#husks mini casino

[husk-not-whiskers]

“huh, you’re playin’ with people? i’m up for that.. how about if i win, i pick you out an outfit.. only for a couple hours. i’m not that mean. if you win, i’ll buy ya a drink?”

-@angeldust-real

“Alright then, just know I ain’t gonna go easy on ya.” He shuffles his cards “so what game?”

[darkhymns-fic]

He Likes It Slow

Husk already gave his soul over to Alastor long ago. It was on a quiet night, with fingers stroking along his head, and a smile that gleamed in the dark, taking his breath away.

Alastor's radio shows used to be so comforting.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters/Pairing: Husk/Alastor Rating: T Word Count: 3398 Mirror: AO3 Notes: For Radiohusk Week, Day 2: Soul. This fic plays very loosely with the theme, I just really wanted to write Alastor petting a sleepy Husk's head and then suddenly backstory happened. Still some slightly dark/toxic dynamics if you squint.

--

Husk blearily looked at the clock that read 3 AM next to his bed. He was exhausted. His body was aching. But he wasn’t asleep.

He pressed a hand to his face. Not again.

There was a reason why Husk rarely slept without a drink in hand. Even before his fall into Hell, his sleeping habits hadn’t changed much. A whiskey bottle was comfort, and when he felt his brain turn to mush after downing half the bottle, and his body becoming light, he’d fall into peaceful unconsciousness, thankfully dreaming of nothing. He’d only have to deal with the hangover, but it was a risk worth taking.

But tonight, Husk couldn’t sleep at all. And his usual nightcaps weren’t working.

It’s the quiet that gets to him, really, and maybe it was a cruel joke to think that anything in Hell could actually be quiet. Blood curdling screams and shouts were the usual playback to Pentagram City, along with a few explosions for good measure. But somehow, this late at night, there would suddenly be nothing. As if everyone in the entire afterlife had just died a second death and he was the only one left.

It’s what Husk felt as he tossed and turned in his hotel room. The whiskey bottle on his nightstand was empty, as well as the vodka bottle in his dresser. He’d have to go downstairs to get himself more, but he knew it was a lost cause.

The quiet made him anxious. It always had, even when he’d been alive. When it became too much for him, which is when he thought he’d see certain shapes and eyes in the walls of his home, Husk would turn on the television to calm his mind. It didn’t matter what it was, as long as other voices were talking that wasn’t his own, echoing in his skull. If his television had been busted, he’d play an old vinyl on his record player. Soft jazz that made his mind hum, or other classics that he knew by heart. And if his record player was also broken, then he’d resort to the radio…

Husk frowned. There was no television in this room, not that he’d trust it much, and he’d left his record player at his casino. And there was only…

“I got a bunch of portable radios on sale!” Charlie had been enthusiastically telling everyone at the parlor earlier that week. She’d handed each one out to everybody, like they were treats that she’d been saving up for a special occasion. Different styles from some as small as a wallet, to those that looked like mini boomboxes—but they all showed their age, extremely.

“Well, they were kinda lying on the curb by the V Tower, and there was a sign that said ‘Old Stupid Crap Here’, so it wasn’t really technically for sale, but that means we can reuse it! I was thinking each hotel guest could have their own little radio so they could play some tunes!”

“...Charlie, have you been talking to Smiles?” Angel Dust had asked, holding a retro radio in one set of hands with befuddlement. Alastor, of course, had been the only one not present for these daily exercises. “You know people can just use their phone.”

“Well, it’s also good for weather announcements and emergencies! Like if the power goes out or an Extermination catches us off guard…”

“Yeah. So, like, a phone basically.”

Husk shook his head. Playing that day on loop wasn’t going to help him sleep. He needed something else. Anything else.

Muttering, he wrenched open the bottom drawer of his nightstand to take out one of those stupid radio. Unlike Angel, he just never got used to new phones, and he wasn’t about to start now. At least a radio was familiar, though the one he had was plenty ancient, even for him. The face of it had a gauge for the stations instead of digital numbers, the red needle moving back and forth.

“If this even works…” But Charlie, bless her heart, had even put in a fresh set of batteries in it. Husk knew how to fiddle with the rotary dials, and pulled out the little antenna to catch better frequencies. This was certified old junk, and Husk really wondered how Charlie just got these out of nowhere.

He hesitated. All he needed from it was to play something, whether it was a crappy hour-long infomercial, a news report, or even some music that could sound somewhat nice.

And also, he just had to make sure to not tune it to one particular station.

He just wanted to sleep.

So, with a soft prayer, he turned the radio on. It instantly caught some static, and he fiddled with the antenna some more before he caught a few words here and there—a commercial talking about a new and improved version of a certain love potion, some political talk show going over a certain upcoming divorce with some royalty called Goetia, and a quick smattering of notes here and there of music that sounded a bit like death metal, which was kind of ironic.

But nothing stayed long, continuing to devolve into static, again and again. Husk groaned, flapped his wings in frustration, then slammed the radio down on the nightstand.

“Just play something!” he growled. Then plunked his head back on his pillow, while his claws kept turning the dial back and forth, trying to escape the static that kept trailing through the stations, like some looming shadow.

I’ll take anything, he thought. And then, he found it.

The one station that had no static at all.

--

.

.

.

