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seafoam-art · 8 months

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Moxxie awoke to the crack of thunder, and he timidly sat up in bed. He clutched his blanket close to his face and nervously eyed the room. The lone nightlight in the corner provided meager illumination, but he found nothing changed in his immediate surroundings. Toys remained uncollected on the floor, his plushes sagged against one another on the bed, and both his closet and room door remained shut.

As the ringing left his ears, a soft patter took its place, and he turned curiously to the nearby window. Rain struck the windowpane against a dark green sky, and Moxxie sighed in relief. Just a thunderstorm, he could go back to sleep once more.

But as he began to settle back in, something nagged at the pit of his stomach. A sense of anxiety that he couldn't shake. Although nothing seemed to have changed, something felt wrong.

Moxxie whined, then threw the blanket over to the side. Maybe his mom would be able to help. As long as his dad didn't turn him back to his room, that is.

He hopped off the side of his bed and shuffled over to the bedroom door. With a soft twist, it quietly unlatched, and the door silently swung inward. He poked his head out into the hall and looked both ways. With the path clear, he walked into the hall and made for his parents' room.

It wasn't too far, only a couple doors down, and it didn't take long for him to reach it. Just as he went to grab the handle, he looked down and saw light spill from underneath the crack. Had the storm woke them as well? Maybe he shouldn't go in, his dad would be mad if he got caught being up this late.

His hand faltered by the door, that nagging feeling urged him forward once more. As if he had to open that door. It was destined to.

The door handle clicked as he twisted it, and it swung out of its own accord. What he saw made his breath still and his eyes grew wide.

His father stood with his back to him, dressed in his usual blue and red striped suit. He gripped a smoking gun tightly in a fist, and his attention appeared to be towards something on the floor. Or, as Moxxie quickly found, someone.

"M-mommy?"

His father noticeably stiffened at his quiet voice, and Moxxie froze as he slowly turned his head to him. His deep yellow eyes quickly focused on him. They glowed with something Moxxie couldn't describe at the time. But it went beyond the simple rage he normally portrayed. He seemed eerily calm, an attitude he carried as he finally addressed the young imp in front of him.

"You're having a bad dream, Moxx. Go back to your room."

Moxxie, visibly shaken, took a step back, only to stop at the sound of a low groan that emanated from his mother.

"M-Moxx... ieeeeee."

"M-mama?" Moxxie repeated and looked back at her body.

Her hands scratched against the wooden floorboards, then shook as she struggled to lift herself off the ground. Moxxie wanted to run to her, help her, but with his dad in front of him he feared what he'd do if he disobeyed. After some effort, she managed to shift onto her elbows, and she raised her head. The sight of her face, once warm and full of love, caused Moxxie's knees to buckle and he fell back in abject horror.

Her eyes had rolled to show pure yellow, as rivers of black ran from both orbs and dried on her cheeks. A third trail crawled along the middle of her face from a blackened gouge in the middle of her forehead. She stretched an arm out towards him and Moxxie instinctively flinched, a hand over his face as if it could block out the terror in front of him.

That's when what remained of his mother began to sob, openly and horrifically. "Where were you, Moxxie? Why did you leave me alone? I was so scared, I wanted to see you. How could you leave me alone with him, Moxxie? Moxxie? Moxxie!"

"Moxx!"

The commanding voice of his father forced him to look up, and he came face to face with the barrel of his gun. He thumbed the hammer back with a twisted, malicious grin.

"Say hi to your mother for me."

Moxxie's eyes snapped open to the sound of thunder and he screamed as he sat up in bed. Not his childhood one, but the one he had in Pride. The one he shared with his wife, Millie, who jolted up beside him just as alarmed.

"Moxxie!" She reached for the lamp beside them and turned it on before she turned her attention back to him. "Are you ok? What's wrong?"

Moxxie couldn't find a way to answer her. Over and over the dream played in his mind. A tape stuck on the same loop that he couldn't eject, no matter how much he tried. He could only look down at the same spot on his sheets and envision the face of his mother. That night was the last time he ever saw her, and every time he relived it, her face became more clear. The worst part was, he couldn't say if the nightmare reflected reality, or substituted it.

