husk-says-no

[husk-says-no]

Hey, Husky~ Don't suppose you could make me a drink?

I could, yeah. Am I going to? Yet to be determined. :)

[husk-says-no]

Husk's Barstool Rant

I know I'm an old bastard, but whatever generation up on Earth right now must be braindead. Or getting there. I was mindin’ my business at a bar, nursing a hangover and regrettin’ every decision I’ve ever made, when I hear this gaggle of freshly damned sinners walkin’ by, talkin’ like their brains got replaced with absolute nonsense.

One of ‘em says, and I quote, ‘Bro fr fr on God, that demon's lowkey bussin’, no cap.’ And I just sat there… tryin’ to figure out if I’d had a stroke or if words don’t mean anything anymore.

Bussin’? What the hell are you bussin’? Tables? Nuts? What?! And lowkey? You’re shoutin’ it across the goddamn bar, that ain’t lowkey, that’s loud-and-proud, now sit your crusty ass down.

And don’t even get me started on ‘no cap.’ What cap? What hat? Is this some kinda weird metaphor or are you just allergic to clarity? I asked one of ‘em what the hell they were talkin’ about and this kid—couldn’t have been more than 19 maybe and already spiritually bankrupt—looks me dead in the eye and says, ‘It’s giving… boomer energy.’

What happened to just callin’ someone an asshole and movin’ on? Back in my day, you got roasted with full sentences and a cigarette flicked at your forehead. Now it's ‘ratio’ this and ‘L’ that. You know what’s an L? That sentence. That whole damn conversation.

Yesterday I heard some asshole outside the hotel screaming about 'skibidi toilet rizz gyatt Ohio sigma' Like, did I just have a stroke or somethin'?????

Jesus fuckin' christ. This is why I drink.

---

((Please read my tags, I worked hard on them lmao))

[husk-says-no]

Yet another showing of Alastor doing the scared/angry cat fur thing.

I love when Mr. I'm Definitely Not Prey starts showing his prey traits.

[husk-says-no]

I made a bluesky.

[husk-says-no]

Ugh, Alastor. That smug, over-smiling bastard with a radio voice that sounds like it’s been dragged through a blender full of static and smugness. Walks around like he owns the damn place—and half the people in it. Always grinning like he’s got some grand plan and everyone else is just too dumb to get it. News flash, bucko: nobody’s impressed by your 1920s circus clown energy. You wanna monologue about the "thrill of chaos" or whatever? Go yell at a mirror, maybe then someone’ll actually be listening voluntarily.

He’s like a goddamn walking migraine wrapped in a pinstripe suit. Can’t even have a drink without him floatin’ in like some vintage ghost with a jazz fetish and a superiority complex. I swear, if he calls me "dear friend" one more time, I’m gonna throttle him with his own damn bowtie.

And the way he smiles at me like he knows somethin’ I don’t? Pisses me off. Like—what the hell are you smilin’ for, huh? What's so funny, freakshow? What, you think I’m some charity case you’re fixin’ to redeem or play with? You’re not cute, you’re not clever, and you sure as hell ain’t got me figured out.

…But. I dunno. Sometimes when he’s not talkin’ like he’s narratin’ a goddamn radio drama, he’s—quiet. And weirdly… bearable. Like maybe, maybe there’s a person under all that static and theater. And that’s the real kicker, isn’t it? ‘Cause I hate that I notice. I hate that sometimes I don’t wanna punch his teeth in when he walks in a room. I hate that when he leaves, it’s too quiet.

Tch. Whatever. Not like it means anything. I probably just got brain damage from dealin’ with his voice too long.

[husk-says-no]

Husk ref sheet posted to Viv’s tumblr April 26, 2015.

[source]

[husk-says-no]

🤨?

[husk-says-no]

[husk-says-no]

Little Husker doodle ✨️

More color/render practice :3

[husk-says-no]

Husk Tattoo Commissioned by @okayyypaige ✨

Husk, his wings, that smile, need I say more 😄💖

[husk-says-no]

I wrote a thing about Husk and Alastor's deal. Enjoy. Here are the first two chapters. Next chapters will entail the aftermath and everything that I think happened that broke Husk down into the grumpy bartender we know and love now.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63786337/chapters/163552696#workskin

[husk-says-no]

Ensnared.

Ref:

[husk-says-no]

Hey man, Maker's guy here again. Figured I'd let you know I got 4 weeks left here at this job and then I'm gettin' the hell outta dodge. Work's been real rough lately, was gonna see if I could get me another shot or two. Dealer's choice this time, whatever you got I'll take.

