Headcanon time!

Alastor endured bullying during his childhood due to his mixed race and fatherless home life. It's noteworthy that some of the confrontations were not entirely unprovoked, as Alastor had a penchant for finding trouble himself. He often challenged peers who were physically larger and stronger than him. However, his responses to the bullying gradually took on a more menacing tone.

During one incident, Alastor lured one of his bullies deep into the bayou during a chase. The kid was ready to beat Alastor up, but Alastor had gotten away, taunting the other kid to try and catch him. Reaching a steep hill, with huge body of water at the end, Alastor halted. The kid had caught up to him, with a huge stick in his hand.

"Ready to get your ass beaten?" The kid taunted.

"Come and get me, if you dare!" Alastor retorted back.

The kid launched himself at Alastor, but Alastor swiftly dodged to the side, leaving his tormentor falling down the hill and into the murky waters.

Observing the scene, Alastor couldn't help but smirk. He noticed a crocodile approaching the struggling bully, who was now thrashing and screaming for help.

"ALASTOR! GET ME OUT OF HERE!" the bully shrieked in terror.

"I rather not." Alastor camly said back and turned away. "Best of luck chum!"

"Y-YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE! No.. NO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Back home Alastor had a nice meal waiting for him. He was smiling and humming as he ate his mother's' wonderful food.

"You seem to be in a good mood Alastor. Anything particular good happened today?" his mother inquired, delighted to see her son in high spirits.

"Oh, nothing of importance." Alastor sang back.

Desperate

Notes: Rosie has been married to her husband, Reginald O'Brian, for over twenty-plus years. However, as time passed, the charming facade of Reginald revealed his true self, and Rosie is desperate to escape her hellish marriage.

Trigger warning:

Blood/ gore, domestic abuse, murder, sexual violence, cannibalism

Rosie always starts her early mornings with a light breakfast and two cups of coffee. Today's morning was particularly stressful, due to her increased involvement with the suffrage movement in her local area. From the dining room, Rosie could hear her husband coming down from upstairs. She braced herself for whatever arguments her 'lovely' husband had in store for her this time. The sound of him coming down the stairs sounded determined.

Rosie hurried to finish her coffee when she felt two hands pressed firmly on her shoulders, keeping her in place as she tried to get up. "What's the hurry, my love?" A voice from behind said. It sounded accusatory, as always. Nervously, Rosie said, "I'm late for a…" She paused.

Rosie’s husband had made his distaste for the suffrage movement very clear to her. He disapproved of the idea of women's right to vote, believing they are too emotional to make any political decision, and that a woman's place is in the home and giving birth to children, preferably boys. 

"I'm late for my daily walk at the park," Rosie lied, looking up at her husband. His big mustache covered his mouth, making it hard to read his expression, but his small, beady eyes expressed distrust. He wasn't buying her lie. His hands pressed, ever so slightly, down on her shoulders.

"My love, you don't have to lie to me," he said, grinning. Rosie stayed quiet for a while. Should she deny it, or just tell him the truth? Sheepishly, Rosie looked up at her husband again. "I'm… late for a meeting with the ladies," Rosie confessed. Her husband looked down at her, his eyes more black than usually and his grip on her shoulders starting to hurt. He didn't need to hear the exact words to deduce what she was up to. With a snarling tone in his voice, he said, "Don't bother yourself. I want you to stay home today."

He let go of Rosie's shoulder and walked around to properly look her in the eyes. He leveled with her and continued, "I have a very important meeting today, and don't think I don't know what you and your little group of misguided lady friends are up to." He snarled, staring daggers into Rosie. His posture was threatening, but he hadn't done anything yet. It depended on what Rosie said next. Rosie contemplated whether or not she should stand her ground. But her previous scuffle with her husband ended very poorly for her. Rosie broke eye contact, looked down at her hands, and with a timid voice, she said, "Yes, of course, my dear."

Rosie hated herself for letting someone control her like this. But she had yet to recover from the last argument. Her husband leaned back, satisfied with her compliance. He didn't have to use his 'special' tactics to make her listen to him this time around. He patted her on the head in a patronizing way. "Good wife."

Question, I've seen people mentioning Vox owning a shark as a pet... Do you guys mean an actual shark or a shark cat? Like these:

I kind of want to see fan art with Vox and a shark cat

Like Vox laying in his bed, confessing his feeling about Alastor to his pet shark cat and while the pest shark cat in question is nibbling on some bones.