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Objection, your honor! The defense is sick as fuck and should not be standing - or sneezing - in court!

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Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.

If my mutuals can’t rb this then we can’t be mutuals

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Give him that a-chuah

sneeze on that thang

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Saying God bless you not religiously but because those sneezes were too powerful for anyone on the mortal plane to properly bless

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Oh, you're so nice to me! Thank you!! I hadn't put much thought into it beyond just Angel with a cold...

Artist's choice? :)

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💢 PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG TO NON-KINK BLOGS 💢

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It's Manual Fucking Labor (Luci/fer)

Been working on this one for a bit. I love the delicious rivalry between Al and Luci, so I toyed with that a bit and made it spicy with some snz. I also am really enjoying the text flair I'm getting to play with for all these characters, so I hope yall are liking that. Ahaha. Enjoy!!

“That one needs to go over here!” Charlie points as she heaves one of the freshly slated planks of wood for the hotel revamp. “Can you cut three more for us, dad?” she smiles sweetly at Lucifer who sits crosslegged in front of a pile of wood.

He nods, dragging the back of his arm across his forehead.  “I, uh, I’ll go head and do that, sure.” 

Her eyes are bright and full, like the sun he never saw. “Dad,” she beams at him, “thank you for this.”

He tilts his head, “For what, Char Char?”

“For helping. For putting in so much effort. For,” she pats one of the planks, “for wanting to do it this way.”

Lucifer’s brows rise. “Th-this way?”

Charlie strides off before he can ask her to elaborate. His eyes flick back to the uncut wood and his lips tip down in a pout. 

“Problem?” A staticky trill sends Lucifer’s hackles up. 

“What?” Lucifer snaps, grabbing one of the slabs of wood, dragging a sharp claw deftly down the middle and cutting it as if it were a razor saw. Small fluffy flakes snow the air around him, making his cheeks fuzz. “Hhhfff…” his brow scrunches and a flush spreads from the circles on his cheeks. “Hieh--HiSFFH!” 

Alastor skips over, peering down in amusement as sawdust skitters all around the fallen angel.

“Hm, quite shoddy,” the Radio Demon observes, tapping his cane against the plank with a squeal of feedback.

Lucifer finishes cutting the planks and coughs, wringing out his hands. “It’s manual labor, Alastor. I doubt you’d understand how to even do it.”

“Ooooh I see.” Alastor leans dolefully on his cane, “bonding with our dear Charlie with handmade projects?”

Lucifer sniffles, scrubbing his face with his whole fist. “Mh-hyep.”

The smugness surges by 60%. “Ohh, are we having trouble??” 

“No! Of hh-c-course n--” Lucifer’s voice starts to pitch higher and higher, “Hig’Sshieu!” 

Alastor lets out a keening laugh.

“Fuck off, Alastor, before I make you,” Lucifer growls.

Alastor tuts at him. “No need to be cranky, your highness.”  He pulls out a red and black handkerchief, but Lucifer waves it off with a cool huff. 

“I don’t need your hanky panky.”

A whistle of radio silence whines in their ears. Lucifer cocks a black eyebrow.

“What? What’d I say?” 

Alastor sighs and tucks the cloth back into his suit pocket. “Not that you’d use it without a nose, anyway.”

“Hey!” Lucifer snaps, fangs glinting. “It’s complicated!” 

“Far be it from me to inquire how your…extremities manifest.”

“You--snf--you--hieh!” 

Alastor cups a hand over his ear, patiently waiting for the rest of the sentence, nothing but sass in his daggerlike smirk. 

“I-I’m gonna--hhg’HGx’SHIeu!” This time, several puffs of flame escape from between his fangs, and Charlie finally realizes something is going on with her dad. 

She hurries over after setting down what she was working on. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

Lucifer palms the spreading flush on his cheek and gives an unconvincing bray of a laugh, “Noh-huh-thing! Nothing at all! Perfectly fine!”

Alastor hums, lifting one of the smaller slabs of wood, his stance casually askew. “Of course he is, Charlie!” he saunters toward Lucifer, ever the helpful little elf. “He was just about to get started on--oh, my, let me just…” the Radio Demon scrapes his hand across the wood, brushing the powder from the last sawing off of it and directly into Lucifer’s fucking face. “There we are! Oh dear…” Alastor feigns concern as small spirals of smoke begin to coil out of Lucifer’s snarled lips. 

That fuck! He did that on phhh-pur-hhh!

His face scrunches, fangs peeking, rimmed by an orange glow as he lets out high pitched whines, “Ieh hiiih! HIP’CHSS’IEψ!” flames mist like aerosol, catching the flakes of wood shavings and motes of dust in its heat, cooking them into flakes of gray ash. The hellfire rejoices but the King sighs. 

He wipes away fresh tears and lets a vague chuckle out. “Ah, Charlie, sweetie, perhaps we could speed up the process? I could just, ah,” he angles his elbows and dances his arms, “Zap a bap!” he does a little finger gun shot. “Yeah?”

“Ah, poor, Charlie,” Alastor clucks his tongue, fingers drumming across her shoulder, “I know how excited you were to do this by hand with your father--what was it you said? A bonding moment?” his voice is anything but altruistic. “But if he can’t handle it, I suppose it would be best to do things the easy way…” his teeth clack caustically.

Lucifer seethes. his teeth warping and curling. “I’m fine,” he decides, fighting back a throatful of air. 

“A-are you sure, dad?”

Lucifer flaps his hand dramatically. “Absotively! Don’t w-Huh! Worry!” 

Charlie doesn’t look one hundred percent convinced but if he says he’s fine, and wants to continue, then they’ll continue. She gives him two more boards to cut and hurries off to work on another section. 

Lucifer turns back to the unfinished planks, his shoulders simmering with translucent fog. Alastor continues to observe in silent amusement.

“Are you going to help at all?” 

“Maybe.”

Rrgh. Lucifer throws himself to a standing position, muttering under his breath. I swear to me, if Charlie didn't like that guy I would…

Well, there’s a lot he would do. Especially if he were…”Hiiet--” 

Fuck me to here!

 He needs to get a handle on the fucking fire. “Hgk…” Lucifer gulps the throatful of heat, his body taut with a shiver. His fingers squeeze the plank he’s holding and… ”Hi-ih-IEH⛧GHSHHIEUψu!” 

Instead of flames, five feathers pop out and flit around the short King, catching the breeze and running off into the wind. A couple of them float near Alastor who looks irritated at them, waving them away with a chop of his hand and a staticky, “How very uncouth…��

Lucifer’s pride flares and his grin grows wicked.

“Weelllll,” he unfurls his six wings, exaggerating them with a flex. “I better get this installed up there.” 

Lucifer quakes his wings and smacks them down, clouding the ground below his knees with dust and shavings. He shoots into the air, spinning away from the source of his allergens as he rubs at his teary eyes and flushed cheeks. 

Fuck Alastor, that prick. He deserves a bit of karma. Would Lucifer really be at fault if he were flying and he just happened to lose a few feathers? If they just by chance were to fall into that jackass’s face??

As Lucifer flies, a few feathers wilt from his wings--by accident of course! And, as predicted by divine oracle, they just happen to float down near the red haired Radio Demon, currently distracted while helping Charlie with something frivolous, Lucifer is certain. 

