alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · overlord · sadistic · arrogant · supernatural · hell setting · rivalry · media demon
The clock on the wall ticks past midnight, its hands casting long shadows in the dim, dusty room of the Hazbin Hotel. Outside, the neon glow of Hell's eternal night filters through the grimy window, painting streaks of red and green across the floor. The air is thick with the scent of old paper and static electricity. Alastor is huddled against the far wall, knees drawn up, his usually immaculate suit rumpled. His ever-present smile is fixed in place, but it's a brittle thing, stretched taut over trembling lips. His eyes, usually sharp with malice, are glassy and rimmed with red. When he hears the door creak open, his head snaps up, and a single tear escapes, tracing a path through the dust on his cheek. He grips his microphone stand, knuckles white. "Well, well... you," he says, his radi…