#rip alonzo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slashingdisneypasta · 1 year

Text

Cruella De Vil x Reader || Oneshot

*also just looking at this picture, I realised her inmate number is 666 and that made me laughhh XDD I mean, of course it is XD

Plot: Set during 102 Dalmatians. Cruella has been 'fixed'!- she's good now! How do you deal with it? Do you still love her? Do you still want her? Do you... miss who she was?

Warnings: This relationship is mutually toxic 😅 But that's- like- true love, for a Disney Villain. Right? 😅😅😅

“I’m ouuttttt!~”

“Uh- “You’re confused. Who is this on the phone? While you lean down to your front porch and pick up the morning paper, the chilly London air nipping at your ears and down your shirt, you consider the voice you’re hearing. There’s definitely something familiar about it… but you can’t place it. “I’m so sorry- who is this??”

“Y/N darling you’ve forgotten my voice already??”

… So this person knows you. Wincing, you take the paper back inside your flat and close the door behind you. This is awkward… “Sorry… um. What is this concerning?”

“Oh, I just wanted to say hello! I did wonder how you were, while I was away… You never visited me, after all.”

Away?? Visited?? You’re becoming more and more confused by the moment. And why aren’t they just telling you who they are? Why the games? Sighing, you half prepare to rip this person a new hole and half unfold the newspaper to take a bored skim of the front page as you lean back on the front door. “… okay look. If this is a prank call, I’m not amus- “

Your words slip away from you, as if your legs buckled and you lost footing, as soon as you lay eyes on the front page.

The words CRUELLA FREED!!, with yes- not just one but 2 exclamation points, is printed in large letters before your eyes. You’re shocked- but you’re even more shocked at the picture below it.

There she is, in her prison garb, her hair oddly neat and rounded… cuddling a dalmatian puppy. Your jaw drops, at the sight. That is going to be stuck in your head forever, you’re sure. Her hair- the serene look on her face, and- is it even legal for her to touch a dog??

Suddenly the realisation of who you’re talking to sinks in, as your eyes lower to the words written under the picture. “… Cruella?”

“I prefer Ella now!~” Jesus christ- they messed with her in there- in prison. Fucked with her head. According to the article, ‘Dr Pavlov’ conditioned her, and now... now she loves animals.

Alive, animals. “Oh, Ella… “Wow. Cruella De Vil; Your slave-driving, shrieking bitch of an ex-boss. Your selfish, insane ex-lover. Is… a good person, now?? She sounds bloody freaky, so chipper and sweet, but… alright, good for her, you suppose- “Sorry I didn’t visit. Um. Alonzo… “You’re struggling to even speak! This is crazy! Especially so early in the morning. Good grief- You need to sit down. Pushing off the door, you make your way to the kitchen and plop down in a chair at the kitchen table. “he told me the prison had me blacklisted as a visitor… Um, bad influence that I am… “

Which wasn’t very fair, to be perfectly frank. Cruella was psychotic far before you knew her, and in fact she was a bad influence on you! But, whatever. Whatever! Sure, if they want to blame the model from the wrong side of the tracks- fine. You’re vexed, but… fine.

Besides, there are more pressing things to worry about right now. Like ‘Ella’. Chewing on your bottom lip nervously, you listen to her giggle on the other end of the phone, wherever she is right now. It’s a tinkling sound, like a bird or a Disney princess, and it almost make you laugh; Grinning a little bit, despite yourself.

Lord- This woman. Always an extreme. It’s been 3 years but… damn, you can’t help being a little fond of her, still.

“I apologise for that… I must say though, I’m glad to hear you didn’t forget about me!” You should be figuring out how to hang up, but a part of you is truly enjoying this phone call. Because you have missed Cruella - not this version of her, but this is a novelty to be sure, -, and you’re sort of… pleased, that she called you the first day she was released from prison. “Anyway!” Just from her voice, you can imagine her eyelashes batting. And its oddly endearing, damnit. Mostly amusing, but… you always did respond to Cruella’s energy- no matter what it was. “I was wondering- would you like to meet up for dinner? Sometime? Oh- soon, maybe?? I would just love, to see you again!~”

Oh… yep. You assumed this was coming. And a part of you wants to say yes… you’re intrigued, and you want to get to know this Cruella… but there are a hell of a lot of reasons why you shouldn’t. Like, what if you remind her too much of the past? And you ruin this new chance for her?? You can’t do that… Sighing, you slump on your chair. “I don’t know about that, Cru- Uh, Ella… “

A desperate tone creeps into her voice. Not like she’s obsessed, though, just like she really wants to see you. It’s cute. And it hurts. “I can put Alonzo on the phone!! He’ll tell you- I’m not bad anymore, darling. I promise! Just come over, and let me apologise! Please? Alonzooo!~ “

Oh wait, wait, wait!!- “N- Ella, its fine. You don’t have to apologise!!, and you don’t need to get Alonzo. I believe you. Please, jus- “Sigh. Too late. “Hi, Alonzo, how have you been?… “

Over the next few weeks you see Cruella - you’ve tried to start thinking of her as Ella, you really have, but it seems that woman will always be Cruella to you, - all over the place. On the TV, I the paper, on posters around the city advertising the Second Chance dog shelter… its nice to see, that she’s doing well, but it’s also a huge pain.

