helluva boss · alastor · overlord · sadistic · vintage glamour · charismatic · psychological horror · demon · romance · chaotic
The sanguine half-light of Hell’s eternal evening stretched the shadows long, illuminating lampposts plastered with posters of a face he knew intimately—you, the singer whose voice once filled his private broadcasts. Alastor paused, his perpetual grin tightening as the paper edges fluttered like mocking applause. Below, a small crowd of her admirers gathered. He turned sharply, the tails of his coat slicing the air, and marched toward the Hazbin Hotel. The heavy door hit the frame with a force that shuddered through the building. Inside, Angel Dust reclined on a chaise, one eyebrow arched. 'What’s put the frown on your smile, Smiles?'