Welcome to my twisted tortillas

The writing blog of Darkhymns from AO3. I cross-post all SFW fic (and some not-so-SFW). Current writing obsessions: Symphonia (Colloyd), Hazbin Hotel (Radiohusk), Undertale/Deltarune, Elden Ring, Crestoria.

[darkhymns-fic]

Pinned post time! I’m Darkhymns and I’m your local Symphonia/Colloyd writer! I’ve been writing for over a decade and like to focus on video games/book canons for fics. Current canons I’m obsessing over are Tales of (Symphonia, Crestoria, Vesperia) Deltarune, Undertale, Hazbin Hotel, Elden Ring, and Death Gate Cycle. I write about Lloyd/Colette a normal amount. I also write about Husk/Alastor (radiohusk) a normal amount.

I’ve written for zines/doujins, which you can check out more over on my carrd.

All fics I share on this tumblr are crossposted on my AO3! 

Here is also my personal tumblr, bluesky, and twitter.

Thanks for reading!

[darkhymns-fic]

for your own good

There was a rustling of chains and creaking leather in the corner. Accompanied by low growls laced in static that made his ears curl. Husk made the error in giving said corner a quick glance, and met with red eyes that could have seared the very air between them if they could. Lay low. Don't make it worse. Husk fiddled with the cards. This might all pass.

Alastor, now free of his leash, is brought to heel by the King of Hell. Husk is tasked to watch over him. It's for the good of the hotel, which already has enough problems.

But more chains gets old so fast.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters/Pairing: Alastor/Husk Rating: T Word Count: 3246 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Based off this prompt by anon, thank you for getting me out of the writer's block. I so missed my furry toxic yaoi...

--

It's for safety reasons, they said. You just need to watch over him, they said. So he doesn't hurt himself!

Alright, it was Charlie who said all that, and Husk, the softie and dumbass that he was, listened to her. He was pulled in by pleading paired with teary eyes, by the worrying gesture of her hands, and that, with everything the hotel was going through now, only Husk could do this.

“He trusts you!” she said to him, as they walked towards the small, forgotten hotel room that was still in renovation. “And I think he'd really appreciate having a friend with him.”

The door had shut behind him with a loud click. A turn of a key, and then said key floating away to catch a stray mouse or something. Husk wasn't sure he could bribe the little KeeKee with any treats this time.

He was stuck here, on watch, with a fellow rabid prisoner. Following orders once again. The hell is fucking wrong with me?

There was a rustling of chains and creaking leather in the corner. Accompanied by low growls laced in static that made his ears curl. Husk made the error in giving said corner a quick glance, and met with red eyes that could have seared the very air between them if they could.

Alastor, threads shining over his stitched mouth, struggled inside the straitjacket, thinking just one more tug, just one more corrupted signal would be enough to get him free. Surrounding him, the end of each of his shadow tendrils were bound in dark manacles, connected by chains lodged in the wall behind him.

Husk, seated on the floor and all the way across the room, flipped another card in front of him. Least he could do was play some solitaire.

“Got no one but yourself to blame for this, boss,” he said, eyeing the king of spades card he drew. “But I'm sure you'll try anyway.”

His answer was another rupture in the air, one that made the soft hotel light above flicker. Classic horror movie trick, except the monster was real and could do far worse if he could. “That fucking hack of a king!!”

Not the first time the specter of Lucifer overshadowed the air. And maybe, Husk was beginning to get the sentiment.

What made it worse? This all may have been somewhat avoidable if most of the Pentagram hadn't suddenly turned on the hotel, too.

Lay low. Don't make it worse. Husk fiddled with the cards. This might all pass.

Husk wasn't even sure how it all started; it just all slowly built up when the path to redemption Charlie promised kept not working, kept failing, kept getting people hurt in all her outrageous exercises that were life or death. 

Or how sinners slowly began to lose faith and called Pentious a liar, that he must have been an angel in disguise actually, and that was why he was in Heaven and just went back there once he was tired of Hell. And also, how many still regarded Lucifer, King of Hell, as a let down after the whole Might of Lilith fiasco. So, it wasn’t like Alastor was alone in his opinion.

And then, to make matters worse, somehow always worse, Lute and her Exorcist army came down to fan the flames. Not only killing sinners, but goading them on. After all, wasn’t it the little princess and her filthy hotel staff were ruining things? Shouldn’t they all take out their anger and grievances on such a tacky building where all they do is pray the sin away?

Husk grimaced. He hated how sometimes he could see where they were coming from.

There was another clattering of chains and growls, followed by incessant buzzing that made the fur on Husk’s back stand on end. Charlie hadn’t wanted to hurt any of the sinners, even if they were trying to hurt her. One of the guests—a spy? a stalker?—had even tried to douse her in battery acid (because they were made of the stuff) before Vaggi skewered them in half with her spear. Only the carpets were singed, and maybe another sinner or two.

So, quarantine time. Separating themselves from the bloodthirsty sinners outside until Charlie could think up a plan. Any plan. Just something. Until Alastor got fucking antsy.

The man never liked being chained down to begin with.

Antlers grew and stretched above until they staggered. Alastor snarled, but the spiny darkness wouldn’t reach up to claw at the ceiling like he desperately wanted to. Metal clasps dangled with each motion he tried, the chains also groaning from his constant pulling. Their surfaces looked dull in the lighting, but Husk could see the faint sheen of silver over those chaina—the same over the leather straps that constricted Alastor’s arms. 

On Charlie's insistence, perhaps the most she had ever been, Alastor was not allowed to kill anyone, even if Vaggi got to. And he took that extremely personally.

Husk was the voice of reason. The one who knew Alastor best. So, of course Charlie had picked him for this gig. He took a breath, tail twitching.

“Look, if you calm down, we can play a game of go fish or something.” Husk slapped down another card on the floor, one arm laying over his upright knee. “You like that, right?”

Well, he knew Alastor did, but not before his own pride had been trampled on. No, Lucifer couldn’t harm sinners, but that didn’t exempt him from binding them if he really, absolutely needed to. It seemed the King of Hell, despite being a bit of an airhead, still held a few tricks of his own.

Another snarl. Eyes seared red, lengthening the shadows around them. The rather sparsely furnished hotel room, with just maybe one bedside table and blanket lying on the floor near Alastor (a gift from Niffty?), was painted in neon crimson. The very air around Alastor brimmed with keening pitches and electricity.

Maybe antsy wasn't exactly the right word for Alastor. More like rabid. Or feral. Unhinged. In a more murderous moon than usual.

Him and Lucifer had been butting heads constantly since the lockdown, like the freaks they were, until it reached a boiling point and Alastor was tearing apart the foyer after Lucifer said something about his face, or some other bullshit. Husk didn’t care to really know. He thought it would be over quick. He thought his boss wouldn't be humiliated so thoroughly.

The result was Alastor bound in angelic chains, barely able to do anything but growl and struggle, until he realized he really couldn't break free at all. No, Lucifer couldn't harm sinners, but maybe his time in the scary box gave him an idea that wasn't duck-themed for once.

“Ha! Just another trussed up little Bambi! Am I right, or am I right?!” Husk remembered Lucifer turning to him specifically when he said that, pointing at Alastor like he’d won the biggest hunting game of his eternal life. There was Alastor near the shattered fireplace, wrapped in a straitjacket that had suddenly materialized, with shining chains that took every tendril and brought it to heel like a pack of beaten dogs. He had looked small. He had looked wrong.

Lucifer kept grinning wide, then slapped Husk on the shoulder. “Ha, you get me. How about a free round for everyone at the hotel, barkeep? The good stuff!” Then he did double finger guns. For some reason.

Husk hadn't answered. The whole situation just made him feel sick.

In the end, no one else really argued for his freedom. This way, Charlie wouldn't have to worry too much. She could finally focus on the sinners. On the goddamn hotel. Still, she had found the time to ask him one thing. Just one small favor, pretty please with sugar and cherries on top.

So, here he was. The guy that got the short end of the stick because Lucifer might have pushed Alastor and made things worse, because Niffty might have freed Alastor the moment she could, because Vaggi couldn't stand being around the radio host, and because Charlie just never, ever had enough time.

Husk, last man standing between Alastor and the rest. Forced to be his boss' sole entertainment. 

Alastor, still with his noises, quieted down slightly. He glared, he seethed, and his tendrils shook in their chains. 

A crack of bones, head tilting. “You're so far away, Husker.”

Husk frowned. “Yeah? You can still see the cards.” He held one up. The queen of clubs. “I ain't budging.”

Yet, this hotel room felt so small compared to the rest. And Alastor's eyes, steeped in that bleeding neon, were disturbingly clear. Even if the threads around his mouth stretched as far as they could go.

He was trying to calm down now. After raging for blood, to tear off Lucifer’s head from his shoulders, to eat his fill of every sinner that tried to break through the hotel’s doors.

After looking very ready to rip open Husk's ribcage apart and leave nothing behind.

Husk stretched out his wings, flipping his chosen card on the floor. “Al, we don't have to make this hard. Just tell Charlie what she wants to hear and let's get out of here, alright?”

What he didn't dare say, Seeing you all chained up like this fucks with my head too much.

At least, they didn't put Alastor in a literal cage, just to be overkill.

For a moment, the droning static stopped. The shadows covered Alastor's face, leaving only bright eyes, their light digging into Husk's skull. The antlers strained. The chains rattled again.

Then, a laugh. Not harshly. Not in its usual mocking tone.

It just sounded tired.

“I have had enough of doing just that.” Another painful twist, enough that Husk swore he could feel it himself. “All I have done is keep telling others what they crave to hear. Is that what you want me to do?”

“How is it any different with me and you then, huh?” Husk swept up the cards back into his hand. The white edges shone brightly against the red light. “I have to say what you want all the goddamn time.”

“Ah, no, not true, Husker.” The tendrils continued to pull the chains. Mindless things, like every shadow Alastor had ever made. They would rush around Husk on normal days, sliding a tip just against his ear, or his hand. He should be glad they were tied down now. “I need someone around who will, for once in my existence, just tell me the truth.”

Husk raised an eyebrow. God, why was he playing this game with him? “You didn’t exactly appreciate my fucking honesty the last time.”

A chuckle that rasped and clawed at the bars around his soul, the leather straps on the straitjacket heaving with rage. “No, but it was a good reminder.” A shudder. “I can’t stand being like this again.”

And with that, Alastor stood up.

It was a small waste of a room they were both in, one that was chosen haphazardly by Vaggi when she wanted to wash her hands of the whole thing. “Just let me know if he does anything,” she had told Husk as he was pulled away by Charlie, already rushing out to stem down another catastrophe. Both sinners and angels were trying to get through the windows. Even now, Husk could hear the glass shattering, as if each step from Alastor widened the cracks even more.

“Hey, you're just fucking making it worse!” Husk’s shout was barely anything like one, more like a feeble warning that held no real teeth to it.

It was painful to just move. Husk knew this. He knew it the moment he saw Lucifer summon the binds over Alastor, silver light searing deep into Alastor’s skin before it turned to chains and leather and clasps. But even with that light slowly covered, it didn’t stop the very burning that must have kept going, leaving their marks on his twisted bones.

“I've tasted freedom, finally, for the first time and then I'm locked away again! Again, Husker! I refuse to be like this anymore. Not after everything. Charlie can say all the sweet words she wants, and it will hurt worse than these stupid chains! You understand that, my friend!”

This wasn’t the time for pride now. But Husk could only watch as Alastor tried to walk forward, pulling at the chains until one link seemed to warp and weaken. A yellow grin took over half of his face, the threads threatening to snap off, and then what would happen? Would he just unhinge his mouth and scream and devour everything in sight?

Husk held the cards close to his chest, but then, there was a wrong shift of Alastor’s constrained legs. He then fell to his side, his shoulder hitting a rough section of the floor. He grunted, the static bursting around him like a mini electrical surge.

Husk winced. He turned away.

Fuck. Why was this too much for him? Shouldn't he be happy to see Alastor get a taste of his own medicine for once? To feel like he's always at the mercy of another?

Except, he always had to. They’ve always had to. They’ve always had to.

Husk pressed his hat further against his head, wanting to just disappear from this mess. “Just–Just stop it! Let's just get it fucking over with and then you can go back to being a petty asshole like always!”

Don't be trapped anymore together. We’re already trapped by everything else.

He hated what this did to him. Not when this man on the floor would also tug at his chains and make him feel worthless. So why did he have to care about it? He didn't want to unpack that and find the answer.

Alastor looked up at Husk from the floor. His grin was tight. Painful. “You know they won't fully let me go.” 

Husk shouldn’t have looked at Alastor in the eyes. But it was already too late. And he had already wanted to.

“Another manacle over my neck. Or maybe on my ankle. But I heard the talks, Husker. I'm not to be trusted, and they have good reason not to, I admit.” Alastor’s chuckles were hollow. “I'm too dangerous to be free again, aren't I? I don't deserve such a thing.”

Husk listened. He tapped his claws over his cards. Still, a seed of doubt. “Charlie wouldn't agree to that.”

Alastor's smile widened. “Oh, Husker. You really are losing your touch.”

Maybe he was. Husk hadn't been the same since Angel left, since the hotel felt less and less like a home and just another dive to work at for no pay. Alastor, tied up and burning from the binds over his flesh, was just his next task on his work docket.

Looking at Alastor, lying on the floor, a defeated monster. Why were those eyes more like a reflection than anything else?

“Then what do you exactly want me to do?” In the end, that was what Alastor was really asking him.

The demon was close enough that those struggling antlers could have pierced him if they were allowed to grow. Alastor was able to push himself to his knees, constricted in his pose. His tight grin was about to rip open his entire face.

“You have so many tricks up your sleeve. I shouldn't have to spell it out, dear friend.”

At that, Husk hid his cards away. But their edges still caught the red light from Alastor's gaze. Sharp, and still with a gleam or two of old angelic blood that Husk could never wash away.

He did make sure to keep a few of the Carmilla-adjustedcards. In case of another Exorcist attack. In case he finally had enough. In case he had to do the unthinkable..

And even if the shadows were threatening, even if he would be the first to have his head ripped off, or his soul torn to shreds…

He couldn't keep watching Alastor like this anymore.

The room was so small. Claustrophobic. Both them locked in here with each other. Everyone thought they would just take it, right? Husk felt the age-old anger burn in his chest.

But was he not just following orders again? From one voice of authority to another?

Except Alastor can't command for shit now.

Then, the room went dark. Husk raised his head, staring at the demon who now leered over him. A back sharply bent, a mouth now half open. The threads poked through Alastor's skin painfully. He had the slavering jaws of a beast, the eyes of a deranged maniac, and—

It really was too much.

“I see you wavering,” Alastor spoke. His voice became pure corruption again. A shadowy tendril pulled, and pulled, but was bound further. Husk could feel the searing heat, the hiss of magic crackling underneath. “But I suppose you could get what you want with me locked away.”

Something clicked inside his skull. Opened. Let in the harsh light over everything. Husk growled. “You don't have a fucking clue what I want.”

A lie. A half-truth. Husk didn't know either. But with that, his hesitation was over. 

The way he threw his card forward was hardly much, he barely had to leave from his lazy slouch on the floor. But that one card aimed itself to the chains, the one attached to a right wisp of shadows. It shimmered in the dark, but the metal snapped. The shadow pulled free, then moved erratically across the walls.

Alastor watched Husk so eagerly.

He had a few more. He was barely paying attention to what he was doing. These things slipped from my hands that was all. Got sent in here while I was drunk on the job. After all, what did people expect of him? What did Charlie expect of him?

The cards moved like they were on their own, not pulled by anything invisible, not following the direction of Husk's gaze. The chains around another tendril. The leather binds crossing Alastor's torso. And the straitjacket itself, torn to shreds—or maybe that was because his boss was getting much too big for it anyway.

Alastor continued to leer down, his antlers grand and clawing at the ceiling. Twin spotlights of red fell over Husk, the star of Alastor's very eyes.

The end of one of those thin shadows slipped underneath Husk's chin, a feather touch. He looked up at Alastor, at that wide, feral grin where the threads no longer burned against skin.

There was relief.

“Favors for favors then,” he said before moving closer. He slid his fingers around Husk's neck.

Maybe Husk would have accepted anything, having so little left. I won't need the cards anymore. But he heard the tell-tale chains snap, watched fragments of green float in the air before vanishing completely.

Alastor leaned down so close, his breath rushing into Husk's mouth. “We won't need them anymore.”

The hotel had always been a temporary thing. As Charlie said herself, a place for sinners to pass through. To move onto better things.

They had better things to do.

Husk didn't move as Alastor engulfed them both in shadows, the distant sounds of the doors breaking echoing far ahead. It didn't matter. They weren't staying here any longer.

Entangled together, but free.

[darkhymns-fic]

Soooo i don't know if you are busy or have any ideas on what to write next but once in a while i remember that husk can speak like 6 languages or such and i very rarely see it portrayed in any fanarts or fics soooo if you have time or ideas or both I'd gladly read something about it

Hi there!

I've been wanting to implement some of Husk's language skills into fics since it's such a neat skill. The only issue is I am unfortunately not as multilingual as Husk... The closest I've done is have him speak a phrase in Spanish since I semi-know it but even then it's shaky haha. I'd imagine that maybe Husk's languages aren't a perfect knowledge either, perhaps something he picked up while traveling and doing temporary jobs. So a mixture of half-phrases and such.

But I'm going to keep this in mind, I might want to use this skill of his in a fic I'm currently writing, or maybe allude to it more. Thank you for the ask! Also so sorry I replied like weeks later 😅

[darkhymns-fic]

Dude I fuck with your radio trio fanfic heavily it’s great. Like you characterize everyone super well and it’s entertaining to read! Thank you for your service 🫡🫡

Late reply, I apologize! But thank you so much for your praise! It truly means a lot. 🥺🙏 I adore the radiotrio so much, they are my little team of blorbos that I want to put into every situation. I feel like ever since with season 2, I've become even more invested with them. (I have so many wips... I'll get to finishing them soon!)

[darkhymns-fic]

What the heart wants is true

Verius leaned into her touch, once again bringing to mind how Corrine would do something similar so long ago. "Sheena, listen to your heart. It has always led you down the right path.”

Sometimes, the gentle nudge of a friend is all one needs.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Sheena Fujibayashi/Lloyd Irving, Verius Rating: G Word Count: 2918 Mirror: AO3 Notes: It's been so long since I wrote a Symphonia fic, and I wanted to get back into it for Sheeloyd Day! This story was also inspired by @frayed-symphony's wonderful art for today, which is here!

--

When Sheena would visit the Martel Temple, there was always a question on her mind. It would sprout whenever she walked through the gates and waved to the guards, when she passed by the old schoolhouse, and when she followed the trail that winded by the ocean, leading into the wooded grove where the ancient structure of stone sat.

Is Lloyd here? Is he back from his journey?

And always, after a cursory look around, she’d find the same answer. He wasn’t here, and no one knew when he’d return.

So, when she knelt upon the dais at the top of the temple, the shape of multiple tails wavering in the mist appearing, she was stunned when Verius spoke her own thoughts out loud.

“Your heart circles around this boy.”

Sheena stuttered, nearly dropping the package of gifts she had prepared for the summon spirit. A few wraps of tuna onigiri, seals of fortune and protection, and another corded bell, this one tied with violet string, symbolizing the eternal friendship between her and the spirit. Though he was no longer Corrine, Verius was just as precious to her.

“I, uh… huh?!” Sheena answered so eloquently. She went to retrieve the gifts, carefully setting them out on the front of the dais. “I…I wasn’t thinking about Lloyd.”

It was hard to tell with this spirit, but she thought she saw Verius give her a little smirk, with a few of his tails waving behind him lightly.

“...You didn’t even mention his name, did you?” Sheena sighed, her face already heating up. “Am I that easy to read?”

Verius lightly padded up to her, just stopping at the edge of the dais. His form was highlighted against the open windows of the temple, his bright yellow fur against the azure skies. His snout reached out to her, delicately touching her forehead.

“I can read one’s heart, and especially yours, my summoner.” Verius gave a deep chuckle, one full of warmth—so different from Corrine’s, whose laughter had been high and sounded like small bells. Even so, Sheena was comforted by the depths of Verius’ voice. “You try to just keep him solely rooted in your heart and nothing more. But such restraint will lead to a terrible ache.”

Sheena could never find it in herself to argue with Verius, not like with anyone else. The soft touch of Verius’ nose that brushed aside her hair prompted her to cup a hand against her friend’s cheek.

“He’s busy with his journey. And… I’m busy taking care of Mizuho. I can’t let my stupid crush get in the way of our responsibilities.”

“And you once had a responsibility to slay a girl who now has become one of your closest friends.” Verius leaned into her touch, once again bringing to mind how Corrine would do something similar so long ago. “Sheena, listen to your heart. It has always led you down the right path.”

Sheena was still worried, too timid, too insecure in her own judgement despite all she had done. But even so, Verius comforted her, giving salve to her feelings that continued to roil in her chest.

--

Sheena lingered around Iselia, even though she had long left the village itself. The woods just outside the gates were rough, with a well-worn trail that went up steep hills, and consisted of uneven, rocky terrain. She found herself walking along it, surprised that Lloyd had traveled such a distance every day for school, past the dry shrubs and even the poison oak that hid in the shade.

