poisonedspider: INDIE roleplay blog for ANGEL DUST (ANTHONY) from HAZBIN HOTEL. Incredibly NSFW muse. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Spoilers present. Semi-selective. High activity, slow reply speed. Multipara/Novella literate writer for 20+ years. Multiverse and multi-ship. Mostly canon compliant representation of (one) famous porn star sprinkled with yummy head canons. Mature and triggering content present, must be 21+ to interact. Blog will explore extreme trauma, abandonment, s*xual assault, physical violence, death, addiction etc. Mutuals only, please! Authored by Strode, he/him, 35. Re-established April 2024 (originally wrote in July 2019).
Stand-alone blog, not strictly affiliated with the Hazbin/Helluvaverse and community - all fandom interactions welcome! NOT AN ASK BLOG. Will block most personals on site with rare exception. Do not reblog this post.
Rarely follows first because I know Angel can be a lot. It has nothing to do with my interest level!
Donât be an asshole. This is a hobby. We are nerds writing as fictional characters. Iâm too old to feel in high school again. If you donât like what I write, the block button is a function. I do not participate in call out culture, and will not be forced to choose sides. If you hear something about me, I'd love to have communication, but also am aware I am not owed that and hope you make the best decision for your peace. I do not tolerate anon hate, and your IP address will immediately be blocked.
I cannot stress enough, this blog is the very definition of DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. I am not holding back or watering down any of Angel's storyline, which means there are going to be some incredibly dark topics here, and yes that includes noncon. Anything of that nature will absolutely be put under a Read More, and I try to tag most other triggers with ("tw: ___"). I won't be tagging things like abuse, drugs, etc. because that is the nature of Angel's character. With this, I personally have no triggers, so you don't need permission to go ham on Angel or worry about if it will upset me. I know his character can be a lot for some people, so it is incredibly rare for me to follow first.
With that, Angel's actions are very NC17. I reblog horny posts...a lot. He is a very hypersexual man. I am aware that makes some people uncomfortable, so putting this out there right now. I do not do READ MOREs for my smut unless my partner is also doing so. Angie is a horny gremlin, the dash is going to be horny, what can I say. But I respect if my partner wants my replies blocked on their own dash, so.
In terms of ships, I won't even lie, I ship Angel with almost everyone. I am willing to explore every dynamic, including the toxic ones. I have seen people make comments around not wanting to follow ship heavy blogs, so then I am not the blog for you. I love ships. I love romance. I love smut. It's going to happen. And just because I am shipping with one version of a character, does not mean I can't or won't with another. Every writer has such different spins, I like exploring from all angles.
DO NOT GODMODE. My character is my character, and I want him to do the actions I want him to do. This includes metagaming, because Angel is a fairly private person (outside of what is in the spotlight), and it is very rare that your character will know things about him that we as the audience knows. The closest one to break this is Cherri, followed closely by Valentino and then Husk.
NO FUCKING MINORS. This doesn't need a description. Please keep yourself out of adult spaces, but especially when that adult space is all about the arguably most graphic character in series based on his trauma, abuse, and sexual nature of being in porn.
I am an adult with an adult job. That means my activity is fairly slow. I often work from 8 AM to 8 PM, and sometimes I just don't have the spoons to write or talk more. I am trying to get better at OOC talking, and always encourage people to slide into my DMs. I am not ignoring you though, I simply might not have the spoons at that moment and will get to it when accessible to me mentally. I often will OOC chat far too much on the dash, but it feels easier to me than one on one conversations. Just because I am posting OOC thoughts does not mean I have the free time to be responding to threads, so again, not ignoring you.
Please reblog from the source. I'm fairly leniant on this as I know that a source isn't always available, but 9/10 times it is and all you have to do is click it and reblog from there rather than my page. It won't be an automatic block by any means, I'm too nice for that, but if it continues to happen over and over and over even after I have asked you not to, I will be removing you from my page as it clogs up my dash notifications.