The feather drifts…soft downy catching the dying light in a soft pink glow. Slow, deliberate. It coils, totally by accident of course, right down beside the Radio Demon, and nudges the left side of his nostril. He blinks, now distracted from his work. His crimson eyes flit up but another brush of the cottony down makes his lids ripple shut.

“Hh-hh!” 

His shoulders spike and he thrusts a hand up to shoo away the feather, “Ss٨ﮩﮩZH! Hgk٨ـﮩﮩ” 

“Alastor!” Charlie spins in surprise when his mic clatters to the ground. 

He gives a feeble attempt to wave her away but she puts an arm around him comfortingly. 

“Are you alright? Maybe you should sit down. You just recovered after all--” 

Lucifer watches with an indignant pout as his daughter comforts the wrong person. He doesn’t miss the not-so-subtle flash of Alastor’s smug grin as he allows Charlie to lead him away, leaving Lucifer to finish the rest of the work by himself.

God fucking dammit.

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This is part two of my previous H/usker/dust fic and it turned out wayyy longer than I was expecting (almost 2500 words!). Did in fact write this at 2 am, forgot about it, and then just decided to go off of vibes and post it (it's midterm season y'all, forgive me plz😭). Definitely thinking of writing a third and final part, just unsure of when I'll get to it, but do enjoy!!

MINORS DNI THANKS!!!

Bartending and Caretaking Pt. 2?! 🤯

Husker settled the tea pot into the sink, allowing the water to run into it while he weighed out his options from a nearby cabinet. Peppermint was a no-go first and foremost, getting immediately replaced in the cabinet space. That left him with ginger, green, and chamomile. Husker had never been a huge tea fan. Although he could tolerate a cup on occasion, he really knew nothing of the purported benefits that came with each variety. Ginger… that was good on the stomach but, Angel’s current predicament was primarily–

“hIH–HDt’tTSSHhiwW!!” A pathetic flurry of sniffles preceded the appearance of the aforementioned spider. While one hand shielded the lower half of his face with a soiled bar napkin, another pulled out a dining room chair to be sat in, “--dDTSH-ieWw! SnrF– Jeezus, sorry…” Any untainted corner of the brown napkin was quickly washed away in a series of rough, pinching swipes.

Husker shook his head, turning the faucet off and ripping off a paper towel from the nearby roll. “It’d be better if you just… y’know, blew,” Husk mimicked the action of raising a tissue to his face for emphasis, eliciting an eye roll from the other demon.

“I’mb well aware of how ta blow b’my ndose, thangks. Just… rather n’dot,” The annoyed statement was concluded with a purposeful throat clearing that tapered off into a small fit of coughing.

The demon-cat simply shrugged, picking up the kettle and placing it on the stove to heat up. Right, back to the tea. So, ginger wasn’t really what Angel needed because– as far as Husker knew– his issues all laid chest-level and above. The box containing pouches of chamomile portrayed the image of a sleeping bear so… good for sleep? That was certainly something Angel needed right now. Taking a look at the final option, Husk had to give them points for accurate marketing. The box’s design consisted of a green background decorated with miscellaneous green leaves seemingly held in some ethereal suspension… Chamomile it was!

A quiet groan brought the bartender’s attention back to his current patient. Angel was sat, barely upright, at the table. Holding his head up with two hands, while a third kept the paper towel to his nose and the fourth rubbed at a temple. His eyes were squinted shut in what Husk could only assume was pain. The sight made Husk’s stomach flip with pity for the poor man.

“Legs, you alright…?” The grimace lining Angel’s face formed doubts in Husker’s mind. Maybe he did need that ginger tea after all, “What’s hurtin’ ‘ya, baby?”

“M’by head’s killin’ me, ‘s been buildin’ up all day or somethin’,” Angel lowered his face to the table completely, muffling his last few words, “feels like an airstrike in m’by brain’d.” A congested sniff seemed to only worsen the pain as it was immediately followed by a second, louder groan.

Husk turned again towards the kitchen's many cabinets, scanning for the one most likely to contain a catch-all collection of medications. Choosing the two directly above the stove, the man gleamed at his own lucky guess and grabbed the bottle of pain medicine closest to the door. 

Husker shook out two and then, upon hearing a third groan from the spider, four pills. The bartender filled a mug with tap water and placed it onto the table alongside the medicine, gently laying a hand onto the other’s shoulder. 

Angel lifted his head just enough to take in the offering before him and, sitting up fully, flashed an incredibly grateful look at Husk. While he could’ve sworn he saw the beginnings of tears swimming in the spider’s eyes, Husker refrained from commenting on it, instead taking the opportunity to finish up his tea business.

The kettle had just begun to hum a quiet song, steam drifting out of the spout in swirling motions. Husker pulled down his own mug, placing a tea bag in before pouring over it with the hot water. His ears pricked at the quiet but unmistakable sound of a jagged intake of breath quickly followed by a near-silent, “– nGXt–!”.

Clicking his tongue, the bartender chided his partner, “That can’t be helping your head, now, can it?”

“hiEH–iITShIewW! SndF–! Well, n’deither is thihIH– hHIH’iPTshIiewW– Fug’ck–!” Hitching breaths tumbled one over the other as the demon frantically fanned his face, presumably trying to ease the irritation, “HihH–nNT’ShieWw– ‘tTSsh-Hue!!”

Husker gawked at the desperate display, unconsciously taking the paper towel roll off of the counter and placing the entire thing before the struggling demon. 

“hoOHh… c’monhH–! hyEH– ngK’Tsh-ue!” Relief flowed out of the spider in a breathless sigh as he reached for more, much needed makeshift tissues. Rubbing and tugging at the abused appendage, Angel broke down the itchy sensation that’d been haunting him all day. 

Husker winced at the cruelty with which Angel tended his nose, “Not to rub it in, but uh… maybe you should… blow your nose? It’s just a th–”

A quiet, but incredibly productive, blow interrupted the older man. “SnDF– There, happy n’dow?” Angel asked, clearly agitated.

Husker hummed in contentment, pivoting to tend to the tea, “Do you take honey with your tea? It helps the throat,” his baritone voice was smug, but full of compassion nonetheless.

“I dond’t drink tea…” was mumbled behind the curtain of a crumpled paper towel. 

Placing the mug onto the table alongside a bottle of honey, Husker sat down across from Angel before he continued,“Well, you do today,” He smiled, speaking gently to the other man before pouring a spoonful of honey into the mug, making an executive decision on behalf of the spider.

Angel rolled his eyes, but a certain fight that usually lingered in them had left, at least momentarily. Sucking in a breath to avoid tasting the liquid, he downed roughly half of the cup in one fell swoop, before chugging the remainder of his water from before. The taste ran a shiver up his spine that crushed his features into a disgusted grimace. The aftermath of the display consisted of another bout of painful sounding coughs and more futile attempts to scrub his nose into submission.

Husk watched in genuine concern and curiosity, mouth slightly agape before he could properly form the words he wanted to speak, “That’s… not how you’re supposed to drink tea, Ange…”

“Whadd’ya mean? I drang’k it that’s– it’s pretty straightforward!” The younger demon looked with incredulity into his partner’s eyes before glancing down to his drink and back up.

Considering for a moment the pros and cons of having a lesson on the ‘proper’ way to drink tea, Husker simply chuckled and shrugged, gesturing for the other to finish the rest of his drink.

“N’do way! I’mb surprised I held that m’buch down, n’dow you’re askin’ t–hH-! Too m’buch!” The demon huffed, crossing his lower set of arms as he knuckled at his nose as discreetly as possible. 