As his breathing quickened and his heart pumped full of adrenaline, he felt a gentle hand come over one of his that brought him back down to reality. All at once, his breathing stopped and his eyes blinked one time. Then he exhaled, shakily, and his heart rate started to dial down. The hand squeezed, and he squeezed back, now fully aware of his surroundings. He was safe, home, and outside it was only another thunderstorm.

"Thank you, Millie," Moxxie murmured. "I-I'm fine, now."

He didn't want to bother her with this, not so late at least. They could talk about it in the morning before they went to work. But when he felt the bed shift and Millie pressed herself against him, he knew she wouldn't let it go so easily.

"Moxx, talk to me. You haven't screamed like that in years."

"I-I know," Moxxie said, almost guiltily, "I just had a nightmare, that's all. You don't have to worry about it."

"Was it... that nightmare?"

Moxxie froze up, much like he had in the dream. Since he promised to be more open to Millie, he told her everything about his past life he hid from her. All the bad and good that came with it. She listened, as always, and helped him through the rougher parts, again as always. He hoped that would be the end of it and he could move on, but some things didn't let go as easily.

Eventually, he nodded, and Millie wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry, baby."

"I miss her," he quietly admitted, "I thought I moved on, but after everything that happened I thought about her again and... I wish she was here. Instead of... of..."

Moxxie's lip quivered as his voice faltered. His eyes quickly teared up and flooded over onto the bedspread that covered him. His fingers tightly gripped onto the sheets and he shook with years of repressed sorrow. Millie readily saw this and brought Moxxie in closer.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," she soothed quietly. "Let it out."

Moxxie would have gladly done so a thousand times over. He'd flood every level of Hell if it meant he could escape from the pain this tragedy carried. As he returned his wife's embrace, the feeling came naturally. But he soon shook his head and rejected her support.

"No, no!" He pushed himself off of her. "Millie I... I can't have this be my last memory of her. I don't want to remember how she looked that night, cold and alone. But every time I think about my mom... that's all I see."

Moxxie said it regrettably, but it was the truth. It had become his truth every year he had this dream. His shoulder sagged as he hung onto Millie and he dipped his head shamefully. For a moment, they remained like this, until Moxxie felt Millie's hands at his sides.

He looked back at her as she guided them back down onto the pillows. Once they rested comfortably, she scooted back against him and continued to hold him.

"Tell me about her."

Moxxie blinked. "W-what?"

"Tell me about your mom. Everything you remember about her that made you happy."

"But... I already have, you know everything-"

"Tell me again, please?"

Moxxie saw she wasn't about to let this go either. He wasn't blind to what she wanted him to do, hence his hesitancy. But maybe, if he focused on those better times, he would see his mom as she once was. It would be a bad idea to go back to sleep regardless, so he gave it a shot.

He retold Millie everything he remembered about her. Everything that made her perfect. The crimson skies became a bright red as he recounted, and the rain slowed to a stop. All the while, Moxxie found renewed glee with his stories, and Millie matched his exuberance.

It would be longer still before they both returned to their slumber. This time, as Moxxie fell back into dream, he'd see his mother as he always knew her. She extended her hand to him, and this time he took it.

Edit: Forgot to link the inspiration for this piece, Norry always puts out the goods 😤❤️

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seafoam-art · 8 months

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#genshin impact #kazuha #scaramouche #wanderer #kazuscara

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seafoam-art · 9 months

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Alessio awoke in the middle of the night to the sounds of an argument just beyond his door. He blearily peered over at the clock on his nightstand, its digital face displayed at 3:00 exactly, and groaned. The day before had left him exhausted. So much so he collapsed into bed as soon as he stripped down to his tank top and underwear, his suit left strewn about the floor. He fell into a deep sleep moments after, and hoped to remain that way until morning. But the voices not only persisted, they amplified, and refused to give him peace. Annoyed, and a little curious, he rose from the bed and walked over to his door.

Alessio pressed an ear against it, and the muffled voices came somewhat clearer. Or rather, the one voice. That of his boss, Crimson, and as usual he didn't sound pleased.

