In the Hazbin Hotel universe I have an OC named Bernadette Hunter.
(These are old works, please don't take it personally)
In this fandom, she's positioned as Alastor's ex-wife, whom he married in the 1920s as a cover story because:
- He was on a murderous streak at the time;
- Reactions to single life were more acute back then.
So, marriage was a kind of social shield and could help Al kill two birds with one stone: the appearance of normalcy and a reduced risk of suspicion, since a successful radio host and a loving family man—what could possibly raise suspicion here? I'll start from scratch, and there will be many more letters to come...
He met Bernadette at his friend Mimzy's club, "Ragtime". Young Bernadette was a fan of Louisiana's First Smile radio show and, overcoming her fear of her idol, approached him with a napkin for him to sign. Al, meanwhile, having come to the club to settle his "love" affairs by trial and error, decided to settle on the girl who had approached him first. He engaged her in conversation, dangled noodles in her ears about how wonderful and special she was, and that very evening proposed marriage. Bernadette, realizing she'd never had a chance to do so again, accepted him enthusiastically. However, life with her idol wasn't the fairytale she'd expected from his words. He was polite, gallant, and never insulted anyone, but at the same time, he was terribly cold in the sense that he never bothered to offer a sincerely kind word, unless it was in public. He didn't emanate the warmth and love that might emanate from someone dear to you, so there were no kisses, no hugs—oh, and is there even any point in talking about an intimate life? I think many who know about hotels know that Alastor is asexual. In my story, they only had one such night in their life, and that was eighteen months after their wedding, but it was a lucky one for Alastor, who wanted to strengthen his "shield" with the addition of a child. So, despite his own qualms, the experience was fulfilled. In 1922, their daughter, Martha, was born.
Their tormented marriage lasted until 1928, and during that time, Bernadette increasingly began to feel like a void in her home. She believed Alastor tolerated her out of pity, that she had never been and never would be desirable. Then the infidelities began. Many infidelities. She sought warmth in the arms of other men, trying to find what she couldn't find in her own husband. Men came and went, and Bernadette didn't know why each new one disappeared from her life without a trace. Alastor knew about her infidelities, but he didn't show it, because Bernadette kept everything as quiet as he needed to maintain her name and status, and as long as her infidelities weren't a problem, he continued to pretend he knew nothing (though it doesn't take long to figure out why his wife's suitors disappeared without a trace). One autumn evening in 1928, Bernadette returned home with six-year-old Martha from her grandmother's, hoping Alastor would be home, but he was gone. In the living room, Bernadette discovered an open farewell letter from her last lover and realized with horror that Alastor had found out. He was neither in the study nor the shed. It was raining outside, so hunting was out of the question, but in the shed, Bernadette found a bloody knife and a trail of mud leading from the shed toward the wooded area beyond their yard. Further on, she found Al dismembering a corpse with an axe, and then Martha came running after her. Coming out of her daze, Bernadette ran with her daughter through the dark streets of New Orleans, while Alastor tried to catch up. At a crossroads, he grabbed Martha by the arm and tried to pull her away, asking her to stop and let him explain everything. Bernadette tugged furiously at her daughter's other arm, hoping to wrest the girl from her father's grasp. They were so caught up in the tug-of-war that they neither heard nor saw a police Ford coming around the corner and barreling straight toward them (don't worry, I'd already familiarized myself with the local cars of the time). And that's it, everyone froze, like dumb deer. They didn't have time to react. Al closed his eyes, expecting the blow, which landed, but missed. Opening his eyes, he found only Martha's severed hand in his own. The impact sent both of them flying into the window of a nearby antique shop. Bernadette, riddled with shrapnel, died almost instantly—by the time Alastor ran in, she was already dead. Marta was still breathing, but weakly; the injuries inflicted by the blow and shrapnel were irreparable. The girl died in her father's arms, genuinely confused as to why her father was crying.
That's the way it is. The moral of the story is that Alastor is a loserXD
blakekathryn
origamiaround
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