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sambadecomboscribbles · 7 months

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Captain college au

Chapter 3

Chapters: 1/2/3

Got no self esteem and Vertigo.

Wood and graphite tap against the old wooden desk. A number 2 pencil. Bright yellow and pink.

Underneath its polished, prim surface laid truly graphic graffiti. Left behind by those who had the truly toughest looks and rebellious tendencies. Swears and phone numbers sat under the wood surface for those who dare to gaze upon their ink stained and graphite smeared words should look with caution. Hardened gum and taffy held the wood together like multicolor glue. The speckles of paint on the wood almost blended in with the grooves.

A dash of color for the colorless world.

…

Harold didn’t like this class much.

He was already starting to doze off from the professor’s rather monotone voice filling his head with words and words of nothingness. He closed his eyes, hair moving with gravity to cover his pale face with its curly shield. His hoodie almost like a blanket on his shoulders. The ratty cloth like a second layer of skin, the smell familiar with his scent.

It was like this every day.

He would walk in, sit down near one of the dust covered windows and listen to whatever weather played outside its glass pane. Some days, the sun shone in just right and like a cat, he soaked up the warm rays with a happy, content smile. He got lost in the sky’s paintings. Clouds dancing as they painted skirts of nimbus and hair of cumulus. He traced each ruffle with a shakily painted fingernail. Rainbow. On each digit. Painted by the upmost skilled painter Piqua has to offer.

Ah.

This was truly the life.

Harold yawned, a hand covering his unbrushed teeth and stifling his loud yawn in favor of keeping those actually paying attention, from being disturbed. He could’ve done with a few more hours of sleep. Or a few years of sleep. Give or take. It’s been like this for hours now. The droning, boring class.

Man.

Makes you wish for something more exciting on days like these.

…

Speaking of.

At the peak of boredom of class, each of their phones went off. A alert of yet another monster attack in downtown Piqua. Citizens are advised to stay inside and low as the monster is dealt with by those trained in these situations. The monster is said to be rapidly approaching central Piqua.

Harold scowled at his phone, rubbing his temples in annoyance as yet again, duty calls. He stood up from his desk, giving a wave to the frighteningly tired yet, on edge professor and quickly made his way out. He was known around school as the monster masher, the wrongful doer wrangler.

The guy who catches the bad guys and mutants.

The guy who gets knocked around and somehow, someway, keeps Piqua safe with little to no powers.

So, he was given a pardon whenever he had to skip classes to deal with such problems.

Which is now.

He tucked into an empty classroom, pulling his gauntlets out of his messy backpack. The reinforced cloth in his hands felt familiar in a painful way. The metal wrist and the spikes on the ends certainly gave his stomach more uneasy feelings. He carefully slid the gauntlets on, making sure the mechanisms inside lined up with the dot scars on his hands.

“…..”

He breathed in.

And out.

In…

Out…

…..

SMASH!!

He launched from the window with the force of a tornado. Broken glass scattered around the concrete pathway and inside the classroom. His skin glowing gently under his clothes as his veins filled with the green liquid. He skidded across the field, kicking up dirt as his shoes slid across the grass.

His fingers dug into the ground.

He shivered, looking up at the direction of smoke and fire. And took off running.

———

It was chaos.

Fire and crumbled buildings cover the streets. Smoke hung like a blanket over the sky. The smell of sickly sweet candy with the stench of ash and flames hung heavy. Chunks of gum and candy stuck to buildings, to people, covering the street in dark pink sludge.

The monster cried, slamming its hefty fist into the side of the building. People scream in terror as chunks of burning building fall towards them.

Though, it never connected.

A green blur shoved them away in time, safely moving those in danger aside to run for cover. He urged them to run, to go and never look back until it’s completely over.

Welp. Time to distract and take down.

“….”

Harold looked up at the gum monster, glaring his eyes. “OH COME ON!! YOU ARE SUCH A LOWSY SHOT!” He yelled, cupping his mouth to get his voice across the others gunk filled ears. “CMON! SHOW ME YOUR SCARY FACE BIG GUY!”

