I'm Obsessed... Just Another Radiodust Story

'Good' Morning

Hello! I am so sorry for this late of an update, but I was out of town dealing with family matters and didn't really have time to post. I'm also making this on my browser, so Sorry there are no fancy fonts

3rd person (I don't even know if I need to say that) And there is a slight trigger warning so please proceed with caution:

Angel woke up around 4:30 with a headache. "What the fuck happened?" He whispered to himself. He couldn't really see much, so he turned his lamp on. Everything was fine until Angel was by the bathroom door and looked over at his bed, only to find the one, the only, Alastor. "Unholy hell!" Angel said in a bit of a rushed voice. He covered his mouth, and quietly opened the bathroom door. "All I need is a fucking painkiller and a shower." He slammed the door shut, thinking that it wouldn't wake up Alastor. But guess what, it did. Alastor woke up, and tried to open his eyes, but saw nothing. "What in the blazes is going on?" Al got up and tried to find his lamp. "Ah, here we are." Al tried to turn the lamp on, but it didn't work. "Strange." He thought for a minute until he noticed the shower running. "Hello?" Alastor tried to find the bathroom door, but it wasn't anywhere to be found. "Hello?" He said again, hoping that someone would hear him. No one did, so he went and found his way to find the bed, and sat down. In the bathroom, Angel had just turned off the shower and put some clothes on. "Why in Lucifer's name am I wearing Smiles' clothes?" He shrugged it off and walked out of the bathroom after downing half of the painkillers he had. Angel tried to stay as quiet as possible until he saw the light out. "I see someone's awake." He said sarcastically and turned the lamp back on. "Nice joke," Al said. "What do you mean- OH MY FUCK-" Angel turned around and looked at Alastor. "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?" Alastor looked at where he believed Angel to be. "O-Other way dude-" Angel said hesitantly. "Ah yes, thank you, Dear," Al said turning his head in the complete other direction. "N-No Smiles, I'm right..." Angel sighed and grabbed the sides of Al's face. "...Here." Angel gave him a half-hearted smile. "Oh, of course. Apologies dear." Angel studied his face for a moment. "Okay now, what the heaven happened?" Alastor shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not too sure. I went to bed in my own bed, with vision, and now I seem to be in yours with none." Angel slowly nodded and went back to looking at Al's face. "You still there?" Angel nodded. "Oh uh, yeah." All of a sudden, Alastor put his arms out and tried to feel around. "OUCH. WHAT THE HELL DUDE-" Angel yelled. "Sorry? What did I do?" Angel rolled his eyes. "That's me Smiles." Alastor just kinda sat there with no emotion. "How are you so wet and yet so soft-" Angel took this as an opportunity. "I'm not Smiles. Well I mean one part of me is probably a little wet-" Alastor cut him off. "ARE YOU NAKED?!?" Angel laughed. "No Dummy. I just got out of the shower." Alastor let out a huff. "You really shouldn't do that to me. I may be blind, but I can still kill you if I try hard enough." Angel laughed. "Sure you can Smiles." Alastor shook his head. "So are you going to tell me what my face looks like or not?" Angel snickered. "It's terrifying. For starters, your left eye is in that dial thing, but the pointer and the glass are cracked and broken. And your right eye, well that shit looks like it was gouged out with the missing glass on your left. Either that or some sort of a dog attack." Alastor slowly nodded. They sat there in silence for a moment. "Dear?" Angel spaced out. "Huh?" Alastor straightened his posture. "How did you die?" Angel snapped back to reality. "Uhh, Overdose. Why you asking, Smiles?" Angel was intrigued. "Have you had side effects of some sort of a hangover, or something related to your overdose?" Angel thought for a moment. "Yeah. Well, I mean like a hangover, but nothing related to the drug that killed me." Alastor thought a while longer. "Hold on. Angel, lift my shirt up." Angel's eyes shot up. "I mean if you insist-" Alastor put his hand up. "Not like that. I mean lift my shirt up, and see if there are scars or any signs of torn tissue." Angel nodded his head. "Fine." Angel proceeded to lift Al's shirt up. "Oh, my fuck-" Alastor wasn't really phased. "What?" Angel poked at a flap of hanging skin. "Smiles, you're ripped. Oh, and you have cuts and claw marks everywhere." Alastor smiled a bit. "Thanks, Angel. But tell me, what do the scares look like?" Angel studied them for a moment. "Most of them look like a dog went ham on your... Well, ham." Alastor nodded. "Yes, that is how I died." Angel straightened his back and looked at what was left of Al's face. "A dog took you down?" Alastor slowly nodded. "A dog-" Angel was shocked. "Yes. We can make fun later. For now, can you tell me what the rest look like?" Angel bent back over and started counting. After a moment he pulled Alastors shirt down. "You have about 27 cuts on your chest. 