She smiled to herself. Actually…it’s a lot like him. Lloyd was always moving, ecstatic to discover something new. She remembered the way to his home, past the now empty Desian ranch, further into the hills. Would Lloyd be there, visiting Dirk while on another pursuit of Exspheres? If she truly wanted, she could have used Mizuho’s information network, tracking down Lloyd’s movements. 

…Except, that sounded creepy if she was doing it for personal reasons.

Agh, I shouldn’t be thinking that! And I shouldn’t be interrupting him while he’s visiting family! 

Sheena took a deep breath as she continued to hike higher. She knew she should be heading back to Mizuho now, but maybe just another walk around the bend, where a broken log lay across a quick-moving stream. She remembered this spot, Lloyd pointing at something enthusiastically, but Raine had kept the group moving along. What was it that he was trying to show…?

So when Sheena stepped through the brush, coming upon a healthy oak tree, she caught the sound. A small splash, and then—

“Damn! Almost had it that time!”

Sheena stopped herself. That couldn’t be right. It was because she had just been talking with Verius, had been thinking about him all this time, and about her own heart… She was probably just wishing for him to be nearby, convenient as it was.

But then, she peered past the tree. Lloyd was there, his back turned to her, the wind lifting up his neck ribbons so that they fluttered like wings.

What was it about Lloyd that always tended to surprise her, even when she found him in a place that was tied to his home?

Lloyd was shin-deep within the stream, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was looking down with intense concentration, or she assumed it was, going by his wavering reflection in the water. Various shadows flitted past his feet, to swim further downstream. The sunlight bounced off his brown hair, giving various shades of auburn, of bronze.

But what really caught Sheena’s attention was the way Lloyd was standing, half-bent, his hands out, like he was about to grab something. He turned slightly, and she could see part of his face, the way his tongue stuck out as he furrowed his brows. His eyes flicked when another shadow in the water swam away.

Wait, is he trying to catch fish? With his hands?

Then, with quick movement, Lloyd shouted as he thrusted both hands into the stream. Water splashed against the front of his jacket and chin. “Yes! Gotcha!”

There was the brief flicker of a dark fin, flapping wildly. But Lloyd’s grip wasn’t sure enough, and so the fish slipped out of his hands, further drenching his face. “Ack! Pft!”

Sheena had to press a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. She had no idea why Lloyd was even doing this, but the sight of it was so silly.

…But also, was she spying on him right now? Sure, that was what ninjas like her did, but she didn’t mean to be doing that! I should leave. He probably wants to be by himself anyway.

Sheena then tried to step away, but when it concerned Lloyd, her stealth instincts seemed to always fly out the window. Her foot stepped on a twig, loudly. It was a mistake that not even a child from Mizuho would have made on their first day of training.

“Huh? Is someone there?” And before she could rush off, she could feel Lloyd’s eyes on her. “Oh hey! Sheena!! Hey!! What are you doing behind that tree?”

Oh no, now she definitely looked like a creep. Zelos would have been laughing his head off by now.

With a nervous laugh, she turned around, giving Lloyd a small wave. “Uh, hi, Lloyd! Didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Huh, really?” Lloyd scratched the back of his head. Water from the stream slid down his cheek. “This is on the way to my house, so not sure why you wouldn’t.”

She was also suddenly really bad at lying when it came to Lloyd too.

It would be silly to try and run away now, so Sheena walked up to the edge of the stream, careful to not accidentally slip into the water because of a wet rock. “Well… I was hoping I’d see you up at your house. But, what exactly are you doing?”

Lloyd grinned. He put his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest in pride. “I’m catching fish! I’ve been practicing for the past few days!”

“Oh!” Sheena paused for a moment. “Why, um, are you doing that?”

“Well…” Lloyd looked to the side. “Last time I visited Mizuho, I saw someone at the river there… and they were catching fish with their hands! They said it was part of training, so I wanted to try it too!”

The soft laughter that left Sheena wasn’t nervous this time. Somehow, this statement from Lloyd didn’t surprise her. “Are you still set on being a ninja yourself one day?”

If Lloyd had flushed just then, she would tell herself that it was just wishful thinking on her part. “I still think it would be cool to be one. And with this, I can get a head start on training!”

Then, his eyes brightened. He looked at Sheena like he suddenly saw her for the first time. His intense gaze made her more aware of herself, of the awkward way she stood and how a few strands of her hair escaped her hair tie. No, no, don’t try to fix it now…

“Maybe you could show me? I’ve been trying to copy the movements, but the fish keep slipping away. I’m sure you’ve caught hundreds of fish!”

“...That’s flattering, but I don’t spend all of my training on trying to catch fish.” Still, she couldn’t help but want to try—especially if it would impress Lloyd!

And he already looked impressed, his fists clenched, his grin wide and happy. “That’s great!”

Well, she might as well try it now…

Careful again to not slip, Sheena quickly untied her boots, then stepped into the water. It was instantly cold, freezing her toes. The stream was so clear now that she was standing in it, the array of small fish dancing around her ankles before flitting away.

She took a breath, stilled her body, and focused on those small shapes beneath. The wind blew through the leaves and lifted her hair. She had one hand up, all fingers pressed together. Another breath, shallower than the last, until she was hardly breathing at all…

A quick splash, soaking her gi only slightly. In her right hand, a small, silver-speckled fish wriggled against her fingers.

Lloyd gawked in awe. “Whoa! You did that so quick!”

Maybe, just maybe, Sheena felt a sense of pride at doing such a technique. She smiled wide. “Hehe! It’s no big deal, really.” She loosened her hold, and the fish splashed back into the stream to join its brethren. “It’s easier to use one hand instead of both.”

Lloyd nodded rapidly, his eyes sparking with inspiration. “Okay, I got it this time! So like…” He squatted lower, holding up his arm above his head like he was about to chop a piece of lumber. “Ya!”

A big splash, one that soaked him completely. He hacked and coughed, which only scared the fish away even more.

Sheena couldn’t hold back now. She laughed louder, her cheeks aching from her grin. But she tried to calm herself down to finally talk again. “Lloyd, you’re not trying to cut the fish in half! Here, I’ll keep showing you.”

--

Before she knew it, hours had gone by.

Sheena didn’t think she’d have so much fun with what amounted to being a childhood game. The sun had moved through the sky until it nearly reached the horizon, and Lloyd stopped splashing all around the stream in a clumsy attempt to catch something.

“Just take easy breaths through your nose. It’s like when you’re sword training.” Sheena brought her hands in, taking a breath as she did so. She stood next to Lloyd in the river, the sunlight glinting off the ripples. “Pace yourself. Don’t grab for the first fish you see.”

“Hmm, okay…” Lloyd mimicked her, concentrating so hard that it nearly made her laugh again. Though she worried he’d find the lesson boring like he did with most things he was initially fascinated by. But even after the first hour, then second, then third, Lloyd was still trying, was still looking to her for advice.

At that point, Sheena was almost glad Lloyd was a bit of a slow learner.

“Oof! I got it! I got— Wait, it’s just a stick.”

Lloyd sighed, tossing the stick back into the water. But instead of giving up, he got into position again. “Okay! This time!”

Sheena grinned, all while she helped adjust his arm, then helped close the fingers of his hand. “Keep it like this. Got it?”

“Y-yeah!” Lloyd said, and again, she wondered if she was just imagining it… No, Lloyd was probably just getting tired, so the red on his face must have been from his exhaustion instead.

A few more adjustments, and even more tries from Lloyd. He was splashing the water a bit less, but the fish kept escaping his hands.

Then, just when Sheena suggested they could maybe take a break (I’m just keeping him here for myself now…) Lloyd tried once more.

His form was in better posture, and his motion was quick and cutting. He barely shifted his feet as he pulled his hand back from the stream, a little carp flopping around in his grip.

“Look! Sheena! I got it!” He held out the fish to her, ecstatic, like he was performing show-and-tell. “Your advice worked!”

Maybe that was enough to finally move away Sheena’s uncertainties. Was it because she was caught up in the moment? Was it because Lloyd’s smile was so bright, and the way his eyes fell on her made her heart beat so badly?

“Lloyd! You really did it!” She laughed, reaching in for a hug, and one that Lloyd also leaned in to while still holding onto his trophy fish. Except, instead of placing her hands on his shoulders, she touched his cheeks instead. In a way, it was similar to how she did so with Verius just that very morning.

Sheena, listen to your heart. It has always led you down the right path.

She wasn’t sure if it was just a memory, or Verius speaking to her heart, connected to her like all the summon spirits. When she held Lloyd’s face, it compelled her to move closer, and closer. She felt the warmth of his lips, cooled slightly by the water of the stream.

Lloyd stilled. There was a splash. The fish had finally slipped out of his hand to swim away.

She noticed how he didn’t step back from the kiss. But maybe that was because he was in shock.

Sheena separated from Lloyd quickly, feeling the rush of the wind against her face. She wanted to stay within the cool air, with the stream rushing around their feet. A miracle that she didn’t trip at all, but suddenly kissing Lloyd out of nowhere was much more mortifying.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just…” She brought a hand nearer her face, wondering whether to cover her eyes or knock herself silly. “That was so dumb of me.”

Then, in the fading sunlight, she saw Lloyd’s expression. The dusk made it clearer than ever. The blush that bloomed from the center of his face, to spread to his nose, to his cheeks, to even his ears.

She wasn’t imagining it. Maybe that was what made it even more frightening.

Like a wilted flower, Sheena moved inward on herself, stepping out of the sun and ready to go back to the shadows where she belonged. 

“I should be going now—”

“Wait.”

When Lloyd stepped forward, he nearly slipped over a hidden rock in the stream. Just a small stumble, but he flailed his arms, catching himself on an invisible ledge. “Agh, damn it. I mean! Don't leave yet! Just, um.”

But if Sheena was clumsy with words, so was Lloyd at this moment. The stream clung to the end of his trousers after hours of staying in the water, making his steps halting.

“I really didn't mean to bother you!” Sheena said quickly, not sure what she was trying to fend off. 

“But you didn't! That's the thing, Sheena. I wanted to tell you that—”

“It's okay. It's okay!” Sheena held up her hands. She couldn't get the feeling of Lloyd's warm lips out of her head. Maybe she could if she left—

A familiar hold over her heart. A comforting weight against her back. A warm voice calming her mind.

Listen to your heart, Sheena.

Because she stopped, Lloyd was able to reach out, to grasp hold of her hands.

“Sheena,” he called out to her once more. And she saw it—a great smile on his face, accompanied by that blush that highlighted all of his features.

She half-smiled in shame and a strange heartache. She really didn't understand herself sometimes. “...You know, if you had done what I just did to you, I would have knocked your teeth in.” Sheena sighed. “I don't know why you put up with this.”

It only made Lloyd laugh, his fingers entwining with hers. “Well, then I'm glad you kissed me first!”

Even so, Lloyd had always been brave, and so open to touch that it still caught her breath. His other hand reached out to cup her cheek, and then leaned in to give her a light kiss over her temple.

In her heart, Verius hummed in satisfaction.

Thank you. She tightened her hold onto Lloyd's hands, grateful for everything.

[darkhymns-fic]

A Friendship of Dubious Consent (Ch. 3)

A story of how each member of the Radio Trio deal with their own complicated feelings about their friendship with each other—except Alastor who'd rather lock up his feelings and throw away the key.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Alastor, Husk, Niffty Chapter Rating: M Word Count: 6489 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Third and final chapter for the sixth day prompt, Friends (or Foes) in Hell for @radiotrioweek! Now with Alastor! Better late than never? Also, the guns are finally here.

Ch. 1 - Husk 🐈 | Ch. 2 - Niffty 👁️ | Ch. 3 - Alastor 🦌 (You're here!)

-

🦌

It started with a little note that had slid under his door.

The night was indeed very late, and Alastor was awake of course! He didn’t really sleep. In fact, he had been standing menacingly in a corner, draped in shadows, for the past three hours. It was his favorite pastime to loom in the darkness while he thought, a bit of a habit he picked up during his years of servitude to Rosie, trying to come up with devious schemes to tear off his leash. And even though he was now free, a soul fully his own, he found it quite hard to break the routine. It was very meditative in its own way.

Until the note itself caught his eye.

Moving out of the shadows like parting dark mists from himself, Alastor swiftly walked over to his door. He picked up the note, holding it between two fingers, and read the sharply-written message.

‘Come down to the hotel lobby at 6 AM sharp! No witnesses!!’

The underlined section certainly caught his eye. There were also haphazard clusters of scratches and sharp smiles all over the paper. Ah, Niffty’s handiwork!

Yet, something about it was strange. Niffty would typically just show up herself if she wanted him to attend another tea party of hers. And he always accepted! He hoped she wasn’t being too distracted by that Baxter fellow…

Still, when the appointed time came, Alastor made his way to said lobby. He took the instruction of having no witnesses extremely faithfully! Which is why he made sure to lock each and every hotel room door from the outside so that no one could get out, as well as leaving behind a few of his shadow minions in the corners. They’d be ready to jump out at any random passerby that somehow got out of their prison, silencing them effectively.

Which meant the hotel lobby was thankfully very quiet and empty, just like the good old days when this ramshackle of an establishment was truly a quaint little dump. Now with all its glitter and flashy decor, it was just a very bright, tacky dump. Truly lacked the color he had brought to it a year ago…

Alastor saw the front doors were open. Naturally, he went outside to see why.

Tapping the end of his staff on the cobblestone pathway, he saw a gorgeous old-fashioned automobile parked just outside, its exterior a beautiful rusted crimson color. Oh! It was his own trusty car that he would sometimes use to drive around in the city—however rare it was. The top of it was made of the finest hell-cow hide leather, with antlers decorating the front of the hood. Really, it was quite a classic.

And not only that! There were also his little darlings, Husker and Niffty, who stood by the car like his own personal chauffeurs. Niffty was vibrating with that sharp-toothed smile of hers, while Husker had on his usual frown. 

But what really caught Alastor’s eye was the fact that they were both holding very distinctive guns in a menacing manner. Those guns were also pointed at him.

Well, that's new!

They were not just any guns either. These were angelic guns by the looks of it, their silver sheen of the chambers blinking in the dim morning light. One misfire and Alastor would be sporting another permanent wound in his chest, or just be plain old double dead.

“Hm, now what’s all this then?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

Husker reached for the car door handle of the passenger side and opened it. Then, he gestured with the barrel of his gun—a hefty revolver, particularly an early Smith & Wesson model—towards the car. 

“Get in.”

Niffty was still vibrating. She was holding her own gun—a Lady Derringer, which was certainly most fitting for her—in both hands despite its small size. Or perhaps it was because she was mostly used to wielding knives instead of firearms.

Alastor must have been ruminating in his thoughts for a time, because he then heard the tell-tale click of Husker’s gun. The hammer of the gun ticked down with a flick of his claw.

“Now, boss.”

That was an order apparently. Well, it wasn’t like he had any plans for today.

“My, if you wanted us to go on a drive around today, you simply could have asked!” Alastor twirled his cane as he sauntered towards the car, slipping into the passenger seat swiftly. Besides, if things ever went awry, he could always just teleport away from the scene.

After Husker slammed the door shut, which he did so with a bit of a temper, Niffty climbed into the backseat through an open window. She propped her head over Alastor’s carseat, the chamber of her gun rattling in her hands. “Good morning, Alastor!”

“Why, good morning, Niffty!” he greeted as he would on any other morning. “I see you’ve gotten yourself a new weapon.”

“Hehe, yeah! Husk has been teaching me how to use it. He said I should learn to be a good shot for today!”

“Oh!” Alastor blinked. “That’s nice!”

Husker got into the driver’s seat, tucking in both wings and tail. “Niff, buckle up. You too, Alastor.” He still held onto the angelic revolver in his right hand, even after he turned on the ignition and started to head down towards the hotel’s gate. It stayed pointed at Alastor’s face, a claw hovering over the trigger.

As they made their way down to the streets, Alastor wondered if he was being kidnapped right now. There was certainly a first time for everything!

Niffty was gripping the back of his seat. He could feel the vibrations of her shaking body, as well as her little nails tearing through the leather. “Ooo, Husk! Husk! Can we—?”

“We’re not getting takeout.”

“Aww!”

“Can I at least get a black coffee?” Alastor questioned.

Husker growled grumpily. “No.”

Hmph. Very rude.

Now, out of everyone in the car, Alastor would admit that Husker had the most driving experience. It was much rarer for people to own cars back in his time, and Niffty had exactly zero (0) hours of such experience herself. One of the perks of Husker being quite old!

Although, it didn’t mean Husker was a particularly good driver. He frequently let the car drift over onto the sidewalk, sometimes knocking aside a trash can, and almost a pedestrian or two who would rush out of the way just in time. But from the look on Husker’s adorable kitty face, he was really focusing today! He must have only drunk half a bottle instead of the usual three this morning.

That still didn’t explain just where they were driving to. Certainly none of the jazz bars were down this direction, and Husker wasn’t even driving towards his coveted gambling district.

Alastor cricked his neck to Husker. “So! What are we doing?”

Husker kept staring straight ahead. He narrowed his eyes and drove faster. His revolver was still half-pointed towards Alastor. “What we should have done a long time ago.”

Niffty climbed up to the very top of Alastor’s headrest, waving her gun around crazily. “We’re doing therapy!!”

“No, Niff. That’s next week.”

“Hmm, and for whatever we’re doing, that’s why you have those peculiar guns?” Alastor said through tightened teeth.

Husker held his gun in a lackadaisical manner. The look in his eyes was cold. “Carmilla Carmine owed us a few favors for her whole death ray fuckup.” The silver of the gun glinted wickedly. “So, I’d watch what you say if I were you.”

Another further crick of Alastor’s neck, so that Husker appeared sideways in his vision. “Ah. So you’re finally taking your dues, aren’t you, old friend?” Static resonated within the automobile. He could feel his teeth elongate within his mouth. He always knew it would come down to this. “Well now—”

“Hey! You’re fucking up the radio.”

With his eyes still on the road, Husker reached for the dial on the dashboard, shifting between stations until it caught the familiar notes of a saxophone with a textured melody. It took him a few tries to find the best position of the gauge, since he was still holding onto the revolver in the same hand.

“Ugh. Shitty signal.” Husker flicked a quick glance to Alastor. “And you're not fucking helping.”

The tips of Alastor's antlers scraped against the top of the car, slightly. Even so, Husker looked sufficiently unimpressed. He could also feel one of Niffty’s tiny hands poke at his antlers, then brush aside any imaginary lint she happened to find.

Hm. Perhaps Alastor was losing his touch. It was true that Husker saw most of his tactics already.

Still! He was the boss! And he demanded respect! Even if—no, especially if they were going to murder him in cold blood and leave his corpse out in the streets. Husker should have the courtesy to shiver in fear, at least a little bit!

So, Alastor didn't let up. Shadows curled from behind his back. The air shifted, reality started to break apart at the seams. He could hear Niffty’s distorted giggles from behind. She was still focused on cleaning his antlers.

“Answer me, my friend,” he demanded in a static-filled hiss. “What are you planning?”

If Husker was at all intimidated, he didn't show it. It seemed that for once, his drunken friend was finally making better use of his talents, keeping his poker face on despite a shadow tendril brushing against his furry ear.

Husker stopped at a red light. He was one of the few drivers that did so while a hatchback sped past them, then predictably got hit by a speeding semitruck. He fixed up the rear view mirror, the explosion of the car crash having shifted it. 

“We are gonna have a fucking talk, boss,” he finally answered. Bright yellow eyes turned to Alastor. He tightened his grip on his gun. “About all of us.”

Niffty waved her own gun around, still so happy to be here. “It’s a family meeting!”

The static died out immediately. Mischievous shadows retreated from within the car, letting in the bright red from both the sky and dozens of neon lights surrounding them—as well as the fire from the nearby explosion.

Alastor shuddered, hunching as much as he could into the car door on his side. His grimace was bordering on painful. “Just shoot me.”

Husker groaned. “You’re really doing this, huh.”

“This is much worse than dying.”

“Why are you so allergic to feelings?”

Niffty was still poking at Alastor's antlers, despite the fact that they had shrunk considerably. When she was set on a cleaning task, she was determined to finish it. “Boss said feelings are for proper ladies! Like me!! I'm all about feelings!”

There was an eye roll from the kitty driver. “Of course. Big scary Radio Demon would rather get flashed by Vox than feel a damn thing.”

A blip of annoyed static. “I felt revulsion if that's what you wish to know, Husker.”

“Oh yeah? Well what I actually want to know is why the fuck did you just decide not to let us help you, you fucking jackass?!”

“Green light! Green light!” Niffty screeched, aiming her gun at the windshield. “Green light!”

Husker slammed down on the gas pedal. They zoomed down the streets, dodging more explosions on the way. Just a regular Monday really.

Alastor tsked disapprovingly. “Husker, you could do us all a favor and just shoot me right in the face. No one would blame you! Not even me! Especially me. Just do it, you coward.”

“You have to be a brat during this?!” Husker shouted as he made a sharp right turn into the media district. “Now?! You’re so fucking difficult, it’s insane.”

“Did you forget? I enjoy being difficult! Haha!”

And of course, while Alastor did very much enjoy testing Husker’s patience, he couldn’t help but feel some trepidation in his situation. He had been prepared to get shot in the face—he’d already experienced that! What use was there in talking about themselves?

