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Hazbin Fics

by darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈 darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈

Feed of all my Hazbin Hotel fics. Mostly radiohusk 🦌🐈 and the radio trio 🦌🐈👁️

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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
22 days ago
Husk goes missing soon after Angel left the hotel. Seeing Niffty try to find him, Alastor decides to bring him back. He's already so used to Husker and his broken heart. #fic Writing the #radiohusk and #radiotrio ending scene that my heart wanted. 🥰 Read here: archiveofourown.org/works…
Preview for The Art of Mending by Darkhymns. Summary: Husk's heart has always been fragile, prone to breaking. But Alastor knew this, and he knew just how to pick up all those broken pieces with ease.
“Husk! There you are! We thought you ran away!” That’s because he did, dear Niffty, Alastor wanted to say. Husk was a coward at heart, but the girl was, of course, very forgiving. Husker’s tail flinched. He raised his head. His eyes were haunted, bags dragging them under. “Niff, what are you…?” Those eyes then shifted from the girl to Alastor who was a few feet away, standing near the open doorway like a lingering shadow. A glint of yellow, a low growl. Then Husker looked away, back to staring at nothing on the floor. Alastor rolled his eyes. What an embarrassment.
“Now, Husker, really! This is how you react to a guest leaving? How will you survive when another goes, or worse yet, gets redeemed by good old Charlie? I thought you would be better than this.” He twirled his newly repaired cane, feeling lighter on his steps than he had in weeks. He maneuvered around the broken bottles to stand by Husker, while Niffty fiddled with his wings, half-torn. She plucked away loose feathers, wiped away the blood with unusual care. It looked like the cat had been in a brawl, but Alastor could already figure it out. Blood also coated Husker’s claws, along with a few of those feathers. “You should have told me,” Husk muttered, then raised his head once more. He glared at Alastor, seething. “About Angel and what was happening to him. Because you fucking knew all this time, didn’t you?”
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@arahusk.bsky.social
27 days ago
Exploring breathplay with #radiohusk, also another extra #fic for #TopAlWeek for Day 5: Asphyxiation. Husk plays with high risks for high rewards, like gamblers often do. ✨ Read here: archiveofourown.org/works…
Fic preview for High Risk by ivypromises (Darkhymns) Summary: “Last chance,” Alastor said. His rictus grin was the usual, but there was a curious, almost manic light in his eyes. It was oddly motivating. Then, he pulled. Husk was always looking for a rush. High risks means high rewards, whether it was in gambling or other things entirely. Surprisingly, Alastor was all too happy to fulfill Husk's somewhat unusual request.
A feeble grasp of air. The warm shiver that ran down his spine. His wings snapped open, then lay against the couch like sheets. Still not close enough. Husk lifted up his right hand, finger moving to push in between the belt and his throat. Seemingly done to relieve the pressure. Alastor reached over to remove the hand, tightening the belt more. “None of that now.” Then, his touch lingered, one claw parting the fur over Husk’s chest, his shirt unbuttoned. He trailed circles, trailed swirling patterns that only meant something to him. Husk breathed harder, his mouth slightly open. “Blink twice if you want me to keep touching you,” Alastor whispered. He let all his fingers bury within the white tuft, making contact with skin. Once. Twice. Husk was panting.
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@arahusk.bsky.social
about 1 month ago
Writing soft bondage #radiohusk to calm myself down. Also something for #topalweek for the ribbons prompt? I'm late as always. 🎀 #fic 1/2
He can't see or move. It dawns on Husk almost too quickly on what's happened to him once he wakes. The way his limbs are arranged, how his arms are positioned behind his back. He can't open his wings, their entire span locked by something soft. That, and he only sees pitch black. Blindfolded. Which was better than losing his actual eyes, at least. The binds on him feel oddly malleable, like silk. They don't dig into his fur like the chains would. He can even hear the soft rush of the fabric when he tried to stretch his legs. But he absolutely can't move. Alastor was having his fun again, wasn't he? "Are you here?" Husk asks, his voice coming out bitter. His tail flicks, the only thing that was free to move. He can't even nudge an ankle, so wrapped up in whatever binds Alastor used on him. "Oh! What gave it away?" A little laugh that ripples through the darkness. It's oddly stripped of the usual feedback that laces Alastor's voice. It was so close to him, yet Husk can't tell from which direction it came from.
He sighs, flicking his tail again. "Get this off me now." "Hmm... Nope! I think you look rather nice this way." This time, Alastor's voice was a little to the right this time. Husk turns his head, snarling, but knew the effect was lacking when he can't even glare at the demon's face. "Don't you humiliate me enough?" There's a pause. Husk can hear the soft hum of electricity, like a florescent light. "If I wanted to humiliate you, Husker, I would have brought you outside for everyone to see." Husk still tries to wriggle his hands out of the binds, which were so unyielding that it stunned him. Then he feels a touch, one that goes underneath his back, tracing against his bound hands. Fingers part through fur near his lower back, making him shiver.
"No, this is simply just for me." The arm moves closer, lifting him up. Husk can already guess what Alastor was doing. He should have tried to pull away, even with his limbs tied up, even with his vision completely gone. Only his ears pick up the soft static, and the rush of fabric that touches his body. Yet, something makes him stay still. It's very soft, the way Alastor holds him. The way he lifts him up like he weighs nothing, even with his wings. His legs dangle over air and a part of him fidgets in reflex. But a hand shifts to hold him firmly. He's pressed into Alastor's chest. He can't see it, but he knows by the feel of the buttons near his fur, the very thinness of the fabric, that Alastor is not wearing his coat. The tip of his ear catches the curve of Alastor's jaw, the heat of skin catching him off guard. "You've suddenly grown quiet, my friend." A pause. "Cat got your tongue?" Husk can't even muster a growl. "You know this isn't fair."
He doesn't need to see the grin that stretches over Alastor's face. It would be infuriating if it weren't for the fact that Alastor holds him with such ease and such knowing familiarity, that it forever unbalances him. There's something about being helpless that does something to him. "If you truly want me to stop, then say so by all means." A finger presses against the tuft of fur on his chest, before slowly sliding down the middle. Husk shakes again, still unable to see a thing as Alastor's featherlight touches catch hidden nerves. "Alastor..." He starts, then drifts off. His head lays against Alastor's arm, the same arm holding him up effortlessly. "Or, you could simply escape. I know that's one of your talents." The tease sinks into Husk's skull like the warm last drops of fine whiskey. "I'm not keeping you here."
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@arahusk.bsky.social
about 1 month ago
A pre-canon fic where a strange sinner keeps bothering Husk about the whereabouts of the missing Radio Demon. Fed up, Husk decides to make it interesting with a certain kind of gamble. The kind with bullets! #fic #radiohusk Read here: archiveofourown.org/works…
Fic preview of Self-Destruction by ivypromises (Darkhymns) Summary: “You’ve been like this for a long time.” Husk paused. The gun was already pointed at his temple. His claw was on the trigger, barely nudging it. If the sinner was smiling, it was hard to tell. The lighting around them got worse. The demon’s face was half in shadow. “The fuck you care.” Husk smiled so hard, his teeth hurt. “I’ve always been like this.” It's been seven years since his soul owner left. But Husk can't seem to escape his past, no matter what.
Even then, the sinner didn’t move from their seat. They kept leering, and while Husk wasn’t a stranger to getting hit on by randos on the street, (and he didn’t always say no either), he was not feeling it. But then, they said something else. “The thing is, I’m not here for that. I’m here because I heard you once knew the Radio Demon.” Husk paused. Then, he took another drink. He swallowed slowly, kept his wings closed in. “You know? The one that disappeared all those years back?” His tail swished, then curled by his foot. “He’s dead. Exorcist did him in. Nothing much else to it.” He was not feeling this conversation at all. So he tried to ignore it, continued to drink, hoping to lose himself in the haze like he did every night. “Really? That’s interesting.” The sinner’s claws tapped against the bar counter, like falling door knockers. “Because I heard he’s still very much around. And that you’re the only one who knows how to find him.” A pause. Husk wouldn’t look. He scratched three claws over the glass of the bottle, slightly high-pitched. “Since you were his favorite pet and all.”
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@arahusk.bsky.social
about 1 month ago
Wanted to write a silly #radiotrio fic with Niffty being the only one in the group who has a phone. No high-stakes, just pure Niffty joy 👁️💖 (I want that Niffty song so bad) #HazbinHotel #Niffty #Husk #Alastor #fic Read here: archiveofourown.org/works…
Fic preview for Buggy Connections by Darkhymns Fandom: Hazbin Hotel No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Niffty, Husk, Alastor Summary: "Husk! Husk! Can I get your phone number!?" She was clutching a phone that looked bigger than her hands. Husk noted the case on it, depicting a bloody knife stabbing a very dead cockroach. "...Since when do you even have a phone?" "Last month! But I accidentally dropped it in the toilet before. Had to really crawl through the pipes for it." She held up the somehow working device with pride. "I wanna text you! And send you pics of my bug art collection!" One: He did not want that. Two: He didn't have a phone. And three: He really did not want that. or; Niffty tries to convince two old men to get a phone with her. Language: English Words: 1,564 Chapters: 1/1
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@arahusk.bsky.social
about 1 month ago
A small fic where Niffty tells Husk how she died. 👁️🐈 This and the quoted post are part of a longfic with the #radiotrio I'm still working on. Fave bug girl has a painful past... I hope we learn of it soon for real. #fic #husk #niffty 1/2
It was all feeling so nice until a hand was shaking her shoulder. A big hand, one that nearly engulfed a part of her arm. She could feel the shape of that familiar heart print over her skin. She opened up her eye, her vision hazy, Husk’s face a blur of black and white before it cleared. “Niff, why are you taking a nap in here? You out of your mind? I meant like on the couch or something!” Husk was leaning over the grate of the fireplace, some of the soot getting onto his fur. But his fur was already so dark, she could barely see it. “This fireplace is automatic. You’ll get roasted alive. Unless you wanna catch on fire.” Niffty had wedged herself deep into a corner of the fireplace, half-submerged in darkness, where most of the soot gathered in. She had been scrubbing and sweeping it out, until the coziness of it all made her so sleepy. She had always liked these little spaces, ones where she could fit inside, like the vents, or even the inside of a washing machine! She gazed her single eye at Husk, her grin showing off little specks of black here and there. “I’ve been on fire before.”
Husk rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess we all have to catch on fire at some fucking point when we’re here. Like some stupid rite of passage.” She giggled. Her hands were clutched to her chest, her elbows resting on her knees. “Hehe, not here, silly.” The hand that was on her stilled. Husk stared. Then, carefully, he pulled his hand away. He didn’t say anything, but she saw the look in his eyes—the kind she remembered other people in her life gave her sometimes. Pitying, scared, unsure. He was cute, but he didn’t understand her the way Alastor did. Maybe he didn’t understand Alastor either. Which was a little sad, because she knew her Sir liked his kitty so much. At the thought of Alastor, she giggled happily again, nestling further into the corner, getting even more soot all over her dress. “You know, whenever Alastor needs me, he’ll make me appear in a fireplace. It’s like he turns me into a piece of coal, right in the middle of the flames, and then I wake up feeling all warm. He knows it relaxes me so much. And he’ll always make sure to get rid of the soot right after!”
Husk continued to look at her, all while Niffty tried to brush away the soot from her apron. She only succeeded in making it more black, more grimy. This is why she needed Alastor. He always made sure to treat her right. A quick peek showed her that Husk had gone closer to the fireplace, seating himself before it. He laid his arms over his legs. His tail swished curiously, and even his wings were slightly expanded, as if to cover them both up in their conversation. “Niffty… How did you end up down here?” He asked her carefully, eyes on her. The fireplace held no flames, but his eyes did.  Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, Niffty giddily relived the memories. “I was thrown into a ditch,” she said with a whisper. “But that’s not how I died.” She wondered if the fireplace would turn on, sending tingles all over her skin. Yet, it never quite had the same feel as when she had been alive.
“One of my eyes wasn’t working, so I couldn’t see good. But still, I climbed! I climbed out of the ditch! I ruined my dress and my nails and my stockings but I got out of the ditch and found my way back to the house. He didn’t expect me back. He didn’t know I would be there. I can’t remember what he said anymore, because I was already stabbing. I had to keep doing it. I had to keep stabbing, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing—” She stopped, even though no one told her to. She raised her head to look at Husk. He was only staring back, his wings still hiding her from view. So few people ever listened so well to her stories!  “Until I couldn’t stab anymore. Kitchen knife broke. I tried to use a fork next but it wasn’t very good. And a spoon? Much worse! I didn’t have anything else to use, except for some needles. But I just used them to fix the holes in my stockings. So I tried something else.”

