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thelastspeecher · 10 months

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Amphibious Tendencies - Chapter 10: Typhlonectes natans

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 AO3

It's been a hot minute, but I think y'all know I've sorta been going through it, so I won't say much else other than...

Enjoy.

—

Summary: Dipper, Mabel, and Soos find out that Stan and the rest of his family are not what they seem.

The “rubber eel” (Typhlonectes natans) is sometimes sold as a fish in aquarium stores, but is actually a caecilian, a group of legless amphibians about whom little is known.

——————————————————————————————

“Chocolate chips, chocolate chips,” Mabel muttered to herself as she rummaged through the pantry. “Ah-ha!” She pulled out a glass jar filled with chocolate chips. “Why were you hiding at the back of the pantry?”

“Whatchya doin’, cuz?” a voice asked. Mabel turned. Emily stood in the kitchen, watching her with visible amusement.

“It’s been too long since I baked something, so I asked Dipper what I should make, and he suggested my famous chocolate chip brownies.”

“It’s her most edible recipe,” Dipper chimed in. He was sitting at the kitchen table, going over the Journal.

“Ya might want to use chocolate chips for it, then,” Emily said. Mabel held up the jar. “Those aren’t chocolate chips. They’re chocolate-covered crickets.”

“What?!” Mabel yelped in shock. The jar slipped from her hands. Emily dove, catching the jar before it could hit the floor. “Look, I like to think of myself as being open-minded, but chocolate-covered crickets? Why?”

“I’m not sure if you know this, but Dad likes making bets and dares.”

“We know,” Dipper and Mabel said together.

“Oh. Well, since he can’t ever pass up a bet or a dare, years and years ago, someone dared him to eat a bug. So he ate the bug. And then he got dared to eat another. Eventually, he realized he actually liked the taste.” Emily shrugged.

“There’s no way Grauntie Angie puts up with it,” Mabel said firmly. “She’s a lady.”

“Ma likes ‘em, too,” Emily said. Mabel’s jaw dropped. “She’s probably the one who hid the chocolate-covered crickets in the back of the pantry so you wouldn’t see ‘em. She was worried how the two of ya would handle our family’s…eccentricities.” Emily put the jar on the counter and knelt to pick up the pieces of paper she had dropped when she grabbed the jar. She tossed the papers onto the table. “By the way, mail’s here.”

“Did we get something in the mail?” Dipper asked curiously.

“Dunno. Didn’t look.”

“Hmm.” Dipper picked up the letter on the top of the pile. He frowned. “What name is this?”

“Huh?” Emily walked over and peered over Dipper’s shoulder at the letter. “Oh. It says Banjolina. That’s Ma’s full first name.”

“Angie is short for Banjolina?” Dipper asked. Emily nodded. “I thought it was short for Angela.”

“Everyone thinks that. I don’t know if many people in town know her proper first name.”

“I guess ‘Banjolina’ makes sense since her brother’s named Fiddleford,” Mabel said.

“Yep! Unwieldy names are a bit of a tradition in Ma’s family,” Emily said cheerfully. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Is Emily short for something weird then?” Mabel asked. Emily shook her head.

“Nope. Ma insisted on not doin’ her family’s weird name thing for any of us kids. But she wasn’t completely successful with making us happy with our names. Molly only goes by her middle name, not her first name.”

“Molly?” Dipper and Mabel asked together.

“Right, I keep forgetting you haven’t had a chance to meet her yet,” Emily said. “Molly’s the oldest triplet. But her first name’s actually Darlene.”

“Darlene’s a pretty name,” Mabel insisted. Emily shrugged again.

“Not disagreein’ with ya. Just tellin’ ya what Molly feels.” She looked over at the clock on the wall. “Did you two have breakfast?”

“Yep! That’s why I was gonna make brownies!” Mabel chirped.

“All right. Well, you could make brownies,” Emily said slowly, “or you could join me.”

“It depends on what you’re doing,” Mabel said. Emily grinned.

“Dad wants me to get rid of the leftover fireworks from the Fourth of July. I figured I’d do that by setting ‘em off.” A twinkle entered her eyes. “So?”

“Fireworks beat brownies!” Mabel said quickly. Dipper nodded.

“Agreed.”

“Then follow me, cousins,” Emily said, standing up. “It’s time to rain some fire from the skies.”

-----

The still morning air was split by the squeal and subsequent pop of a firework. Emily, Dipper, and Mabel let out whoops of joy at their first salvo. Before Emily could light the next one, however, the door slammed open. Grunkle Stan stormed out of the Shack.

“All right, what are you kids doing?” he demanded. He looked around. “Where even are you?”

“We’re up here, old man,” Emily called from their spot on the roof. Grunkle Stan looked up. He scowled. “I’m just doin’ what ya told me to. I’m gettin’ rid of the fireworks.”

“That’s all you’re doing?” Grunkle Stan asked. Emily, Dipper, and Mabel nodded. “Have the cops showed up?”

“Yes, but we sent ‘em on their merry way with an insult or two,” Emily said. Grunkle Stan grinned.

“That’s my girl!” He waved a hand airily. “All right, carry on. Just make sure you put out any fires. Don’t want the place to burn down while Angie’s still sleeping.”

“Do you have a method you want us to use to put out the fires?” Mabel asked. Grunkle Stan frowned thoughtfully.

“The phrasing is questionable, but screw it. I’ll bite. Whattaya got in mind, kiddo?”

“Water balloons.”

“Huh.” Grunkle Stan shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” He went back into the Shack.

“He’s in a good mood,” Dipper commented.

“Nah, you two just managed to grow on him, that’s all.” Emily elbowed Dipper and Mabel playfully. “And don’t act like he hasn’t grown on you.”

“Heh, yeah,” Dipper said. “When he’s not barking orders at us, he’s kind of…fun?” Mabel nodded in agreement.

“And I think it’s so sweet how much he’s in love with Grauntie Angie,” Mabel sighed dreamily. “I want something like that one day.” The door to the Shack opened.

“What happened to the fireworks?” Grunkle Stan called. “I was gonna watch the show!”

“Why not be a part of it?” Mabel asked. “I thought I cured your fear of heights!”

“I’m more comfortable sitting on the porch than climbing on the roof. You kids have your fun.”

“Well, you heard the man,” Emily said to her cousins. She held up her lighter. “Which one are we gonna set off next?”

-----

Dipper sprinted across the yard, running from the ululating Emily and Mabel. He threw a water balloon at Mabel, but it bounced off her and on the ground. Mabel threw a water balloon of her own, which burst upon contact with him.

“Aw, man!” Dipper whined. Emily chortled. She looked at Grunkle Stan, who was sitting on the porch watching the festivities.

“You gonna join us, old man?”

“With these old bones? No,” Grunkle Stan said. He took another sip of his Pitt Cola. “This is the kinda day summers were made for. Just doing dumb things.”

“Agreed!” Mabel and Dipper said together. Dipper shoved Mabel playfully. She landed on the ground, laughing. When the water balloon fight resumed, however, Grunkle Stan’s relaxed expression morphed into one full of tension.

Once the kids had run out of water balloons, Grunkle Stan got up and walked over.

“Look, kids, I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Dipper and Mabel looked at him curiously. “I’ve- I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.”

“What?” Mabel asked. Grunkle Stan grimaced.

“It’s- it’s complicated and you probably- you might not like it.”

“Wait…” Emily stared at her father. “Dad, are you talking about…” Grunkle Stan nodded. Emily’s eyes widened. “Did Ma say you could?”

“Yeah. After everything that happened with her, we figured it would be best.”

“What is it?” Dipper asked. Grunkle Stan took a deep breath. He opened his mouth. Before he could say anything, however, a red dot appeared on his fez. “Is that a ladybug?”

“Aw!” Mabel cooed. Emily grabbed Dipper and Mabel, hurriedly pulling them away from Grunkle Stan.

“Emily, what are you-” Dipper started. A masked man dressed in combat gear suddenly burst from the nearby bushes and tackled Grunkle Stan to the ground.

“Hey!” Grunkle Stan protested. The man put his knee on Grunkle Stan’s back. Other men dressed similarly emerged from the woods, surrounding the Shack. “What are you doing?!”

“Our job,” Agent Powers said, walking over with Agent Trigger by his side. “Arresting suspicious persons and locking down any potential evidence.”

“The government guys?” Dipper asked. He frowned. “I thought they got eaten by zombies.”

“Eaten by-” Emily stared at Dipper. “Cuz, I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now, but yer gonna have to tell me that story later.” She looked back at the agents. “Potential evidence? Like what?”

“This entire residence,” Agent Trigger said. Emily gaped.

“Wh- this is my house! You can’t just take it!”

“We can and we will,” Agent Trigger said.

“I’m startin’ to understand Ma and Dad’s perspectives on the government,” Emily muttered under her breath. The agent that had tackled Grunkle Stan pulled him up and began to march him around to the front of the Shack. “Hey! Don’t take my dad!” Emily let go of Dipper and Mabel, following the agent leading her father away.

“Stay back, miss,” Agent Powers said, holding out a hand to stop her. Emily glared at him. She shoved his hand aside and continued. Dipper and Mabel followed her. They watched in shock as agents stormed inside the Shack, breaking down doors and crashing through windows. Multiple police cars pulled up, their lights and sirens blaring.

“What did I do that warrants this much arresting?” Grunkle Stan demanded. One of the agents slammed his head against the hood of a car. “Ugh!”

“We’ve been watching you for a while,” Agent Powers said. “Your suspicious behavior and back-alley dealings with shady characters have been raising concerns.”

“What? That’s not enough to arrest me!” Grunkle Stan argued, squirming viciously. “I know my rights!”

“You signed those rights away last night when you met with someone we have yet to identify and acquired what was clearly an illicit substance.”

“Last night?” Grunkle Stan asked. “I was stocking the Gift Shop all night!” He made eye contact with Emily, Dipper, and Mabel. “You kids have to believe me!” The agent that had grabbed him shoved him into the back of a car.

“Yeah, look, government guys, Grunkle Stan might not be a squeaky-clean model citizen or whatever, but there’s no way he did something bad enough to arrest him like this,” Mabel said.

“Or take his house!” Dipper added. He crossed his arms. “Can’t you at least say what you think he did?”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis,” Agent Trigger responded.

“Translation: they don’t actually have a good reason to arrest him,” Emily said tartly. Agent Trigger glared at her. “I’m just tellin’ the truth. Unlike you.”

“Where’s Grauntie Angie?” Mabel asked, looking around. “She can help clear things up. Right?”

“Only if she’s awake,” Emily mumbled.

“Goodness!” a voice gasped. All heads turned. Grauntie Angie had exited the Mystery Shack. Shocked, she daintily covered her mouth with her hand. “What in tarnation is goin’ on? Why are ya arrestin’ my husband?”

“You’re Stan Pines’ wife?” asked Agent Powers. Grauntie Angie walked up to him and held out her hand. Agent Powers shook it reluctantly.

“Yes, I am.”

“In that case, you’ll have to come with us as well.” Agent Powers held up a pair of handcuffs. Dipper and Mabel gasped. Grauntie Angie, however, smiled sweetly.

“Now, that ain’t necessary, sir, is it? I ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” she said, her voice saccharine. Dipper frowned.

Is her accent usually that thick?

“I…I suppose you’re right,” Agent Powers mumbled. A glazed look appeared in his eyes. Grauntie Angie beamed. “You’ll- you’ll have to come with us to the station, though.”

“Oh, of course I will! I have to be there to support my husband and help explain that this is all just a big misunderstandin’.” She looked over at Emily, still standing by Dipper and Mabel. “Emily, dear, please keep an eye on the children.”

“The minors will be handed over to Child Protective Services,” Agent Trigger interrupted, walking over to Grauntie Angie. Grauntie Angie’s eyes widened.

“What? That’s ridiculous!” She placed her hand gently atop Agent Trigger’s in a reassuring manner. “My daughter is more ‘n capable of supervisin’ the lil darlin’s and keepin’ ‘em out of a haystack, as we say back home.”

Yep. Her accent is definitely thicker than usual.

“I…” Agent Trigger shook his head. He seemed dazed. “Yes, you’re- you’re right,” he managed, the words slurring together.

“So glad we could come to this agreement,” Grauntie Angie cooed. “Now, gimme a mo’ to give my daughter some instructions. I’ll come down with y’all to the station after.” Grauntie Angie regally turned around and walked over to Emily, Dipper, and Mabel.

“Ma, what’s goin’ on?” Emily hissed. Grauntie Angie sighed.

“I ain’t quite sure, honey-bun. Clearly, these government folk are under the impression yer father is involved in somethin’ shady. I’ll go help iron things out.” A sour look appeared on Grauntie Angie’s face. “I hate big government.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s one of the many things you and Dad have in common,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “Any specific instructions fer watching Dipper and Mabel?”

“No. Just keep ‘em out of trouble. Take ‘em to Junior’s place.”

“But we want to stay here and help defend the Shack!” Mabel argued. Dipper nodded.

“The best way you three can help is by behavin’ ‘n stayin’ out of the way,” Grauntie Angie said firmly. She looked over at the cars belonging to the government agents. Dipper squinted. In the bright sun, thin, pale lines stood out against Grauntie Angie’s skin. The scars crisscrossed randomly, starting near the top of her neck and continuing down before being covered by her sensible sundress.

Where did she get those scars? And why haven’t I noticed them before?

“These folks are bad news, but between Stan ‘n I, we can get things settled,” Grauntie Angie continued, unaware of Dipper’s stare. Mabel, however, noticed, and elbowed Dipper roughly. “Go to Junior’s. Take the Stanleymobile.” Grauntie Angie looked at Emily pointedly. “I know you’ve got the spare set of keys in yer pocket.” Emily rubbed the back of her neck, managing an abashed grin. “I’ll call when I know more.” Grauntie Angie kissed Emily on the cheek, then the tops of Dipper and Mabel’s heads. She walked over to the government agents, striking up a conversation with them.