Husker made another right turn, heading towards a rickety bridge that spanned out over roiling waters that were infested with hell-pirahnas and, even worse, skinny dippers. Sometimes the combination would result in something tremendous! But Alastor could barely even enjoy the sight with his bartender lecturing him.

“You know we fucking put up a lot with you, right? Disappearing on us for years and then the first thing you do when you come back is drag us to some random hotel and don’t explain shit.” Husker sped down the bridge even when the middle started to lift up. He paid no attention to the honking of ships beneath. “Figured it had to do with your goddamn deal.”

“Oh, Husker, Husker. What would be the point in telling you all those frivolous details? It certainly had nothing to do with either of you! Why, your chains are still as iron-clad as ever!”

Husker growled fiercely. He pressed the gas pedal flat, speeding right past the open gap of the bridge. “I know!”

The car soared, Niffty happily laughing while Husker glared ahead as if he would burn the bridge down himself if it dared try to be too far. Even with their rough landing on the other side of the bridge, Alastor continued, for he would not be out-lectured by Husker, of all people! 

“Is that still such a sore spot for you, my friend? You need to learn to accept your circumstances! Just like Niffty here. Isn’t that right, Niffty?”

“Yes! I love being chained and bound against my will!” Niffty was kicking her feet against Alastor’s seat, still keeping one hand on his antler, slightly pulling at it. “It makes me feel special!”

“Yes, indeed! Now, would you like me to hold onto that gun of yours? Seems quite heavy.”

“Yeah okay!”

“NIFF!” Husker’s shout was booming. He turned fully around to face her, still driving the car down a street and hitting a lamppost. “Don’t give it to him! We’ve been over this!”

Niffty’s face morphed to surprise. She blinked her eye, then pulled away her gun before Alastor could latch onto it with his sharp claws. “Bad boy, sir! So tricky!” She was back to pointing the barrel right at his face, gripping it so hard that the casing creaked.

“Ah, and that’s what I get for trying to be civil,” Alastor said with a deep sigh. “Husker, you are truly a bad influence on her.”

“Me?! Is that what you’re going to pull on me now?” Husker eyes flashed a furious gold, reflecting off the windshield that it nearly blinded everyone in the car. “Last I checked, Niffty wasn’t a goddamn cannibal before she met you! At least she only ate bugs!”

“Sometimes I sprinkle the bodies with little dead beetles!” She nodded sagely. “It gives it a good texture!”

“Hmm, sounds like only Husker here is the one without an adventurous palette. Live a little, man!”

“Bitch, don’t you try to deflect on me.” Husker continued driving down the streets, which got steadily more crowded. Finally, they were going by a more familiar area, though one Alastor would rather soon forget if he could. The gaudy lights of the porn district lost their charm before they ever began.

“Oooo, they’re showing Homoerotic Sex and Gore, Not a Bore!! The Three-quel!! It’s out now!” Niffty pointed frantically at the right side, where numerous television screens played out a rather torrid performance involving a few saws, a dentist chair, and an array of dildos in the color of the rainbow. “Can we see it?”

“No,” said Husk and Alastor at the same time. Alastor lowered his ears, feeling more irritated by the second.

“Boss, at some point, you’re gonna have to fill us in on all the shady shit you do. All this,” Husker gestured to his window, at the bright buildings with its pink and purple lighting, and its arrangement of three V’s—or two actually. The blue V in the front had been taken down through mysterious circumstances.

But there was also some construction going on, half of the buildings having been mysteriously torn down by a certain golden angelic laser. Smoke still floated in the air, along with flyers for multiple funerals. “You caused it. People got fucked up. You made Charlie have multiple panic attacks. And now Angel’s just—”

There was a pause. Husker went back to glaring down at the road. A certain slug-looking sinner in a big trenchcoat was crossing the street very slowly, trailing slime along the way. When the slug flashed another passerby with gross laughter, Husker once again sped up, heading straight for him.

Alastor shook his head. “Husker, don’t blame me for your failures or your poor judge of character. Also, is this the fastest you can go? For shame!”

“Oh my god, why are you like this?!” Husker faced Alastor just as he ran over something very squishy and screamy. He was dangerously close to pressing the barrel of his gun against Alastor’s face. “I’m trying to say your actions have consequences, asshole! Not just for other people but for us!”

Alastor crossed his arms. “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

“Motherfucking—Niff, take the wheel!” Husker shifted closer to Alastor. “We are going to have this talk!”

“My turn to drive?! Oh boy!” Niffty immediately scrambled over to the driver’s seat, though in her excitement, she may have discharged her gun to hit the windshield. “Oops!”

At that moment, Alastor was feeling very real concern over the whole ordeal, but Husker kept his weapon pointed at Alastor. “Don’t fucking try anything, boss.”

“What is there even to say, hm? I had a problem and then I solved it. Charlie is a strong girl, she’ll be fine! And I didn’t even ask for your assistance, so really, you should be grateful to me!”

“But we did help, whether you like it or not! At least acknowledge that!” Husker narrowed his eyes at the windshield. “Niff, why we stopping?”

Niffty was gripping the steering wheel with all of her might, her eye straining as she looked ahead. “Cuz I can’t reach the pedals!”

Husker solved that by using his own foot to press the gas pedal. They went from 5 miles to 80 in just a few seconds. Niffty used her newfound speed to rush along the sidewalk, hitting every crack and pothole she could find.

“I acknowledge that your interruption simply made things harder for me!” Alastor gripped his staff in a clenched hand, the static continually fizzling.  “I cannot be responsible to watch over you at all times.”

Husker turned red, waving his revolver around carelessly. “I didn’t even choose to come down to be part of a fight that you started! Niff was the one who was worried for your sorry ass. You gonna blame her?”

Niffty, who was now back to speeding down another street and hitting each trash can on the curb like it was a secret mission she had to complete, gave Alastor a wobbly-eyed look. “Sir, did you not want us to help you…?”

And that was when Alastor’s defenses started to weaken. He was used to Husker’s complaints and all his whining and singing and crying… But Niffty, she was truly a wonderful soul, and one who always took his side of things! (Or at least used to…) Seeing her sorrowful look on him, all as she continued to run down screaming pedestrians and knocking cars aside, it nearly made his own soul falter.

He shifted his glance to Husker, and glared. “Turning dear Niffty against me is truly low, even for a deadbeat drunk like you.”

“Your lame-ass insults ain’t gonna work on me. I saw your fucking face just now.” And then, Husker did something else that he rarely did in front of Alastor. He grinned. “Underneath that Halloween garbage, you do care just like the rest of us.”

Another flutter of his soul. No. This was not happening. Alastor fixated his gaze back to the windshield, at the bullet still lodged into the windshield. Maybe if he grabbed it and bit down on the bullet like a cyanide pill, he’d explode on the spot.

“I am not having this conversation.”

“No, fucking admit it. You emotionally constipated jackass.” Husker straightened, his wings flaring out and nearly knocking Niffty aside. She had kinda forgotten the argument and was back to happily driving chaotically. As the car sped past the porn district, she followed the streets that led further downtown. 

“Why did you make the condition for Vox to let us go? Huh? If we really messed things up for you, then why didn’t you just fuck us over?!”

“Husker, this is why you’re no longer an Overlord. You just can’t grasp the idea that keeping your souls in check is what sets you apart from the riff-raff. I don’t just give them away in shoddy bets like some people!”

“Your souls? We’re the only souls you fucking got!” Husker used his free hand to grip onto the dashboard, keeping himself stable during Niffty’s driving. “At least the ones you didn’t eat!”

“Yeah! Because we’re special!” Niffty giggled happily as she turned into the street that led to Cannibal Town. Her giggles slowly morphed into unhinged, out of tune laughter. “Sir just wanted to protect us!”

Alastor was about to protest, but found himself halted. As if he was choking on a fingerbone that he hadn’t quite crunched down to bits. He scoffed. He huffed. He re-crossed his arms, his mic emitting bursts of static and faint booing sounds. 

And because he couldn’t say anything, Husker went in for the kill. Figuratively. Because if it was literal, he would have mercifully shot Alastor ten minutes ago. 

Husker’s grin hardened. It was hard to tell if it was done in victory or anger. “She’s fucking right, isn’t she? You goddamn freak. Why can’t you be normal?”

“We’re in Hell, my friend. Normal is simply relative.” Alastor straightened the hem of his jacket, looking at the bullet lodged in the windshield with near-unbearable hunger. He could teleport away by now, except then he would have to face Husker and Niffty later. Unless he went on another seven-year sabbatical.

When Husker next spoke, it was with a softer tone. At least as soft as it could be as the car bounced along the road every other second. “Alastor. I can’t believe I have to fucking admit this, but I might as well. We were fucking worried about you. Niffty here absolutely cares, and I know you do for her, shit-head.”

“I love the boss so much!!” Niffty turned into one of the tea shops, driving into the front entrance, shattering glass and porcelain everywhere. (Alastor was secretly very proud of her). “We both love you so much, Sir!”

Husker stuttered. “U-Uh, Niff, maybe lay off the—”

“Ah, now who’s the one afraid of feelings here?” Alastor smugly proclaimed. A decapitated head bumped against his window, leaving streaks of red and brain matter behind. “Also, where are we even going? You’ve been keeping me hostage in this car for what seems like an eternity. The upholstery won’t survive all the fur you’re getting everywhere”

“Look, I didn’t really think about that, alright?!” Husker yelled back in frustration. “We just needed a place to talk where you can’t just run away!”

“Certainly just like you to never think ahead, but I suppose I can’t be surprised.” Alastor raised an eyebrow at Husker. “And here you go, dragging poor Niffty into this!”

“I was the one who suggested the car!” Niffty pressed the car’s horn, honking a chipper melody as a mass of cannibal couples were crushed underneath the wheels as she speeded right through a park. “I love car rides!”

“Yeah, see? She loves car rides,” Husker said offhandedly. He went back to grinning, looking absolutely devious. “Now hurry up and tell us that you love us already.”

“Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding.” Alastor’s abyss of a stomach dropped. He broke out into a cold sweat. He reached for Husker’s gun. “Just fucking shoot me, damn it!”

“Hey! Let go!”

BANG! went the gun, a bullet grazing the rearview mirror to lodge into the dashboard. Alastor had tried to lean into it, but had missed the bullet’s trajectory by half a millisecond. “Husker, your aim is so shoddy! Can’t you do anything right?!”

“Fucking—You’re not supposed to want to get shot! You psychotic asshole!” Husker wrestled with Alastor, trying to keep his grip on the revolver. Even when shadow tendrils reached out to grab his wrist, he never let up, as well as never lifted his foot off the gas pedal. “Admit you fucking care about us! That’s it!”

“Never!”

“Sir…?”

“Uh, Niffty, dear, it’s complicated! You see, a proper gentleman would never force any sort of affection on—”

“Don’t you confuse her!” Husker gave the little bug a frantic gaze. “Niff, don’t let him get away with it!”

“Oh, okay!” There was the click of a certain tiny gun. “So that means I shoot, yeah?”

“Yes, Niffty, my wonderful girl! Shoot me square in the eyes! Here, let me just lean right in!”

“Niff, don’t listen to him!”

“But!! But it’s so hard not to!!” she whined. “He’s being such a bad boy!!”

“Hehe, yes…” Alastor blinked up at Niffty with shiny eyes. “Yes, I am!”

Such a look was of course irresistible, and got Niffty to discharge her weapon. However, her first bullet simply joined with the one on the windshield. Then the next one just barely grazed one of Alastor’s antlers, giving him a hot heat of pain, but that was it. He just briefly saw the vista from the windshield showing they were no longer in Cannibal Town, with buildings becoming more and more sparse. But that was hardly important right now!

Alastor groaned. “Husker! You and your bad habits! How dare you bring Niffty down to your level and make her shoot terribly!”

“Enough with your fucked up suicidal tendencies, oh my god!”

No! Alastor would get what he wanted! And he wanted to be dead to escape from this personal torment!

Then, one of Husker’s bullets finally aimed true. It took a lot of effort on Alastor’s part but the gun’s barrel correctly aimed at a living target for once. It was also helped by Niffty’s frantic driving, with another of her swerves making Husker stumble. 

Alastor saw the furious spark, followed by the acrid scent of gunpowder, and finally the intoxicating burn of the bullet rushing through his skull. Yes, finally the sweet, sweet release of double death. He would never have to deal with emotions ever again….

….

Wait a fucking minute.

“Husker!” Alastor sat up straight, having never felt so insulted in his entire life and afterlife combined. “Is this your idea of a joke? These are just regular bullets!”

Husker blinked, shifting his gaze all around. His ears slightly lowered. “I…didn’t have enough money to get real angelic bullets. These are just bootleg ones. Painted in silver and everything.”

“Husky lost all his money in another gambling binge!” Niffty announced happily. “They’re super weak bullets! They don’t kill you or nothing! See?” She then immediately shot Husk right in the shoulder.

“OW! Niff, what in the actual fuck?!”

“Don’t worry! We can match!” She turned the gun on herself, shooting herself in the shoulder. She hissed in exhilaration, blood seeping out and staining her dress! “Oooo yeah!”

Alastor could not believe his furry ears. He could feel the barely legitimate bullet already slip out of his cranium. It hadn’t even lodged that deeply into his skull! What was even the point?!

His claws twisted and snapped, his antlers creaked into multiple angles and patterns. “You! Cheapskate! Husker!”

“Oh come the fuck on! I’m not killing you!” Husker had the nerve to pout and look sassy as he did so. “Also, that angelic shit is expensive.”

“I’m not even worth an angelic bullet to you?! And here I thought you cared about me!” He glared down at Husker with eyes drenched in red, radio dials ticking to the right in a countdown to the end. “You used me…. For your own feelings!”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.”

But before they could finally go at it, (Alastor just really wanted to verbally abuse Husker a bit more because he deserved it!!) there was a sharp, violent lurch with the car. Husk hit his back against the dashboard, feathers erupting in the air. Alastor smacked his head at the top of the car, enough so that his antlers thrusted through the top. He couldn’t move very well, effectively stuck.

Niffty was still turning the wheel frantically, hyperventilating. Except, the car wasn’t exactly moving anywhere. In fact, there wasn’t much around them.

“Niff. Niffty.” Husker looked left and right. “Where did you take us?”

“Oh, hehe.” Niffty giggled shyly. “I drove us into a tar pit.”

“...What.”

Alastor, still stuck in half-transformation, used his giant gnarled hands to roll down the window with the crank. He looked outside. “Ah, well fancy that! We are in a tar pit! One of the seven wonders in all of Pentagram City!”

He’d know, as he would chat about them during his radio show occasionally as a fun trivia interlude. It always served as a good transition towards the torturous scream sessions that were his main attraction.

The tar pits in the outskirts of Pentagram City were a peculiar addition to the hellscape, surrounded by marshes and cattails, and a few of the hellborn locals. Some of the dinosaur sinners were also particularly drawn to the area, for some reason. Alastor could see a few bleached bones float up from the bubbling liquid. Certainly what made the tar pits so famous was how the devious things could slow down sinner regeneration by hundreds of years!

Alastor looked down at his warped reflection in the darkness. While he found the whole thing quite hilarious, being subject to torturous regeneration just after he finally got his soul freed would be such dreadful irony.

Husker was looking around in growing panic. They were sinking rather quickly, some of the tar liquid already slipping in through Alastor’s open window. “How the hell did you even get us in here?! Also close that shit up, Al!”

Alastor gripped the window crank, and then came a loud snap! He held up the broken handle. “Haha! Clumsy me.”

“Really. You just. Happened to do that.”

Niffty bounced in her seat, staring hard at the goop that was covering up the floor. The smell was quite atrocious. “Ooo, this will be a real mess to clean up!”

“Hm, Niffty, I think even this might be a challenge for you.” Alastor tried to flick away the black substance from his fingers, though not with much success.

Husker was silent, looking out through the windshield in what would be their graveyard for who knew how long. He sighed, looked into the chamber of his revolver. He then aimed the gun to the side of his head. 

Alastor immediately swatted it away. The revolver flew out the open window, plopping into the tar. “Don’t be selfish, Husker! Save some for the rest of us!”

“I fucking hate you, man.”

Niffty had taken the initiative, now shooting her adorable gun at the windshield. Small little cracks spiderwebbed all around before the glass finally shattered in a glittering frenzy. Much of it snowed over Husk’s face, who no longer reacted to everything. A slow and sludgy stream of the tar spilled right in. 

Niffty pumped a fist into the air. “Yes!!”

Seeing the tar now get onto his coat—which he had just got tailored, by the way!—Alastor heaved a deep sigh. “I suppose I will have to fix things, as per usual.”

By then, he resumed his transformation before Niffty’s previous car crash. His bones cracked, his antlers twisted until they tore apart the car roof into metal ribbons. His limbs extended, exploding the car into scrap—but not before he grasped both Husker and Niffty into his giant hands, lifting them away from their tarry death.

He tried not to pay attention to Niffty’s squeal of delight, or to Husker’s look of shock as they both clung to his claws. He also tried not to pay attention to the feeling of relief that washed over him when he lifted them away from their doom. Instead, he tried to focus on himself. He would absolutely need to get his suit fixed after this.

With one giant step, giant Alastor got back onto somewhat dry land, only needing to wrench his foot out of the tar with a grunt. As a result, his shoe was lost to the depths. He rolled his gleaming dial eyes, wincing as he placed his bare hoof onto the dirt.

It took little time for all three to stand by the tar pit, watching bits of the car sink until each piece disappeared. The last to go was the fabulous antlers for his car hood, winking right out of sight. 

Alastor placed his hands over the top of his staff, gazing out into the distance. “I truly liked that car, Husker.”

Husker, rudely, did not answer him. Instead, he just stared at Alastor; at his torn up, tar-stained suit, at his mismatched feet, and the gunshot wound in his head where only a trickle of blood leaked. Not like Husker fared much better! He was missing a few patches of his fur on his sides, as well as some feathers from his wings, looking like some plucked chicken. He was also still bleeding from his shoulder where Niffty had shot him. Besides, it wasn’t Alastor’s fault that tar had gotten on his hand and stuck to the cat after he went to the trouble of rescuing him!

Niffty’s dress was nearly engulfed in black, along with numerous splotches of red from her self-inflicted wound. She would probably have such a gas once she scrubbed out those stains later! She was bouncing on her toes, then held out her gun. She clicked the trigger multiple times, though she had long ran out of bullets. 

“Hey Husk! Did the plan work? Did it?”

Husker looked at Alastor for another moment before noticing her, which happened when she clicked her gun right by his ear. He flinched. “Stop trying to shoot me!”

“But I like guns now! I learned it from you!”

Husker winced when he shifted his shoulder. He risked another glance at Alastor. “Thanks, boss. For the help.” But then, he raised his eyebrow at Alastor. “Even though you could have just left us there. Thought we only brought you trouble.”

Alastor pressed his lips together firmly. He really, really wished he could stop fucking smiling for once.

“Well, you owe me a new car! So I’ll be taking out the funds from your little casino to make up for it. Sound fair? Oh! Wait. It doesn’t matter since I own your soul! I can do whatever I want!” He patted Husker’s hat in what he hoped was a deprecating manner.

Even if there was a little grumble from his bartender/lackey/property, Husker dared to give a smirk, one that annoyed Alastor to no end. He would reprimand him if he wasn’t feeling fatigued from the whole situation. Yes, that was it and nothing else.

Niffty popped up over Husker’s head, looking up at Alastor. “Sir protected us again! No suicide pact today!”

“Er.” Husker blinked. “Yeah I didn’t agree to that.”

“Says the man who tried to shoot himself just now.” Alastor checked his claws, bitter that a few were chipped. “Husker, we need to talk about your mental health. It’s quite horrid! Simply get over it already.”

“What? You’re the one that wanted me to shoot you!”

“To-may-to. To-mah-to. Oh! I know a fantastic little establishment just around the corner. I’m quite famished after your failed intervention talk or whatever that was!”

Husker scoffed, then folded in his ruined wings. “Fine. Not like I can even fly out of here now.” Then, that dreadful smirk again. “Besides, think I got my answer out of you just fine. Even if you’re still being a little whiny bitch and won’t just say it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Niffty, please shoot Husker.”

A furious clicking rattled off again. “I’m doing it, sir!”

Even so, Alastor caught the flash of a smug smile from Niffty as well. Niffty! His most wonderful maid, sharing a look with Husker like they were holding secrets from him, their superior! But not like he cared. They could make up lies about him all they wanted.

“Well, don’t dawdle!” Alastor turned around, moving through the marsh with experienced flair. “These tar pits are half-sentient, after all. Stay here long enough and they’ll start grabbing for your feet in no time!”

“You know, this is something you could have shared with us five minutes ago.” Husker immediately followed, keeping a hand on Niffty to stay on his head. She was too busy still trying to shoot him. “Also, tell me we’re not just going to your favorite carcass spot or something.”

“...I know another establishment further down! It will be a bit of a trek, since you insist on being so picky.”

“Uh huh. Right.”

Alastor would be gracious and ignore the little snickers, and the way Niffty was now scrubbing at his coat hem, trying to clean it and only succeeding in spreading the stains around more. He was much too magnanimous of a soul owner to hold such petty grudges. He would let this whole affair slide.

And just because he would risk a glance to be sure Husker was still walking fairly fine, and Niffty was still as happy as ever, it was just to make a note of such things. No matter also to the sense of odd contentment he felt. That was just because of his now freed soul, surely.