Whenever Alastor put on his radio voice, it always served to make Husk so lethargic.

“Fine, put on a show for me,” he must have said, or something to that effect. It had been late, and insomnia was keeping him up and ragged. Neither whiskey or gin was hitting, and none of the radio programs on right now were doing it for him.

Because the next thing he knew, he found himself with no sense of time or place. Just laying on his side over a couch, limbs heavy and his vision stuck in a daze. There was a soft touch just above his ears, the hint of sharp nails that scratched pleasantly at the skin. Something about the motion, along with the voice he heard above, made him so helpless, and so content.

“Now, I was only, hmm, twenty, no, maybe twenty-three years old at the time, give or take, and the game was at its biggest stakes. Really, truly was the talk of the town. You couldn’t go to the marketplace and get your daily newspaper without some fellow yapping away about it and Ruth’s mysterious illness!” Another soft stroke, one that made Husk shift and swallow down a sound that he wasn’t sure about it. “I’m sure a lovely caller or two should know what I’m talking about, yes? The Yankees game of 1925? Be sure to give us a call after a message from one of our most esteemed sponsors.”

Husk pressed his head into a warm leg, eyes growing heavy again. “What…are you even talking about?”

A soft chuckle from above him. “You wanted a sample of my day on the job, and that’s what I gave you, my dear.”

The fingers that stroked through Husk’s hair were soft, almost delicate in their touch. It was nearly too addictive, along with the soft tenor that was Alastor’s voice.

The man had talent, he’d give him that.

“Maybe lay off the gossip,” he said. “Baseball only reminds me of a few bad bets I’ve made.”

It was hard to turn. He never wanted to move at all. It felt perfect to lay here. But still, he could manage a small shift, finally seeing a familiar silhouette above him, painted against the lamplight. Alastor was half-facing away from him, turning the dial of a nearby radio until it settled into the latest soft jazz hit that was a favorite to play at the bar.

Husk couldn’t see much else, except a grin. It was so startling white against the shadow of that face. “Hm, then how about this instead?” spoke that same grin.

Another soft touch, one that went around the shell of his ear. Fingers that traced down his neck, then back up onto his head, creating pathways through dark hair. The motion was practiced and knowing. Husk could barely stay awake as it was, but when Alastor spoke again, he was completely at his mercy.

“I have a confession, dear listeners, but nothing surprising to many of you, I’m sure. I adore the new up-and-coming talent that’s making his way on our radio waves this evening. A local talent, nonetheless. You’d do well to remember the name of Louis Armstrong, right here on this station. Got his start with Kid Ory’s band! For all you social birds, you might have seen him playing on the riverboats during those hot summers. Why, he sings Mack the Knife better than most! A personal favorite of mine. I see big things coming his way, but we can’t forget where we come from, now can we?”

Another soft stroke, with a finger just edging close to Husk’s bottom lip. The touch was still soft, but eager. Maybe, if it was another time, Husk might have pushed it away. But Alastor was still stroking his hair, still petting him. It had never felt this good before.

“And also, dear listeners, I know a few of you also appreciate those humble beginnings. Like most of us, we work through our very bones to climb our way to the top. After all, it’s the good old-fashioned American Dream. For some of us, it’s a steeper climb than others. I’m sure you understand. So let’s play something back from those old days. An older little ditty of not only Armstrong before he hit it fully on his own, but of lovely Susie, such a hilarious girl. A keen ear will pick out Louis’ swinging tunes that dance along with Susie’s beautiful voice—He Likes It Slow…”

And, it was so slow, those touches that made Husk swallow deep, that made his heartbeat ram inside his chest in contrast. The music that played was a familiar thing, on an even beat, accompanied by vocals and the banjo, and the smooth trombone. But none of that compared to Alastor’s soft and soothing voice, and his professional touches that made Husk turn into the most helpless thing in his hand.

“Don’t you now?” Alastor spoke again, in his iconic voice, but without the filter of the speaker. Husk could hear the man’s breaths just above him, as slow as those touches. 

“Alastor?” Husk tried to ask, barely comprehensible. So deep was he falling into Alastor’s touches. He must have drank too much, all in a vain hope to finally catch some sleep. Or maybe he’d been drugged—the drinks he’d had belonged to Alastor’s own cabinet, after all.

And when he had enough strength to turn his head around, to finally look closer at Alastor’s face, he was met with that wide grin, half hidden by a hand as the man leaned against the armchair of the couch.

Then, a small glint in those eyes.

Of soft, dusky red, like the dying embers of a fireplace.

.

.

.

--

Husk wasn’t in his bed.

There’s always a spot between wakefulness and dreams, and Husk was right in the middle of it. He could barely open his eyes, even though he no longer felt the hotel’s blankets and pillows underneath him. All he knew was that there was something else, something that didn’t make him want to move, not just yet.

“Just a small, little number for all you dear listeners out there. An up-and-coming star from our little denizen of a city. This saxophone player known only by his moniker, Bleeding Hearts, has a lot up his sleeve when it comes to jazz and swing, and we’ll make sure to keep him on the air to get his name out there. Now, how did you all like it?”

Someone had his hand over him, one he found himself leaning into, as if on instinct.

