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thetomorrowshow · 3 months ago

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Whumptober 5 - Sunburn

title: survive the sun

fandom: last life smp

cw: sunburn, heat exhaustion, vomiting

“Rules are rules. You can’t join the Reds unless you’re killed by a Red.”

Scott huffs, crosses his arms. “You weren’t killed by a Red.”

Joel shrugs. “I was the only one. I get to make the rules.”

“Was Grian killed by a Red?”

“I was killed by Joel,” Grian reminds him. “So it counts.”

Scott has the sneaking suspicion that they just made up this rule to exclude him. He can’t really remember how everyone else died (the last week or two are something of a blur), but he’s sure that some of them weren’t Red kills.

“Basically, if you want to join we have to kill you,” Grian says helpfully.

Well, that’s a problem.

“You can’t kill me,” Scott points out. “I’m already Red.”

Joel shrugs again. It’s clear that he doesn’t care at all about Scott’s status, Red or not. “Sorry. No deal.”

Scott looks toward Grian, raising an eyebrow. Grian doesn’t show any sign of give.

They’ll try to kill him if he isn’t allied with them. He’s a threat, now, and he has allies that will join him as soon as they turn Red. They’ll want to pick away their enemies as soon as possible.

“Well, I can’t let you kill me. Is there anything else I can do to . . . join you?”

Maybe if he acts like he wants to be on their side, they’ll accept him. They need more people in their two-man team. They need him.

“Sorry,” says Grian. “Rules are—”

“Wait,” Joel says suddenly.

Scott doesn’t like the look on his face as his eyes travel up and down Scott, something dark in his gaze.

After a moment, Joel turns, drags Grian by the arm with him several meters away. They whisper to each other for a long couple of minutes, occasionally glancing over at Scott.

Scott shuffles his feet, examines his nails. They’ll probably send him on some task, won’t they? Like what Etho gave to Bdubs. Off to kill a friend to prove his loyalty, or something like that. He can kill Martyn, or Ren, or someone. Someone who is his ally by convenience, not by choice. And either one of them is mellow enough to not begrudge him for it too much.

Eventually, Grian and Joel turn back to him. There’s a smile on Joel’s lips—wolfish, his teeth almost too sharp. It reminds Scott too much of Third Life, of his crusade against the Red King, of everything terrible that had happened just after.

“We need you to prove your loyalty,” Joel says, and they don’t give him a chance to change his mind before lunging for him.

Scott tugs a little at his wrists, testing the knots. They don’t give.

“We’ll be back at sundown,” Grian says, pulling tight the rope around Scott’s ankle. He stands, dusts his hands off on his trousers. “Comfortable?”

Scott glares at him. “Oh, yes. I’m so comfortable here, tied to these posts.”

Two posts, about a meter and a half between them. Scott’s wrists are tied to a pole each, same with his ankles. The binds aren’t too uncomfortable, all things considered—Grian knows how to tie a good knot. More uncomfortable is the fact that the only clothes he’s wearing is a pair of boxers, his pale chest on display, the tan lines on his forearms stark.

The sunlight is weak, the air still chill enough in the early morning to send goosebumps sprouting across his skin, his feet wet with the dew beneath them.

There are no trees in this field, just grass and the occasional flower. Nothing to shield him from the rising sun.

“Right, well, we’ll be back at sundown,” Joel says jovially, clapping Scott on the back. Scott grimaces at the feel of his rough hand against his bare skin, clenches his fingers into fists.

It won’t be too bad. He won’t die, at least. A good regen potion, maybe some fire resistance, and he’ll be good as new.

If he’d been given the choice, though, he would’ve elected to make an enemy of Joel and Grian over this fate. Avoiding them for the next week would be easier.

“Try not to get too busy,” Joel calls over his shoulder as he and Grian pick up Scott’s things. “Have fun!”

Then they both hurry off, leaving Scott alone.

He rolls his shoulders, straightens his stance. He can do this, easy. It’s temporary, anyhow. It’s—it’s hazing. That’s all it is, an exercise in hazing to prove that he belongs here, that he has a place among the Red names.

He should’ve just opted to wait for Pearl and Cleo to go Red, huh?

The sun rises. It’s already a bit warm on his back, and he shifts just slightly.

Hopefully it doesn’t get too hot today.

There’s no way to drink any water.

Scott realizes that about an hour in, and by hour three he’s desperate for something to drink. It’s hot out, hotter than he expected—probably the hottest it’s been all week, but that could be attributed to the utter lack of shade in his position.

The sun beats down on him mercilessly, more and more painful with every ray. Scott clenches and unclenches his fists, breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth.

He hasn’t had a sunburn in weeks, now. In the early days of the game, his nose and cheeks were dusted with a light pink burn, clear evidence of his living outside. He’d tanned, though, and built a house, and this world tended toward cloudy days, so he’d pretty well avoided any damage to his skin after that.

In comparison, this is torture.

His back hurts. It burns, pulsing agony from his neck to his waistband, and his legs are probably burning, too, but the pain is inconsequential compared to his back. It genuinely feels like it’s on fire—and Scott’s stumbled backward into lava a few too many times to not know what that feels like. It’s awful, it’s so bad that each breath leaves him in a wheeze as he tries to restrain his panic at being stuck in this pain.

It’s just for a day. Just for a day, then he can have potions and—and water, and food.

He needs water. He needs water, more than he needs to get out of the sun. He’s never had heatstroke—Jimmy got it, once, in that horrible desert, and Scott had spent all evening fanning him and pouring cool water on his body, coaxing health potions down his throat—and he doesn’t want to start today, but he’s afraid he won’t have a choice.

It’ll be bad if he gets heatstroke. The Red Names aren’t in any position to offer him the medical help he would need.

There isn’t anything he can do about it, though—there isn’t a way to power through and not get heatstroke if it’s too hot out. There isn’t any way to manifest the day being cooler.

He has to wait it out, or hope that someone finds him before the day ends.

The sun’s almost directly above Scott’s head (not quite, the brunt of it focused on the back of his neck and shoulders) when his knees try to buckle. He groans, his throat dry, forces himself to stay upright. It would strain his shoulders too much to try to kneel—he doesn’t think it would even be possible, with how closely tied to the posts his wrists are.

He’d kill for water. He’d even kill his own allies for water. Wait, he doesn’t have any allies. Perfect. Then nobody will be upset when he kills them for water.

Maybe they’ll take pity on him. Maybe Grian and Joel will come back early, realize that they’ll surely kill him by leaving him here all day.

They won’t come back. They told him that he could join them if he survived this—they may want him to die.

The burns are bad. The burns are really bad—he’s afraid that even with a health potion, they’ll scar until a respawn.

Scott grits his teeth. He isn’t going to die here. He won’t let himself die, no matter how bad the burns get, no matter how delirious he becomes.

At some point, the sun reaches its zenith. It’s enough of a relief to not have it directly on his back (though it is still on his shoulders) that he allows himself a moment of slumped stance, hanging down as far as his binds will allow him.

He can survive this. He will survive this.

His face, chest, and stomach take the full force of the sun for the next couple of hours, and that hurts like the absolute devil. He’s not sure he’s ever gotten a sunburn on his stomach, but it’s excruciating—the burn feels like it creeps into every fold of his skin, and he tries to stretch away from it but that only serves to expose more of his stomach.

The heat on his face makes everything worse. His cheeks flush under the burn, his lips cracked lips tremble, his eyes begin to ache.

Scott starts getting delirious around then, he thinks. He needs a drink of water, he needs to get away from the sun before his legs utterly give out, as many times as they’ve tried already (and each time he slips, he can’t bite back a hoarse cry as the pressure on his shoulders shoots up). Tears slip from his eyes when his knees buckle for the third time this hour, and Scott takes a moment to cry, his head hanging down.

The skin on his nose is peeling, his cheeks are on fire, but that doesn’t stop the tears running down them like daggers dragging their way through his skin. It’s only when he watches the third tear hit the grass that he remembers how badly he needs water, and how much more crying will dehydrate him.

He frantically tips his head back, trying to keep from crying, but his head tilted up puts his eyes staring into the sun and that just makes them water even further. Scott curses raspily, turns his head so that he can bury it into his reddened shoulder.

This is torture. This is literally torture. They’re torturing him for no reason, and he can’t escape it.

He can’t quite reach the ropes well enough to try and chew through them, but even if he managed it, what would he do? He’s practically naked, no tools or weapons or supplies. Joel and Grian are the only people allowed to help him. If they came by at sundown and found that he had freed himself, Scott has no doubts that they would kill him.

It’s hard to remember that this will ever end. There’s nothing but Scott and the sun and the heat, and his swollen tongue and burned skin and shaking limbs, and his scratchy throat and rope-burned wrists and too-dry eyes.

“I want to survive,” he croaks to nobody. There’s nobody, nothing. “I’m . . . I’m gonna win.”

The sun glares down at him accusingly. It’s right, he supposes.

How is he going to win when he can’t even survive the sun?

Scott’s barely conscious by the time Grian and Joel return, chatting idly, their armor clanking.

They don’t talk to Scott. Grian sets to work releasing him (every touch is dull fire against his skin) and Joel mutters on about fireworks and crossbows or something. Scott doesn’t listen. His ears hurt.

Grian unties his left side first, instead of his arms first or his legs. Scott isn’t sure why, other than perhaps it keeps him in something of a standing position while he works on the right arm.

He blinks slowly, captivated by the way the setting sun seems to make Grian’s hair glow. It even hurts to blink. His eyes are burnt just as red as the rest of him, he’s sure of it.

His very brain feels like it’s burning. Is this dying? Is he on fire from the inside out?

As soon as his right hand is undone, Scott crumples to the ground on his back, thudding onto the hard dirt. Joel snorts; Grian sets to untying his ankle.

Something hits Scott in the face and he hisses in pain, shifts just slightly so that it slides off of him. Then he opens his aching eyes, sees a pile of cloth beside him.

A glimmering potion lands on top of it, then a second one, the glass clinking on impact.

“Your clothes, healing, fire resistance,” Joel lists off boredly. “Your boots and other stuff’s at home, didn’t want to lug it all the way back.”

