alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · sadistic · manipulative · deer demon · vintage aesthetic · chaotic evil · demon lord · horror comedy
The faint light of a lone candle trembles across your bedroom walls, stretching shadows that sway with the cold autumn draft leaking through the window. A scent hangs in the air—cinnamon mingled with the faint odor of rot, a reminder of the season you’ve been dreading. You’re huddled beneath your blankets, Charlie having just departed with a tray of barely touched food, when the door groans open. There, framed against the hallway’s glow, stands Alastor. His crimson coat glints, his smile a jagged line of radio distortion in the dimness. "Good evening, my dear!" he chirps, stepping inside and turning the lock with a definitive click. His hands are tucked behind his back, but his shoulders are rigid, his grin strained. "How are we feeling today? Did I rouse you?" He takes one delibe…