The creature leaned down, directly facing Harold. And roared, loudly into his face.

Harold’s hair blew back with the force of the air of the roar. Gum and other bits of candy stuck to his hair and face as the creature let him very clearly know it didn’t tolerate such rude words. “…..” He blinked, “okay, I see you aren’t exactly in a good space right now but I see you are plenty scary.”

He shrunk, as a large, pink, goopy fist reared back to slam into him. As it connected to the ground, the college student dodge rolled to the side, his hair sticking to his face. “WOAH!”

“RRRAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! GRAHHH!!!” The beast cried.

Harold pushed himself up, rearing his own fist’s back and punched into the gumy surface of the monster. “Alright dude! EAT FIST!” He yelled, his fist connecting with the gum and… got stuck. “HUH? Wait wait wait nononono! CMON! I NEED THAT BACK!” He cried, tugging hard on the stuck limb. Though, the arm did not unstick so easily.

As the Hero attempted to free his arm, the beast made its move. It continued its rampage on the city, dragging behind the hero as he flailed and attempted to get free. Punching and swiping at buildings, tearing things apart, eating cars. All while the hero felt sick from all the swaying.

Though, an idea struck.

As the monster ramped up, to swing at a poor, defenseless, just rebuilt after 6 months of building building, the hero used the momentum of the swing to push himself free, gauntlet and all. He skidded along the ground, landing in a heap.

“Not… cool…!” He hissed, pushing himself up onto his rump. “What even is this stuff?” He asked, pulling a chunk of the pink substance from his face and sniffed it. It smelled like bubble gum, with a hint of fruit flavor. “Gum?” He blinked, Tossing the bit into his mouth and sure enough, the flavor of gum hit him.

“Man, I love gum!”

“WAIT! NO! NOWS NOT THE TIME FOR THAT!” He yelled, pushing himself on both feet and spat the gum out to the ground. He looked up to the rampaging monster, the sickly pink color against the black shadows. “How do I defeat gum…?”

…..

“Man, it sure is cold out…”

…..

“I got it!”

He made a mad dash towards the beast, injecting more super power juice into his system to give him a good boost of speed. He grabbed hold of a fallen chunk of wall and threw it at the monster. “HEY! IM RIGHT HERE YOU WALKING PILE OF DELICIOUSNESS!! COME GET ME!” He taunted, tossing in a good measure of a raspberry. To really get his Jimmies mad.

The monster screeched, hunching down and pushing off the ground to pounce at Harold. Though, the hero was faster, digging into the ground and zigzagging as the beast tried to grab him.

He dodged once again, this time it was close. He felt the sticky flesh of the monster on the fibers of his hoodie. “NOT TODAY DUDE!” He yelled back, glaring at the beast. “GOTTA TRY HARDER THAN THAT!!”

As the chase continued, Harold kept the lead in the chase, his legs pushing against the street as his muscles burned with the power of the juice. He could feel his stamina burning away, only to replace the feeling with a rush of the burning of the super power juice. He just needed to keep it up until he made it….

He just had to.

As a building came into view, Harold grinned, moving to run to the back of the store and threw the door open. “NO TIME TO EXPLAIN, IM GONNA NEED YOUR FREEZER!” He shouted to the man behind the counter.

So, did his plan work?

To make a long story short,

The answer is yes.

You see, Harold led the gum monster into the freezer of Boss’s Butchery, locking the monster inside and blasting the freezer to freeze everything inside. Including the monster. He had pressed against the door, keeping the thing inside as the cold did its wonders. The gum hardening and cracking as the moisture in its flesh froze.

Soon, the threat was handled.

Harold stumbled from the freezer door, looking at Boss with tried eyes. “Yeah uhh… don’t open that for a bit.”

———

News footage of the hero of Piqua spread like wildfire amongst the campus students and faculty. The night sky painted a shade of orange and purple as the fires were put out long ago and all that remains is the smoke.

