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randompersonnumber3 · 4 years

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Starving for Love

Just a bit of a Huskerdust fanfic I wrote because I was bored and obsessed and so my poor Spouse doesn’t have to listen to me gush about Hazbin all night... again. It’s my take on what happened when Husk brought Angel food as shown in the official Instagram.

I also challenged myself to try and write from two different POVs. Please let me know how that turned out!

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Husker sat at the greeting desk, tapping his claws bored as he finished the bottle labeled “cheap booze”. It was another long and boring day at the Hazbin Hotel because no one ever fucking checked into the biggest fucking joke in Hell. Why the fuck did he have to make a deal with that smiling freak Alastor? Thanks to that he was yanked from his life to be put here in constant boredom.** **

“Fucking asshole,” he said to himself and leaned back in his chair, pulling out his phone to browse around aimlessly out of mindless boredom. A part of him thought to get up and stretch his legs, but the lazy procrastinator side of him decided fuck that. Besides, everyone was gone but him and Nifty and like Hell he was going to leave her alone in the hotel. For some reason that just seemed like a bad idea to leave her alone with his cheap booze.

Voxtagram was the first place he checked. He scrolled through pictures of people he didn’t even know why the fuck he was following them. Seriously, why did he decide to follow the owner of that stupid murder company who was obsessed with horses? He unfollowed a few before his feed showed him a picture of Angel Dust, sitting on the curb complaining about being hungry.

Husker poked through the comments to get an idea of what was going on. It looked like the overlord and jackass that was Angel’s boss forgot about him and left him stranded. His perma-scowl deepened. That didn’t set right with him. He had a sort of idea of what kind of person Valentino was just from his own experiences back when he was alive and growing up in a casino.

“Ah fuck it!” He shouted and got up. “Nifty, you’re in charge.” he told the little cyclops as he grabbed his jacket. He grumbled under his breath and headed out to grab the fucking spider demon some god damn food.

Angel Dust stared vacantly out at the street. His stomach grumbled at him, begging Daddy to be fed and he glared at it. “Hey! This ain’t my fault!” He snapped at it, more than a little impatient. Val had fucking forgot about him and was more than content to just leave him to starve. It wasn’t too surprising, nor the worst thing Val had done to him. But that bastard could have a little decency since Angel and his flawless body were Val’s biggest money maker in the porn studio.

He checked his phone again to see if Val had replied with any information about bringing him food. Nothing yet. He sighed over dramatically and leaned back, tucking his phone in the fluff on his chest. At least he made starving look fucking awesome.

“Hey Jackass!” He heard a voice and looked up. Husk was walking towards him with a greasy bag of Spendys. A bag of delicious delicious food. His stomach growled again, almost demanding he snatch the bag and shove it down his face like a rat man. But Angel Dust had more class than that... at least he did when the camera’s weren’t on him.

Angel posed more seductively and winked, “You pay me good, me love you long time.” He flirted. Immediately Husk tensed and turned around, mumbling something under his breath, “Wait wait wait wait wait!” Angel scrambled up to go to him. “I was just kidding! Come on Husky, I’m wasting away here!”

“I’m not a fucking dog!” Husk snapped, shoving the food into Angel’s chest. Angel oofed and grabbed it. Husk went to head back to the hotel and Angel reached a gloved hand to grab his. “I grabbed too much hangover food and saw your post and decided this would be easier than listening to you bitch when I get home, okay? Doesn’t mean jack shit.”

Angel Dust smirked. A part of him…. Okay more like ninety percent, didn’t believe that. He took out his phone and went to take a selfie with Husk. Maybe it would show Val that he was starting to get more independent and didn’t have to rely on that fucking creep as much anymore. Husk looked pissed at the camera and pulled away as soon as the flash went off.

“What? Going so soon? I can give you a good time as thanks.” He winked, unable to help himself. He didn’t know why but he always enjoyed seeing Husk push back against his flirting. Maybe because it felt nice to have another man not just treat him like a sweet sexy piece of ass. He thought about it for another moment. So had Husk really delivered him food because he saw he was starving and just to be nice? This was Hell. No one did things just to be nice. Well, unless you were Charlie but she was a nutcase.

“Enough with the fucking jokes!” Husk snapped, glaring daggers at the spider demon. “I told ya, I was just in the area and had extra. It don’t mean anything you fucking idiot. I’ll see you at the hotel.” He grumbled, playing with his hat.