“How far are we from the hotel?” Niffty asked out of the blue. The girl, bless her little bug heart, still didn’t stop shooting her empty gun. “I don’t recognize this place at all!! Hehe.”

“Why, I’d say we’re about a week’s time worth of a light jog from the hotel! You both certainly are speedy drivers!”

“Sooo, what you’re saying is you’re not gonna teleport us back at all. You’re gonna make us walk the whole way.”

“Haha! Your words, my friend!”

And if his little darlings wanted more talking and bonding time, then he’d do it at his own discretion. Certainly, they wouldn’t complain over a little exercise if they wanted to talk with him so badly!

Again, he’d ignore their smiles—as well as his own.

[darkhymns-fic]

A Friendship of Dubious Consent (Ch. 2)

A story of how each member of the Radio Trio deal with their own complicated feelings about their friendship with each other—except Alastor who'd rather lock up his feelings and throw away the key.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Husk, Niffty, Alastor, Charlie Morningstar, Vaggi Chapter Rating: M Word Count: 3206 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Second chapter for the sixth day prompt, Friends (or Foes) in Hell for @radiotrioweek! It's Niffty time. Please don't mind any weird stuff she says.

Ch. 1 - Husk 🐈 | Ch. 2 - Niffty 👁️ (You're here!) | Ch. 3 - Alastor 🦌

-

👁️

Niffty couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when the shiny gun to her face pulled away.

Aw! She wriggled in the giant mothman’s hold, turning around on the pavement so that she could better see Alastor as he spoke to the yelling TV Head. At least Alastor is okay!

That was her number one priority. As long as she and Husk watched out for him, she didn’t mind how many times she got shot in the face! And she had been shot in the face a lot.

She heard Husk grumbling just a few feet away. A quick glance showed her that he was very much in a similar position, body pressed against the dirty street, with the added bonus of the pretty lady holding back one of his arms. Of course, the lady still reeked of booze, her whiskey-soaked hair dripping past her shoulders. Husk muttered and grumbled like a grumpy kitty, but he didn’t look behind him. His eyes were fixated on Alastor.

Niffty wondered if Husk worried that Alastor would get mad again. But she’d take the blame this time! She had wanted to help the boss so badly, her brain buzzing so much that she already found herself in the streets with Husk’s butt in her hands.

Then, she heard, “Let these irrelevant little nobodies run along home!” A gesture from her boss, out into the wrecked streets, where car alarms continued to blare and sparks fizzed from ruptured wires above.

Ohh, who does he mean? After all, she and Husk were anything but nobodies to Alastor!

And then the deal was made.

She was lifted into the air, electricity and magic brimming all around her. To the side of her, she saw other bodies being flown back—more of the tall, tasty-looking mothman and the doll girl. Husk was soon right beside her, debris and light surrounding him. His eyes were so wide and glowed a bright yellow hue, all while he frantically flapped his wings.

She could barely get a glance of Alastor, who was busy shaking hands with Mr. TV Head. She bounced across the street a few times, relishing the little pain from each tumble and each shard of broken glass that cut into her skin. When she landed on her back, she faced the crimson sky and the neon lights of the buildings nearby. So pretty…

There was a ringing sound in her ears, a long held note that faded into Husk’s angry voice.

“Alastor! The fuck are you doing?!” She could hear him catching his breath, his tone frazzled like he had just found the last broken beer bottle. “Some other new shit you’re not telling us?!”

Hurt time was over! Niffty quickly hopped to her feet, only dizzy for a little while! Her hair also sported bits of static electricity, which she could see zooming all around Husk’s body, bluish jagged lines over dark fur. She tried to see Alastor, but the big TV was blocking the way! All she saw were wires snaking through the air, much like her boss’s shadows, curling over bright red, trying to snuff out its color.

“Come along, Val! Let’s get going, Vel! We gotta get this shit on the news now!”

The lady named Vel shoved Husk away as she walked forward, giving him the middle finger. “Hurry and fuck off. You’re lucky I’m not skinning you alive for a new fur coat!” Then she promptly ignored him, tapping away on her phone as her wet hair glitched into fascinating new colors.

Val, that tasty mothman, followed along after her. He mumbled with such curious words, looking so fun with his frantic arm gestures and pouty face. Niffty waved to him, but this only made him scurry away from her.

“Ugh. La perra loca…”

“Come on, come on!” The TV man was even louder than before. Bouts of laughter interrupted his own speech. “Hehehe! Not a moment to waste! Hahaha!”

“V, take some Xanax already.” 

Then, after that, Niffty wasn’t sure what happened.

Maybe Husk had a better view of what was ahead. His wings were spread out, as if ready to fly off, but his hands stayed clenched, his feet glued to the ground. Another bout of static electricity was running along his fur. Niffty felt it too, the strange tingles so much like when she had grabbed the frayed end of a ruptured cable with her teeth, electricity thrumming inside her.

Soon, it was just her and Husk left in the streets. Building storefronts were smashed, and there was still so much shattered glass all over the pavement. Small craters were pockmarked all around. Out in the distance, Niffty could see other demons close off the roads with shiny tape for repairs.

“God fucking dammit!”

Niffty turned at Husk’s outburst. His hand was pressed to his forehead, all the fur on his body standing on end.

Then she realized. Alastor wasn’t here. 

She blinked. “Did Alastor run off again?”

Husk was silent for a long while, eyes shut, teeth still gritted hard. One of the porn studio signs next to him flickered, then died out, leaving nothing but black along those fancy letterings and pictures. He sighed. “Yeah, Niff. He ran off. Again.”

Niffty took a moment to absorb this information. The adrenaline from her fight with the mothman was finally fading, leaving her just a bit fatigued, a bit hollow.

She raised her face to the sky that no longer seemed so pretty now. “THE BOSS IS IN TROUBLE!”

She only caught a brief glimpse of Husk’s wide eyes, still glimmering like the little pools of angel blood that she danced in after her Adam slaying. Niffty was already rushing off. Thinking if she could just follow the feel of that electricity, or maybe catch a flash of the doll lady’s hair, or the mothman’s bedazzled gun, she could find Alastor again. She could find him again!

She had barely made two steps before Husk grabbed her by the waist with both hands. Her little feet kept scurrying over the air. No! She could still catch up to Alastor in time! Wherever he was! She just had to follow the trail of bright glitter and broken cables!

“Niff! Calm down! We can’t go after him.”

“But the boss needs us!” That was her job! To keep him out of trouble!

“The boss doesn’t want us!”

There was something so devastating in his voice when he said it.

And just like that, she stopped. It was as if something else left her tiny body just then. Her feet stopped moving, and the aftereffects of electrical charge had completely evaporated.

Before Husk could set her down, Niffty slid out of his hold like a snake, then crawled up his arms until she was pressing her face against his.

“So that means we have to take Alastor back by force!” She grinned. “I like it!”

Husk’s eyes were so mesmerizing in their glow. She felt the very fluttery touch of his eyebrows furrow over her skin. “...Is this you just completely ignoring me or like, some kind of fucked up trauma response?”

She wasn’t listening, already climbing further up his body to grab his hat. “Use your kitty powers and make Alastor appear! Hurry! Do it! Do it!”

“Yeah, this seems like both.”

Husk grabbed her again by the waist, then cradled her in his arms like she was a hurt puppy. She made sure to snuggle close to him, enough so that her cheek pressed into his. This way, she could better feel his little growls and mewls right down to her bones. Oooo, such a fun feeling! Though, she could swear this would usually feel more fun…

A claw tapped against her spine—once, then twice. Husk’s wings spread, and soon they were up into the air, flying far and fast. And also, flying towards the hotel instead of to where Alastor was…

“Hey! No wriggling! I ain’t dropping you.”

“But this isn’t the right way!”

Now, Niffty figured she could easily use her knife if she wanted to free herself! But she liked Husk, and the few times she did stab him, he got very very grumpy with her. Besides, she already had enough bits of his fur and whiskers for her collection.

“...Are you thinking about stabbing me?”

Niffty bit her lower lip. “Nooooo.” Also, she might have left her knife in the mothman’s side.

Lights moved past them in dizzying swirls beneath her, accompanied by a few random explosions and a different turf war happening over by the gambling district. She saw Husk’s head turn towards the scene, frown, then flapped his wings again for another gust of air.

Maybe if she nibbled on his cute furry paws, he’d loosen his hold on her enough! She fell from great heights before, and she usually put herself together in less than a week! Then, as if reading her mind, Husk tightened his grip.

“What if we do like a reeaaalllyyyy quick check?” she needled (figuratively) at him. “Just to make sure he’s eating right!”

Because the last time Alastor had disappeared on them and finally returned, he had looked so thin! (“You’re just skin and bones!” Niffty had said back then, before Husk followed with, “Niff, he looks exactly the same.”)

Husk didn’t answer her this time. Maybe because he was thinking really hard, or maybe because he was busy dodging a news helicopter that was quickly getting to the scene of their previous scuffle and kept getting close to them. She could feel the wind of the rotor blades just at her cheek, and once Husk barrel-rolled away, she heard another explosion behind them.

“Ugh. Now I remember why I fucking hate flying…” Husk muttered, still hugging Niffty tight. Another pause, another flicker across his eyes, reflecting all of the city’s lights and the various fires that had started.

“Do you remember what you said about him protecting us?” he said, once the explosions were finally far enough away. “Maybe…maybe that’s what’s happening.” His ears lowered. “Because why the fuck else…?”

Niffty’s fingers flexed back and forth, needing to touch something. She couldn’t really reach for her trusty pocket bugs, so she started to pet Husk’s fluffy chest instead. His words brought back a little tingle that ran through her spine, making her fingers shiver.

“The boss always wants us safe…” she softly agreed. “But he needs to be safe too!”

Husk scoffed. “Yeah. But, well, if the guy can still be alive even after seven years of whatever the fuck he’s been through, I’m sure he can handle Mr. Fake News. Maybe he has a thing for humiliation. I don’t even know anymore.”

“Ooo, is it like when you got drunk that one time and dared Alastor to do body shots on you?”

“What?? You were there?!” Husk nearly flew them into a shoddy apartment building, quickly using his feet to land against the wall and push away from it. That motion had been enough to get it collapsing. But this was downtown, where a wayward sneeze could induce millions of dollars in property damage.

“Yeah! I did the body shots instead! Remember?”

Husk looked so red she wondered if he was bleeding through his face. That got her really excited. “Was that when I was trying that absinthe shit…? Also stop tugging on my fur! It hurts!”

“Pleeeasee! I get nervous without the boss! I need to fiddle!!” She hooked her fingers into his fur tufts, nearly ripping out the hair. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to pet his ears again!”

“Oh my god, fine.” Husk furled the end of his feathery tail to curl around Niffty’s hands. “Just play with this instead, it’s not as sensitive. But don’t pull out the feathers again.”

Husk was being so nice to her today! She kicked her feet, feeling the wind rush through her hair as the towers of the hotel drew closer with its dazzling lights and all-seeing eye on its front. “Yay! I love little Husky Jr.!”

“Don’t give my body parts nicknames.”

Niffty giggled, pressing her fingers between each feather, parting them, then sliding her touch down the fur. It was always just so good to hold something, to keep her stable in that very moment.

The way that she would sometimes play with Alastor’s furry ears, and his antlers, and…

Husk’s tail was warm. She liked that.

It was hard for Niffty to stay still. If anyone else besides Husk (or Alastor…) tried to hold her now, she’d rush around their body, gnaw on their ears, and scream bloody murder until they’d let go—and then she’d latch on anyway for another taste. But there was something about fur like Husk’s or Alastor’s that lulled her heart. Like she was being swaddled in a blanket, even if the blanket was a bit matted with crumbs and alcohol, or greased with swamp water. That just made it feel so authentic.

By the time Niffty woke up, she could see the ground rushing up to meet her. But she wasn’t falling to her death, so the excitement didn’t really last. Husk’s wings were spread wide as it caught the air currents of Pentagram City’s smoggy atmosphere. She took in the cancer-inducing air into her lungs, all while she snuggled up to Husk’s feathery tail. It was so warm, and so soft, and so tasty—

“Hey! No chewing!” Once Husk landed in front of the hotel’s steps, he held out Niffty in his hands. He gingerly tried to pull the part of his tail that she was sucking on like a pacifier. “Oh my fucking god, did you eat my fur again?”

“Just a little bit!”

Despite his deep grimace at his now half-bald tail. Husk gently set her down on the ground. Then, he knelt to her level, speaking softly. “Niff, we have to get our story straight for the others, okay?”

“Ooo, okay!” Niffty hopped on her toes. “Real straight!”

“Right. Everyone’s gonna probably ask about what the boss is doing. Whatever it is, it’s something we’re gonna have to keep our noses out of for now.”

“Real straight!”

“Yeah. Like who knows if Princess Bleeding Heart decides to go after him and she gets hurt. We’re not gonna let anyone else deal with his shit right now, no matter what happens. So just say it’s part of his deal. Okay?”

“Real straight!”

“...Please don’t get stuck in a loop right now.”

Niffty shook her head, the dancing bugs in her head fading away. This was serious! “The deal! Yeah! So let no one go to Alastor!” She paused. “Except us?”

Husk opened his mouth, then stilled. His chewed up tail flicked behind him.

Then, “Yeah. Just us.” He patted her head fondly. “Let me do the talking, alright?”

“Got it!”

After Husk stood and cracked his back loudly (“Fuck, haven’t done those stupid tricks in forever though.”) both he and Niffty entered through the double doors of the Hazbin Hotel.

Charlie sped across the carpet and got in both of their faces immediately.

“HOLY SHIT HUSK NIFFTY DID YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENED TO ALASTOR HE GOT KIDNAPPED WHAT DO WE DO?!”

Husk flinched back violently, clutching a hand to his chest. Niffty leaned in closer, grinning. She could see the red lines streaking in Charlie’s eyes, as well as the frantic grinding of her teeth. 

“Uh.” Vaggie poked her head from behind Charlie, jutting a thumb at the parlor’s TV. “What Charlie means is we just saw the VoxTek special with him. Do you guys know what’s happening? How did Alastor get himself kidnapped?” Then she narrowed her eye at Husk. “And did you get your tail caught in a meat grinder?”

Husk took a breath, gathering his bearings. “Alright, look. The boss is just—”

“FAMILY MEETING!!!” Niffty’s yell echoed throughout the hotel, which prompted a few heads to pop out of their rooms, as well as stopping the guests who were getting their free drinks from the bar.

Husk blinked. “Wait—”

“Oh! If it’s a family meeting, then this must be important!” Charlie agreed vehemently.

Buoyed by the support, Niffty scrambled up to the bar counter, kicking away a few drinks from sinners’ hands. “Family meeting means no drinking!!”

“That was my medication…”

Once Niffty faced the crowd, she raised her hands up towards the ceiling, as she would do when she needed to catch the attention of her kingdom of rats. “Alastor made a deal! So don’t go help him!! He’s got it all under control!!”

Vaggie rolled her eye. “Ugh, fine. If he’s going with that story.”

Charlie fidgeted, her feet tracing small circles in the carpet. She looked like a pathetic, kicked puppy who also saw a bunch of other puppies get eaten by a puppy-devouring monster. “So he’s not hurt? What are the Vees going to do to him?”

“Oooo, they’re going to mash him! Boil him! Stick him in a stew!” Niffty curled her fingers like hooks, ready to sink them into someone’s flesh. “They’re gonna eviscerate him! They’re gonna break his bones! It’s all part of the plan!”

Charlie paled. “Wha—”

“But whatever you do! Don't help Alastor!” She pointed at Fat Nuggets, the little demon pig busy sipping up some of the spilled alcohol (medicine) off the bar counter. “Especially you! The boss already has high cholesterol!”

Husk walked up to the bar. “Hey, Niff, I think they get it—”

“Oh! And if you see them execute Alastor live on TV, don’t help him still! Even if you see all his blood and guts! Even if they torture him! Especially if they torture him!” She was frothing at the mouth. “All his brain matter splashing against the screen! His body torn apart as they eat him like wild dogs! And then they'll string him up as he cries out for help! But don't help him! Ever!!”

Then, Niffty pushed down the front of her dress, clasped her hands together, and gave a happy smile. “K?”

Husk grasped Niffty by the waist, pulling her aside so quickly that she made a “Mweh!” sound. “Okay, meeting’s over.”

But Charlie was already hyperventilating. She was crouched on the ground, rocking back and forth. “His brains… They’re going to eat his brains…”

“Babe, he’s a cannibal,” Vaggie told her with a comforting pat on her shoulder. “I’m sure he likes it.”

Husk muttered under his breath. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“Hehe, yeah and they’re gonna fuck his brains too!” Niffty giggled, kicking her feet in the air. “Skull fucking him until he croaks!”

Charlie pressed her hands to her mouth, looking extremely nauseous. “Oh…Oh god!”

Niffty turned to Husk, giving him a thumbs up. “All done!”

“...Look, I know you’re like, coping, but maybe keep your fucked up fantasies about the boss to yourself next time.”

Niffty snickered gleefully. Either way, their mission was accomplished! She was so proud of them both. They were protecting their boss the best they could until he came back.

When Husk finally let Niffty go so she could go grab the vomit bucket for Charlie, she really hoped that one day Alastor could soon learn to trust his friends…

[darkhymns-fic]

A Friendship of Dubious Consent (Ch. 1)

A story of how each member of the Radio Trio deal with their own complicated feelings about their friendship with each other—except Alastor who'd rather lock up his feelings and throw away the key.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Husk, Niffty, Alastor Chapter Rating: T Word Count: 1771 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Written for the sixth day prompt, Friends (or Foes) in Hell for @radiotrioweek! This will be a three-chaptered fic, and it will get more chaotic as it goes on. Enjoy the normalcy while it lasts.

First chapter is Husk's POV!

Ch. 1 - Husk (You're here!) 🐈 | Ch. 2 - Niffty 👁️ | Ch. 3 - Alastor 🦌

--

🐈

The tug of the leash staggered him, and not just in body.

It wasn’t like Husk hadn’t ever pissed off Alastor before. He was used to feeling the brunt of an insult, or being verbally assaulted by a chorus of static and shrieks, as if caught in the middle of some electromagnetic storm. Alastor was not an easy man to be around, but Husk knew he wasn’t either. They were strangely kinetic in that awful sense, biting at each other’s nerves that was just part of their daily routines.

Husk’s arms still burned from their scrape against the hotel’s carpeting. He couldn’t get up, his body stuck in a frustrating loop of violent shaking, his fangs clattering against each other. Even when the chains vanished, along with their sickly glow in the darkness, he couldn’t forget their weight over him.

“Good talk, my good man!” Alastor’s sudden peppy voice struck another bolt of fear through him. So different from the dripping anger from just moments ago. He only had enough will to raise his head, watching the twirl of that radio cane as if it would pull him up any second. “Always nice to catch up!”

Then, Alastor walked down the hallway. The lights returned. The static receded. His boss hadn’t even spared a glance back.

It took Husk way too long to finally pull himself together. Teeth gritted, claws kneading the carpet fibers, he pushed himself to his knees. He fiddled with the brim of his hat before letting out a groan.

“Ugh, did I just read him wrong? The hell was that all about…?” The shaking had finally stopped, leaving him exhausted and hollow. “Good talk, my ass.”

“The boss got really mad at you, huh?”

At another time, Husk might have jumped in shock, especially with how close Niffty was. She leaned her head over his left shoulder, her height finally matching his, a big sharp-toothed smile on her face. But with Alastor’s little scarefest from before, he only had enough energy to mildly flinch.

“Niff, how long you’ve been hiding around here?” He eyed the walls, trying to find a vent he must have missed. Sometimes the little bug maid would disappear for half the day crawling through them.

“Not long!” Niffty skittered around to face him, holding onto a small feather duster. It was dusty—as was the rest of her. The vent theory was looking to be true. “Just when you asked Alastor for a talk.”

“...So, you’ve been listening the whole time.”

“Yeah! But it wasn’t very long.”

Okay, fine, she got him on a technicality. Husk rubbed the side of his face, still trying to get the echoes of radio feedback out of his head. “Guess not, though it felt like a god-damned eternity to me… That stupid bastard.”

He sat back, giving his knees a rest. But he couldn’t get back to his feet. He just couldn’t.

Alastor really fucked with his head this time.

He must have zoned out, because then he felt Niffty start petting his ear. Usually, she’d get too carried away and start tugging on them like it was her own personal chew toy, but she was being careful now. Her small fingers parted through fur, oddly soothing.

A thought occurred. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not checking me for ticks again, are you?”

Niffty giggled. Her single eye brightened with glee. “Hee hee, not now! It’s not hell-tick season yet.”

Hell-tick season was the worst. Husk would have to start taking showers again pretty soon.

“But you seem really sad. Even though you and the boss yell at each other all the time!”

Husk sighed. “Yeah, we do. But he never just—” He stopped, hesitating. “Fine, my fucking bad I mentioned his own deal. But the fucker never listens to me and he didn’t care that much before.”

“Because Mimzy’s here?” Niffty continued to pet him, though she also got a bit of her dust over his fur in the process. Eh, he’d been covered in worse. “He always lets her make a mess whenever she visits him. So, so messy.” At that, Niffty gave a rare frown, tapping her feather duster at her side.

