|| 🍍• Could you imagine being all geared up to watch, laugh, and love on-screen Huskerdust only to get fucking La La Land-ed with a fucking unexpected plot twist that they’re seemingly made for each other but something changes and we then see them meeting each other years later?
Concept/image/mini-fic in more detail below ⬇️
Angel Dust is free of Val and visiting a bar which just so happens to have a certain cat, still chained to his master, tickling the ivories to a small bar crowd.
The sweet sombre melody of Loser, Baby floats around the bar, an unusual air in a Hell nightclub.
Angel, in his own little world, settles by the bar and orders his drink. A classic Sex on the Beach. A usual of his. Though, upon tasting it, it’s not massively to his tastes, and he opts to twirl it before his eyes wondering how and why they haven’t tasted like the dreamy ones of his memories.
Trapped in the midst of his recollections, Angel begins swaying along to the bar’s live music, feeling a welcoming warmth wash over him after a long day.
And slowly, very slowly, Angel begins to awaken to the warmth of the melody - it’s familiar. It’s personal. The feeling reminds him of coming home. And all at once, the cogs finally find their rhythm, and the reflections illuminated on his glass cast a vista he never thought he’d see again.
There he is. After all this time. After everything. There. He. Is. Tickling the ivories in a dingy dive bar to the notes of their song, and serenading sinners to the ode of them. Of everything they were. Of everything they almost became.
Eventually, Angel brings himself to turn around and behold the cat for himself; lower hands coming together to fidget as they always did as his upper hands endeavour to steady themself around the stem of the forgotten drink.
He should leave, he thinks. He hates how that is his first thought upon seeing Husk after so long. Pay up quietly, discreetly, and walking straight back up the stairs to the street. He knows in that moment at least that he’s changed from who he once was upon arrival to Hell, and, later to the hotel. He doesn’t have to pretend about anything, he tells himself. He’s not about the pretending lifestyle anymore, right?
Half settled on his decision, he downs the sugary beverage as he stands - striving to convince himself the building burn in his throat is just the drink and nothing more - and places the cash plus change to a little too harshly onto the bar.
The coinage rattles, spilling in all directions, and Angel fumbles and curses to catch the bits that clatter to the floor.
It takes him far longer to pick up that which has been spilled. He hates that. He hates how the music stills prematurely to a stop, and he hates how his eyes begin to burn in sync to the discomfort of his throat. He hates how he feels the bar looking even though they likely aren’t, and he hates how of all the eyes he’s convinced are staring, there’s only one that overpowers them all.
Swallowing around the unease, Angel stands, placing the change onto the bar with a silent “sorry,” and moves slowly towards the exit.
The eyes follow him. Their warmth blessedly familiar. A small part of Angel wishes they hadn’t. A much larger part relaxes against their power, mesmerising and strong, but not forceful. They never had been. Not so long ago, yet long enough potentially forget, those eyes had skilfully unravelled him with a care that help ignite a sense of urgency within him to change. The final straw on the camel’s back some would say. The catalyst.
His catalyst.
Angel stifled a sob as he paused at the stair’s handrail, or was it a laugh? He told himself it was a laugh and smiled around the spikiness of the unusual happy sadness.
After all this time. After everything. Angel was happy to say goodbye again. Because it wasn’t really a goodbye. It was also a hello.
And reassured, he turns, and he smiles, hoping it’s convincing even though he knows his cheeks are damp.
So many words.
So many memories.
So many what-could-have-been scenarios swirling amongst the thick air.
Husk merely blinks at him, finally acknowledged. And then, like heaven in hell, Husk smiles. His ‘Angel’ smile. That soft, gentle lidded sort of smile that enlarged the heart details above his brows and etched the motions of his crusty old heart for all to see. Ever the respectful Husker, man of honour and integrity that warmed Angel in ways no hands or bodies ever could, and likely never would.
How lucky he’d been. How happy he’d been.
They hold the look for longer than they should have, this they both know…
…And then Angel Dust leaves, smiling as their song picks up again to serenade wayward sinner couples, who were none the wiser that two passing ships reunited for one last time…
How beautiful life could be…even in death.
(Should I like actually write this in more detail and post it? Would anyone even read something like this??)
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Hey kiddos, I hope you're having a great day!
Hard to believe I've been back at this blog again for 4 months already! I've been working really hard to keep the queue full and going for everyone, so I hope that effort shows!
I try not to do much self-promotion on this blog because I get a weird sense of guilt for doing so for some reason, but today is my birthday, so I think I'm allowed a little self-promo lol as a treat
I want to say first off, thank you all again for all the engagement, be it from comments, tags or especially reblogging my posts! It means a lot since I do this blog for you guys!
So if you like the work I do here, and or my other work/art and you can - please consider supporting me!
I have a Patreon where I post; early access art - and I talk at more length about the pieces/processes, exclusive weekly WIPs where I talk about long term projects and goals, linearts of finished pieces, and exclusive access to my sketchbooks from HS forward, as well as anatomy studies I don't post publicly!
If you don't want to subscribe monthly to my Patreon, consider dropping me a Ko-fi now and then!
If you're not the donation kind; I do take on commissions randomly when asked, I just don't advertise it as much because I work 40 hours a week on a swing shift, so I'm not as fast as I use to be! But I still enjoy taking 'em!
If nothing else, again - thank you for the support and sticking around!
That's all, thanks guys! Have a great rest of your week, and we'll see you Saturday at the usual spot!
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