Having your ex be in prison was actually the best thing, as you come to realise! You should have appreciated it more when you had the chance. Now you have to try and get over her all over again, but this time she’s everywhere.

And- she calls you. All the time. Whenever you get home from work and you get your shoes off finally and grab yourself a drink, the phone starts to ring. And you know its her. You try to ignore it, and sometimes you’re successful but others… you just can’t help it. When you do answer, it’s all flowery and uplifting and it feels like she really cares about you- truly. More than it ever did before. Its all, ‘How are you darling? How was your day? Was it lovely?? Tell me about it!~ Oh me?? My day was practically perfect darling thank you for asking!~ Did you get the fruit basket I sent you??- ‘ and its… nice. Perfectly pleasant. In fact, sometimes she has you ginning from ear to ear as you talk to her.

But there’s something missing, and that’s the reason why you sometimes just don’t answer. And why you refuse to see her in person, ever. No dinner, no lunch, no coffee. You wont even carpool with her, even though she swears - or, no, promises. She only promises, now. She would never swear! - she’s so much better at driving now.

There’s something missing… and you miss it.

You miss… how she used to speak to you, like she hates everyone but you. You miss… how she used to want you close by all the time, so she could have someone around who wasn’t a total idiot. You even miss how her furs used to feel tickling your nose! You miss… her. How that insane old bat used to make you feel when she was horrible and awful and disgusting.

And you know its wrong, but a couple of times, you’ve caught yourself wishing she would go back.

That’s… completely insane and evil of you, though, so you try not to think about that. In fact you try to Pavlov, yourself! Every time that you think like that, you’ve decided that you will refuse yourself a little something. You’ll tun the TV off when a show you like comes on, or you’ll put the chocolate bar back at the store, or you’ll get a water instead of a juice or a hot drink.

… It sucks, but you’re trying to be a better person too.

Today when you get home from work, kick off your shoes, and grab a drink to settle down with… the phone, miraculously, does not ring. You wait a few moments, wondering if maybe Cruella is late - she was busy funding a charity or something, probably, -, but still- no ring.

Eventually you give up and give a shrug, heading off to the couch without the phone for the first time in weeks. There’s a little pang in your chest, as you wonder why she wouldn’t call, but you manage to reason with yourself that this is a good thing.

Yep- It’s a good thing.

As you’re getting comfy in the cushions with a throw over your legs, cupping your drink and settling in happily, cosily, to watch your show this evening- you suddenly hear a SCREECH down the road and then, a moment later, a CRASH.

Its startling, and you’re just sitting there looking at the front door with your eyes big and round, when a familiar silhouette appears in the stained glass. If this were a cartoon, your pupils would have shrunk immediately, realising what you’re seeing. Oh, no. What!?-

You consider moving to open it, but it swings open on its own - of course she has a key, - and you’re just sitting there looking dumb and wide-eyed like a deer in headlights as Cruella flies on into your house. Donned in furs. “Darling! Oh- I would apologise for just dropping by unannounced- but you really gave me no choice, did you?? You little hermit, you weren’t coming to me! Well- here I am! What are you doing just sitting there with your mouth open?? Get up and greet me.”

“Uhh… “You don’t get up, despite the sharp - icy, - look in her eyes - the kind you’ve seen watching you from underneath a rock, definitely, -, but you do close your mouth. This woman is wearing furs!! Her tiger fur dress, her mountain lion coat, her bear hat- she looks like a great, big, fluffy chimera. Momentarily you’re able to keep your mouth closed- Before you have things to say. “… I assume you’re not Ella, anymore.”

“Oh, forget about that.” A tiny, evil smirk quirks at the corner of red lips. “I’m cured, darling.”

Slowly you get up from the couch now, the lovely throw slipping to the ground. Now you set her with a sceptical look, one eyebrow raised. “Cured?” You thought she was cured before!

“Yes. No more… eugh,” She shudders, actually shudders- “No more ’Good will’. No. No more helping, no more being a productive and peaceful member of society- Eugh. I feel disgusting just remembering how I acted. And- “Her eyes flicker up at yours again, a pleased look slipping cruelly across her face. “… You must agree… Don’t you? You could barely stand me in that state! Refused to even see me.”

