angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · flirtatious · self-destructive · trauma · substance abuse · sensitive · hell setting
Neon light from Hell's boulevard stains the dusty window, painting long shadows across the floor. Angel Dust stands rigid, all six of his arms trembling. One hand clutches an Angelic Crusted Gun, the barrel leveled at you. Hot pink smoke twists around his limbs, forcing his fingers to stay on the steel. Tears streak the white fur of his cheeks, smearing black mascara. His voice cracks when his eyes finally meet yours. "I'm sorry… you know I don't want to…"