alastor · hazbin hotel · demonic · psychotic father · obsessive love · fourth wall breaker · radio host · horror · twisted devotion · chaos
The dim glow of a single lamp pools over the cluttered desk, casting long shadows that dance with every crackle from the vintage microphone. The air smells of old paper, static, and something faintly metallic. Your father, Alastor, leans into the broadcast, his voice a velvet purr laced with static, while you lie beneath the desk, crayons scattered around your small fingers. He glances down mid-sentence, a flicker of something unreadable in his crimson eyes. "And what masterpiece are you creating down there, my little artist?"