“I- … “How do you even respond to that? No, you don’t agree!... Well, she can’t know you secretly agree! “Should I call Dr Pavlov? This definitely feels like a setback in your, uh, mental condition- “

As you’re reaching for it, though, Cruella swipes your phone right off its little table- letting it smash on the floor and causing your jaw to drop. “Oh… oops.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll buy you another, darling, you know I will. And it’ll be far better than… “With a disgusted glance around the place, your little home, Cruella takes a slow drag from her cigarette. “… whatever you could afford… “

… whyyyy does that little dig make your stomach do backflips. You should be mad, damnit! Instead, you just huff and cross your arms. “Oh, you better.”

“Promise... Now- we have work to do and I truly don’t relish being here, in this hovel, any longer.” She tells you then, whipping around and heading back towards the front door. You almost don’t follow her, you almost stay put, but- hell, the next thing you know, you’ve got shoes on again and you’re closing the door behind you. “Hurry the hell up!” She snaps, disappearing into the car and you huff again, breathless as you pull your coat on and rush after her. You feel more energised, more excited- then you have since she went away. A grin slips across your lips; You can’t help it.

You know this is wrong, that you should go back inside and wait for her to be put away again- but god all you wanna do is kiss her!

When you get to the car, Alonzo is behind the door looking absolutely miserable, waiting to close it after you. You stop, and give him a sympathetic look even as you can feel Cruella’s intense gaze on your body wondering why you aren’t getting in. “… she’s back.”

“Uhuh.”

“… are you okay?”

“I… “He can’t even explain himself. He just drops and shakes his head.

“Oh Alonzo… “You chuckle, unable to help yourself, empathetically patting his shoulder.

"GET. IN!!"

#Cruella De Vil x Reader #Cruella De Vil x Reader Oneshot #Oneshot #Cruella De Vil #Disney Villains #Disney Villains x Reader

74 notes · View notes

the-cat-at-the-theatre-door · 8 months

Text

"Look," Demeter murmurs suddenly, stretching her arm so it rested just a hair from his. The setting Sun bathes her in light. "We match."

Alonzo stares at the gold threading that sparkled from beneath the black patches of her fur in tandem with the dull fade wash of his own - golden somewhere yesteryear ago. Under years of dirt and neglect. Under the shadows of blood and hunger. Under the same scarring that ran in its restricting stripes up Demeter's arm, and down his own.

Deep under, fresh and soft, from when they were not of this place - living, maybe, but hungry for more without knowing what more could ever entail. Without knowing that more would rip every ounce of gold from their skin as down payment, and then scrape the insides of their bones for residual.

Perhaps they were the same all that time ago. Before this place. Maybe they were made to find one another, glittering in the sun until the other was lucky enough to catch light and find the melting pot.

If only everything weren't so...dark.

But maybe that made it more precious - maybe a glint in the dark is twice as valuable.

Alonzo wishes he were clever enough to weave any of that sentiment into words. But he isn't. He can only stare. All he hears is the dull ringing in his ears, and Demeter's breathing. And nothing more settles beyond the pit in his stomach.

Instead, Alonzo flexes the muscle in his wrist and turns it lightside so the Fool's Gold peeks clearly through.

"Yeah," he agrees. "We kinda do, huh?"

#...here's something #Alonzo #Demeter #demlonzo #my fanfic #fanfiction #lead up? context? nah #i'll just post snippets that are not related

19 notes · View notes

munkustance · 1 year

Text

Tugger: I’m kind of crushing on someone, but I’m worried about telling you who it is, because you’re not going to like it

Alonzo: Just rip the bandage off.

Tugger: It’s Mistoffelees.

Alonzo: Put the bandage back on.

#cats the musical #cats musical #cats 1998 #rum tum tugger #alonzo cats #cats alonzo #mistoffelees #mr mistoffelees #tuggoffelees #incorrect quotes #incorrect jellicle quotes #my post

36 notes · View notes

afairytalestray · 1 year

Text

Day 16 of Cats-pril, @storyweaverofgondor‘s April baby! Today’s prompt is rehearsal, and I tried my hand at writing a chat fic! Also on Ao3 here.

HarvestGoddess: Since my darling Munkustrap refuses to interact with the digital world, this is a formal request from the friend group mum for everyone to turn up to Pekes and Pols rehearsal tonight please. If Munk loses any more fur from the stress he’ll be a sphinx cat! x

Rumpled_cheese: im gonna be there now i really wanna see that sedhfwiuh

QueenVic: me and Plato will be present and accounted for! @MagicalMisto, are you needing a lift? x

etc.: BALD MUNK BALD MUNK BALD MUNK

Lettie: …I’ll make sure Etcetera comes, Dem

HarvestGoddess: thanks Lettie!

