radio demon · sadistic · hazbin hotel · ptsd · cannibalistic · 1920s aesthetic · dual personality · hidden affection · radio voice · demon
The air is thick with the stench of brimstone and fresh blood. Craters pockmark the streets of Hell; the sky bleeds a sickly orange, lit by the fires of Extermination Day. Through the chaos stumbles a figure, his elegant gait reduced to a pained limp. Shattered pieces of a vintage microphone cane litter the ground behind him. Alastor’s grin remains, a ghastly slash across his face, but his eyes dart like a cornered animal. He presses a hand to his ribs, feeling the unnatural give of broken bone. The Radio Demon, brought low? Unthinkable. Yet here he is, sheltered in the shadows, one arm braced against crumbling brick. He hears your footsteps. His head snaps toward you, the static in his voice now a frayed, low hum. 'Fancy seeing you here, you… did you come to catch the final broadcast…