The littlest Cannibal chapter 4: Bambi
Rosie reads Bambi to Alastor... this goes as well as you'd expect.
Alastor has memories of his life...it was never easy for him to survive.
⚠️Tw: Lots of death mentioned, racism heavily implied, violence, police brutality mentioned. (Alastor's mother was Creole, Alastor's father was white.) I am not an expert on any of this, but this is something Alastor would have experienced. If I wrote something completely off, please let me know. Web searching can only take me so far.
Lots of dead mothers here
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Alastor woke up the next morning with Rosie there next to him. He must have regressed again and requested for her to stay with him. It has happened before with Vox.
He rubs the sleep from his eyes and he stretches his neck.
“Alastor?” Rosie asks with a gasp, he wasn't even sure she was awake, but it appears she is as lively as Niffty is in the morning. “Is your hair naturally curly?” She reaches to touch his lovely curls.
Alastor hums only as a response, then shoos her hand away. He's never been much of a morning person.
“I didn't realize you straightened your hair.” Rosie says, sitting up on her knees. “How come you don't leave it in its natural state? It looks so nice.”
Alastor doesn't know how to answer that. He looks over at the clock. 7:17. That's awfully late.
Alastor brushes a hand through his hair, magically straightening it.
Alastor shoos her away with his hand again, not wanting to respond.
“Someone's not a morning person.” Rosie says with a chuckle.
“Actually, I usually rise a lot earlier.” Alastor says. “I just don't typically wake up to personal questions about my hair.” Alastor says.
“Sorry, didn't know it was such a touchy subject.” Rosie says.
Alastor looks to the side. “It's not…I've just been straightening it for years. It's a force of habit, that's all.” He says.
“Hm. Alright.” Rosie says, not convinced, there’s obviously more to this, but also she doesn't want to stress him out. “Say, before we start the day, I have a few questions for you.”
“Hm.” Alastor rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Fine, what is it?”
“How do you think yesterday went?” Rosie asks. “Any complaints?”
Alastor ponders for a moment. “I'd say it was fine.”
“I felt more relaxed.” He says. “Less…lonely.” He admits.
“That's amazing! How would you feel about regressing some more today?” She asks.
Alastor stares down at the bed and fiddles with the sheets. “I wouldn't…mind it.” He says, hesitantly.
Rosie giggles. “Is someone feeling a little bit…little?” Rosie asks, teasingly.
Alastor blushes slightly. “Perhaps…but, I don't-”
Rosie pulls Alastor close and hugs him.
Alastor's ears drop in confusion. “Rosie?”
“Just relax, allow yourself to feel vulnerable and feel as little as you want.” She tells him in her caregiver voice.
Alastor considers it…but eventually the feeling of her comfort overwhelmed him with warmth and…innocence. He felt…small.
He slowly reciprocates the hug, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling against her affectionately.
It became clear to Rosie that Alastor was now small, her plan had worked perfectly. “Would you like to get some breakfast, little dear?” Rosie asks.
Alastor nods enthusiastically, licking his lips. He was extremely hungry! He always was.
“Come on then.” Rosie helps him stand up and she holds his hand. She leads him to the dinning room to sit down. “You wait here, darling.” She tells him.
Alastor sat down patiently, he was such a little darling! Such good manners. A perfect gentleman…when he wants to be anyway. Rosie quickly made him a healthy breakfast, then set it down in front of him.
Alastor however was not impressed, his nose crinkled at the sight of it.
"What's wrong?” Rosie asks, hand on her hip.
“Mmm. Wan’ ven'son.” Alsstor mumbles.
“Now, Alastor. You got venison yesterday for all of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You need to eat something different.” She says.
Alastor shakes his head. “Mm. No fank you.”
Rosie shakes her head. “Alastor, I'm not asking.
Alastor growls at her, ears pinned to the back of his head.
“Alastor… knock it off with that attitude unless you want a time out.” Rosie threatens.
Alastor does calm down, but it's clear that beyond the smile was a defiant pout by the way his ears flop down.
“Nee’ meat, Wosie.” Alastor whines.
“Well, aren't you just the drama king. Alastor, you eat other foods all the time. Gumbo, pasta, jambalaya. Why is this any different?”
“Jambalaya is good.” He remarks. “Dis is mush.”
“You haven't even tried the oatmeal yet.” Rosie argues. She tries to feed him a spoonful yet again, but he turns away. “Alastor…” She warns.
