𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚝_𝙸𝚗_𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕤

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「 ✦ Events ✦ 」

Note: Shipping requires BOTH mun and muse to be AT LEAST 25.

This is for my comfort.

「 ✦ Relationships✦ 」

a cartoon character with red hair and red eyes is standing next to a vase of leaves ALT: a cartoon character with red hair and red eyes is standing next to a vase of leaves

Alastor DuBois
Age At Death: 39
Birthday: October 29th, 1893
Death day: October 13th, 1933
He/Him
Semi-Sex Repulsed Asexual, Demiromantic, Fem Lean

✦ Not easily shipped with/ HEAVY chem required ✦

「 ✦ Muse ✦ 」

⛤Written In #Stardust⛧

✩‧₊˚✧[ 𝄞 ]✧˚₊‧✩

𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 | N/SFW | Dead Dove
Selective | Plot Driven | Semi-Canon
Literate | Para/Multipara
𝐀𝐂𝐄 Spectrum

♪Read The Information Below 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 Interacting!♪

"𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽,
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 n̴̪͇̦̒̓͋͐́ë̷̬̠̪̦͖̠̗̻̩͖͙̦̬̼̯͒̏́͒͗̇͌̄̏̉̔̏͑̌̑͝ė̷͙̘͎̟̺̯̈̓̓̇̃̉̓̕͝ď̸̹̹̭͙͙͎͔͑̓̊̀̈́̑͌̈̔̈́͋̃̃̓͘!"

// tech we're doing that in the discord rp!

I just feel like I wrote Al a lot differently now from a year ago

//I also feel like I wanna reset all of Al's relationships...

//I really wanna rp here, but I hate the fact that you barely get notifications from this app.

It makes it hard to remember I even have it.

// I stay out of the loop a lot because I only interact with a small group of people in the fandom.

// Wait. What happened?

And to her right, the shadow stood against the wall, the thumbs on its hands were interlocked, while its fingers were spread out, mimicking a shadow puppet of a bird.

Which... was a little redundant, considering it was a shadow.

While Alastor was busy mulling over what topic to introduce, it seemed his personal shadow had taken an interest with Angel.

The slightest little click of a pebble hit the table in front of her. The stone was primarily blue with misty white streaks across it. A beautiful fragment of larimar.

[...]

trying to recall what else, if anything, he remembered about the spider. Surely there was better conversation than something that was going to continuously loop back to her day with that repugnant miscreant she called a boss.

Or whatever their relationship was.

[...]

Society was far too sexually charged for his tastes. And it had only gotten worse the more public those desires became.

An astringently bitter taste draped over his tongue at the thought. And then his mind was elsewhere-

[...]

His gaze cast over towards her as she spoke and lingering behind his crimson pools was subtle disgust. Alastor broke contact before any of his feelings could manifest. The revulsion he felt at her words were directed at those she referenced and not her.

[...]

She would probably think him silly if she knew he kept those, or, perhaps she did know. He was a secret hopeless romantic, after all. And he'd never been able to hide much from her.

When he could spare a moment, he would return the gesture and write her a billet-doux.

He folded the letter up once he read it, placing it in a drawer were all of the notes she's left him were gathered. Alastor was not the type to keep material possessions, however, he was never able to bring himself to discarding such thoughtful epistles.

[...]

As they were out on the streets of pride, he guided her smoothly away from any crowds. Keeping any with prying eyes or ears from spying on their conversation.

"You will need to remain vigilant for a while. Trust no one. And I mean, no one."

allowing the shadows to envelop them, as he led her out of the speakeasy. There were no demons within those walls that he wanted to know she was with him. That would be the easiest way to make her a target.

[...]

The inner recesses of his mind told him that he could not guarantee Lettie her safety. His prideful side sneered at the possibility of succumbing to a threat.

He maneuvered her hand towards his inner elbow as he took a step forward-

[...]

"Of course it's safe to leave. You're in my company and no one in their right mind would dare to stop us."
Part of him wondered if he was telling her, or trying to convince himself.

Over the last seven years the newer sinners were a lot more bold then they had been when he first arrived.

[...]

"Worried?" A soft snicker. "That silly little shadow must be losing his edge. He should know better than to worry about me." Alastor pulled away, gently tapping his finger against the end of her nose. "As should you, my dear. There is no one in Pride who can stand against me."