Sylveontheoverlord

I'm a fic writer. Figured I'd post my fics on tumblr :b

[sylveontheoverlord]

One Track Mind, One Track Heart

Angel Dust X Husk

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Angel Dust X Husk

Fic type: One shot

DW: Canon-typical cursing and mentions of abuse, moral OCD

_____________________________________

Angel Dust’s head was pounding. His heart was pounding. He felt like there were pins and needles rushing through his bloodstream…and he wasn’t sure why.

“Oh, fuck.”

He always felt like shit after work, after a long night with Valentino, but this was different. Something just felt wrong. No, everything felt wrong.

The clack of Angel’s heels echoed as he stepped into the foyer of the Hazbin Hotel, ruby light reflecting through the stained-glass double doors. Normally, the next thing he’d do was get his claws on some booze as fast as possible. Instead, though, Angel darted from room to room, rifling through various drawers. Desperately, he grabbed a wrinkled piece of paper and an old ballpoint pen from Charlie’s office.

With these in hand, he nervously shuffled to the bar.

“Angel,” Husk greeted him curiously as he approached. The cat-demon eyed the spider’s condition: Red-faced from where Valentino had slapped him, and markings that suggested the moth-demon grabbed him by the neck. Husk frowned, drooping his ears. “Rough day?”

Angel heard Husk’s words like an echo coming from the next room. His face was an inch away from his sheet of paper, eyes wide as he scribbled frantically without answering.

Husk furrowed his brow. “Angel?”

“Whuh?” Angel mumbled, briefly lifting his pink and black eyes to meet Husk’s. “Uh, yeah. Rough day,” He confirmed. “You know.”

The cat tilted his head, glancing at the tattered parchment with a worried look. “What…are you writing down exactly?” He plucked a bottle off the shelf and chugged it. “You keeping a diary, or something? Or are you just signing one really long fuckin’ autograph?”

The spider blinked hard, forcing himself back to reality. “A diary…? Autograph… No, I- I’m just trying to figure somethin’ out.”

Narrowing his eyes at Angel as if analyzing the results of an X-ray scan, Husk set his now empty bottle gently on the bar counter. “What’s goin’ on, Angel?” Then his eyes softened a little. “You, uh…you can tell me.”

A moment passed as the spider considered, giving his paper a solemn glance. Then, like he was serving a drink, he slid it across the bar to Husk, who then carefully inspected it.

Each sentence scratched onto the paper was messy, but legible. Not quite sloppy, but with a frantic edge nonetheless.

The page was divided into categories: The Vees, and Alastor.

The Vees:

-Fuckface rat bastards

-Vox wants to fucking conquer Heaven

-Valentino…not even gonna elaborate.

Alastor:

-WHAT THE FUCK IS HIS MOTIVE?

-WHY IS HE EVEN HERE?

-The fuck did he disappear to all this time?

Husk hummed quietly, brows creasing as he peered back at Angel Dust. “Angel, I…hear you, but…any particular reason you’re…making a list?”

"‘CAUSE I GOTTA MAKE SURE I’M DOIN’ THE RIGHT THING!” Angel blurted, pressing his head into his hands.

And for a moment, the room was silent, save for Angel’s ragged breathing.

His eyes were wide. His fur was ruffled, and he couldn’t quite look Husk in the eye. “Everything I do is what Val says! ‘Yes, Valentino. No, Valentino Sorry, Valentino.” He took another breath through clenched teeth. “Then, I come back to the hotel, and...That strawberry fuckin’ pimp is just…here. Do we even KNOW what strings he’s pullin’ to get what he wants, or WHY?”

Husk blinked rapidly, taken aback. Tucking his wings in, he stared at the ground, his expression grim. There were things he could say about Alastor. But, then, that bastard was always listening.

Angel’s body shook until he pushed himself up and began pacing back and forth in front of the bar.

“We’re supposed to believe Alastor’s workin’ this hotel because he cares about everybody’s wellbeing?” Angel took a deep breath, hugging his own sides. “It’s just…if The Vee’s are pullin’ strings…and… Alastor’s pullin’ strings…” He stared at his own four hands like they belonged to someone else. “I…I-I don’t trust myself anymore.”

