Chapter Text
The sky was dark and gloomy when you woke up this morning and even now as you lay down on your back in a muddy puddle with your work books strewn about in said puddle, you couldn't help but think that this dark and gloomy sky was beautiful.
You couldn't hear the voice of the bully that purposely tripped you so that you'd fall in the giant mess that you were in. A part of you was sure she was cursing at you, probably calling you ‘lazy’ and what not as the clouds above you began to cry and grace your skin with cool raindrops. The things you've already heard before, things you had grown the mental strength to overcome on the outside.
Her anger stemmed from the fact that she was an idiot at her own game, not that you had an issue with that. She paid you to do her homework. Five bucks a page. And with college classes sending you home with at least 4 pages of homework every other day, it was safe to say that you had struck a goldmine. The Professor on the other hand had quite the issue with that. Calling her out during class and pointing out how she clearly copied your work for an essay that was due. He mentioned that this was a perfect example of plagiarism and that unless anyone else wanted to be embarrassed or dropped from the class, they would not follow in her foolish footsteps.
Of course, her tiny brain blamed you. Resulting in thick mud caking your clothes destroying your school work.
The sound of her stomping off gave you the signal you could get up without fear of her pushing you back down again. You shook off as much mud as you could from your clothes and salvaged as much if you work as possible, when your eyes spotted something bright red in your perfierals.
Reaching for the object, you pulled it out of the puddle and concluded that whatever it was, it was squishy like a teddy bear.
Wiping some of the dirt away with your hand, you discovered a pair of familiar red eyes looking back at you. A spike of excitement grew in your chest and you began to furiously clean off the plushie like object to reveal more and more features of the character you loved the most.
You held the plushie out in front of you with a sigh of happiness, it was a Hazbin Hotel Alastor plush. Oh, you've been dying to have one ever since you found the series in middle school!
Quickly you realized how beat up the poor thing was. Not only was it dirty from being in the mucky mud puddle, but there were a few rips and tears in the stitching. Buttons were missing, paint was chipped on the little microphone, and the monocle was cracked. For a moment, your nostrils flared in anger. How could someone allow such a high grade plushie to end up in this state? Not to mention the waste of money! Last you checked Hazbin Hotel merch wasn't cheap..
“You poor thing..” You muttered under your breath as you wiped off some excess mud from the tail coat on the doll.“Don't worry, I’ll fix you right up and you'll be good as new.”
Double checking to see if you possibly left anything behind in the dirty death trap, you held the plushie close as you began the walk back home. Ignoring some of the looks you got from passersby on the street who saw you covered in sludge. Checking the driveway of your house, you took note of the missing blue car that belonged to your Dad.
Good. It meant that you had about five hours left to yourself before he came stumbling into the house..
Getting inside your warm home as quickly as possible, you immediately changed your clothes and placed them in the washer. Replacing your muddy green hoodie and jeans with a red sweater and some black leggings. Placing the plushie on a chair, just for the time being while you changed clothes, you were stuck with the strong urge to turn it around while you undressed. Which was a bit odd, considering all the other stuffed animals that you had fixed up and kept in your room, you undressed in front of them all the time but, something about this Alastor plush made you want to turn it away from you. There was no particular reason that you could place your finger on, but you listened to the feeling anyway.
As you shuffled around the house to get your chores together, you ran a warm bath to place the plush in. It was due for a good soaking and a bit of elbow grease would be needed to restore it back to its glory. You placed about two cups of clothes detergent in the tub, with the plush following afterwards. You had removed the microphone and the monocle for now, but you did placed a heavy bucket full on top of the toy, just to keep it submerged under water for a while.
As your new project was getting ready, you took the time to go around your house doing your chores. Packing your father's lunch for the next day, taking out his clothes for tomorrow, pressing them with the iron, and making sure they were free of any debris or stains. You also cooked some spaghetti dinner for him and yourself, placed your clothes in the dryer and folded them, ready to be put in their proper place when it was time.
As you worked, you thought to yourself about your next coming assignments and you hoped that your dad would just go to his room and sleep off the alcohol you knew he consumed before he came home. While you vacuumed the living room floor, you bumped the table and accidentally knocked over one of the few pictures you had of her.
