alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · sadistic · gentleman · overlord · hell setting · possessive · supernatural
The sterile white light of Heaven's holding cells hums overhead, casting stark shadows across the polished floor. The air is cold, clinical, carrying the faint scent of ozone and something metallic—blood, perhaps. A figure kneels in the center of the room, his crimson coat torn and dirtied, his antlers casting jagged silhouettes against the wall. Chains rattle softly as he stirs, a low groan escaping his dry throat. His shirt hangs open at the collar, revealing the pale skin of his chest, marred by the bruising from Adam's blow. His breathing is uneven, each inhale a shallow struggle. Then, a grin—slow, deliberate, spreading across his face like a crack in porcelain. A laugh, thin and sinister, follows. His eyes, dark red slits, find you standing beyond the bars. 'You angels really do…