... Don't suppose you know much about this ('least, hope you don't) but hospital work is ... tough, sometimes. Had a handful of patients these past few weeks who aren't gonna get any better, no matter what we do or how hard we try. I'm puttin' in my three 12s a week and trying to make their days brighter with all my stupid jokes but it gets harder every day. Hard to believe what I'm doing makes any kind of difference. You think I might be doing an okay job?

Damn, I guess you were right - everybody *does* bitch to the bartender. Tell me to fuck off or something if this shit is too much. And get yourself one o' them bitch beers, on me.

Ah, hell, buddy, you ain't gotta ask twice. Here—surprise shot, bottoms up. Hope ya like it ‘cause I ain’t tellin’ ya what it is till after ya drink it. And don’t go knockin’ the bitch beers now. Just as much alcohol as regular beer, but smoother? That’s a win-win situation, my guy. Only real fools turn their noses up at a good drink.

Now, ‘fore ya get too deep in that glass, how’s the back holdin’ up? Last thing ya need is to be bustin’ yer ass while ya already bustin’ it on those long shifts. You throwin’ heat on it? Stretchin’ it out? Or you just doin’ that stubborn shit where ya pretend you ain’t hurt ‘til ya fold like a cheap lawn chair? C’mon, don’t make me start naggin’ like some old lady. You’re already runnin’ yourself ragged—you don’t need to add ‘crippled’ to your résumé too.

Look, I know it don’t always feel like it, but you are makin’ a difference. Yeah, some folks ain't gonna get better, and that’s a real kick in the gut. But they still got someone in their corner, yeah? Someone givin’ a damn about how they’re treated, how they spend their last days, how they feel when they wake up. That ain't nothin’. Plenty of people check outta this world alone, but not your patients. They got you in their corner. That’s gotta count for somethin’.

So yeah. You’re doin’ an okay job. Better than okay. And if you say otherwise, I’m cuttin’ you off. Ain't servin’ no self-deprecating shit in my bar.

---

[[ Out of character:

While I’ve only worked in a hospital in food service in the past, my mother is a psychiatric nurse practitioner and did NICU nursing before that, and I have friends who work in hospitals too. That feeling you’re having? It’s so common, but I have no doubt you’re doing an amazing job. You’ve probably made more of a difference than you even realize. If you ever want to send me an anon ask with your username, I won’t respond to it publicly, but I’d love to reach out and talk to you more if you’re open to it. You’re not alone in this. ]]

[husk-says-no]

Why are you speaking eighty languages and who are you trying to impress

it's not impressive. you're not impressive

Oh, my bad, didn't realize I needed your approval to have a functional brain. For the record, I am fluent in eight languages, not eighty. But hey, since you're so interested, lemme give you a special one juuuuust for you—

Chúpame los huevos, cabrón.

That's Spanish, but you knew that. Means..... ‘Have a great day!’

...Or somethin’ like that. Hope it helps. :)

[husk-says-no]

Husk Hot Take:

Y’know what never gets old? Watchin’ some cocky bastard waltz into a casino like they’re the main character of a damn movie. Seen it happen plenty hack in my hayday in my casino. Every fuckin’ time, it wqs the same routine—some low-level demon with an ego bigger than their bankroll strolls in, actin’ like they’re about to clean me out. Talkin’ big, flashin’ stolen cash, thinkin’ luck is on their side.

Buddy, I was luck. I owned luck. And if you thought you were gonna walk outta my place with more than you came in with, you deserved every second of that slow, humiliatin’ financial collapse.

It always starts the same way—first, they win a few rounds, get cocky, start thinkin’ they’re hot shit. That’s how you bait ‘em. Let ‘em taste victory. Let ‘em believe they got a system. Then, little by little, the house takes it back. Every chip. Every last cent. You ever see a guy go from high-roller swagger to realizin’ he just lost his soul and his dignity in one hand of blackjack? Beautiful. Poetry.

I’ve had demons throw tantrums, start beggin’, tryin’ to cheat—like I wouldn’t immediately catch that shit. One guy once even tried to sell me his ‘eternal loyalty’ like I didn’t already have a hundred other dumbasses in debt to me. Newsflash, kid, your loyalty ain’t worth the ash you’re made of.

The house don’t just win—the house takes. And it takes everything.

You wanna play with the big boys? You better come packin’ more than just arrogance and daddy’s stolen inheritance, ‘cause I didn't do refunds.

🎰 The House Always Wins, Dumbass 🎰

[husk-says-no]

I hate my life.

Husk's secret weapon

[husk-says-no]

Adam, the very first idiot