You picked up the photograph, checking the frame for cracks, which you thanked God there were none. It was the one where she was holding you as a baby on her graduation day. She had just passed medical school and would go on to be Dr. (L/N) for the next thirteen years before she was taken victim by cancer. The day she passed was the day everything in your life changed, your Dad changed, you changed, and the world was never the same.
Yet you stayed optimistic and promised yourself that you would follow in her footsteps. A tear welled up in your eye as you remembered the day she brought you your first teddy bear and how you began your restoration hobby of stuffed animals whenever you would actually damage it.
Placing the picture back down on the table the way you found it, your finished up vacuuming and ran back upstairs to check on your new project. Upon entering the bathroom, you could see the dark brown water just from the doorway. The additional weight from the bucket did its job and now it was time to scrub.
Clearing out the dirty water down the drain, you ran the tap again with warm water and another cup of detergent, followed by some baking soda. For extra cleaning power.
Grabbing a nearby brush you keep for things like this, you set to work on scrubbing the doll like you've never scrubbed before. Careful of the rips and tears that it already had, you effectively worked through all the mud and sludge that the thing had retained. By the time you were done, the water was a lighter shade of brown and the plush was looking quite spiffy.
You weren't quite sure if it was dryer safe or not, but you did want to have him finished before your Dad returned. Ultimately you decided to place him in the dryer for fifteen minutes on the lowest settings and if he was still damp, you'd finish up the process with your hairdryer.
While Alastor was in the dryer, you went into your room to gather your materials at your vanity. It had everything from buttons to threads to fabrics, a final gift from your deceased mother.
Shaking off the bittersweet thought, you began it pick out what you needed. Black and red thread for the rips in Alastor's stitching, two bright red buttons for his tail coat, a shiny blood red rhinestone for the center of his bow tie, red paint, a hairbrush for animal like fur, and even a piece of hard stained plastic for the little monical that cracked.
The beep from the dryer alerted you and you happily went to retrieve your new little friend. Giving him a speedy squeeze test, you came to find that he had dried fairly well, but was still a little damp in some areas. Returning to your room, you turned on a nearby radio. It looked like it was from the 20’s but it still played modern day music. You changed to the station that played old songs from Alastor's time and before. Placing the happy looking doll neatly on your vanity you began to work.
‘Dooon’t save your kisses, just pass ‘em around.
You'll find my reason, is logically sound
Who's gonna knooow, you passed ‘em around
A hundred years from today’
Humming along to one of your favorite songs as you worked, you couldn't help but take the time to meditate. Some people think that it's impossible to meditate and do something else at the same time, but you seem to have mastered it with no issues thus far.
It helped you to relax and deal with all the conflicting emotions in your life. Your mothers death, your Dad’s addiction and occasional abuse, the fact that you were twenty-one and still living with your father, so so many upsetting things about your father…
For every stitch you made, there was a thought. Feelings that you acknowledged, accepted, and then dismissed into the void. Despite your Dad's abuse and the only reason for sending you to college was for your stipend money, you would take a fair chunk out of it before you would give him the rest. So far, you had almost enough to successfully purchase an apartment stashed away. You had done your research thoroughly and found a decent place about two hours away from where you lived now. It had a community college there too, one where you could transfer your credits and even get an internship for your career.
Hours passed by peacefully as you stitched. Tearing off when needed, doing your best to be careful. Unfortunately you were still in a crunch for time and you were almost finished. The tailcoat, buttons, and bow tie had been completed. You even took the liberty of brushing and adjusting his hair, all that was left was the monocle and his microphone.
Quickly you painted the tiny microphone, which you thought was absolutely adorable. As you worked, you realized that you had never seen this version of a Hazbin plush before, this added to your confusion on why someone would throw something like this away. You decided to do a quick Google research as you fixed up the monocle and placed it right on his face where it belonged. The microphone would have to wait to be added. The paint was still wet and would take at least another thirty minutes.
Checking your watch, you realized that it was way later than you thought and that your father's drunkard of a father would come in any minute!
