Eve!Lilith!Alastor AU:
“You know, Al, I overheard folks talking the other day. About the Butcher.”
“Oh?”
“It’s all hush-hush, din’t want the fuzz overhearing, but the common folk are praising the guy,” Mimzy smirked at him knowingly, which Alastor returned.
Then she continued, and Alastor’s stomach tightened uncomfortably.
“They’re calling him a hero. Praying for his safety. Apparently the tragically widowed Mrs Baudelaire was caught praying for his soul. She claimed when confronted that ‘as a good Christian woman I followed Jesus’ example and extended the hand forgiveness to the tragically lost soul in hopes they be saved.’” Mimzy snorted, “Anyone who’s seen how her husband treated her and their youngins knows that’s a load of baloney! I gotta appreciate the audacity though, even got herself praised by the church.”
Alastor forced a laugh out, but judging from Mimzy’s raised eyebrow it wasn’t convincing.
“Ridiculous! Truly laughable! Calling the Butcher a hero? Praying for his soul to be saved?! You’re putting me on!”
“Nope! Not kiddin’!”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Sheesh, learn to take a compliment, Alastor Altruist!”
He growled at her, but she just laughed in his face, “I told you to stop calling me that, Mimzy! Ever since you said that at the speakeasy, I’ve been hearing it in the streets! People have been coming up to me, telling me about non-profits they think I’d be interested in to share on my broadcast-”
“And then you do share them, you softie.”
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT.”
“Alastor!”
His head was swimming, “You got people thinking I’m some sort of saint! I’m not- I can’t be- they can’t- I am going to Hell… I can’t let them…”
“Easy, Al,” Mimzy’s voice was soothing, her tiny hand was on his shoulder, guiding him back into his chair. Huh. When did he leave it? “Let’s unclench those hands. Let go of those lovely locks. There we go.”
Alastor blinked slowly, his scalp felt a bit sore. What was he doing?
“There we go! How about we talk about something else, huh?”
Alastor looked at Mimzy, his voice sounded far away, “I don’t belong in heaven. I belong in Hell.”
“Yes, yes, you’re a heartless son of a bitch,” she rolled her eyes affectionately, “I know! I know! Put away the purple eyes!”
Alastor never understood what she meant when she said that. His eyes were brown.
“Here let me make it up to you, a drink on the house!”
It was a good drink.
Alastor ended up speaking to the old Reverend for advice. Sort of.
Reverend Rohan had been preaching as far back as Alastor could remember and was very tolerant of his child self’s… eccentricities. He was too young to remember, but Maman had plenty of embarrassing stories about how he had apparently tried to ‘correct’ the preacher on certain bible passages.
“My angel didn’t curse us; he saved us, saved me,” he had said while kicking Rohan in the shin.
“Lulu didn’t force Judas to do anything, you bully! Stop lying! Liar!” he had cried while Maman shushed and soothed him.
“That’s wrong! Adam didn’t eat the fruit of knowledge; he didn’t need it! Maybe if he had he would’ve been less of a dick!” Ugh, Alastor remembered the aftermath of that incident. The taste of soap was not so easily forgotten as second hand parental embarrassment.
He had apologised once when he was older, only for the Reverend to laugh it off, even claiming that it was thanks to Alastor that he was able regain his faith and fix his relationship with his daughter after his wife passed away.
Regardless, Rohan had given him some ideas on what keeps a soul out of heaven, even if he hadn’t phrased it that way.
Alastor may not be able to stop people from praying for his soul, but he can bind it to someone or something in Hell.
Why stop there? Let’s go even higher! Let’s summon the Devil himself!
Alastor was buzzing as he started to prepare, ‘Why hadn’t I thought of this before?! It is so obvious!’
Alastor was a man of dignity. He was not giggling like a schoolgirl as he was finally, finally ready to complete the summoning circle.
He took a deep breath, and called out, “I call on you, voices of the afterlife. I wish to make a deal with you.”
The circle flared red, and Alastor was temporarily blinded by red light. When his vision cleared, he blinked through the spots and saw…
A rubber duck sitting in the centre of the circle.
“What?”
He grabbed the ritual knife and slowly, carefully poked the duck with it. When nothing happened, he kneeled down, picked the toy up and began to inspect it.
Alastor squeezed the rubber duck. It squeaked.
Huh.
It seemed to be a perfectly ordinary rubber duck, save for the rosy cheeks and little white top hat upon its head.
“Lily, look! I made a little duckie family! This one is you, this one is Charlie, and this one is me! And when Alexander is born, I’ll-”
Someone was wailing. He wished they would stop.
Alastor shuddered, his chest aching, his forehead pressed against rough wood as he curled up into a ball. His arms wrapped tight around his stomach, as if he could somehow still protect… protect the… protect what?
Blinking through the… tears…? Alastor sat up. His throat felt sore, his head felt like it was about to explode… wait, why is he on the floor? Did he pass out?
OH CRAP! Alastor hurriedly checked his glasses; they weren’t damaged from the fall, thankfully, these are his only pair!
Alastor rubbed his eyes, sighing, perhaps he used too much of his own blood for the ritual, he’ll have to be more careful next time.
It was when he moved to run a hand through his hair that Alastor realised that he still had the rubber duck clenched in his other hand.
Squeak!
“Well,” Alastor told the little thing as he brushed himself off, “You’re not what I was after, but I guess your mine now! I spent a lot of time and blood on that ritual, you know?”
Squeak!
“You’re coming back home with me. I expect you pull your own weight, earn your keep!”
The duck stared back with his bead little eyes.
Squeak!
“So, it’s a deal then! Now, you just need a name. How about Lulu? You look like a Lulu!”
He had woken up early and had the urge to make his family some pancakes. It has been… a long time since they had sat together for breakfast. He misses it.
“Al?” his roommate, Guy Winters, spoke up sounding hesitant.
“Yes?” Alastor yawned widely like a cat, nearly locking his jaw.
“Listen, I love you, and you know how I am very grateful for everything you do around here?”
“Mmhmm.” He likes Guy. Guy’s a good friend; he’s sure Lulu and Char-char would love him too.
“So, I’m not judging, but why did you make pancakes for me, yourself and a rubber duck?”
Alastor blinked, shaking himself awake as he processed the question and clarity hit his brain.
Guy was watching him with a mixture of concern and amusement and sat across him was Lulu. A rubber duck. A stack of warm pancakes that Alastor could barely remember making sat before each of them.
“I…” Alastor floundered for a moment, “I could’ve sworn there was someone else there. I’m sorry.”
“Al, it’s no problem! Was just concerned, is all! You were still out when I went to bed and yet you still got up before me… again. You push yourself way too hard, pal.”
“All this food-”
“I am not complaining! More for us!”
“Right, right.”
“Where’d you get the rubber duck from anyway?”
“It was a gift from a fan.”
“Okay,” Alastor huffed, taking notes in his journal, “Summoning attempt number eight. Wish me luck, Lulu!”
Lulu sat on the table.
“I call on you, voices of the afterlife. I wish to make a deal with you.”
Lulu watched as the circle glowed again, and this time a voice on the radio answered.
“Why have you called me here, human? To curse? To give? To learn?”
@kitsunesongs @periguita @nunalastor
