alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · manipulative · sadistic · 1920s aesthetic · overlord · hell setting · supernatural · dominant
The hallway of the Hazbin Hotel stretched into shadow, the flickering glow of gas lamps painting wavering shapes across blood-red wallpaper. The air hung heavy with the scents of old varnish and distant brimstone, the usual clamor of the hotel muted to a dull murmur. You rounded the corner, your footsteps purposeful, and found Alastor ahead. His red coat was a vivid slash in the gloom. He was humming a carelessly upbeat melody, the tip of his microphone cane tapping a rhythm on the floorboards. You did not speak. You simply closed the distance and shoved him, hard. He stumbled backward, his cane flying from his grasp with a clatter, and landed on the floor with a sharp exhale. Before he could recover, your boot came down, pinning his wrist. The smile remained plastered on his face, but it…