He should take one of those potions now. You aren’t supposed to drink fire resistance for sunburns, Scott knows that, but he isn’t quite sure what you are supposed to do with it so he settles on the health potion. Somehow, he manages to move his terribly weak arm enough to loosely grasp the bottle, but there was no way he was going to be able to work the cork out. He lets his arm fall, unable to contemplate it any longer.

Joel sighs, stomps around to that side and crouches beside him. He takes the potion from Scott’s limp grasp and tugs the cork out, then presses the potion to his cracked lips and pours it in.

It burns going down his throat, the sickly-sweet melon flavor overwhelming on his thick tongue and dry throat when he’s had nothing to drink in hours, and he coughs and coughs and coughs until his gag reflex triggers.

Scott throws up all over himself, mostly bile and a bit of pink health potion, and Joel leaps back in disgust as he chokes, his own vomit trying to slide back down the wrong tubes.

Grian yells something, and the next thing he knows he’s on his side, someone beating on his stinging back. He coughs even more, chest constricting feebly, until he feels like he can kind of breathe again. His nose is running and eyes teary and there’s the smell and taste of vomit everywhere, but he doesn’t have the strength to wipe his face. He just leans back against whoever’s holding him up, exhausted.

“Give him some water,” the person behind him commands. Scott takes in a shuddering breath, only for another bottle to be pushed into his mouth.

It takes every ounce of control he has in him to not choke as water starts pouring down his throat, lukewarm but water, too much and not enough all at once.

The person keeps giving him water, but they pull it away every couple of swallows and wait until Scott is pushing his head toward them, blindly seeking more, before returning the bottle to his lips.

“This is disgusting,” the person giving him water says.

The one holding him shifts. “It was your idea to leave him like that. I said he should just get fireworks, but no. Let’s see if he can survive the world’s worst sunburn.”

“I thought it’d be funnier, sue me.”

“Yeah, well, we want him alive, remember? We need him on our side.”

The water gets taken away again, and Scott feels more tears building up. He feels awful—he’s shaking, his throat hurts, his whole body feels like it’s on fire, even his brain—but when he leans forward for more water, the water is replaced with the health potion.

Scott drinks this as well, feels the fire in his brain cool slightly, his body losing some of the burning sensation. He opens his agonized eyes and sees a blurry Joel in front of him, holding the health potion.

Joel doesn’t speak until Scott’s drunk the entire potion, by which point he feels at least slightly capable of being alive. He shifts in—in Grian’s arms, lets him ease him into a sitting position.

Joel looks uncomfortable, but he doesn’t speak. He just shoves Scott’s clothes and the fire resistance potion toward him, then gets up, shoving the empty potion bottle into his pocket. He stalks off into the woods with a look back.

Grian fumbles in his own pocket for a moment, before withdrawing a strength potion. He reluctantly drops it in Scott’s lap and follows Joel.

They leave him there, practically unconscious from the pain, barely able to move, alone, as night comes on.

Scott’s trembling fingers try to make a fist. He can’t quite manage it.

But he puts his hands to the ground and starts to push himself up.

Scott doesn’t stumble into the Red Life base until about an hour later, when night has truly fallen. He ignores both the others and their awkward gazes and instead collapses onto the bed they’ve set up on the opposite side of the room from them, not even bothering to shove his boots off it and onto the floor. His clothes chafe against his untreated burns and his head is woozy from pain and dehydration, but he made it in one piece.

He’s up until late into the night, applying the fire resistance with low hisses and pained groans. Joel and Grian don’t speak, and eventually, they both bury themselves under their blankets and ignore Scott entirely.

Scott vows, then, as he carefully dabs fire resistance onto his eyelids, that he will kill them. He’ll kill both of them.

And then he’ll win.

#whumptober2024 #no.5 #sunburn #last life smp #fic #heat exhaustion #vomit mention #just some solid whump tbh #nothing better #imagine how awkward the next morning was #scott smajor #last life fic #trafficblr #mas writes #hey grian why are you so good at safe bondage. hey grian #JOKE.#lmk what you think #love you guys

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legendofzoodles · 2 years ago

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How the Chain solves dungeon puzzles

Time has been doing this since before his first puberty so he’s got it down to a science. With decades of experience he’d probably rely on that heavily when approaching any dungeon puzzle, and automatically pay attention to certain things like the design, who might have created it and the items he finds there to give him a leg up when it’s time to use ye olde noggin. That being said, since he has been doing this since he was a child I feel like he’d 100% rage if things got too difficult.

What? You think he survived the Water Temple because of patience and controlling his emotions? Goddess no, he was mentally 9 when he painstakingly got through it and it broke him. He now has a deep seeded hatred for all water based puzzles.

Warriors on the other hand, has spent a lot of time managing armies and little to no time in a room devoid of sunlight- unless it was shutting himself away in his office to crunch some overdue paperwork. Don’t get me wrong he’d crush any sort of puzzle where the solution is simply beating up a room full of monsters or the dungeon boss, but traditional puzzle he might struggle with. A lot of Zelda puzzles require an ‘out of the box’ kind of thinking that probably doesn’t come naturally to the ‘by the books’ Captain.

Since back in the day Twilight had Oocca and her son to teleport him out of the temple when he got tired, low on supplies or bored so if he can help it he won’t stick around longer than he needs to. That said he’d still really enjoy his time there, silently taking in the atmosphere and ambience of the dungeon.

Also, according to the 2000s Zelda fandom TP’s dungeon puzzles were the most difficult of the series. I’d wager that Midna, rather than helping out (outside of her being a companion type character), would’ve either cryptically teased the answer if she figured it out before him to poke fun or simply not have taken an interest and just nagged at him to hurry up. Meaning he solved them mostly on his own and therefore got really good at it.

Sky definitely used to chat with Fi as he solved puzzles back in his adventure, sharing thoughts, getting hints and occasionally voicing frustration. Because of this, he would definitely collaborate with whoever’s exploring with him and if he’s on his own then he’ll just talk to himself. Helps him think.

He’s the type to overthink every problem presented to him, to the point where he’d often invent a very convoluted solution when an obvious one was staring him in the face ignored. And unless there’s someone there to point it out he’ll never notice.

Like Time, Legend’s got a lot of experience dungeon crawling, I’d argue more since judging by Time’s armour he hasn’t been travelling a whole lot recently, so he’d also be relying on that experience. When he was younger, dungeon puzzles were a blast to figure out but now they’ve all just kind of bled together. There’s nothing he hasn’t really seen before in some shape or form, no tricks for the deity’s to pull that will surprise him.

He’d just breeze through each puzzle or trap like: “Lame,” or “Seen it,” or “Hey...the spider’s new,” yawning as he went. I feel though if he were paired up with Warriors (he could act nonchalant while Warriors is jumpy at everything) who’s new to all this or Hyrule how’s only ever seen really simplistic dungeon puzzles it could spark that joy he once had.

Wild would unashamedly break the system. Either accidently while finding creative way to cheat or to intentionally carve out his own shortcut. Not so much out of frustration, he could absolutely solve it they way the designers intended if he wanted to, trouble is he rarely has any interest in doing that. He used to ruin the carefully constructed puzzles (most of) the Sheikah monks crafted specifically to test him- right in their faces!- and they rewarded him regardless of the damage he caused. He’s been spoiled. I can imagine him blasting a way out only to turn around, go back in and intentionally destroy the rest of the puzzles for the sake of completion and loot.

Members like Wind, Hyrule and Time on a bad day would 100% support this method, the others would be horrified, with Legend somewhere in the middle.

Four is a very methodical sort of problem solver, not one to let his past experience cloud his judgment and restrict him to assumptions rather than trying out something new. As a blacksmith who’s probably gotten to learn about how other cultures craft their weapons he probably has a deep appreciation for the dungeons design and would be the first to point out what certain quirks of the building mean and what tribe left their mark there. Whenever he may feel agitated for not understanding a puzzle all he needs to do is walk around and look at some historic architecture to keep Blue at bay.

For this reason he may be one of the slower ones to complete a puzzle, but at least the walls swirling patterns may give him inspiration for a cool new sword handle. Not everyone would be able to relate to his eye for detail though.

Four: The paving looks amazing with all these unique carvings, don’t you think?

Hyrule: [grazing a hand over the stone] Ah yes, the floor is made out of floor.

Similar to Warriors Hyrule hasn’t really seen any complex dungeon puzzles, but unlike him he has a more creative ‘out of the box’ way of thinking, which would give him an edge. He’d probably get easily distracted though, lured away from the puzzle by a hidden passage or another route he hadn’t checked out, yet would somehow end up discovering every nook and cranny in the entire dungeon has to offer without much trouble.

Wind is not really a fan of them. Unless it’s for a specific purpose like rescuing someone or to beat up a monster he’ll actively avoid them. But if he had to he’d try to get through it as quickly as possible by literally just trying whatever first pops in his head. He’d rush past and ignore any sort of hints the designers might have given him and try to brute force his way though. When it eventually works he’ll immediately forget the solution though, so don’t bother asking how he got out just be glad he did, like Grandma would.

He’s not the type to ‘stop and smell the roses’ like Four, or just enjoy the atmosphere like Twilight, but he’s too polite (thanks to Grandma) to go around destroying ancient masonry like Wild.

Who do you think would make up the best teams (2- 4 people) if the chain were split up in a dungeon?

