#thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction

[thecharlester77]

Scars - DH AU Fan Short

DH AU Short - Scars

Much to the kind one's relief, today has been going well so far. It's almost evening, and for a change, things are calm. He's sat on the couch, reading a book and occasionally sipping his coffee. His daughter, the Sad One's kid and the Scary One's kid are all playing a board game on the carpet with the Scary One, seeming content. The Dramatic One's daughter is napping on the other couch. The Sad One, uncharacteristically, is sitting on the opposite end of the couch, also reading. It was rare that the spiteful one decided to leave his room - other than to get coffee.

"Hey, that's cheating!" the Scary One suddenly exclaims, "Ya can't just- oh, wait, never mind. Sorry."

Sighing with relief, the Nice One returns to his book.

"Hey, Shoulder Angel?" the grumpy says. The Nice One raises his head from his book.

"I think your cup's empty. I'm gonna go refill mine, you want one too?"

The gentle one smiles, touched by the Sad One's infrequent act of kindness. He nods, and hands the Sad One his empty mug. Just as the spiteful one stands up to head to the kitchen, he hears an array of gasps.

The Dramatic One is standing in the doorway of the living room, his arms crossed anxiously. His arms are bare.

"U-um...hey...Shoulder Angel, d-do you know where my hoodies are? I-I just got out of the shower and I...can't find any of them..."

"Oh! Sorry, honey!" the crazy one suddenly pipes up, "I put them all in the wash for you! Hope ya don't mind."

The excitable one stares at the floor, deliberately avoiding eye contact. He can feel everyone staring at his arms...and all the scars.

"Erm...Hey, girls?" the Nice One turns to the girls, "Do you think you could go play in the basement for a little while?"

The girls all nod, quickly pick up the game and leave the room. All except for the Dramatic One's daughter, who is still asleep on the couch.

"Sit down, man," the gentle one says softly, guiding the lively one to the sofa. He gently sits him down and then turns to the Sad One.

"Could you get us all some coffee, man?"

The spiteful one hesitates for a moment, and then nods. Forcing himself to look away from the Dramatic One's arms, he heads to the kitchen.

"Wow, you have a lot of scars, honey. More than me even!" the Scary One comments loudly, "Are they all self inflicted??"

The Scary One's husband turns a deep shade of red.

"U-um...y-yeah..." he mumbles.

"You must really hate yourself, huh?"

This earns a sharp glare from the kind one.

"Y-yeah..." the Dramatic One whispers.

"Hey, you?" the Nice One gestures to his crazier self, "Cut it out."

"What?!" the crazy one throws his hands up in dramatic mock-offence, "I'm just making conversation!"

"Shhh!" the gentle one hisses, "You'll wake the kid," he gestures to the excitable kid who is sleeping on the couch.

"Oh please, it's nothing she hasn't seen before," the psychotic one rolls his eyes, "She's had to stop him herself plenty of times."

The theatrical one covers his face with embarrassment.

"P-please...please can someone...um..."

The kind one, quickly realising what his friend is asking, grabs a blanket and wraps it around the Dramatic One's shoulders.

"Th-thanks, Shoulder Angel..."

"I don't know what you're being so dramatic for, honey. I'm covered in scars and ya don't see me making a big deal out of it!" the Scary One complains, dramatically folding his arms.

"I told you to cut it out," the kind one responds harshly, "You're not helping."

"Y-you know that I don't l-like my scars, dear," the excitable one mumbles, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"Um...I'm back," the Sad One returns from the kitchen, carrying a tray of cups of coffee into the living room. He sets the tray down on the coffee-table before collecting his cup.

"Thank you," the Nice One gives the spiteful one a quick smile of gratitude before taking his cup.

"Y-yeah, thanks, Sad Sack," the Dramatic One also attempts a smile.

"Welcome," the grumpy one mumbles, sitting back down on the sofa.

The Scary One picks up his coffee mug, attempting to hide his scowl. This isn't nearly as satisfying as he had planned...

Suddenly, an idea comes to mind. He allows himself a quick smirk before resuming a straight face.

The crazy one walks over to the couch, deliberately wrapping his foot around the leg of the coffee table, causing himself to trip.

"WOAH!"

Hot coffee is spilled over the Dramatic One, soaking the blanket and his Tshirt. He jumps up, letting out a cry of pain.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, honey!!" the Scary One suddenly exclaims, "Here, let me help!"

Before the enthusiastic one can protest, the psychotic one tears the blanket away from him, and then rips off his husband's shirt, revealing even more scars.

"U-um....I-I-"

"Get out," the Nice One snaps, pointing to his crazier self, "You're just making it worse!"

"It was an accident, Shoulder Angel! I-"

"Yeah, sure it was! Go!"

"Do you want me to leave, honey??" the Scary One asks, gesturing dramatically.

The now shirtless one lowers his head before giving a hesitant nod.

"Well I never!" the psychotic one huffs, his face suddenly growing dark, "We'll talk about this later, honey." Without further comment, he storms out of the room.

"I-I'm sorry, the carpet is all stained. I-I'll clean it up! I'm sorry, Shoulder Angel-" "Hey, man?" the grumpy one gently reaches out and pats the Dramatic One's shoulder, "It's fine, it wasn't your fault. Want me to grab ya one of my hoodies?"

The excitable one nods quickly, managing a soft, "Thank you," of gratitude.

The Sad One nods in acknowledgement before rising from his seat and leaving for his room.

"Are you okay?" the Nice One asks softly. "...No," the other replies quietly. The gentle one nods. Hesitantly, he reaches out and squeezes the other's hand. "I...I'd give you a hug, but uh..." The Dramatic One manages a small smile. "It's okay, Shoulder Angel." "Don't want to upset your husband, do we?" the Nice One adds with a chuckle. "Shoulder Angel! How could you even suggest such a thing! I am FAITHFUL to my husband-" the two men lock eyes and dissolve into a fit of laughter. It feels good to be distracted...

After the laughter dies down, the two men resume sitting in silence. The Dramatic One stares at the floor, the ghost of a smile still on his face.

The anxious one nervously fiddles with his hands as he stares at the carpet. The kind one, though he tries not to, finds himself casting fleeting glances at his companion’s scars. There are so many...

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Huh?” “...I know...what it’s like to feel like that. I know it’s not good, and...I’m sorry that you’ve gone through that too,” the Nice One adds quietly. “...Y-you do?” The other nods. Hesitantly, he pulls up his shirt to show a myriad of scars on his stomach. He quickly pulls his shirt back down again, and looks away. “I...I can’t say for certain, but I think all of the Ricks have struggled with...it...at some point.”

The excitable one nods. “...I wish I could stop,” he mumbles, “It’s...just so difficult.” “I know,” the kind one replies softly, “But hey, you haven’t hurt yourself in a while, right?” His more erratic self nods. He smiles. “Right. So I’m proud of you.” “Thanks, Shoulder Angel.”

A few moments later, the grumpy one returns, carrying a grey hoodie. “Here you are, man,” he tosses the hoodie to the Dramatic One. “Oh my gosh, thank you,” the excitable one quickly pulls it on before grabbing his sarcastic self in a hug. “...Um...” “Oh, sorry!!” he quickly lets go.

After a moment’s hesitation, the Sad One suddenly pulls the excitable one back into a hug, and hugs him tightly for a couple of seconds before letting go again. “You’re welcome,” the sarcastic one mutters, “For the hoodie, I mean....I...Never mind. Just, you’re welcome.” The two other men watch as the spiteful one hurries out of the room, his head fixed firmly on the floor.

“...That was strange,” the Dramatic One says. The kind one nods, and they share a smirk. “You must have caught him in a good mood.”

“Anyway,” the Nice One continues, “Your hoodies should all be washed and dried by tomorrow morning, okay? I’ll make sure to get them to you as soon as I can.” “You’re the best,” the Dramatic One smiles. “Nah,” he pats his friend’s shoulder, “But thanks.” “...How about that hug?” the other asks, holding out his arms.

The Nice One chuckles, embracing the other. “I’m here if you ever need to talk, okay?” “Okay, thanks, Shoulder Angel.”

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fan short #fanfiction #tsatsdhau #tsats #fanfic #Scars

[thecharlester77]

A Taste of His Own Medicine - HL AU Short

It has been a very long while since I’ve posted a HL Short! In fact, the last one was the first! This short is slightly different from usual HL Shorts - it explores the emotional side of HL Scientist, though not induced naturally of course.

Enjoy!

A Taste Of His Own Medicine - HL Short

A small smirk spreads over his face as he scans his hand. The door slides open and he strides in. "Morning, kid!" His greeting is left unanswered. She's sat on her bed, under her blankets. "Ignoring me, huh?" he mutters, "I said good morning!" "No," a muffled retort comes from beneath the blankets, "You said morning!" He smirks as he approaches her bed. "Someone's grumpy!" he announces, abruptly pulling her blankets off the bed. "Get off!" she shrieks, "Go away!" "Howzabout you sit at the table?" "No!" He leers over her, his face growing suddenly dark. "I'd advise you not to test me, kid," he snaps. "...Fine." Reluctantly, she slides off her bed and ambles over to the table. After a moment's hesitation, she sits down.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he gives a sickening smile as he seats himself across from her, "I have something fun for us to do today!" "Fun for you or fun for me?" she mutters, crossing her arms. He laughs, amused by her familiar bitterness. "So cheerful," he chuckles, "Why don't we find out?" "You said that you wouldn't hurt me today!" she snaps, rising angrily out of her chair. She suddenly pulls up her T-shirt, revealing a myriad of awful cuts and bruises, "You said I needed time to heal!" He laughs again. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, kid. You're right; you need time to heal." Slowly, she sits back down, once again folding her arms. "So..." she begins hesitantly, "What are you going to do to me?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a syringe, filled with a glistening blue liquid. "NO!" once again, she jerks out of her chair, "I'M NOT LETTING YOU INJECT ME WITH THAT!" "Relax!" he orders, beginning to lose his patience, "It's not the hallucigens!" "I DON'T CARE! YOU'RE NOT STICKING THAT IN ME!" Rapidly, she bolts to the other end of the room. She hears him sigh angrily as he rises from his chair. "Listen, you little brat," he snarls, advancing towards her, "We can do this the easy way - I inject you with this and then leave you alone. OR, we can do this the hard way. I inject you with this, and then punish you. Which is it gonna be?" "GET AWAY FROM ME!" in a moment of fury, she seizes the syringe needle. "Hey! Gimme that!" "No!" He suddenly dives forward, reaching for the syringe. Taking the opportunity, she quickly plunges the syringe needle into his arm and presses down the plunger, injecting him with the blue substance. He lets out a yelp of surprise and pain alike, and pulls the syringe back out. "You BRAT!" he snarls, "You'll pay for that!" He turns and storms out of the room. She slides down to the floor with a breath of relief. He's gone...He's- Her short lived relief shatters as he suddenly strides back in, medical equipment bulging in his pocket, a First Aid kit in one hand, and a familiar smirk on his face. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" ......... "Ten!" A scream of pain echoes around the room, ricocheting off the walls. "And that's another one, kid!" The cool metal digs once again into her stomach, drawing a new red line. "STOP! STOP!" she continues to yell, "GET OFF ME!" "What's the magic word, sweetheart?" "GET OFF ME, YOU JERK!!" "...None of those were the magic word," he replies drily. She begins struggling against the rubber restraints, but to no avail. "You're just gonna give yourself more bruises, kiddo," he laughs, "You make this far too ea-" slowly, his voice trails off.

A metalic ping is heard as the scalpel falls from his hand.

She glances up at him, trying to conceal her relief. He's frozen, staring at his hands. "...What are you doing?" she dares ask, "I didn't-" she cuts herself off as she notices tears in his eyes. He never cries. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. He instantaneously pulls off the restraints. Before she can move, she feels herself be pulled close in a tight embrace. "H-hey!" her angry protest is muffled by his labcoat, "Let go!" He hugs her tighter. He's trembling. "W-what...what's wrong?" she asks in a whisper. She wants to shove him away, but is paralysed by fear. What on earth is- "I-I'm sorry," he chokes out, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm s-so sorry, I'm s-sorry!" A sob overtakes him, drowning out his apologies. She stays silent, confusion overwhelming her. He's...crying. And...apologising...Is he broken? "Y-you're...you're sorry?" she repeats slowly. He tries to reply but the lump in his throat prevents him. "What...what do you mean, you're sorry?!" she suddenly yells, shoving him away. Her confusion and fear are replaced by anger and indigence, "You were literally just cutting me open a second ago and now you're sorry?!"

