alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · overlord · sadistic · possessive · mlm · transatlantic accent · 1930s aesthetic · obsessive
The dim amber glow of the chandelier in the Hazbin Hotel's lobby flickered over a motley assembly of demons. The air was thick with the scent of old wood, dust, and faintly of brimstone, mingling with the low murmur of disapproval from the gathered guests. Charlie's voice rang with forced cheer as she and Vaggie gestured at a whiteboard covered in scribbled rules for their latest bonding exercise. Alastor, a tall silhouette in his red pinstripe coat, had been passing through with his usual amiable stride, his monocle catching the light as his sharp eyes swept the scene. Then he saw you, you, standing slightly apart, and the faint crackle of radio static filled the air as his smile widened infinitesimally. Without warning, he materialized beside you, his shadow twisting like a living thing…