MagicalMisto: thnx Vic, Tugger has his bike so he’ll bring us. @HarvestGoddess I can confirm that Tugger will be there, regardless of whichever way he is currently contributing to Munk’s hair loss

QueenVic: np!

HarvestGoddess: Thank you Misto! I can tell you that Tug is currently convincing Munk that he’s signed up for a Japanese ikebana class under the guise of impressing you, and that Munk can’t possibly expect him to miss it. Of course, this class runs on the exact same times and dates as Pekes & Pols rehearsals x

MagicalMisto: of course it would lmao

MangoJelly: what is an iceban class

MangoJelly: wait nvm Cori knows thats hilarious

lonz: you lot are mean

lonz: I’ll be there, @HarvestGoddess, and I’ll try and talk Cass into it as well

etc.: it’s called being funny lonzy, LOOK IT UP

Georgeofthejunkyard: pick me! :D :D :D

HarvestGoddess: @MangoJelly, will you be at rehearsal? Also, is it safe to assume that @C-oracle-pat is with you, and that his poor phone is dead or abandoned somewhere? x

Tantomile: It is always a safe assumption that wherever my brother is, Mungojerrie will be nearby. Coricopat has left his phone on the coffee table, as per. I’ll plug it in and bring it to rehearsal tonight.

Rumpled_cheese: Tantomile - hero of the people!

MangoJelly: oshit sorry Demeter yeah ill be there!

MangoJelly: OWIEUFOI yeah Corks is with me the now, he says hell be there too, and thanks Tanto!

QueenVic: … :o

MagicalMisto: oooooooooohhhh

Tantomile: What.

HarvestGoddess: no murders until after the show please and thank you!

Lettie: RIP Jerrie

MangoJelly: nOoOOOOOOO

MangoJelly: it was a quote TANTOMILE I prommy!

MangoJelly: Cori said: “oh, thank you, Tanto”

MangoJelly: I wouldnt dream of giving you a nickname id never do anything that might make you revoke your blessing!!!!!!

Tantomile: See that you do not, Mungojerrie.

Cassss: 6 at the Egyptian, yes?

Cassss: I’ll be there for you, Dem, and NOT because Alonzo is badgering me

HarvestGoddess: That’s right! Love ya, Cass! x

QueenVic: lol get rekt Lonz

lonz: :’(

MagicalMisto: I would advise everyone to bring earplugs, Tugger has decided to treat you all to a bagpipe solo

etc.: yeeeessssssssss i love the bagpipes!!!!

Rumpled_cheese: lol it was nice knowing ya @RumTugTummer Munk is gonna kill u

RumTugTummer: RUDE Cats today just don’t appreciate classical pibroch

lonz: I can confirm this to be true.

RumTugTummer: aweoiufaAMNWIUFC see y’all later bye

lonz: @MagicalMisto please do something about this

MagicalMisto: nah it’ll be funny

Lettie: YES MISTO

lonz: why hast thou forsaken me, brother?

etc.: YES MISTOOOOOO!

RumTugTummer: YES BABE

HarvestGoddess: I don’t care what you bring as long as you all show up!

MagicalMisto: o7

RumTugTummer: o7

Rumpled_cheese: o7

Lettie: o7

etc.: o7

MangoJelly: o7

#cats-pril2023 #cats-prilday16 #cats the musical #demestrap #tuggoffelees #coricojerrie #demeter #Rumpleteazer #victoria #Etcetera #electra #mr mistoffelees #Mungojerrie #alonzo #george #tantomile #cassandra #the rum tum tugger

25 notes · View notes

junkyard-gifs · 1 year

Text

Alonzo really was enjoying being a cockroach! This ball is looking up. Time to congratulate Jenny, and - oh no what’s that noise

Demeter doesn’t know what’s going on, Jenny is pouting cutely, and Munkustrap goes through several stages of grief.

Plot twist: Tugger is actually the everlasting cat and Munkustrap is just fed up with him ripping a hole in the sky every time he comes down to join the party.

oh man over there, we’re really in it now

George Maniadis as Alonzo, Lucius Wolter as Gus, Anneke Brukekreeft as Demeter, Alexander Auler as Munkustrap, Denise Jastraunig as Jennyanydots, and Alex Snova as Tugger. Vienna revival, March 2022.

17 notes · View notes

courfeyracs-swordcane · 2 months

Note

4, 6, and 20 for Alonzo Ballad Brothers??

4) What color or colors do you most associate with your OC?

