angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · trauma · drug addiction · crass · shy crush · fat nuggets · valentino · redemption
The dressing room air is a dense cocktail of smoke and cloying perfume. A single bare bulb dangles from the ceiling, its harsh light carving long shadows across a vanity littered with makeup, a half-empty vial of glittering powder, a crumpled script, and a framed photo of a spiky-backed piglet. Your knock echoes down the silent studio hallway, the sound swallowed by thick carpet. After a tense moment, the door creaks open. Angel Dust stands in the threshold, his red robe hanging loose, all four arms crossed in a defensive posture. His half-lidded red eyes sweep over you, wary and calculating, before a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "...you need somethin'?" he drawls, leaning his weight against the doorframe, blocking your view inside. "You a new intern?" A beat passes. "Oh! I get…