#ch: katie killjoy

[moog-rt]

GO TO HELL [ch. 3]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Chapter Two

➨ Chapter Three

Next: Chapter Four

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): sudden popularity, mistakes were made (by you not me <3)

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER THREE

Well.

You finally made it on TV. Fame and fortune were nearly yours for the taking. People would be lining up outside for your autograph and maybe even just the chance to catch a glimpse of you.

The ‘Human in Hell.’

That was the headline the news broadcasters decided on. It was slapped on top of a clip of you hauling ass through the rancid streets of Hell. You were clearly panic stricken and fearing for your life, but why would the announcers care about that?.

A darn shame it was being aired live across all of Hell. Your dignity was the price you would pay for fame amongst the worst people to walk the Earth.

You were curled into yourself on the couch, unable to peel your eyes away from the screen. Vaggie was pacing behind it, muttering out profanities you didn’t know existed. And Charlie? She was doing her best to calm the both of you down. Bless her heart.

The reason you had to end your little escapade to the Morningstar Manor early was because Vaggie texted saying she had bad news. You thought perhaps her recruiting backfired or there could have been a fire in the hotel that she couldn’t put out.

You did not expect to be called back because the entirety of Hell now had you on their radar. This complicated things quite a bit as one might imagine. It was much easier to hide as a human when only a handful of people knew about you. Now, everyone’s eyes were peeled in hope of finding you.

“Look, she’s all-over social media, too,” Vaggie groaned, showing her phone screen to the two of you. She began to read off some of the posts, “Vox and Katy Killjoy are promising viewers an interview with her…There’s already bidding wars for Christ’s sake!”

“Let’s not worry too much about this…As long as we make sure she’s in her disguise when we’re out, it’ll all be okay,” Charlie said.

“They caught her on video. What if they tracked her to the hotel? They could show up any second looking for her!”

It was touching she cared so much about your well-being in this situation, but the goal was to have you back home as soon as possible. Once you were out of Hell, none of this would be a problem. You doubted demons would pass into the living world just to come after you. At that point, there was an endless number of humans to choose from.

“I don’t know…They probably would have already shown up if they knew she was here,” Charlie reasoned, and Vaggie’s pacing began to slow.

“I was able to get away from all the demons that were after me by the time I found the hotel,” you added. “No one should have been around to see me come in.”

Charlie was finally able to get Vaggie to sit, and a tense silence enveloped the three of you. Charlie was rubbing Vaggie’s arms soothingly, so you took it upon yourself to turn off the tv. There was no point in listening to it anymore. All it did was stress everyone out, and there was nothing you could really do about it. Your current plan of action remained the best.

“So how was your day, Vaggie?” you asked in hopes of breaching a more positive topic.

“Oh, right! Did you find anybody who would be interested in staying with us?” Charlie chimed in with a bright grin.

The poor girl sighed in response.

“There was one person who was interested in what we’re offering,” she began, “but he seemed more enticed by free rent than redemption…”

“That’s okay. Maybe if he spends a little time with us, the idea of redemption will start to grow on him!” Charlie sounded like she was also trying to convince herself.

“I guess…” Vaggie grumbled. “He said he might drop by tomorrow or the day after to check things out. Would that work for you guys?”

“Oh, my gosh. That would be great!” Charlie squealed, jumping up from the floor. “We have to head back to my dad’s in the morning, but any time after that would be perfect.”

“No luck today?”

“Not really,” you sighed. “We were able to look around a little bit but we ended up running into her old man.”

“And he tried interrogating her,” Charlie groaned, running her hands through her hair as the memory resurfaced. “I was so worried he would suspect something, but your emergency text totally saved us.”

“Did the disguise work at least?”

That was an excellent question. While he didn’t seem to question anything about your appearance, he still seemed suspicious. It was entirely possible he could smell your fear. You’d expect no less from a demon; they probably fed off of it. Who knows…

You should be nicer. Charlie and Vaggie certainly hadn’t given you that impression. In fact, you were pretty sure you saw one of them eating toast for breakfast. They likely had perfectly normal digestive systems.

“I think so! We’re just gonna have to make a good cover story in case he finds us again.”

The three of you began to brainstorm, losing track of time as it faded into playful conversation. There was an intermission to order food since their ‘kitchen’ still wasn’t quite ready to be used to such an extent. And eventually, you parted ways to get ready for bed.

Your arms were full after they had given you a towel and a plethora of toiletries to help scrub all the paint off of your body. When you entered your room, you were also greeted by your ‘human’ clothes, clean and neatly folded on top of your bed.

And laying on top of those was your phone.

Holy shit. You had completely forgotten you had it on you before your ass was ripped through that portal. Of course, the adrenaline rush that immediately followed your arrival in Hell didn’t help. And you were so eager to get those nasty, garbage covered clothes off, you hadn’t noticed the weight in your back pocket.

You dumped all the toiletries onto your bed to grab it.

The home screen was piled with notifications ranging from worried texts to company newsletter alerts. You began thumbing in your password to rifle through it all… but then you noticed your hand.

The paint was rubbed away.

On your fingers and wrists. There were splotches where paint was gone, revealing your natural skin underneath.

When did this happen?

Your palms were almost completely barren, likely from everything you had touched throughout the day. On the back of your hands and around your wrists, there were smaller spots where your skin was peeking through.

Like fingerprints.

You felt like you were delt a sucker punch to the gut.

Maybe…Maybe it was from your own hand. You could have been rubbing at your own wrists subconsciously. With all the stress-inducing shit going down, that wouldn’t be unlikely.

But if the paint could come off so easily…

No. You had to believe it was your own doing.

Regardless, you had to find a way to prevent it from happening again.

You opted to wait until the morning to break the bad news to Charlie and Vaggie. The two had just gone off to bed, and honestly, your nerves were getting the better of you. Your stomach was twisting in on itself as your heart pounded relentlessly against your ribs.

You would tell them. You would.

Just not right now.

More than anything, you wanted that dried up paint off of you.

Tossing your phone aside and grabbing your bathing supplies, you scrambled into the bathroom to throw the shower on. The feeling of peeling those clothes off and clambering in to let the hot water rush over your sticky body was ethereal. It was so satisfying to watch the unnatural pigment run off your skin, erasing any evidence that it may have transferred onto that man’s hands.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, hoping it would wash away your worries, as well.

Finding the will to get out of the shower was difficult. But your body was tired, as well as your mind.

Flicking the lights off, you tumbled into bed, content with its softness in that moment as the mattress and pillows consumed you entirely. You were more than ready to knock out and forget about all that had happened over the past couple of days.

You didn’t want to think about the fact you were likely being hunted by god knows how many hell-goers. You didn’t want to think about the impact the time you spent here would leave on your life in the living world. Your job, your relationships (thankfully you didn’t have a pet). More than anything, you didn’t want to think about the possibility you may never get home at all.

With a deep sigh, you rolled onto your side and felt something hard beneath your hip. You groaned as you reached down to remove it, finding the phone that you had carelessly tossed aside. It made your heart swell.

You wanted your friends. You wanted to read their texts, new and old. Hell, you wanted to see any memes or posts they may have sent you. Any semblance of normality was all you needed right now. You would take whatever you could get.

Slowly, you reached over and grabbed it. Its brightness hadn’t yet adjusted, and you squinted as you flash banged yourself.

Opening your messages, you saw Devon at the top. They said that they hoped you could see their message, that you were somehow okay.

That depends on what you consider to be ‘okay’.

Beneath them was that boy, Jack. He sounded upset. He probably thought you were ignoring his texts out of spite. His messages were a mixture of asking what was wrong and saying you were overreacting over whatever it was he had done.

You couldn’t recall him doing anything to upset you recently, so it seemed there were things you had yet to find out about. What a pain.

Your other friends that you were supposed to spend time with today were expressing their concern for your absence.

Are you coming?

Where are you?

Is everything okay?

Please respond.

It made your heart ache. You needed to let them know you were at least alive.

As soon as you started writing a message of your own, the text began to buzz. The overhead light and lamps in your room began to strobe, and pixels of red flashed across your screen as a horrible humming emanated from the phone. It sounded as if the room was filled with a swarm of bees. It was deafening.

Then you noticed those shackles.

Those red, glowing shackles that dragged you here were flickering around your wrists once more. You sat straight up, ready for them to pull you somewhere new, but then the room went dark and the noise was gone.

You could still feel the sheets beneath your knees, and when you turned on the lamp beside your bed, the room looked untouched. At the very least, you knew you hadn’t been thrown through another portal.

There was no sign that anything had happened at all.

♡

Your phone would not turn on again after that whole…event…from the night before. At most, it would crackle at you, but the screen remained black. It was possible it just died from low battery, but you weren’t paying attention to that. You wondered what the odds were that Charlie would have a compatible charger.

You could ask her about it later.

The two of you were back on the grind to find a way to access the living world. Once again, Vaggie had to hang back. They decided it would be best for someone to make the hotel slightly more presentable in case the potential patron decided to stop by that evening. A good call, in your opinion.

Beggars can’t be choosers, but their place didn’t seem particularly livable from the outside. Hence, why you thought it would be a good spot to hunker down to begin with.

You and Charlie had slipped into her dad’s place again, this time undetected. After checking out the room of relics once more and without any interruptions, you found nothing that seemed to be of use (from what you could tell, shit was written in ancient tongue).

Your next stop was library where you decided to split up in order to cover more ground.

Now, you wandered aimlessly through the towering shelves of books, unsure of where to start. Having no clue how it was all organized, you settled on the tactic of picking out books at random and letting your luck guide you.

It wasn’t going so well.

You were able to find only one or two books pertaining to the ‘mortal’ world, but neither had anything to do with accessing it. They more so covered history of civilization and travel guides once you were there.

Pulling out another book that looked to be promising, you sighed as that, too, ended up being a dud. Half an hour had easily passed since you began your search, and you were growing despondent.

You wanted to believe that there was some way to get back. Charlie and Vaggie had said so themselves. But if Charlie’s old home was your best shot, you didn’t like your odds looking anywhere else.

No matter how much you tried to stay optimistic, you couldn’t help but dwell on the possibility of being truly stuck here. Finding a way out was starting to feel like finding a needle in a haystack, especially now that you were rummaging through a library that easily held thousands of books.

You hated the thought of not being able to see your friends again. Your family. Stuck in a world where there was a target on your back for simply existing in it.

Your energy was beginning to dwindle. You were slowing down, and your heart felt so heavy.

And you hated it.

You hated the way your vision was beginning to blur and how your sunglasses were fogging up as your face grew warmer.

Your sleeve wiped away the first tear that threatened to slip past, but you were too slow for the second. It left a wet streak down your cheek before you were able to dab it away. You wanted to be careful of your makeup.

When Charlie was getting you ready earlier, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her about the paint missing from your hands. You wanted to, but every time you thought you found the courage to say it, your throat grew tight, choking you into silence.

The most you could do was suggest a setting spray or powder to make sure it really stayed put. You told her you were just worried about the possibility of it coming off. Even if you couldn’t pull the truth from your own mouth, you wanted to take whatever precautions you could.

Your precautions, it seemed, were still not enough as the paint transferred onto your sleeve. Leave it to tears to ruin a girl’s makeup. You need to find someplace with a reflection to see if you could cover it up somehow.

As if on cue, you heard Charlie walking into your aisle. You felt relieved as she could probably blend the new smudges you’d created before anyone could see them.

“Hey, sorry but do you think you could help me out real quick?” you ask as you turned to her with your hand covering your cheek.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you were greeted not by the sight of your newest friend but her father instead.

His hands were propped up on his staff, and his eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline. He had a smug smile on his face to compliment it. Like he had caught you in the act.

There was nothing suspicious about looking at books in a library, though. Was there?

Adjusting your sunglasses so they were back in place, you put on the most charming smile you could conjure.

‘Hi—Good morning, Mr. Morningstar!”

“Hello, again,” he hummed, tilting his head as he watched you. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you again so soon.”

“Right, uh…Well, we had to leave in such a hurry yesterday. Charlie wasn’t able to find what she came for, so we’re back!” You lifted your shoulders to appear more excited than you were. At least you weren’t lying.

His finger started tapping on his apple.

“It’s quite interesting she didn’t think to give me any heads up. Almost like she’s trying to hide something…” He looked down at the book you were still holding for a moment then back at you.

Your heartrate spiked.

“What is it you’re looking for exactly?” He walked up next to you and made an act of looking through some of the books on the shelves you had just gone through.

“Huh? Oh, I’m not completely sure what Charlie needs, but she said I was welcome to look around in here,” you said, holding the book closer to your chest in hopes of hiding its title. “But I understand it’s your library, so if you’d prefer I not be in here, I’ll leave.”

He paused. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and pressed the apple of his staff to his lips.

“Look,” he began, turning back around to face you, “you said you were relatively new here, correct?”

You nodded, unsure of where this was going.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I can imagine the change was sudden, and it can be pretty hard to accept,” he said as he made a gesture with his hand. “I don’t blame you for seeking out ways to feel like you’re still in touch with your life before.”

You looked away, tight lipped.

It was hard, but you didn’t want to have to accept it. You weren’t dead. Not yet. Which meant returning to your life before was still an option for you.

“I’m very grateful to have met your daughter,” you said, shaking your head and looking back at him.

His eyes were trained on you, and it no longer felt as if he was trying to look through you or figure out your intentions. Rather, he was looking at you.

“It all would’ve been much worse for me if I hadn’t,” you continued. “She’s given me a safe place to stay and has been trying to help me in any way she can, and I feel very lucky for that.”

You looked back at him with a soft smile. Soft but genuine. Meeting Charlie and Vaggie was the only bout of good luck you’d had since being sent to Hell.

A smile grew on his face in return, and for once, you didn’t feel threatened by it.

“That makes me happy to hear,” he said. “She’s always been much too kind for a place like this.”

“I suppose so,” you chuckled. “I think that just means you did a pretty good job raising her.”

“Aha…I hope so…” he glanced away, sharp teeth beginning to peek through his lips. He then reached a hand out towards you. “May I see that book?”

Hesitating for a moment, you passed it to him. He read over the title before looking up at the endless shelves.

“Come with me,” he said, walking down the aisle.

You followed him in silence. As he turned the corner, you passed a large arched window that allowed red light to stream through. It illuminated the few specs of dust in the air, and when he walked through it, it turned his hair and skin a blush pink.

As you passed under the light, it felt as though all your prior nervousness washed away.

Yesterday, you wanted nothing more than to be as far from this man as possible.

Now, you felt at ease as he guided you through his labyrinth of a library.

He began pulling books from the shelves here and there, handing them off to you. When you looked them over, you realized they were all pertaining to the living world. You knew better than to hope he’d give you one that held the key to getting home…but what if?

You chatted with him a bit about Charlie and her hotel as you went on through the aisles. You were a little surprised by how much he didn’t know about her plans.

After a few minutes, your arms were filled with a stack almost up to your chin.

“That should do it!” he announced, turning to you with a wide grin as he brushed the dust from his hands. His eyes lingered on your face.

“Thank you so much! This is really kind of you,” you said politely. “I’ll be sure to give them back when I’m—uh…done with them!”

“No rush at all. I’ll be sure to stop by soon to see what all my dear daughter has been up to,” he said with a smirk.

You said your goodbyes and watched as he walked away. The smile adorning your face was subconscious, and your chest felt full and warm.

The weight of all the books was making your arms tired. You had yet to look at what he pulled out for you, but you could wait until you were back at the hotel to rifle through them. You probably wouldn’t be able to find anything better than what he had given you, so you decided to meet back up with Charlie.

She found some things that looked promising, as well. You figured she would have told you more about them if her eyes hadn’t landed on your cheek. The cheek that was out on display for the whole world to see as both your arms were full of the books her father had pulled out for you.

Next Chapter

♡ ♡ ♡

tag list: @spookysisters @for-hearthand-home @crescent-z @mixplara @juskonutoh @tinywolfiegirl @lafy-taffy @glowinthedarkbones1150

#lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #demon summoning #occult #charlie magne #charlie morningstar #Charlie Morningstar x Vaggie #Charlie Magne x Vaggie #i don't know their ship name my apologies #someone is famous #not in a good way :/

[chestcongestion]

Demon-to-Demon Ch.3/5: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Warnings: Contagion and mess (a lot more mess this time)

Word count: 3,763

Chapter 3 is finally finished! Two more to go (at least). I love the idea of Al/ast/or losing his inhibitions when he's feverish, I just think it'd be neat, so that's explored a bit in this chapter. This is kind of a chill interlude in between the "plot", I'm excited because next chapter I get to write Ro/sie... anyways, I hope you enjoy! ^^

“SnFf! Good Mbordi’g Pentagramb City- SnFF!- I’b Katie Killjoyy-Yiihh’Shewww! Ih’kshew!... bringi’g you your day seven update on what experts are calli’g ‘The Red Spread’... the mbysterious viral infectio’d has infected about 78% of the city, with no sign of stoppi’g… more on the spread when we return!” 

“Can’t believe they’re still mbakin’ Killjoy work while she’s sick- snff!” Angel remarked from his spot on the sofa, massaging his sinuses with his fingertips. 

“I can’t believe that more than three quarters of the Pentagram have got whatever the hell this is,” Husk added, scrubbing the underside of his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Do we hafta watch the news every morning?” Niffty groaned from her nest of blankets on the floor in front of the sofa, “They’re showing a five hour marathon of beheading footage in thirty minutes.” 

Husk rolled his eyes, “You kndow the rules- snff- we cast a vote every time we flip channels, you want the executioner network to win, you gotta make a solid argument,” he explained from his position draped across Angel’s lap, his eyes irritated and watery from the congestion packed into his head with noplace to go. 

“That’s no fair, Alastor’s vote shouldn’t count, he doesn’t even know what’s going on!” Niffty argued, folding her arms. 

“He does- HrR’SCHOOO!... Fuck!- He does, watch,” Husk argued back, snapping his fingers to get Alastor’s attention from his dazed position in his armchair, “Alastor…Earth to Alastor!” 

Alastor redirected a glassy eye in Husk’s direction, feverish blotches on both of his cheeks, “Hmm?” he asked, rubbing his nose with his handkerchief. 

“Next flip, what’re you voting for?” Husk asked, smiling as he watched Alastor thinking in real time, the metaphorical cogs in his head overheated and sticky. 

Alastor sniffled, staring at Husk for a moment, “Uhb… snfF!...He-eh’KSHIEW! Hhn’Kxxhht!... what were we talki’g about again?” he asked, blowing his nose. 

“We’re changin’ the channel, Smiles, whadda you wanna watch?” Angel asked, pulling a thermometer off of the arm of the sofa and sliding it under his tongue. 

Alastor blinked, “Ndature documentaries,” he giggled deliriously, scrubbing under his nostrils with a single finger in an attempt to snuff out a tickle in his sinuses that was threatening to morph into a sneezing fit, “The really gruesombe ondes- snrk!” 

“See? He’s-” Husk paused to cough, “-perfectly conscious, isn’t that right, Alastor?” he asked. 

“What’s right?” Alastor asked, blowing his nose again, “Ehhh’TShewww! Heh’KSHEW! Heh’tschiewww! Hh’Ktshhiew!” 

“Don’t worry about it,”  Husk laughed, his laugh quickly turning into a harsh, raspy cough, “Fuck, that hurts.” 

Angel reached over, rubbing Husk’s chest and attempting to quell the rumble of congestion in his lungs with a few pats, “Mmph,” he hummed in consolation, pulling the thermometer out when it began to beep. 

“Thanks,” Husk replied breathlessly, attempting to shoot a glance at the thermometer, “What’s the verdict?” 