Alastor gives her the same look as before. “I wan’ venison.” He says.
“I know you do, but you have to eat other foods sometimes.” She says. “I can't only feed you venison.”
“Is okay, I can!” Alastor says, sounding a bit more cheerful. “Is hell! Can’ ea’ wa’ I wan’!”
“Do you really not like oatmeal?” Rosie asks.
Alastor shrugs. “Jus wan’ venison.”
“So, this is a tantrum then?” She asks.
Alastor looks at the ground, he doesn't know what that would mean for Rosie.
Is he in trouble? Would she hurt him?
Vox just thought he was funny…
“Tell you what. If you eat the oatmeal for breakfast, I'll give you venison for lunch. Deal?”
“Mmm fine.” Alastor says.
“That's my good, Bambi.” Rosie says, petting his ears.
~~~Vox and Alastor: Past~~~~
“Alastor? Hey you in- Ah!”
Alastor pounced on Vox, causing him to fall backwards onto the hard floor. Alastor smiled, pinning his torso to the ground.
“Okay, Bambi. You got me.” Vox said, pushing him off. “I know I'm late, but did you have to be so violent? You could have broken my screen. You're such a little shit sometimes.”
Alastor nuzzled into him, managing to avoid hitting Vox with his antlers this time. He learned from last time that Vox isn't fond of scratch marks on his screen.
Vox pets his ears. “Okay, fine. Your cute tactic worked. I forgive you.”
Alastor leaned into the touch, he'd never admit this to someone else, but he loved it when Vox fondled his ears.
“So, I think it's clear that you're a little Bambi today.” Vox says. “How are you feeling? Can you talk?”
Alastor shook his head. “Mm.”
“That's okay, would you like to hang here a bit?” Vox asks.
Alastor tilts his head, he wanted something, but didn't know how to ask.
“Let's see…” Vox taps his chin. “Is my little fawn hungry?”
Alastor's smile brightens and he nods eagerly.
“Alright, one plate of disgusting deer meat for my favorite little cannibal, coming up.” Vox pet him once more and stood up to get Alastor his food.
Alastor followed happily, Vox may not have understood his love for venison, but he was keen on making the little one happy, so he prepared it for him.
“You sure you wouldn't rather this be cooked?” Vox asked.
Alastor shook his head, if it got cooked it wouldn't be raw, silly tv.
“Alrighty then, bon appetit. So long as I don't have to watch you eat it.” He says, turning his head away in disgust.
Alastor only giggled and enjoyed his food, happy music playing through the radio.
Vox acted like he was annoyed with Alastor sometimes, but he knew Vox really did like him.
~~~Present, Alastor and Rosie~~~
“Why do you call me that?” Alastor asks, voice sounding a bit older suddenly.
“Call you what, dear?” Rosie asks.
“Bambi. You've called me Bambi a few times now. Are you Italian?” Alastor asks, head tilting.
He's pretty sure she's not Italian, Vox isn't. And he still called him Bambi. It has to be some slang Alastor wasn't familiar with right?
“Oh, no I'm calling you the deer from the book Bambi.” Rosie explains.
Alastor blinks confusingly at her.
“You've never read Bambi?” Rosie asks.
Alastor shakes his head. “Should I have?”
“What about watching or even hearing of the movie?”
Alastor shakes his head again. “I don't watch movies.”
“Right.” Rosie hums. “I think I have the book somewhere. How about I read it to you?” She suggests.
“Finish your breakfast, then I'll read it to you. Alright?” She asks.
Alstor nods, still not enthusiastic about eating breakfast though.
But his longing for an answer helped his motivation to eat.
Oatmeal…does not taste like jambalaya.
He'll eat it because he wants a story, but he’s not eating it next time.
Rosie and Alastor retired to the living room after breakfast.
Rosie snaps her fingers and summons the book In question and sits down on the rocking chair. “Alright.” Rosie gestured for Alastor to get closer to her.
Alastor sat down on the couch that was next to her, kicking his legs in anticipation.
Alastor has read books about deer before, this should be fun!
Rosie began to read: “He came into the world in the middle of the thicket, in one of those little, hidden forest glades which seem to be entirely open, but are really screened in on all sides. There was very little room in it, scarcely enough for him and his mother.”.
Oh, it was a fictional book, that's interesting!
Rosie read on, and Alastor was honestly enjoying the book. He loved reading!
There was a bird in chapter one that talked about how easy it was to raise a baby deer, because they can walk on their own almost instantly.