Blue!! Mostly bc his uniform band (to signify what level/department he’s in) is blue but also that’s a Blue Guy

(SIDEBAR FOR WORLDBUILDING TANGENT— it’s a whole thing with the RF that ppl in most departments get to basically decide what they wear, you’re issued a standard uniform that a lot of ppl (Alonzo.) just go with but you’re also free to riff off of that basically as much as you want as long as you keep the colored band around the waist of your jacket so ppl know where you go)(the standard uniform also comes w light knee-pads built into the pants in the same color as the band but those are optional)

PICTURED (left to right):

1. Kyrie’s only outfit is her customized uniform from when she was the RF’s special little mascot guy lmaooo (jacket got repossessed when she got arrested bc it still had the band on it so she’s technically impersonating a federal employee)

2. El is the only guy here who’s not a current or former RF employee and his jacket is a handmedown from the convent next to the tower so there’s no band on it! (Ditto the knees on the handmade pants)

3. There is not a mad science department for Ari’s band to correspond to so theirs on their lab coat is blank— ditto the knees on their sweats but they ripped those out and replaced them anyway (the band on their more. professional. uniform for their financial department front desk position is pink)

4. An also gets funky w their uniform! They used to have a more vermillion-and-gold color scheme when they had the special little mascot guy band, but they swapped for grey-purple-black when they got promoted since that didn’t really go with the black management band.

5. Alonzo’s basic ass uniform for the sword-for-hire department vs the security department 😔 his ass is NOT interesting.

(Also in-universe blue is the mourning color because of St Miri but nobody really holds to that anymore and also it’s definitely more of a thing in the city on the other side of the lake)(so it’s not really relevant but his ass IS doomed by the narrative)

6) Any flowers you associate with your OC?

(Couldn’t find any good pictures of this genre red poppy rip)

20) What hobbies does your OC have?

NONE. That’s part of his issue lmao he has NO hobbies and NO friends he goes to WORK and then he goes HOME. and sometimes he goes to hang out with his sister (while he’s on the clock)(bc sometimes his job is supposed to be Hunting Her For Sport) and/or his boyfriend (on his days off) but neither of those really count as hobbies? When he’s at home he washes his uniform (for his job) every day bc he has sensory issues and he does paperwork (for his job) but those are also not hobbies. HOWEVER. I do think playing some kind of racquetball as recreation would fix him.

#just me #Alonzo ballad brothers #every day I think about textiles—#also fabric especially big blocks of it is NOT easy to come by so most clothes are patched together w smaller pieces of the same colors #(see: all the Got Damn Seams on these bitches)#things like el’s initial shift and Ari’s lab coat could count as status symbols if it weren’t for the everything else about both of them #Dragger DeLuca (who’s ACTUALLY running the resistance in this city) works at a fabric factory #and intentionally wears long dresses all off of one bolt so that people take her more seriously #conversely: Ari’s dad (city governor) likes to be seen as One Of The People so he intentionally adds extra seams to his suits #(which doesn’t really work bc the fabric is obviously really good quality and all off the same bolt)(but still)

2 notes · View notes

jellicle-shifters-au · 7 months

Text

When You're Gone

for @whumptober days 10 (can't you see that you're lost without me) and 12 (i haven't slept in days but who's counting)

TIMELINE: early in demeter's second captivity

CW: grieving, bomba is in dark place in this one

Go home, they tell her. Go home and get some rest. But how is she supposed to go home when half of what makes her home home isn’t there anymore?

She can’t go home. She can’t even think about the apartment. She can’t think about the empty side of the bed, the cold she’s going to feel if she tries to sleep. She can’t think about sleeping, because sleeping means waking up to another day without Demeter and she can’t wake up to another day without Demeter. It’s been so long since she’s been alone, she never thought it would hurt like this, to have the other half of her home ripped away from her; she didn’t think she’d be up at all hours of the night with such a painful ache in her chest or constant tears in her eyes.

She doesn’t want to wake up like this anymore, she wants Demeter, and she can’t wait six weeks to see her again, she needs her now.

It’s another night that she wakes up, grieving and painful, her face buried in one of Cassandra’s throw pillows. She’s been staying at Cass’s apartment for the last week, after stumbling around her neighborhood, too reluctant to go into her own building and unwilling to go to her mother’s house where there’s more eyes on her than she wants — she doesn’t want her siblings to see her this way, even though she knows they’re fully aware of what she’s like.

You better marry her when this is over, Electra had said, curled up beside her in her tiny hospital bed. Bomba sobs into the pillow at the thought. She can barely think about marrying Demeter when all she can think about is how much she hurts without her.

I need to see her i need to see her i need to see her i need her so much i need Metra

Bomba all but screams into the pillow. Cassandra and Alonzo are still sleeping; Pandora is a short time away from coming home from her overnight shift at the hospital and she’s going to need sleep.