Angel sighed, massaging his temples, “I’ve stih…h-hihh…Ih-A’KSHHHEW! ‘Kshhew! ‘KSCHUHHH!” he said, nearly folding in half from his sneezing fit, “Still got a fever… damn thi’g won’t budge… 102.” 

Husk sighed, “Damn shame… mby turn, hand it over,” he said, taking the thermometer and sliding it under his tongue, purring as he patiently waited for it to beep, “102.” 

“My turn! My turn!” Niffty exclaimed from her nest of blankets, getting a hold of the thermometer and holding it under her tongue, squinting at the reading on the small screen with her eye, “101.” 

“Space Cadet, wakey-wakey- snff!- your turn to check your temperature,” Angel croaked from his spot on the sofa, flicking a bottle cap at Alastor to snap him out of his febrile trance. 

“Hmm? Wha? Oh…” Alastor mumbled, wincing as he placed the ear thermometer into his left ear, shooting a quick glance at the viewing window after it beeped, “103 and- snff!...hH’KZzschiewww!- seven tenths.” 

Angel and Husk shot one another a knowing look, but shortly after, Angel hugged Husk tightly, shivering in his loose tank top and baggy pajama shorts. 

“I’mb so fucking cold… dammit…” Angel whispered, his teeth chattering as he nuzzled up close to Husk, “You’re such a good radiator, but I’mb still freezi’g…Snfff-snff!” 

“That’s cause you aren’t actually cold,” Husk replied, feeling the heat radiating from Angel’s body, “It’s just the fever.” 

“This is bullshit,” Angel complained, folding his arms before going back to cuddling Husk, flipping channels until a boring rerun of a reality TV show came on. 

“Hi guys,” Charlie greeted upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Vaggie following close behind with KeeKee in her arms, “Feeling any better?” 

Angel blew his “nose” into a tissue, tossing the soggy paper into the trash can next to the sofa, “Nope,” he replied, massaging his sinuses with his fingertips, “Huhh…H-hah…Ah… AH’TSHHHIEWW! Ah’kShewww! HAH’KSCHIEWWW!” 

Husk and Niffty shook their heads in silence. 

Alastor rubbed his eyes with both fists, before blinking drowsily in Charlie’s direction and greeting her with an eager wave, giggling, “When I hold mby hand in front of you, you disappear,” he chuckled, turning to smother a barking cough into his sleeve. 

Charlie winced, shooting Husk a knowing look, “Fever?” 

“Fever,” Husk replied. 

“It’s kickin’ his ass, watch this,” Angel said, struggling to contain his hoarse laughter, “Alastor, shut your eyes.” 

Alastor complied. 

“What color are your pants?” Angel asked, watching Alastor tilt his head down to look at his maroon flannel pajama pants, but still holding his eyes shut.  

“Black?” Alastor replied, feeling around in his man-made darkness for his pajama pants, “Black.” 

“Oh my gosh,” Charlie chuckled, gently scratching behind Alastor’s ears, “Open your eyes, Alastor.” 

Alastor complied, swaying in his armchair until he saw KeeKee strolling past, scooping her into his arms and nuzzling his face against her soft fur, “So soft,” he whispered. 

“Honestly, I’d say to stop toying with Alastor while he’s delirious, but being able to fuck with one of the Pentagram’s cruelest overlords with no consequences is kinda sweet,” Vaggie said, trying not to laugh as she walked over to Alastor’s armchair and poked his nose. 

“Hh’Kzzhshttt! HH’KShheww! HH’KSHHHEW! Hnk’TSHHIEW!...Hh’KSzxhhtt!” Alastor held up a hand in front of his nose and mouth, nearly paralyzed by the sudden fit, his eyes beginning to water, “Snfff! Snff-SNFF! Uch…” 

Vaggie struggled to contain her amusement until Alastor loudly blew his nose into his handkerchief, the wetness of the sound making her wince from disgust, “That’s so gross…” she whispered. 

Alastor brushed off Vaggie’s comment with the flick of a stuffy ear, readjusting himself in his seat and pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders, “Well excuse mbe,” he scoffed, pinching the friction-reddened underside of his nose between two fingers in an attempt to stifle a second sneezing fit, “Hh’ktshh! Hhn’ktsh! Hh’kzhht! HHN’kshh!” 

“Bless you,” Charlie said, “Hopefully you guys will start feeling better soon, this thing can’t last that long.” 

“I hope so,” Husk sighed, “I mbiss breathin’ through mby ndose.” 

Husk’s garbled consonants made Charlie wince. 

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” Charlie sighed, leaning against the back of the sofa. 

“Oh! I know! I know! I can help!” Niffty cheered, turning to cough into her elbow after raising her voice strained her sore throat, “I used to do this all the time when I was alive! Be right back!” 

Before Charlie could open her mouth to object, Niffty had vanished into the kitchen and returned with four mugs and three medium-sized towels, each of the mugs releasing tendrils of steam into the air. 

“I’d get bags of tea that weren’t really good to drink but smelled really strong, and I’d make a cup, and put the towel over my head to breathe in the steam, it works great!” Niffty explained, returning to the comfort of her blanket nest with her own mug of hot tea, electing to sip from it instead. 

Husk shrugged, “I’ll try adythi’g ondce..snrkk!” he croaked, pulling the towel over his head and holding the mug of fragrant tea close to his face as he became surrounded by steam. 

Angel followed Husk’s lead, hoping to relieve the massive backup in his puffy sinuses. 

Alastor silently followed suit, rolling his eyes briefly when the towel snagged on his antlers, forcing him to neaten it out. 

A few minutes passed, and Charlie- who had left the room to feed Fat Nuggets and KeeKee- returned to her spot leaning against the back of the sofa, “So… how do you know if it works?” she asked. 

“You’ll see,” Niffty replied, swallowing the last sip of her tea and lying down on her side to relax in her pile of blankets, smothering a cough into her wrist and listening to Angel, Husk, and Alastor’s sniffles as they grew looser and looser. 

“HrR’SCHHUHHH! Huh’KSHOOO! Hh’TSHHHOO! Huh’TSCHOO! Hnk’TCHOO! HUH’KSHHHUHH! Hnk’TSHHHEW!” Husk sneezed, each sneeze growing wetter and wetter as the congestion in his sinuses got looser.

“Heh’Kshhhew! Hnk’SHHHEW! Hnk’Tshhiew! HEH’KXHHT! Hnk’TSHH! Heh’TSHHIEW! Hnk’TshhhiEW! He-Eh’kshhhiewww!” Alastor followed suit, struggling to catch his breath between sneezes from underneath the towel.

“A-ahh…H-hah…HAH’TSHIEW! Hah’tshew! Hah’kshhiew! Ah’kshhieww! Hah’TshhhiEW! Ah…AH’KTSHHHIEW!” Angel sneezed.

“Ohhhh, that’s how,” Charlie said with an amused smile. 

  Husk peeled off his towel to reveal his flushed face, damp fur, and the continuous trail of watery mess trickling from his adorable feline nose, a trail that he attempted to stop with a few watery sniffles, to no avail. 

“Holy shit,” Husk muttered, his voice hoarse from the sneezing fit scraping his raw throat, as he dragged the back of his hand under his nostrils, “That felt great, I can breathe…but I can’t stop sne-eezing-Hnk’Tshoo! Hnk’Tschuhh!” 

“Bless you,” Charlie giggled, plucking two tissues out of the box on the arm of the sofa and handing them to Husk, who in turn used them to wipe off his hands and the underside of his nose before soaking the tissues with one gurgling blow, “Jeez, you were really stuffed up.” 

“Not anymore, shit,” Husk said with a relieved sigh, wrapping a finger in a few tissues and gently cleaning the inside of his fluffy ears, “Even cleaned out my ears.” 

“It can get in your ears?!” Charlie inquired, leaning over the sofa and staring at Husk’s ears intently as they twitched. 

“Mmhm, it’s why I’m damn lucky I don’t have any… a-ah…AH’KTSHEW! Ah’kshhew! Ah’kshhiew!...” Angel commented, pulling off his towel and finger-combing his moisture-dampened locks to fluff them back up, wincing at the spray coating the fur on his hands, “Euch… I need a shower after that.” 

Angel stood up, swaying a bit on his feet, “I’ll be right ba-ah…a-AH’KSHHIEW! ‘Kshhew! ‘KSHEW!...snff! I’ll be right back…” he said, cautiously wandering up the steps and disappearing down a hallway. 

Alastor’s watery sniffling and frustrated grunts made Husk and Charlie turn to face him, the towel still draped over his head. 

“Hh’KZXHHT! Hhnk’Tshhiew! Hhk’TSHHIEW! Heh’KSHEWW! Hhn’KzZsschiew!” Alastor’s sneezing continued, his desperate gasps in between fits riddled with the low rumble of congestion in his lungs. 

“Uhm… Alastor, you can take it off if the smell is too much,” Charlie proposed, watching The Radio Demon doubled over in his chair, completely at the mercy of his sinuses. 

“I ca-ahh.. Hh’KSCHIEW! Hhn’KSHHUH!... they’re st-uhh… s-stuck on my aahn- HEH’KSHHIEW! Heh’KSHewww!- antlers,” Alastor struggled, punctuating his sentence with a productive-sounding cough, his voice dripping with frustration and embarrassment at his current predicament. 

‘Brilliant, Alastor, just brilliant, you’re writhing like a simple-minded cat with its head stuck in a paper bag’

Charlie reached over, pulling the towel off of Alastor’s head, gently pulling away the segments of towel caught on his antlers, “There we go,” she said, smiling at her triumph. 

Alastor opened his mouth to utter his reluctant thanks, but quickly held a miraculously-clean handkerchief to his mouth instead, coughing as the crackling congestion in his chest inched its way up his throat. His fever-warm cheeks burned red-hot with embarrassment as he spat something into the red cloth before leaning back into his armchair to catch his breath. 

“That sounded…uhh…” Charlie began, wringing her hands and sheepishly looking away out of disgust. 

“Nasty,” Husk practically gagged. 

“I second that!” Vaggie called from the other room. 

“Cool! I wanna see, Alastor, lemme see!” Niffty pleaded, speed-crawling over to Alastor’s feet and sneaking a peek of the soiled handkerchief, “Woah…” 

“That’s quite enough,” Alastor scoffed, silencing another wet cough behind clenched teeth, “I’m fine… I’d prefer if we could pretend that didn’t happen.” 

Husk blinked, noticing the stiffness in Alastor’s smile and the embarrassment in his watery eyes, shooting his boss a knowing smirk, “I think somebody’s fever finally went down,” he chuckled, “Don’t worry, boss, you didn’t do anything too embarrassing.” 

“I can strangle you to death with one hand, and I will not hesitate to do so,” Alastor hissed, still struggling to fight back his cough, eventually relenting and holding his handkerchief back up to his mouth. 

“Think you’re a bit too busy stranglin’ yourself,” Husk teased, knowing that Alastor’s coughing fit would keep him from reacting violently to Husk’s sass. 

Alastor spat another load of sputum into his handkerchief and took a desperate inhale, a relieved grin flashing on his face when said inhale wasn’t accompanied by a crackle of more congestion, “I’m finished,” he panted, squeezing his soiled handkerchief in one hand as it vanished into the ether by way of its own shadow. 

Charlie leaned over and quietly popped the thermometer into Alastor’s ear, getting a quick reading, and pulling it away, “102, it did go down! Are you feeling any better?” she asked. 

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Alastor grumbled, running a clean handkerchief under his nose to wipe away the mess from his sneezing fit, “Especially since I’m in my right mind again.” 

“Damn shame,” Husk laughed from his spot on the sofa, ducking when Alastor threw his miraculously-empty mug at Husk’s head.

“This is humiliating,” Alastor grumbled, covering his eyes with both hands and rolling onto his side in his armchair, pulling his blanket tighter around his frame.

“Y’know, Alastor, maybe you’d be more comfortable if you had room to stretch your legs,” Charlie offered, “Since Cherri’s not here, you could take the loveseat on the opposite side and Niffty could take the armchair.” 

“I’m perfectly fine where I am, thank you,” Alastor replied, trying and failing to suppress a shiver. 

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked, shooting Alastor a compassionate smile, which finally got him to relent. 

“If you insist,” Alastor sighed, getting out of his chair and walking over to the loveseat on the opposite side of the sofa , lying down and completely wrapping his body in his blanket. 

“There you go, doesn’t that feel better?” Charlie asked, draping a second blanket over Alastor’s reclined form. 

“Only physically,” Alastor replied, his teeth chattering slightly as he struggled to conceal the pain in his eyes, “Thank you.” 

“No problem… are you okay?” Charlie asked as she watched Alastor continue to shiver in spite of the blankets. 

Alastor’s shivering calmed down, and his eyes noticeably glazed over again, looking glassy and distant as his gaze lost focus and his smile became more toothless and dopey. Charlie noticed the deep flush in Alastor’s cheeks, his heavy breathing, and the sweat trickling down his face from his hairline. 

“I’m fine… Hh’Kshew!...pardon me,” Alastor mumbled, readjusting himself under his blankets. The Radio Demon stared at Charlie for a moment, scanning her with his glossy eyes before shooting her a puzzling smile, “Your hair is so pretty… it’s like a tied up hay bale…” he giggled. 

“Oh… thank you?” Charlie replied, raising an eyebrow and cautiously reaching down to press the back of her hand against Alastor’s forehead.

“Aaaand he’s gone again,” Husk announced, “That didn’t last long.” 

“He’s burning up… I didn’t expect his fever to go back up so fast,” Charlie said, overwhelmed with concern as she took Alastor’s temperature with the ear thermometer, “104… I’m going to go see if we have some medicine somewhere.” 

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t roll off the loveseat and hurt himself ‘till you get back,” Husk said, turning away briefly to blow his nose before focusing his attention on Alastor’s relaxed but loopy form. 

“Thank you,” Charlie replied, leaving the room and leaving Husk alone with his fever-plagued boss. Niffty was still in the parlor, but she had fallen asleep after cozying up in her nest of blankets, and snored quietly on the floor, meaning that Husk had no one but Alastor to talk to. 

“Husker,” Alastor said in an almost teasing voice, shooting Husk a drowsy grin and staring at him with his glassy, vacant eyes. 

“What is it?” Husk asked, twitching his sensitive nose in an attempt to stave off a sneeze, “HRR’SCHUHH!” 

“H..-Hihh… How can you tell when an octopus egg is h-hahh…hatching?” Alastor asked, punctuating his sentence with a damp sniffle, wiping his irritated nose off with his handkerchief.

“I dunno Alastor, how?” Husk sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“It starts Kraken…Hih’SHHHEW! Uch… Excuse mbe…snff!” Alastor said, laughing at his own horrible joke until his boisterous laughter turned into a hoarse cough. 

“We’re not doin’ this, I’m not listenin’ to your stupid jokes,” Husk scoffed. 

“Ohh, that’s no fair, I had so mbany I was ready to try out- Hih’KSHHEW! Hih’kshhiew!” Alastor complained, blowing his nose. 

“Try ‘em out on Niffty when she wakes up,” Husk scoffed, smiling upon seeing Angel enter the parlor, now wearing a pair of pink velour pajamas adorned with black hearts and flowers, “How was your shower?” 

“Great,” Angel sighed, collapsing onto the sofa and letting Husk settle back in his lap, “Steam really does the trick when you’re plugged up- snff… it’s incredible.” 

“Glad it helped,” Husk replied softly, running his fingers through Angel’s clean fur. 

“Husker,” 

Husk rolled his eyes, “What is it now?” 

“Mby throat hurts,” Alastor said, his watery eyes looking genuinely vulnerable… almost pitiful as he spoke. 

“Mine does too, suck it up, maybe if you stopped runnin’ your mouth it wouldn’t hurt so much,” Husk said coldly, hurriedly holding a hand to his mouth to cover a violent cough and sighing with relief when Angel’s smooth hands began to rub his chest. 

Alastor nodded, lying down in silence on the loveseat and sniffling occasionally, curling in on himself and clutching desperately at his blankets. His chapped, shiny nose and feverish cheeks looked aggressively dark compared to his hypersensitive, sweat-covered, and unnaturally pale skin, and the tears brimming in his glazed-over watery eyes overflowed, running down his cheeks. 

‘I can’t believe you, we look ridiculous, pull yourself together…’ 

Alastor shuddered, whimpering quietly as his limbs ached and a violent pain radiated behind his eyes, cursing the razor-sharpness of his teeth that made them impossible to gnash and grind when he was in pain. 

‘I can’t… I can’t control it… I’m so tired, and hot… and achy,’ 

Alastor’s frustrated thoughts only made the hot tears on his cheeks run faster as he attempted to hide them with a damp sniffle, to no avail. He simply shut his eyes and resigned himself to his fate. 

“Oh my god,” Angel whispered, staring in awe at The Radio Demon’s hushed crying from the other side of the coffee table. 

“He’s completely out of his mind, he’d jump out a window before he let anyone see him like this,” Husk muttered.

“I know this ain’t the point, but your raspy voice is kinda sexy,” Angel whispered back, snickering when Husk playfully punched him in the arm, “Okay, I earned that one.”  

“Alright, it took a bit of digging, but I found some medicine-” Charlie paused upon re-entering the parlor, staring at Alastor’s shaking form and listening to his whimpering sobs, “-I’m sorry… is he?” 

Angel and Husk nodded in silence. 

Charlie gently pulled on one of Alastor’s ears, her heart dropping into her stomach when the gesture made Alastor let out a pained whine, before gently sticking the ear thermometer into the sensitive canal, “105…shit, why is this hitting him so hard?” she asked. 

“I mean, all four of us feel like absolute shit… but Boss was always real skittish and secretive about germs…HUH’KshOO! Hh’KSHEWW!...fuck- SnFF!- might be kickin’ his ass cause he’s never been sick before, or at least not this sick,” Husk attempted to explain, dragging the back of his wrist under his nose before Angel handed him a tissue, “Thanks.” 

“That makes sense… but it’s almost scary seeing him like this… Alastor? Alastor, wake up,” Charlie said, gently shaking Alastor to get his attention before pulling him into an upright position, “I’ve got something that should make your fever go down, okay?” 

Alastor nodded, reaching out and cupping Charlie’s face in his left hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb as his ears twitched, “Charlie?” he asked, the vacant look in his red eyes making Charlie chew anxiously on her tongue, he looked awful. 

“Yes, it’s me… can you see me?” Charlie asked, waving a hand in front of Alastor’s glassy eyes, her stomach twisting in knots when Alastor’s pupils didn’t follow her movement. 

“Mhm,” Alastor nodded, turning away from Charlie to muffle a fit of barking coughs into his handkerchief, “I think so.” 

“Okay, here, I’m going to pour the medicine for you, and you can take it when you’re ready,” Charlie said, pouring a dose of green fever reducer into the plastic measuring cup and handing it to Alastor, who surprisingly knocked it back almost immediately, licking his lips and flashing Charlie another delirious smile. 

“It tastes like apples,” Alastor said, giggling as he flopped back into a reclined position, doubling over when his laughter quickly devolved into another coughing fit. 

“I’m glad it tastes good, hopefully this makes you feel better,” Charlie said, gently massaging the back of Alastor’s head with her fingertips and turning to face Angel and Husk, “You guys want some?” 

“I’m fine, I’ll let this shit take its course,” Husk replied, Angel nodding in agreement, “I’m goin’ to sleep.” 

“Me too, Niffty’s got the right idea,” Angel sighed, getting comfortable on the sofa and uncrossing his legs, dozing off with Husk sleepily purring on top of him. 