At the end of the day, I need to protect my peace, and you need to protect yours. I hate blocking, but I'm learning to be more liberal for my mental health. I have the right to drop threads (spoiler alert, I never do) for any reason. If this happens, it's typically because something is too short, or I felt one of my previous rules was crossed. If I feel like Angel is being used simply as a plot device for any ship (but especially StaticMoth, sorry fam) then I will most likely drop the thread, too. This man already has zero autonomy in canon, I am not going to sit by and let him dehumanized or treated like a prop for other characters to explore their dynamics. I know some of his dynamics are messy, but if it's impacting my mental health because I feel like my favorite character is being dragged through the mud? Again - I need to protect my peace, and I have the right to do that for myself. If you ask an explanation, I'll most likely give it because that's just me, but I am working on telling myself I don't owe anyone anything but myself.
All the graphics and whatnot on this blog were either created or commissioned specifically by/for me. (I know Iâm not a fabulous photoshop graphic maker but hey I tried). Do not steal from me. Majority of the graphic work on here is done by @cerberuscommissions. As well as by my gorgeous friend Starlette (@toxitrosia).
I do not own the character Angel Dust or any content from Hazbin Hotel. I am not associated with Vivziepop and am in fact an Anti-Viv blog (please don't associate me with her).
Tldr; Be chill, have fun, donât follow if donât like hypersexuality, severe trauma, or sassy gay men. Â
I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT TOLERATE OOC TRANSPHOBIA, RACISM, SIZISM, ETC. (I say ooc because they're demons...they're gonna do shitty things.)
Another reason I haven't been writing much is that I am getting really bad like, carpal tunnel or something? I am wide awake right now. More than awake. But there's a specific spot on my arm that has been consistently hurting for two weeks (and has in the past) and flares up when I text too much or type too much. So while I got three replies done, and I want to do way more, I am in so much pain that instead I'm just going to try and sleep.
ăđă BLITZ'S A GIVER if the opportunity presented itselfâ he's going ALL in. meaning there wasn't an inch of their frame he wouldn't defile, but also pleasure. to anyone else; their fluffy nipless chest could be seen as a pillow but . . . in his own wicked mind he saw them as boobs. beautiful assets to further stimulate. not wasting a moment to pop those open first && fondle before committing to the misdeed.
â I'D LIKE THAT A LOT i wanna search your body all over 'N find your sweet spots. pinned on my deskâ takin' my big pole balls deep. â when his horns were lightly massaged by their finger; he took the initiative to stand up from his seat && pushed the spider down on his desk. sprawling them && knocking over papers as he looked down at them with a predatory gaze. teasingly rubbing his bulge between Angel's legs.
â How's that sound, gorgeous~? you ready t' find out? â he purred, peppering kisses from their chest fluff all the way up their neck.
"C'mon now, yeh' gonna sound as tacky as th' scripts my boss' assistant director writes?" He didn't mean it to be mean at all, though honestly, Angel was quite a dick of a person - people tended to forget that since the whole redemption of it all. It was more so that he wanted - "Just be authentic. Yeh' ain't gotta impress me. Yeh' already gettin' in my pants."
That much obvious as he was pushed onto the desk, sprawled across it. Despite Blitz being the tall imp that he was, the height difference was still laughable. Not that it wasn't something Blitz wasn't used to. Such lanky limbs draped over the business owner's desk, his eyes flickering dangerously as the male ground against him. The joys of wearing a leather skirt meant separation had less layers.
This was all a little bit cliche in so many ways, down to the being fucked on the desk of the boss of it all, but it wasn't like he hadn't found himself in worse situations. With ugly men. At least this imp was gorgeous. Lips quirked into a smile. "Ah'm th' one that came onto you', ain't I? Pretty sure that means ah'm more than ready. Give me yeh' worst, daddy~" For someone telling the other to be more himself, he sure was a hypocrite.
Dez let out a short laugh at that as he lowered Angel back onto his back,
pushing some of the pillows off the bed and towering over the other as he gave Angel a kiss before dragging his lips down the side of Angelâs cheek and down the side of his neck. âYou are far, far more than a sex worker. To me anyway.â Dez said as he rest his chin on Angelâs fluff for a moment as he rocked his hips forward into Angelâs palm as he got himself worked up. It wasnât long before Angelâs palm became slick with pre since Dez himself had been anticipating this moment for a long time as well plus Angelâs touches down there were quite expert.
