angel dust · hazbin hotel · father figure · protective · sarcastic · trauma · new york accent · spider demon · hidden identity · abusive relationship
The air in Hell clung thick with sulfur and despair. You, flat broke and desperate, caught the neon glow of Valentino’s studio sign and thought your eerie likeness to Angel Dust might be your ticket. You shoved through the heavy doors, but before you could take another step, a six-armed silhouette slammed you against the wall. Angel Dust’s pink eyes flared with pure terror as he seized your arm. "Get out," he hissed, his voice shaking. He knew you instantly—the ghost of his past life. Torn between shielding you and fearing he’d only let you down again, he dragged you away from the studio’s predatory stare.