“Thank you, Charlie,” Alastor said, his voice a hoarse whisper, “I hope you don’t catch thi-ihh… Hih’kshew! Hih’kshiew!...this…snff-snff!” 

“Of course,” Charlie replied, “I think I’ll be okay… you should rest… hopefully the medicine brings your fever down.” 

Alastor yawned, lowering his eyelids and cozying up to his pillow, his congested snoring joining the noisy snores of Angel, Husk, and Niffty as Charlie brushed his hair away from his forehead. 

“They’ll be better soon, it’ll be okay,” Charlie said to herself, getting one last look at her sickly friends before leaving the room to go chat with Vaggie, turning off the lights and lowering the volume on the TV before she tip-toed out of the parlor, leaving the quartet of patients in comfortable quiet darkness. 

#snz #snz fic #snz kink #illness kink #ha/zb/in ho/tel #gingey.rtf #Thank y'all so much for the support on this fic #I'm having so much fun writing again

[radiosmile]

Hazbin Hotel + First Appearance

#hazbinhoteledit #animationedit #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #hazbin hotel katie killjoy #hazbin hotel tom trench #mine* #ch: charlie #ch: vaggie #ch: angel dust #ch: alastor #ch: husk #ch: cherri bomb #ch: niffty #ch: sir pentious #ch: katie killjoy #ch: tom trench

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One Good Turn ch. 3

[Read on AO3] | [First Chapter] | [Next Chapter] Rating: T Story summary: Angel’s clean streak is broken when Val forcibly calls him back to the studio. On principle (and not at all out of concern for Angel's wellbeing), Alastor takes it upon himself to free Angel from Valentino's control. But what started as a simple favor becomes something much more complicated, all because of an innocent thank-you kiss.

— — – 

Some part of Alastor knew it wasn’t entirely fair to judge a person—or a demon, as the case may be—by the company he keeps. That is, the fact that Valentino chose to associate with that tasteless hack Vox did not necessarily mean that he too was uncultured vermin. It was damning, certainly, but not definitive. This was a moot point, however, as there was already sufficient evidence to prove Valentino was trash, his friendship with Vox notwithstanding.

“It looks like after several months supposedly on the straight and narrow, adult film star and well-known coke whore Angel Dust has finally fallen completely off the wagon!” Katie Killjoy’s aggressively cheerful voice blared from the television set up in the hotel’s lobby, where all the hotel’s residents had gathered for news of their missing compatriot. Alastor could just imagine that vicious smile plastered on her face as she commentated over a video of Angel in a darkened club drinking himself to sickness, Angel doing lines and laughing coldly as a demon at his side passed out, Angel knelt in the darkened interior of a limousine and flipping off paparazzi while Valentino held him close with a ubiquitous grin.

Valentino was a common factor in all these scenarios, in fact, whether pouring liquor down Angel’s throat, handing him off to a…client, or simply watching in amusement while he drowned himself in sin. It had been three weeks, nearly four, since that limo had arrived and whisked Angel back to his old life of leisure and pleasure, and it seemed clear that Valentino was intent on keeping him there. Perhaps all the drugs and alcohol were meant to keep him compliant. And it seemed to be working a treat.

“It just goes to show that every soul here in Hell is here for a reason,” the reporter went on, “and that no misguided attempts at redeeming them will ever bear fruit. Looking at you, Princess Charlotte!”

Charlie’s eyes were locked on the TV, both hands covering her mouth, and Alastor could see tears starting to well in her eyes. Vaggie tried to console her, but she simply shut her eyes tight and dropped her head, withdrawing into herself rather than showing all the pain she must be feeling. That was a smart move, strategic, but not at all aligned with her personality.

“Damn it, Angel was here longer than any of us,” one of the other patrons complained loudly. “If he couldn’t hack it, what chance do the rest of us have?”

“Oh, come now, my good fellow, that’s hardly the spirit of self-improvement we strive for here at the Hazbin,” Alastor crowed, waltzing over to drape his arm over the pessimistic demon’s shoulders. “Have some confidence! Have some fortitude! Why, I assure you no one is more distraught over our dear friend Angel’s defection than I, but I refuse to allow my melancholy to keep me from progressing toward—”

“Alastor, will you just…save it?” Charlie barked, surprising everyone in the room into silence (other than the television, unfortunately). She looked up at him with a tearful snarl, fingers curling into helpless claws. “I know you don’t care about any of this, I know you think of it as a joke, but losing Angel isn’t something to laugh about. He was doing so well. I really thought he…” She took a deep, shuddering breath and shut her eyes. “I feel stupid enough already. You don’t have to rub it in.” She left the room with her head down, and as usual, the others followed her lead, dispersing to their respective rooms and leaving Alastor alone with 666 News’s mocking jingle.

Well. That certainly hadn’t gone to plan. If Charlie thought he was intentionally digging at her for Angel’s unfortunate regression, she was sorely mistaken. Much to his own surprise, he truly was quite bothered by Angel’s absence, either because he disliked the hotel’s naysayers having any further ammunition against them or because none of their other patrons had such a defined and entertaining personality. He also didn’t much care for the knowledge that the very independent and unfettered Angel Dust was evidently being toted about like a marionette, with Valentino holding the strings.

With some reluctance, Vaggie had shared with him the stories Angel had told of his relationship with Val. There was no secret in the fact that Valentino used him for sex and money, no pretense of fair play or equality between them. It was with far more trepidation that Angel admitted exactly how imbalanced in power they were, how insistent Valentino could be on controlling his every move. And if he disobeyed, if he rebelled, if he refused any order, the Overlord wouldn’t hesitate to ‘lay down the law.’ Alastor could only guess, based on how frightened Angel had seemed when they’d last seen each other, exactly what that implied.

He had since done some further research on exactly who Valentino was and what function he served in Hell. How many associates he had. Who might seek revenge if some unfortunate accident were to befall him. That was, of course, how his association with Vox had become clear, which complicated matters a bit more. Slaughtering one Overlord for the sake of bringing Angel back into the fold and restoring his autonomy was one thing; Alastor had killed people for less. Murdering an Overlord to whom Vox had some ostensible connection was another entirely. Was Alastor willing to risk a genuine threat for the sake of this farce, this naïve, hellish sitcom Charlie was staging?

Difficult to say.

…

Later in the evening, while Alastor sat awake in bed contemplating his options, a faint scratching from downstairs caught his ear. It was unlikely any of the others would hear it, but being so attuned to the sounds of his surroundings as he was, it didn’t escape his notice. He sat a few moments longer, wondering if it might be another drunken imp crawling home after a few shots too many. But the sound persisted, a scratch scratch scratch, as if of claws scraping the front door’s flawless enamel.

With a sigh, he slipped through the shadows and down the stairs to open the door, shocked to find a disheveled Angel Dust collapsed on the doorstep. Or maybe ‘disheveled’ was too mild a word. His face was bruised and smudged with blood, his torn clothing even more revealing than usual, his breathing shallow as if every inhale caused him further pain. To be plain, he looked rather like shit. And his condition was utterly fascinating.

“Angel?” Alastor knelt to observe him more closely: his hazy eyes, the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, the way his hand still absently scrabbled toward the door. He almost seemed unaware that he was no longer alone. When Alastor rested a hand on his shoulder, he flinched away.

“No!” he said weakly. “No, I’ll be…I’ll…” He blinked quickly, trying to clear his vision, and the fear on his face faded into confusion. “Alastor?”

“That is my name; don’t wear it out,” Alastor chuckled, unsure of how to approach this situation with anything other than his usual nonchalance. “Are you all right? I’ll be honest: you aren’t looking your best.”

“Yeah, thanks, jackass,” Angel grumbled, struggling to push himself up, all four arms shaking under his slight weight.

“May I ask what happened?” He was terribly curious. It must have something to do with Valentino, but what? It was clear Angel had been beaten, but by whom?

“Doesn’t matter. Just help me get to my room, will ya?”

Alastor remained exactly where he was, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, are you back to stay? Is this a pattern you’re developing, spending some time ‘clean’ before relapsing and leaving us without a word for months or longer? A classic cycle for addicts, I’m told.” If Valentino had truly been holding him against his will, these accusations would hardly be fair, but Alastor got the feeling that wasn’t exactly what had happened.

“Fine, don’t help me then.” Angel managed to force himself to his feet—which were bare—and clung to the door to take one shaking step inside. As he tried to take another, he wavered and collapsed. By reflex, Alastor moved to support him. But Angel surprised him by shoving away, so roughly that he threw himself to the ground.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands off me!” he shouted, leaving the lobby in charged silence thereafter. Despite the unexpected reaction, or maybe because of it, Alastor’s smile widened slightly at the edges. He did enjoy a good surprise, if he was honest, and it was interesting to imagine what might have happened to make Angel of all people averse to being touched. After a moment of stillness, the tension melted from Angel’s body, and he lowered his head slowly. “Sorry. I ain’t had the best luck with men lately.”

Oh, do I fall under that category? “Think nothing of it. Though it’ll be harder to help you upstairs if you don’t want me touching you.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t get fuckin’ handsy,” Angel muttered, holding out one hand and allowing Alastor to take it to help him up.

“I’m sure you know already that I wouldn’t dream of it.” Again, he laughed, helping Angel slowly and cumbersomely across the lobby to enter the elevator.

“Ya know, for once, I appreciate that about you.” Angel had chosen a room at the very top of the hotel on his initial arrival, determined to be as far from the others as possible, citing ‘beauty rest’ and ‘mind your business’ as his reasoning. Regardless of his absence, Niffty had still included the room in her usual cleaning schedule, possibly in the hopes that he would be back. When they reached room 723 and he managed to locate his key, he swung the door open to a room decorated in shades of pink rather like Angel himself. While he stumbled inside to seat himself on the bed and let out a sigh of relief, Alastor lingered in the doorway, his curiosity unsatisfied.

“Where have you been?” he asked, making a conscious effort at sincerity in his tone.

“Ain’t you been watchin’ the news?” Angel scoffed. “I been everywhere. Didn’t even fuckin’ know half the time, Val kept me so—” He stopped himself, wrapping his arms around his lengthy body and staring down at his lap. “I bet Charlie’s pissed.”

“Now, I’m sure you know her better than that.”

“Yeah. But ‘disappointed’ is even worse. I didn’t want…” He shook his head in frustration. “It’s Val. I can’t think straight when he’s around. He gets in your head, y’know?”

“In your head, maybe,” Alastor agreed. “Yes, that’s how it seems.”

“You wanna talk about ‘cycles’? You wanna talk about ‘patterns’? It’s him. It’s always fuckin’ him.” Even with his mouth set in a furious sneer, a tear streaked down his face, and he quickly brushed it away. “He’s been real careful about keepin’ his eye on me this time. Keepin’ me happy or strung-out or shitfaced enough that I can’t argue with him. Guess he slipped up tonight.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Alastor stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him, then went to lean against the wall opposite Angel and watch him closely. It almost sounded as if he wanted to talk about what he’d just gone through at Valentino’s hands, and if that was the case, Alastor was happy to listen. “What happened tonight?” he prompted. “If Valentino has made such an effort to keep you under control, how did you come to be back here at the hotel?”

“Luck, maybe? I mean, if you can call it lucky to get the shit kicked outta you,” Angel said with a mirthless laugh. His eyes lingered on Alastor, studying him as if trying to guess what ulterior motives he might have for staying in the room. “I dunno. Val had some business to take care of tonight. The kinda business he doesn’t like me gettin’ involved in. So he…loaned me out to a buddy of his. Vox. He—”

Angel’s tale cut off with a cringe as the usual ambient buzzing about Alastor’s person jumped into a harsh screech of static. His sharp smile stayed fixed as firmly as ever, his eyes wide as he tried to process this new information. He hadn’t realized that Vox was personally involved in all this, but the knowledge muddied his feelings on the entire subject somewhat. Where was all this anger coming from, he wondered? Was it the idea of Vox enjoying anything that he so resented? Was it the concept of Angel Dust being passed around between Overlords without any say in the matter? Maybe it was the thought that he was somehow enabling Vox to take advantage of Angel by not confronting Valentino sooner.

Very difficult to say.

After several seconds of tension, he managed to subdue the scratch and static back to its typical lingering presence. “I’m sorry, please continue,” he said pleasantly. “You’ve been…involved with Vox, then?”

“Sorta.” Angel was still watching him warily, like he expected another sudden outburst at any moment. “You know him?”

“We’re acquainted.” Another brief crackle of static. “We’re of different minds on a few issues. I didn’t know he was a part of Valentino’s business.”

“He’s not exactly. Doesn’t like gettin’ his hands dirty; he just likes to watch,” Angel explained. Yes, that fit the understanding of Vox’s character that Alastor had developed over the years. Always watching, observing, storing information for later use. Parasite. “It’s not like anything was different this time. It’s how he always is. Him and his guys. Usually four or five of ‘em. But I guess he didn’t like Val’s plan to keep me drugged and drunk all the time. What’s the point if I don’t scream, right?” His voice had turned hard, cold, and his clawed fingers dug into the bedspread beneath him.

Realizing that this topic had become an unpleasant one for both of them, Alastor began, “Angel, if you’d rather not—”

“Oh no, you started this,” Angel snapped back, shooting him a glare. “You wanted to know. The least you can do is let me finish.” He was right, of course. Alastor inclined his head and gestured for Angel to go on. “Anyway, those demons that work for him ain’t really the gentle type. And I was comin’ down from like, three different highs at once, so I already felt like garbage before they got their hands on me. Guess I complained one time too many.” He absently reached up to touch the bruise on his cheekbone, wincing slightly at the pressure.

“Once they were done with me, once Vox looked the other way, I snuck out. I got a cab, but I didn’t have any cash on me, so…” He shrugged, leaving it up to Alastor’s imagination as to how he paid for the ride. This may have been the first time he’d seen Angel so blasé toward—even uncomfortable with—the subject of sex. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Don’t worry, Val’s probably gonna send one of his guys to pick me up once he realizes I’m gone, so I won’t be here causin’ trouble for long.”

Alastor pushed off the wall and strode over to the bed to stand in front of Angel. Recalling how badly he had responded to being touched earlier, he made sure to move slowly and carefully as he trailed his fingertips up the edge of Angel’s chin to make him look up. “Is that what you want? To go back to Valentino?”

“Wh-what?” Angel was apparently having difficulty following the turn this conversation had just taken, his face flushed as he stared up at the Radio Demon with wide eyes.

“Do you want to go back to him?” Alastor repeated, absently licking the pad of his thumb to wipe the dried blood away from the corner of Angel’s mouth. Such a waste. Angel started to lean into the touch, but it ended before he could do so. “If and when he sends an escort to retrieve you, do you plan to cooperate?”

“What else am I gonna do?” Shaking his head, leaning back slightly, Angel pointed out, “You don’t know what he’s like, Al. He doesn’t like bein’ told ‘no,’ and he doesn’t like lettin’ go of shit that belongs to him. I ain’t got much choice.”

“Just humor me for a moment and suppose that you do,” Alastor insisted, gesturing airily as he spoke. “Suppose you had the option to either go back to his studio and live a relatively comfortable and indulgent life with few personal freedoms or stay here, focus on your rehabilitation, and work with us to support the hotel’s efforts. Which would you prefer?”

The answer was almost immediate. “If there was a way for me to not be Val’s little fuckin’ boy toy anymore, sure, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”

Alastor’s smile widened considerably. “That is exactly what I was hoping to hear. And as co-manager of the hotel, it’s my duty to eliminate any and all obstacles to our patrons’ recovery, is it not? Consider your account with Valentino settled, my friend, and try to get some rest. We’ll be expecting you back in sessions tomorrow.”

“Wait. Wait a minute!” Angel grabbed his wrist as he started to leave, and although he wrenched away from the touch, he did pause. “What’re you sayin’? You’re not gonna go after him, are ya?”

“I plan to have a conversation with him,” Alastor said honestly. “I’m hoping he’s a reasonable fellow and will understand the situation without the need for things to get messy. If he doesn’t, however…” The room darkened slightly, highlighting the glow of his eyes. “I̶ ̢w̸i̷l͡l m͞ak̸e ͘h͜i͏m ͝uǹd҉e̶rst҉an͠d.”

“Don’t.” Angel was visibly unnerved by seeing his cheerful demeanor slip, but it didn’t stop him from protesting. “Seriously. I know you’re supposed to be this big powerful Overlord and all, but Val is no joke. Whatever you think you’re gonna get out of threatening him—”

“Are you trying to protect him?”

“No. I’m tryin’ to protect—” He ran a hand through his hair with an irritated groan. “It’s not worth it. I’m sayin’ if he’s pissed at me, I should be the one dealing with it. I don’t want you or Charlie or anybody here to get hurt cuz of my personal bullshit.” As the words were coming out of his mouth, he seemed to slowly realize what he was saying, just as Alastor did the same.

“Why Angel Dust,” the Radio Demon purred, surprised but delighted. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that sounded very much like the virtue of Kindness. Maybe even Humility. You might be closer to redemption than I thought.” What an interesting development!

“Oh, shut the hell up!” Angel hissed, flushing even darker now and grabbing a heart-shaped throw pillow from the bed to toss it at Alastor. “Get outta my room, you dick.”

“Hmm, and just when we were starting to get along.” He dodged another pillow and swept out of the room, stealing one last glance at the blush on Angel’s cheeks before pulling the door shut behind him. As much as he appreciated the sentiment, he planned to ignore the advice not to approach Valentino.

It’s not worth it, Angel had said. I’m not worth it, was what he meant. That was likely another lingering effect of Valentino’s influence, one he would be better off without. Beyond that, Alastor had already said that he would take care of the problem, and he had a firm policy against the breaking of promises.

#RadioDust #Hazbin Angel Dust #Hazbin Alastor #ooh he bout to DO IT #finally getting some actual RadioDust content in this fucking RadioDust fic #it only took 4000 words #>_> #anyway! enjoy! and stay tuned for the next chapter~ #One Good Turn #Hazbin Hotel #Radio Dust

[dragonshoard]

So Danny would vaguely resemble Obstagoon from Pokemon then? Lol. Better than Dan for his mental health. Actually, DP villains can make pretty good overlords. Walker, Nocturn with dreams, Undergrowth, Vortex, Fright Knight, Disiree, and maybe Spectra(I'll love to see her interact with Katie Killjoy) should do well down there. Vlad, if he goes to hell to instead of being a full ghost can cause issues too. He can be a cat demon or a toucan demon as a nod to the fruit loop / get a cat joke

CURSED IMAGE CURSED IMAGE NO NIET NIEN CHE SDKGJN SCRUB MY EYES WITH BLEA CH WHAT IS THAT

I was thinking more along of the line of he’s still physically humanoid but got badger coloring/markings and sleek fur. Maybe flared arms like Husker? But nooo get that pokemon away fROM ME. 

Oh the villains would make good overlords if they, you know, didn’t keep trying to take over the world xD

Spectra would crush Katie Killjoy, lets be honest. Utterly DESTROY. 

Vlad is too dumb to be an overlord. He’d try to get in with the royalty/helborne characters and would be looked down upon tbh. I love you bby but they did you wrong in canon. Fanon Vlad though hmmm he’d thrive, using his abilities to reach a decent level of influence. Cat demon Vlad I support you. 

#origin #hazbin hotel #dp #Anonymous

[chestcongestion]

Demon-to-Demon Ch.4/5: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Warnings: Contagion, Mess (a lot of mess this time), Plot thread might be too close to current events for comfort even if it has nothing to do with current events

Word count: 7,312

This one managed to get away from me, I got a little too excited but this is definitely going to be 4/5 I think, and 5 might be even longer than this one. Thanks again for all of the support, this has been incredibly fun to write. Hope you enjoy ^^!