“Well, you heard the lady,” Emily sighed. “Stay here. I’ll bring the car around.” Emily walked away. Mabel rounded on Dipper.

“Okay, why were you staring at Grauntie Angie like that?” she demanded.

“I just noticed something.”

“What?”

“She’s got scars. All over.”

“So? You’re still not supposed to stare!” Mabel shook her head. “Honestly, Dipper.”

“Did you know about her scars?” Dipper asked.

“Yep!” Mabel said cheerfully. “She let me do a makeover on her that one time and I saw while I was trying to find a foundation that matched her skin tone. It’s difficult, since she’s pale but also has a lot of freckles.”

“Did she tell you where the scars came from?”

“She said it was some sort of accident at the lake.”

“What kind of accident?”

“She clammed up after that,” Mabel replied. She frowned thoughtfully. “But when I pointed out that the scars looked sorta like really thin string, she said I wasn’t too far from the truth. I don’t know what kind of string there is at the lake, though.”

“Fishing line, maybe?” Dipper suggested. “But how could that cause scars?” Mabel shrugged. The Stanleymobile, driven by Emily, pulled up in front of them.

“Get in, kiddos,” Emily said, her trademark grin visibly strained, “before the feds change their mind and send you to CPS.”

-----

“What do you mean, you’re going?!” Emily demanded. She and Junior were having a heated argument of some sort in the kitchen, though only Emily’s side of the conversation could be heard from where Dipper and Mabel had been put upon arrival at Junior’s house.

“What are they even talking about?” asked Rana, the oldest of Junior’s quadruplet children. Dipper and Mabel were currently sitting in the room she shared with her fellow quadruplet June. The other two, Ryan and Jonah, had their own rooms for some reason that hadn’t been disclosed to Dipper and Mabel.

“My guess is that Emily wants to go back to the Shack or police station or wherever Junior’s going,” Dipper said. “So that she can help with whatever he and Grauntie Angie are doing to get Grunkle Stan out of trouble.” Rana nodded thoughtfully. She and her siblings were only ten, but seemed more mature than their ages would suggest. Rana in particular was the most mature of the group. Grunkle Stan claimed it was because she was the most like Grauntie Angie, not just in personality, but also in appearance. She did look eerily like her grandmother, having the same nose, eyes, and hair color. Even the freckle pattern across her nose and cheeks looked like Grauntie Angie’s.

“It’s weird that Grandpa Stan got arrested,” Rana said quietly. “I mean, yeah, he commits crimes all the time, but even when he gets caught, he’s able to talk his way outta it. Y’know?” Dipper and Mabel nodded. “Do you guys know what he did?”

“No, not really,” Dipper said. Rana crossed her arms.

“Dumb cops,” she muttered. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look, amused despite themselves at how Grunkle Stan and Grauntie Angie’s dislike for authorities had spread to their grandchildren. Rana stood.

“Where are you going?” Mabel asked.

“Me? I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Rana crossed over to the bedroom’s large window and opened it. “But you guys are gonna go to the Shack and figure out what’s going on.”

“Are you sure?” Dipper asked warily. Rana nodded.

“Even if Auntie Emily convinces Dad to let her come with him, which probably won’t happen, there’s zero chance either of them will let you guys come along. But we need all hands on deck for whatever’s happening.”

“Then why aren’t you coming?” Mabel asked. She and Dipper got up from the frog-shaped rug they had been sitting on.

“I’ve gotta make sure no one catches onto the fact you guys are gone.”

“Good point,” Dipper said with a nod.

“Now, get going. You’ve got the best chance of sneaking out while Auntie Emily and Dad are still arguing,” Rana said firmly. Dipper and Mabel walked over to the window.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Dipper asked.

“Oh, yeah. June and I climb down it all the time. It makes Dad really angry,” Rana said cheerfully. She tossed one end of a rope out the window. “Use this.”

With Rana holding the other end of the rope, Dipper and Mabel successfully exited through the window and climbed down to the ground. When all four feet were on the neatly trimmed grass, Rana pulled the rope back up. She saluted Dipper and Mabel before closing the window and disappearing from view. Dipper looked at Mabel.

“You ready?” he asked. Mabel held up her grappling hook.

“Always.”

“Where were you keeping that?”

“I have my secrets,” Mabel said airily. She tucked her grappling hook inside one of her voluminous sweater sleeves. “Let’s go.”

-----

Dipper and Mabel crashed through the already broken window in the attic of the Shack. They tumbled onto the floor.

“I told you it would come in handy again,” Mabel said to Dipper. Dipper held a finger to his mouth, shushing her. “I told you it would come in handy again,” she whispered. Dipper rolled his eyes.

“I never said it wouldn’t,” he whispered back.

“You didn’t need to. I could tell that was what you were thinking. Twin telepathy.” Mabel put her grappling hook away again. “Anyways. We need to find the surveillance tapes, right?”

“Yeah,” Dipper said, deciding to go with the subject change. “They should be in his office.” Mabel nodded. The two quietly went over to the door of the attic and opened it as silently as they could. They stared down the darkened staircase. No government agents stood at the foot of the stairs, nor could they hear anyone moving around on the first floor. They tiptoed down, carefully avoiding the particularly creaky stair, arriving at the first floor without incident. Voices suddenly sounded. Dipper and Mabel hurried away from the approaching agents, sneaking down the hall to Grunkle Stan’s office, and closing the door behind them. Dipper held up his fist. Mabel obliged with a friendly fist bump.

“Okay, where would Grunkle Stan hide the surveillance tapes?” Dipper muttered to himself, scanning the furniture in the office. He perused the bookshelf. Some of the books were very scientific in nature, likely belonging to Grauntie Angie. “Or…where would Grauntie Angie hide the surveillance tapes?”

“Probably somewhere fun and kooky,” Mabel said, closing the file cabinet she had been inspecting. She gasped and pointed at the jackelope head on the wall, which had a crooked antler. “Wait! The antellabbit!”

“Uh, don’t you mean ‘jackalope’?” Dipper asked. Mabel scoffed.

“That can’t be right.” She walked over to the jackalope and stood on her tiptoes to grab the antler, pulling it into the correct position. The section of the wall the jackalope was mounted on promptly turned around, revealing two old-school TV monitors and a tape player. The top monitor showed a live feed of the cameras in the gift shop, while the bottom one was black, reflecting their faces back at them. A cardboard box sat in an alcove directly below the tape player.

“Yes!” Dipper and Mabel cheered together.

“And the one from this week is already in!” Mabel said, pointing to the VCR tape partially in the tape player. She pushed it in the rest of the way. Promptly, video appeared on the lower monitor’s screen.

Wendy and Mabel watched Soos do the worm dance on the floor of the Gift Shop.

“Go! Go! Go! Go!” Wendy and Mabel chanted together.

“Someone said ‘wormy dance’,” Mabel said airily to Dipper. “We had to! Fast forward.” Dipper grabbed the remote off the top of the tape player and pressed the fast forward button, zooming through multiple hours. When he let go, the Gift Shop was occupied only by Grunkle Stan, who was cheerfully putting away new merchandise. Yesterday’s date was in the top corner of the screen, along with the time, nine at night.

“There it is!” Dipper enthused. “He was restocking like he said! And the date and time show it was last night!” There was a knock at the door. Mabel and Dipper looked over before realizing it had come from the surveillance tape. They looked back at the TV. On the video, Grunkle Stan stopped stocking and walked over to the door. He opened it. Whoever had knocked wasn’t visible from this angle, but Grunkle Stan was clearly expecting them.

“I was starting to get worried,” Grunkle Stan said. “You took your sweet-ass time.”

“Ignoring the swear,” Dipper muttered under his breath.

The person at the door held out a box. Grunkle Stan took the box from them.

Mabel let out a soft gasp. Dipper nodded silently. He saw it, too. Whoever was at the door had enormous, webbed hands.

“Why are you around here, looking like that?” Grunkle Stan asked. “It’s dangerous. Those government guys are still sniffing around.” The person at the door replied, but no individual words could be made out. “Wait. Really?” Grunkle Stan looked down at the box in horror. “Okay. Lemme take care of the security cameras real quick, then.” Grunkle Stan handed the box back, glanced at the security camera, and then walked behind the counter. He reached under the counter.

The screen went black, only for the picture to come back a few seconds later.

Grunkle Stan was in the same place he’d been at the start of the video. Grauntie Angie was with him. They sang along to the radio on the oldies station as they restocked. Grauntie Angie leaned in to kiss Grunkle Stan on the cheek, making him chuckle. The time in the corner indicated it was now past midnight.

The mysterious box was nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, so maybe Grunkle Stan got a mysterious thing from someone who probably wasn’t human,” Mabel said, “but that doesn’t mean he’s got nefarious plans or whatever!” Dipper pulled out the cardboard box underneath the tape player.

“He’s definitely hiding something,” Dipper said firmly. He picked up a folded piece of paper from the box.

“What’s that?” Mabel asked. Dipper unfolded the piece of paper. “A note?” Dipper’s eyes widened. He recognized the words’ fanciful font.

“Not just any note. A note from the Author!”

“Whoa, what?!” Mabel gaped at the note. “What’s it say?”

“Angie, when I asked you to look at my notes, I meant for you to go over the research I have done since you have been on maternity leave, not write unfairly harsh criticisms about my journal as a whole. I believe I have been supplying more than enough field notes to make my research replicable, but perhaps we can discuss it in person once you’ve returned. In the meantime, please keep your comments about my work focused upon what I requested.” Dipper looked over at Mabel. She seemed just as shocked as him. “Mabel…this is- this is confirmation of what I’ve been saying! Grauntie Angie, she knew the Author!”

“I guess…” Mabel mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with the revelation. She shook her head. “But would Grauntie Angie hide such an important thing from us? She doesn’t keep secrets like Grunkle Stan!”

“We’ve never asked her about the Author,” Dipper pointed out. “She’s been gone for so much of the summer.” His eyes widened. “I bet it’s all connected! She’s been gone so much because she’s doing things related to the Author or- or the Journal!”

“Time to take off your conspiracy hat, Dipper,” Mabel said, taking his baseball cap off his head. Dipper scowled and grabbed it back before putting it on again. “Grauntie Angie has to do science stuff out of state! Emily showed us pictures of her speaking at a conference! Not everything goes back to the Author and the Journal.”

“In this town, it feels like it does,” Dipper muttered. He looked down at the box. “Whoa.”

“What?” Mabel asked, looking inside the box as well. “Oh, wow! Look at all these pictures!”

“Grunkle Stan posing with Bigfoot?” Dipper said, flabbergasted, picking up one of the Polaroid photographs. Mabel picked up another one.

“Here’s Grauntie Angie and Grunkle Stan with the Gobblewonker!” She frowned. “But the Gobblewonker was just one of Old Man McGucket’s old robots that went haywire.”

“Apparently not.” Dipper and Mabel sat on the floor, going through the photos together. Each one had either Grauntie Angie or Grunkle Stan with a magical creature. A few even had one of their kids present. At the bottom of the box, buried underneath the photographs, were two pieces of paper. Dipper picked one up.

“What is it?” Mabel asked.

“An old newspaper article,” Dipper said. He scanned the clipping. “It’s just from when the Mystery Shack opened.” He frowned. “Didn’t Grunkle Stan say that he got Manly Dan to build the Shack?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“This says that the Shack used to belong to someone else.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t say.”

“Maybe he just forgot?” Mabel suggested. “He’s an old man, he forgets things!” Dipper picked up the other piece of paper. “What’s that one?”

“It says ‘secret code to hideout’ on it,” he said, inspecting the paper. On the paper was a graph, consisting of two columns and four rows of boxes. The top two boxes read “A” and “1”, the left second row box read “B”, and the two boxes in the third row read “C” and “3”. The remaining boxes were blank.

“Why would Grunkle Stan need a hideout that has a secret code?” Mabel asked. Dipper scowled.

“It probably has to do with why the government showed up and the person on the tape.” He pulled out the Journal and his portable blacklight, flipping through the pages hurriedly, to no avail. “‘A1, B, C3’…I’ve never seen a code like this.” Mabel looked over his shoulder and gasped.

“Wait! I have! Dipper, it’s the vending machine!”

-----

As Dipper and Mabel sprinted through the Shack towards the Gift Shop, they could hear what seemed like every government agent leaving. They burst into the Gift Shop.

“Soos!” they cried out in delight upon seeing the man standing in front of the vending machine. Soos gasped.

“Kids!” he said happily. “Where have you been?”

“What are you doing here?” Dipper asked.

“Dr. Angie called me and told me to protect this vending machine until Junior showed up.” Soos chuckled softly. “I didn’t realize she was such a fan of snacks.”

“Soos, listen,” Dipper said. “Something huge is going on here, and it all goes back to the vending machine. I need you to step aside.”

“Yeah,” Mabel chimed in, “let us through so we can prove this is all just a big misunderstanding.” Soos sighed.

“Guys, I know this seems crazy, but I promised Dr. Angie I’d guard the vending machine with my life.” He smiled weakly at them. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry, Soos,” Mabel said, stepping forward. Before Soos could say anything else, she blew a handful of glitter into his face. Soos let out a shout.

“Attack glitter! It’s pretty, but it hurts!” While he tried to rub the glitter out of his eyes, Dipper darted around him, quickly pressing the “A”, “1”, “B”, “C”, and “3” buttons on the vending machine’s keypad. The vending machine swung forward as though on hinges, knocking Soos, Dipper, and Mabel to the floor. As they looked up, they gasped. A secret staircase had been revealed behind the vending machine. They got to their feet. “I guess that’s why Dr. Angie wanted me to protect the vending machine.”

“We don’t have any time to lose,” Dipper said firmly. Soos nodded.

“I’ll lead the way, dudes,” he said. He headed down the staircase, marveling. “It’s like something from a video game.”

“Or a dream,” Mabel said.

“Or a nightmare,” Dipper said glumly. As the vending machine closed behind them, a pickup truck pulled up outside.

-----

Soos, Dipper, and Mabel exited the underground elevator, entering a room that looked eerily familiar.