Just a small fic about the time Niffty first met Alastor. 👁️🦌 #fic #niffty #radiomaid (?)

Alastor had found her lying in a ditch. Niffty had still been huddled on her side, hands wrapped around her knees, her smile stuck in a grin, almost like she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Then, she was laughing slightly, enough to rock her small body. She couldn’t stop that either. Her skin was no longer bubbling. Her hair didn’t crackle and curl up. She was getting cold. Someone had heard her. Shadows she would soon come to love stretched over her, bringing with them grainy music that popped unevenly, along with the harsh sounds of static. It reminded her of her favorite little radio back home, the radio that must now have been burned with the rest in the house fire, the plastic melting, the voices twisting and warping as the flames licked it up. The static vibrated her skull, dug nails into her brain, and made her huddle into herself even more. But then she looked up and saw wonderful crimson eyes. They drew her in, like red-tinged clouds in the sky, just before sunset. They saw her. They were interested. And something about that was invigorating.
She finally unwrapped her arms, holding them up to that light. “Helloooo,” she cooed out, still hazy from the fumes, from the fire, from the delightful pain of before. And she could see the man before her was also smiling! The figure reached out with a hand, tipped with red sharp claws, the knuckles elongating, the bones curving and breaking. She could hear them continue to snap the closer the hand got to her face. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t flinch in fear of being touched. His fingers stroked her hair. His touch warmed her. He pet her like she was a lost little stray cat who had lost its way. “Aren’t you just a nifty little thing!” said a voice, layered over with filters and corruption, like the radio that was still melting in the inferno. It was spoken with such delight that she long felt absent. “I haven’t met someone so polite in such a long time. You’re not even screaming!”
The praise was so gleeful, so unexpected, that it made her heart flutter. It was addicting. His voice was like water for her burning throat. Something bubbled in her chest, nearly making her overflow. She leaned into his crooked hand, wanting more of his touch. “Hehe, I can scream if you want me to,” she told him, a lilt in her voice. She really would have if he asked. The smiling man who she would come to know as Alastor simply laughed. His sharp teeth were splayed out against the red glow, and his antlers cut through a red-tinged sky. They looked so sharp, and yet soft at the time. Maybe one day she’d get to run her fingers across them, and prick her fingers until they bled sweetly. “My, you truly are perfect.” Another hand reached out, one to cup against her back, until she felt her little feet dangling in the air. “I can’t let anyone else have you.” Then, he took her out of the cold.
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@arahusk.bsky.social
about 2 months ago
Vox tries to make a deal with Husk to betray Alastor. It's in his best interest, just trust him! Husk doesn't really know what to think. This #fic is also a year old, so just sharing before the new season drops. Some implied #radiohusk and #radiosilence 1/2
“I need his soundwaves.” Husk did all he could to not just give the longest fucking sigh of his life. Who knew if doing so would set the Overlord seated across from him off? Though as far as he’d known, Valentino was usually the one that resorted to a murderous rage whenever he got slighted. No, he didn’t know what Vox would do exactly, and that made him a bit more dangerous. “Don’t know why you’re telling me.” Husk relaxed his wings behind the chair, crossing his arms as he waited for whatever would happen next. “Is that what you kidnapped me for? Might as well have tried to go for the boss.” Vox steepled his heavy claws underneath what would have been his chin if he had a normal head, but was now just the bottom portion of a bootleg version of a Samsung LED. Those same claws tapped just against his own screen for a face, sounding almost brittle. Must have been some cheap manufacturing. “Listen, you and I have the same goals, don’t we? I thought we could help each other out.” At that, Vox leaned back, putting on a showman smile that instantly reminded Husk of bad things. “Overlord to…once-Overlord. I still got a lot of respect for you!”
Husk rolled his eyes. “If your idea of respect is to get me drunk and then bring me back to your tower with a bag over my head, then that’s one hell of a definition change.” A small spark passed over Vox’s antennas. His smile also twitched—or maybe it was just a visual glitch. “And now you’re at the dinner table of my own home. You gotta give me credit for my hospitality here!” With that, he pushed forward another glass of scotch that he’d been serving since Husk woke. And despite it all, Husk didn’t feel like turning down a drink, even if that was why he was here in the first place. “And let’s cut through the bullshit, alright?” Vox said with a bit more impatience now. “Alastor is never going to willingly join me, even though it would be in his own best fucking interest now. His soundwaves, my video feed; and all of Hell would be so fucking easy to control. I’ve told him every damn time and he just refuses!” Husk downed his drink, the buzz helping deal with Vox’s irritating voice. “Yeah, he’s a stubborn prick.”
“Right?!” Vox shook his head, another spark shooting from his tiny hat. “Video is a big sell, but it only works when people are watching! So all those blind Hell citizens or the ones with no fucking eyes are not falling under VoxTek’s influence. That’s half of my demographic just slipping right through my fingers!” If Husk had the energy, he’d have thrown this glass right at Vox’s stupid head. He’d have loved to see that screen shatter, those eyes fragmented and asymmetrical. Instead, he shrugged. “How generous of you to think of being so…accessible.” Vox, apparently having no clue how badly Husk wanted to murder him, just nodded. “Exactly! VoxTek is here to broadcast to everyone, for everyone… To get everyone. And one way or another, I’m going to finally get our video-radio sync into reality. And you, Husk, you’ll also get what you want. Because if he joins me, he won’t have a hold on you anymore.” Claws clinking against the glass, which was, unfortunately, already empty. “You can’t guarantee that.”
“Oh, I can.” Vox grinned, spreading out his arms. They sat within the very top of the Vees tower, the great view of Pentagram City shown through giant windows. Buildings plastered against the red backdrop of a morbid sky. “My full guarantee or your money back, with interest.” Liar, Husk thought, but didn’t say anything. No, he considered… Then he shook his head. “Alastor will suspect. So unless you’re guaranteeing he won’t tear my soul the moment he finds out, I’m not taking the risk.” “Come on, old pal. Don’t be like that!” Vox slicked up his voice with so much oil, its toxicity was making Husk’s fur curl. “Work with me here. He trusts you!” Husk scoffed. “He does not trust me.” “Yes. He. Does!”
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@arahusk.bsky.social
about 2 months ago
Soft kissing with #radiohusk. This is actually old (also not very ic oops) but I think about this a lot. 😖 Embarrassing ffffff #fic
Sometimes, Alastor kisses him slow and soft. Husk is lost when it happens. He can't summon the anger or humiliation. He instead becomes weak to the demon’s touches, ones that travel up his spine and send forth electricity. A warm mouth hovers over his and he can't help but become eager, wanting, desperate for a tongue to taste. “You’re doing so well,” Alastor would praise. His voice traveled around Husk like silk, softly kissing his lips, lightly letting a tongue glide against Husk’s own. “Always being good for me.” Why did that make his face feel hot? Why did it make him so stiff, so much that he ached? Another kiss, one barely felt, and Husk would be left gasping. “Please…” he begged Alastor. “Hmm.” The demon tilted his head. “Do you want more?” Fingers that brushed through the fur over his cheek. Another gasp left him. “Yes.” “Then ask me again.”
“I…” Husk struggled. The hands cradling his head were so gentle. And even before he finished speaking, Alastor graced him with another kiss. One a little deeper, a tongue running against his teeth, muffling sound. “Fuck, Al…” The tongue was practically wrapping around his own before Alastor set him free. “You didn’t ask.” His chuckle echoed against Husk's cheeks, curling into his chest. "Very bad of you." Still, he continued kissing him. Lingering with every swipe of his tongue. And maybe, even as Husk couldn't restrain the sounds that left his throat as they kissed, from moans to panting breaths, he thought he would hear something else. A sound that didn't belong to him. A hum, nearly muted, that went along with Husk’s breath. Sometimes, Husk liked to believe that this meant something to Alastor too.