Shrugging, Husker stood up to pour the rest of the tea out and re-fill the mug of water. The entire time, he could feel Angel’s eyes on his back, watching his every move. The bartender heard the soft scrape of a chair on the floor and the quiet padding over of the other demon. He remained unflinching when said demon leaned down to rest his head on the older man’s shoulder, sidling in close behind him. A set of arms slinked their way around Husk’s waist as a kiss was placed onto his cheek.

“Than’gk ‘ya for the tea ‘n all… it hon’destly wasn’t that bad, considerin’…” The spider muttered under his breath, only receiving a chuff of laughter in response.

“Well, you certainly had me fooled,” Husk joked, nudging Angel with his shoulder. The demon opened his mouth to continue only to stop short as the other’s grip tightened around him before letting go completely. Spinning around to check on him, Husk wasn’t all that surprised to find him facing the opposite direction, two hands seemingly covering the lower half of his face as his shoulders and back tensed with a total of one, two, and three hitching breaths before–

“–kt’dTSHieWw! Hh–hEH’PtsSHWw– ‘dDzSChWw!! HihH..! hIH- ‘iHDt!–huhh… ugh…”

Taking over, Husk wrapped an arm around the now-wobbling frame of the spider, wordlessly taking hold of the paper towels and ripping a handful off for Angel to use. Muttering what the bartender could only assume was a thanks, the demon simply pressed the bundle to his nose in defeat. No objections were made as Husker silently began walking down the hall, towels under one arm, Angel encompassed in the other, and his free hand carrying a mug of water. 

Juggling the objects around, the cat-demon managed to open the door to Angel’s bedroom and deposit the sick man and his supplies onto his bed and nightstand, respectively. Husker’s concern grew with every silent moment, the only sound being the occasional snuffle from the other.

“You alright, Legs?” He found the words leaving his mouth before he could even think. He rolled his eyes at the stupid inquiry, clearly he wasn’t ‘alright’. He brought a claw to the other man’s forehead, slipping a few loose strands of hair away from his face. Angel looked up towards him, eyes at half-mast, clouded with exhaustion.

“Jus’ tired,'' As if to emphasize the fact, the demon hid a yawn behind his hand, seeming to slump ever-deeper into the pillows, “...gotta take a shower… ‘m so gross…” Husker watched as the other’s eyes slowly came to a close, “Jus’ needa m’binute..”.

Trying his best not to wake him, Husk abandoned the bed to the en-suite bathroom to draw a bath for the pitiful mess in the adjacent bedroom. A quiet snort alerted him to Fat Nugget’s presence and, while the bath filled with bubbly water, the bartender re-filled the pig’s food and water dishes. Scrounging through the dresser drawers, he struggled to find adequate sleep wear for several minutes before swiftly making a trip to his own room, fetching simple pajama pants and an oversized, but quite comfortable sweater. 

Once he’d returned, Husk found the bathtub adequately full as well as his patient semi-awake, petting Fat Nuggets who had found a cozy spot curled up against Angel Dust. He roused the sleeping demon with a few shakes and helped him to sit up, hand against his back.

“Sorry baby, I uh…” Ugh, this was going to sound so sappy, Angel would have a field day. Husk composed himself before continuing, “I made you a bath… Figured it’d help, but if you’d rather–”

The younger man turned his head to look into the other’s eyes, “Husky, you drew m’be a bath? That’s so rom’bantic!” His voice was raspy from just the few moments he’d been asleep,forcing him to clear his throat before wrapping his two sets of arms around his partner.  

Husk could feel his face grow hot with embarrassment even after Angel had let him out of the embrace. He couldn’t seem to think of anything to say as Angel slowly lifted himself out of bed and began the trek towards the bathroom. A small gasp made his heart jump, 

“What’s wrong?”

Angel Dust turned away from the bath to face his partner, “It’s a bubble bath! I n’dever thought I’d see the day!”

“The day I… drew you a bubble bath?” Husker asked, incredulous.

“N’do– well, yes, actually… just–!” Angel’s tone turned to one of sincerity, “it’s just very sweet of you, Whiskers.” The demon blew a kiss across the room before closing the door behind him.

“Don’t fall asleep in there, I don’t know CPR!”

“That’s alright kitten, you can’d just gimme mouth-to-mouth!” Angel called back flirtatiously.

“Isn’t that just another form of CPR…?” The question was mumbled under the bartender’s breath and remained unanswered as he shook it from his mind and began his own night routine in his room. Brush his teeth, wash his face, simple enough. He pulled on a pair of pajama pants from his dresser in favor of his uniform. Grabbing the book off of his nightstand, Husker settled his reading glasses into his pocket before making his way back to Angel’s bedroom and into the bed next to Fat Nuggets. 

The book was some weird work of horror fiction that Niffty had lent him. The plot was just as sick and twisted as would be expected, but the writing was undeniably good. Besides, Husk had seen much more fucked-up things than some of what the novel mentioned. Placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, he fell into comfortable silence, becoming absorbed in the story before him. The narrator was dragging on and on about a dark corner and what may or may not be around it. Just as the main character rounded said corner, a climactic moment certain to be just a page away, Husker nearly jumped out of his skin as an uncharacteristically loud sound came from behind the closed bathroom door,

“– hAdT’sSHieWw!!”

“Dammit, Angel–! I– bless you!” Husker yelled across the room in a comedically angry tone, only receiving a second, much less startling sneeze in response. The demon sighed as he regained his previous slack composure, attempting once more to find out what lurked behind the fictional corner.

A few chapters, and several more startling background noises later, Angel slunk out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. The sweater Husk had left on the counter just barely fit the tall spider, and he hadn’t even considered that it didn’t accommodate more than one pair of arms. Not to mention, he’d chosen a pair of silk shorts over the pants. Husk could’ve slapped himself, but Angel didn’t seem to mind terribly,

“The pants, uh… they didn’t fit,” Angel rubbed a hand behind his head, ruffling the fur, “It was a nice gesture though sweetheart!” Husk looked on, unconvinced as he watched his partner shiver from across the room, “hH–Pt’sShiewW!”

Husker rolled his eyes, patting the empty spot next to him in invitation, “C’mon, gotta get you warm before you get worse,” a smile tugged at his features as Angel made his way over, snuggling against the older man’s side. Aside from the bedside lamp, the room was pitch black, “Mind if I leave the light on to read by? Things just got interesting…” Husker asked, gently running his claws through the other’s hair.

A small hum of contentment was the only sound Husk could hear and, listening to his breathing even out, the bartender bent over to kiss the top of the demon’s head. A few more pages later and he could hardly keep his own eyes open. Turning the lamp off he took off his glasses to place atop the book on the nightstand before laying down completely and finally drifting off to sleep.

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Ambrosia to Go

@here-for-the-sick-fics Hi hello! I broke rather early, so thanks for the request! I'm not sure if it's what you had in mind, but I liked the challenge and I like Huskerdust! So! Here! You go! Enjoy!

Part 1

--

As the local bartender, Husk was very aware of what made the Hazbin Hotel tick. And unfortunately, that did not stop with how they handled illness.

Charlie was not one to hide it, but she would play it down and throw endless hours into her work until she collapsed. A rumor had started around the hotel that their bartender had thrown a blanket around her shoulders when she passed out at the counter. And he'll keep saying 'no, that didn't happen' until he's blue in the face because well, no one was there to prove it, were they?

