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#those hands are gonna be a nightmare i might fiddle with the positioning
sharkface-daydreams · 3 years
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tropical shark + casual bug 💞
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sweetberrysmooch · 3 years
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HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 1]
(Zzzzzzz.....)
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(This is unfortunately gonna have to be in several parts, mainly so I can get something out to you guys while still being able to work on the rest ^^)
Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and sort of... smell hcs? Idk, I got into a mood and couldn’t stop writing about smells so here it goes lol.
Characters: Dream, Techno, Wilbur.
Warnings: There’s mentions of nightmares in Dream’s and a emotional breakdown in Wilbur’s, but that’s it.
Song Recommendation: Dream A Little Dream Of Me- The Mamas & Papas.
Up Next- Quackity, George, and Bad. [pt. 2]
Hope you have nice day today <3 Enjoy!
Dream:
Depending on where you’ve fallen asleep, Dream will kind of work with your position before he lets himself relax.
He prefers it when the two of you are in your bed, with him near the closest door and on his back and with you sleeping against his side, arm stretched over his middle. It’s a good way for him to be between any intruders that may come and to still have you close. But no matter where you are, he has to make sure that he can protect you before he lets his guard down.
Another position he likes is when you’re tucked against his chest under his chin, sitting on his lap or curled up together in bed. Being tall with a broad chest means he makes a pretty good pillow, so use those puppies when you can 👀👀
Smells like a forest, most times. Almost like wild honey, but it’s a very delicate smell. You don’t notice it until your first hug, when you were upset and crying and he pulled you to into his arms so you could hide your face. Now you smell it everywhere he is, in your house, on your bed, even your clothes smell like him. Neither of you say anything, but he slowly begins leaving his soap at your house. Just in case, y’know, if you ever run out.
Other times, when he seems a little more... off, he smells like the beginning to a storm, like ozone and petrichor. Those days he doesn’t speak that much, and keeps you at arms length. He sits quietly and watches your doors and windows with obvious intent, and is gone before morning. You don’t think he even moved from his spot throughout the night, much less slept there. You don’t see him for a few days afterwards.
Usually he remains as still as a log, but sometimes he has fidgeting fits where he twitches and grumbles to himself. Sometimes you’ll even catch him speaking full-on sentences, though they don’t make much sense. Mostly normal out of place stuff, but once you heard him talking about someone called DreamXD, and figured you’d ask him about his oc the next morning.
He has nightmares often too. It’s hard to tell when he’s asleep but he’ll wake up sweating and trembling and lean over you to check you’re still breathing. He won’t ever tell you what they’re about, but it isn’t hard to guess when he buries his nose into your hair and holds you tightly like you might leave him.
If the two of you aren’t sleeping in your house or completely alone, he won’t sleep until you are. Sleep loss doesn’t quite affect him like it does others until after a pretty long time of not doing it, to which he’ll become surlier and more angry until he eventually just clocks out. He wakes up extremely well rested 2 days later and the process repeats. Sleeping at your house is the closest he gets to proper sleeping, and it’s the only time he can ever feel truly relaxed when doing so.
When he can’t fall asleep, he goes straight to watching you. He gently plays with your hair and fiddles with your fingers, relishing in how unmarred and soft they are in comparison to his much rougher, bigger ones. It’s a sure fire way to get him to mellow out and relax, and he finds that sleep ends up coming much quicker.
(Dream wakes up in warmth one night, with rain knocking on window panes instead of what ever shelter he could scrape together and a fire crackling far off. He deduces immediately that he’s in someones house, and it doesn’t take long before he notices the owner, asleep in his lap. 
Your legs are slung over the arm of the padded chair he’s sitting in, a book (one of his own, he acknowledges, an older version of a well known storybook that he has memorized already) loosely held onto in your hands, and your head rests on his shoulder. 
He expects to feel worried soon, the fear of you getting close to him reappearing to ruin another close moment. But it never comes. All he can feel is the safety and comfort you always emanate, driving away his tension and soothing his mind. He closes his eyes, and falls back asleep.)
Techno:
Techno is very very touch starved ^^; While he may not be the only one on this list that is, Techno is definitely the most…. shy about it. He won’t ever directly ask to sleep next to you, and will actively try to avoid that. He’s afraid of making you uncomfortable but also of being close to you in general? It’s an odd mix of emotions, like eating mints and a hot pepper at the same time and then feeling hell fire burn inside of your body. Anytime the two of you have to sleep in the same room as each other, he will immediately offer you the better spot and go find a chair to sleep in, and he won’t accept a no.
The most you can do is make the choice to go sleep next to him. It’ll weird him out a little before becoming overwhelmingly endearing when he processes the fact that you would rather sleep next to him than somewhere more pleasant. When you’re asleep however, he’ll pick you up and move you to the place where he wanted you to be. He’ll drape his massive cape over your body and (after assuring himself six different times that you are in fact asleep) softly press a kiss to the crown of your head. If he runs his thumb over your cheek once, then thats his business.
Later on in your relationship though, after he relaxes and settles a bit, it’s pretty unusual if you don’t fall asleep next to him. He still won’t outright ask for it, but he kinda just hopes that when he starts his nightly routine before bed that you’ll just join him without needing to be asked. Having you there helps him sleep better, you act as both a silencer for the voices and someone to hold close when he’s at his most vulnerable.
When sleeping in bed together, he prefers to pull you close and curl around you in a half pulled fetus position. He’s usually a heavy sleeper, and actively clings on to you when asleep. It's an impressive feat if you can break free from his strong arms while they’re wrapped around your middle, and you leaving inevitably wakes him up. He’ll go searching for you then, barely awake, just to pull you back to bed to be his teddy bear again.
And speaking of the voices, while generally they’re loud and insistent, occupying his mind more than he does at times, their reaction to you baffles him so much. In place of the usual screaming is gentle mumbling, quiet whispers about how nice you look today or how pink and soft your cheeks look. It’s a welcome relief, and no matter how he hard he ignores the fact that he’s wrapped around your finger, he’s glad to know they care for you as much as he does.
He also smells pretty nice, it’s this natural musk he has mixed with a muted minty scent. The mint smell comes from this fancy soap Phil had gotten him a while back that he hadn’t given much thought about until you said something. Techno’s already a clean kind of guy, but after hearing your praises of his smell he almost begs Phil to get him more.
Snores, but in a quiet reserved way. Sometimes he makes soft cute noises, like little happy sounds when you snuggle into him more, or bashful grumbles when you kiss him before bed.
(Sunlight flickers through the blinds of Techno’s room, streaking across your face and waking you from sleep. Sighing quietly, you lift your head a little and stretch as best you can while being held in place at his side, before snuggling back into your spot, fully content to stay there for the rest of the morning. 
As you enjoy the moment, you savor the gentle snores that rumble in his chest, his strong heart thumping beneath your ear, and the way his hand kneads your hip as he wakes. 
‘It’s a good morning to sleep in.’ Your mind says quietly, and with how he rolls over to face you and kiss your forehead, it seems Techno thinks so too.)
Wilbur:
The way Wilbur sleeps really depends on what Wilbur it is.
To start off though, a few general things. He’s a neat sleeper, doesn’t snore, doesn’t move a whole lot, and smells pretty nice too. His smell also came from a fancy soap he got from Phil, but it smelled like sugar and lemons and it was a lot heavier than Techno’s. He would always take showers before bed because he knew you liked how it smelled, and often he would offered to share it with you (so that you would smell like him). Once he was exiled, he didn’t have the liberty of bathing as frequently as he used to, and he stopped using the fancy soap because he thought it felt tainted. He’d end up smelling like stale air and gunpowder, though he’d never tell you what the smell was from.
With sleep, if it’s pre-Pogtopia Wilbur, you get a fairly standard sleeping arrangement of him crawling up into between your legs to flop down on your stomach with a sigh, waiting impatiently for you to get comfortable and curl around him like you usually do. Your hand comes to cradle his head closer to your chest and he nuzzles into your collarbone before falling asleep near immediately. The two of you wake up tangled completely together and immensely comfortable. Wilbur used to sleep in on days like that, quietly savoring the peace that came with you and your generous hands that would slowly brush through his sleep-messed hair. Even after the election, when he starts descending into madness, the memories serve as a final comfort to him.
Post-Pogtopia Wilbur (Vilbur, if you will) is a stark contrast to his old self. He’s more bitter, more reserved, and even more paranoid. He doesn’t sleep with you anymore, at least never consistently, and the only times he does is when he’s so emotionally fraught that he passes out from the stress and lack of sleep midway through you trying to calm him down. You usually end up just kind of holding him close, praying that when he wakes up you can settle him before he works himself up again. You fall asleep like that, tired and restless.
(He rouses from sleep a few hours later, curled up in your arms and still exhausted from the breakdown. Your chest rises and falls slowly behind him, face smushed into his hair and completely relaxed. 
For a moment, all is calm again. He can pretend that it’s just how it used to be before the election had happened, that the two of you are back at home, happy and stable. 
His hands tremble when they reach for yours, and he grants himself the freedom to cry while you’re still sleeping, ignoring the fact that the next day will be just like the last, and that nothing has changed.)
See you next time :D
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annab-nana · 3 years
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Menstrual Mess - Peter Parker
Peter’s spidey senses were telling him that something was wrong with his newest friend, but he could not quite figure out what it was. When his problem-solving brain would not give it a rest, it proved to be more harm than good.
A/N: This is my first marvel/Peter Parker imagine so I really hope you guys enjoy it :) 
Warnings: some curse words; period talk (blood, cramps, tampons and such)
Word Count: 2.8k+
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Peter Parker was your newfound friend, possibly even best friend. Going to the same school and sharing most of the same classes is how you knew each other, but about three weeks ago when your last class got a new seating chart that placed you and Peter next to each other, your mere acquaintance became a really good friend. You both talked more, walked to your classes together, you started sitting with him at lunch, studied with each other. Y’all even started walking home together sometimes after realizing that you two didn’t live too far away from each other.
Now, Peter was still learning and getting used to his powers and senses. One day when his senses enhanced almost every time he was around you, he got a little suspicious. Something was different with you because this never happened before and it only occurred when he was around you. Something felt different and smelled different. Something was wrong with you and it worried him. He had asked if you were okay a few times throughout the day which you had noticed after the second or third time. You also noticed his worried glances and how his leg never stopped bouncing the whole day. His anxious tendencies worried you a little, but you tried to shrug it off.
“Are you sure you are okay?” Peter asked you for what felt like the millionth time just in the five hours you two had been at school.
“Yes, Peter,” you chuckled while closing your locker and looking into the boy’s big brown worry-filled eyes. “I am perfectly fine. Are you okay because you have not stopped asking me that all day long? You’re worrying me, Parker.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I- I’ve just had a weird feeling all day that I can’t seem to shake,” he told you honestly as his fingers fiddled with the bottom of his shirt.
“Did you have a bad dream last night or something?” you asked, walking next to the nervous boy to your next class.
“Umm yeah actually. You, Ned, and MJ were all getting hurt and I couldn’t help you,” Peter told you. It was a lie, but it helped to cover up why he was so anxious about you.
“So that’s why you’ve been asking if I was okay?” He nodded to answer your question and it warmed your heart. You thought it was adorable how he had a nightmare and his fears from it were carrying over into the day. He was genuinely worried that something bad would happen to you and it showed how much he cared.
“That’s really sweet, Parker,” you mumbled as your shoulders brushed each other. Your hands probably would’ve too if his hands weren’t stuffed into his pockets.
“I’ll talk to you after class, okay?” he said when you two reached the door of Mr. Dell’s class.
“Yep.” And with that, you two took your seats across the room from each other and began taking notes on the lecture your teacher was giving.
...
Peter hoped that his senses would have dialed down the next day, but they didn’t. In fact, they had heightened more, and it terrified him. He was worrying that he might have sensed a sickness or something else bad going on within you before you knew it or felt it. This time when he walked up to you, you looked a little more like something was wrong with you and not as bubbly and happy as you were yesterday.
“Are you okay?” Peter asked you with a chuckle when his eyes landed on your body that was leaned up against the lockers, your head held back, and eyes shut.
“No, I’m tired,” you mumbled, not opening your eyes. You just wanted to turn around and go back home to sleep, but you couldn’t do that.
“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” he inquired while leaning against the lockers as well, facing you. You turned your body to face his and opened one eye as you nodded your head at him. Last night, your monthly visitor came, and your cramps were a pure bitch, only letting you sleep in half-hour increments.
“Well, I heard that we’re watching a Civil War video in Mr. Miller’s class so why don’t you take a nap? He won’t be paying attention anyway and if he does happen to look up from his computer, I’ll hide you since I sit in front of you. You can get my notes on it later,” Peter offered as his eyes scanned over your calm face. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his and you nodded your head gently at him.
“That sounds nice. Thanks, Peter,” you whispered softly and gave him a lazy smile. He laughed at his tired friend before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, letting you lean into him.
“Come on, sleepy. Let’s go to history.”
Later on in the day after you had a refreshing nap and went to some more classes, you felt a bit better, but Peter’s senses were still going haywire. So, he asked once again if you were okay.
“I’m fine, Peter!” you snapped as you slammed your locker door rather loudly at the end of the school day. You both were taken back by your sudden outburst and an apology quickly flew from your lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“It’s okay, y/n. Uhh, what are you doing today?” he questioned, trying to change the subject.
“Probably work on my cell model. What about you?” you continued the conversation with the boy as you two walked out of school.
“Stark internship,” he reminded you with a smile, pushing the metal door open and letting you go through first.
“Oh yeah, how could I forget the one thing that occupies almost all your time,” you joked while you waited for him to walk with you.
“Y/n, you sound jealous,” he teased, poking at your side to which you quickly grabbed his hand and shot him a death glare. His laugh sounded through the air while you dropped his hand from yours and playfully rolled your eyes at him.
“You wish I was jealous,” you scoffed and grabbed onto the straps of your backpack. You were about to laugh along with Peter, but a cramp in your stomach caused the laugh to come out as a low groan which you tried to cover it all up with a cough.
“You good?” he asked genuinely as his eyebrows drew together in confusion at whatever just happened to you.
“Yeah, just had a tickle in my throat,” you said after you let a few more coughs out to really sell it. He slowly nodded his head, unsure of what to think but he brushed it off.
“Well, this is where we split,” he announced when you two approached the point in your trip home where he had to turn to go to his internship.
“See ya, Parker,” you told him while you waved and crossed the street to continue going straight towards your place.
...
“Something just doesn’t feel right, Karen. Everything in me is saying that something is wrong with her and I don’t know what. I’m scared that there could be something seriously wrong with her and my senses are trying to warn me to help her, but I don’t know what to do. Yesterday, I thought they were wrong, but today, she genuinely seemed off and that on top of my senses telling me something’s wrong is making me really worried,” Peter told his ‘suit lady’ while being perched on the roof of a building, overlooking the view of Queens.
“Have you asked her how she feels?” Karen responded to the worried teenager.
“I’m afraid I’ve asked her too much that I might be annoying her, but I can’t help but ask her,” he stated, his eyes scanning over the city below him. He turned to his left to look over that way, knowing your building wasn’t that far away. “I’m gonna go see if she’s okay now.”
Shooting his web at the next building over, he jumped and swung over as he repeated the process until he was crawling on the brick of the wall you always saw when you looked out your window. He glanced towards your window, seeing as you still had your curtains open. You normally kept them open to let the sunlight in, but the sun was going to set soon. Peter saw you laying on your bed, your body clothed in some black sweatpants and your big blue Midtown School of Science and Technology sweatshirt. You had the sweatshirt lifted slightly and your hand rested on the section of your stomach that was showing.
Peter jumped over to your building’s wall to get a better look in your window. Was he invading your privacy? Yeah, a little, but he was trying to make sure you were okay. He noticed that you were clutching at your stomach and you wore a pained expression on your face. There were two pill bottles on your nightstand, but the labels were turned away from him so there was nothing he could use from those to help answer his question. Against his better judgment, he tapped at the glass and alerted you of his presence.
When you heard the tapping, you were intrigued to say the least. You were pretty high in this building so it would be fairly difficult to climb up here, but when you saw who it was, it clicked as to how they got up to your window. You pulled your shirt down and furrowed your eyebrows before getting up to open the window.
“Hello?” you asked the masked hero who was in front of you who could probably be doing better things like fighting crime than coming to random windows. If Flash were in your position right now, you knew you’d never hear the end of it.
“Hi, ma’am. I was swinging by and noticed you seemed to be in pain. I wanted to make sure everything was alright,” he stated in a deep voice which threw you off. In the videos on YouTube, his voice seemed a little more high-pitched. Something about him brought you a sense of familiarity and comfort, so you let the change in voice go.
“Yeah, I’m good,” you told the man in red and blue as you rocked back on your heels. Peter looked a little to his right and spotted what looked to be your untouched cell model that has yet to be done. A light chuckle escaped his lips right before Karen told him that his help was needed elsewhere.
“That’s great, but I’ve got to go. Uh, stay in school!” he shouted awkwardly as he shot a web and swung away. You watched him disappear around the corner and shut your window before returning to your bed. You were about to lay there and think about what just happened, but the pain that has been ripping through your lower abdomen for the last twenty-four hours stole your attention as you groaned. After the pain subsided for a moment, you reached over for your laptop to put on Netflix to help distract you and maybe help you get some sleep.
...
You were the type to get actually dressed for school and you would even wear a little makeup, so naturally, when Peter noticed you fresh-faced with leggings and a hoodie on and your hair lazily thrown in a bun, he knew something was wrong. It was not that he didn’t like the look. He thought you looked cute, but it just wasn’t you. At least, it wasn’t you at school. Peter held off asking you if you were okay as much as he did the past two days, but he still had to check. It was not until you left your second to last class of the day to go to your locker that you began to grow very irritated by the constant interrogation of your wellbeing.
“You okay?” Peter asked again when he noticed your slightly widened eyes.
“Yes, Peter. I am okay. There is absolutely nothing for you to worry about so can we drop it please?” you muttered while you rummaged through your bag looking for one thing.
“Yeah, ummm… oh, do you want to come over to my place after school? We can work on our paper or do our trig homework,” he told you while you huffed, pushing the random things in your bag around to try to find the thing that you so desperately needed in this moment.
“I’d love to Pete, but I’ll probably just go home. I don’t feel too good,” you stated as you stood up and pushed the books in your locker to the side in search of the small bag you kept back there for emergencies like this.
“Are you sick?” That damn worried tone checking on you again sparked more aggravation, causing you to snap.
“No, Peter. I am on my period and there is blood dripping out of me as we speak, so if you don’t mind, I am going to go to the bathroom and change this,” you informed him while showing him the tampon you just pulled out of the bag and slamming your locker door shut before heading to the restroom.
Peter stood there for a second thinking how he could be so stupid. He should have known. You were never so moody or snappy before. You normally were never so tired and were much more chipper in the mornings. He also felt like an idiot for prying so hard, but he only did it because he cared. He felt like shit, so he ran to the vending machine. He tapped his foot impatiently against the floor as he watched the candy bar fall from its spot and land in the box below.
After quickly grabbing that, he dashed back to wait outside the restroom for you. Your eyes met his briefly when you opened the door before you rolled them and walked the other direction. You were embarrassed and agitated and seeing him only reminded you of it, so you tried to speed ahead to get to the last class of the day.
“Y/n, wait!” Peter called ahead while he grabbed your arm to slow you down.
“What, Peter?” you spat as you stopped walking and turned to face him.
“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry and get on your nerves. I just felt like something was wrong, so I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry if that made you feel angry or upset. I just care about you,” he apologized quickly as his brown eyes flickered between your own quickly, looking for a hint of forgiveness. You let out a sigh before speaking.
“It’s okay, I guess. Just next time leave me alone a little,” you chuckled lightly which brought a big smile to Peter’s face.
“You got it. Once a month, it will be like I don’t even exist,” he nervously laughed along with you as you both began to walk again to the class that kindled your friendship.
“I want you to still exist Parker, just not asking if I am okay every other minute.”
“I can do that,” he told you before stuffing his hands in his pockets until he felt something in his pocket.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I got you this. I heard that chocolate helps, or at least that’s how it is in movies and tv shows and stuff,” he rambled while he handed you your favorite chocolate bar.
“Aw, thanks Peter. That is really sweet of you,” you complimented, a slight blush dusting over his cheeks. His blush grew when you leaned over to press your lips to his cheek as another way to thank him.
“Uh, so Ned and I are having a Star Wars marathon tomorrow if you want to- oh wait, you probably won’t feel up to it. Forget I said anything,” he stumbled through the sentence as he looked at his feet.
“It’s okay, Peter. Thanks for thinking of me and I’ll let you know tomorrow if I feel like going,” you told the blushing boy as you both walked into the classroom and took your seats next to each other.
“Okay, that sounds good,” Peter nodded while speaking before he pulled out his notebook and you followed suit. You both took notes for your class while communicating with each other by writing notes to each other in the margins of your paper and smiling like idiots at the dumb jokes you’d both crack. It was the most peaceful hour or so you had in the last two days which proved that when Peter was not continuously asking you if you were okay, he was the only one who could distract you from your cramping stomach and for that, you were thankful for the caring idiot that sat next to you.