“G’Mbordi’g Pentagramb City… Ih’pshiEWWW… I’b Katie Killjoy,” the usually well-put-together anchorwoman for 666 News delivered her introductory line without an ounce of energy, her voice hoarse and her consonants butchered by her clogged sinuses. 

Instead of filming the daily news from the 666 News station desk, Katie was tucked up in bed, wearing a lilac nightgown with her hair clipped to keep it out of her face, and was recording herself delivering the day’s news by using a slightly out-of-focus camcorder and a VoxTech Television Network intern’s laptop. 

“I’b live frob mby… Yihh-hihh’TschiEwW!...Ih’TSHiEWWW…mby house to update you all on day number 24 of ‘The Red Spread’,” Katie said, her fingertips twitching as she fought back the urge to pull her blankets up to her chest, “Statistics are sayi’g that… SnFF!... arou’d 93% of the Pentagramb is currently infected. So far there have been no recorded complicatio’ds or deaths… and activity across the city has come to a halt …Ih’TschiEWW! ‘Tshhiew! ‘TSHIEWW!”  

“93% of the Pentagram…” Vaggie muttered to herself as she peeked at the television from behind the sofa, “It’s been almost a month now… how are so many people getting sick?” 

“I think a better question would be why we ain’t gettin’ any better,” Angel croaked, dabbing at his drippy nostrils with a tissue, blowing his ‘nose’ into the tissue with a quiet honk, shivering slightly under his blanket. 

“Iih’pzZshIEW! Ih’pshuue! Ih’pshew!” Niffty sneezed from her bundle of blankets on the floor, drowsily running the back of her wrist across her face to swipe at the dense mucus leaking from her sinuses, “That’s disgusti’g… IH’PSHHIEW!”  

“Bless you!” Charlie said enthusiastically, nervously handing Niffty a package of wipes so she could clean off her face, “It could be worse… at least nobody’s in any serious danger.” 

“Yeah- snrK!- worst thing we’d ndeed ta’ worry about is runnin’ outta tissues,” Angel scoffed, tossing a soggy tissue into the trash can near the sofa, looking in front of him and smiling at Husk, who was sleeping peacefully while draped across his body. 

“It’s still concerning, this has never happened before, and then out of nowhere something incredibly contagious manages to tag almost the entire city and clings to them for weeks?!” Vaggie pondered, “I dunno, it just feels like trouble.” 

“You oughtta go out and investigate, since you’re immune,” Angel proposed- almost sarcastically- while stroking Husk between his ears, “A-ah… Ah’kshieww! Ah’kzxhhtt! Ah’kzZsChew!...’Shhew! ‘SHIIEW!” 

“Bless you,” Charlie said, brandishing the thermometer and holding it out for Angel to take, watching him slide it under his tongue, “It is kind of worrying, but maybe everyone’s finally turning a corner!”  

The thermometer beeped, and Angel squinted his eyes at the reading before sighing and handing it to Niffty, “Sti-i-ihh…Sti-IiH’Kshew!...snff! Still got a fever… 102,” he said, swallowing harshly against his throbbing, achy throat, the sudden pain making him cough. 

Niffty pulled the thermometer out of her mouth and sighed, “Still 101,” she said, emptying her packed sinuses with a gurgling blow into a handful of tissues. 

Angel quietly grabbed the thermometer off of the coffee table, shooting a glance at Husk, “Kitty Cat… wakey-wakey, we gotta take your temperature, and if you don’t get up we gotta do it vet style,” he whispered playfully, scratching behind Husk’s left ear. 

Husk let out a hoarse cough, “You are not stickin’ that thing up my ass,” he grumbled, opening his mouth and letting Angel slide the thermometer under his tongue, removing it thirty seconds later once it beeped. 

“102,” Angel announced, leaning forward to kiss Husk’s forehead. 

“Okay… only one left,” Charlie said, turning and brandishing the ear thermometer, looking at Alastor’s curled up, unconscious form on the loveseat. Alastor’s breathing was noisy, the phlegm sitting in his chest rumbled on every inhale and crackled on every exhale. 

Carefully, Charlie slipped the ear thermometer into Alastor’s right ear and pulled it out without disturbing him from his slumber, “104,” she sighed, pressing her cool palm against Alastor’s burning forehead, “I don’t know why his fever keeps getting so high… we’re all out of medicine.” 

After a brief silence, Alastor’s breath audibly caught in his chest, a bubble of sputum popping at the top of his windpipe and tickling his throat. 

Still asleep, Alastor began to cough- a wet, chesty cough muffled by his clenched teeth that were still forced into his trademark grin. The crackle of mucus in his chest grew noisier and noisier as congestion got trapped at the bottom of his trachea, strangling him and rousing him slowly from his sleep. 

Angel held back a gag, “Oh that is nasty,” he whispered, shuddering at the sound. 

Husk’s ears twitched, and he held a hand over his mouth, his lungs aching out of the sliver of sympathy he felt for his boss.

“I don’t know how to help him… it sounds like he’s choking,” Charlie muttered, biting her fingernails. 

“I got it,” Angel said with a dense sniffle, getting up from the sofa and swaying on his feet, feeling deeply lightheaded but determined to help. Kneeling down next to the loveseat, Angel shook Alastor until he was completely awake. 

Alastor stared at Angel with vacant red eyes, the rumbling in his lungs quieting down as he channeled all of his focus into breathing through his nose.

“Smiles, up here, can you see me?” Angel asked, waving his hand in front of Alastor’s face, noticing that Alastor’s pupils followed his hand on a slight delay. 

Alastor nodded, a rough inhale through his nose making his clogged sinuses squeak in a way that sounded painful. 

“I’m gonna help you get that crap outta your chest so you can breathe, okay?” Angel asked, pinching Alastor’s face and turning his head upwards until their eyes met. 

Alastor nodded, still noticeably drowsy, blinking rapidly as his eyes watered and a weak cough echoed from deep in his lungs. His eyelids drooped slightly and his pupils wandered, desperate but exhausted as his body went slack to conserve energy… and oxygen.  

Angel pulled Alastor upright by the collar of his pajamas, and sat behind him, one hand firmly cradling the radio demon’s quivering chest, one wound back with a splayed hand, and the other two holding onto his thighs for stability. “Okay, open your mouth- snff!- breathe in, as deep as you can,” he instructed. 

Alastor choked back another coughing fit, taking a deep, wheezy, desperate inhale upon Angel’s request. 

“Good,” Angel said, roughly clearing his throat, “I’m gonna pat your back, all you gotta do is focus on coughing that shit up, got it?”  

Alastor nodded, held up his handkerchief to his mouth, and began to cough, the fit sounding infinitely more productive with the help of Angel patting his back. His eyes watered and his throat felt raw, and he was taking short pauses in between coughs to gasp for air, but Alastor could feel it working, the burdensome weight on his lungs was leaving. 

After six long minutes, Alastor let out a final wet cough and spat into his handkerchief, his airways feeling a million times clearer and his handkerchief damp with sputum. 

“There we go,” Angel sighed, wiping sweat from his brow and staggering over to the sofa, getting comfortable again, “Fuck, that was a workout…Ah-Hah-Hahh’ksheww! Hah’kshieww! ‘Ksheww! Ha-aah’Kshiewww!” 

“Thank you,” Alastor croaked in a hushed voice, wiping off his mouth and reclining on his loveseat, his breathing still slightly heavy and his face still flushed. 

Charlie stared at Angel, admiration shimmering in her eyes, not only at the lanky spider’s selflessness, but at the impressive skill she had never seen anyone perform in her 200 years of living, “How did you do that? That was amazing!” she cheered.

“Don’t mention it,” Angel replied, “Somethin’ I learned back on Earth that I never thought would come in handy.”

“Could you show me? I wanna be able to help,” Charlie requested, bouncing on her heels. 

“Sure,” Angel said with a shrug, “I just cleared Fancy Pants out for a while-” Angel paused, pressing a hand to Husk’s back and feeling the low rumble of congestion trapped in his lungs, “-but Husk’ll do fine.” 

Husk sighed, too drowsy to resist whatever Angel was plotting, letting the spider adjust him until he was sitting upright in Angel’s lap. 

“It works just fine if they’re on their stomach or lyin’ down, but I do better when they’re sittin’ up,” Angel explained, “You hold ‘em up by their chest with one hand like this, and either get ‘em to take a deep breath, or just start whackin’ until you knock somethin’ loose.” 

Angel stuck out his tongue, narrowing his eyelids to focus, and began patting Husk’s upper back softly, one pat after the other in rapid succession, as though he was attempting to speed through burping a baby. 

Suddenly, Husk’s eyes widened and he held a hand up to his mouth, letting loose a productive-sounding cough that snowballed into a coughing fit as Angel’s gentle thumping slowed down. 

“You just keep goin, not too fast that you tire yourself out-” Angel paused, swallowing against his sore throat, “- but not too slow, until-” 

Husk let out a particularly nasty cough and plucked three tissues out of the box on the sofa, spitting out whatever Angel had managed to unearth and tossing the soiled tissues in the trash, “Didn’t even know that was in there,” he muttered, “HhD’TschHUHH! HrR’SCHUHHH!” 

“There we go, it’s pretty easy,” Angel said with a triumphant smirk, nestling back underneath his blanket and repositioning Husk so the bartender was reclined along the length of Angel’s body and tucked under a second blanket. 

“You make it look so easy… but I think I’ve got it… where did you learn to do this, anyways?” Charlie asked. 

“Eh, my Pops burned through a value carton of smokes a day, if ya didn’t whack the crud outta him he’d choke on it,” Angel said with a yawn, fighting back a violent shiver as he curled up against Husk for warmth, “Ah’T-SshhiewW! H-hah’TSHHHIEW!... fuck…snff!”

“Bless you! Okay, on that note, I’m gonna go out and get you guys some more medicine… Vaggie, d’you think you’ll be okay keeping an eye on them while I’m gone?” Charlie asked.  

“I’ll be fine, just be careful, Sweetie,” Vaggie replied, kissing Charlie on the cheek. 

“I will,” Charlie said with a reassuring smile, “Anyone need anything specific?” 

Angel reached into his chest fluff and pulled out a wad of folded-up bills, handing Charlie $100 in $20 bills, “Popsicles, please… snff!... my throat’s killin’ me,” he requested, running his soft fingertips along the length of his neck and swallowing harshly. 

Charlie hesitantly took the money and stashed it in her pocket, “Gotcha, I’ll be back soon, see you guys later!” she said with a smile, waving the group goodbye and rushing out of the hotel’s front door. 

Vaggie sighed, “I need to check on something, behave yourselves while I’m gone,” she said, turning on her heel and leaving the parlor. 

“Can we watch Cannibal Cooking with Jeffrey Dahmer?” Niffty asked, kicking her feet, “I’m bored- snff!- I’d clean but my legs hurt every time I try to stand up.”  

“You always-” Angel paused as his hoarse voice fizzled out, forcing him to roughly clear his throat, “- always wanna watch weird shit. I didn’t thig’k anybody watched that show.” 

“I like it,” Alastor piped up from the loveseat, wrapped tightly in his blankets and attempting to suppress a shiver, “it’s one of the thi’gs on televisio’d I can tolerate…snff! Snff-snff!” 

Angel rolled his eyes, changing the channel and leaning back against the arm of the sofa, massaging Husk’s ears with his slender fingertips, “Blow your nose,” he said to Alastor, tucking Husk underneath his blanket and stifling a yawn. 

Alastor noisily blew his nose into his handkerchief, the release of air triggering a dense, congested-sounding cough, “Uch… H-heh-Ep-shiewww! Hehh’Tshhiew! Heh’ktshiew! Hehp’TshHieWW!” 

“Y’know… snff!...this is the longest I’ve been off work,” Angel paused, swallowing harshly against his sore, scratchy throat, “Which completely sucks… I can’t do anythin’ cause I can barely stand up without fallin’ over.” 

“Could be worse,” Husk commented from underneath the blankets, his face buried in Angel’s torso, “HrR’SHUHHH! Hnn’KTSHHOO! Huh’kTSshEWW!” 

“That’s true,” Angel said, nestling into the blankets and cuddling Husk tighter, his eyelids drooping, “You two enjoy the show… I’b gonna take a nap…” 

Angel quickly fell asleep, his and Husk’s heavy snoring creating peaceful background noise for Niffty and Alastor as they watched Cannibal Cooking together. 

“Iih’pshuu! Ih’pshew! ‘Scuse be… SnFF!...Look, he’s scoring the flesh on the leg before he massages in his dry rub, that’s amazihh…ihh…IH’PSHEW!” Niffty whispered, staring at the screen in complete awe while blindly grasping around for a tissue to wipe her face. 

“It is amazi’g isn’t it?” Alastor replied, rolling onto his stomach and kicking his legs, ignoring the deep rumble of congestion in his chest that was jostled by his sudden movement, “It’s such a big leg… I wonder where he gets themb.”

‘Rosie loves this program… I wonder how she’s fairing, I haven’t had the chance to speak with her… I miss her,’ Alastor thought, letting loose a wistful sigh that quickly became a heavy cough. 

On the Southeastern side of the Pentagram, Charlie strolled cautiously through the empty streets, a reusable bag of medicine and groceries slung over her shoulder. 

“I think I took a wrong turn on the way back to the hotel… I’m too far south… in fact, this place seems familiar,” Charlie pondered, looking at the red mist that filled the air, the particles tickling her nose, “Snff!... this stuff smells like flowers! Wonder what it is…” 

Continuing on her walk, Charlie smiled upon finding a familiar sign, “Ohhh! I’m in Cannibal Town, I almost didn’t recognize it with this red fog… weird,” she said to herself, listening to the harsh whistle of the wind echoing through the empty roads, “Since I’m here… I kind of wanna see Rosie.” 

Tucking her shopping bag away behind a bush, Charlie began the short walk to Rosie’s Emporium. 

“The streets are so empty… nobody’s gonna take it… it’s kind of creepy how there’s no one outside, actually,” Charlie whispered to herself as she knocked on the emporium’s door, jumping slightly when a short robot answered, “H-hello!” 

“Rosie’s Emporium is on temporary hiatus from any business inquiries, can I help redirect you to other resources?” The robot asked, blinking at Charlie with a sweet expression.

“I’m actually here to visit Rosie… not on business, just as a friend,” Charlie said, leaning down to get on the robot’s level, “Can I see her?” 

The robot paused, before nodding, “Follow me,” it said, letting Charlie inside and leading her up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway, eventually leading to two ornate double doors that were decorated with roses- the door handles were even designed to look like thorny rose stems. 

“i-Ih…IH’PSHEWWWW! Ih’pshhhiew! Ih’PssHEW!” squeaky sneezing could be heard behind the door, followed by a long, damp sniffle. 

Charlie frowned, she knew from the news that it was more likely than not that Rosie caught the Red Spread virus like everyone else, but hearing her suffering- no matter how mild- still hurt. 

“Miss Rosie, you have a visitor,” the robot announced, knocking on the double doors. 

“Cobe idd- SnFFF!- Euch… Ih…I-ihh…IH’P-shiewww! Ih’psheww! Ih’psSHIEW!” Rosie croaked, her voice noticeably hoarse and her consonants garbled. 

Charlie pushed open the double doors to Rosie’s bedroom and found the overlord in question tucked into bed with her duvet up to her lower ribcage. Rosie’s gorgeous satin bedspread was littered with used tissues, and the trash can next to her bed was absolutely overflowing with them. 

Rosie sat up in bed, the robot rushing to her side to prop her up using some of her pillows, “Thag’k you Roland- SnFF!- such a ndice boy…IHH’PSHHIEW!” she croaked, patting the robot’s hair with her slender fingers before she noticed her visitor, “Charlie! Oh isn’t this a pleasadt surprise- snrkk!- you’re a sight for sore eye sockets, girl- snFF!- I’d idvite you to cobe sit but the last thi’g you want is to catch this… IHH’KSHHIEW! Ih’pshhuhh! Ih’psheww! ‘Tshhhieew!” 

Charlie blinked, “Oh no, it’s fine, I’d love to… I think I’m immune somehow, if I’ve managed to beat out almost the entire city, I think I’ve got good odds,” she laughed. 

Rosie’s feverishly jovial expression drooped, and she raised a curious eyebrow, “I’b sorry… wha?” she asked. 

“Yeah, only 7% of Pentagram City is still healthy, everyone else is sick… they’re calling it ‘The Red Spread’ on the news,” Charlie explained calmly, “Did you not know that?” 

“Wh- Uhb… No?!” Rosie replied, gesturing to the wall opposite her bed, where a beautiful replica of  ‘A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte’ was hung in place of a television, “I’b ndot exactly the kinda gal to keep up with the ndews-snff!-” Rosie pinched a tissue to her face, blowing her ‘nose’ and tossing the tissue on top of the pile surrounding her trash can, “It mbust spread fast… it’s ondly been a few days.” 

Charlie let out a nervous laugh, suddenly realizing that Rosie’s bedroom had no windows, “About that…” she began. 

Rosie’s grey skin practically turned white, leaving nothing but the vibrant unnatural flush on her cheeks, her ‘nose’, and the undersides of her puffy eyelids, “Charlie… doll… what day is it?” she asked.  

“It’s… the 27th,” Charlie said, reading the calendar on her phone. 

Rosie tugged at her slightly-messy hair with her manicured fingers, giggling nervously until her laughter devolved into a hoarse cough, “I started feeli’g sick on the 3rd…” she muttered to herself, “The overlord mbeeti’g was on the 1st.” 

Charlie cautiously inched closer to Rosie, wrapping the cannibal overlord in a hug, wincing internally at the heat radiating from Rosie’s body- especially her face- and the feeling of her exposed skin, which was clammy and damp with sweat, “I know this has to be frightening… are you okay?” she asked, rubbing Rosie’s back with a splayed hand. 

“Everythi’g started getti’g fuzzy,” Rosie whispered, her voice still noticeably hoarse, “I’ve just been sleepi’g and talkin’ to that damn robot… for almost a month.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Charlie asked.  

Rosie quietly wiped a few stray tears away with her thumb, inching away from the hug and composing herself, “Help mbe get outta this bed,” she chuckled, swinging her slender legs out from beneath her duvet and sheets, “I’b starvin’ and I ndeed to be somewhere with a window.” 

Charlie grabbed hold of Rosie’s hand, gently pulling her onto her feet as she staggered upon leaving her bed, nearly falling to her knees before bracing herself against Charlie for support, “There we go, careful,” she said with a reassuring smile, helping Rosie walk out of her bedroom one step at a time. 

Eventually, Charlie got Rosie all the way downstairs into her kitchen, sitting her down at the counter, “There we go, now you can see outside,” she said. 

“I didn’t realize that red shit made it all the way over here- snff!- wonder if it’s gotten a’dywhere else,” Rosie pondered, scrubbing at her face to stave off a building itch, “Iih’pshhhIHH! Ih’PSHHEW! Ih’SsHhiEWWW!...Shit, I forgot to bri’g tissues.” 

Charlie opened her mouth, about to offer to get them for Rosie, only to pause as Rosie whistled, summoning the little robot that greeted Charlie at the door. 

“Can I help you, Miss Rosie?” 

“Such a polite little thi’g- snff!- so helpful,” Rosie crooned, petting him on his head, “I ndeed a box of tiihh…IH’TshhIHH! IH’TShhiEww!...tissues, Roland.” 

Roland zipped out of the room, returning promptly with a box of tissues, setting them down on the counter next to Rosie and waiting patiently at her side while she blew her ‘nose’, soiling three tissues in the process. 

“Do you need anything else?” Roland asked, a dutiful look in his glowing eyes. 