Husk stared bewilderedly. “Angel…what are you trying to say?”

The spider-demon shut his eyes tight, attempting to rope his thoughts into something explainable, but it felt like every thought in the world was pressing into his skull at once.

“Let’s face it, Husk.” He managed. “There’s a manipulative Overlord tryin’ to get into my head, whether I’m here, or at work. I just…” His gaze finally met Husk’s, eyes pleading with life-or-death urgency. “Do you think I’m…good at thinking for myself?”

“Angel,” Husk answered with the slightest smile. “You’re the most stubborn piece of shit I’ve ever met.”

“Heh, thanks, whiskers.” The spider stammered, though his voice sounded distant.

With a sharp crinkling sound, the cat handed Angel back his paper. “Look, why don’t you get some sleep? You’re only gonna drive yourself crazy with this stuff.”

“Yeah, you’re-you’re probably right.” Angel conceded, and, at that, both demons parted ways to their respective rooms.

“Shut up!” Angel mentally yelled at himself later that night, shifting uncomfortably in his bed. “Just fuckin’ go to sleep!”

He was alone now. Well, not completely. Fat Nuggets was curled up beside him, snorting softly. But without Husk, the noise in Angel’s head became louder.

“I knew I was a bad person, but if the hotel is part of the Radio Demon’s creepy plan, then I’m part of that plan, aren’t I? I’m partially causin’ whatever bullshit he’s up to.” He stared at the ceiling…or, what would be the ceiling. The room was so dark, everything looked black and grainy, like an ocean of writhing ashes. “Shit! I’m WAY fuckin’ worse than I thought.” Suddenly, he was overcome with chills. “There’s no fuckin’ way I deserve to be redeemed.”

Wait, wait, wait. He just needed to review his actions. They couldn’t all be part of an Overlord’s plan, right? He must’ve done something neither Alastor, nor the Vees would approve of. He must’ve done a good deed that didn’t benefit them somehow.

Then he wouldn’t be a completely bad person.

“Fuck! Me savin’ Husk from the train tracks was part of Vox’s plan.” Angel realized. “He planned that shit ‘cause he wanted a goddamn headline. So it had nothin’ to do with me bein’ good.”

His stomach lurched.

“C’mon, Angel,” He scolded himself. “Relax. Didn’t Charlie say somethin’ like…joinin’ the hotel is good in of itself, ‘cause it’s choosin’ a better path?”

Yeah…yeah. He’d joined the hotel. That had to count for something.

Shit, shit, SHIT.

Not only was his choice to join the hotel perfect publicity for Valentino, it must have

SOMEHOW factored into Alastor’s plan, whatever that was. Otherwise, why would Alastor even be here?

Angel felt his lungs tighten as the blood drained from his cheeks. Holy, fuck, what if it was TRUE? What if Angel really couldn’t do anything good without playing into someone else’s hands?

He had to be manipulated into being good? Was there no good in him to begin with?

And, fuck, what was “good,” anyway? Reading a script about how ‘drugs are bad?’ Making new friends, the bare minimum of social interaction?

“I went to Hell for a reason,” His mind screamed. He gently scratched behind Fat Nuggets’ ears, but it wasn’t helping. “I deserve this. I’m not good, and I’ll never be good. I’m just a fuckin’ PAWN in other demons’ game. I’m so fuckin’ naive…so…”

Brainwashed.

That’s what Vox called anyone who supported the hotel.

…But it’s also what Charlie and Vaggie called Vox’s supporters.

So…who was really brainwashed, then? All of the above?

“Am I brainwashed?”

The thought entered his head like a bullet from behind, lodging itself into his brain faster than he could blink, and refusing to leave.

He felt nauseous.

Brainwashed. There was something so humiliating about that word. Anyone could be manipulated, but brainwashed? That was something that only happened to morons.

“Well, shit, what if I’M a fuckin’ moron?”

Angel’s body was frozen, glued to his bed as if paralyzed - as if moving his body would make the thoughts attack faster, like snake venom pumping through his veins.