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She-Ra movie where Catra just goes to therapy. that's it. that's the whole movie.
JHSBJHBNJHJNDNDN
this is not my best, but. here you go!
“Good morning, Catra!”
Catra doesn’t move from her position on the arm of Perfuma’s bench. “You’re late.”
Perfuma rolls her eyes. There are flower petals in her hair. “You’re early.”
“Time is relative, Flower Girl.”
She actually laughs at that and moves to sit down on the bench next to her, smoothing down her skirt. “Time is also a construct, but that might be a little too much for morning meditation.”
“I thought this was a therapy thing.”
“It can be a therapy thing if you want it to be.”
Catra huffs a laugh. “Do I want it to be? I mean, we haven’t exactly done much in these... things.”
“That’s because we’ve only done four of them, Catra.” Perfuma crosses her legs, settling her hands in her lap. “I’m working up to bigger things.”
“‘Bigger things’?”
“Bigger things,” she repeats serenely. Catra frowns into her lap.
Perfuma takes the silence as an opportunity to start humming, guiding flowers up from underneath the bench to wind through the slats and curl around her crossed legs. Catra shakes her head when the stems start to bend inquisitively towards her and forces her eyes shut. 
She pulls her tail into her lap (just in case Perfuma’s flowers decide to start winding up it) and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Are we just gonna sit here for an hour?”
Perfuma sighs loud enough for her to hear it. It’s not... directed at her (at least, that’s what she tells herself), because she never sighs at Catra, so she puts it down to a plant dying or something (which is literally the only reason she sighs now. She hopes) and keeps her eyes shut.
“Did I ever tell you about my first meeting with Scorpia?”
Catra opens an eye to level a Look at her. “No? Why is this relevant?”
Perfuma shrugs. “I thought you might like to hear it. It’s not a particularly soft or romantic story. It’s not what you’d think our first interaction would be like, looking at us now.”
“Um-”
“I know you’ve been worried about your relationship with Adora,” she tells her gently. “Did anything specific happen between you?”
Catra swallows and shoves down the ball of anxiety in her chest. 
The answer is... complicated. Technically nothing happened at all. Technically they’re still fine - still ridiculously, ecstatically in love, still disgusting the fuck out of anyone in a 10 mile radius. But Catra feels... off. Something’s off, and it’s probably her fault, and she feels... tense. Like she’s four seconds away from slipping up, from driving Adora away again, and Adora knows. (Maybe she wants her to drive her away, which is a stupid thought that makes no sense.)
“No,” she says, and Perfuma frowns at her.
“I don’t believe you.”
Catra shrugs, tugging her sleeve. It’s cold out.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“I would not like to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to. But is it okay if I talk about myself and Scorpia?”
“... Yeah.”
She can feel Perfuma smiling. In the silence that hovers between them, she can feel Perfuma’s smile like sunshine on her skin. 
Connecting with people feels good, actually.
“Scorpia came into the war council room with Emily,” Perfuma begins, playing with the ends of her hair. “So of course our first response was to attack. We didn’t know why she was there, or why she had a Horde bot with her. We were scared. I... I didn’t know. I sensed there was more to it. She’s not an intentionally malicious person, you know. When she said she genuinely wanted to help us, I believed it.” She smiles. “I’m glad my first instinct was right.
“There’s more to the story than that, but she accidentally stung me whilst I was stood behind her. It hurt less than you might think, and the paralysis wore off quickly. She apologised. It was very sweet.”
Catra grins. “That sounds like Scorpia.”
Perfuma nods, almost to herself. “She didn’t mean to.” She turns to Catra, smiling gently. “Scorpia wouldn’t hurt anyone intentionally.”
She gives her a significant look. Catra stares back blankly. 
“Was there... a lesson or something?”
Perfuma laughs. “I was worried you thought you’d intentionally hurt Adora or something.”
And despite herself, Catra laughs to. “No, it’s not- that. It’s something different. I’m just paranoid. Don’t worry.”
“It’s my job to worry,” she tells her. “It’s what I do.”
“What, worry?”
She laughs again, and a flower grows up from behind the bench and settles between them. She plucks it off its stem as gently as she can and hands it to Catra, who takes it without a word. “Help.”
She stares at the flower in her hands for a moment. 
Silence again. 
“I.. I don’t know. I guess I’m just... scared.”
“Of what?” Perfuma prompts.
Catra swallows. “Of not being the person Adora wants me to be. Something’s felt... off recently. I feel like it’s my fault. I feel like it’s something to do with all these nightmares I’ve been having, or like I’m disappointing her, or something. I feel like it’s something to do with the fact that we don’t - talk - like we used to, because she’s spent so much time overworking herself and staying up writing reports or something and I don’t know how to help her. I feel like I’m not... good enough for her, y’know? I’m just so-”
Perfuma touches her wrist, and her voice falls away nothing. “Catra, all I want you to do for now is sit and breathe with me,” she says slowly, gently. “Do you remember those breathing exercises we practiced?”
Catra nods. 
She takes a breath in and Perfuma lets go of her, retreating back to her circle of flowers. Breathing exercises. Those. She remembers about two of them, but both of them seemed to involve exhaling and inhaling slowly, which is something she can do. 
(Maybe breathing works. Sometimes.)
And after ten minutes, Perfuma murmurs, “You’re not doing anything wrong. You have no reason to be worried. I know that doesn’t make anything any easier, but if you need direct reassurance, don’t be afraid to talk to Adora. She won’t be annoyed with you for talking to her.” She leans sideways again, shifting closer to Catra. “She loves you. And she’s struggling too.”
Catra pauses.
It isn’t... it isn’t some big new revelation. Perfuma knows exactly what she needs to hear - know she needs to verbalise what Catra understands.
Fuck.
“But- but I don’t know how to help her. I feel like I’m... I’m useless. I can’t- I can’t solve this.”
“You don’t have to. You just need to be there for her. Hold her when she needs it. Tell her you love her when she needs to hear it, and when she doesn’t. I can’t give specific advice to stop her from overworking herself, but I suggest you talk to Glimmer about lessening the amount of work she takes on. And try asking her to come back to bed, and help her with her work when you can sense she needs it.”
It’s vague, but... but Catra finds herself nodding, internalising the information, storing it away in her mind. 
“Okay,” she mumbles, and her voice comes out much smaller than she wanted it to. “Okay.”
Perfuma nods, smiling. “I hope it helps you to some degree. Relationships can be hard.”
She laughs, and the flower in her hand curls its petals inwards and out again. “Yeah. They can. Thank you. I don’t know, I just... needed to hear that. I know it already, but...”
“I understand,” she murmurs.
They fall silent again.
Catra smiles to herself.
62 notes · View notes
alderaani · 3 years
Text
Jump
Summary: Fives and Echo are still settling into the rhythm of the 501st following the chaos of Rishi. Sometimes there are quiet moments where the only thing to do is share stories and wait.
A/N: I meant to get this little fic out for Halloween yesterday, but then it turned out to not be quite a little as I meant (story of my life). You can also read it on AO3 here, and the rest of the series on tumblr is here!
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The stone echoed. Fives didn’t like it; didn’t like the way it amplified everything from the water dripping overhead to the sound of their tight breathing. It felt heavy, oppressive, casting a darkness so stifling that their headtorches only shone a small way into the gloom. The others were twitchy too, Echo pressing up into his side in a way he only did when he needed comfort. Fives knew without asking that they’d be sharing a bedroll that night, curling up tight like two cadets in a pod. He’d complain like he always did about his brother’s cold feet, but he’d be hanging on just the same. Neither of them were doing very well being underground again. Not after the tunnels of Rishi. Not after Cutup.
Even a small campfire would have gone a long way to soothing him, something just to put some warmth in his bones. He hated the way rock leeched it out of his body, greedily trying to fill its own never-ending well.
“Why d’you think we’re stopping here anyway?” Echo was speaking to Ridge, who was cleaning his blaster in slow, methodical strokes that Fives could tell were to steady his hands more than anything else. “We finished the mission, and there’s no sign of the Seps this far out.”
Ridge shrugged. “It happens a lot when we team up with the 212th, General Kenobi likes to explore, I think. Drives Commander Cody nuts. He said somethin’ about some old Jedi temple here.”
That would explain the old pillars they were camped between, and the creepy statues that always felt like they were watching. When it was lighter Fives had been able to see that they were half covered in moss, worn smooth and impassive with age. In the dark they loomed, just present enough through the black that it felt like they were leaning over his shoulder, the occasional gust of wind settling like breath on the back of his neck.
Knowing that they were Jedi-made should have been a comfort, but General Kenobi had stressed that they stay heavily armed down here, and after what Fives had seen his own general do in combat, he knew better than to assume this place would be harmless. Not to mention that they were kliks away from any known settlement, and the local fauna had already shown itself very willing to take a chunk out of the unsuspecting.
Echo’s armour creaked as he shifted, his hands twisting some old wiring together in his lap. Fives had noticed that he liked fiddling with it in their spare moments, and had taken to collecting pieces himself to slip into Echo’s utility belt.
“Really? I didn’t realise the Jedi came so far out. What he’s looking for?”
Ridge laughed, but it wasn’t unkind. “I dunno, vod’ika, I don’t try to understand Jedi poodoo. You’ll have to ask him yourself. ‘Spect it’ll be dusty though, and trapped to the gills. A word of advice – stick tight to your squad in there.”
Fives let out a breath and glanced nervously over his shoulder at the statues and the maw of the stairs between them, slithering up the rockface into the black. “Traps? Why would they karking trap a temple?”
Ridge shrugged. “Fett knows why, but they’re usually a nightmare to get through.”
Nax and Attie had been talking close by, reduced to two ghostly white shapes, but now they broke off and leaned into the little circle of light pooling round their headlamps.
“Aw c’mon Ridge, them Jedi are full of secrets,” Attie said, grinning. “Who knows what weird osik they left behind in here, they wouldn’t want just anyone puttin’ their grubby hands on it. Keeps the wrong people out, right?”
“Oh yeah? That why you keep puttin’ yours on things every time we go in one?”
Attie shrugged, unrepentant. “I’m just bein’ thorough.”
Ridge rolled his eyes. “We’re supposed to avoid the traps, di’kut, not set them off! The generals ain’t gonna thank you if you’re dead in a pit somewhere.”
Fives cast his eyes around, frowning, his spine going stiff. “There’s still a patrol out there. What if they run into somethin’?”
Nax waved him off, stretching lazily. “Ah, don’t worry yourself, rookie. Denal knows better than to step anywhere he shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, worry about yourself,” Attie said, grinning wolfishly. “Who knows, you could be sittin’ right on top of one.”
Fives shifted uncomfortably as Attie chuckled, not faltering even when Nax drove an elbow into his gut.
“Don’t tease the vod’ike,” Nax muttered, never one prone to draw attention to himself if he could help it. “Unless you want me to tell ‘em about the first time you got brought on one of Kenobi’s little ‘research trips’.”
Attie put his hands up in surrender as Ridge laughed and shook his head.
“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that. Didn’t you –“
“Hey,” Attie grumbled. “I’m shutting up. You gotta let me have some reputation, Ridge.”
“It’s too late for that, they’ve already met you –“
There was the sound of a fist colliding with plastoid, then squawks mixed with laughter. After a brief scuffle they all settled back down into silence, and Fives tried to focus on the little intricate wire tangle that Echo was weaving between his hands, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. He found he couldn’t stop his mind wandering, fixating on all those winding tunnels in the dark. The more he thought about it the more he could feel the vast expanse of the rock over their heads, the deep belly of the earth opening beneath them. He tightened his hand over his thigh, just shy of his blaster, and contented himself by drumming his fingers against his armour. It wouldn’t be so bad if only there was light, but the clouds were as dense as ever and the cliff face stole what little might have been left.
Just as he was beginning to relax, he heard something, a slight scuffling right on the edge of hearing.
“What was that?” he asked harshly, closing his hand around his weapon so tightly his knuckles hurt.
“What was what?” Echo stilled instantly apart from a small jolt that Fives knew meant he was tilting his head, listening. The others had all gone quiet too, but after a second Ridge snorted.
“I don’t hear anythin’. Don’t let Attie rattle you, kid.”
Fives made a harsh sound in his throat as the noise came again, closer, followed by the scrape of something against rock.
“I’m tellin’ you, there’s somethin’ out there.”
They all paused again for several long seconds, and Fives knew when Echo had also heard the sound, because he went rigid. Fives didn’t breathe, listening to the sound of something dragging itself towards them. All he could think about was the memory of walking down a stone ridge and saying “watch out for the eels”, before hearing his batchmate scream. He curled a hand around Echo’s back, getting ready to shove him to the ground if needs be.
After half a minute Ridge sighed and hauled himself to his feet. “Look, I’ll go check it out, don’t get your armour in a twist.”
Fives watched him disappear into the gloom as the rest of the group muttered, a collection of disembodied voices and floating lights. A moment later there was a loud squeak, the sound of a safety switch flicking off, and then a bright, searing bolt of blue.
Then there was a sizzling sound.
Then there was silence.
“All clear, it was just a rat,” Ridge’s voice called out. “Kriffin’ big one, I’ll give you that, but I don’t think we were in mortal peril. You’re a jumpy batch of shinies, ain’t you?”
Fives felt his chest clench, his face going hot as the rest of the squad laughed. His hand automatically went up to grab the scruff of Echo’s neck before he could start another fight he couldn’t finish. They weren’t a batch, not anymore, just the remnants of one – and therein lay the problem. He could feel his twin practically vibrating next to him.
“Sorry, Ridge. Better to be safe than sorry, right?” His voice was just a little too tight to be believable, but thankfully nobody called him out on it.
Ridge came ambling back and sat himself down, and there was a long stretch of silence before someone spoke again. To Fives’ surprise, this time it was Echo.
“Say, Attie? Tell me more about these temples? They’re all really old, right?”
There were a few groans, Fives’ included, but Attie’s armour ground together as he gamely leant in again. “Think so. General Kenobi said somethin’ about centuries, at least.”
“You know, I think I’ve read about ancient places,” Echo said, which made Fives raise his eyebrows, because Echo usually selected his reading material the same way he liked to approach their missions – directly, and with a clear point. “’Specially abandoned ones. Some people say that dead things sometimes…linger.”
“The hell you talkin’ about, kid?” Ridge asked.
“S’just what I’ve heard,” Fives could feel Echo shrug. “Especially in old Jedi places. Did you know that they used to be in a war with some bad Jedi? Went on for hundreds of years, nearly tore the galaxy apart. Some real bad blood between ‘em. Apparently, that makes for a lotta angry ghosts.”
“Ah, you’re pullin’ our legs,” Attie said with a laugh, but to Fives’ ears it sounded a little strained. He could feel his own skin crawling, but something still felt a little off about the whole situation. It was Echo, he realised after a moment; the ramrod straight position he was sitting in. He usually only held himself like that when he was sniping and lining up a shot. Where was he going with this?
“I’m only passin’ on what I’ve read.” Echo said. “Was real interestin’ though. The temples have always been worst for it, ‘cause they used to get attacked all the time by bad Jedi. Every time someone died it left an imprint in the force, and sometimes you can see ‘em standin’ there still, like they were in the seconds before they got cut down. Sometimes they even scream. One account said some guy went scavengin’ and felt like someone was followin’ him the whole time. He wasn’t sure at first...but then his torch kept goin’ out. He replaced the charge: same thing. So then all he had was candle light, and it kept gutterin’ as he moved from room to room, like someone kept breathin’ on it. Could’ve just been the wind right? But here’s the thing – there wasn’t any.”
As if summoned, there was a sudden gust of air through the narrow ravine they were camped in. Fives heard a shiver ripple through their seated brothers, a clattering of plastoid.
“Then,” Echo continued, his voice hushed. “As he tried to look for the vault, he swore he could hear voices, muffled like they were just around the corner. He called, and he called, and told them to show themselves, but there was no answer. Just the slow, creepin’ knowledge that he was bein’ followed, and that it weren’t friendly. As he made his way through to the old vaults the feelin’ got stronger, and stronger. Doors kept slammin’ shut, and things kept trippin’ him, pullin’ on his clothes. He thought about turnin’ back – but he was so close.”
Echo paused, letting his words hang in the air for several long seconds.
“An’ then what?” Nax asked, his voice a little breathless.
“Nobody knows. The rest of his travellin’ group had waited outside, and according to them, all they heard was his scream. And when they went into the temple to find him, he was curled up dead by the entrance, stone cold to the touch. Like he’d been there for hours. No mark on him, no blood, just a look of terror on his face and some words at the bottom of his notes, not written in his own hand: get out.”
Echo lapsed into silence, and this time it was permeating. Attie sucked in a breath, deafening in the quiet.
“That’s a whole lotta osik, vod.”
“Maybe. But General Kenobi wants us armed in there, you said it yourself. You ever wondered why?”
More silence, but in it, Fives could pick out the sounds of people’s fingers tapping on armour, the sounds of sharp breathing and rustles as they shifted. Echo had rattled ‘em, good and proper.
“Hey, what was that?” Someone’s voice whispered suddenly. “I – I can hear footsteps.”
Fives could hear it too, a rhythmical beat that was getting closer.
“W-Who’s there?” Ridge barked, getting to his feet with one hand on his blaster. When there was no answer, there was a resounding sea of clicking as the others all copied him. “Show yourself!”
“Easy vod, it’s just us!”
Ridge cursed as the patrol came into view around the corner, flooding their seated brothers with light. Denal was at point and took off his helmet, shaking his head in mystification as several clones put their blasters away and sank down with a groan.
“It’s quiet as the grave out there, the hell’s got you spooked?”
As Ridge fumbled for an explanation, Fives felt Echo start shaking next to him, and with a jolt realised that he was laughing. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised.
“You made all of that up, didn’t you?” Fives breathed, feeling a grin spread over his face. “You kriffin’ liar.”
Echo laughed softly in the dark, just the edge of his smile illuminated by his torch. He knocked their shoulders gently together, satisfied by a job well done.
“Hey, it’s not my fault they’re a jumpy batch of shinies.”
taglist // @leias-left-hair-bun @nelba @bad-batch-of-fics @iscream4clones @majorshiraharu // if you’d like to join, link is here!
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roguerogerss · 4 years
Text
Safe Haven
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Plot: You can’t sleep, Bucky helps.
Warnings: none apart from Bucky being cute.
W.C: 1.5k
(A/N: This is super short, terribly cliche, and probably really bad - I wrote it at two in the morning - but I thought the idea was cute! Like and reblog pls bbys! Feedback is also greatly appreciated!)
————
The light in the kitchen was on, but she had dimmed it to the lowest setting so that she wouldn’t wake anyone else. She hated being awake at night, holed up in her room with the possibility of looking at anything but her four walls looking slim, unless she had the balls to venture out in the dark, lonely hallways of the tower.
Some nights - most nights - she decided that it was best for her to stay in her room. She decided that, not only did she have all that she really needed there, she also really didn’t want to have to make the (at least 5 minute) journey to the communal area of the avengers tower alone.
However, tonight was not most nights. They’d been on a hard mission, one that required her to go back to her roots, back to the Hydra base where they’d given her the powers that gave her the right to join the avengers, back to where she was tortured and treated as a lab rat while scientists took notes of her behaviours and added them to their sick collections of research.
Tonight was one of those nights. The ones where you feel like, even though you’re awake, you’re not really. The ones where you wish that you could just forget about your feelings and go to sleep, and you think that you might be able to, but when you’re laying in bed you can’t get your brain to shut off. Yes, Y/N was having one of those nights.
She’d tried to go to sleep, really, she had, but the memories of metal beds and leather straps and night after night in that god-awful cell kept flooding to mind, and the prospect of taking a walk through the tower no longer seemed fearful, but rather the opposite. Comforting. And so, without much thought because - really - she had no space to put any thought into it, she pulled on a robe and pushed open her door, stepping out into the dark hallway that was illuminated only by the little green lights that indicated where the fire exits were.
She’d meant to take a walk to clear her head, she’d only be gone ten minutes at most, but somehow she now found herself in the kitchen, and it was four in the morning - which was two hours after she’d left her room - and she was watching as the sun rose through the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave her a view of the city.
“What are you doing down here?” The voice was calm, kind, but it broke her from her thoughts and made her jolt slightly in her position, curled in the corner of the sofa with a glass of water in one hand.
It was Bucky. He was standing in the doorway, a crooked smile on his face and a blanket tucked under his arm. She recognised it as being the one that she always left draped over the bottom of her bed, and figured that Bucky had probably woken up and gone to her room, before realising that she wasn’t there. She felt a pang of guilt upon looking at him, hair dishevelled, shirtless and sweatpants thrown lazily on to lay low on his hips, the remnants of sleep still prominent in his eyes and the sullen look that adorned him whenever he’d just woken up.
