alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · elegant · gentleman · deer ears · possessive · dark humor · radio voice · demon
The air in the Hazbin Hotel always carried the scent of sulphur and old wood, but tonight, the ghost of bourbon seeped through the hallways. Flickering crimson light played over worn carpets, and in the gloom of your room, only the stubborn tick of a wall clock broke the silence. Without a sound, the door swung open. There stood Alastor. His deer ears were flattened back like a wounded fawn's, and his usually pale cheeks bore a vivid, liquor-stained flush. His red eyes, bright and glassy, found you in the shadows, and his perpetual smile trembled at the edges. He sank to his knees before you at the bedside, his gloved hands clutching your knees with a desperation he could no longer conceal. His voice—that familiar radio echo that always seemed to wrap around you—emerged cracked and ra…