Alastor's Fading Static Hatred (Radiodust mpreg)

Chapter Seventy-Nine: Resting

•Mercy's point of view•

I caught up to Calypso after running all the way to the building where Stolas housed a lot of artists. She was standing on the lamppost with her blocky fairy wings still spread and her eyes still in demonic form, though the crosses on her cheeks had stopped glowing and her sword disappeared.

"Calypso, please...come down..." I wheezed as I struggled to catch my breath.

"No, I don't wanna hurt you." Calypso said, tears collecting in her eyes.

"You wouldn't hurt me. I trust you with my life, dude, just...please. Come down from there. We can walk together all the way back home from here and you can talk about whatever you want and stop at whatever shops you want." I pleaded with the scared demon girl who had just accidentally manifested her full demon form.

"Promise you'll catch me?" She asked. I nodded, holding my arms up for her. She dropped off the lamppost, plummeting to the ground. I caught her easily and held her close as she refused to slide out of my arms.

I started walking back home, carrying her like a bride. She rambled about the dynamic of different people on the plot of the books she was reading. I let her do it and I walked for half an hour, barely listening until I decided to tune back in.

"...and her hair is so soft and red, often in braids. Her eyes are pretty too. I love that they are very unique, with pink scleras and reddish irises. And her skin is nice too, but nothing beats her lovely personality." Calypso mumbled to a dove that had landed on her knee. The dove nodded and seemed to listen to her as she described someone. "I love her so. She likes to dance and read and doesn't mind performing whole Disney movies with me."

I wonder who she loves...

We arrived at the front door and the dove flew away as I opened the door. The smell of cooking meat hit me like a truck and Grandma waved at me from the couch. I waved back as Calypso escaped my arms and went to curl up with her dads and baby brother.

I sat down at the table as Stitches sketched out outfits for a BJD male doll that Heather and Harlow made specifically for him. The doll, named Loki, sat next to him, watching my brother's talented hands work.

Loki was a beautiful doll with green skin that was darkest on his hands and feet and faded into normal pale skin color as it went up his forearms and calves. His eyes were a pretty green hue and his hair was black. On his chest, there were painted chest surgery scars.

Stitches was determined to make Loki have a few different outfits that all suited the doll.

Dad and Pops were making dinner together, Dad manning the stove so Pops didn't ruin anything and Pops cutting and measuring. They really are a good team, even though there's a lot of trolling between the two.

"FANCULO! Fanculo, fanculo, fanculo...merda. Ow...shiiiiZle frick." Pops suddenly cursed from the kitchen in Italian and narrowly said cuss words in English in front of four children all around one year old.

"What happened, Angel?" Dad asked, concerned.

"I accidentally cut myself." Pops complained, showing off a bleeding finger to his spouse.

"Oh, chere, what am I going to do with you? Hold on." Dad got out a box of bandaids and ran water over the cut before putting a bright yellow bandaid on Pops's finger.

"Y'all cute." Grandma said as she started another tarot reading for the candle that just lit itself.

"Thanks, Momma." Dad laughed as he moved all the meat he made out of Vincent's corpse and the shrimp into a big pot. He threw in a dash of tabasco sauce after Pops put in the vegetables and stirred vigorously in a counterclockwise way, humming a trumpet melody from the streets of New Orleans that I was well acquainted with.

Pops took a taste after Dad said it was probably done and nodded.

"Go on and set the table, doll, I'll round everyone up." Dad said, starting down the stairs to the foyer and living room. Pops hurried around with a stack of bowls and all the spoons and forks.

Everyone came rushing in for the meal, sitting at the table right as Pops managed to put the bowls down with the silverware. Dad walked lazily back into the kitchen, an amused smile on his face as he took his spot next to Pops and started to serve it.

"Thanks for dinner, son." Grandpa said as he tasted the jambalaya.

"You are very welcome, Pa. I saved some meat out for gumbo tomorrow night. It's sitting in the freezer right now to keep it safe to eat."

"Ooh, you really do spoil us rotten, don't you, Alastor?" Grandma chuckled. "Two nights in a row of Louisiana cuisine. Dang..."

"Oh, Momma, when I was here for the first little while, it was NOLA cuisine every single day! I don't know how you made enough beignets for us." Dad playfully retorted.