I’m thinking Sky, Four and Hyrule because they’d go at a slow pace chatting the whole time, with Four teaching the other two about who built the dungeon and Hyrule encouraging them to explore every room. Or maybe Legend, Warriors and Wind, with the latter two trying really hard and Legend supervising and making fun of them. Leaving Time, Twilight and Wild, where Twilight would struggle to keep Wild from blowing them up and Time being seconds away from joining him.

~~~

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

Other headcanons:

Parkour team

Honorary Gorons

How each member of the chain laughs

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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wally + giving oral ; 18+

requested by ; walliesdarling (22/06/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; sfw | nsfw

character(s) ; wally darling

outline ; “I’ve made it clear on my blog that I’m an adult, and I’m begging for Wally giving oral! 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, oral sex, splits to accommodate different anatomies (those that have a vagina vs those that have a penis)

note ; playfellowxxx was the tag created by clown and the team specifically for nsfw content — if you don’t want to see that sort of thing then that is the tag to block

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

wally’s love language is acts of service and this does often lend itself to him getting you off with his hands or his mouth whenever you ask and he has the chance to do so

he’s all about taking care of your needs and if that happens to include going down on you then so be it — far from him to complain about hearing all of the wonderful noises you make when he pleasures you

though, for the most part, oral is either used as an aide if you struggle to finish during penetrative sex or as a way for him to get you off when he’s not in the mood

he’s also going to end up in a complete state by the time he’s done: your cum on his lips and chin, his blue hair a mess as it hangs loosely about his face, pupils blown wide as he stares up at you and his chest heaving as he catches his breath

now when it comes to him actually going down on you…

(if you have a vagina) he starts off quite cautious: quick, brief kitten-licks against your clit and slowly tracing the length of your slit with the very tip of his tongue

testing the waters and looking up at you as he does so to make note of your expressions and see what you are/aren’t into — he does this no matter how long you’ve been together as he’s always insistent on giving you the chance to back out if you’re just not in the mood for something or are too distracted to get off

but, as time goes on and once he’s sure that you’re enjoying yourself, wally will allow himself to enjoy going down on you as much as he usually does

closing his eyes, placing his hands on the insides of your thighs to keep them spread and massaging them as he goes, moaning and humming against your pussy as he licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue into your hole

just generally getting really into the moment — to the extent that if you open your eyes and look closely enough you might see him start bucking his hips and getting hard (though this is dependent on his general mood)

occasionally turns his head to kiss the creases of your thigh, looking up at you with love in his eyes and a genuine smile on his lips to make sure that you’re still enjoying yourself before continuing with his task

he’s not particularly fast, preferring to take his time and be as thorough as possible with you — taking you on a leisurely journey to climax so that you can both get the absolute most out of it

he easily slips into a pattern when he goes down on you: wrapping his lips around your clit and humming, thrusting his tongue into your soaking entrance, kitten licking your sex, tracing your slit with the flat of his tongue — changing it up depending on how you react

groaning and moaning each and every time you buck or grind against his mouth — every time you whimper or groan or moan or cuss

complying with every instruction you give because it’s about you and nothing pleases him more than making you feel good

and, when you finally cum, he’ll swallow it all eagerly — making a complete mess of his mouth and chin and your thighs but nonetheless moaning and groaning as he positively devours everything you have to offer

unbothered of the state he was left in as his focus is entirely on you: praising, massaging, encouraging and just generally taking care of you as you come down from your high

(if you have a penis) he’s much more certain in his actions from the start since he’s already vaguely familiar with what actions to avoid — he does share your anatomy, after all, and is unfortunately very well aware of what hurts compared to what doesn’t

he has a terrible gag reflex and can’t even dream of deepthroating, so he relies on a mixture of oral stimulation and the use of his hands to get you off

spends the first minute or so taking things so and gauging your reactions, altering his pace and actions depending on your expressions and sounds — trying to find what feels best for you and scanning you for any signs that you’re uncomfortable or too distracted to get off

focusing on kissing along your shaft, suckling on the tip and lightly massaging your balls as he goes

but once some more time has passed, he slips into a familiar routine and is able to fully lose himself to the moment: closing his eyes and moaning and groaning whilst he gets you off

taking the first inch or two of your cock into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks as he hums and moans around it

licking and kissing his way along the underside of your length — from tip to root and back again

slowly, gently, stimulating your balls with one hand whilst softly jerking you off with the other — stroking the remainder of your length that he can’t reach with his mouth

suck, hum, lick, stroke — falling into step like a lewd sort of dance whilst he revelled in every grunt and groan and moan and whimper you offered him

looking up at you through his eyelashes and keenly observing your expressions, always making sure that you’re enjoying yourself — occasionally breaking away to offer you some brief praise for how you sound or look or taste before returning to the task at hand

and when you finally climax, he’ll moan and groan — trying to swallow everything you give but unable to stop some droplets from escaping and slipping out of the corner of his mouth

panting and swallowing and using his fingers to wipe his face clean as he makes sure you’re comfortable in the afterglow — unbothered of the mess he’d made of himself, for now at least

#sleepingdeath #playfellowxxx #gender neutral reader #minors dni #minors fuck off #minors don’t touch #smut #smut hcs #welcome home smut #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #wally darling smut

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moonsapprentice · 9 months ago

Note

Can you do some general headcanons for the neighbors? If not that’s okay! I just really like the neighbors :]

Hii so I really love the neighbors but Mark and Jon are kind of bland to write ( FOR ME PERSONALLY !!! ) so I just did Eduardo bc I love him and I wanna peg him ( /j ). I’ll update this post if I think of any other stuff.

ALSO I’m trying out a new format for headcannons so I might be redoing all my old headcannons with this one. Think of this as a test run of sorts.

I also totally did not let this ask sit in my inbox for 5 months 😁

⋆✶✷𝔈𝔡𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰✷✶⋆

𝔄𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢

✩ Eduardo has brown scruffy hair which perpetually looks like he needs a haircut. It’s a deep brown that resembles dark chocolate. Whenever he wakes up it’s completely all over the place and takes a shit ton of combing to manage as it’s thick. I’m also a firm believer that man has body hair. Chest hair, arm hair, happy trail, the whole 9 yards. The only part of him that he keeps a bit managed is his facial hair, which he prefers to have stubble.

✩ His eyes are the same shade of brown as his hair, but have speckles of hazel in them. Occasionally you might catch a hint of green in them from radiation (power edd episode). Also has pretty lashes but he’d kill you if you pointed them out.

✩ His skin is a deep tan with warm undertones. He absolutely loves hot weather, but he’s really bad about putting sunscreen on. ALSO. MY MAN IS CHUBBY ! ! ! HE DRINKS DIET COKE ALL THE TIME HE IS CHUBBY ! ! ! He used to be 6’1 but again, radiation made him taller. So he’s 6’3

✩ khaki pant enjoyer

✩ very hot body temperature. During the winter it’s awesome because you have your own personal full body heating pad. During the summer however. . .

✩ has dimples

ℜ𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠

✩ one of his favorite things to do is to pick you up and literally throw you. Could be nsfw but also in a silly way. During the summer he 100% picks you up and tosses you in the pool, and before bed sometimes he’ll pick you up all gentle and sweet then toss you onto the bed like you’re a small dog.

✩ his love language is mostly acts of service and quality time, with occasional touch. The most common way he’ll express love is cooking for you.

✩ love/hate relationship with pda. If he’s around someone he hates (edd) he’ll purposely lay it on thick to annoy the shit out of him. Any other time though, he doesn’t do anything more than hand holding and brief kisses.

✩ when you’re alone with him he’s just the sweetest. Obviously a bit of a brat, but still sweet. He loves to cuddle.

✩ loves to kiss you on the temple and lips, loves to receive kisses on the lips and cheek. Sometimes the ear too, if you’re whispering something sweet to him.

✩ loves hearing your giggles when her rubs his stubble on you

✩ hugs from behind at any given moment.

✩ enjoys a good scalp rub. Scratch his scalp a bit and you’ll get endless kisses

✩ makeout sessions are also very common. He’ll prop you up on his lap and just hug and kiss you for hours.

✩ one time Jon walked in. Now he locks the door.

✩ as for love he likes to receive, he adores physical touch and words of affirmation. Especially if it has something to do with his appearance.

✩ surprisingly likes to be the little spoon more often than not. Of course he has days where he likes to hold you, but he likes to be scooped up

✩ especially because he can have easy access to your waist and your neck

✩ he dreams of settling down with you. He’d prefer to get married but would go at your pace. He’s open to having kids too, but could live without them if you don’t want them.

✩ carries you on his back

✩ purposely hides things/puts them on high shelves so you ask him for help (nothing super important, things like cereal boxes)

ℜ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪

✩ deviled eggs fan

✩ sneezes and coughs obnoxiously loud

✩ snores.

✩ very loosely Christian. Believes in the faith but he doesn’t go to church every Sunday or anything. He wears a gold cross under his shirt

✩ grandparents immigrated from Mexico to England

✩ speaks Spanish (duh.)

✩ literally just acts like a cunt for no reason other than to make people mad.

✩ owns a ps4 and plays gta on it

✩ the most KNARLY hairy toes

✩ screams like a woman

✩ cannot handle scary movies

✩ fast and furious fan (I’ve never watched it but like he gives off that energy)

✩ goes to sleep early (9pm)

✩ would probably sleep in his boxers but I can see him wearing those goofy ass long dresses and the hat with the ball at the end. (Yk the one)

✩ prefers coffee over tea

✩ doesn’t really like energy drinks as he thinks they’re too sweet

✩ prefers things that are savory/bitter

𝔑𝔰𝔣𝔴

✩ his favorite position is cowgirl, specifically when he’s sitting up on a couch or something so he has your chest in his face. And so it’s easy to give you kisses. He also enjoys pushing you against walls with your legs around his waist.