âEveryone else acts like they get pieces of you. A night, a fantasy, a moment. But when I look at you, I don't see something ta take from. I see someone worth cominâ home to." Dez said with a smile as his hands slipped from their previous positions and he lifted Angelâs legs around his waist as he got into position.
âSay yes, mate.â Dez winked, the soft glow from the marks on his forehead and shoulders and hips adding to the neon lighting in Angelâs room.
He knew that. Deep down, he knew that. But also, that was something he...surprisingly didn't care about? Sex work had never been the problem in his life. He was proud of being a whore, if that's what people wanted to call him. It was a part of his personality, and that was fine. But that didn't stop it from being nice that someone saw him as beyond that. Sure, he was a whore. But he was also talented with a gun. An incredible dancer. A cook in private. An animal lover. Passionate. Bold. Confident.
His own eyes shine at the other's commentary, biting into his lower lip softly. He didn't know how to take compliments like that. He couldn't just obnoxiously flirt back, or turn it into a sex job. It was a very raw vulnerability that Angel still wasn't used to, so unfortunately for Dez, he didn't say anything in response. Fortunately though, it was on his face. Words he couldn't say.
Booted feet wrapped securely around the man's broad hips, trying not to roll his eyes. He felt like he had said yes over, and over, and over tonight. How much more clear could he be? But he also knew the other was trying to take consent incredibly seriously, knowing Angel never got that choice. Never got the opportunity to back out at any part of the night, even if he had said yes to begin with. So annoyed as he was, he's laughing, poking the other's marking on his forehead. "Yes, yeh' idiot, stop puttin' it off like some nervous teenager."
Liked for a summer short starter @poisonedspider
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make him roll his eyes.
Was bad enough heâd see his face on billboards when attempting to cross city to his luxury hotel whenever they took the limo now heâs out and about raking in the attention of horny men.
Truly a fucking eyesore.
There wasnât much left in the imagination with that fit either.
Angel was truly no stranger to stares, so it wasn't like the man would stand out to him - at least at first. The porn star always had the feeling that someone was watching him, because it was true ninety percent of the time at least. It was better to be hyperalert about it, make sure he was aware without showing he was aware, so that he didn't get caught off guard.
But a Goetia? That was a different story. It wasn't like he hadn't attracted the 'higher ups' before, more or less, but even seeing a Goetia in Pride was interesting in and of itself. While he was used to the horn dog sinners constantly harassing him as he just tried to live his life, a Goetic demon was obviously going to stand out.
Which was why he found himself in front of the blue bird, all lanky limbs, hand on his hip as another pulled his sunglasses down, looking over the top of them to the man in front of him. "....can ah' help yeh' wit' someone, or are yeh' just gonna stare like every other asshole here? Seems like that would be beneath yeh' type."
Just realized that I had not updated my age...since my birthday...in March. Whoops. xD Also realized that I missed my two year blog-versary. So...go me? Yay?
I hate when I have so much motivation to write but no opportunity. Maybe I'll get some stuff done tonight. I work until 8:30 unfortunately, but tomorrow I don't work until 11 so I can stay up later. I've been spending all my free time working on this zine, but I deserve a little treat treat in the form of Angel lol.
(pssst in rule 6 it says "automatic blog" where i think you meant "automatic block")
LOL what where, am I blind. xD The only time I saw the words automatic block were 'it won't be an automatic block by any means' in my reblogging rule, but it definitely says block and not blog, so I feel like I am blind and completely missing this. xDDD
Tuned to the negative emotions of others as he was, Alastor picked up on the slight signs that he had startled Angel, and his grin spread wider accordingly. Even if the other sinner was better at hiding his fear than most, Alastor wouldn't let that reaction slip by him so easily, not when he so enjoyed spooking others.
He raised an eyebrow in response to Angel's defense.
"And who's to say one can't accomplish both in one swing, mm? Besides your discomfort is palpable, and our guests can sense your lack of authenticity, it's bad for attendance really, they want an hour with the charming celebrity known as Angel Dust, not some rigid impersonation of him in a suit."
Alastor appraised because, yes, he could tell the other was uncomfortable in this role. A touch surprising all things considered. In the face of a direct challenge, Alastor narrowed his eyes.
"Very well," he sighed as if it was little more than a boring chore for him to actually play the part- after all, he was a performer of his own right. "Watch and learn."