He felt a warm glaze forming over his eyes - the weird, crawling feeling in his eyelids that only intense sleepiness could cause. But the sound coming from his brain was too loud to sleep through, and his aching muscles refused to relax, no matter how desperately sleep called him.

“Am I brainwashed? Am I naive? Am I a bad person?”

“Stop thinkin’ about that! Just fuckin’ GO TO SLEEP!”

“There has to be somethin’. I must’ve done SOMETHIN’ to prove I’m none a’ those things…”

The moment he rescued Husk looped infinitely in his mind like a vivid movie. He examined every fiber of the memory, looking for SOME detail, ANY detail proving was nobody’s pawn. Not the Radio Demon’s, not Charlie’s, and for the love of God not Valentino’s.

His chest panged with a stinging sensation.

“No.” He declared mentally. “No, No, No. We’re done here. I gotta fix this.” Angel’s body sprung back to life, spider legs scrambling to get his blanket off, as if he were trapped in it. His legs hit the floor as he launched out of bed. “I could still be a good person. I just need to make sure.”

He yanked his bedside drawer open and snatched his pen and paper like a desert wanderer who hadn’t had water to drink in 3 months.

“I just need to make sure…”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A faint clicking noise echoed through the hotel hallway, ripping Husk from a peaceful sleep.

“Urmghhh…what the fuck…” He mumbled, pointy ears twitching as he rose from his pillow.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

He recognized the sound of high heels on marble, striding down the grand staircase.

“Angel?”

Carefully, he slinked out of bed and crept down the stairs, light on his paws, so as not to wake anyone.

There, on the couch by the TV, was Angel Dust - But not lazily sprawled on the cushions like he usually was. Instead, the spider was stiff and hunched forward, scribbling on his piece of paper with an expression that looked like he’d die if he stopped.

Something popped inside Husk like a balloon from seeing his friend like this…

“Angel…” He spoke gently, stepping into view. “You’re still writing in that thing?”

“AHH-” The spider’s limbs flailed as he nearly slid off the couch.

“Angel, it’s me!” Husk, assured him, reaching an arm out. He almost laid a hand on Angel’s shoulder, but he was too unsure to actually do it. “...It’s just me. Are you…” He hesitated. The question felt awkward…no. It would’ve felt awkward with anyone else. But this was Angel…

”...Are you ok?”

Angel panted, sitting up straight again, hugging the paper to his chest. “Husk-” He exhaled, catching his breath. Despite how shaken he was, a hint of relief crept into his voice. “I-I’m fine. I’m just…takin’ stock of my memories. Writin’ down shit I’ve done…just…makin’ sure my, uh…redemption’s on the right track.”

Cautiously, the cat demon sat down beside him. “Angel, I…I think I know what you’re going through. Being under someone else’s thumb, it’s-”

“No, you don’t understand!” Angel cried. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about it. I can’t sleep. I can’t do ANYTHING!”

For a moment, Husk stared at the floor, cheeks turning red. But then he met Angel’s eyes, finally placing a paw on his shoulder. “Then don’t, baby,” He soothed. “I don’t know if I can help you with what you’re goin’ through, but I’m right here. And you ain’t goin’ through it alone.”

Now it was Angel’s turn to blush. He took Husk’s other paw in his hand. “Thanks, Whiskers.” He eyed the sheet of paper, which was now engulfed in messy writing on both sides, and pushed it away. “I gotta just put this thing down,” He conceited. “That ain’t gonna stop me from thinkin’ about it, though. About the Vees and Al. About bein’ brainwashed. All that shit.”

“How ‘bout a distraction, then?” Husk suggested, and grabbed the remote to click the TV on.

“Wait, wait, wait-” Angel stammered, then he immediately got up, striding toward the other side of the room.

“Angel, where’re you goin’?”

As the TV flickered to life, an ocean blue glow shimmering against the fiery red of the hotel wallpaper, Vox’s voice rang across the room.

“Stay tuned,” He bellowed, his dapper suit and TV head appearing onscreen, wildly gesturing at two photos, one of Lucifer and one of Vaggie. “As we discuss the smooth-brained bullshit known as the Hazbin Hotel, and finally answer the question you’ve all been waiting for: Is Charlie’s girlfriend really fucking her dad? More tonight on Voxtek network.”

