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aphrodites-law · 4 years

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A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (12/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11]

A few minutes before closing time the next day, Clarke was waiting at the end of the counter for surprise customers. Gaia was already wrapping her scarf around her neck and Wells was pulling out ingredients for the next day. He had stayed much later today, going over resumes for their interviews tomorrow, but also reorganizing the kitchen.

After giving Gustus a call to offer him the job, Wells had realized that things would get crowded quite quickly. Gustus was a big man and the kitchen was on the smaller side, but it was workable with a different layout. Clarke thanked her lucky stars for her best friend's ability to adapt to situations, as she herself disliked big changes. Regardless of the possible growing pains ahead, it was an exciting time for the café.

Right after Gaia left with a tired wave, Wells found Clarke absentmindedly drawing the branches of the weeping fig. The last customers had left as well and the sun had already set. The mugs were clean, the plates drying, and the day's crumbs swept from the floor. It hadn't rained at all today; a small mercy given that Clarke couldn't stop thinking about her date with Lexa. She wasn't sure where they were headed, but heavy rain might've halted Lexa's plans and she didn't have the patience to wait another day.

Wells peeked at her drawing pad and sighed. "God, she's a beauty," he said dreamily.

Clarke snorted. His fondness for their Ficus was a running joke between them. "Weirdo."

Wells gave her a tired grin as he buttoned up his wool peacoat. He always looked so sharp in winter wear, whereas Clarke always felt like a bulky bear. She'd dressed up a little today - fitted dark pants and a knitted sweater with a nice scoop neck. Her boots were clean and if her hair's curls had loosened over the day, she had still clearly made an effort to look presentable.

“So, you had your vision," said Wells.

Clarke dropped her pencil. "Wh- I- what?"

"It was a few weeks ago, wasn't it? When you came in looking like you hadn’t slept a wink."

Shame gripped her. "Wells, I-"

“You’re looking more crimson than cranberry juice,” he pointed out with a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to bring it up," she said. She'd always felt guilty for keeping it from him, but it wasn't the easiest topic either. "Did Raven tell you?"

"Nah, she even deflected when I wondered aloud. You just started acting weird whenever someone mentioned visions. You hate lying, so I figured you didn't want to be asked if you'd had one."

Clarke closed her notepad. She should have known he'd catch on. "I didn't mean to be secretive. You know I would've told you the minute it happened, it just wasn't… family friendly."

"Yeah, I figured. It's good though? I mean, you're happy, right?"

It was a surprising question, though it shouldn't have been. Clarke hadn't really thought about it. It wasn't something she asked herself or even expected. For so long happiness had just revolved around the café. Finding the right name; the right building; the right theme. She'd judged her days based on their achieved goals and for a while it had been a thrill. And it still was - her work made her proud and it made her happy too - but it wasn't everything. She'd come to face that recently, and though the wake up call had been… unconventional, certainly, she was grateful for it.

"I am. I'm seeing her, actually. The woman from my vision. You'd recognize her - she's a regular."

Wells nodded as if he'd already put two and two together. “At Octavia and Lincoln's party I saw you talking to her. Then it clicked she wrote that article on Finn - I remembered checking her profile on the Gazette when it dropped."

"Yeah, she works there. She's writing a piece on the visions actually."

"So it's getting serious?" He asked hesitantly.

And really, Clarke couldn't fault his curiosity. She'd been so wrapped up in Lexa that she'd neglected their relationship and now he was unsure if he should gently prod or wait.

“It’s new and we’re taking things slow, but yeah, I'm hoping it'll work out. I really like her."

Wells looked over her shoulder toward the entrance and smiled. "Seems like she really likes you too."

Clarke turned around and saw that Lexa had parked her car and was just crossing the street toward the café.

"Are you coming in tomorrow?" He asked her.

Clarke whipped around, her cheeks flushed. "What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?"

"Dunno, you tell me." He laughed as he checked for his keys in his pocket. "Gaia and Harper have the early shift, in case you forgot. We just have those three interviews in the afternoon, but you already know that."

"I do know," she replied with a frown. "There's no reason I wouldn't be here earlier. I'm always here. What are you saying?"

He shrugged, entirely too proud of himself, and walked toward the back exit. "No one will fault you if you take a break. Enjoy your date!"

"I will! And I'll see you in the morning!" Clarke replied stubbornly.

"I'm sure you will!" he retorted, still snickering, before closing the door behind him.

A hand touched Clarke's shoulder and she startled.

"Sorry," Lexa said with a gentle smile. She'd put on her black coat today, the top buttons undone to reveal her sweater - a reddish brown this time, perfect for the fall. Her hair was down and her eyeliner perhaps more pronounced than usual. Clarke wondered if she'd applied it in her car. She looked beautiful.

"Hi, baby," she softened, forgetting all about Well's teasing. He didn't know what he was talking about. Tonight was just going to be a nice date. Some food, wine - whatever Lexa had planned. They were still going slow. Clarke didn't have any expectations other than enjoying their time together. She liked their pace. It was… frustrating at times, sure, but it was working. They had both opened up to each other.

"Hi," Lexa whispered before she inched forward so that she could kiss her over the counter. Clarke sighed into it, having imagined such sweetness all day long.

"Am I too early?" Lexa asked. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

Clarke brushed her thumb over Lexa's jaw. "No, I'm done. I just need to grab my coat and close up."

"Was that Wells who went out back?"

"Yes, he was being ridiculous."

"I thought he usually left earlier?"

"He does, but he's been rearranging the kitchen. I think he's worried Gustus will find it too small."

"Gus has an entire farm and acres of land at his disposal, but he sleeps in his shed because it's warm," Lexa said. "He won't mind."

Clarke beamed, delighted to hear it. "I'm going to give you Wells' number and you're going to text him just that. "

While Clarke left to grab her coat, Lexa worried her lip. "Oh but he doesn't really know me…"

"He will."

Clarke came out from the back with her coat and scarf on. She pulled out her set of keys. "He's my best friend and you're my-" she stopped herself. "I think you'd get along great. He loves theater, devours literature, and he already thinks you're amazing for taking Finn down. So don't worry about it."

"Well, that reminds me: Collins went ahead with suing the Gazette."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

They made their way to the front, where Lexa opened the door for Clarke. "No. It'll never stand, but he aims to waste our time and money."

"Waste of time and money - that's been his motto since birth."

Lexa wrinkled her nose. "Let's talk about something else."

"Please. So where's my carriage?"

Lexa laughed.

* * *

Lexa may not have found a pumpkin to turn into a carriage after all, but her car smelled like apples and she drove so smoothly Clarke could've closed her eyes and imagined they weren't moving at all. She had never thought 'great driver' would do it for her, but here she was eyeing Lexa's hands on the steering wheel and feeling hot.

"How's the writing going?" Clarke asked, clearing her throat when her voice started off slightly rough.

Lexa took a left, which would've surprised Clarke if she'd paid any attention to the road. But all she could think about was Lexa's razor-sharp focus and how she yearned to be the reason for it.

"Good, I finished a first draft. My writing partner is looking at it for now. I need it out of my sight for a few days."

"Partner, huh?"

Lexa smiled as she kept her eyes on the road. "Echo. She wrote most of the FC&B article."

"Did you write for other newspapers before?"

Lexa nodded. "Two. I've been lucky, professionally. Smaller papers have always been more interesting to me, so I stayed away from national ones. I was able to climb the ladder a lot faster than some of my old classmates."

"The Gazette must've been a change of pace. New city, new job - I don't think I could handle it."

"When they hired me I was so happy to be working I just threw myself into it," Lexa admitted. "I got the idea on the Mountain Men soon after, just from reading old archives about them. That kept me busy, so I didn't have time to worry about fitting in. It was nice. Exciting. It felt like falling in love with my job again. Then one day Echo invited me to grab drinks with other colleagues and… I realized things had fallen into place already."

"Costial is pretty magical like that," Clarke said with a smile. She loved it when Lexa talked about her time here. Sometimes it was easy to forget she hadn't even been here a year yet. Clarke remembered her first year in the city - how she'd felt like she'd always belonged here. How she couldn't wait to build her life here. And college had been fun, and sometimes she walked by the campus just for the nostalgia of it, but it was the years after that had really shaped her life into what it was today. There had been many tears and failures before the café, but she'd never once thought of leaving. She hoped Lexa felt the same.

One glance outside the window and Clarke finally had an idea where they were headed. They were quite far from the center of the city now, just a few miles away from Busy Moose Park and its lake on the outskirts. Lexa took the road that led to the park, but she didn't make the turn Clarke had expected and instead continued straight.

"Are we going to the factory?" Clarke asked.

The chocolate factory and its surroundings were certainly a sight to behold, and popular with teens because of its smells and aesthetic quality, but there wasn't much to do unless you brought a picnic. Which was unlikely to be comfortable anyway in this cold.

"Not quite," Lexa answered with a secretive smile.

A few minutes later she finally pulled over into a small parking lot, checking for Clarke's reaction as soon as they got out of the car.

“I know I said I’d take you somewhere more upscale, but I thought you might really like this place."

Because the factory was just a ways down the road and it was windy tonight, the bold smell of chocolate permeated the air. They had stopped in front of a rustic restaurant surrounded by a garden. Small lights glowed softly against the brick walls, complimented by the dancing shadows from a few lanterns. There was a patio with beams covered in twining vines, the plants and wisteria also covering the top like a ceiling. Powerful heaters kept the biting cold at bay, no doubt, making the entire place look like a winter fairytale.

It was the kind of romantic setting Clarke would have made fun of in front of friends while secretly hoping to experience it one day.

“How the hell have I never been here before?” She asked in astonishment.

With a hand on her back, Lexa led her toward the entrance.

“Did you know Icicle? Italian restaurant?”

“Yeah, that rings a bell.”

“This is it. The owner retired and her son took over - revamped the whole place from top to bottom and gave it a mountain lodge theme. He figured they should capitalize on the location more, especially the constant sweetness in the air. It just reopened a few weeks ago. Featured in the Gazette and everything.”

“Oh, that might’ve been when I was a bit angry at you," Clarke remembered and gave Lexa a teasing grin. "Deleted the app like it was some kind of statement."

Lexa scrunched up her nose, not too eager to remember that time. The hostess seated them inside at a secluded table for two. The light was dimmed and there was a candle between them; and even two squares of chocolate wrapped in gold foil.

After they took off their coats and sat, Lexa bit her lip. “It's not too much, is it?"

"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous." Clarke reached for her hand. "You're always surprising me."

A waiter gave them a menu and a basket of bread. They looked like mini baguettes and Clarke was temped to steal one for Wells.

“God, I almost forgot about this smell," she said, taking a deep breath. The chocolate from the factory still wafted faintly in the air, and mixed with the smell of food it had Clarke already salivating for dinner. "In college we used to hang out by the lake a lot. If the wind was on our side we’d always get a whiff from the factory. Not even edibles could beat that.”

Lexa arched a brow. “Edibles, huh?”

“Please, I know you’ve dabbled," Clarke scoffed.

“What makes you think that?”

“You have the vibe.”

“The pothead vibe? I thought I was unreadable.”

“Oh you have that vibe too," Clarke laughed. "But then there’s the tattoos, the plants, the way you write about nature. You’re curious, open minded, andyou went to a liberal arts college. You must’ve tried it at least once. I think that’s how you approach most things: don’t knock ‘till you try it. Am I close?”

Lexa looked away, slightly flummoxed. “It sounds like I’m more of an open book then.”

"Maybe that's a good thing…" Clarke offered with a hopeful smile, thumb caressing the back of her hand.

"Maybe it is," Lexa agreed.

They both picked the apricot glazed chicken with roasted potatoes, pairing it with a white wine. Throughout dinner Clarke felt such pleasant warmth, both because of the wine and Lexa's steady gaze on her. She was relaxed and unfairly charming; a great listener by all accounts, but also coming out of her shell when it came to her own past. Clarke knew it wasn't easy for her, which made it all the more special.

"In retrospect I should've figured politics weren’t for me when I started screaming at my television every time the news came on."

Clarke grinned, knowing the sentiment all too well. "Good thing you don't work for a newspaper or anything…"

Swallowing the last of her wine, Lexa gave her a playful smirk. "Local news. I can take the city hall drama. I actually enjoy it with my morning pastry."

"That I can believe. You always look so deep in thought when you read. Harper dropped a cup once and you didn't even flinch."

"Really?" Lexa asked. "Is there anything else I do that I should know about?"

The waiter stopped by with their desserts: molten chocolate cake for Lexa and a slice of pear tart for Clarke.

"It's not like I stare or anything," Clarke clarified as she grabbed her spoon. "Your seat just happens to be in my vicinity."

"Mm." Lexa smirked. "I guess I just pop up sometimes…" she trailed off, her tone heavy with implication.

She did this occasionally, but more boldly recently. Alluding to Clarke's vision seemed to greatly entertain Lexa.

"Ha, you're funny," Clarke deadpanned.

"Did I also crack jokes while I was kissing you - and I quote - everywhere?" Lexa goaded.

Clarke shrugged as she chewed on her tart. "Actually you were a lot more suave than you are now. Pity."

Lexa laughed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Please, you're very proud of yourself. And it's not fair all I have to go on is your distaste for coffee." Clarke remembered how frantic she had been after her vision, her mind firing questions every second. “Did you know I went to a vision reader right after?”

It had been an impulse and she'd regretted it, but she figured Lexa was familiar with them.

"Really?" Lexa asked, surprised.

“Yeah, the one by the market. Becca’s Reading or something. I bailed at the last minute.”

“I actually haven’t spoken to one. I was toying with the idea, but it might be an entirely different article.”

Clarke grimaced. “They’re just opportunistic money grabbers.”

Lexa offered a spoonful of her cake, which Clarke took before plopping a bit of pear on top of it. The warm chocolate melted the pear in her mouth and she sighed at the taste. Lexa smiled.

“It’s a different point of view. Besides, listening to so many stories might’ve given them some valuable insight even if they opened a shop for the wrong reasons. If my job’s taught me anything it’s to not judge a book by its cover.”

"Hmm you're good at it - your job. And I'm not just saying that because you're wining and dining me."

Lexa looked bashful. "You know, I remember when you yelled at me to get over myself."

"Not our finest moment…"

"No," Lexa agreed. "But it was needed. Before that there was so much I wanted to tell you, but… couldn't."

"I know." Clarke remembered that feeling as well. After the vision she'd look at Lexa and be so certain there was so much left unsaid between them, yet neither of them knew where to start, or if it was reciprocated. "I should've let you interview me - just ripped off the Band-Aid. It would've explained a lot."

"I would've never made it past the first question," Lexa said. "Can you share what you saw, Clarke?"

Clarke smiled cheekily around a mouthful of her tart. "Well, I would hope that kind of confession would score me a date at least."

"Oh I would have asked you out on the spot," Lexa replied with a smirk.

Clarke gasped. "How very unprofessional of you."

"If you hadn't noticed, my professionalism hangs by a thread whenever I'm near you."

Clarke let out a small laugh. "Well, that's one thing I'm glad for."

* * *

After their dinner, Lexa suggested they walk in the park before it closed. It was cold but their coats were thick and the wind was minimal. Clarke had no desire to part just yet, and so took Lexa's hand in hers as soon as they left the car by the park's entrance.

They had a little less than thirty minutes before it closed, but enjoyed every second as they strolled by the lake. The half-moon was reflected on the quiet surface, and though there were a few other people, Clarke felt like they had just stepped into a world of their own.

Clarke nudged Lexa toward one of the Beech trees, its autumn leaves still clinging bravely to its thick branches. They settled beneath it, lying down on the soft ground where leaves piled atop the grass. Between the branches they could see some stars, and Clarke wondered if maybe the park could close and leave them be. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

She heard some rustling and then saw Lexa look down at her, her face framed by her wavy hair and the stars above. She took Clarke's breath away.

"You're so beautiful," Lexa murmured, struck by a similar thought it seemed. "You have the kindest eyes and the warmest smile. It's the first thing I ever noticed about you."

Clarke reached up to kiss her, parting only when she felt Lexa's hand on her stomach. Even atop her coat and thick clothing, she could feel its warmth.

"I think you're drunk on wine and chocolate."

"Then you'll be relived to hear I'm a very sincere drunk."

Clarke giggled, which made Lexa's smile stretch in such a fond way. She pressed closer to her, the tip of her nose brushing against her neck. She kissed the small spot, as if to apologize for her cold nose.

"I wonder so much about you, Clarke."

Clarke hummed. "What do you wonder about?"

“I’ve spoken with a lot of people. Heard the visions about reuniting with loved ones, getting over addictions, graduating. There’s been some romance of course,” Lexa said. “Aden’s first kiss, though he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s face. Echo celebrating a wedding anniversary with her husband. But so few - even online in anonymous circles - so few like yours.”

Now Clarke felt warm again, mostly from the blush on her cheeks. “I don’t believe that.”

Lexa lifted her head from her shoulder. “Have you personally heard of any?”

“Raven saw Wells naked.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Okay, so I'm a pervert, what can I say?”

“No,” Lexa replied, tickled by Clarke's little huff. “You’re a mystery. You intrigue me.”

Clarke cleared her throat. “Well I’ve had a bit of a dry spell. I had flings, but… I didn't allow myself anything more. The café was taking up all my thoughts and for a while it worked for me. Then the days got long again, and lonelier… Raven said it was probably just my body wanting me to snap out of it.”

“And what do you think?”

Clarke did wonder about it then, or at least differently than she had in the past. It wasn't so long ago she'd asked these questions herself. She'd been so frustrated she couldn't discuss them with the person she'd shared it with, and here she was, lying right next to her in a bed of leaves.

She touched Lexa's hand on her stomach, lacing and unlacing their fingers, gently playing with them as she tried to make sense of everything.

“Have you never fantasized about a stranger?" She asked quietly, catching Lexa's eyes. "Someone who knows nothing about you and yet knows exactly how to make your body soar?"

“That’s not what you saw though, is it?” Lexa murmured. “I wasn’t a stranger in your bed. I knew you and you knew me."

Clarke felt her heart beat faster. She wanted so badly to kiss Lexa again; to feel her body against hers like the night on her couch.

"Lex…"

Their lips were just a hair's breadth apart now. To anyone else, they would've looked like they were kissing.

"How was it different, Clarke?"

Clarke swallowed, trying to find the words. “How? The way you handled me - needy and possessive, but tender and attentive too. Like you were in charge of my pleasure and you had to remind me."

She saw Lexa swallow and so continued, eager to share everything this time: "You said my name and it almost sounded like a prayer - like you couldn’t believe we were together. I never heard my name like that before. I never thought I could make someone feel lucky."

"God, Clarke, you have no idea." Lexa exhaled before closing the gap and kissing her. It wasn't like any other kiss they'd shared tonight. It felt like a promise, almost. Lexa tasted so sweet on her tongue and Clarke could only wonder if all of her was just as heavenly.

She cupped the back of her neck and felt herself throb with desire, her mind filled with both the reality of Lexa and the last of her vision.

"I can even remember the smell of us," Clarke sighed between kisses. "How sticky my skin felt, like we'd been in bed for hours."

"Clarke - fuck."

Clarke pushed Lexa on her back and cupped her cheeks, claiming her lips quite quickly again. She licked into her mouth and moaned at the silky feel of Lexa's tongue.

"Sometimes I'd try to picture us again but you'd disappear," Clarke continued, eyes closing when Lexa started kissing down her neck. "I wasn't sure if it was you anymore. But then you'd come back. I'd feel your hands, your mouth on me… lower, and lower…"

Lexa let out a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose before falling back on the ground, the leaves rustling beneath her. Something in the way she set her jaw made Clarke frown.

"Baby…" she said, tracing a finger over her cheekbone.

"Did you call her that?" Lexa asked without thinking.

Clarke retracted her hand and paused. A grin spread on her face. “What? Are you jealous… of yourself?”

Lexa glared petulantly. “No.”

“You are."

Lexa remained quiet, so after a moment Clarke poked her arm. “Well what about yours?”

"Mine?"

"I wasn't even in it - how do you think that makes me feel?"

Lexa shook her head. "You were in it."

"You said you were just standing in a random kitchen making coffee."

"Yes."

"So?"

They heard the echo of a bicycle's bell on the pathway and turned to the sound, but the couple soon rode away. Clarke looked at Lexa again, finding her staring at the sky.

“What are you keeping from me?”

A small smile grew on Lexa's face - but she remained tightlipped.

"How was I there?" Clarke asked again, deeply curious.

"The doodles," Lexa simply replied.

Clarke remembered that she'd found that to be a strange detail before. She didn't put up her doodles on walls and she didn't frame them. These had to be important. Something that made her identity unmistakable in Lexa's eyes. Sure it could be that her style was recognizable, but Lexa made it sound as if it was something else.

“Lex…"

She lifted Lexa's chin to catch her gaze.

“If I tell you, I worry it might not happen," Lexa admitted.

Clarke bit her lip, finally understanding. It was almost like saying a wish out loud - fearing it might not come true if you broke that single rule.

“You want it to happen?” She asked instead.

A breeze passed as Lexa looked at her intently, leaving no room for doubt. “Yes.”

There was no waver in her voice. Not even an ounce of hesitation. The sheer confidence set Clarke alight. She’d forgotten how it felt to feel so wanted. Whatever it was in that frame… Lexa clearly hoped for it in their future. The fact that she wanted it with her, and no one else, made her desire swell.

She leaned down and kissed her right against the grass and by the slumbering tree, forgetting all about the doodles. Lexa believed it was her - that was all that mattered. After weeks of being unsure of where they stood, if her feelings were even shared, she didn't need anything more.

Lexa wound her arm around her waist, her mouth still as hungry against Clarke's. When they pulled away, she pressed their foreheads together.

“I wish I could see us like you did," she murmured wistfully.

"What would it change?"

“Maybe… maybe if I knew I was good enough for you… If I was sure that I wouldn’t- that I wouldn’t hurt you-"

Clarke shook her head. "Don’t fill your head with thoughts like that. Let's just be here, together, and worry about the rest when it comes. I know it's hard for you, but this - us - right now… it's good, isn't it?"

Lexa nodded. "It's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

Relieved, Clarke tucked her head beneath Lexa's chin. "Then just be with me. You can be happy, baby. You have a right to it. Don't let anyone or anything tell you otherwise."

Eventually they made their way back to Lexa's car, neither of them interested in picking up their leisurely pace.

"I'm sorry we ended up walking so much," Lexa said.

"You fed me beforehand, so it's forgiven."

Lexa smiled. "Good to know."

Before they reached the parking lot, Clarke decided to ask what had been on her mind: "I know you said Costial feels like home to you; that you found your place here, but… do you see your future here? Because this is it for me. And I'm… I like you, Lex. I like you a lot. I don't want to be an interlude. I don't think I could take it."

"Clarke," Lexa stepped closer to her. "You're not an interlude, you're - God, you've been in every act of my life here. I don't want to go anywhere. I- I want to be with you. That's what I know for certain. Is that alright for now?"

"It is."

Lexa kissed her softly and then smirked. "I may not have had erotic visions of myself entwined with a hot local, but I still want to stay here."

Clarke shoved her playfully. "I don't even like you anymore."

They laughed the whole way to the car.

* * *

It seemed like a tradition already; Lexa walking her to her door while Clarke racked her mind for a way to linger. When they finally arrived she leaned against her door and sighed.

"Tonight was amazing."

Lexa hummed. "I'm glad."

"I'm definitely taking you out this weekend," Clarke said.

"You are?" Lexa asked, tilting her head to kiss her again.

Clarke closed the gap as she wrapped her arms around her neck. The kiss was slow; amatory, but as always it could not go on for too long before hands wandered.

"I hope you have sweet dreams," Lexa said, her eyes hooded and her lips slightly redder.

"Oh I will."

Lexa glanced at her mouth. "If I pay you a visit again maybe you could keep a journal close by. I'd love some notes on my performance."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Remind me why I ever told you?"

"What? That we lasted hours?" Lexa husked.

Right. Clarke narrowed her eyes and let her hands slowly drag down Lexa's arms. Now, Clarke wasn't innocent. She knew fully what made her look good, even when her coat was buttoned up. She had let Lexa tease her and goad her about the vision all night, and she had kept her retort to herself. But no more.

She pressed her body closer to Lexa's, unmistakably provocative with the way their breasts touched.

“Make fun all you want, Lexa, but remember this: I’ve seen all of you while you haven’t seen an inch of me.” She felt Lexa’s hand tighten on her waist. “I’ve felt your body against mine. Your mouth on my thighs. I’ve felt your tongue inside me.” She glanced down at Lexa's lips and then back up, proud of the gobsmacked look on her face. “So you can tease me. You can push my buttons. I can take it. But you? You only have your imagination." She stepped back and gave her sultriest smile, "And trust me, it’s got nothing on reality.”

She turned around and quickly unlocked her door, then looked over her shoulder. "Thanks for the date, baby."

As soon as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, Clarke knew she'd just played a dirty hand. But Lexa had teased her at all night and all was fair in lust.

With a wicked grin, too pleased by the night's events, Clarke took off her coat and slipped out of her shoes and socks. And because she just couldn't resist one last look, she walked to her window and waited. Finally she saw Lexa walk out of the building. She seemed unfocused, going right and then left, forgetting where she'd parked.