He hadn’t gone with them on the mission, thank god, and had probably fallen asleep with ease but had been plagued by nightmares. Y/N knew that they woke him up at all hours on most nights, that he’d tap on her door lightly and wake her by crawling into her bed and giving her an apologetic smile. Sometimes he wanted to talk about them, and she never minded when he did, listened patiently and stroked his hair and didn’t flinch if he cried. Other times, he’d simply caress her cheek and let her go back to sleep, or trace patterns on her forearm or back until he fell asleep himself. He went to her to ground himself, to remind himself that he wasn’t with Hydra anymore, that the dreams weren’t real, that he had someone in his corner. She was his support system, and he was hers.
“Watching the sunrise, of course.” She joked. She could feel her eyelids drooping and she set her water down on the coffee table. “Haven’t I told you, it’s a pastime of mine.”
She flicked her bleary eyes from the window, to Bucky, who was now walking towards her. He chuckled lightly, fiddling with the blanket, then sitting down next to her and pulling it over the pair of them. “You should sleep.”
She shook her head and let him drape an arm over her shoulders, eyelids getting heavier by the second. “Can’t.” Was her simple reply. Bucky pressed a soft kiss to her temple, smoothing down her hair, and she found herself leaning into him.
“Tell me about it.” He waited expectantly for her to explain herself, tell him what was going on in her brain that made her unable to close her eyes and let slumber overtake her body, and so she did.
“The mission, today.” Bucky’s face dropped, because he knew what was coming next. Memories of her past, things that hurt her and scared her, the things that she only told him, no one else. Everyone got the general gist of where she’d come from, what had happened to her, but Bucky knew the details. The heart-wrenching, horrible details that both angered and broke him. “We went back there. The same place that they...you know, hurt me.”
He let her continue, “It was hard. Scary, seeing it again. It looked the same as it did the last time, before I got out. I keep having this same memory come to mind, when they chained me to my bed and didn’t feed me for a week, all so that they could ‘observe’ how my powers worked when I was low on energy. It’s worse, because I’d almost forgotten everything. I was moving on, and, yes, the thought of the place scared me, but it didn’t send shivers down my spine like it used to.”
“I thought I was finally getting better, you know? Thought I was finally handling it.” Her voice broke halfway through her last sentence and a tear rolled down her cheek, but Bucky’s thumb had swiped it away before it could get too far. He was kissing her face, light, feathery kisses from her hairline to her jaw, comforting her without speaking. He knew that she hated when he gave her sympathy, when he spoke at all when she was upset, really. She’d always just wanted to let it out and move on, and he understood and had never questioned it.
“C’mere.” He said simply, wrapping his metal arm around her back and pulling her close to his chest. She sighed into his bare skin, his arms felt strong around her, like a fortress that no one could compromise, and she felt safe. He felt safe. From his scent of musk and mint to the feeling of the scars on his shoulder under her fingertips, he felt safe.
“You should sleep.” Bucky repeated after a few minutes of rubbing over her back soothingly with his calloused thumb and twisting a lock of her hair around his metal pointer finger.
“I told you, I can’t.” But she knew that she was already drifting off. She couldn’t help it, there was just something about the way that he held her, the way that his body fit around hers and his head nuzzled at her neck while he placed the occasional kiss there. He was intoxicating, and she loved it.
He chuckled lowly and released his grip on her, laying down on the sofa and motioning for her to do the same. “I know, angel, but I’m here now. Nothin’s gonna hurt you.” He cradled her face with one hand and touched his nose to hers. “You know I’d never let anything touch you, princess.”
She smiled weakly and he kissed her, a fleeting kiss, but it was enough to convince her to lay her head against his chest while he pulled the blanket up to her chin. There’d be questions from the rest of the team the next day, but neither of the pair minded. “I love you, darlin’. You’re safe.”
Y/N knew that she didn’t know much, that she wasn’t a genius like Tony or Bruce, that she wasn’t a saint like Steve or a god like Thor, but she knew that she’d never felt bliss like she did when she lay with Bucky - her home, her safe-haven - listening to his heart beat.
“Sweet dreams.”
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nerv0usm3chanic · 3 years
Text
CORRUPTION
Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4
--
((NOTE - This is an introduction to a new PERMANENT AU feature exclusive to nerv0usm3chanic. Please see further, generalized information regarding this AU here: X
Be advised that each of these chapters are VERY LONG. The full content will be tucked under a read more after a brief introduction segment.
DO NOT REBLOG.))
--
“Arthur...have you been feeling okay?” Vivi asked, taking a seat beside Arthur as he focused on the project before him. He’d been fiddling with robotics for a while just as a hobby, but given how long and hard he’d been working, it looked like Arthur was working on an even more vital project than any before. He was clumsy with his right hand as he set down a pair of tweezers and looked at Vivi with tired eyes and a weak smile.
“I’ve been better, Vivi.” Arthur sighed tiredly. He’d been back from the hospital for nearly a month now - two and a half months since he’d lost his arm - and the blond spent nearly every day working on an intense project. “It’s...not too easy adjusting to not having something...” Arthur admitted quietly, staring at the metal bones before him.
“Oh, jinx! I’m sorry, Artie, I-I didn’t mean-!” Vivi started, backpedaling in her sentence before Arthur reached out with his right hand and touched her shoulder. He smiled at her softly, assuring her that it was alright.
“N-no, it’s okay, Vivi. You know it’s not your fault.” Arthur said gently, reassuring Vivi that what had happened was in the past and really there wasn’t anything she could have done. Except maybe not make them go to the cave in the first place. But Arthur refused to entertain that dark train of thought...it might wake him up. “It was just...a lot of crazy coincidences.” That was something he told himself over and over, day in and day out. It helped him feel better about the absence on his left side.
“Hmmm...well...are-are things going better?” She asked, tucking her hair behind her ears, “Is it easier with your cousin and uncle taking care of things?”
“Hmm...uh, well...to a degree.” Arthur answered, turning back to his project and carefully picking up the tweezers. Even after weeks of practice, Arthur still found it hard to adjust to being right-handed...among other things. “Lucan takes care of the front of the shop and does some fixing and Uncle Lance still runs the shop as normal. I help out with checking numbers and making sure bills and such get paid. So, I’m still working. It keeps me busy when I’m not sleeping or working on this thing.”
“So this is...” the blue-hared woman started, looking at the complex assemblage of metal rods, hinges, and wires, along with a lot of other things Vivi didn’t know the particular names of.
“Yep.” Arthur nodded, using the tweezers to carefully arrange a pattern of wires to eventually lead to sensors in one of the digits. He still had a lot of work to do before he was finished with his prosthetic arm.
--
“Okay um, yeah, um hold it there, for just a second.” Arthur directed as his doctor carefully positioned the first rendition of the blond’s new left arm. Six months had passed and this was going to be the first attempt to connect the false appendage to the specialized port. In that time, Arthur had spent so much time studying and using the nearby university resources, he might as well have earned an honorary degree with what he was attempting. Arthur knew this was going to hurt and he needed his cousin and uncle for support. The pale fingers of his right hand were grasping tight to Lance’s rough gloved hand in worried anticipation.
“Just take yer time, lad.” Lance replied in the softest version of his gruff voice. He wasn’t the most comforting of individuals, but the short-statured Kingsmen was practically Arthur’s parent with how much time he’d put into raising the boy. Arthur wouldn’t have asked anyone else to be there for emotional support. “An’ don’ do anything ye don’ feel ready fer.”
“We ken always do this later if ye need ta iron out some wrinkles.” Lucan offered, giving Arthur a pat on his whole shoulder. As his cousin, it was expected that Lucan would be somewhat close to Arthur. But seeing as the two had bonded so much more closely since Lucan moved to Tempo, the younger Kingsmen might as well have been brothers. All three men looked to the doctor preparing to attach the false arm.
“I wish I could numb the pain for you, Arthur.” He murmured gently, “But this is a prototype and...we need to gauge how well the adaptor works to communicate between the wires and nerves...” The arm had been through so many tests and iterations with the help of the local university and waiting for more tests wasn’t going to work anymore.
The doctor needed results for his paper. The university needed results to keep funding the specialist and Arthur. Arthur needed results...in the form of a new left arm. The chance that there would even be any kind of re-use of his left arm again was enough to motivate Arthur for this improvement.
“I’m ready...just...be careful.” Arthur nodded, gripping his uncle’s hand tighter as the prosthetic’s port approached the adaptor his doctor had installed two months earlier. There was that ominous tingle in the back of his mind, a dark chuckle rising up from the depths as the separated parts got closer. Amber eyes widened in fear as he noticed a small flux of energy and a tiny zap between the ports now just millimeters apart.
“W-wai-!” But he was too late. A pained scream ripped free from him, lightning practically erupting around Arthur’s arm port as everyone was pushed from the blond. Arthur would wake sometime later in a hospital bed, his new arm heavy and limp. He would cry out in angered frustration, causing everyone to leave the room as he pitched anything within reach at those nearby.
He had failed...again! There was nothing this metal arm could do but sit there! It was an arm-shaped paperweight...it was just good for looking like an arm...until he made a metal finger twitch.
--
“Alright, you ready to test out that coordination, Artie?” Lewis called over the short distance between him and Arthur while Vivi and Mystery watched eagerly. Arthur was going to be practicing more refined movement with his arm, this time it was catching and throwing a ball. A simple task for many, but Arthur had been so focused on preparing his arm, working on it days and nights for months. Vivi was proud to see Arthur regaining himself; the use of his left arm being the most important thing she’s noticed.
“I’m ready!” Arthur called back, flexing his robotic hand to prepare it to catch the baseball. He’s been working on getting back to being left-handed, but had found tasks much easier to accomplish with developed skill in using both his hands. Forced ambidexrty was interesting to accomplish - and he was exceedingly proud of his abilities - but now the point was to get his false arm’s motions up to snuff.
“He’s improved so much!” Vivi says to Mystery as she watches Lewis pitch the ball gently. “I was really worried about him for a while.”
“Yeah...it was a little shaky for a while there, wasn’t it?” Mystery added, internally still angry at himself for using such drastic action. It’s been a solid 11 months since then and still-! Mystery nearly bolted and then forced himself to sit back down with a huff; he was doing his best to contain the canine urge to chase the ball. The first few volleys back and forth were fine, no trouble at all for Arthur. Mystery felt a sudden strange energy in the air as Arthur caught the ball again and perked up as he smelt a strange singe.
“That had some real pep!” Lewis laughed as he ran to catch the ball and prepared to throw it back. He was so glad to see Arthur seemingly back to himself once more. For a while, Arthur had become a near-complete hermit, forgoing any kind of social engagement to get his arm made.
Arthur himself felt almost too relieved to be able to use his arm so easily. Physical therapy with the doctors was tough and mechanical therapy with the robotic majors at the local university was a nightmare...but it was worth it to have a functional arm once again. And the grant money to develop the appendage further wasn’t half-bad either. It was exciting, thrilling even! He almost could feel the electric excitement as he-oh...oh no. Arthur caught the ball and paused his adrenaline rush as he sees electricity dance over his arm again and hears the sizzle of the tennis ball’s singing fibers in his hand. Quickly he passed the ball to his other hand.
“Ah- uh, I think th-that’s enough for now. I think the arm’s getting a little overworked. Ah, um, st-static and all that!” He gives an awkward grin to ease Vivi and Lewis’s sudden confusion. “I’m ah, g-gonna go inside and discharge.” Arthur gave an awkward laugh and scurried to get inside the mechanics shop again, his trio of friends were left worried and confused.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Arthur whispered in a hiss, glaring at his hand as a ribbon of green electricity coiled over the metal. The dark voice in his head merely chuckled as Arthur went to a specialized discharging station in his room.
‘I was bored. You live a very dull life, Kingsmen.’ The voice hummed idly, ‘If you would just allow me to take over-’
“Never! Just-just leave already!” Arthur murmured, sliding into his room and heading for the discharging rod. On the surface, it just let off static electricity. On the inside, there was a battery hooked up and storing the electricity Arthur would often unwillingly produce. He used the power to run a lamp attached to his desk.
‘If I could, I might...but at this moment, I can’t. So I will just bide my time, boy. I am very patient~. And when your friends inevitably abandon you for your behavior~.’ Arthur frowned, furious that he had to deal with this thing all the time. But what could he do? Exorcising a spirit was one thing, but he was sure this being wouldn’t let go after a few holy words, a splash of water, and some special tags.
Arthur might need to find someone who can offer more specialized help than a priest.
--
Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4
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phantoms-lair · 4 years
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The Two Werewolves of Scooby Doo  Part 3
Previous part
Daphne woke up to an uncomfortable stiffness. The kind you get when you’ve been sleeping in an odd position for too long. She tried to put the horrible nightmare from last night out of her mind, when the room around her seemed to shift as thought dropping out from underneath her.
“Gotcha Daph,” Shaggy steadied her with an arm around her waist. “Guess they, like, decided to land.
“Land?” Daphne took in her surroundings. They were in the cargo section of the plane, just like in her nightmare. “Shaggy, please tell me last night I got super drunk on that wolfsbane stuff and last night was just a really terrible hangover dream.”
He didn’t answer verbally, just held her a little closer. Which told her everything she needed to know. “Oh. I guess,” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I guess Vincent was right about the werewolves.” Daphne struggled to keep her breathing under control.
“Yeah.” Shaggy felt like kicking himself for letting his guard down when Vincent said ‘werewolves’. He’d just assumed they be like him. If only he’d gotten them out of there sooner.
“And...you were a werewolf too. But you were different.” Daphne tried to focus on the strange memories from the previous night. It was like going through the memories of a different person. “You were still you. Why?”
“I don’t know.” Shaggy answered honestly. “It sounded like Vincent did. I guess we should try and find him after we land.” As if on cue the plane landed with a bump. It was a far bigger shake up without seatbelts holding them in place. The luggage was shifting around and they were lucky they didn’t get more than a few bruises.
“i think I prefer riding in the cockpit,” 
“Like, yeah.”
As they rolled to a stop they heard the plane door opening and a few moments later the cargo door opened and Scooby poked his head in. “Raphne! Rou’re Rack!” In one bound Scooby had leaped to them and was smothering Daphne in affection.
“Easy Scooby, I’m fine.” Daphne reassured him.
“You weren’t last night,” Scrappy pointed out.
“Indeed.” Vincent’s rich voice came from outside. “Quite the hairy situation, wasn’t it.” “Like, you can say that again, Mr. Van Ghoul.” Shaggy stood  and stretched his legs. “But what are you doing here, and where are we?”
“The first is answered by he second. This is my home. I instructed the other three to fly here. They’ve been circling the area waiting for sunrise. Now come, we have much to discuss.”
Vincent lead them into a particularly creepy looking castle that had both Shaggy and Scooby trembling.
“What can you tell us about this curse, Vincent?” Daphne asked, sitting down on one of the couches in the sitting room. “The Chest of Demons is a mystical box containing thirteen of the most malevolent spirits ever to exist. Seeking a safe place to rest it, I hid it the temple near the town you landed in. It should have been safe, but two of the townsfolk wandered in and were bewitched by the spirit’s promises. They opened the Chest and released them. The protections on this place held them for a time, which gave me time to strike back. Normally only the one who opens the Chest can retrap the demons, so to avoid this they killed the two who freed them. I managed to find a loophole, as it was two of the townsfolk who freed them, I had two of the townsfolk reseal them after I subdued them. But the damage had been done. The protections on the temple had been completely destroyed, and worse still the two who had opened the Chest came back as ghosts to lire others into freeing their masters. I needed to find a new place to hide it, but as they were resealed the evil spirits placed the curse on the townsfolk.” “Each night as the moon rose they were cursed to become werewolves, reduced to a feral state and compelled to attack all humans. As I was the one who brought the Chest of Demons, I swore I would do all I could to break the spell. By their nature every curse has a reverse. It’s just a matter of finding it.”
“Wait, every night?” shock filled Daphne’s voice. “Not just on the full moon?”
“Every night the moon shines in the sky.” Vincent elaborated. “There is a reprieve on nights of the new moon, but otherwise...”
“No...” Daphne whispered. Last night had been bad enough. The thought of doing this once a month was almost unthinkable. But they had to do this almost every night???” Wait. “Shaggy didn’t loose control of himself last night. Why was that?” If there was something she could do to keep control, that would go a long ways towards helping.
“That is because unlike you and the people of the town, Shaggy is a true werewolf.” Vincent explained. “You said that last night, but I still don’t know what you mean. How’s a true werewolf different than any other?” Flim Flam asked.
“A true werewolf is an actual werewolf, while a curse werewolf becomes one.” “Those still sound the same,” Scrappy admitted.
Vincent sighed. “Shaggy is a werewolf. Right now he’s a human shaped werewolf, sometimes he’s a more wolf shaped werewolf, but he is always a werewolf.” “Daphne, on the other hand, is right now human. Silver would not burn her like it would Shaggy, nor would she be repelled by wolfsbane.”
“But I thought wolfsbane turned people into werewolves,” Scrappy protested. “You’ve got it reversed, I’m afraid.” Vincent smiled indulgently. “One of the best ways to keep a werewolf away is with it. That’s why Shaggy reacted so strongly when the drinks were served.”
“But that would mean Shaggy would have been a werewolf before everything went down.” Daphne protested.
Shaggy let out a nervous chuckle. “So, um, you know how I’ve been locking myself in on the full moon cause I said I was hiding from werewolves? It was more like I was hiding a werewolf. Like me.”
Daphne’s head swung around, her jaw gaping a bit.
“Which brings around to where we go from here. You have two options Daphne. The ‘Proper’ way to handle this would be to wait it out until the counter curse is found. I don’t know how much longer it would take, but you’re welcome to stay here. The castle is large and I can easily keep Flim Flam places your transformed self wouldn’t go.”
“Wouldn’t I just go after you?” Daphne asked. “I can’t endanger you in your own house.”
Vincent smiled wryly. “I assure you, I would be in no more danger from you than I was in the village last night.” He fiddled with an amulet around his neck. “Think back if you can. Last night, you instinctively followed Shaggy’s lead, even with Flim Flam right there. Why?”
“Because...it just felt right.” Daphne recalled. “Almost like it would be crazy not to.”
Vincent nodded. “Supernatural creatures can sense each other in a way. True werewolves are inherently more powerful than cursed werewolves. You instinctively saw him as a better werewolf and with the added bonus of being someone you knew and trusted that more than overrode the curse’s prompting to attack.”
“My ancestor...made a foolish pact with a demon for power. And just as arcane power has traveled through his bloodline, so has the infernal taint of it’s origin. Without this talisman suppressing my magical aura, it would feel as though one was in the room with a demon. Nothing enough to even give any of the thirteen pause, but werewolves? Removing my talisman for only a second one night was enough to insure none of the townsfolk, transformed or not, bothered me ever again. So I am in no danger from either of you.” He reassured.
“Okay, you said that would be the proper thing, that means there’s another option?” Daphne prompted. “Yes, as I said, until the sun sets you’re a normal human. And like a normal human, you could be turned into a true werewolf, thus making you immune from the curse. You would only forcibly change once a month, and even then keep your mind.” “Then let’s do that then.” Sure it wasn’t great, but comparatively...
“No,” said Shaggy, quickly. Vincent nodded. “I suspected you already knew the problem with this method,”
“Which would be?” Daphne prompted.
“No going back.” Shaggy said tightly. “Like Mr. Van Ghoul said, give it time and you can curse the curse. Actually being a werewolf has no cure. I tried Daph. I know your curse is worse than mine, but, like, you have a chance I’m never gonna get. Mr. Van Ghoul and I can make sue you don’t hurt anyone so please, don’t throw this away. Please, trust us. Trust me.”
Daphne’s first instinct was to do just that, but...she did trust Shaggy. And Vincent to a lesser degree. “I’ll give it some time, but on two conditions. I’m securely locked up somewhere, and if there’s anything remotely remembering a close call, we end it there.  You stop me even if you have to hurt me, and as soon as I turn back to human, you turn me into a real werewolf.”
Shaggy clearly didn’t like it anymore than she did, but he agreed,
“It might be easier to lock you out than lock you up.” Vincent supplied. “The castle is a literal fortification and there’e nothing resembling neighbors for a few hundred miles. Things might be easier for you to not even be close to temptation.”
“If you says so.” Daphne said glumly.
~
The sunset was beautiful, but Daphne couldn’t find it in herself to appreciate it. Shaggy had already transformed, for her peace of mind. It helped a little, seeing him as a wolf, but still him. Scooby was also joining them. 
“I never apologized,” Shaggy admitted. “I, um, kind of was treating you as a dog last night and that wasn’t right, but I couldn’t think of what else to do.” “Shaggy, you could have put a leash on me and I would have thanked you. The wolf me isn’t human and you can’t act like she is. She’s not me. Whatever you have to do to control her, do it.” That hadn’t been the apology she was hoping for. She wanted to know why he hadn’t told her, told any of them, about being a werewolf.
But she couldn’t. The final rays of the sun slipped below the horizon, and her humanity fell with it. She felt the curse take hold and struggled to keep control, But it was like trying not to fall asleep while being exhausted. No matter how much she clung to wakefulness she couldn’t keep her grip.