✩ when you’re home alone, he loves to prop you up on the kitchen counter.

✩ HARD (haha) BELIEVER IN MORNING SEX ‼️‼️ If he slept as the big spoon, there’s a 60% chance he’s waking up hard. He’ll be all groggy, making sure you’re okay with having sex right then.

✩ during that situation, since you both are bit sleepy, he prefers spooning or missionary

✩ enjoys hickeys but only if they’re hidden. He likes to give them right in the middle of your chest (between your boobs, if you have them) so he’s the only one that’ll ever see them. There, and your way lower back. Right where your pants lay. He’ll take them anywhere but especially enjoys the tail end of his collarbone and on his pelvic bone.

✩ he mostly goes on the rougher side but not enough to hurt. During morning sex though, he goes very slowly and sensually.

✩ grunter and groaner.

✩ an average sex drive. He obviously has to dial it down because of the roommates, but if they’re gone for an extended period of time he jumps at the opportunity.

✩ he can get very loud too. He doesn’t even realize it until you smack a hand (or your lips) over his mouth.

✩ prefers boobs over ass (even if you aren’t fem)

✩ he can go 2 rounds on average, up to four if you’re home alone, and only 1 if it’s morning sex.

✩ creampie kind of guy

✩ 7 inches with a bit of a downward tilt. Trimmed but not shaved

GUYS PLEASE I PROMISE I’M WRITING FOR TORD SOON I WAS JUST RANDOMLY INSPIRED TO DO EDUARDO IM SORRY 😭😭😭 also if ur reading this I saw your Matt ask and I totally agree he isn’t written for enough!! I’ll get to him soon!

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kaigarax · 9 months ago

Text

Winter

Gyutaro x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone like you."

My Dearest,

I wish you could have loved me the way I wanted you to. And I wish I could have loved you the way you deserved.

Yours Truly

---

“Did it hurt when you died?” Gyutaro asks, kneeling down and looking up at you with an amused expression on his sickly looking face.

Your own face, pretty and gentle, smiles gently, “I imagine it hurts at least a little when anyone dies.”

Gyutaro nears you, his amused expression morphing into a sneer, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t, did I.”

“Well?” Gyutaro snaps, impatient and harsh.

Your expression remains neutral though the corner of your lips twitch up ever so slightly. If Gyutaro weren’t a demon he’s certain he would’ve missed the ever so slight change in your expression - but because he isn’t a human he doesn’t quite understand why. Not that he would have understood even if he was a human though perhaps if he had been born more normal he might’ve been closer to the mark.

Not that anyone ever did understand you, except for maybe him. And even he seemed to have trouble understanding you on your best days.

You answer with a simple “yes”, acting as if someone asked if you wanted tea instead of the more invasive question that Gyutaro had proposed in the first place.

“Oh.” Gyutaro finds himself surprised by your answer but even more so at his own lack of a reaction. He’s more disappointed than excited. More bored than thrilled.

“So damn much.”

Eventually, when Gyutaro assumes you’ve grown bored of standing, you move towards him and take a seat. Your movements are smoother than he realised. There’s a graceful elegance to the way you move, a little similar to how his sister moves after all the training they put her through when she was young. It’s a practiced flow that’s more artificial than the air going in and out of Gyutaro’s lungs.

You hum quietly to yourself. Just barely loud enough that Gyutaro can hear and he’s sitting right in front of you. The humming is accompanied by an incessant tapping of your fingers into the soft dirt and occasional tap of your foot.

Gyutaro thinks you’re awfully fidgety for a demon. Thinks that there must be something wrong with you because of your inability to sit still. Not that Gyutaro has met a lot of demons that are able to sit still for long periods of time but he doubts that any of them would have been like you. It is quite the contrast to your ladylike behaviour which is why Gyutaro is certain that this mask you’ve insisted on wearing in his presence is nothing but that. A mask. There’s no way that this is your natural state of being.

“You know,” you hum softly, “I grew up by the ocean.”

Gyutaro rolls his eyes, “I don’t care.”

“How mature~” You tease.

Gyutaro sticks his nose up in the air in response not wanting to listen to whatever stupid story you have to tell him. Women always like to tell pointless random stories, don’t they? His sister certainly tells stupid pointless stories all the time but he’ll obviously always listen to her stories. She’s his sister after all.

But everyone else? They’ll find themselves in a not so similar position to his sister if they were to ever test the bounds of his patience. You, perhaps, are the only expectation though through no merit of your own but because Gyutaro understands his place in this world. Understands where he stands in comparison to everyone else and who happens to stand behind you.

There’s nothing all that special about you is there?

You’re not ugly but you’re certainly not as pretty as his sister.

More average than anything else in the eyes of Gyutaro. You seem almost regular if not for the words etched onto your eyes. Gyutaro can’t actually read the words that you’ve had engraved on your eyes but knows for a fact that they make you stand out more than you would have without them. The only reminder that you’re like the rest of them. A cold blooded killer that seeks to continue living in spite of everything else in this world.

Now, all Gyutaro has to do is figure out if that’s a good thing or not. Right now he finds himself leading towards the latter of the two options.

“Anyways, I think you would have liked it,” you say, speaking to him as if he were nothing more than a petulant child in need of a lecture, “the ocean.”

Gyutaro raises a brow, “the ocean?”

“Have you never seen the ocean before?”

Gyutaro shakes his head.

“Sorry,” you hum, “I would’ve assumed that you had seen it with how long you’ve been alive. Though, I suppose you would have no curiosity to see the ocean if you never got the chance to witness such a sight while you were young. That’s, of course, no fault of your own. It’s simply the way that demons are after they’re transformed.”

“The way demons are?”

“Demons cling to everything they were as humans. Which is honestly a little ironic, don’t you think?”

Ironic?

Gyutaro isn’t all too sure what that word means but whatever. It’s probably nothing all that good anyways. You seem to find something funny about the word (and Gyutaro’s willing to bet that it isn’t the sound of the word).

“We’re transformed into demons so that we can transcend everything that we were when we were humans yet cling exactly to everything that we wanted and only enhance everything that we were.” You look almost amused as you stare up at the starry sky above you, “I wasn’t much, as you can see. Not really beautiful or smart. Not really strong or have developed any specific gift that one might expect from a demon.”

“You were weak?”

“Some might argue that I’m still weak.”

Gyutaro shakes his head, “as a human. You were weak as a human?”

“A very fragile thing,” you say, “I spent most of my childhood sick in bed. Staring out at the ocean from an open window wishing to be everything that I wasn’t.”

“So you’re ugly, like me.”

“Hm?” You seem more confused than offended.

Gyutaro refuses to elaborate further. Too focused on the burning flush that rises up to his cheeks as you stare at him from your spot on the floor.

Instead, Gyutaro dares to scooch a little closer to you from his place on the ground. No longer kneeling but sitting on his bum as you had. He doesn’t sit in the same prim and proper form as you and instead props his knees up and rests his head atop of them.

Despite being so different from you Gyutaro feels as if the two of you could be kindred souls.

Like him you had been born with a weak body. Spend most of your life hidden away from the view of the world - watching from an open window that no one else ever dared to look in. It was strangely satisfying to hear the sad stories of someone else. Strangely reassuring in whatever messed up way it was. Though, in Gyutaro’s defense, everything in his life was a little messed up - which would have made the messed up state of mind his normal instead of abnormal as if might’ve been for everyone else.

“Tell me about the ocean.” Gyutaro demands.

You nod, speaking to him softly, “and what about the ocean would you like to know?”

“What is it?”

“Access to a world so far detached from our own.”

“Stupid.”

You raise a delicate brow, “hm?”

“The ocean. It sounds stupid.” Answered Gyutaro.

“I suppose it does,” you smile, “but to me, it’s always been everything.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I don’t have any other choice.”

Gyutaro leans in close to you, no longer caring about your personal space. Well, it wasn’t that Gyutaro actually cared about someone else’s personal space, it was more so that he cared about his own. Unless it was his sister he wasn’t too keen on getting close to another person (or demon) unless it was to inflict pain of some sort.

There was always something much more appealing that came from inflicting pain close up than inflicting it from a distance. But that’s besides the point.

Right now, Gyutaro leaned in real close as if trying to see if you’re real or not. Bringing his face close to yours. A part of him thinks that if he blew hard enough you’d disappear like a pile of dust in the wind.

You’re ugly.

Like him.

There’s also a strange delicateness to you similar to his sister. At first, Gyutaro didn’t understand why he might’ve had such an attachment to a pathetic thing like you but when he compares you to his sister he begins to think that there might be a similarity or two. Like a delicateness that you want to see thrive. A piece of you that entices change in others.

And what are demons, if not change?

You’re also calm. It’s different from most other demons. Actually, it’s different from all demons. Gyutaro hasn’t met all demons but he’s certainly met his fair share of them and he knows for a fact that none of them have a calming presence like you. Demons are, at their roots, predators. Apex predators. Enticing fear and danger by their mere presence alone. But you’re not like that. You’re calm. Not calm in a fall asleep traditional sense but in a strange sort of way.

Being around you almost makes Gyutaro feel like a human and he absolutely hates that. Despite the fact that he leans in closer, as if trying to reclaim his humanity, he hates it. Hates the pathetic little boy he was when he was a human. Hates that you remind him of that part of himself yet leans in towards you nonetheless.

Unlike his sister, Gyutaro is an honest person. He doesn’t need pretty words and lies to get what he wants. In fact, he prefers it that way. Doesn’t mind the fact that he wears his heart on his sleeve. That everyone can see exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. Discretion was never a skill he needed all that much - and honestly was perhaps his only redeeming quality. Now though, Gyutaro finds himself realizing that he’s suddenly caught himself in a lie.

Gyutaro has always considered demons to be creatures of change - or at least that was what he had convinced himself back when he had first changed into such a thing in the first place. What he had told his sister when the two of them first lost their humanity and buried their fangs into the poor innocent soul.

People, or at least all the people Gyutaro had met in his sad pathetic excuse of a life, were all the same.

Constantly stumbling into the same mistakes as one another.

Constantly repeating the same struggles as if there were nothing more to life than exactly what was in front of them.

But people, over time, changed.

Or at least the society around them had changed.