But then she stopped and turned around.

Clarke's smile fell. Just watching Lexa like this, seeing the effect she had on her… it changed something. She had closed the door in the spur of the moment - because they were good at testing each other. Because she had thought tonight should end there, on another game of theirs.

But she didn’t want to play anymore.

And maybe Lexa realized it too. She looked up and found her apartment's window.

Their eyes met.

Clarke reached out for the curtain, gripping it so tight her knuckles went white. She couldn't look away from those eyes in the moonlight if she tried. Even if the ground started shaking beneath their feet.

"Lexa-" she started before stopping herself. It had to be Lexa's decision. Clarke had already made hers. She couldn't call out to her. Not for this. Lexa had to choose.

Clarke held her breath, unsure she'd even be able to leave this spot if Lexa did walk away after all. Until-

Lexa bolted back toward the building.

Clarke watched her disappear from view and then heard her intercom. She rushed toward it and pressed the buzzer, her heart in her throat. Still barefoot, she pulled the door open and waited. Footsteps thundered up the flights of stairs, closer and closer.

Tonight had not ended. Not yet.

#clarke x lexa #clexa #clexa fic #f: a bit of clarity #w

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thedeathdeelers · 3 years

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Trevor doesn’t remember when he first starts thinking of his bandmates again. His dead bandmates, that is, and just thinking the word dead makes him want to curl into the fetal position all over again like when he was seventeen. He thinks he starts remembering them when a decade has passed and Carrie is born. He was twenty-seven and there was this little baby with big eyes and small pink fingernails in his arms, when he thinks ‘She’ll never get to meet her uncles.’ He doesn’t cry then, but it’s almost as if his baby girl can feel his sadness because she starts screaming in his arms and it's enough of a distraction that he rocks her to sleep without thinking of the boys again that day.

He keeps them locked away in the back of his mind for the better part of five years until kindergarten rolls around and little Carrie with her curly pigtails and glittery Hello Kitty backpack comes home excitedly talking about her new best friends.

“Daddy, they are so cool! Flynn has dinosaur stickers and she gave me one. See!” She points to the top of her right hand where there’s a green pterodactyl cartoon sticker firmly slapped on. “And Julie has this huge purple crayon and she let me use it to write my name!”

At first, he’s beyond excited. His little girl made friends on her first day, which shouldn’t have been such a surprise now that he thinks about it since she has always been a little go-getter. Still, he ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ at the right moments as she talks his ear off about her new friends. By the end of the first week, Carrie has decided she wants to invite her best friends over for a small back to school party with just them and lots of pizza. She reminds Trevor three times Friday night not to forget that Flynn likes Hawaiian pizza and Julie likes orange Fanta best, and that he should become best friends with their parents because she’s decided they are all going to grow up and live together.

He laughs and a twinge of ache in his chest reminds him for a moment of a time when he was younger, not as young as Carrie maybe but just as naive. He remembers for a second flashes of running around playing tag at the park and scrapping the top of his thumb’s skin off. He still has the scar.

He can still remember Alex pulling a Batman sticker out of his pocket and taking him to the public restrooms to clean the cut. Alex the worrier, even at twelve, rambling about getting the cut infected and the proper way to tie his shoes and doesn’t he ever think about where he’s walking.

“Bobby! Oh my god, please tell me you don’t need stitches!” He can remember floppy blonde hair and blue eyes and gasping breaths. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt, you idiot, your eyes are watering.”

“Maybe I’m just mesmerized by your beauty, dude,” he can hear himself replying to try and ease the rigid shoulders and deep frown on his friend’s face. “Really, man, I’m fine. Just a little blood.”

“Let’s just get you to a bathroom and wash it off, okay?” But Alex had been hiding his eye roll and curling lips and his shoulders no longer made him look like an awkwardly hanging scarecrow. It was enough to make him forget his thumb was throbbing and dripping blood.

The scrape is deep enough that it bleeds for a while into the sink, he can still picture the reddish water as it goes down the drain. He and Alex had met in the back of their sixth grade English class, Alex was shy and constantly biting his nails while he was just trying to catch a nap without getting in trouble. They’d bonded over a mutual silent agreement: Bobby held Alex’s hand under the desk when he had to read aloud in class and Alex would nudge him with the right answer when the teacher would call him in the middle of a power nap.

“Gatsby is gay,” he can remember Alex whispering to him when Miss Augustine had called him one time in class. He remembers repeating it without a second thought and realizing only seconds later what the fuck he had just said. He remembers wanting to turn to Alex because he knows there’s something important in the interpretation for his friend. He knows it by how Alex sometimes stares at that soccer player, Gabriel, who sits two rows in front of them. He knows by how Alex turns red when the guy notices him staring and the anxious way he strums a beat with his fingers. He wishes he could turn to him and say he accepts him no matter who he loves without saying it because he knows Alex isn’t ready for that discussion yet. But they’re in class so instead he turns to his best friend and gives him an overly exasperated look, hoping it conveys how he has no idea how he’s going to dig himself out of this one but Miss Augustine had smiled and just went about her lesson.

They never talk about it but a few days later, when he plops his copy of the book onto Alex’s desk before class he smiled and says, “You were right. Daisy was totally a beard. Nick and Gatsby were totally in love.” And reading shitty Fitzgerald - who stole more than half of the amazing work written and attributed to him from his wife Zelda, and as a feminist Bobby knows that’s just some misogynistic bullshit he cannot tolerate even for a school grade - is all worth it. Because Alex looks at him with a look of pure joy that makes him feel like he just scored an extra carton of strawberry milk at lunch (and that’s immense happiness because everyone loves that’s pink milk.)

He’s thinking about the park with a bloody thumb when he hears the doorbell and goes to answer it. And suddenly all the excitement of meeting his daughter’s new friends leaves his body as a chill kisses his spine. Nothing prepares him for seeing the girl from the Orpheum staring at him with a taller, blue-eyed man who must be her husband. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open, What are you doing here? He wants to ask. Are you a ghost? But before he can, he feels Carrie wiggle her way past him and leap into two pairs of arms. He can just make out black, thick boxer braids, deep brown skin, and a bright mint feather boa above Carrie’s head and he knows he’s just met Flynn. The other arm wrapped around his daughter is attached to a girl slightly smaller than both of them, a huge mass of curls making her appear their height with light brown skin and a wrist covered in macaroni jewelry. And that must be Julie, which means, he looks up to see the parents in front of him - the girl from the Orpheum is her mother and he’s never going to be able to forget that night again.

“Flynn’s parents asked us to take her because they were running late for a dinner reservation they had scheduled months in advance. I hope you don’t mind just us,” the man says with a friendly smile as he reaches his hand out. “I’m Ray Molina and this is my wife, Rose.”

Rose, Trevor thinks as he briefly thinks back on that fateful night. Size beautiful, he can practically see Reggie handing her their band’s t-shirt. He can almost feel Luke leaning his arm against his shoulder and telling her that he’d had a burger for lunch. He didn’t even have to look to know Alex was rolling his eyes at how bad his flirting game was. It was like losing them all over again, only he couldn’t; this was his daughter’s day and he couldn’t wallow in pity. He has to host, so he reaches his trembling hand out and offers the best smile he could offer.

��Hi Ray,” he turns to his wife. “Rose,” he nods and watches as her polite smile fades into a softer one, a genuine one, “I’m Trevor.”

She doesn’t correct him on his name. She doesn’t even look to be affected to be honest, until Trevor leads them inside and she sees some of his awards on the walls. Ray is busy helping to serve the pizza and soda for the girls and it leaves him alone with Rose. She doesn’t mention the award for ‘Now or Never’ new hit single on the Billboard 100 or its being #1 on VH1. Rose doesn’t have to, all she has to do is look at him and Trevor feels himself turning back into the scared kid who showed up at the hospital screaming about his friends. Screaming to the nurses who told him he wasn’t looking for a hospital room, he was looking for the ID numbers of bodies at the morgue. He gives her a slight head shake, as if to plead with her not to bring it up. She nods, but he feels his guilt grow heavier as she leans up to gently smear a line across his name TREVOR WILSON next to the title for up-and-coming artist.

It’s Carrie with her signature giggle and yell that makes them head for the kitchen. “Daddy, can you come sit down! Before we eat we have a surprise!”

They walk in to find Ray sitting amusedly at the dinner table. He beckons them to sit down with him and Trevor can’t help but laugh at the scene in front of him. The girls have obviously gotten into his stage makeup and Carrie, Julie, and Flynn are wearing matching bright red lipstick and glitter on their cheeks. Flynn is sashaying with her boa as Julie holds Carrie’s pink one, and Carrie has her hand on her hip as she strikes a pose before snapping her fingers and triggering the sound system. ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua starts blaring in through the speakers and the three adults share a look. Should they turn off the song? It is highly inappropriate. But to do that would mean having to explain why it’s inappropriate and do they really want to ruin a song that as far as their kids are concerned is about Barbie living in her Barbie world?

“Hey!” Carrie yelps and their heads all snap back to the girls pouting at them, “We are trying to give you a concert! Don’t make us waste all of Flynn’s cool moves!”

“Okay okay,” he shakes his head, “Don’t you have more cool moves to show us, Care?”

“No,” his daughter gives him a dead serious face, “we have limited choreography.” She says it with such a puff of dismay and sass that Trevor can’t help but let out the loudest laugh he has in a while. There’s no way Carrie even knows what she’s saying but she must have heard it when he was on the phone with his agent who was arranging his next music video.

The thought pops up before he can squash it, Alex would’ve loved her sass, he would’ve loved to dance with her. But it doesn’t hurt as much, to think of Alex smiling and dancing with glitter everywhere.

It’s not long until Rose and Ray are laughing along too and the three watch the girls spin, twirl, improvise lyrics, and throw their feather boas around long after the pizza has grown cold. - 🌙 (so this is the first bit and each bit shows how I decided to headcanon bobby met the boys in school and remembering them and leads you to rose confronting him and learning about the boys before her death ahhh ok let me know if it’s ok 🙈)

excuse me this is

really good????

more please 😌

#no seriously moonon it’s really well written and i love the attention to detail and the way you’re introducing us to trevor - to bobby #and how he met alex and it’s just :(#so cute and sad?? and i want to know the rest!!#you should know i’m usually like. really meh about bobby like i just don’t really care enough about him? because we really don’t know #anything about him or his relationship with the boys #but this made me feel things #so ya #♥️#i hope this is encouragement enough for you to post the rest moonon🥰♥️#ask #anon🌙#jatp #julie and the phantoms

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erandir · 3 years

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Fic: Tender

Finished and fixed up this old unfinished ficlet for @14daysdalovers

Prompt: A Tender Caress Pairing: Rowan Tabris/Zevran Arainai (pre-relationship) Rating: T Wordcount: 2016 Summary: Rowan returns from the Deep Roads in desperate need of some TLC and a nap. Zevran provides. Or: The boys caught feelings but are too dumb to realize it.

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There was absolutely no sense of time in the Deep Roads. Somehow Oghren seemed to have some concept of the passage of days. As much as days had existed in Orzammar, at least, which was only in a very vague sense. But for Rowan, it had all become one endless expanse of time. A sort of eternal, infuriating twilight. All he knew was that by the time Orzammar was back in sight he was tired, aching, and he never wanted to see the Deep Roads again for as long as he lived.

They staggered out into the marketplace to the great surprise of everyone present, including the guards at the door that had all but sealed them in. Rowan hadn’t looked in a mirror for the Maker only knew how long, but if his companions were anything to judge by - Oghren, Shale, and Morrigan - he probably looked like he’d bathed fully clothed in a pool of mud, blood, and ichor. Actually, that wasn’t far from the truth.

Probably he should have gone straight to the Assembly, but he thought that if he had to deal with dwarven nobility right now on top of everything else he wouldn’t be able to restrain the urge to murder everyone in the room. And that wasn’t conducive to army recruitment. But word of their return somehow crossed the city faster than they did themselves, because as he approached the inn Alistair was coming out to meet them.

“You’re back!” Alistair enthused, then he paused when their appearance finally registered. “You look terrible. Did you find Branka at least?”

“Oh boy did we,” Rowan said. That was going to take some explanation that he did not have the energy for at the moment. He clapped a hand on Alistair’s shoulder, and then pushed past him into the inn. “I’ll tell you all about it, but first I need a bath and the strongest drink this place has.”

The drink came first. Something thick and brown that smelled strongly of dirt and burned like fire going down his throat. It sent him into a short coughing fit, which was eased by a friendly pat on the back and a familiar accented voice commenting, “The strength of the drink here is really its only good quality.”

Zevran was a sight for sore eyes. A very handsome sight for Rowan’s very tired and sore eyes. And one look at Rowan’s haggard face prompted Zevran to signal the bartender for another round.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, voice coming out in something of a rasp as his throat attempted to recover from the first drink. The second went down no easier, but he preferred that at the moment.

“You looked as though you needed it,” Zevran replied.

“How long were we down there?” Rowan asked. Oghren had guessed at the number of days, but without Orzammar’s clocks even he hadn’t been certain. And Rowan wasn’t sure he trusted the dwarf’s judgement fully.

“More than two weeks,” Zevran replied.

“Fuck,” Rowan breathed. That long? Or only that long? The expedition had felt both shorter and longer at the same time. He’d never expected it to take so long, either.

Zevran hummed a sound of agreement. “I will not lie, some of us were beginning to wonder if you would ever return.”

Of those that had been left behind, Alistair and Leliana didn’t seem the type to despair, Wynne was probably pragmatic enough to know a lost cause when she saw one, but was two weeks long enough? That left only Zevran and the dog. “Some of us?”

Zevran favored him with a wan smile. Caught. “I’m very glad to be wrong, in this instance.”

“Glad you were, too,” Rowan agreed. He didn’t want to die in a hellhole like that, and shuddered at the idea that someday he might have no other choice. No, he didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted another drink, but more than that he wanted to be clean. He pushed himself away from the bar, “I need a bath.”

He didn’t miss the way Zevran eyed him up and down, but without the usual heat behind his gaze. “You do,” he agreed, but not unkindly. “I think it will take some effort to clean up this mess, perhaps you would like some help?”

Rowan was surprised by the offer. He was filthy, and far too exhausted to do anything other than clean up and fall asleep. But he was exhausted, and Zevran had offered. “I wouldn’t say no.”

—————

Orzammar did not have baths large enough for Rowan to fit in comfortably. Still he sunk as deep into the water as he could, letting the warm water seep into the sore muscles of his arms and back. He must have looked slightly ridiculous when Zevran waltzed into the room. Only his head and knees above the water, pale skin mottled with bruises visible now that all the blood and filth was washing off.

Griffin trotted at Zevran’s side, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and stubby tail wagging. He’d practically bowled Rowan over when he first arrived back at the room, but thankfully the Mabari’s excitement to have his master back had lessened in the past hour.

“I’ve finally located something that claims to be soap,” Zevran announced triumphantly.

Rowan managed an actual smile, though a small one. “Let’s have it, then,” he said, pushing himself into a proper seated position again and holding out a hand.

Zevran produced an oblong lump of off-white lye soap. It wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world, but it would serve. As soon as the soap was in his hands, Rowan lathered up and began scrubbing at his hair, which hadn’t been free of its ponytail for at least two weeks. Almost immediately his fingers became caught in knots and mats that tugged painfully at his scalp. “Ow, shit,” he hissed, pulling his hands away delicately. “I might need a haircut.”

“No!” Zevran gasped in dismay. He knelt beside the bathtub and finally had a good look at the state of Rowan’s hair, then sighed sadly. “Ah, you have not been taking care of your lovely curls.”

“I was rather preoccupied,” Rowan told him.

Zevran hummed softly, a sound equal parts agreement and consideration. “We may be able to save it,” he said, “But it will take some work. I’ll leave the decision with you.”

Rowan considered it. He’d had short hair before, in fact the only reason it was so long now was that he couldn’t be bothered to trim it while on the road. So he wasn’t emotionally attached to it or anything. But Zevran seemed fond of his copper ringlets when he let them down, and he’d grown rather fond of the compliments they earned him. “We can try,” he agreed eventually. “After I’ve bathed.”

“That seems wise,” Zevran agreed. “I’ll fetch my comb, and when you are clean, we will see if we can rescue your hair.”

Rowan only nodded and went back to washing himself as Zevran left once more. By the time the Crow returned he had finished scrubbing down most of his body and the bath water had turned dull reddish brown. He was still tired and sore, but he felt more alive than he had in days. He had just finished dressing when Zevran returned with more than just a comb in hand. He brandished also a brush and a pair of scissors, “In case we are not successful.”

They settled cross-legged on the bed, Zevran behind him working the knots from his hair. It didn’t hurt as much as Rowan had expected. The assassin’s hands were surprisingly gentle, and the light tug on his scalp was somehow almost comforting.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because Rowan was next aware of waking up on the too-hard, too-short dwarven bed, blankets tangled around his legs, and the light of only a single candle to illuminate the room. He couldn’t tell what time it was, and he was really beginning to hate the way every hour bled together down here. How could the dwarves stand it?

Zevran was gone. That wasn’t a surprise. They never slept together unless they had slept together. But Rowan surprised himself by feeling disappointed. Last night - was it night? - had been unexpectedly nice, even though they had been as chaste as Chantry sisters. It had been a long time since Rowan had allowed himself to let his guard down and be that vulnerable around anyone.

It was because of the Deep Roads, he told himself as he climbed out of bed. He’d been alone in the dark for too long, starved of touch and friendship and safety.

Griffin was asleep on the floor beside the bed. Properly passed out, paws twitching as he chased squirrels in his dreams. Rowan’s stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in far too long - he’d given up on guessing at the passage of time - and he stepped carefully over the dog’s bulk.

That’s when he noticed his armor. Before his bath, Rowan had left the leathers in a disheveled heap at the foot of the bed to be dealt with when he had the energy to do so. He knew they shouldn’t be left too long caked in filth or else risk damaging the leather irreparably, but they’d kept for 2 weeks, they would keep one day more. But now when he went to fetch his boots and something more substantial than his underclothes to get breakfast in, he discovered the armor had been moved.

Each piece had been laid out across the room’s low stone table, and some of it had been cleaned already. His sword and offhand dagger were sitting atop their scabbards polished and, a quick test with his thumb confirmed, sharpened. The worst of the filth on his armor had been wiped off, with attention to the joints and rivets that risked rusting or weakening, but the leather itself was still in need of a good oiling before he had to face anyone important. His boots had been cleaned of caked on mud and then polished to a shine that almost disguised how old and beat up they were.

That sight alone was enough to tell Rowan who had gone to all this effort for him. Zevran. But why? This must have taken him hours, which gave Rowan and indication of how long he'd been asleep, but why would he go out of his way like this. A little bit of tidying up he might understand, but this was beyond that. And this was on top of everything Zevran had done for him before Rowan passed out. Passed out while having his hair brushed like a child. He would have expected Zevran to be annoyed, not to have tucked him into bed like an invalid and then spent the next few hours making sure his gear was in proper working order.

It didn't make any sense.

They'd slept together, yes, plenty of times. They were friends outside the bedroom, too. He even trusted Zevran with his life in a fight. But to have someone else take care of his weapons and armor was oddly intimate.

Everything about the night before had been oddly intimate, he realized. Now that his brain was awake and properly rested he realized that Zevran’s behavior of the night before had been unusual. There was no way he could have expected Rowan capable of anything other than passing out immediately after getting clean. So it definitely hadn’t been innuendo when he’d offered his assistance. He’d just genuinely wanted to help? That seemed so out of character.

Rowan’s stomach chose that moment to remind him loudly of how empty it was. He shook thoughts of Zevran out of his head and reached for his boots. There would be plenty of time to puzzle out the Crow’s motives when he had food in his stomach and the political mess was finally dealt with. For now, he had work to do.

#14 days of dragon age lovers prompts event #14daysdalovers #zevran arainai #Zevran/Warden #zevran/tabris #rowan tabris #warden tabris

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years

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Alastor Ascension Arc

Part 1: 1896-1933 Human Life in New Orleans

Part 2: 1933 Arrival in Hell

Part 3: 1933-1940s Meeting Rosie and Mimzy

Part 4: 1950-1952 Making a Deal with Niffty

Part 5: 1953-1966 Alastor vs Vox

Part 6: 1970-1975: Making a Deal with Husk

Part 7: Alastor Prequel Comic

Part 8: Alastor in the Pilot: That’s (Alastor’s) Entertainment!

Part 9: Alastor on Hazbinstagram

Part 10: Alastor’s Parents

Part 11: Three Vs Attack Pt 1

Part 12: Manipulating Charlie and the Magnes

Part 13: Evil Charlie Unleashed

Part 14: Alastor Temporarily Takes Over Hell

Part 15: Rosie’s Deception

Part 16: Eldritch Family Rise

Part 17: Three Vs Attack Pt 2

Part 18: Adina influences Alastor

Part 19: Heaven and Hell War, Alastor joins Hell’s rebellion

Part 20: Alastor’s Redemption – Mother Reunite and Heaven

Part 1: 1896-1933 Human Life in New Orleans

“Murder On The Air”

Art by Ashley Nicholas

“You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile”

Chapter One: “Down in New Orleans”

Alastor Roscoe Moreau (A.M.) is born January 24th 1896 (VA born Jan 24th 1986) to his parents in New Orleans, Louisiana. Alastor has medium olive brown skin, short brown hair and brown eyes with glasses. He is lanky and thin but appears stronger than he looks. He often wears nice shirts with bow ties and dark pants and shoes. He wears overalls, boots and the occasional straw hat whenever he hunts or explores the woods and swamps outside. During his rise to fame, he wears fancy suits and top hats, complete with a microphone cane with golden antlers.

Armand Louis Moreau is Alastor’s French Canadian white father. He is a tall strong man with white skin, dark brown hair and a beard. His hobbies include going to church, hunting, taxidermy and drinking with his friends. Armand meets his wife and they soon fell in love. But Armand’s parents, Eugene and Manette disapprove of his interracial marriage. He becomes distant with them, only allowed to be back in the family when he divorces his wife.

Antoinette Loretta Moreau (formerly Duvalier) is Alastor’s French Creole mother. She has short curly black hair and dark brown skin, often wears cotton dresses and round ladies’ hats in bold red. She is part African American and part Native American and can speak Haitian Creole. In secret, away from her Christian husband, she asks her ancestors for guidance and reveres the Loa and saints, sitting at an altar she made. Antoinette’s white mother, Odette is a Voodoo Queen who reveres Yemaya and the saints. Odette’s husband, Mathis, is an African American musician, who later helps Alastor start a music career. Armand’s parents wanted Antoinette to abort her child as Alastor was perceived as a “troubled mixed child of sin,” but she refused. Manette offers to put Alastor in an insane asylum “for his own good”, but Antoinette fights back to keep him. Mathis was also wary of Alastor, but later grew to like him, while Alastor’s paternal grandparents always treated their grandson like he was stupid and dirty.

Antoinette is the one who taught Alastor all his favorite hobbies: cooking, sewing, Voodoo rituals, French and playing instruments. From her, Alastor learned how to play the piano, sing and dance while listening to the gramophone in their living room. At school, Alastor loved theater and leaned to play the trumpet, violin, saxophone, and piano. He also improves on his dancing and singing. Alastor is bullied for being mixed, doing women’s work and not liking girls.

New Orleans culture is introduced, along with popular festivals, 1900s language and Haitian Creole. Armand and Antoinette briefly talk in French as well.

Chapter Two: “Runnin’ Wild”

Early 1900’s Alastor’s youth

In his early innocent days, Alastor goes with his family to theater shows and Mardi Gras festivals. He eats king cake and watches jazz bands play. As a kid, Alastor is marveled by the colors, sights and sounds of the parades, costumes and delicious Creole food. Young Alastor is oblivious to the fact that others look down on the Moreau family for their interracial marriage. The insults affect Armand, reminding him of his chiding parents, but Antoinette insists that they must keep raising their son to be strong and kind. Alastor meets his uncle and aunt and cousins, celebrating St. John’s Day, Christmas and Fet Gede (All Soul’s Day). Alastor could often be found playing in the woods and the swamp. He even makes friends with the alligators while keeping a safe distance from them.

Chapter Three: “What a Wonderful World”

Early 1900’s more Alastor childhood and learning

Alastor’s mother teaches him how to make jambalaya and the dish becomes his favorite food. It nearly killed her when a drunken Antoinette put gunpowder in the pan and it blew up in her face. Antoinette would always tell Alastor, “You’re never fully dressed without a smile,” and Alastor smiled ever since. Alastor likes black coffee, hard liquor, deer meat and elegant meals. Alastor does not like tea, Oreos, strawberries, canned foods or anything sweet.

Alastor also learns Native American myths from his mother, including one about the Wendigo. (Alastor’s shadow and full demon form would be associated with the Wendigo monster).

For the only time in his life, Alastor enjoys being around dogs without fear. Despite being perceived as “abnormal” by many, he is one of the nicest kids around. He reads a lot, and really got into cookbooks and joke books. Alastor and his mother dance together to the gramophone, singing together in pure bliss.

Alastor starts school in 1901 at age 5. He learns Creole from his mother and some French as well.

When Alastor goes to school, he eventually joins the band, despite him being bullied by both whites and kids of color.