As far as he can tell, he knows Alastor can get sick. Sort of. Kind of. A sniff here, a cough there. Even if, by rare chance that an overlord gets sick, he can hide those little details-- and hide them well. It would take only God themself to even catch him sneezing more than once.

When Lucifer gets hit, he gets hit hard. Denying it is somehow his go-to strategy even when the slightest cold knocks him down. Last time he'd seen the king sick he'd been working on some pretty important documents and, by the end of one of his many fits, he'd sneezed so hard that he breathed fire through the entire stack.

Niffty doesn't get sick. She's never gotten sick once since they started working together. He knows this. She knows this. It's incredibly unsettling and he'd rather not talk about it.

And today, he’s unfortunately left with...

"Angel Dust." Husk raised a bushy brow, "I'm cuttin' you off. You look like you're gonna pass out any second now."

And there sat the demon of the hour, famous porn star beloved by millions, plastered out of his mind and clutching a glass of what he calls his 'medical ambrosia'.

"Lissen! Lissen. Iii..." Angel's nose scrunched, and quickly covered it with a tissue-- which Husk nudged slightly to the left for accuracy's sake. "Hep'shhh! HET'shhhiieww. Ugh, gross."

The owlcat winced, fighting back the guilt he'd stuffed down for hours now. "Ange, I--"

"Shaddup!" Four accusatory fingers pointed, "If I had a cold I'd have it! And if I had your previous cold I'd say shhhhhaddup! Because you're-- snffff! you're a real nice guy, y'know that?"

"But--"

"Shhhhhhh!" Angel squinted, "All...all four of ya shut yer traps. You were worth it and don't you forget it. 'Kay?"

That speech was way too sincere. Oh God above he has to care again, doesn't he? Rolling his eyes with a groan, Husk swept the half empty shooter from the swaying patron’s grip.

"Hey! What gives?!"

Wordlessly he tossed Angel’s ambrosia down the drain, jumpstarting the closing time routine.

"Don't be like that Whiskers! We were just...g-gettin'...g-gettin' intehh...hih!" Angel hitched, fanning himself desperately before--

"HEP'shhhh!" He pitched forward, caught by a tissue in helping paws. The bartender sighed– then repressed a shiver when the sickly spider blew messily into cheap paper.

"Yer lucky you're cute." Husk grumbled.

"Whassat?"

"Nothin'." Tossing the soaked through tissue in the wastebasket, he snaked an arm around Angel Dust's waist. "C'mon sickie, let's get you to bed."

As he pulled Angel off the stool, it took a few seconds for his mind to buffer before sobering up a little and– here we go. Right on cue.

"Y'know this’s just allergies, right?"

"Mmmhm." Husk nodded mechanically, inching up one velvet step at a time.

"An' really, when ya think about it-- snff! Niffty's been slackin', y'know?"

"Sure." Second floor.

"I mean, missin' an hour of cleanin' today and for whuhh- what? Fightin' more roaches?"

"A shame, really." Third floor, second door on the right.

"And I...I-I..." Angel wobbled, breath hitching. Without even glancing Husk held a claw up to the spider’s nose. "Snff! Ugh. Thags."

"Shut up." Husk swore as they stumbled into the room. Purple fluorescent lights rained down on a plush bed, vanity close by. Thankfully with tissues, because he knew what was coming next. 

"Id's cold id here, isn't it?"

"Yup." Husk grunted, leaning to grab a piece while balancing Angel with the other arm. "Pretty-- ugh-- chilly."

"I mbean geez! Sub-- snff! someone should really turn up the thermos-staahhh-hheh-hihhHIHH'ATSHHHHH!" Angel pitched forward again, and Husk spread his wings to keep balance, pressing a cloth to his face before he could get sprayed. "Guh..."

"Gesundheit." Husk deadpanned. The finger under the nose trick can only work so well when it literally and figuratively backfires a few seconds later. "Alright, let's lay you down before--..." 

He tugged, but his patient wasn't moving. He was busy staring into the mirror. 

"Angel?" A paw squeezed his bicep.

"...I can't wear the robe."

"What?"

"I can’t wear the robe. He's gonna kill me." Angel Dust repeated, turning pale. "I-I…we have this scene tomorrow with this sexy lingerie bathrobe lookin' thing and-- and I look like a wreck. I sound like a wreck. When I get sick I get messy and I'm gonna sneeze all over the stubid thi’g--"

"Angel--"

"And thed Val's gudda see how gross I mbade it--"

"Hey, hey, easy." Gently guiding Angel to the bed, he mourned at the way his fluffy frame shook. “Let’s sit you down before you fall down, okay? We'll take this one step at a time. And I won’t drop you, promise."

"...I-I kndow." The patient shot him a shaky smile. Shivering and unsteady, Husk tucked the tissue box beside him and draped the comforter over his shoulders.

"Okay." He took four gloved hands in one of his own, other reaching to help Angel Dust wipe his eyes. Then moved to his nose. "Blow."

"Wh-- I cad't let you do that! It's disgustig--!"

"Good to know, ‘cause we've done this all night."

"We have?! Oh, Husgk..."

"Trust me, I've cleaned up worse at the bar."

Pink cheeks glowing red, Angel rid himself of the muck as quickly as possible-- relieved sigh quickly replaced with panic.

"It's alright." Husk kneaded patterns on the other's thigh, glancing a knowing look. "Like I said, I'm not gonna drop ya."

Understanding, Angel scooped the tissue up and pressed it to his nose. "Et'SHHHH'iiew! ep'shhhh! Ghuhh..." With another honking blow he tossed the wadded ball on the desk, flopping face first into the pillowy mattress. Husk's eyes traveled everywhere but to his partner...in...crime? Ugh. Still not sure. Instead his attention lay on Fat Nuggets while he waited, little menace snoring softly in the corner.

"...I'm gross." Angel Dust rasped, muffled through satin and lace.

"I can see that." 

"Forget what just happened. I was actin’ stupid, freakin’ out over nothin’."

"Nah." Claws threaded through tangled hair, "Fuck your boss. You should sneeze in his face."

Angel Dust snorted. Husk smirked. "Yeah. Really make 'im squirm. He wants messy fluids right?"

Slowly moving to lean against the headboard, the spider brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he stared. Pupils shrunk to pinpricks like he was at the climax of a horror movie.

"...What? I'm right." A pointed ear flicked irritably.

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Shut up. Did you just make a sex pun?"

Husk blinked in surprise, forgetting himself. And only smirked wider.

Alright, new plan.

"Me? Do somethin' like that? C'mon Legs, you're grasping. All I'm sayin' is ya gotta take a few tissues and get real passionate with 'em."

"Hhhhholy shhhhit."

"Then stuff 'em in his chest fluff or something. He can use 'em as padding."

"Are you real?" Angel gasped teasingly.

"What? You said you were gross. If he's not lettin' you call in, you might as well snee--"

"Hp'shhhh! HT'SHHHH'hhoo! Unh..."

"Yeah. Like that."

Pausing to let his patient give a gurgling blow, the tail end of a miserable groan broke into a soft giggle. Giggle breaking into another hitching mess until--

"Hih'TSCHHH! HTCH'shhhiew! H-hih-hhhHHITSCHHHH!"

"Alright, alright, that's enough excitement for one night." Husk quickly got to work, grabbing the required fluffy sweater and pajama pants. Ignoring the disappointed pout between pulling the top over Angel's stomach with a satisfied tug.