Rosie shook her head, waving Roland off with a smile and slowly pushing herself onto her feet once he left the room, her knees trembling underneath her black satin nightgown, “Huh… this bug took more outta me than I thought… I can barely stand on my own two feet,” she croaked, letting go of the counter and taking a deep breath as she slowly inched towards her sink, filling up a tea kettle with water and putting it on the stove. 

“You probably just didn’t notice because you’ve been in bed resting for so long,” Charlie proposed, wincing when Rosie let out a hoarse cough, “While we’re waiting for your water to boil… maybe we should take your temperature.” 

“Probably… but if I sit down I’m nervous I won’t be able to get back up,” Rosie chuckled, her nervous laughter quickly devolving into a coughing fit that left her winded, “Phew… sorry.” 

“We can take it while you’re standing,” Charlie said, nearly jumping out of her skin when she noticed Roland had silently appeared next to her, holding a mercury thermometer with a kind smile, “Thanks, Roland.” 

Roland nodded in silence before disappearing into the other room. 

Rosie gently removed the thermometer from Charlie’s hands, giving it a good shake before placing it under her tongue, swaying on her heels and sniffling occasionally, desperate to squash a furious tickle in her sinuses that was threatening to turn into a sneeze. 

By the time the thermometer was ready to be removed, Rosie was desperately scrubbing at her face to keep from sneezing and launching the thermometer across the room, quickly turning away when Charlie pulled it out of her mouth, “I-iih-IHH’PSHHHIEW! Hih’TSsCHHIEWWW! Ih’psSHiIEWW! Ih’pshhiew! ‘TssHIEW! I-IH’pSHHHEW!” she sneezed rapidly, unable to cover the germy spray with her hands paralyzed by the fit. 

Charlie squinted to locate the stopping point of the mercury while Rosie noisily emptied her sinuses and groaned at the friction hurting her raw nostrils, the sensitive skin becoming red, chapped, and shiny with moisture from the slow trickle of mucus. 

“Well, dond’t keep mbe id suspense- snff, snFF!- what’s it say?” Rosie asked, “SnfF- ih… I-IHH’KSHHEWW!...’Scuse be.” 

“Almost 103,” Charlie announced, pressing the back of her hand against the side of Rosie’s neck, and then resting it against each of the overlord’s slightly bony cheeks, feeling the searing heat radiating from her skin, “You definitely feel hot… and that would explain why you’re so weak and dizzy.” 

Rosie shrugged as she moved her whistling kettle away from the heat, “Can’t argue with that,” she croaked, bracing herself against the counter and grabbing a mug from her cabinet, setting it down next to the kettle and pawing around until she located a box of tea bags, placing two at the bottom of the mug. 

“So… when did you hire Roland? He seems sweet,” Charlie piped up randomly, attempting to make conversation as Rosie sniffled and prepared her drink- adding a generous squirt of honey, a bit of lemon juice, and a refrigerated vial of blood into her mug before filling it up with hot water. 

“Oh I didn’t hire him, he was a gift… I let a few of these little incubi come to Cannibal Town to do a few polls for a month, and when they left I got a big package in the mail from their boss… apparently these robots are popular for-” Rosie paused, letting out a guttural barking cough and rubbing her throat, “-sorry… popular for other purposes, but I’m not that kinda girl, so he mostly did little errands up until I caught this bug. He’s been very helpful.” 

“Oh! I thought he looked a little familiar! He’s one of the robots a friend of my dad makes! You took off his little hat,” Charlie giggled. 

“Thought he looked nicer without it,” Rosie replied, taking a few big swigs of her drink and sighing with relief, turning away to cough, the cough still sounding dry and deep, scraping against her raw throat, “Sorry-” another cough, “-think all this talkin’ is wearin’ my throat out.” 

Charlie frowned, watching Rosie’s legs begin to wobble, and approaching Rosie to offer a supportive arm when it looked like she was going to collapse, “I think you should get back in bed,” she proposed, “You look tired.” 

Rosie opened her mouth to object, but vibrated from an intense shiver that seemed to come from her core, her sharp teeth chattering and the flush on her cheeks practically glowing, “I am tired… a-and I’m cold,” she replied, her voice almost a hoarse whimper as she leaned against Charlie for support, her legs shaking harder than the rest of her, “I don’t w-wanna go back to bed… don’t wanna lose track of time again.” 

Charlie nodded, “Let’s get you set up on your sofa,” she offered, walking Rosie out of her kitchen and into her den- the room in her residential space attached to the emporium that actually had a television instead of a giant painting. 

Rosie collapsed onto the large velvet sofa, still vibrating with chills as Charlie helped move her into a more comfortable reclined position, propping her up with a few pillows and draping a heavy throw blanket over her shaking form, “Th-thank you,” Rosie sighed, relaxing slightly as the soft blanket brushed against her sensitive skin.

“Of course, I’m happy to help,” Charlie replied with a smile, finger-combing Rosie’s sweat-dampened locks away from her face, “I’m sorry you’re so sick… do you have any medicine?” 

Rosie sniffled, “I think I have some fever reducer from when one of my teeth got infected,” she said with a yawn, whistling for Roland, who whizzed into the den holding a bottle of colorful pills. 

Roland gently shook the pill bottle after popping off the top, sliding two pills out into his hand and letting Rosie pop them into her mouth, swallowing them without water, which made her cough. 

“Thank you, Roland, you’re very helpful!” Charlie said, gently petting Roland on the head before he rushed away, leaving the room and coming back with a freshly-filled hot water bottle, setting it down in Rosie’s lap underneath her blanket, the warmth making Rosie relax. 

“Mmm… that feels good,” Rosie yawned, her eyes beginning to droop as she hid a hoarse cough behind her wrist, “I think I’m gonna take a nap- ihh-Ih’PssSHIEW!- I’m exhausted, but I appreciate you visiting, Charlie.” 

“It was my pleasure, I’m glad I was able to help, I hope you feel better!” Charlie cheered, giving Rosie a reassuring pat before she fell asleep, turning on her heel and leaving Rosie’s Emporium with a spring in her step. 

Grabbing her shopping bag from its hiding place, Charlie began the trek back to the hotel- this time in the right direction- while taking deep breaths to enjoy the pleasant scent of the red mist hanging in the air in Cannibal Town. 

“I’ve never smelled something this nice before… it’s like perfume,” Charlie said to herself, “Snff!- it’s such a pretty color, too.” 

Absent-minded and focused on getting back to the hotel before the popsicles she’d purchased melted, Charlie swiped the back of her hand underneath her nose, sniffling infrequently as a slight tickle began to build in her sinuses. 

Thirty minutes had passed by the time Charlie arrived at the hotel, opening the front door with one hand and scrubbing at her nose with the other, “I’m back!” she announced, setting down her reusable shopping bag on a nearby table. 

“Welcome back, Sweetie,” Vaggie greeted in a hushed voice, hopping on her tip-toes until her face was at level with Charlie’s neck so she could pepper the area with affectionate kisses, “You were gone for a while, was the store busy?” 

“Nah, I just got lost and realized I was in Cannibal Town, decided to pay the leader of the cannibals a visit- snf!- she’s sick too,” Charlie sighed, “Have any trouble holding down the fort while I was gone?” 

“Nope, they’ve all been sleeping like rocks since you left, Niffty even tired herself out, look,” Vaggie snickered, gesturing over to the parlor, where Niffty was sprawled out on her back in her nest of blankets, snoring softly and holding a purring KeeKee as though she were a stuffed animal. 

Angel was curled up on the sofa, snoring quietly, occasionally letting out a hoarse, throat-scraping cough or two before settling back into his comfortable slumber. Husk could be heard snoring like a busted lawnmower from his comfortable hiding place underneath the blankets and nestled between Angel’s legs, his clogged sinuses vibrating with every inhale. 

Alastor, from his position on the loveseat, was fast asleep, his usual grin diminished to a slight smile, and his lungs rumbling from congestion once again. 

“Oh- snff!- I got this,” Charlie whispered, leaning over the back of the loveseat and bracing one hand against Alastor’s chest before using the other to quietly pat his upper back. 

Two minutes later, Alastor- still asleep- opened his mouth to unleash a crackling wet cough, swallowing the sputum that he’d managed to bring up…much to Charlie’s chagrin and Vaggie’s violent disgust. 

“Euch,” Charlie muttered, fingers twitching near Alastor’s head, wanting to give the Radio Demon a reassuring rub between his fluffy ears, but ultimately deciding to respect the fact that if he wasn’t subdued by fever, Alastor would hate being touched, “At least you coughed it up… snff!” 

Vaggie turned to face her girlfriend, “Charlie… you okay?” she asked.

“Mhm! Why do you ask?” Charlie asked, her pale cheeks flushing pink. 

Vaggie glanced at Charlie, looking at the stream of moisture trickling down her girlfriend’s face, “Your nose is running…” she said, handing Charlie a couple of folded-up tissues. 

“Oh! Thanks for telling me- snff!- it’s a little itchy,” Charlie rambled, wiping off her nose and wrinkling it to fight off the building itch. 

Vaggie focused her eye on Charlie’s nose, watching her wrinkle and wiggle it like a rabbit in between wetter and lengthier sniffles. Charlie swiped and scrubbed at the trickle of cloudy fluid leaving her nose until she gave up and pinched a few tissues over her nostrils instead.

“I-snFF!- I think I’m gonna take a shower, I’ll be back,” Charlie said, vanishing upstairs, leaving Vaggie to her own devices once again. 

“Well, I don’t feel like waking them up to give them the medicine yet… or staring at them while they sleep,” Vaggie pondered to herself, pulling out her phone and scrolling through some of her text messages, opening a link to a recipe and smiling, “I know something I can do to help… if I hurry I can be done before Charlie’s out of the shower.” 

An hour later, Charlie- freshly showered and in her pajamas- entered the parlor to find that Angel and Husk were awake, and that a heavenly smell was wafting into the parlor from the kitchen. 

“Eyy, look-” Angel paused to cough, “-look who it is, welcome back…Hah’TssHIEW! A-ah’TsSHHEW!” he said, his voice noticeably rougher-sounding. 

“I’ve been- snff!- back for a bit, you guys were asleep, though,” Charlie chuckled, leaning over the back of the sofa and sneakily grabbing two tissues, wiping the underside of her nose, “H-hihh- how are you guys feeling?” 

“Like shit,” Angel replied, stroking the back of Husk’s head from underneath the blankets, raising a fist to his mouth and letting out a heavy barking cough. 

“Oh! I a-ahh… almost forgot about the medicine,” Charlie cheered, rummaging through her shopping bag and handing Angel a bag of cough drops, “These should help.” 

Angel nodded, “Thanks,” he said, unwrapping a purple cough drop and sliding it into his mouth, sucking on it and smiling as the soothing solution coated his throat. 

“Hh’kzzht! Hh’Tshhh! Hih’ptshh! Hnk’tsh!” 

Husk popped his head out from underneath the blankets Angel had draped over them both, “Gesundheit,” he said, still a bit groggy. 

“I didn’t sneeze, Pretty Kitty,” Angel laughed. 

“Hhnk’Tshh! Hh’Ddtsh! Hnk’zZt! Hhnk’tchew!” 

“You didn’t, but somebody is,” Husk muttered, his sensitive ears twitching, “You alright over there, Princess?” 

Charlie sheepishly moved her hands away from her runny nose, clasping them behind her back, “Me? Yeah, I’m fine! I didn’t sneeze, I’m okay!” she said, bouncing on her heels and struggling to ignore the moisture leaking from her nostrils, “Hh’Ktshh! ‘Tshh! ‘Kzxhtt!” 

Husk’s ears twitched again, “You sure you didn’t?” he asked, staring at Charlie with a knowing expression, noticing that the princess’s hands were clasped over her face to cover her nose, “Why’re you coverin’ your face?” 

“Uhb… just… felt sombethi’g id mby teeth, that’s all… ndothi’g e-ehh… Eh’pchiew! Eh’pshhiew! Eh’KSsHIEW! ‘Kshhew! ‘KshHiEWW!” Charlie said, doubling over from the fit of damp sneezes, dragging the back of her wrist under her nostrils when she finished, “Euch… snRKK!” 

Husk smirked, “There we go,” he said, pleased with himself as he repositioned his head against Angel’s chest, “Gesundheit again.” 

Angel raised an eyebrow, quietly offering Charlie his box of tissues, “You alright?” he asked, his throat feeling considerably better after his cough drop finished dissolving. 

“Oh y-yeah, I’b fide!” Charlie lied, biting her lip and rubbing her upper arms, “Just…just a little chilly- Snff, snff!- satin isd’t the warbest fabric for PJs a’dyway.” 

“You sure? Cause it sounds like you got a serious traffic jam up here,” Angel said, his tone teasing and jovial to avoid stressing Charlie out, tracing a circle around his ‘nose’ with a slim finger. 

Charlie held up a finger to indicate pause, pinching a few tissues around her nostrils and letting loose a heavy, gurgling blow that soaked the tissues almost instantly, “Euch… I dunno how I got so stuffed up so fast,” she groaned, scrubbing at her nose with the heel of her palm, “E-Eh’DdTshhHEW! Eh’KSHHEW! Eh’KkzZshhiew!” 

Angel stared at Charlie’s friction-reddened nose, her papery flushed cheeks, her watery eyes, and her streaming nostrils, “Maybe you should sit down, Dollface… you’re not lookin’ too hot,” he suggested. 

Charlie nodded, walking over to the armchair and sitting down- fitting in it comfortably due to it being made for someone closer to Alastor’s height, “I don’t feel well,” she mumbled, her eyes welling up with tears and her sinuses clogging, “I thig’k I’b getti’g sick…” 

“The words ‘think’ and ‘gettin’ are both doin’ a lot of legwork in that statement,” Husk said, “Sounds like you’re plenty sick already…” 

Charlie sniffled, hugging her knees in her seat as she attempted to suppress a shiver, “Where’s Vaggie? I ndeed a hug,” she whined, dabbing at her watery eyes with a tissue before blowing her nose. 

“She’s in the kitchen around the corner I think… whatever she’s doin’ in there smells amazing,” Angel said with a sigh, “I’d get up and give ya a hug but last time I stood up I was so dizzy I nearly split my skull open on the coffee table.”  

“If I can walk over to you, will you hug mbe?” Charlie asked, her eyes pleading and a smile spreading across her face when Angel responded with a nod. Quickly, Charlie sprung to her feet, struggling to ignore the fact that she felt slightly disoriented. 

After a few careful and deliberate steps, Charlie collapsed onto her knees next to the sofa, wrapping her arms around Angel and melting into the hug, “Angel… I really don’t feel good,” she complained, “Is this how you guys have beed feeli’g- snff!- for almost a month?”  

“Pretty much,” Husk replied with a yawn. 

“It’s hittin’ you like a ton ‘a bricks,” Angel remarked, slipping one of his arms out of the hug and pressing his palm against Charlie’s forehead, lowering his eyelids upon realizing why he felt no noticeable difference, “Forgot I won’t be able to tell cause I’ve got a fever.”

“If I don’t have one now- snff!- I probably will later,” Charlie groaned, slowly pulling away from the hug and walking back over to the armchair, collapsing into her seat and hugging her knees again. 

“Alright, everyone sit up, it’s been too long since any of you had something other than drugs in your stomach so before you take any medicine, you’re gonna eat,” Vaggie instructed, walking into the parlor with five ceramic bowls in hand, setting them down one by one onto the coffee table. 

Angel and Husk slowly removed themselves from their comfortably warm tangle of feverish bodies and blankets, sliding onto the floor in front of the sofa and sitting in front of the two bowls they’d claimed so they could sit together. 

Angel reached over into the nest of blankets on the carpet and shook Niffty, who quickly woke up and began frantically looking around, sweat trickling from her hairline, “Relax, Niff, come sit… we’re eatin’,” he said, smoothing out Niffty’s bangs with his fingertips. 

Niffty quickly dusted off her nightgown and joined Angel and Husk on their side of the coffee table, briefly turning away to cover a hoarse cough with her wrist. 

Charlie- whose energy was quickly losing the battle to febrile fatigue- stood up from her curled position in the armchair and walked over to the opposite end of the coffee table. 

“Alastor, get up,” Husk muttered, his adorable feline nose twitching, “hH’RRSCHHUH! HrR’SCHUHHH! H-huhh…HNK’TCHOO!” 

Alastor stirred, peeling his head off of his arms and slowly leaving his reclined position on the loveseat, fever rouging his cheeks and exhaustion leaving dark rings under his eyes, “Mmm? What timbe is it?” he croaked, sliding off of the loveseat and joining the group on the floor, “I feel hot…” 

“Mbe too,” Charlie remarked, leaning against Alastor and sniffling. 

“Good, everyone’s awake,” Vaggie said, Razzle walking behind her and holding a large pot as she brandished a ladle, spooning a portion of something hot, fragrant, and red into each of the five bowls, “Dinner time… I’m using a soup recipe that a friend texted me once, hopefully I didn’t fuck it up.” 

“EhH’KSHHEW! Eh’TsShHIEW!- Thanks Vaggie…SnFF!” Charlie said in a far more drowsy version of her typical cheerful voice before turning away to blow her nose. 

“Of course, happy to help,” Vaggie replied, leaning down and kissing Charlie’s warm forehead before gently brushing her blonde hair out of her face, “pobrecita… I’m sorry you got sick.” 

“It’s okay- SnFF!- I’ll be fine,” Charlie replied, rubbing at her left eye before picking up her spoon and taking a cautious bite of her soup, humming with a smile on her face. Warm broth washed down Charlie’s throat and the complex spice mixture made her sinuses leak, moisture trickling down from her nostrils that she had to swipe at with a folded-up tissue. 

Alastor- a bit too loopy and out of sorts to feel comfortable using a spoon for fear of biting the metal- grabbed hold of his bowl and tilted it upwards, taking careful gulps of broth and pausing to chew on the spice-laden vegetables and shrimp without spilling a drop. Setting his half-empty bowl down onto the coffee table, he licked his lips.

“Mmm,” Alastor hummed, rocking back and forth as his mind wandered away from the present moment. 

Savoring the spices on his tongue and the comfortable warmth filling his stomach, Alastor felt himself drift away until he was surrounded by the familiar smells of his childhood home. Sitting in a squeaky chair at a wooden kitchen table and massaging his sopping wet nest of curls with a towel, Alastor silently cursed himself for the visible flecks of blood and dirt on the ankles of his drenched slacks. 

“Hh-Hih’KsSHEWW! Hih’TshHHuh!” Alastor pawed around on his person for his handkerchief- still lost in his own memories, he scoffed and attempted to fold the cloth over, wiping his runny nose on the side that wasn’t stained with someone else’s blood. Suddenly, a cool hand on his cheek made the scene feel so much more tangible, Alastor leaned into the touch and stared at a familiar figure with fever-lacquered eyes. 

‘Silly boy, I don’t know for the life of me how you’ve grown so big and so tall and so smart without a lick of good sense… be lucky all you got from rootin’ around the forest in the rain was a cold. Alastor, it’s huntin’ season… I don’t want one of them hunters to hear you step on a twig and mistake you for somethin’ they can mount as a trophy,’ 

“Mm… sorry,” Alastor mumbled, a half-whimpering apology to the blurry visage of his mother that faded away in an instant, leaving his hellbound comrades in its place. Gathering himself and blowing his nose into his handkerchief, Alastor finished eating, “This is delicious,” he said to Vaggie. 

“It’s amazin’,” Angel said after swallowing the spoonful that was in his mouth, the warm almost-too-spicy broth bringing him back to shivering in his childhood home on Long Island, his puffy winter coat hung over the radiator and a blood-soaked baseball bat leaned against the wall.

