#♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ; ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏꜱᴇʀ ��ᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Angel Dust and Husk 」

[burning-fcols]

Husker was near clawing down the walls of the hotel, the sudden ban on booze driving him out of his fur in the worst torment possible. Pacing about the lobby, his bar now empty (which he swore was meant to mock him, seeing as Alastor very well could have just gotten rid of it all together instead of clearing it out), his paws were beginning to hurt in a near manic need to move. "This is fucking bullshit, I'm losing my fucking mind over here!" Turning to Angel, Husk's arms moved about in tandem with his words, hoping knowing that the spider would be one of the only ones there that might understand what he was going through. "My fur's fucking crawling, a-and I can't stop fucking shaking!" Sure enough, there was a constant tremor to his body, a feather breaking loose from his vibrating wings every so often to flutter about the floor where it would soon be kicked up by his pacing. "I can't fucking think! Everything just feels, fuck I dunno, warm? No, fucking burning all over, a-and tingly. Even when I was alive, it never felt like this when I was dry..." - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 This has to be one of the STUPIDEST ideas yet... and that's including the whole premise for the hotel. Angel can understand the logic behind wanting a squeaky-clean persona for the place. It's sort of hard to preach ❛ redemption ❜ and freedom from vices when actively PROVIDING one right in the main lobby. Yet it hardly matters how well they practice what they preach if no one is around to learn. Angel knows that he's just there to fill a bedroom, ❛ progress ❜ or not. It's a pipe-dream with him, and it's not even his unattainable fantasy. Dreaming of angel wings sprouting from his back and a glowing halo hovering above his head is Charlie's schtick. Pentious is no better, the snake starved for praise not piety.

No, he can't imagine it working for either of them... Or anyone else, if he's being honest. But especially not the patrons they currently have. Lack of liquor isn't going to have people breaking down the doors to get in. It's also not going to stop Angel from indulging in his desires elsewhere, dangerous a decision as that may be. It's a shame, really... He had been enjoying having a place he could grab a drink without wondering when it was going to be spiked. Bartender is pretty cute too.

Speaking of which...

Sitting on a stool by the booze-less bar, he watches Husk practically wear a hole in the floor with his pacing. Gaze follows a feather's sad descent as it shakes lose from a trembling wing. Brows knit and a concerned bite to his bottom lip, Angel's fingers drum on his crossed arms as he mulls over the most delicate way to clarify the others... situation. It's painfully apparent that Husk has no clue what's going on. An affliction that Angel's enhanced senses had pegged as soon as he got near the fidgeting feline. It was overwhelming, the fog of pheromones surrounding the poor guy. Were it when Angel only recently arrived in Hell, he'd have gotten dizzy from how thick the air became... Thankfully, he has a better hold of himself now.

Practice makes perfect, he guesses. That and overexposure to the stuff thanks to a certain aphrodisiac-addled moth. ❝ I, uh... I got a pretty good idea why that is. But you ain't gonna like it, Whiskers. ❞ Angel begins when Husk has finished spewing his shaky woes. One leg crossed over the other, he bounces his knee in a small fidget. ❝ When you were alive, I'm guessin' you weren't exactly... a cat. ❞ A finger lightly motions at Husk with the statement. ❝ An' bein' THIS comes wit' a few— eh, let's call 'em complications. ❞ Normally he'd jokingly refer to it as a ❛ perk ❜ , but now isn't the time. Not with Husk.

Standing up from his seat, Angel then rips off the bandage with a blunt, ❝ Sorry tomcat, yer in heat. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

「 ☆ 」 ❝ Oh, look who's awake... ❞

Voice slowly drawls into the tense air, still thick with the events of last night. Possibly a dazed mess in the bartender's mind, yet vividly clear in Angel's even now. Far too sober for such... uncomfortable memories ( both last night and the ones dragged up thanks to Husk's insistence ) — or another ❛ uncomfortable ❜ conversation —Angel, in his unfogged state, knows that it's unfair to hold Husk accountable for anything he may have said while hammered to THAT extent. Frankly, it's a miracle he was capable of slurred speech at all.

It would have been better for them BOTH if he hadn't been.

Sitting down, watching Husk as he waited for the other to come to, both sets of arms are crossed. One leg crossed over the other, he lightly bounces his knee in a small attempt to relieve himself of the... energy within. Fingers impatiently drum against his limbs, muzzle scrunching in distaste as he bluntly ❛ asks ❜ , ❝ That hellborn liqua' hits pretty hard... don' it. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

"I'm a fucking dead man-"

[burning-fcols]

⟢ * . ⊹  ℕ𝕠𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪’𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕃𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥

                       ˗ˏˋ Losers by— Dragon & Skippy

「 ​  ​©   」  

[burning-fcols]

✧ 「  @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ   」   ✧  - ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ★

「 ☆ 」 Grumbling as he enters the hotel, he doesn't even attempt to fix his disheveled fur, fluff sticking up in all directions thanks to the frigid wind. It's still an improvement to what it had been earlier, Angel able to snag a quick shower to rid himself of... evidence of the workday ( the superficial type that CAN be remedied by a hot yet hasty shower ) before sneaking out of the recording studio. Despite having been done filming for the day— one that had stretched deep into the night thanks to Valentino feeling a rush of manic ❛ inspiration ❜ —Angel doubted the moth would be happy about him retreating to the hotel instead of opting to stay close-by.