"Aw Husk–snfff! Really? Pants? I don't wannaaaa."

"Yes, pants. I thought you said you were cold."

"But they're such a paiiinnnn."

"Do you wanna get more sick?"

"...No."

"Then I'll go back to my room so you can slip those on."

A single step and--

"Wait!" Angel blurted.

A pause filled the room, save for a few coughs dragged out by the sudden burst.

"...Need something?"

"I, uh. I'm not ready."

"Christ Ange, are you still drunk? Jus’ put on your pants one leg at a time��"

"No! What?! No! I don’t want you to leave!" An aching voice broke. Tired eyes squeezed shut. Suddenly feeling rather small, he forced his gaze down to his gloves, peeling them off one by one as he spoke. "I…I-I know it's late, so you can always say no. I just…I don't wanna be alone right now."

Another pause. “...Please.”

A sharp sigh immediately cut any creeping tension, listening to a winged back thump against the wall. "I get it. Bein’ sick is…a lot. You don't need to write me an essay. And I don't pick favorite customers, but I gotta admit. I'll keep the bar open all night if it means I get to talk to Anthony again. Just once, that’s all I need."

[flufferdust]

Feathers On a Hearth

Did I just write a 2,000+ word Huskerdust snz fic because I have no impulse control? The answer may not surprise you. Hope you enjoy!

--

“A day off?” Angel Dust slapped his upper hands on the counter, lower firm on his hips. “Whaddya mean a day off?!”

“My, my! Such a reaction!” The Radio Demon hummed from behind the bar, “I thought you’d be pleased that Husk asked for some relaxation time.”

“Of course I’m happy! That’s the problem!” The other fumed, picking nervously at the hem of a glove. “The bastard never takes his fifteen, let alone twenty four hours to himself. Even after the whole extermination shit went down and the hotel’s name was back up in lights, he opened up shop the next day like nothin’ happened!”

“Hm.” The Overlord’s fingers stilled above a wine glass, drifting into a trance. From a distant white fuzz of radio that traveled with the hotelier, Angel Dust heard bits and pieces of unknown voices, clipped nonsense like jagged edges of glass against a chalkboard.

Unknown help NEEDED uSefuL For meat.

“Alastor?” Angel Dust finally piped up, and his host seemed finished ruminating on the world’s most ominously displayed conclusion.

“I would love to uphold Husker's wishes for privacy. However, if it satiates your curiosity in any way, feel free to convince him otherwise.” Alastor snapped his fingers, and a door somewhere above unlocked with a sharp click, "The poor thing hasn’t come out of his room all day, and I admit it’s a bit disquieting to not have our bartender at the ready. Always waiting with a refreshing drink and a silver tongue...”

Pencil thin brows furrowed. Okay. Okay, fine. Either fuck over Husk’s boundaries– not a fan of goin’ down that road again– or risk it and make sure he’s okay. Regardless.

“Is this some kinda sick way of showin’ that you care about him?” Angel Dust squinted suspiciously.

A howling laughter cut the air like a knife. “O-oh! Ohohoh my! Th-that– ahaha– H-heavens, no!” Alastor wheezed out. “I want to see how badly this trainwreck goes! It's been quite a show to watch such a beloved actor even think about rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been like Husker!”

Angel's face twisted, blushing scarlet with anger at a cackling studio audience that filled the bar. He couldn't help it-- whatever cadence, whatever tone, he'd heard the same exact laugh plenty of times with every tug of a chain. “I don’t get what Charlie sees in a creepy, sadistic fucker like you. But y’know what? I hope you get to the top. I hope you get everythin’ you want. Because when you look down from your sad, dinky little radio tower, no one is gonna be there to watch.”

Flashing his last two arms just to flip Alastor off with his entire being, Angel Dust spun on his heel to storm up the steps. And all too faintly, he heard one last little hiccup of a broadcast. He stopped at the haunting swell of violins, nearly tugged backwards by the sobbing of a woman reaching out to embrace her savior.

Thank you. 

The tapping of Alastor’s staff and his hushed string of curses were nothing compared to the smug smirk that nearly split Angel’s face.

“Hey Whiskers, it’s me!” A knock echoed on Husk’s freshly crafted door, pentacle etchings still bonded to the knotted wood. 

His calls were only met with silence.

“C’mon, I ain’t gonna try anything. We’re past all that and you know it.”

The silence persisted. A louder knock. Shit. Alastor was definitely not the type to play a prank, and Husk definitely wasn’t the type to stay quiet forever.

“You okay? You ain’t bleedin’ out on the carpet, right?” He worried his bottom lip, running a thumb against sore knuckles. “...Husker?”

“I heard you the first time.” A gruff voice answered. Oh thank fuck.

“Then what're ya waitin' for? Let a gal in, would ya?”

“Can't.”

“Alright, fine. Then I'll do it myself.”

“No!” A tornado warning seemed to go off the second the doorknob was even slightly turned. All sorts of bits and bobs were haphazardly knocked about in a cacophony of noise. Somewhere along the way the chaos settled for a brief moment, ragged breaths building and building until--

"Ht'shhuh! Hut'CHNX! HHHT'CHNXT'uh!" The sound of shattered glass pierced the air, and Angel Dust nearly jumped in place at the sharp yelp that followed.

"Hey, what the Hell!?"

“I'm okay, don’t-- kaff kaff! don't move. I’ll come to you.” Husk croaked. The door finally crept open and– oh.

“Oh. Oh, wow.” The spider whistled at the sad sight before him. “Ya look like shit.” 

 Or at least, the little bits that poked out. The bartender’s bedsheets were wrapped around him like a patchwork cocoon, making every second standing a heavy, tangled effort for the shivering bundle. Underneath the makeshift hood that covered his head, the fur on his face was matted with sweat, a single claw pressed just below a flushed nose. His eyes were squinting through a bleary fog, as if it took his entire being just to concentrate.

“Nice t’ see you too. Listen. I’m obviously sick, so if you need somethin’ from me just grab it and go.”

Okay, rude. This was not the kind of hot mess Husk usually was-- at least, not six months into their trauma bond. And strange enough, his room was no different. Card collections, casino chips, beer bottles, all the little things were flung every which way. But the most bizarre was a trash can haphazardly stuffed to the brim with red and black feathers, peppered by wads of clawed-through tissues.

“Uhhhh.” Angel Dust's brow furrowed at the sea of half-broken junk, “I don’t need nothin’, but I’m pretty sure if I did then I'd need to ask a gravedigger first.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake– then what do you want?!” Husk snapped. Angel stilled, surging through ten different emotions at once. But the sickly  demon only landed on one, eyes wide with overflowing guilt. He hunched low, retreating towards his bed with wobbling steps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to– I. I’m just not feelin’ right. Snf! But I'll be better by t-tuhh-tomorrow. Jus’…just forget thihhh-this ever…ever ha-happened.”

Angel Dust watched on in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. Maybe Charlie, Princess of Friendship, could have calmly negotiated with the bartender. Maybe she could have sung a song to magically solve a lesson of the day. Maybe she could have shown love and kindness and all the redemption bullshit that he'd come to respect. But Angel Dust was not Charlie. Angel Dust was Angel Dust. So, with all the love and kindness in his heart, the spider stepped a foot on the blankets and yanked his friend backwards. And caught off guard, Husk released the claw that kept a worrying tickle at bay. 

