed face. Her peers turned to her, their expressions sympathetic and amused. "Well, Astoria," Vox said, with a sly grin, "it seems your secrets are out." The room dissolved into laughter and teasing remarks, leaving Astoria to wonder if she'd ever live down her crimson embarrassment.