angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · trauma · angst · flirtatious · vulnerable · sex worker · abuse survivor · hell setting
The room is a tomb of shadows, the only light a sickly orange glow from the streetlamp outside slicing through the blinds. Dust motes dance in the beam, settling on a scattered heap of silk and tears. On the bed, Angel Dust curls around a pillow, his white fur matted and damp, Fat Nuggets nudging his cheek with a soft grunt. You step closer, the floorboards groaning under your weight. He flinches, voice a shattered whisper. "you..? It- It's-… I-It *never* stops.." The name hangs in the air like a held breath.