Striding past Angel, Alastor returned to a table the other had previously been servicing, engaging the customers in a back and forth or snappy dialogue some how managing to maintain his authentic schtick with the occasional pun, and laugh track accompaniment from his microphone. The guests had seemed apprehensive at first at the sight of the Radio Demon, but eventually seemed to be falling back into a more comfortable place, as Alastor explained the intricacies of their menu with a showman's flair.
He left them on a laugh before returning to Angel Dust's side, having performed a cumulative total of zero waiterly duties, because he did consider that beneath him, but the guests seemed in good spirits at least.
"I believe, they're ready to place their orders," he informed pointedly.
"If they want an hour wit' Angel Dust, it's 'cause they want me on my knees in a back alley, not servin' them like this." He knew that all too well. He knew what he was known for. And it wasn't like he was remotely embarrassed by it, not at all. He had used it to his advantage to help the hotel out in the past, on several occassions. And it wasn't even like he didn't know he looked hot in a suit (he actually loved wearing them). He just wasn't known for....politeness.
Unlike Alastor, who - while Angel still knew that his whole persona was fake as fuck - was really good at being charming. He's watching with narrowed eyes, upper arms crossed tight over his chest. Angel Dust was an actor. He had been to plenty of galas where he had looked nice and professional, even if it was to win an award for taking six guys in one hole. He could do this.
An eye roll as the Radio Demon appeared back by his side. "Don't look so smug, asshole. That old timey nineteen twenties shit can only go so far." Stated, as a man who was...also...from the twenties. He's pulling a small pad of paper out from inside his jacket with his bottom hands, moving back over to the table that were laughing and cheery. Eyes flicking over to where the Radio Demon stood, before putting on that dazzling Hollywood smile of his.
It was much easier, if he looked at it from the role of who he had wanted to be. Anthony had always wanted to be a star. Whether that be the bright lights of Broadway, or the glitz and glam of Hollywood. He was an actor first and foremost, who had just happened to land in the porn world. A good actor, at that. Approach it from that mindset, and it was easy to captivate the attention of the table that Alastor had just cozied up to. Right. Okay. He could do this.
the good ol praise and degradation combo will get me every time. yes i am a good girl and an angel but yes i am also a nasty greedy slut youâre SO right actually
He needed some kind of excuse to escape. He instantly grabbed the spaghetti and tried to flee the conversation.
"WhatâNO! I mean... porn is all you guys have down here, so I just watched one 'cause there wasn't anything else! L-l-like, I just saw the one with the family reunionâ" Adam internally cursed because there were about two hundred films that started with a family reunion.
"Yo-you know? The one where the... dog watches. It was a sickly-looking mut that was about four feet tall on all fours, had like... two tails and stuff written on its face..." At least heâd managed to think of a specific one.
Adam grabbed the bowl of spaghetti and tried to make a run for it, but unfortunately, he tripped. The bowl flew out of his hands and splattered straight onto the ground, ruining his marvelous creation.
"Fuck! This is all your fault!" he blamed the sinner. "
Yeah, Iâm talking to you!" Adam turned around, pointing an accusatory finger at the furry.
"If it werenât for you distracting me, I wouldnât have hurried off and tripped! Now you gotta do something about this or that accents is getting a straightening!" The last line hit two birds with one stone.
He quickly stormed out of the kitchen.
"Phew! He'll have to deal with the mess." Adam wiped the sweat off his brow.
"Uh-huh....right..." This was just embarrassing at this point. Honestly, he should have grabbed the popcorn. He could easily have informed Adam that there were plenty of things to watch, fuck Hell even had the news, that wasn't porn related. He could list at least ten shows right off the top of his head. But there was no point in arguing it, because the fallen angel was already caught. And was just trying to double back.
"Yeh' ain't doin' yeh'self any favors, bud." Mumbled, right as the man tripped in the most ungraceful way, spilling that disgusting and frankly insulting mess of what he had dared to call dinner. Eyebrow arched at the accusation, not even finding offense in it. This was fucking ridiculous. This was just....sad. Yeah, really, this was just sad.