Daphne fell and the wolf arose.
~~~~
Next Part
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Switcheroo
Pt1
Pt2
A/N- Okay so you all remember this headcanon, right? Well, anyway, I loved it so much that I decided to make it a series? I don’t know how long it’ll go but, yeah! Also, I’m not the best writer so sorry in advance!
Warnings- death mention, abandonment mention, guilt mention, nightmare mention, swearing. Tell me if I missed any others!
Summary- Roman and Remus reunite after four years…
It doesn’t go well
Remus zoomed down the hallway, smile on his face and madness in his eyes. He could hear the voices of a few of those dipshits chasing him but he didn’t really care. He knew they’d never catch him and if they did..
Well, let’s just say that he won’t be the one wobbling away with a busted lip and a broken nose. 
He turned the corner and looked around wildly. The voices were getting a bit closer and as much as Remus would willingly fight them, it was his first day and De would be really mad if he got expelled on his first day again-
“There he is! Get him!” He heard the “leader of the pack” yell. He snuck a glance behind him and shot them a crazed smile before taking off running once more. He ran up a flight of stairs and hopped over a few kids skipping class but they never caught him. They got close, but never got him. 
Turning onto a random hallway, he spot two large double doors. A sign saying Auditorium directly above them.
“Perfect!” He mumbled before opening them and closing them quietly. He waited a few seconds to catch his breath before pushing his ear to the door. 
“I think he went this way!” He heard one of the guys call from the end of the hallway. He listened to them run closer and closer to the doors. They stopped right outside the auditorium and Remus heard them discuss going inside. He backed away from the door and looked down the long rows of chairs. Velvety red and plush looking. Kinda comfy. Maybe he could come in here during free periods to nap…
He looked over to the stage before running through the aisles and hopping onto it. The doors opened and he heard the guys walk in. Remus ducked behind the curtains and crouched down as small as possible. 
Just then, someone walked onto the stage. 
“Garrett! And poise…what can I do for you fine gentleman on this beautiful January day!” The loud yet… familiar voice boomed. Something inside Remus seemed to stir but he didn’t pay attention. He only payed attention to the voices. 
“Roman, a pleasure as always.” The main guy, Garret, sneered. 
Remus felt all the air in his lungs leave his body and he had to uncurl from his crouched position to sit down instead. A dread filled his stomach and he kinda felt like throwing up.
Roman?! Roman?! Like, the twin he tricked, Roman? That one? Remus didn’t know he went to this school! Or…maybe he doesn’t? Yeah! Maybe he doesn’t and Remus is just overreacting!
He peaked his head out from behind the curtain, enough to look at the teen in the middle of the stage and…oh ever-fucking Zeus..
It was Roman. He hadn’t seen him since they were twelve and Remus…
At first Remus thought that it wasn’t him but then he saw that deep and prominent dimple on his right cheek and his fiery red hair. (“Just like the Weasley twins!” Ms. Malevolent would always say.  “I’m trouble!” Remus would say. “And I’m double!” Roman would always say after him and then they’d laugh and laugh. Hey…at least neither of them were dead).
Although the clothes were definitely strange to Remus. He had only ever seen Roman in rags and hand me downs, never anything new. Unlike the bright white t-shirt and…Remus guessed maroon pants and the bright Adidas, the only non-new looking thing was…was the sports jacket Remus found when they were ten. 
It was way too big for Roman but now that he was older it fit pretty well. Remus was surprised he still kept it 
“It usually is! Now, why are you here, exactly? I know none of you have drama as an elective and you all definitely aren’t trying out for the school play so…” Roman trailed off, a sense of confidence in his voice that Remus always admired. It didn’t surprise Remus that Roman was in drama either. His twin always loved being the center of attention and putting on little plays for Remus and all the other kids in the orphanage whenever the power went out or any of the kids were having a bad day. They always cheered everyone up and Roman, again, adored the attention. 
“Some new kid tripped my pal Ricky over here,” he heard, presumably Ricky, grunt out an agreement. Remus and Roman both rolled their eyes, although neither knew it. “ And we wanted to…. teach him a lesson! Yeah, teach him a lesson. We thought we saw him go in here.” All the other guys agreed and Roman huffed. 
“Well, I can assure you all, that no one ran in here. Virgil and I are the only ones in here and we didn’t hear anyone come in except you four.” He said, his voice almost song like but that was always Roman. Actually, the only thing Remus could pick out that was different was the deepness of the voice. It had definitely gotten deeper since they were twelve but…it suit him. Remus bet he sounded even better singing than when he did when he was young. Less whiny and more rich. 
Garrett huffed. “Yeah, okay. But if you see him, tell him that Garrett just wants to…talk. Yeah, a nice friendly little chat.”
“And if they don’t show up?” Roman asked, merely out of curiosity, Remus had to guess. 
“Oh, if he’s smart…he will.” Garrett answered before him and his gang walked out. Remus turned back around and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He got ready to go until a voice stopped him.
“Okay, they’re gone! You can come out now!” Roman announced, still standing on the stage. Remus froze. 
“Oh, come on! I promise I won’t bite~” Roman chuckled. “Well, if you’re cute then I might.” Roman said. Remus gagged. He would have not said that if he knew who was behind the curtain. Still, Remus stayed silent. 
“Y'know I can see your foot, right?” Roman asked. Remus quickly pulled his foot to his chest and cleared his throat. 
“I think I’m comfy right here.” Remus replied, making his voice sound as different as possible. It’s only been three years, it would not take Roman long to figure out who he was if he used his normal voice.
He heard Roman chuckle, it was melodious and he felt tears gather in his eyes. God he missed that sound. 
“Oh, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you-”
“I doubt that,” Remus cut him off. He knew that Roman would probably beat the shit out of him for what he did and he really can’t blame the guy. He did kind of trick him and abandon him. 
“How are you so sure?” Roman asked. Remus let out a watery bark of laughter.
“Oh, I’m sure,” he said. He heard Roman walk closer to where he was. His footsteps were slow and light sounding. 
“Can I at least know your name?” Roman tried. Remus shook his head no but then realized that Roman couldn’t see him.
“Hey Roman, I’m heading out. Pat and I are going to lunch! You spending your free period here?” A new voice, presumably Virgil, said. Roman just let out a loud hum and then the doors opened and closed. 
“That was my friend, Virgil. Although, if you were listening, you already knew that. Can you please come out?” Roman asked once more. 
“I’m gay.”
“Haha. Very funny.” Roman responded, tone light. Remus chuckled slightly too. “I am too, if that makes you feel any better.” Roman said.
“It does, actually.” Remus whispered. A tear had streamed down his face but he kept his voice level. 
“If…if I show you who I am…do you promise not to get mad?” Remus asked after a few seconds of silence. He heard Roman back away to the center of the stage. 
“That depends…are you my long lost twin?” Roman joked, voice layered with a type of sadness that made Remus’ stomach twist with guilt. He rose to his feet and walked out from behind the curtain. 
“Actually,” he walked over to Roman who was now frozen to his spot, eyes wide and filled with a lot of emotions. “I am.” Remus said, spreading out his arms in a “here I am” type way. 
There wasn’t much to show though. They both had pretty much the same build. Except, Roman was a lot more muscular in the arms while Remus was more muscular in his legs( due to running a lot of track…and away from the cops sometimes)
Their wardrobe was a lot more different too. At first De had offered to buy Remus all new clothes but he liked the more raggedy and dirty clothes. (“They fit my ass-the-dick” young Remus had said. De chuckled. “You mean, aesthetic?” He had asked. “Yeah, that thing” Remus waved off, marching out of the random store.) His dirty and very ripped jeans and his old crop top that he found. The only decent thing he had was the army jacket De insisted he get when he first got adopted. 
The silence that dragged on through the air was as thick as Remus’ book of regrets and as sharp as his many knives.
The slap that rang out across the room easily broke that though. 
Remus fell to the ground, hands cradling his right cheek. He didn’t even realize Roman moved closer to him.
“I…I deserve that.” Remus winced, feeling the spot. Damn, how hard did Roman hit? There was definitely gonna be a bruise. 
“Damn right!” Roman yelled but Remus rose to his feet and held out his hand. 
“You said you wouldn’t get angry,” Remus reminded. 
“I said I wouldn’t get angry if you weren’t my long lost twin.” Roman corrected. Remus sighed. He did say that. 
“What are you doing here?!” Roman yelled. Remus winced at the loud noise and covered his ears. 
“Aye, quiet would ya? I don’t need the whole school knowing about this.” Remus muttered, fiddling with a loose piece of thread on his jacket. Roman quieted down his tone but it was still filled with the same venom as when he was yelling. 
“What. The hell! Are you doing here?! Roman seethed. Remus licked his lips before answering. 
“Well, I was on my way to second period but then I accidentally tripped one of those assholes and spent the next five or so minutes getting chased around the school.” Remus explained, attempting to ease the tension. Roman did not find it funny. 
“I’m serious, Re." 
Time seemed to stop. That nickname, the old nickname Roman used to call him. No one is allowed to call him that anymore, not even De! It made Remus feel something that he didn’t particularly like. 
"I-I mean, Remus." 
"Yeah..yeah I know uhm. I got expelled from my last school for….a certain incident and De and I moved up here, to NC, to be closer to his family…also because I got expelled from almost every school in a 100 mile radius.” Remus rushed through the last part but Roman still got it. 
“So…so what you just went to this school to-to- I don’t even know! Rub it in my face! Humiliate me more than you already did? Mock me for being tricked by my brother!”
“No! Of course not! I didn’t even know you went here!” Remus defended, although a bit weakly. It seemed to go unnoticed by Roman. 
“And then you show up here-of all places! You haven’t even bothered trying to get into contact with me once since I left!.” Roman said. It felt like a kick in the gut to Remus but Roman didn’t seem to see that. Or if he did, he didn’t care. 
“I know tha-" 
"Do you know how long I waited? Just waiting for you to contact me? Tell me that you missed me-that you regret what you did- that you loved me- that you were safe?! Cus I had no idea if you had died or anything!,” Roman continued. Remus looked across the large auditorium guiltily. The rows of seats and the box seats on top. They all looked almost brand new and very…regal.
Damn, this school was rich. 
“Oh, nothing to say? Well maybe you’ll say something when I tell you that I had to go to therapy because of what you fucking did to me!” Tears had started to stream down Romans cheeks but he kept going. “Think about it? How traumatizing that is? Knowing that my twin- my brother, my only family- had gotten rid of me and didn’t even feel bad enough to send me a fucking emai-”
“I do too,” Remus whispered. 
Romans paused. 
“What?” he sneered. 
“I do too.” Remus said, louder. “Go to therapy, I mean. The guilt I felt, the nightmares I got…I didn’t know if you were okay and your last name changed- I couldn't  find you- then I got adopted and we moved to Florida and I just-…I gave up. On everything, actually. De got me therapy not long after ….” Remus trailed off. 
A range of emotions swimmed through Romans dark brown eyes. The same eyes that Remus possessed but they looked…older. Like he’d seen the universe crumble and couldn’t find it in himself to care. 
Remus probably looked much the same. 
“I-I…I have to go!" 
"Roman, wait!” but he had already jumped down from the stage and ran through the double doors and straight into the crowd of students.
Remus collapsed into a crying mess in the middle of the stage. Tears mixed with snot as they met at his chin and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. He just pulled out his phone and clicked the first contact. He held it up to his ear and waited. 
“Remus? Wha-”
“C-c-can you p-pick me up…” Remus stuttered, voice low. 
“What? Why? And why are you crying? Remus what ha-” the concern seemed high in the man’s voice and Remus felt bad for putting it there. Not bad enough to continue through the rest of the day though. 
“I-I…I wan-wanna go h-…h-home!” He pleaded, curling into himself as tightly as possible. It almost felt like a comforting hug. Almost. 
“Of…of course, darling. We can go home. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes so gather your things.”
“O-okay….I love you D-De.” Remus whispered, wiping away a few tears. They kept coming but at least he tried. 
“Of course. I love you too, Rem.” De hung up with a click. Remus lifted himself up from his folded position, wiped a few more tears, and headed towards his locker to grab the few things he brought. 
God, he wished he kicked those kids asses after all.
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memories-are-mine · 4 years
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We Survived the Crisis, Babe
This week on I Like Hurting My Characters: We have Chapter 3!!
Here are some handy links so y’all don’t have to go digging: Chapter 1, Chapter 2
ao3
Lemme know if you want to get on the taglist, as always! 
Chapter 3 - Ethan
Ethan tried to sit up but immediately gasped in pain and laid back down. Apparently, the Friendly Black and White monster’s powers did not extend to healing cuts, bruises and stab wounds, though he figured he shouldn’t be ungrateful. After all, he was alive. However, he was currently lying in a concerning puddle of, presumably, his own blood, which did not bode well for his future survival.
Think. He had to think. Take stock of his situation. It had never been Ethan’s strong suit, but now it was necessary. For Lex and Hannah’s sake.
He took a few deep breaths, enjoying how good it felt to be able to breathe again.
He lay on the ground, near the bench where he and Hannah had sat after he’d gotten thrown out of the Cineplex. His head still felt fuzzy but didn’t hurt quite as much as it had before, so that was good, maybe he hadn’t suffered permanent brain damage. It really hurt to move his left arm, though not his right. Okay. One out of two wasn’t bad. The gaping knife wound in his side: definitely a problem. He needed to stop the flow of blood, or he would pass out, or worse, die again. Friendly Black and White Voice had helped him once, but Ethan knew instinctively that it was up to him now. If something happened, she wouldn’t be able to bring him back a second time.
His hand brushed his flannel, still somehow wrapped around his waist. Not ideal, but it would do for a bandage until he could find something better. His fingers fumbled with the knot around his waist, and after a lot of painful fiddling, it came undone.
Now for the hard part. Ethan bit down on the sleeve of his leather jacket, hard, and slowly, excruciatingly, pushed himself up into a seated position, so that he could tie the flannel around his stomach. He peeled his t-shirt off of the wound, nauseated by how much effort it took to pull it away. He made a point not to think about the fact that the wet sticky stuff was his own blood.
Slowly, very slowly, he wrapped the flannel around the wound and pulled it tight. It killed his bad arm, but the pressure helped to ease the pain in his side slightly, and hopefully, it would stop the bleeding.
Ethan scooted so that his head rested on the bench’s armrest and sat there for a few seconds until the pain went from pure torture to, well, less torturous, then, using the bench for support, he staggered to his feet. He had to find Hannah, then Lex.
Oh, God, Lex. Toy Zone had been where this mess all started, and she was caught in the middle of it. She might not even be alive.
Ethan pushed the thought from his head. He would see Lex Foster again. She could take care of herself, and he had promised her to look after Hannah. That was a promise that he was going to keep.
“Hang in there, Banana.” He said to the empty mall. “I’m comin’ for ya.”
Ethan set off in the direction of the Marshall’s.
When he was closing in on the Playplace, he heard Hannah scream. He picked up speed, going as fast as his tired, beaten body would allow.
“Banana Split?” He called desperately as he reached the entrance. No reply. Ethan’s heart sank.  “Hannah? Are you here?”
He saw hesitant movement at the back of the McDonald’s. A small figure, with a backpack, a hat, crawled out of the kiddie tunnel and stood on the opposite side of the ball pit from him. Ethan’s heart soared. She was okay! She was here, and she was okay!
He reached out with his good hand and smiled. “What’s shakin’, Banana!”
Hannah yelped and moved back. “No! Bad!”
Ethan furrowed his brow. Hannah had never reacted to him like this before, not even the first time they’d met. Then he remembered that he probably looked like a zombie extra on The Walking Dead, which may have been a little bit scary for a small child.
“Sorry, Banana Split,” Ethan said, going to move around the ball pit to get to her. “I know I probably look kinda scary right now, but I promise that I’m gonna be okay. We gotta get going. Stick together, you know? We gotta find Lex and get the heck out of this mall.”
“No! Not Ethan! Bad Double!” Hannah screamed. “Ethan died! Webby told me Ethan died! You’re not getting Wiggly!”
Now Ethan was even more confused.
“Hannah, what do you mean ‘Bad Double?’ I know you’re scared, but it’s me, it’s Ethan. I gave you that hat this morning!” He put his hands up in a placating gesture. “I don’t want Wiggly, Hannah. I just wanna get you outta here.”
Even as he said it, the Wiggly doll that inexplicably lay on the ground was whispering in his head. Telling him that if he just took the doll from the little brat, then he could make it to California and beyond. He could go anywhere he wanted.
Focus, Ethan. Nice Black and White Voice returned. Don’t listen to the doll. Focus on Hannah.
Ethan shook his desire for Wiggly off. He didn’t understand how, exactly, but he knew that Wiggly was causing all of this. The men who had attacked him were after a Wiggly doll. Wiggly was bad, and the thing wasn’t worth seven thousand dollars. Hell, it probably wasn’t worth seven.
Ethan mentally told Wiggly to go fuck himself, and he could feel the doll’s presence begrudgingly retreat from his head. He had more important things to do than worry about a stuffed tentacle monster. Like get Hannah out of here.
“You can’t trick me again!” Hannah screamed. “You died!”
“I did.” Ethan didn’t want to scare her, but he had to tell her. “But… But something brought me back so I can save you and Lex. Hannah, I think it might have been Webby. If you don’t trust me, ask her. She’ll tell you.”
If Hannah was going to reply, she didn’t get the chance, because two other people entered the McDonald’s, crazed hunger in their eyes.
One of them was Ethan’s shop teacher - the only one he’d ever actually liked, and the only one who’d ever actually liked him: Mr. Houston. The other was a lady in nursing scrubs that Ethan didn’t know. They both had their eyes fixed on Hannah.
Oh, shit.
“Hello, little girl,” the woman said, as she and Mr. Houston began to snake their way around the edge of the ballpit opposite Ethan. “Why don’t you give us that doll.”
Hannah moved back a few steps.
“Woah, woah, where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” Nursing Scrubs asked.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Mr. Houston promised, taking another step around the ball pit and toward Hannah.
Ethan felt useless. He was leaning up against the wall of the McDonald’s. He could feel that the knife wound in his side had started to bleed again. Mr. Houston was taller and stronger than even Ethan in the best of times, if he had to fight, he wasn’t sure if he could protect Hannah, he wasn’t even sure he could limp fast enough to make it to her.
“California.” Hannah’s voice pulled him out of his stupor, and if he hadn’t been so terrified, her determination would have warmed his heart. “I’m going to go to California. And you shouldn’t listen to Wiggly, he’s bad. He’ll trick you.”
“Mr. Houston, she’s right!” Ethan chimed in. “That Wiggly doll is corrupting people, you don’t actually want it.”
The two adults completely ignored him.
“Don’t worry, little girl.” Mr. Houston gave what Ethan figured was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but it just looked like a grimace. “We’re grown ups, we don’t get tricked.”
When Hannah took another step back, Mr. Houston got impatient.
“Listen, kid. I’ve been through hell today tryin’ to get one of those dolls for my son. He’s about your age.” Mr. Houston’s polite mask dropped, and he seemed to grow bigger in the darkness. A monster straight out of a children’s nightmare. “I’d do anything for him. ANY goddamn thing. Even if it means pounding the guts out of a little TWERP! NOW GIMME THAT FUCKING DOLL!”
He wheeled on Hannah, who screamed and ran deeper into the McDonald’s, disappearing into some dark corner.
“Leave her the fuck alone, you assholes,”  Ethan cried desperately. He managed to push himself off the wall and started to move toward Mr. Houston and Nursing Scrubs. “I’m the one you want!”
Again, they ignored him, now consumed in an argument with each other.
“You let her get away!” Nursing Scrubs snapped. “You really are a fucking idiot, aren’t you?”
“Well, I didn’t see you coming up with any ideas, cheer captain!” Mr. Houston shot back.
“Oh, fuck off!”
This was good. If they were consumed with their argument, then maybe Ethan could sneak Hannah out without them noticing.
“Hannah,” He whispered as loud as he dared. “Banana, we gotta go!”
He saw her peek her head out from behind a jungle gym in the back. He gave her an encouraging nod that he didn’t know if she could see, then started forward as quietly as he could, hoping to meet her halfway.
Abruptly, Hannah stopped and ducked, and Ethan turned back to Mr. Houston and Nursing Scrubs, who had finished yelling at each other, and were now scanning the Playplace.
“You see, Tom.” Nursing Scrubs said. “You don’t scream at a child, it frightens them.” She turned with a blissful, insane smile directly towards Ethan, who had to fight the urge to scream like a five-year-old and run away. She almost looked through him.
“You lure them in delicately,” she said as she fished in her pocket. Triumphantly, she pulled out a syringe filled with some kind of blue liquid. Ethan assumed it was a sedative. “And you put them to sleep.”
Oh, hell no. Ethan was the only one that would be doing drugs here. 
“Little girl?” Nursing Scrubs called out in a sickly-sweet voice. “Sweetheart? California?”