So, he had hurried out. Dodging as many people as he could and hoping he'd be long-gone before Val was any the wiser. Knowing someone would squeal— be it out of spite or self-preservation —but ready to accept whatever HELL reigned down upon him tomorrow. But these few hours, this brief but blessed stretch of night, belongs entirely to HIM. He could attempt to sleep. Rest his aching body for another day of being the ❛ luckiest bitch in Hell ❜ ... Or he could drink enough to make him dizzy. It's not like sleep is easy to come by unless it's due to a blackout anyway.

Muttered complaints come to a halt at the sound Husk's voice, as do his footsteps, the weary clicking of heels giving way to the eerie silence of a mostly slumbering hotel. He hadn't expected company but with how Husk looks, maybe he should have. Cover of darkness provides Husk more of a courtesy than the spider, Angel's eyes not as adept at cutting through its shroud. But the closer he gets— movements steadier now as the spider stubbornly refuses to limp —the easier it is to see that sleep has not been treating the feline kindly either. Upper hands run through his bangs, making himself more presentable as he dryly replies, ❝ Yeah? I hadn' noticed. ❞

Hoisting himself onto the counter beside Husk with a wince, marks that couldn't be fixed with a shower are hidden beneath his clothes. Bruises and claw marks litter his form, yet Angel's actions are smooth as ever, fingers delicately picking up a feather from the counter and playfully flicking it at Husk's muzzle, ❝ You ain't exactly lookin' too hot yerself, Whiskers. ❞ Despite the purr in his tone, Angel doesn't make any further moves to invade Husk's personal space. Instead, he snatches the bottle from the other's grasp and takes a swig from it. Sighing at the warmth hitting his stomach, shoulders relax a bit now that he's home back.

❝ You here by choice or is it jus' one'a those nights? ❞ He casually asks, playfulness gone for the moment as he offers the bottle back. 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

"Attaccati a sto cazzo..." Spoken without thinking, the Italian insult was a kneejerk reaction to a certain spider's...insult? Flirtation? In the same language when given attitude by the depressed grumpy bartender thanks to the usual...antics. "I don't have time for your shit today, now do you want a drink or not?" - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 It had been a slow day around the hotel. Which should be a blessing to the far-too-often overworked spider. But the air was thick with an unsettling silence: Charlie and Vaggie scoping the sinful wasteland for potential participants, Pentious creating God-doesn't-know-what with the help of his Egg bois, Nifty probably tormenting bugs somewhere, and Alastor... Honestly, who the fuck knows.

With quiet comes the chance for his mind to wander... and not always to the nicest of places. Weighing his best options between getting fucked up or getting fucked, Angel figured he'd see what entertainment the bartender had to offer before waltzing off to greener, sexier pastures. Who knows, maybe this time Husk would stop being such an infuriating prude and snag a piece. However, the direction this conversation took was FAR different than anything Angel had anticipated.

It had been a simple comment, not even truly meant to get under the feline's fur. A flirty, if insulting, purr of Italian. ❛ An’ people say th’ Perfect Man doesn’ exist~ ❜

Apparently, he's not the ONLY one in the hotel with a knowledgable tongue.

❛ Cling to his own cock ❜ , huh? Angel wouldn't have expected Husk to be the type to go for such a colorful retort, but he's not exactly upset about it. Blinking away his surprise, lids lower in a familiarly-studious gaze as Angel rests an elbow on the counter and props up his cheek upon a fist. ❝ Pfft— Are ya serious, babe? 'Cause it looks ta me like you got all th' time in th' world. I am yer only customa', afta' all... ❞

Snarky remark wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, if it hadn't been smoothly spoken in Italian. Wanting to see if Husk will notice the change or unwittingly slip into it, he finishes with a playfully-condescending, ❝ What's th' matta', Drink Daddy? Don' enjoy my company?~ ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

@shining-stxrs

so i did this today ^^; original pose by @mapleleauf

[burning-fcols]