The fingers that stroked through his hair were still so deft, still so practiced and good. They traveled along the shape of his ears and moved to ghost over sensitive areas over his cheek. And then, they would go back to his hair, parting through it with a delicate touch, one that made him want to stay—

Wait. He pressed his lips together, tried in vain to open his eyes. This isn’t…

He wasn’t alive anymore. This didn’t make sense.

He didn’t have just hair on his head, but fur, which covered his entire frame. He didn’t have hands, but claws, curved and jagged. What he had when he was alive and human was no longer true. 

Husk wouldn’t be touched this way. Was he still dreaming?

“Now, I know this is also a bit different from our regular program. But, change can be the spice of life, or afterlife as it were. We all need to take it slow once in a while. As my dear, mystery guest can attest to…”

Who was even talking? Was it… No. No, it wouldn’t make sense.

Finally, he could open his eyes, and was greeted with dim red.

He was on his knees, which laid hard against unforgiving metal. There were only different varying shades of red wherever he looked, until finally his tired eyes could identify the details. The soft fluorescent lights above, the assortments of dials inlaid in metal in front, along with the grates that lined the floors. Another blink, and he could see the curve of a microphone, where at the base, a hand tapped its fingers against methodically.

It took him another second to understand that his head was laying in Alastor’s lap.

This had to be a dream.

Even so, a hand continued to stroke into his fur, sending bursts of warmth through his skull. His eyelids fluttered, and he couldn’t find it in himself to move. The gentleness was both addictive and unnerving. Another touch, just over his cheek, and he let out a sigh.

“Why…am I here?” he asked, but when he spoke, his voice felt thick, like it was stuffed full of cotton. “Ala…stor…”

“Hmm?” Alastor looked down at Husk, the grin etched onto his face like a permanent scar. It was bright against the dim lighting, but it felt subdued. Relaxed. Inviting, almost. “It’s simple, my dear. You reached out to me.”

Husk’s first instinct at that was denial, but he couldn’t be sure now. All he remembered was the radio in his hands, the constant static that plagued every station no matter what. Then, a plea for something. For anything to bring him some sort of peace.

Through the radio waves, Alastor could pick up on most things.

“Looks like our mystery guest has finally joined us, folks. He’s a bit radio shy, so please be patient with him. Now, don’t you want to choose our next song?”

Husk blinked again. He still didn’t understand. He could barely even lift his head, let alone speak like a normal person. Another soft touch, fingers that pressed deep into his fur and made his bones feel so malleable. He then let out a mumble, all as he pressed his cheek harder against Alastor’s leg.

“But…don’t you…” He couldn’t even finish his thought, all of it disintegrating from another pet against his fur.

“No screams for tonight’s hour,” Alastor said, giving Husk a small wink. “Isn’t that what you prefer?”

Why was he being so gentle with him? Now, after everything?

Husk thought such days had long been over.

His wings rustled, barely able to lift themselves from the floor. Husk could only press a hand near Alastor’s seat to try and stand, but he never made it far. His hand lay limp against the other’s knee, and his head continued to rest in that lap, even when his neck curved at an uncomfortable angle.

He was drunk. Or drugged. Or something else. He didn’t know what was happening to him, except the hand that continued to pet him so softly.

If he said anything else to Alastor, he wasn’t sure. Just movement and touches. Some form of sound left his mouth, and the dim knowledge that other demons in the city must have heard him through Alastor’s mic was only barely able to scratch the surface. Maybe he’d be mortified if he was in any form of control, but he wasn’t.

He was just so tired, and so comfortable. He wanted more of Alastor’s voice and touches.

“Of course you would go for an old classic.” Alastor’s grin remained bright, and his eyes were so hypnotizing, drawing Husk into the soft coals. “After all, you always liked it slow…”

And when he heard the music play, a nostalgic wave engulfed him completely. He was lost.

Husk had thought this side of Alastor had long gone dormant. Even at his tamest, there was still a glint in his smile, a fervor in the eyes. A relish and need to have those under his claws and broadcast horrifying death over the airwaves. But none of that was happening. None of anything he expected was here. Just the music from an old time, with a lady’s vocals and soft trumpet, and Alastor’s fingers stroking through his fur, as if he had never forgotten how to.

This isn’t real, Husk thought, a soft break through the waves before being submerged again. Maybe he made another sound, one that was on edge, or perhaps a little panicked. Because those fingers moved to hold his chin, lifting up his face.

“Shhh, now,” Alastor whispered. He brought his other hand near Husk, to stroke lightly against his neck.

Then, there was the weight of the chain.

As familiar to Husk as a whiskey bottle was when in his hand.

He closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he felt anymore. Because he still didn’t shift from Alastor’s touches, which were so perfect against him, which brought back old memories he thought he long buried into the ground of his very soul. Even with the chain, he could only lean his head into Alastor’s hands.

Maybe he really was drugged. Or maybe, he was still deeply in love, and didn’t know how to let go.

He heard Alastor move those chain links along his fingers. Another practiced touch, while his other hand continued petting Husk along his ears. “I think my dear kitty wants something else.”

He didn’t want to fight it.

--

.

.

.

And he didn’t fight it then either, even as Alastor let his hands wander down his neck to play with the collar of his shirt. Even if there was just a bit of unease, a bit of confusion as to why he really couldn’t find it in himself to move at all. But Alastor, still smiling from his mini radio performance, all for Husk and no one else, brought his head down to be near.

