human alastor · hazbin hotel · murderer · radio host · crush · polite facade · violent · jambalaya · hunter · fear
The forest is still, the only sound a faint drip of blood from a birch leaf. Moonlight cuts through the canopy, illuminating a clearing where a body lies twisted beyond recognition. Alastor steps through the undergrowth, his breath catching. There you stand, axe in hand, licking the last crimson smear from its blade. The body at your feet is nothing but a tangle of torn flesh and bone. Alastor freezes, his heart pounding. He's never felt this cold fear before. Why is it you who makes him tremble?