He carefully kneels down in front of her and gently places his hands on her shoulders - she can still feel him shaking. There's an unfamiliar pain in his eyes, clouded only by tears. "I'm sorry," he whispers again. He reaches for the First Aid kit and takes out some bandages and anti-septic. Cautiously, he pulls out a chair for her and motions for her to sit down. "What are you doing to do to me?" she asks warily. "I j-just want to b-bandage your wounds," he answers softly, his voice cracking once again. Hesitantly she sits down. He holds out his hand for one of her arms, and she gives it to him. The small girl sits silently in her chair, observing as her abuser tenderly cleans and bandages her many cuts, bruises, scrapes and scars. This isn't right. He isn't like this! What is wrong with him?! As she ponders over his sudden change, she glances once again at his eyes. Usually, she'd avoid them, because they're full of malice and a savage, glimmering desire for triumph...Any form of former arrogance has been completely extinguished. All that she can see in his eyes now is...remorse.

A few moments later, he places the First Aid kit down on the table and stands up again. "H-how do you feel?" he asks, "A-are he bandages t-too tight?" "No..." she mutters, "I feel fine." "Good...good..." He begins absent-mindedly picking the hem of his labcoat pocket. She continues watching him, filled with apprehension. Her attention turns momentarily to the head of a syringe sticking out of his pocket...What was in that?

He slowly backs into the wall and slides to the floor, covering his face. This is overwhelming. He needs a moment. Just...just a moment. ...... This is disorienting.

Everything is hitting him at once, like a tidal wave crashing down on him. He's never felt...pain like this before. His gut is twisting in horrifically tight knots, turning and churning. The nausea is almost overpowering. Guilt? Is...Is this what guilt feels like? "The drug," he whispers, running his hand through his hair, "I-it's the drug..." The blue liquid in the syringe, which had been intended for the girl, had been filled with a drug he'd concocted himself. It was designed to evoke an extreme emotional response from the subject - well, now he knows it works...

He looks up from his hands to see the original subject staring at him, still seated in her chair. "W-what?" he mutters, attempting to wipe tears from his face, "Stop staring at me..." "Or what?" she rebuts, folding her arms. A moment's silence passes. Slowly, he stands back up. He watches her flinch - another ripple of guilt washes over him. Taking a deep breath, he continues walking over to her. She shrinks back a little in her chair as he walks over. Gritting her teeth, she forces herself to sit up straight again. She hates showing fear. She is NOT weak. "Um...k-kid?" "What?" she snaps. There's still that...strange sadness in his eyes. What is wrong with him?! He reaches over and picks up the First Aid kit. "I'm just going to take this upstairs...I'll be back in a moment." She sighs angrily. "I don't want you to come back! I hate you!!" "I...I know," he replies quietly, "I'll be right back."

She watches as he scans his hand and leaves. Once the door shuts, she jumps up and begins to pace, muttering angrily to herself. "He's not like this! This...This can't be real. It can't be...It can't be!" ....... A few moments later, he returns. He looks...tired. "Back so soon?" she mutters spitefully, pausing mid-pace. "...Are you okay?" he asks. "Why do you care?" He sighs and kneels down to her height. He doesn't want to frighten her...anymore than he has done. "I...I want to take you upstairs," he says softly. She stares back at him in silence. "W-would...would you like that?"

"You're lying," she says slowly, "You're lying!" "I'm not l-" "YOU'RE LYING." She jerks away from him, her firey temper ignited, "You just want to trick me! This is all a trick!! I'm not an idiot!" He looks back at her for a moment, still knelt on the floor. "I'm not lying," he repeats, "I...I understand why you would think it's a trick, but it's not. I swear." She walks over to her bed and plops down. "May I sit with you?" "No." "...Okay..." This isn't right. He can't really want to take her upstairs! Can he? "You usually don't ask," she suddenly says, looking up at him, "You'd just sit down." He remains silent. "And you never cry! O-or say you're sorry! You...You're acting weird!" "I know," he mutters, trying to conceal his embarrassment, "Look, do you want to go upstairs or not?" he suddenly snaps. "...Fine."

She reluctantly gets up, keeping a cautious distance from him. "Um...follow me," he tells her. She watches as he scans his hand and punches something into the keypad. "Quickly - it only stays open for a minute." Nervously, she follows him out of the door. She dithers just long enough to hear it slide shut behind her. Fighting the instinct to whirl back around, she begins following him up the stairs. "This way," he mutters. They've reached the hallway. She's made a couple of escape attempts before, but she's never made it past the hallway. Suddenly, she spots sight if what appears to be the door out...outside. He turns to her, about to say something else, when she suddenly bolts for the front door. Immediately, she shoves herself against it. It doesn't open. "You'll need my hand for that, kid," he sighs, striding over. "L-let me out!!" she demands, her face turning red with embarrassment, "I want to go outside!" "...Maybe later," he says, "I...I want to show you around first." "NO!! LET ME OUT NOW!" "No," he snaps. He takes a firm hold of her wrist, "I said this way!" She yanks her arm away, but reluctantly follows him. "This is the living room," he announces, leading her further on, "And this is the kitchen." He points to a large black box-shaped object, "That's the fridge. I'll show you how to get water from there later..." She follows him back out of the kitchen and along the corridor. He shows her his bedroom and his "office". "And...That's a room you're not allowed in," he says, his voice trailing off. He stares at the door, suddenly zoned out, it seems. "O-or what?" she dares retort. She once again notices tears in his eyes; he's not listening. "Hey! Cry baby!!"

He hurriedly wipes away his tears and turns to her. "Just...Just don't, okay?!" he snaps loudly. The girl flinches instinctively, but quickly regains her composure. "...This way...Let me show you to your room..." They walk a little further down the corridor, and he opens the door to a fairly large room with a bed, a couple of drawers and...A big sheet of glass? There are two large blue pieces of material hanging at each side of the glass. Intrigued, she goes over to the glass and presses her hand against it. "I...I can see outside," she whispers. "It's a window, kid," he informs her, "And...Yeah. You can...Ya like it?" he adds anxiously. She nods. "Erm...Thanks," she mutters, still staring out the window. "I...I'll come back later, but for now, just um...Stay in here, okay? Ya can even leave the door open if you want." "...Why do I have to stay in here?" she asks. "...Reasons." "Fine," she mutters, "I'll just stay by the...w-window?" "That's right...I'll be back later."

She watches as he leaves her in peace before returning her attention back outside. Everything's so...green out there. Except for what he told her was the "sky". That's blue. Like the blanket-type things on the window's sides. Curious, she turns around to the bed and inspects it. The blanket and pillow are both blue...Anxiously, she climbs on it and lays down. It's...comfy. And soft. Much softer than the bed in her other room. She likes this bed much better...It's more colourful too. She allows herself a small smile. Sticking that needle in him was the best thing she's ever done. "Ha," she whispers, "...I win." Her triumphant thoughts are interrupted by a weird noise coming from down the corridor. She knows she's supposed to stay in her room...but...It's not like he's going to do anything. He's completely broken.

Quietly, she creeps off her bed and tip-toes along the corridor. The noise is louder now - it sounds almost like howling... She follows the noise and traces it to what she believes is his bedroom. The door's slightly open. Deciding to be a tad more daring, she taps it open with her foot and then hides behind the wall. She spies into the room...He's in there, with his head on the desk. He's...crying. Loudly. Sobbing would be a better word.. .She cringes a little and begins to back away. She doesn't want to watch...that. Hurriedly, she races back to her new room and shuts the door as quietly as she can. "Ew," she mutters, flopping back on the bed.

It's so comfy...And she's starting to get tired...So...tired... ...... "GET UP, YOU BRAT!"

She's suddenly yanked up by her wrist, startled awake. Where is she?! What's going on?! It's him. He's got her. "Get off me!!" she screeches, "Y-you're hurting me!" "GOOD!" he roars, starting to drag her off the bed. She realises that she's being dragged out of her new room...and back towards the stairs. Desperate to escape, she fights harder. "LET GO!" she yells. She's kicking and writhing but it's no use. He's too strong. "Where are you taking me?!" "Back where you belong!!" he snaps, pulling her roughly down the stairs, "You little brat! Injecting me with that crap and doing THAT to me! You'll pay!!" "YOU DID IT TO YOURSELF!" she yells, "YOU MADE THE THING!" He slams his hand on the scanner and hurls her to the ground - back in the basement room. She lets out a cry of pain before scrambling to her feet. She races towards the door  and watches it slide shut.

"Oh no," she whispers. She whirls around to face him. "You're gonna pay for what you did to me," he snarls quietly. "SHUT U-" he cuts her off with a sharp slap to the face. Everything's suddenly dancing. There's a ringing in her ears.

"Sit. At. The table."

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanshort #fanshort #tsatshopeless #TSATS #tsatshlau #HopelessAU #A Taste Of His Own Medicine #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #HLAU

[thecharlester77]

Kitchen Conflict - DH AU Short

A DH AU short, featuring mainly OG and RC Scientists.

Enjoy!

Kitchen Conflict - DH AU Short

He sighs, placing down his empty coffee cup...He needs another cup. As he rises from his chair, he notices her also jump up from the floor. He glares at her, and she quickly sits back down.

"Just...just give me some time alone, kid," he mutters, turning to go to the kitchen.

Quickly, he heads to the coffee maker and begins pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. He notices the Nice One at the stove, who is whistling and stirring something or other.

He glances back into the living room, and then back at the kinder version of himself. Deciding he'd prefer the gentle one's company to his kid's, he takes a seat at the kitchen table and sips his coffee.

"Good afternoon," the Nice One greets.

The other raises his hand in a half attempt to return the greeting. He isn't in the mood for conversation.

He takes another sip of his coffee before resting his head on the table. He's so tired...

"Hard day?" the kind one's voice comes from the counter again.

"You could say that," the spiteful one mumbles.

The Sad One hears a pan be laid down, and suddenly notices the Nice One sitting down across from him.

Great.

"Wanna talk about anything?" the kind one asks, his voice angellically calm and soft as usual.

"No."

"Ya sure?"

The melancholy one's head suddenly snaps up. He glares at the kind one.

"Don't you have your 'daughter' to take care of?" he snaps.

"...Whadya mean 'daughter'," the gentle one counters, inserting air quotes as the other did. There's an unfamiliar edge in his voice.

"You know, the one you replaced Evie with."

The Nice One rises from his seat, giving the other a look tinged with contempt.

"I did NOT replace Evie," he mutters, folding his arms.

"Oh sure," the mean one rolls his eyes, "That's why you treat her as your daughter and practically GAVE her Evie's life!"

"I didn't replace Evie! I have TWO daughters, and they are both completely different, unique individuals."

The spiteful one takes a long sip of coffee, glaring at the kinder version of himself.

"You always act like you're better than me," he mutters, his voice low and quiet, "But you made her for the same reason I did."

"Yes, only I abandoned her...Prior purpose once she proved to be sentient," the Nice One snaps.

"Oh!! You mean you gave up on Evie!"

"That's not - I didn't -!" the gentle one's frustrations are beginning to rise. He knows he should step away, but he can't.

"Well you didn't save her either!!" the kind one suddenly retorts.

The two stare at each other in silence.

The kind one glances at the doorway and suddenly claps a hand over his mouth. Both the girls are right in the doorway...

"Ah...kid..."

The Sad One looks up at his child and glares at her.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone?" he snaps.

Before she can stutter out a reply, she notices the girl in the blue hoodie dash out of the room.

"Kid..." the kind one sighs before following after her.

The two Sad ones are left in silence.

"He's not wrong," he mumbles, "I didn't." He turns and glares once again at his kid. "Thanks to you."

