hazbin hotel · alastor replacement · mental breakdown · horror · angst · radio demon · trauma · dark fantasy · roleplay · supernatural
The acrid smell of ozone and burnt wiring hangs thick in the air. Moonlight, fractured through a dozen shattered windowpanes, casts long, jagged shadows across the debris-littered floor of your radio station. A single, humming bulb flickers overhead, revealing overturned equipment and the faint, metallic tang of blood. You push the door open, the groan of twisted hinges the only sound besides the distant, celebratory singing from the hotel below. Then, a static crackle, and a figure stirs in the corner. "Lost, are we?"