The television Overlord grinned.

“Trust US with your news!”

“Sheesh.” Husk grimaced before peering across the room where the spider-demon rushed off to.

“Rrgh...” Angel grunted, carrying a big metal object. His many arms fumbled as he quickly set it on a nearby table with a loud thump.

Husk squinted, looking closer.

It was a radio.

“What the hell are you doin’?” The cat questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Hands shaking, Angel turned the dial, cranking the volume up to 10, while adjusting the TV volume at the same time. Husk hadn’t even realized Angel took the remote when he got up.

As the radio activated, Alastor’s voice crackled through the dusty speakers. It was surreal hearing a mere recording of Alastor when the real him lived here. “Honestly,” The Radio Demon chided through the speaker. Does anyone really fear that validation-seeking, bloated-ego lunatic television Overlord? I mean, seriously!”

At first, Husk didn’t understand the point of Angel blasting Alastor’s show at a time like this, but then he saw the number 10 on the TV screen, and did a double take.

He’s trying to turn Alastor and Vox’s propaganda to the same volume…

…He was an attempting to cancel Vox and Alastor out. Play both propaganda broadcasts at the same time, so he couldn’t be swayed by either, like a form of mental symmetry.

Slowly, the spider backed away from the dial, hovering a hand over it, as if afraid it might fall over.

The TV and radio blared, a cacophony of Alastor and Vox’s voices tangled together.

“That old-timer radio dipshit…”

“He’s so obsessed with me!”

“Are we really gonna listen to that daddy’s girl princess?"

“Do you really think the Video Overlord can accomplish anything without relying on others?”

Angel Dust stood paralyzed, eyes flicking between the TV and radio with pinprick-sized pupils, worried one might automatically become louder than the other.

Husk had seen enough.

“That’s it. We’re done here.” Mustering the energy of what little Overlord power he had left, the cat demon summoned a small glowing playing card, an Ace of Spades, to be precise, and launched it, like a boomerang.

It whipped in circles, slicing through the air, shattering the TV screen and cutting through the radio, all in one fell swoop, before neatly landing back in his paw.

At last, silence.

“Husk, oh, shit, I’m sorry…” Angel exclaimed, rubbing his arm. “I don’t know why I’m like this right now, I-”

“Shh…” Husk stopped him, placing a soft, fuzzy arm around his shoulder and gently guiding him back to the couch. “You know Angel,” He offered. “Guy at a bar once told me, when your brain’s stuck on one thing, sometimes you…you just gotta let it be stuck. It ain’t gonna go away if you keep fightin’ to find answers you can’t have.”

Angel’s breath caught, his eyes suddenly glimmering with tears that rolled like honey down his cheeks, a pool of black makeup running along with it. “What if it…” His voice cracked, choking out of his throat. “What if it never goes away?”

“Feelings don’t work like that, kid.” Husk assured him. “You’re gonna feel better. But I won’t lie to you, it’s gonna take time.”

Gradually, the spider eased his way into Husk’s arms, and the cat held him tight, sheltering him as each exhausted sob escaped him.

When Angel had drained the last of his tears, he took a deep breath and raised his head slightly. “Husk?” He asked, his voice still weak. “You, uh…you ain’t gonna tell Charlie about this, are ya? I got a reputation to uphold.”

The cat demon cracked a smile. “Baby, that’s what you're worried about right now?”

“C’mon. You know Charlie. She’s gonna get all fuckin’...emotion…y about it.”

“Heheh,” Husk chuckled. “Angel, I ain’t tellin’ anyone. I got a reputation to uphold, too…” His ears drooped a little. “...what’s left of it.”

“Heh. Knew I could count on you, Whiskers.” Angel smiled, and the two sat on the couch for a while, shrouded in darkness and silence as the sliced radio and cracked TV stood there like rubble a tornado left behind.

“You know, for the record,” Husk finally spoke, looking Angel in the eyes. “You’re a smart guy. There’s a lotta dishonesty in Hell, and nobody is immune to fallin’ for a few tricks. But you’re not the type to fall for propaganda. And, if it makes you feel any better, I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I think there’s plenty of good in you, kid.”