“And just how slow do you like it?”

He could barely answer then, just licking his dry lips and wanting to fall closer to that mouth. His hands kneaded at Alastor’s leg. He breathed a little harder. And Alastor’s touches sent him drowning.

“Make it last forever,” he found himself saying. Clearly. As if the haze had been lifted, if only for a moment. Finally, when he was free, this was what he wanted.

And to this day, he still remembered Alastor’s smile. Something unknown, but oh so private and his alone. With hands petting him dearly, the kiss stole more than just his breath. It stole everything, until nothing was left of him at all.

.

.

.

--

Husk felt sharp teeth against his tongue. The sensation made his voice stutter. A hand continued to pet just by his ears. “Al…” he whispered, and only dimly remembered to stop, seeing the mic next to them.

Alastor’s eyes glided to that mic, before turning back to Husk. He tapped a finger against the metal head of it. No echo. No feedback.

“It’s alright, Husker.” Alastor leaned in close again. “We’re off the air.”

[polka-popia]

Worth it (Part 1/4)

(A Huskerdust story)

or

An AU where Husk has had enough of watching Angel's abuse go down from the sidelines and challenges Val to a game. Winner gets a new soul...

Warning(s): Mentions of Abuse, Suggested SA, Cursing, Fluff, Angst, Happy Ending though...

Author's Note: Now this is based off of an idea by "Maddie's Minis" on Tiktok. It sounded too good to pass up writing. I hope you enjoy!

*********************************************

Husk loved midnight.

The hotel was quiet at this point. Charlie had a sign up encouraging guests and other staff members to use midnight as a sort of... 'curfew' if you will. A guide on when to call it a night and hurry up to their rooms after a long day of trying to be productive members in hell.

‘After midnight, bad choices can get made!’ She had tried reasoning while Alastor snapped his fingers, making the signs appear all around the hotel.

He had also offered to stay up for that time being, stand in the shadows of the hotel, punish any guest or… ‘scold’ any staff member who refused to listen, but Charlie liked to trust the people around her. So, it was an obvious No from her and a slight shrug from her more... Intense counterpart of a girlfriend.

Vaggie kept the mere suggestion from the princess of hell as an actual rule of the hotel. Only exception to it was Angel. He couldn’t control when he got off of work. Sometimes he could rush these things, other times Val would demand him to stay back.

But where was Husk, again? Oh right...

He loved midnight...

He could never fully explain why he did though. Of course, nobody ever asked. But if someone ever did get curious enough to, he'd probably just shrug. Say cause it's quieter. But it was more than that. Because deep down, Husk couldn't stand when shit was too quite. Made him feel on edge. Like he had to prepare for something. Like a scene in a horror movie that keeps the audiance at the edge of their seats.

In reality, maybe he liked midnight cause of Charlie's rule about sinners staying in their rooms. Maybe he liked it because he didn't have to deal much with people bothering him. He could focus on keeping this bar nice and tidy the way his casino used to be.

And as the side door of the hotel swung open, Husk found himself absentmindedly reaching for the rum Angel always wanted mixed with some vodka. Deep down, like way deep down, Husk questioned if this was really why he looked forward to that clock striking midnight...

The clicking of high heeled boots tap against the marble floor as Angel approaches while Husk works on that drink.

‘A strong drink should always have two or more things in it!’ Angel had informed Husk many times before while knocking over the glass when it wasn't up to his standards.

“Long night?” Husk mutters casually when the clicking stops in front of the bar. No sound of a stool getting pulled out, no usual greeting... That was weird for Husk. Angel usually started off these midnight drinking encounters with a ‘Hey daddy...’ or on the real tough nights Husk would get a sharp ‘drink’ demand from the seven-foot-tall jumping spider.

Instead, he gets something else. A sniffle. Husk pauses his pouring to finally turn to Angel and see him standing in front of the bar, trembling, his blazer ripped open, dirt mixed into his usually perfectly groomed fur, a black eye and scratch marks littered his face, and Husk gripped the bottle tighter.

“Legs…” He whispers as Angel finally falls to the floor, sobbing. The scene catches Husk completely off guard. There were no snide remarks, no casual insistence that this was fine. No excuse that he’d done something wrong. Just the exhausted cries of a man who walked around like he had everything together.

Husk walks around the bar counter, wrapping his arms around the slender frame of the 'Angel Dust' who was gone for the moment, replaced by the, in Husk's opinion, far more likable Anthony.

Angel stiffens for a second before he grips onto Husk tight, all four hands finding a different spot to hold on to. They find their way to Husk's arms, his waist, his chest as he buries his face deeper into Husk's neck.

“Do I even wanna know what that asshole did?” Husk growls slightly. Angel never got into the details when he’d come back to the hotel messed up. But this? This was a whole new level that Husk had yet to witness before.

It was getting worse...

“I-I lost the chain...” Is all Angel says, voice gruff from the sobs and other vocal strains. It takes Husk only a few seconds to understand him though. For Angel’s birthday, that he still celebrated because it’s one of the many things he refuses to forget, Husk had taken bar tips from the guests and used it to buy Angel a simple and modest gold chain.

Husk was thinking it was gonna be met with a forced smile, maybe even some teasing, but instead, Angel held it with all four hands like it was his ticket to heaven.