“Hey Husk…” Angel reached out to grab his hand...paw… claw… thing. Whatever it was, it was soft. Angel kind of marveled at it for a second before kissing Husk on the cheek. “Seriously, thanks. I thought I would waste away here.” Husk didn’t reply, rubbing his cheek where Angel had kissed it like he was afraid it would leave a mark… okay it kind of hard with Angel’s lipstick for the day.

Angel watched Husk leave with a smirk. He should do something to thank him. He had a show coming up soon. Maybe the kitty would like a ticket. Plus… for some reason a part of him wanted Husk there. It almost sounded like a warm security blanket, which if he was honest with himself he kind of needed. Yeah, that sounded good.

He blew a kiss at the back of Husk’s head and sat down to eat. The Hotel wasn’t starting to seem so terrible now.

#angel hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel #husk #huskerdust #hazbin fanfic #fanfic #angelhusk

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

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AU-gust Day 13: Rock Band

Requested by @justsomeoneunordinary for a Winterironhawk AU!

Also on ao3 here

Bucky checks his phone as he staggers down the hallway, Clint’s arm wrapped around his waist. Performing always takes a lot out of him and tonight’s show in New York was particularly hard since he and Steve are homeboys and Clint always likes to play that up.

“You doing okay?” Clint asks and then nearly walks right into a trashcan.

Bucky rolls his eyes. For all of Clint’s grace on the stage, he’s far more clumsy off of it. “Maybe I should be asking you that.”

“Hey, that trashcan jumped right out in front of me,” Clint snarks.

“Oh sure and I’ll bet a big green monster even pushed it, right?”

“Boys, boys, settle down,” Nat says idly, twirling her drumsticks like she’s going to hit one of them with it. Bucky wouldn’t put it past her; she’s done so before.

Clint maturely sticks his tongue out at her, eliciting a sigh from Steve, walking a few steps behind them, and a laugh from Sam. Nat just whacks Clint over the head with one of the drumsticks.

Bucky rolls his eyes again and goes back to his phone. Children, he works with children. He’s got one notification, a text from Tony. He grins, unable to resist smiling at the notification. Tony always sends them something during the show. He calls it his good luck selfie. Bucky calls it incentive to hurry back to the hotel room. He opens the text, expecting to see Tony in whatever god-awful city-themed lingerie he’s picked up for this leg of the tour, and instead sees a brief reminder that he and Clint have that interview with Everhart before they’re done for the night.

“Did Tony text us?” Clint asks, hooking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky tilts his phone so he can read the message and Clint frowns. “That’s not his usual message.”

“More of those lingerie photos?” Sam asks. Bucky scowls at him. It’s bad enough that Sam accidentally saw one of Tony’s pictures but now he teases them about it after every show like Tony isn’t still the hottest thing they ever saw even when he’s wearing Big Ben panties.

“No,” Clint pouts. “Just some dumb message about that interview we’ve got.”

Sam catches up to them and glances over the message. “Hmm maybe he’s finally wised up and dumped your sorry asses so he can go out with me instead.”

Bucky growls, thrusts his phone into Clint’s chest, and takes off after a cackling Sam all the way down the hall to the room the venue set aside for the interview where he finally catches up to him. He’s giving Sam a noogie when the rest of the band joins them.

“Buck, let Sam go,” Steve orders. The bassist shouldn’t be allowed to give him directions, he laments in his mind but everyone knows that you don’t disobey a Steve order so he drops his arms, holding his hands up in surrender. Sam scrambles away from him to duck behind Nat, who takes one step to the side so she’s no longer hiding him.

“So we’ll see you back at the green room?” Nat asks him and Clint.

“Sure you don’t want to do this interview with us?” Clint asks.

She laughs. “Not on your life.” Fair enough. Everhart always gives them hardball questions so most of the band doesn’t do interviews with her if she doesn’t specifically ask for them and this time she’d only asked for him and Clint.

He passes his guitar off to Steve and then shoulders through the door, Clint right on his heels. Everhart is waiting for them just inside, looking as perfectly polished as ever for someone who just came from a rock concert.

“Ma’am,” he says politely because his ma raised a nice boy and also because it irritates the hell out of Everhart to be referred to like an old lady.