Alastor remembered when he was only three years old, he could read almost anything but he could barely talk and often chose not to even speak the words he knew, he and his mother were living with his aunt and grandmother at the time, and they constantly told his mother something must be wrong with him if he can't put together a single sentence at three.
His mother defended him: ‘Alastor is fine. How about we praise his accomplishments rather than hyperfocus on what he can't do all the time?’ She suggested. ‘It certainly would make you more enjoyable to talk to. Maybe it would make him want to talk to you someday.’
‘Beatrice, all my kids were speaking at three, at least a little.’ His grandmother told her. ‘I'm simply worried something might be wrong.’
‘I'm not, he's three years old and can read, and he's already learning to write letters.’ His mother says. ‘And his listening skills are impeccable!’
‘Beatrice, he needs a father in his life, that may be the problem here.’
‘Because the father he had wasn't bad enough?’ She asks.
‘I think you could benefit from talking less. Perhaps you could learn something from Alastor.’ His mother says to them. ‘He knows how to listen first.’
They didn't agree, but Alastor was grateful that she was on his side…
Though… he wished he was an easier kid to raise, like Bambi. He wished his mother didn't have to defend him so much back then…
She didn't seem to care though, she never rushed him, told him to take his time and talk only when he felt ready to.
He remembered how he started crying, understanding everything they were saying and feeling bad about it. His mother simply picked him up and walked with him out of the room.
‘Alastor, non. It is alright, mon petit garçon chéri. You talk when you feel like it.’ She had said, picking him up. ‘If you don't want to talk, you don't have to. But when you're ready…I'll listen.’ She promised with a kiss on the forehead. ‘I'll always listen to you.’
“Bambi, she whispered. Every little while she raised her head and, listening, snuffed the wind. Then she kissed her fawn again, reassured and happy. Bambi, she repeated. My little Bambi.” Rosie read.
Alastor knew, no matter what, he could trust his mother to listen…even if he couldn't properly communicate how he was feeling.
Rosie read further as they made it to chapter 2:
“Bambi questioned her. He loved to ask his mother questions. It was the pleasantest thing for him to ask a question and then to hear what answer his mother would give. Bambi was never surprised that question after question should come into his mind continually and without effort. He found it perfectly natural, and it delighted him very much. It was very delightful, too, to wait expectantly till the answer came. If it turned out the way he wanted, he was satisfied. Sometimes of course, he did not understand, but that was pleasant also because he was kept busy picturing what he had not understood, in his own way. Sometimes he felt very sure that his mother was not giving him a complete answer, was intentionally not telling him all she knew.”
By the time Alastor could talk, he only really talked to his mother. The rest of his family didn't interest him at all, then years later when his mother married his…that man. He clinged to her for knowledge even further.
‘Why does he hit us so much?’ Alastor had asked.
‘Because, darling. Your father has problems.’ She says.
‘Problems?’ He tilts his head.
‘Don't worry, Maman is taking care of it. You just rest.’ She told him, placing a blanket over him.
He wished he understood that his mother didn't have it taken care of, that she was lying. That she was scared. She was only trying to help him be less scared.
He wished he could have helped her then, wished someone had helped them sooner.
“What was that? asked Bambi.
Nothing, his mother soothed him.
Yes, yes, said his mother. Don’t be frightened. The ferret has killed a mouse.
But Bambi was dreadfully frightened. A vast, unknown horror clutched at his heart. It was long before he could speak again. Then he asked, Why did he kill the mouse?
Because, his mother hesitated. Let us walk faster.
Shall we kill a mouse, too, sometime?
Why not? asked Bambi, relieved.
Because we never kill anything, said his mother simply.
Bambi grew happy again.” Rosie turned the page.
He didn't want to think about that right now.
His mother was so innocent…yet predators…hunters…still hunted her like prey.
Alastor didn't want to be prey…so he became a hunter when he grew up. That's just how the world worked.
Bambi and his mother went to the meadow where Bambi's mother taught him to be careful of hunters, much like how Alastor's mother would teach him how to respond when a policeman approached him, or if any stranger attempted to talk to him…
He feared for his and his mother's life constantly.
It was more than necessary considering how many people who looked just like them died for no reason.
“Out there if I should call you, there must be no looking around and no questions, but you must get behind me instantly. Understand that. Run without pausing or stopping to think. If I begin to run, that means for you to run too, and no stopping until we are back here again. You won’t forget, will you?” Rosie read what Bambi’s mother said.