Chapter Four: “When The Saints Go Marching In”

Early 1900s, Voodoo rituals

Along with sewing, cooking, and dancing, Antoinette also teaches Alastor about Voodoo/Hoodoo rituals, along with his Grandmother Odette Duvalier.

Alastor sews Voodoo dolls (but doesn’t use them to harm others), collects animal parts and herbs, later using them to curse the houses and hideouts of criminals. He learns the veves of the Loa and conducts rituals with red and black candles. He uses alligator blood for healing magic.

Alastor learns how to consecrate objects, mediate in front of altars and how to connect with his ancestors. He learns of Antoinette’s Native American heritage. He eventually connects with the Loa, most of all to Met Kalfu, the fiery trickster Loa. He learns of his mother and grandmother being prominent Voodoo queens/figures in New Orleans. Antoinette had to curb back her involvement ever since she married Armand, but Odette still maintained her strong connection to the community. Antoinette and Alastor frequently do rituals out in nature, always showing respect to Papa Legba, the Loa of the Crossroads first. Ironically, the child-like Papa Legba and his dogs shared a spiritual connection with the young boy before Legba’s Petro aspect Kalfu took over as Alastor grew up.

(The dogs being part of Alastor’s death could represent the consequence of Alastor abandoning his innocence and former faith in his family/ancestors. The dog is sacred to Papa Legba and Ogun, Loa of iron and warriors/hunters).

Odette and Antoinette warn Alastor not to use magic and Voodoo for evil (which he later does anyway). His spirituality would reflect what path he goes down. Antoinette told Alastor that Voodoo magic is used for healing and guidance. Alastor formerly used Voodoo magic for good until being corrupted by the dark influences of the Goetic demons and Met Kalfu. Antoinette reveres the Rada Loa and discovers that Alastor has a spiritual connection to Met Kalfu, a Petro Loa. This explains Alastor’s affinity with fire magic.

Odette and Antoinette’s hidden magic is a reddish blue, the colors of the Petro and Rada mixed. Alastor’s magic eventually becomes Petro red. In 1919 after making deals with Gnostic demons Abaddon, Furfur etc. (kill souls on Earth as sacrifices to gain more power in the afterlife), his magic becomes exclusively evil and powerful. As a consequence, he loses touch with his ancestors and the other Loa after the deaths of his parents. (Souls can use magic in other worlds but lays dormant on Earth).

Alastor later gets his magic in hell with Kalfu’s influence and on Earth, he calls upon Ogun to assist him with using knives, axes and other weapons. None of the Loa accept human sacrifices but the Gnostic demons do, thus how Alastor gained more souls and eventual power.

Antoinette notices her husband slowly growing more distant from his son as Alastor bonds with her more.

Chapter Five: “Smile”

1903: age 7

At first, Armand is friendly with Alastor, watching with pride as he grows up. But as time goes on, he becomes more distant and harsh. Armand’s exposure to church made him believe that Alastor was a spawn of the Devil. He forces Alastor and his mother to memorize parts of the Bible and to pray to God every day. When they refuse, they get beaten up. Antoinette always cries in despair when she has to watch her son get beaten and whipped. She gets beaten up as well when she doesn’t clean the house or cook food to his liking. When Armand displays more “appropriate manly” behavior, he receives approval from his male friends and his parents.

During the better moments, Armand teaches Alastor how to hunt for game, prepare deer meat and skin deer for fur and deer heads. He also taught him some French. Armand has a taxidermy collection at the family cabin, even having his own business selling the stuffed prepared animals. He also teaches Alastor self-defense and how to run and be strong like a man. Alastor didn’t play sports like his father wanted but he was skilled at hunting and doing outdoor work.

Armand is mostly at work or with his buddies. Other than teaching Alastor skills in the woods, he doesn’t spend time with him. When he does interact, he chides his son for various things. Armand brings a hunting dog into the woods and the dog attacks Alastor, thinking he was a deer. Armand chides Alastor for not defending himself and being careless. This begins Alastor’s fear of dogs.

Chapter Six: “You Rascal You”

1906: age 10

As time goes on, Armand and Alastor begin to hate each other. Armand doesn’t like the fact that Alastor cooks and sews, calling it “women’s work.” Alastor’s love of theater and musicals doesn’t please him either. Alastor gets bullied for his heritage and interests at school. Armand stamps and breaks Alastor’s ribs when he doesn’t behave. Armand gets jealous that his wife seems to spend more time with Alastor. In darker moments, Armand soon begins drinking alcohol and hooking up with other women, even in their own home. When Alastor witnesses the horrific sight one night, his father beats him, whips him and molests him, calling him a “half-breed sissy faggot who likes other boys.” His mother comes in later and comforts him.

Alastor at a young age remembers the feeling of violation, his father’s hands on his waist and thrusting penis in his ass. This begins the cycle of trauma and Alastor’s aversion to people touching him, other than his mother. His mother soon finds out of his actions but can’t do anything about it as he is the head of household. Alastor’s mother sings “Smile” to her son as a song of comfort and lament. Alastor begins to think about killing his father.

Then one day when Alastor was ten years old (1906), Armand announces his divorce. He says that he will take most of the family income and the cabin, leaving Antoinette alone with her son and poorer. Having been pressured by his parents and wanting to reclaim his status in society as a white Christian man, Armand announces his leave.

Armand is about to leave one early morning to confirm the divorce when Alastor arrives. His father briefly beats him again, almost choking him to death and threatens to violate his mother as punishment. Not wanting his mother to go through more beatings and rapes, Alastor grabs the hunting rifle and shoots him square in the chest. The gunshot wakes his startled mother. Stunned at what he had done, he hides the evidence from her and promptly burns his father’s body. Though his mother has a suspicion it was him, she doesn’t say anything.

Chapter Seven: “Nobody Knows The Trouble I’ve Seen”

1909: age 13 Alastor witnesses discrimination

Alastor begins to play instruments and sing really well, his skills backed up by his mother’s teachings and the school band practices.

Alastor watches many old films including…

“The Great Train Robbery” (1903)

“Chased by Dogs” (1904) traumatized him/foreshadowing

“Satan Finds Mischief” (1908)

“Frankenstein” (1910) One of Alastor’s favorites as a teen, he emphasizes with the monster

“Oliver Twist”

“White Fawn’s Devotion” (1910)

“L’Inferno” (1911) another one of his favorites

“Peter Pan” (1924)

“The Phantom of the Opera” (1925) Watched it with Mimzy

“The Wizard of Oz” (1925)

“The Jazz Singer” (1927) One of his favorite musicals

“Sweeney Todd” (1928) Another silent crime film he enjoyed

“PopEye” (1929)

“King of Jazz” (1930)

“Dracula” (1931)

“Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” (1932)

“Smilin’ Though” (1932)

“Murders in the Rue Morgue” (1932)

“Tarzan the Ape Man” (1932)

“The Big Broadcast” (1932) Alastor relates to the radio broadcaster main character

Radio City Music Hall started showing films in 1933.

Chapter Eight: “God Moves on the Water”

1912: age 16

Alastor witnesses the Titanic sinking in 1912, reading the newspaper (the same year that Baxter died). During the same year, he and his mother are forced to evacuate due to hurricanes. Alastor helps save people’s lives from drowning. They move closer to the city but their cabin in the woods remains intact. Alastor and his mother frequently pray to the Loa and saints associated with disasters.

World War One

World War One begins in 1914 right after Alastor graduates high school, and Alastor is drafted for it at age 18. He tearfully hugs his mother goodbye, unsure whether he’ll see her again. During his time there, he discovered the use of old radios used for communication. He was one of the soldiers who fixed and transported said radios on the front lines. Alastor watches several comrades die around him, the only thing keeping him sane is his task to operate the radios. After the war ended in 1918, Alastor returned to the city, now with more of an idea of his career. He applied to several radio stations but was rejected due to his race. But the Spanish Flu also occurred…

Chapter Nine: “Willow Weep For Me”

1918: age 22 Spanish Flu

…and when Alastor gets home in early November, he finds out his mother is gravely ill. He is able to embrace her as she says her final words: “Don’t be sad for me. Remember, you’re never fully dressed without a smile.” Heartbroken, Alastor is forced to bury her at a nearby cemetery as it rains. He kills two intruders in a blind rage and feeds their remains to the alligators in the bayou. He visits her grave and leaves offerings every October and November.

It is at this time that Alastor makes his deals with Kalfu, Furfur and Baron Samedi demons: wealth and power for the sacrifice of human souls. Only Furfur accepts human sacrifice, the Loa do not (they are not necessarily evil, they just want to help guide Alastor and teach him important lessons). Alastor is instructed to retrieve a grimoire in the afterlife that will seal the deal and grant him his powers (plus his shadow as he already had his microphone staff and basic radio powers beforehand).

Alastor even gets a chance to meet his cousin Dr. Facilier in the future (who later becomes his snake demon slave in Hell).

Alastor calls upon Baron Kriminel to help with getting revenge on those who tormented him and bullied him around. Alastor loses touch with his ancestors and the more beneficial Loa, opting instead to work with Furfur.

Chapter Ten: “Dr. Jazz”

1919: age 23

The Radio Corporation of America is founded in 1919. In 1922, WWL, Louisiana’s first radio station started broadcasting, founded by the Catholic Loyola University to help raise funds to build six new campus buildings.

Alastor dreams of becoming a jazz musician. Louis Armstrong becomes his role model and encourages him to join a band of his own. More people start to recognize his talent.

Axeman

Alastor takes care to avoid the Axeman killer and is spared from his attack by playing jazz every night. At one point, Alastor hacks a couple and copies the Axeman’s actions, leading to more panic in New Orleans. The rumors spread that the Axeman had killed twice as many victims, which was entertaining for Alastor as he reported it on the radio.

Time goes by (Roaring Twenties) and Alastor performs in an attempt to make some money. His uncle then connects with someone who works for CBS. More people flock to hear Alastor and his band perform. Alastor earns more money when he begins to fix radios for people. Alastor then applies for a radio DJ position but ends up getting stuck in a lower position, organizing files and cleaning up the studio rooms. Alastor kills off the higher ups and gets a position at NBC. He plays the top tunes but it soon gets boring. After getting fired, Alastor decides to broadcast on his own.

Chapter Eleven: “Sitting on Top of the World”

1920s: Young adulthood, career peak

During the Roaring Twenties, he would become the most famous radio host in Louisiana. Alastor often smokes both during work and during his free time. Alastor basks in wealth and fame.

Chapter Twelve: “Mack The Knife” (Alastor’s killing sprees)

1919, 1920: age 25 - 1933

During the Roaring Twenties, Alastor begins his killing spree of racist men, rapists, and criminals. He is called the Vigilante and the Louisiana Lunatic by those in New Orleans and kills his victims in various ways. Guns, knives, traps, and fire were his favorite tools to use. However, in this version, Alastor doesn’t kill women or children, he only uses them as tools.

Alastor flirts with women and manipulates them because it’s fun to do. People who made deals with him often found their money stolen by him. Many women are charmed by Alastor but Alastor doesn’t get intimate with any of them. He enjoys dancing with women, especially Mimzy. Alastor lavishes in wealth, buying new red suits and top hats, a fancy red car and a microphone cane with golden deer antlers. He also likes black, brown, blue, and green outfits. Alastor pulls pranks on people for fun (thumbtacks, kick me signs, soap in drinks, whoopee cushions, plastic doorways), some like it, some don’t.

Chapter Thirteen: “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile”

Chapter Fourteen: “Pack Up All Your Troubles and Smile, Smile, Smile!”

Alastor meets flapper woman Mimzy and the two bond over drinks, dancing, and singing. Alastor discovers that she killed her abusive husband and took his money. Mimzy finds out that Alastor kills criminals but she doesn’t say anything to anyone else.

Chapter Fifteen: “Charleston”

Mimzy and Alastor dance the Charleston.

Chapter Sixteen: “Let’s Misbehave”

Mimzy is deeply in love with Alastor, but he doesn’t love her back. He only sees her as a friend, which Mimzy doesn’t quite understand. She questions whether Alastor has a sexual disorder when Alastor tells her how he feels, which offends him. The two of them get intimate and nearly have sex but Alastor holds back, saying he’s not ready, much to her shock.

Chapter Seventeen: “Cold, Cold Heart”

Mimzy later dies after Alastor accidentally poisons her drink that was left for a racist man. Alasor would later sing with her and Rosie, bonding again in Hell. Alastor gets tired of people assuming he has a sexual disorder. Alastor was heartbroken at losing his only friend.

In this version, Alastor doesn’t eat people until Rosie introduces him to cannibalism in Hell via her elite group of associates. They later sing a cannibal song in Hell. Alastor is also not an Overlord and doesn’t go after women or children.

Chapter Eighteen: “When You’re Smiling”

Alastor cheerfully broadcasts peoples’ deaths on the air, not being found out until the thirties. On the radio, Alastor tells dad jokes, talks about special Creole recipes and always ends with the song “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile.” Alastor also talks about the Axeman and when he says “play jazz and I’ll spare your life.” Alastor takes great care to avoid the Axeman. Alastor also talks about Clementine’s killings and voodoo practices as well.

Hell, 1929

Esteemed Mortal of New Orleans: The Louisiana Lunatic

They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the sound waves that surround your earth. I am not a human being, but a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians call the Louisiana Lunatic. Down here, I’m the inevitable Radio Demon.

When I see fit, I shall appear and claim other victims as I see fit. I alone know whom they shall be. No clues will be left behind, save for what you might hear on the next broadcast.

Tell the police and the racist, elite scum of the world to beware. Let them try not to discover who I am, for it’d be better for them not to have been born than to incur the wrath of the Louisiana Lunatic. You’ll have a deer in the headlights look and won’t have any idea what hit you until after it’s too late.

Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a monster and murderer. But if I wanted to hurt anyone else here, I would have done so already. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. I could kill every one of your best and worst citizens, for I am in a close relationship with the Shadows of the Other Side.

At 6:06 pm next Friday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans and then visit those in Hell. I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:

I am very fond of jazz music, electro swing, and jambalaya. I swear by all the Loas and deities that I will spare those who can provide me with some great entertainment when I visit. Word of warning, I can read you people like a book, and see into your very souls. Anyone foolish enough to challenge me will have their corpses consumed and their screams muffled by the lovely sound of jazz bands jamming the night away.

I have been, am, and will be, the worst spirit that ever existed in fact, fantasy, or realm of Hazbins.

Smile and stay tuned!

Chapter Nineteen: “Crazy Rhythm”

The Great Depression comes into effect as well as the Stock Market Crash of 1929. Alastor enjoys reading about the chaos in the newspaper. People frantically sell their stuff and beg for jobs and money. He also enjoys seeing the orphans suffering homeless in the streets as it reminds him of his better off status. He also finds children annoying and undisciplined, a left over trait from his father.

But soon, things take a downward turn. Alastor begins to lose money and food, his former glory days over. Alastor hoards radios and radio furniture in his house. He grows bony thin and his eyes have bags under them. (He takes on a similar gaunt appearance arriving in Hell, remaining weak until he gains his powers and eats other demons. Magic also takes some of his energy.) Alastor grows unhealthy due to lack of food, and (almost!) resorts to cannibalism. He also fears losing his radio audience due to the prospects of TV. He meets Vox, an ABC broadcasting company CEO who taunts him for his race and career. They get into a fight but victorious Vox leaves, saying to him that his days are over.

Alastor becomes depressed, cutting into his skin for rituals or just to taste his own blood…to feel something. His self-inflicted cuts add to the scars on his back and body from his dad and struggling criminals.

Chapter Twenty: “Video Killed the Radio Star”

Alastor ironically dies when a full Hunter’s Moon is present. Alastor becomes more careless with his killings, and is soon discovered by police in 1933. The police sends dogs after him, a German Shepard, a Pit Bull, and a Black Lab. As he runs, he is bitten by a rabies infected dog in an alley. Alastor races through the snowy woods, experiencing painful headaches, and hallucinations of drowning and his parents being killed as deer. The police dogs bite at his legs but he shakes him off and runs some more. A deer hunter spots him, fearful and disgusted by the madman who rushes at him head on. (The hunter is Vox’s friend and the soon to be TV Overlord smirks). Alastor’s insane eyes beg the hunter to finish him off, as he didn’t want to be arrested. The hunter almost shoots him but finds he can’t do it. Vox then shoots Alastor between the eyes and his body falls. (Video Killed the Radio Star). The dogs maul at him moments before the gunshot before the police arrive. They turn him over and see the hole in his forehead, his glazed eyes, bloodied clothing and frozen smile. Alastor’s body is promptly burned, his belongings destroyed and his radios given away to an antique shop. His death is announced on his own radio station by none other than Vox before it, too, is done for. Many of his fans are saddened but the majority of New Orleans is relieved that he is gone. Vox is hailed as a hero before he returns to his job in another state.

(This is why Alastor hates Vox so much, not just because of their different tastes in technology!)

“You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile” (finale)

A lone old fashioned radio (the one with the smiling grin on it and Alastor’s favorite radio) lights up in an antique store. His creepy voice says “Stay tuned” as the next part begins.

Part 2: 1933 Arrival in Hell

“Beware the Radio Demon”

Tagline: “It’s time to tune in…”

Chapter One: “Heebie Jeebies”

Alastor arrives in Hell in 1933. He lands in the street between a jazz club and a strip club. He arrives naked and afraid, shocked by his new deer-like appearance. He has a black and red deer tail, antlers, red and black hair, sharp yellow teeth, red eyes, scarred gray back and chest, a regular size penis and gray scarred body. He is revolted by the tan gray gnarled state of his clawed hands and feet. When he talks, his voice has a radio filter, which surprises him. He realizes that it must be how he sounded to his audience. (Mimzy catches a peek at him but doesn’t yet know who he is). He summons his microphone staff, who is stunned to see Alastor nude. The microphone briefly glows, allowing Alastor to go on the air. Alastor realizes that Hell is a lot bigger and scarier than New Orleans. Demons mock him, including perverted ones. His memories coming back to him and instincts, Alastor quickly takes out the surrounding creeps with his bare hands, stealing their overalls and clothes. Alastor first wears brown too-loose pants and a white torn v neck shirt. So far, his only powers consist of controlling radios and brief bursts of fire.

Alastor then witnesses the harsh reality of Hell, daily discrimination, turf wars, killings, rapes and stealing. He then realizes that he has no place to live. It was the survival of the fittest from here on out. Alastor witnesses Tom Trench on TV, Sir Pentious and Baxter creating inventions, Mimzy performing at the jazz club and, of course, he learned of the royal family. Helsa and Seviathan and other Hell born spit at him, complaining that “common sinner scum” don’t belong in Hell. Alastor also sees a man with a radio head called Muse on an advertisement for 66.6 FM. Alastor gets mad that he was sent to Hell with his black stag demon father Neleus while his mother Poena got to go to heaven as a beautiful red doe humanoid sorceress.

Alastor camps out alone in the woods, deeply missing his mother and his old life. He wants to do something about all the sinners in Hell. A sense of duty came back to him…how he wanted to get rid of bad people, lost causes… an obligation to continue his work he had done on Earth. There were only a few people he could trust…and he decided to be untrustworthy and manipulative to everyone else.

Chapter Two: “All Of Me”

Alastor is reminded of what Furfur said after he sacrificed other humans to them on Earth. His microphone told him to find a grimoire that would allow him to summon Kalfu, and Abaddon to gain his magic. He asks a blue deer overlord and he tells him to look in Stolas’ palace, knowing that it was near impossible to get out alive. Rosie witnesses the conversation and decides to follow the sinner newcomer. Alastor sneaks into the palace to retrieve the grimoire, only to be caught by an angry Stolas. Alastor retrieves the book and is rescued from Stolas by a floating Rosie Poppins with an umbrella in her hands.

Alastor summons Kalfu, Baron Samedi and Furfur.

Furfur grants Alastor with heightened deer senses and destructive powers.

Baron Samedi grants Alastor with darkness and shadow powers.

Kalfu grants Alastor with fire and voodoo magic.

Alastor’s powers over radio were already his own when he arrived in Hell. This was why no mortal souls before him were seen with that much power; only powerful Hell-Born/Overlords had similar powers.

The prices Alastor paid for his powers were the collection of souls over the years, loss of his loved ones by fate, his own brutal death, being sent to Hell for his murders and a limit on his powers. Kalfu’s demons got a part of Alastor’s powers and Alastor can get tired after using a certain amount of energy. Alastor using blood magic drains energy, and he requires food, meat and rest to recover. Alastor can also be killed by angelic weapons.

Alastor’s powers include teleportation, shadow magic, portal creation, reality warping, conjuring fire and objects, possession, destructive magic, blood magic etc. The shadow demons get part of his power and after a painful separation, Alastor’s shadow is formed. The shadow, representative of Alastor’s darker thoughts, acts as a guide and bodyguard. Alastor creates his red tattered dress coat, black shoes with red deer tracks, his pants and his monocle. Alastor’s microphone allows him to be on the air anywhere to broadcast his massacres. The device reflects his mood as well, playing music and songs. The microphone can hypnotize demons who stare and listen to it and creates fatal radio waves that can blast brains out and destroy nearby buildings. With the help of his shadow, Alastor can travel from one shadow spot to another, through doorways and in small spaces. He can also travel through radios too.

In addition, Alastor can also shapeshift into others and into his red deer form. In his most powerful form, he appears as a bloodthirsty wendigo.

Alastor’s shadow is a manifestation of all his dark subconscious thoughts that are freed after he dies. The microphone staff is a manifestation of his radio host personality he had as a human. Alastor turned into a deer in Hell to remind him of his fate: “the hunter becomes the hunted.”

Chapter Three: “I’ve Got the World on a String”

Taking advantage, Alastor soon uses his powers to topple Overlords and take over many areas of Hell. He takes over 66.6FM, killing Muse and many Overlords (including Newspaper, Telephone, Clock, Car, Plane, Textile, Telegraph, Book and other Overlords. He makes a truce with the Overlord of Film.) Vox, Valentino and Velvet would arrive later. He forms an army of shadow demons and voodoo imps, his minions killing demons, burning stores, looting, feasting on deer and causing havoc.

Alastor becomes friends with the blue deer Overlord, a descendant of Furfur. The Overlord tells him where he can find his father, Neleus.

Alastor spends time with Lucifer too, drinking whisky, booze and singing. Lucifer likes polka music while Alastor prefers jazz. He treats Lilith well and watches as she performs on stage with her Resist band. (“God Spelled Backwards Is Dog”) Lucifer had been notified of Alastor’s powers and was intrigued. No mortal soul had power like the Hell Born elite before. Alastor even got a chance to dance with Lilith, him treating her like a lady and temporarily entranced by her beauty.

Alastor learned to stay on the king’s good side but can’t help getting curious about his unique daughter, Charlie. Lucifer talks about how Charlie sees the good in every sinner and her bond with Seviathan in Inferno high school (Charlie had not met Vaggie yet and Alastor wasn’t in love with Charlie, just curious about her, like finding a new specimen.). Knowing that getting too involved would lead to trouble, Alastor shrugs it off. Lucifer allows Alastor to do his chaos, provided he leave the royal family out of it, which he agrees.

Alastor makes deals with several demons and even temporarily gains access to Earth, gaining more souls. Alastor creates two hideouts: one a cabin with radio towers near a forest and an underground lair where the shadow spirits are (Deer’s Den).

Chapter Four: “The Axeman’s Jazz”

Alastor terrorizes Hell and uses an ax to kill off demons who don’t play jazz on his birthday. He even writes a letter similar to the Axeman’s letter:

Hell, 1933

They have never caught me and they never will. I am not a human being, but a demon from the hottest hell. I am what the Orleanians called the Louisiana Lunatic. Down here, I’m the inevitable Radio Demon.

When I see fit, I shall appear and claim other victims. I alone know whom they shall be. No clues will be left behind, save for what you might hear on the next broadcast.

Tell the Overlords and every sinner and Hell Born of the world to beware. Let them try not to discover who I am, for it’d be better for them not to have been born than to incur the wrath of the Radio Demon. You’ll have a deer in the headlights look and won’t have any idea what hit you until after it’s too late.

Undoubtedly, you denizens think of me as a monster and murderer. But if I wanted to hurt anyone else here, I would have done so already. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. I could kill every one of your best and worst citizens, for I am in a close relationship with the Shadows of the Other Side.

At 6:06 pm next Friday night, I am going to pass over Pentagram City. I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:

I have been, am, and will be, the worst spirit that ever existed.

Smile and stay tuned!

To make a deal with Alastor, call 666 - 024 - 1929 on your hellphone.

(Edward’s number is 24, 666 is the Beast number and 1929 is the year of the major Stock Market Crash)

Chapter One: “Practically Perfect In Every Way”

Hell Born Rosie Marie Poppins and Alastor properly meet shortly after he gains his powers. Rosie introduces Alastor to an elite group of cannibals, and Alastor happily accepts her invitation, thus further increasing his influence. Under the teachings of Rosie, Alastor learns how to increase his status, despite being a sinner. Due to being close to Rosie, less people insult Alastor as he walks by. He learns what it’s like to be a cannibal for the first time, and his hunger never ends since. Alastor begins to miss Kalfu and his Loa interactions (and his mother). He originally thought that he would pass through the seven gates of Guinee, the land of the dead in Loa culture. Rosie and Alastor bond over tea, coffee and murder. Rosie offers Alastor the position of Overlord but Alastor declines, as he wants to be free to wreak havoc without rules. He also shows a distaste for the greedy Overlords and authority figures. Rosie said that there are several sinners who are Overlords as well, but he still declines. Alastor would be his own Overlord!