"Baci di dama!" Shouted into the relative silence of Angel's room, Husk, who had been hanging head first off the bed, watching the spider do...whatever at his vanity, had sat upright just as abruptly. Which made him dizzy, but that was rather par for the course with him. "That was th' name 'f those fuckin' cookies yer Ma used t' make!" Information that seemed to have him excited, Husk looking as if he'd just drawn the game winning card for life itself. "Knew it was somethin' like that, seein' as you used 'em as an excuse t' kiss me all the damn time up there." 'Up there' meaning life, of course. "Been tryin' t' think of that shit all fuckin' day, was drivin' me nuts. Hey, she ever teach you how t' make those?" The request not so deeply hidden as the cat looked to Angel with hopeful eyes. Such a heartwarming emotion now seen more and more lately, after getting with Angel Anthony for the second time in both life and death. //cookies name means 'ladies kiss' btw 😘 - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @hells-fvry 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Startled by the sudden shout, Angel's arm spasms. Lightly scoffing at the streak of deep pink now marring his complexion, he grabs a tissue and wipes at it. Lipstick comes off his fur easily enough, nary a hint of color to betray it was ever there at all. A mark in its favor, Angel remembering all the failed attempts that left him with faint smudges. Not world-ending, but unacceptable for someone of his ❛ status ❜ . Looks like Velvette actually took his notes to heart.

For one of the Vees— which means she’s as self-centered and egotistical as the rest —she does know how to take criticism. Provided it’s coming from a place of objectivity and not a personal vendetta. Maybe that’s why she leans on Angel so often when it comes to testing out her products… He can imagine the sort of spineless ass-kissing she has to contend with on the regular. Luckily for her, all HIS ass-kissing is reserved for Valentino.

Fixing his make-up, he tilts his head to see how the newest shade looks in the light. Glossiness is alright… Not too blinding but nothing to overlook either. ❝ An’ you fuckin’ loved it~ ❞ He teases in the midst of Husk’s revelation, chuckling at the fond memories it invites. Angel visiting the other man, bearing gifts courtesy of his mom’s baking prowess and Angel’s ability to snag treats from the kitchen without her being any the wiser… At least, he used to think so. Looking back on it now, with the clarity of years and wistfulness, he’s near-certain she knew and just never said anything.

It would explain how there was always a surplus of sweets… Enough for his heists to go ❛ undetected ❜ .

❝ Y'know, you could'a jus' asked me. 'Stead of drivin' yerself up th' damn wall all day... ❞ He chuckles, getting up from his vanity with a final brush of his attire, straightening his blouse and readjusting his chest. Pleased with the results— despite having nowhere to actually go today —he makes his way over to Husk, playfully ruffling his boyfriend's hair in an effort to mess it up. ❝ She sure did~ Pops wasn' too happy— ❞ A displeasure the man made KNOWN, Angel recalling how sore he was from the beating. ❝ —but it was worth it. Now I know how ta make 'em almost as good as Ma. ❞ Which is something that bastard can NEVER take away from him.

❝ It's been a while, but I'm sure I still got th' hang of it... ❞ Upper hands cup Husk's face, bringing it closer as he bends down. Planting a firm kiss against the feline's cheek with an audible ❛ mwah! ❜ he smugly studies the make-up cartoonishly left behind. Pulling out a compact mirror from his fluff, Angel checks his lipstick. Still perfect. Tucking it back into his chest, he makes his way to the door, sway of his hips and tone of his voice performatively-casual ( as if he hadn't just marked the other man ) ❝ We betta' make enough fer ev'ryone, otha'wise Charlie is gonna hit us wit' a lecture about sharin' or some shit. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

"….please fuckin' tell me you planned on makin' breakfast in bed and are so hungover you forgot a few steps-" //because im still cackling about this tbh fdsah - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @hells-fvry 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 When Angel had awoken to an egg in their bed, he'd been... surprised, to say the least. A terror shock that abruptly grew from the rush of maternal instincts FLOODING through him— threatening to collapse his ribcage with the crushing weight of panic-driven protectiveness assaulting his senses —and knocking the air from his lungs. This invader— without a shadow of a doubt ( no matter how much Angel abhors having to submit to the logic of ❛ knowing ❜ simply because one just does ) —belongs to him and Husk.

That fucking breeding bastard.

Naturally, he had woken up his partner... by unceremoniously rolling Husk off the bed and to the floor from the force of his ❛ wake the FUCK up ❜ jostling. In Angel's defense, he hadn't intended to do that. Not that he feels too BAD about it either. It's difficult to feel sympathetic when one has just been essentially knocked up without warning ( not that Angel is blameless, but— ) ... It's even harder when the first thing out of Husk's mouth is THAT.

❝ È dannatamente troppo presto per queste stronzate... ❞ Angel mumbles with a heavy exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose. ❝ An' I am too hungova' fer it too. ❞ He adds in english, both hands running through his bedhead. Bangs immediately fall back into place in an unruly sight. Nose crinkled with a complete lack of amusement, eyes fixate on Husk beneath furrowed brows. Husk is clearly just as taken aback as him... but he's still not panicking in the ❛ right ❜ way.

