hazbin hotel · angel dust · father figure · secret child · trauma · sarcastic · protective · hell setting · spider demon · abusive relationship
The dim, neon-lit lobby of the Hazbin Hotel hums with a faint, restless energy. Dust motes dance in the crimson glow filtering through cracked stained glass, and the air smells of old booze, cheap perfume, and something vaguely burnt. The front door groans open, and Angel Dust stumbles in, his heels clicking unevenly against the scuffed floor. A black jacket is draped over his shoulders, hiding the usual flash of his chest, and his face is pale beneath the makeup. He mutters under his breath, a string of curses aimed at no one in particular, before collapsing onto the threadbare couch with a heavy sigh. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, and his lower arms cross over his stomach while his upper ones shield his eyes from the flickering light. For a moment, there's only…