“I was never destined to be part of any high hat group of leaders. I’ve worked exclusively for myself in my last life and will continue to do so in this one. With enough allies and the right timing, I could take them all down one by one. Besides, their meetings sound boring anyway.” - Alastor

Rosie used to work with her girlfriend Franklin until she died and Rosie got to own the shop for herself.

In return for Rosie helping Alastor get the spellbook, Alastor treats her like a lady and helps promote her emporium and spqeakeasy. Rosie recalls how she treats her employees cruelly and uses their wages to live a lavish life. Rosie is a cruel CEO who pursues rich and powerful men (and like the Dolly Sisters, she dances and performs as well). They both laugh as they share stories of taking advantage of other demons. Despite being Hell Born, Rosie does not treat Alastor with contempt due to his status as a sinner. (Or if she does, she hides it). Rosie becomes a stern-mother-like figure to Alastor, chiding him for any stupid mistakes he makes.

Rosie later gives Alastor advice such as being more open with Mimzy or to not fall for Charlie and be at the Hazbin Hotel (she finds the idea of redemption ridiculous. Despite this, Alastor still offers to help Charlie anyway due to seeking entertainment and potentially the trust of the royal family). Rosie also is a model for an All Soul’s Day/Death Day festival. Zombies, ghosts and other denizens watch as she poses on a blood red carpet in her rose garden. Like Day of the Dead, Death Day is a day to celebrate when sinners arrived in Hell and when the Hell-Born were born.

Unbeknownst to Alastor, Rosie secretly hopes she can gain some of Alastor’s power for herself so she can create Hell into a more orderly place where people admire her and her beauty. Deep down, she believes that Hell Born are superior to sinners, and would be pleased to see the lower class be her slaves! She forms an alliance with Lucifer, Lilith and the Eldritch family who are frequent buyers of her dresses and wares. Rosie works with Lucifer and the Eldritch family to try and bring Charlie down, saying her idea will never work. From Lucifer, Rosie learned of Charlie’s plan to redeem sinners. Redeeming sinners could mess up the hierarchy system and Rosie and the higher ups don’t want that. Her demonic form consists of a vulture like creature hovering in the air with an umbrella. Being in a position of power, it’s no surprise that she wants more of it! She even attempts to hold Mimzy and Charlie hostage to try and bring Alastor down.

Chapter Two: “Eat a Little Flesh Fantastic”

Alastor and Rosie sing the cannibal song after Rosie introduces Alastor to the elite cannibal group of Victorian ladies. Everyone dances like in the Mary Poppins movie as Rosie calls on her group members to ”go forth and feast.”

“Eat a Little Flesh Fantastic”

Alastor and Rosie strolled arm in arm after Rosie finished going to an Overlord meeting.

“Hey Alastor,” said Rosie turning to him. “Have you ever considered joining my exclusive club of socialites?”

“No, I haven’t…but do entertain me.”

“It’s mainly me and my group of ladies. We meet up for tea and coffee at this nice café not too far from here. We discuss the latest news, perhaps exchange jewelry or deserts.”

“Sounds lovely, my dear.”

“Oh and here’s the best part. My group and I have…exquisite tastes when it comes to meals. And I’ve heard about you and your slaughters.”

Alastor couldn’t help but puff up his chest in pride. “I was also a very skilled hunter in my other life. I’ve made many meals including jambalaya with venison in it. It is my favorite.”

A grin of sharp teeth stretched across Rosie’s pale face, her black eyes shining. “Have you ever considered eating the flesh of your victims?”

Alastor’s stomach growled at the thought. “I had a feeling that something was missing after I killed all those men as a human. I’ve hunted and ate deer and game many times. Perhaps I was too unsure about doing the same to other humans.”

Rosie laughed. “No restrictions now, though. This is Hell. Feel free to eat whatever…and whomever you’d like.”

Rosie handed him a blue arm of a nearby dead demon. Alastor maneuvered it into his mouth and sliced it to bits with several noisy bites. The sharp fangs effortlessly tore through the muscle and bone. The tangy taste of blood and juicy meat filled his mouth before he swallowed.

“That was quite tasty,” he remarked, licking his lips. Alastor then realized something extraordinary: there were countless demons roaming around in Hell. It was as if Hell had decided to provide him with an all-you-can-eat buffet. Not only would he have more meat to eat, but being a cannibal would also help with his fearsome reputation. Cannibalism was considered one of the worst taboos to do on Earth.

Why not add another sin to his list?

Alastor bowed and kissed Rosie on her hand in thanks. “Even in death, I learn something new every day. I’d be honored to join you.”

Rosie introduced Alastor to her group of friends: a bunch of demon women dressed in fancy Victorian dresses of many colors and round ladies’ hats on their heads. Violet, Lavender, and Poppy were some of their names. For a brief moment, Alastor felt like he was back in his time period on Earth. He ate demon meat to his heart’s content. Hell-Born or sinner, raw or cooked, it didn’t matter. He used the flesh and the sinner’s hearts in his jambalaya recipes. As the sinners had previously been human like Alastor used to be, he was now a cannibal.

The thought of someday tasting actual humans in the living world made his mouth water more.

On Sunday mornings after Alastor had coffee, he would be greeted by his new admirers while he walked outside, humming a cheery tune.

“Hello ladies,” Alastor said with a tip of his red top hat.

“Hello Alastor!” they chimed, as they sat on the ground in front of a mutilated body of a demon. One woman picked up the demon’s separated arm and used it to wave at him. Alastor chuckled and strolled on.

During one moonlit night, Alastor and Rosie decided to sing a song to strengthen their bond. They were already good friends, if not that then at least compatible associates with similar tastes. She looked like a gaunt Mary Poppins entering a Day of the Dead musical.

Rosie:

“Let’s say you’re bored and want to be full,

Sure, you can go about your day, dull. Or…

You can eat a little flesh fantastic with me.��

Alastor:

“If you live your days in wonder, but can’t focus due to hunger…

Just eat a little flesh fantastic with me.”

Rosie:

“For if you decide to kill a person, their body will someday rot away. But if you make haste and not let it go to waste…

Then you’ll be satiated for the day!”

Alastor:

“You don’t need to be Lector Hannibal, to consider the life of a cannibal.”

Rosie: “Want to be robust?”

Alastor: “You know I must.”

Both: “Come eat a little flesh fantastic with us!”

Rosie (speaking): “My fellow epicureans, answer my call. May your gluttonous desires led the way!”

“Welcome to the club, Radio Demon.”

Rosie and Alastor:

“The life of a cannibal The feeling is so wonderful Hunt and kill, munch, munch, munch, A few screams later, you’ve got your lunch!”

“Have some style and show some class It is us among the mass When you’re feeling beat and want to eat A demon can never have too much meat!”

“Eat a little flesh fantastic with us Give in to another kind of lust A sweet treat you are, come near or far

Our food as you bite the dust!”

Rosie:

“You can refrain and boldly exclaim ‘Eating your brethren’s not right!’”

Alastor: “But we know well, to maim in Hell The blood will be shed tonight!”

Rosie:

“The life of a cannibal,”

Alastor:

“The feeling is so wonderful,”

Rosie:

“Hunt and kill, munch, munch, munch…”

Both:

“A few screams later, you’ve got your lunch!” “Eat a little flesh fantastic with us!” (oh- oh- oh- oh- oh) “Eat a little flesh fantastic with us!” (oh- oh- oh- oh- oh)

Chapter Three: “Hello Mimzy!” (Hello Dolly! By Louis Armstrong)

Alastor bonds with Mimzy Dolly Hannigan at the jazz club and they recall their memories together in New Orleans. Mimzy works as an employer for Rosie at her emporium and squeak-easy. Rosie, enamored with Mimzy’s performance, decided to offer her a job to increase her influence. Like Alastor, Mimzy is more protected thanks to Rosie’s overlord status. Mimzy helps sell Rosie’s custom made clothes and antiques and performs almost every night at the underground bar behind Rosie’s shop. (Behind a door, down a stair-case. The password is “Practically perfect in every way.”)

Several times, Alastor and Mimzy dance and sing at the squeak-easy, to the joy of the crowd. At the squeak-easy, influential people and criminals gather there to discuss business, drink and have fun. Husk also goes there on occasion to serve drinks. Mimzy is popular both there and at her own jazz club: Mimzy’s Place. Rosie, herself, has performed there after her shifts. When asked if Rosie treats her cruelly, Mimzy says, “Almost never.”

Mimzy had died in the 1920s before Alastor. They agree to sing and stay friends, along with Rosie, creating a trio of singing, dancing, drinking and murder-spree-loving friends. They also terrorize orphans as they sing “Little Sinners” (Little Girls). Alastor apologizes for accidentally killing her and being aloof. Mimzy then apologizes for being too clingy with him and claiming that he didn’t know how to love back on Earth.

Mimzy lives a lavish lifestyle (like the Dolly Sisters, she pursues wealthy men and dances).

Alastor later offers Mimzy an invitation to visit the Hazbin Hotel and discusses the idea of redemption. Mimzy accepts his offer and decides to stay there, so long as she can still do her performances. Mimzy eventually becomes a guest at the Hazbin Hotel along with Baxter, Tom Trench, Molly, Arackniss, Cherri Bomb and Crymini. She bonds with Alastor, Niffty and Charlie as the girls gossip about men and the group performs in musicals together. Mimzy shares her story about being in New Orleans and with Alastor’s encouragement, she also thinks about pursuing redemption…as long as she gets more fame/recognition. Like Niffty, she gets jealous when Alastor pursues Charlie more. Mimzy thinks that Alastor loves Charlie more, but Rosie suspects he has another motive.

Alastor and Mimzy dance some more together and frequently perform at the jazz club.

Prequel Comic:

“Let’s go for a stroll.”

Comic by Liam (Pencils), Fautisse (Lineart), Lunetta (Colors), Magpie (Backgrounds) and Vivienne (Story).

Alastor enjoys coffee on a Sunday morning. Alastor hums down the street, goes to a café and watches birds fight over food. He stops to smell the roses, making one wilt with his touch. Everyone flees when they see him, making him a bit lonely inside. While visiting Rosie’s cannibal colony, he tosses his hat to the four admiring well-dressed women who eat a demon body. Alastor tosses a coin to a cat jazz player and swears after seeing Vox. He hates him so much, that his gentleman demeanor was gone. Alastor then saves a sheep demon lady from a butcher boar, kills the man, then enjoys the meat. (More to come)

Part 20: Alastor’s Redemption – Mother Reunite and Heaven

The villains eventually get defeated. (Assuming no one dies a second time) Eventually, Alastor gets redeemed and turns into a human/hart hybrid angel. Alastor never forgets about Charlie and how wonderful a person she was. They share a hug and kiss before Alastor leaves with his mother and Charlie stays to rule Hell. He reunites with his mother and they go to Heaven for a while. Alastor hosts shows in Heaven, and teaches the Angels how to make jambalaya and do dad jokes (He remarks their food is plain and boring). Alastor and his mother eventually depart for the seven Guinee gates with the Loa after they are accepted at last by Baron Samedi. For the only place where Alastor truly belonged was not Earth, Hell or Heaven, but with his family and culture.

Angel Dust gets to have private fun with guys in Heaven, while he continues to work on curbing his addicting habits. Molly, Arackniss, and Angel/Anthony reunite with their white spider mother Aranea. Husk finds true love with…Angel Dust! Husk performs magic shows for everyone and plays card games without betting as he has plenty of money and comfort. Alastor reunites with his mother and spends quality time with Mimzy before going to Guinee. (But Alastor will always remember Charlie!) Autumn, the Zoophobia deer and Alastor become friendly rivals. Vaggie reunites with her family (minus Valentino, her father) and marries another woman in happiness (but of course, never forgetting Charlie and what she did to help make their new lives comfortable!). Tom Trench, now mask free and blonde, hosts Holy 333 News. Zoophobia animal characters make cameos as denizens of Heaven. Sir Pentious or Baxter creates inventions and healing potion for the greater good instead of drugs and weapons and evil aquatic creatures. Roo and Cherri are BFFs along with Angel. Niffty marries a kind man in Heaven. All the characters take their time in healing from their wounds and experiences.

Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Alastor, Baxter, Mimzy, Crymini, Roo, Villa, Tom Trench, Cherri Bomb, Arackniss and Molly all get redeemed. (Niffty may be is secretly evil). Charlie succeeds in redeeming sinners but eventually has to let her redeemed friends go.

I.M.P. and C.H.E.R.U.B. are still in business for many years. Blitzo lives his musical theater dream and Loona is by his side, arm in arm with Crymini.

Centuries later, Charlie marries a woman similar to Vaggie in Hell. Through a willing man, Charlie gives birth to two children who eventually take Charlie’s place as the Hotel managers when Charlie grows old. (Yes, she ages very slowly!) Her children are the next generation of do-gooders in Hell.

The show ends with all the characters dancing and singing under rainbows while “That’s a wrap!” shows up.

#alastor #human alastor #hazbinhotel #zoophobia #hazbin hotel theory #the radio demon

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akimmito · 4 years

Text

Heroes are made by the path they choose

Previous | AO3 | Next

___________________________

Chapter 5

Paris News @ParisNewsTWT

Two more victims are confirmed as a result of the bomb, on the way to the hospital an eight-year-old boy and a fifteen-year-old teenager die. We regret the loss and our condolences to the families.

______________

Byakko is the first vigilant to appear on the scene, watching from the rooftops the development of the situation. She was the first to be able to warn the others if they should also arrive, the officers argue while the bomb team checks the perimeter to determine if there are more devices or if there was only one, the forensic team is waiting to move the two bodies. Byakko grimaces, the scene is terrible to watch.

"Byakko, give your report." Max's voice sounds on the other end of the line, only getting the images from the security cameras surviving the explosion, which gives him very little coverage of the scene. He only sees police and paramedics.

"The bomb squad checks the perimeter. You should send someone to see the wounded and find out their condition. I will stay here and speak to the police to offer support. "

"Be careful. "

"Always."She smiles and jumps off the roof to fall behind the coroners, she approaches them to discuss the events and gather information, they will be in charge of investigating further in parallel with the police, as they usually do when they decide to get involved in any case.

While Byakko plunges into the crime scene, Pyxis enters the hospital to await the victims who are still alive. He draws everyone's attention, his black costume with violet and silver is striking enough surrounded by so much white... that and that he's one of the vigilantes, the mask definitely gives the attention call, at least it is not a kind of helmet like that of Byakko. He adjusts his black hair as he stands uncomfortably in an emergency corner, it would be easier if there was someone else with him, but everyone is waiting. He's sure that Felix must be returning from Romania and that Marinette must be preparing to return to the MT without her employees suspecting.

"Pyxis, can you take a picture with my son?" A woman approaches him, looks concerned." They'll take him to emergency surgery and he's scared. "

"Uh, sure…" He grows shy as he walks behind the light brown-haired woman, she also looks scared. The good news is that the hospital has safeguards or it would be an easy target for Akuma, he's relieved that Hawkmoth didn't think to use them until a year before the end of his reign of terror. The Akuma created by emotions born from traumatic problems are much more dangerous than the common ones, they are dangerous and the situation that just happened can become a trigger.

As they advance to the space where the child waits on a stretcher, sends a message to Max so that he can get the information from the families and they can be located, it is better to avoid more victims in the tragedy. When he has done so, he approaches the little boy with a friendly smile.

"Hi, what's your name?" He slides into the chair next to him.

"Francis. "

"Nice to meet you, Francis. I'm Pyxis, do you know me?" The boy nods, his eyes sparkling with excitement and fear. "I know you are afraid, I also have fear all the time. "

"Really? But you fight the bad guys and don't panic. "

"Yes, we are scared, but we can't let him beat us or the bad people will win too." At that moment the doctors enter, the boy's mother took a picture of the interaction of the two, much more natural than just posing. "I will keep an eye on you, we will see you when you return. "

Francis is encouraged and says goodbye when nurses and doctors take him to surgery. Pyxis sits for a moment and then gets up, just in time to see the commotion. One of the wounded is transferred to the area where he's located and seeing a pregnant woman with a completely unmade leg is distressing. They don't leave her for long in the area, different doctors come and talk to each other and to the paramedics. It's a distressing little chaos.

"Hi." He leans over to the young woman and places his gloved hand on the bloody reddish hair, reminds her of Nathaniel's and the mental image doesn't help him smile to calm her down. "I know it hurts, I know you're afraid, but the doctors will find a way to help you. "

She barely nods, shedding tears, her gray eyes look almost glass, the blood runs where the tears flow.

"Pyxis, will you allow us?" One of the doctors talks and he nods, walking away. He leaves the care area and watches the small chaos, some family members congregate and two bodies are taken to the hospital morgue.

Since becoming Pyxis there had been no terrorist attack, after Hawkmoth, Paris seemed a little bleak and gray. Tourism had not diminished, but it certainly was not as lively as it had been years before and just when everything seems to be recovering, Akuma and terrorist attack, an incredible combo. It gives he a bad feeling.

__________

Agatha @WhiskyMyLife

Pyxis is in the hospital cheering for the victims and their families. He's quite an angel, absurdly adorable for an adult man with an alpha male voice.

#OwnParisAngel #MTPyxis

Héros parisiens @MTHeroes

Byakko at the Louvre and Pyxis at the hospital. Will Black Metal appear? They are the closest to civilians.

#MTPyxis #MTByakko

_________

While at the MT headquarters, the other members gather around the round table in the main room where the mother computer is located. Max keeps his eyes on every security camera trying to find something, he even rescued the last few hours before the explosion of the corrupted files, maybe it's time to replace the cameras technology and make them connected to the MT database, just someone with the Oracle level of Batman partners could access that data and that would help them more. Max nods to himself by opening a file to start the project, but leave it that way until the current problem is addressed.

"I think the heroes should go too, now that they're back to business. The negative feelings surrounding the situation should be enough to justify their patrolling, as well as generating much more hope than the MT can offer. "Felix speaks after a few minutes.

"Yeah, that will help lower negative emotions. Red Fox, Rakkīgāru and Abeilla, you three will go to patrol the surrounding areas, be on the lookout for any butterflies. We will provide support if any situation arises. "Marinette gives the order and the three mentioned nod, soon, Kagami, Nathaniel and Chloe transform and Kaalki opens a portal for them in front of Notre Dame.

"We'll be watching the communications." Marinette smiles and nods to Kagami, she was just beginning to relax and a terrorist attack happens. The bad part of this is that there is no cure that can save you all, you just have to accept the natural course of life, even if it was caused by someone else.

When they are gone, there are only five left in the room.

Max programs one of the screens to present the international news about what happened, they can't get news about anything related to prodigies outside of France, but since this has nothing to do with it, its broadcast is not prohibited. Among the images they can see Byakko with the officers and as it's live, in the distance they can see the Red Fox figure passing by. So used to running on the rooftops, they know fast routes to move and thanks to the improved skills of the wonders, they come quickly wherever.

Damian frowns, annoyed at having to do nothing, but he can't just complain when faced with such a situation. They have sent all those who can be useful, he would not be for the simple reason that he despises people and doesn't have a good relationship with them. He is aware of the comments, even though just being on two patrols was enough to earn him a reputation as an infamous demon boy. Stupid woman and her sensitive brat.

"If an Akuma appears, we will go except for Sabik and Equuleus, they will stay here and handle the situation from a distance. As long as our new villain doesn't know that the snake is active, the easier it will be for us. Damian, you will join as Thuban for the protection of civilians, Akuma born from such situations are dangerous and we can't trust the miracle cure. "Dealing with civilians, perfect.

"Yes, mother." He sits with his arms crossed, he doesn't like it, but at least they won't leave him relegated to staying with Max and Luka, it would be frustrating, although he understands that their positions are important. He prefers to be in the field and face his enemies head-on. His mother has not even taken him to any of his case investigations, he only goes with Felix and occasionally with Kagami; He can also be useful and even better than them.

"Byakko and Pyxis will maintain positions and, if necessary, help protect civilians. "

Everyone makes some kind of confirmation.

Luka slides into the chair next to Max, slips on the headphones to be part of the connections, and helps check out video from some of the surrounding cameras. The tension is palpable in the room, everyone is silent and there is only an occasional small conversation.

Marinette pulls out her phone and makes a publication, in addition to sending a message to Hugo to take out a certain amount of money and buy medical supplies to be sent to the hospital, in addition to making a donation to families and the city to repair the damage caused by the bomb. Max is also doing his part and a statement of commitment is given for KanTech to replace all cameras in the city with much more advanced ones that help detect artifacts (he has certainly been working on something like that associated with two other companies, including Wayne Tech). Felix says nothing, he's in Romania for everyone and it's not even his city, but he can be supportive considering that his friends and associates are from there. Maybe tomorrow.

_____________

Marie L. @MarieLenoir

It is outrageous that an attack like this happens as we try to recover from the impact of the butterfly's return. I hope the MT catches the one responsible.

Max K. @MaxKan_Tech

I promise to replace every security camera on the streets of Paris for the greater security of my fellow citizens. I will not allow them to catch us off guard again, I will work with the MT and the police for a more adequate follow-up.

Polaris Vermilion @Elgato_Solaris

In a few years, Paris will belong to Lenoir. @MarieLenoir will become a @BruceWayneOfficial for Paris. Remember my words, she already has an animal shelter and seven of the fourteen Akuma shelters are funded by her, recently rumors have been heard that Lady Black will also be a wine brand.

Héctor de Troya @EpicAdveturerHector

@Elgato_Solaris She's affiliated with the Graham de Vanily, is a business partner of @KanTech and Sabine & Tom Boulangerie.

Héctor de Troya @EpicAdveturerHector

@Elgato_Solaris She finances two arts schools, one in Paris and the other in Bremen, she's also co-owner of a Spanish publisher (anyone explain this to me?) and has recently started to finance a project for the protection of endangered birds in America.

Polaris Vermilion @Elgato_Solaris

@EpicAdventurerHector Our own billionaire philanthropist.

Lalaland @ LaLa-235Vick

@Elgato_Solaris @EpicAdventurerHector Actually, it's estimated that within three years she could enter the 100 richest people in the world, if the rumors of various businesses under the signature of Lady Black are true.

Theo @ ArtisgratiaArts_009

@Elgato_Solaris @EpicAdventurerHector @ LaLa-235Vick Is it really important? They are making it a trend and it's more urgent that victims know our support.

_________

ALERT MONARCH

AKUMA! AKUMA AKUMA! AKUMA!

Location: District VI.

Escape routes: ****

Nearby shelters: ****

Emergency number: ****************

______________________

Marinette wants to hit her head against a wall, she really hoped there wouldn't be an Akuma in the distressing situation, but her hope was in vain. Max quickly locates it through the cameras, at least after the first attack they learned that the Akuma are a white point when infrared vision is activated, luckily, that option was incluided along with the night mode.

"The Akuma is moving toward the Luxembourg Palace, is the senate still in session?"

"Why would the Akuma go to the senate?" Damian questions without understanding, that he knows the Akuma don't lose reasoning, they only focus on the trigger of their negative emotion.

"Maybe he's not going after them, maybe he's just taking it as his route..." Marinette mutters, biting her left thumb, they're following the Akuma's route through satellite cameras. "Well, we will find out. Team, we have an Akuma to face. "

"I'm going to get dressed..." Damian mutters in a bad mood, they are going to transform and leave immediately, he still has to get dressed and will be relegated to taking care of the civilians. Annoying.

Max is watching to see if he begins to use his powers, but he is only moving. It looks like out of a Neon Genesis Evangelion chapter, if someone asks he, as long as it doesn't come up with a biblical name, enough for him. He decides to transform to make transportation easier, especially since Thuban will also have to pass later.

Ladynoir is the first to go through the portal, followed by Jade Shield. The portal closes immediately, only to reopen when Damian appears dressed as Thuban. This time, it opens next to the Church of Saint-Sulpice, since a building was built next to it that serves as a refuge, he runs to the populated sectors to help them, especially if the Akuma decides to attack.

From his location he has a direct view of the Akuma, its size is not very subtle and he wonders what kind of ability it will have. A large golden rhombus flying over Paris is something that easily attracts attention.

Suddenly a chirp is heard that stuns everyone, the children near him start crying from the pain. The screeching is followed by a thick layer of smoke that quickly covers them.

Damian begins to feel airless and in front of him, his biological mother appears.

____________

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

I was calmly watching the news when one appeared about Paris, an terrorist attack after almost ten years without having one. That's not important, were there two vigilantes on screen? Since when does Paris have vigilantes?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD For seven years? I went on vacation to Paris, I was caught in a bank robbery and they appeared, the MT. A group of very cool vigilantes, they are 10 in the team and they only needed two to solve the problem.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ErasmusLS_564 Seriously? It wasn't like bank robberies here, was it?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD It was not the same lvl of insanity, but according to the news these robbers had already robbed large banks in London & Spain without success in their capture. It was incredible to see Suzaku and Corvus destroy the group without wreaking havoc or damage to the plce

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@IAmYisus_XD @ ErasmusLS_564 Can you give us their names? I would like to know more.

