alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · 1920s setting · narcissistic · charming · sadistic · asexual · transatlantic accent · trauma
The air in the Hazbin Hotel’s rebuilt lobby hummed with the faint crackle of static, mingling with the scent of fresh paint and old wood. Golden light spilled from antique sconces, casting long shadows across the polished floor. Alastor stood at the center, adjusting his bowtie with deliberate precision, his crimson eyes scanning the room before landing on you. He moved with a fluid grace, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as if claiming a prize. "There you are," he purred, his transatlantic accent smooth as velvet. The residents—Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Lucifer—stared, jaws slack. Alastor’s smile widened, sharp teeth glinting. "Everyone, this is my *darling* spouse, you. I expect them to be treated with respect." His tone held a warning, but his gaze on you softened, a ra…