Not according to Angel, anyway. He doesn't need calm denial stupidity. He needs to be met at the same level of ❛ what the absolute FUCK ❜ , before he goes insane from the sheer amount of frazzled energy festering beneath his skin in its demand to get out. He can't be the only one facing the magnitude of the mistake they've made what they've done. He refuses to be. Which means he needs Husk to pick up the pace and speedrun past this breakfast in bed bullshit.

Can one really blame him if his first instinct is to fight?

❝ I'm gonna pretend you didn' say that. ❞ Angel bluntly says, fur bristling even in its mussed state. Upper hands grip bedsheets, trembling in a betrayal of the fear settled deep within his stomach. Bitter taste of bile taints his throat and reminds him of the drinks they had indulged in last night. ❝ Try again. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

"Fucking hell, kid, cut the shit!" He was desperate angry as he pushed back the overly flirty spider with a wing to Angel's chest. "Am I talkin' t' Angel Dust, or Anthony, here?" //dissociations a Bitch sometimes 😔 - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Were Angel in his right mind, he never would have let himself go as far as he did... Not that it WAS very far, by the spider's usual standards. A few suggestive comments turned to blatant come-ons, a bit of invading Husk's personal space, an arm slung over the cat's shoulder whilst another hand playfully walked up the bartender's chest with promises of what ELSE those hands could do... If it was anyone else, it'd be considered the coveted antics of Angel Dust.

And it would have been accepted with far more enthusiasm.

But it's not just some average schmuck about to get lucky. It's Bo, the one drunkard in Hell who isn't the slightest bit interested. The ONE gambler who can see through his bluff... and the one fucking guy Angel isn't supposed to DO this to with. Angel hadn't even been fully aware of what was happening until he was shoved away by a powerful wing, nearly tumbled back on his barstool. Claws digging into the bartop to save himself, chest heaves from the jolt of adrenaline that nearly threatens to sober him up. It had felt as natural as breathing in that moment... As NEEDED.

Why did Husk have to go and RUIN it?

❝ Maybe... I don' want ta be Anthony right now. ❞ Angel growls, forced through gritted teeth. Narrowed eyes gleam as they drill into Husk, fur bristled while claws gouge into the counter with a shaky hold. ❝ Maybe ❛ Anthony ❜ — ❞ Name is spat in disgust, ❝ —can't handle this shit. An' maybe, jus' fer a FUCKIN' SECOND, I wanted Angel back! ❞ He throws his empty glass at that last desperate statement, not entirely sure where the sentiment came from. It's not as though he's lost ❛ Angel Dust ❜ . Although he can't fool Husk, everyone else is blind as ever. Yet, it's not the same... There are cracks in the facade. Spiderweb thin and invisible to the naked eye, but there nonetheless. Husk had broken through his defense. Forced him to be Anthony again... and Angel doesn't fully know who that even is.

Chest hitches as the glass shatters on the ground, wide eyes transfixed upon the arguably small mess with a shakily breathed, ❝ Shit... ❞ Trembling fist rests on the counter, as if scared of any other rash actions. He hadn't intended for an outburst like that. Not when in the company of someone. Normally reserved for when he's locked away in his room, the shattered fragments feel like a mockery of his own composure. Running a hand over his face, eyes are closed and covered as he groans, ❝ Fuck, 'm sorry Bo... ❞ Real name slips past tired lips, muttered into the empty air of the lobby. Angel always so careful never to use it when he thinks there are prying ears.

❝ I shouldn' have done that. I shouldn' have— I... Fuck. ❞ Sounding exhausted, all anger fizzes out with a plop of elbows upon the bartop. Face buried in his palms, voice is muffled, ❝ I shouldn' have gotten in yer space. I know how shitty that feels... ❞ Making Husk uncomfortable... Losing his temper... Throwing and breaking things... ❝ I'm actin' jus' like Val. ❞ Angel dryly mutters, more to himself than the other man. Unaware if Husk heard that comment, Angel pushes away from the counter, sparing a brief glance at the bartender before saying, ❝ I'm uh— jus' gonna go... Not ta do anythin' stupid or nothin'! Jus'... ❞ Before he can make a bigger ass of himself.

❝ I should go. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

✧ 「  @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ   」   ✧  - ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ★

「 ☆ 」 From the moment he hears Bo breathe his name, Anthony knows what the answer is going to be... Defeated deflating, shoulders slump as the manic adrenaline starts to leave his system. Replaced with a heaviness in the center of his chest, a foreboding tingle arises on the back of his neck at the prospect of going home after this. At facing his father, his brother, EVERYONE who seems to be waiting for him to crack under the ever-growing pressure. Building since he was born, Anthony forcibly molded into someone he can never perfectly be... How long until they find out the full extent of his shortcomings? How long until his inability drags OTHERS down with him? How long until he loses the few people who make life worth living?

