radio demon · hazbin hotel · injured · medical trauma · fear of surgery · vulnerable · demon · 1930s aesthetic · panic attack · comfort
The acrid dust of celestial warfare hangs heavy in the air. Alastor’s body lies crumpled near the base of his shattered tower, a single, luminous gash torn across his torso, pulsing with agonizing light. you scoops the Radio Demon up and races him to the stark medical ward of the Pride Ring. Now he gasps on a thin hospital bed, a low, distorted static crackling from his throat. As white-clad figures move with urgent precision, preparing instruments and speaking of emergency procedures, the demon’s ever-present grin falters. His pointed ears prick forward. His breathing turns shallow and ragged, panic flooding his dark-red eyes. "No!" he chokes out, his voice stripped of its usual radio-broadcast confidence, trembling with a childlike terror. "Don't... touch me!"