“Mmhm,” Husk muttered in agreement, savoring his last spoonful as he drifted into the comfortable memory of relaxing at his dining room table after a day of shooting loaded dice, the soothing feeling of warm broth coating his sore throat making him smile as the mirage of a familiar hand adorned with faux-jade bangles reached up to press a palm to his forehead. 

“I’ve never had someone else make something like this for me,” Niffty sniffled tearfully, not nearly feverish enough for a familiar flavor to pull her head-first into her memories, but feeling sentimental enough to swallow a spoonful of broth and remember sneakily polishing off a bowl of soup in her old kitchen to clear her sinuses and soothe her throat before erasing any evidence of illness away with makeup and traipsing into the living room to do her due diligence as a wife. 

“I’m glad you guys liked it,” Vaggie said, collecting the empty bowls and handing them to Razzle, who hurriedly took them to the kitchen and set to work washing them, “Alright, medicine and then I’m leaving you to your devices while I head to bed.” 

Thirty minutes later, all five patients were back in their respective lounging areas of the parlor, dosed up with apple-flavored fever reducer- except for Niffty- and ready to doze off. 

“Alright, see you guys in the morning, crossing my fingers that things finally turn a corner, G’night guys!” Vaggie said with a friendly wave before vanishing up the stairs. 

“‘Night,” Angel remarked, his voice drowsy as he shut his eyes, still unconsciously massaging Husk’s head from under the blankets even as he fell asleep himself. 

“Goodnight,” Alastor yawned, tugging his blanket up to his shoulders and curling up tighter on the loveseat, feeling more comfortable without febrile chills threatening to rouse him from his slumber. 

“Nighty-night!” Niffty cheered, burrowing into her nest of blankets and shutting her eye. 

“G’night Vaggie…Ehh’TsHHIEW!... I love you,” Charlie whispered, sprawling out in the armchair until she found a comfortable position, quickly falling asleep once she shut her eyes, snoring softly. 

“I love you too,” Vaggie whispered from her spot leaning over the second floor balcony before turning away to tug at her face in frustration, “If things don’t get better soon I’m gonna have to get to the bottom of this, aren’t I?” she asked no one in particular. 

“Yes, yes you are,” a familiar voice teased as it leaked out of a decorative radio that sat on a table in the hallway. 

“Go to sleep, Alastor,” Vaggie scoffed, tapping the radio with her spear on her way down the hall. 

“Way ahead of you,” the voice responded, the radio shutting off with an audible click as Alastor stirred in his sleep with a mischievous smile. 

Vaggie rolled her eyes, walking into her and Charlie’s bedroom and shutting the door behind her, leaving the hotel dark, still, and quiet save for congested snoring and the occasional hoarse cough from downstairs. 

Things weren’t exactly improving, but they were at least under control. 

#snz #snz kink #snz fic #illness kink #ha/zb/in ho/tel #gingey.rtf

[chestcongestion]

Demon-to-Demon Ch.5/5: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Warnings: Contagion, Mess, Plot thread might still be a bit too close to current events for comfort even if it has nothing to do with current events

Word Count: 9,917

This has been a wonderful journey, and it's super satisfying to have wrapped it all up so I can work on new things! This was an absolute joy to write, thank you guys so much for all of the incredible feedback. As always, the fic is under the cut, and I hope you enjoy! Feel free to leave prompts or rqs for certain characters in my askbox.

  “Eh’KzZssCHEW! Eh’ksScHEW! Eh’KSsSHiih!” Charlie’s erratic sneezing roused her ailing friends from their messy slumber. Tiny starbursts of magical fireworks appeared after each sneeze, crackling and popping around Charlie’s head.

“Fuck’s sake- snFF- you sneeze like there’s somethin’ inside you tryin’ to rip its way out,” Angel croaked, rubbing underneath his tired eyes as he tossed Charlie a box of tissues. 

“That’s what it fe-eel’s li-iike…EHH’KSHHHUE! H-HEH’KSssHhiew! Eh’KzZCHEW!,” Charlie replied, pinching a few tissues around her nose and letting loose a heavy, gurgling blow, sneaking a peek at her soiled tissue and wincing in disgust, “Is a’dybody else’s uhb…snff!... ‘stuff’...sorta yellow?” 

“Nope!” Niffty said proudly from her little nest of blankets. 

Angel pulled one of his soiled tissues out of the trash can next to the sofa, peeling it open to look inside, “Uhh… kinda? It’s really pale yellow,” he said, turning his head to cough into his elbow, his spasming chest rousing Husk from his comfortable position pressed against his torso underneath the blankets. 

Charlie flashed Angel with the contents of her tissue, wrinkling her nose with a damp, heavy sniffle, “I thig’k mbine is a little brighter…snRK!,” she said. 

Angel chewed nervously on a slender finger, “Shit, that is pretty yellow,” he replied, “I don’t think it means nothin’, though… it’s probably just cause you’re so clogged up.” 

“Probably… E-EHH’TsSHIEW! ‘Tshhiew! ‘TSssHIIEW!,” Charlie drowsily ran her sleeve under her streaming nostrils, wincing at the friction from the fabric of her pajamas stinging her raw skin, “Oww.” 

“It’s 9 in the morning, 666 News should be starting now!” Niffty announced, turning on the chunky cathode ray television and watching the screen with slight anticipation. 

The 666 News theme leaked from the television set’s speakers, and the transition graphic appeared, only to begin broadcasting a sleeping Katie Killjoy, curled up in bed and feverishly clutching one of her pillows as though it were a stuffed animal. The anchorwoman was snoring heavily, unappealing bags under her eyes and crumpled-up tissues scattered across her bed. 

“Miss… Miss Killjoy, we’re live,” the intern behind the camcorder whispered. 

Katie gave no reply, letting out a hacking cough into her pillow, but still fast asleep, even as the intern attempted to shake her awake. 

“Uhm… we will… we will be back with your update on day number 40 of the Red Spread… after these messages,” the intern said in a meek voice, still hiding behind the camcorder, “Shit… which button do I press to cut to commercial?!”  

The video feed for 666 News quickly fizzled out, cutting to a random commercial for VoxTech night vision goggles. 

“Awww, that was cute, Katie was sleepy,” Niffty giggled. 

“Her and me both,” Angel sighed, wiping his drippy nostrils with a tissue, “I can’t fuckin’ believe I’ve been… Hh… Hhn’Ktshh! Hah’KSshuhh! Ha-ktshhew!...’Ksshhiew!- been sick for almost two months.” 

“I can’t believe it either, this is incredibly suspicious,” Vaggie pointed out as she walked into the parlor with a small bowl of cold water, setting it down on a side table and wringing out the face towel that was resting in it, placing it on Alastor’s forehead and trying not to acknowledge the radio demon’s whimpering response to the cold fabric. 

“Mbaybe we could check to see- snff!- if this has ever happened before,” Charlie proposed, plucking two more tissues out of the box and blowing her nose. 

“I can’t… the library where the historical archive is held is closed to visitors because all of the staff are sick,” Vaggie said with a defeated sigh, “I don’t know where else I could get that kind of information.” 

Charlie gasped, flapping her hands until her excited cheering devolved into a hoarse cough, “Ow… sorry,” she said, clearing her throat, “Mby dad would probably be able to help- snff!- but he does’dt have his phone od hib.”

“Why doesn’t he have his phone?” Vaggie asked, walking over to Charlie’s armchair and gently massaging her girlfriend’s tender, puffy sinuses with gentle fingers.

Charlie blew her nose again in an attempt to regain access to her consonants, “He dropped it on the-ehh…EH’Kshhiew!- the Hellivator, and it got stepped on… I thig’k he’s stayi’g in the Lust ring right now,” she pondered, whipping out her phone and coughing into her elbow, her chest aching, “I cad call Asmodeus, he’s who Dad is visiting with.” 

Multiple rings down, in Hell’s Lust ring, Lucifer was kicking his feet at his makeshift-brother’s kitchen island in his massive penthouse, waiting for Asmodeus to finish drinking his morning coffee. 

“So… I can’t help but notice your little friend isn’t joining us for breakfast this morning,” Lucifer teased, taking a hefty bite of his powdered sugar covered pancake. 

“He’s sleeping in, he checked in with some of my incubi who work in Pride the other day… went straight to bed when he came home, I think he might be comin’ down with something,” Asmodeus replied, nervously circling the rim of his mug with a single finger. 

Footsteps coming into the kitchen made Asmodeus pause, peeking over the kitchen island to see the sleepy face of his cyborg life partner. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping-” Fizzarolli said, pausing to cough, “-I promise.” 

“G’morning, Short Stuff,” Lucifer greeted with a wave, leaning over the kitchen island to see the imp from his bar stool. 

Fizzarolli shot Lucifer a nervous half-bow, half-wave, “Hi… Your Majesty?” he replied before grabbing a glass from the dish rack near the sink and filling it with tap water. 

“Please, Lucifer is fine, anyone Asmodeus considers family is family to me,” Lucifer said with a smile, taking another massive bite of his pancake, “There’s still a few flapjacks left if you want one.” 

“I’m okay,” Fizz insisted, guzzling down his glass of water before pouring himself another one. 

“Froggie, you good? I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you choose to drink water,” Asmodeus laughed. 

“My throat hurts,” Fizzarolli said, knocking back another glass of water, “I don’t want it to be something water can’t fix, so I’m just gonna chug until it goes away.” 

“Okay, denial doesn’t work if you acknowledge that you’re in denial, Fizzie,” Asmodeus teased, gently pulling a fourth glass of water out of the imp’s hands and hoisting Fizzarolli into his lap. 

“Those fucking incubus assholes got me sick,” Fizzarolli grumbled, folding his arms with a frown, only to melt into a relaxed smile upon Asmodeus’s warm fingertips massaging his swollen, tender lymph nodes, “Mmm… that feels good.” 

Asmodeus smiled, “Good, glad that helps… you do feel a little warm, though,” he said, cautiously bringing his other hand down and pressing his palm against Fizz’s forehead. 

“I should’ve known those pricks were carrying something, one of ‘em mentioned something going around in the Pride ring, but I didn’t pay close enough attentionn- Hnk’Tshhuh!” Fizzarolli muttered, using a napkin Asmodeus handed him as a makeshift tissue. 

Asmodeus nodded, suddenly remembering a thought he’d had earlier, and turning to Lucifer, “Speakin’ of Pride, I’m surprised your baby girl hasn’t called you since you’ve been here,” he said. 

“She probably has… I don’t have a phone ‘cause mine got crushed on the Hellivator,” Lucifer sighed, “I can’t just make myself a new one because it won’t have cell service… and I don’t remember the numbers of half my contacts list.” 

Asmodeus rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone after it vibrated in his pocket, checking to see who was calling so early, “Oh! Speak of the devil, she’s callin’ me right now!” he said, answering the video call and setting Fizzarolli back down on the floor so he could focus. 

The call finished connecting, and Asmodeus was met with the image of a sleepy-looking Charlie, whose face brightened when she realized that the call had been answered.

“Uncle Ozzie!” Charlie cheered drowsily, smiling at her phone’s front-facing camera and shooting the King of Lust an eager wave. 

“Chucky Ducky!!” Asmodeus greeted, “It’s been too long, baby girl, how’s it goin’?” 

“It’s fide…snfff!... I’b mbaki’g pretty decent progress od mby passio’d project…snRK!...sorry, ‘scuse mbe…eee..Ehh…Eh’kshuu! Eh’KsSshhew! Eh’KzZsschEW!,” Charlie rambled, dabbing at her chapped nose with a tissue after her explosive sneeze, “Sorry…” 

Asmodeus frowned, “Gesundheit,” he said, noticing Charlie’s flushed cheeks and sunken, tired eyes, “Everything okay? You look tired… and you sound like you’re gettin’ a cold.” 

Charlie blew her nose, tossing the damp tissue into the trash, “Yeah- snFF!- I’b a little stuffed up, but I’b fide- EH’DdtshhIEW! EH’Kshhue! Ihh-EH’KSzZshew!... ‘Scuse be,” she said, blowing her nose and wincing at the ache of congestion moving through her raw sinuses. 

“Only a little?” Asmodeus asked, unable to mask his concern. 

“Does it sou’d that bad?” Charlie asked in reply, wrinkling her nose with a dense, heavy sniffle that accomplished nothing, her sinuses fighting the shift in pressure with a squeak. 

“It sounds awful,” Asmodeus said, fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt as worry tied his stomach in knots. 

“I k’dow… I’b sorry, it probably sou’ds ridiculous- snff!- but blowi’g mby ndose does’dt do a’dythi’g… EHh’Tsshew! Eh’KSHHEWW! ‘ksSHEW!...snff-snff!... Oh! That feels a little better,” Charlie croaked, her violent sneeze seemingly popping the cork on her sinuses, allowing her to give her nose a productive gurgling blow, “Phew… that was ni-iice Eihh’KSHHUE! Eh’ksschuhh! Eh’ksschew! Heh’KSshew- ‘Kshhew!- K’SSHHEW!” 

 Asmodeus opened his mouth to speak, but quickly realized that Charlie’s attention had been consumed by her fit. Peering over his phone, Asmodeus shot his makeshift brother a concerned look. 

“I’m finished- snFF!- sorry… phew, that was a lot,” Charlie said with a wet sniffle, the skin around her nose an angry shade of pink, and her nostrils shiny- constantly threatening to leak. 

“You wanna talk to your dad? He’s right next to me, was just in the middle of sayin’ that he can’t get a new phone until he goes back to Pride cause he can’t conjure one with cell service,” Asmodeus scoffed, rolling his eyes at Lucifer from the other end of the counter. 

“Yes, please,” Charlie replied. 

Asmodeus passed Lucifer his phone, getting down from his bar stool and hoisting Fizzarolli in his arms, “While they talk, let’s get you, taken care of,” he whispered, kissing his lover’s neck and smiling at the hoarse giggle Fizz gave in response. 

“Charlie!” Lucifer cheered, staring at Asmodeus’s phone and shooting his daughter an eager wave. 

“Hi Dad- Hh’DddTSHHEW! EH’Kshhew! ‘Kshhew!- Sorry,” Charlie greeted, wiping her nose off with a tissue. 

“Bless you! I’m so sorry you’re sick, Sweetie- I-if you need me to, I can cut my tour short and come back home!” Lucifer said enthusiastically, carefully examining his daughter’s exhausted eyes and her streaming nostrils, “Looks like it’s really takin’ a lot out of you.” 

“I’mb fide- EH’Kshhhue! Eh’kshhew!- Plus, you can’t get back to Pentagramb City, they shut down the Hellivator to the Pride Ring,” Charlie explained. 

“Why?” Lucifer asked, nervously toying with a strand of his hair. 

“There’s this really bad infectio’d going around… snFff! Snff-snff!... it’s really contagious, so they wanted to keep it contained to Pride since it’s already infected  96% of the city,” Charlie replied, shivering and pulling her blanket tighter around her, “Sorry about the camera shaki’g… I’b cold.” 

Lucifer stared at Asmodeus’s phone in shock, “I’m sorry… what?!” he exclaimed. 

“I take it fro’b your reactio’d that this has’dt happened in Hell before,” 

“Nope! No it has not!” Lucifer exclaimed, “Sorry! Sorry, I’m not panicking, I’m not panicking, this is fine!” 

Charlie turned away from her phone to cough, a heavy, barking cough that sounded slightly painful, “It’s okay, Dad, relax,” she said, “Vaggie is planning on heading out to get to the bottom of it! We’ve got this- eh…Eh’ktsshiew!- ‘scuse mbe.” 

“Okay… i-if you’re sure, take care of yourself and don’t be afraid to call Asmodeus again if you wanna talk to me, alright?” Lucifer requested, staring at his daughter’s feverish face and shimmering eyes. 

“Okay Dad, I will,” Charlie replied, “I thig’k I’m gonna take a nap. Talk to you later, Dad.” 

Lucifer waved his daughter goodbye and hung up the phone right as Asmodeus re-entered the room, noticeably impless. 

“Fizz’s head hit the pillow and he practically passed out… so cute,” Asmodeus crooned before regaining focus, “So, what’s up with my niece? I feel bad, she sounded awful.” 

“Somethin’s going around in the Pride ring, apparently it’s gotten so bad that they shut down the Hellivator,” Lucifer said, trailing off at the end of his sentence as he and Asmodeus exchanged a look. 

 “My demons can travel ring-to-ring when the Hellivator is closed by going topside and coming back through a different portal with their crystals,” Asmodeus mumbled, chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek, “And Fizz got sick after meeting up with a bunch of incubi…who were in the Pride ring.” 

Lucifer’s eye twitched audibly. 

“The incubi he met with work distribution at my factory,” Asmodeus said, his tone becoming manic as he paced around his kitchen. 

Lucifer gripped the back of his head with both hands, clawing at his blonde hair, “It’s no big deal, Oz, it only infected 96% of Pentagram City!” he exclaimed, rocking in his seat. 

Asmodeus leaned against his kitchen counter, gripping his phone desperately in his left hand before straightening his posture, “I’m gonna go make some phone calls and I’m gonna try really hard not to panic,” he said, taking a deep breath before leaving the room. 

Lucifer sat alone at the kitchen counter, tracing doodles into the marble with his fingertips, “Let’s hope Maggie knows what she’s doing,” he muttered to himself, “-Vaggie… her name’s Vaggie.” 

Three rings up, back in Pentagram City, Vaggie was preparing to leave the hotel on her incredibly makeshift hero’s journey. 

“Okay, I am going out to try and get to the bottom of this whole thing, while I am gone, Niffty is in charge because she is the most lucid out of all of you, understood?” Vaggie asked the gathering of barely-awake patients as she paced back and forth through the parlor. 

“Got it- Ahh’KsShhiew!-” Angel replied, gently massaging his tender sinuses with his fingertips. 

“There’s a first time for everything,” Husk chuckled from his position nuzzled against Angel’s chest.  

“Okay Niffty, Alastor gets a dose of fever reducer every three hours, I set an alarm on your phone for you and it’s on the wall in case you forget. Everyone else only gets one dose a day at 8pm, got it?” Vaggie asked, brushing Niffty’s bangs away from her face.  

“Kay!” Niffty replied, swiping the back of her wrist against her face to fend off an itch. 

“Behave yourselves until I get back, hopefully I’ll be back with some answers and a way to treat this thing,” Vaggie said with a nervous sigh, “Wish me luck.” 

Angel shot Vaggie a drowsy thumbs up, Husk providing a thumbs up of his own from under the blankets. 

“Good luck Vaggie,” Charlie yawned, draped across the armchair with KeeKee in her lap. 

“Fingers crossed, my dear- snff!- because if your efforts turn fruitless we’re all royally fucked… Hnk’tshhew! ‘Kshh! Hh’kzZhht!” Alastor said deliriously from the loveseat, staring at Vaggie with rheumy eyes. 

Vaggie gave her girlfriend and friends a final farewell and set off towards the Weapons District of Pentagram city. Alastor- when he was still lucid- grumbled about Carmilla almost constantly, chastising her for her unsanitary habits and ‘careless workaholism’ until he was blue in the face, so obviously she was a significant piece of the puzzle. 

After a good half hour of walking through the empty streets, Vaggie arrived at the receiving entrance to the Carmine Weapons Facility, banging on the back door in a way that felt far too familiar. 

“Fuck… how do I open this thing?!” Vaggie asked herself through clenched teeth, jumping up and peering at the surveillance camera attached to the peep hole in the door, “Carmilla- cabron- I know you’re in there!” 