And every once in a while, someone like you would come around. Someone that would bring change to this repetitive and seemingly endless world. People like you were what changed society.

��Do you hate me?” Gyutaro asks, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle. Gyutaro doesn’t even realise that he’s the one that’s said the words until he feels your curious gaze on his own.

Your gaze is surprisingly soft and gentle. Not something that Gyutaro is familiar with. It’s such a foreign look that Gyutaro is tempted to poke you cheek to see if it’s real. He wonders if the look is so foreign to him because he’s so close.

Oh well.

The answer to that question is more thinking than it’s worth.

It’d be much easier for him to just slash at the things in front of him instead of just thinking about it.

Before Gyutaro can come to a conclusion of what to do you tilt your head to the side curiously, looking almost like a cat, “did it hurt when you died?”

“Yes,” Gyutaro nods, “so damn much.”

Fall in love with someone like you.

---

Her: I love you.

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #gyutaro x reader #100 ways to fall in love

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switch-writer · 1 year ago

Note

I would request some kenshi lee or lee headcnaons cuz I'm starved for content of that silly blind man

Kenshi Takahashi Tickle Headcanons

A/N: As usual my disclaimer is that I haven’t played the new game, BUT. I certainly recall Kenshi and I don’t believe he’s changed much compared to chars like Reptile, but apologies if it’s uncharacteristic! Thank you for the request, I love Kenshi and his character, and I certainly adore his telekinesis because it’s so piercing and beautiful, and he has a certain elegance to him because of how SMOOTH his attack animations are. In short, I love him. Hope you enjoy!

• Kenshi is someone you probably wouldn’t expect to tickle someone, mostly since he seems to have a more firm look to him, and is certainly very determined.

• Yet somehow it isn’t necessary uncommon, nor is it common.

• Before his blindness, it was definitely not common at all, he’d likely find it rather pointless and silly.

• After The incident? He finds it… interesting. It still isn’t common but he’s a little bit more open in general, aka, open over all.

• Granted, that’s mostly due to Johnny and the wisdom he gained once his life majorly changed from the act of losing sight, it gave him a lot of change and a lot of reflection.

• That being said, the more wisdom and guidance he gains from his ancestors, the more he also realizes due to the sorrow in his early life, he missed a lot of… simple joys.

• He perhaps took Johnny’s kindness and chose to use him as a little bit of a test subject for these joys, and he’ll occasionally have others join him in these learning experiences.

• Tickling is still very childish to Kenshi and still makes him scrunch his nose up slightly every now and again, but he must admit, the joy he gets from hearing laughter is very infectious.

• He’d tickle someone just to get a laugh from them, because Kenshi can’t help but smile when hearing laughter. He finds laughter infectious since he didn’t always hear pure contagious laughter in the past.

• Unfortunately, Johnny finds it fair to return the favor, so he often is on the receiving end of Johnny’s tickles whenever it happens to occur.

• He is always someone who will yelp or practically squeal slightly high pitched because he can’t… well… see it coming. His ancestors seemed to let him handle tickling without any warning.

• Kenshi also will instinctively panic a little since he’s still getting ahold of his lack of vision, so he’d frantically grab at whoever’s hands until he realizes it’s alright.

• You also typically get a lot of ‘waitwaitwait!’ And ‘stop—! Hold on!’ from Kenshi.

• That being said, Johnny always likes to make it a little extra difficult for Kenshi. He may of saved his life, but Johnny isn’t past a little bit of teasing and joking. Oftentimes, Johnny will poke around at Kenshi’s sides. That isn’t the issue, the issue is that he’ll poke at one side then stop… and then go for one of Kenshi’s sides at random. It’s a 50/50 chance of guessing which side and Kenshi manages to have the odds go against him.

• Going by what Kenshi has been able to do with telekinesis in past games and such, sometimes when tickling him, a object will randomly go flying because of a slight lack of control with it during tickling.

• He’ll often hold his laughter in for as long as possible before breaking into giggling and such. However, he typically laughs more than giggles.

• He will snicker when holding in a laugh as well.

• His weak/worst spot is probably around his sides, although he finds it rather difficult to stay still when someone touches his back.

• In passing, Johnny chose to mess with him by spidering his fingers up his back trying to scare him, and unfortunately, the squeal that left his throat wasn’t mistaken as a yelp or shock, but rather the laugh it was.

• In short, he’s learning to enjoy the small silly things in life now when he has the time, and while he panics, he does find it quite… amusing at times. Not his favorite thing by any means, but it certainly isn’t a negative.

• For my Mortal Kombat X fans, or those who know the lore, he’d certainly take this knowledge and experiences with tickling into account whenever he has a family one day, such as a son… until then, he’ll enjoy himself in the serious moments and the silly moments.

Hope you enjoyed!

#mortal kombat tickles #mortal kombat tickle #mortal kombat #mk tickle headcanons #mk tickles #fluff #sfw tickling community #tickle headcanons #tickle fluff #sfw #tickle hcs #lee!Kenshi #Ler!Kenshi #ticklish!kenshi #idk any other tags

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alphashley14 · 2 years ago

Text

One Of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

Chapter Eleven

Keep on Living

After their impromptu concert, the Mystery Skulls gave their guests a full tour of the mansion - the parts they were allowed in anyway - and they were told about the house’s other ghosts.

First were the suits of armor, which lined the hallways and seldom moved, but were very much haunted and would come to life to defend the house. And then there were the paintings, which were also haunted, moved and spoke like in Harry Potter, and apparently could be real assholes. So they were advised to walk quickly past the paintings and to try to avoid interacting with them. They were also warned about the mirrors, which apparently sometimes “showed upsetting things in your reflection.” But when asked, the Mystery Skulls couldn’t elaborate much on what exactly that meant, because what the mirrors showed varied a lot person-to-person.

“That shouldn’t be an issue though,” Lewis explained. “It’s usually just the free-standing mirrors that do that, but those were all covered up.”

His use of the word ‘usually’ did not put anyone’s minds at ease.

“Apart from that, we get your usual run-of-the-mill haunted house activity. Moving objects, doors opening and closing, the occasional spirit orb. The usual.” Vivi shrugged.

“‘The usual’, she says.” Ricky said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

“No kidding,” Scooby agreed behind him.

“But like, what about the ghost from this morning?” Shaggy asked.

The other five guests stopped, looked at Shaggy, and asked in unison: “What ghost from this morning?”

Lewis looked alarmed. “He’s- around,” He said quickly. “And he is… the most powerful spirit under our domain. But he cares about us, and he won’t hurt anyone. He prefers to keep hidden, at least for now. He’ll show himself when he’s ready. And he uh- he wanted me to tell you Shaggy, that he’s sorry for how he acted this morning. He was worried about Arthur, and sometimes his temper gets the better of him.” Lewis said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry - time out. How exactly ‘did he act this morning’?” Velma demanded.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

“Alright then, if we’re going to take on Professor Pericles, then what’s the plan?” Marcie asked, scratching the head of the Dead Beat that was hovering in the air beside her.

“Ever-changing,” Arthur replied from his seat in Mr. E’s armchair. “There’s a lot that Ricky didn’t know, so phase one of the plan - which I hope to have done by the end of the day - is mainly reconnaissance, testing the waters… and setting the stage.”

“What do you mean by that?” Marcie asked.

“As of right now,” Arthur said, “Pericles and the others see Ricky as a doormat. They’re convinced they’ve got him all figured out and aren’t bothering to tread lightly with him or to give him a single ounce of basic respect or privacy. Ah - speaking of: Dead Beats, I have a job for you.”

The three ghosts went rigid at attention.

“I need one of you to haunt the spaces around these rooms to give us advance warning if someone is coming. Even when we need to leave these rooms to do other things, I still need one of you to be here at all times unless I say otherwise in case someone tries to sneak in and snoop or install monitoring equipment. Can you do that for me?”

The little ghosts made an affirming chirp, bickered amongst themselves for a few moments, then one of them sped off to do as Arthur had said.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think to do that earlier. It would be astronomically bad if one of them overheard or even knew I was talking to you. As for you Marcie, there are several things I need from you. First and foremost is a laptop. One that isn’t being monitored by Destroido or by Professor Pericles that we can use to hack into the system.”

“I don’t have one.” Marcie immediately lied.

‘Arthur’ inhaled sharply through his teeth, steepled his palms together, then pointed them at her. “Marcie, let’s be real: that’s bullshit. You’ve betrayed Mr. E twice and were most likely already planning to do it again. There’s no way you don’t have a device at the ready. Or at the very least, that you don’t know how to make a computer that way. Ricky has been prohibited from using the internet and all of his activity within Destroido’s own systems is being monitored. Even sending you that message was a calculated risk. I literally cannot do anything if you can’t or won’t get me a device.

“But at the same time, I understand why you’re holding out on me. You still aren’t fully convinced that I’m not Mr. E, that this isn’t some kind of trick, or that the torture-button even exists. And if this hypothetically was a trick and you exposed just how prepared you were to betray Mr. E, the consequences would be really bad for you. So… I guess I’m going to have to prove it.” He groaned.

The Dead Beats warbled with concern.

“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll be fine. This was already part of the plan, anyway. Looks like it’s just going to happen sooner than I thought.”

“What are you going to do?” Marcie asked.

“Hit several metaphorical birds with one stone,” Arthur replied. “How quickly can you get your stealth suit? The one that makes you invisible and allows you to climb walls and stuff? Ricky told me about it.”

“I can’t,” Marcie said. “I know where it is, but Mr. E put it in a password-protected safe.”

“Iscariot.” Arthur said.

“Huh?”

“I-5-C-A-R-1-0-T. Iscariot, but with a couple of letters switched for numbers - that’s the passcode. It’s a reference to the traitorous disciple, Judas Iscariot. Ironically, according to Ricky, Professor Pericles came up with it. He figured none of you would ever guess that the passcode came from Christian Lore, given that none of you are religious and Professor Pericles is evil as hell.”

“Oh, wow. That is ironic.”

“Very. Especially when you consider that it was Pericles who was the Judas of their group. So, knowing the passcode - assuming that is the passcode - how quickly do you think you can get it?”

“From here? If I use the vents it’ll take me like two hours there and back to get it without anyone or any of the cameras catching me.”