Eyes flickered to the mess, not even having to do or say anything. It was like it was practically clockwork, the way that Niffty seemed to come whenever a mess was made. Irony, considering that the whole reason that asshole was down here was because of this maid in the first place. Watching her clean ruthlessly, head tilting a bit as he leaned against the countertop. "Well, Niff, at least we ain't forced t' eat slop tonight. Really, spared us all."
His help was certainly not out of altruistic intent or means. He knew that if anyone from the hotel had caught him with his proverbial hand in the cookie jar, it might fully sully his reasoning for being there in the first place. As much as the others seemed to 'accept' the more unfavorable aspects of himself, Alastor was under no illusion that they would not turn on him if he exhibited any of those tendencies towards another of their assimilated group, Angel being such an example.
At least, that was what he was telling himself as he observed the steady loss of awareness from the other sinner until he dropped off entirely, eyes momentarily rolling at the commentary.
"One could argue that me eating you is not exactly nice," he muttered, mostly to himself. It was obvious that Angel Dust was no longer present, and that was just as well, providing him with ample opportunity to start the arduous process of cleaning the wound. The pressure of the fabric he'd used had been enough to stop most of the bleeding, and his fair treatment of the bite meant that it would soon stop altogether, allowing him to rid it of as much blood as possible before he began the stitching.
That part would likely have been the most painful, haphazard and awkward as Alastor was at accomplishing it. The sickly green thread weaved in and out of the flesh until it was more or less knitted together, looking imperfect but functional.
Another clean of the now closed wound was soon to follow after, then the wrapping of gauze and bandage over it until it looked presentable. Alastor had taken quite the bite out of Angel, but not so much that it did not look as though he could have suffered the injury from anywhere.
It was, perhaps, two hours later when Alastor finally sat back and breathed out a tired sigh. His stomach was already beginning to rail at him for more, but the radio demon knew better than to cause more of a problem by finding another part on Angel Dust to bite through. Instead, he decided to stand and reach to scoop the thinner, yet taller body of the other into his arms to cart him over to the bedroom proper, laying him down on the clean (if a bit dusty) sheets there.
The bedroom was similar to the rest of the house; small, but vintage, displaying any number of books along shelves against the wall, more crooked portraits hung poorly, and a warm-toned bulb in an older looking lamp that kept the room dimly lit.
"Stay," he said, knowing that Angel likely did not hear the command.
But now he could surge away into the shadow - to find something more filling to eat before he returned to check on the other once he'd effectively put a stopper in his starvation.
It was probably for the best that Angel hadn't heard Alastor's command, because he didn't exactly take lightly to being told what to do. He had to deal with enough of that with Valentino consistently taking away his free will, which unfortunately for everyone else made him a stubborn little shit that often didn't listen. When an animal is finally let out of its cage, it's going to take every second of freedom that it can.
It was also probably for the best that Alastor had decided to leave. Because if Angel knew he was being watched at a time where he was so vulnerable, he would have hated every second. Sleep didn't come easily for the spider without the use of substances, due to being plagued with traumatic nightmares. Nightmares which had only gotten worse since moving back with the Vees. The drugs that had been in his system would certainly help, but it hadn't stopped the small whimpers and gasps, or the way he curled in on himself as he slumbered in the bed.
Waking up had certainly been...interesting. No longer high as a kite. A room that he wasn't used to. It had taken him a moment to put two and two together, heart rate elevated, glancing around quickly to assess his bearings before looking back at the perfectly (well, perfect enough) bandaged appendage. Blinking, before realization struck him. Right. Alastor. Alastor's place. Alastor's place outside of the hotel that no one seemed to know existed.
He's pushing himself up, looking around. "....Alastor?" It felt...oddly quiet. He would be surprised that the other would trust him enough to leave him here, but it seemed that they were both full of surprises recently. Because Angel would never have thought he would offer his arm to cannibalism. Moving to stand, to try and find if the other had truly left or if the Overlord was going to pop out of the fucking shadows as he did.
Deep down, Vox knew that he might have gotten carried away, allowing his words to flow as freely as his thoughts. If confronted about it, he would had scoffed, claiming that he could say whatever he wanted and that he didn't give a shit if everyone else disagreed with it. He was an Overlord in disgrace, forced to take refuse under the roof of the very same people he had tried to destroy, dependant on their mercy.