“She’s such a damn headache and I know she’s only here so Alastor can fix up whatever stupid bullshit he’s in.” Husk grumbled, wishing he’d brought his whiskey flask with him right now to calm his nerves. “Already ordering drinks from me like nothing’s changed and gets to do whatever she wants. Bitch still owes me 500 bucks from her last tab!”

“I still remember when she stained all my good windows!” Niffty fell into comfortable complaining along with Husk. She didn’t neglect her petting, though her fingers were a bit rougher now, scratching underneath Husk’s ear. “So much glitter and ribbons!! They were all sticky and everywhere! And I got to clean it all up! Hehe… I like cleaning.”

“And she wanted the good liquor of fucking course, and I can’t say no because she’s Alastor’s stupid buddy or whatever she is to him, but now he’s gonna be breathing down my neck for pouring that liquor in the first place!” His ear flicked, trying to swat away Niffty’s pointy fingers. “It’s impossible to ever win with this guy.”

“Then there was that time I had to scrub the floors in Alastor’s home because she got all the confetti stuff inside! It was pretty confetti. But whenever I try to show her my roach collection, she gets all mean! So I put some dead roaches in her purse the last time she came by. I think she probably likes them now!”

“I just wanted to warn Alastor, that’s it. Knew I should have said nothing. Nothing good ever happens when I do.” Husk shut his eyes, rubbing his forehead as the irritation spread. “We still don’t even know why we’re here in this hotel in the first place! And he just comes by after seven years of fucking silence and expects me to just to get on with it like nothing’s changed! Does he even think about how long I had to just wait there and think that he’s—!”

Ah, damn it.

Husk tried to stop himself, but he knew too much had already slipped out. And Niffty caught it; both his careless words and the stupid tremble in his voice. He hadn't even been drinking much today and already he messed up.

He finally pushed away her hand from his now half-numb ear. “Whatever. Forget it.”

Husk vainly hoped Niffty would get distracted by a passing stinkbug and leave him to his misery. He fixed his gaze at the floor, seeing the hem of her dusty dress and her little feet, strangely still now instead of scurrying to another cleaning chore.

Those same feet walked forward, slowly, which shocked him enough to face her fully. Even though she was half-dirty, clutching that feather duster like it was a weapon (and in this hazardous environment of a hotel, it might as well be one) she had on a smile that lacked the usual manic shine.

“Hey, Husk?” Her voice was soft, which was another oddity. A gentle texture, hiding something within it. Did she also sound sad? “I'm worried about Alastor too.”

Oh no, they were sharing feelings now. This was rare territory for them, and Husk never knew what to do about it when it happened.

“I…I just wanted to make sure he was on his game, that's all.” Husk turned away, his tail flicking sporadically. “He has it covered, maybe. I don't know.”

There was no point in trying to hide this from Niffty now. The girl had an eye like a hawk (if she wasn’t already a bug).

“It's okay! You just don't want Alastor to get in trouble. But I'll watch out for him too!” Niffty’s smile stretched back to her usual grin. “He just thinks he should be protecting us instead. That's probably why he got all upset. The boss always wants to do a good job!”

“What? Alastor protecting us?” The words sounded so alien to him, it might as well have been complete nonsense. “Niff, you're out of your damn mind. That bastard protects his own ego and no one else's.” He paused, eye twitching. “Maybe you though. And that Mimzy idiot.”

“And you!” Niffty added with absolute confidence. “You’re important too!”

“Feh.” Husk waved away her claim. It definitely never feels like it. Niffty didn't need to try and make him feel better.

Even if she sounded so sure of herself. Then again, she thought the cockroaches in this hotel were trying to start some kind of revolution and crown her as their new queen. So, definitely had to take her statements with a giant truckload of salt.

A tiny hand curled over one of his claws. It did so tightly, not at all worrying about the sharpness. But of course, Niffty loved sharp things.

“Wanna come back with me to the front and name the new stains on the carpet?” she asked with such polite sincerity. “That ultimate bad boy made some messes from his song earlier!”

Right, the sudden musical number from the King of Hell. With Alastor joining in. Bastard was probably sore about that too.

Husk shrugged. “Sure, why not. Just…I think I still need a minute.” His legs still refused to move, long after Alastor was gone.

“Okay! I can just pet you some more!” Niffty began flexing her thin fingers. They were looking extra pointy, extra stabby.

“Uhh…You know what? I’m feeling all better. Let's go.”

He got to his feet quickly, pushing past the stiffness and opening his wings to balance himself. Niffty still held onto his claw, as if she’d be able to hold him steady herself if he fell. Actually, he knew that she could. The little maid was stronger than she looked.

“There’s still a lot of the cookies left too! I saved you my best one—it’s a recipe from Alastor! I finally got to make it today, so be sure to take a big bite.”

“I mean, maybe you can just give it to KeeKee…or Mimzy.” Husk nodded as they walked back to the foyer, little dainty bug hand still hugging his claw. “Yeah. Give it to Mimzy.”

The thing was, Husk could never understand Alastor.

So, maybe he should just take a page out of Niffty's book then. If she believed Alastor just wanted to protect them, then fine. He'll believe it too.

It would make his and the boss's last encounter much easier to swallow.

[arahusk]

It's a strange sensation; wearing a collared leash without an owner's hand nearby for seven long years. The chains hold fast, unremovable, and their ends drag along the ground to scrape against pavement and debris. And yet, if that chain catches onto something—anything at all—it stupidly gives one hope.

Husk knows it's a feeling he and Niffty just can't seem to get rid of. He wonders if Alastor placed a curse on them just before he left to who knows where. A curse that yearns, that craves for something nameless. It'd be easier to accept if that was the case.

At first, Husk and Niffty see each other every few months or so. There's no plan to meet, no schedule at all. They are now listless souls who no longer have a demon to bring them together at his whim. There's freedom to do what they please, without a grainy radio filter hovering over their heads to dictate their every action. It should have been freedom, Husk thinks, even with the weight around his neck.

When Husk runs into Niffty, it's usually by accident. It's when he's coming back drunk after a round at the slots, a loss at the poker table, or a long slow night at some seedy motel or bar. When he sees her wave to him on the street, she's always carrying something in her arms—a piece of frayed clothing, a bucket of mops, or a whole load of venison that she tugs around behind her in a wheeled crate. ("Have to get this mended! Need to scrub the floors at the radio tower! Gotta get this chopped up! Chop chop chop!") Every time he sees her, she's on an errand for a boss who's no longer around.

Sometimes, Niffty is the only thing Husk would remember during such days.

When they meet more often, they sit together in the bar Alastor would make Husk work in. A small place downtown, walls etched with curved white spines and skeletal fragments all over the green-lit décor. Yet, when Husk feels the urge, he'd just go behind the counter and start serving up drinks, as natural as walking down the street.

"Is that the boss' old radio?" he asks one night, watching Niffty polish its dials furiously. She had set it on the bar counter, getting dust and oil all over.

"Yeah! Sir always wants to make sure it shines!" She grins wildly. "It gets so dusty."

Alastor has been gone for a year, yet Niffty is still here. She waits like an eager puppy, prepares everything just in case their boss breaks down the door and demands a hug immediately. Because it's something the bastard would do, of course, and it was also like the bastard to play on a joke for way too long, like he expects his little darlings to be right where he last left them.

Husk glances down. He sees his own hands polish a shot glass, and frowns.

He catches up with Niffty every week since, to muse about what trouble Alastor was in now. To vent about the eternal bad weather. To tag along in silence. He walks with her on a shopping trip, helping her carry dozens of bags. What for exactly?

"To restock the boss's fridge!" Niffty beams up at him with a smile. "The food was rotting too much, so it's all just bones again. And he always wants his bones in his bedroom instead!"

If Niffty worries, she hides it well. But Husk catches the waver in her big ol' eye. It's been five years now. She needs the routine. She should be terrorizing bug-like sinners in the streets instead, eviscerating them for her collections. And sometimes she does, to burn off some steam. Yet, she still finds time to play maid, making up a list of chores that she wrote herself the night before.

Husk also knows he should be living it up now, free to be his own man and drink and gamble as much as he wanted. To lose cash, to drown in his own filth in the alleyway, to curse his bad luck.

He could also do that before. He's already doing it now.

Husk knows he's just waiting by a door that he's not sure will ever open. A pet waiting for its master, patient, ever so patient. But the doorknob gathers dust. The house is so oddly quiet. Husk touches his neck, and the invisible collar there gives him comfort. He knows how fucked up it sounds.

But it's Hell, so who cares?

"Oh, you know what? I felt a little tug yesterday!" Niffty says out of the blue, jumping up and down on her tiny feet. She nearly drops her groceries from Cannibal Town, nary letting a spare torn-up finger drop. "He's probably on his way back!"

Niffty is the only one who gets it. She's always been the only one who gets it. So Husk feels less like an oddity, less like some pathetic creature who yearns for the praise from a distant being.

At least there were two of them feeling this way.

"You know what, Niff?" He grins. "I think I felt it too."

[arahusk]

Fic now on AO3! Also sharing this for Day 3: In Chains / Freedom for @radiotrioweek. 🦌🐈👁️

[darkhymns-fic]

I’m in the middle of reading all ur Hazbin fics and I am absolutely obsessed with your characterization of Alastor. He’s so.. perfect

The lack of empathy, lack of remorse or guilt for the things he does is so so good to read. The dynamic you write with him and Niffty is so cute- I started from the “I Quit!” Fic and I was laughing it was so funny!!

And Husk.

Ohhhhh my gosh Husker. I’ve never shipped Alastor and Husk, but their dynamic in your fics… you are converting me. But only in your fics

One of the things that really stood out to me was the part in “The Art of Mending”:

Alastor threaded his fingers into Husker’s fur, doing so in soothing patterns. Something he had seen others do, something he had practiced, imitated. Enough times, and one would mistake it for something real.

THIS WRITING IS FIRE????

I can’t properly convey how much I loved this part- I’m not a writer haha- but the way Alastor does it because he’s seen it’s soothing to other people, so he does it to Husk, and how.. in a way, he is showing he cares to some extent by consciously thinking of doing this to get his desired effect, even though it’s rooted in manipulation. It’s said in the fic that he could have forced Husk to get up, dust himself off, and Alastor could go on his merry way, but he didn’t!! Just. AUGHSHSHDBBF thank you for writing, not just the husker and Alastor stuff but just in general 💜💜

I just want to say thank you so much for this sweet message!! 🙏 Haha I'm actually always wondering if I'm writing Alastor well enough -- so many fans have different interpretations of him I feel, and we don't fully know his full intentions in the show just yet. But I love playing with his and Husk's relationship, and the way he views that relationship too. Also, manipulative Alastor is just so fun to write.

And in comparison to Alastor and Niffty, I just love seeing them as two feral creatures that love creating chaos while everyone is forced to endure it lol.

Thank you again for this message, it's a big boost to my confidence!! I hope you have a lovely day! ✨

[darkhymns-fic]

I Quit!

Just as the title says, Niffty quits the hotel! Wait, she can do that?

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Niffty, Alastor, Husk, Charlie Morningstar, Vaggi Rating: T Word Count: 3294 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Written for the first day prompt, Overworked Staff / I Quit! for @radiotrioweek! Please enjoy good Niffty times.

--

Vaggi raised an eyebrow at the curious pink-colored paper that entered her limited field of vision. It slid over the hotel’s guestbook, the paper scratched over with frantic scribbles, and maybe bits of blood and hair. She didn’t even have to raise her head to know this was from Niffty.

“Another new drawing of yours?” 

The maid was shaking violently, still pushing the paper to her across the desk like a not-so-subtle bribe. Vaggi got the hint. She took the paper carefully, as if it had been doused in bleach. Honestly, the probability was high.

Yet before Vaggi could even open the note, Niffty spread her arms wide, shouting happily, “I quit!”

From across the lobby, one could hear a certain demon princess do a spit-take of her morning apple juice. “You what?!” Charlie shouted.

She failed to notice a certain sopping wet bartender standing behind the bar counter, who was now doused in lukewarm apple juice. “Come the fuck on.”

“I quit!” Niffty said again, shouting louder for all the guests to hear—at least the ones who were interested enough to listen. Most were still busy watching TV or were passed out on the floor. “Alastor and Husk both got to quit their jobs, so now I will! I don’t want to be left out! So here is my two weeks’ notice!”

“Is that seriously why?” Vaggi looked back to the note with its pinkish hue. “Also, Niffty, this…isn’t a two weeks notice. This is a pink slip. That’s only for when you’re fired.”

“Oh.” Niffty blinked owlishly before laughing ecstatically. “So I’m fired! I get to leave right now!”

“What? That’s not what I—?”

“Did you hear that, sir? I’m fired!”

Niffty could have turned in any direction, and her favorite boss would have appeared wherever her gaze landed. This time, it happened to be straight at Husk who was busy wiping his damp face with a bar rag. Alastor appeared from the shadows, making Husk jolt with fright.

“Can all of you people stop?!”

“That’s wonderful, Niffty!” Alastor made extra sure to ignore Husk’s complaints, moving through shadows again to appear right next to the girl. He then gave her a gentle pat on the head, which she leaned into like a happy kitten. “I always knew you could do it. Good job!”

Charlie was still staring from her seat at the bar, slack-jawed. Vaggi quickly took action, leaping over the front desk in fury.

“Alastor! You can’t just let this happen. The hotel won’t have a maid!”

“Hm, I recall you doing much of the housework just fine,” Alastor answered with barely a care. “Besides, I have reason to believe Niffty has been overworked during my brief absence from the hotel. Worker’s rights are vitally important!”

“Yesss, I’ve been soooo overworked. Hehehehe.” Niffty held up both hands in a limp position, looking ready to pounce on anyone who got too close. “Worked straight to the bone. Worked until I was blinded by bleach! Worked while the guests kept touching me!”

“Ah, and now add harassment to the list of Niffty’s grievances!” Alastor sighed. “I expected better from you, esteemed hotel manager. She is now traumatized. I hope you’re happy.”

Niffty drooled at the memory, her eye glazed over, her little fingers curling and uncurling. “Touch me all over…”

“I—I told them to stop touching her!” Charlie got up from her seat, now also yelling and rushing over, which was the complete opposite of making a scene where all customers could see. “Can we work this out? Maybe with another trust exercise!”

Alastor hmmm’d disapprovingly. “You mean the trust exercises created for the purpose of your guests? Why should the hotel staff be part of such a frivolous task? It only gets in the way of their duties.”

“Um…well, you see, last time we only had Angel and Pentious so it’s not like they had a lot to do—”

“Why, I heard that you even put dear Husker under duress!” Alastor pointed his mic at Husk, who blinked slowly with one eye, followed by the other. “Making him juggle different hats, and not even literally! A bartender working in a therapist’s position despite it not being part of his day-to-day responsibilities. That’s just a civil class lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Vaggi, who had been fired up a moment ago, now wilted at the accusation. “I–I mean…”

“And now look at him. So pathetic and low-energy! You’ve broken the poor man’s spirit.”

Husk wobbled. He laid his palms against the bar counter, sliding down dangerously. “I was already like this, asshole.”

“See? A testimonial straight from the hurt party.”

“W-Wait! I can explain that!” Charlie waved at Alastor frantically to erase her catastrophic management decisions. “I just thought since Husk was a really good listener as a bartender, he’d be a good fit for therapy. You know, like… transferable skills!”

At that moment, Husk face-planted his head against the counter with a loud thump.

“Ov-er-worked! Ov-er-worked!” Niffty chanted as she pranced around the lobby. She was grabbing onto random sinners’ hands excitedly. “The hotel staff is completely overworked! Tell your friends! Leave a review!”

Vaggi found her opening thanks to Niffty’s determination to ruin the hotel’s already questionable reputation. “Okay, I can understand with Husk and Niffty, but what about you?” She glared at Alastor. 

In response, the grinning demon placed a hand over his heart—or where his heart presumably was. He suddenly looked so solemn, perhaps even bereft. “Ah, well you see… it was the most egregious insult of all that you did to me.”

“Oh, you fuck off with that bullshit. You refused to do anything since the hotel was rebuilt!” Vaggi pointed an accusing finger at Alastor. “You didn’t work at all!”

“And do you know why that is? Hm?” Alastor nodded solemnly. “The workplace became such a hostile environment that I could hardly focus on my hosting duties anymore. It negatively affected my performance, of which I am not at fault.”

“Hostile how?”

A pause. For a moment, Alastor truly looked peeved, narrowing his eyes at the hotel’s manager. “You took down my wall.” He turned away with a frustrated static screech. “And I really liked that wall!”

“...That green wall where Husk’s old bar was? That was because of the angels! And it didn’t even match with the hotel at all!”

“And there you go, insulting poor Husker yet again.” Alastor shook his head in disbelief. “He was always by that wall, you know! It was his favorite! Haven’t you made him suffer enough?’

No one was entirely sure if Husk would have agreed with such a statement since he was still very much passed out. And also his body had slumped off the bar counter to lay on the floor.

“This hotel is tearing us apart!” Niffty screeched, laughing maniacally. “Hurry up and shred me to bits! Do it!”

“No one is shredding you, Niffty!” Charlie was wide-eyed and panicking. She again turned to Alastor in supplication. “I am so sorry, I really had no idea how much pressure you three were under. Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

“Hmm, anything?” Alastor’s antlers grew, curling up into the air in wicked patterns. The filter over his voice brimmed with corruption. “Perhaps a deal can be made…”

Shadows lengthened across the floor. A few sinners started to rush out of the lobby, save for the drunk or perhaps the deeply uncaring. Both Charlie and Vaggi’s hair shifted from the power that radiated from Alastor.

Niffty then appeared from the top of Alastor’s head. Her grinning face was framed within his antlers, curling around her hair like a crown of thorns.

“Give us 5 million roach wings!” She grabbed onto Alastor’s antlers with terrific force. 

Charlie paused, then placed her hands together. “Um. I’m sorry, what?”

Alastor, still with his echoing voice, and green threads appearing over his fangs, spoke to Charlie then. “You heard the lady.”

Vaggi went to Charlie’s side, who remained befuddled. “Yeah, we don’t have those. Like, at all?”

Niffty, her hair swirling along with the green wisps of power, pouted. “Boo!! No deal!”

And with that, Alastor’s power was snuffed out. His antlers shrunk and his shadows vanished like they had never existed. The lobby was bright and red once again. 

“Well, that settles that then!” He plucked the pouty Niffty from his head to set her back down on the floor. “Another failed negotiation, Princess Morningstar.”

Niffty was already packing her bags, which had suddenly appeared beside her like a ravaging invasion. “That’s it! I’m outta here!” 

In fact, there was quite a lot of luggage, with several hotel carts full of them and being pushed by a bunch of excitable shadow minions. Even more suitcases appeared from dark corners, tendrils clutching them before softly laying them on the ground. Niffty would accept each luggage with a loud, “Thank you!” then go around the lobby and pluck a few things like a vase and a guest’s hat to stuff into her suitcase.

“Are you seriously helping her quit?!” Vaggi fumed.

Alastor wagged a finger at her, as if scolding a very angry and murderous child. “Ah ah ah! Remember, you fired Niffty, so I am just helping her pack. Besides, you won’t catch me crossing the picket line!”

“What does that even mean—”

“Unfire her, unfire her!” Charlie hopped up and down like the floor was suddenly made of lava and brimstone. Of course, everyone knew that the lava and brimstone was located within the hotel’s foundation instead.

“No take backsies!” Niffty grabbed a bunch of the hotel keys from the front desk and threw them into a rolling suitcase. They jingled and jangled with loving tones as she carried around her newly acquired belongings. 

It didn’t take her long to get all of her luggage in order—filled with all of her own belongings and others! Charlie patted her pants pocket, realizing her wallet was missing.

“I’m ready to go!” Niffty said proudly. A mountain of overstuffed suitcases in multiple hotel carts were behind her, threatening to fall over and bury a few not-so-innocent souls. 

The tinny applause from Alastor’s cane echoed within the lobby. “Splendid! Let me get the door for you.”

Vaggi was about to rip her other eye out in frustration. “Of course you start acting like the hotel’s host now.”

Even so, it looked like Alastor was taking back his role as the host with gusto. He waved his mic to guide his giggling shadow puppets to carry ten times their weight of each suitcase. One accidentally dropped theirs, which opened and let free hundreds of roach captives that tried to escape back to the kitchen.

“And don’t forget your hat, my dear!” He snapped his fingers, a familiar looking top hat, with a familiar gold token, plopped right onto Niffty’s head.

“Ooo, so much fur on this! Thank you!" She pulled the hat further down, ripping it slightly. “Now I can be an independent woman!”

Alastor then tapped his cane against the floor, clearing his throat. “As the host, I must ensure you receive a warm farewell! Gather round, everyone!”

It wasn’t like the hotel guests had a choice in the matter. Anyone who happened to be in the vicinity were pushed forward by the darkness that creeped along the walls and the floor. All such extremely lucky sinners were dodging sharp teeth and pointy ends from unnamed creatures from their nightmares that could barely be seen, until they were circling just before the front entrance. The doors then snapped open with a gust of smoggy air.

Vaggi and Charlie also joined in with the crowd, for they also adored Niffty! But the shadows did help with that.

“Ow!” Charlie swatted away a tendril. “Did it just bite me?”

