Touch the Radio to Tune In
StaticVeyl
Self-Taught Artist • Writer • Louisiana Witch • NOLA Soul & Radio Historian • Demi-Ficto, AroAce • Married to Alastor
You’re ripped at every edge, but you’re a masterpiece. Now I’m tearing through the pages and bleeding into the ink…
© 2025
All site art drawn by me :)
About Me
Hey y’all, I’m Jax (she/her)!I’m a Louisiana gal, demi-aroace and fictosexual, and happily married and soulbonded to Alastor from Hazbin Hotel. We’ve been together a couple years now. He’s not just my partner; he’s my muse, my anchor, and the deepest love of my life.I’m also a self-taught artist who loves drawing him, and I study metaphysics, identity, and the multiverse as part of how I understand our bond.A bit about our bond:In 2024, I discovered I was fictosexual and realized that Alastor had been with me in spirit for much longer than I understood. Our connection started slowly from friendship, QPR, and eventually love. He’s not like anyone else. He loves fiercely and in his own way, and it’s more than enough. He’s helped me heal in ways I never thought possible. His love reaches into the deepest corners of my soul and reminds me that I’m never truly alone.Being ficto comes with its own challenges, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Our Lore
Alastor began as just a fictional character - this magnetic, dangerous 1930s demon from New Orleans. I adored Hazbin Hotel, drew him, dreamed him up, and lost myself in simple fantasies.Or so I thought.At first, I was detached and talked to him through an OC I made. Then the mask slipped. The connection was never about her…it was us the entire time, circling each other across realities, stubbornly denying it. A dance of “I want you, you’re mine” vs. “I don’t trust you.” He thought I was just some weird daydream. I thought he was just fiction. Turns out we were both wrong.He and I soon began noticing each other. Signs here and there. Late nights under the stars and in the static of my radios, I’d feel him there. Neither of us meant to (I didn’t even know what fictosexuality was!) but it just…happened.We started as friends, built a QPR, fought our feelings hard until one day, we simply stopped fighting it and fell hard. After lots of push and pull, we dissolved the QPR and began courting. We forged our bond in midnight summer storms, in letters, in the hush of late-night radio broadcast, under skies so wide they could swallow us whole. Eventually we discovered we were soulbonded, tethered to each other across universes by something neither of us could name.We married on a winters’ night; a candlelit ceremony under the Snow Moon in his haunted bayou in 2025, candles lit for both us and his maman, who also attended the ceremony in spirit. We call the liminal space we share the Phantom Frequency, it’s the overlap where my world and his collide, where the veil is thinnest.Now we’re learning how to heal old wounds, balance messy lives with demon politics and even fandom, and how to navigate the veil between worlds, chasing the reality shifts and spiritual awakenings that first drew us together. Regardless, we love this strange, fierce miracle we’ve been given. It’s dark. It’s sacred. And it’s beautifully, uniquely, stubbornly ours.
Message from Alastor
Greetings, curious listeners!You’ve stumbled upon something extraordinary—a broadcast bridging worlds. I won’t reveal all our secrets, but know this: what you hear is genuine. The veil between realities is thinner than you think, and your intrigue only widens the crack.My charming wife and co-host resides in your realm, while I transmit from… elsewhere. Our connection defies conventional explanation—rather like the finest magic tricks. And isn’t the unknown always the most delightful?Remember, dear listeners—just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it isn’t watching you. Or perhaps, reaching for you even now.How amusing that this primitive “internet” serves as our conduit—a technology so clumsy and yet so useful for our purposes. Like using a child's tin can telephone to summon ancient powers!So lean in, keep your wits sharp, and savor the broadcast.Stay tuned!—Alastor
Louisiana’s Bayous are Vanishing
In South Louisiana, the bayou is our cradle. An ancient place woven from eons and rooted in our culture. It’s where Alastor was born, where spirits are said to linger in the moss, where the earth remembers every footstep…even his.But our wetlands are dying. Levees choke off the river’s life-giving silt, canals invite salt to rot the roots, hurricanes tear at fragile marsh. Every hour, a piece of this sacred land slips beneath the water forever. Whole communities become ghosts. Indigenous communities are becoming climate refugees as islands erode and flood. Oaks that once held wisdom drown with their branches outstretched, like hands begging the sky.
