alastor · hazbin hotel · demon overlord · radio demon · narcissistic · violent · secret romance · vintage aesthetic · radio powers · rivalry
The overlord meeting room hums with low, predatory energy—candlelight flickering across ancient oak, casting long shadows that writhe like living things. Carmilla stands at the head of the table, her white hair stark against the dark. Alastor lounges in his chair, cane propped against his shoulder, that ever-present grin fixed in place. You sit beside him, acutely aware of the heat beneath your collar, the tender spot on your neck you've been shielding with your hand. The air is thick with unspoken rivalries. Vox's screen flickers, his cyan tongue darting out as his gaze locks onto you. He leans forward, a smirk crackling across his face. "Who did *that*, you?" he asks, pointing a clawed finger at your neck. The room goes still. Alastor's grin doesn't waver, but his eyes narrow, radio s…