And a lot happened that night...

The major thing being Husk seeing Angel in the necklace. Wearing just the necklace. But none of it was spoken about again after that night. Much to both of their understanding...

There was too much happening to ever get too lost in the sheets of Husk's bedroom..

“I... I couldn’t stop him from taken it. I-I’m sorry. I… I’ll try and get it back, or maybe I’ll just… how much was it? I’ll pay ya-“ Husk cuts Angel off by bringing his head back to his chest. Angel slightly grips his fur, eyes shutting tight.

“He coulda killed me tonight...” Angel whispers finally as if it’s just now dawning on him. As if it’s never been like this before. A quick hit here and there, or some very loud yelling, but it’s never been like this. Angel had feared getting hurt.

But tonight… tonight was the first time he ever feared dying...

Husk softly shushes him, stroking his hair as they sit there on the floor.

The hotel was quiet at this point.

Charlie had a sign up encouraging guests and other staff members to use midnight as a sort of curfew…

And Husk hated midnight...

**************************************

-Part 2 will be out by tomorrow. I do anything Hazbin or Helluva, and requests are open!

[lythecreatorart]

Repurpose Galactic Hunters into an OC for K&M au

I need my boys to stay with me no matter fandom XD

Overall, the dynamic still the same, just different backstory and all

Mini lore dump

Seek is the one of the first soul Husk got from the gamble (the first to get heck from try get free booze the moment he die), was known hitmen when alive, got into demon study and successfully summon one somehow, anarchist at heart, die from fire

Keeper, his history is still unknown, we dont know if he a hell born or a sinner, he just got summon by Seeker for shit and giggles. Soul bond with the guy for years, when Seek die, he try to find him in hell but felt his power got tugged from Seek gamble his soul away to Husk (HE WAS NOT WITH HIM FOR A DAY)

Keeper begrudgingly got drag into Seek’s mess due to soul bond, manage to deal with Husk to let him keep Seek’s soul for 5 hell years then let them free (unless Seek attaches and stay with Husk)

Seek work as bouncer at Husk’s casino

Keeper work as an inside person for Husk when he can’t physically gain information from inside the casino

[hazbinjuveniles]

Husk (Cause of Death- Tripped over a cat and fell off the roof while drunk)

Died at age 17

Abandoned as a baby

Grew up at a bad orphanage and was bullied everyday

Had enough and ran away from the orphanage

Lived on the streets and got by stealing and pickpocketing

Later learned to gamble and con people

Had a mini gambling ring going on

Also deal in contraband & smuggling around the streets

Got into alcohol in his early teens and became depended on it

Was drinking on a building rooftop but accidentally tripped over a stray cat nearby and fell over the ledge

Gets by in Hell using his gambling and smuggling skill

While he does not own a casino like his canon self, he did manage to build a well known gambling den by himself

He is not a Overlord in this AU

With his gambling den, he managed to create quite a few connections

One day he noticed a particular customer visited his gambling den. It’s the Radio Demon. 

Got cocky and thought he can win the Radio Demon soul by tricking him into playing a rigged card game

He then challenged the Radio Demon with an interesting prize in his mind

If he wins, he gets Alastor’s soul but if Alastor’s wins he get his soul

The game is stupidly rigged to be in Husk favor

The game ended the same way as canon with Husk losing his soul

His alcoholism got worse after this

On the bright side, Alastor is by far the least worst Overlord to get chained too. Since Alastor is still young in this AU, he is not as cruel as his canon counterpart or at the very least not purposely cruel towards Husk.

Alastor just leaves him alone until he needed Husk for a job

Overall Husk is still free to do whatever he wishes and he thinks the Radio Demon is not all that

However there was one incident that showed Husk how dangerous Alastor really is. 

The one and only time Alastor lost control of his emotions and went on a rampage that destroyed a good chunk of the city. It’s later called “The Radio Incident”

Husk is one of the few living witnesses from ground zero

From that day on, he keep an eye on Alastor and his mood lest he wants that incident to happen again

[anime-owo-kage-san]

Some Crymini Sketches and Father-Daughter mini comics of her and Husk: (A typhoon was happening around where I am, and so, my net was really slow. For three days I was able to scroll through tumblr, but none of the pictures are loading. So, I only got to post them here now.)

Drawing Crymini from memory vs When I have a reference:

Girl has so much on her color palette, and her mohawk is beautifully huge that it is hard to remember what she looks like even when I think I imagined her perfectly in my head. (She’s got both Husk and Angel’s color palette though, and I love it.)

Anyone else think she and Fat Nuggets are kinda siblings, because of the eye spot thing?

Crymini gives Husk a gift:

Please ignore how it’s way far from father’s day now…

Crymini fooling around Husk’s casino:

First pic is kinda blurry, here’s a transcript:

Crymini: “Anyone here want a swig of ‘Spikey Pikes?’”

Husk: “That ain’t a real drink! No one order that! Crym! You’re only supposed to clean the glasses! Leave the bartending to the bartenders!”

I used to pronounce Crymini’s name as “Kri-minnie”, but then I heard someone on YouTube shorts pronounce it as “Cry-meanie”. And I guess it sorta sounded better to me, so I went with it.

I still don’t know which is the actual pronunciation.