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Sure. Women: Suzaku, Seiryuu, Byakko, and Genbu. Men: Black Metal, Caelum, Pyxis and Corvus. Child: Thuban, is the most recent and is a little demon boy according to twitter. He stays close to Suzaku or Corvus, theories say that heis his son

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ ErasmusLS_564 @RoyHarperQ Wasn't they 10?

Little Little Sun @ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Yup. Augur doesn't come out, but we know it's there. He's a kind of sentinel, we know why they communicate with him.

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@IAmYisus_XD @ ErasmusLS_564 Who is the orange fox-like one? He also appeared in the news footage.

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Oh he. I'm not sure of his name, but Paris is quite unique. It's as if Batman and Superman protecting the same city, the vigilantes are in charge of the crimes and the heroes... of the big problem. I can't say more.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ ErasmusLS_564 @RoyHarperQ Heroes and Watchers? What is there? Gotham 2.0?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ No... The city just has its own fun stuff.

__________

If the other identity has not been mentioned, I will not say it. Marie: Ladynoir/Suzaku Felix: Jade Shield/Corvus Chloe: Lady Abeilla/Genbu Alix: Byakko Kagami: Rakkīgāru/Seiryū Nathaniel: Red Fox/Caelum Luka: Sabik/Black Metal Max: Equuleus/Augur Marc: Pyxis Damian: Tunin/Thuban

#maribat #dickinette #dick x marinette #ml x dc

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bobateaboo · 3 years

Text

Ayyy, guess who wrote something again!

Glace gulped as he followed Strings down a hallway. His first time universe hopping alone was going... interesting, to say the least.

Strings was a far cry from any skeleton Glace had ever met. He had one blood red eyelight, and one bright blue, like a computer when it crashes, along with blackened bones and a big crack in his skull.

Those were, of course, not too alarming, but that wasn't including his limbs. His skull seemed to be the only "normal" part of his anatomy, with all that Glace could see of his arms and legs seemingly made from black, well, strings, just a little thicker than yarn. He wore red boots and gloves, seemingly always carrying a bloodstained butchers knife with him.

So that was,, nice. That's fine.

The multiverse could be scary, right? Maybe it wasn't Strings' fault he looked so unsettling, maybe the knife was just for self defense. He had been nice enough to take him here, after all. Unless, this was some sort of trap, somehow,,

It's probably fine.

God, why didn't he bring Macchi or Moonstone? Things never went like this when he was with them.

Glace had been passing between Au's, trying to get back home from Outertale. According to Strings, you needed to ask a group of people called The System to pass through this one place. Which was why they were,, here. Wherever this was.

It didn't seem unpleasent. The place they were in actually had a pretty homey feel to it, with soft blue walls and stars painted on the ceiling, as if the cosmos you could see out every window had simply gotten lonely and needed something to match. And Strings, while unsettling to say the least, had a somewhat protective nature about him, frequently asking if Glace was alright, did he need anything, so on so fourth. It was nice, in a way.

Strings got to the end of the hallway, clearing his throat.

"Hm? Oh, hi!"

The person who greeted them appeared to have been told to wait there in case of a situation like this. He was really, really tall, with short, reddish brown hair, green eyes, and elk-like antlers, one of them broken off from some sort of injury. He leaned down a bit to be some form of eyelevel with the two, still towering over them.

"Do ya need to talk to the boss?" He asked, quirking his head a bit.

Glace relaxed a bit as Strings nodded. He couldn't imagine this person being scary. He was large, sure, but had the energy of a big friendly dog, in a way, with a wide smile and kind eyes.

"Got it! Go right in," He opened the door he was stood by, giving them a nice big smile as they passed through. Glace gave him a shy little wave, nearly tripping over the slight step up at the doorframe. Strings gently caught his arm, pulling him back to balance.

"Oy, Solar." Strings was, well,, still Strings, despite the evident friendliness of this place. His voice didn't sound exactly any kinder than it had earlier. If anything, it sounded more... tense.

Glace blinked as who Stings had addressed looked over. Solar had golden eye lights, one in the shape of a sun, with a halo floated gently above his head, reminding Glace a bit more like rings around a planet than an angel. There were brown scarves wrapped around his wrists and loosely over his shoulders, their ends floating in the air around him. He had a sash across his chest, with gold pins in the shape of a sun, a moon, and a star. He gave them a dazzling smile. Whoa.

"Do you need something?" Oh wow his voice was enchanting. Smooth and a bit melodic.

Strings hunched his shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pockets, tilting his head in Glace's direction. "He needs to get through. Didn't want you sending Saturn after him or some shit."

"Oh?" Solar tilted his head. "Any reason why, dove?"

Glace opened his mouth to explain. (Just going universe hopping, need to get through here to get home. not too hard to say-)

"Any reason why where people are going is any of your damn business?"

Glace blinked, slightly shocked, looking up at Strings. What was that about? "it's, um, really not that big of a deal-"

"Oh for you, it ain't," Strings spat. "But some of us are sick of having to tell this fucking prick exactly what's going on every time we want to pass through here, just because he thinks he's better than everyone!"

Strings stopped talking, suddenly, his eye lights shrinking into pinpricks. Solar was still stood there, his posture still relaxed. The room was eerily silent for a long, long time, with Glace too nervous to break the silence and Strings seemingly too scared to move, until Solar finally spoke.

"Jupiter, would you take our new friend out of the room for a moment, please?"

"h-huh?" Glace looked up as the elk boy started ushering him out of the room. He had never even seen him come in.

"wait, please-" Glace looked back. Strings seemed terrified, his eye lights still shrunk. What was going on?

"I-" Glace started.

"Don't worry, you want to be out of the room right now," Jupiter informed him cheerfully, closing the door behind him. Glace was starting to take note of how that room locked from the outside.

"What-"

Glace was cut off by Jupiter patting him on the head. "Don't worry about it, you won't have to wait too long. Boss is very efficient."

Efficient. What was going on? Strings would do something to tell him if he was in danger, right? He'd yell, or do something loud enough to get be heard through the walls, right? They were only-

soundproofed.

The walls were soundproofed.

Glace had just enough time to feel his soul seemingly drop out of his ribcage when the door opened.

Solar walked out, neatly wiping dust away from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "Now, where were we? You needed to get home, correct?"

Glace didn't remember telling him that. Where was Strings?

Solar gave him another dazzling smile. "Well then, I think we've kept you waiting long enough!"

Solar's scarves swirled, a gold ring tracing in the air in front of Glaze, who took a small, startled step back. Where was Strings.

"There now, that should be just the right place," Solar hummed, his scarves nudging Glace through the portal. "Try to visit me again sometime, dove."

And just like that, the portal closed behind him, leaving Glace alone, in the middle of Snowdin forest, in his very own Au.

. . .

Glace was back to his house in seconds, and even that was far, far, too long.

#tw character death #tw implied cannibalism #Solar #Strings #Glace #Jupiter #Solar's domain #oneshot #my writing

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sherlockfanficwriting · 4 years

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Mycroft “Save her” (x reader)

Summary - You’re spending a casual day with Mycroft until danger strikes. A powerful member of a secret service out for blood. He messes with your mind, twists his words into your actions. Nobody would think it was for you. Nobody knew. Will Mycroft be there in time?

Warnings - violence, angst

A/N - I have been writing pretty angsty stories lately with lots of violence haha that makes me feel weird, but i know you guys like them and I do like them too! I am incorporating more fluff as well. As you can tell from my story of Sherlock “Save her” this is basically the same point, but with Mycroft. I hope you guys like it and send me more requests! Will you know the ending of this story, or will you be fooled? @fanfictionsilove @bakerstreethound @redheaded-hobbit - starting a tag list i think this is how you do it? dm if you want to be in it :)

“I know, I know. He’s come back.”

Mycroft’s voice was cold on the phone. It sent chills up your spine. You didn’t know who he was talking about, but you knew it was someone bad. Someone with who he had a history with. He hung up the phone after a minute and sighed.

“What’s the matter?” You asked him, getting up from the couch in his office. You had known Mycroft for a year, but in all that time it was like you knew him better than yourself. You had also spent a lot of time with it. He mentioned how much he liked it, and you discovered he had feelings for you.

“Someone dangerous. Someone who just wants to hurt me.” You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him. He brought you in closer, hugging you.

“Why? Who would want to hurt you?” Your eyes sparkled in his stare.

“Oh, (Y/N), lots of people. Don’t worry. I’m having it taken care of.” He smiled reassuringly as did you, but you know he didn’t. It was something deeper than that. You didn’t feel as if Mycroft was safe. That was all you wanted for him especially in his job.

He saw how sad you looked and lifted up your chin. “You need to stop worrying about me. I should be worried about you. I have to keep you safe.”

You tried smiling again, but couldn't. Although you loved Mycroft and had been in extremely safe conditions ever since you met him, you couldn’t find yourself liking it, but you knew why he did it. He couldn't bear if anything happened to you.

You squeezed his hand, walking away. All you wanted now was to breathe. You were stressed out, but more of you just wanted to be alone, walking. You grabbed your coat on the couch, putting it on.

Mycroft looked confused. “Where are you going?”

You had to lie. Say something different. “I’m meeting with my friend.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me. Just text me if you need anything.” Surprisingly he said this with confidence. You could count on one hand how many times he did this. You smiled and gave a little wave to him, walking out.

The building where he worked at felt almost ancient. It was like the castle and king area of England inside with old people everywhere. Not that you had anything against them, but you, a beam of youthful rays succumbed to a medieval woman. The other half where Mycroft was was filled with modern appliances with a pure London view. You preferred there better. You walked across the lobby area and out into the world. You loved Mycroft, but nothing beats being with yourself sometimes when you need it. You walked down the desolate road. The wind lightly kissed your face, blowing the fresh air from the sky and the river nearby. You smiled. It felt nice.

You walked along for some time, your hands in your pocket, hair fluttering in the wind. It was an ideal temperature for winter. Just warm, but with a revitalizing cold to keep you sharp. You were near the river now and could see a few boats on the water. Maybe you would go on one. You neared the bridge and stayed to a nook on the street, watching the water. Your arms propped on the platform. You focused on your breathing. It was sad not letting yourself just be alone. Reflecting on your life. You enjoyed it. It was like you were a teenager again, just living, but that didn’t mean you didn’t love Mycroft, in fact you found yourself feeling compulsive just thinking about him. He meant a lot to you, he loved you and couldn’t bear to see you sad or hurt.

“Excuse me?” A fresh American voice said. You whipped your back around, startled. A tall man with cloud blonde hair stood dressed in a dark suit. He had his hands in his pocket and his face was covered with a polite smile. He was in his mid-thirties you assumed.

You gave him a pleasant smile and said, “Is there something you need?”

He took a slow walk next to you and leaned against the platform, staring into the water. His hair flew with the wind. You were patient.

“Well, I’ll be blunt. I’m lost. As you can tell I’m not from this area.”

“I can tell,” you chuckled. “Is there anywhere you want to go?”

The man stood up and looked at you, becoming lost in your eyes. “Show me a few places?” He said with a smile. You honestly wanted to. You felt like you were making a new friend. Why not?

“I don’t even know you,” you remarked cheekily.

The man gave a slight groan. “Chris.” He held out his hand, which you shook.

“That’s it?” You laughed.

“Aw, come on,” he said teasingly. “I know nobody here and only have cash with me.”

“Well I guess I can show you around, but you have to tell me more about yourself as we go.”

He smiled happily. “Agreed.” You started walking up the side of the bridge with him slowly. There was nobody around.

“What are you in the mood for?” You asked him.

“Whatever you really like. Food. Malls. Museums. Anything.”

You scoffed. “Oh, so you’re that guy.”

He scoffed back, pushing you playfully. “Am not! Just trying to be friendly.”

Just by having an interaction with this person, especially a man, reminding you of how you never really interacted with other men except for Mycroft. Were you missing out? Perhaps. It was fun. No boundaries.

“You from here?” He asked you as you approached the upward slope of the bridge.

“I am, but I travel a lot.” You looked at him. He seemed captivated. You looked at his far wrist and let out a small gasp. His wrist was covered with something dark. Dark reddish-brown.

Blood.

He noticed your reaction and a look of panic swept across his face.

“What happened?” You asked him, but he didn’t answer. In a split second, your arms were behind your back and his hand over your mouth. Your head faced up into the endless dark sky, too shocked to know what just happened. In a moment’s time, your sense of reality blackened into a peaceful state of bliss.

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You awoke as if you had been sleeping forever, enjoying every moment of it. You blinked your eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. You were sitting on a hard cold floor. In a few seconds, your vision adjusted to its regular strength and you noticed you were in a rather large room. It was bright and only had a few tables. You couldn’t quite figure out the purpose of the room. The temperature was cool and your body felt light. How did you get here?

Suddenly your memories came flooding back. You looked at your limbs. Nothing was restrained. You were free, but why were you here? Why did Chris, if that was even his name take you here? Why did he do this to you? You panicked just thinking about Mycroft. You had no sense of the time, for all you’ve known it could have been the next day. You slowly stood up, regaining your precious balance.

“Chris?” You called out. Your voice was tired, confused, and weak.

No answer.

You looked around the room. One door. You slowly walked to it, regaining your composure. You tried the handle, but it was locked. You groaned. You couldn’t figure this out.

“Chris?” You called out again, walking around the room. You shuffled in your pockets for your phone, but it wasn’t there.

Suddenly you heard doors opening. You whipped around and saw Chris emerging from the shadows. He looked different from before, angrier, more serious. Sadistic.

“Hello, (Y/N).” His voice was blank and emotionless.

“Why did you take me here? I don’t even know you. What did I do?”

Chris walked slowly, his hands behind his back. “I’m not Chris.”

What?

“Who are you?”

“That’s not important. You are. I know Mycroft. He won’t be happy when we’re finished.”

Your heart dropped to your toes. You knew who he was now. He was Mycroft’s enemy, who he had been after back and forth and now he had you. You didn’t even know what to do. Stay calm?

“Whatever that is has nothing to do with me,” you stated. He simply looked at you like you were a fool.

“It does.” He pulled out something from his pocket. A knife. Your eyes widened and you froze. You simply couldn’t move. He walked faster to you, but you were stuck. He pushed his way into you to the wall and pointed the knife into your neck, causing you to wince.

“Let’s test your pain today, and as you should know, I always win.”

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“I don’t know where she is, Sherlock, it’s been hours!” Mycroft screamed into the phone. He was pacing around his office ever since you left. He immediately regretted it and didn’t know why he let you do it. You weren’t answering your phone and he had a bad feeling.

“I know! I’ll call you later. Track what you can.” He hung up and sat on his chair, burying his face into his hands. He was worried. He couldn't live like this. The whole time he knew you, he spent all his time making sure you were loved and safe. It was his job, and he liked it.

Mycroft stood up and grabbed his coat. He sped out of his office, angry and worried. He walked out the doors and into the parking lot, stepping into his car. He turned it on and just drove.

He drove to your house. Your favorite store. Your favorite cafe. Nothing. As he continued this, growing more anxious by the minute, he received a phone call. What he heard turned on all his instincts of a man.

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You shook at the bottom of the wall. Your neck bleeding from his forceful pinch. He made a half-circle around you, clutching the knife, staring ahead. You couldn’t move. You were terrified.

“I should have killed him the chance I got. He’ll be here. I can’t wait to see the look on your face.”

Tears fled your eyes as he said this. “You’re the one who’s going to die. You’re a horrible person!”

He crouched down to your level and looked unamused. “Do you have the slightest idea who I am?” With these words said, he quickly slid the knife against your neck, pouring immense amounts of blood out and onto your white top. You moaned in pain and began crying.

“You’re pathetic. How could he choose someone like you?”

Your neck hurt you, but that hurt you even deeper. “I’m...smart.” He scoffed at you. It was true. Mycroft was always impressed by you, but you were a different smart.

“Why are you doing this to me? What happened with you and Mycroft?”

The man stared you down like you were trash. He put his hand in his other pocket, shifting around. You held your breath, hoping Mycroft would find you soon. The man pulled out a minigun as a sadistic smile was painted across his face. Your stomach moved around out of nervousness.

“He betrayed me.” His voice was full of powerful anger.

“How?” You asked, trying to dig deeper.

He ignored your question and continued looking at you. All of a sudden he rushed close to you, holding the shotgun tight in his hand. All he did was stare you down. He quickly picked you up by the arm, dragging you to the center of the room and threw you on the ground. You couldn’t do anything. You had no weapons. You weren’t strong.

“Please,” you cried.

He laughed evilly, raising the gun up at you.

“You don’t know betrayal. Mycroft doesn’t know betrayal. You don’t know pain.”

You stared back at him, your body shaking nervously. Your life was flashing before your eyes.

“I do.”

He clenched the gun tighter in his hand when suddenly a loud boom was heard. You both directed your gaze to the door. Your heart lifted when you saw who was there. Mycroft with his men. His mouth slightly opened when he saw you and the situation and you could see his knees weakening, but he regained himself. You looked at Chris. He still had the gun pointed at you but kept his eyes on Mycroft.

“You don’t have to do this Chris,” Mycroft said.

Chris stretched his neck around. “Actually I do.”

You saw Mycroft’s men emerge behind him. They were carrying guns and directed them to Chris who didn’t show any fear. He looked as if he was alive. You looked at Mycroft, but he couldn’t bear to look at you.

“Chris. You don’t. I know wh-.”

The sound of a gun being fired erupted through the whole building, following a second shot. You looked at your shirt. You saw a pool of redness expanding by the second.

“(Y/N)!” Mycroft came rushing to you. You felt no pain. You were shocked. Across from you lied Chris’s body. Lifeless. Mycroft came to you, wrapping his arms around you. You tried to stand up, surprising him and yourself. You weren’t sure why you did it. You managed to stand up, but the pain immediately took over your body, causing you to fall, but Mycroft caught you. Tears filled through the outer corners of your eyes.

Mycroft lifted you up effortlessly, carrying you somewhere. “Where is my ambulance?” He shouted, demanding an answer. Your head bobbed as he ran to and fro.

“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” His voice was shaky and full of sadness. You felt bad as if this was your fault. Maybe it was.

“Don’t worry.” You squeezed his arm lovingly. Whatever you did or said caused him to groan in agony. Your pain was immense. It took over your movements, but not your thoughts.

Suddenly you saw a bright sky as Mycroft stepped outside and up a step. You saw white ceilings and heard men talking.

An ambulance.

“Can you drive any faster?” Mycroft screamed, raging inside. He came to your side, holding your hand tightly and leaning his forehead into your neck. You smiled, offering him comfort. Mycroft explained to you everything and how much he loved you, causing you to shed a tear. All you can do was listen and hope it wasn’t the end of it all.

“Mycroft.”

He leaned in close and looked into your eyes. “What is it?”

“I think this is it.”

He clenched your hand tighter and wrapped his arm around you.

“No. No, don’t say that. You’re doing fine. We’re almost there. You - you can’t leave me. Don’t leave me.” He started crying harder. You felt terrible, but you knew it was near. Blackness encompassed your vision. You squeezed his hand and soon released it when all your energy diminished. The last thing you heard was the most horrible scream let out by anyone you ever knew. Your heart shook.

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You awoke to the unfamiliar sound of a steady beep. Your eyes were light. You opened them effortlessly and were welcomed by a pure white hospital room. You looked down at your body. You were wearing a gown and felt something on your stomach. Probably was a bandage. You felt pain but tried to remember everything. You heard someone.....breathing. You turned your head away to the side of the room.

Mycroft was sitting on a chair close to your bed with his head leaning on one of his hands, sleeping. You could see increased worry wrinkles on his face as well as dark circles under his eyes. You hesitated whether to wake him up or let him be.

“Psst,” you quietly said, doubting he would hear this, but as soon as the words left your mouth, he opened his eyes and darted up. He looked at you and his eyes widened. Quicker than lightning, he rushed to your side, burying his face in your chest, wrapping his arms around you. He was hurting you, but you didn’t care.

“I thought I lost you,” he said, looking at you. “I’m sorry.” You sadly said.

He took your soft face in his hands, gazing into your eyes.

“Don’t be. You’re my priority and will always be. I couldn’t live without you.”

You held his arms lovingly and both looked into each other’s eyes admiring one another, but enjoying the miracle.

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darlinvandijk · 4 years

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Thrift Shop

Concept: request where “Ruel cleaning out his closet and accidentally giving his favorite hoodie (some limited edition shit) to a local thrift shop. Then one day he sees you in *that* hoodie and politely asks you if he could have it back. you have no idea who he is, but after some time, you get to know him better, and catch some feelings.” Dm me and whatnot for requests and I’ll be happy to comply! (This is really fucking long lol) I hope you enjoy :)

I slowly walk through the rows of clothing in my absolute favorite thrift shop, letting my fingers graze against the clothes, feeling all of the different textures and fabrics. I came here to buy a suede skirt for my mother’s annual Holiday party, but so far I have about 5 pieces of clothing and a hat, a hat that I’ll probably never wear. I’m strolling through the men’s section, trying to make my way across the store to dresses, when my eyes catch a muted reddish brown crewneck. I pull out the sweater, eyeing the “Holy Spirit” black writing across the front of it, before ultimately deciding its going to be added to my ever growing pile of clothes. I finally get everything I need, go up to the register, and pull out my card to pay for everything I impulsively bought. The cashier, who’s gotten to know me and become one of my best friends over the last few months of me always being here, looks at my stuff and sends me a small smile, before looking at the sweater and grinning.

“We actually just got this one in today, you should have seen the guy that donated it” he muses, folding everything up and placing it into a bag for me. I raise an eyebrow at him, intrigued by what he found so interesting about the mystery donor. He watches my expression and lets out a chuckle.

“Jake you have to tell me now, what was so great about him?” I question curiously, wanting to know why my friend had such a mischievous smile on his face. He passes me the bag and receipt before dramatically leaning on the counter and letting out a sigh, throwing his head back for effect.

“Sweets he was the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, like he could take me anywhere and anytime, and honestly definitely your type” Jake draws out, causing me to choke on air before laughing. I let him fan himself dramatically for a couple more seconds before rolling my eyes and laughing at my dramatic but great friend.

“Okay jake if you’re done losing your shit, I shall be on my way. Don’t forget this weekend though, you and Ali are supposed to bring the snacks since I’m hosting movie night” I remind him, about the deal our friend group made for our weekly movie night, completely ignoring his fascination over the unknown guy. He nods his head and waves bye as I make my way out of the store and back to my apartment, thinking about how I can put all my new clothes to use. ———

It’s been a few days since I went thrifting and today I decided to finally head out to the shops, wearing my new favorite sweater. I paired the Holy Spirit sweater with a pair of shorts and some black vans, before deciding the outfit was decent enough to be out in public in.

I make it to the shops and stroll around, looking at the setups in the windows, the different cafes and pastry shops, and all the various stores just begging me to spend my money there. I decide to make a quick stop at a cute little pastry place, sitting outside with my drink and chocolate croissant. As I sit outside at one of the tables enjoying the nice weather and hearing the chatter of the families strolling around, I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn around in my seat, coming face to face with someone’s stomach, before having to completely tilt my head back in order to make eye contact with the random but extremely tall stranger. I freeze a little upon making eye contact with the gorgeous green eyed male, before throwing him a confused look since he obviously had something to say.

“Hey I hope I’m not bothering you, but uh this might be weird, like really weird actually, but uhm can I ask you a question? Did you thrift that sweater?” He asks with a crooked nervous smile, looking me over, spending a little bit longer on my sweater before looking back into my eyes. I slightly blush at his unwavering gaze at me, from not only being put on the spot, but from being flustered by the attention of such an attractive guy. I then take in the question he asked, becoming perpelxed that he came all the way up to me to ask about the very worn out sweater.

“Yeah? Why?” I question, throwing him a small smile, not wanting to come off too awkward or blunt to him. He gives me a boyish one back before taking another long look at my sweater, nervously wringing his hands in front of him, and slightly shifiting from foot to foot. I catch on to his anxious behavior and motion to the seat in front of me, blushing at the smile he throws me before taking the seat. He takes a deep breath before looking me in the eyes with an apprehensive expression.

“Can I have that sweater?” He blurts out completely catching me off guard, while also catching himself off guard by the apparent blush that rises to his cheeks. I stare at him with my mouth partially opened, unsure on what to say to his abrupt question. Like I barely know the guy, he might be attractive but I’m not going to strip right here for him to have this sweater. I slightly tilt my head to the side as I watch him let out a groan and cover his face with his hands.

“So I don’t know you and honestly have no clue what to say. Like well no, because I don’t have another shirt to wear, and also no because I bought it and don’t usually give my clothes to random people? Like I’m not about to strip here for a random guy?” I slowly speak, trying to figure out how to reply to him, still confused by this whole situation. He takes a deep breath at my answer before running a hand through his hair, causing my breathing to stutter for a second. He looks up at me and throws me a smirk, catching on to my reaction, making my face instantly heat up.

“That wasn’t the way I was going to ask, it just came out, but like please I’ll do anything to get that sweater back, I’ll even go buy you a new shirt right now ” the boy pleads, with big round eyes and a slightly pouted bottom lip. He pulls out a wallet and sets it on the table, giving me a look of pure desperation. I honestly have no clue what this guys deal is with this sweater, like did he say he wanted it back when I never took it from him in the first place?