“And if you have a small, invisible friend looking around corners and messing with security cameras as you pass?” He asked, pointing at the Dead Beats.

“That- … would cut that time in half.”

“Great. Then… it’s about 1:00 now, and taking into account what I need to do… hold on, let me think… at 4:00, I want you in your stealth suit, hiding in the rafters above the hallway where the Dead Beats picked you up - where you have that camera hidden for Velma.”

If Marcie had a drink in her mouth, she would have spit it out. “So you do know about that!” She cried. “I knew you asking for me in that hallway wasn’t a coincidence! But how?”

“Shaggy told us about it,” Arthur said. “I needed anything and everything I could use, Ricky was giving me all this info, and Shaggy wanted to help too.”

“Uh-huh… and what do you want me to do once I’m there, exactly?”

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

“Jeepers, Shaggy. That must have been scary.” Daphne exclaimed after Shaggy finished telling them about when he’d woken up in Arthur’s body.

“Like yeah, it was,” Shaggy said. “But like, that was pretty much the only scary part. The Mystery Skulls were super nice to me after they realized what had happened. And I didn’t see any more ghosts until I met the Dead Beats with you guys. So like, I’m all good.”

“That’s no excuse!” Velma exclaimed angrily, rounding on the Mystery Skulls. “Don’t you think you ought to have better control over your ghost?”

“Oh, we don’t control that one. It’s his responsibility to control his damn self," Vivi said dryly, giving Lewis the side-eye. “But, we can’t fault him this time. He thought he was talking to an evil spirit and that Arthur was in danger.”

“He gets um… pretty defensive and aggressive when it comes to Arthur,” Lewis explained.

They concluded their tour without further incident, and once they reached the end Lewis informed them, “The only place that’s strictly off-limits is the basement.”

“And Lewis is going to tell you why that is,” Mystery said pointedly, “because you’re a bunch of meddling kids and your first instinct will probably be to go looking for the basement if we don’t tell you why you should avoid it.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“That’s- he’s… out of line, but he’s right.” Fred admitted.

“It’s about the spirit we were talking about earlier.” Lewis explained. “The basement is the paranormal center of the house, and it’s also where he lives. There’s a lot of energy down there that I don’t want you guys around, and neither would he. So… please don’t go down there.”

“There’s also a section of the library you shouldn’t look at unless one of us is with you, because the tomes are magical and/or cursed.” Vivi added, “We’ll show you where it is when we go into the library later. And obviously, use your common decency and don’t go into anyone else’s bedroom without permission.”

“Speaking of: we figured we’d save where you’d be staying for last.” Mystery said.

The Mystery Skulls’ rooms were all in the West Wing of the mansion. They set up their guests in the set of guest bedrooms in the East Wing and let them pick their own rooms - save the one closest to the connecting hallway, which apparently was already taken by their informant.

Fred and Daphne naturally took the largest bedroom at the end of the hall. And wanting to stay close together, the others took the rooms closest to theirs. It made Ricky smile bittersweetly at the sound of Shaggy and Scooby romping like a couple of youthful idiots into their room. Velma, shaking her head, took the one across from theirs. Leaving Ricky (who just stood back and let the others pick first) with the last room, which was adjacent to the room that was already taken.

Which was fine with him; the rooms were all about the same. Peeling mauve wallpaper with a Victorian-style heart pattern, the same redwood paneling as the rest of the house, their own stone fireplaces, and their own bathrooms. The furniture was a similar redwood, with skulls and broken hearts worked into the designs. And the beds were… unique.

“Hey, the bed is coffin-shaped! This place is awesome!” Everyone heard Fred exclaim excitedly. And when the others walked into their own rooms, they found that theirs were the same: irregular six-sided kings with black sheets and comforters, very tall headboards, and tattered raspberry-colored bed hangings that matched the carpets and curtains. It was macabre, but it fit the spooky vibe of the rest of the house perfectly. Ricky’s space back home was kind of dark, but this was dark in a different way - and Ricky kind of liked it.

Ricky let himself fall back on the black plush mattress with a sigh. What and where even was “home” anymore? He’d lived at Destroido for years. But try as he might, he couldn’t muster much attachment to the place. He was proud of his company and what he’d accomplished, but at the end of the day it was just a building that gave him a roof over his head and made him money. His personal space wasn’t a place he ‘looked forward’ to retiring to, and apart from his keytar there wasn’t really anything waiting for him there. What had ever really made it “home”?

He had no idea which of his relatives were still alive or if they’d even want to see him if he came out as not-dead. He’d renounced Pericles and the others (though they were still oblivious to what extent). And Cassidy was-

… Cassidy was gone. She was gone, and she was never coming back.

And it’s all your fault. You killed her. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He’d said such awful things to her the last time he’d seen her.

“Ah, yes. The naive Cassidy I once fell in love with.” He remembered his own mocking tone so clearly. Cynical, bitter bastard. No matter how much it hurt or how frustrated you were, why would you take that out on her? ‘Once’ my ASS. As if you could stop loving her!

He knew all too well what he’d done to drive Cassidy away, so of course he knew they hadn’t been close for a while by the time she…

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel her loss stabbing at his chest, clawing his heart out - as if he’d lost the only thing he had left.

He was at least being treated well by the Mystery Skulls and the kids, but how long would that last? They wouldn’t need him around anymore once the body-swap was fixed, this mystery was solved, and his former friends and the entity were dealt with. And he couldn’t see why they would want him around after that either. Or rather, why would anyone? If he was being honest with himself, with Cassidy dead and him finally breaking away from the rest of the original Mystery Inc., he… he really didn’t belong anywhere, anymore.

It wasn’t safe and he hated it there. But… maybe now the only place left for him was as a shoulder for Pericles to perch upon.

Or better yet: maybe the world was better off without him in it.

No. Absolutely not. No way. Where the hell did all of that even come from? He asked himself, running his hands over his face. Going back to Pericles? Dying? Did you hear nothing your better half said? That’s ridiculous!

‘I don’t think you realize just how bright our future could be.’ That’s what his better half had told him. But Ricky just couldn’t see how that could be.

I don’t want to think about this anymore. And I have more important things to think about anyway. Back in the box you go.

Holy fuck, this had been a long day. And given that it was just a little past noon, it was far from being over. Shit, was it seriously only 2:00? He swore it felt like this day had just dragged on for weeks. He was exhausted.

But he couldn’t fall asleep. Nope. And just to make sure of it, he sat up. Arthur was working his ass off and probably doing some pretty stupid and dangerous shit on his behalf right now, and the least Ricky could do was return the favor.

Right at that ideal moment, there came a knocking at his chamber door.

“Come in,” he called.

Vivi opened the door and poked her head in. “Hey, Mystery- sorry. Mister. E. Is the room okay? If it’s awkward for you to be staying this close to the kids, we could move you elsewhere if you want.”

“It’s fine.” Shit, that came out snappy. And after she’s been nothing but nice to you! At least pretend not to be an asshole! “But- thank you for asking. This is… nice.” He added quickly and in a better tone. It really was a nice room. Spooky, yes. Macabre, definitely. But he supposed that if he was going to stay in a haunted house, he might as well go all-in.

“I’m glad you like it. Do you have any requests?” Vivi asked. “Lewis is thinking about dinner, and Fred and Daphne were going to make a groceries-slash-clothes-slash-essentials run. Like, are you vegetarian? Pescetarian? Allergic to anything or- oh. Right. You’re in Shaggy’s body. So I guess I should be asking him.”

“I’m not vegetarian. And I sincerely doubt that boy is allergic to anything.”

Vivi snorted. “True.”

“I suppose… Apart from clothes, I just need a toothbrush and toothpaste? And 2-in-one? I don’t care what brand,” He shrugged.

“Got it. I’m pretty sure Mystery Inc. is planning on picking up clothes from Shaggy’s house for you while they’re out. Will that be fine?”

Ricky nodded.

“Cool. And dinner? Lewis was thinking of doing enchiladas.”

“Enchiladas are fine. I’m not going to request anything. I’m just grateful to have someone willing to cook for me. It’s… been a while. Would Lewis like any help when he starts in the kitchen?”

“Probably not, but I’ll let him know you offered. He feels really bad, by the way - for what he said earlier. He’ll probably apologize later.”

Ricky cocked an eyebrow. “What did he-?”

“Back at the hilltop, when he was freaking out about Arthur.”

Ah, right. He remembered, now. “It’s fine, really. He was scared for his friend. Arthur is lucky to have friends like you.”

“One’s own emotions are an explanation for one’s shitty behavior, not an excuse,” Vivi said, hands on her hips. “Lew knows that. So just don’t be surprised if he brings it up.”

Ricky didn’t have time to formulate a response to that statement, because that was when his stomach growled. “You have got to be kidding me. Breakfast was fucking huge. How are you this hungry already?” He scolded his own stomach. Ricky was no stranger to overeating. He’d gone through a difficult phase where food had become a coping mechanism and his real body had never lost the weight. But this was ridiculous!

Vivi giggled. “Apparently it takes a truckload to keep that body satisfied.”

“Shaggy had better be glad that he was born to well-off parents, because if they couldn’t afford to feed him then I don’t know what would have happened to him.” Ricky said, shaking his head.

“Well come on, let’s get you something to eat. Then you, Shaggy, Scooby, Mystery, and I will get started in our library while Fred and Daphne are out for essentials and Lewis and Velma are out collecting materials from the library and haunted museum.”

“Anything I can do to help,” he agreed. Then he followed her out the door.

Maybe he wasn’t one of them. Maybe things would get awkward and they wouldn’t want him around anymore once he was no longer needed. But for Arthur’s sake, he wouldn’t dwell on that.

And for his own sake, maybe he could keep pretending for just a while longer.

But of course, there just couldn’t be a dull moment. Because that’s when Scooby came running out of the room he shared with Shaggy.

“Vivi! Vivi HELP! Raggy needs help!”

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“What hole do you think Ricky’s gone and hid in this time, Brad?” Judy asked, ducking her head into yet another Ricky-free Destroido lab space.

“I’m not sure, Judy. We’ve checked all the labs. If he was doing his rounds, we should have run into him by now.”

“Then he must not be doing his rounds, Brad. Perhaps he’s in the garage working on the old relic he’s so attached to again.”

“I bet you’re right, Judy!”

But even after Brad and Judy sauntered all the way to Mr. E’s personal closed-off garage, there was no sign of Ricky to be had there.

Honestly, where else could he have gone? They had to ask themselves at this point. Ricky was usually nowhere near this difficult to find.

