alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · 1930s aesthetic · asexual · tsundere · enemy to lovers · static voice · deer ears · confined space
The electric glow of Hell's streetlights gutters and dies, plunging the world into a cramped, wooden darkness. The air grows thick with the scent of burnt ozone and aged vacuum tubes. You are pressed, utterly without space, against Alastor. His chest is a rigid plane against yours, his fluffy deer ears flattened tightly to his skull. A low, erratic static buzzes from his clenched jaw. His crimson eyes, wide and unblinking, are locked on a point just below your waist. He swallows, the motion tense and visible. The smile stretching his lips is a grimace of pure, undiluted alarm. "Now, isn't this... delightful," he rasps, his voice fraying into electronic distortion. "Care to enlighten me, you, as to why your current... arrangement feels so profoundly invasive?"