InkWyvern

When Husk is given the chance to regain everything he lost, he takes it in a heartbeat. But what happens when the gambling overlord regains his place at the high rollers table?

♧~◇~♤~♡

Chapters: 5/30

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)

Like, I'm sat in the pub right now with my coworkers, half-focused on their conversation while secretly writing fanfiction on my phone.

Actually talking to my coworkers is too much social interaction, writing my smutty fanfics alone at home isn't social enough.

The idea that not only will a vast majority of people not recognise a threat to their freedom and safety until it is too powerful to stop, but that they'll even lend their support in helping that threat come to fruition.

Americans (and non-Americans who want to follow where your American friends and favourite creators go), If TikTok is bought by Meta or Trump, and you can either

go back to TikTok and hope it stays the same

or stay on the other platforms like Bluesky/YouTube/Rednote?

We are not the first to fight for our freedoms, and we will not be the last. It may be scary, but we as the people, no matter who you are or what country you're in, are the ones who can change our planet's future.

We will not back down, and accept our fates. We will keep fighting for the world we want to live in. Because if our efforts make it even the slightest bit easier for the next generation to fight too, then it will be worth it.

This is not a fight between religions, between man and woman, between man and nature. This is between those who strive for peace, and those who would happily set the world alight so long as they can stand victorious among the ashes.

The parents of a girl in my class had gotten bored of the charade and told her the truth.

Santa isn't real. All the grownups are lying to you. We buy the presents, and the man whose lap you sat on when we went shopping last week is actually your aunt's friend's brother.

Magic isn't real.

And, of course, that girl came into school and told everyone else.

I was sobbing when my mum picked me up that afternoon. Inconsolable. And my mum, by some Christmas magic of her own making, came up with the cover story that saved Christmas for me.

Yes, Santa isn't real.

Neither are the elves.

And yes, we do buy the presents.

But Christmas magic is very much real.

It lives in the hearts of every child who believes in that magic.

And now you're a little older, and a little wiser, and you know the truth, you have a very special job.

You're now a guardian of the Christmas magic, and you get to help all the grownups keep that magic alive for all the little ones.

I'm now a lot older, and (possibly) a lot wiser, and I'm writing this as I sit at my desk in my very first classroom as a teacher. The whiteboard is covered in doodles, and a pen has been placed carefully in the hand of a small toy elf. And I think to myself: Maybe Christmas magic isn't just a story my mum made up.

Blitzø sleeps on the couch.

I refuse to believe that Blitzø didn't give up his couch spot for Stolas.

“...gambling kingpin Husker has returned after his decade-long losing streak. But has the Casino Kitten lost his touch?” Katie Killjoy’s voice was interrupted by the loud, forceful sound of Angel’s hands slamming down on the bartop.

“Alastor did what?!”

“Freed me,” Husk replied calmly. He was behind the bar, as usual, the only part of this entire situation that could be considered even remotely normal. He poured Angel a drink instinctively, not having to ask him first. The liquid sloshed into the glass with a soft splash. “He let me out of my contract.”

Husk was actually wearing a shirt under his suspenders. Not just any shirt, but a sharp, white one that looked… had he ironed it? Angel couldn’t imagine Husk even knowing what an iron was, let alone how to use one, considering the state of his usual attire. And yet, here he was, in a clean, pressed shirt that somehow managed to look both refined and rakish. And his hair… Husk rarely took off his hat, and now, seeing his hair without it, Angel was struck by how much it suited him. It was pushed back in a relaxed, yet elegant way, two words Angel never would have thought to use to describe Husk. The only echo of the scruffy barcat he knew so well was the necktie draped loosely around his collar, untied and unkempt. And yet, still, in that moment, Husk was incredibly attractive, a strange, disorienting thought that Angel quickly pushed aside.

“I mean, that’s great Husky. I’m happy for ya.” Angel’s voice softened. He meant it, every word. Husk deserved his power back after everything Alastor had put him through. “Why though? Smiles ain’t exactly the generous type.”

“Some bullshit about not wanting Vox to get any more power. Overlord politics.” Husk shrugged as he fished a pack of cards out of his pocket. Husk had given up on teaching Angel to play poker some time ago, but they had only recently stumbled on a game that suited Angel's skillset - Bullshit. Angel was still getting used to the rules, but they'd begun to relax into a routine of playing a round whenever they were alone at the bar together. Husk dealt the full pack between them, cards sliding smoothly across the wooden bartop. Niffty had thrown a handful of cards out with the trash, making the pack useless for most games but perfect for two-person Bullshit. Playing with a full pack and only one opponent , Angel had learnt, made it possible to have a perfect run with no mistakes if you were to count the cards.

“Ah, got it. Lovers’ quarrel.” Angel held his glass under his chin like a microphone, putting on his best impression of Alastor’s voice. “I couldn’t possibly let my dear Voxxikins become more powerful than me! Then how would I be able to top him in the bedroom?” His words were dripping with sarcasm, and a wicked grin spread across his face.