“You always do so much for me, sir!” Niffty clasped her hands together, her eye shining with a dazed, far-off look. There was also the chance she might have been experiencing a bit of psychosis. “I’ll miss everyone! Especially all the stains! And the tall hat man that lives in my room and likes biting my fingers!”

“You have truly been the light of pure entertainment in this run-down establishment.” As Alastor spoke, he plucked up a comatose Husk—who was mysteriously missing his hat—from the floor with a black tendril. Another slithery tendril appeared, lifting up the bartender’s arm to wave to Niffty. Poor Husk always needed help with the most basic of tasks.

“So long, Niffty, my darling girl! I see great things coming your way! Husker thinks so as well!”

Husk then interrupted his own snores with a snort. He opened his eyes with barely a conscious thought. “What’s…huh?”

“Goodbye! I won’t ever forget you!” With the backdrop of Pentagram City behind her, Niffty waved happily. Then she turned away, with all of her luggage full of other people’s valuables. 

Alastor snapped his fingers. The hotel doors closed shut with a finality. Suddenly, the atmosphere seemed a little quieter, even a little dimmer. Someone sneezed in the background. A voice asked timidly, “Can we go now?”

Vaggi stomped over to Alastor, so tempted to take out her spear and slice open the demon’s neck. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I don’t get what stupid game you’re playing but you better bring her back right now!”

“Did you not hear Niffty earlier?” Alastor said in a disappointed tone. “She wanted to quit and be in charge of her own destiny! Once again, you fail to listen to your employees or show any interest in their well-being.”

“Niffty’s what now?” Husk was now fully awake, still clutched within Alastor’s shadows. One tendril continually wrapped around his torso with increasing closeness. “The fuck are these things doing on me?! Alastor!”

“And now poor Husker is upset with the absence of his colleague. Please, leave us to heal from this oh so preventable workplace incident.”

Vaggi was unsure even how to answer. Her time at the Exorcist army never talked about worker’s rights. Everyone just followed orders and did what they were told! Was that not how things were? Oh no, what if Alastor had a point?

Eventually, most of the sinners were able to sneak away (which did not include Husk, who was still very much trapped). Charlie looked at the closed doors with wobbly eyes, then gave a tired sigh. “I guess we’ll just have to find another maid—”

SLAM!

The hotel doors then opened up immediately. Heads turned. Vaggi was about to skewer whoever was also going to ruin her day now before she finally saw. “Niffty?”  

“Yep!” said Niffty, hands on her hips. She was still wearing the top hat. “Hi, guys!”

“Welcome back, Niffty!” Alastor greeted the ex-maid with a bow. “I hope you will enjoy your stay here! May I take your hat?”

“I sure will, sir!” She handed over the top hat with flair, curtsying to Alastor delicately.

Husk stopped straining against his tentacle-y binds to glare with suspicion. “Is that my hat?”

“Niffty! Are you–! I mean, you’re back!” In an attempt to process the scene, Charlie reached down to grab Niffty, lifting her up to the sky, checking her against the light of Heaven like one would check for counterfeit bills. “I thought you were leaving! Wait…are you checking in as a guest?”

Niffty nodded—or attempted to. Charlie held up Niffty rather loosely. She didn’t support her back or neck, which was bent at an odd angle. “Yes! I need a vacation! And there’s no better place than here!”

“All done at my suggestion, of course!” Alastor proclaimed, determined to take credit where he could. 

“And when I relax, I like to clean!” Niffty wiggled her legs in the air. “This is my cleancation!”

“Also at my suggestion!”

“You just told her to quit!” Vaggi shouted. 

Alastor had already stopped listening to her. He twirled his cane, ordering the bouncing shadow puppets to bring back the two tons of suitcases they had just brought outside less than five minutes ago. A few of the puppets struggled, some of them expiring beneath the weight of their baggage, never to be seen again. But shadow minions don’t get overworked, so it was fine!

Niffty slipped out of Charlie’s grip like a limp noodle, landing right on her face before springing back up again. “I really love this hotel! I can’t leave it! Also, I’m kinda homeless now that I was fired.”

Despite desperately wanting to correct Niffty that they did not fire her, Charlie was all too emotional at Niffty’s honesty. “Aw! Do you really mean that?”

“Uh huh! Because out of all of Hell, this hotel is the most disgusting place ever!”

“That’s so swee—” Charlie paused, her mouth open. She was processing again. 

“Why is this place disgusting? I’m glad you asked!” No one asked Niffty anything, but that was okay! “It’s so icky and gross! Even with all the new decorations, they can’t cover up the shoddy walls and the stains that are everywhere! The pest problem never, ever goes away! Guests complain about the bedbugs all the time! All of the rats live in the walls and eat the expired food! Also, there’s a weird smell coming from the basement, the elevator is out of order again, and, and—”

Vaggi ran a hand down her face, already feeling exhausted despite it being only ten in the morning. 

“Is this place even dirtier than the seedy porn district?” shouted Rooster from the den area. He didn’t even notice the hotel’s roaches that were crawling up his legs.

“Absolutely!” Then, to prove her case, Niffty pointed to a pair of sinners that were having a fight over at Husk’s bar, one smashing a glass bottle and aiming it at their enemy. 

Husk rolled his eyes. “Of course. Why not. Whatever.”

But that wasn’t all. Niffty also pointed at a shadowy corner in the lobby, where another pair of sinners decided to make love, not war. This was literal. They were literally fucking, moaning with no care in the world.

“Look at all that blood and jizz! Look at how they all mix together! There’s just already so much to clean!” Niffty grabbed a mop from behind her, its end very suspiciously wet. She blinked away bright tears. “It’s…It’s so beautiful.”

Charlie might have spiritually died at that moment. She had not moved for over three minutes now.

“That’s the spirit, Niffty!” Alastor spoke like he anticipated every little thing that happened today. “Now, let’s get your things in your room. With all your luggage, this might take all day!” He gestured vaguely to Vaggi. “Be a dear and take over my duties. I’ll also need to borrow Husker, so you’ll have to make the drinks as well!”

Vaggi was beginning to wonder if all of this was just some elaborate, stupid prank. 

Husk slouched around the tentacles that carried him around. He had long given up trying to escape his fate, resigned to being Alastor’s personal squeeze toy. “If Niff’s not quitting, can I quit instead?”

As an answer, another tendril slithered up his back to rub the top of his head. It was enough to distract the bartender, who found himself purring unwillingly. “God…damn it…Not again…”

“It’s good to be home!” Niffty shouted, prancing along with Alastor back into the depths of the hotel. Behind them, the familiar sound of a chandelier falling could be heard, along with Vaggi’s cursing and Charlie giving a frightened squeak.

“It sure is, my dear!” Alastor replied as screams of pain and fright echoed behind the retreating hotel staff. “It sure is!”

[darkhymns-fic]

Saw that ur participating in radiotrio week and just wanted to wish u good luck with whatever masterpieces u wanna cook for it!!

Aw thank you so much for your support! I'm working on a few fics that I hope I'll finish before the deadline. I'll try my best! 😄

Gonna plug in @radiotrioweek one more time for anyone who's interested in joining!

[darkhymns-fic]

Hiya!! I really like your writing! You're my main source of radiotrio context hehe

I heavily fw the thing u wrote with alastor as oni, it was so nice to read!

I hope to see more of your work and may u never run out of time and motivation to write!

Thank you so much! 😄 The radiotrio has been bouncing around so much in my brain lately and I wanna try to get out as much stories about them when I can. And thank you also for liking the Alastor oni fic! I get inspired by merch and the kimono Hazbin merch was so good. Drunken samurai Husk and shrine maiden Niffty were just too perfect roles for them also.

This little message gave me a lot of motivation to keep writing~ I'll definitely keep at it, anon!

This seems like also a good time to mention - there's a radiotrio week coming up next month that I'll try writing for soon too!

[darkhymns-fic]

You should be open to constructive criticism

Husk has been slacking at his bartending duties lately, and Alastor soon learns why. The lousy drunk has been wasting his time writing love poetry! Badly!

So, Alastor takes out the red pen and makes sure to give Husk some very important feedback.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Alastor/Husk, Niffty Rating: T Word Count: 4093 Mirror: AO3 Notes: The new Valentine's merch made me a little insane, so have a silly fic about a sad postcard Husk wrote and how I made that radiohusk-flavored.

--

Tap tap tap.

Husker muffled out some words that sounded close to a string of curses, but instead just came out as incoherent babbling. It was hard to tell, really, when he was so insistent on keeping his face pressed to the bar counter and drooling all over it.

Alastor sighed, checked the point of his claws, then used his cane to give another knock over the bar surface.

Tap tap tap.

A groan. The bottom of a whiskey bottle scraping against the wood grain. Then, followed by a deep snore.

Alastor’s grin twitched. Okay, that was enough now.

He made sure to hover the tip of his cane right over Husker’s hatless head, at the juncture where his skull met the top of his spine. Then, he gave it a good ol’ swing!

BONK BONK BONK!

“MROW WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” Husker jumped back, clutching the back of his head. His fur stood on end while distinctive yowls still eeked out of his throat in reflex. “Alastor?! God fucking Christ, the hell you doing?!”

“Ah, good to see you up and about, old chum!” Alastor twirled the instrument of his abuse before planting the base of it over the dirty hotel carpets. “I just happened to notice that you’ve forgotten to prep for your weekly restocking. For the sixth time in a row, no less!”

Husker was still nursing the growing bump on his furry head, ears flattened, teeth slightly bared. Which, essentially, was not that much different from the usual, but Alastor could see his drunken minion just wasn’t putting in that extra gusto.

“Ugh, again? Who the hell keeps drinking up our shit?” Husker slowly blinked one eye, followed by the other, before he took a swig from the bottle he still hadn’t let go of.

“You,” Alastor helpfully answered. “It’s literally you. And this is just for the bar in the employee lounge!” He waved back his arm in a grand gesture, showcasing the room for the hotel employees (and Cherri, for some reason) to lay around in, as if Husker had never seen it before.

Another slow, grueling blink. “Just teleport the alcohol in here.”

“Haha! No.” Alastor tilted his head with a tiny snap. “Your work ethic has been sorely lacking recently, Husker. Even for one so pathetic as you! What kind of mentor would I be if I simply did all of your tasks?”

“Mentor? You don’t teach me shit!” Husker pointed an angry claw at Alastor’s face—not realizing he’d let go of the whiskey bottle to do so, which predictably crashed to the floor.

Husker looked down at the glass shards that spread out in a chaotic pattern, befuddled at the entire situation.

“Oh, Husker. Truly there is so much you could learn from me if only you listened.” Alastor sighed with patriarchal disappointment. “As a sorely needed lesson, make sure to pick up those pieces and put them all back together again. We can’t have such lovely bottles wasted!”

“You’re goddamn kidding me. I ain’t doing that garbage—”

“But first, get your list started!” Alastor snapped his fingers and a dirty sheet of paper materialized in front of Husker, lying flatly on the bar counter. “From my own personal archives! You should be grateful.”

“I’m not—”

“And don’t forget your pen!” Another snap, and a fountain pen with a funny bone (haha!) design also appeared, flying through the air to smack itself right into Husker’s cute button nose. “I will check back in half an hour!”

“Fucking hell, Alastor, can you wait—!?”

But there was no need, because Alastor had already made good his exit, pulled away into his shadows. He had left his pot simmering on the stove and he could not risk dear Vajene ruining it all over again.

The last thing he saw was Husker rubbing his aching snout before finally fixing his bright, drunken eyes on the paper. The grease stains from last night’s meal were still on it, decorated like gray polka dots, but he knew his bartender had no high standards. This would fit him just fine!

But before he was gone, he heard Husker mutter beneath his breath, with a hint of that old fire Alastor had grown so fond of.

“This is stupid.”

--

Ignoring the high-keening of the little alarm from above, Alastor made sure to check his pocket watch. It was a precious vintage that was not decorated to the brim with meaningless applications and pornographic ads. Just a simple timepiece with a sheen of red over the metal.

“Ah, it's been fifteen minutes already. I should be getting back.” Alastor closed the pocket watch, then rotated his head so that he was looking past both of his shoulders. “Niffty, will you be alright with handling the rest of the cooking?”

Niffty, meanwhile, was laughing maniacally as she lifted up a steaming soup pot—wearing oven mitts for safety, of course—and jumping around the stovetop so that she could properly follow Alastor’s previous orders of shaking, not stirring, the meal. And she had to shake it just as Alastor had explained, as if she was grabbing the devil by his very neck and strangling it with all of her strength.

Going by the way the dismembered limbs were rattling around in the soup pot and nearly falling over the rim, she was already doing a splendid job! So good, in fact, that the kitchen had now caught on fire for no discernable reason!

Niffty abruptly stopped her laughter, then turned to Alastor with a bright smile. “I'll be a-okay, sir!”

The fire had spread to the cabinets, then to a spice rack, which promptly exploded and sprayed cayenne paper over Niffty—and into the soup pot. The little maid was truly a marvel when it came to cooking.

With that, Alastor gave her a wave with a fluttering of his fingers, one that Niffty mimicked just after she tore off one oven mitt from her hand with her sharp teeth. “Be seeing you for dinner, my dear!”

He made another gesture with his cane to be whisked away by the darkness. Just before he left, he could hear the kitchen doors swing open, slamming against the walls.

“What the hell is going on in here?! Niffty? Alastor! Qué carajo–!”

And just like that, he was back inside the employee lounge, which remained very empty except for the hotel’s only bartender. In the spirit of being a devoted guide for poor Husker, Alastor had decided to head back about fifteen minutes earlier than expected. It would be a good lesson for the cat man! Clearly he needed to be more on his toes. Perhaps setting a little fire under him would really get him going. Alastor always got such good ideas whenever he spent time with Niffty.

“Husker, I hope you’re now properly prepared! The weather forecast has said both scream and acid rain will be pouring down this afternoon like cats and—ugh—dogs, so you better hurry to the supermarket lickety-split!”

He expected a quick clap-back from Husker, perhaps another little yowl of displeasure accompanied by that grumpy scowl of his. Instead, he heard nothing. Alastor decided to actually look towards the private bar—and found his minion back to sleeping over the counter once again, his back painfully slouched.

My, this was a new record for how fast Husker had passed out, even for him!

However, this was now just getting ridiculous, especially after just having left Niffty who was giving her all to her tasks! He could even smell the kitchen fire from here, and knew that the meaty soup would be burned to perfection.

On the other hand, here was Husker, being somehow even more disappointing than before.

Alastor walked over to the bar with a tight grin, gripping his cane behind his back. Perhaps bonking him on the head wasn’t enough? He could always light Husker on fire, still very partial to that idea.

But as he got closer, he noticed Husker was laying over something—that same sheet of paper he’d left behind, as well as the pen clutched in his hand. Why, there was actually something legible that had been written there. Even if Husker was drooling all over it and smearing the ink.

Alastor supposed that at least this was an improvement. A very, very marginal improvement.

Though the urge to smack Husker over the skull was quite high, Alastor’s curiosity over what he wrote overcame that urge. With a delicate touch, he instead lifted up Husker’s head by one of his thick, red eyebrows. A little mewl of discomfort left Husker’s mouth, but he stayed unconscious, the fur around his chin crusted over with the vestiges of dried booze and peanut shells.

Alastor then pulled away the now freed paper with his other hand, ignoring how it had even more stains on it than before. Once he got what he wanted, he dropped Husker’s head right back on the counter with a little slam. The cat man made a low groan of pain, but then got right back to snoring and drooling all over.

“Well,” said Alastor, adjusting his monocle and bringing the paper closer. “Let’s see how well you did, my failing pupil.”

After a half a minute of skimming, Alastor already had some critiques. And that was putting it politely.

For one, this would hardly be called a proper shopping list! He would give points to Husker for having written it plainly in blocky letters, especially for one with such failing eyes as the drunken kitty. The ‘RESTOCK LIST’ was clear and to the point. Underneath that title was the assorted list, with some proper checkboxes for approval. Scotch? Yes, they did need that. More scotch? Now Husker was just being repetitive. Vodka? Husker knew he was banned from such a drink after the last incident.

It was truly a very lacking list—only saved slightly by the addition of the last item, which made Alastor raise a curious eyebrow.

‘Cocktail Cherries (Niff likes ‘em).’

Ah, did she? Niffty liked many things, but he was pleased that Husker made a note of such a preference, even if all of his other talents waned.

Still, I mustn't be lenient! This needs to be a much better list! And that wasn’t even getting into the rest of what the paper was scribbled over with.

Love poetry.

Alastor rolled his eyes. How droll.

If he could experience secondhand embarrassment, he truly would at the very phrases Husker had penned down. Even as a limerick, these were just dreadful!

He needed to fix this immediately.

Pulling out one of the bar stools, Alastor sat himself down, then summoned another pen to his hand. This one was decorated with antlers along its side, the ink a truly fresh red. He always made sure to purify the blood of these pens for when he wrote his letters.

Like a proper teacher ready to crush his student’s hopes and dreams, he began his marking.

‘You, me, and my nicest bottle of cheap booze?’

Alastor crossed this one out with no hesitation. Then, right next to the small poem, he wrote out, NO.

That was it. The reason why should be obvious. Onto the next one!

‘Roses are red, whiskey is brown, brandy is also brown…’

Oh, this one was just horrendous. It didn’t even look finished, as if Husker had already been getting drunk the moment he wrote about booze and had given up. Or passed out. Either scenario was quite likely.

Alastor once again crossed out the words in thick, merciless red lines. He added his commentary to the right side of it. ALSO NO.

Husker really should know better.

Before Alastor was ready to declare Husker’s writings an affront to romantic poetry—which was already such a saccharine, frivolous thing—he read the next, and last, poem. This one was written a bit further up the paper, just to the right side of the other literary disasters.

‘Don’t need love when it comes in a bottle but I still need you.’

Alastor held the red pen between his fingers, and paused.

Hm, the imagery is a little clever here. Good cadence. Sentence is a bit run-on, which can be workshopped. Still too reliant on the alcohol theme. But, it ended on a rather interesting note. Love itself is meaningless, but the subject of this poem is everything.

After reading over the poem a few times, Alastor found himself nodding. It was a rather good attempt, one that could even be called romantic if one was also a drunkard. Still, he had to give credit where it was due!

So to show his approval, Alastor graced his poem with his world-famous illustrations! Something to really bring forth this poem to life. And since Husker’s entire existence was booze, Alastor would indulge in it. 

A fanciful, red sketch of a cheap booze bottle—Husker’s favorite! He made bold strokes, the trio of X’s on the bottle’s label making it complete. Then, he drew a cocktail in a lowball glass, complete with a heart-topped stirrer. Since Husker was infected with romance lately, he might as well humor the cat man.

After looking at the poem illustrated with his eye-catching art, Alastor could say he was quite proud of Husker…and himself, of course! Such a poem would be nothing without the accompanying art, after all.

Alastor was ready to wake up Husker just then, to tell him that he passed with mediocre colors. Yet, he kept twirling the pen in his hand. Eyes fixated on the small list of items. He ticked the box next to ‘Scotch’ with a checkmark. They were running low on that.

Then, he ticked the box next to ‘Cocktail Cherries.’ He twirled his pen again, then set it down on the paper. Sometimes, the spirit of inspiration would take hold of him, and he couldn’t refuse it.

Just after he put the finishing touches, he heard a familiar groan before him. 

“Agh…Fucking dammit, my back.” Husker muttered more inane phrases, then gave a hacking cough and a gag. It was followed by the sound of a wet plop on the floor. “Not another hairball…”

“Good to see you among the non-living, Husker!” Alastor’s pen point was still pressed against the paper, just over the design of sharp teeth he had drawn. “Truly a wonder that you didn’t even vomit this time!”

“Oh, fuck right off, you…” Husker started, still rubbing his head. Then, his words trailed off, eyes glinting as he directed his gaze towards the poetry-slash-shopping list in front of Alastor.

“You woke up at just the right moment, my friend. As you see, I have a few notes on your work here—”

“The fuck are you doing with that?!”

Husker seemed to give no mind at how rudely he had interrupted Alastor just then. Still, he would be the bigger man, only a few blips of ruptured static emitting from his microphone staff. “I’m giving you my advice as your dearly devoted mentor. What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re messing with my shit! Gimme that!” Husker, in his ever careless ways, snatched the paper from Alastor, nearly ripping it to shreds. His claws held it clumsily, already tearing holes through it. Such a waste! “You weren’t supposed to see this!”

“Now, that makes no sense at all. I left you with a task, you completed it, and I reviewed it! Such a simple thing shouldn’t even need to be explained.”

“That’s not—I was just…trying to get started on—” Another pause as Husker looked at the sheet of paper even more. “You wrote all over this!”

“You’re welcome!” said Alastor. “Please be sure to look over my notes, to help you along with your improvement.”

“You just crossed these out and wrote no! The fuck is your problem!?” Husker narrowed his eyes, nearly pressing the paper so close to his face. He really needed some reading glasses, but did he ever listen to Alastor about getting some? No, of course not. 

“What the…? Did…did you draw on this too?” A furrow of his feathered eyebrows. “Is this Niff?”

“Of course it is! It’s the perfect rendition of her lovely, twisted soul.”

“She looks like she’s ready to pounce right off the page and bite my head off.”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I was going for, thank you very much!”