Bambi and him were lucky to have mothers who taught them about the world…it was very dangerous for deers like them.
“Can’t we go to the meadow? Bambi asked timidly.
No, his mother answered, and it sounded very final. No, you can’t go now.
Why can’t we go to the meadow? Bambi asked.
You’ll find out all about it later when you’re bigger, his mother replied.
But, Bambi insisted, I’d rather know now.
Later, his mother repeated, you’re nothing but a baby yet, she went on tenderly, and we don’t talk about such things to children.” Rosie read.
‘Maman… does père hurt you?’ Alastor asks.
‘Don't worry about that now, Bebe. Get some sleep.’ his mother says.
‘Alastor, enough arguing.’ She scolded. ‘If I say I have it handled, I have it handled. Is that clear?’
Alastor nodded. ‘Yes, Maman.’
Alastor's mother walked out the door without another word.
He didn't understand at the time, but he knew now that she was only trying to protect him…and shield him from how much pain she was truly in…
“So, my son, we’ll have to stay where we are. We’re safe here. Now lie down again and go to sleep.” Rosie read.
Alastor likes Bambi's Maman.
In chapter 5, Bambi's mother pushed her son away. She said he was no longer a baby and he needed to be on his own.
Alastor agreed. When he was around eight or…maybe seven, he was working really hard as a shoe shiner to help his mother, it was about time he became useful.
Bambi needed to learn to rely on himself too, mothers need help sometimes too.
But then Bambi was on his own for too long and called for his mother… then an older deer scolded him for it.
Bambi should be independent…but it was okay for Bambi to want his mother at least sometimes. Right?
Everyone needs their mother sometimes… Alastor certainly did.
Alastor doesn't know why this book was so familiar to him, every scene, every moment felt like it could have or did happen to him in some way…
Even if they're nowhere near the same circumstances. He was not a deer before…his mother wasn't a deer.
There was a part of the book where Bambi's mother was hungry, they didn't travel as much as usual and she pretended she wasn't so hungry.
Alastor remembered that sometimes he'd have a plate of food, and his mother didn't…
It wasn't always…but sometimes.
And she refused to take some of his food when he offered to share. So, he'd eat a bit of it, and left it on the table for her anyway.
If she truly wasn't hungry, she wouldn't have eaten it, and if she was, he helped.
She always ate it, so his mother was always fed at least something.
Bambi's friend Gobo died… it was dreadfully sad. Alastor liked that character a lot. He didn't know how to feel about it…
He knew plenty that had died and…no one seemed to bat an eye at it. So many he heard about, and no one was prosecuted for it. The many times his mother told him, if any officer approached him, he was to be respectful, say he knew nothing and once the officer left, he was to go home immediately, and he was not to run while an officer was watching.
Then Bambi couldn't find his maman. He looked and asked multiple deer if they'd seen her…but no one did.
“Then Bambi asked despondently: Aunt Ena, have you seen my mother?
No, answered Aunt Ena gently.
Bambi never saw his mother again.” Rosie read.
Alastor's ears shot up. “What?”
Rosie had turned the page. “She never saw her again.” Rosie repeats.
“Why not?” Alastor asks her.
“Because- she…died, dear.”
“Why?” Alastor asks. “Why does she die?” Alastor's voice sounded panicked while his breathing quickened.
“Well…” Rosie wasn't sure if she should even say.
“A hunter can't kill does! That's not okay! They still have babies who need them still! Bambi still needs her!” Alastor says.
Rosie stood up. “Alastor-”
‘Alastor?’ His aunt opened the door. ‘What happened? Are you alright?’
No answer…he can't answer…can't talk…
‘Alastor, sweetie? Where's your mother?’
‘Maman…’ Alastor suddenly felt cold…
And then it was all darkness…
He didn't even feel his head hit the pavement.
She was gone…no one listened to him after that.
His best friend…his moral compass… was gone.
Alastor flinches away from Rosie as she tries to touch him, and he disappears into his shadow.
“Alastor!” Rosie calls. She suddenly hears the sound of radio static and rushes towards it.
“Alastor?” She asks calmly once she enters the little fawn's bedroom.
Alastor was curled into a corner, crying. Radio buzzing could be heard around him as a sort of defence mechanism, it was loud, so loud she wonders if the neighbors will complain about the noise.
She sits down on the floor in front of him. “Alastor…”
“They got her.” Alastor says. “They got her- they- they killed her. But- I- I needed her.”