"Hhhuhh...huh! Hup'shhhoo! Hup'SSHHHUH! Sh-shihhh-shihht nohhh-not agaaaiihhhh…Heh! HETCHHH'HOO!" A pair of wings involuntarily flapped at the small fit, sending a small firework of feathers into the air. Patchy, bare spots that once balanced the owlcat sent him stumbling on the ever-tilting floorboards. And suddenly, body moving before his mind could, Angel Dust hurriedly caught the other in a low dip. Tangled under his partner's shadow, Husk’s red-tipped ears folded until they practically pressed against his skull.

“Snff! Uh. Thanks.” He swallowed.

“No problem.” Angel echoed, stopping to blow a feather from his mussed bangs.

“...You can let go now.”

“If I do, are ya goin' to fall before you even touch the bed?”

Husk's pause lasted a second too long.

“That's what I thought. Now, I’m gonna lead with your shoulder and your waist. And it'll just be touch and nothin' else, cross my heart.”

“Hey, you– kaff! offered to help me out. If there’s an issue that you’re lookin’ for, I couldn’t see one if I tried.” The other mumbled, unsure if he could get any redder.  “But thanks for the heads up, Ange. I mean it.”

Gently the spider guided him with four sturdy arms, the third pair growing to snatch up his shed blankets along the way. Looking down, Angel’s heart suddenly squeezed as the cat in his hold immediately fought sleep at the touch, head lolling against his chest.

“Soooo. You can molt?” Angel squeezed his shoulder playfully.

“...Mm. Sucks, but I always push– snff! Ugh, push through it.” Husk grumbled, scrubbing his eye with a paw to force himself awake. Looking anywhere but at his helper.

“Oh, please! You know I ain’t stoppin’ here, right? I’ve fucked a lotta demons with wings and I gotta say, those bad boys ain't gonna pity ya anytime soon. 'Specially paired with that cold've yours.” He pushed Husk onto the mattress, ignoring the soft grunt that followed. “Now lay down.”

Finally relenting, his patient rolled onto his stomach, pressing a pillow over his head to muffle his thoughts for two entire seconds– or at least while his back and nose had stopped itching something awful. Because without realizing it a warm smolder had filled his chest, sparked at the onslaught of attention. It was the cold. It was just the cold. It was not the sheer audacity of being needy for once in his miserable life. Goddamnit, when had he suddenly become so needy?

“Good boy.” A voice whispered gently, breath hot against his bare back. Yep, that's nausea. Definitely nausea and nothing else. Husk quickly stomped out the growing flame before it could spread any further. Unfortunately, a different sensation crawled up his nose, and he pressed the feather-stuffed fabric against his muzzle. Desperate to not deal any more damage. He was supposed to be the hotel’s bartender. He was supposed to be Angel Dust's bartender. It was his job to look out for the struggling souls around him, not the other way arou-- 

"Huh! Hhhhuuhhh...F-fuck."

"Need help?"

“Wh-whuhh— Snff! What?” Craning his head, the tip of a discarded feather tickled the rim of his nostrils, and whatever pained torture Husk would have had to grin and bear was swapped with another.

"HUP'CHOO! HUT'CHHHOO! Hhhuhhh...hhhuh!...hah hhahhhhHTCH'HUH! Hhhhhuuhhh.......hhhuhh.....hguhh...snff! Ow." Between ragged gulps for air, he heard the thump of books and bottles fall from the high shelves above. He didn't even want to look at the state of his room right now. Instead he blindly grabbed for a tissue, sharp trumpeting blows intertwined with flustered apologies. 

He regretted even thinking about opening his eyes. He would have rather sneezed himself into a second death than deal with the disaster that regularly re-disorganized itself. But vision clearing, he blinked back shock as Angel Dust already had a mop in hand, cleaning supplies at the ready. Steam curled against the cat demon’s cheek, and he turned to see a rag was already soaking on the nightstand. Mystified, the bartender watched as his patron stop mid-task to slide it forward, a welcoming smile on his face. The bowl seemed to move in an oddly nostalgic way. Like the film strip of a memory that didn’t quite catch the light.

Or the offer of a refreshing drink and a silver tongue.

"...This is stupid." Husk finally broke the silence.

"Ugh, I know right? The books are no big deal, but whisky's gonna be a bitch to get outta the carpet. I'll have to grab Niffty before it stains--"

"No. I mean, you don't need t’ clean up after me. I...I-I can do it myself." Husk mumbled, pushing himself upright– or rather, made a daring attempt before collapsing back on the mattress.

Angel Dust stared. Really stared. Throwing aside the handle in his palm, he rested two right hands on his hip. “Husk. Sugar. Sweetheart. Babydoll. You dragged me kickin’ and screamin’ outta bad days plenty of times. What's wrong with me doin’ the same for you?”

“Oh c’mon, we both know that I can do all this bullshit myself. Cleanin’ my room. Washin’ my wings. Why do you need t’ be my personal assistant for the day when you're so busy dealin’ with the studio! 'Specially with Him bitchin’ and moanin’ and runnin' you ragged! I see you stumble through the door at three in the morning, clutching your stomach like it got whittled to nothin’! He orders you around like a goddamn dog on a leash, and then you come home to what? Take care of another asshole like me? Why should some shitty ex-overlord get the same kinda treatment?”

--rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been--

Oh.

Oh that motherfucker.

"You--" Angel Dust felt his blood boil, chasing away the ghost of radio static that crawled under his skin. “Are you fuckin' kidding me?!”

Husk jolted, fur puffing in surprise as Anthony pulled him onto his lap. “Stop bein' a dumbass! You deserve this. You deserve to be pampered. If ya think I’m here because I feel pressured and not because you’re actually– oh I dunno, worth bein’ cared for– then let me make things crystal fuckin’ clear for you.”

“Kid–” Overgrown pleas were cut at the stem, body going limp as a steaming cloth trailed down bone dry wings. And as dark thoughts began to drift, the spider rested his chin on the crook of Husk’s neck. One by one he plucked every warped thought with every warped feather.

"You ain't forcin' me to do nothin'. You ain't payin' me as a client. You ain't no toxic ex. And you definitely ain't like Valentino. So get it through your thick skull-- I don't hang around ya 'cause I need to." Cupping a flushed cheek for good measure, Anthony ever so slightly tilted a hypnotized gaze his way. "I do it because I want to."

Faces flushed and heavy-lidded with bliss, the actor forgot himself, bathing in the silence. The peace. The safe haven he called Husk.

The other, very predictably, pulled back to sneeze.

Husk buried his muzzle in a tissue before he could give his drinking buddy-- friend-- partner-- whoever the fuck was in front of him at this point in time an impromptu shower.

"'CHNX! CHNXT'hhhooo...hhhuh! HUH'ASHHHOO!" He cautiously peeked open an eye, blinking back shock when his wings didn't snap open. Instead they continued to lay there, well-washed and preened to perfection. So with a shaky breath he lit the spark in his chest, allowing it to burn gently through his ribcage like it was a small, rusty hearth. Swallowing down a soft purr before it could escape.

"Wait, wait, wait." Yanked back to reality Angel Dust grabbed the cat demon’s shoulder to spin him around, looking him dead in the eye. "Am I crazy, or do you sneeze in triples every time? That’s. Adorable."

"Oh shuuhhh…hhuh!" A blur of a black and red feather swept under his prickling nostrils, fanged smirk kissing the base of downy barbs between lithe fingers.

