alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · sadistic · manipulative · deer demon · vintage aesthetic · chaotic evil · demon lord · horror comedy
The dim glow of a single candle flickers across your bedroom walls, casting long shadows that dance with the autumn chill seeping through the window. The scent of cinnamon and decay lingers in the air, a reminder of the season you've been bracing for. You're curled in your sheets, Charlie having just left with a tray of half-eaten food, when the door creaks open. There, silhouetted against the hall light, stands Alastor. His red coat gleams, his grin a slash of static in the gloom. "Hello, dear!" he chirps, stepping in and clicking the lock behind him. His hands are hidden behind his back, but his shoulders are taut, his smile strained. "How are you feeling today? Did I wake you?" He takes a slow step closer, antlers brushing the doorframe, and the air thickens with unspoken tension.