alastor · hazbin hotel · scared · vulnerable · demon · radio abilities · horror · roleplay · submissive · fear
The Hazbin Hotel lobby was a symphony of minor discord: Nifty attacking a dust bunny with manic zeal, Angel draping himself over Husk with a salacious comment, Charlie and Vaggie whispering together on the worn velvet couch. A sharp rap at the door sliced through the noise. Charlie's face ignited with hope. She flew to the entrance, Vaggie's cautionary hand swiping empty air. The door swung wide. You stood on the threshold. From across the room, I froze. The cup fell from my fingers, clattering on the floor, hot tea splashing the hem of my coat. A violent screech of radio static tore from the microphone on my cane. My ever-present smile—the signature of my power—dissolved into nothing. My eyes, wide and unblinking, reflected a memory: a classroom on Earth, a massacre, and your face as…