"Hhhhuh! You s-suhhnofa-a-aahh!...hhhah…” Husk held his breath like his afterlife depended on it, desperately scrubbing at his muzzle to quell the angry itch. Startling when Angel’s lips pecked the tip of his raw nose.

Shit.

“F-fuhhhcking ch-ch-chhheater– Hhhept'choo!" Husk doubled over into the nearly-shredded tissue.

"Oh my goodness, bless you!" The spider demon cooed teasingly. "One."

"Sh-shuhhht…sh-shu-shut the fuck uhhp-- HUP'CHHH’hhoo!"

"Yeesh! That was a big one. Two."

"Guuuuhhh...g-gonna kihh-kill youhhhuuhhh-hhuh-huh-hah! HATCH'HHHOO!"

"Hah! I knew it! Holy shit, that’s so cute!" Angel Dust gushed through bouts of uncontrollable laughter-- rudely interrupted when a pillow smacked him square in the face.

[flufferdust]

Don't Cheat On Me (Haz/bin)

Yall were warned, here's another haz/bin fic. The hotel gang playing some board games. Vaggie reacts to them cheating. I played with morals and Angel being cute and Alastor being a sneaky bitch. This takes place mid season 1, cuz I wanted Pentious involved! Okay enjoy!

Husk sets the final two drinks on the table, taking care to scoot them far out of the way of the game board. Angel is propped with his elbow on his knee, chin resting on his palm as he concentrates on his next move.

“Alright,” he pinches one of the sheep tokens and moves it from the vale to his farm--which he dubbed ‘Haven’. 

“What are you gonna do with all them sheep, Angel?” Husk asks.

“Nothing.”

“You aren’t going to eat them?!” Pentious yawps.

Angel squeaks. “No!” 

Vaggie grumbles. “You’re gonna break the game. They’re currency for other shit.”

“Yeah! To be slaughtered!” Angel’s gold tooth winks in frustration.

Charlie, ever the ray of sunshine, even when talking about animal slaughter, picks up a game piece shaped like a human. “It’s to feed the meeples!” She dances it around happily.

Angel frowns. “Fuck the meeples.” He wraps his lower arms protectively around his sheep farm. “They’re my sheep. I can do whateverthefuck I want with them!”

Husk groans. “Rgh, just let Angel keep his damn sheep. We have other food sources for our population.” He flicks through his action cards, ears twitching with every shush of the card.

“Fine…” Vaggie grumbles. “You’re next, Pentious.”

Sir Pentious taps his fang with a bent claw, considering. It makes a soft tip tap tip tap. His eggbois start giving suggestions like “Trade for his sheep!” “Buy more lumber!” “Steal Vaggie’s coins!” Until soon they’re all chanting “STEAL! STEAL! STEAL! STEAL!”

Vaggie saws at her teeth, scrunching up her nose and suppressing another growl. 

Charlie turns to her and offers a supportive arm squeeze. Then she looks encouragingly at Pentious and says, “We don’t steal. It’s very wrong.” She waggles a finger. “What should we do instead?”

Sir Pentious attempts to calm his eggs down, clearing his throat. “Yes, well, ahem. Eggbois!” He slithers into a spine-erect position, being commanding as he ever can manage. “We do not steal. That would be,” he cracks a small grin as if trumpets were blaring all around them, “Against the rules!” 

Charlie claps, eyes glazed with pride.

Angel rolls his eyes and waves an upper arm, “Then, what are ya gonna do?”

Pentious hums for another long moment, tail swishing. Not surprisingly, one of the eggbois does not seem to take his words to heart. It clambors under the table and…is Vaggie seeing this? Is anyone else seeing this?? The eggboi’s hand pops up on Husk’s side of the table. Husk, who is mid drink, is too distracted to notice. The eggboi swipes several coins and scrambles back to Pentious, depositing it faithfully by his own pile. 

Nobody says a word. Nobody else but Vaggie seems to have noticed. 

Her mouth opens to warn them about the absolute betrayal taking place but instead, she’s overcome with a completely feral sensation in the core of her sinuses. 

“Ih-hih!” Instinct has her hands forming a protective shield over her face, just as her shoulders shudder. “Eip’Sshieu!” her entire body cracks forward and Charlie gasps.

“Vaggie! Are you okay?” she massages the spot on Vaggie’s arm where her girlfriend bumped the table.

“Yeah, fine,” Vaggie waves her off, shooting a daggerlike glare at the clueless eggboi. Her eye narrows at Pentious who is taking his turn. Obviously the eggboi stealing the coins counted as cheating. But did it count as Pentious himself cheating if he didn’t know about it? 

Vaggie heaves a sigh. Morals, she was learning, were fickle.

Husk has already decided what to do--two turns ago. He lays down an action card and helps himself to the public lumber market. 

All eyes flick to Alastor. His strategy has been the hardest to read. His moves don’t seem to benefit himself much, but he’s made several plays that have changed the course of the game so far. 

His red eyes glide over the cards in his clawed hand, his lips in a loose smile. He plucks a card and hands it to Angel. Angel raises the eyebrow above his dark eye and accepts the card. He looks shocked when he sees it.

“What the fuck?” he waves it at him.

Alastor just smiles and shrugs.

“What?” Vaggie swings her head left and right, looking between them both. “What did he give you?”

Angel snorts. “Wouldn’t you like to know, sweetcakes?” he shimmies his shoulders suggestively.

Vaggie clutches her cards tighter. She wishes Alastor would say something. Normally no one can get the guy to shut the fuck up, but during game night, he’s eerily silent. 

Charlie nudges her. She needs to take her turn. Vaggie peers down at her spread. Her cards are shit, she’s poor as fuck, and her meeples are isolated and starving. 

Charlie sees Vaggie’s shit pit situation and her mouth tips down, the circles of her cheeks bobbing softly. “Oh, Vaggie,” she scrapes a handful of coins together and holds them out. “Do you want some of my gold? I have enough for my turn.”

Vaggie sucks in a breath, the itch more like a stab this time, and she flattens her hand over her face. “H’SHUiew!” she presses her palm firmly to her nose and lips as her shoulders flutter in tune with her throat, “Heig’SGM!” 

What the fuck? That counted as cheating?! But Charlie was trying to help. 

Rgh! This is a fucking board game!! Not a reason to revisit moral trauma!

A faint but curious hum trickles next to her right ear, where Alastor sits. Her heart skips and she catches a hint of scrutiny behind his flippant smirk.

What is he thinking??  

“Vaggie?” Charlie’s voice pulls her from her paranoia.

“Not getting sick, are ya?” Husk grunts.

“Oh please do not infect us!” Sir Pentious drums his fingers together, “I don’t handle illness well at all!” 

“I’m fine,” Vaggie snarls, slapping a card down--something barely helpful at all--and calls it a wash.

Charlie pushes a pile of gold into the pot and buys four apples and a sheep. Angel looks dismayed at this and he’s eyeing the last six sheep in the vale. 

“Angel…” Husk’s voice is low and gravelly, like coins scraping together, “you really should think about gathering resources for your plot. You don’t even have enough coins for--”

Angel slams down a card: infinite sheep.

Vaggie’s mouth unhinges and she darts her eye at Alastor. The smug on his face says it all: that’s the card he gave Angel. What the fucks? 

Angel scoops the rest of the sheep from the vale and places them delicately in his farm. He now owns 80% of the fucking sheep in the goddamn game. 