“It’s just like the bunker in the woods,” Dipper said, looking around at the machinery and blinking lights. There was a large observation window on the far wall, across from the entrance to the lab. Visible through the observation window was an enormous, glowing machine in the shape of an upside-down triangle. An ominous hum permeated the air.

“What is it doing under the Mystery Shack?” Soos asked.

“Maybe it’s Grauntie Angie’s,” Mabel suggested. “She’s a scientist, it makes sense she’d have a lab. Right?” Dipper walked over to a desk below the observation window. He immediately clenched his jaw.

“The other two journals?” he demanded, staring at the books that lay on the desk before him. “All this time, they were right here? I can’t believe it!” He kicked the desk in frustration. “Why would Stan have those journals?!”

“Maybe Dr. Angie had them the whole time,” Soos suggested. “Maybe she’s the Author.”

“She’s not,” Mabel said, sounding sad. “But she knew him.”

“She did?” Soos asked.

“We found a note for Grauntie Angie that the Author wrote.”

“Do you think she knows what happened to him?” Soos asked. Mabel shrugged. Dipper set the third journal down on the desk and flipped it open to the page he had theorized was a blueprint for some sort of machine. He flipped through the other two journals, finding similar pages in them, then arranged them until they had become a drawing of the very machine visible through the observation window. He turned on his portable black light. Soos, Dipper, and Mabel gasped at the writing now visible on the journals’ pages.

“Whoa,” Mabel breathed. Dipper swallowed nervously and began to read aloud from the journals.

“I was wrong the whole time. The machine was meant to create knowledge but it is too powerful. It was deceived, and now it is too late. The device, if fully operational, could tear our universe apart! It must not fall into the wrong hands. If the clock ever reaches zero, our universe is doomed!” All three looked up at the digital clock above the observation window, which had been steadily counting down the entire time they were in the lab.

“It’s the final countdown!” Soos screamed. “Just like they always sung about!”

“There has to be a way to stop it,” Dipper said, flipping through the third journal urgently. He arrived at a page reading “MANUAL OVERRIDE”. The three entered the room the observation window looked into. The ground was beginning to shake. “There! That turns it off!” Dipper said, pointing at a pole in front of the machine. They rushed over. Dipper flicked a switch on the side of the pole. The rounded dome on top of the pole popped open, revealing a bright red button.

“Wait!” a voice shouted. Dipper paused, his hand an inch above the button. He, Mabel, and Soos all turned to look at whoever had spoken.

“Dude,” Soos breathed quietly. The speaker stepped closer, their mottled green skin glistening in the eerie light of the machine. “Is that…?”

“A nixie,” Dipper confirmed. The nixie, who looked to be female, crossed her arms with a scowl. She was a foot or so taller than Mr. Ponds, slender while he was stout, and had much longer antennae, as they stretched past her shoulders. But it was impossible to mistake the frog-like features for anything else.

“What are you three doing down here?” the nixie asked. Her voice was sweet and flutelike.

“I think we should be asking you that,” Dipper said firmly. “Our great-uncle owns this building.” The nixie jutted her chin out.

“Maybe I have permission from your great-uncle to be down here.”

“Doubt it,” Dipper retorted immediately. Mabel tugged on his arm. He looked at her. “What?”

“She’s the person who was giving Grunkle Stan the thing in the surveillance video!” Mabel hissed. Dipper whipped his head back to look at the nixie. Mabel was right. The nixie’s hands and arms matched those of the person who delivered the mysterious package last night.

“Who are you?” Dipper asked. The nixie stayed silent.

“What did the Author call the other nixie he knew?” Mabel asked Dipper quietly. “Mr. Ponds’ wife or mate or whatever?”

“You think this nixie is B?” Dipper said in a low voice. Mabel shrugged.

“Maybe. I mean, how many nixies are there even in Gravity Falls?”

“…Fair enough.” Dipper met the nixie’s eyes. “Are you B?” he asked. The nixie didn’t say anything, but the widening of her glowing blue eyes was answer enough. “You are.”

“I…” B uncrossed her arms. “I haven’t been called that in a while,” she croaked.

“If you’re B, then that means you’re Mr. Ponds’ mate!” Mabel said eagerly. B frowned. “We met him in the Crawlspace when he was selling nixie venom!”

“…Mr. Ponds?” B said slowly. She looked over her shoulder. “Darling, what have you been telling these kids?” Mr. Ponds emerged from the shadows to stand by his mate’s side. He was visibly out of breath.

“Look,” he panted. He bent over. “Ugh. I’m too out of shape to run as much as I just did.”

“If you went on hikes with me every now and then…”

“Ang, you know I’m too busy dealing with tour…” Mr. Ponds started. His eyes widened in horror. But it was too late. The three humans’ jaws dropped.

“No. Way,” Soos breathed.

“S for Stanley,” Dipper said slowly. He looked at Mabel, who nodded.

“B for Banjolina,” she finished. B, who they now knew to be Grauntie Angie, closed her eyes.

“Stanley Pines, I swear…”

“We were planning on telling them anyways, why does it matter I let it slip?” demanded Mr. Ponds, aka Grunkle Stan. Grauntie Angie glared at him.

“There’s a lot going on right now! I’d prefer not to dump everything on them all at once!”

“I don’t know how it’s possible, but those two are nosier than our own kids. It’s a miracle we kept the whole frog thing under wraps as long as we did!”

“You knew the Author!” Dipper burst out. Grunkle Stan and Grauntie Angie looked at him. “You both did! Why didn’t you say anything when I showed you the Journal?”

“It’s- it’s a long story, kid,” Grunkle Stan said.

“Tell us,” Mabel said. Grunkle Stan and Grauntie Angie exchanged a pained look. “Or- or are you gonna lie some more?” Her voice broke mid-sentence.

“Okay, yes, we’ve been lying,” Grunkle Stan said. “And we technically broke the law.” Grauntie Angie facepalmed. “But everything we’ve done, everything we’ve sacrificed, it’s been for our family.”

“A family that includes the three of you,” Grauntie Angie added. Soos pointed at himself. “Yes, Jesus, you’re family. I’ve told you this how many times now?”

“How can we trust you?” Dipper demanded. He threw his hands up in the air. “Clearly the Journal was right when it said not to trust anyone in Gravity Falls! You guys are- are frog-people!” He raised his hand over the shutdown button again. It was too late.

The timer on the wall reached zero.

Everything went white.

#Gravity Falls #Nixie AU #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Emily Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Soos Ramirez #Stangie #Stangie Family #Amphibious Tendencies #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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nixie-writes · 1 year

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Husk x Nixie - Do I Wanna Know? (Hozier Cover)

Another representation of my writing. I wrote this back in late August. Note that it's really long so it'll be under a cut. By long I mean 28 pages in G Docs. Enjoy I suppose.

Have you got color in your cheeks?You ever get the fear that you can’t shift, The type that sticks around like something in your teeth?

Nixie was, admittedly, scared to approach the bar. Only Husk attended it at the moment meaning she had him all to herself but that was the scary aspect. She would be alone with him. Her friend Willow had urged her relentlessly to approach him and try talking to him and get the guts to ask him on a date of some kind, with some light teasing from Alastor, that buck fuck, that if she couldn’t do it he’d do it for her. She almost panicked at that statement and agreed to try speaking to him. But standing around the corner, watching him clean a cup with a bored expression, she felt her heart thudding in her chest. Perhaps it was those double-damned Hell-born hormones but damn did he look good; she wanted him to press her face into his chest and just hold her, naturally nothing more. She took a deep breath in and puffed it out, remembering Willow’s words of encouragement. ‘It won’t be so bad once you start! Just get yourself out there, you’re brave like that.’Trying to keep a floating bubble from bursting with nervousness, she approached the bar as casually as possible. Personally Nixie didn’t drink much, she was a lightweight, but tonight she’d have a cute feminine drink to get the conversation started. Nixie carefully approached the bar, fighting to keep her little bubble in one form.

“Hello, Husk,” she spoke softly, jerking him from his thoughts. Glancing up from a cup he’d been scrubbing mindlessly with a towel he grunted in response, pointing his head to the stools in an offer to take a seat. Following his suggestion she settled in a stool directly in front of him. Gazing up at his dark eyes rimmed with those copper irises she immediately felt that little fire that sparked in her chest, a small match struck across the box. “What’ll it be?” He inquired, tossing the cleaning rag to his far right. “I’ll just have a lemon drop martini,” she responded, using her hand to fluff out some of the foam forming over her eye. Shit, she was already getting so flustered she had a little waterfall happening. Husk looked thoroughly unimpressed. “I’ve seen you drink a Bud Lime like, twice; what makes you think you’re ready for something that strong?” He countered. At least he cared. That or didn’t want to be bothered making the drink. Nixie feigned an exhausted look; “I’ve had a tiring day of dealing with the Radio Dick and my best friend running off to have makeout sessions and Angel Dust whining about how he can’t go out and whore himself to the first man he meets, Vaggie is trying to get me involved in program planning and-” “Yeah, I’ve heard enough, you can have one.” He emphasized the number; Nixie nodded in agreement; she knew she couldn’t handle two.

Turning from her, Husk grabbed his ingredients: a pre-prepped bottle of lemon juice, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of cointreau and syrup. Grasping his shaker in his paw he turned to Nixie, ingredients in one arm and shaker in the other. She smiled, her one orchid eye shining in the buzz of the bar light. He poured about half of a lemon’s squeeze in, followed by vodka and cointreau, finished with a small serve of syrup. He brandished the item, mixing the ingredients. Pulling down a glass with a wide, short cup he poured the drink into the glass and slid it to Nixie. “Serve’s up,” he said half-heartedly and turned back to washing his other cups and glasses.

Nixie thanked him and pulled the alcohol her way. She noticed her drink was adorned with a pink carnation and a short baby green straw, mimicking the color of her drink. A soft smile played at her lips as she wrapped her lips around the straw and took a sip, immediately squinting at the flavor. It was powerful and harsh compared to a weak Bud Lime. Usually when consuming liquid she’d simply place her finger into the cup and absorb it but if she did so with alcohol, she’d get no effect from it. She had to do this the hard way. Sucking down a little more she felt the alcohol already taking effect, her face warming and the edge of her vision fuzzing over. Her grin felt silly, like an impling on a sugar rush but to an extreme.

Are there some aces up your sleeve?Have you no idea that you’re in deep?I’ve dreamt about you nearly every night this week, How many secrets can you keep?

Husk turned away from the water Overlord at his bar table, his rag shoved in a wine glass carelessly. Whether he scratched it or not, he couldn’t care. He just needed a distraction. Initially he was just looping his average midnight thoughts but now, an Overlord he didn’t dislike sat behind him, sipping a drink he made and his chest bubbled with an unusual anxiety. He didn’t feel this way when anyone he held indifference to requested alcohol from him, didn’t he hold the same feeling to this water nymph? Stealing a glance behind him he watched her slowly sip, squinting her eye a bit at the sharp taste of the vodka mixed with cointreau. He added a bit more syrup than usual, he assumed that would offset the bitterness but perhaps she wasn’t the biggest fan of a drink this powerful, despite its friendly name.

“Ya like the drink?” He inquired in a forcibly monotone voice. Taking a glance up to him she simply nodded with a quiet yes and returned to her staring contest with the bar table. Maybe she was thinking about a lot, perhaps she was as bored as he was. Had she noticed the pink carnation he’d placed in her drink…? He knew she was a big fan of flowers due to her friend, Willow, and he held onto a wrap of three pink carnations under the bar table just in case she came simply for some water, but this occasion was better than ever to place the bulb on top of her drink. Swallowing his pride he asked, “notice that flower I gave ya?” Nixie looked up sharply, as if she’d been deep in thought, her heliotrope eye hazy from either staring off or the alcohol.

“Oh, the pink carnation!” She responded immediately, poking it; the flower bulb floated lazily in the drink. “I think it’s lovely. It sets off the color of the drink very well, thank you.” Husk was pleased to know she at least liked the flower, but the question still lingered in his mind. Would she accept him placing it on her watery head, between those tall bunny-like ears? He knew how touchy some women could be about their appearance being messed with, many of his exes being examples; Nixie, however, seemed rather low maintenance. She only ever asked Willow to apply some nail polish and it was almost always the same shade of some rusty pink. So she wouldn’t get too angry if he placed the flower up on that seafoam rolling over her eye, correct? Cursing himself mentally for doing this sober he plucked the flower bulb from the drink and gently placed it on her head between her tall ears, where it just floated in place.

Nixie blinked once, then twice. He gulped, fearing she was about to yell at him for putting a flower on her, for messing up that admittedly pretty little rolling foam over her eye. Instead a slow smile crossed her face, a very happy one, and it seemed her entire face turned a darker shade of blue. “You uh, you like it?” He asked, uncertainty laced in his voice. Fuck, he didn’t know what he was doing. He’d been out of the dating game for so long he didn’t know what the hell he was doing or if he was doing it right. Was her face supposed to be this dark compared to the rest of her body? Was the foam above her eye supposed to be steaming? She looked happy but was any of this normal for her?

“I love it, so much, thank you,” she responded in an unnaturally sweet tone, the heart in her eye glowing its own shade of fuschia blue. A little heart made of water formed from the finger of her hand on the table, floating in the air for a moment in a shaky shape before she encased her hand around it, reabsorbing it. She took another long sip of the drink he made her, the effects of the alcohol evident in both her newfound courage and her hazed expression, as if she could pass out on his bar table. He’d expect it from someone like Nixie. Would she turn into a puddle if she did pass out? He’d never seen her room before, he didn’t have the courage to explore an Overlord’s room. He didn’t know how he’d get her to bed properly. He knew where her room was but he’d never been inside.

“You wanna go lay down?” He suggested, staring at her visibly intoxicated form. She certainly couldn’t handle her liquor. A playful smile grew across her face and the carnation swam along her head, bubbling at the foam above her eye. She nodded, “after I finish my drink. Can I have a bottle of Bud Lime for the road, bartender?” Her voice was slurring hard. Normally he’d deny further drinks to guests who were visibly drunk but, she didn’t appear to be a danger to herself or anyone else, and beer had so little alcoholic content it wouldn’t affect her as opposed to the martini. Plus she was made of water, there was no risk of her falling asleep with a drink in her hand she’d simply absorb it. He feigned a growled sigh and agreed, “fine, only one Bud Lime to take with you”.