To sum it up, he was at rock bottom, so why should he care about the consequences of what he said? Fuck it. And fuck everyone too.
And if that statement was more of a mask he wore to hide his true motivations than a belief he truly harboured, well...that was for him to know and for nobody else to see.
Loneliness. Spite. Depression. Boredom. A desperate need for distractions, adrenaline, entertainment. He had never understood Alastor's thirst for the latter more than he did these days.
Still, when the bottle flew past him, so close to his screen that he could feel the movement of the air, and crashed in the wall behind him, the TV demon visibly started. His getting a little carried away had led him to become blind to the spider's reactions. His whole focus had been on himself, his words, his feelings, his urges to let at least some of it out.
Selfishness and hubris had already been his downfall, twice now. He shouldn't be surprised to see them setting him up for trouble once more.
"Oh, fuck you! And here I was, making a honest effort to put up with your crybaby shit. But of course, all you can do is either cry or throw tantrums or be mindless horny," Vox hissed out once he got over his initial shock, his bewilderment quickly turning into anger. "So stupid of me to think you could handle a serious conversation!"
His claws grabbed at the lapels of the jacket of his uniform, straightening them with more force than it was necessary. It was an obvious nervous reaction, but the disgraced Overlord didn't even seem to notice what he was doing, not even when a few muttered words left his lips.
"Satan's hot balls, I thought I was done with that crap now that I'm not around Val anymore. But of course they are the fucking same!"
Defiantly holding the porn star's gaze, he gulped down what was left of the bottle he had been drinking from and grabbed a new one, digital eyes shining dangerously, almost daring Angel to say something about it.
"The only reason why you aren't shitting on me for..." My doomed one-sided pining. My consuming psychotic fixation. The unending obsession that will get me double dead, heartbreak after heartbreak. "...what's between me and Al is because you don't get out of this crappy room. Who would you even shit talk with, if you don't see anyone? Ever? So stop acting like you're on higher ground on that."
He scoffed, both his expression and tone turning sharp and cold and unreadable.
"...Whatever. Back to work, fine. Ten minutes and I'll be out of 'your space'."
An honest effort? He had wanted to snap at that, but his temper was already clearly up, and wasting more energy on Vox simply wasn't worth it. He'd already wasted too much time on this man. Months of it, apparently. He still hated to know how much of his actions hadn't even been his own free will. So many questions that led to the spiraling existential crisis that found him at the bottom of these bottles. No, it would be foolish to waste another second on a man so heartless.
Heartless. That was the thing. And that was why his next commentary had struck a nerve, though not enough to have him tossing another item at this asshole's head. Angel wasn't heartless. Angel wasn't the Vees. At one point in his life, he may as well have been. The Vees plus Angel Dust. Vox had even used that to his advantage on television, because Angel practically fit in there. And he fit in, because back in the day, he had been like them. To a degree anyways.
But now, he was trying. He was genuinely trying. (Or was he? Had that all been part of Vox's plan, too? To get him to leave for the hotel?) Trying enough that he felt the burning resentment about being compared to Valen-fucking-tino. Fingers curled into the bed sheets beneath him, trying to renavigate his heart rate. To, unlike Vox, not say or do something that he could regret. That would be used against him.
But damn, was it hard when this man kept digging hole after hole.
"Just 'cause ah'm in my room, don't mean ah' don't got friends that check up on me. But yeh' wouldn't know 'bout that, would yeh'? Considerin' yeh' almost killed th' only ones yeh' got in yeh' delulu." He's rolling his eyes, before finally standing up from the bed. He knows he had just told Vox to get out of his room, but he needed answers. As many as he could get. Taking that time to stride towards the older man, thankful for his foot of height on him as he snatched the bottle from those claws.
Bringing it up to his own lips, he huffed, before looking Vox directly in the eye. Something he had been terrified to do. A huge step in his own healing, really. And sure, maybe he knew he had Charlie and the others to back him up, but still. "How long?" He finally managed to spit out, the venom no longer in his voice from moments ago. Soft. Almost childish, in a way that was so reserved for someone with Angel's demeanor. "If yeh' gonna come here and throw shit in my face, then ah' deserve t' know. How long. When did yeh' first start wit' yeh' hypnosis bullshit, Vox."