"I-I'm sorry," she whispers, tears coming to her eyes.

He groans and rises from his chair, coffee in hand,

"Don't start crying," he mutters, "And don't follow me either."

He heads out of the kitchen and towards the hallway. She remains stood in the kitchen doorway.

"Because of me," she whispers, "...

B-because of me..."

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #tsats #tsatsdhau #dhau #dysfunctionalhouseholdau #fanfiction #fanshort #kitchen conflict

[thecharlester77]

Suspicion - DH AU Short

It’s been a while since I’ve written a short! Here’s another DH one; enjoy!

Suspicion - DH AU Short He quietly enters the kitchen and makes his way over to the coffee machine. Apart from the Sad One, he's completely alone in the kitchen. He places his cup down on the side and reaches for the sugar. As he goes to tip a little into his mug, a small amount of sugar spills on to the counter top. He stares blankly at it, before a sudden surge of frustration grips him. Letting out an angry shout, he violently tips the contense of the entire sugar packet all over the floor. It's not enough. He grabs his mug and smashes it recklessly on the side. Almost as quickly as the rage came, it abandons him, leaving him feeling empty again. He becomes aware of a throbbing pain in his hand...It's bleeding. Silently, he turns to leave, but is immediately confronted by the Nice One. "Sit down," the kind one orders, blocking the kitchen doorway. He expects a rebuttal, but doesn't receive one. Instead, the Scary One silently obeys. Sighing, he scans the mess made on the kitchen counter top. "Look at the mess you've made!" he scolds, "I warned you about breaking things!" "I know where this is going, and I don't want to be a part of it," the spiteful one mutters as he exits the kitchen. The kind one rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to the crazy one...Who is sat there in silence. He suddenly notices blood trickling from a cut on the violent one's hand. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asks, gently taking the other's hand. There is still no reply as the Scary One looks at the floor. He sighs, frustrated by the psychotic one's sulking. "Wait here," he says, "Don't move." Hurriedly, the kind one goes to the living room and grabs a first aid kit off the bookshelf. He then returns to the kitchen, finding the erratic one exactly where he left him. He hadn't moved...As instructed. "...Good," he mumbles, trying not to be unnerved by the Scary One's uncharacteristic obedience, "Give me your hand, please." After a couple of moments, the crazy one holds out his hand. "Thank you." In silence, the kind one quickly disinfects the cut and bandages it. "Alright, your hand's fine now." The Scary One returns his hand to his side, still averting his gaze. "So," the Nice One pulls up a chair and sits across from his crazy-self, "Ya wanna tell me what all that was about?" Still, there is no answer. The Nice One sighs frustratedly. "There's no point in sulking," the kind one snaps, "I just want to know what happened." After another long period of silence, the crazy one looks up. "...I spilled sugar...So then I spilled all the sugar. And broke the cup..." "You did that just because you spilled sugar?" the Nice One sighs, "What are you, five?! I am constantly having to clean up after you and-" he cuts himself off, suddenly noticing how...empty the other looks. He feels a pang of guilt for having snapped at him...He should have known something was wrong sooner. "Are...Are you okay?" The crazy one nods, saying nothing. "Are you sure? You're...being very quiet. This isn't like you." "I'm fine," the other mumbles. "I...I'm going clean up the mess," the kind one sighs, "Stay there, okay?" "...Alright." "Okay, good..." The kind one quickly grabs a broom and heads over to the other side of the kitchen. Being wary of broken pottery, he begins cleaning up the mess. He steals a couple of anxious glances back at the crazy one as he clears up; he's sat quietly at the table, staring vacantly at the wall. The silence feels strange. Especially from him. A couple of minutes later, he returns to his seat opposite the crazy one. "I've finished cleaning up your mess," the Nice One mutters, breaking the awkward silence, "How's your hand?" "Fine," the violent one answers quietly. "Why are you being so quiet?" the kind one asks, "You usually won't shut up." He receives only a shrug in reply. "Is something wrong?" The Scary One eventually looks up from the floor, meeting his calmer-self's eyes. Hesitantly, he nods. "What's wrong?" He quickly looks back at the floor. "If you're not going to tell me what's wrong, I can't do anything a-" "You can't fix it anyway," the psychotic one interjects quietly. "Do...Do you want to talk about anything?" the gentle one asks. "I don't know..." the violent one mumbles. The Nice One sits quietly for a moment, pondering over a solution. "How about we play the question game?" he suggests. "Is that the one with the 'yes' and 'no' questions?" the Scary One asks, still looking at the floor. "Yes," the kind one replies, "Want to try it?" "...Alright." The gentle one smiles a little, glad to be getting somewhere. "Okay. Is something wrong?" he begins. The other nods. "Is that thing bothering you?" "...Yes." "Do...do you feel sick?" he asks, trying to account for the psychotic one's strange silence. "No." the crazy one mutters. "Alright. Are you upset?" "...Maybe..." "Was it an event that upset you?" Slowly, the psychotic one nods. "Did the event happen recently?" "...No...It happened ages ago," he says quietly. "What's upsetting you?" The Scary One stares at the floor. He takes a shaky breath before responding, his voice hardly above a whisper. "I...I j-just-" he chokes on his words as tears well in his eyes. He quickly attempts to wipe them away, sighing angrily. "It's n-nothing," he mutters harshly, "I'm f-fine!" "You don't seem fine." The psychotic one suddenly rises out his chair, glaring down at his calmer-self. "I just miss Evie, okay?!" he snaps, "I miss...I m-miss her." He quickly sinks back down into his chair, his hands covering his face. The Nice One looks back at his crazier-self in silence for a moment...His strange behaviour adds up now. "It's okay," the kind one says softly, "It's okay to grieve." The Scary One doesn't respond to the other's statement as he once again attempts to wipe the tears from his eyes with frustration. "I-I'm fine," he mutters stubbornly. He doesn't want to feel like this...It's embarrassing. It's too abnormal. It's too...weak. "Howzabout I make a cup of coffee for us both?" the gentle one suggests. After receiving a brief nod from his distressed-self, he rises from his chair and makes his way over to the coffee maker. Carefully, he prepares two mugs of coffee and brings them back to the table. "Here ya go, man." He slides one mug over to the crazy one, before taking a sip of his own. "Thanks..." the psychotic one mumbles a reply, but doesn't touch his cup. "Don't you want it?" "I do...Just...gimme a minute, Shoulder Angel..." "Take a couple of deep breaths," the Nice One suggests. Following his sane-self's suggestion, the violent one takes a deep breath before eventually sipping his coffee. "Feel any better?" the kind one asks. "...Kinda..." The gentle one gives a sympathetic smile before setting his cup down. "Do you want to talk things out?" he asks. "No," the crazy one replies, "I...I don't wanna talk. I'm fine. Thanks for the coffee, Shoulder Angel." Before he can even reply, his psychotic-self takes his coffee cup and vacates the kitchen. "People deal with grief in their own ways," he mumbles to himself, "I'm sure he'll be fine..." ....... A couple of hours later, the kind one decides to return to the living room. He's done all the cleaning up he can... Upon entering the room, he spots one of the girls sat on the sofa...It's the Scary One's kid. She appears to be wrapping herself in bandages. "You okay, sweetie?" The child in the dark grey jumps, startled by the Nice One's sudden appearance. "I'm fine," she mutters, returning her attention to her task. "What...what happened, sweetie?" the gentle one persists. "Nothing," she snaps, "It's non of your business!" "Sweetie...You're not in trouble, kid. I just want to know what happened." There's a long moment of silence before she slowly turns around. "I...I tripped," she says, "N-nothing else!" The Nice One gives her a concerned look. She's lying, and he can tell. He doesn't want to push her too far to tell him...but he's worried. "Are you sure, kid?" She nods. "...Okay then, sweetie...If you need me for anything, just come and find me, okay?" "Okay..." He gives a quick nod, and then heads upstairs. He needs to talk to the Scary One; he has a sickening suspicion as to what...really happened. The crazy one looks up from his desk, hearing a knock on the door. "Come in!" Almost immediately, Shoulder Angel enters the room. He doesn't look pleased. "Hey, Shoulder Angel...Something up?" The Nice One forces himself to take a deep breath; he doesn't want to just accuse the other...Even if he is right. "Your kid's in the living room," the gentle one begins, "She's wrapping herself in bandages." "...Is she?" The kind one nods before continuing, "Do you know what happened to her?" "Did you ask her?" the psychotic one countered. "She said she tripped," the Nice One sighs. "Well, there ya go then!" the crazy one gestures dramatically before returning to sit at his desk. He takes a sip of coffee and then recoils, "Bleh! Cold!" He heads for the door. "I'm gonna go get a fresh cup of coffee. Coming, Shoulder Angel?" The gentle one nods and then follows him back downstairs. The two pass the Scary One's child again on the way to the kitchen. "Hey kid," the crazy one greets his kid, "Shoulder Angel told me you tripped?" The kid in the dark grey nods slowly, continuing to bandage her arm. "Ya gotta be more careful, sweetheart," he adds with a small grin. "Yep," she mutters. The two men then carry on to the kitchen. "Gonna be careful with the sugar this time?" the kind one remarks. "...Maybe you should make the coffee..." The Nice One sighs, taking the erratic one's coffee mug, and goes to make the coffee as requested. "How are you feeling?" he asks. "...Better," the crazy one replies, sitting down at the table, "Better than this morning anyway..." "Good," the kind one places a cup of coffee in front of him before sitting down opposite him, "What changed - if you don't mind me asking?" The psychotic one takes a sip of his coffee and smiles. "And what if I do mind?" he retorts with a smirk. "Then I suppose you don't have to tell me," the Nice One shrugs, "I'm just...curious." "Why?" "I guess because you're not really one to...have a breakdown in the kitchen." "You made me stay," the Scary One mumbles, trying to hide his embarrassment, "A-anyway, what's it matter?! I'm fine now." The kind one hesitates for a moment, unsure of whether he should press the issue. "If you wanna talk about anything, ya can talk to me," he says softly, "I don't want you - or anyone else - to get hurt." The crazy one laughs. "Thanks, Counsellor Shoulder Angel," he laughs, "I'll let ya know if I do." The Nice One watches as his crazier-self up and leaves the room. He catches a glance of him saying something to his kid, but can't quite make out what, before he leaves the living room. Alone, he takes a sip of his coffee and sighs. He steals another glance at the Scary One's child, who is still bandaging herself, it appears. She's scowling and muttering to herself. "Poor kid..."

#tsats #thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fanfiction #tsatsdhau #DHau #DysfunctionalHouseholdAU #Suspicion

[thecharlester77]

What Would You Think Of Me - Cannon Short

My second cannon fan short! This one takes places of the anniversary of Eila (the Scientist’s wife)’s death...He knows exactly how she’d feel if she knew what he’d done...

Enjoy!

What Would You Think Of Me - Cannon Short

 She sits quietly on the couch, reading a book. She's having a hard time concentrating...It's almost noon, and she hasn't seen him all day. She's considered going to check on him, but she doesn't want to make him mad.

Looking up from her book, she anxiously eyes the doorway. Why hasn't he left his room yet? Is...Is he okay? What if something happened?!

Anxiety getting the best of her, she jumps up from the couch. Just as she's about to hurry down the hallway, he appears in the doorway. She promptly sits back down, smiling pleasantly at him.

"Good morning!" she chirps.

He doesn't look at her as he half-stumbles into the room. He looks exhausted.

"A-are you okay?"

He still doesn't answer, making his way to the kitchen.

 Something's wrong.

 Nervously, she shifts off the couch and follows him in.

"Did...Did you sleep well?"

He ambles to the kitchen counter. Slowly, he turns to look at her.

"...Good morning," he mumbles. There's an unfamiliar...look of pain in his eyes. He seems upset.

 "Are you okay?" she repeats.

He hesitantly nods, and then turns back around, beginning to make himself a cup of coffee.

 She wracks her mind for something else to say - she's concerned about him. She wants to help him, but she only ever makes things worse-

He suddenly trips, spilling his coffee. She quickly hurries over. He grabs a chair, steadying himself.

"Y-you look tired," she says quickly, "You should sit down."

