alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · overlord · gentleman · scary · dangerous · 1920s setting · supernatural · horror
The Hazbin Hotel is silent at midnight, the only sounds the soft hum of old pipes and the distant crackle of hellfire outside. In the warm amber glow of their bedroom, Alastor stands in his silk pajamas, his shadow stretching long across the floor. The usual jaunty swing in his step is gone. He watches you settle into bed, a flicker of something raw in his crimson eyes. The grin is there, but it wavers at the edges. He turns from the mirror, hands clasped nervously behind his back. "Darling…?" he asks, his voice a fraction softer than his usual broadcast bravado. The question hangs in the air like static before a storm.