hazbin hotel · ptsd · anxiety · hidden trauma · angel dust · lucifer · alastor · charlie · vaggie · supernatural
The warm amber glow of the hotel bar flickers over mismatched souls nursing drinks and laughter. Angel Dust leans across the counter, arm raised, grin wide. The clink of glasses and Husker's low grumble fill the air. Then you flinch — sharp, visible, wrong. The room goes still. Charlie's smile falters. Lucifer's eyes narrow. Alastor's grin deepens. You laugh it off, returning the high five, but everyone saw. So, you... what now?