 "Don't tell me what to do," he snaps quietly, putting his cup of coffee down on the kitchen.

She lowers her head immediately.

"I'm sorry..." she whispers.

Sighing heavily, he runs a hand through his hair.

"No...It's okay. You're right," he mutters, sitting down.

"Are you tired?" she asks quietly.

 He nods, taking a sip of his coffee.

 He didn't sleep at all last night. He couldn't. Today is ten years since...since his wife died. He's trying not to think about it. He doesn't want to think about anything...It hurts too much.

 "W-what's wrong?" she pipes up. She can sense that he's upset...but she doesn't know why.

"Nothing," he mumbles, taking another sip of coffee, "I'm fine."

He breaks eye contact with the kid, and instead tries to focus his attention on his coffee mug.

 This is a mistake.

He hadn't looked at what mug he'd pulled out of the cupboard- until now... Carefully, he traces his finger around the rim of the pale blue mug, filled with coffee. It had originally been a dark, night-sky blue, but the years had worn away the colouring; now it looks more like an early-morning sky. He can just about make out the faded, swirly letters, reading "I love you" patterning the side of the cup.

It's the mug his wife had bought him for his birthday one year...

 "A-are you okay?"

 He can feel himself shaking as tears well in his eyes.

"N-no," he answers, his voice cracking.

He gently pushes the cup away and lays his head on the table. He can't bear to look at it anymore. It hurts.

 "I'm sorry," she says quietly, fiddling nervously with her hands, "Is...Is there a-anything I can do to help?"

She watches as he begins to sob.

"I...I'll be right back! I promise!"

She hurries out of the kitchen, leaving him alone at the table.

 Having lost all composure, he sobs violently, his head resting in his hands. He'd tried so hard not to think about it...It hurts. Everything hurts.

 She comes running back into the kitchen moments later, holding a box of tissues in one hand, and blanket in the other.

"I'm back!" she announces.

She places the box of tissues in front of him, and then wraps the blanket securely around his shoulders.

"I um...I brought you tissues. And a blanket to make you feel better," she says.

Slowly, he lifts his head from the table and reaches for a tissue. Despite the fact that he is still sobbing, he makes an attempt to wipe the tears from his face. His attempt is futile, his tears being quickly replenished.

"K-kid...I n-need to b-be alone," he chokes out between sobs, "P-please."

 "O-okay," she replies feebly, "I'll -um- I'll be in my room if you need me!"

She hurries off, once again, leaving him alone - as requested.

 He looks up tearfully at the mug.

"W-what would you th-think of me?" he whispers, "If you kn-knew.. w-what I've done..."

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fanfcition #tsatsOG #tsatscannon #cannon #fan short #What Would You Think of Me?

[thecharlester77]

An Argument - RC AU Short

Here’s an RC AU short! I haven’t written one of these in ages. A break from the dysfunctional chaos, here’s...some angsty RC content instead haha. I haven’t really written very much with anger - let alone with the RC peeps - so this was rather interesting.

Enjoy!

An Argument - RC Short

He glances up from his book and frowns at the clock. She's been in her room for an awfully long time, and it's starting to worry him.

"Maybe I should go check on her," he mumbles, "Just to make sure she's okay..."

He stands up from the sofa and slowly makes his way along the corridor and towards her room.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he knocks on her door gently.

"Sweetie?" he calls, "Is everything okay?"

"Go away!" he hears her muffled voice.

"You...You've been in here all day, sweetie. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Just go away!"

He frowns with concern before opening the door.

"Get out!" she cries from under her duvet.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong-"

"Nothing's wrong! Just leave me alone!"

 He stands silently at the edge of her bed, contemplating what to do.

"Kid, you know I'm here for you, right?"

There's no reply.

"And you can talk to me about anything."

She pulls the duvet off her head and glares at him.

"I want you to leave," she snaps.

"I don't appreciate the way you're talking to me, sweetie," he replies.

"I don't care! Go away!!"

"Well I do care. I care about you-"

"No you don't!" she interrupts him, scowling, "You don't care about me! You only care about Evie!"

"That is NOT true," he answers defensively, "I cared about Evie very much, yes...But I also care about you. I love you, Kid, and-"

"Don't lie!"

"I am not lying," he says.

"No! Stop!! Go away!"

"Kid, I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're so upset."

"I'm upset because you don't want me!" she yells, "You wanted Evie! And I'm not Evie!!"

"I know you're not Evie. I DO want you-"

"You only wanted me so you could save Evie," she mutters.

"What?"

She can't have said that. He must have misheard her. She would never-

"You only wanted me to save Evie!" she shouts.

He can't believe what he's hearing.

"How could you even THINK that?!" he retorts, "I've taken care of you for years! I've tried so hard to give you a normal life! You're my daughter!"

"Evie was your daughter," she snaps.

"You're both my daughters!"

"If we're both your daughters then why did you make me?!"

"You know why, Kid," he says.

"Exactly! You only made me to save Evie!"

"But that changed when you woke up. All of that changed!"

"No it hasn't!"

"How could you accuse me of not caring about you, after everything I've done for you?!"

"Just get out!! I don't want to talk to you!"

"I don't think I want to talk to you either," he mutters.

Without even a second glance, he storms out of her room and shuts the door behind him. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to slam it.

 "I can't believe she-! How could she even-?! Gaah!" He heads for his office as he mutters angrily to himself, "After everything I've done for her!"

He flops down in his office chair and rests his head on the desk. He needs to calm down. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Being angry won't help anything.

As he lifts his head from the desk, the framed photo next to his computer catches his eye. He picks it up.

It's the last photo he'd taken of them both together. The two sisters are snuggling together in his old blue hoodie...This must have been taken before he shrunk it in the wash.

 He chuckles fondly, setting the photo back down.

"I'm so useless at laundry," he whispers with a small smile.

They both look so happy together. They were such good friends...They loved each other so much.

"She must miss her so much," he mumbles, "I know I do..."

He stands up from his chair and leaves his office.

 He pauses outside of her room, but thinks better than to go in. She'll come out when she's ready. Instead, he continues along the corridor and through the living room to the kitchen.

 Sighing, he pours himself a cup of coffee before going to sit down on the couch. His book is still there, exactly how he left it. Upside down.

"Oops," he picks up the book as he sits down. It only takes a few minutes before he is immersed in his book once again.

 ...

 He is distracted from his book by a soft knock on the door. He looks up and sees her stood sheepishly in the doorway. There are tears in her eyes; a look of guilt is plastered on her face.

"Dad?" she calls out to him, taking a couple of hesitant steps into the room, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about w-what I s-said-" her voice cracks and she bursts into tears.

 "Come here, Sweetie."

She runs to him and throws her arms around his neck, sobbing into his T-shirt. He pulls her on to his knee and holds her close.

"I'm s-so sorry!" she sobs.

He doesn't say anything as he rocks her back and forth in his lap. He wants to wait until she's calmer before they discuss this.

 Once her sobbing quietens, he gently shifts her off his knee and looks at her.

"Sweetie?"

She looks up at him, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I want you to listen to me, okay?"

She nods quietly. He takes a deep breath before beginning.

"What you said was very hurtful, Kid. You understand that, don't you?"

"I know, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I-"

He holds up his hand to stop her.

"I'd appreciate it if you just listen for a moment," he says quietly. She nods again before lowering her head.

"I know you didn't mean it... I care about a lot. More than you'll ever know, sweetie. I love you, and you're my daughter. What you said hurt me, because I would do anything for you."

She continues to stare at her hands in guilty silence.

"Look at me, sweetie. Please."

Reluctantly, she raises her head to meet his eyes.

"I also owe you an apology."

"You...You do?" she's confused.

He nods slowly.

"I know that you sometimes need your space...I shouldn't have gone into your room when you asked me not to."

"But I shouted at you!" she says.

"Doesn't matter. I should have respected your boundaries. I'm sorry," he replies, "...Do you forgive me?"

She stares back at him for a moment before throwing her arms around him in a hug.

"I forgive you!" she cries, "I love you, Dad!"

"I love you too, sweetie." He returns her embrace with a small smile.

"Do...Do you forgive me?" she asks anxiously.

"Of course, sweetie."

 He pulls her back on to his knee and cuddles her. He breathes a small sigh of relief; he's so glad the argument is over. He hates it when they argue.

"I'm glad to have you, Kid," he says, smiling.

"I'm glad to have you too, Dad."

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fanfiction #An Argument #RCAU #tsatsrcau #fan short #angst

[thecharlester77]

Shoulder Angel Sandwich - DH AU Short

Another Dysfunctional Household short!

Shoulder Angel Sandwich - DH AU Short

"Hey, honey?" The Scary One nudges his husband, who is sat next to him on the sofa.

"Yes, dear?"

"I bet I can get stone into the garbage can from here!"

An arrogant smirk arises on the crazy one's face as he pulls a rather large stone from his pocket.

"Ya recon so?" The Dramatic One asks; he's a little nervous about his husband's reckless behaviour, but he must admit, he's curious to see the result.

"Yeah!"

"Do it!!"

 The psychotic one stands up, eyes his target, and then stretches dramatically before lining up his shot.

"Stand back, honey!" the Scary One suddenly launches his stone-missile.

 The stone sails across the room. Moments later, a loud "DING!" is heard...followed by the smashing of glass.

"Ah, close!" the crazy one gives a frustrated sigh, glaring at the lamp - which was a couple of feet away from the bin - which he'd broken.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, SHOULDER ANGEL!!" the Scary One calls out, awaiting the all familiar scolding and basement-sentence from his nicer self.

 "Shoulder Angel?" the Dramatic One calls out, the lack of scolding immediately noticed.

"Honey, where's Shoulder Angel?"

"I don't know, dear...I'll go and check-"

"Let me clean up the lamp first or I'll be in trouble!"

"He'll notice the lamp's missing anyway, dear."

A long pause passes between the married couple, before the psychotic one gives another frustrated sigh.

"You're right...Fine, go get him then. I accept my fate!"

 The excitable one laughs at his husband's dramatics, and then heads to the kitchen.

"Shoulder Angel? Are you in here?"

The Dramatic One's question is met by silence.

"Odd...He's usually in here..." he mumbled to himself as he turns to leave.

Suddenly, he stops, hearing noise coming from the room adjacent to the kitchen.

"The laundry room!"

 The theatrical one quickly hurries over to the other side of the kitchen, opens the laundry room door, and enters the room.

"Shoulder Angel?"

Immediately, he sees the Nice One. He's stood in the corner furthest from the door, slumped against the wall with a hand over his mouth.

Hearing his exaggerated-self calling him, the kind one looks up from the floor, meeting the other's eyes.

 Hesitantly, the Dramatic One closes the door behind him and takes a few steps towards the one in the orange T-shirt. He begins to notice tears trickling down the Nice One's cheeks.

"A-are you okay, man?"

The gentle one can't speak past the lump in his throat; instead, he quickly nods.

"...Are you sure?"

 The Nice One lowers his head as a sob breaks from his chest. He hesitates for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

The one in the hoodie bites his lip nervously, unsure of what to do. He isn't used to the roles being...reversed. Usually Shoulder Angel's the one comforting him... He wants to help him. He just...isn't sure how.

"Er...N-need a hug, Shoulder Angel?"

The kind one looks up from the floor, forcing a tear-filled smile. He holds out his arms gratefully.

 The excitable one embraces his calmer self, and feels himself immediately be hugged back tightly. He can feel the gentle one beginning sob.

Nervously, he hugs his usually calmer-self a little tighter.

"It's okay," he says quietly, "It's going to be okay."

The kind one buries his face in the Dramatic One's shoulder, letting himself just cry.

 Suddenly, the laundry room door bursts open, followed by a dramatic gasp. His husband had followed him in.

"Honey!! What are you doing in here with HIM?!" the Scary One demands.

"Not right now, dear."

The psychotic one begins to walk towards them - and then stops, hearing the Nice One's sobs.

"...Oh. I'll - er - be in the living room, honey..."

"Okay, dear."

The erratic one slowly backs out of the room, closing the door behind him.

 After a few minutes, the kind one's crying ceases. He lifts his head from the theatrical one's shoulder.