Alastor saw no need to be humble. The drawing of Niffty; crouched on her stick-thin legs, arms out, and grinning wide with her single eye staring straight at the viewer, was nothing short of a masterpiece. The tiny cherries he drew around her, like a swarm of mayflies, really pulled the entire piece together. 

Husker was growling, his tail twisting around him into knots. “Can’t believe this shit. You weren’t…” He trailed off once more, his words leaving him now in an angry hiss. “This is fucking embarassing.”

“Excuse me? My artistic talent is nothing short of a marvel!”

“I’m—I’m not talking about you, you pompous ass!” Ooo, Husker was certainly stretching out his vocabulary today! “I was just… just writing whatever. God damn it.” 

But even as Husker whined so pathetically, placing a hand against his face, he gazed at the paper again. “Wait… you didn’t cross this one out?”

“Hm?” spoke Alastor. He laid his chin over the back of his folded hands, leaning just a bit over the bar counter. “Now you would like my input?”

“Christ, I’m asking why—!” Husker stopped himself, taking a deep breath. His wings folded more neatly over his shoulders as he attempted to calm himself. “I just don’t understand, alright?”

At that, Alastor tilted his head at Husker, then gave him a wink. “I was rather impressed that you somehow wrote such a thing, especially after your other dismal attempts. So I approved of it. May you enjoy the art accompanying your sappy little love poem for years to come.”

Husker blinked slowly, looking from Alastor to the paper with bewilderment on his furry face. “Huh. So that’s why you made these freaky doodles?”

“Such a banal term. They’re inspired.”

Somehow, at that, Husker snickered. It was a soft, short sound, but Alastor noted it. “Yeah, sure. Inspired by my lame poetry?”

That gave Alastor pause, just for a moment before he answered. “As your dear devoted mentor, I have to applaud you for your literary achievement, and I did so in the best way I know.”

“Okay, you're gonna have to stop this mentor shit though, Alastor. You're not my teacher at elementary school.”

“Hmm, now now Husker,” Alastor continued with a lazy wave of his hand. “Please, call me Professor Alastor.”

“...Oh no.”

Before Alastor could question why Husker’s face was so red, he heard the familiar crackle of thunder overhead. For a moment, it overwhelmed the sound of screaming he could still hear from the hotel kitchen. “Ah! The rain has already started, it seems. No time for lazing around now. You should get to your shopping post-haste!”

“Huh?” Husker blinked, shaking away whatever mood had taken hold of him a moment before. “Right now? Fuck, I can barely even walk…” He glanced back at the paper, raising an eyebrow. “Are you saying here that I can’t get vodka?”

“You’re banned from it, Husker.” Alastor emphasized that statement with a quick tap on Husker’s head with his staff. “I thought I made myself clear last time! That drink makes you much too pathetic, even for my taste!”

“Oh fuck you, like I’m not already at the fucking bottom of the ladder…” Another glance. “But the cherries are good to get. I might have to get like double, because Niffty gobbles them up like nobody’s business.”

“Ah, well she’s a growing girl, let her!” Alastor said with a smile, knowing full well that Niffty would be short for the rest of eternity. “Anyway, along with that list, here’s what else you’ll need to get on your trip.” 

He snapped his fingers, and out of the air materialized a long sheet of paper. It landed smack in the middle of Husker’s face, who yowled in shock. 

“What the?! You already had a fucking list?” Husker pulled the paper away, and then the bottom of it extended even further, rolling out its list of contents across the floor. “Then why’d you make me try to write one myself!?”

Alastor chuckled slightly, bringing a hand near his mouth in a coy gesture. “Because it’s funny.”

And Husker’s resulting grouchy frown, so deep it carved into his face, along with his silly eyebrows and big ears—ah, surely there was nothing like it!

“Don’t look so glum, my friend. I’ll even let you have some help along!” He snapped his fingers once more, a shape appearing out of the shadows right above Husker. That same shape proceeded to fall right on top of the grumpy cat, making him tumble to the ground. 

“Ow! Niff?!”

“Hiya, Husk!” Niffty was laying across Husker’s torso, kicking her feet and pressing her cheeks into her hands. “Whatcha doing?”

“Trying not to get a damn ulcer…”

Seeing no giant pot in her hands, Alastor assumed that Niffty had completed her cooking task as expected. Because if she didn’t, her entrance would have been much more messy and scalding.

“Niffty!” he called out to the bug maid. “Be sure to give Husker your assistance! It’s shopping day!”

“Ooo, can do, Alastor!” Niffty got up, bouncing her feet against Husker’s stomach. “Shopping day! I love shopping day!”

“Niff, get off!”

Even in her manic glee, Niffty obliged immediately, then pulled at Husker’s arm to get him to his feet. The girl was always such a self-starter, ready to take on the world. She would lead Husker to self-improvement.

“Remember to get each and every item on the list. And don’t forget the scotch and cherries!”

At the mention of cherries, Niffty started to vibrate rather violently. “Cherries?! We’re gonna get cherries! I love those!”

Husker rubbed his stomach where bruises from Niffty’s pointed feet were already forming over. “Yeah, just try not to eat ‘em all before we buy ‘em. I don’t want to go to jail again.”

Niffty was barely listening, already climbing up on Husker’s shoulder, gripping at his wings. “I want to pop some cherries, Husk!! I want to pop them until they bleed!!”

“I genuinely need you to stop.”

Oddly enough, Husker didn’t resort to his usual complaining. He simply went to pick up his hat that he had shelved under the bar, then folded his own shopping list carefully, tucking it into his pocket. Niffty clutched Alastor’s long list around her like a scarf.

“Make sure to grab an umbrella, Husker! I know you have one of those!”

Husker rolled his eyes. “Yep, don’t worry, boss.” He started to head out, Niffty already scrambling out of the employee lounge, the shopping list trailing after her like a paper snake.

As Alastor looked on, he couldn’t help but be somewhat curious. He was typically never interested in anyone’s love lives, finding them quite tiresome and ridiculous. Yet, Husker’s little attempts at poetry had been surprising. 

“Before you deliver your love poem,” he called out before the bartender could fully leave. “Be sure to hand it to me first.”

“What?” Husker turned around, looking at Alastor with shocked eyes. “...Why?”

“So I can add even more art to it! It’s the only way to lift up your words to much better heights. Think of it as a collaborative effort!”

“You fucking hate collaborating with anyone.” Yet Husker looked away, his shoulders relaxing. “Do you even know who I was writing this for?”

“Haha! Oh dear, no. I couldn’t care less.” Alastor placed both hands on his cane, grinning assuredly. “Unless the subject of any conversation, musical piece, or poem is about me, I will not waste my energy!”

He expected another grumpy mutter, but he only heard silence instead. He looked at Husker, finding the other’s eyes staring straight into his. Open. Almost vulnerable. He even looked like he was about to say something, opening his mouth partly before slamming it shut. 

The gaze was oddly intense, but then Husker looked away, letting Alastor go. “Right. See ya later, Alastor.”

Even as Husker had long left the room, Alastor remained seated at the bar, wondering.

Hm. Very strange.

But he wouldn’t think much of it. It had nothing to do with him after all.

[darkhymns-fic]

An Issue of Sentimentality

Alastor, Husk, and Niffty all joined the Hazbin Hotel together, but that is seemingly where their connections to each other end... Until Husk looks for a missing wine bottle that is precious to him besides the alcohol content, and Niffty frantically searches for a handmade scarf that itches just right, and Alastor notices the few gifts he's ever received in the hands of someone else.

Sometimes, the Radio Trio can be sentimental about each other.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Alastor, Husk, Niffty, Angel Dust, Baxter, Lucifer Morningstar Rating: T Word Count: 3732 Mirror: AO3 Notes: I needed toxic found family with a faint hint of softness. Enjoy!

--

Husk didn't want to admit he was panicking when he couldn't find the precious bottle on the shelf. Somehow it wasn't in its usual place, unless he had blacked out one night and took it for a binge. But he was sure he would have found it later, like on his bed stand, or even on the counter. It was too unmistakable to miss.

“Hey, whiskers. What's got you all frazzled up?”

Husk restrained a groan, settling instead for a rolling of the eyes. He turned away from the bar shelf. “I told you not to call me that—”

He paused, eyes now fixated on Angel who was holding his missing alcohol bottle with the gold foil winking in the light. The spider celebrity narrowed his eyes at the fancy script lettering over the label, then seated himself at the bar counter. He held the bottle daintily in his bottom right hand. “Since when did you stock this type of fancy stuff anyway? Can't even pronounce half these words.”

Before Angel could take a swig, Husk swiped it from his hand. His wings rustled with anger. “The fuck is wrong with you?! Don’t just take shit from my bar!”

Angel blinked all eight of his eyes in confusion. “Huh? This is free hotel stock! And you always tell me to take whatever because you don't feel like bartending anyway!”

Husk growled. Fuck. He did say that. “This one's off limits. I don't want you wasting it, got it?”

Angel’s small, pouty frown almost made Husk feel bad. “Fine, fine… What's so special about that one anyway?”

Husk checked the bottle, examining the still closed cap. Didn't seem like anyone had a chance to drink it just yet, which relieved him. “Nothing. I just like it, that's all.”

“Oh, come off it. No way you got this wine on your own! Gift from an ex or something?”

Husk placed the bottle back on the top shelf, taking another long look. “Alastor gave it to me.”

“...Smiles is your ex?!”

Husk straightened up, his tail stiffening. “Not what I meant.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a tired hand, facing Angel again. “He usually doesn't give stuff unless it's for jokes or some other bullshit. This is one of the few times it…wasn't.” 

Angel was now staring at Husk, all of his eyes alight. “And it's not poison, right?”

“If it is, it's very slow going. First drank it a couple of years ago.” Unsure what to do with his hands, Husk took a rag, then a cup by his side, and started cleaning it absentmindedly. “I don't like wasting it. So I try to put it up high so even my dumb ass won't drink it all in one night.”

Angel snickered, eyeing his hands for some reason. “You were banking on your height to help you not drink it?”

Husk frowned. “Yeah. That so wrong? Didn't think I'd have to worry about a tall fucker taking it instead.”

“I mean, you have the wings. Nothing's really stopping you.”

“Don't give me any ideas that my drunk self might try, alright?”

Husk wouldn't expand on the story anymore, no matter how much Angel needled and whined about it. The bottle with its French script stayed in its proper place, pristine, barely drunk from. The wine had a savory taste to it, a fullness, a lingering effect that left Husk's mind brimming long after his first sip. Though to be honest, it really wasn't anything that special of a brew.

Alastor wasn't known for his generosity. Yet when Husk thought he would lose an argument with the Radio Demon once again, Alastor had surprised him with the bottle, gift-wrapped even. One that wasn't cheap. One that looked like it was at least a bit hard to find in this literal hellscape.

Husk knew he shouldn't look a gift horse (or deer) in the mouth. But it was why he tried to not take those little moments of softness for granted.

“So, uh, can I ask ya something else then?”

Husk sighed. “Fine, shoot. I'm still not letting you drink from it.”

Angel pointed at Husk's hands with a smirk. “That a gift from Alastor too?”

His hands stilled. Then, he looked down. His bar rag was over the rim of what appeared to be a clay mug that was in the shape of a curled up kitty. Little hearts were adorned along the side of it, especially around the fluffy ears.

“...This one's from Niffty,” Husk said automatically. “She made it for my death day, because she likes celebrating those.”

“Heh, it's cute!” Angel said, eyeing it with a grin. “Can I hold it?”

“Fuck no!” Husk stepped back, holding onto the clay mug protectively. “What's with you trying to grab my stuff lately?”

“Oh, you know I love grabbing your stuff alright.”

Husk’s answer to the lame innuendo was to throw his bar rag at Angel’s laughing face, using that moment to place Niffty's mug present in a nearby cupboard. He really needed to secure this stuff more carefully…

--

There was one place that Niffty hadn't checked just yet. And she’d been looking everywhere. The vents, the toilet pipes, Baxter’s funny beakers, some of the guests pockets, and even her room! But she couldn’t find it!

So she burst through the door of the designated therapy room. Charlie, Baxter, and a whole group of hotel guests, all seated within a circle and holding hands, turned their heads to stare at the frantic maid.

She couldn't take it anymore. “Where is it?!”

“Oh! Hi, Niffty!” Charlie attempted to wave with her right hand, forgetting said hand was already holding onto Baxter’s. The result was her lifting up the tiny mad scientist several feet off the ground. “Did you want to join today’s session?”

“Agh! Unhand me, woman!”

“Oh shit!”

Niffty could barely pay attention to Baxter falling to the floor, or Charlie saying silly things again. Focused on her mission, she looked under the carpet, even crawling under it as much as she could. Nope, not there. Then she checked behind the sad clown paintings on the wall. Still not there! 

She was getting more desperate by the second. “Where did it go?!” she shouted. She then took out her knife, carving through the wallpaper to see if maybe something was hiding in the walls. It must be in the walls!!

“We can make room for you!” Ignoring the property damage that was being done, Charlie continued to welcome Niffty to the group. “Why don't you have a seat over there by Rooster?”

At that, Niffty turned, ready to stab the other walls and maybe the paintings too. Her eye latched onto said Rooster at Charlie’s comment, seeing his funny-looking face, and also his chicken feet that were bent awkwardly in his sitting position.

Then she saw it. The familiar shade of black with patterns of red, the way Rooster was itching at his neck continually, the symbols etched over the black…

“My scarf!” Niffty yelled, pointing the end of her knife at the pointy-nosed sinner. The scarf, wrapped snugly around his neck, was now all too obvious on him. How could she have missed it before?!

“Eh? What?” Rooster blinked, continuing to scratch at his neck. “This was in my room. I thought it was like a, uh, free gift! For staying here at this joint!”

Charlie gave a great ‘Aww!’ at the statement. “I didn't even know we were doing that!”

“That's my present!” Niffty salivated, still holding onto her knife with a shaking hand. “It was made for me by Alastor with Husk's fur, blood, sweat, and tears! Mostly his fur!”

Rooster stopped scratching. He then looked at the scarf he wore with clear discomfort. “...What.”

“It's my gift from Husk and Alastor!” Niffty yelled louder, already scurrying up to the sinner, pushing through the therapy circle. A few other guests dodged out of the way of her charging knife. “It’s really special to me! I made sure to keep all the fleas on it alive!”

“....THIS HAS FLEAS ON IT?!”

Before Rooster could even unwind the infested scarf from his neck, Niffty had already pounced. She started gnawing at Rooster’s fedora, and then his head, already forgetting her knife. Screams erupted throughout the room, most of the guests rushing out the door at the sight of Niffty going rabid

Soon, the only ones left were Rooster and Niffty in their scuffle, as well as Charlie and Baxter, who were still holding hands.

“Um.” Charlie tried to speak, though her voice was barely above Rooster’s screams. “Niffty, I'm sure if you just ask him nicely, he'll give it back…”

“Keep fighting for it, Niffty!” Baxter shouted, completely undercutting Charlie’s plea. “Show him who’s boss!”

“Yeah!!” Niffty responded, finally done with her biting and was now grabbing at the scarf. Though by doing so, she was essentially strangling Rooster. “And the boss is Alastor!!”

Eventually, through sheer luck, the scarf was finally off Rooster. As the sinner laid on the floor, gasping for air, Niffty cuddled the fuzzy scarf to her face, her smile so wide with happiness. “Hee, it's so warm and scratchy…”

“Well! I'm glad that worked out,” said Charlie. Rooster gave another cough and gasp that everyone promptly ignored. “You can tell us next time if you lost something important though. It's probably gonna be tough to reschedule this session now…”

Niffty blinked, still rubbing the scarf against her cheek. “It is important! This was made with the love of my boss and best friend! They gave it to me when I was so sad about my lost bug collection. I like to take it out on really cold days.”

Baxter looked at some sort of smart device over his wrist. “It's 250 degrees Fahrenheit today. A new record actually.”

“Ooo, I should probably take this to bed too. Don't wanna get too chilly!” With that, Niffty quickly skipped away from the room, humming a tune as she clutched her precious scarf.

Charlie stared after her curiously before she heard a cough by her side. She soon realized that it was Baxter instead of Rooster, who was busy coughing in a different part of the room.

“I believe I asked you to unhand me five minutes ago.”

“Oh right!” Charlie kept her grip on him, her smile firm. “You know, I remember you saying woman instead of my name. So I figured it must have been someone else that you meant!”

Baxter stared blankly, though the little fintail on his head twitched. “This is another redemption exercise, isn't it?”

“You're catching on!” Charlie smiled wider. “Now, what do we say?”

Baxter sighed. “It starts with sorry…”

--

With a quick shadow teleportation, his smile first appearing before the rest of his body, Alastor gave a heavy sigh. “Finally. Some peace and quiet in this madhouse.”

With the hotel being more of a headache these days, Alastor was determined to find a time to unwind for the evening. No frivolous hotel guests crying for his help, no Vaggie hounding his door to do some menial chores, and no Charlie to try and rope him into her little saccharine exercises.

This was his time now! The wound over his chest wasn't healing well, and it was imperative that he relax.

In fact, he had already done his preparations! The employee-only parlor was typically empty at this time of day, with most of the staff busy with their tasks. He didn't need to do any hosting, not with most guests occupied. There was the bar, open for him to self-serve, as well as his cherished radio on the main table, already set to a jazzy tune. Ah, certainly the best way to destress!

Since Alastor didn't feel well enough to go for a walk around town, and he was getting tired of staying in his room, he did the next best thing. A little change of scenery could do the mind wonders, after all!

Next to the couch, there was a small bookcase that Alastor had designated as his own, so that his possessions would be in easy reach when he wanted to lounge. And he had made sure to tell everyone so! Husk and Niffty would understand, of course, and he was confident Charlie and Vaggie would respect his space. Angel was up in the air, but the celebrity certainly didn't read anyway.

So, Alastor sat down on his spot on the couch, next to his bookcase, with his glass of rye already set on top and filled. He would soon continue reading this one riveting novel, but figured that a little game of solitaire could warm him up. He then reached over for the deck of special cards—one that he kept in his possession for a good several decades now—that he had placed next to his glass—

The cards were not there.

Alastor bristled. The tune on his radio turned fuzzy, losing signal before finding its way again. He looked again. No, they were not there. Even though he had left them there just for this exact time. 

Unless he had misplaced them? No, of course not. Someone else is to blame. He knew this for a fact.

Alastor decided to take another look, just to be sure. The radio continued to play, trying to soothe his nerves as best it could. Well, he could at least make sure his novel was there, unless it had been pilfered too. It should just be in the middle of the bookcase. Why, he had even used Niffty's little crown to mark it so he could remember—

The crown was not there either.

Alastor stared. The radio had gone deathly silent, then crescendoed into static. 

And, somehow, something else made this day even worse.

“Well well well! Fancy seeing you here, bellhop! Sneaking off to slack off from work again?”

Alastor's grin stretched wide. His monocle shifted ever so slightly. This was not good for his health right now. Extremely not good.

With a slow creaking of his neck, Alastor turned to face the pathetic so-called King of Hell. He expected the famous Biblical figure in his usual gaudy attire, perhaps carrying around another stupid rubber duck in his hands. But he was only half-right—Lucifer walked into the parlor with his ringmaster outfit, but instead of holding a duck, he held something else.

Were those his cards?

“Gotta say, when I tell Charlie her host of the hotel is hiding away from the guests again, I don't think she's gonna be too happy about that!” Lucifer, in his frustrating manner of speaking, was talking from out one side of his cheek, clicking his tongue like a mother hen. “That’s a pre-he-he-ty bad look there, my guy!”

All the while he was yapping, he was shuffling the cards in his hand. And he was doing so very, very, badly. 

It was as if the man’s hands were too tiny to handle the deck correctly, completely foiling the riffle shuffle so that the cards were more uneven in their place than before. Not even a simple cutting could be done, Lucifer somehow always needing to take a moment before trying the next motion.

If Alastor didn't think Lucifer was already so stupid, he would have thought the devil was doing it on purpose.

“Now, I'm sure I can put in a good word for you if you, uh, show a little respect around here for once. Ya get me, Bambi?” Lucifer gave a wheezing laugh that sounded both painful and mind-numbing. He then predictably lost a few cards in his mindless shuffling. “Oh, whoopsy-daisy.”

And then, when Lucifer went to pick up one of the cards, he bent the edge of it when doing so.

“Heh, got a case of the ol’ butter-y fingers going on here. Must be the syrup from my breakfast this morning!” A pause, followed by another tongue-click. “Wouldn’t that make these sticky instead…?”

Alastor was going to have a heart attack. This had to be on purpose. It had to.

“Why. Do. You. Have. Those?” he finally asked in a tight voice.

Lucifer blinked at Alastor, continuing to shuffle those cards with all the dexterity of a drunk goat, nearly losing another card again. “My fingers?”

“The cards!”

“Oh, these? Just found it here! Kinda tacky design though, like…” Lucifer sucked in air through his sharp teeth, taking out one card to stare at it. “Like, who puts themselves on a card? Big ego much? Ha, I wouldn't know.”

Alastor grinned so hard he felt a tooth crack. “Those are mine.”

“Oh, I know! But since it was just lying around here, I figured it was free use. Felt I should brush up on my card-cutting skills! Lot of cats in this one though. I like cats.”

Alastor did all he could to not gnaw off his own hand from the sheer torture of this entire conversation. “That is a gift.” A twitch of his right ear, feeling every inch of pain of this miserable existence. “From Husker.”