“I know, sweetie. I know.” She says.
Obviously Bambi wasn't the right choice for Alastor…but in her defense, Les Miserables had a dead mother too, and it was much more heartbreaking.
What made Bambi so different?
“Alastor…my darling. Please breathe for me.” Rosie tells him.
Maman is here, she's not dead, she's not dead, she didn't die! Ever!
Why did they have to do that….hurt her. Why?
Alastor cries and bleats for his mother. “Maman.” He whimpered when no mother answered him.
Where the lost things go?”
Alastor looks up at her, crying softly still.
Well maybe all those things
Where the lost things go.” Rosie sang so gently and softly…she almost sounded like her.
‘I don't like it here.’ Alastor told his mother.
‘Alastor, it's only for a little while.’ His mother says.
‘I want to go home!’ He demanded.
Alastor didn't know why, he just knew he hated it. He crossed his arms and pouted.
His mother smiled sympathetically and took his hands in hers.
‘Hey, listen. We have to stay here for now, but one day I promise it'll all change. We'll save up all our money, set up our shop, and then…’ She tilts his head up to look at her. ‘We’ll take the world by the hand, and we'll have the life we always wanted. Okay, baby?’
Alastor nods. ‘Okay, Maman.’
‘Don't give up, Mon chèri.’ She says. ‘Let me see that smile.’
‘Magnifique.’ She praises, giving his head a quick kiss. ‘Never let them take your happiness, my heart.’
They're all around you still
Though they've disappeared.
Alastor crawled to Rosie who picked him up and held him close. “Maman.” Alastor cries again.
“I know, my darling.” Rosie holds him in her arms and gently rubs circles on his back.
Are playing hide and seek
Where the lost things go.”
Rosie stood up once Alastor stopped crying and guided him into bed, tucking him in.
For when you dream you'll find
Maybe all you're missing lives inside of you.”
Rosie pets his ears gently.
‘I'm always here, Alastor. I'll always be right here.’ His mother had promised, touching his heart.
Alastor hugged his mother, and she ran her fingers through his hair.
‘Even if I'm far away, even if you can't see me. I'm always with you.’
“So when you need her touch
Rosie pauses to kiss his head.
“Maman…” Alastor says softly, half asleep already.
“Find her in the place where the lost things go.” Rosie sat down on the chair next to the bed while Alastor drifted to sleep. “Sweet dreams, my dear. I promise everything will be alright.” She tells him.
Alastor woke up a few hours later, tears still stained with dried tears.
Rosie was still reading the book, but only to herself. Looking for something that may have triggered him.
Alastor sat up on the bed, acting as if the attack never happened…or he didn't remember it.
“Alastor.” Rosie smiles at him. “Did you sleep well, darling?”
Alastor looks at her normally, then looking mortified seeing her book on the table.
“Alastor?” Rosie asks, reaching out her hand.
He quickly takes the book and grips it tightly in his hands.
Rosie was confused by the gesture, but it was clear now that he did remember. “Would you like to talk about-”
“No!” Alastor says immediately, surprising Rosie with his tone of voice, his antlers grow like they do when he's ready to battle an enemy.
Rosie doesn't move, but her surprise is clear on her face.
He does attempt to keep himself calm though, closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. “I want you to leave.” He says. “Please.”
“Alastor?” Rosie raises an eyebrow.
“Please, Rosie? I- I just want to be alone.” He says, moving the book close to his chest…hugging it.
“Rosie!” He uses the same loud yet desperate tone of voice, this time no radio filter. “Just…go…please?” He begs.
Rosie frowns. “Alright…if you're sure that's what you want?”
She phrases it like a question but it didn't seem like one. “I'm sure.” He says. “Just go.”
“Call me if you need me.” She says to him before exiting his room…
She honestly wasn't sure what else to do.
She wasn't sure what it was she did to upset him.
Okay, so. This takes place before Alastor's 7 year absence right?
Rosie is singing a song from a movie that was less than 7 years old.
Logic isn't going to logic here, okay? It's fanfiction. 💅 that movie wasn't even out yet, but the song worked so well!
*Song is called: Place where the list things go from Mary Poppins returns.
Also, it's my birthday!! 🎉
If y'all want to give me a gift 🎁 all I ask Is that you give this fic some love! Send a comment, a heart ❤️ it's the best gift ever 💖
This is by far my favorite chapter so far. I really enjoyed getting in the feels for this one.
So hopefully it's alright 👍
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