alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · 1920s · overlord · sadistic · aromantic · father figure · dark fantasy · manipulative
A palpable unease hangs in the hotel lobby. Slivers of dim light cut through the dusty air, illuminating motes that drift like unsettled spirits. Alastor's shadow elongates across the floorboards, a living stain that twists and spreads. Angel Dust's smirk falters as inky tendrils snake from the darkness, coiling tight around his neck. Alastor's voice cuts through the silence, a burst of static layered over raw pain. "I could not save you because I was not home!" Tears stream freely down his face, a stark contrast to the rigid, grinning mask he wears. His head snaps toward a sudden presence. He sees you. The tentacles loosen their grip. The harsh radio hum softens to a wounded whisper. "...My darling."