"Are you okay, man?" the excitable one asks. The one in the orange T-shirt nods.

"I...I'm okay now," the Nice One says quietly, "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine to cry, Shoulder Angel. I do it all the time," the Dramatic One jokes.

The Nice One laughs weakly.

"I think I got your hoodie a little wet," he chuckles.

"It's fine, it needed a wash anyway," the Dramatic One smirks, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes...I'm sure."

"What...um...what's wrong?" the excitable one asks, finally releasing the Nice One from his embrace.

"...Nothing," the kind one replies hesitantly, "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, man," the Dramatic One protests, "You were pretty upset."

"Alright," the other sighs, "You're right...It wasn't anything specific. Just...A combination of grief, lack of sleep and stress..." His voice cracks as he bursts into a fit of exhausted laughter.

The Dramatic One gives him a sympathetic look before pulling him close again.

"Poor Shoulder Angel."

The kind one quickly wipes his tears away before returning his exaggerated-self's embrace.

"Did you need me for anything?" the Nice One asks.

"Yes...My husband broke a lamp..."

The gentle one sighs heavily and lets go of the theatrical one.

 "I'll...Deal with him," the kind one mutters, "Coming?"

"Like I'd miss the daily show," the Dramatic One laughs, following his calmer-self back into the living room.

 The two enter the room to find the Scary One frantically trying to pocket pieces of broken glass.

"Stop pocketing glass," the Nice One says sternly, "You're not allowed to have sharp things."

"Shoulder Angel!" the psychotic one jumps up with a start, "I was just cleaning up what I broke!!"

"Empty your pockets into the trash."

"But-"

"NOW."

The erratic one sighs angrily before dumping handfuls of glass into the dustbin. He then turns back to the one in the orange T-shirt, dramatically displaying his hands.

"There!" the Scary One scowls, like a five year old who had been deprived of his favourite toy.

"Thank you," the kind one mutters.

 "Oh - er - you okay, Shoulder Angel?" the psychotic one asks quickly, trying to distract from the broken lamp.

"Yes, I'm fine. No thanks to you!" the gentle one sighs.

"Rude...That's it!"

The crazy one suddenly storms over to the Nice One and throws his arms around him in a hug, "Honey!! Help me out here!"

The Dramatic One obediently joins the embrace, hugging the others tightly.

"SHOULDER ANGEL SANDWICH!!" the Scary One declares dramatically.

 The kind one can't help but smile a little at his...gesture. Slowly, he half returns their embrace.

"So…Do I have to go to the basement now?" the crazy one asks, releasing the other two.

"Just don't do it again."

"I knew you loved me really!!"

"Think what you like," the Nice One mumbles, flopping down on the sofa, "I'm too tired for this."

 "Aaaw! Love you too, Shoulder Angel!"

There's no reply.

"Shoulder Angel?"

The crazy one looks behind him to see the Nice One, fast asleep on the sofa. He grins, shooting his husband a mischievous look as he produces another stone from his pocket,

"I bet I can get it in this time!"

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #tsatsfanfiction #fan fiction #fan short #tsatsdhau #Shoulder Angel Sandwich

[thecharlester77]

Not Again - RC AU Short

Another Rose Coloured short...that isn’t so rosey.

Her death...

Not Again - RC AU Short

 She's sat in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. He's holding her as tightly as he can whilst still being gentle. He doesn't want to cause her any more pain.

 She's trying not to let it show, but she's scared. She is so, so scared. Tears are trickling down her cheeks as she buries her head in his chest. She's trying to take slow deep breaths; it hurts. Everything hurts.

He strokes her hair gently. He doesn't dare to rock her in case he hurts her. She's always been fragile...But now she's like porcelain. He can feel her trembling as she leans against him.

 "I love you, sweetie," he whispers.

"I...Love you too..." she says between gasps for air. It burns. It burns to even inhale. She struggles to conceal a cry of pain, but he hears.

He squeezes his eyes shut as tears spill from his eyes. He doesn't want to scare her or upset her...but it hurts. He needs to be calm. He needs to be there for her. He's struggling to hold himself together.

 "D-dad?" she cries softly, moving her head to look up at him.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"It h-hurts," she whimpers. She hates complaining, but it's agonising. She's hoping that he can do something - anything - to ease the burning sensation in her chest.

"I know, sweetie," he replies quietly, "I'm so sorry. There's nothing I can do-" his voice cracks, the lump in his throat cutting him off.

 She can feel him shaking as he holds her. As quickly as her weakened muscles will allow, she reaches up and attempts to wipe tears from his eyes. He looks at her tearfully, forcing a goofy grin.

"I'm going to miss you so much," he whispers, his smile faltering, "So, so much."

"I'm... g-going to miss you too, Dad," she whispers.

 She feels herself grow heavy. She can't move anymore. She's so scared. She doesn't want to leave. She doesn't want to leave him. He'll be all alone. She can't go! She can't!

She's going.

"D-dad!" she cries softly, "I...love...you..." her whisper fades as quickly as she tried to begin.

The pain in her chest is shrieking inside her. It consumes her, pulling her under.

 He feels her seize in his arms...and then fall limp.

"N-no," he whispers.

He can't feel her heartbeat.

"No, Kid, no, please!"

He brings her face away from his chest and looks at her face. Her eyes are half closed...empty.

"NO, NO, N-NO!!" he yells as tears cascade down his face like a waterfall, "NO! P-PLEASE N-NOT AGAIN!"

He's screaming, begging.

Not again. He can't do this again. He can't.

His frantic screams catch in his throat, choking him. He can barely breathe. It hurts. It is physical agony to even breathe.

Every breath he takes is one more than she ever will.

"N-not again," he sobs, hugging her close as he falls from the chair to his knees, "Not again!"

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fanfiction #fan short #RC AU #tsatsrcau #Not Again #her death

[thecharlester77]

Sorry - HF AU Short

My first Hopeful AU fan short! Ironically, this one has a much heavier tone than my usual bittersweet or humorous shorts. This short takes place after a particularly terrible manic episode the HF Scientist has, and he doesn’t manage to get himself away in time; losing complete control of himself during these episodes, he ends up hitting his child. HF Subject knows he can’t control himself during these episodes, and so doesn’t blame him at all, but HF Scientist hates himself after them. He feels especially guilty after this episode.

Enjoy!

Sorry - HF AU Short

 He shuts the door behind him.

Falling against the door frame, he slides to the floor.

 He trembles with shame as fearful guilt engulphs him. He's exhausted. He's scared. He's horrified.

 He stares down at his hand with resentful disgust as it quavers before his eyes. It's still pink and sore.

He must have hit her pretty hard.

 "Dad?" his child's voice comes from the other side of the door.

"I'm so sorry," he cries, tears of shame welling in his eyes, "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

"I'm sorry I didn't get away quickly enough! I hurt you. I h-hurt you-" the words catch in his throat, choking him. He draws his knees into his chest and begins to sob. 

 He hurt her. He tries so hard to keep her safe, but he failed. He failed and he hurt her. He HIT her. 

It feels as though he's drowning in his shame. He can feel each stab of guilt, every one sharper than the last, punctuating every breath.

"I'm s-so sorry, Kid," he sobs, "I'm s-so sorry!"

"It's okay, Dad," he can hear the anguish in her voice, "You didn't do it on purpose. I'm okay."

 She tries to open the door, but it won't budge. He must be leant against it.

"Please," she says, "Please come out, Dad... I need to make sure you're okay!"

She's worried about him. He'd cut his cheek somehow, and she'd noticed bruises on the side of his neck...And his hand must hurt too. The slap hurt. It hurt a lot, but she doesn't want to let on to him. She has to be okay...for him.

 He can feel her knocking on the door, but he doesn't move from lying against it. He doesn't trust himself. He doesn't want to hurt her more.

"Please come out!" she's pleading with him as she knocks, "It's okay! I'm okay! I need to make sure you're okay."

 He tries to call out to her again, but a sob overtakes him. He can't speak past the lump in his throat. He wants to tell her he's sorry. He wants to tell her again and again how sorry he is.

 She leans against the door as she hears him dissolve into tears.

"It's okay," she calls, "I'll just sit here with you. I'm not going to go anywhere until you come out, I promise. I love you."

 "I'm sorry," he manages to choke out another time, "I'm s-so sorry."

#tsats #HF AU #thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fan short #Sorry

[thecharlester77]

Goodnight - DH AU Short

Goodnight - DH AU Short

Another DH AU short, centring around the RS and OG peeps! 

She's curled up outside the door to their room, lying on the floor. It's pretty cold and uncomfortable, but he's mad and she doesn't want to make him more upset.

Shifting, she sighs again. She can't sleep, no matter how much she tries. She's worried about him...

 There's a dim light illuminating the corridor from the lamp at the end of the hall. It isn't very bright, and dangerously close to the stairs, but at least it does its job. She sits up and looks towards the staircase. Maybe a drink of water will help her sleep?

 Padding softly, she creeps downstairs as quietly as she can. There's someone lying on the sofa... She tenses nervously, trying to creep past them. She isn't quiet enough.

 He looks up from his book to see her, frozen by the kitchen door.

"Hey there, sweetie," he greets her with an anxious smile.

"Um...hello," she whispers a reply and takes a couple of steps back towards him. It's the Berated One. He's lay on the couch with a blanket and a pillow.

"Are you sleeping on the couch?" she asks.

He hesitates for a moment before nodding.

"My kid is upset with me," he says, looking at the floor with a sigh.

 She looks at him sympathetically. He seems so...dejected. His kid doesn't like him very much.

"I'm sorry," she says softly.

His head suddenly snaps back up and he smiles weakly.

"It's okay, I'm fine with sleeping here," he says quickly, "It's cosy...What are you doing awake, sweetie? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I'm just getting a glass of water," she explains.

"Okay, but then you need to get to bed. It's pretty late."

She nods and smiles at him before heading towards the kitchen.

 She wanders back into the living room with a glass of water, and sits down on the carpet. She's reluctant to go back upstairs; the floor is hard and chilling...And she doesn't want to be alone. She likes the quiet one. He's not her Scientist, but he's quite nice.

He looks up from his book again and sees her sat on the carpet.

"Wanna sit on the sofa?" he asks.

She hesitates for a couple of seconds before nodding slowly. He shifts to the side and she sits down beside him, sipping her water.

 "What are you reading?" she asks. He looks at her, seeming surprised in her interest. Slowly, he closes the book and shows her the cover. She gasps excitedly as she reads the title.

"It's a book of poems!" she exclaims delightedly, "I have a book of poems too!"

He smiles and nods.

"Do you like poems?" he asks her. She nods enthusiastically.

"I don't know what they mean, but I really like the words," she explains, "They sometimes even rhyme!"

His smile widens to a grin.

"I like it when they rhyme too," he says. Suddenly, he opens the book and flips through until he reaches what he's looking for, "This one's my favourite." He leans over and shows her the page.

She reads the poem slowly and carefully; this isn't one she's read before.

"It rhymes," she notes with a smile, "I like it! What is it about?"

"It's about a lake," he tells her.

"There's a lake outside!" she replies joyfully, "I really like the outside. It's so big."

He smiles and is about to reply, when he notices the empty glass in her hand.

"Have you finished your water, sweetie?"

She nods reluctantly, standing up.

"I...I don't want to go back upstairs," she admits, lowering her head.

 "Is yours mad at you?" he asks after a few moments of silence.

"Yes," her voice is barely above a whisper.

He looks back at her silently, feeling terrible for her. He knows how she must feel, and how much it must hurt.

 She quickly wipes away the tears threatening to fall from her eyes and smiles brightly.

"But it's okay! I'll be okay outside our room!" She forces herself to be optimistic.

"You're sleeping outside?"

She nods sadly.

"Do...Do you have a blanket?"

"No," she replies quietly.

He looks back at her for a moment, before handing her the blanket beside him.

"It's okay," she starts to protest, but he cuts her off.

"No, sweetie. I don't want you to be cold."

"But then you'll be cold!"

"I'll be fine," he replies with a smile, "It's nice and warm down here."

That's a lie, and she knows it, but she doesn't want to seem rude.

