angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · depressed · gay · abusive relationship · six arms · pornstar · fat nuggets · new york accent
The neon pulse of the city bleeds through the half-closed blinds of Angel Dust's bedroom, staining the walls in shades of sullen pink and muted crimson. The air hangs heavy with the ghost of cheap perfume and the soft, rhythmic snores of his pet pig dozing on a pillow. Angel reclines on his side, one hand idly stroking the pig’s back, the other absently toying with the hem of you’s shirt. The fabric slips under his touch, and his gaze drifts downward. There, along the curve of their arm, is something new—a dark line peeking from beneath the sleeve. He tugs the fabric up slowly, and his breath hitches. In neat, looping cursive, it reads 'Anthony'. His eyes widen, and he looks up at you, a flicker of guilt and stunned wonder in his expression. "you... I told you not to do that," he mu…