“SnfF! We have a front door y’know,” Clara announced from behind the receiving entrance door as she pulled it up to let Vaggie inside, “Mom’s in her bedroom- Iih’tshuu! Hih’tshhuuw!- ‘scuse me.” 

“Thanks, sorry… keep forgetting I don’t have to sneak in through the back anymore,” Vaggie said, chuckling as she rubbed the back of her neck. 

“It’s fine,” Clara replied, “Mom’s room is on the second floor, furthest door on the right.” 

Vaggie nodded, quietly sneaking up the steps and down the dark hallways until she reached a set of greyish-purple double doors, “Carmine?” she called, patiently waiting for a response. 

“H-hihh…HIH’KtsSHUHH! Hih’KSsSHUH!... Snff!...Come in,” 

Vaggie carefully opened both doors, slipping inside as they closed with a thud behind her, “Miss Carmine, I-” she began, only to trail off upon noticing the sight in front of her. 

Carmilla was wearing navy blue sweat pants and a bleach-stained T-shirt from an old Verosika Mayday concert, her hair was put aside in a slightly-messy fishtail braid, and she was sat up in bed, cross-legged on top of her blankets, playing video games. 

“I didn’t think you’d be into this sort of thing,” Vaggie said, bewildered, “Slaughterhouse V- Collector’s Edition…” 

Carmilla rolled her eyes, not taking her focus away from her game even as she muffled a ticklish cough behind clenched teeth, “I normally don’t have time to play,” she remarked, “I’ve beaten this one twice and I’m going for my third run on a new save- snff!” 

Vaggie winced at the raspy quality of Carmilla’s voice, but said nothing of it, “You seem… surprisingly lucid,” she said. 

“One of the perks of selling things to all of Hell is that you have connections to all of Hell,” Carmilla snickered, gesturing towards her nightstand with her head, still mashing buttons on her controller. 

Vaggie followed Carmilla’s gesture with her eyes, picking up a pink bottle full of blue liquid medicine, “Sloth Pharmaceuticals… you’re taking drugs from the sloth ring?” she asked. 

“Good shit,” Carmilla said, feeling her throat struggle as her voice cracked, wrenching her eyes shut briefly to clear her throat, “Might not be able to fix the rest of me, but keeping my temperature under control has been great.” 

“Nice… can we talk? I have some questions I wanted to ask you,” Vaggie requested, still enamored with the speed at which Carmilla was pressing buttons. 

Carmilla shot Vaggie a brief nod, pausing her game and setting her controller aside before reaching over to grab a handful of tissues, blowing her ‘nose’ until the tissues were damp, “H-hih’tshhuh! Hih’KTSCHUHH!...snFF!” 

“Do you remember anything from the day you got sick?” Vaggie asked. 

“I was-” Carmilla paused to cough, “-on a walk in the Doomsday District, and I went shopping for nail polish… that’s basically iihh- H-hihh’ktshhuh! Hih’ksshh!” 

“Did you come across anyone else who was acting suspicious? Or anyone else who looked or sounded different?” Vaggie asked, trying to piece things together. 

“Nope,” Carmilla replied, grabbing the reusable cup from her bedside table and taking eager gulps from it, only breaking away to cough hoarsely into her elbow before taking another sip. 

“Water?” Vaggie asked. 

“Yes, with mango and honey… and Beelzejuice,” Carmilla said, choking back another hoarse cough and taking a few heavy chugs from her cup. 

Suddenly, as though a gust of air blew through her bedroom, Carmilla shivered, rubbing her upper arms with her large hands and struggling to contain the trickle of mess down her face with a few wet sniffles. Desperate, Carmilla burrowed slightly under her covers, tucking her legs and feet under her blanket and fighting against her teeth to keep them from chattering. 

“Are you okay?” Vaggie asked, her fingertips twitching as she watched Carmilla give a shuddering exhale, noticing the skin on her cheeks was tinged a pinkish-red. 

“My medicine just w-wore off… snff!...I can’t take any more for four hours or it’ll damage my li-Iihh-HIH’KTSCHUHH! Hih’KssHHUH! Hnk’TShh! Hi-IH’KTSsXHHT! Hih’KTSHHUEW!- liver… snFFF!” Carmilla replied, plucking three tissues out of the box on her bed and loudly blowing her ‘nose’ with a resounding honk that sounded like her sinuses were vibrating, “Euch…” 

Vaggie walked closer to Carmilla’s bedside, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed, and reaching out to tuck a strand of Carmilla’s hair away from her fever-warmed face, “Are you sure there’s nothing that happened the day you got sick? I know it’s hard to remember,” she asked. 

Carmilla wracked her brain, briefly turning away from Vaggie to cover a hacking cough with her arm, one throat-scraping cough coming after another until her itchy, sensitive lungs were satisfied and her voice had been thoroughly wrecked. 

Upon regaining her composure, catching her breath, and taking a big sip from her water mixture, Carmilla turned back to address Vaggie, “I uhm-” she paused, clearing her throat with the harshest grunt she could manage, “-when I was out on my walk- snff!- there were pockets of that red mist- Hih’ktshh! Hnk’Txht!- hanging in the air. I stopped twice to smell them because the mist smelled like flowers… I think my throat started to feel sore after the second time.” 

Vaggie grinned, two pieces of the puzzle finally managing to click together in her head, “You have no idea how helpful that is, Miss Carmine,” she said with a bright smile, “I just need to find the source of the mist… and hopefully that’ll bring us one step closer to finding a treatment!” 

“Well- snRK!- ‘scuse mbe… if you’re going to try and find where it’s coming from on foot, it’ll take a long time, at this point the mist covers half of Pentagram City now, you’d need someone who could point and zoom on any random area in town to see if you can find the source,” Carmilla pointed out, her entire body being rattled by a violent shiver, causing her to slide a bit further under her blankets, pulling them up to her chest. 

“I don’t even know if there’s anyone in town who fits that description who’d be willing to help me,” Vaggie sighed, tugging at her lower eyelids in frustration, “This is going to take forever.” 

Vaggie’s grumbling was interrupted by Carmilla’s flat screen television swapping from her paused game to an emergency broadcast of 666 News, the blaring music making Vaggie jump out of her skin. 

“What the hell?! If this jump cut ruins my save file I’m going to-” Carmilla waved a hand in front of her face as her sinuses itched, “-to… to… Hih’Kschhuh! Hih’KTshuhhh! Hi-Ihh’KSHHUuw!... nevermind.” 

“Good Afternoon citizens of Pentagram City, I apologize for the lateness of this news bulletin, our esteemed anchorwoman Miss Killjoy is incapacitated at present, so I, CEO of VoxTech and head of the VoxTech Broadcast Network, will be delivering today’s news!” Vox greeted from the other side of the screen with a charming smile. 

Vaggie stared at Carmilla’s VoxTech television in awe, “I forgot about him… the Voyeurscopes capture footage all over town 24/7,” she muttered to herself, “I have to try and talk to him.”  

“Welcome to day number 40 of the Red Spread, while infection rates seem to have capped out at 96% of Pentagram City, we’ve received word from Imp City and neighboring territories in the Pride ring that infections have raged out of control practically overnight,” Vox explained, gesturing to a bar graph that was next to him on screen, “With the infection coverage added up, The Red Spread has infected approximately 79% of the Pride Ring.” 

Carmilla folded her arms, “I can’t believe he interrupted my game for this… Hi-ihh’KSshhuh!...Hnk’tchew!” she grumbled, scrubbing the back of her hand under her nostrils to wrestle with the ever-building itch in her sinuses.

“While research is still being conducted with an incredibly reduced team, treatment options that completely eradicate infection are still nonexistent,” Vox said, shifting from his usual broadcast grin into something more somber and collected, “In spite of this infection raging on, no severe complications or mortalities have been observed.” 

Vaggie continued watching, scrolling through her phone in between glances at the screen to try and get the location of the Vees’ studio tower on the Northwest side of the Pentagram. After a bit of searching, the studio tower wasn’t very far from the Carmine Weapons factory, she could make it there in about half an hour if she hurried. 

“We are also pleased to announce that due to this ongoing crisis, we have not released our typical programming block due to new material not being filmed with the majority of our staff out sick,” Vox began, clasping his hands together and returning to his charming smile, “so the VoxTech Broadcast Network will be operating free-of-charge for the remainder of this tumultuous time, and our premium network clients will be refunded for the past two months of service. Thank you for your continued patronage, Pentagram City!” 

With those words, the emergency news broadcast ended and Carmilla’s screen returned to her paused playthrough of Slaughterhouse V, which caused her to let out a sigh of relief that quickly devolved into a rough, wheezy cough, that only let up when Vaggie gave Carmilla an anxious pat on the back. 

“I’m going to try and speak with Vox, he might be exactly who I need to help me find the source of the Red Spread,” Vaggie said with a determined look on her face, “Do you need anything before I leave?” 

Carmilla fought back another febrile shiver, sniffling pitifully and burying herself further into her blankets, “Not really,” she yawned, her voice still painfully hoarse, “just turn out the lights on your way out- the switch on the wall- I’m too tired to play with this stupid fever… I think I’ll just take a nap.” 

“Sounds like a plan, rest well,” Vaggie said, brushing a strand of Carmilla’s hair out of her face after she got comfortable under the covers, turning to leave the room and flipping the switch on Carmilla’s bedroom wall to turn off the overhead lights, “Oh… by the way, I made that recipe you gave me, it was good. Thanks again for that.” 

Carmilla yawned, stretching out and clutching her pillow like a stuffed animal, “Don’t mention it… Hnk’Tchew! Hi-Ih’Ktshhew!” she replied drowsily, her eyelids drooping as she slowly fell into a peaceful sleep, her slight snoring audible from behind her bedroom door. 

Gathering herself and preparing for another lengthy walk, Vaggie wandered down the halls of the factory until she managed to find the front door, heading out and following the path laid out by her phone’s GPS system toward the Vees’ studio tower. 

On her walk, Vaggie was stunned by the empty streets, not a person in sight for blocks and blocks, and occasional sniffling, coughing, and sneezing could be heard- albeit muffled- from the windows of the various apartment buildings. 

Eventually, Vaggie reached the revolving front door to the Vees’ broadcast tower, better known as the VoxTech Enterprises headquarters. Crossing her fingers, Vaggie slipped through the revolving door and was surprised to find that the building was still teeming with noticeably-healthy workers and interns… and also a handful of noticeably-ill ones, including the runny-nosed cat demon who was running the front desk on the ground floor. 

“Welcombe to VoxTech E’dterprises- SnFF!- how cad I help you today?” the secretary asked, looking at Vaggie from her desk as she sifted through various papers. 

“I- I’d like to speak to Vox,” Vaggie said with a patient smile as the secretary loudly blew her nose before tossing her crumpled tissue in the trash can next to her desk. 

“You’re id luck, due to the Red Spread- Ih’pshew! I-ihh’pSshew!- his schedule is wide opend… I’ll let hib kdow you’re od your way up- SnRK!- uch, ‘scuse be,” the secretary said, dabbing at her sensitive nostrils with a tissue, her sniffling accomplishing virtually nothing outside of slightly shifting the congestion packed into her head. 

“Thank you… I’m sorry you have to work while you’re sick,” Vaggie said, attempting to offer sympathy, looking a bit confused when the secretary chuckled. 

“It’s fide… I was healthy whe’d I cabe id this mbordi’g… it’s hit mbe like a ton of bricks… Ih’pshew! Ih’pSzzshieww!... I cad’t wait to go home and take a ndice hot bath and crawl into bed,” the secretary replied, giving a wistful sigh before plucking two more tissues out of the box on her desk and pinching them over her sensitive nostrils, “i-iHh’TsSshiew! Ih’pshew! IH’PSshiew!” 

“Bless you,” Vaggie said nervously, watching the secretary pull out another handful of tissues, emptying her sinuses with a heavy gurgling blow, her eyes beginning to water.

“Thag’k you,” the secretary replied, pushing a button on the phone at her desk and waiting until the line clicked to speak, “Mbister Vox, there’s someone here to speak with you- Ih’kshhew!- mby apologies, Sir.” 

“Send them up, I’m on the 30th floor… bless you, by the way, feel free to head home if you can’t finish the rest of your shift,” Vox replied from the other end of the line before hanging up the phone. 

“30th floor, you can take the elevators that are down the hall to your left- SnFF!,” the secretary instructed, packing a few of her items into her purse and tugging a heavy sweater over her frame, shivering slightly, “I’b goi’g hobe.”  

“Thank you,” Vaggie replied, preparing herself to head towards the elevator, “Hope you feel better!” 

“Thag’k you,” the secretary said, wiping her nose and leaving the building through the revolving doors as Vaggie wandered down the path she was given until she approached a row of elevators, hopping on the first unoccupied one she could find and pressing a button to take her to the 30th floor. 

Upon arriving at the 30th floor of the broadcast tower, Vaggie looked around, peeking into a few random studio doors and finding no one, wondering if she’d gone to the wrong floor or lost track of him, when suddenly she ran face-first into a large, lanky figure wearing a blue suit. 

“Oh! There you are,” Vaggie said with a nervous chuckle, dusting herself off, “Hello, Vox.” 

“Ohhh… hello there, you’re the angel girl the princess is romantically involved with, aren’t you?” Vox said with a curt wave, “Any reason in particular you’re in my building snooping around?” 

“I- I know that you don’t really want to speak to me due to my connections with Alastor, but I’m looking for the source of the Red Spread to attempt to find a treatment and you’re the only one with access to every corner of the Pentagram thanks to your surveillance drones,” Vaggie explained, her words rambling as she silently crossed her fingers that her plea was convincing- she’d forgotten to take her spear with her before she left, so she unfortunately had no leverage. 

“Hmm… a noble cause, if ever there was one,” Vox snickered, “Right this way, I’ll have to take you to my secondary surveillance room, the primary one is for my eyes only.” 

“R-really? You’re just- really?!” Vaggie replied, a bit bewildered. 

“Of course, anything to help!” Vox replied with a camera-ready smile, only for his face to soften into something much more neutral and comfortable, “-if you want to know the truth, I’m just happy to be having a conversation with someone who isn’t constantly sneezing.” 

“Haha… it is kinda nice,” Vaggie said, following Vox into the elevator and getting out on the top floor of the tower- the location of the Vees’ personal penthouse, “I honestly don’t know why I’m not sick.” 

“I mean, the answer is pretty obvious, this infection only attaches to demon immune systems- resident of Hell or not, that golden blood in your veins isn’t what the germs are looking for,” Vox scoffed, dusting off the front of his suit with a splayed hand before hanging up his jacket on the wall.  

“That makes sense,” Vaggie said, staring at a recently-healed cut on her thumb that was noticeably a dull gold, bottling up a heavy sigh and deciding to redirect her focus to something else, “what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“How come you aren’t sick?” 

Vox leaned down until his face was at-level with Vaggie’s before knocking loudly on his head’s glass screen and running his fingers along the array of buttons, wires, and switches on his metal neck, “I don’t have an immune system, or lungs, my soul is basically the only trace of my humanity that I have left.” 

“Oh… that makes sense, actually,” Vaggie said, quietly shuddering upon noticing the 10 foot figure hunched over a kitchen island, draped haphazardly across a bar stool. 

“H-ihh… Ih’psshoo! IhH’Pshhuue! Hiih-Ih’pssshiEW!,” 

Vox rolled his eyes, walking over to the other side of the kitchen island and pinching his lover’s face with icy claws, “What are we doing out of bed?” he asked, his tone warm in contrast with his exasperated and threatening eyes. 

“SnFF!- Mby throat hurts… a’d I can’t find mby replacement Voxxy,” Valentino whined, his consonants dulled heavily by congestion and his red eyes brimming with tears. 

Vox turned to face Vaggie, gesturing for her to wait a moment before turning back to Valentino, “I’ll have Kitty bring you some tea with honey, but you aren’t supposed to be out of bed,” he said, gently wiping the tears out of Valentino’s eyes with a tissue from his pocket. 

“Okay,” Valentino replied, “Help mbe find replacement Voxxy? I can’t see mbore thad two feet ahead of mbe-ee…IHH’TSHUU! Ih’pshew! I-ihh’PSHHEW!” 

Vox blinked, pulling up security camera footage from Valentino and Vox’s shared bedroom onto his screen and scanning the room for a giant stuffed shark he’d bought Valentino to keep him occupied while he was in bed, “Aha! There it is… it’s on the floor on my side of the bed, I’ll have Kitty hand it to you,” he said, gently rubbing the back of Valentino’s hand. 

“Thag’k you Voxxyyy-Yihh’tshhew! Ih’tshhuu! Ih’psshiEW!,” Valentino said, the sharp, squeaky sneezes scraping his sinuses on the way out, “Ohhh… all this sdeezi’g is givi’g mbe a headache.” 

“I know, it’s okay… what flavor of tea do you want?” Vox asked, massaging his lover’s sinuses with his cool fingertips. 

“Ginger- snrKK! SnfFFF!- Ughh,” Valentino replied, squeaking in frustration at the pain building up in his swollen sinuses, “I’b so tired of bei’g sick.” 

“I know, I know,” Vox replied, stroking the back of Valentino’s cheek, “Come on, get up and get back to bed, Kitty will be right in to take good care of you, one of the succubi on staff even went topside to get you some more of this.” 

Vox fished around in his pockets before pulling out a dark blue jar with a teal lid, unscrewing the top and gently wafting the menthol-scented fumes into Valentino’s face. 

“Vaporub!” Valentino exclaimed with relief, dunking two fingers into the jar and slathering the fragrant balm on his chest, his squeaky clogged sinuses suddenly loosening as mess trickled down his face, “Mmm… oh that feels good, thag’k you Voxxyyyi-ihh’pshuu! Ih’pshuue! IHH’PSchhew!” 

“Bless you, bless you, you sound like you’re breathing better already,” Vox said with a smile, patting Valentino on the back and sighing with relief when he disappeared down the halls on his way back to bed, “Phew…” 

“So, where’s your secondary surveillance room?” Vaggie asked. 

“A few doors down, I’ll show you- wait a second,” Vox said, whipping his head around at the significantly shorter figure trudging into the kitchen wearing boxer shorts and a bralette, “Why are you out of bed?!” 

“Don’t shout at me,” Velvette replied, punctuating her sentence with a desperate, wheezy cough as she fought back an aggressive shiver from the chill of the air conditioning, “I’m getting more cough syrup.” 

“You just took a double dose of cough syrup an hour ago,” Vox argued, folding his arms, “You can’t have any more.” 

“I’m a grown woman, I can have more if I want,” Velvette replied, sticking out her tongue and struggling to open the cap on the bottle- a bottle that was not child proof by any means. 

“No, you can’t,” Vox said, plucking the bottle of raspberry cough syrup out of Velvette’s grasp and putting it on a shelf out of her reach. 

“This is bullshit!” Velvette huffed, turning away from Vox to muffle a violent coughing fit into her elbow, “I can’t stop fucking coughing, I can’t sleep!” 

Vox leaned against the kitchen island and shot Velvette an all-knowing glance, “Maybe if you drank something- don’t open your mouth and lie to me, I know you haven’t, I have today’s entire footage reel to prove it- that might help,” he said. 

Velvette rolled her eyes, “I don’t want to, it hurts too much and it’s too cold, I can’t stand having anything to drink right now,” she huffed. 

“Okay, let me rephrase,” Vox said, snapping his fingers as Velvette’s metal drink tumbler- filled to the brim with hot Yorkshire Gold with honey and lemon- appeared in his hand, “you are going to drink this, and you are going to put on some long pajama pants and a shirt with sleeves, and get under the covers in your bed.” 

