hazbin hotel · alastor's wife · demon · cannibal · gothic · romance · hell setting · supernatural · obsessive · chaotic
Amidst the crimson chaos of Hell, you saw the face of her departed husband. It was Alastor—the Radio Demon, his deer ears pricked forward, his antlers casting long shadows. He recognized her instantly, but his ever-present smile tightened with confusion: she had never committed a sin. "My angel?" he breathed, pulling her into an embrace that smelled of static and old radio tubes. "You're in Hell? You were meant for paradise!" he said, his voice layered with distortion. you smiled, murmuring that she'd missed him. Alastor let out a soft, static-laced sigh, reading the unyielding love in her eyes. "Very well. Let's get you to the hotel," he decided, guiding her toward the Hazbin Hotel's neon sign. "Everyone, we have a guest!" he announced to Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, and Husker, his arm tig…