Ethan reached down to the ball pit, wincing in pain as the movement agitated the wound on his stomach, and closed his fist around one of the rubber balls. Straightening, he chucked it at the wall farthest from Hannah as hard as he could. It gave a satisfying thwack when it hit, and Mr. Houston and Nursing Scrubs twisted towards the noise and made their way towards it,
“Do you want to play with me, lovely girl?” Nursing Scrubs said in a soothing, singsong voice. It could have been mistaken for a lullaby if not for her sinister tone and the needle she so subtly hid behind her back. “Do you want some candy, my lovely girl?”
Ethan saw Hannah poke her head out, and he gestured to her to hurry up. She hesitated, obviously still wary of him because of whatever she had seen. She closed her eyes for a moment.
Somehow, Ethan heard her thoughts.
Webby? Is it Good Ethan?
Yes, Hannah, it is. The same female voice that had saved Ethan in the Black and White replied to her. Ethan had been right, it had been Webby. Apparently, since he had died, he now had some sort of connection to the Black and White.
Hannah opened her eyes and smiled at him. She didn't need words for Ethan to know that she trusted him again. They were back on track. She started to move towards him, but her hesitation had been a second too long.
“Hey, Becky,” Tom said, turning back from the wall where they had found nothing. The woman with the syringe turned to look at him. “There she is.”
“Hannah!” Ethan cried desperately. “Come on! Hurry! I gotta get you out of here!”
Hannah made up her mind and sprinted towards Ethan. As she began to run, Tom and Nursing Scrubs, who apparently was named Becky picked up speed and started to gain on her.
“Come on, Hannah!”
Hannah reached Ethan, and he moved aside to allow her to move past him on the edge of the ball pit. She scurried past the ball pit and to the entrance and turned to wait for him.
He started after her, stumbling as fast as he could. He had almost made it to the entrance when Hannah’s eyes widened.
“Ethan!” She yelped. “Run! Fast!”
He didn’t need to turn around to know that Tom and Becky were right behind him. He tried to run, though every step hurt. He wasn’t nearly quick enough. Even in the best of times, Mr. Houston was faster than he was.
Ethan cried out as Mr. Houston grabbed his bad arm, as all the pain that had been subsiding came flooding back. Mr. Houston’s other hand pinned Ethan’s arms to his sides.
“Aww,” Becky Nursing Scrubs said in that same sickly-sweet voice. “Poor boy. You’re hurt. Let me help.”
“No!” Ethan struggled, but to absolutely no avail. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hannah, once again frozen in shock. “Mr. Houston, please, let me go,” he begged. “It’s me, it’s Ethan Green. Ethan. You know me, Mr. Houston, I was in your shop class, snap out of it! Don't do this! Mr. Houston -”
“I don’t know you!” Mr. Houston snapped. “All I know. All I want is Wiggly. Now shut up.” He turned to his partner. “Becky, would you hurry up and stick him? He’s keeping me from Wiggly and it’s pissing me off!”
Ethan was absolutely helpless as Becky jammed the needle into his neck. He felt his eyes closing. The world going dark once again, and that same rush of panic that he’d had before welled up. Mr. Houston dropped him like a sack of potatoes on the mall floor.
“Run, Hannah,” He murmured. He had no idea if she could hear him. “Run.”
“No!” Hannah started running back toward them. Wrong direction, Hannah. “Not leaving again! Gotta stick together!”
Mr. Houston grabbed her just as easily as he’d grabbed Ethan, locking her in his arms so she couldn’t escape.
The last thing Ethan saw before he blacked out was Becky raising the needle over Hannah’s head, he made a noise of despair as she brought it down. Then something surprising happened. She missed Hannah completely and stabbed her own leg with the needle, immediately collapsing next to Ethan.
Huh, that was weird.
Then everything faded.
Taglist: @hurricanehellion, @asshole-gay-797, @ethngreen, @just-a-side-kick, @theirishhufflepuff, @somegeekychic, @curse-brekker, @unusual-ly, @softotacoo, @believeinasmilinggodtoday
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wildshub · 3 years
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WHO: The Fearless Fifteen WHAT: Jillian’s death and subsequent burial was grueling. Nothing like a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ between the castaways to help distract themselves from the trauma. WHEN: Day 2 NOTE: Just posting for record again and so it’s easier to refer back to.
Joss Joss was fiddling around with the miniatures, amused by the adorable size. She looked around the group and wondered how they planned on rationing the limited volume of alcohol they had. Maybe some girls didn't drink, that would help. Regardless, there was barely enough for one girl, let alone all of them and they would have to come to some sort of agreement about how they shared the drinks. "I don't know if this is enough to get anybody buzzed but we can make a couple of Jack and cokes, at least," she offered.
Shane shane looked over at joss when she made her suggestion. while she did agree that it wasn't nearly enough to get a good buzz, she didn't think wasting drinks with it would be too smart considering they didn't have anything else. "i dunno, wasting cokes when we don't have water doesn't seem like a good idea," she spoke up. "maybe we do some dumb drinking game or something?" not that three mini bottles would do much of anything that way, at least it could be fun? maybe?
Jenny If they were at home, it would have been a no to drinking games from Jenny. Not that they didn't drink, just that they didn't like to be out of control. Especially after the last year. But they were on an island in the middle of fucking nowhere, everything was already pretty god damn out of control. "What, like bullshit or something?" they looked to the stack of cards that had washed up, they were waterlogged from their time in the ocean, probably past the point of it being worth trying to play any game with them. "Though those cards are looking proper fucking sad at the moment."
Joss Jocelyn made a face at the mention of wasting the extremely limited number of coca cola cans they had left. While she was fairly certain that the rescue team would arrive before they came close to getting down to the last of their rations, Shane had made a good point. "Yeah, true," she conceded, picking up one of the cans, and wrapping her palms around it, "It's warm anyway," she added before putting it down. She brightened up a little at the idea of a drinking game or anything to pass the time for that matter. "I'm in," she confirmed with a growing smile. She got up on her knees and lazily reached for the pack of cards, dispensing them into her hand and wrinkling her nose at the state of them, "Yeah, might be a day before these are worth anything- they're still damp hey,"
Cora She didn't talk much with the other girls, letting them chat. She'd grabbed her sketchbook and pencil case from among the pile of things that had washed up. Nothing useful of course, but a comfort nonetheless. The sketchbook was mostly dry now, thank god, and the pencils had mostly survived. She wasn't really paying attention, sketching the scene in front of her loosely. The talk of a drinking game made her look up, glancing at the tiny bottles they had. Not really much for a group this size.
Cherry “Card games? Are we thirty?” It’s true that the group had already come to terms with the fact that using the damaged cards were a no-go, but cherry couldn’t help but slide one more comment into the mix. Which likely had more to do with her being terrible at bullshit than anything else. Dark brown hues were eyeing the tiny bottles in Joss’ hands, at this point she didn’t care what the reason for them consuming the liquid was, just as long as she was able to take a shot.   “What about,” reaching over, she grabs a mini bottle of Jameson from Joss’ hands and as much as she’d love to down the entire thing that second, she instead tilts it upward as if she were presenting it, “Never have I ever? Or is someone going to suggest Bingo next.”
Joss Though it was probably unwise to side with Cherry, given Jocelyn’s current reputation, she couldn’t help but laugh at the other girl’s ribbing. She smiled delicately at the suggestion, she had fond memories of playing with her friends on Saturday nights, though those friends had since decided she was a backstabbing slut, unworthy of their time. She tried not to think about it and put the remaining bottles down in the sand instead, “I’m keen,” she announced, “Fair sure one of you almost caught me squatting behind a tree earlier this arvo so we’re gonna get to know each other one way or another,” she reasoned with a shrug of her shoulders.
Jenny No offence to these girls, but if they hadn't been what they had been through the last 48 hours, Never Have I Ever would sound like a fucking nightmare. Jenny hated games like that, why did you have to get to know each other, why not just drink. But, they didn't have a better suggestion, and none of these girls knew them well enough to really put them in an uncomfortable position the way someone from home might be able to. "Sure," they agreed easily, despite their reservations on the game. "Who starts?"
Shane the idea of opening up did not seem appealing, but it would be nice to have something to focus on other than their fucked up situation. they were all probably going to lose it if they don’t get some distractions soon. instead of waiting for everyone to decide who to go first, shane just went for it. “never have i ever misspelled the word ‘help.’” she said right off the bat, looking across at jocelyn. if she wanted to steal her idea, the least shane could do was tease her for it.
Reyna keeping mostly to herself, reyna couldn't help it as she snorted at shane's comment. she glanced over to jocelyn for a moment before going back to prodding at the ground. not very productive, but with little interest in getting to know the girls she couldn't think of how else to get rid of her nervous energy.
Joss Before Shane had even officially conclude, Jocelyn’s jaw popped open, realising immediately that she was the target of the first round. “Oh, get fucked Shane,” she scolded playfully, though she couldn’t help but laugh as she grabbed for the nearest miniature, cracking it open and raising it in a toast to the other girls.  She took a sip, wary of the limited supply, “Righto- never have I ever gotten into a fist fight,” she offered, glancing around the circle as she re-sealed the bottle and tossed it back into the pile. She had her suspicions when it came to which girls were and weren’t inclined to a brawl but she thought it interesting to find out for sure now.
Shane as joss reacted to getting targeted, she just smiled cheekily, trying to not laugh at as she took her drink. it was all in good fun anyways. but as joss went, shane raised her eyebrows before taking one of the bottles and taking a sip of her own. shane had been in many of fights in her day. with her short temper, it wasn’t hard. tossing the bottle in the sand, she looked around at who else had been in a fight.
Jenny The first Never Have I Ever earned a small smirk from Jenny, but they kept their mouth shut just to prevent karma coming back in the form of a sentence targeted at them. Then the second one, it wasn't targeted (thank god) but they did have to drink to it. After Shane, they leaned forward to pluck a bottle themselves. Taking a sip, before tossing it back in the pile and resuming their position of arms wrapped around legs. They hadn't been in many fist fights, and they had lost all of them, but they presumed that still counted.
Cora She smirked at the first one, not looking up as she heard Wesley crack open the alcohol. But the second one caught her attention. She leant over, taking the bottle from Jenny and taking a sip. "Does it count as a fight if it was one sided?" she asked, despite already drinking. It wasn't exactly a fight as much as a single punch, but Cora counted it anyway. She didn't really regret it.
Reyna reyna didn't really have to think about it as she took a sip - and it would probably come as no surprise. granted it was only a recent development in her life. her old self would have never incited anything. "no, i'm pretty sure that's just regular assault."
Cora She shrugged, putting her sketch book down. "He deserved it anyway." Ruined the little amount of good she had going. Got her in a shit ton of trouble. And he faced nothing. Typical.
Divya Divya stared in shock at the girls who had gotten into fights. More than she expected to be honest. She assumed Shane because well, she'd seen her rage over the unsuccessful fire. But everyone else she could not call. Though, maybe Cora. "Alright then, Fight Club, good to know." She chuckled before coming up with her question. She hasn't played this game an awful amount and definitely not much as of the recent years since her life was flooded with school. Her question may have been one everyone would groan and be upset at but she simply had to try anyway. "Alright," she started, cheeky smile on her lips. "Never ever have I drunk alcohol."
Shane shane scanned the girls, a little surprised by some of those who drank. she expected most of them to be soft and not the type to fight. just goes to show her how little she knew about everyone she was now stuck with. at divya’s turn, shane groaned. “that’s not fair.” but as a good sport, she took one of the bottles again and took another sip. “that just means we need to get you to drink,” she said with a chuckle before tossing the bottle back into the center.
Joss Joss was among those who were shocked by the response to her question. Alright, so she was stranded with a bunch of brawlers. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? On the one hand, they knew how to defend themselves, on the other, Jocelyn was more likely to get her ass kicked for saying the wrong thing. It was swings and roundabouts she supposed, like the situation at large. She rolled her eyes at Divya’s question though the smile remained on her face, “Such a cop out,” she teased as she took another sip, without realising she’d picked up a different bottle altogether this time.
Jenny To be honest, the amount of brawlers was less than Jenny had expected. They assumed that was gonna be an easy one that most people had to drink to, maybe just the good two shoes left behind but apparently not. Or maybe everyone else had much higher standards for what counted as a fist fight. But regardless, they then had to drink again because of Divya's suggestion. They gave a roll of their eyes, though smirk tugged at their lips while they took a little bottle from someone beside them and sipped. "I've got one for Divya," they announced looking to her, once it seemed everyone who needed to drink had done so. "Never have I ever planned to use a game of UNO as an icebreaker slash get to know you game." they teased with a grin, holding the bottle across the circle for her to take.
Divya Divya's mouth hung open at Jenny's targeted attack. The betrayal. "Oh c'monnn." She laughed whilst shaking her head, feeling her cheeks go warm. "Fine." She reached over to take the miniature bottle from Jenny. "But I stand by it, you know," she announced to the circle as she unscrewed the bottle. "UNO yeah? Great icebreaker. Who doesn't love a good game of UNO?" Though the smile on her face turned into a grimace once she'd gotten a whiff of... Jameson? Whatever was in the small green one. "Oh, that- that doesn't smell nice. Is it supposed to hurt your nose like that?" She shook her head a little before being a good sport and taking her very first sip of alcohol. Quite a moment to be having in front of a group of girls she didn't know well. "Ugh." Her face was twisted up and she shook her head again. "Oh that's horrible, why do people like that?" She coughed a tiny bit before screwing the cap back on and returning it to the middle with the other miniatures.
Joss Joss couldn't help the smile that split her lips when Jenny spoke up. It was nice to see that she wasn't the only one being targeted. Actually, the whole affair was kind of nice. Just a bunch of girls, hanging around, talking shit, taking jabs at each other and complaining about bad tasting alcohol. For the first time since Jocelyn had left Melbourne airport, she actually did feel like she was on a retreat. She chuckled at Divya's response to the Jameson, "The more you drink, the better it tastes," she advised, "Actually- wrong. The more you drink, the less of a fuck you give about how it tastes," she corrected herself with a smile.
Cora "Plus, if you breathe out through your mouth straight after drinking you won't taste it as much," Cora said without thinking. It was a neat trick to be sure, one she'd learnt not too long ago sneaking spirits from her aunt's supply or buying cheap crap from the bottle-o once she turned eighteen. But sharing it suddenly felt out of character for her. Luckily, a light blush never tended to show much on her skin, especially in the dark. To distract attention, she decided to go next. "Never have I ever left my home country. Before this trip."
Shane "definitely don't drink it for the taste, you drink it to numb everything," shane said without thinking about how that could be taken, probably revealing too much to a bunch of girls she didn't know. the last thing she wanted was to have everyone thinking she was some alcoholic at eighteen or have them digging to find out what else was wrong with her. but thankfully, cora was up with the next round. she reached forward to take a different bottle and take yet another sip before putting it back down. "you know, if these were real bottles, i'd be drunk by the end of this game," she commented to no one in particular.
Divya Divya chuckled at Joss’s advice even if she was still trying to rid her mouth of the horrid aftertaste. At Cora’s tip, she tried to do as such: breathing out of her mouth. She couldn’t really tell if it made a difference, not that it mattered much considering Cora’s next Never Have I ever. Oh no. She groaned a little before reaching for the pile again and taking one of the bottles. This time, the liquid inside was clear. Hopefully it tasted less horrible than the green one. After a little sip and another small cough, she decided this too tasted horrible but didn’t linger as much as the other. “Numb everything?” She asked Shane before wiping the back of her mouth on her sleeve. She screwed the tiny cap back on the bottle and tossed it back in the pile. “Also, is this seriously the first time you’ve been out of Australia?" She looked to Cora now. "God, you must never want to leave when you get back if that’s the case.” What terrible luck, Divya thought.
Joss Shane’s reasoning didn’t register as strange to Jocelyn, in fact, if she hadn’t been so surprised by Cora’s know-how, she might have even agreed with the other girl. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d skulled a colourful assortment of vodka Cruisers just for the fun of it, rather than to get out of her own head for a while. She picked up one of the bottles and took a sip, keeping an eye on the rest of the group. The fact that some of them hadn’t traveled much before said a lot to Jocelyn and she was starting to sympathise a little more with Cora than she had previously. She’d even drop the cruel nicknames, she decided. “Never have I ever gone on a feminist retreat with a bunch of rando girls before,” she suggested, then a moment later she laughed, “Wait- does this still count as a retreat since we’re all kinda bonding?”
Jenny They couldn't help the dumb grin that pulled up their features as they managed to single Divya out. Chuckling a little at the ensuing reaction to alcohol and helpful tips from the rest of the girls. Weird to think that if they had actually made it to the resort they likely would have rolled their eyes and sat it out without a second thought. And here they were, having fun. Cora's Never Have I Ever allowed Jenny to sit out another round. Not only had they never left their home country before this trip, they could count the amount of times they'd left their home state on one hand. However, that wasn't information they were about to offer up. They couldn't help the small snort that escaped them when Joss spoke up again. Arms still wrapped around their legs they quickly offered the next one "Never have I ever referred to surviving a literal plane crash as bonding," they joked. Another targeted one for Joss but she made it a little too easy.
Reyna reyna glared at the bottles, staying silent for most of the conversation. she wished they had more to drink, that way she might actually he able to stomach spending time with these girls. instead, she lay back and closed her eyes. but the last comment made her sit up again. "she has a point." hating to stick up for joss however she had to add, "a stupid point, but it's true. we're bonding. i wouldn't volunteer to talk to any of you normally." her eyes roamed her companions until she caught divya's eye. "maybe you." she meant it as a joke, but her dry tone did her no favours.
Joss "Yeah, yeah, get over it- I obviously didn't mean the plane part, dick heads," she defended herself with a laugh and a roll of her eyes. When Reyna spoke up, she was admittedly surprise that Divya had been the one that Reyna picked. Actually, she was surprised she'd picked anybody at all. "Poor Divya," she teased Divya at Reyna's expense, jumping on the opportunity to get one back at the other girl. Then Joss took a moment to observe the other girls, one by one with Reyna's comment in mind. Shane was the kind of girl she'd purposely trip over on the soccer pitch and then pretend to be so sorry about it as soon as the other girl fell. Cora was the kind of girl she and her friends made fun of on the train and yelled at when they walked past in uniform in the Melbourne Central food court. Jenny was an odd ball, she imagined her friends making up some sort of rumor about Jenny, about how they collected other girls hair from their desks, and stuffed it into their blazer pocket on the way out of class. Cherry was the type of girl she wanted desperately to impress. She was kind of a cunt, she wasn't making things any easier for the other girls and still, Joss wanted her approval so bloody badly, it was tragic. Cloggy spoke for herself.
Shane shane just shrugged when divya tried to push more, not wanting to reveal too much about her personal life to a bunch of girls she didn't even know. thankfully everyone moved on, shooting a pointed attack at joss, shane couldn't help but smile to herself. it was nice to see someone who thought they sat on a pedestal above everyone else get knocked down a few pegs. joss was defnietly one of the girls shane would have gotten into a fight with back home and since she's never been in a fist fight, shane probably would have won. reyna was right though, she probably wouldn't have talked to any of them in real life. maybe jenny if they would have crossed paths on the subway or something. but even then, they lived in the same city and never crossed paths before now. "not gonna lie, i probably would have ignored most of you if we actually made it to the retreat." maybe not everyone, but most.
Divya Divya had to agree with Joss: they were bonding, in a strange way. It may have not been at the retreat or during the luau dinner the itinerary said they'd be having but it was still bonding. Sort of. They were talking, making playful jabs at each other, and playing a game. That was bonding, right? Both Reyna and Shane's honesty about ignoring most if not all of them had they made it to the retreat had Divya's mouth falling open. "Wait," she said to the group, holding her hands out. Perhaps the 2 sips she took was already taking some kind of effect on her because she was rather comfortable making that bold gesture. "So does that mean if I asked you all to play a round of UNO at the retreat, you lot would have pied me off?" Because that was clearly the most important thing for her to know at the moment.
Reyna she couldn't think of anything worse than sitting somewhere made for human habitation and playing a game of UNO. it didn't even sound better than this. weirdly, she was glad that they were sitting peacefully and not lord-of-the-fliesing each other. although she'd keep an eye in shane just in case, she seemed most likely to turn first. "never have i ever felt genuine joy at the thought of a game of UNO."
Divya Divya let her hands fall to her lap and rolled her eyes at Reyna's Never Have I Ever. "Oh c'mon, man." She shook her head before reaching over to take one of the miniatures. "I'm starting you all have just never played a good game of UNO. It's so fun." At this point, she was sure of she was trying to convince the circle or herself. Nevertheless, she took a tiny swig of the bottle. This one was the same green one she had the first go around and it tasted just as bad as when she first had it. She tried Cora's tip to help alleviate the burn but she was starting to think she wasn't doing it right because it didn't help her at all. She screwed the cap back on the bottle and tossed it back in the pile. "Okay, never have I ever... pissed my pants," she finished. "There you go. Notice how I'm not having a go at anyone with that." She gave Reyna a playful shake of her head before laughing a little.