The two sat in comfortable silence as Nixie sipped on her drink, growing more intoxicated by the minute. Husk heard the occasional snort or giggle from her, as though she thought of something she found funny and was trying to not laugh audibly at it. There was at least an attempt to not be a sloppy drunk. He found her little giggles quite cute, though he’d rather die a second time than admit it. In her thick southern-Brooklyn accent she sounded like quite the New York belle, had she ever been alive. The way she pronounced water, ‘whaterh’ with a soft r, or the way she referred to Alastor as a deer, pronouncing it ‘deearh’. How she called out to her friend Willow, pronouncing her name ‘Willohw’. When she said his name, emphasizing the U in his name, extending it to ‘Huusck’. His ear flicked to the sound of loud slurping behind him. Turning he saw Nixie, a very dark hue of blue on her face, sucking up the rest of her drink. “Do-Done!” She hiccuped between her word. Husk snorted in response and pulled her requested Bud Lime from under the table, snapping the lid on the table and popping it off with expertise. “Alright, to bed with you.” He knew she wasn’t going to walk there on her own, she could hardly sit straight now.

Stepping around the bar he wrapped an arm under hers, lifting her from the stool and heaving her to shaky feet; she only giggled in glee. She was plastered…And a little heavier than he’d expect from a demon made of water, though he’d never met one previous to Nixie. With a sigh he began walking her to her room, up the stairs, careful to keep her from tripping on a step along the way. Nixie hummed an unfamiliar tune as they moved along, likely something she was making up as she went along. Turning to her room he pushed the door open with his spare hand. The portion of her room visible to him was different than he expected.

A large sink sat in the middle of the room, mirrors lining it like a runway show. A large, light blue bath mat sat in front of the sink, as if to keep the tiled floor dry. The room was separated by a bubbly divider he had to move through. He assumed only Nixie could reform the bubbles, which she’d have to do after nursing one hell of a hangover. With a puff, he carried her semi-conscious giggling form through the bubble divider. This part of her room was more of a glorified bathroom than anything, all she was missing was a toilet. At the end of her exposed room sat a tall tub, about 3 feet high or a kilometer tall with a shower head above, a timer set to fill and drain water; the tub already had an adequate amount of water for her to dissolve into. Bud Lime in her hand he put his hands under her knees, scooping her in the air. She squealed, wrapping her free arm around his neck. “Oh, this is so romantic,” she cooed in a sharp, loud voice. Biting back an embarrassed growl he gently set her inside the tub; she took a sip of the Bud Lime and grabbed her phone and earbuds, both waterproof. Husk turned to leave and as he walked out he heard a soft, “thank you”.

‘Cause there’s this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow,And I play it on repeat until I fall asleep, Spilling drinks on my settee. With Husk having walked out of her room and being left alone, Nixie grabbed her phone and earbuds, plugging them into her ears and pressing play on the song she could only listen to on nights she could numb the pain: Creep by Radiohead, a sinner band whose music found its way to Hell. She’d requested poppy seed from Willow too often as of late and needed to slow down. She figured alcohol might replace the empty sensation cracked poppy seeds gave her and, to an extent, she was correct. She took a swig of her Bud Lime, squinting at the taste. She was never much of a fan of alcohol but she had to escape this feeling somehow. She knew deep down it may not be returned.

Setting the song on loop she allowed her lower body to dissolve into the warm water, leaving only her upper waist, torso, arms and head solidified. She could feel the effects of the martini she drank earlier wearing off already and, frowning, took another drink of the sour alcohol. It tasted horrid but if it could ease the ache in her chest, she’d learn to bear it.

Gently bobbing her head to the music, she allowed her thoughts to wander. Willow and Alastor were likely asleep in each other’s arms at this hour of night. She despised that. Both because her friend had become partners with the man she considered her mortal enemy, and because her friend had something she didn’t: a committed relationship with the man she loved. Sure, Nixie could find an easy fling if she wanted, Valentino would fuck anything that breathe. Yet, she didn’t want sex. She wanted to feel loved, desired, needed. The way Alastor felt towards Willow.

Another sip, another gag, another wandering thought. Charlie and Vaggie had separate rooms but occasionally they shared one of each others’ rooms. Tonight was one of those nights. Vaggie was sleeping in Charlie’s room tonight and there was no guessing as to why. Angel had made a few too many jokes for anyone’s comfort after the two had excused themselves to bed early. Nixie didn’t exactly dislike Angel, he was friendly and he was ride-or-die for those he considered friends, she found that admirable. Yet he hid his insecurities and inner hurt behind a thick wall of sexual jokes, a wall seemingly no one could penetrate. He’d probably make a joke of that sentence to avoid the conversation. She didn’t mind him in the hotel, he could be useful at times and occasionally she enjoyed his company, she simply disliked his overly sexual nature and extensive jokes as a coping mechanism. She also wasn’t a fan of him trying to sell her drugs to pay off his own drug deals. If she wanted to get high all she needed to do was request a poppy seed from Willow, she charged next to nothing for them, sometimes giving them to her for free if Willow knew she had a rough day.

At the thought of it she took yet another sharp gulp, her tongue coiling at the taste. She was starting to feel woozy. By instinct her waist and torso dissolved, leaving only her head and the arm holding the beer solidified. As the beer fuzzed her thoughts she began to think a little deeper with less restraint to her feelings. She began to think about him. He almost always wore a sour expression but his effort to bring her to bed showed he had a warm heart. His fur was so soft and fluffy she wanted to wash and brush it daily, just to have an excuse to put her hands on his fur. She adored his little accessories: his top hat and bow tie, he looked like a cute little magician and she loved the idea of it. She always questioned what he looked like in his prime as a human, whatever those looked like. His card shows were enchanting, she couldn’t get enough of them. She’d always wanted to be around someone who could pull off magic without some cheap trick up their sleeve, without a Hell-born or sinner advantage, and he had neither. His wings were gorgeous; the feathers were so soft she just wanted to pluck one and keep it for herself; the scent alone was comforting despite having the smell of a seedy bar. The gambling motif on each wing was lovely to her, even if he disliked it. The feathers adorning the end of his tail were unique, she always wanted to run a finger through them and feel his tail feathers. Her only remaining question was, how did he react around children? That question burned in her mind. With every partner she had in the past, her most important concern was how they were with children. If they couldn’t handle children, their relationship likely wouldn’t work out.

The topic of him made her chest ache deeper; she finished the latter half of the bottle in one guzzle, repeatedly gagging and choking along the way but pulling it off, leaving only a single swallow of beer left and setting it on the bathtub rim. She felt unbearably dizzy and nauseous and knew she needed to sleep, she’d had too much alcohol for one night. Perhaps she should stick to beer and forget vodka-based drinks. She slowly dissolved into the water, music still playing, falling into a heavy slumber. Her hand was last to go, knocking the beer bottle off the rim of the bathtub and spilling the contents onto the floor.

Do I wanna know, If this feeling goes both ways?Sad to see you go, Was sorta hoping that you’d stay.

Three days slugged by. For the most part Nixie avoided Husk, remaining either in her room or with Willow. Any time Husk crossed her path she looked anxious, swiftly moving away from him and chasing down her friend or racing to her room without responding to any of his greetings. He understood if she felt embarrassed by the events a few nights prior but, to entirely ignore him? It was rude, and unlike her. His very presence made her panicked.

Husk knew damned well Willow didn’t drink and wasn’t affected by alcohol, yet she repeatedly came to him requesting Bud Limes, claiming it was for her plants. He was just about positive it wasn’t for her plants but he obliged, passing her the drink without much of a question. Willow would then run off, ears fluttering anxiously. She treated her requests for alcohol like a drug deal.

If he was honest with himself, he missed seeing the water nymph Overlord passing through the hotel. He missed her making a sassy remark towards Alastor any time he made a romantic gesture towards Willow. He missed the spark in her eye as he made some card trick he pulled from his ass. The one time he managed to actually slip the correct card in an empty vodka bottle and called her a ‘queen of hearts’ still made him feel all mushy inside, something he thought no longer existed inside him. He missed the night she got absolutely shit-faced and he carried her to bed as she giggled and leaned into him. The way he pulled her up bridal style to place her in her little pool to sleep for the night and how she cried out in delight about how romantic he was; likely loud enough for Alastor to hear. He missed the way her lilac eye glowed under the neon sign of his bar and how her bright heart-shaped heather pupil brimmed when she gazed directly at him. He missed her obvious affection and bias towards him.

Why did he miss these little details? She was just another staff member…Correct? That night always stuck in his memory, seeing her drunk and flushed a dark shade of blue, giggly and sweet. She called him romantic. He was convinced he could no longer love. Not platonically, not romantically. Right? Did she feel this same confusion he felt, or did she feel nothing toward him and had simply been drunk? It drove him insane, all these questions.

Darlin’ we both know, That the nights were mainly made for saying thingsThat you can’t say tomorrow day.

It was dark, the moon high in the sky. Around midnight, Husk had to guess. Each of the staff had retired to bed by now. He’d done his work for the day, manning the check-in desk and handing out alcohol to those who paid and staff who requested. Willow still asked for the Bud Limes and skittered off with them. He hadn’t seen Nixie in a week. There was a new loneliness in his chest, foreign and painful.

He missed her smile. He missed that odd little swirl of water above her head that appeared to foam over sometimes. He couldn’t help but repeatedly recall the night she called him romantic. Had she meant it, or not? The question bugged him relentlessly. He had to know. He had to ask her tonight.

Leaving his station at the bar Husk moved up the stairs quietly, so as not to alert anyone to his movement. He crept up the first flight of stairs, finding Nixie’s room. Quietly he opened it, the door creaking softly. He slipped in, shutting it behind him. The bubble barrier had since been repaired, he felt bad breaking it again but he had to get through to enter. Before he could speak to her though he had to explore her room further, he needed to know what a water nymph decorated their room with. Passing the bubble barrier and entering a new room he was met with a flat screen television with bean bags in front of said television on the floor, presumably to sit on; a row of shelves sat nearby, mostly empty. Looking around, he could see a lovely blue couch with green leaf-decorated pillows placed neatly at either end, like a display piece, though it was visibly sat on. Entering further into the room he noticed a plant in a pot labeled “Water Hemlock, do not eat”; he assumed it was some poisonous plant Willow gave her as a decoration. The flowers were deceivingly pretty however.

Not far from the plant was a mid-sized bookshelf, filled nicely with books. Most of them were botanic books of course, though some were romance books of varying genres, with the occasional war era book. He found those interesting at least. Past the bookshelf was a walk-in wardrobe with a surprisingly small selection of clothing, mostly work shirts, pajamas and jeans, shorts folded semi-neatly on the floor of the wardrobe. Looking to his far right he saw a blue love-seat with scattered potted plants sitting on the floor around it, likely dangerous. Behind the love-seat was an aquarium full of fish in varying sizes, swimming aimlessly. They appeared well cared for; their water was clean, the aquarium had a filter and automatic food dispenser and to his assumption from his distance, they looked fine. Yet, against his better judgment he chose to investigate those plants and fish. The first pot he looked at directly beside the love-seat was labeled “Deadly Nightshade, do not touch”. Note taken. The second pot, placed further to the side of the love-seat, read “Rosary Pea, do not touch or eat”. He didn’t understand why she needed to label her own plants, unless she brought others into her room regularly. The final plant, hidden behind the love-seat, was labeled “Tobacco, ask before taking”. So she made cigarettes for staff and residents he assumed. That or she sold the plant for their own use. It wasn’t his business.

He’d already noticed a restroom but Nixie was made of water, she had no need for one; it was likely for guests. Observing the fish tank he mostly saw small fish floating about, minding their business. They seemed unaware of his presence. He found it enchanting. Was this aquarium full of magic water or normal water? How did Nixie acquire all these fish? Which was her favorite? He would have been stuck staring at the entrancing fish swimming past him…Had a shark not swam up to him, teeth bared, scaring him half shit-less. He almost fell on his ass at the sight of the shark. Seeing him having moved away the shark swam off, seemingly satisfied that he was no longer observing the fish up close. That wasn’t what he was here for however; finally, he saw the door he’d swung open that night when he hauled her to bed. If she was anywhere, she was here.

Gently pushing the door open he whispered in his gruff voice, “Nixie!” No response. She must be dissolved in her tub and he wasn’t sure if draining the tub would suck her down too. So he tried again. “Nixie!” He whispered a little louder. He heard a soft splash, like a small movement, but nothing further. Perhaps he was stirring her. “Nixie, wake up!” He spoke up in a soft voice. Finally he heard a series of splashes and, peeking in, he saw a physical body of water pulling out from the tub, water spilling over the rim. “Who’s there?” She whispered back, her speech slurred from either the three Bud Limes Willow brought her that day or from sleep. He sighed; “it’s Husker, who else sounds like me?” He heard a patient yet mildly upset groan. “You understand I dissolve in water correct? As in, I sleep naked? If you can see me I’m shaving your tail,” she threatened. He trusted that threat and, in the most convincing voice, hiding his face he replied, “no, I can’t see you. Get dressed, I need to speak with you.” A sigh followed his request. “Fine, give me three minutes, be patient.”

Husk stood outside the door to what he assumed to be her personal bedroom, glancing around at the mirrors and bubble barrier boredly as he waited for Nixie to get dressed. He felt kind of bad for breaking that bubble barrier, it probably wasn't the easiest to repair. He’d make it up to her somehow; he’d fix her a stiff drink or pass her a couple of what seemed to be her favorite drink, a Bud Lime. He knew that wasn’t exactly a healthy thing but he wasn’t one to talk, he was drunk at least 60 percent of the day.