So, Husk calls her ‘Crym’ (pronounced as ‘crime’) for short. Since, Angel (in fanon) already calls her Mini.

~•~

If she were to be added in the series, I really like the idea that she used to work for Husk when he was an overlord.

But, he didn’t own her soul. He makes an exemption and just lets her work there freelance.

I know Husk was probably an asshole back when he was an overlord, but I like to think, that just like Alastor having a soft spot and being a gentleman for the ‘shes and hers’ —Husk has a soft spot for kids.

I’m sure you all remember me saying that when I linked my fanfic. Speaking of which, I changed the series name on ao3 from Cat-Spider-Hyena Blended Family whatever I called it. Bc it’s a mouthful. It’s now called “The Loser Family”.

[little-journeys-fic]

Rouge: Whatever you plan on doing, I'll be here. Helping in anyway I can. I'm sure Angel will understand. And even if not or you need a place to relax from everyone and everything, my abandoned mansion is always available to you. And I'll feel you there. Just call my name and I'll be there. If you are ever in trouble go to the mansion or in a dark alley or a dark place in general. . . Call me and I'll be there. No matter what. *Rouge closed her eyes and made a shadow bracelet. The bracelet was a black shadowy string with a mini version of Husk's playing cards, dice, and a few casino roulette wheels.* Did it work?

Husk: *looking at the bracelet with wide eyes* Rouge....its beautiful. Thank you. *Chuckles softly* Seems I'm collecting magic jewelry. *Pulls out his necklace from Alastor* But I'm not complaining.

[knightfire]

Mini-fic: A Heartfelt Exchange

It was a simple spell to perform, on the surface. All it really needed was a hum of melody and heartfelt words. That was what Al said, at least.

Stage fright hadn’t bothered Husk in almost a century, and yet he felt himself fumbling his words as he attempted to sing his brain-addling adoration free of his heart to fly to Alastor’s ears.

Something inside of him quaked and tore gently, like the release of a dandelion seed in a puff of wind. And then at the edge of his vision, something pulsed. The whole of Hell was blotted out, vanished from around them in a surge of breath-stealing Power.

As Husk’s feverish, inadequate words wafted a thread free, Alastor took up the song in his stead. There was nothing but the starblind Magnetism of his gaze and the Sound of his voice.

“Everything is golden and true, when my soul is a duet with you”

The softest whisper of volcanic Energy stitched itself into Husk’s core. It should burn, he thought. It should incinerate him down to his anchor and reduce his physical shell to a feather-kissed ash.

It didn’t burn. It didn’t hurt at all. It wound through his pulse, blazing certainty and affection down almost to the deepest and most secret places within his soul.

It was Al. It was part of him, and now he was part of Al and his eyes were stinging with the words that came erupting out of him as their music poured them into each other in a flood of tangled, unpracticed notes that put any casino jackpot to shame!

It was his. This was his. He could keep it forever and fuck what even the Almighty thought about it! He was keeping this moment in his heart until the goddamned end of Time came for him. He was the luckiest bastard in the whole damned Hellsphere; maybe even beyond!

He wished though, that he could remember how the song went. It had spun readily through the fibers of his being, strummed on the strings of his shaky, unworthy heart so readily, but he couldn’t quite recall how it had gone now.

A moment’s doubt hissed in his mind at that realization. How unworthy was he? Had he cheated Al with this Deal somehow?

Alastor caught him from a tilt he didn’t remember falling into, and held Husk tight. Husk’s ears twitched at the faint sound of the pulse in the other demon’s chest. Their hearts were beating in sync, and wasn’t that the most incredible thing? Husk wondered at it, even as his eyelids grew heavy.

“I heard that moment of hesitation. Let your fears die a mortal death, Husker. We have no need of them, here. This is what I want,” he heard Alastor swear gently into his ear.

The Radio Demon felt his new husband’s body go slack as Husk let exhaustion claim him. For a moment, he remained in place, letting his soul settle into its new rhythm. When he trusted his voice again, he spoke once more.

“You aren’t the only one who is afraid. You are the one I never knew I was missing out on, Husker. You’re the accompaniment that betters my own tune. Thank you, my dearest love. Thank you for making the exchange. I will make the Deal as sweet as I can.”

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 48

It’s Saturday! Fanfic Progress Update! Stay tuned to the end of this post for a spoiler-y glimpse into the next chapter of Adventure Gone Mini AND the next chapter of Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife.

Okay tho, here’s the deal. Next week is gonna be CRAZY. So I’ll just post a schedule right here to show you just how crazy:

Saturday: This is today. Sunday: Chapter 4 (ch.11½ Part 1) of Fine, jackass! Monday: Chapter 5 (ch.11½ Part 2) of Fine, jackass! Tuesday: Chapter 12 of Afterlife Wednesday: Chapter 34 of Mini Thursday: Chapter 6 (ch.11½, unrelated) of Fine, jackass! Friday: Chapter 13 of Afterlife Saturday: Finally a break! You’ll get fresh news then.

The next week of my life is going to consist of editing, posting, and answering feedback! I’m going to be so dead, but I’ll die happy XD;

Current WIPs:

Adventure gone Mini

Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild / The Minish Cap

Summary: Sidon is given his very own Sheikah Slate, the first replica Purah has managed to make, and sets out to travel with Link with the intention of registering warp points for convenient travel in the future. However, when a malfunction shrinks them down to the size of bugs, and they meet little people called the Minish, they have to change their plans from “fun adventuring” to “getting out of this mess”. Not that those two have to exclude one another. Link/Sidon.

