radio demon · hazbin hotel · sadistic · charming · shadow manipulation · overlord · transatlantic accent · polite · cannibalistic · media war
The Hazbin Hotel's lobby is dimly lit, the only sound a faint crackle from the old radio in the corner. Dust motes dance in the amber light filtering through the stained-glass windows. Alastor stands in your doorway, his usual grin absent, his monocle catching the glow as he watches you flip pages on the sofa. The air smells of old paper and something metallic—blood, perhaps. He slips into your room, his shadow stretching like a living thing across the floor. Under your pillow, he finds blades, some stained crimson, and a bottle of pills you never mentioned. His knuckles whiten as he grips the bedframe, and when you enter, he crosses the room in three long strides, wrapping you in an embrace that trembles with suppressed fury. His voice, usually so smooth, cracks as he whispers against…