True to her word, about three minutes later Nixie was out of her room, dressed in a red jersey and tiny gray shorts, the clothes barely covered her lower body. Shooting his eyes up to stare her in the eye he spoke softly, “why are you avoiding me?” She looked away for what seemed like forever, as if thinking heavily, and responded, “I wasn’t sure how to approach you after the night I got drunk and you carried me to my room; I acted like an idiot”. Husk snorted, “trust me, I’ve seen worse; all you did was giggle a lot and squawk about how ‘romantic’ I was for lifting you up to get you in your little pool”. Nixie flushed in the dark light and looked away, her hopbush eye glowing and her amaranth heart-shaped iris staring a hole into her floor. “Oh, yeah, I guess that did happen…” She mumbled quietly. “Is that all you wanted to ask?” She inquired, snapping her eye back to him. Husk bit his bottom lip and responded, “no, we need to talk. Now.” Nixie frowned. “At this hour?” She responded in surprise. “Yes, while everyone is asleep,” Husk urged. She sighed, seeing his point. “Okay, but let’s take this to your bar.”

Husk led Nixie from her room to the bar in silence. Without her needing to ask he cracked a cold Bud Lime open and slid it to her. She blinked in surprise but accepted. “What made you think I wanted alcohol?” She inquired; Husk just chuckled. “Willow isn’t affected by alcohol and no one else drinks Bud Lime, or anything Bud Light for that matter.” Nixie looked ashamed, her ears pressed flat to her head, not meeting his gaze. “No issue with it, I just wish you’d asked for it yourself,” he followed up his previous statement. “What did you need to discuss?” She intentionally changed the topic, taking a long drink of her Bud Lime. She must have become adjusted to the taste, she no longer winced at the flavor of beer. Husk was beginning to have second thoughts…But shook them away. It was now or never.

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” he assured her. “Don’t worry, I’m sober,” he added when he saw doubt in her eye. She held the bottle to her lips, waiting for him to continue. He scratched the back of his neck with his claws nervously, he should have planned this before dragging her out of bed at midnight. Checking the clock it was actually two in the morning, fuck. She swallowed down another long swig. He had a whole six pack with her name in sharpie on it if this took a while.

“The night I made you that martini, and you got drunk,” he began, watching for a reaction. She remained calm and sipped slowly on her beer, as if savoring the burn of alcohol. “You wailed out very audibly about how romantic I was when I scooped you up to get you in your pool. Did you mean it?” He blurted it out in a fast sentence, his ears pinned down and heart pounding. He feared she was going to say no, laugh it off and ask for another beer to drink off the question. Instead she gazed at him, eye wide.

Crawling back to you.Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?‘Cause I always do.

Nixie gazed at Husk in shock. He not only remembered that night, he was mentioning it to her and asking if she meant it? She felt her heart sink. If she said yes, what if he laughed in her face? If she said no, what if he was hurt? If she said she was unsure, what if he was disappointed? She felt her eye widen at the question and gazed at him, scared of how to answer. She sat at his bar, barely even dressed, not even a bra on, drinking one of his beers. She choked down the rest of the bottle, easily two thirds of the bottle full of bitter lime tainted beer. She no longer felt an effect from the beer, as Willow had brought her so many in the past week, but she couldn’t discuss this soberly. “Pass me another beer and I’ll answer you,” she replied. Husk obliged, popping another Bud Lime against his bar table and passing it to her. She took a long drink and sighed. She had no choice now. If he was giving her free drinks she owed him the truth.

Nixie gupled. “If I were fully sober I wouldn’t be able to answer this,” she began, as an explanation as to why she wanted the beer. Husk nodded, full attention on her. She took another drink hastily. “I just want you to know I’m aware enough to know I’m telling you the truth, and you should keep that in mind.” She told him after another drink. “Beer doesn’t really affect me anymore, it just calms me down; I’ve had so many lately I’ve grown used to them.” She sighed; she knew Husk was aware she was dancing around answering him.

“I…I meant it,” she replied. “There was so much more to that I didn’t say because I wasn’t drunk enough,” she began spilling, taking short sips in between sentences. “I think you’re romantic. You don’t want to admit it to anyone but you’re kind and caring, otherwise you wouldn’t have carried me to bed; you made me feel special. No one has made me feel special.” She swallowed more beer as she spoke, still sober but dizzy from exhaustion, she’d been up late reading War and Peace again. “Other Overlords are polite to me but only because Lucifer requires it. You’re kind to me because you choose to be.” Nixie finished her statement with a long, heavy drink of the rest of her beer, chugging it down before she could taste it. The entire time, Husk never changed his expression. He had a wide eyed frown, ochre irises expanded. She almost wanted to dissolve into a puddle on the floor to escape his stare. She knew feline demons stared but this made her uncomfortable.

After a painfully long silence Husk broke with a cough, he responded, “I uh, I see. I wasn’t expecting that response.” He admitted, shifting his eyes away. Nixie tilted her head to the side. “What did you expect?” She inquired out of curiosity. Husk shrugged. “I don’t know; I’m just a drunk old man, I expected you to laugh in my face and tell me you were joking with me and walk back to bed”. Nixie felt her ears fall down to her head, she felt terrible for him. She didn’t understand the idea of ‘old man’, he didn’t look old to her but perhaps he was once old as a human; it didn’t matter to her. She felt terrible that he believed she would laugh in his face and deny her interest in him.

“For another drink I’ll tell you more,” she bargained. With a playful roll of his eyes he pulled out the third beer and popped it open. “You’re not drunk?” He asked, an eyebrow lifted. She shook her head; “nope, I’m used to these thanks to Willow’s help. I can handle lots of them.” With that she took a swig. It was visible she disliked the taste but she tolerated it. “I could like, put some non-alcoholic martini flavor in that or put it in a soda,” he offered. She denied his suggestion, “that would dilute the alcohol and trust me, doing this sober is hard; if my throat burns at the very least, I can pull this off”.

With a huff and a short sip she set her drink down and clasped her hands together, fingers tangling into each other. “Honestly? Every time I’m up late, I’m tempted to come see you. I’d love to sit at this bar and read a good book or scroll down my phone. Just spend some time with you, occasionally steal a look up at you and adore your features. I lay awake at night thinking about you. You’re always on my mind,” she ended in a whisper as she stroked his furry face, having leaned over the bar table a little as she spoke.

“Do you ever consider coming to visit me after you’ve had a few drinks in your system?” She boldly inquired, her stomach twisting. “I do, every time I get a few beers down. Willow always convinces me otherwise, telling me I’m not emotionally ready,” she confessed. The look in Husk’s eyes, the conflict, told her she’d said too much and, taking the mostly full bottle of beer in her hand she stood and jogged off, quietly moving up the stairs and to the door to her room. Husk hadn’t followed her.

Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall For somebody new. Now I’ve thought it through.

About a week after the late night encounter with Husk, Nixie lost count of the days, Charlie announced she was hosting a surprise party and everyone was invited - her friendly way of saying everyone was required to come. Nixie didn’t exactly hate parties but she wasn’t a fan. She couldn’t dance to save her life nor could she socialize, she always found herself in a corner making little water spouts alone.

Vaggie listed off the rules. There would be no sex - she looked at Angel as she made that statement. No violence, no makeout sessions, no attempts to ruin the party and no misbehaving. Angel looked a little disappointed he couldn’t pull someone aside for a wham bam, Husk held the same expression Nixie felt inside - mild disgust but mostly indifference, Alastor seemed rather excited and was trying to convince Willow to at least try to socialize beside him and Niffty, who had been dusting off a television, gave a thumbs up and resumed her usual cleaning of the hotel. How she had all that energy, Nixie was unsure. How much caffeine did the smaller cyclops consume?

“Unfortunately, however,” Charlie spoke up, getting everyone’s attention. “My parents, who aren’t attending, demanded I invite everyone. I managed to keep Valentino from coming but the other Overlords are coming and so are some sinners and Hell-borns.” She explained, looking towards Angel as she mentioned excluding Valentino; he looked relieved. Nixie could understand as to why, the man was perverted and abusive at his best. “Otherwise, we need to get this hotel decorated by 9 PM!” This was followed by a mix of surprised and pissed noises. “I know it’s sudden, I only just learned about this too but my parents are doing this for my birthday so please be on your best behavior.” Charlie pleaded; no one had the guts to argue with the Princess of Hell on her birthday. Nixie recalled the day Charlie was born but never gave the date or the year, as the Princess expressed she wanted to keep that information private. Apparently she trusted the staff enough to tell them the reason behind this surprise party.

“I’ll handle banners and hanging stuff!” Angel offered immediately; he was the tallest in the room so that made sense. “I’ll make this place clean as a whistle!” Niffty added, holding up her beloved feather duster. “I can help with the guest list,” Alastor offered. “I guess I’ll do the drinks,” Husk mumbled under his fur. That left Nixie and Willow.

“Nixie, Willow, can you set up a nice assembly of flowers for us?” Charlie requested politely. Nixie understood the idea; Willow would plant the seeds and, using her magic water, Nixie could make them grow into full flowers. It would be draining but she owed it to the Princess for a favor done long ago. Nodding, she turned to Willow. “Up for it?” Willow looked back at her, gazing into her Smyrna eye with her grass green irises. She nodded her head. “Let’s do this,” she agreed in a quiet, firm voice.

Together, Nixie and Willow planted and grew countless flowers of a few colors. Snowdrops for empathy, Violas for faith, Verbena for creativity and blue Irises for bravery and independence. Nixie really had too many botany books. The two women worked together on decoration ideas, though Nixie was too tired to decorate herself and had to place her hand on the spout of Husk’s water tap just to keep on her feet. She’d point and suggest, and Willow would follow while having her own ideas and asking for suggestions from Alastor.

Nixie suggested a friendly display of Violas right above the fireplace, to add some pop to it. Willow chose to place a couple vases of snowdrops in regular water on each party table, she’d asked Nixie to make many. Willow also thought it would be cute if she took the heads of the blue Irises and arranged them into a heart where Charlie and Vaggie would sit. At some point Alastor popped in, much to Nixie’s chagrin, and suggested Nixie herself weave a flower crown for Charlie. She hated that he had that idea before she did but agreed, on the condition she picked the flowers and arrangement. He told her to just make it look good on her and, with her blonde hair and pale skin in mind Nixie set to work. She took a few Snowdrops, a couple red carnations she’d already had potted and grown and some previously grown yellow pansies. The colors offset each other but they represented the Venezuelan flag, the ‘country’ of origin Vaggie was born in when she was alive. She understood next to none of it but she wanted to make something nice for Charlie that reminded her of her beloved girlfriend. Requesting the stems of the blue Irises Willow used to make the heart and, braiding the stems of the other flowers together and enforcing them with the stems of the blue Irises, she made a flower crown that would fit Charlie’s head and match her well.

Angel had hung the banners and stuck balloons to the wall as he promised. Husk had arranged his alcohol by strength. The hotel was squeaky clean. Vaggie had given the thumbs up to all the decorations and Charlie was hidden away from her surprise. Alastor had no more orders to pass out, to which Nixie was thankful for. She and Willow were done with their flowers and got the okay from Vaggie. Speaking of Vaggie, she had Charlie holed up in her room until the party so she wouldn’t see anything and be completely surprised. According to Vaggie she couldn’t even hear the rest of the staff. “This will be a potluck party,” Vaggie explained. “So no one is required to cook anything, we can all just kick back and wait for 9.” It was already 6 so, not a long wait. The staff went to do their usual business and Nixie returned to her room for a couple of hours to tend to her fish. Her baby shark, Cupcake, was certainly missing her and, though she disliked touching dead demon skin, she knew he was getting bored of fish food and feared he was going to eat one of his fish friends soon.

9 came along a little too soon for Nixie’s liking. As the clock struck 8:30 Vaggie had everyone but Charlie come out to be ready for guests who would be arriving early. Some guests Nixie didn’t recognize. Some she didn’t care to do more than greet. The occasional Overlord passed her and she gave a respectful bow, as is expected of Overlords. However, one Overlord entered and her water ran cold. Vox.

He was powerful. He held a monopoly over the entirety of media by now because of how popular television had become, both in Hell and in the living world. Charlie mentioned she managed to keep Valentino from coming but Nixie didn’t consider meeting Vox, nor the doll-like Overlord next to him, Velvet. She had only met the two during required Overlord meetings by Lucifer but she knew enough to know they were bad news. As per usual she bowed in respect. “Vox, Velvet,” she greeted. “It’s a pleasure to meet you here,” she lied through her teeth in a friendly voice. In truth she’d like to kick their asses out of the hotel with brute force but she had to be polite, for the sake of this party.

“Hi, Nix!!” Velvet spoke in that usual high pitched, northern Pride voice. She despised those she didn’t like using that nickname but she grit her teeth and bore it. “Hello to you too, Velvet,” she replied in a sweet tone. “I’ve been following your posts as of late; are you still seeing that guy you were taking selfies with?” At the mention of the sinner Velvet had been seeing she pouted like an impling. “No, I broke up with him; he’s so boring. I need someone who can keep up with me!” She explained in her swift voice. Nixie nodded along as if she understood. “As the romantics say, there’s a demon out there for everyone,” Nixie assured her. Turning to Vox she spoke, “I trust your business has been progressing well?” She prompted. Vox eyed her like a starved Greedling watching a sinner collapse and die in a bloody, fleshy mess of bone and muscle. “Oh, absolutely!” He replied in that colorfully glitchy voice. As much as she disliked Alastor she preferred the predictability of the static in his tone. “As per usual sales are through the roof, stocks are soaring and my staff are under my boot!” He cackled like a broken phone. Nixie nodded her head in fake interest, “I see.”

Before the conversation could continue the clock struck 9 and Vaggie brought Charlie out to the common room where the party was being held. Charlie gaped in shock; “you guys…” she whimpered with tears in her eyes. “Let’s get this party started!” She fisted the air, followed by cheering.