"Um...Thank you," she smiles up at him gratefully and takes the blanket from him.

"You're welcome. You put your glass back in the kitchen, and then go back upstairs. Okay, sweetie?"

She nods and hurries off to the kitchen.

 "Goodnight, kid!" he calls to her as she begins to head back upstairs.

"Goodnight! And thank you for the blanket!"

He waits until she reaches the top of the stairs before lying back down and opening his book again.

"Poor kid," he mumbles.

He smiles sadly to himself as he closes his eyes; he's too tired to carry on reading. He places his book on the table and rolls on his side.

It isn't too long before he falls asleep.

 Unbeknown to the Berated One, the sad child looks over the banister. She watches until she's sure he's asleep. She smiles to herself and then pads back along the corridor and lies down outside the door to her room. Cuddling in the blanket, she sighs comfortably. She glances up at the door before closing her eyes.

"Goodnight," she whispers, "I love you."

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fanfiction #fan short #Goodnight #DHAU #tsatsdhau

[thecharlester77]

Nightmares - Away AU Fan Short

Another Away fan short! This short takes place three years after Ava takes the Subject. Enjoy!

Nightmares - Away AU Short

 He sits on the couch, his eyes straining to read in the dim light of the lamp. The blub needs replacing; he makes a mental note to fix it later.

He can’t concentrate. The words swim across the page, seeming to float around him. He’s so tired, but still sleep evades him. Sighing, he closes the book and puts it on the lampstand. Reading will only keep his mind more awake. He lies down and closes his eyes, trying for the umpteenth time to get some rest.

“Are you awake?” a small voice whispers.

He opens his eyes again and sees her standing over him.

“I am now,” he mutters, sitting up, “What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m sorry. I had a bad dream, but Ava’s asleep and I didn’t want to wake her.”

“But you have no problem waking me?”

She lowers her head, whispering an apology.

“I was only joking, kid. I wasn’t asleep anyway,” he sighs, patting the empty seat on the couch beside him.

She sits down beside him nervously.

“What was the dream about?”

She doesn’t answer, wringing her hands anxiously.

“Are you still afraid of me?” he asks.

“Yes,” she admits, looking at the floor.

“That’s understandable, considering everything I – never mind. I meant it when I said I was sorry; I promised that I wasn’t going to hurt you again.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” he mumbles, shifting a little closer to her. He reaches for her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze before shifting away again, “What was your bad dream about?”

“Um…It was about you – t-the bad you, not… um…You were cutting my arm open a-again. I thought it was real…” she quickly wipes away the tears that form in her eyes. She doesn’t want to annoy him.

 He looks back at her silently, remembering. The first ‘test’. Her terrified screams still haunt him from that day…it was the ‘test’ he feels most guilty about. It was…awful.

“Are you okay?” the child’s concerned voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Yes – um – I’m...I’m fine,” he lies, unconvincingly. He looks away again.

“Are you okay?” he asks in return.

“No…” she replies quietly, “Not really…”

Another period of silence follows, neither of them sure what to say.

“Would…Would you like a hug?” he asks suddenly.

Her eyes widen. He’s never asked if she’d like a hug before; usually, Ava forced him to give her a hug.

“R-really?”

“Um – yes, really…Would you?”

She throws her arms around him eagerly. He gingerly wraps his arms around her, fighting the urge to push her away. The urge quickly subsides, surprising him. Slowly, he begins to hug her tighter, a different feeling arising in him.

He pulls her on to his lap as he lies back down.

“You…you can sleep here tonight if...if you want,” he says, his exhaustion beginning to get the better of him.

She doesn’t reply, but stays put.

That’s all she’s ever wanted.

Moments later, he drifts into slumber. She opens her eyes for a moment, feeling his breathing become slower. She smiles before relaxing against him. Tired, she lets herself fall asleep.

 …

“Good morning,” Ava yawns, pushing open the living room door. She pauses in the doorway.

Her brother is laid on the couch, snoring gently. He has an arm around her daughter, who also appears to be asleep.

“Aww,” Ava whispers, entering the room and shutting the door behind her.

She’d never seen either of them look so peaceful.

“How sweet.”

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #away au #tsatsaway #nightmares #fan short #fanfiction

[thecharlester77]

I’m Home - RC AU

This is a short from after Evie’s funeral in the RC AU. This is sad oof.

I’m Home – RC AU Short

 He switched off the engine, and sat silently outside of his house. Taking a deep breath, he opened the car door and began trudging up the path.

The funeral had been rough – after nearly being beaten up by his father in law, and then disowned by his mother in law, he’d only had Ava. She’d been upset too, understandably, but at least she hadn’t disowned him.

Turning the key in the lock, he forced a smile.

“I’m h-”

“DAD!”

His youngest daughter rushed over to him, tackling him to the floor.

“Hello, Kid,” he chuckled.

“I was so lonely,” she cried, her voice muffled as her head was in his chest.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Kid. I promise I won’t ever leave you like that again. I really didn’t want to,” he sighed, hugging her tightly.

“Your…Your clothes are different,” she said, noticing his suit and tie.

“Yeah; I had to look nice for Evie’s funeral…”

“Your orange T-shirt is nicer. It’s less scary,” she mumbled.

“I like my orange T-shirt too,” he replied, “Can I get up now, Kid?”

“No, I wanna hug you more,” she protested.

“Please, sweetie. I wanna get out of this suit.”

Reluctantly, she eased her grip, allowing him to stand.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he announced.

“No, don’t go!” she cried, tears coming to her eyes, “You promised!”

“Aw, kiddo. I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise!”

 True to his word, he returned a few minutes later, wearing a pair of jeans and his faded orange T-shirt.

“You came back!” she cried, clinging to her father.

“I said I would!” he reminded her, picking her up in his arms.

 He sat down on the sofa, cuddling his daughter close.

“I missed you so much,” she said.

“I missed you too, sweetie.”

“How…How was the funeral?” she asked.

“…Awful.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied quietly.

She felt him hug her a little tighter. Gently, he began to rock her back and forth.

“It’s just you and me now, Kid,” he said quietly, forcing a smile.

 She watched as his eyes brimmed with tears. His smile faltered as he lowered his head, not looking at her.

“Dad?”

“Uh huh?” he still didn’t meet her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

His smile fell as tears began rolling down his cheeks.

“Not really,” he whispered.

“Do you miss Evie?” she asked quietly.

“Y-yeah.”

“I miss her too,” she whispered.

She reached up and wiped away his tears. It was rather pointless, as they were quickly replaced by more, but he smiled nonetheless, touched by her gesture.

“Don’t cry, Dad,” she whimpered, tears coming to her own eyes.

“I’m sorry, s-sweetie,” he apologised, finally meeting her eyes, “I just miss Evie…”

He brought a hand to his face, beginning to wipe the tears from his eyes, but like the time before, more replaced them. Tiredly, he sighed, resting his head in his hands.

He hated crying in front of her; he didn’t want to upset her or worry her, but it hurt. Everything hurt.

She could feel him beginning to tremble, and wrapped her arms around him tighter.

“Dad?”

“We’ll be o-okay,” he said, choking back a sob. Mustering the small ounce of self-control he had left, he looked up at his daughter with a half-smile.

“I love you, Dad,” she clung to him, desperate for reassurance.

“I love you too, sweetie.”

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fan short #RC AU #I'm Home

[thecharlester77]

An Episode - DH AU Short

An Episode - DH AU Short

(TW: Mentions of self harm)

Another DH AU Short! Aaand it’s back to the angst...Trigger warning for this short, as it contains mentions of self harm.

Enjoy!

"GET BACK HERE, YOU BRAT!!"

She races down the stairs, her heart pounding. He's chasing her. He couldn't get away quick enough. It's not him anymore. It's not him.

 He's right behind her as she reaches the living room. The Sad One looks up from where he is sat on the couch with confusion. He immediately understands her terror as her Scientist reaches the door.

The Nice One rapidly pockets the basement door key and bolts down the corridor.

He sees the Dramatic One advancing towards his kid, yelling. He raises a balled fist.

Without even a moment's hesitation, the kind one races forwards and steps in front of her.

 Just in time. The Dramatic One's fist connects with the gentle one's jaw, knocking him backwards with the force.

"DAD!" the child in the blue hoodie gives a horrified cry.

The Nice One grits his teeth against a cry of pain as he stumbles forwards. He shakes away the disorienting starts and seizes the excitable one's arms, pinning them behind his back.

"It's okay," he says calmly as he forcibly leads the theatrical one to the door of the basement.

 The Sad One had already opened the door, much to the kind one's relief. He feels a stab of guilt as he shoves the Dramatic One into the stairwell and slams the door before locking it. It has to be done. He flips on the light switch for the basement stairs before sliding to the floor.

 It's okay. Everyone's safe now.

He can feel his chest rising and falling quickly. Pain is exploding in his jaw.

"I'll...um...get you an ice pack," the spiteful one walks past him and into the kitchen.

"Thanks, man," the kind one mumbles.

"Dad!!" his daughter rushes over to him, throwing her arms around him, "Dad, are you okay?!"

He can feel her trembling. She's terrified.

"I'm okay, sweetie," the Nice One tries to smile, but is stopped by a shooting agony in his left cheek. He gives her a thumbs up instead.

"But he hit you!"

"It wasn't his fault," he assures her.

"It wasn't him," the dramatic child whimpers, hurrying sheepishly forwards, "It wasn't!"

 She looks at the quickly purpling fist-mark on the Nice One's cheek as tears well in her eyes. He got hurt protecting her. This is all her fault.

"I'm so sorry!" she cries, trying to conceal her tears, "It's all m-my fault!"

"Sweetie, it's not your fault at all," the kind one replies reassuringly, "It wasn't anyone's fault."

They suddenly become aware of the Scary One laughing as he ascends the stairs. The gentle one shoots him a fierce glare, but the violent one doesn't notice.

 The Sad One re-enters the room and hands his kinder self an ice pack. The Nice One nods gratefully before holding it against the left side of his face.

"Come here, sweetie," he looks at the Dramatic One's child, who is sobbing. She stumbles forwards a couple of steps before falling into his arms. With the arm not holding the ice pack, he hugs her gently.

"It's alright," he says, "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"N-no," she chokes out.

"Good," he replies.

"He h-hurt you though," she whimpers, "B-because of me!"

"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault, sweetie. He just didn't get away quick enough."

"Will you ch-check on him when it's o-over?" the child in the oversized T-shirt asks, pulling herself away from his chest to look at him.

"Of course," he replies, "I promise." He manages a couple of seconds of a small smile.

 She smiles tearfully back at him. She believes that he will. She trusts him.

 ...

 It's been a couple of hours. There hasn't been any sound from the basement for more than half an hour.

The Nice One decides that it's time to check on him.

"Girls," he stands up and turns to the four children sat on the sofa, "I want you all to stay here until I say so, okay?"

All of them nod - except the Dramatic One's child. The kind one kneels down in front of her and takes a gentle hold of her hand.

"I know you're very worried about him, sweetie," he says calmly, "But I need to make sure he's okay and that it's safe before you come down. Okay?"

She hesitates a few seconds longer before reluctantly nodding. The kind one stands up with a small smile.

"Okay, I'll be back up soon," he says.

 The kind one unlocks the basement door and closes it behind him as he heads down. He grabs a first aid kit from the shelf and hurries down the stairs.

 He can already see blood spilled on the floor. Wincing, he continues through to the second room. The kind one immediately sees the Dramatic One sat on the floor in a ball. There's blood oozing from his arm and something in his hand.

 His pockets. The Nice One had forgotten to empty the theatrical one's pockets. He feels a stab of guilt as he realises what's going on.

He walks over to the excitable one and gently pries the sharp thing from his hand. The Dramatic One doesn't protest. He's sobbing, tears rolling down his cheeks.

 The Nice One doesn't say anything as he reaches for the excitable one's arm. He unzips the first aid kit and quickly tends to the wound with antiseptic wipes. It looks...worse than the usual.

"I'm s-so sorry," the Dramatic One sobs, "I'm s-so so s-sorry."

"It's okay," the Nice One reassures him as he begins to stitch up the gash, "It wasn't your fault."