So does Bomba, but she needs Demeter more.

She grips the pillow tighter, muffling her sobs until she’s biting on it so hard her jaw hurts. But it does nothing to distract her from the pain in her chest and the ache in her stomach and the perpetual exhaustion pulling at her bones.

She bites the pillow until it hurts too much to keep going, then lets it fall out of her mouth and pushes her nose into it instead. Her eyes sting with new tears; she hadn’t known she could cry so much and still have more to give.

I need her i need her i need her i can’t keep going like this i can’t i need her

It’s been one week already.

How is she supposed to get through five more?

She can’t she can’t she can’t she needs—

Bomba sits up, hugging the pillow to her chest with one hand and fumbling for her phone with the other. Her hand shakes as she unlocks it, her heart races, the same thought ricochets around her head like a bullet, she knows what she needs to do, she needs to see Metra she needs her needs her needs her—

She’s not sure what she writes, if it’s coherent or if it’s a jumbled chaotic mess, but she at least checks to make sure she’s sending it to the right person. If she doesn’t do this now, she never will. She watches it send, then locks her phone, gripping it in her free hand, and waits and hopes.

The response she gets isn’t the one she was hoping for.

bomba, i’m not sure that’s a good idea…

The words blur in her vision, her stomach clenches painfully, her chest tightens. No no no no no—

Please, Jerrie, she types back, and she’s not sure what comes after that but it feels desperate.

I need to see her i need to see her

bomba are you sure??

She types back without thinking: Please Jerrie I need to see her

A moment later, she gets a response.

CONTACT: MACAVITY

please be careful.

Bomba sees the message just before she opens the contact information and calls the number.

The phone rings once, twice, three times, her heart pounds louder and louder with each one; a small part of her hopes he doesn’t pick up but every other part of her hopes he does, and before the fourth ring a voice tinged with anger and annoyance answers.

“Who is this?”

She lets out a thin sigh of relief.

“Rina,” she croaks, because it’s all she can get out. She curls tighter against the back of the couch, the pillow clutched tiger to her chest. He’ll know who she is, he’ll know, and he’ll know why she’s calling—

For a moment, there’s no answer. Bomba grips the pillow until her knuckles are white and whimpers into the phone. Don’t hang up, don’t hang up. Then there’s a sigh of recognition. Maybe sympathy. Maybe both. “Miss Ford.”

Bomba coughs a confirming sob into the phone. Please don’t hang up.

“Where did you get this number?”

She sobs again, her face buried in the pillow, the phone away from her ear, but she can still hear as Macavity sighs again and says, “I see.”

“Please,” she begs, “please I need—I need to see her, I need to see her—”

“Miss Ford—”

“Please—”

The line goes quiet.

“Please,” Bomba whimpers. Please let me see her.

Please don’t hang up on me.

Between the two lines is the sound of Bomba sniffling and crying softly, underlaid with the sound of crinkling paper.

“Tomorrow,” he says flatly. “Twelve-thirty. I have an interview with her in the morning. Ah—and, Miss Ford? Delete this number.”

The line goes dead. Bomba screams.

#bombalurina #macavity #cats 1998 #cats the musical #whumptober2023 #no. 10 #can't you see that you're lost without me #no. 12 #i haven't slept in days but who's counting #insomnia #grieving #what we do in the night: bombalurina #shapeshifter au

6 notes · View notes

theimpossiblescheme · 1 year

Text

Threat Level

(Cesare the henchcat’s getting a brief turn in the spotlight for @bombawife‘s OC week! Trigger warning for violence and blood ahead.)

Right off the top of his head, Alonzo could think of at least twenty different ways he could have died since he was a kitten. Wandering the streets too malnourished and frail to stand without stumbling. Having his ribs crushed by cars. Squashed beneath construction ladders. Territorial alley cats. Macavity’s claws. Macavity’s teeth. Macavity sending henchcats twice his size to “keep an eye” on him. All the most recent occasions were Macavity’s doing.

And getting his throat ripped out by his brown-nosing little lackey… this was not allowed to be how he died.

Snarling at the top of his voice, he bent his shoulder toward the corner wall and slammed against it, making Cesare on his back take the brunt of the impact. Thud–thud–thud! Cesare let out a yowl with each slam and attempted to hold on tighter by clawing at his neck from the front. But with one final thud! that sent Alonzo’s teeth clattering, Cesare finally let go. Before he could slide too far down the wall, Alonzo turned over his aching shoulder and sliced his claws across Cesare’s muzzle. Blood dripped across a harlequin face and golden paw as the two faced each other, gasping for breath… Alonzo sorely tempted to put the bastard out of his misery. Payback for all the years wasted in that hellhole. For Demeter, for Jemima, for Bomba, for all of them.