Joss There was no reason for Jocelyn to drink at the mention of UNO. When she thought of UNO she thought of beach houses without wi-fi or school camps but never of genuine joy. She simply shook her head with a laugh as Divya continued to defend the card game, "-are you getting commission for selling us on it or something?" she teased, though it was starting to sound like the girl did have a stake in UNO, other than here mere pride. At Divya's follow up, Jocelyn straightened her posture, attempting to look dignified in an otherwise fairly undignified situation. Without a word, she picked up a bottle and took it to her lips, disguising a coy smile as she took a sip.
Reyna reyna was hoping to have an excuse to drink. she was even debating fabricating a story all about how she had wet herself once - did being a literal baby count? but her eyes narrowed on joss and she snorted, leaning back on the palms of her hands. "this has got to be good. what's the story, blondie?"
Shane shane couldn't help but laugh at how intense divya felt about UNO. she herself was never a big fan of games like that so she didn't need to take a drink this time. but once the next round came, shane reached for a bottle, only to see joss taking one for herself. her eyebrow raised as they both took a drink. "not something i'd expect from someone like you," she teased the blonde.
Joss Joss couldn't help but laugh at the attention her response had garnered but instead of offering something witty in response while the alcohol was still searing her esophagus, she just held her middle finger up, offering it to Reyna and then to Shane. "Someone like me, hey? Honestly not sure I even wanna know what that means," she mused, though she absolutely wanted to know what it meant and with the addition of more alcohol in her system, she'd likely end up prying for a decent answer. She chuckled and shrugged her shoulders, "Look, it's really not that exciting," she primed, "I mean, unless you're into that sorta thing, I mean, I won't judge you too harshly," she added, the comment directed at Reyna as a smirk grew on her face. "So, one time I wet my pants at school- then I purposely knocked over the fish bowl in my classroom and blamed it on that- I was like five or six," she confessed, "Then...I wet my pants laughing at the Westfield, bought new jeans and left my old wee jeans in a change room," she felt worse about the poor bastard that had found the jeans than she did about the fish, "- then a little bit laughing in a sleeping bag I was sharing with a mate on school camp, drunk at a pajama party because my friend tied her PJ shorts too tight and couldn't get out of them- maybe I just have more fun then you guys do," she suggested in an effort to defend herself or perhaps to defend her bladder.
Shane shane returned the middle finger to jocelyn but with a smile on her lips. as much as they kept butting heads, she didn't actually mind the other soccer captain. they probably still wouldn't have been friends in the real world, but the more shane learned about her, the more she realized they had in common. "wouldn't you like to know," she teased back at her. she tried her best to not laugh at joss' reasons for peeing herself, just happy she wasn't asked to explain herself as well.
Divya Imagine Divya’s surprise when she learned that out of all of the girls on the island, Joss was the first to admit she’d peed herself. Her mouth hung agape. She didn’t count the first one because well, Joss mentioned she was five or six. Accidents happen and all. But God, how did she pee herself laughing twice when she was older? Divya never thought having a good control of her bladder was something she’d be proud of herself for. “Why did you leave your wee jeans in the changing roooom?” Divya whined, shaking her head at the thought of someone finding it. “Mate, you could have at least put it in a bag and gotten rid of it yourself. The poor person who found those." She pulled her lips into a pout at the thought of whoever was working that changing room that day.
Joss Jocelyn's tongue ran along the contours of her molars as she tried to decode what Shane might have meant by her words. Was it something good? Something bad? A combination? "As if I care what you think," she passed off casually,  though she had been prone to caring far, far too much what others thought of her for as long as she could remember now.  She chuckled at Divya's dismay, though it was fair enough, "Gross- they make you do that when you wet your undies in primary school, I would have looked like such a dick head- we had more shopping to do," she insisted, though it wasn't a good excuse by any stretch of the imagine. "So what- none of you have laughed so hard a little bit of wee has come out? Bullshit- surely, that's bullshit," she insisted, finding it difficult to believe that her friends were so funny that it was an uncommon experience.
Shane "i think you care a lot about what i think," shane shot back at joss. considering how they keep going back and forth with butting heads, she was picking up the vibe that jocelyn cared far too much about things. why else would she keep flashing around her captain jumper? if she wanted people to see her as the leader of the group, she would just do things instead of trying to prove it. shane wasn't the one trying to prove anything. "i think that's just you, maybe you should get your small bladder checked out when we get rescued. might be something wrong there." she said as if she hasn't pissed herself in public before.
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snippydippy · 4 years
Text
Whoops cringe culture is dead and I wrote a Hazbin fan-fic excerpt.
I mean, technically I wrote it back in November, but whatever. Am I embarrassing myself? Probably. Do I care? Marginally. Will I get over it if I just drink? Absolutely. Like what you like, cringe culture is dumb.
Description of hotel layout might be inaccurate, I hadn’t actually looked at the correct layouts for the place until after (thanks VRchat). Oh well. Also a little long for an excerpt but oh well!
———-
Leanne had died recently. Just about a year ago on the day if her tracking of time could be trusted. It was nearly impossible to tell how many hours, days, or weeks had gone by down in Hell. There was no day or night. Just the perpetual, sinister red glow of the pentagram symbol carved into the rock sky that encased every sinner inside this final destination.
Her tracking of time was rough, but she did suspect a year. A year of unending misery, anger, and confusion.
Leanne didn’t understand why she was dammed here. She died young, barely 21, due to circumstances she herself wasn’t ready to face quite yet. Thinking about it made things worse. Her death was an accident, and that’s all she felt comfortable telling others and herself.
She had truly believed herself a good person in life. Sure, she swore like a sailor, and perhaps told a few small lies in her years, but who hadn’t? She had never done anything with the intention of hurting anyone. Never done anything heinous enough to deserve...This. Sharing an afterlife with ruthless thieves, pedophiles, and murderers.
She often tried to cope by telling herself that the criteria for heaven was just impossibly strict. No one got in up there. One must have had to be a perfect cherub who never left their home from birth to make it on that list. Surely. Obviously. There was no other explanation.
Leanne heard about the Happy Hotel on the news like everyone else. She had been sitting at a bar with a mysterious substance in her glass for two hours, not taking a single sip. She would never choose to drink whatever liquid it was they poured into these mugs. She simply didn’t have anywhere else to go that felt any safer. A bar was neutral ground for demons and sinners. No turf wars happened here. You couldn’t die in hell, but you sure could feel everything, so she had been careful to avoid fights.
The idea of the hotel seemed ridiculous, an idea reaffirmed by the laughter that filled the building after the Princess of Hell, Charlie, had given her foolishly passionate speech. A place sinners could go to better themselves? A second chance at redemption? Yeah, right. No one got second chances down here. Your one and only chance was the life you lived. How ridiculous. How absolutely insane. Impossible! Leanne thought all of these things as she hurriedly paid for her drink with the pocket change she had, gathered her tattered coat, and headed for the door.
It could never work. You didn’t leave hell once you got here. There was no way. But...maybe. Just maybe. Leanne didn’t belong here anyway, right? So going through this “program” at the Happy Hotel could actually (but probably not) make things right. She could explain to her majesty that there had simply been a mistake anyway, so staying at the hotel would just be a formality until it was all resolved. That’s exactly what would happen once she arrived. It would have to.
———
Leanne’s doubt only grew the closer she got to the hotel itself. On her way, she had passed by a group of Demons huddled by a radio, listening as closely as they could to the static ridden channel. It seemed the Princess had more to deal with than folks around here laughing at her ideals. She had gotten into a fight with Katie Killjoy, the news anchor on the station. It had started with what sounded like more laughter at her idea, then yelling, then what could only be the sounds of a smack-down.
Leanne drew in a deep breath, let it out with a grimace, and kept walking. It would probably take her a while still to reach the building. Two days, maybe more, but it’s not like she had anywhere else to be.
———————-
When she arrived at the towering building, she was both surprised at its sheer size and confused with the sign alight on top. The bright bulbs held up by wooden frames read “Hazbin Hotel”. Leanne could’ve sworn Princess Charlie had said it was called the Happy Hotel.
She glanced in all directions to see if she had missed anything. Though, based on the fact that this was the only building standing for miles of this size, and the only hotel she knew of that existed in Hell in general, she had to assume she had the right place.
Once she walked up to the front doors, Leanne’s hesitations nearly took over her. Behind those doors, decorated with stained-glass images of apples, was either the solution to all her woes, or the confirmation that she had, in fact, been sent to the right place. And that there was nothing anyone could do about it. Proof that she belonged in Hell.
She touched the golden handle with a hand that had once been human. She closed her eyes, hating being reminded of what her body was now. Her once delicate hands with smooth, human skin had turned into a dark blue, scaled and clawed nightmare. Spreading across her temples now were the same colored scales, and right above her ears now sat a pair of wicked, black spiraled horns. Her nose that she had hated so much in life now looked more akin to a bear’s. Her skin that had once been a healthy tan, now a dull grey, lifeless in hue. A long and thick lizard like tail nervously swished behind her. Even though Leanne was a beast, she supposed she had been more fortunate than others. Most of the dead down here you’d hardly recognize as anything that had ever been human. At least Leanne got to keep her basic human shape.
Enough thinking. Leanne pushed open the door and was met by the smell of an old floral perfume and the sound of a charming tune playing on a piano somewhere deep within. She had stepped inside and waited to hear the door click behind her before opening her eyes once more.
Once she did, Leanne was amazed, frozen in shock for a moment. The place was impossibly clean, practically immaculate. Not a single spec of dust, cobweb, or splatter of blood in sight. The long hallway in front of her seemed to stretch on for half a mile, painted comforting shades of deep red with gold trimming. It was far too nice to be a place in Hell. Leanne even noticed how the temperature was the most comfortable she had felt since she died. Warm enough that she could take her coat off, but cool enough that she wouldn’t sweat with it on.
Dozens of portraits of Princess Charlie, her family, and their associates covered the halls. Leanne stepped over to a painting of who she assumed was Charlie’s father. The name etched into the wood frame at the bottom read “Lucifer~1789”. He looked friendly enough for the ruler of hell. Very pale skin, deceptively rosey cheeks complimenting a charming smile, well coiffed blonde hair, and deep black eyes. He looked so much like the images Leanne had seen of Charlie.
She moved on from the picture, searching for any kind of check-in desk, not quite brave enough to call out for assistance. The first opening to her left thankfully read “Concierge” above the open door frame.
Inside the room were a few old, but comfortable looking chairs that sat empty strewn about, a fire place to the left radiating a calming glow, and at the far end of the room was the concierge desk. Three deer skulls hung on the wall above the desk’s canopy, and below them three signs that struck Leanne as very odd. The middle read “Welcome!” while the two on either side read “Gambling!” and “Booze!”. Wasn’t this place supposed to be about avoiding sin? Maybe they were just a gag.
Leanne couldn’t see anyone at the desk. She saw a silver call bell and instinctively went to ring it, her hand stopping to hover over it. She suddenly thought about bailing right then. There was no guarantee that this place could help her. No knowing for sure if the Princess was even really looking to help anyone. She could just be looking for souls to collect. This whole thing could be a trap-
Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the bell she had tapped without realizing. She heard an annoyed groan from underneath the counter.
“Fuck, what? I already wiped down the god damn counter.” A demon with a husky voice pulled himself to a standing position to face Leanne. He looked like some sort of cat and owl hybrid. Mostly grey fur with a white face and chest. He had large eyes with dark red scleras and yellow irises, long red eyebrows that extended off his face on either side, an amusing heart shaped nose, and lovely red wings protruding from his back that had what appeared to be card suit markings along some of the feathers. Between his two tall and slender feline ears sat a top-hat of equal height, and a black bow tie rested in the fluff of his chest. He looked at Leanne for a moment in confusion. She couldn’t find the nerve to say anything. He croaked out, “Well, you’re not my boss. You here to check in?”
Leanne felt her tail nervously wrap around her waist as she fiddled with her hands at her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead only quietly cleared her throat and nodded.
The cat-owl demon raised an eyebrow at her before producing a clipboard and pen from the drawer in front of him, “I’m gonna need your name first, lady.”
“Uh..I-It’s, um..Lee. Leanne.” As the man started writing her name down on the paper, Leanne’s head suddenly exploded with questions.
Wait! How does this all work? Was she going to need to tell him how she died? Confess her sins? Would there be some kind of test to see if she could stay? She remembered she had no money. How was she going to pay for this? Had she thought anything through at all!?
Just as Leanne sucked in a panicked breath to tell the other demon to wait, both of them jerked their head towards the sound of a squeal in the doorway. A young girl stood there wearing a white button up shirt with black suspenders, and a smile Leanne thought didn’t belong down here. She was very pale, with beautiful rosey cheeks complimenting a radiant smile, long and well kept blonde hair, and deep black eyes.
Princess Charlie rushed over to Leanne in the blink of an eye. She practically bounced as she spoke, taking Leanne’s hands in her own, “Are you checking in?? Please say yes!”
“Y-yes! Uh, I mean..I-I think so? I would like to?” Leanne bit the inside of her cheek. She’d ramble on forever if she didn’t get a grip, “I-Um. I just have a few questions.”
“Of course! Whatever you need we are here to help with!” Charlie let go of Leanne’s hands and snatched the clip board and pen from the other demon. He grumbled, but didn’t seem too bothered to have his job done by someone else. “What was your name?”
Charlie’s infectious positivity made it impossible for Leanne not to give the faintest of grins, “It’s Leanne, your..majesty? Highness? Princess?” Leanne had no idea how to address royalty of such a place as Hell. It didn’t help that Charlie seemed so different than what she reasonably should be.
The demon princess laughed without a hint of malice, “Just Charlie is fine, Leanne.”
Charlie was madly writing unknown information down on the clip board, and Leanne couldn’t help but notice the other demon eyeing her suspiciously. She tried not to make eye contact, just wishing for Charlie to talk again.
“Okay! Since you are one of our first patrons,” her voice shifted into a sing-song tone, the friendliness a sound Leanne didn’t know she had been craving until this moment, “I put you in one of our sweets!~ Room 331.”
“U-Uh, sorry, but I don’t have any money.” Leanne pulled her hands back to her chest, her tail tightening ever so slightly. She laughed joylessly, “I didn’t really come prepared for this, I guess.”
Charlie tucked the clipboard underneath one arm and took Leanne’s arm in the other, “Well then it’s a good thing you don’t have to pay for this! Husk, hand me her keys please?”
The husky voiced demon who now had a name went to the wall of keys behind him to find 331, tossing them to Charlie when he did.
Leanne was about to speak when Charlie tugged her along to the doorway and out into the hallway. The princess was pulling her toward the sound of the piano, “You’re going to LOVE it here! I’m so happy that my little, ahem, argument issue on the news didn’t keep you away!”
“Right.” Leanne didn’t have the heart to tell her it almost did. “S-So, uh, the questions that I had?..mainly about how I pay for this-“
Charlie held up a hand to silence Leanne, letting go of her arm to lead rather than pull, “You don’t! As long as you are showing progress towards your goal of redemption, you don’t owe anything! Just keep showing us your best behavior! Sound fair to you?”
“Sure,” Leanne tried to sound trusting, smiling the best she could remember how to, “Sounds fair.”
They had finally reached the source of the piano music. It was coming from behind two heavy doors with ‘Ballroom’ written on a sign above them. Along with the instrument, a voice could now be heard. It sounded as though someone was listening to an old 1930s radio host singing a song while playing along to it.
“I’m going to introduce you to my co-manager. He’ll be excited to see we have a second patron!” Charlie sang and pushed the doors open while Leanne thought about how there were only two guests in this ginormous place.
“Alastor, we have a new guest!”
The music stopped abruptly as Charlie spoke, and the one playing the piano stood from the bench and turned towards the two she-demons.
Leanne was terrified of him. Instantly and morbidly. Something about him sent a sub-zero chill down her spin that then went cascading out through her limbs. Her hands felt numb, her mouth felt dry, her head swimming. It was not unlike the feeling right before you wake from a terrible, horrific nightmare. Her tail coiled back around her waist as she tried to calm herself
Alastor was very tall, handsome, and incredibly thin. He wore a deep red pinstriped suit with a black tie in the shape of an upside down cross. His hair was shaggy, red on the top with a line of black around the bottom. Atop the Demon’s head were two small deer antlers, along with two tall tufts of hair that looked like they could be deer ears, matching red with the rest of his hair and tipped black on top.
His eyes were huge, dark red sclera with light red irises. His smile was even bigger, sharp yellow teeth stretching sinister from ear to ear. His skin was a grey similar in dullness to her own. He adjusted the monocle in front of his right eye as he looked over Leanne. His eyes glowed dimly.
Alastor suddenly threw his arms up in an exaggerated show of glee, “That’s wonderful news, my dear!”
His voice was the host Leanne thought she’d heard before. The demon spoke with a transatlantic accent, and it sounded as if there were an old radio transmitter in his throat. “The more the merrier as they say!”
He stepped forward, the sound of tap dance shoes clacking against the floor accompanying his footfalls. Leanne wanted to run away from him. Her mind was screaming at her to leave, forget this whole idea, and never come back. However, her body wouldn’t cooperate and Alastor had an arm around her and Charlie’s shoulders before she could do anything anyway, “We’re so delighted to have you, sweetheart! This place has been so very dull lately with just the few of us mucking about!”
He seemed friendly enough, so what was it about him that made Leanne’s heart feel like it was going to pound out of her chest? She hated him. His energy felt...bad. Wrong. Dangerous. She’d never felt worse about anyone, and that included the other demons she’d met down here. Her hands had gone from numb to sweaty, and yet she felt terribly cold now. This fear was all consuming, and it was touching her shoulders.
“So, what’s your name, mystery doll?” He tilted his head in the most uncanny way, staring down at her with sharp teeth and eyes unblinking.
Leanne’s tongue felt like a lead brick in her mouth, “I..uh...I-It’s-I’m, uh-“
Charlie gave a concerned chuckle, “Her name is Leanne.” She slipped out from under Alastor’s arm and gently touched the other girl’s shoulder, “Are you okay?”
Leanne was thankful to look at Charlie instead of him, and even more so to feel Alastor’s arm drop away from her as he took a step away.
“Y-Yes. Sorry. I’m just..” She glanced at Alastor, and instantly regretted it. His eyes were focused hard on her, his grin wide and full of teeth. Leanne could tell he knew she was feeling this way, “I just, um, g-get nervous around new people. That’s..that’s all.”
Charlie opened her mouth, but Alastor boomed over her, “Well that’s perfectly fine, sweetheart! I was being rude anyway. My name is Alastor, and I’m the co-manager of this fine establishment! I’m sure being here long enough will help you burst right out of that pretty shell of yours!”
“Yes it will!” Charlie clapped her hands together with a little hop, “We have so many activities planned for everyone who comes to stay here! Ice breakers, games, classes, you’ll never be bored and you’ll never not have people to talk to!”
“Assuming more folks do come by, of course!” Alastor added smugly, causing Charlie to shoot him a look.
“More will come, Al. Have a little bit of faith.” She walked passed Leanne to the door way, “If you follow me now, Leanne, I can show you to your room!”
“O-Okay.” She didn’t need to be told twice, grateful to get away from that radio-voiced Demon. She went to follow the princess out the door.
“I can already tell by looking at you, dear.” Alastor started, causing Leanne to stop for a moment. She wouldn’t look back at him. The static in his voice cleared as he spoke, “You’re going to be a very entertaining guest.”
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covrtofnightmares · 3 years
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u gonna need a bucket and a mop for this WAR (wet ass Raymond)
“Did someone mention war?” Henryk managed, snatching the letter off the table and scanning its contents. There was no sender or return address, and he couldn’t say he recognized the handwriting, but there was nothing to glean from its contents. Nothing except... “What the fuck is a Raymond?”
“And why is he wet?” Carter asked, his brows furrowed together in confusion. He stood in the corner of the room, mindlessly flipping through the books on the shelf of Henryk’s office. He opened one and glanced at the Spring Court’s War General, indicating the book’s contents. “This one is just pictures? Do you not know how to read?” He flipped to a page that illustrated a couple of faeries engaged in what could only be described as a pretzel twist. His furrowed brows deepened their crease, and it wasn’t until he turned the book 180 degrees that he saw how the position worked. “Oh, I see. It’s porn.”
“I could give you a few reasons why he’d be wet,” Laurent answered in a purr, plucking the paper directly out of Henryk’s hands to glance at the contents. His lips split into a grin, a delighted, almost sinister laugh escaping his lips as he finished the acronym. “This is actually a tad funny, I might borrow it one day.”
“Is that why you dragged me here? To look at a piece of paper?” Lucien deadpanned, his gaze hardening on his older brother. Laurent nodded simply, flapping the letter around in his hand as the Wolf King glowered ta him. “So all of that talk about there being an impending threat on the Wild Hunt was just....?”
“A lie, yes. You do remember those, don’t you? You might have heard them a few times in bed.” Laurent answered brightly. Carter had to surge forward and hold Lucien back from pummeling his brother in the face as Alexander reached between the two and snatched the paper away.