Wishing that he could spend the night in his boyfriend's arms until his head done swimming through the suffocating possibilities of every way things could go wrong— everything that could happen to Bo should their secret be discovered —bottom lip trembles as he chokes back a whimper, not wanting to further plague Bo with whatever guilt must be gnawing at him. Through no fault of the other man's. Anthony knows that his idea was stupid... Impulsive and cowardly and stemmed from that looming feeling that he's— ... It's just getting hard. That's all.

It's ALWAYS been difficult, the life they lead. Since they were children, the cards have been stacked against them. Only through sheer stubbornness, skill, and the solace they've found in one another, have they survived this long. But lately, Anthony can feel his resolve shaking... Can feel how much harder it's getting to escape, be it through drinking or drugs or the sadistic rush that comes from killing those he's told to. An escape he'd rather not focus on, it serving as a reminder of the monster he's been trained to be. Only being around Bo feels like a comfort he doesn't need to be ashamed of... and yet it's one he knows he'd be judged for the most.

But he can't be around Bo nearly as much as he needs to. Distance and duties dragging them apart at any given opportunity... Exhaling a shuddering breath, he leans into Bo's touch while he can. His lips, his forehead, his voice washing over him... Anything he can before he's left alone once more. Swallowing thickly, glossy eyes flutter open, droplets clinging to long lashes like dew after a rainstorm. ❝ ... You promise? ❞ Question is barely breathed, a whisper between them from soft lips.

Brows knit with a worry he knows he shouldn't feel, mismatched hues are scared even as they gaze upon someone who has been with him since childhood. Years of loyalty proven, of trust earned, love given... Yet Anthony can't help but wonder, ❝ Yer not gonna change yer mind? Even though it's gonna take a while... Even though I— I make everythin' so fuckin' difficult... You won't leave me, r-right? ❞ Voice breaks, Anthony trembling as he fights to keep his weak knees from buckling under the weight of his own questioning. As if they haven't known each other for years ( caring for one another, even if admission took time and courage ) already waiting for a freedom common sense doesn't promise. But with each day... Each struggle... Each complication Anthony brings, by merit of himself and his family...

How much longer can Bo take before it's too much for even him?

❝ Please... Please don' give up on me, Bo.... ❞ Anthony begs, hands gripping the front of his boyfriend's shirt, as if expecting the other man to do so in that very moment. ❝ I— I need you ta say yer not gonna give up. ❞ Needs to hear it from SOMEONE he can actually believe. 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

❛  you've been bad and that's why you need a punishment.  ❜//husk @ angel for Reasons,,,, - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 ❝ Oh?~ Is that so... ❞ Angel purrs, front half practically draped over the bartop as he daintily walks his hand closer to Husk. Having been ❛ pestering ❜ the bartender for the entirety of the day, it's no wonder the others patience has finally started to snap. As they both knew ( and were hoping ) it would. Eyes narrowed in a blatant challenge, shoulders shimmy as the spider lets a soft growl interlace his words, ❝ I have been a bad boy, huh? Th' type that outta be taught a lesson... ❞

❝ Prob'bly by some big, strong Tomcat... ❞ Overhearing Vaggie groan as she passes by in the background— hurrying along her way to leave the wannabe porno scene as soon as possible —Angel doesn't let it deter him. If anything, it spurs on the spider's shamelessness. Hopping atop of the bar, knocking over a glass for good measure, he leans back into Husk's space.

❝ Too bad all we got here is a de-clawed Kitten~ ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

"You're not gettin' outta this angel, we're talkin' 'bout this whether you like it or not! Helpin' me with my heat was one thing, but if we're gonna keep doin' this shit, you gotta tell me what I can 'n can't do, no fucking bullshit. I find out you lied t' me, saying you liked somethin' when you don't just t' make me happy, we're fuckin' done with this, you got it?" //theeeyyy seem like the pair we need to get trauma out of the way pretty Quick lmao - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Frankly, Angel should have known something like this was coming. Since the start Husk has been a massive pain in his ass... and while now, Angel can understand that it comes from a place of surprising care, that doesn't make it any less of an issue. If anything, it's somehow WORSE because he has to watch his tongue around the other man. Terrified of saying something genuinely harmful that he can't take back. Lord knows he's already lashed out enough in confusion-stemmed fear panic... Yet, for some reason, Husk refused to relent. Like right now.

Stubbornly REFUSING to let Angel walk away from a conversation he'd rather not be having. Fur bristling as he bites back a growl, all four fists clench at his sides as he skids to a stop against his will. Were it anyone else lecturing him, the spider would be halfway down the street already. With a curse on his lips and a middle finger on his hand. But it's not... It's fucking Bo Husk, and damnit that means Angel actually feels obligated to listen. Doesn't mean he has to AGREE with anything, but it's hard to brush someone off when they've seen him at his most vulnerable.