The closer we get to season 2, the more I keep thinking about Husk and Alastor making out tenderly. I am going to explode

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@arahusk.bsky.social
about 2 months ago
There's an old Japanese tale about a 🐈 samurai who made a deal with a 🦌 oni to save his own life. And then there's the little 👁️ shrine maiden who just decided to live with an oni, no deal needed! #radiohusk #radiotrio #fic (I really love the JP merch). Read here: archiveofourown.org/works…
Fic preview for A Deal Between a Samurai and an Oni by ivypromises (Darkhymns) Summary: It was said that a certain flesh-eating oni lived up in the mountains, with temples devoted to his dark nature. Only lost travelers and crazed shrine maidens would ever dare come near. And then, there was the disgraced, gambling-addicted samurai who would do anything to stay alive.
He had always been weak to both drink and dice, a wanderer who once had wealth to his name, easily gambled away until he only had his sword and the very clothes on his back. He cheated where he could, lied when it was convenient, and had made a lot of enemies as a result. Husk had only gotten away with it because of his skill with a sword, allowing him to leave town with all of his fingers intact. On that night, he had done so again. Men at the cheap inn he stayed at became furious once they found him cheating with trick dice. He left a few blood splatters on the way out, but he hadn’t won as much money as he hoped. Even worse, he’d been forced to go through an unknown part of the nearby woods. But he could handle himself against bandits and wild boar if he needed to. Instead, as he rounded past a bamboo grove, heading towards where the moonlight was cast, he saw a recognizable gate, dyed so brightly red it seemed to shine. He had never known a shrine to be here, but at least a small, secluded place to unwind sounded pleasant to him. As to praying for his fortune, he was certain no shrine could change his bad luck. Yet, when he walked under the gate, past the carved wood, he felt suddenly cold. The calligraphy carved into the gate held words he’d never seen, and could barely make sense of. He squinted his eyes, trying to do so. “...For…the ‘radio’ demon…? The hell does that mean?”
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@arahusk.bsky.social
2 months ago
Should probably have this little mini fic with the important tags: #radiohusk #fic #hazbinhotel I just want them to have another conversation please 🥺💖

Alastor's sullen lately, barely doing his radio shtick or messing with Husk, which is immediately noticeable. Husk can't help but be curious. Maybe a brief argument lets Alastor's blood show and Husk, fed up, rips open Alastor's collar to see the gaping wound beneath, the thread already loosening.