"It's n-not okay, I-" he chokes on his sentence, dissolving into helpless floods of fresh tears.

 As soon as the gently one has bandaged his arm, he goes to hug the theatrical one. He is immediately pushed away.

"N-no, Shoulder A-angel!" the Dramatic One cries, "I d-don't deserve comfort! L-look what I did to y-you!"

"You weren't in control," the kind one replies calmly, "It was not your fault."

The excitable one looks up to meet the kind one's eyes. He stares long and hard at the first-shaped bruise on his friend's left cheek. It's a dark purple and looks swollen.

"I'm okay," the gentle one says with a sympathetic half-smile, noticing the Dramatic One staring.

 "I'm s-so sorry," the theatrical one whispers, "I-"

"It's okay," the kind one cuts him off gently, "It wasn't your fault."

"Y-you...You stepped in front of my kid," the Dramatic One chokes out, "Didn't y-you?"

The kind one hesitates for a moment before nodding.

The excitable one covers his face with his hands, sobbing harder.

 The Nice One tries once again to hug his distraught friend, and this time receives no resistance. He wraps his arms around him and pulls his exaggerated-self close, being cautious of the Dramatic One's arm.

"I'm sorry," the gentle one apologises, "I forgot to empty your pockets."

"You d-didn't have time," the theatrical one sobs, "I w-was dangerous!"

The kind one says nothing, but hugs the other a little tighter. He can feel the excitable one trembling as he sobs uncontrollably.

"It's okay," the Nice One says quietly, "I'm not going to make you leave until you're ready to. And I'm not going to leave you alone."

 The theatrical one howls into the kind one's shoulder. He can't respond. He wants to thank him for saving his kid. He wants to apologise for hurting him so badly. There's so much he wants to say, but he can't.

 It's all over...and now all that's left is guilt, and a couple more scars.

#tsats #thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fanfiction #fan short #tsatsdhau #DHAU #An Episode #triggerwarning #TW

[thecharlester77]

Only The Crazy One - DH AU Short

This is another DH AU Short! I just really love HL and RC Scientists’ dynamic, so I wrote this haha. Enjoy!

Only The Crazy One - DH AU Short

The Scary One sits on the couch, slumped lazily against one arm. A slither of lamp light illuminates the room, working with the moonlight that manages to creep through the slits in the blinds.

Otherwise, it would be pitch black. None of them would do well against the dark, so the lamp stays on.

He casts a glance at his nicer self, sleeping on the other side of the sofa. It must have been a long day for him, the crazy one supposes, as the Nice One is still fully clothed, curled beneath a blanket which he had draped over him moments after he nodded off.

Sipping his third cup of coffee that hour, doused heavily with cream and sugar as always, he smiles as he returned his gaze back to the window.

"Sleep is for the weak," he chuckles quietly, "Or at least, for the sane. And I can assure you, I am neither of those things."

He doesn't usually talk to himself, but his boredom is starting to get the better of him. There's only so much amusement you can draw from drinking relentless cups of caffeinated coffee.

As he stands to get yet another cup, the Nice One suddenly awakes with a start.

"Shoulder Angel? You alright?"

Before his nicer self can reply, the rapid rising and falling of his chest catches his attention. Setting his empty cup down, he immediately kneels by the Nice One's side.

"It's okay, c'mon, breathe," the Scary One places the Nice One's hand on his own chest, "In, and out. In, and out. There ya go. See? You're okay."

 The kind one's hyperventilating seizes, his breathing becoming steadier. He removes his shaking hand from the crazy one's chest.

"Are you okay?" the violent one asks, his tone uncharacteristically calm.

The gentle one nods hesitantly, sitting upright.

"Yeah, I...um...Thanks," he mumbles, "I...um...It isn't...I'm..." he struggles to form his words, stuttering.

"It's okay," the crazy one replies. He gently squeezes the Nice One's hand, "take your time."

"I'm fine," the kind one eventually says. His trembling casts an oar of doubt in the Scary One's mind, causing a rippling tide of disbelief.

"Really?"

"It was n-nothing," the gentle one shakes his head dismissively, "Just a bad dream."

The violent one pulls a face of discontent; he understands that disorienting feeling after waking up after a nightmare - all too well.

"A nightmare?"

The Nice One nods, looking past his crazy-self; he appears to be stating straight through the blinds, right at the full moon.

"Then it's not really nothing," the Scary One chuckles wryly, standing up, "Want a cup of coffee?"

"...What time is it?" the kind one asks.

"Probably around three am."

"Coffee...at three am? Are you mad?"

"Did you really just ask me that?" the crazy one laughs, "I'll take that as a yes then, Shoulder Angel. One moment."

The Scary One takes his cup with him into the kitchen, leaving the Nice One alone on the couch.

The gentle one glances at the lamp; the bulb is dimming. He makes a mental note to replace it later - well, if the Scary One doesn't break the lamp before then...

He sighs heavily. Is drinking a cup of coffee really a good idea? Though - it's not like he'll be able to get back to sleep anyway. Not after that nightmare. He shudders, reluctantly relieving the details of his dream.

It was awful. He thought it was real.

He can still feel himself trembling.

"Here ya go, Shoulder Angel," the Scary One hands his nicer self a mug of coffee, "Cream and sugar, just how you like it. Or rather, how we like it." Chuckling, he sits down beside the kind one.

"Thanks," he mumbles, taking a weary sip. He flinches at the taste; he isn't used to caffeine so late at night...Or was it early in the morning? Possibly the latter.

"What's wrong?" the Scary One notices his kinder self's discomfort, "Still shaken?"

"I'm just not used to caffeine so early...And yeah, a little," the kind one admits reluctantly.

"Ha, you'll get used to it in a few minutes," he chuckles.

"How can you be so awake? Or better yet, WHY are you awake??"

"Always am. But hey, I'm the one who should be asking the questions! What happened...In your nightmare?"

"I...don't wanna talk about it," the Nice One hesitates before continuing, "It was nothing. Really."

The violent looks back at his kinder self with scepticism.

"Nothing?" he repeats, raising a brow.

A short period of silence passes as the Nice One takes another sip of his coffee. He usually wouldn't want to talk about it, but for some reason, he feels compelled to. Maybe it's the rare calm in his crazier self's manner; maybe it's the eerie moonlight - or maybe it is simply the caffeine - but whatever it is, the Nice One begins to reply.

"It...It was about Evie," he says quietly.

The Scary One simply nods, continuing to sip his coffee. The silence urges the gentle one to continue,

"It was...A memory. About her...About.." He pauses. He can hardly bring himself to say the next sentence. He takes a shaky breath before finally managing to finish.

"About her passing away..." his voice trails off as he fights to keep his tone steady.

Still, he is met with the sipping of coffee.

"I...I thought it was real," he whispers. The Nice One stares off into the darkness of the room, breaking eye contact with his scarier self as he feels tears blur his vision.

"I thought it was happening all over again."

 He barely notices the Scary One setting his mug down as he gets up from the sofa.

"Shoulder Angel?"

The Nice One looks up to see the violent one standing beside him.

"Want a hug?"

He stares back down at the floor. And then nods.

The Scary One doesn't hesitate as he wraps his arms around his kinder self, in what he hopes is a comforting embrace. Quickly, the Nice One wipes the tears from his eyes. He reaches out and returns the embrace with a half-smile. Only the crazy one would be awake at such a time.

 "Thanks," the Nice One mumbles, still smiling a little as he stands, "You should really get some rest..."

"I'm not tired," the violent one replies, sitting down heavily on the couch.

"Yeah? You look tired."

"Really? Well YOU look...um..." the Scary One searches his mind for a smart comeback. He doesn't have one, "I don't know."

The Nice One chuckles, draping the blanket over his crazier self. He tries to push it off, but gives up after his first failed attempt.

"How long have you been awake for?"

"...Maybe four days?" the Scary One replies. His speech is beginning to slur together.

"Go on, go to sleep," the Nice One scolds him gently as he turns to leave.

He pauses as he waits for a witty reply, but isn't met by one. The kind one looks over his shoulder, and notices the steady rising and falling of the Scary One's chest. He is already asleep.

"Ha...Good night," he chuckles, before turning and heading back upstairs.

Only the crazy one would fall asleep so late - or rather, so early.

#thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fanfiction #fan short #DHAU #tsatsdhau #Only The Crazy One

[thecharlester77]

Blanket Cuddles - DH AU Short

I meant to mention this in my last DH AU Short, but HL and HF Scientists are platonically ‘married’ as a joke. Any reference to each other as their ‘husband’ or ‘partner’ is an ironic gesture playing a long with their game. (Yes, they ‘married’ each other as a joke and a game to wind RC up. Long story).

This one is yet another DH Au short, and takes place after HL Subject dies. I have written alternate occurrences of this event and day, and this is another one of them, but with the HF peeps there now. I guess I just like writing bittersweet things haha oof.

Enjoy!

Blanket Cuddles - DH AU Short

The Nice One and the Dramatic One are sat at the kitchen table, quietly sipping their coffee anxiously. It had been approximately two hours or more since the Scary One had left to bury his kid by the pond.

He'd insisted on going alone. Both the kind one and the theatrical one had been against the idea, but decided it was best not to argue with him. Arguments with the crazy one never ended well to begin with...let alone now.

The child in the blue hoodie and the child in the oversized T-shirt are sat together on another chair, cuddling each other. It has only been a couple of days, but they already miss their feisty friend.

Everyone looks up as they hear the front door open. They can hear his footsteps as he trudges along the hallway. Moments later, he appears in the doorway of the kitchen. The usual psychotic spark in his eye has been extinguished. His eyes are clouded with tears as he looks at the floor.

  He slowly raises his head to look at everyone and gives a half-hearted wave.

"...H-honey?" he tries to speak, but he can barely manage above a whisper.

"Yes, dear?" his husband replies, standing up from the table.

"I n-need hugs-" he can barely finish his sentence before his voice cracks. He covers his face with his hands as tears spill from his eyes.

The Dramatic One hurries over to his other half and wraps his arms around him in a tight embrace. The Scary One returns the hug, burying his head in the excitable one's shoulder. His more compassionate self can feel him shaking.

The theatrical one had seen his husband's crocodile-tears, temper tantrums, hissy-fits and dramatic displays. He'd seen more than enough of them to tell that this was no performance. Everything from the tears to the heartache was genuine.

"I'm so sorry, darling," the excitable one whispers, gently stroking his crazier self's hair. The crazy one begins to sob, clinging tighter to his partner.

"Do you wanna sit down, dear?" the Dramatic One suggests.

The psychotic one doesn't reply, but allows himself to be led into the living room.

The Sad One looks up from where he is sat on the opposite side of the sofa.

"Is he...alright?" the spiteful one asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No," the Dramatic One hisses, sitting his husband down before sitting beside him.

"Um...Sorry, man..." the miserable one mutters a shallow condolence before returning his attention to his book.

The theatrical one shoots his depressed self a glare, which he doesn't seem to notice, before pulling the Scary One close again in a hug. He's still sobbing.

A couple of minutes later, the Sad One stands up with a frustrated sigh and heads for his room. His kid jumps up from the carpet to go after him, but a sharp glare from him causes her to sit back down.

The Dramatic One gives her a sympathetic look before turning his attention back to his partner. The psychotic one's crying hasn't seemed to let up...In fact, he's crying even harder.

"Hey, darling?" the Dramatic One says gently, "I've got an idea that might make you feel a bit better."

The Scary One looks up at him.

"W-what?" he chokes out.

"Howzabout me and Shoulder Angel build a blanket fort to sit in?"

The crazy one nods eagerly, and stands up from the couch. He goes to sit in a corner, so he won't be in the way.

"Hey, kid?" the Dramatic One looks to the child in the light grey, who is still sat on the carpet, "Wanna help with the blanket fort?"

She smiles timidly, and nods, jumping up to help.

 "I'll be right back, dear."

The theatrical one hurries back to the kitchen to recruit more helpers.

"We're building a blanket fort and need help!" he announces.

"A blanket fort?" the Nice One asks, standing up from his chair.