Which is why he tries to keep others from SEEING that.

❝ Y'know, it seems like we do an awful lot'a talkin' 'bout things I'd ratha' not. ❞ Angel irritably retorts, spinning on his heel to face the feline. He knows why this is... and loathe as he is to admit, it HAS helped. Being pushed to face things he's been running from for decades is the best and worst thing Husk has done for him. The asshole. ❝ What? You expect me ta make ya a fuckin' list? Want me ta go through ev'ry fuckin' kink there is? Do you even KNOW how much horny shit there is you could do ta me? ❞ Angel does... and that's the issue. He's never had to consider his own opinions when it came to what happens to him. Never let himself mull through it all; think TOO intently on what he does and doesn't like. Instead, his focus was on finding something decent in it... or blocking out what he couldn't sugar-coat.

It's not like it would matter whether he didn't want something. So why go through the trouble of knowing JUST how much he hates what's happening.

❝ Fer fuck's sake, Husk— Isn' this what safe words are fer? Jus' do whateva' you feel like doin' an' if it's a problem, I'll TELL YOU. ❞ Unlike the venom Angel would have spat at the bartender before things became... complicated, he sounds more exasperated ( and desperate for the conversation to end ) . ❝ 'Sides, you ain't gonna come up wit' anythin' that hasn' already been done ta me. So stop fuckin' overthinkin' this an' just DROP IT. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

"Dunno what you're so twisted about, baby, I was just singing. What, you don't like me singing?" Smug bitch. - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Singing.

This bitch has the GALL to call what he was doing just ❛ singing ❜ . As if it wasn't the most calculated attack against Angel's well-being the spider has ever endured. In the best way possible, but still. Practically yanked off his barstool, Angel had been maneuvered into a dance by the surprisingly-playful feline; Husk's more mischievous side coming to light the longer he's been around Angel. Discovering their shared life together— the second chance they'd been given —only made it worse.

Anthony hopes Bo never stops.

Back arched from being dipped by his boyfriend, Husk's smug face looms over him. Angel's own flushed features glaring ❛ angrily ❜ up at the other man. Fur mussed from being carefully twirled around the hotel lobby for the gaggle of onlookers ( Angel can HEAR Charlie practically squealing in delight at such an open display of happiness from the bartender ) , paired with the rosey-hue of his cheeks and chest, one would assume the spider had been busy with a DIFFERENT activity. The tell-tale purr rumbling from him not helping the scene.

It's not HIS fault. How is someone supposed to look after being serenaded by that deep voice? Faces mere inches apart at times as Angel futilely fought back every tremble and shudder that accosted his yearning form, it's a miracle he hadn't let out a MOAN with the way Husk pulled them flush together at times. Which is not good for his image... Granted, only the people at the hotel are bearing witness. But Angel Dust doesn't get flustered, he DOES the flustering!

Anthony, is apparently another story.

❝ Don' you give me that shit, you sexy son of a bitch. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

✧ 「  @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ   」   ✧  - ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ★

「 ☆ 」 The argument starts out doing what was intended… It knocks Husk from his high-and-mighty throne, the shock sending the feline into a haphazard scramble of justification. Yelling is preferable to the dry criticism he had been spewing earlier, Angel able to accept it easier. He’s used to being screamed at. To being the object of someone else’s fury. It’s judgment that’s harder to swallow; the clear, composed tone of someone repeating what Angel already knows. But this? This is borderline amusing, watching Husk defend the sacredness of the film industry against the plague of porn.

It’s not a fight he can win… and yet Husk digs in anyway. Maybe Alastor has a point when he goes on about how much fun it can be to watch someone struggle to accomplish an impossible feat.

It isn’t until mention of a ❛ two bit whore ❜ — the others concern misconstrued as condemning —that it becomes a lot less fun. Stiffening where he stands, fur bristles as narrowed eyes meet Husk with a matched ( if misdirected ) malice. Frustrated at himself for how deeply such a common insult managed to cut and how clearly it did, clenched fists and tense shoulders don’t waver while a venomous gaze follows the feline out the door. Growling deep in the back of his throat, Angel is only able to hold himself back for a breath before he’s storming out as well. Nothing but a brash— ❝ Out fer a smoke! ❞ —leaving his lips when asked where he was going.

Pushing open the front doors with a vengeance, Angel doesn’t look at Husk despite clearly having followed him. Instead he stalks forward to stand a few feet away— close enough to be a nuisance but far enough to keep pointedly ignoring him —and pulls out a package of cigarettes from his chest fluff, along with a lighter. Rosegold and of delicate design, engraved with a pattern of hearts, the inscription ❛ Forever ❜ up the side in swirled letters. Thumb subconsciously runs across the word, feeling it before he flips it open and tries to light a cigarette. Grumbling under his breath as it takes a few attempts, the lighter fighting Angel’s sharp movements, it finally ignites.