19 of those look like dog marks, and then the other 8 look almost man-made." Alastor let out a sigh. "Yes well, I was a radio host back in my living days, and I would get bored or antsy during my breaks, so I would try and feed my bloodlust with my own body. It didn't work too well, but it certainly helped. Are there any on my back?" Angel scoffed. "So what, your gonna tell me that, and just move on?" Alastor smiled. "Yes, my effeminate fellow." Angel giggled as he pulled the back of Al's shirt up. "Oh yeah, there are a few cuts on your back here, but not nearly as many." Angel stopped to count. "Only 12, and most of them look like struggle marks..." Alastor thought for a moment. "I don't remember struggling much." Angel shook his head. "No not those kinds of struggle marks. I mean a kind of struggle mark from chains or a mafia machine." He paused for a moment. "Wait I know this machine. We used it to finish off our victims. It was called something like a cobra chain. Anyways, we used it to kill the person by slowly tightening around them, without leaving any cuts or scars, so we could hide the bodies in basements, or parks. It was easier, and we didn't get caught. Struggling doesn't usually do much, but it seems you were quite a fighter." Alastor nodded along, and kind of liked hearing about Angel's human life. "So are the marks all around in that case?" Angel looked at him for a second. "Can I check?" Alastor hesitantly nodded. Angel put Alastor's hands up and pulled his shirt off. He studied Al's body closely, and gently touched little areas, that we're possibly from the machine. After Angel finished, he sat down next to Alastor. "Okay, so the marks are only on your back, and I think I know why." Alastor looked over. "Okay, so a few things, one, I'm in the complete opposite direction, and two, the reason the marks are only on your back, is because that's the only place the struggling worked." Alastor 'looked' right at Angel, and tilted his head. "I mean, the dog attack was before the chains. So there are a few possible reasons for that. So either I'm way rustier with identifying cuts and the struggle marks are really just from you scooting to attempt a getaway from the dog. The other possibilities range from you being tortured, then given to the dog as a chew toy, or maybe the dog got you, then the mob found your weakened body, and tortured you until you died. But my money's on that the mob found out who the local serial killer was, sent a dog or two after your scent, they fucked you up, then finished the job off with the cobra thing, not knowing you had just enough energy to struggle in your back to escape the grip of the thing before it got too tight, and you snuck out the back door. Then you probably collapsed and died wherever your body was found. DAMN IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE BACK!" Alastor sat there and processed this for a while. "Hey, where were you from?" Angel asked. Alastor was caught off guard. "Oh, I lived in New Orleans." Angel's jaw dropped. "What years we're you alive?"  Alastor was confused. "Uhh, I was born sometime between 1900 and 1910. I'm not too sure when though, I never celebrated my birthday or even knew what year I was born. And then I was killed in 1933. What are you getting at dear?" Angel squealed. "Are you the Louisana southside killer?!?" Alastor then realized why Angel asked. "I don't know, probably. I did reports on the radio about my killings, and then I was just called 'Local killer'." Angel's eyes sparkled. "I have so many questions for you-" Alastor's smile softened into a smirk. "Ask away."

I figured out how to do the fancy fonts! :) I'm so sorry for the late update, and I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit scattered. I'm really tired, but I wanted to finish this for you guys! I love you my little demons! <3