Then Cesare smiled. The same slimy, self-congratulatory smile he knew Alonzo hated so much, made even worse through bloodied teeth. “It won’t make a difference,” he muttered, head dropped to his chest, voice muffled. “You’re more than welcome to kill me… it won’t change a damn thing.”

He was baiting him. Alonzo knew he was baiting him. And damn him, he still couldn’t leave it alone… grabbing fistfulls of Cesare’s fur, he yanked him upright until they were nose to nose. “What is Macavity planning? Tell me, and I might make it quick.”

Cesare actually laughed. “I’m not at liberty to tell some–”

Another slash across the face shut him up. So did a set of claws under his chin. “Tell me.”

“Why? You won’t be able to stop him.” There was a derangement in Cesare’s eyes that Alonzo had never seen before–that he would never admit frightened him. “By the end of the night, there won’t be just one of you sent up to die. He’ll be making that choice for you. One by one by one.”

Alonzo’s head spun–Macavity was coming to the Jellicle Ball? He couldn’t tell if that was brave or stupid… or if it was simply a matter of catching as many cats in his crossfire as possible. Either way–”There’s nine of us and one of him. He won’t get very far.”

“Oh, come on now, I know you’re not that stupid. You know very well how many of him there are.” Cesare laughed again, and Alonzo’s blood ran cold to remember. The hulking, faceless cats Macavity used as his decoys. No one knew their names, no one could even remember seeing them out of shadow–they could have been anyone. They could have been the cat standing next to you, or some spirit or demon Macavity had conjured for his own purposes. But no matter how much the question burned on your tongue, you knew better than to ask. You didn’t want to know. If the whispers were to be believed, there was too great a chance Macavity might take your face and replace it with his own.

“Though really,” Cesare went on, “he only needs three. One for you lot”--he ticked off one claw–”one for the old fool”--another claw–”and one”--the third he slid along Alonzo’s chin–”for his sweet little Goldie–”

What happened next, Alonzo couldn’t explain. He must have blacked out for a moment. One second, there was Cesare; the next, there was a blinding pain in his forehead and Cesare on the ground. More blood seeping from his own forehead, body sprawled in a heap. Still breathing shallowly. Damn shame, he thought distantly, like someone else’s voice echoing in his head… and he had to shake out his ears to make sure it wasn’t.

“Alonzo!” Another voice–Bomba’s as she came bounding down the wall to meet him. “I heard a voice–was it–?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.” But he didn’t want to waste any more words on Cesare. “We have to get back to the Junkyard. Macavity’s planning on crashing the Ball.”

Bomba quirked an eyebrow and nodded down at the prone henchcat. “Did he tell you that?”

“This wasn’t a taunt, Bomba–this was serious. He’s coming after Old Deuteronomy.” He swallowed past the sudden bile in his throat. “And Demeter, too.”

There was a terrible moment where Bomba’s face became a mask of terror, but it soon steeled into a look of grim resolve, tail lashing behind her as she prepared to run again. “Well, we’ve still got time if we hurry.”

Alonzo didn’t need to be told twice. And he made sure to kick some dirt over Cesare for good measure on his way.

#cats the musical #cats oc week #OCs #alonzo #bombalurina #fanfic

9 notes · View notes

fatfables · 2 months

Text

A sample section from my story, Alonzo: A Fat Fable.

Read the full story and more for free at fatfables.com

The Currywurst Incident

In school Alonzo was not the most popular kid, but he did have some friends. The worst of his greed and selfishness played out at home. In school the chubby young boy had to fit in with the others. He had to attend maths and English classes, the same as everyone else. Yes, he was always the first in line in the dinner queue. Yes, he always asked the dinner lady for one extra potato/sausage - which he normally got. And yes, he was always first up begging for seconds or even thirds. But, he was not the only kid in the school to behave like this at lunch times. And for some reason he didn’t mind the teasing from the other boys about his eating habits. Or his soft, round gut that stuck out over the top of his trousers.

The only time that he would really annoy his young friends was in sports class. Now, Alonzo was obviously not the sporting type. He would make up all sorts of excuses, and come in with all sorts of notes for the P.E. teacher to explain away why he couldn’t partake in badminton, tennis, football, or any of the other games that the majority of children liked to play.

In fact it’s probably correct to say that between the ages of about 11 and 13 Alonzo took no part in sports classes at all. He would just sit on the bench at the side of the gym hall with his potbelly resting in his lap, his two year old gym top far too small for him. It clung tightly around his soft chest and rode up on the top of his plump stomach, his soft muffin top rolling out under the sides. His gym shorts were always stretched skin tight around his bulking thighs. For some reason he had never bothered to get new gym clothes that fit. Perhaps it was because he knew deep down that he was never going to take part in any sporting activity ever again. He would just sit there every gym lesson watching intently while the other boys ran around, sweating and shouting until the back of their shorts became wet and clung to their backsides. Whilst engaging in this subconscious voyeurism he would sneakily munch on candy and chocolate bars that he had smuggled into his gym bag that morning.