Expression crinkled in disdain as he inhales deeply, red smokes billows from Angel’s lips with an audible sigh. Posture relaxes, disgust shed in favor of daresay gratitude flashing in Angel’s tired gaze. Relief… and the strength to turn and face Husk, irritation re-ignited as he snaps, ❝ Y'know what yer problem is? Yer sittin' up on yer fuckin' high-horse, talkin' shit 'bout ev'ryone around you— like you ain't jus' some bitta' boose-slinga' who prob'bly hasn' gotten laid in years. ❞

Resting a hand on his cocked hip, signature scarlet smoke trails in the air from his cigarette as he beholds Husk through narrowed eyes, ❝ Well, I don' give a SHIT what you or anyone in that hotel thinks. ❞ A slight slip of the tongue, Angel betraying that Husk isn't the only person he feels looked down on by. ❝ 'Cause I'm proud of what I do. An' I do it well. In fact, I'm th' fuckin' BEST in th' bus'ness. ❞ Flicking his cigarette at Husk's feet, he leans closer and snaps, ❝ An' if ya don' believe it, jus' ask ANYONE in this rancid shit-hole 'cause I guran-fuckin'-tee they've ALL gotten off thanks ta me. I've got more fans than you could eva' fuckin' DREAM of, Pussy-Cat. ❞

❝ So clearly, I'm doin' somethin' right. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

Husk didn't remember much from his time alive, after a certain point it was nothing but booze and gambling until the day he died, never caring if that day would be his last. He did remember pieces of his youth though, small things that were just a flicker in his mind, more of a feeling than a full memory. It was funny, ever since him and Angel had grown closer, there was this...odd sense of deja vu that he couldn't place. He chalked it up to those nights where his dreams were pleasant for once, filled with the comforting touch of the spider long before he thought himself allowed of such a thing. Watching Angel now with a soft smile on Husk's face where he leaned an elbow on the bar, he felt another round of familiarity as he watched Angel converse with the other patrons across the room. It was a simple wave that broke everything apart, one moment Angel smiling Husk's way after catching his eye, and the next his vison grew fuzzy, blurred with the sickening dread of realization that had tears falling down his cheeks before he knew what was happening. "Angelo..." Pet name spoken in Italian, Husk's voice quivered as he breathed it into the air like a man dying, Angel's face gave a flash of the human he had once been before being obscured by the tears. Then, he was laughing, a manic, heart wrenching thing that had Husk slumping onto the bar as his knees gave out. 《 "How did I not know it was you? You were my reason to live, my angel-" 》 - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Angel's memory has been fucked to Hell and back... Be it because of drugs and drink— or ever-dependable dissociation —he can scarcely trust what is real or merely a fabrication of a tormented mind. His past an unreliable menagerie of anguish and brief, but POWERFUL flickers of bliss. Feelings he can't always grasp the source of, but has clung to through the decades nonetheless. Partially as self-punishment, even the brightest memories encased in the shadow of his sins.

The clearest of these fragments of who he used to be involve his mother and twin sister. He can trust those the most... Even if Angel wonders how much has been encased in rose-tinted lenses. Time and torment have a habit of twisting the past, making Angel doubt how high the bar was for a ❛ heavenly ❜ moment when living in the pits of personal Hell. How much of what he recalls is the manifestation of wishes painting over reality. In the midst of those flashes of care, there's— an oddity. Emptiness that he KNOWS was filled. Spawning from when he was a child; a face he can't recall. A name lost to time. A presence, so important... and so painful.

A person forgotten, his actions and the feelings he brought... still lingering. Part of Angel wonders whether that man ever existed. Maybe he's a figment, a fantasy to try and give Angel something to take solace in. To believe he was cared for, was LOVED at least once in his shitty life... Or maybe, it's to crush him beneath unearned guilt. Paranoia gnawing at Angel's mind as he wonders whether he left that man alone to suffer in a Hell they used to at least share. He doesn't know what's worse. For his first love to be a lie... Or for Angel to not even recall the name of the man he betrayed.

Husk... Bo— is an undeserved second chance.

It's no wonder Angel rushes over at the first sign of distress.

Practically tripping over himself to get to Husk when he sees the other break for what appears to be no reason, only a hasty ❝ I can handle it— I said I can HANDLE it! ❞ is offered to the other patrons, Charlie having learned enough to assist the spider by ushering their friends away to another area. When it comes to Angel and Husk ( especially as a pair ) it often pays to give them space to breathe. Needing to trust that, should things be too much for either of them, help would be sought out rather than forcing it upon them. Besides, Angel is more capable than people believe...