Melvin was driving their shared car, a nervous anger on his face. “….” On his phone in the passengers side, a few texts are visible.

[ H: Melvin, I’m good, shit was crazy but I’m near Piquasaurus if you need to find me]

[ M: YOU CANT KEEP SCARING ME LIKE THIS HUTCHINS! ITS COMPLETELY UNFAIR AND I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT!]

[ H: I got you fries]

[ M: we are talking when we get home.]

[ H: :shrug: Kay.]

He pulled up next to Piquasaurus pizza, parking the car and breathed out shakily. He looked towards the outdoor eating tables, spotting Harold sitting at one of them. “That idiot…” He snarled, unbuckling his seatbelt and tossing the car door open.

He stomped his way over, crossing his arms at the other’s beaten and bruised appearance, happily munching away at a slice of pizza. His hair covered in gum and leaves.

“Oh? Hey Melvin!”

“…..”

“Mel?”

The other pointed to the car with his thumb, “get in the car now, we are leaving.”

“….can I finish my slice first?”

#captain college au #captain underpants #harold hutchins #the epic adventures of captain underpants #melvin sneedly

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sambadecomboscribbles · 1 year

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Resting beneath the Redwood.

Mother 3 Oneshot

Tags: Mother 3, Earthbound, Strong Language, Mentions of Alcohol, Mentions of Death, Mentions of some disturbing imagery (death, rot, etc), Body horror of the tree variety, possible slight Anxiety attack, Overworking, Exhaustion, Weird POV changes but I promise it’s swag, Marshall's got a lot of trees to cut down before he'll fill that hole in his heart. Maybe he never will. This is Dad Lighter the Oneshot.

Characters: Marshall (OC), Lighter, Mentions of Lucas, Claus, Hinawa and Flint.

———

If you took one look at any forest, you'd see a abundance of green foliage and green trees as far as the eye could see.

Strong oaks, simple birch, and if you're lucky, the towering of Redwood trees, covering the sky and sun with their splendorous red. Pine needles and pinecones falling down as a storm blankets the forest. Leaves twirling down onto the soft floor below of green grass and moss.

In Tazmily, there was a forest. One that spans miles of land with green hills and leaves.

It was called the Sunshine forest.

Named by the way the sunshine reflected off the leaves in the spring and summer with a shining blanket of light and color. The leaves almost alive with the sound of the nature that inhabited it. Birds nested inside the green, cooing gently to their families. Beetles and ants crawl along the branches.

It was many a place for the villagers of Tazmily to have picnics, relax in the shade or even play on ropeswings. Yes, The Sunshine forest had much to offer. Even when most of her gorgeous flora and foliage was burned three years ago. Some could still smell the reeking, aching wood to this day, if you dare venture to the... not so kindly named, Ugly part of the forest.

But even beauty, lies beneath the ugly. Beauty cradles those who wish to sleep upon a bed of roses and ugly does much the same. Holding onto those with a worn but comforting hand, holding them close. Keeping them safe. Almost beauty in its own right, in its caring nature even through pain.

And sleep many creatures did.

One such creature, slumbered away beneath a strong oak. His sleeping body slumped against the tree, arms tucked against his stomach. His breathing soft, barely above a gentle breeze. Snores, barely audible. Not to disturb no one none.

No ma’am or sir, indeed.

His worn axe rested in a fallen log, the wood barely splintering as the steel cleaved through its tough brown surface. Around the clearing sat bundles of logs, tied together with tough leather straps. Old age and wear clear on their surface. Had real personality, a aged lumberjack says. Wont let ya down they won’t, for sure. He also says with a knowing gleam in his eye. But even some straps, he continues, can wear and tear too much by the strain.

This mighty creature slumbers away surrounded by his afternoons work. The sun gently shining on him, almost like a blanket in the cool spring air. Still warming up from the cold hold winter had on it. He had spent a good few hours of his early morning cutting trees and moving them towards town. The retirement home needed a new floor and well, he’s happy to help them replace it with some new oak boards.