Nixie was never much for partying and as such stuck to the sidelines, sitting at a far off table in the darker region of the room sipping on coffee mixed with a considerable amount of rum, courtesy of Husk. Just to take the edge off her social anxiety. She watched the other visitors: sinners, Hell-borns - essentially her children, Overlords and everyone in-between, eating, drinking, dancing and having fun. Husk looked exhausted, having to tend the bar which was flooded by drunk party-goers trying to get more drinks. They visibly had little self control. She sent him a sympathetic smile; he appeared to have noticed and, in return, softened his expression in her direction for a moment, his bitter chocolate irises meeting her autumn purple pupil for an extended moment before he turned back to his work.

She sat in her chair, enjoying her coffee, comfortably alone. At least, until a tall slim figure appeared, hovering over her. She was expecting Alastor and lifted her head to meet his gaze but was instead met by the screen of none other than, once again, Vox. “I hear you have a pet shark!” He commented, an attempt to make conversation. Entertaining him she nodded in agreement. “How funny, I have a pet shark too! His name is Vark! And your shark’s name is…?” He prompted. She felt this conversation was stupid but caved in. “His name is Cupcake; don’t laugh, he’s just a baby shark,” she replied. Vox’s grin widened. “How cute! Our sharks can go on a shark date together someday!” He suggested with a humorous glitching laugh. She didn’t reply, turning back to her coffee. It was almost gone and Husk hadn’t given her a bottle of rum to refill with. This was going to be a difficult night indeed.

“What do you say we hit the dance floor and show these losers a good time?” He extended a clawed hand to her, pulsing with electricity. Normally she’d turn him down politely but with the rum running through her system and Husk busy with all the customers, she made a decision she’d come to regret. “Sure, why not,” she agreed in a flat voice, taking his hand as he led her to the dance floor. Sinners and Hell-borns both split apart, making a circle for the two. Countless eyes were on the duo, she felt like she would evaporate under the intensity. Vox’s right hand held hers, while his left hand sat on her waist, leading her left hand to rest on his shoulder, much to her distaste to do in public, it was too…Intimate. She knew Willow and Alastor were watching her but, this was just a dance right? This couldn’t go wrong.

Grinning widely on his screen he began by slowly sliding her to the left, rocking her and moving to the right, rocking her and taking two steps. By instinct she mimicked his movements. At first she didn’t understand but it hit her: this was the same dance Willow taught her, the Bolero. He carried along the dance for about two minutes, it felt like forever. She wanted to look anywhere but at him but she knew it would be impolite to turn her gaze away. Gazing up at his screen in inner turmoil she danced along in rhythm with him, their bodies in tandem. He finished with a bow, his hand holding her by the spine and her clutching his shoulder to not fall. Bent over her he appeared to have just claimed her, like a cannibal hovering over a freshly dead body. She hated it; she hated the smug smile on his face. Surrounding the two was a cheering crowd, many demons clapping at the performance. Velvet made a wolf-whistle and a drunk hollered out something undecipherable but supportive. Fear crept up her spine as he bent towards one of her tall ears and began to speak.

“We could be powerful, you know,” he whispered ever-so-sweetly. His tone was friendly but his words hid malice. “You hate the Radio Demon. I hate the Radio Demon, so do Velvet and Valentino. You could join us Nixie,” he cooed so kindly it could make a young Hell-born melt. No demon seemed aware of the words he hummed in her ear or the terror in her eye. “You would be business partners - no, friends with some of the most powerful Overlords known to Hell; we could finally kill that radio fucker and rule this wasteland ourselves. What do you say?” His last words dripped with venom, as if to scare her into agreement. She took a deep breath before she could answer, speaking softly.

“Vox, the offer is thoughtful,” she began, picking her words carefully. “But my best friend loves Alastor more than anything and though I dislike him I don't hate him, nor do I wish harm upon him. I’ve made so many friends here, I love them all dearly and I’d give my life for them, including Alastor. I’m sorry but I don’t wish to join you and your fellow Overlords.”

She didn’t blink once during the conversation. As she spoke her last sentence the lights of the hotel flickered at random intervals and demons were beginning to panic; his grasp on her body tightened. Nixie knew Vox was doing this, a whine rose in her throat. “Vox, you’re hurting me-” “shut up Playboy bunny,” he whispered, anger sparking in his voice. Several light bulbs shattered, shooting glass flying across the floor. Nixie could only stare up at the ceiling in horror. What had she done? In accepting his hand to a dance she’d opened herself to a deal of his and in denying it, she’d put so many demons in danger. She was ruining the Princess’ party. Willow was no doubt in a panic and Alastor could only do so much to calm her down without sedating her. Panic flared in her chest. Did she have no choice but to accept his deal, sell away her Hell-born soul to him, to keep these demons safe? Even Velvet looked startled, as if she hadn’t expected this kind of reaction.

“I’ve been watching you,” Vox hissed. Nixie’s ears flattened to her head as a new, primal fear grew in her chest. “I’ve watched you at meetings, I’ve watched you in public, I’ve watched you from your phone. You’re an Overlord with so much influence yet you waste it on this piece of shit hotel with these pieces of shit sinners.” She knew he was appealing to her bias towards Hell-borns to change her mind, forgetting he was a sinner himself. “Instead you could work with Overlords of your level; you could run this hopeless, desolate ring with us.” He spat the vicious words in her ear. His claws were digging into her spine, so deep that if she were a blooded demon she’d be pouring red. “Vox please, you’re digging into my back and terrifying everyone,” she begged. Her mauveine pupil searched his screen for any sign of renounce but he only showed anger, deep and burning like the fireplace not far away. “If I can’t have you…” He whispered, voice crackling, breaking and buzzing like a crashing system. With a rough hand he grabbed her by the ears and began to tug her along like a lifeless toy. She wailed in pain; she didn’t have the magic to change forms and dissipate away, she was stuck in this bunny-like state. He dragged her towards a prepped table of salt; all he had to do was place her head into the salt and shoot some electricity into it and her physical form would be destroyed, she knew it. He knew it too, otherwise he wouldn’t have set this up. Despite the harsh tugging on her ears Nixie heard Velvet cy out, “Vox stop it, this is over the top! Even for you!” Followed by a glitched, buzzing, broken voice shrieking back, “shut up you glorified whore.” Nixie was terrified. No one moved to stop him; no one could stop him. This was it. She was about ready to accept her fate, she had a good run…

A blur of black, white and red flashed past her, knocking Vox to the ground and freeing Nixie of his grasp. Her ears throbbed and she felt tears welling in her eye. Turning to see who had the literal balls to get in the way of Vox the fucking TV Demon she saw the backs of none other than Husk and the one demon she least expected: Alastor. The two towered over Vox who, knocked down, was at a disadvantage. Husk smashed an empty bottle against a table, shattering it and leaving it with several razor sharp tips, of which he brandished at Vox any time he attempted to stand back up. Generally Alastor would stop hom, telling him he was being too violent and a sloppy drunk. Yet, Husk was sober and Alastor made no attempt to stop him, instead lifting a foot with a hooved shoe and slamming it down to Vox’s ankle, specifically the subtalar joint and the transverse tarsal joint, earning a sharp cry of pain. With the joints needed to walk destroyed, Vox was incapable of standing to leave on his own. Nixie assumed Alastor only jumped in for Willow but when he turned to her for a moment he nodded at her. She couldn’t understand why he’d do this for her of all demons. She was a dick to him.

Turning back to Vox, Alastor sneered, “not so high and mighty now, are we?” And crushed Vox’s calcaneocubboid, a saddle joint, under his foot. Nixie could hear the crunch of bone and Vox shrieked out in a glitching, horrific manner, much to Alastor’s sadistic pleasure. For once, Nixie was grateful he could stomach doing this for a living. “To snatch a woman in such a manner and threaten her life for not accepting your advances…Despicable. This will be brought to Lucifer himself.” Alastor promised. Lifting his foot once more Vox began rapidly shaking his head, begging for the Radio Demon to stop. Husk intercepted him at the last moment and Alastor gave him a look of confusion. “Please, give me the honor,” he requested. Alastor nodded his head in new understanding and provided Husk center stage. Vox stared up at him like a beaten dog. “What do you plan to do, you old drunk?” Vox taunted. Husk snorted, his claws closing in on his paw, digging into the heart on his pad. “This,” was his only answer before slamming his fist into Vox’s screen, shattering it into countless pieces. Glass poured onto the floor and Nixie felt shards dig into her legs, of which she swiftly scraped out. Gasping and noises of shock filled the room; an average, seemingly lowly sinner shattered the face of an Overlord.

Vox only coughed and groaned, blue liquid seeping from where his screen once was. “Fuck, fuck..” He choked out in a glitched, broken, ruined voice. Nixie would have felt bad for her fellow Overlord…Had he not attempted to destroy her physical form and take her life. Except, the party was ruined thanks to this occurrence and it was all her fault. Sitting down in the closest chair she put her face in her hands, trying to hide her eye as tears formed and flowed down her face, dripping off her muzzle to the ground. Once again she’d let down the Princess. Her lips quivered, teeth bared in anger towards herself. She wanted to punch herself in the stomach, kick a wall, anything to release this anger. She only realized she wasn’t breathing when her lungs ached terribly for air and, in taking a breath in, the sobs came pouring out in turn.

Nixie, Overlord of Mythology, a water nymph known for her air of aloofness and detachment, sat in a chair audibly crying. It was humiliating. Yet, she couldn’t stop it or hold it in any longer. She spent her entire life fighting for Hell-borns, clawing her way up the political ladder to the achievement of Overlord…And this had to happen?

She essentially mothered so many Hell-borns in her days as an Overlord. When Charlie was a rebellious teenager and ran from home Nixie found her alone in an alleyway, crying the way Nixie was now for her mother and father, begging to know what she did to deserve the pain she felt. Nixie finally understood how the young teen felt. She’d comforted the young woman and led her home, having never left her side afterward, becoming somewhat affiliated with the royal family through Charlie. Charlie accidentally referred to her as ‘big sis’ so many times she lost count. Nixie just wanted one chance to prove to Charlie she was worth the effort, she was worth the time, she was worth the job at the hotel, even for free.

She felt sob after sob rack her body, her face pointed to the ceiling so no one could view the unadulterated hurt in her face as she wailed. She couldn’t muster the emotional energy to be angry anymore, Husk had broken Vox’s screen and Velvet was dragging him out by one leg, promising to other Overlords and Alastor in specific that none of what Vox did was made aware to her. She didn’t believe Velvet before, she couldn’t believe Velvet anymore. How could she trust anyone now? A fellow Overlord dragged her onto a dance floor in an attempt to pressure her into agreeing with his offer and when she declined everything went to shit. At a touch on her shoulder she jerked violently, nearly punching the gut of whoever was placing themselves on her. Panic shot through her veins once more; was she traumatized from this?

A fuzzy clawed hand grabbed her face and pulled it up to make eye contact. His breathing was labored and he looked like he could kill something. Blue liquid, presumably Vox’s blood, poured off his right paw onto the floor. He jerked her attention back to him gently, holding her face in position to keep her from looking back at his paw. Her wide, panicked metallic purple iris searched his maple syrup irises for something, anything to comfort her tragic fear. He had a look of both anger and sympathy. With his clean paw he gently wiped away the tears streaming from her eye down her muzzle, careful of his claw. Despite how dangerous he could be - how dangerous he just was - she never felt safer than she did in that moment, with him covering her form. She threw her arms around the feline demon’s neck, holding him as if her life depended on it, sobbing into his fluffed fur. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in a cracking voice. “I’ll dry your fur later.” Husk gave a small chuckle; “I don’t mind a quick clean,” he replied in a humored tone. Despite the pain in her chest, the fear in her stomach and the tears pouring from her eye she cracked a small smile across her muzzle, burying her face into the crook of his neck and sobbing, choking, bawling and whimpering. Husk moved his muzzle to her bruised ear and whispered something in a language she didn’t understand or recognize. “Я бы убил за тебя ублюдка, куколка,” he spoke in an almost inaudible voice.

Pulling from her he looked her in the eye. “I did that for you,” he told her bluntly. She stared up at him in silence, unsure of how to respond. “I…I thought you just didn’t like him or something…” Husk shook his head no. “I hate that fucker because he put a hand on you when you told him it hurt,” he replied. “You heard that?” She inquired, fresh tears welling at the new memory. He shushed her soothingly, swiping the tears from her face as they fell. “Yes, I heard it all; cat hearing and all that shit,” he responded. Her lips quivered. She didn’t know how to tell him. Taking a hand and pushing down his paw to allow her tears to run down her face she spoke softly, “I turned him down for you.”

Do I wanna know, If this feeling goes both ways?It’s sad to see you go, Was sorta hoping that you’d stay.

The party was a bust. The guests were all gone an hour after it started. All the hard work was wasted, Vox’s blood was still puddled on the floor and each staff member looked sorely disappointed. Nixie felt awful. She knew it was her fault and she physically couldn’t stop crying, even when Husk tried to calm her.

Pushing past Alastor against his advice Willow ran up to her, fear in her eyes. “Your ears!” She exclaimed in shock. Yes, her ears were aching severely. Willow frowned and turned to the staff. “I’m sorry everyone but she needs a quick patch up.” With that Willow gently tugged her by the arm across the common room, to the alcove where her clinic sat.

Willow shut the door behind them and Nixie sat down in the furthest chair, face in her hands. Alone with her best friend, she let her true emotions out. “I ruined the party!” She whined, her voice cracking with pain. Willow looked at her with sympathy, pulling a small pad and pen from her overalls. “It wasn’t you, it was Vox; he couldn’t take no for an answer,” she replied in a matter-of-fact voice, but Nixie couldn’t find it in herself to believe her friend. “Charlie must hate me,” she lamented, tears streaking her face and muzzle. Willow gazed up at her. “I spoke to Charlie a minute ago, she doesn’t blame you one bit. She’s going to talk to her dad about this.” She assured; Nixie looked away in thought, if anyone could fix this, it was the king of Hell himself. Considering how close she was to Charlie and Lilith, she trusted this would be handled swiftly.