"Answer me, Moxxie, how many fuckin' times have I told ya not to disturb me when I'm sleepin'?"

Young Moxxie didn't answer at first, no doubt struggling under his father's confrontational eye. But when he did respond, Alessio had to strain to even hear his timid voice.

"A l- lot."

"Exactly! Too many fuckin' times. Get it through your thick skull already and go back to your room!"

"But dad! The monst-"

"There ain't no stinkin' monsters in your room, you're too old for this crap! Now get goin', or I will give you somethin' to be scared of."

He punctuated his sentence with the slam of his bedroom door and caused even Alessio to jolt from the force. He grumbled to himself before he pressed his ear back to listen out. Shortly after, he heard soft sniffles from Moxxie alone in the hallway and he cast his eyes to the floor.

A part of him wanted to go out there and help him, but mostly he wanted to sleep. This wasn't his place. Crimson no doubt wouldn't want him to assist his son regardless. He had to learn on his own, as he said during that dinner a few days ago. Granted he disobeyed that order but, unlike food, monsters were a figment of his imagination. He would grow out of it, he just had to let him be.

Although he felt he convinced himself of this, as Alessio stood back from the door his hand lingered on its surface for a second longer. When he did turn and take a step towards his bed, a hollow knock echoed from it that brought him to a halt. He should ignore it, he wanted to. But he turned back all the same and quietly opened the door to a teary-eyed Moxxie.

"Is something wrong, Moxx?"

The imp sniffed and bowed his head, unable to meet Alessio's piercing gaze. His tail flopped around a little before it instinctually came into his hands. A nervous tick that had become more frequent as of late, for reasons apparent to the both of them. He shifted his feet awkwardly, unable to get the words out that Alessio overheard before.

His fingers drummed along the crease of the door, before he eventually sighed and squatted down to Moxxie's level. The young imp looked up at him then, and when their eyes met again Alessio put on his best attempt at a smile.

"It's alright, you can tell me."

Moxxie looked back down the hall at the door to his father's room. Alessio could feel the anxiety that radiated off the poor imp. No doubt scared that he might be blamed for waking him up. Not that that wouldn't be entirely incorrect.

Eventually, he faced Alessio again, swallowed his fears, and whispered, "I saw a monster in my room."

Alessio tilted his head somewhat playfully, "Did you now?"

Moxxie nodded, more nervous this time. "Y-yeah! It had long wings, claws, sharp teeth, and... its eyes... they were crossed out!"

The details spilled from his lips rapidly, as if to illustrate how dire the situation was to the shark. He entertained it at first, all the details sounded stereotypical, but that last remark sounded too specific. And very familiar.

His face had grown serious again and he stood up. "Wait here."

Alessio half-walked, half-jogged back to his nightstand, where he pulled out a drawer and fished his gun from inside. Then he marched back to the door, careful of little Moxxie, and nodded to him to follow while they went to his room. Maybe he had fallen for his overactive imagination despite what he told himself, but Alessio had to be sure.

How the hell would the kid know about Exterminators?

He posted up by the door, his mind on attack mode. Moxxie pressed against the wall just behind him and mimicked his pose. Alessio held his gun up with one hand, while his other reached over and gripped the door handle. With a slight twist he unlocked it, then let it swing inward slowly.

His eyes saw the room as clear as daylight, and he took in every inch as the door slowly creaked open. The entire left wall was clear of any intruders. The bed stood still, the covers tossed up from when the imp ran out of the room. Toys sat on the floor haphazardly, but seemingly undisturbed since Moxxie last played with them. More and more of the room got exposed and Alessio felt confident it was nothing more than the kid's fears that got to him.

With the door fully open, he peeked his head in to look towards the closets on the right side. That's when he saw it. In the glow of the dim musical note nightlight by the floor, he saw the monster. At the top of the doorframe, a pair of crossed eyes sat above a smile stretched maliciously across its face. His eyes grew wide at the sight, then immediately narrowed into slits. In that split second, he didn't even think to hesitate.