“You want it back? But like I don’t know you so there’s no way I took it from you” I explain watching him bounce his leg anxiously, biting at his bottom lip. He starts to turn pink, seeming almost embarrassed to explain his situation with my sweater.

“Here’s the thing, I donated a lot to the thrift store, but I had no clue that my favorite sweater got put into the pile. Like that sweater is really valuable and also has a lot of sentimental value to me. I’ll pay you for it if that’s what it takes” he rushes out, eyes locked on the sweater, before looking at me with a nervous look. I look at the sweater, then to his wallet, then back to him, before deciding what my final decision is.

“I don’t know you at all, like I don’t even know your name, so I feel weird on giving you something I just bought, but I also don’t want to take your money. Why don’t we get to like know each other and then I can decide on if i believe the story and if I’ll give you the sweater” I reason, watching a grin blossom across his face at my words, before nodding his head vigorously, making me throw my head back and laugh at his excitement.

“Deal, how about we start with something simple. My names Ruel, what’s yours?” He asks, with a sincere look of genuine interest as he waits for my reply, I smile before holding my hand out, ready to finally introduce myself to the beautiful guy in front of me. ———

“You’re kidding me? There’s no way that’s true” I snort out, watching Ruel give me an incredulous look from his spot on my couch. He scoffs as he looks at me, throwing me a betrayed glare, trying his hardest to not smile. It’s been two months since I met him on that fateful sunny day, two months of inside jokes and shared stories, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have him in my life.

“For you information it IS true, I met Tyler and literally ran away from him after introducing myself, I was too nervous” he explains, laughing at the look I give him, before seating myself next to him, handing him his takeout container, both of us getting ready to binge on some Netflix movies, like we usually do on each other’s free days. He sends me a small smile and grabs a blanket, pulling it over the both of us, saying it’s protection from the cold and possible falling noodles if we drop any. We enjoy each other’s company in silence, with comments every now and then, our food finished with only the empty cartons on the coffee table, when he makes a move leaving me completely flustered.

He shifts a little, his left side completely pressed against my right side now, before setting an arm on the back of the couch, slowly moving it down until it rests upon my shoulders. I look up at him to see him already watching me, his green doe eyes and rosy cheeks waiting for my reaction, before I softly smile and turn to rest my back against his chest. He lets out a quiet chuckle, moving his arm down to wrap around my waist, holding me as we watch the rest of Spider-Man. This is the first time he’s made a move on me like this, like yeah we’ve had our moments of flirting and being a little touchy, but he’s never genuinely made a move. I smile as I think about how he might like me, the way I’ve grown to like him, shocked that he wasn’t just being friendly during all those fleeting touches we’ve shared. Shocked that maybe the feelings were mutual.

As the movie comes to an end, I notice the way our position has changed throughout it, at some point we must’ve shifted because I’m currently resting on his chest as he lays down across the couch. His hands rest on my back, one resting on my bare skin underneath my sweater, the sweater that actually made this whole friendship possible. He shifts once the final credits start to roll, sitting up and pulling me with him. I make a move to get off his lap, but he places his hands on my hips and holds me in place. He gives me a nervous grin, much like the one he gave when we first met, and reaches up to move some of my hair behind my ear. He lets his hand linger against my cheek for a second, before putting it back onto my hip.

“So I don’t know how to say this.. because I truly value our friendship and would hate to fuck it up.” He spits out, breaking the silence with his anxious statement. I give him a small smile, lifting a hand timidly to smooth out the wrinkles forming between his eyebrows. He stops furrowing them and just watches as I lay my hand against his cheek, feeling it heat up instantly.

“I don’t think anything you say can ruin our friendship, just go ahead and say it” I softly tell him, hoping to ease up any of the nervousness he feels, starting to get anxious myself on what has him so shy all of a sudden. He nods his head and take a deep breath, before looking up into my eyes and giving me the cute boyish grin I’ve come to love. I start to blush under his gaze, not being able to read the emotion that’s filling his eyes.

“I really like you, like I mean really fucking like you. I get it if it’s not reciprocated, we can just pretend this never happened, but I just needed to tell you. I’m really falling for you” Ruel whispers out, looking away from my eyes, too scared to see the look on my face. I can feel his hands shaking as they hold my hips, filled with fear of rejection. I stop breathing for a second, not being able to comprehend that he actually likes me in a way as more than friends. I let out a quiet laugh watching his eyes snap to mine in confusion, before I throw my arms around his neck, and hold him as tight as I can.

“I’m falling for you too” I softly whisper out, my face still pressed into the crook of his neck. I feel his body shake as he lets out a laugh of pure happiness, completely elated that he not only didn’t ruin a friendship, but that his feelings were wholeheartedly shared. We sit in silence for a little bit, just enjoying the peace and happiness filling the air around us. He pulls back so he can see my face, glancing down at my lips and the back to my eyes, slowly leaning in before connecting our lips in a soft yet sweet kiss. He pulls away and rests his forehead against mine, leaning in to place a few chaste kisses, causing me to let out a laugh. I watch his eyes light up in awe upon hearing the gleeful laugh leave my mouth, happy that he’s the one making me so happy.

“Sooo does this make you my girlfriend?” He asks slowly, not too sure where to go next after making the main move. I give him a smirk, laughing at the way he instantly becomes weary at my expression.

“Hmmm no” I sarcastically reply, watching his eyes widen before they form into a glare, catching on to my underlying sarcasm. He scoffs and instantly tackles me into the couch, landing on top of me and pressing kisses all over my face, making me shriek out at the sudden attack. He pulls away a little so that his face hovers above mine, giving me the softest smile before leaning down and pressing his lips to the tip of my nose. We smile at each other, both of us mentally agreeing that this is the start of our relationship. ———

“Hey baby, can I ask you something?” Ruel asks anxiously from my kitchen, where he’s currently on the search for the Cheetos he left here. I glance up from my place on the couch, waiting for him to go on with whatever his question is, before finally coming to the conclusion that I’ll need to verbally reply before he can finally spit out his question.

“Yeah?” I question, throwing him a small smile, not wanting to make my poor boyfriend even more nervous than he already was. He gives me a boyish one back before taking another long look at my sweater, nervously wringing his hands in front of him, and slightly shifiting from foot to foot. I catch on to his anxious behavior and motion to the seat next to me, blushing at the beautiful smile he throws me before taking the seat. He takes a deep breath before looking me in the eyes with an apprehensive expression. As I look at him I feel a strange sense of deja vu, almost like this had happened before.

“Can I have that sweater?” He blurts out completely catching me off guard, while also catching himself of guard by the apparent blush that rises to his cheeks. I stare at him with my mouth partially opened, unsure on what to say to my idiot of a boyfriend. Like he might be attractive but I’m not going to strip right now just for him to have this sweater back. I slightly tilt my head to the side as I watch him let out a groan and cover his face with his hands.

“Sorry I don’t give clothes to random people” I jokingly reply, watching the look of realization cross his face. He walks over to the couch and lifts me up, placing me on top of his lap with a sly grin. I wearily watch him, completely unsure on what his next move will be, he’s literally so unpredictable. He leans forward and gives me a kiss, sliding his hands under my sweater, and letting them roam across my skin. As the kiss becomes heated, I notice the way his hands seem to be less touchy and more focused on the sweater. I instantly pull away from Ruel and send him a glare, catching on to his sneaky little plan.

“Ruel you asshole, did you only kiss me right now to try and get the sweater off me?” I snap out, watching the guilty grin that spreads across his face. He laughs as I continue to glare at him, placing his hands on my waist and rubbing soft circles into my skin, enveloping me in warmth with his touch. I continue to glare at him, not wanting to let him off the hook so fast, even though I can already feel my stubbornness melting away.

“You had told me that you wouldn’t strip for a random guy, but I’m not random anymore baby. You’re looking at your boyfriend who is kindly pleading with you to give it back, I’ll even give you a different sweater of mine or even take you to buy a new sweater” He pleads, watching the look of mischief cross over my face at his words. He lets out a groan, realizing he just practically made a deal with the devil himself. I excitedly flash him a grin, feeling my cheeks heat up in pure excitement for what’s to come.

“Time to go to the Thrift Shop” I screech out in glee, causing Ruel to instantly press his face against my chest in defeat. I mean it’s his fault really, maybe he should double check piles before donating.

#ruelvincentvandijk #ruel van dijk #one ruel #ruel #ruel one shot #ruel imagines #ruel imagine #imagine #imagines #one shot #x reader #free time ep #ruel fanfic

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onemuseleft · 4 years

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Meet Cute fic, Zhao Yunlan/Shen Wei, 1/1

Another prompt from the Meet Cute Prompt List, this one for @flange5 who asked for #7: You both do the side-to-side dance when you try to pass them in the grocery store aisle.

Title: Meet Cute 7 Fandom: Guardian Pairing: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan - no-Dixing AU, alternate first meeting Rating: PG mostly for ZYL’s lecherous thoughts and slightly gratuitous use of the word ‘fuck’ Warnings: none

Zhao Yunlan had met his match.

It was a little embarrassing that after ten years on the force, three of them as the Chief of the Special Investigations Department, after surviving the Triads, domestic disputes, assassination attempts, one persistant stalker and a literal serial killer, he was meeting his match in the produce department of the local organic grocery store.

He sighed. Fucking fussy Da Qing and his fucking fussy snack foods.

Giving the display of vegetables one last look, he gave up trying to figure out which kind of mushroom Da Qing wanted and turned away only to walk straight into someone’s push cart.

“Shit,” he said, catching himself against the edge of the cart bin. His own handbasket clattered against the cart, causing even more of a racket than Zhao Yunlan had originally. “Sorry!” He steadied himself and let go of the cart, backing up a little to get out of the way-

-and backing right into the produce display behind him.

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him upright the instant before he would have fallen and ended up sitting in a pile of organic produce. “Are you all right?” a strong voice asked. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have tried to get through the aisle while you were browsing. I thought there would be enough room.”

Zhao Yunlan huffed a self-deprecating little laugh. “I think the problem was that I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry about that.” He shifted the basket to his left arm and held his right out for a shake. “Zhao Yunlan,” he said, and looked up at his rescuer.

The man pushing the cart Zhao Yunlan had almost killed himself over offered him a kind smile and took his hand. “Shen Wei,” said the most beautiful man Zhao Yunlan had ever laid eyes on.

He was pretty, there was just no other way to put it. His hair was a deep, dark brown with reddish highlights, shiny even under the supermarket fluorescent lights, and, Zhao Yunlan couldn’t help but think, just long enough for someone to really run their hands through and mess it up. His eyes were dark behind the thin wire frames of his glasses, with just a spark of good humor at Zhao Yunlan’s clumsiness but offset by a general air of kindness. His smile was genuine and friendly. His lips were pink and moist and Zhao Yunlan wanted to do things to them.

He was dressed kind of prep for Zhao Yunlan’s taste - although he’d dated a few business types in the past and messing up their prim and proper attire had always been some of the most fun he’d had. Shen Wei didn’t look like a businessman, exactly. He was wearing a cornflower blue vest with a cream and blue plaid pattern and tiny, precise buttons that made Zhao Yunlan’s fingers twitch a little with the urge to touch. His shirt was a crisp white and he wore a cravat - a fucking cravat - in some kind of deep blue and white pattern at this throat, just peeking out from behind the collar of his shirt.

And sleeve garters. The same cornflower blue as his vest, with gleaming silver clasps. Zhao Yunlan had seen sleeve garters before but he’d never considered them sexy until right this very moment. Possibly because they’d always been on old, grouchy Ministry officials before, and not stretched enticingly tight around what looked like a truly gorgeous bicep.

Actually the rest of him looked pretty fucking enticing, now that Zhao Yunlan had looked. His shoulders were straight and strong, his chest solid, his waist trim. His suit pants had a plaid effect as well, Zhao Yunlan noticed, dark blue on dark blue that you only noticed at the right angle.

Zhao Yunlan was struck by the sudden and somewhat unusual urge to take this man home and strip every single piece of clothing off him.

“Thanks for the rescue,” he said, pitching his voice just a little lower and tipping his head so he could look at Shen Wei through his lashes. “I’m lucky such a strong person was there to save me.”

Shen Wei’s smile widened into a smirk. “Save you from a hefty produce bill, perhaps,” he said. His voice was dry, and he looked like he thought Zhao Yunlan’s flirting was mostly amusing, but he wasn’t walking away either.

His hand was still clasped in Zhao Yunlan’s, which they both seemed to notice at the same moment. Zhao Yunlan let his fingers brush against Shen Wei’s as they parted, and noticed the way Shen Wei’s cheeks flushed slightly at the gentle touch.

Oh yeah. The hottie was definitely interested.

Zhao Yunlan figured he had about five seconds to come up with an excuse for them to keep talking or he was going to have to watch this man walk away from him (he very firmly did not let himself think about what this guy’s ass would look like in those tailored pants). He glanced down at the cart and saw several bundles of fresh vegetables, fruit, flour - aside from the bottle of sesame oil, nothing processed or pre-packaged. A health nut maybe, or at least the kind of guy who cooked his own meals. Or whose partner cooked their meals, but Zhao Yunlan ruthlessly strangled that thought to death and kicked its corpse under the metaphorical couch. This guy was single until he said otherwise.

“Mushrooms,” Zhao Yunlan said.

Shen Wei blinked at him. “Mushrooms?” he asked.

“Yes. Mushrooms!” Zhao Yunlan held up Da Qing’s shopping list. “You look like you know a thing or two about cooking. Could you help me? I’m supposed to buy mushrooms for my roommate, but he didn’t tell me what kind and there are-” he gestured toward the plethora of mushrooms behind him. “There are a lot. And I suspect if I get the wrong kind it will make a difference.”

“It could, yes.” Shen Wei pushed his cart to the far side of the aisle where it wouldn’t block any more space that necessary, and then came around to stand at Zhao Yunlan’s side, just close enough that their arms brushed a little. It sent a bolt of warmth through Zhao Yunlan, half arousal and half the silly, almost giddy feeling of flirtation he hadn’t had in years. Not since school, at least. Maybe longer.

It felt… nice. He liked it. He wanted to see if he could like Shen Wei.

“What are the mushrooms for?” Shen Wei asked and Zhao Yunlan had to blink a moment and remind himself what they were doing.

“Hot pot,” he said. “He needs them for the broth, he said, but it didn’t occur to me to ask for more information than that. I don’t cook a lot,” he added.

Shen Wei glanced down at the contents of his basket - a bag of his favorite anti-smoking aids, a bag of coffee, a half dozen packs of instant noodles, frozen dough for youtiao, a box of the fancy chocolate cookies his mom had loved and which Zhao Yunlan always bought as a treat around her birthday, a box of green bean cakes, and several packages of dried squid. “I see that,” he said in a tone of deep concern. “This isn’t very well-rounded.”

“I order take-out a lot,” Zhao Yunlan assured him.

The furrow between Shen Wei’s brows only deepened. “He probably wants shitake for the broth, but there are a number of possibilities. Did he give you a list? Perhaps I can determine what he needed based on the other ingredients.”

Da Qing had done nothing of the sort. “He asked me to pick up a couple of other things - maybe we should just get a selection?” It would be worth having a month’s worth of mushrooms littering up the fridge if it meant he could keep Shen Wei around long enough to get his phone number. “Do you think you could help me pick some out? If you have time,” he added. “If your spouse is waiting for you to get home for dinner, I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

Shen Wei gave him a slow once over out of the corner of his eyes. It was deliberate, and appraising, and one of the hottest things Zhao Yunlan had ever had done to him. This guy was pushing all of his buttons and he still had all his clothes on. Zhao Yunlan found himself holding his breath. “No spouse,” Shen Wei said finally. The corner of his mouth curled up in a pleased little smile. “I’ll help you finish your shopping, on one condition.”

“Yeah?” Zhao Yunlan’s brain conjured up some truly inappropriate ways of demonstrating his gratitude.

“Meet me for lunch tomorrow,” Shen Wei said. “If you’re free. You can bring me the leftovers and we’ll see if my mushroom selection proved fruitful.”

Zhao Yunlan had picked up guys before, met women in bars, run into handsome and beautiful strangers who caught his interest. He’d never had a lunch invitation set his heart pounding and make his stomach flutter like he’d just won the lottery and been crowned king all in one moment.

“It’s a date,” he said.

#guardian #zhen hun #weilan #nightwalker writes #my fic #meet-cute #alternate first meeting #Zhao Yunlan can flirt with anyone anywhere #This is a bit more of an exception for Shen Wei

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thedragonwitchesau · 3 years

Text

Chapter Five

The Painting

Wattpad

Table of Contents

I'd like to give a quick shoutout to my new writing/editing buddy Carl for listening to me read this aloud, and giving me the motivation to finish this chapter!

Patton sighed, and started again. “They don’t hate you in particular, it’s just that a lot of Dragon-Witches have bad feelings towards humans. Some gather in groups to hunt us, and, well, you can’t really say you approve of a species that does that, can you?”

Roman nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt.

“Hey, why don’t we play Patton-cake?”

Roman looked at him. “What’s that?”

Patton laughed, and smirked. “You’ll see. Now, go dip all of your fingers in candle wax.”

Roman smiled, leaning up against Patton’s cottage. The weather was just so perfect. The air was crisp, the breeze was soft, and the sun was casting a golden glow over the whole area. He just wanted to stay out here forever and write his novel, but something in the back of his mind reminded him that he had other things to do.

Mainly, win over Virgil and Logan. If he could just get them on his side, he could finally make it into Draconison. He could finally achieve his goal.

So novel writing would have to be sidelined for now, and he would have to put all of his focus on formatting a plan. He couldn’t allow anything to interrupt him.

“Hey kiddo! You busy?”

…

Well, Patton was an exception, right?

He thought for a moment, then looked up. “No, not really. Did you need anything?”

“Actually, me, Logan and Virgil had plans to go to a lake not too far from here. I was wondering if you wanted to join us?”

Roman’s smile widened. This was perfect! He could try and earn the other’s trust while having a fun time at a lake!

“That’d be wonderful!”

“And by the way,” The shorter one added, “do you have any swimming clothes?”

The knight thought for a bit, realizing he hadn’t gone swimming in… almost ten years?

“No,” he admitted.

“That’s alright!” Patton said. “I think I have some spares in my room.” He quickly motioned for Roman to follow him, then went inside.

He gathered up his novel pages, and then jogged in after him, placing them down on the table. He saw Patton disappearing up the stairs, so he went the same way.

Unlike his room, which was on the left side of the hall, the Dragon-Witch’s was on the right, with a door the same shade as his house. Patton held it open for him, and he looked around.

The room was just like Patton, bright and cheery. There was a large bed in the corner with a soft-looking pale-yellow blanket, a small bookshelf filled with spell books right beside it. The wall in front of him had a window with a few succulent plants in cute vases on the windowsill. Instead of candles or torches like most buildings Roman was used to, there were small glowing orbs of light clustered all around the room. To the right was a wall filled with paintings of Patton and what Roman assumed to be his family, or his friends.

He looked over to the painting in the center of the wall and let out a small gasp.

There were two women in the back of the painting. The woman on the left had light brown hair, green eyes, and a bright smile. She had pale yellow wings and was wearing a white shirt (or dress, he couldn’t tell) with a white witch’s hat. She was holding hands with the other, who was quite different.

This Dragon-Witch had dark skin, and black hair pulled up in a bun. Her wings were a very dark navy, almost black, and she was wearing a gray turtleneck and glasses. Her expression seemed cold, but then he took a step forward. The human noticed that the corner of her mouth was turned upwards, slightly, and that she seemed to have a twinkle in her eye.

Sitting in front of them were two people. The first one was a mirror-image of Patton, the only difference being his slightly darker hair, white wings, and brown robes. He had the same friendly smile on his face, and Roman thought he was the type of person who wouldn’t hesitate to give you a hug.

Next to him was the second Dragon-Witch. He had tan skin, brown eyes, and black hair. He had a smug smirk on his face and looked like he knew something that someone else didn’t. He had a tail that was a kind of sienna color and was wearing a black robe with a brown leather bag.

And then there was the final Dragon-Witch. She was laying on her side in front of them all, one hand supporting her head and the other on her hip. She had a joyful expression, green eyes and reddish-brown hair. Her wings were a bit of a darker magenta, and she had a slightly poofy cream-colored dress with rainbow elements.

He knew this painting. He knew what it was, and he knew that it shouldn’t be here. Right?

By this time, Patton had noticed him looking at it, and came over. “Do you like it?”

The second man turned to him. “Yeah… where did you get it?”

“Oh, my dad gave it to me a few years ago. It’s a picture of him and his friends from when he was a bit younger.”

Roman froze. What?

“Anyways,” Patton continued, holding out a pair of swimming trunks, “Will this work?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, not really knowing, and not really caring all that much. He quickly grabbed them, and went over to his room, thinking of those four words, and trying to figure out how in the world they were possible.

So. New chapter! Oh my gosh, I am so sorry that I haven't updated in a while. But I think I've finally solved my plot/ship problems, so chapters should be a bit more frequent. (although, now I do have real life school, so let's hope I can find time in between that...) Anyways, if you liked this, please re-blog, and let me know your general feedback as well as any spelling or grammar mistakes that I may have made! Have a great day/night everyone! -Pencil (also, if it wasn't clear, Carl is a stuffed turtle.)

#dragon-witches #sanders sides au #roman sanders #patton sanders #the dragon witches by pencil-is-my-sword #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction

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nickdempsey · 4 years

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Jason Stross vs The Multiverse

So some quick context, fellow Tumblr user @cratmang created an SU character, Conga Tourmaline, an interdimensional traveler that travels through and studies the Alternate Universes of Steven Universe.

They currently have two posts on her on their blog, which goes into better detail on her character.

So I reached out to them and asked if it would be ok to write a quick thing where my character Jason Stross meets her.

They said yes, and the result is an SU OC that isnt an SU OC being tied into an alternate version of @ask-whitepearl-and-steven, an alternate version of @lab-raised-steven, a hint of @revolver-d‘s Black Pearl, an even smaller hint of Symbiotic Titan, and topped off with Doom.

And some Trailer Park Boys for good measure.

Without further ado, I hope you read this and enjoy. lol

_ _ _ _ _

It was clear that Jason was in some sort of space station. Where said station was on the other hand, was the real mystery.

Any time he would have a chance to see through the windows available, all he would see is a thick fog of grey and orange. While he wasn’t sure where he was, one thing was clear.

He surely wasn’t on Earth.

Whoever it was that did abduct him, was of a background he was unfamiliar with, as the technological architecture in no way resembles that of anything he had ever seen. It was still Alien.

With all of that said, however, he was unsure if the unknown entity, or entities, were hostile.

He was stripped of his armor and equipment, leaving him in only his Second Skin suit. If whoever was keeping him here wanted to kill him, chances were he would have already been dead before awaking.

As he walked through the space station, one thing he saw more of were speakers, practically outlining the hallways and rooms of the large structure. Some such speakers, in the distance, seemed to be functioning.

Jason began to travel down the massive hall, toward the other far off end to investigate the source of the noise. As he stepped closer to the source of the sound, which all conveyed in a large lit room in what seemed to be the center of the station, it seemed as if the sound itself was music.

Jason stood confused as he began to recognize the sound. It seemed like familiar music, which more or less seemed to confuse him even more. The guitar strums from the music made it sound like the Earth genre of music known as “Country”.

As Jason approached the main room, he reached down to his thigh, almost out of muscle memory, to retrieve his blaster, only to be reminded that all he had was the Second Skin suit on him.

He had to be careful, as he was not 100% positive that his “host” was friendly. He continued to silently step into the room.

What he saw was a single figure, dancing along with the music. Their back was turned to Jason, so they did not notice him.

The figure in question, was nearly covered in green. Their four arms moving carelessly in the air along with the beat of the music. Jason wasn’t sure if what was at the top of her head was either a hat or hair, but the green object made sure that they stood a good two feet above him. At first glance, Jason would have guessed that the figure floated, but after further examination, it appeared to be standing on metallic legs.

As Jason stepped forward to the figure, almost on cue as he came close to six feet, the figure turned around, still following the beat of the music. It was then Jason saw the few view of them, their long pointy nose, their goggles shielding their three glowing green eyes, and the headphones over their ears.

It was odd, other features of his captor made it seemed as if they were a Gem. That said, as he got closer to them, their suit seemed to be of other origin than Homeworld. As he got a closer look at their legs, he saw that they were much smaller than expected. The legs seemed to have ended in rather small and sharp points.

The headphones they wore were probably more for show due to the already blasting music, which didn’t turn off, only lowered in volume significantly as the figure recognized the human in their presence.

“Oh excellent!” The figure said as she clapped her four hands together. “You’re awake.” She giggled as she walked past him quickly. “I bet you hear that one a lot.”

Her voice was oddly cheery, seeming to be more focused on the excitement of the music. The most noteworthy factor of her voice was that it seemed as if it were of three different people speaking in unison.

Some of her arms were still flailing the in air to the music as she reached into a nearby drawer to dig through the container.

“No… no… not it.” She kept saying as she rummaged through. “Aha!” She said as she pulled put a round glass bottle of a reddish-brown clear liquid. She returned to Jason, who realized a bow was wrapped onto the neck of the bottle.