Sure enough she purses her lips and he bites back a grin. He sits down in the seat she waves him into, Clint sitting beside him so he can throw his legs over Bucky’s lap, and asks, “So what did you want to ask us?”

As they expected, Everhart starts them out with small questions and twenty minutes later, they’ve covered just about everything under the sun, from their upcoming album to this tour to their fanbase on Twitter and Bucky’s starting to think that maybe they’re going to get out of this easily when she asks, “So rumors are building again that your relationship is in trouble. What do you have to say to those allegations?”

Bucky scowls and Clint tenses beside him. The problem is, after an entire childhood spent in the spotlight, Tony denounced his claim to his father’s empire, disappeared into the shadows, and declared to his friends that he never wanted to be famous again. Bucky and Clint had never had a problem with it but that had been before the band took off. Afterwards, things had gotten a little more tricky. They still didn’t really have a problem with it and they certainly weren’t going to push Tony to do something he didn’t want to do but it was difficult having to pretend to the world that Bucky and Clint were the couple and Tony was just a friend who tagged along on tour sometimes but otherwise spent most of his time at a Montessori school in Manhattan teaching small children how to read.

They don’t want to push—they don’t—but the distance means that it’s hard sometimes to keep their hands off their other boyfriend in public.

And sometimes they forget that they’re not nobodies anymore and somebody takes a picture of Bucky’s hand lingering on the small of Tony’s back and posts it to Twitter because heaven forbid celebrities have any sort of private life.

“They’re just rumors,” Clint says easily. “We’re touchy feely kind of people.”

“Maybe you’re touchy feely,” Bucky says with a laugh that he doesn’t feel. “I’ve been told I exude fuck off vibes.”

Everhart smiles thinly. “So that’s all it is. Just three friends having a good time?”

“Ma’am, you’ve seen the way Clint and I interact on stage. You really think we could hide another relationship for so long?” Bucky deadpans, challenging her to say something.

She frowns again but doesn’t dispute his claim. Instead she packs up and says, “As always, a pleasure getting to interview you.” As she’s leaving, she pauses in the door to tell them, “You’re not nearly as slick as you think you are. One of you is going to mess up and then your whole faked-for-the-cameras relationship will be over.”

Bucky snarls and lunges at the door, stopped only by Clint grabbing onto him. He hates it when people insinuate that somehow, because he and Clint are happy, they’re faking their relationship for publicity. He and Clint spent enough of their childhoods unhappy because of Bucky’s dad and Clint’s brother; why would they want to spent their adulthood just as miserable?

“It doesn’t matter,” Clint soothes though he has to be irritated as Bucky is. “Come on, we’re going to go back to the rest of the band. We’re going to get drunk on whatever shitty vodka Nat’s brought this time and then we’re going to go back to the hotel and fuck Tony through the mattress.”

It startles a laugh out of Bucky but he’s still not in a great mood by the time they reach the green room. “I just don’t see why she has to say things like that,” he complains as he pushes open the door. “It’s—”

He stops as his gaze falls on the person draped over Nat’s lap. Clint runs into him with an “Oof” and a “Bucky, what the fuck?”

“Tony, doll?” Bucky asks.

Clint exclaims, “Tony?”

Tony launches himself out of Nat’s chair and at Bucky, who immediately catches him up in a kiss. “Hey, my turn, my turn,” Clint protests, pawing at the two of them. “I haven’t seen Tony in six hours either.”

He thinks he hears Nat say, “Disgustingly cute,” but he’s too busy watching Clint and Tony kiss to really care.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, pressing another kiss to Tony’s earlobe. Tony doesn’t usually come to their shows. He tried once not long after their first album came out but he’d been kidnapped one (or twenty) too many times at a big event to really feel comfortable. He had left less than half an hour in and when Bucky and Clint had come back to the hotel that night, they’d found Tony in one of the worst anxiety attacks they’d ever seen him in. They never asked him to come to another show.

“Wanted to support you two since I know how much you hate Everhart,” Tony replies.

“He got here only a few minutes before the show ended,” Steve says. “Sharon drove him.”

Bucky gives a quick nod to Steve’s girlfriend, silently thanking her. “You didn’t have to do that, doll,” he murmurs.

“Hmm missed you too much,” Tony replies. “This tour is too long.”

