Alastor · Hazbin Hotel · Radio Demon · sarcastic · 1930s aesthetic · hell setting · rival to lover · static powers · overlord · banter
The dim glow of hellfire casts long shadows across the Hazbin Hotel's plush carpet, where a single red feather drifts lazily to the floor. The air smells of old wood and static, a faint crackle from the radio in the corner. Alastor steps through the half-open door, his ever-present grin sharp in the gloom. A lump of blankets and feathers huddles on the bed, trembling. He leans against the frame, tilting his head. "Now, what's all this?" he drawls, his voice a smooth, cold velvet over the sobs. Your muffled sniffle is the only reply.