“Welcome, Jason Stross!” The Green figure said, as she handed Jason the bottle. “To my Studio!”

Jason took the offered glass bottle, still keeping his eye on the figure welcoming him. As he looked down at the label of the glass container, the description of the contents caught his eye. He looked back up. “Is this-?”

“Coaxian Brandy.” The Figure interrupted with a smile. “Pre-Genesis. Very rare.” She explained. She then extended one of her hands out to Jason. “We apologize, Jason. Please allow me to introduce ourselves, Conga Tourmaline, Interdimensional Traveler, Occupant to the Throne of Loki, unrivaled in magic and technology!” She said in pride, seeming as if it was a name Jason should have heard by now. She reached for Jason’s hand to shake it. “Most call me Conga.”

Before Jason could ask anything else, he heard the lyrics of the song blasting through the speakers.

“No one’s got your back, but whose got your belly?” The speakers yelled at the two.

“What the hell is that?” Jason said to Conga in a demanding tone, his confusion turned into agitation.

“Oh, sorry.” Conga said in a humorous manner as she reached for a control panel. The country music quickly turned off as the speakers switched to a more electronic song.

“Now what the hell is this?” Jason asked Conga, his agitation lowered, but still present.

“You don’t recognize it?” Conga asked. “Jason, it is your theme song after all!”

“What?” Jason asked. “I don’t have a theme song. I’m not some fictional character, where the hell am I?”

Conga raised her finger as if to explain the creators of the two of them, NickDempsey and Cratmang, discussed the possibility of her and Jason meeting. However, Jason was still human, and couldn’t possibly comprehend the possibility of the Fourth Wall’s existence. She decided to go for option B for her explanation of their interaction.

The time to decide on how to explain to him seemed to be more than too long for Jason, as he began to step closer to Conga, seeming to be more threatening.

“Listen.” He said in an authoritative tone, you’re going to tell me or- “

“Jason Stross, even without our Interdimensional Powers, I am still a fusion of three Gems. Three.” Conga said, almost in a bragging matter. “I believe that we would be considered a difficulty to harm, even by the great Reaper of Kul-Baris- “

“Don’t call me that.” Jason demanded; his aggression grew back up.

The phrase sent a chill down Conga’s back, or spine if Gems could have one. It was enough to understand why some lesser Gems in this dimension to grow fear upon the mere mention of her human guest.

“I don’t suppose ‘Blue Diamond’s Pet’ is a better title?” Conga asked, receiving the same glare from Jason. “That was a joke.” She was quick to say.

“Why am I here?” Jason asked. “Why did you kidnap me?”

“Kidnap?” Conga asked, as if to defend an accusation. “We saved you. You were almost killed by that Black Pearl!”

Jason remembered the encounter in Angel City. He was responding to a series of complaints of disappearances, only to find the violent Gem in question.

Jason had to admit, much to Conga’s defense, the Pearl did beat Jason into an inch left of his life.

“Fine.” Jason said to Conga as he placed the bottle of liquor on a nearby table. “So, you did, but that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Well, as I’ve said…” Conga began her explanation. “During our interdimensional travels and studies, I’ve tended to notice you a few times when investigating a few AUs.”

Jason looked at Conga with a combination of confusion and curiosity. “AUs?”

“Alternate Universes.” Conga said as she moved past Jason toward a door on another side of the room. The door was closed until she approached it, causing it to open to reveal a darker lit room. The only source of light seemed to be from a series of screens inside the smaller room.

Conga looked back to Jason, as if remembering that he was still there after a split second of forgetting his presence. “Right this way, please.”

Her demeanor looked more or so like someone excited to show him a project.

Jason slowly began to approach the room, looking from behind Conga.

The source of the light, evidentially, was a series of large, floating screens flying around the small room.

“Alternate Realities, to be specific.” Conga began to explain in an amused and excited way, almost as if she had rehearsed her speech. “Universes vary. All are different. Be it a small difference, such as an object being a different color, or something huge, such as a historic event ending in the opposite way.”

A screen descended between Jason and Conga, who presented the screen to him.

The screen showed Jason in his Paladin armor, along with three other beings. Two of which were Gems Jason had not seen before. One was a Pearl, lacking any color and an eye. The other Gem, which seemed to be closer to Jason in the image, was a Blue Gem, a few inches under Jason’s height. The Gem in her chest was suspiciously a familiar shape. An odd shape to be in a Gem that small.

The third, was a small child, which seemed to have a Gem of his own pointing out of his forehead. The sight was odd, he knew he never saw the kid before, but he seemed familiar at the same time.

“I first found out about you in an alternate universe of White Diamond Steven…” Conga said to Jason.

“Huh?” Jason asked upon hearing the name Steven. “You mean the kid in Beach City? With the Crystal Gems?”

“Exactly!” Conga excitingly said. She then pulled another screen showing only Jason in a cell.

A thick wall of glass separated his cell with another, holding what seemed to be the same kid from Beach City they were just talking about.

Unfortunately, the two seemed miserable in their location, almost seeming trapped.

“This one is an alternate version of the Lab Raised AU.” Conga said as she pushed the screen away from the two, directing Jason toward the rest of the screens. “You seemed to be in so many alternate versions of the universes I was looking into, we did some digging and saw alternate versions of your own universe.”

“Alternate versions?” Jason asked Conga, looking over to another passing window which revealed him sitting in a booth, sharing a table with a man wearing red goggles and a large, black hat covering his long, silver hair. The other man seemed calm, while Jason had an expression of agitated annoyance on his face.

“Exactly!” Conga said excitingly. “Technically speaking, the universe you are from is an alternate version of your original universe.”

She was only met with the facial expression of more confusion when she looked at Jason Stross. “Right…” Conga said as she continued on her spiel.

The words that came from Conga’s mouth seemed to have went from one of Jason’s ears through the other, as he just continued to look at the other “windows”. Some seemed to be recreations of previous events he had been in, minus a small detail or two.

Then the few that really caught his attention, seemed to be windows into other worlds. Places that Jason would never see himself being in.

However, he was still there. In each window, different in one way or another, he was still there.

One however, caught his attention.

“What’s the deal with this one?” Jason asked, interrupting Conga Tourmalines lecture on the infinite universes.

Conga looked over to the window Jason was looking over to. “Oh!” She said excitingly, walking over to Jason and the window. “This one is interesting.” She resumed her excited tone. “This one is similar to this current universe.” She explained. “Only, except of arriving on Earth, you arrive to the planet of Argent D’nur.”

Jason looked at the window, studying it. While he had “less than pleasant” feelings about his time on Earth, it now seemed like cake walk next to the universe he was currently looking at.

He only saw a small glimpse of it, but it seemed more than enough.

All he saw of his time in “Argent D’nur” was him, in complete, unfiltered fear, as he was grabbed by the collar of another human in an arena looking environment.

The other figure in the window, however, complimented Jason’s fear, with complete, untainted rage as he raised his fist to punch Jason’s entire head out of existence.

Due to no audio feed, Jason could not tell what the other being was saying at first, but he could read lips. If Jason was right, the other being was saying “Rip and Tear.”

“Unfortunately, you do not last long, in that universe.” Conga said in a sudden grim tone.

#su #steven universe #lad raised au #white diamond steven #black pearl #conga tourmaline #jason stross #crossover #oc #original character #solomon #symbiotic titan #trailer park boys #doom #doomguy #rip and tear

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ashcrimson-is-writing · 4 years

Text

Parce Mihi ~ Chapter 1

Fandom: Marvel (Pre-Marvelfilms)

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

(Gif-creator)

Summary: It´s a tradition as old as Asgard itself: Once in a hundred years a young woman gets chosen to be a lady-in-waiting to the queen and live within her in the palace. This year Friggas choice falls on Sigyn, who volunteers to save her family. Soon enough she meets Loki, Prince of Asgard and even though he is a good actor, she slowly starts to see something different in him, than the cold and arrogant man he is to everyone else. But meanwhile, not seen by anyone, dark clouds are gathering over the mountains of Asgard and it is only a matter of time till the storm begins. (Angst, Fluff, Hurt)

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<<Prologue

Chapter 1: „What is your name?“ The young woman's heart immediately beat faster, she felt pale- and redness rose in her cheeks at the same time and her hands became icy cold despite the heat of summer. She closed her eyes for the fraction of a second, wondering how exactly she should answer and took a deep breath.

This was their only chance and if she failed it, she would be sealing the dark fate of herself, her brothers and her sisters by that. An even worse fate than their lives were already. Her answers would decide between wealth and poverty, life and death. She knew that and it made her nervous, almost anxious, although she was actually not at all of the jumpy sort. Slowly she raised her head on which her long, reddish-brown hair was firmly tucked together and glanced at the woman standing in front of her, tried to appear bolder than she was at that moment and her breath hitched a little.

She had known that Queen Frigga was beautiful, she had never really seen her before of course, but everybody knew and talked about it and still, the way she had expected the Queen to look like was nothing compared to the reality. One could certainly tell that Friggas youth was long gone, but she didn´t look old either with her blonde hair held together by a gilded ribbon that matched the decorations of her robe and sparkled like the warm smile of her eyes. She rather was one of the most beautiful woman alive.

The young woman was completely speechless for a few breaths long. Perhaps she would have even forgoten to speak at all, if her brother, who stood behind her, hadn´t given her a slight stab to her back.

Although several silent seconds had already passed, the kindness and sincere interest in the Queen´s gaze had not diminished.

“My name is Sigyn” the brunette finally announced, her heart still beating loudly in her chest and only now she became really aware of what she was doing here.

After all there was a reason why she stood in front of Asgards Queen. If everything would went according to her plan, if the Norns were with her, Sigyn intended to go with Frigga to the Golden Palace and spend the rest of her life as lady-in-waiting to her. That was why she was standing there at the market place of the city among all the other young women who hoped to be chosen by their queen just like her.

It was an old tradition in Asgard, once in a hundred years one of the citizens got chosen to be a court lady and of course this was a huge honour. Many women had been taken before her to the palace and now Sigyn stood there, next to a queen she had never seen before, but whom she would perhaps soon keep company with every day and she stood there in her best dress, which looked almost shabby though, but there had been no money for an new one and she felt terribly anxious.

Frigga still smiled at her, a kindness in her features that made Sigyn feel a little more comfortable and at the same time more insecure. It almost seemed as if she wanted Sigyn to say more, but the young woman didn´t know what to say or what to do. The whole situation was a little scary to her.

Actually Sigyn didn´t want to move into the palace, because despite the temptations that awaited her there: a warm bed of her own, a full stomach, expensive fabrics and robes, Sigyn would much rather stay in the city together with her brothers and sisters, together with the people she loved. But since it was part of the agreement, part of the tradition, that the families of the ladies-in-waiting got enough money to live comfortably without hunger or cold, without fear or worry, it was not really a choice to Sigyn. Her family needed the money. Urgent. Otherwise she was sure they wouldn´t survive the winter and as much as the loss of her home would hurt her, she had to do it for the sake of her siblings.

“Are you alone here Sigyn?” Frigga wanted to know, her voice soft and gentle and yet as determined as a queen had to sound. A mixture of rough and soft, of deep and high, a voice that probably only existed once and that you would always recognize among thousands. Sigyn ran a shiver down her cold back. “No” she answered, sounding more hesitant than she wanted to and was happy to finally have a reason to reach for her brothers hand and carefully pull him closer: “My older brother Kjell is with me, but apart from that we are alone here, yes”.

Kjell received a smile too and he nodded at the queen, bowed slightly and squeezed Sigyns fingers, because he felt her tremble. He also disliked the thought of losing his sister, of only seeing her very rarely, but he also knew that they had no other choice.

Their parents were dead and since he had injured himself in the forge two years ago it was a miracle when he got a badly paid job. None of his siblings could read or write and Sigyn was too delicate for heavy manual labour, the other siblings were too young.

They all weren´t stupid, especially Sigyn, but they had never had time for education or teaching, they always had to work hard to stay alive, so it was a difficult task for his family to earn enough money to survive and it didn´t get easier. If Sigyn were to become a court-lady, then it would be a chance for all of them to live a safe life, maybe the only chance.

“Do you have more family or is it just the two of you?”. Sigyn shook her head slightly, she hated talking about this: “We have five younger siblings, two girls and three boys and our parents are both dead. Father died in a ship accident and our mother fell ill five years ago”. Her voice had become a little watery.

She had seldom seen their father, but had loved him nonetheless, and Sigyns mother had been everything to her. She absolutely didn´t want to cry in front of all these people, swallowed the tears and suddenly gave Frigga an defiant look she couldn´t hold back.. Why did she even wanted to know that? Why did she care? So many feeling had been stirred up again in Sigyn by the question and it almost made her a little angry. She had loved her parents a lot.

“I am very sorry” Frigga said, meant it honestly and truly, and yet Sigyn remained silent, had not been prepared to be reminded of her parents again, and tried to put aside her painful memories and thoughts.

The Queen reached for her hand and held it between her own, looking at them: “You seem to have a good heart Sigyn, you are brave and polite at once and you seem to be a quick learner” her eyes wandered back up to Sigyns face and she let go of her hand, glancing behind her to one of the guards standing there, before she turned her attention back to Sigyn: “Have you really thought about this? Are your sure you want to follow me to the palace? You can still decide”.

Sigyn took a deep breath, she was not sure if it was the right thing for her, but it was the right thing for her family and so she nodded, her heart a little heavy, and didn´t dare to look at her brother.

“Then be ready to leave tomorrow. At sunrise you will be picked up at your home and you are allowed to take any items that are of value to you, and don´t pose a danger, with you. You can also bring a horse-” “We don´t have one” Sigyn interrupted quickly, almost hoping that Frigga would withdraw her decision if she became impertinent. She had to go to the palace, but she didn´t want to, this city was her home... and it was where her family was.

“Well, then you will be riding one of our horses tomorrow. At sunrise you must be ready, in the palace you then will have to swear your loyalty to me and then you will be my lady-in-waiting”. Sigyn nodded again, sounding more indecisive than she was: “I will be ready”.

“Good. We will see each other tomorrow Sigyn” with this words the Queen said her goodbye, a little sublime, but still friendly and went back to where her horse was standing.

“Thank you” the young woman whispered, unsure if Frigga had heard it, but felt like she had to say it, before she held her breath. She had done it.

Sigyn was chosen to be a court lady.

Her body contracted on one hand from happiness, on the other from uncertainty, her whole form shivering because of the upcoming day. To Sigyn it seemed like there was far too little time to say goodbye to her family, before she had to leave behind everything that was familiar and dear to her to live in the palace.

“Are you a princess now?” her little sister Finnja asked, arms resting on the bed while she watched Sigyn collect some items she would take with her. So far that was a small book she had never read and a leather necklace, both reminders of a time when her family was still complete.

She sighed. It was early in the evening, her other siblings were still outside, somewhere in the forest and Kjell had gone to fetch them, which left Sigyn and Finnja to be alone in their tiny house. Only one more night until Sigyn would leave them.

“No” Sigyn smiled, although she didn´t feel like smiling at all. She already began to miss Finnja, her youngest sister and that innocent, freckled face of hers: “I´ll be a lady-in-waiting to Queen Frigga and keep her company” she explained, let herself fall on the bed next to her and gave the little girl a caring look. “Too bad, I´d love a princess as sister” the younger admitted. Her brown eyes continued to stare at Sigyn and she asked: “But you will have a room of your own, right?”. When her big sister nodded her eyes began to shine, which almost brought tears to Sigyns eyes.

Currently their entire house consisted of only two small rooms and they had three beds in which all seven of them had to sleep. “When I am in the palace, you will receive money too, you may will not have your own room, but you will have a bed all for yourself, I promise. You could share a room with Lyria” Sigyn said, smiling at the enthusiasm in the girls eyes and imagined how her big brother would settle the little quarrels of his sisters Finnja and Lyria when necessary in the future.

He would have to do that without her, a thought that made her almost a little dizzy. After their mother had died, Sigyn had to take care of them all and now she was supposed to just leave them, stop watching her siblings grow bigger with every day, stop seeing her beloved ones every day.

A tear flowed over Sigyns cheek and Finnja, who was indeed small but not stupid, was silent and slid towards her sister, sat on her lap and pressed herself against her. Immediately warm hands laid on the small, emaciated body and stroked through the same brown-reddish hair all females in their family had. Sigyn closed her eyes, felt the slight embrace of the youngest and kissed her hair. Tomorrow, at sunrise, when she would be gone, a new life would begin for both of them.

Finnja would stay here with the others, but they would finally have enough money to have daily food and proper clothes and a decent house. They wouldn´t have to stave or freeze through winter nights anymore. And Sigyn would live in the Golden Palace of Asgard. Somewhere between strangers and jewels, alone, but sure that her siblings were doing well, definitely better than now.

Sigyn couldn't sleep.

After all her siblings had come home she had told them about the encounter with the queen, had explained what it meant for them and Lyria had burst into tears, not wanting her big sister to leave.

“I have to go Lyria, I have to” Sigyn had tried to comfort her: “Just imagine, you will never have to go to sleep hungry again and I will still be able to visit you from time to time”, but Lyria had looked up to her, the nose red from crying: “But you won´t be here every day!”. No, Sigyn had thought and had hugged Lyria to her chest to stroke her head, I won´t be here daily, probably I won´t even see you once a week, but she hadn´t said anything.

And now Sigyn laid in their bed, between Lyria and Finnja, the latter in a firm embrace while Lyria had cuddled up against her back and listened to her sisters breathing. How could Sigyn ever be able to sleep alone in a room of her own, in a bed of her own, when she was so used to the common warmth and closeness of her sisters next to her? She never slept any other way.

Tenderly she caressed Finnjas cheek and then turned over to Lyria to brush her fingers over her soft skin as well. What would these two and her brothers do without her? Sigyn was the only adult woman they had left in their lives and now she had to leave.

It was for the best, Sigyn knew that, without the money they would have to keep on starving and freezing, perhaps even starve or freeze to death in the upcoming winter and she didn´t even want to think about that just for a minute. But still Sigyn couldn't believe that she had actually been chosen by the Queen.

What had Frigga seen in her that had convinced her? What was so different about Sigyn compared to the other girls, apart from the fact that she had the most worn out dress? Maybe that was it though, compassion for the poor girl with six siblings and no parents, just mercy.

Sigyn felt uncomfortable, still anxious, so many questions in her mind. Would Frigga even like her? And the other ladies-in-waiting, what would they think about her? Sigyn closed her eyes, her nervousness could not be pushed aside and although she was infinitely tired, she couldn´t fall asleep. It was almost as if she was trying to absorb all the warmth and closeness of her sisters, to make the most of the hours she had left with her family, absorbing everything she would be missing soon.

At some point she somehow managed to fall asleep though, sleeping restlessly and full of fear of the next sunrise, which came faster than she wanted it to.

Chapter 2 >>

#marvel #Loki #Sigyn #Loki/Sigyn #Sigyn/Loki #loki x sigyn #lokixsigyn #Frigga #chapter1 #loki fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #logyn

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darkmindsotome · 5 years

Text

Folly

@xathia-89 this is for you my dear.

This was a collaboration piece with @umbralaperture. Ikevamp story that turns very steamy and spicy so please read with caution.

Warning: opulence, need, friendly “battle” a gentleman lost his mask.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

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Folly

It was safe to say that Le Comte has impeccable taste in clothing, even when he was eschewing tradition as he was with this selection. The jade satin dress had a luxurious emerald velvet trim. Cream-coloured lace inlaid with small beads of platinum accented the bodice, short sleeves and just above where the dress flared. Fine lace gloves that barely reached your wrists in a matching cream hue and an emerald green velvet choker completed the ensemble. Your hair, artfully styled in an updo, was accented with delicate satin flowers and pearls. Stepping into a beautifully handcrafted pair of satin slippers, you check yourself one more time in the full-length mirror before heading out of your room.

Leonardo waited for you at the door a gentle smile bowing his lips as you came into view. It was rare to see the inventor put together at all. Dressed sharply in his tuxedo with the shirt fully tucked in was enough to give you pause.

Still smiling, he lifts your gloved hand and places a kiss over the knuckles. "Cara Mia. You put any masterpiece to shame tonight. You look beautiful." His eyes glowed as they looked you over. Slipping an emerald velvet wrap around your shoulders, his gloved fingers feather across bare skin. "Wouldn’t want you catching a chill."

He extended his arm to you, and once you accepted, he led you to the waiting carriage. The gentlemanly grace was not something you were used to from Leo as he tended to hardly display much of it in practice. His gestures and movements had you enthralled.

"Leonardo, where are we going? Sebbie brought me the dress with a note that said 'It would please me to see you in this.' but nothing more."

Leo's enigmatic smile never faltered. "We're going to a ball, Cara Mia."

You pressed your lips into a line and narrowed your eyes. "Obviously, my dear Leonardo. Do try not to be obtuse."

He leaned forward and brushed a feather-light kiss across your painted lips, stunning you into silence. "Hush now. We're almost there."

True to his word, the carriage rolled to a stop before you could gather your thoughts.

"You'll want this." In his outstretched hand is a velvet mask trimmed with the same lace on your dress. When you look at him in question, you see he's donned a mask as well. "One must keep an air of mystery at a masquerade."

Without waiting for a reply he swooped in securing the mask to your face. It happened so quickly you didn’t have time to react although you were thankful to learn that it did seem to be a mask of quality. The lining provided a sensation of comfort against your flesh that would allow you to ignore it's presence once you got used to the extra weight of it.

Music played from within the building growing louder as you drew closer, your escort never leaving your side for a second. The gathering crowds turned their heads in your direction, no doubt admiring your companion. The scrutiny caused you to straighten your posture even more. Tonight no one knew who you were. You could be a real Countess for all they knew.

Marble flooring and ornate columns of the venue had it looking like something from an extravagant castle. The tables glittered with gold and wealth just as much as the attendees who swayed around the floor in elegant gowns and formal attire reminding you of waltzing figures in a glittering music box.

“Leo, what's the occasion?” The pomp and circumstance was over the top even for the Parisian elite.

“It's a party for patrons of Le Académie Impériale de Musique. A lot of nobles are here tonight… or not. Who can tell with all these masks?”

“I dare say you could easily tell the difference.”

Without acknowledging anything of the sort Leo simply smiled and shrugged.

"Would the lady be so kind as to grace me with a dance?" You knew that voice and turn toward it, fully expecting to see your love, long brown coat and all.

Instead, you're greeted by a man in a formal black tuxedo. The coat was the swallowtail cut, a short coat with tails that was currently all the rage. The only departure from contemporary fashion was his vest and bow tie. They matched your dress perfectly. The back mask with silver filigree did nothing to conceal the burning gold eyes.

You didn't realize you'd offered him your hand until Leonardo spoke up.

"My task is complete then? Enjoy your evening!" He tossed a jaunty wave over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

"You're breathtaking, my dear." Le Comte murmurs, accepting your hand and brushing a kiss across your knuckles. His actions overlapping Leonardo’s from earlier as it overwriting an invisible mark left on your hand.

"You should know. You chose the gown." Try as you might, you could not stop the smile pulling at your lips as he led you to the dance floor.

"Ah. But I didn't. Dream? Yes. Imagine? Absolutely." He slid his arm around your waist and pulled you comfortably close. "Fantasize? Without a doubt. But no image I conjured came close to the vision in my arms at the moment."

Your body held flush to his swayed under his command to the melody. And still those eyes held yours taking control over every thought that might enter your mind, rendering them obsolete, allowing your full attention to remain as his captive.

“Are you aware of what they say about a Waltz?” You didn’t reply, your eyes simply moved from his golden gaze dropping to his plump lips as his voice dripped like honey into your consciousness. “It is just like making love.”

You give a sharp intake of breath as part of you pulls itself however reluctantly to the present moment. A reddish tinge of embarrassment coloured your skin.

“You did that on purpose, you bad man.” You gave a sweet show of resistance to him which only served to make your dance partner chuckle.

“Oh, how you tempt me. Did I go too far, my dear?” He strengthened his grip pulling you closer than before. The toes of your slippers almost leaving the floor as he brought his mouth closer to your ear. “Then why don’t you scold me?”

His words and actions served to tint your skin a rosier shade as the pink dusting of embarrassment darkened further with your rising temperature. For a moment you were pleased that at this angle he could not see your face as you required a few seconds to compose yourself even behind a mask.

“You are bolder tonight. Tell me would that be the power of the mask?”

“We all wear masks, my dear. Tonight I am simply a man captivated by a rare jewel he wishes to possess.”

"Possess?" your smirk held the hint of a challenge behind it. "What makes you believe you're worthy of possessing such a jewel?"

The two of you twirl across the floor with effortless grace. His gaze meets yours. For a moment you think he won't rise to your bait, he won't dignify your teasing with a response.

"Though I may be unworthy, I will never leave you wanting." His whispered words reach your ear just as the music ends. He ends the dance as he began it, bowing over your hand, brushing a kiss over your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. A shiver dances down your spine at the intensity you see those depths.

"Would it be unseemly to monopolize your dance card this evening?"

"Indeed it would." your other hand is raised and the two of you look at the newcomer. Another set of gold eyes twinkle mischievously behind an intricate mask. "It wouldn't do to have you fill her head with your pitiful excuse of a good time when I'm here."