He gripped the gun in both hands and fired point-blank into that evil grin. The room exploded with light and the home echoed with gunfire, but Alessio didn't relent. Moxxie got lucky enough to escape from that thing, he didn't want to give it a second opportunity. Although he had no idea if these shots would even faze it, it didn't deter him. The safety of Crimson and Moxxie came above all else.

When his gun finally clicked empty, and he saw the face destroyed beyond repair, he finally ceased his assault. Above the slight hum of his eardrums, he heard the soft, shaken breaths of Moxxie behind him. Before he could check on him, however, the door across from them burst open and Crimson came out brandishing his own pistol.

"Alessio?! What in the fuck are shooting my house up for? What's goin' on?" He looked down to find Moxxie by his side, and his already sour expression worsened.

Alessio saw the look in his eye, and answered before he could admonish Moxxie again. "Sir, I saw an Exterminator in his room."

Crimson blinked a couple times, then looked at him as if he had grown two extra heads. "Extermination Day was months ago, Ale. Even then, they stick to Pride. Why the fuck would one be here?"

Alessio knew he asked the question less to understand why one would hypothetically be here, and more to comment on his lack of forethought. Before he could answer him, he heard something fall in Moxxie's room, and his head whipped back to the closet. The face had disappeared, and as he turned his eyes to the ground he found it had fallen to the floor.

Curious, he stepped in and walked over to it. He reached down with his empty hand and picked it up, then turned it around to the damaged face on the other side. The lights switched on, and Alessio looked back to find Crimson by the door with his hand on the switch. The don looked at him, and Alessio raised the mask.

"Someone put this in his room to scare him."

Crimson grimaced at the realization that Moxxie had, in some way, told him the truth. "God damn it," he cursed to himself and pressed the back of his gun against his forehead.

After a few, angered, breaths he nodded. "Right, we'll have to figure out who put it there tomorrow. Probably that chucklefuck Giancarlo thought it'd be funny. Guess we'll see if he's still laughin' while he replaces my drywall."

He stopped mid-rant as Moxxie pushed into the room. The little imp saw Alessio on one knee with the destroyed mask in hand and gasped. "You got him?!"

The exclamation from him made Alessio crack a smile, and he nearly played back into the fantasy. That is until he caught a look from Crimson that told him to act professional, and he pulled back just as quickly.

"It was just a mask, Moxx. There weren't any monsters. You should go to bed now."

Moxxie's smile faded, and he looked up at his father. Alessio expected the same uncaring treatment from earlier, but he simply nodded in agreement and walked out of the room. He spoke not a word, nor even attempted to give his son any small comfort. A fact that quickly registered across Moxxie's face as it took on a downtrodden look.

He shuffled back to the bed and awkwardly climbed up onto its surface, and Alessio stayed with him until he got under the covers. With a few more adjustments he eventually settled back into bed, and Alessio walked towards the door so he might do the same. After a few paces, he stopped and looked back over at the imp, curled back in bed and ready to sleep.

Maybe it was the feeling of isolation that radiated from his motionless form, or the memory of Crimson's beratement, but something about the sight prompted him to say something. Anything that may offer a hand where one had been denied.

"Moxx?"

The small imp shifted enough to look at him over the covers. Alessio paused for another moment in thought, then eventually nodded.

"If you run into trouble again, you know where to find me."

He gave him a soft smile, and this time Moxxie appeared more receptive to it as his eyes took on a slight sparkle. Satisfied, Alessio switched the lights off and shut the door behind him as he stepped back into the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Crimson stood outside his room.

He believed he waited for him, and he turned to face him directly. Instead, Crimson looked beyond him at the door to his son's room. He didn't acknowledge Alessio's presence until he hesitantly asked, "Sir?"

Crimson finally looked at him and blinked tiredly. "What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Ale?"

The question took Alessio off-guard, and he turned to Moxxie's door in thought. While he had grown physically in recent years, in all other aspects he remained unchanged. Those aspects which Crimson desperately wanted to fix. Characteristics that made him soft, and reminded him of his late wife.

To this day he still blamed her for his improper upbringing. As much as Alessio respected her, he couldn't find fault in Crimson's issues with the boy. This life would not be kind to Moxxie if he could not fend for himself, or if a Halloween mask kept him up at night. He needed to learn, but that required someone to teach him. If Crimson refused that role, someone else would have to take it up.