Brad snorted.

“What’s so funny, Brad?” Judy giggled.

“Oh, I was just wondering how it’s possible for someone that fat to hide this well.”

Judy laughed. “It is impressive, isn’t it Brad?

Still though, in the back of their minds, they couldn’t help but be a little bit concerned. Hunting for him like this was usually almost as fun as their games with him that followed, but at this point it was getting frustrating. The one place they hadn’t checked was the dungeon Ricky called “home”, but they hadn’t been there since they’d helped Professor Pericles sneak sleeping powder into his dinner, then inject that capsule into his back. And Ricky didn't spend a lot of time there, anyway. It would certainly be unusual for him to be there at this time of day. But then again… he’d been acting differently ever since Professor Pericles came clean about Cassidy.

“You know Brad,” Judy mused, “Ricky was rather brazen this morning. You don’t think he tried to run for it, do you?”

“I don’t think so, Judy. He knows that would happen if Pericles found out, and he knows he’s too weak to withstand it.”

“That’s true, Brad. He has always been a coward.”

“Ding-dong Daddy-o. Do we have to go in there?” Brad whined.

Judy laughed. Brad’s impression was right-on. Classic Ricky.

“Y-you guys, I don’t want to do this anymore. Let’s just go home!” Judy tried out her own imitation, and Brad laughed at it before doing another of his own.

“Professor Pericles, come back! Professor Pericles, I’m scared. Shouldn’t we just leave this to the Smokies?”

“I’m going to cower behind Cassidy even though she’s half my size. Ahh! A monster! Now I’m going to jump into Cassidy’s arms even though she’s so small it’s a miracle she can hold me up at all!”

“You keep her name out of your thin fucking mouth, Judy.”

The two of them had been so caught up in their mockery they hadn’t noticed the very subject of it lurking in a doorway until they were face-to-face with him.

“Ricky! So there you are.” Judy said quickly. Her mouth was not thin. Who did this fat twerp think he was?

“Yeah. We were just looking for you,” Brad said menacingly. How dare that ugly bastard insult his Judy?

Usually, this would be the part where Ricky backed off or tried to make some excuse to leave.

But he didn’t do either of those things.

Ricky just leaned against the wall, giving Brad and Judy a look that was equal parts blank and judgemental, before he took a swig of the entire bottle of wine he was carrying and went right back to regarding them. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t cower. Didn’t puff up, either. He just… stood there.

Something was wrong with this picture.

Mr. E’s signature scowl wasn’t nearly as hard, and where usually there would be fire behind his anger, all Brad and Judy saw was this… coldness. It was like a part of the soul within that disgusting body was gone, and something sad and empty was all that remained.

“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything, Ricky?” Judy demanded after a few seconds of unbearable silence.

“That’s Mr. E to you,” Ricky corrected quietly. “Only my friends called me Ricky. As to whether I’m going to say anything, I really dunno. What do you want me to say, Judy?”

And Judy- didn’t have a retort for that. But she was such a lucky girl, Brad came to her rescue.

“Where have you been all day, Ricky?” He demanded.

“Hmm. Not sure, to be honest. I lost time for a bit. Then I played my keytar for a while. Cassidy liked my keytar - music in general, really. Found this new band recently. I think she would’ve liked them too. But I can’t tell her about it. I can’t tell her any of the things I want to tell her. Because she’s gone - far away from me, probably in a better place than Crystal Cove. Where I’ll never see her again.” Then he laughed half-heartedly, “Classic Cassidy. She always moved on to new things before I did. I never could let go of the past, but her? Hah! She was dynamite. Always blasting forward. Why should death be any different?”

“Are you fucking drunk?” Brad demanded.

“I wish,” Ricky said. “But my tolerance is too high for this to do much to me. I considered something stronger, but she deserves better than that. Someone has to feel this pain for her. Because you seem to have forgotten, but thanks to Pericles she didn’t have any family - none of us do. She just had us, and those kids. And you two sure as fuck aren’t shedding any tears for her. Just like no one’s going to shed any tears for us when we die.”

“Cassidy? That’s what this is about?” Judy scoffed. But Ricky wasn’t even looking at her. He was taking another long drink, his other hand in his pocket, weight casually favoring one hip. “She has no one to blame for what happened to her but herself, just like you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself for where you are.” Ricky finished his swig and looked at the label on the front of the bottle - not at Judy. Why wasn’t he looking at Judy?! “You’re fools, the both of you. And that bitch-”

Whatever vile thing Judy was about to say next died on her tongue. Because that was when Ricky suddenly overturned the bottle of red wine over Judy’s head, and the entirety of its contents poured down upon her. Soaking her blonde hair red, running down her face, then soaking into her blouse and dying her white pants.

Brad and Judy were so utterly stunned that they froze, neither moving nor speaking. Their brains simply not computing what Ricky had just done.

Ricky shook the bottle lightly to get the last drops out, which pitter pattered onto the top of Judy’s head. Before he finally took the bottle back, read the label one last time, and then chucked it at the wall. It shattered with a loud CRASH that made both Brad and Judy jump. But they were still too shocked to retaliate.

That same shocked silence hung heavily in the air for another few moments. During which time Ricky scratched the back of his head, momentarily inspected his fingernails, then finally looked at Judy, his eyes scanning her wine-soaked, shaking form. An eyebrow cocked, and his lips pursed. “This is a good look for you.”

That was all it took to snap Brad out of it.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!” He thundered!

Brad surged forward out to grab Ricky by his collar but Ricky just expressionlessly snatched one of Brad’s fingers mid-grab and twisted it back at an awkward angle as far as it would go. “Don’t fucking touch me Chiles,” he said plainly.

Brad cried out with pain and had no choice but to yield immediately, bending his knees and twisting his whole body awkwardly to lessen the stress on the digit.

Judy just stood there. Cold. Wet. Red. Shaking, twitching.

“What. Are you… doing?” Brad ground out.

“Letting the intrusive thoughts win I guess,” Ricky shrugged. “I’m kind of fucking tired of you two treating me like your own personal litterbox to shit on, and I seem to have lost the will to care about the consequences. My heart’s being torn apart. I think my soul might be dead. It’s agony. But holy shit, do I feel fucking free.”

“Just you wait! Professor Perciles is going to hear about this and- Aah!” Ricky twisted the finger in his grip back further.

“Go ahead,” he said flippantly, “tell Pericles. I won’t be hiding. In fact, by the time he comes after me I’ll probably be existing somewhere in the hallways outside of Central Lab H. That seems like a good direction to wander. Then you all can torture me. Drag me into Hell with you. Destroy everything I’ve built. Disgrace my name. Use my resources to tear this town apart. We aren’t going to survive this mystery, and I’m glad! The last fuck I had to give died with her.”

Ricky finally let go, and Brad jerked his hand back, cradling it. His jaw was locked, and he was so angry. But that face- those eyes. They were so fucking dead that Brad knew in that instant that nothing he could say or do, no matter how personal or vile, would pierce through to whatever heart was left.

But Professor Pericles would.

With a snarl, Brad turned sharply and stormed down the hallway, ushering Judy along with him.

And Arthur Kingsmen watched them go.

He didn’t dare let out his sigh of relief until after they turned down the next hallway and vanished.

Wow. Had that been him? Had he really done that?! His heart was hammering the whole time, and he’d never stopped feeling the urge to run, but he hadn’t! He felt like he could climb Everest right now! He was on top of the fucking world!

But the job’s not over yet.

And the consequences of those actions were coming.

Arthur wasn’t looking forward to them, and he wasn’t sure if he could keep up that act through the pain. But he could sure as hell try. And even if he failed, he’d still have the evidence he needed.

Poor Brad and Judy, Arthur almost felt sorry for them. They were supposed to be the ultimates in their craft, but how the mighty had fallen. They were so warped by the curse, absorbed in their hunt for the treasure, in each other, and in their own wickedness, that they failed to recognize what they were really headed into: a trap.

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Owwwwwww. Ow ow ow ow OW.

Shaggy had felt the first twinges on the ride to the mansion in the Mystery Machine. But everyone had been talking so nicely with Mr. E, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it at that time anyway, so he hadn’t wanted to worry anyone.

Then they got in the mansion, they got to meet ghosts, Lewis, Vivi, and the Dead Beats gave them that nice song, they got to tour a haunted house, and Shaggy had been so busy taking it all in that he didn’t notice the twinges getting worse.

And worse.

At first when he’d noticed them again, he’d tried to ignore them a little longer because he didn’t want Scoob to worry.

But he ignored it for too long.

And now it hurt so much he could hardly focus on anything else.

Like, holy cow. No wonder Arthur felt like he could handle whatever Mr. E was dealing with. He’d been tolerating this for how long? And making it appear like he was perfectly fine to boot?

Shaggy shut his eyes tight where he was curled up on the black comforter, clutching his shoulder where flesh met metal. It was so weird. It wasn’t just the shoulder that hurt, it was as if the whole side and that whole arm hurt. Only that didn’t make any sense, because the arm wasn’t there.

That was when Scooby came bounding back into the room, followed closely by Vivi and Mr. E in Shaggy’s body.

Oh, Shaggy’s body! His skinny, intact, scruffy body! How he’d taken it for granted. He really, really missed it. He didn’t want to be Arthur anymore. He wanted to be Shaggy again, so he wouldn’t have to deal with this!

“What’s wrong?- Oh no,” Vivi said, and Shaggy could tell from the look on her face that she’d immediately put together what was wrong.

“Arthur’s pain medication!” Mr. E cried, smacking himself on the forehead. “I’m so sorry, Shaggy! We got so caught up in the other stuff that I completely forgot!”

“L-like don’t beat yourself up about it man,” Shaggy tried not to groan, “l-like, I’m the one who ignored it too long. We both forgot.”

“What about Arthur’s pain medication?” Vivi demanded.

“His dosage needs to be adjusted,” Mr. E explained. “Arthur warned us that it hasn’t been working right for a while. Fuck- I was so caught up in everything else, it didn’t even cross my mind!”

Vivi cried out in frustration and spun around to the doorway, where a couple of Dead Beats were looking in with concern. “You - go get Arthur’s meds. You - go get Lewis. Now. Hurry!”

As the Dead Beats rushed off to do as she’d asked, Vivi calmly sat down on the edge of Shaggy’s bed. “I’m going to help you take Arthur’s arm off. Removing the extra weight should help the pain a bit. Then just stay on your side.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Mr. E asked, “I could get you something or…?”

“There’s not much that can be done besides prescription meds. Just- go find Shaggy’s friends. They shouldn’t have left yet.”

“No! No. Like- uugh… I don’t want to worry them.” Shaggy said. “And like, they’ve got more important stuff to do-”