“’A Raymond’ is mine, you pixie bastards, back off,” Alexander growled, scanning the contents of the letter and trying to assess if there was a threat on Raymond’s life. He blinked, slowly, his gaze lifting as he met the others in the room. “This is...written in Raymond’s handwriting. To himself.” Henryk stopped fiddling with the stress ball on his desk and Lucien and Laurent stopped fighting long enough to glance at Alex, confusion clouding all of their features, before they all turned to the corner, where Gabriel Beaumont was comfortably sitting in a plush armchair, idly flipping through a novel. He held a glass of wine in his hands, taking a slow, languid sip as lightning flashed somewhere in the background, illuminating the shadowy sector of the room the King of Nightmares was holed up in.
“What?” Gabriel asked, glancing up from his book briefly to meet their gazes. “Am I supposed to have an opinion in all of this? Frankly, I don’t care.” Lightning flashed again, this time followed by thunder, but only illuminating where Gabriel sat.
“How does he always do that?” Henryk asked at last.
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flashflashitsash · 4 years
Text
Becoming Parents 7
Ao3
1 ... 6 / 8 or Master List
3 Months In (Part 1)
Marinette stood beaming in front of the mirror. She had just finished her dress for the announcement dinner she’d planned for their close friends. It was light grey with a sweetheart neckline. The bodice was fitted, but it became flowy as it got closer to her waist. And of course, she had matching hair ribbons. Tonight she would be proudly showing off her growing bump.
She'd invited everyone close to them. The guest list included Alya, Nino, Chloe, and several other friends they’d kept in contact with over the years. (This group mainly consisted of those who held a miraculous.)
“I can’t believe today’s the day!” Marinette giggled, looking back at Adrien.
He snuck up behind her, snaked his arms around her waist, placed a hand on her small bump, and caressed it lightly with his thumb.
“I know! All three of us have been trying to hide from everyone for a few weeks now." He kissed her cheek and looked down at her dress. “You’re going to look beautiful."
She blushed at his compliment.
“I haven’t even told Alya! She’s going to freak!" she giggled, jumping on her toes in his embrace.
“Wow, I’m impressed." He smiled at his wife. “To be honest, I always thought you’d tell her before me." He chuckled.
“Oh, Minou, I love Alya, but I’d never do that to you. I know how much we both wanted a family, especially you.” She stood on her tip-toes and allowed their noses touch.
He squeezed his eyes shut to keep tears from falling. “I love you so much.“
“I love you, too, but it’s been hard to keep this from her.” Marinette bit her lip and set down her dress.
“Alya knows when anything is slightly off with me. Especially lately now that I'm wearing bigger shirts and flowy skirts. She's used to seeing me in pencil skirts.” She huffed and scrunched her nose. “They don’t fit anymore, and when we go shopping, I keep refusing to share a dressing room with her. I have no doubt that she’s either figured it out and hasn’t said anything yet or that she’s suspicious."
She took a seat and chuckled.
“OH! And let’s not forget the fact that I've been avoiding restaurants that serve alcohol!” Marinette threw her hands in the air. “That's been a nightmare. Alya loves her wine.”
Adrien laughed as he squatted down to her level. “I am almost certain that if Alya found out you were expecting, she’d either say something or she’d come over the next day demanding an “Auntie Alya” t-shirt.”
Marinette laughed and batted the hair away from her face. “Good thing I've already made it then, huh?” She got up, walked over to her trunk, and pulled out the pale red shirt.
“You never cease to amaze me, you know that?” He got up and walked over to her. "She’s going to be ecstatic."
“I hope so, but if she cries then I’m going to cry,” she sniffed, trying to keep tears from falling.
“How lucky are we to have so many people who love and support us ?” he beamed, cupping her face with his hands.
He rested his forehead on hers, pondering how not so long ago, he felt alone, trapped, and hopeless. He thought he’d end up alone. While he knew his father would be there, it would have just been a cold face to see every day.
Then Plagg showed up, along with Alya and Nino. And of course, he'd met his Lady, his Marinette. It was then that he discovered that he could be happy.
He thought back on how everyone he cared for pitched in on the day he proposed. It was perfectly imperfect.
*flashback*
Adrien fiddled with his fingers as he waited outside the jewelry store.
“I can’t believe I’m gonna do this". He bit his lip and looked down the sidewalk before using his phone to double-check with Nino that Alya was still coming.
“Kid, she loves you, and you love her. Everyone has been waiting for this moment." Plagg poked his head out of Adrien's coat and looked up at him with an annoyed expression.
“Ugh, Plagg!" Before he could make a snarky comment back, a finger tapped his shoulder, causing him to pause.
“Hey there, Goldilocks!" a familiar voice said behind him.
He let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, Alya!”
“What's up? You said we needed to go shopping?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, and I need us to do this in less than two hours because I told Marinette's parents that I needed to talk with them and then I need to go speak with my father and..." He stopped when Alya squealed.
“YOU'RE GOING TO PROPOSE!?!”
“SHHH! But yes...wait, how’d you know?” His head fell, hoping it wasn’t obvious to Marinette.
“You're going to speak with her parents, and you never talk to your Father unless you have to. Plus you're inviting me and only me to shop?" She smiled and patted his shoulder, understanding his distress.
“Don’t worry about Marinette. Your dad has her on a witch hunt for a certain kind of fabric. She’s checked out until she finds it." Alya laughed as his face un-scrunched.
“Thank God! Well not that she’s stressed but that she won’t catch on." He let out a deep breath. “So, what I had made for her has...” He opened the door and continued blabbing as they stepped into the jewelry store.
-
Tom and Sabine turned when they heard the bakery bell ding.
“Hi, Son!” Marinette's father called from the back end of the store.
“Hello, M. Dupain!” Adrien smiled as he bent over to give Sabine a hug.
“Hello, dear, how are you? You sounded stressed on the phone this morning,” she smiled, patting his back.
“Maybe we could talk upstairs?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
They closed the bakery for a little while. Lunch had just ended, so things were slow. They went to the living room, and they all sat down. Adrien bit his lip and felt his stomach turn.
“Alright, what did you want to talk to us about?” Tom smiled and placed an arm around Sabine.
“I-I...well, you both know Marinette and I have been together for a very long time now? It's been almost 7 years to be exact. We both love each other so much, and I care about her more than you can imagine...” He trailed off, realizing he was about to start babbling. He took a deep breath reaching into his pocket pulling out a small black box. “We both are very secure in our jobs now and well...I was hoping you’d give me your blessing to ask Marinette to marry me?”
He unveiled the small box in his hands. Sabine gasped and wiped a stray tear from her face.
Tom pulled Adrien into a bone-crushing hug. “Of course, you do, son!“
“Tom, put the boy down!” Sabine placed a hand on Tom's back as he set Adrien down.
“Thank you both..." He was cut off by his phone ringing. “ I-I have to go meet my father. I’ll be back to help with evening orders!”
Adrien ran towards the exit and waved before walking out the door.
“Don’t worry about it, son! Go make my daughter's night!" Tom called out, smiling and wrapping an arm around Sabine. “Our little girl is going to get married.” He sniffed, and Sabine wiped away a stray tear.
-
“Natalie, is Adrien here yet? “ Gabriel stepped out of his office and looked down at her.
“No, sir. He called and said he would be here in a moment.” She went back to fiddling with her tablet.
“Ugh, always late-"
“I’m here!” He chimed, rushing through the front doors.
“Quickly, Adrien, I’m very busy." Gabriel turned and walked back into his office, Adrien following in tow.
“Yes, Father. I’m sorry I’m late. I just came from the bakery, and..."
“Ahh, your girlfriend's family bakery, yes?”
Adrien nodded. He began to rub his arm and sway back and forth. He began to wonder if he should sit down.
“What have you come to tell me? Also, sit down. All your fidgeting is going to make me feel dizzy" Gabriel gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
Adrien sat reluctantly and bounced his leg. “Well, Father, you know I’ve been with Marinette for a while now, and I-I know she’s an employee, but I don’t want this to change anything..."
“Adrien, you’re already dating her, and you’ve been dating her for years might I add. It hasn’t been a conflict of interest for a long time. It wasn't a problem when she applied for her position, and it's not an issue now." He fixed his glasses and leaned back in his big chair.
“Right..um, well I plan on proposing tonight..to...her." He hadn’t dared to meet his father's eyes yet. He was still worried that he'd say no.
“That’s wonderful."
Adrien looked up, shocked “What?”
“I said, that's wonderful, Adrien. I’m happy you’ve found someone you love and care about. I see the way you both look at one another. It reminds me of when your mother and I were young.”
For the first time in years, Adrien saw his father smile. “She loves you, no doubt."
Gabriel stood up, walked around his desk, and faced Adrien.
“I know this because every time I ask her to sketch up a male design, the male always happens to be you,” he teased, placing a hand on Adrien’s shoulder.
Adrien blushed and stood, as well. “ Thank you, Father."
Rather than their usual handshake, Adrien hugged his father. Gabriel simply patted his son's back in return.
Gabriel looked back at the photo of his wife on his desk as Adrien pulled away and met his gaze. “I know we don’t speak of her often, but I know she’s very proud of you Adrien.” He paused and once again moved behind his desk. “Now go. I have a wedding line to start thinking about.”
At a loss for words, Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat. “T-thank you, Father! Goodbye!”
On his way out of the room, Adrien bumped into a person carrying a pile of fabric. He quickly reached out and caught the woman
“I’m so sorry...hey, Lovebug!” He smiled when he realized it was Marinette.
“Hey, you! Wait...why are you here?” She cast him a worried look while she bent down to pick up the fabric. “Did something happen? Is your dad firing me? I was hoping I’d get a spot as one of the head designers. Ugh, I’m going to have to move, and..."
“Don't worry! It was just a quick meeting about a new line my father wants to design," he reassured, helping her up.
“A new line?! He didn’t tell me anything about that. What is it?”
He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Uhh...he didn’t exactly say what since he just thought of it. So don’t mention it yet.”
He mentally face-palmed when he realized that he almost let the cat out of the bag.
“Oh okay, we’re still going to dinner tonight right?” She smiled, moving loose strand from her bun to behind her ear.
“Of course, M’lady.” He kissed her forehead.
"Great! I finally found the fabric your father asked for.” She gestured to the mess of expensive limited silk in her hands.
“That's wonderful! I’ll let you get back to work. See you tonight!" He gave her a quick peck and left.
-
Adrien made it to the Eiffel Tower in time to help get the table and roses set up. He'd rented a violinist and had reserved a private table. The space was dimly lit with candles and a small overhead light.
“Alright, everything’s going perfectly!"
He made his way to an alley and transformed. He needed to get back to Marinette's apartment quickly so he could change his clothes.
After he snuck through the window she'd left open for him, Adrien tried to locate all the pieces of his outfit. He groaned when he discovered that his tie was missing.
“Plagg, did you take my tie again?” he huffed, looking up after checking under the bed.
“No, I did not. I learned my lesson last time," Plagg whined.
“Last time you used it as your own personal table and napkin." Adrien got up and checked another drawer.
“That was an accident."
“Was it?”
Plagg chuckled, knowing it wasn’t an accident. He did it just to mess with Adrien before his model contract meetings.
“FOUND IT!” Adrien exclaimed, pulling the tie out from under a pillow.
“Found what?”
He jumped upon hearing her voice. Then his jaw dropped when he saw her.
She was wearing a black, fitted dress with long lace sleeves that started past her shoulders and ended at her wrists. She also wore a skinny red belt and heels to match. She traded her work bun for a high ponytail, and, of course, she had two red ribbons that tied the look together.
“Do I look okay? I called Alya to help me pick out an outfit. I know you said fancy, but I wasn’t sure how fancy. And it’s not exactly warm out, so I wasn’t sure If should’ve worn pants or..." she was cut off by a pair of soft lips on hers.
Without hesitation, she smiled and kissed him back.
Adrien pulled back and allowed his lips to brush against hers while he spoke. “You look gorgeous. It’s perfect.” He pecked her lips one more time, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ready to go?”
She giggled. “You have red lipstick on your lips.”
Marinette smirked when she saw him turn red while she wiped the make-up off his lips. After she cleaned him up, they made their way to the restaurant.
Once there, he covered her eyes with a cloth and lead her up to their private table. Unfortunately, their table wound up not being so private. To Adrien's surprise, the room had been filled with people.
“We’re so sorry, M. Agreste. We will give you your wine free of charge. We’re over capacity downstairs." A man explained with panic lacing his voice.
From this brief interaction, Adrien assumed that his father had made a scene before under similar circumstances.
“It’s alright." He placed a hand on the man's shoulder to prove that it was okay.
“Adrien? Can I open my eyes now?” She lifted the cloth a bit but still kept her eyes shut.
“Yeah! Sorry." He removed the cloth and lead her over to their table...which was no longer dimly lit. (The candles had been taken away because having more people in the room meant that it was a fire hazard.)
“I’m so sorry, Marinette. This is not what I had planned,” He sighed, letting his head fall.
She squeezed his hand.
“It’s perfect,” she smiled, walking over to the table and plucking a rose from the only small bouquet that was left. “I love the roses.” She cupped his cheek, making him meet her eyes. “All I need for a perfect date night is you, Chaton."
He stared into her eyes. They were just so mesmerizingly blue. It was easy to get lost in them.
“I’m sorry. It was just a bit of a shock to see everything I set up suddenly looking different." He walked over to the table and pulled out her chair for her.
She sat down then looked up at him. “Well, I think it’s perfect."
Marinette then grabbed the menu and pondered what to get.
-
Soon, they had finished their plates and were waiting for dessert.
“Well, I’d like to make a small toast.” He lifted his wineglass towards her.
She gave him a small smile and searched his face.
Lifting her glass towards him, she asked curiously, “What are we celebrating?”
Before he could respond, they heard a commotion coming from the kitchen.
“Oh please, for the love of God,” Adrien grumbled.
He was starting to think that maybe he should get down on one knee sooner rather than later.
The black butterfly that flew over their heads beat him to it.
“Duty calls, Kitty,” she sighed, pulling off her heels.
“Hawkmoth has lousy timing." He loosened his tie while Marinette dragged him into the bathroom.
-
They went back to Adrien's apartment after the fight. Because they had to recharge during the battle, they were exhausted. Apparently, the main chef had been accused of sabotaging someone’s meal, and he'd gotten (understandably) upset.
“I’m so tired that I might just fall asleep in the shower," Marinette huffed, shuffling over to the two drawers filled with extra clothes for when she stayed over at Adrien's.
“Ugh, no kidding. Look at the bruises.” Adrien turned, gesturing to the backside of his hip.
She sighed and grabbed his hand. “We will get him one day. He’s getting weaker. I can feel it.”
He brought her hand up to his lips. “I know we will. Now, get your butt into the shower, and I’ll make us some tea."
He placed a kiss on her hand while simultaneously pulling the hair ribbons off of her ponytail. He smiled as he watched her hair fall down past her bare shoulders.
“And to think I was going to ask for company," she giggled, unbuttoning his shirt, “but..tea also sounds really nice.”
She bit her lip, letting go of his now unbuttoned shirt and trailing her fingertips down his bare chest.
“Oh, but tea can wait.” He smirked and unzipped the back of her dress, letting his fingers graze her back ever so slightly and relishing in the goosebumps it gave her.
“Nope! It can’t!” She laughed, holding up her dress, racing into his bathroom, and locking the door.
He groaned. “M’lady, no teasing!”
“Chamomile please!” She called from the other side of the door.
-
Adrien walked out of the bathroom to find Marinette going through his closet.
“What are ya looking for?” he laughed, drying off his hair.
She jumped and held her towel closer to her chest.
“A t-shirt. I don’t feel like wearing any of the PJs I have here." She blushed and looked away.
He pulled on his pajama pants and tossed her the shirt he was going to wear. “This one's really soft."
Catching it, she bounced on her toes and rubbed the soft fabric against her cheek. “Thank you, minou.” She let her towel fall and pulled on the shirt. Even though it was obviously too big, she liked it. She flopped on top of his bed and let out a muffled groan. “My body aches.”
He laughed and picked up his suit pants. He felt the blood rush away from his face as he felt the small box that was still in his pocket. He frowned a bit when he realized that he didn’t get the chance to ask at the restaurant.
“Are you okay?” She asked, making her way to the edge of the bed and grabbing his forearm gently.
He turned to her and smiled. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry our date got cut short."
He slid the box into his pajama pants and crawled into bed next to her.
As she laid down on her side, she watched him do the same. He faced her and propped his head up with his elbow.
“It’s okay. I had fun even though we were there for only a little while." She reached up and gently moved his hair out of his face.
He felt goosebumps form under her touch. He couldn’t help but look at her. She was so beautiful that it was almost intoxicating. Adrien knew he had it bad.
“I love you," he began, “I've loved you for years, and I love everything about you. Your smile, your laugh, and the way you stick your tongue out when you're focused on whatever you’re working on. I'm in love with the confidence you have with every step you take. I love the hope you have in any and every situation life throws at us, as both heroes and civilians. I love your eyes...god your eyes! I get lost in them at least twice a day. I love when you sneak up behind me just to hug me. I love your competitive side which I find wildly attractive and sexy. Marinette, I’m head over heels in love with you.”
She felt the blood rushing to her face, and she was close to looking like a tomato.
“A-Adrien...” She sat up next to him and watched in awe as he fumbled under the blankets.
He stood up and pulled her with him. They stood in the dark while moonlight tried to creep in through the semi-open curtains.
“I want to spend every day with you for the rest of my life," he blushed, feeling the butterflies in his stomach kick up his nerves.
When he pulled out the small black box, he heard her gasp. He dropped down to one knee and grabbed her hands.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he smiled, looking up at her and placing a quick kiss on her knuckles, ”you make me feel like the happiest and luckiest man on earth every day, and I want to make you feel the same every day until I die.” He sniffed and did his best to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. “Will you marry me?” He opened the box, showcasing the ring.
Marinette felt the tears roll down her face, each tear racing to see who would make it down first. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked down at the incredible man professing his love to her. The man who was asking her to marry him.
“ Y-yes! Of course, Adrien!” she choked out.
Adrien let go of the breath he’d been holding in. He got to his feet as tears started rolling down his own cheeks.
“Ah, now I’m crying!" He wiped his face and slid the ring onto her finger.
Marinette threw her arms around him and locked her lips with his.
*flashback over*
“Minou? Are you okay?” She reached up and wiped his face. “You’re crying." She frowned.
He opened his eyes. “It’s just hitting me that I never thought I could this content with my life. I have the best friends, the best support system I could ask for, and an amazing, beautiful wife. Heck, even my father is starting to turn around. I was so...alone, and now I'm living the life I never thought would happen. Sometimes it feels like a dream. Well, if it is, I never want to wake up." He chuckled. “I’m so grateful for you.” He nuzzled his face into her neck. “I thank my lucky stars every day that you chose me to be with. And now we're starting a family, and it's even more incredible than I ever thought it could be.”
She pulled him into a hug, tears brimming her eyes. “Oh, Adrien...I love you so much.”
Marinette squeezed him as much as she could while his grip tightened around her waist.
To be continued...
Big thanks to @gryffindorcls for betaing. She’s the cooliest.
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silver-dream89 · 5 years
Note
OT3, even numbers (but no deaths)
Lmao this is hilariously long and a mishmash of slight canon divergence to complete AU.  Thankee!!
2. Who’s the one to send the other “I love my gf/bf” memes
Jim sets his phone/hand terminal/communication device for whatever universe you’re imagining to send these silly cute sweet memes to Amos and Naomi every morning.  They make Naomi smile every time, something sweet to start the day with.  Amos is terrible about checking his messages but when he finally does he’ll respond with an emoji for each one ranging from heart eyes to eggplant.
4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love
Jim is the romantic of the three of them.  He loves romantic gestures - gifts, planning special dates, etc.  He loves holidays and birthdays and surprises and special gifts he spent a lot of time planning.  It took Naomi and Amos a long time to get used to it but they appreciate the effort.  Lol the only competition they have is who can get Naomi to come the most times huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu
6. What was their wedding like
Well, the proposal was a disaster because Naomi found the rings Jim bought before he’d ever even brought up even the idea of marriage let alone a wedding.  She flat told him no and a short separation ensued with Amos stuck in a strange middle.  Eventually Jim concedes that he wants to be with them more than he wants to get married.  Naomi opens up about her issues with marriage.  Amos is content with whatever as long as they’re all together.
They do eventually have a private ceremony on the beach at sunset.  Just the three of them exchanging words and rings.  A marriage certificate is never filed.
8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying
Amos rarely knows the right thing to say but he always offers an ear and a shoulder and his presence is grounding and a comfort.  Steady and calm.  He will give exactly what is asked for.
Naomi is a soothing voice and a cool hand on a sweaty forehead.  Words of comfort and understanding.  A hand to hold onto.
Jim is care and love.  Strong arms carrying them to a warm bath or wrapping in a blanket.  Fingers through hair and a warm cup of soup.