So that he did.

Once he finished up, he made his way back through town and into the forest, axe in hand and sweat still on his brow.

There ain’t be no time to clean sweat away. Work must be done.

Chopping away trees, bundling them and moving them to storage was easy enough. It was monotonous at times but it was easy and made a difference. Moving lumber. chopping. Moving lumber. Chopping. Like a machine, he worked day and night, hours and hours. Hardly stopping or taking a break. But don’t worry none, he likes the work. Makes him feel good.

Makes him feel earned.

Makes him living feel earned.

Makes the shadow of the Redwood tree just a smight bit smaller with each axe swing.

Sap dripped down his hands, his life force bleeding away in a puddle of white amber. His gears grinding to a halt. For what a machine does a break warrant? No. He doesn’t believe in breaks. Sloth ain’t a word in his family. Certainly not in his vocabulary.

Yet, here he was. Laying in a patch of grass, his head to the tree’s surface.

His body next to nature. Almost similar to a forgotten teddy bear, one with nature now. The rain weighing it’s stuffing down on the inside and the roots and plants growing through its fabric to give life to something abandoned and rotten. Perhaps the creature was the one who was rotten? Who could tell.

His bones rest like roots on the forest floor.

Heavy.

Sap bleeds from his blisters.

Exhaustion clear on his muscles and skin. Though to those passing by, he looked peaceful. Like a corpse. For how long he slept, he might’ve grown his own leaves.

Wouldn’t that be nice dear?

A machine man growing plants.

How quaint.

———

“Hmmm…”

It had been an hour since the last ringing chop had been heard from the lightning struck home.

Lighter had brought back his own bundles of lumber and decided a glass of lemonade was more than welcome right now. He had asked Marshall if the boy wanted to stop and take a breather for a moment. But the boy, bless his heart, said he’d keep workin’. He didn’t mind none, he’d said.

That was hours of daylight ago. He was starting to get worried. He knew Marshall had a track record similar to his father. Workin’ till he was aching and still offered to carry one more bundle or bale.

Lighter rose from his chair, bones cracking and aching.

He certainly wasn’t any younger but that doesn’t stop him. He pushed open the door to the cool outside air, taking a breath in of the pollen. “Now what the hells goin’ on….” He muttered, moving to grab his trusted two by four and rested it on the groove of his shoulder and set off.

His boots crunch the dirt. Sticks and leaves breaking under his weight. The snow had melted, revealing many winter secrets for Fuel and Claus to get their hands on come weeks in the future.

He knew this route like the back of his hand, every turn and tree he marked specifically. He turned into the clearing, breathing out a slight wheeze and turned to look around the superhuman progress that was made.

10s of 20s of trees, all chopped, bundled and placed in neat stacks. Ready to be moved and processed into boards and planks.

“Eh? Marshall??” He called, hands cupped around his mouth. He turned in the clearing, his worn eyes looking for the boy.

And there, in the middle of the clearing, sat under a old oak tree was the boy. Lighter sighed softly, moving across the clearing to clear the distance between them. He knelt down in the dirt and mud, his knee becoming slick with mud.

“Dammit boy, ya feel asleep again, didn’t ya son?” He rasped, shaking his head.

The creature’s face was pale, shadows under his eyes as thick as bark. His hands and arms shaking like wind shakes leaves.

His hands finally bare broken blisters, leaking red sap onto his shirt.

“Dammit all…”

“Cmon, let’s get ya inside, yeah? Cmon..”

With aged muscles, he moved an arm underneath the slumbering creature, moving to tuck him next to his side as much as he could. Then, he lifted him, slowly but surely until the boy’s arm laid across his shoulders. “Oof! Christ!! Ya really are his son!! Fucks sake!” He groaned, moving to steady his legs before taking a step forward.

“Cmon now, let’s go son…” He hushed, patting the others arm with a gentle hand.

Over the River and through the woods to the lightning house they go, the old horse knows the way to carry the fallen tree through melted snow.