Alessio turned back to his boss. "Give it time, sir. He'll come around eventually."

Although Crimson looked as if he wanted to dispute his claim, he simply shook his head and muttered, "Yeah, sure. Imma go to bed. Umm... thanks, I guess."

He half-heartedly shrugged and shuffled back into his room; the door closed soon after and clicked with the turn of the lock. Alessio huffed out a long breath and took one last look at Moxxie's room. Then, he walked back down the hall to his own room and closed the door. Although he hoped to find slumber, he'd instead spend the night in quiet contemplation.

Another Alessio being a better dad than Crimson prompt I wanted to write out. This headcanon has me in a vice grip and I will be writing a lot of these in the future. Also I love baby Moxx and he deserves all the love in the world 😤❤️

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seafoam-art · 9 months

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Dinner had been served at the Knowlastname household. Within the dining room, Alessio stood by Crimson as he sat at the head of the table; just beside them, little Moxxie sat somberly. He had shifted his body over the lip of the table to gain leverage over his plate. In each hand he wielded a fork and knife respectively, and ineffectively attempted to cut into the tough ribeye placed before him.

He grunted with the effort, and each failed cut only made him more crestfallen. Until, eventually, he fell back onto his seat with a soft sob, implements in hand. He looked at them uselessly, then turned his attention over to his father.

"D-dad?"

Crimson pretended not to hear him, and he took another hit off the cigar he wielded between his fingers. Moxxie saw he had gone ignored, and gripped his silverware tightly. He swallowed dryly and tried to calm himself, then spoke a little louder.

"Dad?"

"You hear somethin', Ale?"

Alessio didn't answer, although he did catch Moxxie's eye as he looked at him. The little imp then raised himself again so he could reach his plate and pushed it slightly towards Crimson. The audible scrape of ceramic on wood got his father's attention. His glare forced Moxxie to shrink back, but all the same he stuttered out.

"C-can you help me, p-please?"

Crimson regarded him with disdain as he put the cigar in his mouth. "C-c-can ya ask me like a man?" He mocked.

Moxxie pulled himself closer and his eyes bounced between the floor and his father. He attempted to ask again, but every time he uttered a syllable his voice shook and he stopped himself. Reflexively, he reached for his tail and pulled it close in an attempt to soothe him, but that only made Crimson mock him further.

"Clearly ya can't. Look at ya, for Satan's sake, gonna cry cause ya can't cut your meat? You really are your mother's son. Too bad she can't help ya, huh Moxx?"

Moxxie's eyes widened to saucers at the mention of his mother, and subsequently spilled over with long-held tears. He ducked his head shamefully into his arms and shook with sobs that racked through his body. While Alessio felt a pang of sympathy for the kid, Crimson did not share that sentiment.

"There ya go again. Cryin' ain't gonna feed ya, Moxxie. And if ya can't figure out how to do somethin' as simple as feedin' yourself, I guess you'll be goin' to bed hungry."

Whether or not he heard his jeers, Moxxie didn't make it clear. He simply cut his head in his arms and wept, inconsolable. Alessio had to look away from the sight, unable to endure the imp's pain for any longer. Similarly, Crimson felt the same, albeit in a different sense.

The don rolled his eyes and stood up. "I honestly can't deal with this shit again, I need some quiet. I'll be outside Ale, stay here with Moxx."

He rounded the table without a glance his way, but as his hand touched the door he turned around to look at him as he gave one more command. "And don't help him. He's gotta learn to grow up and take care of his problems himself."

With that he stepped through the door and slammed it shut behind him. Which left Alessio alone with nothing but the soft hum of the crackling fireplace, and the muted whimpers of a lone imp child. When he heard the next slam of the front door being closed, Alessio turned his attention back on Moxxie.

He had slowly raised his head up to look around, as if to ensure his dad had truly left. When he met Alessio's gaze he jumped in his skin and looked back down at the table. When he saw his untouched plate of food, however, Alessio saw his tears begin to form again. He raised his utensils in shaky hands, only to drop them back onto his legs as he screwed his eyes shut.