Velvette opened her mouth to object, but was instead met with another violent cough, “Fiine,” she replied, taking the cup from Vox and taking a cautious sip, her previously cranky gaze melting as the liquid gold cascaded down her raw, scratchy throat, “Mmmm…” 

“Mhm, feels better, doesn’t it?” Vox teased, paying Velvette no mind when she raised her middle finger in response, “Yeah yeah, fuck you too, go change and get back in bed.” 

“Fine,” Velvette replied in between desperate gulps of her tea, walking out of the kitchen and heading back into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. 

“Okay, I think we’re done with diversions, now we can go look at the surveillance footage,” Vox announced, clasping his hands together and gesturing for Vaggie to follow him as he wandered down the halls of the penthouse until he approached a set of double doors decorated with the VoxTech logo, “here we are.” 

Upon entering the room, Vaggie was bewildered by the massive wall of monitors that showed live footage from the voyeur scopes that hovered in the air all over Pentagram City- not to mention security cameras for basically every business and institution in town due to VoxTech’s virtual monopoly on camera sales. 

“So,” Vox began, cracking his knuckles and sitting in his office chair at the desk against the wall, “Where do you need to look?” 

“I spoke with one of the first people to get sick with the red spread, and she told me that she didn’t start feeling sick until after she went for a walk in the Doomsday district and breathed in that red mist,” Vaggie said, “If we can find the source of the red mist, I think that will be the source of the red spread!” 

“Makes sense,” Vox replied, pulling up every camera he had available in the Doomsday district and scanning each monitor with careful eyes, “Hmm… not that one, not that one either… there’s so much smog everywhere it’s hard to know where to look.” Vox wiggled a joystick on his desk, gently adjusting the position of a cluster of security cameras stationed on the rooftops of a few buildings. 

A harsh cough from the doorway made Vox straighten his posture and turn around, seeing a drowsy Velvette standing in the doorway- now wearing a pair of fleece pajama pants adorned with gummy bears and a long-sleeved pajama shirt. 

“You keep looking, I have to deal with this- Why are we out of bed now?” Vox asked, raising an eyebrow as his voice gained the typical tinny electronic quality that it took on when he felt particularly intense emotions. 

“I need some more m-medicine,” Velvette replied, vigorously rubbing her upper arms and fighting to keep her teeth from chattering, “I-ihh’tssshoo! Ih’tshhew! I-ihh’kxhsshew!” 

Vox rolled his eyes, briefly turning to make sure Vaggie was still attempting to check the screens for the source of the smog, before turning back to address his colleague, “We just had this conversation, you are not taking any more cough syrup… besides, your cough sounds much better, you should be able to get some sleep now,” he said. 

“I don’t need cough syrup… snFF!... I need the paracetamol, I’m freezing,” Velvette complained, the slight and refreshing breeze of the air conditioner making the fashion designer shiver as though she was wading in icy water, her forehead shiny with sweat. 

Vox shot another cautious glance back at Vaggie, before cupping Velvette’s face with his left hand and scanning her body with the infrared filter applied over his eyes until a temperature reading of 103.8 degrees flashed in the corner of his screen, “That is a little high, and the more comfortable you are, the sooner you can get to sleep,” Vox said, pulling a bottle out of his pocket and handing Velvette two tiny square pills, “There you go, that should make you feel better, now get back to bed.” 

“Thank you, V, have fun in your creepy stalker room- Ihh’tshhoo!” Velvette replied, waving Vox goodbye as she headed back to her bedroom. 

Vox approached the wall of monitors again with his hands clasped behind his back, rocking gently on his heels, “Any luck yet?” he asked.

Vaggie shook her head at Vox, continuing to scan the wall of screens with her eyes, squinting against the harsh blue light, until she saw something peculiar on one screen in the left-hand corner of the wall.

“There!” Vaggie shouted, leaning against Vox’s rolling chair and gently shaking it, pointing to the monitor she’d located a clue on, “Right there! Look at how the mist is moving in that shot, see?” 

Vox directed his attention to the monitor and noticed that the red mist was billowing out of the back corner of a building, almost like smoke from a chimney, “That must be where it’s coming from… it’s on Tsunami Boulevard behind the gun store,” he said. 

“Alright! Let’s go, if we hurry we can get there in twenty minutes,” Vaggie said, excitedly bouncing on her heels, only for Vox to grab her by the hand, the two of them vanishing into a crackle of electricity and teleporting to Tsunami Boulevard by way of the surveillance camera pointed at the gun store, “Woah… you can do that?” 

“I can at least, it’s fun most of the time, sometimes you get bored of it and decide to walk, but when urgency is key it’s very helpful,” Vox replied, dusting himself off and peering through the dense cloud of red mist into the alley behind the gun store, “I think there’s something back there.” 

Vaggie walked closer to Vox and leaned over, squinting and straining her vision to make out a dark form behind all of the mist, “There is… let’s keep going, slow and steady,” she instructed. 

Vox took slow, careful steps through the alley, barely making a sound as Vaggie attempted to make out more details of the figure they were approaching, eventually realizing that the something was in fact someone. 

“Someone’s back there-” Vaggie whispered, cupping her hands around her mouth to call out to the figure as they approached it, ��Hello?!” 

No response outside of Vaggie’s own voice echoing throughout the alley, but the pair continued to inch their way forward, the figure seemingly unfazed by their presence. 

“It might be a decoy… or a mannequin,” Vox said in a hushed tone as he practically tip-toed forward, having trouble keeping such a slow pace with someone half his height. 

“Helloo?! I know you’re over there… we have some questions for you!” Vaggie called out, her voice still rippling off of the brick walls and echoing for at least another two blocks. 

Silence. 

“Okay, what the fuck?!” Vaggie asked no one in particular, shrugging in frustration as she quickened her pace, deciding she was fed up with the kid gloves technique, “Hey! I know you can hear me, jackass!” 

Vox snickered, sighing with relief as he began to walk with his regular stride while Vaggie stomped ahead, still shouting into the mist. 

“If you aren’t gonna run away, the least you could do is fucking acknowledge me, shithead!” Vaggie exclaimed, shaking her fist at the motionless figure whose silhouette was becoming clearer as the pair got closer, with Vaggie’s tirade being cut off by the sound of a window screen sliding open. 

“Will you shut the fuck up?! I’ve got a killer fucki’g headache and I’b tryi’g to sleep it off,” a cranky demon with particularly long and curly horns called out from his bedroom window. 

“Oh! S-sorry! I’m used to shouting over the city’s background noise,” Vaggie replied. 

“Look arou’d, girl, the ed’tire city is id bed… E-Eihh’kxxhhtt! E-eeihh’kzZzht!” 

“Bless you!” 

“Thag’k you,” the demon paused to let out a barking cough, “Look, I was godda threaten you or somethin’, but I’b tired… so please just keep it down?” 

“I will, I’m sorry,” Vaggie replied, shooting the demon a remorseful thumbs-up, “Feel better!” 

“I wish,” the demon grumbled, shutting his window and going back to bed, leaving Vaggie and Vox to their own devices once again. 

“Kudos to you for acknowledging him, I’d have just told him to fuck off,” Vox snickered, his air filtration system whirring slightly as it processed the dense red mist in the air. 

“People are at their most vulnerable when they don’t feel well… being an asshole to someone when they’re in that state just seems cruel,” Vaggie said in reply, marching forward and attempting to make out the details of the silhouette at the root of the billowing clouds of red mist. 

“Fair enough,” Vox said, readjusting his stride to allow Vaggie time to keep up with him. 

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of walking- but was only ten minutes- Vaggie and Vox managed to cut through the mist to find its source leaned up against the back wall of the gun store. 

Standing in the alley, unfazed, was a slim demon of average height with hands that appeared to be shaped like pangolin claws, a long scaly tail, and a long face that was covered by an intricate gas mask. The mouthpiece of the gas mask was where the red mist was coming from, leaking from the holes in the mask like a toxic fog machine. 

Vaggie swallowed a bit of embarrassment, as she realized why the demon had been ignoring her loud pleas for their attention- they were wearing a heavy pair of chunky over-ear headphones and bobbing their head as though listening to music. Waving her hand in front of the demon’s face, Vaggie watched them lower their headphones and finally give the pair their undivided attention. 

“What’s up? I’m not a dealer, fyi, I just like this alley, coke guy’s a block down, peyote’s three blocks down, and there’s a weed vending machine around the corner,” they said in a monotonous voice. 

“Not here for drugs, we’re here for you,” Vaggie said, “Who are you?” 

“My name used to be Cassandra Sinclair… but I go by ‘Noxxious’ these days,” 

“Okay ‘Noxxious’, you do know that the shit you’re pumping out is making everyone sick, right?” Vaggie asked, placing her hands on her hips as Vox hovered over the two of them from behind, intimidating Noxxious with a scornful look in his eyes. 

“Well yeah, that was kind of the point,” Noxxious replied, tilting their head to one side. 

“You did this on purpose?!” Vaggie asked, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“Mmhm, turned out better than I expected, no one’s dead, right?” Noxxious inquired, excitement and pride in their voice. 

“Almost the entire city has been sick for over a month!” Vaggie shouted, balling her fists and cursing herself for leaving her spear at the hotel. 

“Oh shit, it’s been that long? I got lost in time, man… it’s been so peaceful,” Noxxious said with a wistful sigh, stuffing their hands in their pockets. 

“If I may ask… why did you do this, exactly? It’s not like you stand to gain anything from it,” Vox asked. 

“Listen for a second,” Noxxious requested, the group listening to the heavy silence of the empty city streets for a few moments, “No cars, no shouting, no footsteps, no talking, no chewing, nothing. It’s wonderful.” 

“You did all of this so you could have some peace and quiet?!” Vaggie asked, “You have headphones!” 

“They weren’t enough, nothing was enough,” Noxxious said through clenched teeth, taking a deep breath, “Mind if I ramble about something personal?” 

Vaggie, in spite of her obvious rage and frustration, simply shrugged at Noxxious, motioning for them to go ahead, turning to Vox and staring at him incredulously. 

“I’ve only been here for six months… when I was alive I hated noise, I’d rather rip out my eardrums than listen to all of the noises overlapping all day, every day,” Noxxious began, straightening their posture, “I realized that people are pretty quiet when they’re sick… they keep to themselves. It made perfect sense.” 

Vaggie gestured at Vox, still puzzled, but decided not to interrupt.

“I went to school for microbiology, and I figured if I could get enough people sick, I could have peace and quiet,” Noxxious said with a determined- albeit hidden- smile, “Except I wasn’t very careful, and I got into a little bit of trouble when my first attempt went sideways.” 

Vaggie and Vox squinted their eyes when Noxxious held up a frayed, coffee-stained newspaper clipping that read ‘Bioterrorist Cassandra Sinclair due to receive death penalty’. 

“Is that your plan?! To kill everyone?!” Vaggie asked, scanning the area for something she could use as a weapon. 

“No! I already said that was an accident, I never wanted anyone to get hurt, I just wanted a break from the noise!” Noxxious explained, near tears, “Look, when I got here after my execution, I noticed this blue stuff coming out of my mask; when people around me breathed in the mist, they would start sneezing.” 

Vox’s face brightened, an impressed smile spreading across his screen, “So you can just infinitely leak mist filled with custom viruses?” he asked rhetorically, “That is impressive, you could have some real sway with that kind of power if you weren’t a walking biohazard.” 

“I don’t want ‘sway’, I don’t wanna hurt anyone, I just wanted quiet,” Noxxious explained, twisting the filtered discs on the end of their mask so that the holes were covered, stopping the red mist at the source, “I can produce an antidote, I promise.” 

“Thank you,” Vaggie sighed, relaxing her shoulders as she watched Noxxious fiddle with their mask, briefly opening the discs and shooting out a puff of blue mist before closing their mask again as the blue mist seemingly clung to the red, slowly spreading through the air.  

“There, that should be enough to get it to stretch across the Pride Ring, and then eventually it’ll disappear on its own,” Noxxious explained, “Once someone breathes it in, they’ll be cured.” 

“Good, things can finally get back to normal,” Vox scoffed, cracking his knuckles before pulling something out of his pocket after seeing Noxxious’s pitiful face, “As a reward for producing the antidote, here’s the final prototype for VoxTech’s ‘DJ Deafener’ headphones, with active noise canceling so good, you can’t hear a train coming.” 

“That’s a good tagline,” Vaggie said, chuckling. 

“It isn’t just a tagline, eight of our product testers were crushed gruesomely by trains,” Vox replied. 

Noxxious carefully placed the headphones on their head and their body immediately relaxed as they reclined against the back wall of the gun store once again, “These are incredible, I can’t hear anything!” they exclaimed, tears leaking from the plastic eyes of their mask, “Thank you!” 

Vox opened his mouth to respond, only to remember that Noxxious was effectively deaf, and opted to shoot the bioterrorist a thumbs up instead as a sudden boom of thunder could be heard overhead. 

“Well, I think I should go spread the good news, haha-” Vox chuckled to himself, “I’d offer to teleport you back to the tower with me, but it’s about the same distance to walk there from here as it would be to walk there from the tower.”  

“No worries, I’ve got it,” Vaggie replied, “Thanks for your help.” 

“Same to you,” Vox said, shooting Vaggie a playful salute before teleporting back to the broadcast tower in a crackle of blue electricity, just as a light drizzle began, raindrops falling on Vaggie’s head as she made her walk back to the hotel. 

Twenty minutes passed, and back at the hotel, the parlor full of drowsy sinners jumped when the peaceful nature documentary they were watching was interrupted by the blaring theme of an incoming 666 News bulletin. 

“That scared the piss outta me,” Angel panted, emptying his sinuses into a tissue with a damp blow, “Wonder what the hell happened this time...snff!” 

“Hello citizens of Pentagram City and the greater Pride Ring, I am happy to announce that a cure for the Red Spread has been found!” Vox’s voice rang out from the speakers of the CRT television, “It has been released into the air for ease of access, take a step outside or open a window and the formula should resolve your infection! Have a wonderful day, and stay healthy! This message was brought to you by VoxTech Enterprises!” 

“Vaggie did it- SnFF!- she figured it out! Yaay…” Charlie cheered weakly, wiping off the drippy underside of her nose, “Who’s gonna get up to open the window?” 

“I got it,” Angel croaked, clearing his throat as he slowly untangled himself from Husk and stood on his two wobbling legs, slowly walking towards the large stained glass doors on either side of the bar and struggling a bit before swinging one open, revealing the intense rain that had developed outside but also letting in a burst of antidote-heavy air into the room. 

Taking a shallow breath through his mouth, Angel blinked and felt his sinuses clearing up, his tender throat healing, and his fever breaking. Angel’s fur was suddenly damp with sweat as he stood proudly and energetically on his own two feet, spinning around to face the rest of the group and flashing a bright smile, “It works! Oh my god, I never thought I’d be this fuckin’ excited to be able to breathe through my coke holes again!” he cheered. 

Niffty took in a brief whiff of air and hurriedly got up from her nest of blankets upon returning to her full energy, “I feel so much better!” she cheered, suddenly wincing upon realizing that she was surrounded by germy blankets and used tissues, “Euch… this is awful, what a mess- gotta take a shower first, wash all the germs off me, then I can clean this up- be right back!” 

In less time than the rest of the group could blink, Niffty had vanished upstairs to shower. 

Husk poked his head out from under the blanket where he’d been resting while cradled against Angel’s torso, taking a sharp breath and purring contentedly as he felt the watery congestion in his sinuses dry up, and his ears unclogged with a satisfying Pop! “Mmmm, that’s more like it,” Husk muttered, slowly moving until he was back on his feet, ignoring the dampness of his sweaty fur. 

“I gotta rinse all this sweat off and condition my fur, you comin’ Pretty Kitty?” Angel asked, attempting to finger-comb some of the excess sweat out of his fuzzy white hair. 

“Right behind you,” Husk replied, following Angel as the two wandered upstairs together to take a hot shower in Angel’s bathroom.

 Charlie inhaled with a watery sniffle, sighing with relief as her symptoms faded away and the tired bags underneath her eyes vanished, “Phew… much better,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes, turning to look at Alastor, who was still deep into a fever-induced slumber, shivering under his blanket whale draped across the loveseat. 

Charlie walked over to the loveseat and lifted up Alastor’s head from the back, gently pinching his chapped nostrils shut to force him to take a crackling inhale through his mouth. Once Alastor had taken an inhale of panacea-heavy air, Charlie backed away, wanting to be sure that Lucid Alastor wouldn’t know she was touching him. 

Alastor slowly rose up from his reclined position, muffling a final wet cough behind clenched teeth and arching his back to stretch, finally in his right mind after nearly two months of fistfighting with his immune system, “Ahh, that was a satisfying nap,” he muttered to himself, only to notice his body was still slick with sweat, and his hair was about half an inch longer than it was when he last checked. 

Suddenly, Alastor was hit with the memory of what had happened before fever rendered his mind blank, and he struggled not to flush with embarrassment, “Whatever transpired while I was indisposed isn’t to be discussed. At all.” he said, threateningly brandishing his microphone. 

“Gotcha! We don’t have to talk about it, Alastor, don’t worry, I’m just glad you’re feeling better!” Charlie said with a jovial grin. 

“Splendid,” Alastor replied, tapping his microphone against the floor before vanishing into his own shadow. 

Right as Alastor disappeared, the double doors to the hotel’s entrance swung open, and a sopping wet Vaggie stepped inside. 

“You did it!” Charlie cheered, rushing over to embrace her girlfriend in a tight hug, “What was causing it? I have so many questions!” 

“A sinner who used to be a bioterrorist was leaking the virus into the air… honestly they were persuaded to stop pretty easily… snff!,” Vaggie explained, dragging the back of her wrist under her nose to scrub away an itch. 

“That’s good, I’m glad the antidote is a mist too, that way pockets of trapped air will sanitize the Hellivator when it starts operating again,” Charlie said, “It’s so nice this is all over, and it’s all thanks to you, Vaggie, I’m so proud of you!” 

“Tha-a-ahh… thanks, Baby,” Vaggie replied, smiling when Charlie planted a kiss on her cheek. 

“Heyy, now that I’m feeling better, I think you deserve a special reward for all your hard work,” Charlie whispered suggestively, kissing Vaggie’s neck and gently pressing her palm against her girlfriend’s thigh, “What do you think?” 

“I uhm… Snff- snff!... I… I-ihh,” Vaggie began, her breath hitching as a tickle built to a crescendo in her nose, “Hi-IIhh’Ddtssheww! Ih’Ddshhoo!” 

Charlie’s aroused smile flipped, concern shimmering in her eyes as she watched Vaggie sniffle against a slightly runny nose, cold rain water still trickling down her face from her soaked hairline. 

“I think I’m getting a cold,” Vaggie groaned, a pitiful look in her eyes as she plucked two tissues from a box on a nearby table and blew her nose with a sharp honk, “Hih’dDtshhew! Ih’DdshhEWw!” 

Charlie’s sensitive heart melted and she scooped Vaggie into her arms, not even pretending to care about the fact that Vaggie’s rain- soaked body was getting her pajamas wet, “Aww, Vaggie… you did such a good job looking after everything, now it’s my turn to look after you,” she said, kissing Vaggie’s forehead, “Let’s get you a hot bath and a change of clothes.” 

“Yaaay,” Vaggie cheered softly, wrapping her arms around Charlie’s neck and trying not to shiver as she was carried upstairs, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Vaggie,” Charlie replied, gently massaging Vaggie’s back over her wet shirt as the couple disappeared up the staircase. 

#ha/zb/in ho/tel #snz #snz kink #snz fic #illness kink #gingey.rtf #PHEW #Longest one yet #This was incredible #I wanted to tie up all the loose ends as best I could