Welcome to Hell! EST. ———. ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿

death.

one would think that was where it ended. your life was over, now, you ceased to exist. right?

wrong. so terribly wrong.

hell and heaven actually existed. so, beyond death, there was the afterlife.

now, one would also think that, once you were dead, you couldn’t get sick. I mean, it’s not like you had an immune system in the afterlife, right?

also wrong.

sure, maybe in heaven you were spared sickness and days of ill health. but in hell, well, you were just as likely to get sick as you were on the mortal plane. and some flu’s in purgatory were more like torture.

still, that didn’t make the fact that alastor, the almighty radio demon, who had managed to come down with something recently any less surprising.

it scared some of the residents in the hazbin hotel, though, very few seemed to actually care about it— save for you and the princess of hell.

despite her fathers protest against it, charlie had managed to get lucifer to determine what exactly it was alastor had. and soon, you were bringing him hot soup and a glass of water nearly everyday.

sometimes you’d bring him a little something extra, just to keep things interesting. you knew how much he hated when things got repetitive. he was a man of excitement and thrill after all, routines tended to bore him.

one day, you ascended the stairs of the hotel to alastor’s room. carrying your usual tray with you.

as you pushed the door of his bedroom open— after unlocking it with the keys charlie had given you— you found the sickly stag fast asleep, cuddled under the covers in his red and white striped pajamas.

if it had been anyone else who saw him, they may have questioned if this poor, adorable creature really was the demon who had taken out countless overlords in his prime.

you approached the bed slowly, sitting beside the male. and he muttered a few words that surprised you.

“Ma. . . I’m not sick.”