“Alright, come on, we’re blocking the door,” Clint tells the two of them, walking them backward to one of the couches. He trips over his own feet and practically falls onto the couch, catching Tony before he can fall too. Bucky lands next to them, curling up into Clint’s side.

He catches Nat taking a picture of the three of them and frowns at her. She should know better than to post it. A moment later, his phone chimes with a text from her. Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid, her text reads and he flashes her an apologetic grin. Maybe he’s just little on edge from Everhart.

It chimes again, this time with the picture she’d taken of them. He smiles down at it and makes it his phone’s home screen. It’s a cute picture of them and no one can get into his phone anyway so he’s not worried about someone seeing that.

“You should be paying attention to me,” Tony pouts. “What are you doing?”

He leans over and shows him the picture, brushing a kiss over Tony’s cheek as he does. Tony takes the phone and stares at it before saying, “We’re cute in that. Send it to me.”

“Okay, doll,” he agrees, relaxing into the couch and letting Tony’s warmth bleed into him, relaxing him from the stress of the show and interview.

#winterironhawk #alle writes #august2020 #if you like please consider reblogging

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dinoify · 6 years

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love, love, love ☆ seokmin

character ☆ lee seokmin / dk. au ☆ domestic / modern au. genre ☆ fluff. summary ☆ the one thing you wouldn’t trade the world for is his smile. words ☆ 660+ words.

weezy ☆ oof it’s been a long time !! i’ve finally come with a fic ... on seokmin !! he’s one of the few i haven’t written a full fic for yet !! hope you like it :> i know it’s not as good as my other works ;; i’ve fallen lately in the writing department. also i’ve been having trouble uploading gifs to my works so i’ll add one to this later !!

despite what some may think, you think seokmin’s smile is especially beautiful. the pretty way the corners of his lips curve upwards is pretty, but the smile in which both rows of his straight, white teeth is the most sublime. it’s always genuine, never forced. the brightness of his smile alone could evenly challenge, if not defeat it in whole, the radiance of the sun and the ethereal glow of the moon. you even swear his smile could make meadows grow and attract bushes of flowers to lean his way as he walks. and his laugh, don’t even get yourself started on it.

of course, that’s what you wholeheartedly think … especially as you amusedly watch him get swarmed by numerous breeds of dogs from the opposite end of the dog cafe. your heart only swells as you listen to him shriek and laugh as dogs clamber onto his body, in search for the small cup of food he hides well on his person.

thinking about it: sure, it’s a little odd for one to have nothing but high praise for their boyfriend. you swear that whether or not it depicted you as the embarrassing lover, you would openly express such opinions if asked, regardless of how the interrogator may react. however, you were proud to love your boyfriend as much as you do; to be able to receive the same amount of that love back is a blessing, perhaps even a miracle in itself.

you mix your spoon idly in your beverage, feeling the corner of your lips curl into a soft smile as you observe your defeated boyfriend lying on the ground. some dogs lick his cheeks to rouse a response out of him (which only ends up being a tired, breathless chuckle) while a fine majority nibbles at the food in his small cup until there is nothing but crumbs and its dog enticing smell.

slipping out of your seat, you cross the dog cafe while sending other seated customers polite smiles before finally approaching your fallen boyfriend. before you think of offering your assistance, you fish for your phone in your pocket, change to the camera app, and silently snap a picture of your boyfriend being attacked by canines. giggling to yourself at the overflowing cuteness from the single pic, you can’t help but take a few more before dropping your phone back into your pocket. (you make a mental note to yourself to make two of them your lockscreen and homescreen once you find the time.)

kneeling beside seokmin, you whisper, “need a little help there?”

“please,” seokmin practically wheezes. his eyes wrinkle at the corners, lips stretching into a beautiful grin. returning it, you softly coo for some of the dogs to get off of your boyfriend. after a few minutes of leading dogs off of your boyfriend, he finally stands and takes a deep breath. pouting, he whines, “i thought i was going to die. my life actually flashed before my eyes, (y/n)!”

“stop being dramatic, seokmin,” you snicker, patting his arm gently. once again he smiles and follows you back to your table.

you stare at him as he sits himself down on the seat across from yours, already helping himself to the food he left behind several minutes ago. distracted by his food, he barely notices how your eyes scrutinize him and every feature on his face -- from the sharpness of his jaw, the gorgeous melanin of his complexion, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the beauty mark underneath his eye, etc. you tear your eyes away when seokmin looks up at you with sparkling eyes to babble about how the entree is delicious. as you listen to him, you pick at your food with your fork, smiling a little dumbly.

many people think your love for seokmin is weird, probably obsessive. you think you’re fine with that. after all, there’s nothing wrong with loving your boyfriend to completion.