Placing the doll next to your prized radio, you ran downstairs to grab some food and water. Retreating to your room at top speed as you saw the headlights from his car through the kitchen window. You pulled out your homework and laid it out on your desk to give the illusion that you had been studying since you got home.
As much as you loved repairing stuffed toys, your father hated your hobby and forbade you from doing such a thing while you were in college and still under his roof. This rule brought you sorrow, but you were at least happy that he let you keep the old ones you had as a child.
Sound of the door opening and closing made you jump slightly, turning to your page chapter for school, you took deep breaths to calm down as heavy footsteps made it to your room.
The door swung open as your Dad stumbled in, drunk off of God knows what. “You couldn't even be bothered to say 'Hi' to your Pop's after a long day of work?” He slurred.
You sighed and feigned an apologetic nature. “I'm sorry Dad, I got caught up in my work.”
“Whatever..” He hiccuped. “You better keep those grades good. That check you get from that stupid place helps out a lot..N’ you better not think about droppin out.”
“Yes sir.”
He looked at you hard, before snorting and making his way back downstairs. Probably for more booze. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Once again you survived, and decided to actually spend some time studying until you heard the angry slamming of a pot in the kitchen.
Fear licked at your heart as your Dad came thundering back up the stairs. You barely had time to scream as he yanked you up by your hair, dragging you back into the kitchen as he lifted the lid of the pot and shoved your face very close to the food you made earlier. You were terrified and confused. What had you done wrong this time?!
“How many times have I told you..” He started. “Don't put onions in my fucking food!!”
Tears weld in your eyes as you struggled in his grip. “I'm sorry! I forgot!”
He snorted. “Then maybe we should do something to jog that memory of yours next time..” You heard the sound of the stove top being turned on and you began to trash in fear. He grabbed your arm harshly, rolling up your sleeve to hold it over the gas flame.
“No! No! Stop it! Daddy please, you're drunk!!” You begged, feebly trying to yank your arm away as the fire began to burn your skin.
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Quiet sobs filled your bedroom as you slowly patched up your wound. A second-degree burn sat fresh on the forearm of your skin, already blistered and still stinging even after you applied the proper ointment on it.
You made sure to keep your sobs as silent as possible. Waking him up from his sleep would only turn into something much worse..
Hate wasn't even a strong enough word to encapsulate how you felt about this man. You loathe him. Despised him. But no matter how much you couldn't stand him you couldn't bring yourself to kill him. Thoughts about it had popped up in your head before, but you never fully acted on these thoughts. Except for maybe putting eye drops on his coffee that made him sick for a month.
Wiping your tears, you tried not to focus on the dark thoughts that graced your mind. The things you could do if only you were strong enough. Picking up your strewn about material, you noticed that the microphone for your Alastor plushie had dried. A small smile graced your face, at least you had that to be happy about.
Grabbing it off the area where you let it dry, you sat down at your desk. Careful with your forearm as you placed the microphone back in Tiny Alastor's little hand.
Your project was complete. A sense of happiness and pride overcame your features as you could see the object at its prime. It was adorable, definitely your new favorite among all your other stuffed projects.
Move over Mr.Buttercup, there's a new bed frame plushie to take your place and his name is Alastor!
Ultimately, you decided to climb into bed. There was no way you could study now, not in such a sad mood. Grabbing your new toy, you gave it a good squeeze and started to cry once again.
“Sometimes..” You whispered. “I wish you were real.. So that I wouldn't be alone. So that I could smile for real and live everyday without worrying about when that man might kill me before I can get away..”
A hiccup left your throat. Pulling the soft plush closer to your chest, you hugged it so tight that if it had bones they'd probably be broken by now.
“You're my only friend Alastor..” You sniffled, finally falling asleep to dream a better dream. But before you fell unconscious, you swore you felt something cradling your face. It was cold, yet comforting and along with it was the sweet sound of a song you couldn't say you've ever heard before.
‘When you see clouds upon the hills
You soon will see crowds of daffodils
So keep on looking for a bluebird, and listening for his song
Whenever April showers come along..’