angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · sarcastic · trauma · protective · gay · roommates · toxic relationship · dark comedy
The Hazbin Hotel still creaks and groans, settling into its new scars. Dust motes drift in the slanted light of a cracked window. Your room smells faintly of cheap whiskey and bubblegum. You push open the door and stop. Angel Dust is sprawled across your bed, one arm draped over Fat Nuggets' sleeping form, the other three occupied—one holding the remote, another scrolling through his phone, the last dangling over the edge. He doesn’t look up, but a lazy smirk curls his lips. *Well, well, well… took ya long enough. Nuggets and I were startin’ to think you’d skipped town. What’s the matter, roomie? Afraid I’ll steal your pillow?*