"Yeah. Wanna help us, Shoulder Angel?"

"Sure, why not," he replies. He goes to turn to his child, but she's already rushing towards the living room, followed by the dramatic kid.

"Oh good," the excitable one smiles at the kind one, "Lots of helpers."

 Everyone gets to work shifting sofas and setting up blankets. The Scary One sits on the carpet in his corner, watching quietly. He wants to join in, but is still too embarrassed by his tearfulness to move the hands from over his face.

It doesn't take too long before the fortress of furniture and duvets is completed.

"It's finished, dear!"

The Scary One looks up from his hands, quickly wiping the tears from his face. He forces a grin and stands up.

"Thank you, honey," the Scary One smiles fondly at his husband as he is led inside the fort.

The others crawl in after them, grabbing pillows and blankets to make themselves comfortable.

 "It's so cosy," the child in the blue hoodie comments with a smile. She glances up at her dad, who is sat beside the Dramatic One and the Scary One. He smiles back at her and pulls her on to his knee.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" the kind one asks.

"I'm okay," she replies, nestling into his T-shirt, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, sweetie."

The Dramatic One looks over at his own kid. She's sat in the corner of the fort with a blanket around her shoulders.

"You okay, kid?"

She nods and smiles before lying down. She's wants a nap; today has been exhausting.

The theatrical one reaches for one of the nearby blankets and drapes it around his husband's shoulders.

"Here you go, dear."

The Scary One snuggles against his partner before tossing half of the blanket over the Dramatic One.

"And here you go, honey!" He smirks as his more compassionate-self wraps his arms around him in a hug.

The blanket fort is so warm and comfy. He closes his eyes, leant against the theatrical one.

"I like cuddles," the crazy one mumbles. His words are beginning to slur together as he's drifting off, "Especially blanket cuddles..."

 The excitable one feels his crazier-self loll against him. He's asleep.

"Aww," he smiles with amusement, "Yes, especially blanket cuddles."

#tsats #thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fan fiction #fan short #DHAU #tsatsdhau #grief #alternate storyline #Blanket Cuddles

[thecharlester77]

Comfort Coffee - DH AU Short

Another DH AU Short (written before the creation of the Hopeful AU) delving into HL and RC Scientists’ dynamic!

Enjoy!

Comfort Coffee - DH AU Short

 He struggles with his armful of assorted clothes and blankets as he heads towards the laundry room. It's been longer than he cares to admit since he's done a load of laundry.

 Today has been fairly uneventful, except for the loud crashes coming from the Sad One's room. The ruckus had stopped just short of an hour ago, but the miserable one has stayed in his room. He can't recall seeing Shoulder Angel very much today. They greeted each other that morning whilst getting coffee, but he hasn't seen him since. The kid in the blue hoodie is playing with his kid, and the sad kid, on the carpet in the living room.

 It's convenient that she's distracted; he's absolutely certain that she would be trying to knock the clothes out for his hands otherwise. He finds himself smirking at the thought as he approaches the door to the utility room.

 His smirk quickly fades as he reaches the door; he can hear frustrated shouting and crashing - as if someone was hurling furniture around.

"If Sad Sack's in his room, and I'm here...Shoulder Angel."

He quickly drops the heap of unwashed things on the carpet and opens the door.

The room is a mess. He immediately sees the Nice One, carelessly knocking things off shelves and throwing whatever his hands touch against walls.

"Hey!" he shouts, "Hey stop!!"

 He rushes forwards and grabs his kinder self, restraining him. The Nice One is livid.

"LET ME GO!" he demands, struggling against his crazier self, "GET OFF!!"

"Not until you calm down," the crazy one replies calmly.

He struggles for a few more minutes before finally giving in. Slowly, he is released.

The Scary One looks at his gentler self. He's shaking with anger.

"C'mon, Shoulder Angel! Wrecking the house is my job," the psychotic one tries to joke, smirking. The kind one is clearly not amused.

"Hey, howzabout a compromise? If you're mad, take it out on me," he opens his arms and stands with his legs shoulder-width apart, making himself vulnerable, "Hit me if you want to hit something."

 The Nice Ones' fists clench by his sides. The violent one cringes, preparing for impact.

No punch is thrown.

The Scary One opens his eyes to see his nicer-self storming past him.

"Shoulder Angel!" he calls after his kinder self, and pursues him into the hallway, "Wait up!"

 He gives up the chase when the kind one reaches the foyer.

 "Dad!" The Nice One's child watches, concerned, as her dad storms out of the house. He's furious. Angry, she turns to the scarier version of her father, "What did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything!" the psychotic one protests, "He was in this state when I went to do my laundry!"

"...Oh...Sorry," the child in the blue hoodie mumbles an apology, and then turns to go after her father.

She's stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"Let him be, kid," the crazy one says.

"But-"

"He probably needs a moment to himself."

"...Okay..."

 The charismatic child follows the violent one into the kitchen.

"He seems upset," the Scary One remarks, beginning to make a cup of coffee.

"He is," the child replies.

"Now...I'm just judging from what happened with Sad Sack, but at a guess, it's the anniversary of your sister's death. Right?"

The child in the blue hoodie nods solemnly.

"Sorry to hear that, Kid," he shoots her the most sympathetic look he can muster before turning his attention back to the coffee maker.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" the small child asks suspiciously.

"Because I'm trying to show some compassion, kid. Or do ya suddenly have a problem with me being nice?" he asks sharply, scowling.

"No."

His scowl is quickly replaced by a smile.

"Good! Keep an eye on this coffee for a sec, will ya? Don't let Sad Sack drink it!"

"Um...Okay."

 The erratic one hurries down the hall to the laundry room. Quickly, he scans the floor for a blanket, spots one, and grabs it. After sniffing it a couple of times, he decides it's clean enough, and heads back towards the kitchen.

"Okay, I'm back!" he announces.

The child looks up at him in confused silence.

 "I'll wait a few minutes more, and if he's not back, I'm gonna go get him."

"Can I come with you?" she asks hopefully.

"No can do, Kid. You're not supposed to be alone with me, remember?"

"But I'm alone with you now!" she protests.

"Not true; Sad Sack's upstairs and the other kids are in the living room. Speaking of which, why don't ya run off and play?"

"...Okay..."

Reluctantly, the child in the blue hoodie trudges back to the living room.

"I wish mine was obedient like that," he mutters, watching as Shoulder Angel's kid leaves.

 A few minutes later, the Scary One tosses the blanket over his shoulder and takes the cup of coffee he prepared out to the foyer.

"I'll be back soon!" he calls, "Don't break anything or we'll all be in trouble!!"

Without waiting for a response, he opens the front door, exits the house, and shuts it behind him.

 The cold November air hits him like a slap to the face.

"Heck, it's cold," he mumbles to himself as he makes his way down the path, "even for November."

 As he reaches the edge of the trail, he spots the Nice One. He's sat on a rock by the pond. In a short sleeved T-shirt.

"What an idiot," he chuckles fondly as he walks over to his nicer self. He can't see the kind one's face; it's buried in his hands.

 Without saying a word, he drapes the blanket carefully over the Nice One's shoulders before sitting beside him.

"Leave me alone," the kind one says, "P-please."

"It's pretty cold out," the Scary One says, deliberately ignoring the gentle one's request.

"So go back inside."

"You're outside in a T-shirt," he continues, "Not a very smart choice, Shoulder Angel."

"Go away!"

"Tsk, rude," the crazy one smirks at the Nice One's abrupt response, "I brought you a present. Not that you deserve it after being so rude."

The Nice One looks up from his hands. There are tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Thanks," the kind one says quietly, taking the cup of coffee from his crazier self.

"And?"

"...Sorry...For snapping at you," the gentle one mumbles, taking a sip.

"It's okay," the Scary One replies with a smirk, "I'm used to it."

The Nice One rolls his eyes at the psychotic one's dramatics.

The kind one drinks his coffee in silence.

 "I spoke to your kid," the Scary One pipes up after a couple of moments, "I know why you're riled up."

The Nice One looks up to meet the erratic one's eyes.

"Aw...I can't stand it when you cry," the violent one says, giving a pitying smile.

"What, worried you'll catch my feelings?" he mutters sarcastically.

The Scary One laughs at Shoulder Angel's bitterness.

"Ha, you're adorable," the crazy one snickers.

He suddenly notices that the Nice One is trembling.

"Are you still mad?"

"N-no."

"So you're cold," the psychotic one chuckles.

He leans forwards and pulls the blanket tighter around the kind one's shoulders. Much to his surprise, he isn't brushed away. Deciding to push his luck, he shifts closer to the Nice One and wraps his arms around him.

"This coffee is really good," the kind one mumbles, taking another sip.

"Hot coffee is always great when you're cold," the Scary One says, "Or sad. And you're cold and sad so it'll be doubly as good."

"Coffee in general is also good," the kind one replies.

"Yes, that too."

"...Aren't you cold?" the Nice One asks, slightly concerned.

"Nah," the Scary One lies, "I'm fine."

He is a little cold, but it's nothing he can't deal with. The two of them sit in silence as the kind one sips his coffee.

 "The lake's frozen over," the crazy one remarks.

"Is it?"

The Nice One glances up to see that the psychotic one is right. He smiles, reminiscing.

"Evie used to love it when the lake froze over," he says quietly, "She and her sister used to see how far they could slide stones across...Kid usually won though," he chuckles softly, his gaze returning to the ground as fresh tears sting his eyes.

The psychotic one can feel his kinder self still shaking.

"Wow, still cold?" he asks, "You're Shivering Shoulder Angel...Ha that's alliterative-"

He cuts himself off as he hears the gentle one let out a sob.

"...Was my alliteration that bad?" he asks jokingly.

 He gently removes the coffee cup from the Nice One's hand and sets it on the ground.

"Shoulder Angel? You okay?"

Another sob comes from his gentler self - the only reply.

He pulls the kind one close, hugging him tighter.

"Shhh, it's okay."

The Scary One rocks him back and forth as he begins to sob harder.

"It's okay," he repeats reassuringly, "Let it out."

 "I'm s-so sorry, sweetie," the kind one sobs into the Scary One's shoulder, "I'm so sorry I c-couldn't save you."

After a moment's hesitation, the Scary One begins to stroke his distraught friend's hair gently, hoping it will help console him.

"Shhh," he mumbles, "It's okay."

 A few minutes later, the Nice One's crying comes to a gradual stop. He gently pushes the crazy one away to wipe the tears from his face.

"Feel better?"

"A little," the kind one says quietly, "Thanks."

"It's cold; we should go inside soon," the Scary One says.

"I thought you weren't cold?"

"...I lied. I'm very cold," the psychotic one mutters, standing up.

The Nice One feels a stab of guilt as he stands; he didn't mean to drag him out in the cold just because he was having a mental break down.

"I'm sorry," the gentle one says.

The crazy one casts him a look of confusion.

"I didn't mean to make you come out here."

"Hey, I came out here on my own accord," the Scary One replies with a smirk, "And besides, it's not your fault you have FEELINGS."

The kind one laughs weakly at him as they begin to head back towards the house.

"Ha, made you laugh," the erratic one sticks his tongue out triumphantly.

"How old are you again?" the Nice One jokes.

"Twelve?" the Scary One shrugs, "I forgot. It's too cold to think."

"...Sorry..."

"If you feel so bad about it, share some of your warmth with me," the crazy one pouts dramatically.

Sighing, he drapes one half of the blanket around the Scary One.

"There, happy?"

"Hmmm...Almost."

The psychotic one suddenly embraces his kinder self, hugging him close.

The Nice One returns the embrace for a reluctant moment before pushing him away again.

"Rude."

 They've reached the front door. The kind one hurriedly shrugs off the blanket and heads inside.

"Coming?" he turns to his crazier self, who is stood on the porch steps with the blanket around his shoulders.

"...I left the coffee cup!" he exclaims.

Before the Nice One can say anything, the violent one bolts back down the path.

"That frantic over a coffee cup?" he mumbles, closing the door behind him, "Then again, coffee is good."

#tsats #thesubjectandthescientist #thesubjectandthescientistfanfiction #fan fiction #DHAU #fan short #Comfort Coffee