𝐇𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 - Hazbin Hotel

gambllin' cat

"Well, we have a patron already, who believes in our cause! And he's shown incredible progress!"

"Oh my, and who might that be?"

"Just a little someone called... Husk, the Soul Dealer. Heard of him?"

"The porn star?"

A day, or perhaps two, possibly three, in the afterlife of Husk, former overlord and Valentino's favourite. (Huskerdust roleswap AU)

Funny how one small mistake could ruin an afterlife. Husk nudged a broken bottle with his paw as he strolled down the street, golden bell jingling gently from the hot pink collar around his neck. Just in case anyone needed a reminder of the sorry fate of the Soul Dealer.

He took a long swig of some shitty whiskey, low quality enough that it burnt down his throat, but the burn was good. It stung like grit along his rough tongue, without a trace of the sweetness of 'love potion' that laced every fuckin' drink in V Tower.

The ends of his wings dragged across the ground, taking the next turn off the city streets, to the bluff the princess had slapped her ramshackle hotel on. Husk stared up at the building, fully aware that he was an asshole taking advantage of her blind optimism just to get a few nights away from neon lights and red smoke.

She hadn't even needed to slap money in his paw when she tried to recruit him, the offer of a free room out of the tower had been enough to get him to agree to her dumbass idea. Even with her crabby girlfriend glaring at him with a face that'd make a mother cry.

Who was the real idiot here, her for thinking Husk, the fallen overlord, was in the ballpark of 'redeemable', or him, for thinking that he could weasel out of a deal that easy. One he'd fuckin' wrote up too, why the fuck was he such a thorough bastard with his contracts, didn't even leave himself much of a loophole beyond a remnant of his old power.

He trudged up the hill, pushing open the door, ears folding back at the squeaky hinge. Fuckin' christ, this place was a shithole.

"Ay, look who's back in." A pitchy voice grated across Husker's eardrums, digging into his brain like hot needles as he turned his filthiest glare on the bartender. Angel grinned back at him, cleaning glasses with one set of arms and shaking a drink up with the other. "You want somethin', whiskers?"

"Go fuck yourself." Husk snarled at him, yellowed teeth on full display, one of them ripped clean years ago and replaced with some fuckin' bullshit called 'resin'. Back in his day kids got metal caps and put up with it. Better than a false fang the exact hue of his collar.

"Ain't that your job, schnookums?" Angel teased as he poured himself something horrifically pink . Husk's grip tightened on his bottle, the edge of his claws scoring lines along the glass. "The princess was lookin' for ya, she's all sad about you missing her trust exercises again."

"Tell her to take it up with my fuckin' boss then." Husk felt a twinge of guilt at the idea of Charlie with her big innocent eyes being in the same room as Valentino and ruthlessly crushed it down. Stupid idea anyway.

"Nah, you can do that yourself. Since you're her one and only 'redeemable' soul," Angel snickered, popping out a third set of arms just to waggle his fingers mockingly. "How's that goin', toots?"

Husk drained the bottle and tossed it over his shoulder. That creepy cleaning lady could take care of it, what the fuck was up with her. He mooched over to the bar, slumping bonelessly over the wooden counter. Once upon a time he'd been a happy drunk, for all of five minutes before life and death kicked him in the nuts. "Get me a fuckin' drink and shut your yap."