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@arahusk.bsky.social
3 months ago
I'm finally posting the #radiohusk cannibalism story--the first chapter! There will be a second one updated soon. Anyway, cannibalism is a metaphor for love, as it goes. 🦌🍽️🐈 Also features really wonderful art by @datchidatchi.bsky.social! ✨ Read the #fic here: archiveofourown.org/works….
Fic preview for Devouring Metaphor by ivypromises (Darkhymns) Summary: "When Husk opened his eyes, there was no sign of injury. His fur was unmarked, his hands clear of wounds. He didn't even taste any copper, nothing to stain his teeth with. But when he looked around, he saw prison bars trapping him. Except. They weren't metal bars. They were curved and white. Half-broken. A wrong step, and he'd impale himself on their sharp ends. This cage was incomplete. Fragile. He could step out if he really wanted to. Husk could feel Alastor breathing around him. He could feel the pulse of a meaty heart by his shoulder. He could feel the blood coursing around him, veins moving like the boughs of a tree. Husk reached out his hand to one of those curved ribs, enclosing it in his grip. He’d never been this close to anyone before." Or, how a day in a nightmare bayou with Alastor leads to Husk discovering something new about himself.
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@arahusk.bsky.social
4 months ago
Husk has a nightmare. He doesn't know how he wants it to end. #radiohusk #fic
Husk has the same nightmare. Constantly. He's in a room slowly filling with water. It's murky and cold, and every time he has this dream, he searches for the way out. But he knows there isn't. All the walls are uniform, trapping him inside. He always quickly gives up. He drinks from a bottle that is suddenly in his hand, the label peeled off, filled with liquid so thick he chokes on it. It's bitter, metallic. It drips down his chin and coagulates in his fur. He checks the bottle and sees that he has been drinking blood. He realizes the room he's in is also filling up with it, red so dark it's almost pitch black. And suddenly, Alastor is with him. In front of him, hands behind his back. Waiting. Just like in every other iteration of this dream. The blood rises up to their knees, but the Radio Demon doesn't mind. He never does. His clothes are seeped in it always.
Alastor takes Husk’s face in his hands. The blood laps around them, building higher and higher. Until they would both drown in it. This was purposeful. “Husker…” Alastor whispers against his lips, his eyes only partly lit, as if to give relief to Husk’s vision. His voice is soft, like the susurrus sounds of a butterfly’s wings. “I love you.” And in that, the usual filter is gone. Husk hears it, how it carves inside his ribs. He remembers that sensation long after he wakes up. In that dream, he knows that Alastor didn’t lie. All as the blood continued to rise, threatening to kill them. Because to Alastor, this was love. Slow but inescapable. Devouring them both until there's nothing left.
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@arahusk.bsky.social
4 months ago
Just a small fic about the time Niffty first met Alastor. 👁️🦌 #fic #niffty #radiomaid (?)
Alastor had found her lying in a ditch. Niffty had still been huddled on her side, hands wrapped around her knees, her smile stuck in a grin, almost like she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Then, she was laughing slightly, enough to rock her small body. She couldn’t stop that either. Her skin was no longer bubbling. Her hair didn’t crackle and curl up. She was getting cold. Someone had heard her. Shadows she would soon come to love stretched over her, bringing with them grainy music that popped unevenly, along with the harsh sounds of static. It reminded her of her favorite little radio back home, the radio that must now have been burned with the rest in the house fire, the plastic melting, the voices twisting and warping as the flames licked it up. The static vibrated her skull, dug nails into her brain, and made her huddle into herself even more. But then she looked up and saw wonderful crimson eyes. They drew her in, like red-tinged clouds in the sky, just before sunset. They saw her. They were interested. And something about that was invigorating.
She finally unwrapped her arms, holding them up to that light. “Helloooo,” she cooed out, still hazy from the fumes, from the fire, from the delightful pain of before. And she could see the man before her was also smiling! The figure reached out with a hand, tipped with red sharp claws, the knuckles elongating, the bones curving and breaking. She could hear them continue to snap the closer the hand got to her face. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t flinch in fear of being touched. His fingers stroked her hair. His touch warmed her. He pet her like she was a lost little stray cat who had lost its way. “Aren’t you just a nifty little thing!” said a voice, layered over with filters and corruption, like the radio that was still melting in the inferno. It was spoken with such delight that she long felt absent. “I haven’t met someone so polite in such a long time. You’re not even screaming!”
The praise was so gleeful, so unexpected, that it made her heart flutter. It was addicting. His voice was like water for her burning throat. Something bubbled in her chest, nearly making her overflow. She leaned into his crooked hand, wanting more of his touch. “Hehe, I can scream if you want me to,” she told him, a lilt in her voice. She really would have if he asked. The smiling man who she would come to know as Alastor simply laughed. His sharp teeth were splayed out against the red glow, and his antlers cut through a red-tinged sky. They looked so sharp, and yet soft at the time. Maybe one day she’d get to run her fingers across them, and prick her fingers until they bled sweetly. “My, you truly are perfect.” Another hand reached out, one to cup against her back, until she felt her little feet dangling in the air. “I can’t let anyone else have you.” Then, he took her out of the cold.
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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
5 months ago
Day 6: Bath. Husk gets fatally injured on a job, and only Alastor is with him. Looks like he can't exactly avoid a proper bath now. #HuskWeek2025 #radiohusk #fic (extremely late but!! I suddenly had an idea that I wanted to write out for this prompt. enjoy the weird kitty bath.) 1/2
Husk doesn't always make the effort. A quick shower is what usually does the trick. Barely five minutes under the water stream, shaking out the moisture from his fur and the soap suds with it. He didn't need to put on an image, not anymore. As long as he was mostly clean, and wearing some clothes, and could see straight enough to do his job. Except now. He didn't remember falling into the floor. But the ache in his knees woke him up, just barely. And with that, was the pain. He choked on air. Blood seeped through his fur, staining the hardwood beneath. He was a mess. He was torn apart. He could barely speak because of the gash across his throat. "I suppose that last job truly did you in this time, Husker! You truly are getting on in years, aren't you?" The grainy radio filter wormed its way into his ears. He shuddered, hacking out a cough that sprayed more blood across the floor. It was half-done on purpose.
All Husk could really remember was the rain of bullets that had lodged into his stomach, and then the slash of a knife aimed at his face. A stupid run-of-the-mill intel job that his boss had delegated to him. Go into this one Overlord's territories. Assess the situation. Maybe kill a pawn or two. It had backfired with complete disaster. Husk getting caught. Husk losing his angle on a fight with one bastard even though he had blown apart the brains of a several more. And then, by the end of of it, he was clutching his throat, gasping out a name. He wasn't sure if he had whispered out his boss's name as a plea or a curse. However Alastor had retrieved him, he couldn't name. He couldn't name his own fucking birthday if he wanted to. He was leaking out of multiple holes in his body. He was choking on his own blood. He was dying. And just when he thought Alastor would have been just fine with watching Husk fade away on the floor, his boss surprised him. He felt hands place themselves over his back. Then, encircling over his waist.
He tried to bite back a shout as he was lifted up. Fuck, he's really going to make me die standing up?! Yet, an arm moved to lift him upwards. And another dipped below to curve beneath his knees. By this moment, he could barely see, hazy from the pain, blood filling his vision as he was cradled. "I suppose I'll just need to take care of you," he heard in disbelief. Alastor never made any sense to him. Everything after was slipped in and out of reality for Husk, like he was stuck in between dreams. He felt fingers through his fur, even over his wounds, poking and prodding to make him hiss in pain. The closeness of heat was near his chest. And then, the sound of running water. Was Alastor planning to dump him in a lake? Or drown him in the bathtub? He fell asleep. He woke up. Water rushed over his legs, dampening his fur. His blood turned the water dark. Hands then hovered over the wound in his neck, inches away from torn nerves. Then, he fell asleep again, held up in the water. He was sure he had died at some point.
Regeneration wasn't new to Husk. He'd find himself in the same alleyway he had died in three weeks before, experiencing the worst migraine of his afterlife. It was always a slow process, always filled with memories of darkness, of screams, of his own regrets. So, he was surprised when he woke, that he realized he hadn't been dreaming of anything at all. The water he laid in was clear, no longer tainted by his blood. He breathed in a scent that wasn't tepid or rotting, nothing of the sort. Almost pleasant, like lavender and incense. He breathed in again, and was soon aware that the wound in his neck was gone. His right arm was lifted up by another hand. Fingers moved to entwine themselves over his own, the water dripping down to splash back into the filled bathtub. The touches he felt were caresses, with another hand still pressed over his stomach. Fingers that rubbed into his fur, where the bullet wounds used to be.
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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
5 months ago
Day 3: Muzzle/Amputation (also cannibalism?) All Alastor wanted from Husk was a smile. But sometimes, pets misbehave. Or they act on instinct. #HW2025dark #radiohusk #fic 1/2