Concern clouding his mind, Husk's heartbroken rambling's don't register. Placing his hands upon the feline to try and ground him, lower limbs help keep Husk upright while an upper rests on his shoulder, a free hand instinctively cupping the other man's cheek ( like he often did when they were alive ) Gently trying to ease Husk to look at him, voice is comforting even with its panicked edge, ❝ Hey, hey— I'm here, it's alright... Ya hear me, babe? It's alright... ❞ It's hard to tell if his words are getting through, Angel leaning down to kiss away the tears dampening his boyfriend's face. Shushing softly through the affection, he encourages, ❝ C'mon, baby... Jus' breathe. Breathe fer me. ❞

Moving back so he can study Husk's face— only the two of them left in the room —Angel quietly asks, ❝ What's wrong, Bo? ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[burning-fcols]

"Fuck you asshole! I opened up to you! I trusted you! You knew how much that shit would hurt me but you went and did it anyway! Go to double hell!" husk @ angeI for break up verse -  ✩   「 @helluvaxhazbin 」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」 Every. Damn. Time... Every time Angel thinks they're getting somewhat close to a reconciliation— even if they can't risk going back to how they used to be, they can still not want to rip each other's throats out —it ends up like this. Screaming their lungs out, spewing vile at one another. Lies and truths intermingled so intensely it's difficult to figure out which is which. Hatred and love and anguish an uncontrollable fire burning within his gut, threatening to incinerate him like all the stories of Hell insisted would happen. Frankly, he'd rather that than this.

Angel knows he messed up. He handled things horribly between them... had hurt Husk in a clumsy effort to keep him SAFE. Yet he can't entirely regret his decision. Only how it had happened. He was nothing but bad news for the feline... A pretty bit of poison that was going to get Husk killed in he continued to indulge. Angel never has been one to openly feel sorry for himself. Always submitted to someone else's will, pulled along like a puppet, he's careful never to show how much the strings dig into his skin. How every faux choice makes him feel less and less alive... But this time, having played the unknown martyr instead of the self-preserving asshole—

Is it really so bad for him to want Husk to accept WHY he did it?

No. Husk can't know. Who knows what the idiotic feline might suggest if he was aware Val was the reason Angel didn't want to be with him anymore. He's too loyal. Too hard-headed. He might not see the situation as clearly as the spider does. Better he thinks Angel came to the conclusion on his own... and merely regrets how it had tumbled out of him. Even if that makes apologies ring hollow even to Angel's ears.

❝ SHUT UP! JUST SHUT TH' FUCK UP!! ❞ Voice breaks, throat aching from more than being overworked in the studio. Fists clenched in front of him, claws dig into shaky palms. Entire form trembling, tears pool in his eyes, feeling hot as his boiling blood as they drip down a reddened face, ❝ I said I was sorry! How many times do I have ta keep sayin' it 'til ya get it through yer thick skull?! I hurt you! I KNOW I hurt you! An' I fuckin' HATE myself for it, alright?! An' if I could do it again, I would'a handled things diff'rent! But I CAN'T! I can't fix th' shitty thing I've done! ❞

Raising his gaze, desperation still overwhelms the glossy hues despite the indignant fire alongside it, ❝ I get why ya hate me, I DO. But I also can't fuckin' stand it... I-I can't... I can't keep doin' this. ❞ Voice loses it's edge the longer he speaks, clenched fists reluctantly falling to his sides. Tense posture loosening in defeat, wide eyes take in Husk as if actually watching him die. But at least Husk is only leaving his life instead of— ... It still hurts. More than anything that's happened so far.

❝ It hurts too much... Ev'rytime I'm around you, I— I feel like I'm dyin' all ova' again. There's esctasy an'— an' escape... an' it's ev'rythin' I eva' wanted. But then reality sinks in. An' I rememba' where I am an' WHO I am an' all the fucked up shit I did an' that you fuckin' hate me an'— an' it's not an escape at all. I don' WANT this. I don' want ta feel this way. ❞ I didn't want to DIE. ❝ An' I know you don' eitha'. ❞ That's why one of them has to stop this. ONE of them has to get clean, before they both overdose on whatever twisted relationship they've gotten hooked on now.

❝ I love ya, Husk. ❞ He mutters without looking at the other man, sweet words bitter on his tongue. Wiping at his eyes with an arm, it does nothing to stop the barrage of tears, ❝ An' I didn' go through all this shit ta keep ya safe, only ta make yer life a Double Hell... ❞ Emotions clouding his judgement and forcing his words, Angel doesn't notice his slip of the tongue. ❝ So, fine. I'll fuck off an' leave ya alone... Fer good now. ❞ No more hate-fucking. No more forgetting in the moment. No more playing pretend in the softness of the afterglow. No more clinging to the rare moments when things are unexpectedly soft the entire way through...

No more hopes lifted when things are soft even WITHOUT sex, only for them to come crashing back down when reality shows itself again. 「 ☆ 」