The cat looked off into the distance for a moment, thinking.

“And, fuck it, you know what?” He continued with a newfound resolve. “If you ever fall for any bullshit, it ain’t gonna make me think any different of you.”

“Even if I’m a fuckin’ moron?” Angel pressed softly. “Even if I’m a brainwashed piece of shit followin’ some dickface Overlord?”

“Hell yeah, ‘cause that ain’t the Angel I know. The Angel I know’s got a good head. And, no matter who’s got his soul, he ain’t nobody’s plaything.”

“Kitten, I don’t deserve ya.” The spider muttered, letting out a sigh of relief and crossing one leg over the other.

“This is Hell, Baby. We don’t deserve each other,” Husk chortled in response, tipping his hat. “Wanna drink to that?”

“Bet your ass.”

Stepping over what was left of the TV and radio, the duo strutted their way to the hotel bar.

“Y’know, Charlie and Vaggie’re gonna make us replace this shit,” Angel noted.

“Yup,” Husk agreed. “We’re absolutely fucked.”

By the time Angel and Husk said their goodnights, and Angel crept back to his room, he knew there wouldn’t be much time to sleep before morning arrived.

“Eh, who cares?” He decided. “So, Whiskers and I pulled an all-nighta. At least I can actually sleep, now.”

It was true. Eventually, he’d probably go back to panicking, but, at least for now, after talking to Husk… Angel’s chest didn’t feel like a voodoo doll full of pins, anymore. His muscles no longer felt like immovable stones, and, at last, he could breathe.

Husk’s words replayed in his mind:

“The Angel I know’s got a good head. And, no matter who’s got his soul, he ain’t nobody’s plaything.”

As the spider demon curled under his blankets, his pet pig snuggling under his arms like a stuffie, something welled up inside him. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time…Something like gratitude.

He may never know whether his good deeds were just the byproduct of Overlords dangling him on puppet strings, but whatever the case, he felt…somewhere in his spider-shaped soul…he’d make it through.

“Husk and I will make it through.”

…and then his phone buzzed.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

“Who the FUCK is textin’ me at this hour?” Angel griped, tossing his blankets and plucking his phone from the bedside table. “Go the FUCK to bed!”

The spider hastily punched in his passcode and swiped to his messages app, expecting some annoying fan, or worse, Valentino.

But it wasn’t Valentino.

It was Vox.

“What the-”

The text contained an image.

Red.

Pulsing.

Concentric circles.

Bright…warm…rhythmic…

…pretty…

Angel stared…and stared…and stared…

…and then he blacked out.

[sylveontheoverlord]

Chapters: 14/14 Fandom: Transformers: Prime, Transformers - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Arcee (Transformers), Starscream (Transformers), Optimus Prime, Miko Nakadai, Jack Darby, Ratchet (Transformers), Knockout, Breakdown (Transformers), Bumblebee (Transformers), Bulkhead (Transformers), Rafael "Raf" Esquivel, Mindwipe (Transformers) Additional Tags: Psychological Horror, Horror, Humor, Dark Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Enemies, Friendship, Action/Adventure, Arcee thinks she's fine...HAHAHAHAHA!, confused Starscream noises, Chaos, two idiots one braincell, Personality Swap, Hypnotism, Corruption, Some Manchurian agent mind control shit but with Transformers, heck yeah!, Mind Control, Angst Summary:

"Uh huh," Arcee replied flatly. "A Decepticon HYPNOTIST? Really? Cut the scrap, Starscream. What do you think you're gonna do? Control my mind with your mystical Decepticon powers?"

"No," The Con hissed. "But any relics belonging to Mindwipe will!"

OR

Arcee and Starscream find a relic with hypnosis powers in an abandoned Deception ship. They TRY to mind control each other. They accidentally hypnotize THEMSELVES. Now, Starscream feels strangely uninterested in killing Megatron...and Optimus is left wondering why Arcee keeps staring at him like she wants to kill him. ABSOLUTE chaos ensues.