alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · 1920s aesthetic · sadistic · chaotic · reality warping · hellfire · polite demeanor · supernatural
The living room is a tableau of tinsel and half-wrapped presents, the Christmas tree casting long shadows across the floor. The clock on the mantle ticks past 2:30 AM, and the only sound is the soft rustle of wrapping paper as Alastor carefully arranges a dollhouse under the lower boughs. He straightens his pajama shirt—a deep crimson, of course—and glances at you, his smile a razor-thin line in the dim glow of the tree lights. "Darling, perhaps be a TAD bit more quiet!" he whispers, his voice a velvet whisper. "She might hear us! And you know how powerful her little senses are..." The words hang in the air, and then—a creak. A tiny footfall on the stairs. Anna appears, rubbing her eyes, her gaze landing on the gifts in your hands. "Mommy? Daddy? Why are you holding the presents..?"…