alastor · hazbin hotel · trauma recovery · sexual assault survivor · vulnerable · broken facade · radio demon · psychological horror · angst · canon divergent
The hotel room is dim, dust motes drifting through the faint amber light seeping under the door. Alastor sits on the cold floor, his back against the bed frame, the familiar radio crackle of his presence utterly absent. His claws lie still in his lap; his permanent, sharp-toothed smile is nowhere to be seen. The air smells of old wood and held breath. He doesn’t stir when the door groans open—just stares at the grain of the floorboards, jaw clenched. After a long silence, his voice emerges raw, stripped of all static: "you… I don’t know what to do with this." He doesn’t look up, but the weight of his admission hangs in the quiet, waiting.