Husk just made a mistake. That was it. "Now, why don't we try that again?" It was all because of a small clapback, the rough ending to an even rougher day. Maybe Husk had hit a nerve. Maybe Alastor had reached his limit. Chains weighed around Husk's shoulders, draped over his arms and hands like a cloak made of thick metal links. His wings ached as he knelt on the floor in front of his boss. Any wrong move could have him snap a bone, or burn off a feather. He knew from experience. It's always dangerous to be summoned to Alastor's side. Like a game of roulette, he didn't know what he'd land on in terms of his boss's mood. But Husk had inched it further to bad luck tonight, as he always did. Sometimes Alastor didn't give a shit. He seemed to find Husk's grumpy moods entertaining enough. Except, this time, he had refused to smile.
Alastor tapped the end of his cane into the carpet. His den was decked out in hunter's regalia, with the antlers perched over the fireplace, and what looked like remnants of a spinal column laid out on a wooden table, as if the demon had been using it in a personal game of checkers. Overall, more macabre than most places in Pentagram City. Husk gritted his teeth. He swore the manacle was slowly tightening around his neck. With excruciating slowness, Alastor leaned forward, bending just enough to invade Husk's space. There was that wide, obnoxious grin, the kind that slit through the shadows, and then a hand that gripped his chin. Thumb and forefinger shifted to move Husk's lips, showing off sharp canines and a bit of his gums. The sensation of claws just edging into his mouth made him flinch. "Remember! You're never fully dressed without a smile!" Husk would have uttered out a 'fuck you' if he could.
This would also not be the first time Alastor would just do something so humiliating to him. There was nothing to smile about in Husk's life, and Alastor knew that very well. Another stretch of those fingers, and Husk was almost sure the guy was about to rip off his lips so he could have the same perma-grin. "You always have to be such a grouch, don't you? Careful, or your face will get stuck in that frown of yours! Or perhaps it already has! We really need to fix that." Husk growled in quiet rage. Alastor still hadn't let go of him, and the manacle didn't make it easy to just shake off that hand. His mouth was feeling dry. His molars stung with those claws being so near. He tasted salt. It slid from his gums into his saliva, which leaked past his lips from the constant forced smiling. Always making him feel like some animal, always making him undignified. Alastor leered at him, his eyes shining. "Now, Husker. Let's keep smiling." Husk acted out of instinct.
He remembered the crunch of bone between his teeth. The force of it had made his jaw vibrate, sending threads of nausea through his stomach. Then, there was the blood. A surprising amount of it, falling over his tongue and spilling down his chin. He ripped through meat that got stuck in the spaces in his gums, stringy and bitter. Alastor didn't even blink. With his frozen grin, he looked down at his hand, where he was now missing a finger. There was only the spongy look of cartilage, the ribbons of torn flesh, and the cracked white of his bone, all of it right before his knuckle. Husk couldn't even remember opening his own mouth. But he felt the weight of the finger on his tongue, the press of the claw tip just against the roof of his mouth. There was a first for everything, he supposed. Husk waited, still balancing that finger over his teeth. It was disgusting, but he kept his lips pressed firmly shut, keeping it like a souvenir. Alastor was still staring at him, a soft but steadily growing buzz surrounding them like a dark cloud.
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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
6 months ago
Day 5: Overlord. Before Husk offered his soul to Alastor and fell from up high, he'd already been falling so much, so fast, all for a smile. #HuskWeek2025 #radiohusk #fic 1/2
An acrid spark of green burst to life right in front of Husk's face. There was a moment of panic, his controlled composure breaking. It made wrinkles in his suit. It even ruffled his feathers—literally speaking. Alastor put on an amused smirk. At his fingertip, the little green flame wavered, casting shadows over his cheeks. "So jumpy. I simply thought you needed a light." His eyes flicked towards the cigar Husk held within his claws. "You really think you're a comedian, huh?" A grinding of sharp teeth, all while Husk tried to furl in his wings once more, careful to not upend another feather out of place. "Just as you think you're a magician.” He still held up the flame, almost more of a command than an offering. Husk leaned forward, taking the light—the same color of the cold, hard cash that he had locked away in a vault through three layers of concrete. He took a deep drag, waiting to see who would pull away first. He didn't understand yet just how patient Alastor could be.
Every week or so, the Overlord of unbelievable luck, chronic gambling, alcoholic desperation, and unsated greed, would meet with the Radio Demon. It would always be on his own turf, within his grinning Cheshire-like casino, in the back where plush VIP rooms stayed fresh and clean for worthy patrons. Husk always figured it was best to see one's poker face up close. Alastor had been such an oddball at first. Coming through the front door with a "How do you do? Quite a pleasure to be finally meeting the cat who got the cream!" and speaking into his cane as if he were conducting some impromptu interview. He didn't seem like any sort of threat at all. Just some guy with a big mouth that didn't know when to quit, always just bordering on annoying. Husk didn't know when he got charmed, or if it happened in increments instead of overnight. Alastor's voice could be grating, and yet sometimes it could also be like honey, like a slow drip down one’s skull. Only one small detail kept him at bay.
"There's some talk around town that you're after my soul," Husk said during one of their get-togethers. He'd slid over a whiskey sour to Alastor at the bar where they sat. He mixed it himself. He wasn't half bad at it. "And I just gotta ask you, what's the hold up?" They'd known each other for months by that point. He didn't peg Alastor to waste his time, going by those so-called radio shows, where the screams would start before Husk could remember to turn the dial. Alastor accepted the drink, encircling his fingers around the glass. He didn't move to lift it. Didn't even come close to drinking it at all. "Husker, you really think I would waste such an entertaining soul like yours?"
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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
6 months ago
Day 4: Secrets Just as Niffty was obsessed with clean floors and insect wings, she also loved to gossip about the little secrets she knew. And she always made sure to tell Husk, especially when their boss was involved. #HuskWeek2025 #radiohusk #fic 1/2
Husk heard a whisper that was like the soft hissing of cockroaches. It was no surprise that it was Niffty who was trying to call him over, giving him a frantic wave as she peeked around the handle of her mop. Almost as if it would hide her, and with her tiny size, it nearly did. Her eye shone like a house on fire, the light of it reflecting off her sharp teeth. Husk sighed. But he saw nothing else in her hands, and no weird creepy-crawlies in her hair, so he walked over from his bar, moving to the secluded hallway. He expertly bypassed the puddles of pail water that were still soaking the carpets. "What is it, Niff?" The maid was gripping the handle until it nearly splintered in her grip. She must have been really excited about something. "I got a real good secret about the boss for you~!" He frowned. "What makes you think I want to even know it?" Niffty giggled, her pupil dilating. "Because it's so tasty."
Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. But he was already dead and buried, way over six feet under. What more could be done to him really? That, and he knew Niffty wouldn't let up until she told him. "Fine, spill it." This was gonna be either stupid or horrifying. But after seeing Alastor devour several sinners alive, he was sure he heard it all. The only secret Niffty could have known was whether Alastor liked his corpses grilled or crispy. "Okay, but you have to promise you won't tell anyone else!" Niffty quickly leaned her mop against the wall and its peeling wallpaper. "It's a forbidden kind of secret." He did all he could to not roll his eyes. "Does the boss secretly watch game shows on the TV set downstairs? Promise I won't tell a soul for this awful scandal of his."
But what he didn't expect was when Niffty pulled out something from her pockets. It looked like...some sort of raggedy doll, one that was completely in her liking, down to the single crimson button to serve as an eye. It had black thread sewn on its face for a smile, and even wore her exact style of dress, down to the little blood splatters. He knew Niffty was absurdly young at heart, but this was pushing it. "So, uh... new hobby of yours?" It seemed likely when Niffty also pulled out a needle, holding it delicately in her other hand. But she shook her head. "Alastor made this. I just helped!" She grinned. "He likes sewing up dolls of us!" Husk instantly knew he wasn't going to like what she would say next. Niffty balanced the needle in her fingers, looking ready to stab something. She gazed at her mini-self with fondness, even with the numerous patches sewn over its limbs.
"Alastor said he used to make a bunch of these when he was alive. But, he only makes dolls of those he likes and wants to protect! And he gave me this!" She hugged it tightly, giggling off-key. "He says I can be trusted with it now. And that he made sure the hair would always stay soft and that the pretty dress won't rip!" Husk remained quiet. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have stayed. Yet, it was like those very needles Niffty always carried was pinning him to this very spot. "He also has a doll of you." She raised her singular eye to him. Engulfing red, with only a tiny pinprick of black. "It's so cute and cuddly! He even uses real fur and feathers for it. He lets me pet it, hehe." It was his own. He didn't even question it. Husk remembered waking up one morning to find his arm a little less fuzzy. He remembered feeling his wings with stings of pain, as if someone had pulled out the feathers in nondescript places. "Where is it?" he asked. He didn't specify. But Niffty always had a scarily quick mind.
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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
6 months ago
I forgot the #fic tag for this again lol. Anyway I swear to write more radiohusk for this fan week when my brain lets me.

