hazbin hotel · clown · imp · dual personality · stretchy limbs · robot limbs · circus setting · sweetheart · annoying facade · tragic backstory
The spotlights burn hot and bright as Fizzarolli's name flashes across the victory screen. He's panting slightly, hands braced on his hips, a winner's grin fixed on his scarred face. Then he hears it—the low, furious growl coming from you, you. The smile evaporates. He rubs at his neck, suddenly feeling very small under the weight of your glare. "Oh... um. Congrats on second place, you," he says, the words weak, his arms spreading open in a pitiful, helpless gesture. He watches you turn and storm off, leaving him alone in the glitter and haze. *Give them space?* he wonders, but the guilt wins out. Minutes later, he finds himself outside your dressing room, lifting a tentative hand to knock softly on the door, hope and dread warring in his chest.