Progress: Chapter 33 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 8th of January. Chapter 34 is done and will be posted on 29th of January. Chapter 35 has been started.

I update this fic every three weeks on Wednesdays.

—–

Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: Husk is just your everyday demon, minding his own business and living his afterlife mostly in self-caused misery. He’s been at it for about ten years when he rather abruptly finds himself on the Radio Demon’s radar. Suddenly his life becomes a lot more interesting. For fuck’s sake, he did not ask for this bullshit. Alastor/Husk.

Progress: Chapter 11 is the current latest chapter, and was published on 24th of January. Chapter 12 will be published on 28th of January, and chapter 13 on 31st of January. The rest of the chapters are done and waiting for their turn; the final count is 16.

I update this fic every Tuesday and Friday!

—–

Fine, be a part of my afterlife, jackass!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: This is not a stand-alone story! This is a compilation of additional “filler” chapters that go between the chapters of “Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife”, starting from chapter 7. Read the main story up to that point or further before bothering with this one.

Every chapter of Afterlife is vital to the story: they bring the plot forward, each introduces a new development, each has a reason for being included. The chapters in this, however, are the ideas that couldn’t fit in Afterlife, because they don’t bring the story forward. So, additional fun Husk and Alastor content for this universe, because I feel like it!

Progress: Chapter 4 (ch.11½ Part 1) is done, and will be posted on 26th of January. Chapter 5 (ch.11½ Part 2) is done and will be posted on 27th of January. Chapter 6 (ch.11½, unrelated to the other two) is done and will be posted on 30th of January. This fic is looking to be 8 chapters long at this time, but could still change.

There will be no sneak-peeks with this one. You’ll have to walk in blind each time ;) …But I will tell you this: the next two chapters are a two-parter story, and it’s not fluff. It’s the opposite of fluff. Beware!

—–

Drunk Alastor (workname)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary (temporary): Roles are reversed in many ways when a drunk Alastor knocks on Husk’s door and has no intention of going to his own room for the night. And it only gets weirder from there, leaving Husk with a most unexpected arrangement with the Radio Demon. Alastor/Husk.

Progress: Chapters 1 and 2 are done. Chapter 3 has been started. The plan is to start posting this once Afterlife is done with, assuming that I have this mostly written by then. No progress since the last time, as I’ve been busy with Fine, Jackass!

—–

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to someday:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Rolling with it (Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

Possibly worth staying for (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here are the promised sneak-peeks into Mini and Afterlife. (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fics themselves due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

Mini

The Hero statue started to freeze over. A pained grunt sounded in the air, and Link recognized the voice as Sidon's. Hylia damn it! Link grabbed the only boot he had left and tossed it to the right, as far as he could. An ice ray followed immediately, and Link took the opportunity to jump to the left, leaving his shelter. He locked his sight on his enemy, who was looking confusedly in the wrong direction now. Hah, sucker! Clearly they weren't used to competent enemies. Link pointed the Cane of Pacci at the Vaatian wizard, and the knowledge of how to use it filled his brain, like he had done this a million times before. He fired, and hit the Vaatian in the chest.

Afterlife

Husk's afterlife after Alastor had entered it was certainly fucking colourful. Both in the good and in the bad. The good times were the highlights of his dull existence. There were regular good times when either one of them was invited for a lunch or a dinner or simply for a glass of whiskey at the other's place. When they hit the pub together. When they went grocery shopping together just so Alastor could get amusement out of the other demons' shocked looks when he carried Husk's shopping basket. That one time Alastor did stand-up comedy and told just dad jokes for an entire hour and Husk was in fucking stitches half because of the awful jokes and half because of the rest of the audience's reactions – the fuckers didn't know if they were allowed to groan in despair or if they were obligated to laugh in order to not fucking die. The times they visited bookstores, thrift shops, antiquarians, or old record stores to look for new old things to read or listen to. Whenever they found a movie or a tv-show old enough for Alastor's approval and watched it together at Husk's home. The best times were when they went to the casino together. Alastor's creepy poker face was out of this world and it was fucking hilarious to watch the other patrons lose their shit around him. They always made a killing together, and then they went to the finest pub in town and bought everyone a round of champagne and had a jolly good time the whole night. Actually, those nights were the best times of Husk's entire existence, life and afterlife combined. That's why he kept them very rare – he didn't want them to ever lose their magic, and he had potentially the whole literal eternity to consider. So, once a year, maximum, no matter how badly he wanted to do it more often.

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

AO3    FFnet    Purple Crayon    Ko-fi

[fictionfactorygames]

Heroes and Villains

Let’s talk heroes. Because that’s you guys. Both folks reading the free dev blog, and our Patreon supporters.

I warned the patrons ahead of time that we wouldn’t have a demo available for September, due to PAX and other related life obligations. I said I was totally cool with folks dropping out or just cutting back support for a month in response.

Know how much the Patreon sank? A dollar. One dollar. That’s it. You guys? You’re awesome and I can’t thank you enough. This is proving my most expensive creative lark ever and this genuinely does help us make it happen.