“I need to look at your ears,” Willow brought Nixie back to the present, placing her pen and pad on a table. “I need to see the damage and what kind of pain medication you’ll need, what I can do to fix this, if there’s any permanent damage,” she explained briskly, looking around Nixie’s head and long ears. “Do I have your permission to touch and feel them? It’ll hurt but I promise to be gentle.” Nixie gazed at her in surprise. No one had requested permission, let alone promised to be gentle with her before doing anything to or with her. Hesitantly she nodded. “Yes, you can, but please stop if I tell you it hurts too much,” she begged, tears still dripping off her chin. “Of course, tell me how it feels the entire time.” With that Willow put a pair of gloves on all four hands and began her examination.

Yet, as soon as she touched Nixie’s ears she cried in pain, it hurt so bad she cried once more, pulling herself away. “Does it hurt that bad?” Willow prompted. Nixie nodded her head in response. Willow sighed softly. “I’m sorry Nix but I need to take a good look at your ears, please don’t pull away or scream.” She placed a hand on one ear at a time with a gentler touch, squeezing ever so softly. Nixie clutched the chair she sat in, crushing each arm in her hands so hard she feared she may break the chair, forcing herself to not kick Willow off her. Her breathing was labored, tears of pain dripping off her muzzle. It felt like forever before Willow pulled away.

“The ligaments seem torn, some muscles are probably ripped and the cartilage is partially shattered in each ear; how hard did he grab them?” She finished with the question, looking at Nixie. Nixie avoided Willow’s gaze, lips pursed. “I…I don’t remember. It all happened so fast. One moment he was taking me over to that table of salt by the ears, the next Alastor and Husk were there.” She confessed, looking anywhere but at her friend. Willow sighed. “That sounds like short-term memory loss at best,” she hummed, turning around. Opening a drawer she dug around for a moment and pulled out a white bottle with crude writing Nixie couldn’t quite make out. “I never do this,” she stated as she passed the bottle to Nixie, “but this is Hydrocodone, made from my own Opium plant. I trust you not to abuse it.” Nixie observed the bottle, the writing simply read ‘do not touch’. She nodded her head in agreement. “No abuse.” She promised. “I can’t exactly wrap your ears,” Willow thought out loud. “But I can apply a cream and your water will absorb it and that should help with any torn muscle and sinew - so the pain should ease a bit after a few minutes.” With that decided she pulled a visibly used tub of cream out and helped keep Nixie still with one set of hands, applying the cream using her upper hands. Nixie squirmed and whined but never pulled away, trusting her friend to be gentle enough to not intentionally hurt her.

After having the cream applied to her ears and absorbing it Nixie promptly exited the clinic; she was thankful her friend tried to help but she didn’t want to talk any further about it. Exiting the clinic she was met by only two faces: Charlie and Husk. Charlie wore a face of deep sadness and Husk appeared to be struggling to hide his emotions but she could see the conflict in his eyes. Charlie beckoned her out to speak.

“I know tonight was… hard on you,” Charlie began to speak as the three sat down at a table. To Nixie’s surprise most of the mess and decorations had been cleaned away, no doubt by Niffty. All that remained was the occasional balloon and the puddle of Vox’s blood, drying into the tile. She snapped herself back to Charlie who had stopped speaking as she looked around the common room in silent contemplation. “We understand if you don’t want to discuss this tonight, or ever, but I have to talk to my dad about this.” Charlie was trying to convince her to let her tell her father about what Vox had done. Nixie had no issue with that. “You don’t need to talk me into it,” she interrupted gently. “Tell him at your own leisure. I’ll be fine soon.” The second sentence was a lie and Husk appeared aware of that, the Princess blissfully ignorant to it. “I believe you, but I have an emergency number for events like these,” she explained. “If I call this emergency number he’ll pick up immediately and I can tell him what happened and I assure you, you won’t be harassed again. You’ll have bodyguards, day and night protection, an emergency number, a-” “Charlie sweetheart, I don’t want any of that.” Nixie felt terrible to interrupt.

“All I want is to not be spoken to by Vox or anyone he associates himself with again,” she requested. Charlie frowned and nodded. “Okay. Let me step outside and call this number, I’ll be back soon. For now Husk is here to make sure you’re okay.” With that the Princess stood up and exited the hotel. An awkward silence fell between the two. Nixie intertwined her fingers and placed them on the table, staring down the table skirt. From under the table Husk produced a small bottle of liquor, Nixie lifted her eye up at him. “How did you sneak that here?” She whispered. Husk grinned; “magicians never share their tricks,” he teased as he opened it. “You want some?” He offered, passing it to her. Nixie rolled the pill bottle around in her hand; it was impossible to die in Hell by technicality so there would be no issue in mixing Opium with hard liquor. “Sure, why not.” She replied flatly and popped open her pill bottle, placing two pills in her hand and swallowing them down with the liquor - it was whiskey, classic of Husk. Nixie could hear Charlie finishing her conversation with her father and hurriedly passed the bottle back to Husk who expertly hid it and twisted the cap back on. Nixie popped the cap back on her medication and slipped it in her pocket. Charlie entered the hotel again, a sad smile on her face and sat down, facing Nixie. “Okay, he’s handling it as we’re talking but in short, you won’t have to worry about Vox anymore. He’s no longer a threat,” Charlie assured her. Nixie forced a smile onto her face but she knew it didn’t convince either demon. Charlie sighed depressively. “I know you’re upset, I can’t fix that, but I can keep him out of your personal circle,” Charlie was attempting to make her feel better.

Nixie felt her frown return. “Charlie, your birthday is ruined because of me,” she whimpered softly. Charlie tilted her head; “how?” She inquired. Nixie took a deep breath. “Vox asked me for a dance and I thought it would just be a dance, so I accepted. During that dance he copied off Willow he dipped me and was talking about how we could be great business partners and rule the Pride ring and all that… and I turned him down. He got absolutely pissed, one thing led to another and I thought I was going to lose my physical form tonight.” She finished, not looking at either demon. She was terrified of their expressions. She had no choice but to look up when Charlie took her by the hands; her eyes glistened with unspilled tears. She’d upset the Princess. “No, no, don't cry,” Nixie pleaded. “Not on your special day…” Her voice faltered as she spoke. Charlie sniffled and gently wrapped her arms around her in the softest hug she’d experienced in so long she couldn’t remember. Unsure of how to react she placed her hands on Charlie’s spine to reciprocate the affection somewhat. “I’m so sorry…” Charlie whispered in Nixie’s ear. She didn’t respond, she didn’t have a response. All the sympathetic apologies in the world wouldn’t change what happened that night. Her ears didn’t hurt as bad anymore and she could move them again, albeit only slightly. Charlie pulled away a minute later; “I’m sorry but I have to go to my room for the night, I need to see my dad tomorrow,” she excused herself to her room, leaving Nixie alone with Husk. Another awkward silence fell between the two for a few minutes before he stood, prepared to leave.

“Wait,” Nixie begged in a faltering voice. She caught his attention and he gazed at her, waiting for a follow-up. Gulping she replied, “I-I um, I was hoping you would stay with me.” She finished, almost wanting to turn into a puddle just at the admission. Lifting an eyebrow he asked, “why? I’m just an old drunk, I can’t offer you anything”. Nixie was taken by surprise. “What you did back there wasn’t necessary but you jumped in and smashed his screen like it was nothing, you asked Alastor for the honor to do it. You don’t do that for anyone. Why me?” Husk hesitated for a moment and pulled out his whiskey flask, taking a long drink, and replied, “ask me later tonight; and here, have another drink before I go.” She accepted his offer and sipped down some of the whiskey, passing it back to him with a broken smile, before he left. The throb in her chest didn’t ease as he stepped away; if anything it only worsened

Darlin’ we both know, That the nights were mainly made for saying thingsThat you can’t say tomorrow day, ohCrawling back to you.

Nixie found herself sitting outside at a late hour of the night, a cigarette in hand and pack in her pocket. She knew she shouldn’t be smoking. Her father was a stickler about cigarettes despite having smoked them himself. Yet here she was, smoking on the balcony, trying to not cry again. Her face ached from repeated sob sessions. She’d yet to see Husk and assumed he went to bed, having got so drunk he forgot.

“Is this balcony taken?” Bouncing a foot or so in the air at the sound of a voice behind her she whipped around, locking her eye with those of Husker’s. He wore a sympathetic expression, something she’d never seen. In one hand were two six packs with a few packs of cigarettes on top, and in the other… a cell phone? Since when did this guy get into modern tech? “Usually I’d say yes but, you’re an exception,” she joked, smiling through her tears and broken voice. Husk slid the balcony door shut behind him, muttering about Vaggie not wanting smoke in the hotel and sat his groceries down as he settled onto the concrete next to her. Grabbing a pack and opening it to pull out a cigarette he turned and asked, “feeling any better?” Nixie just shook her head; her tears and the cracks in her voice should have made that evident, he was no fool.

Noticing her cigarette was burned down to the filter, she rubbed it out and tossed it over the balcony into some bushes. She reached into her pack, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it. She took the first drag and held the inhale.. She knew she was going to blow through this and immediately light another one but really, she didn’t care tonight. After everything that had happened, both in public and private, she felt she deserved to indulge just a little. Husk next to her with a 6 pack each and a few packs of cigarettes to last a while was comforting. She turned to the feline demon under the dim light of the balcony, a smile lining her lips despite the tears streaming down her face and muzzle, though the pain in her ears was returning. “I suppose you enjoy the night time?” She asked playfully, nudging him on the shoulder. He returned her gesture with a rare genuine smile. “Only with people I like,” he hummed in response. She found his smile quite a sight, she was unsure why he didn’t smile more often.

Husk set his phone on the ground, unlocked oddly. Nixie tried her best to ignore the wallpaper, not looking long enough to see what it could be. Husk popped open a beer and the sound of the bottle opening throbbed in her ears. Digging in her pockets she pulled her medication from her pocket. “Can you pass me a beer?” She requested, pouring two pills into her hand. Husk did as asked, passing her a beer without opening it. Nixie used enforced water to mute the sound of the bottle popping and swallowed down her pills with the beer, it didn’t taste too bad. She took a few more swigs and set it down, breathing on her cigarette. It burned her throat and she knew the nicotine was bad for water-based demons but she couldn’t care less tonight. She was heart broken. She couldn’t hold in the small hicc when a fresh sob came over her, swallowed by a cigarette puff.

Husk glanced over to her, beer in hand. “Still upset about Vox? Charlie’s got it covered,” he attempted to comfort her. She knew he couldn’t understand but there was no harm in venting. “No,” she whimpered gently. “It’s my shitty ex. We got into a bad fight and I had to block him, again.” She emphasized the word. “It got ugly and I feel so alone now. I almost want to unblock him and apologize, but he was so terrible, even as just a friend.” She finished her statement and took a long, heavy puff of her cigarette, followed by a guzzle of beer, Husk nodding along.

Pushing his phone away, Husk scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Nixie, pulling her in against him. She relaxed into his soft, warm fur, smoking her cigarette and drinking her beer quietly. The two sat like that for a little while. The silence was comfortable, words weren’t required there. His touch was his form of offering comfort and relaxing into him was her form of acceptance. When she finished a cigarette she just lit another, and when she finished a bottle of beer he gave her another; the two drank in tandem, taking drinks at the same time. She could have sat like that all night.

“So this guy, he’s a real piece of shit huh?” Husk prompted from above her. Not looking up, she agreed quietly. “He did a lot of bad things, and not just to me. I know he’s not a good guy. But I don’t want to be alone…” Her voice ended with a whimper. She felt another rush of new, hot tears welling in her eye, threatening to spill over her face and down her muzzle, streaking her face once more. Husk brought his paw to her face, carefully using a clawed finger to swipe tears from her face. “He isn’t worth all those tears,” he soothed. As if by unfortunate miracle Nixie heard an all-too familiar ringtone; she didn’t block his second number. Pulling her phone from her other pocket she took one glance at the number though she already knew who it was. “It’s him,” she whispered. Husk pressed his shoulder to hers. “Tell the bastard off.” He told her simply. Swigging more beer and lighting another cigarette she swiped to accept the call, turning on speaker for her and Husk to listen, motioning with her hand for Husk to stay quiet. She knew if she didn’t he’d have some choice words to the way her ex spoke to her.

“Hello?” She spoke into the phone. She was met by drunken sobbing and unperceivable mumbling, of which she had to snap him out of. “Speak English to me or hang up,” she demanded. After a series of gulps he began to speak. “Nix, please-” “You’re no longer allowed to call me that,” she corrected him immediately. She felt Husk’s eyes on her as she spoke, she had to be brave and swallow the hurt. Puffing on the cigarette more she listened to his speech.

“Look. I’m sorry I made you feel trapped and I know you deserve better but I promise, if you give me another chance I’ll treat you differently. You can have this new guy, you can have your hotel, you can have your new bestie even if she’s replacing me. Just please take me back.” He was pleading, over the phone, for another chance.

Swigging more beer and huffing more nicotine she replied, “you’ve tried to play your card again.” She was met by silence. “It’s been one too many times. I gave you a second chance, but by the fifth it became a crime.” She continued on, ignoring his spontaneous attempts to continue begging. “I guess I wanted to believe that maybe love was in the air.” She glanced briefly into the dark red night sky before gazing back at Husk, feeling her heart crack. Unknown to her he could see her heart-shaped dark magenta pupil start to snap in half.

“I don’t love you anymore.” She was honest with that statement, gazing back into Husk’s cinnamon irises, rimmed and surrounded by a deep taupe. “I’m not sorry,” she replied as he begged for forgiveness. When he cried for a reason why she responded blankly, “you honestly treated me like shit”. Her only response was more babbling and sobbing, whining for her friendship and love. “You cheated multiple times with multiple men, how is that supposed to make me feel?” She scoffed.

“But I hope you know that I wish the best for you,” she began, trying to close the phone call. “I do hear your cries but I am so tired of all your lies and maybe one day you’ll figure this out,” she misleadingly soothed him to stop his audible wracks of sobs, “but don’t call me with any more flak, next time I won’t crack.” She felt her heart breaking into pieces at her own words and, still unknown to her, Husk watched as her pupil continued to break down the middle.

