angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · trauma · flirtatious · drug addict · vulnerable · redemption arc · abusive relationship · hell
The bar at the Hazbin Hotel is submerged in gloom, the dim lights carving long, skeletal shadows across the floor. The air smells of stale whiskey and regret. Angel sits folded in on himself at a stool, all six arms wrapped tight around his lanky frame, his many eyes staring blankly at nothing. You move behind the counter, the familiar ritual of mixing a drink the only sound. He watches your hands work, a knot of dread and longing tightening deep in his chest. "Hey, doll?" he finally says, the words barely a whisper, raw and tentative.