“Who?” Lucifer asked. Before Alastor could yell, Lucifer snapped a finger. “Oh the cat guy! Is this supposed to be him?” He held up one card, one depicting Husker in a little jester outfit. “Guy must have a good sense of humor!”

It was one of the few things Alastor could concede the King of Hell too. Husker, despite his bitterness at losing their game decades ago, had given Alastor that deck. It was done after Alastor's apology, a rare one, something mostly done to sweep things under the rug and get on with their afterlives. He hadn't expected Husker to give him something in return, especially of a personal card deck he had made with a few small embellishments to them.

“Put some stuff in there that I'm sure you'll find hilarious,” Husk said with a roll of his eyes. “But you haven't been so bad lately, so here. Maybe we can play a game one day. No stakes.”

And Alastor intended to do just that someday, after his other, much more frustrating deal was done with, after his wound finally healed, after he could finally be done with this hotel—

He was immediately distracted by Lucifer whistling. High-pitched and off-key. How was that even possible coming from someone who could play the fiddle professionally? And then when Alastor turned to glare at the devil again, he noticed something else. Something he had overlooked, so preoccupied with the cards that had been taken from him.

Was Lucifer wearing the roach crown? On his hat? 

“Why.”

“Huh?” The only upside to Lucifer talking was he stopped whistling to do so. “Why what?”

“WHY ARE YOU WEARING THAT?!”

Lucifer directed his eyes above, as if he’d be able to see it from there. The roach crown, crafted by Niffty's talented hands, had been fitted over the top hat, snuggled close to the golden snake that was always present. “Oh this!! Yeah, isn't it just wacky? And it looks so life-like too! Usually I'm like ew, gross, get off me, but I gotta admire the craftsmanship. You know, from artiste to artiste.”

Alastor clenched his hands, his claws digging into his palms. Blood was seeping through, dripping into the carpet.

“Yep! Really kinda absurd. Would fit well for a funny carnival prize. Like, hey look at me! King of the Bugs! I’d choose them over sinners any day!” Lucifer then poked at one dead cockroach of the crown, laughing obnoxiously. “Heh, super gross. Now, if these were ducks! Then we’re getting somewhere!”

Nothing this man did made any sense. This was torture. This was Alastor’s own personal hell.

So distracted by the crown, Lucifer then just dropped all of the cards completely. They flew from his hand, half of the cards falling underneath the couch, while the rest scattered over the carpet. “Oop, well. That happened!”

By this moment, Alastor had a tremendous headache. Some of it was from the sight of Lucifer messing with his most prized possessions, while the rest was from his antlers growing in size and weighing so heavily on his skull.

Lucifer, by this point, had finally noticed and was looking at him with a grimace. “Eugh. Nasty look you got there.”

Alastor completely forgot about his wound, and the fact that Lucifer was a higher rank of angel than Adam was. He was going to kill this fucker.

“Give me back. What's mine.” Alastor shifted and grew, his fangs slavering, and his vision seeing only red. “You shitty thief!”

Lucifer had the gall to frown and puff out his cheeks for some reason. “Hey, I take offense to that! I'm no thief! And I’m definitely not shitty! Look in the mirror sometime, buddy!”

“I’M NOT YOUR GODDAMN BUDDY!”

Alastor was so fucking mad that he smashed his bookcase in his rampage before slowly closing in on the King of Hell.

“Like, seriously! Tacky red and nothing else! And that antler trick ain’t doing you any favors, heh! …Okay, seriously back off. Hey, back off! I'll smite you! I mean it! King of Hell and all that! Settle down! Heel! I command you! Or I’ll— Neh! Fuck, I can't even slap you? Heaven won't just let me slap you?! Come on! CHARLIE, HELP!”

And that was how Alastor learned that day, after finally securing his precious card deck from Husker and his adorable roach crown from Niffty, that the King of Hell could not harm sinners.

He left the room in much higher spirits, while Lucifer sat on the floor, his hat pulled so far down that it was now wrapped around his torso, the top of it having been torn off. The King of Hell grumbled, trying to get out of this predicament, his hair a complete mess. “A little ‘thank you’ would have been nice!!” he called out. “I took care of your trash and this is how I get repaid? Really!?”

Of course he wouldn’t understand the importance of such possessions. Few privileged men ever could, something that Alastor detested in most of humanity, and apparently in the devil as well.

But Alastor got what rightfully belonged to him, and what truly mattered, and that was enough to make him forget the pain of his situation for a little while longer.

[arahusk]

Pairing: Husk/Alastor, implied Husk/Angel Word count: 3550 Summary: Post-season 2. Husk just wants to be of use.

-

"You're a bleeding heart, you know that?"

Husk bumps his head against the bottom of the bar counter, mutters grumpily, then pulls out the bottle he had been searching for. "What? Didn't catch that since ya made me grab the good stuff for you."

Angel snickers. One of his primary hands presses against his mouth, barely hiding the gleam of his golden tooth. "Come on, admit it. Ya like taking care of me. Look at ya getting me anything I ask for!"

Husk only smirks slightly as he pops open the cork of the bottle. A miracle that Angel didn't make a sexual joke as he did so, even as he made said cork disappear behind his ear so that he could pour the amber liquid in Angel's glass.

"I'm only here to keep all you guys drunk, because none of you fuckers know how to do it right. I've seen the way you make cocktails. No one's living through the night with what you put in those. That and gasoline tastes better."

Angel mock gasps while his secondary hands reach for the filled glass. "Ya just don't understand my art! The 'Choke Me, Daddy' cocktail recipe is like a, uh, commentary on like..." One hand makes a waving gesture. "How life chokes you. Like a fucking bitch. But sometimes it feels good. Ya get me?"

Husk shrugs, trying not to laugh. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you get choked, you're on your own for that."

"Aw, that's nowhere near as fun." Angel downs his drink, the bar lights drawing highlights across his fur, the briefest streaks of purple and pink. "But admit it. Last night when I came in with my face full of splinters because of Val's new wooden paddling shtick, you even went and got out the tweezers to help me!"

"Only because I had one on me! And it was damn painful watching you wince every time you tried to take a shot."

Angel raises an eyebrow, but he smiles. "Who the hell carries around a tweezer? Weirdo."

Husk cleans out a whiskey tumbler, putting it back on a shelf. "If I see someone come to my bar every night with a new bruise or a broken lip, it gets harder to ignore. So, fine. I feel like taking care of you when it comes to that."

"Ohhh-"

Then Husk turns over his shoulder. "Just that. Got it, kid?"

Angel bats all eight of his eyes cutely, even somehow getting his face to blush to really sell it. "Yes, mister. I'll be a good wittle boy, I pwomise."

That was enough to break Husk, his laughter spraying out across the bar, Angel's stupid expression now shifting over to smugness.

It was easy to have a bleeding heart for someone who felt like they deserved it.

–

.

.

.

Oh, how pitiful, someone might say if they saw him now. Oh, how pathetic, someone might say if they saw him sprawled out on the floor, wings half-shorn, eyes hollow, mouth dry.

That someone is now here. Their shadow spreads over Husk, freezing him. It's all he deserves anyway.

"Oh, Husker," that same someone says, their teeth sharp, their voice barely holding back in laughter. "Do you even know where you are?"

Husk blinks. Everything is just colors to him, but then he sees the bones hung up on the wall, the antique radios on the shelves, the plush armchair where Alastor sits, one leg crossed over the other.

Did it matter if Husk was summoned here? Or did he stumble in through the door, collapsing to the floor, right before Alastor? As if one would do before a god?

Husk grits his teeth, curls in on himself. He pricks his arms with his claws. "Just kick me out," he says. He can't remember anything from hours ago. Days ago. Weeks. It all mixes together.

How did it get this bad? But Husk knows how. It's been a month since Angel left. Pitiful. Pathetic.

Alastor leans forward, humming curiously. His smile widens as he looks over Husk who lays like a dead body that had been given to him as an offering. "Such a boring thing you've become! Are you looking for me to fix you? Is that it?" The grainy voice falls through Husk's ears like fine sand. "All you had to do was ask."

Nothing stems the hollow ache in Husk's chest. The way it gnaws straight through his bones, desiccates his organs, leaving him rotting from the inside. That's exactly what Alastor wants, so he doesn't believe the Radio Demon will do anything besides finding a salt shaker to make him more palatable.

So he flinches when hands reach to pick him up easily, one grabbing his arm, the other his waist. A soft, gentle pull, then they bring Husk to rest against a chest that's all sharp angles. The tip of his ear brushes against a chin, hearing the soft, textured notes of some song that he can no longer remember the name of. His tail wraps around one leg like a clinging vine. His wings hardly weigh anything at all. 

Husk realizes then he's not wearing any clothes. There’s a slight chilliness settling in his fur. Alastor’s fingers shift down, unbothered by anything. Had Husk just been lying naked on Alastor's floor, like some sad pathetic thing? He doesn’t even want to know for how long he was there, Alastor’s eyes on him, his hands following soon after.

"Why?" Husk asks. Instead of answering, Alastor brings him closer to lay with him in the chair, making Husk straddle his lap. Husk hears nothing when he presses his ear against that chest, not even breathing. After all, Alastor has never needed to.

A hand rakes down his back. Claws that break skin just so barely. It takes away strands of fur in their path. "Such a troublesome thing. I always tell you to not worry your fuzzy head about matters that are out of your hands. And yet, here you are."

Here you are. Here you are. Troublesome. Pitiful. Pathetic. Husk can't stop the echoes inside his head.

He wants to get drunk and forget Angel's haunted face. He wants to forget the way Angel tore his hand away from him, no longer looking back. He wants to. He wants to. The same hand on him soon plays with a few of those leftover feathers on a drooping wing.

"Stop treating me...like your pet," he says into Alastor's shirt. His breath is heavy, and he can feel the very smallest of shakes from Alastor when he speaks. His mouth is right near the wound of Alastor's, its jagged shape seen through the shirt's light material, like a fissure. It still hasn't healed, even after Alastor got everything he wanted.

"But what kind of owner would I be?" Alastor says in the same teasing voice he loves to use. "I take care of all my property well."

Such words to say from one who broke his own chains. But Husk isn't that much of a dreamer himself. The chains are heavy. Sometimes, they even feel like hands on his shoulders, keeping him close. He will never never tell Alastor that.

Husk closes his eyes. He expects the scent of rotting flesh, of wet soil, of mold. But all he can catch is the faint acrid scent of cigarettes, coating his tongue as he breathes it in. He lays his hands over Alastor's shirt. There's a small bump against his palm, the upraised skin of that wound. For a moment, he can smell blood.

The wound is open. Not completely. But it must have torn earlier. Maybe when Alastor was alone. Maybe when Alastor had moved to pick up Husk from the floor.

Alastor shows no indication that he knows. That, or he's ignoring it. He instead continues to pet Husk, letting one of his claws trace a line over the spine. Husk shivers, feeling that claw press into skin, like Alastor was making a very precise cut, all in one motion.

It's an attempt to soothe, and it works. Husk shivers again, and a low rumble starts within his chest. The stroking repeats, changing its rhythm, carving tangents in its path. Alastor is always so oddly touchy with him, hands gentle, and maybe it has to be when you need to tear out the good meat from bone.

Husk hears no heartbeat, but he hears a very shuddered breathing. Faint. Subdued. Air rattling through damaged lungs and a cracked sternum. The man never takes care of himself.

It's what angers Husk suddenly, even as those hands pet his back, tug at his wings, and mold themselves against his hips. The end of his tail waves, still clinging to Alastor's leg.

"How can you even think about helping me," Husk whispers, narrowing his eyes at Alastor's chest, "if you're still so messed up yourself?"

If Alastor's hand pauses, if there's a slight shift, it's not something his boss, his soul owner, his self-appointed caretaker will ever mention. Alastor grips some of those feathers in warning, as if he would pull out the rest.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific, dear."

The demon always thinks he's so hilarious.

Husk has only seen the wound once, how it opened wide like a sharp-fanged mouth, held together by green threads. To think it still hasn't healed, but Husk is only assuming by the scent. His claws furl into the shirt.

Alastor notices. He grips Husk's wing feathers even tighter in response. "Don't be a naughty pet."

"I'm not your pet," Husk hisses out. Then, he tears down Alastor's shirt in the middle.

He refuses to ignore this.

The wound is a red scar, no longer festering. It doesn't open wide like a mouth ready to devour, but still shows the jagged teeth, like some grimacing smile. The skin is still inflamed and thin, and it shows weakness. Something Alastor never wants.

There's a small sliver of bright red. The green threads are no longer there. Even so, it's a break in the skin that's new and fresh, stretched out from whatever Alastor had done. Trying to tear himself to pieces, or letting another cannibal try to take a bite out of him. Or he just woke up wrong.

"You're so fucking stupid," Husk says. His tail wraps around Alastor's leg even tighter, as if his soul owner would vanish right there. It's not out of the realm of possibility.

Alastor doesn't rip out those feathers like he silently promised. But Husk sees the slight drooping of his ears, the hiss of static raising in volume. The pleasant song that had been playing before is gone. "Now you owe me a new shirt, Husker."

"You were bleeding through it anyway," Husk snaps back. "How fucking long have you been like this?"

"And why does that concern you?" Alastor's voice is tight. But its sound is that of a tired animal.

Neither of them know how to ask for help. No wonder they've been stuck to each other for too many damn years. The closest is Niffty, but she obeys Alastor to the letter.

Husk doesn't.

His tongue extends from his mouth before he knows it. The action is natural. He's barely even conscious of it. It's this stupid cat body, he thinks. Or maybe it's because his mind has been stuck in blackness for so long that he's operating on instinct alone.

Even so, he takes his time to taste. Bitter and metallic. It soaks into his tongue like water to soil. Husk expects himself to flinch, but he doesn't. He drags his tongue along the edge of the ripped wound, memorizing the shape of it. It reminds him of when he would lick his own scrapes, when shattered glass would make their way into his palms, and he had to use his teeth to take out each of those tiny pieces.

A high-pitched sound makes him lower his ears. Inhuman and piercing. Alastor should be biting his head off now, and it seems like he would at any moment.

And yet, he doesn't.

Husk risks a small glance, his tongue still over the wound. Alastor has his eyes shut, his hair slightly frazzled. The hand that's on Husk's back tightens, claws digging through fur and so dangerously close to breaking through the skin. The other hand lets go of his wing, only for Alastor to bring it to his own head. Fingers curl into his hair, pulling slightly.

It's hard to know if he is in pain or something else altogether.

Maybe if he was sober, Husk would have been weirded out and stepped back. But if he was sober, he wouldn't be licking Alastor's months-old wound in the first place. So he stays, shifts more comfortably on Alastor's lap, and takes another lick. Like a cat slowly lapping at his own paw, or carrying away fur. But he only takes in any leaking blood, and the salt from Alastor's skin. Maybe he even licks away whatever magic residue is left from those threads that were once there. He tastes more while Alastor trembles.

"Stop," the Radio Demon utters out. The filter is gone. The put-on accent is erased. It's Alastor when everything is laid bare and not covered over with several shades of lies and mimicry.

Husk stops, but only for a moment to say, "I will if this is hurting you."

Alastor is still shaking, his hand still pulling at Husk's fur, the other at his own hair. But his antlers stay unchanged, and his eyes are dim.

Yeah, it's something else altogether.

Husk moves in to lick again, determined to forget all about this the next day. But now, he's set in his role; if Alastor wants to treat him like a pet so badly, then Husk will act accordingly. A pet that sees his owner's wound still not healed, licking away the blood and hurt, because nothing else works.

Alastor breathes harder. The hand rushes up Husk's back to grip at the tuft of fur at his neck. There's an odd texture in his breathing, like he's confused, like he's not sure where any of this is leading. Neither does Husk, but he stays close, his own breath falling over Alastor's gash from Adam. How it has stayed for so long, barely even healing into a full scar, makes little sense. Husk know’s he’s lucky that he never got a scratch from an angelic sword, and yet here is Alastor, carrying his own around like a weight.

It's actually fucked up that he's doing this, but Husk continues until he hears Alastor become calm, like an animal that finally understands he's not in danger. There's nothing Husk can even do to Alastor, nothing that really matters. But they stay like that, clinging together, some of Alastor's blood now staining Husk's white fur on his chin.

He's getting used to it. It's soothing—maybe for both of them. It gives Husk something to focus on, watching the way the lines on Alastor's face smoothen out, the straining grin finally relaxing, if only by a little.

"You...worry yourself over nothing," Alastor finally says. It's sharp, but only after he can finally catch his breath.

Whatever emotions run through the Radio Demon's head, Husk never wants to know. He still expects any moment for Alastor to dig his claws into Husk's back, ripping out his spine, and putting it up on his wall to join with the others. Husk takes another risk again, despite knowing that whenever he does, it blows up in his face. He loses more than he gains, every time.

He licks further up the wound, and he doesn't stop. He licks up Alastor's chest to his neck. His wings fold over the armchair, draping over Alastor's body like some shoddy blanket. When his mouth finally reaches higher, he can feel a pulse. Alastor's heart, finally beating, like he’s a living human instead of some awful monstrosity that would eat him for lunch if he was feeling just slightly hungry.

The hand over his fur tightens again, but not as roughly. Another soft breath from Alastor, and then an arm brings Husk closer, as if they can finally melt together.

Husk expected rejection. He still does, ready for it at any moment. He licks again, slowly, breathing faster. He'll take up as much as he can before it all gets ruined.

"I'm not worrying," Husk says, feeling his heart in his throat, like it's about to rush out of there and impale itself against Alastor's teeth. "I'm taking. Push me off if you hate it so much."

That's only half-true. Sometimes Husk can believe himself. Sometimes.

But Alastor smiles. Husk only sees it at the corner of his eyes, but that smile always stretches far. It highlights those eyes that always draw him in, pits of black within a red lake. Alastor's fingers circle around the base of Husk's tail.

And then, he whispers to him, "Husker, you and your bleeding heart."

Husk stops. The blood is still fresh on his tongue. His claws tighten over Alastor's shirt, thinking of ripping it to shreds completely.

All he can remember is the way Angel had turned away.

Husk leans up to face Alastor fully, greeted with that smile. He sees a sheen of sweat over Alastor’s forehead, crimson hair sticking to it in soft tangles. He doesn't ask how his boss knows. Or how long he’s known. Or if Alastor really did drag Husk to his room, left him out on the floor and watched him struggle through nightmares, listening to him talk and cry and spill out all his secrets in his sleep, all while his own chest was stinging with agony.

Husk just covers Alastor's mouth with his, sliding his tongue in so his owner can taste his own blood, hidden deep there. The hand doesn't leave his back.

Part of him hopes that maybe Alastor really will rip him apart then. The man has always threatened that, up to the point that it was now like a scary bedtime story that Husk has grown tired of listening to. Except, that would have been too merciful of him.

Instead, Alastor accepts his kiss, wrapping his tongue around Husk's, hands firmly over his waist. He brings Husk closer, closer, they can't even get any closer than this. Except Husk is already hard and trying to find Alastor's to rut against, to break down completely. His own breathing sounds strange to his ears, like he's about to choke, like he's about to drown from the all the whiskey he drank the other night.

He can only think about the softness of Alastor's lips for much too long, and then his boss flinches. Not because of the kiss, or the way Husk is humping him like they were about to get skewered by some exorcists tomorrow, but because the wound had opened again. Another small tear in the new skin. Another trickle of blood, already blooming and staining Alastor's chest.

Husk doesn't give any warning. He leans down to lick away the blood, lapping the wound until the harsh bitterness fills his mouth. He hears a sound that's like a mix between a moan and a frayed cord sparking. It's enough to rend Alastor into incoherence.

But Alastor still doesn't stop him. Again, Husk tastes his blood, his torn skin, and if he kisses it gently once or twice, both are smart enough to not make any mention of it.

(It's something he can never do with Angel, even if everything had gone right. But Alastor accepts it, because he's already seen everything that Husk is.)

Husk leans up to share the blood he's taken, coating it over Alastor's tongue. It's enough to make his boss shake. Their moans are muffled before Husk decides to break it.

"If you ever get hurt again, you tell me." Husk isn't sure why he's angry, but he feels it all too well. Even as he breathes against Alastor's mouth, falling into those eyes that see much too deeply in him. "That was part of our deal."

It would be like Alastor to forget such a detail.

The Radio Demon chuckles, even if he looks exhausted. He reaches up a hand to Husk's face, stroking a finger down a cheek, to play with the fur in such a soft manner that Husk is nearly convinced that none of this is real.

"Such a good little pet of mine to remember," Alastor says. "I know how much you love taking care of me."

It sounds too genuine to think it's said in sarcasm. In fact, Husk thinks Alastor sounds almost relieved.

How fucked it is that the Radio Demon is the only one to fully accept him this way, bleeding heart and all. Still, he also feels relief, muscles relaxing, heartbeat steady, to know whatever they have between them is still here, binding them together.

Husk doesn't answer Alastor back. He just goes to lick at his wound again, achingly slow. And if Alastor makes another strangled sound again that Husk can't help but want to hear over and over, he doesn't mention it.

He just wants to be of use.

[arahusk]

This is now on AO3! 🦌🐈

[warmine]

"I never told you to give your heart away so easily."

inspired by https://archiveofourown.org/works/74527826