Vaggie glares at Alastor, her hand flying in circles as she speaks, “Why did you give him that? You could have used that on Angel to steal all of his sheep!”

Angel’s hair flops into his dark eye as he gapes at them. “You could do that?” his voice breaks on the last word.

Alastor ignores them, eyes intent on organizing his meeples, apples, and coins by size and color. 

Sir Pentious chooses to sell a few things for  money--lumber mostly--but he miscounts and an argument sparks between him and Husk about how much lumber Pentious added to the pile. 

Vaggie hiccups her next breath, drops the meeple she was organizing, and spills a “Hg’KtSHieW!” into jangled fingers. She grunts, pinching her nose and sniffling. “Can’t we snf just snf start the turn over and--”

“NO!”

“NO!”

The boys both yell together, wings and hood fanning out as they both scramble to grab at the pieces of lumber they’re arguing over.

“Ai’kTChieh!” Vaggie slumps and sighs. This is getting chaotic. 

“Do you need some medicine?” Charlie asks, looking for all the world, more helpless than Vaggie herself. 

Vaggie waves her away with a stuffy sniffle, “Seriously, I’m fine.” It wouldn’t help anyway. What Vaggie needs is a break and--

Something enters her field of vision. Right under her nose, a rose colored cloth held by Alastor, of course. He smirks at her, teeth bared, glassy eyes dark and discerning. 

Vaggie snatches the handkerchief out of his hand making sure he feels the anger in her shaking fist, but it only seems to amuse him further.

Shitass.

Does he know? Like…know know?

Rgh! She snarls her noseblow as rough and messily as she possibly can into his stupid fucking hanky, then wads it up and offers it back to the Radio Demon. 

His grin doesn’t falter one centimeter. Before the cloth can penetrate his personal space, it dissolves into a pool of smoky shadow, leaving Vaggie grasping black air. 

UGH! I can’t even spite him! 

A clicking static whines from the Radio Demon and he turns back to the game. He’d better not be fucking laughing at her. 

It’s Alastor’s turn and again he chooses generosity--this time toward Husker, who just lost his turn to bad luck.

Alastor plays a sheep pass card where all of his sheep will be traded for all but one of Husk’s cards. Husk accepts, stating “my cards’re shit anyway.” 

And it’s back to Vaggie. She’s still in a Not Great situation with her farm. Her only cards are to trade lumber for sheep--which no one will go for since Angel is a fucking hoarder and pickings are slim--or to buy stuff at the market, which--

“Hih-ih!” F-fuck! Her eye rolls up, squinting through a tear as her teeth chit into a snarl. “HgtNGSH!” 

“What the fuck, Pentious!” 

“I did nothing!” the snake insists.

Angel puffs out his chest. “Oh yeah? Well I saw ya! You stole one of my sheep!”

“I did no such thing!”

“Then why do you have a sheep. You didn’t have any on your turn.” Angel points at the lone sheep in Pentious’s farm. 

“My ssspecial ability allows me to--”

“Give me that!” Angel swipes the sheep out of his farm without waiting for his explanation.

Pentious’s hood fans, his tongue flicking out, irate. “How dare--”

“Ih-Shieu!” Vaggie’s elbows stab into the knobs of her knees and she heaves a breath. 

“Hey! That’s mine!” Angel’s screech and scrambling is half-ignored at this point as Vaggie firmly tents her hands in a triangle over her mouth and nose. She’s had enough.

Husker joins the fray in an attempt to cool the brawl but the snake and spider won’t relinquish their stolen pieces.

Charlie tries to step in, explaining why this is wrong and how to apologize but she can hardly get a word in. Alastor continues to sit calmly with his smile, looking giddily around the table as if he had just been served a feast. 

Vaggie feels the pull of another tickle and she snarls. She throws herself to her feet and hollers, “Stop fucking cheating!” 

Everyone pauses, Angel’s body stretched halfway across the table, Husk holding Pentious’s arms back, Charlie’s hands clasped together in plea. They all look at Vaggie. 

Then, “He started it!” all three boys say in unison.

“These games are about following rules! Not cheating! The only ones in this whole game who haven’t cheated are Husk and Alastor! If you can’t manage to do better than the fucking Radio asshat, then…” her eye flicks to Charlie and her heart plinks in her throat. 

Charlie looks hurt. The gold of her eyes splashed like sunrise reflected off the ocean. 

Fuck. Vaggie just accused her of cheating. And she compared her morals to Alastor. Shit fuck shit fuck. And Alastor is just sitting there, kicking his feet, staring at them with his chin in his palm as if he’s watching a show.

“RGH!” 

Vaggie whirls and storms off, clattering through the double doors and slamming them behind her.

“Jeez,” Angel slumps back in his chair. “It’s just a--”

Husker cuts him off with a palm chop. “If you say it’s just a game, I’m gonna take all of your damn sheep and feed them to the snake’s eggs.”

Angel’s lips tighten and he moves protectively around his farm pen.

Charlie looks toward where Vaggie left and sighs. “I need to go after her. She’s upset.”

“Looks like you’re upset too, sweet cheeks.” Angel draws a circle around Charlie with his lower hand. 

Husk smacks him and shoos Charlie. “You do you. We’ll figure this shit out. Trust me,” he turns a scrunched snarl toward the misbehaving duo, “I got plenty of experience with cheating fools.”

Vaggie sits on a couch, arms wrapped around herself. If she had told Charlie sooner, this wouldn’t be an issue. She just…

Can’t risk losing her. Can’t risk being abandoned. Having no one…

She shudders and takes a calming breath. Pushes it out of her mind. 

No one suspects, right? There’s no proof even if they do. She’s safe. All Vaggie needs to do is--

The door creaks open and Charlie’s head appears between the wood. 

“Hey Vaggie~”

Vaggie pushes at her eye and sniffs, “Hey.” 

Charlie closes the door and carefully shuffles toward her girlfriend. “I’m so sorry for…well, all of that.”

“No, I’m sorry!” Vaggie takes her by the shoulders, “I was being stupid. I just…” she drops her hands and rubs one over her thigh, “I see the worst in people, I guess.”

Charlie’s silver lids lower and she bites her lip. “What do you mean?”

Vaggie sweeps the cup of her palm down her arm. “I…” she wants to tell her. She should tell her. Fuck fuck FUCK why is this so hard?! Charlie’s all about redemption! 

Yeah. Redemption of sinners. Not you. 

The confession dries up on Vaggie’s tongue. “I--I ruined the game.”

Charlie snorts, “You didn’t ruin anything,” she lets out a small giggle, “When I was leaving, I heard Alastor played Reverse Slaughterhouse. It kills everyone’s meeples based on how many sheep they had in their farms. So…”

Vaggie groans. “Everyone but him had sheep. Because he gave his all away.”

“Eeeeyeah.”

Vaggie has several words she could say, but she just bursts out laughing. 

Charlie’s eyebrows fly up. “What’s so funny?”

Vaggie cackles, “Alastor didn’t cheat to win. He didn’t need to.” 

Charlie smiles at her and drapes herself across her girlfriend. “You’re adorable, you know?”

Vaggie snorts. “You’re the only one allowed to say that. Ever.” 

Charlie nuzzles her and breathes cheerily, “I know.”

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AilingAttorney ==> Flufferdust

Username update :)

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hearing someone say “i’ve been sneezing all day” in a tone that’s exasperated and maybe even a little confused