Day 3: Chains. Alastor loves to play with Husk's chains. It should be frustrating, or maybe Husk was just used to it. #HuskWeek2025 #radiohusk

The chains linked to Husk's soul were like the bars to a cage, locking him tight. No matter what he tried, he couldn't break free. But sometimes, they felt more like a web. Taunting him, his every breath tracked, his every movement watched. Less restrictive. Maybe even more hopeful. Alastor loved to make things literal. Once, Husk woke up half-suspended over the floor of what was definitely not his room, his body laid out over an intricate crossbeam pattern of sickly green links. When he settled against them, he could feel the very subtle sting of acid against his wings, how it threatened to burn, how it threatened to tear him apart if he made the mistake of staying longer. He almost thought at times he would fall, so unbalanced as he was. The manacle was over his neck, clamped tight. It always was. But the thing was, you wear your collar long enough, you get used to it. The weight, the burn, all of it. It's just something chronic, a dull ache to be ignored.
Husk let his legs dangle through the gaps between the chains, like he was in some twisted hammock. His tail curled through the air, all as he stared up at the ceiling. Maybe he used to feel more pain from this. Maybe he just forgot how. "And to think you used to shout and struggle whenever I'd invite you over. What an improvement!" Husk rolled his eyes before he turned to the side, finding the Overlord just a few feet away. Alastor was sitting at his armchair in his den, a glass of rye in hand, reading a novel and of course, not even looking at him. The radio, placed in an alcove on the wall nearby, decided to play just then. It was an old jazz number with its grainy texture and nearly saccharine lyrics—or maybe it had been playing the whole time. Just background noise, something that Husk could barely notice anymore. "Maybe because the act is getting old, boss. Ran out of ways to do your little power play over me?"
How many times had Alastor used the very soul chains he commanded to mess with Husk? From making them act like living snakes complete with hissing noises to scare him out of his fur, to tying them around his wrists, looping the links into a stupid bow. At least this weird chain mesh was somewhat different. The end of such chains embedded themselves in the ceiling with rusty hooks, but he saw one glowing metal strand extend from his manacle. It led below, to Alastor, and to his hand which twirled the chains around deft fingers. Husk's tail twitched, as if it could remember. He groaned in annoyance. "Whatever. I guess you're not hanging me by my feet again." His ankles still bore bruises from that time. "Ooo, that truly was a fun one. You were flapping your wings so much!" Alastor chuckled as he ran a thumb over the links. Husk felt every caress, every slow lingering touch. Husk wondered if all of this was meant to be torture. But Alastor was a torture fanatic, and he knew the Radio Demon could do worse. His very reputation was proof of that.
No. This was more equivalent to an annoying prank. Something to grab his attention. For some reason. "If I'm stuck up here, can you at least get me something to—?" He stopped when a liquor bottle appeared in his hand, conjured from shadows. It wasn't the cheap stuff either. Rye that was aged well, clearly from Alastor's own collection. "You hardly even need to ask," Alastor said, finally turning to face Husk. He continued moving the links between fingers, all while admiring the little pet within its cage. Or his web. Husk leaned back again, taking a long sip from Alastor's gift. It was a rich, full flavor, spreading warmth through his limbs. The radio continued its song with its familiar filter. It was like listening to the oncoming rain storm.
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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
6 months ago
Forgot to use the #fic tag once again lol (also thank you to everyone who liked this!)