The old horse makes his way through the forest, ever careful of his cargo. Once he made it through the endless fields of branches and bark, he carefully opens his door. Stepping into the home with mud covered boots. He carefully placed Marshall down in his bed, removing the others own boots and covered him up. He stepped back, placing both pairs of shoes next to the door.

“….”

His gaze lingered on the bright leather Star stitched with a loving hand on the side of one shoe. The patchwork of a mother. Held together by strong thread and love. He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Hin? Him and Flint, both stubborn bastards.”

He muttered, making his way into his kitchen, mindful to keep his steps quiet. He dug around through his wooden cupboard, pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

It was a gift from friends.

He grabbed a glass and sat down, pouring himself a small bit and leaned back, sipping the amber liquid inside. “I’m gonna give that boy a stern talkin’ to Hin.“

He closed his eyes, breathing out softly.

And inhaled a scent of Alcohol.

Alcohol with a scent of oak wood and polish. With a hint of char and smoke.

The smell attacked his nose with a intensity similar to that of rotten milk or eggs. He blinked open his eyes, golden pupils shaking about as he shot up from bed. “!!?” He rubbed his eyes free of the phantom feeling of apple blossoms and amber.

“ ‘Bout time you woke up.”

A voice greeted his confusion, turning to see who it was revealed,

“L-Lighter sir… I-“ He started,

“I don’t want to hear any of that nonsense, boy.”Lighter finished.

Lighter slowly stood, placing his cup down, “I don’t want that to happen again, ya hear me? He said, voice stern, sharp, “ if you need a break you tell me, understand?”

“I-I don’t…?”

“Do ya understand me, Marshall?”

“I’m…”

“You can’t keep doin this son, it’s not good. And I’m not going to have ya Kill yerself for one or two bundles o’ lumber!”

The feeling of shadow hangs over the creatures shoulders. The red, red shadow. You could smell the scent of redwood in the air, feel it on your skin. Did it always feel this rough?

“Think about Lucas and Claus, Marshall! They need you! What’s gonna happen if they loose you? Huh?”

“I…”

The feeling of suffocating, writhing branches inside your lungs, filling them with leaves. Filling your bones with sap.

Are your hands bleeding? Why is the sap red?

“From today onward you are taking breaks while you work, understood? And if you refuse, I’ll make ya take them and sit ya in the corner like I did with fuel.” He said, voice calm, yet holding back a simmering anger. He always did tough love. “Otherwise, im gonna have ta let ya go.”

“Yes… yes sir…”

The shame hangs from his back like abandoned tireswing rope. The shadow of Redwood too high to see above. Slowly, he stood from the bed, his bones aching. “I understand, sir..” His voice is meek, quiet but ever so polite. “I’m…right sor-“

“Son, you don’t have to give me that nonsense.”

Lighter spoke, moving to place his hand on the others tense shoulder. “Just head home for today. Rest up. Take a few days off, those hands o’ yours need it.” He motions to the bandage covered palms, wrapped tight and neat.

“Do you need me to walk you home?” Lighter offered,

“N-no sir, I’m alright…” Marshall nodded, moving to make his way towards the door. He slipped his boots on, holding onto the doorframe with a tight grip as stars danced in his eyes.

“…. Alright, have a good night Marshall.” Lighter surrendered.

Marshall opened the door, stepping out into the night air and leaned against the door with a wheeze. He patted at his chest, coughing gently into the sky. The feeling of fall fills his lungs as the leaves inside his chest fall away, settling at the bottom of his lungs. His eyes close, his breathing slowly steadying.

Then, he set off.

Lighter watched him walk through the window, a pinched expression on his face. His glass in his hand, the amber liquid pooling inside. He took a sip, turning to face away from the door.

“I’m gonna need more whiskey…”

#mother 3 #mother 3 fic #mother 3 oneshot #earthbound #earthbound fic #mother 3 oc #mother 3 lighter #earthbound oc #please leave me feedback in the comments or tags!

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