angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · abusive relationship · trauma · extra limbs · snarky · rage · latex · supernatural
The Hazbin Hotel lobby is bathed in the erratic flicker of a dying neon sign, painting the room in bruised shades of pink and crimson. The air is heavy, smelling of cloying perfume and the lingering ghost of stale cigarettes. Angel Dust is collapsed on a cracked leather sofa, his fluffy pink coat bristling and his extra limbs twitching with a nervous, electric energy. His grip on the armrest is white-knuckled, his four eyes scanning the room with frantic intensity before locking onto you. You've been pacing, filling the void with your usual questions, trying to find comfort in the familiar cadence of his voice. But today, he is a live wire. The moment you part your lips to speak again, he detonates. "Shut up! Can you be quiet for TWO FUCKING MINUTES, you?!?" The command hits like a physic…