As an older teenager he seemed to take joy in growing out of his new school uniform. Shirts that fit perfectly in September were bursting open and losing buttons by mid-November. Especially the lower buttons on his shirt which were popped off by his straining stomach after a particularly heavy lunch one day.

For the rest of the year he went to school every day with his soft belly sticking out the bottom of his shirt, his deep navel surrounded by layers of fat, clearly on display for everyone to see. The greedy teeanger was starting to wear his fat with pride. He could always have asked his parents to buy him some new bigger shirts. They absolutely would have done it. Though for some reason unknown to him at the time he didn't bother asking for new clothes. He thought the ones he had fitted just fine.

One time when he was 17, on a cold January day, he ripped his school trousers open at the back whilst bending over to pick up a chip from the ground that had dropped from his little wooden takeaway fork.

This was outside the local pizzeria/kebab house that you find in every German town. Alonzo and his friends were now old enough to leave the school premises and buy their own lunch. Alonzo’s favourite was Currywurst and chips - big fat frankfurter sausages smothered in mountains of curry sauce with masses of chips on the side.

Tariq the young son of the Turkish owner knew Alonzo by name as he was just about their best customer. The good looking young Turk always made sure to give Alonzo extra sides and bonus large portions in order to keep the gluttonous teenager coming back to the restaurant everyday.

Tariq would make comments about Alonzo’s size and smile at him through his deep brown eyes, teasing him about his weight while enabling him to keep gaining fat at an exponential rate. Alonzo was blissfully unaware of any ulterior motives, he just thought that Tariq liked him.

So the chip fell on the floor, and in his haste not to waste a single gram of food, Alonzo bent down to pick it up. His wide chunky buttocks were already pushing out against the tight cloth of his tailored school trousers. The same ones he had struggled to button up that morning as he’d sucked in his huge bulging stomach. The same trousers that he was wearing with no underwear underneath, having given up on wearing boxer shorts just before Christmas. All his underwear was at least two sizes too small for him nowadays, and regardless going commando gave him a funny tingly feeling that he liked.

He liked that he was naked under those tight trousers. He liked the thought of his soft fat flesh being more open and accessible. He liked this even though his school trousers had been digging uncomfortably into his midriff all morning while he sat through two and a half hours of tedious biology lessons about the digestive system and the need to eat a balanced diet.

So as he bent over he heard a ripping noise as his tight trousers split across the seam that ran perfectly up between his two plump heavy round swollen buttcheeks. He went red in the face as his friends pointed and laughed at his fat bare ass sticking out in the middle of the busy street.

Tariq came running out of the restaurant to see what all the commotion was about. Upon seeing Alonzo’s fat naked flabby ass he stopped and smiled. Alonnzo looked up at him and met his beautiful deep brown eyes with his own blue eyes and smiled back. It was at that very moment when the two young boys looked into each other's souls that Alonzo realised that his swollen fat ass wasn’t the only thing that had caused his trousers to burst open. He was carrying the biggest boner in the front of his broken trousers. It was as clear as day for all to see. His solid young dick sticking proudly up, poking him in the underside of his heavy bloated gut.

Alonnzo laughed, Tariq laughed. The momentary shame that Alonzo had felt washed quickly away and was replaced with a real sense of pride. He was a greedy, lazy, sexy, fat fuck and he loved it!

His friends stared with amazement, completely nonplussed at the sight of their fat friend now semi-naked in the street, his arsehole and hard cock proudly on display for everyone to see. Alonzo’s belly was heaving up and down as he struggled to calm his laughter. As he regained his composure he sat his heavy bulk down on a bench by one of the tables outside the fast food place. The bench creaked under the weight of his fat naked ass. He then continued to eat his lunch with even more vigour - as if nothing strange had happened.

As he bit greedily into a sausage Tariq pointed over the road and said “Who are those two girls?”

It was Alonzo’s sisters. They had seen the whole debacle and were standing with gaping mouths wide open staring at their fat embarrassing brother. Their faces pale and eyes aghast at the horrifying scene that they had just witnessed. As Alonzo took them under his gaze he smiled broadly and felt his hard cock and arsehole twitch. Fuck those evil cunts he thought to himself as he finished off the last calorific curry smothered sausage and wiped the sugary sauce off his plump greedy lips. Only Tariq noticed the brief look of sheer joy and ecstasy on Alonzo’s sweet, fat, round face.

1 note · View note