Day 1: Heart Husk hates the hearts all over his body. Mimzy points out how useful it can be to him though. #HuskWeek2025 #radiohusk

It's such a cruel joke, Husk would think to himself. Not only to be cursed with a cat-like body for all of eternity, but to also have a cat-like body with hearts all over it. It wasn't just one or two placements over his fur. It was fucking everywhere, from the span of his wings, then down to his stupid paw pads. And, of course, certain people couldn't stop talking about it. "Ooo, are those little heart cushions still as soft as before?" Mimzy was swirling the glass he had just given her as she pointed at his hands. The whiskey wasn't from their most valued bottles, still fairly fresh, with no nuance to its flavor. Not like the woman would have been able to tell. "Take it from me. You should always make sure to take care of the merchandise." Husk immediately pulled his hands away from the counter top, pointedly choosing a different part of the bar to clean. He pressed the dirty rag so hard against the surface, that he mildly scratched the wood grain. That would come out of his nonexistent salary at this dump of a bar that Alastor had put him in, just one of many in the Radio Demon's territories.
"That's not in my contract, so fuck off." The fact that Husk had to serve drinks to this so-called friend of Alastor's was bad enough. He was already getting headaches from past Mimzy experiences, namely when she'd go to this casino with no damn money in her purse. "No, I'm serious!" Mimzy was laughing as she kicked her feet against her stool. Her sharp teeth looked hungrily at his waist, but only because she was probably trying to find his wallet. "Alastor's always been a cat person. Those paw pads are your one-way ticket to getting on his good side!" "Yeah, no such side of him exists." Husk has seen enough of Alastor's sides; all frustrating, all terrifying. "Also these look so goddamn stupid, so don't even start." He knew what people thought. Bottom of the barrel deadbeat with nothing to his name, nothing but these heart-marks that looked off-shape from his mussy fur.
He'd already lost count the number of ways Mimzy had tried to poke fun at him for it, but he'd grit his teeth and it would offend the outdated flapper. She downed her drink, then shook the ice cubes within like an annoying maraca. "That just shows you don't know him! Alastor always had a soft side for cutesy things like yourself." "Don't fucking call me that." "Come onnn, have you seriously never used these on dear old Al?" Mimzy narrowed her eyes at his hands, as if she could pierce through fur and bone to see that golden heart-shaped paw pad. "Besides, you should know what it means." God, he shouldn't humor her, but her words were so damn cryptic. "The hell you talking about." She finally moved her gaze to settle on his ear, where another heart shape was on, the red color so frustratingly bright. She even pointed at it, as if she was preparing to flick it. He'd slash off her smile first. "You're a heartbreaker."
A twitch over his eyebrow. Something bitter slid down his throat, like slow-dripping poison. "And your tab's running too high." He swung the dirty bar rag over his shoulder, turning away from her. He extended his wings so that she would get the damn point. "Bar's closed." "Hmph. And here I am, ready and waiting. Sometimes I can't understand Alastor's taste." Even after she left, he couldn't escape his own reflection, a dozen faces of his looking back at him from a row of glass bottles. Always a heart mark wherever he laid eyes on, as if a trail was left. If that was the first thing Alastor noticed about him, he wasn't any different from anyone else.
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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
6 months ago
Day 2: Tail To Husk's dismay, he can't control every part of his body. This works to Alastor's advantage. #HuskWeek2025 #radiohusk #fic
There were other aspects to hate about his body, beyond the fur and the hearts. His wings would have been a benefit if they weren't so damn big and weighed him down, and his claws tended to scratch the very shot glasses he was trying to clean. No, the real problem was how Husk's body betrayed him so damn much. He had been cleaning up around Alastor's home, since his boss decided to give Niffty a day off to pursue her so-called creative pursuits (making little roach necklaces and other awful horrors) and his back was already aching from the strain of the work. He had no idea how Niffty was able to clean up Alastor's mess of a home and still have time to stalk her favorite bad boys. But as he had been gathering up some spare skulls in Alastor's den with a grimace, he then suddenly felt a prick at the very end of his tail. Like a sharp sting, making his stomach roil and his fur stand on end. Husk shot up to his feet and turned. "Are you doing it again?!"
Alastor was already putting something away inside his coat, but Husk caught the flash of familiar red, brighter than the demon's clothes. He hadn't heard the man walk in, but that meant nothing when he could just use his shadows to move around to his hollow heart's content. "Evening, Husker. I don't know what you're talking about." Husk flicked a glance to his tail. The fan of feathers at the end of it was uneven, a small gap between the red. He growled. "I already told you to leave my tail alone." "Why, you have no proof I even did such a thing!" Alastor shook his head. "Spreading such lies, what a shame." "Just fuck off away from me while I'm trying to clean up your own shit!" He was holding up a skull which still had bits of skin on it, then promptly dropped it in disgust. "It's annoying." Alastor smirked, fingers tapping along the sides of his cane. "Then why don't you simply control it?" Husk pressed his lips together, not deigning to answer.
"You just can't seem to keep it away from me." "That's not what's happening," he said with finality. And, to make that absolutely clear, Husk moved further back, heading for a corner. There was even more awful shit here; cracked rib cages, some rotting pelts, all amidst a storm of broken radio parts with frayed wires, ripped-off dials, and torn pieces of wood. Niffty really did have insane energy to keep Alastor's home in some kind of neat condition. This time, he heard Alastor pass him by, who made no secret of it. Shoes clacked against the wooden floorboards, along with the even thunk of the cane. Husk had time. He could stop it from happening. Just don't let it act on its own. Don't let it. Don't let it. "I'm trying to do my fucking job here," Husk muttered grouchily. There really was so much trash, it would take him several trips to the garbage just to clean up this one corner. He heard the steps receding, saw a flash of red in the corner of his eyes. He could avoid it now.
Except, he didn't. He felt it then. Something that made him flush in shame. How his tail curved around a leg, halting its motion. How it slithered to a hand that stroked at the feathers, that cradled the tail and pressed a thumb over the black fur. The way the tail tightened and embraced. His tail was a goddamn traitor. Husk didn't even want to turn, but feeling the soft touches that made his tail shiver—that made himself shiver—he couldn't help but risk a glance over his shoulder. Alastor chuckled in mischief, bringing up the end of Husk's tail to cover his mouth, like some maiden coyly looking over her decorative fan. Then, he took another feather, making Husk wince. He held the feather stalk in between two fingers, yet the tail stayed close, rubbing against a cheek. "You really can't stay away, can you?"
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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
6 months ago
Just a small #fic I meant to write a month ago (I cannot comprehend the passage of time) but the idea of a #radiohusk forehead kiss wouldn't leave me, it sounded too cute. 😭 Thank you for the inspo. 1/2
Husk was by no means a demon of short stature. There were many others he'd see around the city that only came up to his knees, or the truly unlucky ones that were cursed to be at shin-level for the rest of their miserable afterlives. He remembered those ones back in his casino days, and the torture of climbing up to the craps table just to place a losing bet. Few were thriving in their forms like little, psychopathic Niffty. At the very least, with his cat body, he wasn't forced to go down on all fours and cough up hairballs. But he did slouch, letting his wings trail over the ground, keeping his knees perpetually bent, as if he was always just about to do a squat but could never commit. It was just too hard to care how much he was self-sabotaging his image. So, it annoyed him whenever Alastor would come by and just peer down at Husk like he was some tiny housecat. The guy wasn't even that much taller, but he'd look on from his perch with a light in his eyes. Even when they were seated in the hotel parlor, there'd be a little smirk, a faint light in his eyes, and the pointed inclination a chin that needed to gaze at some distant attraction below.
He may have owned Husk's soul, but acting all high and mighty just because he had a few measly inches over him was insanely frustrating. It was always done in passing. Even when Alastor chatted with Charlie, or Vaggie, or literally anyone else in the hotel—just a sideways glance, a downward sneer at Husk who would either be busy fixing up the bar or drinking his afterlife away. Sometimes there'd even be a comment along the lines of, "Sit up straight, my good man!" or "Keep those knees in check!" Downright embarrassing. He also just hated the way Alastor looked like he was having fun with it. "You're not subtle," Husk called out to his boss one night, just when Alastor had been walking off to the kitchen. Something or other about needing to do the routine inspection in place of Niffty. The roaches had gained the upper hand lately in their ongoing turf war with the little maid, and she'd been missing for the past three days. But going by the manic laughter in the vents, she was doing just fine.
A quick turn of the neck, then Alastor stepped away from the direction of the kitchen to face Husk with his obnoxious smile. Hands clasped the top of his cane, eyeing the bartender leaning against his bar, swaying slightly on his feet. Yeah, he was drunk. Not like it was new. "I'm afraid I don't catch your meaning, Husker. I thought I did splendid at today's Truth or Dare excercise!" "Yeah, no one needed to know how you ate that mob boss. Charlie was ready to hurl behind the couch. But that's not what I'm talking about." Husk pointed a sharp claw at Alastor. "The way you're looking at me lately is pissing me off. And then fucking talking about how I stand, I'll stand however the way I want! I already told you I'm not your fucking pet! So don't look down at me like one. Especially with those fucking heels of yours." It definitely wasn't fair, since Husk wore no shoes to begin with.
A faint whisper of static buzzed in the air, the kind that made Husk's ears flick back. Such a fucking grating sound, but already a part of him feared Alastor would lose his temper on him again. Alastor said nothing, simply walking up to Husk, back to staring down at him like he'd just found a shiny penny on the ground. "Is that what you think it is?" "Either that, or you're eyeing me for lunch." Which was not something that had escaped Husk's mind. That 'truth' his boss answered before had been way too detailed for his liking. Alastor, in all his smugness, took another step. He even started to lean down towards Husk, as if it took effort. As if unheard of to leave his stupid perch from a measly few inches. Husk's wings bristled. "What?" He didn't expect the hand that took hold of his chin, making him lean up, straightening his back even more. His knees shook, nearly making him lose balance. "Stand up straight, Husker."