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actionfigurebullshit · 5 years

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Am I Doin’ This Or Not?

Of course, it’s not a “now or never” situation, but it’s also a “if not now, then when?” situation. Do I start with the Herman reshoots or not? How much preparation do I need before I actually start taking pictures?

It’s always a challenge to fall back into AFB. For the past two and a half years, there hasn’t been much production, and there’s this fear that the desire to see this project reach the finish line becomes more of a cute idea than something I’m willing to make happen. How important is it that I return to work to this? The answers could go deep and very introspective, but I doubt I’d get a definitive answer from doing that kind of write up, so I’ll skip it.

I’m a little... meh... about the reshoot. Douglas talking to Moxie with Herman in the background is a good way to wade into this ocean, but I wanted to save my reshoots until much later when all this other stuff has been made. This particular reshoot seems the easiest. I don’t need to come up with new dialogue and a new set like I’ll have to with the opening with Moxie’s skipper log with Herman in the room with her, and I don’t have to try to go too far out like I will when I try a more polished version of Newton’s dream sequence... these reshoots don’t really advance anything, though. Our characters are still lingering in the boiler room, the rest of the story still waiting to unfold and reveal itself to me.

I’ve thought about putting on some Tom Petty, which I got to admit just seems off after his untimely death back in 2017- his death is always at the forefront of my mind when I listen to his music, now. Still, his music has an odd, inexplicable charm on this project. If I play it, something will happen... probably?

Wouldn’t it be nice if I could have all this Coconut and Shit stuff taken care of by the end of this year? I would love it if by 2020, I was now in...

THE GREAT UNEXPLORED MASS OF ACTION FIGURE BULLSHIT

That mysterious part of the story that all of Chaos Corridor has been building up to...

And yet, I feel like if I am to do anything, it’s going to be reshoots, not just with Herman and Newton, but I wanted to add a little to each scene, as I’ve had to cut corners to get to the next scene. There’s nothing wrong with that because it allowed the story to progress. Getting too caught up in finer details would have been a rabbit hole the Cascadia could have never flown out of... but eventually, I will have to go back. Is now the time?

Well... for the time being, let’s look back at THE 2016 HOT TIP:

There’s 48 frames in this scene. As it was captured with my old JVC camcorder, the picture is 640 x 480, cropped to 640 x 360. To do this, the top quarter of the frame is action free. I want to use my camcorder again to match the “grain”, otherwise, all the scenes have to be reshot.

But will this happen anyway? I’m not sure I can track down the exact props for this shot, as well as recreate the angle and place of filming. I could come up with something close, or have a close up that has close enough background. It’s pretty simple, but I still want it to not be jarring when the footage switches between 2016 footage and 2017.

Okay, so that’s the main part that requires replacement. What else do I have to do?

* There are two shots of Trent using his camera phone. Wrong Herman is in the shot, but barely. It’s always been tempting to leave these shots in for added WTF effect, kind of like how Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers played fast and loose with the Japanese footage, creating a lot of blink-and-you-miss scenes that have no explanation, such as Rita’s fortress briefly appearing on a skyscraper, or a little boy (supersized, apparently) standing next to the Megazord. More work would be put into rotoscoping it into the footage of Moxie in the elevator than reshooting it.

* “This is Cinnamon Roll!”- it looks like a post production zoom on Douglas using his phone. It’s live action, and Wrong Herman is in the background. The challenge is recreating the background. If I can match the earlier background, this is all I have to redo.

OOF!

Okay, so... that’s about as much as I can map things out before I have to shit or get off the pot. Actually, the camcorder adapter is put away and I won’t have access to it until tomorrow morning, so maybe all this is a moot point for the night unless the camcorder battery still has a charge, which is very, very doubtful.

... But I still need to prepare. Will Herman’s hair be okay even though it’s decoupled from his Data head? What about Douglas’s space tampons? Where did they go? Are they in the old gum container with the rest of the accessories or is it missing?

[ SHIT ] -or- [ GET OFF THE POT? ]

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