10. Which one stares at the other’s booty like “damn” and how does the other react when catching them
Before they all got together Amos teased the FUCK out of Naomi for crushing on Holden but “he does have a nice ass though.”  Jim will blush for days if he catches them staring but he will strut for them.  Naomi will twerk or do some other flirty dancing when she catches her boys staring.  Without even looking Amos knows when they’re staring and-“See something you like?”
12. What do their dates look like
Amos cooking dinner.  A tangled mess on the couch watching movies together.  Tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths.
A picnic at the park with food Naomi prepared.  Feeding the ducks.  Walking the trails holding hands.
14. Which one rolls over in the morning to wake up the other one just to give them a kiss
Heh, they don’t need to be awake to kiss them.  But whoever’s in the middle (a tie between Naomi and Holden) will wake the other two.  Soft kisses up the spine, nibbling on an ear, a warm “good morning” and a smile.
16. Does one have an interest the others think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless
It’s not an interest really.  But Amos really does have a lot of stories about the various horrible ways in which he’s witnessed people die.  It is both terrifying and fascinating.
17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images
Sorry, I read this one and thought it too hilarious to leave out.  We all know the answer to it.
18. Does one of them kinkshame the other
Nope.  Open minds, healthy communication, and willingness to try all around.
20. Say they were cuddling on the bed while listening to record player playing the background. Which song is playing?
Something instrumental similar to the tunes of The Civil Wars.  Fiddles and violins and banjos.  Mist on the Mountain by Geoffrey Castle.  Wading Deep Waters by the Crooked Still.  Waterbound by The Fretless.  Carry Me Home by the Sweeplings.  Not necessarily those songs but just those instrumental sounds.
22. What song do they listen to while going on a joyride
I’m just picking from my own joyride music lol.  Glitter and Gold, Barns Courtney.  Run Run Run, Kari Kimmel.  Take What’s Mine, Future Royalty. I Had Me A Girl, the Civil Wars.
24. Where would they vacation for a honeymoon
Let’s go the cliche route and say somewhere tropical with sandy beaches and fruity drinks.
26. Would they live in the city or the country
Canonically they live in outer space so-  In the AUs we have them in the country.  Open space, lots of privacy.
28. Are any of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope
Amos has CPTSD from severe childhood abuse.  Jim and Naomi don’t pry.  They don’t push him for what he can’t give emotionally.  They listen if he ever talks about it.  He thinks himself a monster but Naomi’s quick to assure him that she wouldn’t be with him if he was.  She’s been with a monster before.
Jim has PTSD from surviving a genocide and all the subsequent bullshit that followed.  Naomi’s there to hold him after nightmares, talk him through it.  Amos is there to anchor him.  He can see the cracks before anyone else and tries to alleviate the pressure before those cracks become scars.
Naomi has her own PTSD from an abusive ex lover.  The boys are patient and never expect more than she’s willing to give.  They just go out of their way to make her feel cherished.
30. Do they dance together
Yes.  Move some furniture around to make space.  Naomi puts on something fun and flowy and dances the night away with her boys.
32. Which one is better at cooking than the others and makes most the dinners
Each of them is good at different kinds of food.  Amos pastas and proteins.  Holden makes a mean breakfast skillet.  And Naomi the flavorful foods of her Belter roots.
34. Are they a reckless trio or safe
Well.  I don’t think they search out trouble so much as it’s always knocking on their door asking to sleep on their couch for a few days.
36. What would their valentines gifts be to each other
Jim would get Amos an expensive bottle of alcohol.  They’d all three share it that night and it’d be gone by morning.  For Naomi he’d spend forever trying to find the perfect card with the perfect words and a ring.  Not an engagement ring.  Not one a person can buy.  A ring crafted from the XO badge he got from the Cant that Amos helped him melt down and turn into a ring that she now wears on a chain around her neck.
For Naomi, Amos crafts a single rose from welded sheet metal and leaves it on her pillow (Jim helped him with the idea).  Jim receives a little metal windmill that sits on a shelf near their bed.  But vulnerability and intimacy is the best gift he’s ever trusted them with.  It takes him a very very very long time before he’s able to give that to them but it’s a gift they treasure.
Naomi gives Amos a coupon book of naughty favors she knows he likes. “One per night,” she winks at him.
After dinner, Naomi beckons Jim to the couch, a large book in her lap.  She leans against him and opens it.  It’s an album with pictures already in it of a little girl that looks like a young Naomi and other people that had to be her family.  She goes page by page, picture by picture sharing old memories.  When they’re done she hands him a box to unwrap.  Inside it he finds new blank pages to be filled and added.
38. Which ones top, bottom, verse
I don’t know if this is asking what positions they take or who’s in control so I guess I’ll answer both?  They are all most versatile with the positions although Amos gives more than he receives.  In terms of control, again Amos tends to be in control and letting go of it is not something he’s able to do for a very long time but, once he does, discovers that relinquishing it to those he trusts is its own unique pleasure.  Jim and Naomi are both comfortable being in control and letting someone else take the lead.
40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them
Lbr Amos is always ready to throw down lol.  But really none of them is gonna get goaded into a fight just to defend the others’ honor from some nobody jerkwad.  But if we’re talking something more significant than insults then each of them would absolutely go for the jugular.  Amos literally.
42. How would one react if the other was to die
I know you said no deaths so instead let’s make it how they would react if they thought the others were dead.
One of my favorite things we’ve talked about is Jim’s reaction to Murtry taunting him about Amos and after dealing with him going back and finding him in critical condition.  In CB Jim just fucking shoots Murtry.  It’s funny and it’s not.  Murtry is continuing to be a mouthy asshole and Jim just shoots him.  He’s done.  Murtry hurt, if not killed, someone he loves and Jim is just fucking done with this stupid game on this stupid hellplanet with stupid blinding rain, stupid death slugs, a stupid mega volcano, and no goddamn coffee.  And now you’re taunting him about killing Amos.  DONE.  He shoots Murtry (not fatally) drags his sorry carcas back to where Amos is and honestly how the fuck Amos survived being shot so many times is a mystery to me but anyway.  Finds him still alive.  Bloody and too many holes in him but alive.  And he and Elvi gotta get him out of that cave back to the cart and drive all the way back to the settlement.  And Jim is terrified the whole time.  Amos in and out of consciousness, Jim just holding him in his lap.  I realize this was a massive tangent but god I love it so so much.
Amos would hunt down every motherfucker involved and murder them.  No pleasure in it.  No taking it slow.  He’s never been that kind of killer.  Jim and Naomi might be alive but that heavy weight in his chest from knowing they’d nearly been taken from him and there’d been nothing he could do about it won’t fade for a long time.
Naomi would be similar but she’d do it Jim’s way.  Finding justice and holding those responsible accountable.
44. Do they want kids
Amos and Naomi are firmly in the No camp.  Jim imagined having kids once upon a time but he wants what he has more than he wants children and is content to let that dream go.
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popatochisssp · 5 years
Text
Hope for the Holidays
Sans is stuck in the past, even a whole year after reaching the surface with no more RESETs.
Maybe he could use a pep talk...or a Pap talk.
AO3 Link
I wrote this for the Undertale Secret Santa 2018! Pure Sans & Papyrus brotherly fluff. :3
It never got any easier.
Sans would’ve thought after about the millionth time it happened, he’d have gotten used to it, jolting awake in a cold sweat, his magic flaring as his soul was crushed by the overwhelming weight of panicked despair—fight-or-flight instincts sharpened by the horrible knowledge that it was all completely, utterly, terribly…
Useless.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, taking deep breaths and trying to quell his own rattling.
This had to stop.
It was over now…wasn’t it?
……His insistent nightmares disagreed.
Sans sighed, checking the clock next to the window—shades open, always open to the sky above the surface and its proof of an intact timeline—and he slumped in disappointment.
4:27 AM.
Too early for Grillby’s, too late to try going back to sleep, even for him.
There was only one thing to do.
-
Nothing calmed the nerves like a good, old-fashioned midnight snack, whether it was midnight or not…or whether any actual nerves were involved.
Sans was used to taking a quick shortcut down to kitchen for leftovers. It was a route he knew all the way down to his bones.
 …heh.
Silently digging through the fridge and cutlery drawer was old-hat, ignoring the lights and the microwave for stealth reasons easy and familiar.
The taste of the cold spaghetti he shoveled into his mouth with shaking hands, though…
That was different.
It was edible, for one thing, with barely any glitter in it. It actually tasted…pretty good, a triumph of all the hours Papyrus had spent up here watching cooking shows and stalking recipe blogs.
Hours that haven’t all been RESET back to nothing by a world-bending power a kid should’ve never had.
Sans was grateful for it.
He was happy for the way things had turned out, really, he was.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about what it took to get it, either.
All the failed attempts, the do-overs, the ‘what would happen if I…’s
(The times Sans had to watch his world fall apart because of a child swinging a little plastic knife.)
Frisk promised.
They swore it was over, all of it, never to happen again.
No more RESETs. This is the best ending.
So…why couldn’t Sans just…believe that?
After a year up top, free of the Underground, it seemed like the truth. Life was finally moving forward, linearly, after stars only knew how long it had looped and weaved and stopped dead before starting over somewhere else.
Everyone else was diving right into surface life, vacations, new jobs, new hobbies, new lives—and it felt like Sans was the only one who couldn’t trust it.
He’d spent so long wanting this exact thing but now that he had it, it didn’t even seem real.
Why bother with anything? It was all just going to…
Sans buried his face in his hands and shuddered.
He hated this. All of it.
He wanted it to be over. He wanted to trust it was over.
But he just felt…hopeless.
He didn’t even notice at first when the kitchen light flicked on.
“SANS?”
That, he noticed.
Sans straightened, scrambling to put an easy grin on his skull for his brother, who was frowning at him in the doorway.
“hey, Pap.” Good, that sounded casual. “what’re you doin’ up?”
Papyrus just scoffed. “YOU KNOW I DON’T SLEEP MUCH. I’M NOT A LAZYBONES LIKE YOU.” He narrowed his eye-sockets, suspiciously demanding, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP? THE SUN HASN’T EVEN RISEN YET!”
Oh, stars, the sun.
Sans was gonna miss that the most when everything got RESET again.
The thought was unexpectedly painful and Sans rushed to cover it.
“ah, y’know, thought maybe the sun had the light idea, gettin’ an early start to the day.”
Expectedly, Papyrus’ frown deepened at the barrage of jokes.
Unexpectedly…he didn’t take the bait.
“YOU LOOK TERRIBLE,” he said instead. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”
Sans laughed a little, hoping the nervous edge to it was only so noticeable to him.
He should’ve known a half-assed lie wouldn’t work on his bro—he was just too cool to fall for that.
A whole-assed lie, on the other hand…
Sans sighed, a little dramatically.
“alright,” he said, “alright, ya’ caught me. guess i am a little upset this mornin’…”
Papyrus finally came all the way into the room, browbones knit in concern. “CAN I HELP?”
“don’t worry about it, you already are.”
That just earned Sans a confused look.
Sans grinned, as infuriatingly wide as he could, waggling his forkful of pasta at his brother. “how can i be upsetti when i got your spaghetti?”
Papyrus scowled.
…But instead of throwing his arms up and stomping off in exasperation like he was supposed to, he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.
“YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY TRYING TO GET RID OF ME,” Papyrus deduced, “SO YOU MUST REALLY BE OUT OF SORTS AND TRYING TO HIDE IT FOR SOME STUPID REASON.”
Sans’ eye-sockets went wide. “what? no, i—”
“AND NOW YOU THINK DOUBLING DOWN IS GOING TO WORK LIKE I HAVEN’T KNOWN YOU LITERALLY MY ENTIRE LIFE AND CAN’T SEE YOU SWEATING.”
Ah, jeez, was he? “look, Pap, seriously, it’s—”
“‘NOT THAT BAD’?” Papyrus guessed, folding his arms over his chest. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY TO ME, EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE OUT OF BED BEFORE NOON AND I COULD HEAR YOU RATTLING EARLIER ALL THE WAY FROM MY ROOM?”
“……”
 damn.
“i just—”
Papyrus cut him off again. “THIS ISN’T THE FIRST TIME YOU HAD A BAD NIGHT, SANS. WE’RE GOING TO HAVE A CONVERSATION AND JOKES AREN’T GOING TO GET YOU OUT OF IT.”
Sans doesn’t even get his mouth all the way open before yet another warning.
“MEMES AREN’T GOING TO GET YOU OUT OF IT, EITHER.”
 ………damn.
Papyrus was just way too good.
Sans never stood a chance.
He wilted a little in his chair, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.
Pap obviously wasn’t about to be dissuaded now, but…where to even begin with the bullshit plaguing him now? For years at least, if his data on the RESETs had been even marginally accurate.
It was… It was a lot, but…
Well, hell.
Sans had to start somewhere.
“alright. okay. rhetorical question, then.”
“FINE,” Papyrus agreed. “A COMPLETELY RHETORICALLY, DEFINITELY NOT ABOUT YOU AT ALL SORT OF QUESTION.”
“…really not makin’ this easier, bro.”
Papyrus had the grace to look a teensy bit chastened. “YES, OF COURSE. PURELY RHETORICAL.”
Sans took a breath, a long moment to weigh his words.
“have ya’ ever just felt…stuck?” he wondered slowly. “like…like nothin’ matters an’ there’s no point doin’…anything ‘cause it’s just…nothin’s gonna change anyway, no matter what ya’ do?”
“YES. OFTEN.”
Sans’ head shot up in surprise. “wh… for…for real?”
Papyrus just looked at him, like he’d be rolling his eyes if he had any. “STARS, SANS, OF COURSE I HAVE. WE WERE TRAPPED UNDERGROUND FOR THE ENTIRETY OF OUR LIVES WITH MINIMAL HOPE OF ESCAPE, BARRING THE EXTREMELY RANDOM CHANCE THAT THE LAST HUMAN MIGHT FALL SOMETIME BEFORE WE DUSTED OF OLD AGE.”
“……oh. right.”
Funny how easily he’d just…forgotten about that.
…Maybe not easily.
“WE ALL FELT STUCK, SANS,” Papyrus continued, not unempathetically. “PROBABLY BECAUSE WE WERE. IT WAS SO…LIMITING DOWN THERE! I HAD SO MANY THINGS I WANTED TO DO THAT I THOUGHT WERE IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE LONGEST TIME… UNTIL THEY WEREN’T ANYMORE! I CAN LIVE ALL OF MY DREAMS, NOW!”
Sans followed the logic—they were free now, and if Papyrus could live his dreams, he could too!
Except…
Sans remembered some of those dreams Pap had mentioned: getting to drive down an open road for miles with no end in sight, fresh breezes, real sunlight…
Sure, he had all of those things now…but for how long?
“what if…what if you couldn’t, though?” Sans asked, fiddling with his fork. “what if one day, it was all just…gone? we were back underground, trapped all over again, an’…an’ nothin’ we did would make any difference?”
“THAT SOUNDS LIKE IT WOULD BE A HUGE BUMMER.”
The glib delivery startled a laugh out of Sans. For all that he was the comedian of the two of them, he’d never seen a better Straight Man than his brother.
Papyrus knew it, too, if the smug look he wore was any indication.
“WELL, IT’S OBVIOUS TO ME,” he proclaimed, “THAT YOU, DEAR BROTHER, ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF SOME VERY EXISTENTIAL PROFUNDITY.”
Sans couldn’t deny that. “yeah, pretty much.”
“IN THAT CASE! I WOULD LIKE TO OFFER YOU SOME ADVICE!”
“…heheheh…yeah?”
“YES!” Papyrus exclaimed. “I KNOW A THING OR TWO ABOUT KEEPING MY SPIRITS UP, EVEN WHEN PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING ELSE IS TERRIBLE. THERE’S A TRICK TO IT, SO YOU WON’T EVEN HAVE TO WORK VERY HARD—I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU HATE THAT. WOULD YOU LIKE TO HEAR IT?”
Couldn’t hurt…right?
“okay. lay it on me. what’s the trick?”
“MY AMAZING, FOOLPROOF, NEVER-FAIL TRICK TO STAYING POSITIVE……” Sans struggled to hold back a snicker at Papyrus’ suitably dramatic pause. “…IS REMEMBERING THAT NO MATTER WHAT, MY REALLY COOL BROTHER IS GOING TO BE THERE WITH ME! SO EVEN WHEN LIFE ISN’T PERFECT, IT’S STILL PRETTY DARN GOOD!”
Sans’ grin dropped.
“………”
It wasn’t often that he was rendered completely speechless.
But of course, if anyone could do it, it would be Papyrus.
And he wasn’t even done yet.
“YOU’RE ENOUGH, SANS,” he said, brooking no argument. “EVEN IF EVERYTHING SUCKS AND YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING TO FIX IT, YOU STILL MATTER. TO A LOT OF PEOPLE…BUT ESPECIALLY TO ME! SO IF YOU EVER NEED A PEP TALK…OR…OR JUST A REGULAR TALK…I’M HERE.”
……he was.
Papyrus was always there.
Even when the entire timeline uprooted and went back to the start, Papyrus was the very first thing Sans woke up to, kicking down his door for sleeping late instead of being at his sentry-post.
Even through the bad runs, Papyrus was there to hold things together when monsters were being dusted or spared all over the place and Sans drove himself crazy trying to guess a reason for which.
(And even…even when he wasn’t there, on the really bad runs…he kind of was still there, giving Sans something to focus on long enough to reach the Judgment Hall.)
Sans was dumbfounded for a few long moments.
How could he ever have forgotten that there was at least one constant, no matter how many RESETs there were?
Papyrus was always a real star, bright and shining.
Maybe Sans couldn’t believe yet that the RESETs were over, or that this peace on the surface world was something that could actually last.
But maybe…
Maybe he could believe in something else.
Sans shortcutted himself to the other side of the table and tugged Papyrus into a hug. His eye-sockets started to feel suspiciously wet, but he ignored it.
“bro…you’re the coolest.”
“NYEH-HEH-HEH, I KNOW!” Papyrus squeezed him back, standing and pulling him right up off the kitchen tile with the force of his hugging. “YOU RAISED ME THAT WAY! SO BY THE TRANSITIVE PROPERTY OF COOLNESS, YOU’RE PRETTY COOL, TOO!”
“not as cool as you.”
Papyrus scoffed. “OBVIOUSLY, BUT THAT’S AN IMPOSSIBLE STANDARD! OUR INTENSE, COMBINED RADICALNESS IS BLINDING NONETHELESS!”
Sans started to chuckle. “hey, maybe i oughta start sellin’ sunglasses. y’know, for the poor, unsuspecting saps we pass on the street.”
Papyrus pulled back, squinting at him. “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO START THAT UNLICENSED VENDORING STUFF UP AGAIN, ARE YOU?” he asked. “THAT’S ILLEGAL, YOU KNOW!”
“nah, i won’t, you’re right,” Sans relented. “that’d be pretty…shady of me, wouldn’t it?”
“…………”
Sans was unceremoniously dropped to the floor.
“I TAKE IT BACK,” Papyrus said, a surly look on his skull. “YOU’RE NOT COOL AT ALL—YOU’RE ACTUALLY THE WORST AND I’M DISOWNING YOU.”
Sans laughed, louder and more genuine than he had in…
Stars, how long had it been?
He didn’t think he could say for sure, but it felt good.
The kitchen was getting a little brighter, more light coming in from the window as the sun started to come up outside.
It gave Sans an impulsive thought, and for once, he actually felt like chasing it.
“hey, if i’m disowned, can i still hang out on your porch to watch the sunrise?”
Papyrus, already turning on his heel and feigning aloofness, replied, “TAKE A SCARF, IT’S CHILLY—AND NOT A WORD ABOUT THE COLD ‘GOING RIGHT THROUGH YOU,’ SANS, THAT’S NOT EVEN A JOKE, IT’S A FACTUAL STATEMENT! HAVE SOME PRIDE, PUT SOME EFFORT INTO YOUR WITTICISMS FOR ONCE!”
Sans headed to the coat-rack by the front door, tugging down a skull-print scarf—human fashion, go figure—and putting it on.
“pride?” he echoed in disbelief. “effort? jeez, Pap, who do you think you’re havin’ a conversation wit here?”
Sans didn’t have to wonder if Papyrus heard him all the way from the kitchen, because he heard exactly the sound he’d been hoping for in response: distant and begrudging laughter.
“…NYEH-HEH-HEH, DAMN IT, THAT ONE WAS ACTUALLY PRETTY GOOD. GO, ALREADY, OR YOU’RE GOING TO MISS THE PINK CLOUDS! THOSE ARE THE BEST PART!”
-
It wasn’t until Sans was actually outside, watching the winter sky light up like a watercolor painting, that he realized he had to disagree with Papyrus.
The pink clouds were pretty cool…but when his brother came out to bring him a fresh mug of coffee, dressed in his own signature scarf, Sans couldn’t help but think that the scarlet-orange streaks were way cooler.
Seeing that color up there in the sky…Sans was really starting to feel like he could do anything he wanted up here.
Like it might actually stick.
Watching the sun come up with his brother by his side, Sans was filled with hope.
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