He was begging for her to stay on the phone long enough and she replied with a firm, “no; I don’t love you anymore, you really treated me like shit and I hope you feel sorry” and hung up before he could continue. She made the active decision right then to block his second number before he could start spam-calling her. She set her phone down to the concrete, breathing a sigh of mixed relief and stress. “Fuck,” she whispered. Her heart ached and she felt terrible for her actions but in gazing at Husk and his silent encouraging eyes, she knew it had to be done, once and for all.

“Got all that girly poetry out of your system?” He teased, a smile playing along his face once more. Nixie giggled; “it wasn’t intentional but I’ve been workshopping how I’d break off whatever you’d call what we had,” she replied light heartedly. “Besides, what’s wrong with a little poetry?” She countered. He shrugged in response, he didn’t appear to have an answer. Instead he wrapped a wing over her, as if to hide her as she smoked and drank, opening her fourth beer and having blown through half a pack of cigarettes. “Good thing I brought a few packs for us,” he commented as he watched her fish out a cigarette. “Depends; brand?” She inquired. Husk snorted, “since when did you smoke?” Nixie stared up at him with that half-broken hearted pupil. “That tobacco plant isn’t for selling, dummy,” she teased as she lit her cigarette. “Newport menthol, I get the good shit.” He replied with his added comment. Nixie looked up in surprise and excitement. “We’re gonna have a gas tonight!” She squealed, nuzzling herself into the wing surrounding her. The feathers were soft and warm, each one fluttering softly in the wind and stroking her watery form. What she’d give to doze off in those wings.

“Well, if you’ve got no issue with poetry I uh, got a little something myself I pulled out my ass,” Husk offered as he opened a pack of Newport. He pressed his cigarette against hers to light it then took hers and rubbed it out. “You can have this one and we’ll share the rest.” She happily obliged, putting the rubbed-out cigarette back in her pack. “I’d love to hear what you have,” she encouraged. He cleared his throat a couple times, as if suddenly self conscious, pressing his wing against her as he did so. She stroked the emblems on his wing, she found them so pretty, even if they were references to gambling - something she didn’t have a good experience with in her time growing up. Husk finally finished stalling and began, warning Nixie not to laugh, of which she assured him she wouldn’t.

“He’s calling you tonight, thinks you’re an easy lover. You just feel like shunning, you’re looking for some cover,” he was almost singing as he spoke his poetry, emphasizing his second line by pressing his wing closer against and above her. Nixie clung to his every word, storing it in memory to relive when she went to bed. “I know you’re sad and lonely, you’re needing me as glue, you miss him so much and won’t let me get too close to you.” His eyes searched her eye for any sight of humor or mockery, any sign to give away she thought poorly of this. Unknown to her all he could see is that half-broken pupil beginning to stitch together.

With a deep breath in and a swig of beer he continued. “He ain’t worth missing, he’s always dismissing, stop all this foolish wishing,” Nixie was entranced by the almost lyrical tone in his deep, gruff voice. Like he was… singing to her? Did he write songs as a pass time? Perhaps she’d never know. “I know your head is turning, I know that heart is hurting, doll you’ve gotta listen can’t you see he ain’t worth missing?” Her head began to spin; what was he telling her? To just get over this ex and their friendship immediately? He made it clear he knew she was hurting, she closed herself off and he knew it but to immediately let it go? How would she live like that?

Her ears, now numb to the pain from earlier, pricked up from their lowered posture as he continued. “I know your head is turning, your poor heart is burning, when are you gonna listen don’t you know he ain’t worth missing?” Nixie felt his wing press her closer to Husk’s form, he was practically shaking. She knew she couldn’t offer much warmth on her own without forcing her body to heat up but she pressed into him, gazing up at him with her one half-broken hearted eye, her expression dripping with honey so sweet it would give the good lord diabetes as far as Husk was concerned.

“You know I’m here to hold you, but you’re not through crying yet,” Husk hummed as he wiped fresh tears from her eye. She felt an odd, new pain in her pupil but the longer he spoke, the more it eased. Was he associated with it? “I just see that pretty face, dark blue and soaking wet,” he pulled her face closer to his, wiping more tears from her face, hot from the strain of repeated sobbing. “I’ll be sure to make him just a memory, come on doll and let’s get started, the first thing you’ve got to see is…” He paused for a moment to drink another guzzle of beer, his anxious gaze never leaving Nixie’s awed countenance. “He ain’t worth missing, stop your reminiscing, drop all your foolish wishing, he ain’t worth missing.” The wing around her pulled Nixie closer to Husk’s body, as if pressing her directly against him. She swore she could almost feel his pulse.

She quickly lit a new cigarette, puffing it a few times, her eye never leaving his face as his wing held her close in position. She was practically on her knees now, her midsection gently tickled by his soft warm fur. It was like being brushed by a soft feather. As she puffed he continued, “I know that head is twirling, I know your heart is yearning; hun I know you’re listening and you know he ain’t worth missing.”

Husk set down his beer bottle, a rare sight to see. He took Nixie’s cigarette short and rubbed it out. Before she could ask a question he wrapped both paws around her, careful of his claws and lifted her into his crossed legs, wrapping her legs around his waist by instinct. His wings surrounded her like a butterfly on a tiny flower, she was entirely encased. “If you need someone to hold you, someone to ease your ache, I’ll just hold you steady. Baby when you’re ready I’m gonna show you love is a good thing.” With that Nixie felt his muzzle press into hers in something she hadn’t felt in a very long time - a genuine kiss. She could have turned into a puddle in his grasp. Draping her arms loosely around his neck and twining her fingers into the fur behind his ears she leaned into him, immediately accepting the kiss. His wings folded around her protectively, as though shielding her from the rest of Hell. Beneath his wings she was safe.

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?‘Cause I always do, ohNow I thought it through.

After what felt like minutes Nixie finally pulled from the kiss, wheezing for air. She didn’t know how Husk could hold his breath for that long, unless it was another trick up his sleeve. She pressed her forehead to his, her face dark blue with blush rather than fluster. The pain in her eye had finally gone away. She was unaware of what that pain had been but Husk was gazing at her pansy colored pupil and once again saw a full heart, as if she’d never been hurt. Nixie was encased in his paws and wings, safe from the rest of Hell, held tightly to his chest. She felt his heart thrumming, with fear or excitement she was unsure. Perhaps both? She didn’t want to pull away from her little cocoon, she could stay there with him forever if possible but she knew she had to rip herself away. Untangling herself from her little knot with him she dragged herself off Husk reluctantly, knocking over a couple beer bottles in the process. Perhaps she had drunk too much for one night.

“We should uh, we should be off to our rooms,” Husk spoke gently. Nixie felt her heart drop; she was hoping to spend the night out on the balcony. “It’s around 3 in the morning and Vaggie will have our asses if she catches us passed out wasted surrounded by cigarette filters.” He made a fair point but she wasn’t happy about it. She didn’t really care to climb in a tub and dissolve tonight, no. She still needed comfort. Who else to ask it from than the avian feline demon who just sang poetry to her and finished it with the most skilled kiss she’d ever experienced?

“You know,” she began, picking up the empty bottles and kicking the filters to the bushes below out of sight. “We don’t have to go to separate rooms,” she hinted. Husk turned and lifted an eyebrow. “What, sleepover in the common room? I’m not your girlfriend.” He scoffed playfully. She smiled sheepishly in return; it wasn’t exactly what she was thinking and she was hoping he wouldn’t deny her suggestion.

“Well, I know cats hate water…” She began slowly, waiting for a reaction. He only watched her patiently, waiting for her to go on. As if he was waiting to see if he heard what he was hoping to hear. “And I don’t need to dissolve to sleep either…” She continued carefully, watching for anything to hint at his thinking process. His eyes were calm, his wings didn’t flutter, his tail tip didn’t even twitch. Double-Damn him for being so good at hiding his emotions. She just had to spit it out if she was going to get anywhere with this.

“What I’m trying to suggest, no ask is, can we go to sleep together in your bed tonight?” Husk blinked once, then twice, eyes wide as an owl’s. If she could set down her items and take out her phone for a picture she would. “You uh, you wanna sleep in my bed tonight? My room’s a mess,” he warned. Nixie only shrugged. “Beds can’t get too terribly messy, it’ll be fine.” Oh how wrong the water nymph was.

Despite his warning she was still taken back by the room presented to her. There was the normal furniture, a multi-tiered shelf of old, empty liquor bottles she assumed he collected as a hobby, two rugs on the floor - one square and featuring an encircled spade and the other circular with what she assumed to be Chinese lettering -, a restroom and little else. To the far end of his room however sat a bed thrown carelessly on the floor with a blanket tossed at the bottom and a pillow. Beside it was another bed with a pillow and no blanket covered in bottles of alcohol, mostly empty. She assumed he fell asleep drinking at one point, as a bottle lay on the bed with alcohol spilled on the mattress. It was certainly a fixer-upper. “You still wanna sleep in here?” He prompted nervously, as if expecting her to be disgusted and leave. Instead she simply shrugged. “I’ll ask Niffty to manage this little mess tomorrow,” she spoke as she approached his bed, spreading out the blanket. She beckoned him with a tilt of her head. “Aren’t you coming?”

As if having to summon the guts to proceed he entered his room and shut the door behind him quietly, all the staff were asleep - most of them anyway but he wasn’t aware nor could he be bothered to worry about it. After fixing up his blanket and fluffing his pillow Nixie popped a couple more pills using the sink water from his restroom and came back to his main room. She made no comment on his washer and dryer set; she noticed, she was just too tired. She wanted to fall asleep on a fuzzy chest for once.

Husk slid down into the bed, pulling the blanket to the side for Nixie. She waited for him to get comfortable, spreading his wings out beneath him and laying his tail between his legs. “Hop on in,” he offered, holding up the blanket. Smiling with an exhausted expression she obliged, slithering into the bed with him. He held the blanket over her until she found herself comfortable. She settled laying on her stomach, torso pressed into his gut and the side of her face resting into his chest fur as planned, one leg held out straight and the other crooked to wrap around his; with a gentle tug on his wings she got him to take the hint to wrap his wings around her the way he had earlier, encompassing her in their soft warmth. Husk dropped the blanket on her after she got cozy and within a minute he was passed out. Nixie drifted off soon after, but not before spotting familiar white eyes watching her. She narrowed her eye to it in warning and it slipped into the darkness, disappearing. Shutting her eye she swiftly fell into an easy sleep resting on Husk’s chest and lap.

In a further-off room Alastor was digging into his pocket, pulling fifty bucks from his wallet and passing it to Willow, who wore a smug grin of satisfaction that she’d won the bet.

Morning came much too early for Nixie’s liking. She was only woken by Husk gently shaking her awake, whispering her name so as not to alarm her. She wanted to nestle deeper into his fur and fall back asleep until he groaned and slid out from under her, leaving her on a bare mattress she found rather cold compared to his body. She sat up slowly in bed. “I hope you remember all of last night,” she mumbled. Husk scoffed; “I drink whiskey for maintenance. Question is, do you remember?” His eyes begged for an answer. She gave a gentle yes and pressed her muzzle to his as she stood up and stretched, preparing for the morning.

Getting into Husk’s room at 3 in the morning was no issue. The problem was sneaking out without being seen at 8 in the morning, with the entire staff awake. She could exit the door and shut it behind her and say she was just walking by and waking Husk up. That could work, right? It was her best bet. Bidding Husk farewell until breakfast she opened his door to leave… and was met face-to-face with none other than Willow, her plant demoness best friend, who didn’t appear the least bit surprised. “Willow?!” Nixie squeaked in surprise.

Her herb friend shrugged casually; “it’s just me; I already knew. I saw you two sneaking in there together last night.” That was two questions answered, only one remaining. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Nixie begged, her eye bright with pleading. Willow shook her head in denial; “it’s not my place”. With that she walked off, leaving Nixie relieved. Before she could try to make a move to her room however Charlie called out for breakfast. Meaning she’d be in front of the entire staff in a red jersey and tiny gray shorts. Husk gently pushed her past the entrance to the door to allow himself out and placed his paw over her hand for a moment, sharing a kind moment before taking the path down to the common room for breakfast. Nixie could tell it was pancakes.

As she and Husk descended to the common room at the same time Angel was the first to look up. He yelled out, “look guys, the new couple!” Suddenly all eyes were on the two. Nixie immediately shot her eye at Willow who lifted all four hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I didn’t say anything!” Nixie trusted that much at least. Scanning the room, she couldn’t think of anyone else who could have seen the two.

Charlie appeared excited at the prospect of another couple in the hotel while Vaggie looked thoroughly unimpressed. Angel was cackling as Husk cursed him out in another language Nixie couldn’t recognize and Niffty was mumbling to herself, making up mixes of the names Husk and Nixie. Nixie herself had pulled Willow off to the side to ask a series of questions, including how Angel got this information. Willow swore up and down that he must have either seen something or made a joke at the wrong time.

At a far off table sat Alastor, one leg crossed over the other, wearing a shit-eating grin. He sipped his black coffee steadily as he watched the chaos enfold. He was the one who told Angel, he just wanted to watch all hell break loose; Husk appeared to realize this mere moments after the conversation broke out. He turned his glare to Alastor, a flare of anger in his eyes. “You!” He hissed, pointing a clawed finger in Alastor’s direction.

Nixie’s eye snapped in the direction of his finger and followed it to Alastor with an equally pissed and unimpressed expression. “Of course,” she muttered under her breath as she walked away from Willow. The ‘newly weds’ as Angel Dust jokingly referred to them as walked up to Alastor in tandem, standing in front of him together. Nixie held a boiling ball of water in one hand. “Care to explain the eyes I saw last night?” Nixie asked in an icily calm tone, her gaze boring into Alastor.

It was getting too chummy in this hotel.

#Hazbin Hotel x reader #Hazbin x reader #Husk x reader #Husk #Nixie x reader #Nixie #my writing

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