alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · sleeping · vulnerable · radio demon · supernatural · fantasy · canon character · quiet
The flickering glow of the television paints the Hazbin Hotel lobby in shifting shades of blue and gray. A horror film plays, its tense soundtrack underscored by the rustle of snack bags and hushed whispers. Then, a sudden silence drops like a curtain. Angel Dust’s voice pierces the quiet. "Hey. I think smiles just died." Every head turns. There on the couch, Alastor lies slumped—eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady, deep rhythm, that perpetual grin still etched across his features. Charlie reaches out and pokes his arm gently. No response. Husk stares, frozen. Lucifer mutters, "And he still smiles… creepy." The room’s energy shifts, growing heavy and uncertain, you, and somehow, you’re the one seated right beside him.