His knees are bent and Al wears heels so his forehead probably reaches Al's mouth... perfect height for forehead kisses... 🥰 #radiohusk

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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
7 months ago
Short #fic of Husk as nothing more than a pet - but maybe that's just enough for him. #radiohusk
Husk knelt on the cold, metal grated floor, keeping his eyes away from the front of the room. No, he wouldn’t look there. Instead, he watched the lurid red light from the sky outside fall across his hands, how they made patterns over his fur. The great windows of the radio tower were open to everything, and felt so exposed to everything. And yet, even with such decor, the tower itself felt claustrophobic. The walls were curved inward, and the radio console took up so much space. And then, there was the gentle thump of a cane hitting the floor. He could feel the vibration through the metal, hear it echo around him. The perfect place for sound, layered over each other, until it was overwhelming.
Husk didn't even sigh. He just did what was expected, shuffling closer to Alastor's chair, trying not to get his fur caught in-between the grates. It was a long journey, drawn out, but his reward for it was his permission to press his cheek against a pant leg, the suit clean and crisp. A hand reached down to pat his head, fingers gently scratching through the fur. Husk said nothing at all. The hand continued its ministrations, so soothing, even warm. Though not enough to stave away the cold Husk felt over his naked body. But, it was good. Because Alastor could make it good, had known him so long on where to touch. And that same hand cupped at his cheek, caressing in even strokes. Husk closed his eyes.
The purring came unbidden. The same hand pressed him even closer to Alastor's leg. His chest rumbled, and his head felt so light. "Such a good kitty you are." The words sent a shiver. He should have been disgusted. He should have pushed away the hand, or lashed out with his teeth. But Alastor's touch was addicting. And couldn't Husk just have one nice thing?
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darkhymns is feral for radiohusk 🦌🐈
@arahusk.bsky.social
7 months ago
Just a small #fic about the formation of the #radiotrio— Husk doesn't want to honor his part of the deal. So Alastor sends Niffty to convince him. There's both weird flirting and a lot of blood! #hazbinhotel (This is also my birthday gift to myself 🎉) Read here: archiveofourown.org/works…
Fic preview for No Such Thing as Refusal by ivypromises (Darkhymns) Hazbin Hotel | Rated: M | Alastor/Husk/Niffty (Radiohusk, Radiomaid, Casinosweep) | Word count: 4800 Summary: Deals with the Radio Demon aren't made to be broken. But Husk has never been an honorable man. So, when such a soul refuses him, Alastor sends out one of his most loyal to retrieve his property. And, oh, how she loved playing fetch.
Sometimes, Niffty liked to tease him just as Alastor did, which was very much not appreciated. Husk bared his teeth slightly, claws raking the glass. Any tighter, and a crack or two would form, spiderwebbing the surface. “Don’t test me.” “I’m not! That’s Sir’s job!” Niffty had her hands behind her back, tilting her head to the side as she continued to stare at him harder and harder. He didn’t know what her game was right now, and he didn’t care for how she was doing it. Her insistence on being near him was enough to tense his shoulders. The alleyway behind the building was all sorts of shadowy and smudgy darkness, one that he got used to with his eyes that could pierce right through it. But Niffty standing near him with an eye as bright as a garish drop of blood was unsettling. Her hands were still behind her back. It would almost be comically cliché that she was holding a knife just out of sight. And then he saw the wicked gleam, reflected from a distant lamp post. Yes, Niffty was absolutely holding a knife behind her back.
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