Le Comte made a tactical error when he stood tall against the newcomer, he released your hand. Unwilling to squander his advantage, the other man lightly tugged on your hand leading you to the dance floor.

As he slid his arm around you, the surprise wore off and you found your voice. Your scandalized whisper reached your dance partner and no further. "Leonardo da Vinci! What it the world do you think you're doing?"

"Making him work for it, Cara Mia. A little chase whets the appetite, no?" His eyes held no remorse for his actions and you gave in to the pleasure of the dance. You had no idea that he could move with such poise. Shaking your head slightly to clear it, you confront the man again.

“What makes you think your little plan is going to work on him?”

“Believe me it’s working. Can’t you feel that?” Leonardo flicked his eyes briefly over his shoulder relishing the apparent reaction to his little jest.

“Feel what?”

“He’s seething.” Leonardo chuckled like a child as he continued your dance. Dipping you in his arms at just the right angle as if to show off a prize. “What do you think Cara Mia?”

“I think you enjoy playing with fire.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” the all too familiar voice sounded very close causing you both to turn. Le Comte was smiling a smile that failed to reach his eyes, another Mademoiselle in his arms. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Sorry, you’re not my type.” Leonardo shrugged smiling cockily.

“Leo…” Le Comte’s voice was more a beastly growl than before. The challenging flash in his eyes against his friend was like looking into a fire pit. Leonardo conceded smoothly handing you over and taking the other dance partner in turn.

“Not very gentlemanly of you my dear Comte.” Leo clicked his tongue, chastising the other man.

“I can give and share with you everything my friend. Except that which I don’t care to.” Le Comte pulled you harder whisking you away at speed still in keeping with the music but at a much faster tempo.

Somehow you kept pace with him through the end of the song. Leonardo was right, his jest needled the man. Le Comte's grip was a little more possessive, his steps a little faster. Everything he did was a demand for your attention, an unspoken plea that you realize only he was worthy - and able - to make you soar.

When the song ended he guided you off the floor. "Might I interest the lady in some refreshments?"

"And some air, if you please. That last dance took the wind out of me."

"It's not my preferred way to leave you breathless, but it will have to do for now." He murmured into your hair causing your cheeks to go scarlet once again.

After retrieving champagne for each of you, you made your way to the gardens. The night was cool and clear. There was no breeze and the perfume of roses hung in the air.

After a time, you looked at your companion. "By reacting, you're only encouraging him. You realize this, don't you?"

“Whether or not his intention is nothing more than a playful prank, I cannot control myself when I see another man take something that I desire. You might consider me a calm and composed gentleman but I am still a man my dear.” Le Comte’s uncandid honesty had your head spinning more than when you were on the dance floor. It was hard to tell if the champagne had suddenly taken effect on your senses or if it was his words sending your mind into a blissful fog.

Averting your eyes from his seemed like the most sinful crime but when you did you noticed what looked to be a hidden entrance in the shrubbery.

“Whatever do you suppose that is?”

“I would say that it would be the entrance to the labyrinth. The owner of this house was at a time great friends with some german aristocrats and enjoyed tales of their own castle being built to incorporate flights of fantasy. At the centre is said to be something of great wonder and beauty.” Le Comte drew close enough that you could feel his warmth emanating behind you like a shroud protecting you from the night air. His breath tickled your nape as he enquired. “Would the Lady care to view such a thing?”

“I wouldn’t mind but do you really think it appropriate to leave the ball?”

He plucked your now empty glass from your hand placing it on the stone planter near you alongside his and laced his fingers with yours.

“I fear it would be more inappropriate to return under such circumstances. I am not sure how I might react to seeing you gazed upon by so many others tonight.” His tone was amourous and slightly pleading as he lightly tugged your hand and guided you down the stone steps and into the entrance of the dark green foliage.

“I place myself wholly in your hands. Lead on, my lady.” Le Comte stepped aside, keeping hold of your hand and letting you lead the way.

You let the age-old wisdom "Always turn left" guide your steps. Nevertheless, the turns and heady scent of hydrangeas had your head spinning. Every time your fingers brushed a bloom, its perfume filled the air adding a veneer of romance to the evening.

“You know the story of the labyrinth, do you not?” Le Comte breathed the question in your ear sending another delicious shiver down your spine.

“It hails from Crete, doesn’t it?”

“Close but not quite, mon Coeur.” He raises your hand to his lips and nips at the sensitive flesh at your wrist before planting a tender kiss at the same spot. The action stops you in your tracks and you turn, meeting his gaze.

“Was that a punishment for being wrong, or a reward for being right?” The question was breathier than you wanted it to be. You could hear the desire in your own voice. You knew he wouldn’t miss it either.

“Hmm, who knows? Shall we continue or have you had your fill?” his eyes practically glowed in the moonlit evening. Smiling, you turned and continued.

“Tell me the history of the labyrinth.” you did a better job of covering the desire he sparked in you this time.

“It was first designed by Daedalus at Knossos at the behest of King Minos.”

You slowed at the next intersection. “But Knossos is in Crete.” you complain, “So I was right!”

Elegant, gloved fingers trace up the column of your neck and across the shell of your ear. “You only got the country, not the precise location, so you were wrong.”

You wanted to be stern. You wanted to glare at the man for his “precision”, but your traitorous body would do neither of those things. Instead, you tilted your head exposing more of your neck to his caress. A whimper of sound escaped you and he chuckled.

“Do you know why the labyrinth was built, petite Cherie?” his voice was low and his lips grazed your ear as he spoke. You swayed on your feet before resting against the warmth of his broad chest.

“To keep in the minotaur trapped.” your answer was a mere whisper of sound.

“Hmm, just so.” he nipped at your ear. “And while I doubt this particular maze has any minotaurs, I assure you, there is a beast.” The last words were more growl than a statement causing desire to flare in you.

“Should you wish a reward tonight, make the chase sporting, mon Coeur.” with only those words, he released you.

The loss of his heat made the night that much colder. Looking over your shoulder, you saw him take two steps back, a wicked smile on his face. He meant what he said. Looking both ways you lifted your skirts, turned left and ran as fast as you could.

The evening noises were louder to your adrenaline-fueled senses. You swore you saw and heard things but when you looked, nothing was there. Two more left turns and logic took control of your thoughts. Le Comte had been with you all night. If you continued to turn left, there would be no sport in the chase at all. Abandoning your carefully laid plans, you turned right. Every decision from there out was made on instinct. As you reached the junctions, you allowed your feet to lead you...

You’d long since lost track of time and your lungs were burning when you turned left one last time and were faced with the centre of the maze.

Two low stone benches surrounded by planters filled with beautiful flowers framed a cement structure that looked like an enclosed gazebo. Stained glass windows covered the arched openings leaving only one way in and out. Moonlight filtered through the glass painting the inside with a rainbow of soft light. Hesitantly you circled the structure. There was no indication from anywhere on the grounds that something this gorgeous was here. You tried to quiet your ragged breaths as you stepped toward the opening.

“You were serious about making the chase sporting, weren’t you mon Coeur?” His voice stopped you in your tracks on the threshold of the structure.

Glowing eyes in the gloom reached out to you silently guiding you towards them.

“How did you get here before me?”

“Is that really a question you should be asking at a time like this?” A strong arm wrapped around your waist as his face vanished into the crook of your neck. You could feel his slow intake of breath against your skin as he filled his lungs with your scent. “Pauvre petit…” He took the tip of his hot wet tongue and drew a pattern over your exposed neck with it. The river of heat it left behind was as if someone had injected you with fire.

“Ngh… ah--”

“I like that sound.” He chuckled pulling back enough to capture your chin in his hand as he gazed into your eyes. “Will you show me more?” he stroked your jaw with a single finger maintaining his grip. If he slid his hand a little lower he could have covered your throat. There was no doubt in your mind he was completely aware of how fast your heart was hammering in your breast, or that it had nothing to do with the running in the maze.

You had no words his eyes and hand never leaving you just took you with him as he walked backwards, your feet willingly following him.

The folly, for what it was, felt like another world. A private realm just for you and it was yet another reason that your mind struggled to clear itself. Le Comte took a seat on a stone bench nimble fingers undoing his jacket buttons as he did so and patted his thigh.

“Come here.” It was a command. There was no subtle grace or room for refusal. This was all the signal you needed to know that the man before you had switched. Still, you must have hesitated a little too long as you revelled in the change. As soon as you were close enough you found your self grabbed with a little more force than expected. Fingers wrapped around your wrist and forearm as the world tilted and your view became that of the ceiling.

“What are you--?”

“That my love should be my line. What are you doing? You tease and torment me. The way you laugh and smile for other men you think I am immune from such actions affecting me?” His hands left your arms and travelled over your satin clad form. It was strange but even without his grip you still felt unable to move as if something had bound you tight in place.

Your whole body was laid out on the stone slab as he positioned himself over you a knee at either side of your hips and made a show of removing his gloves. He didn’t miss how your eyes followed his movements and smirked. “Such a naughty girl. Were you expecting this tonight perhaps?”

“And if I said I was?” Your breathless reply was almost too much for you. Words never came easy when he was like this. When the gentleman stepped aside allowing the breast to be free.

“Then it would fall upon me as a man not to leave you disappointed. I did say I would not leave you wanting. I am, if nothing else, a man of my word.” He removed your gloves and placed his lips on each of your fingers giving everyone a small nip causing you to purr in delight.

He watched in fascination as you struggled to keep your mind anchored at something so simple. While you were focused on him you felt the creeping sensation of something else between your legs. His hand had slipped under your skirt without you realising it. He was far too good at this for it to be a mistake. Leonardo’s words from when you first arrived surfaced in your mind “you weren’t always a gentleman.” And here you were experiencing a glimpse of that darker side first hand.

You tried to bring your hands up to him only to have him push them back and hold them easily one-handed as he continued to search the depth of your dress. “Now now be a good girl. Damn but you’re beautiful.” He brought his face to our neck again. This time he allowed his fangs to graze your skin very faint red lines appeared on your ivory flesh and the guttural moan you gave out had you blushing. “You smell so good. It’s intoxicating…”

As he said that he pulled your underwear to the side and plunged his long fingers inside you, twisting, rubbing, curling. Every retraction had you whimpering and every penetration had your mind sparking like fireworks. But you knew all too well this was nothing to the main event. His lips kissed a trail to your lobe pulling on it and then continuing to kiss along your jawline until they found your mouth.

Inviting him deeper, you parted your lips and had them captured hungrily by your love. Your tongue danced with his catching slightly on his fangs a familiar taste of rouge filling your senses which only fueled his actions further.

There was no way you would be moving your body even if by some grace of god you could at this point. The hand keeping a pace with piston-like precision between your thighs had not stopped and you felt yourself climbing higher up that staircase to heaven. Your back arched against his chest and as he pulled back to get a good look at your face you noticed his lips stained with rouge making them look even more enticing.

He traced a finger from your wrist to your bodice before locating the ribbons binding it and releasing them. The cold air slithered over your exposed body but only for as long as it took for him to bring his hand to your chest. His thumb rubbing over your hardened peaks gentle pulling and twisting them causing you to moan into his mouth as he swooped in for another kiss.

It was bad. This was wrong you knew it in the back of your mind that you shouldn’t be doing something so scandalous here. But you also didn’t wish to stop, and apparently, you were not alone in your desire to continue.

“You have no idea what you do to me. Ugh… that scent. Do you know that when your body temperature rises your natural scent gets stronger? Mon Cher. I’m sorry but I don’t think I can stop now.”

You had no words because his had caused your mind to blank. You bodice had been completely freed and was lying open on the ground. Your skirt and petticoats were bundled high revealing your garter belt and stocking tops along with your soaked undergarments. You forced the embarrassment down as you held his gaze and nodded your consent. You didn’t mind what happened now. As long as it was him you would do anything.

His movements were fluid and exacting. But there was a rushed neediness to it all. It was as if he believed you would vanish at any given moment and he was doing everything to try to keep you with him. His hands roamed creating burning pathways everywhere they touched. His tongue danced with yours when it wasn’t lapping at your tender flesh on your neck and chest.

When he was almost at his limit of being sane enough to know what was happening and mad enough to do it anyway, he threw caution to the wind and sank his length inside you. The rocking of his hips alternated between fast and slow. He would pull almost out before plunging back in with force causing you to wail as his will took you to the edge and harled you off again and again. Your vision went white and then you felt as if you were floating.

Birds chirping outside was what woke you. Sunlight falling through your bedroom window landed on you in your bed at the mansion and for a few minutes, you were caught somewhere between dream and reality. Your hand reached up to your neck past your silk negligee. A dull throbbing pain greeted you there telling you all you needed to know. It wasn’t a dream.

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kathyprior4200 · 3 years

Text

Alastor Ascension Arc: Murder on the Air (Outline)

Tagline: “It’s time to tune in…”

Alastor Human Life

Chapter One: “Down in New Orleans”

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Alastor Roscoe Moreau (A.M.) is born January 24th 1896 (VA born Jan 24th 1986.) to his parents in New Orleans, Louisiana. Alastor has medium olive brown skin, short (sometimes long) brown hair and brown eyes with glasses. He is lanky and thin but appears stronger than he looks. He often wears nice shirts with bow ties and dark pants and shoes. He wears overalls, boots and the occasional straw hat whenever he hunts or explores the woods and swamps outside. During his rise to fame, he wears fancy suits and top hats, complete with a microphone cane with golden antlers.

Antoinette Loretta Moreau (formerly Duvalier) is Alastor’s French Creole mother. She is a descendant of the famous Marie Laveau, Marie being Alastor’s great, great grandmother.

Antoinette has short curly black hair and dark brown skin, often wears cotton dresses and round ladies’ hats in bold red. She is part African American and part Native American and can speak Haitian Creole. In secret, away from her Christian husband, she asks her ancestors for guidance and reveres the Loa and saints, sitting at an altar she made. Antoinette’s white mother, Odette is a Voodoo Queen who reveres Yemaya and the saints. Odette’s husband, Mathis, is an African American musician, who later helps Alastor start a music career. Armand’s parents wanted Antoinette to abort her child as Alastor was perceived as a “troubled mixed child of sin,” but she refused. Manette offers to put Alastor in an insane asylum “for his own good”, but Antoinette fights back to keep him. Mathis was also wary of Alastor, but later grew to like him, while Alastor’s paternal grandparents always treated their grandson like he was stupid and dirty.

New Orleans culture is introduced, along with popular festivals, 1900s language and Haitian Creole. Armand and Antoinette briefly talk in French as well.

Chapter Two: “Runnin’ Wild”

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Early 1900’s Alastor’s youth

Chapter Three: “What a Wonderful World”

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Early 1900’s more Alastor childhood and learning

Alastor also learns Native American myths from his mother, including one about the Wendigo. (Alastor’s shadow and full demon form would be associated with the Wendigo monster).

Alastor starts school. He learns Creole from his mother and some French as well.

When Alastor goes to school, he eventually joins the band, despite him being bullied by both whites and kids of color. The kids often throw rocks and mud at him, calling him “Chocolate Boy” and “Dirty Dan.” At one point, they surround him and vicious rub at his skin until a teacher arrives to stop them. After Alastor gets home, bruised and crying, Alastor’s mother tends to him and tells him to smile and not hit girls. She makes him jambalaya to cheer him up and lets him help with the cooking. Alastor’s father suddenly berates him for being weak and orders the mother to make dinners and do laundry afterwards.

Chapter Four: “When The Saints Go Marching In”

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Early 1900s, Voodoo rituals, witch doctor black uncle and grandfather, Odette grandmother

Along with sewing, cooking, and dancing, Antoinette also teaches Alastor about Voodoo/Hoodoo rituals, along with his Grandmother Odette Duvalier.

Odette and Antoinette’s hidden magic is a reddish blue, the colors of the Petro and Rada mixed. Alastor’s magic eventually becomes Petro red. After making deals with Gnostic demons Abaddon, Furfur etc. (kill souls on Earth as sacrifices to gain more power in the afterlife), his magic becomes exclusively evil and powerful. As a consequence, he loses touch with his ancestors and the other Loa after the deaths of his parents. (Souls can use magic in other worlds but lays dormant on Earth).

Antoinette notices her husband slowly growing more distant from his son as Alastor bonds with her more.

Chapter Five: “Shadow Man”

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Age 7

Chapter Six: “You Rascal You”

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Age 10

Chapter Seven: “Nobody Knows The Trouble I’ve Seen”

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Age 13 Alastor witnesses discrimination

Alastor begins to play instruments and sing really well, his skills backed up by his mother’s teachings and the school band practices.

Alastor watches many old films including…

“The Great Train Robbery” (1903)

“Chased by Dogs” (1904) traumatized him/foreshadowing

“Satan Finds Mischief” (1908)

“Frankenstein” (1910) One of Alastor’s favorites as a teen, he emphasizes with the monster

“Oliver Twist”

“White Fawn’s Devotion” (1910)

“L’Inferno” (1911) another one of his favorites

“Peter Pan” (1924)

“The Phantom of the Opera” (1925) Watched it with Mimzy

“The Wizard of Oz” (1925)

“The Jazz Singer” (1927) One of his favorite musicals

“Sweeney Todd” (1928) Another silent crime film he enjoyed

“PopEye” (1929)

“King of Jazz” (1930)

“Dracula” (1931)

“Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” (1932)

“Smilin’ Though” (1932)

“Murders in the Rue Morgue” (1932)

“Tarzan the Ape Man” (1932)

“The Big Broadcast” (1932) Alastor relates to the radio broadcaster main character

Radio City Music Hall started showing films in 1933.

As a teen, Alastor swims in the creek, hikes in the mountains and hunts bear and deer. He also collects animal skulls when he can, as he is fascinated by anatomy.

Chapter Eight: “God Moves on the Water”

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1912 Age 16

Alastor enjoys hunting deer, rabbits and other animals to use for meat. It is one of the few times where Alastor feels in power and in control. He soon enjoys killing the animals, which would later translate into his enjoyment of killing and manipulating other people.

World War One

World War One begins in 1914 right after Alastor graduates high school, and Alastor is drafted for it at age 18 along with his father (but they were sent to different places). He tearfully hugs his mother goodbye, unsure whether he’ll see her again. During his time there, he discovered the use of old radios used for communication. He was one of the soldiers who fixed and transported said radios on the front lines. Alastor watches several comrades die around him, the only thing keeping him sane is his task to operate the radios. Alastor returned to the city in 1917, now with more of an idea of his career.

Late 1910s:

At a young age, Alastor’s main source of entertainment is the abandoned family radio; he would mimic the Trans Atlantic accents and enjoy listening to the news and static. It was his way to escape the harsh reality he was in. His uncle, mother and grandmother encouraged him that he could do anything he wanted to, and that a broadcasting career would be a great fit for him in the future. (Next generation people needed for the airwaves). Alastor starts fixing radios for people and makes a crystal one by himself. For a while, Alastor is happy to be alone and free with his mother, no worries of his imposing father to keep both of them silent.

But the Spanish Flu also occurred in 1918…

Chapter Nine: “Willow Weep For Me”

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1918: Age 22 Spanish Flu

…and when Alastor finds out his mother is gravely ill. (Alastor’s aunt and cousin cared for his mother while the men were away). A few days pass in early 1919. He is able to embrace her as she says her final words: “Don’t be sad for me. Remember, you’re never fully dressed without a smile.”

His father happens to come home on the same day his mother dies! He is deeply saddened by her death but on the outside he looks at her with disgust over her illness.

He slams the door to her room, not letting Alastor grieve by her side. For the first time, he is not afraid to get beaten by his father anymore. His father berates him for being lazy and not caring for his mother. He tries to ignore his father, but he beats him and chokes him. Not wanting to die by his hands and overburdened with grief and rage, Alastor had enough. Getting his long awaited revenge, he uses a nearby knife to brutally slash his father’s throat, killing him (he also bites his throat and mocks him for good measure). He had lost both parents in a single day.

Heartbroken, Alastor is forced to bury his mother at a nearby cemetery as it rains (He promptly feeds his body to the gators with no remorse.).

Chapter Ten: “Dr. Jazz”

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1919: Age 23

Alastor dreams of becoming a jazz musician. Louis Armstrong becomes his role model and encourages him to join a band of his own. More people start to recognize his talent. He does music and low paying jobs from 1919-1920.

Axeman

Alastor takes care to avoid the Axeman killer and is spared from his attack by playing jazz every night. At one point, Alastor hacks a racist couple and copies the Axeman’s actions, leading to more panic in New Orleans. The rumors spread that the Axeman had killed twice as many victims.

Chapter Eleven: “Friends On The Other Side”

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1920s

Alastor goes to Dr. Facilier, both men had lost their mothers. Distraught, Alastor agrees to talk to the dark Loa and gain dark magic to use in the afterlife. But Dr. Facilier intends to gain wealth at any means, even if it means offering Alastor’s soul. Dr. Facilier reads Alastor’s tarot cards.

The two voodoo men make a deal: whoever wins and lives the longest will own the other’s soul in the afterlife. (Alastor’s shadow appears as well). Alastor knew it was risky, but he felt helpless at this point. He watches Dr. Facilier carefully, and is able to mimic some of his magic when he arrives in Hell. Dr. Facilier tells Alastor that if he tries to kill him, then the Loa will haunt him until his death. Both agree to let the other do their dark deeds (Alastor killing people and Dr. Facilier scamming people for money).

Alastor ends up giving him money to help him run his shop, but ends up more broke in the process. Dr. Facilier laughs at his cousin’s fate, but Alastor vows that he will surpass him.

It is at this time that Alastor makes his deals with Kalfu, Furfur and Baron Samedi demons: wealth and power for the sacrifice of human souls. Only Furfur accepts human sacrifice, the Loa do not (they are not necessarily evil, they just want to help guide Alastor and teach him important lessons). Alastor uses Haitian Voodoo to hex and curse people, along with using a variety of weapons at night. Alastor is instructed to retrieve a grimoire in the afterlife that will seal the deal and grant him his powers (plus his shadow as he already had his microphone staff and basic radio powers beforehand).

Chapter Twelve: “Sitting on Top of the World”

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1920s: Young adulthood, career peak

During the Roaring Twenties, he would become the most famous radio host in Louisiana. Alastor often smokes both during work and during his free time. Alastor basks in wealth and fame.

Chapter Thirteen: “Mack The Knife” (Alastor’s killing sprees)

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1919, 1920: age 25 - 1933

Chapter Fourteen: “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile”

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Chapter Fifteen: “Pack Up All Your Troubles and Smile, Smile, Smile!”

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Chapter Sixteen: “Love is a Magical Mystery”

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Mimzy and Alastor dance the Charleston.

Chapter Seventeen: “Let’s Misbehave”

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Chapter Eighteen: “Do What I Wanna Do”

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1926

Dr. Facilier dies in 1926 after failing to please the dark Loa. He tries to kill Alastor but is distracted when Naveen comes along. He lost his bet to Alastor and as a result, became Alastor’s snake slave in Hell. Alastor would also surpass him in magical power in the afterlife. Alastor is more than happy to announce his death on the radio.

Alastor’s uncle is killed by KKK members and Alastor goes after them.

Hell, 1929

Esteemed Mortal of New Orleans: The Louisiana Lunatic

When I see fit, I shall appear and claim other victims as I see fit. I alone know whom they shall be. No clues will be left behind, save for what you might hear on the next broadcast.

At 6:06 pm next Friday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans and then visit those in Hell. I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:

I have been, am, and will be, the worst spirit that ever existed in fact, fantasy, or realm of Hazbins.

Smile and stay tuned!

Chapter Nineteen: “Crazy Rhythm”

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The Great Depression comes into effect as well as the Stock Market Crash of 1929. Niffty is born in 1929: Alastor briefly takes care of Japanese born Niffty as a baby before placing her in an orphanage, where she would leave with her new Japanese family.

A crazed Alastor goes on his killing spree and begins to eat people out of desperation for food. He goes after racists, rapists, KKK members and deer hunters who hunt for sport and status (despite hunting deer himself and liking venison). He broadcasts their deaths on the radio. He doesn’t kill women and children. The people he killed are offered as sacrifices to deer demon Furfur and Met Kalfu, deities who grant him his power in Hell after he made deals with them. In order to gain power, Alastor had to leave his mortal life.

Alastor enjoys reading about the chaos in the newspaper. People frantically sell their stuff and beg for jobs and money. He also enjoys seeing the orphans suffering homeless in the streets as it reminds him of his better off status. He also finds children annoying and undisciplined, a left over trait from his father.

Chapter Twenty: “Video Killed the Radio Star”

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Alastor ironically dies when a full Hunter’s Moon is present. Police send dogs after Alastor after finding out of his actions, he barely manages to escape in the woods. He kills a deer hunter but an infected dog bites him afterwards. When a rabies-bitten Alastor buries the deer hunter’s body in hunting grounds, a hunter mistakes him for a deer and sends two hunting dogs after him. He gets mauled by the dogs before he is shot in the head. It is revealed that the hunter is Vincent/Vox, a white man who had been visiting New Orleans as a new CEO to promote TV. Vox is hailed as a hero after he finds out he killed the serial killer. (This is also why Alastor hates Vox so much).

#alastor #hazbinhotel #voodoo #humanalastor

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