Okay, now let’s talk villains.

While my co-author and various artists were off at various conventions (DragonCon, FanCon, PAX West, etc… man, that’s a lot of simultaneous events) I was here by my lonesome having the most productive weekend in a LONG time. Relaxing, too, go figure. I’m happiest when I’m working, I guess.

My goal was to bash out as much of Chapter 06 as possible. “But wait!” you cry, as I slowly advance on you with a knife. “We haven’t even finished Chapter 03!” Yes, well, this is video gaems, not sturry novals. Since we had a solid roadmap and outline I was able to move ahead to a part of the story I had firmly fixed in my mind for months… the confrontation with our main villain.

Who goes by the name Deco Nami. (It’s built on two references, one of which is a pun. Bonus points to anyone who figures them both out in the comments below.)

I think it’s no surprise that I have a deep loathing of the modern “arcade,” which is more of a kiddie casino than a game parlor. Dave & Busters and the dessicated husk of Chuck E. Cheese lead the vanguard there, providing loosely-legally safe slot machines to drag kids into Skinner Boxes and never let them go. So, our main villain is rather specifically spearheading the movement to pulverize arcade games and turn them into Mini-Vegas. And writing him is an absolute joy.

I won’t spoil the circumstances of your conflict, or the outcome. It’s something we’re building towards and the fallout is going to be spectacular. But hopefully, through Deco’s Palace, I’ll make my case for what the ideal of arcade culture should be. And hopefully, you’ll have fun thwarting him.

[husk-not-whiskers]

"So you're back but only for a short time? Alright, catboy, if I win you gotta give Nifty an energy drink but if you win, I'll give ya half of our best booze from Club Kaiju."

-@kaiju-overlords

“Ya know I can’t argue with some good fucking booze.”

“Watcha wanna play?”

[husk-not-whiskers]

"oh? a gambling proposal?"

they tilt their head before giving him a shrug.

"i don't see why not. but, let's see, whatever shall we wager..."

there was a silence as they try to think of something beneficial for both parties involved.

"ah, how about a little information exchange between the two of us, shall we? where whoever wins gets to ask a question to the one who lost. after all, i do have a question which i'm dying to know the answer of. so what do you say, up for this little gambling proposal of mine?"

-📻 (@dohdahradioanon)

((// i guess i'll going with the number 12 for this. ))

“I don’t see why not.”

“What game you feeln’?”

[husk-not-whiskers]

*I walk over to the table, intrigued*

Taking bets, huh? I can do basic poker. I win, I get a kiss either on the hand or forehead. You win, you ain't gotta worry about seeing me for a week.

(34?)

“I’ll miss ya”

————

(45)

“You put up a good game I’ll say that. You don’t gotta leave unless you wanna”

[husk-not-whiskers]

♥️♣️~MINI EVENT ~♠️♦️

No one knew how… or when.. but a large poker table had seemingly formed out of nowhere near the back of the hotel.

“LISTEN UP FUCKERS, I’M BACK FOR THE NIGHT”

“So come play a game of cards with the former gambling overlord. The fuck’ve ya gotta loose anyway?”

“Anything’s on the table tonight ya sons a’ bitches”

<Rules and instructions under cut>

Basically you’ll say what you want to gamble (your offer), and what you want from husk. And he’ll probably agree to it.

I’ll be rolling dice so tell your number. Now… depending on your character you’ve got higher chances of winning.

All Alastors get one number from a d6

All other overlords get one number from a d12 // if overlords ask for a risky gamble it goes to a d20

Everyone else gets one number off a d20

NOW! If your deal is something a bit more risky or you know something husk won’t like it’s gonna be d50 you get one number.

Ex- asking to pet him, asking him to do a stupid pose for a photo, wear something dumb

And in RARE cases, if your ask is absolutely batshit insane it’s gonna be a d100

Ex- like telling him to ask angel out

And in EXTREME CASES, I’m gonna ask Siri to pick a number 1-1000

Ex- telling him to say something to Alastor

This event will last for about 6 hours

How to send a gamble request

Start with some kind of intro and then what you’d like.

“So you’re gambling tonight? I want you to paint your nails hot pink if I win and if you win, I’ll buy you whatever kind of booze you want” (I pick 15)

Or you can leave the choice up to Husk. But we warned you don’t get any say if you whatever you want. It will be. WHATEVER he wants <or whatever mod green thinks is funny>

“Hands down if I win I want you to wear the cat in the hat hat. And you can have whatever I don’t care” (32)

That would be a d50 bc husk wouldn’t wanna do that

If you are unsure, just pick a number 1-20

[husk-not-whiskers]

So you’re playing card games, Husker? Remember when I said I was gonna get ya next time, Sugar? *laughs* If I win….you’ll have to wear this for a week. *she holds up a girly frilly pink bow with a matching pinstriped vest and white pants.* if you win….then I’ll be your personal chef for a week. Deal ?

- @mielles-lounge

“…”

“… ya know what.”

“Let’s do it”

<pick a number 1-50>

[husk-not-whiskers]

*sigh* And you would have looked so cute in that vest. Ah well. You bested me again, Husk~ You’re lucky I can cook~

- @mielles-lounge

“I wouldn’t taken the bet if ya couldn’t”