Alessio hurt for the kid, and he thought for a moment to help him despite his orders. His eyes darted over to the door, however, and he gradually stood down. He couldn't say when Crimson would return from his smoke break, and if he caught him going against his command there would be hell to pay for the both of them.

As much as it hurt, he had to stand aside. At least, that's what he wanted to commit to, but then he overheard a change in Moxxie's cries. As he sobbed, the young imp started to mumble to himself.

"Momma... where are you...? Please... I need help... please help me momma..."

Over and over, he uttered his pleas like a silent prayer in the hopes she would emerge to answer them. But Alessio knew she never would. Not after what Crimson did.

Moxxie's stomach growled loudly, painfully, and he wrapped his arms around himself. Maybe he would survive one night without supper. Maybe. But Alessio didn't want to find out.

He moved over to Moxxie, almost silently, but the little imp heard him regardless as he raised his head over to him. Upon his immediate approach, his eyes widened again and he put his hands up defensively.

"N-no! I'm sorry! I'll do it, please, I-"

Alessio paid no mind to his cries as he reached out and took his hands in his. Moxxie wanted to shout, but saw no reason to in the gentleness of his hold. He blinked, almost confused, as he guided his hands back over to his steak.

Alessio thrust the hand that held the fork down so its prongs stabbed into the toughened meat. Then, his other hand guided Moxxie's knife hand back and forth over the steak until it gradually cut into it. The imp's sadness seemed to vanish in that instant, and he watched astonished as he essentially managed to cut through the troublesome dish himself. Albeit with a couple helping hands.

Eventually, a piece came free, and Alessio relinquished his grip so Moxxie could take control of his fork. He brought it to his face in amazement, then greedily shoved it in his mouth, grateful for even that small bit of sustenance. Alessio, meanwhile, darted his eyes between him and the door cautiously.

When he swallowed that first piece, he looked back up at the shark, and raised his hands for him to take. Alessio shook his head in response, and instead mimicked what he did with Moxxie to insinuate the imp should now try on his own. He gave him a saddened look, but when he saw he wouldn't budge, he turned his attention back to the remainder of his dish. This time, however, he gripped his utensils with more determination.

His left hand rose, the fork in his fist pointed down like a deadly spear, and he put all his force to puncture the meat of the steak. Then he pressed his knife against the corner where the first piece had been cut. With small grunts of exertion, he dragged the utensil back and forth. At first, no real headway had been made, and Moxxie's grunts grew more anxious as he became aware of that fact.

But then, as he continued to cut away, it began to burrow through, and Moxxie's breaths became more excited until, at last, he tore away another piece. This time, completely on his own. A feat that even made Alessio feel a swell of pride in his heart. Made even more so by the elated look Moxxie shot him at his accomplishment before he also chewed down this piece.

Satisfied that he could handle the rest on his own, and Crimson was none-the-wiser to his involvement, he moved to retake his position by the head seat. He took one step forward, then stopped as he felt something grip his leg. He turned his head, then looked down to find Moxxie hugged around him.

He tilted his head up at the shark, his eyes sparkling and lips curled in a smile. "Thank you, Alessio!"

Poor Alessio felt his heart almost skip a beat at the sight, and he placed a hand over his chest. With his other hand, he reached down and patted Moxxie on the back. He wanted to say so many things in response, all of which would've been appropriate, and some things Moxxie deserved to hear after everything that had happened.

But, as always, he kept his cool, and practically told him, "You should finish eating, Moxxie. Don't want your dinner to get too cold."

"Oh, right!" He bounded off Alessio and onto his seat, then went back to cutting his steak, happy as could be.

A soft smile played at the corner of Alessio's lip as he gave him one final glance, before he returned to his post and forced himself back into his typical stoic appearance.

I had this idea/headcanon of Alessio being a stand-in guardian for Moxxie after his mother died, and thus this story came to be. It's probably not canon but it's a sweet thought, and I like to hope he had someone who looked out for him cause we all know Crimson's ass wasn't. Can also be considered a semi-sequel to my other long story post with Alessio at the lake with Moxxie's mom. Regardless, hope y'all enjoyed (and didn't cry too much)

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