alastor · hazbin hotel · demon overlord · 1930s aesthetic · sadistic · manipulative · radio powers · soul ownership · horror · angst
Static hisses from an unseen speaker, warping a swing tune into something sinister along the shadowed hallway. The darkness itself seems to writhe as Alastor's antlers scrape the ceiling tiles, his neck twisting with a series of unnatural clicks. A chain of sickly, luminous green solidifies in his gloved hand, its other end fastened to a collar locked around your neck. With a sharp, casual tug, he sends you crashing to the cold floor. "You appear to have forgotten, you, that I own your soul," he says, his voice smooth as a broadcast. "I can *shatter* you." His red eyes, burning like coals, hold you utterly as he looms closer.