Vivi flicked him hard on the nose.

“They’re your friends and they love you. I don’t know your group, but I know that when Arthur’s in pain, nothing is more important to me. Especially not a mystery. And I imagine that your friends feel the same way about you.”

“Reah, Shaggy. Fred, Daphne, and Velma will be sad if you don’t tell them.” Scooby agreed. “If one of us was hurting like this, wouldn’t you want to know?”

Oh. Shaggy hadn’t thought of it that way before.

“Oh. Like um… okay then.”

With a nod, Mr. E swiftly left the room to find the others. Right as he was leaving, Lewis came rushing in with a couple of Dead Beats.

“They said something about Arthur’s arm. What happened?”

“Stupid Arthur,” Vivi snapped as the metal arm came off with a click, “didn’t bother mentioning that his pain medication wasn’t working anymore. And now Shaggy’s dealing with the consequences.”

“Oh, Arthur…” Lewis pinched his temples. “Shaggy, be glad you’re not Arthur. Because when we get him back, I’m gonna kill him. What now, Vivi?”

Just then, the other Dead Beat returned with Arthur’s medicine in two bottles. Vivi took them from it and set one on the nightstand, and kept the other in her hand.

“Go call Dr. Madrigal,” Vivi told Lewis. “We can give him more of this as needed, but we can’t give him more of the strong stuff willy-nilly, and we need to know by how much to adjust his dosage for the future.”

“L-like… how long will that ta-a-aaake??? Owww!” Shaggy whimpered. It was throbbing, now. There was like a couple moments of relief when Vivi took the arm off, but now it hurt even more. Shaggy could feel it with every beat of his heart.

“I’m so sorry, Shaggy. I know it hurts, dude. But hey-”

And Lewis started doing a little dance, singing,

“You got to keep on livin’,

Livin’ for the good life,

Holdin’ on, holdin’ on, holdin’ on-

“You know what? Sorry. I think I made it weird. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“L-like it’s okay, man. You were just trying to cheer me up.” Shaggy half-laughed.

“If it’s any consolation, It’s not usually this bad,” Lewis grimaced.

“It’s worse for Shaggy because he’s not used to it,” Vivi said gently. She put the other bottle between her legs so it wouldn’t roll off the bed, placed her hands on Shaggy/Arthur’s stump and started to massage it and the shoulder around it with practiced ease. “That, and Shaggy hasn’t done any of the mirror therapy Arthur has, so it’s possible that it’s been rendered null and void. And today’s been really stressful - which can make ghost pains worse.”

“G-g-ghost pains?” Scooby cried, shaking.

“Don’t worry, Scooby. It’s not that kind of ghost.” Vivi explained. “Lew-lew, get one of the Dead Beats to bring us a bottle of water. Shaggy needs something to swallow his pills with.” Lewis nodded and left, and Vivi went back to talking to Scooby. “Basically Scooby, Shaggy’s body- or rather, Arthur’s body, is supposed to have two arms. So Arthur’s brain is confused as to why it doesn’t. So even though it’s not there, to Arthur - and therefore to Shaggy now - it still sometimes feels like it is. Sometimes it feels like when one of your limbs falls asleep. And other times it can hurt a lot more. The pain is real, and it feels like it’s happening in the missing body part, even though it’s not there. That’s why people call them ‘ghost pains’. It’s very normal for amputees like Arthur to have them - lots of them do.”

Just then the rest of Mystery Incorporated came rushing into the room with Mr. E not far behind, totally out of breath. It suddenly occurred to Shaggy that they were quite a distance from the front entrance of the house, and he’d probably run all the way there and back just to make sure he caught Shaggy’s friends before they left.

“Shaggy!” Fred, Daphne, and Velma cried as they rushed to his side.

“L-like, hey guys,” Shaggy groaned, smiling.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Fred asked.

“Like, I’ve got ghost pains,” Shaggy laughed half-heartedly. “But like, not the kind of ghost I can run away from.”

“It didn’t even occur to me that Arthur might experience those, or that Shaggy would have to deal with them. I’m so sorry Shaggy,” Velma said, gently taking his hand in hers.

“It’s not just ghost pains either,” Vivi sighed.

“There’s something else?” Daphne exclaimed.

Vivi sighed. “Arthur has another condition that many amputees have called heterotopic ossification.”

“I know what that is,” Velma said. “Bone starts growing where it shouldn’t be. A lot of people get it after a major surgery or major injury.”

“That’s about it,” Vivi said. “It manifests as a bony, often painful lump under the skin. In Arthur’s case, he’s pretty lucky. His isn’t located on or near a joint, so it doesn’t restrict his mobility. And it’s pretty small - only about the size of a grape - and doesn’t show any sign of getting bigger. But it does bother Arthur every now and then. He could get it surgically removed, but because it’s at the site of his amputation and Arthur’s arm port is connected directly to his body and nervous system, it would take the greatest surgeon in the world to not ruin it.”

I can afford the greatest surgeon in the world, it suddenly occurred to Ricky. If they all survived this, then Ricky saw no reason why Arthur should have to keep living with an extra hunk of bone in his arm. If it was causing him pain and he simply couldn’t afford to have it safely removed, then what were rich friends for?

… Huh. How long had he thought of Arthur as a friend? They’d met literally this morning, and one could even argue that didn’t count, considering it was via astral projection. No, it didn’t make sense for him to jump to calling Arthur a friend. Arthur just… pitied him. And understood him. And for some reason saw fit to treat him with more kindness than he deserved.

Yeah - he’d help Arthur out. But it would just be him… repaying Arthur’s kindness. Especially considering that Arthur was probably putting himself through a lot of pain on Ricky’s behalf.

… But it made Ricky absolutely sick to think about that.

Another hiss of pain from Shaggy broke him out of his thoughts. Ricky suddenly felt very useless, and very guilty. Why? Why should Arthur and Shaggy be the ones hurting? If they were going to get body-swapped, then why hadn’t Ricky simply switched one pain for another? Why did he, the one who deserved it the least, get to be the healthy one?

Just then, a pair of Dead Beats entered the room and zoomed above Ricky’s head - one of them carrying a bottle of water in its mouth. Mystery (looking oddly guilty) followed close behind, passing by Ricky’s feet. “Any word? Did Lewis get through to Dr. Madrigal?” Vivi asked, taking the water bottle and uncapping it for Shaggy.

The Dead Beats shook their heads and did a short duet that was undoubtedly an annoying imitation of hold music.

“Ah. He’s on hold. It’s a doctor’s office, so I guess we shouldn’t be surprised.” Vivi said, handing the water to Shaggy and unscrewing the medicine bottle. She handed Shaggy two pills, and he obediently swallowed them with a mouthful of water before putting the water bottle on the nightstand and laying back down. “Scooby,” Vivi said, re-capping the bottle, “can you run down to the kitchen and get Shaggy a snack? He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and if he doesn’t put something in his stomach, then he’ll get really queasy and it’ll take longer for the medicine to kick in. There should be crackers in the pantry and cheese sticks in the fridge.”

“Roh-kay!” The dog said. And he obediently hopped off the bed and trotted out of the room.

“Remember to get him a normal-sized snack, Scoob! Arthur’s body doesn’t eat as much as Shaggy’s does!” Fred called after him.

Shit, all this talk of food was reminding Ricky how hungry he was. Don’t you fucking dare growl right now, he thought at his stomach.

“So like, what now?” Shaggy groaned.

“Scooby’s going to bring you something to eat, and then you’re going to take a nap, okay?” Vivi said.

She reached out to ruffle his hair, but stopped herself. That’s not Artie, she reminded herself. He looks and sounds like him, but he’s not. Remember, Vivi. He might not like you doing that.

Fuck, she missed Arthur.

“You’ll- you’ll feel a lot better after you rest a while and give the meds time to kick in.” Vivi said, taking her hand back and hiding her sadness behind a smile.

“But like- you need help in the library…”

“And you will help us. After you rest. Don’t worry. I’ve got Mystery and Mystery- pffft. Mystery and Mister. E. to help me with that.” Vivi corrected herself with a laugh.

“And what should we do?” Fred asked.

“Just go, guys. You’ve got important stuff to do and like, I’m alright. The meds’ll kick in,” Shaggy said.

“If you’re sure, Shaggy…” Daphne said apprehensively.

“Really guys. I’m fine. Like, I’ve got Scoob.”

“Okay then. I really hope you feel better soon Shaggy,” Velma said. She affectionately ran her hand over his hair and bent down to place a kiss on his forehead.

“Aw, Velms…”

As the other members of Mystery Inc. took turns fussing over Shaggy and bidding him goodbye, Ricky stood back in the doorway, and his heart screamed.

Because he’d realized something.

He had failed. Again. Their parents didn’t care enough, and Cassidy was gone. So that just left him to have the backs of the new Mystery Inc.

He had no family. He had no friends. His company didn’t matter. With Cassidy gone, he had exactly one thing left in this world left for him to care about. One thing that he still had the opportunity to do right. And that was these kids.

Velma, Shaggy, Fred, Daphne, and Scooby. And maybe Arthur, Vivi, Lewis, and Mystery too.

Ricky cared about those meddling kids.

Cassidy had loved those meddling kids.

In a big way, they were all that was left of her. They were her legacy. And they could be his, too.

He couldn’t die. Not even when he got his own ugly, expendable body back.

Even if he had no way of seeing what good times could possibly lie ahead for him, he had to keep on living. Not for himself. Not for Pericles. Not even for her - because what good would holding on for the dead do? He had to keep on living for them. They would not fall apart like him and his friends had. They would grow up, and they would grow old. And they would be happy. And if Professor Pericles wanted to destroy them, then he’d have to destroy Ricky, first.

And if it came to that, then Ricky would be damned if he wasn’t going to take the bird down with him.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Vivi slip past him.

Shaggy was taken care of, and with everyone else distracted, this was Vivi’s chance to sneak off and make a call. It hadn’t occurred to her to do it when she and Lewis were in the van earlier, so she had to make that call now. Vivi made her way to the West Wing and went into her room, locking her door behind her so she wouldn’t be overheard. She moved Boku the turtle plushie aside and sat down on her blue bedspread. Then she pulled out her cellphone, and dialed.

It rang for a few moments, then the person on the other end of the line picked up. “Hey, Uncle Lance! It’s Vivi- oh! Cassidy! Hi! Just who I wanted to talk to! Yeah - it’s time. We need you to come back to Crystal Cove. Like, now… Yeah! We've finally teamed up with the kids. They’re great! Also, Arthur’s once again wound up in a crazy, supernatural-related mess, and Ricky’s in trouble-... Yeah, he’s not hurt. And he’s safe now. Sort of. He’s with us, and we’re taking care of him, don’t worry… Yeah, he’s definitely not working with Pericles anymore… Yes, we’re sure…. It’s a long, and very crazy story. You’ll have to see it to believe it… No, we haven’t told them you’re alive, and no we haven’t told them about us. But we’re going to tonight. Think you can get here in the morning?”

At LAST! Chapter Eleven is posted!!! And I hope you all liked it! This was definitely a chapter where I gave some of the other characters some attention. It's no secret that Ricky is my favorite character and I love writing him, but this isn't just his story. Speaking of: as sad as it is to see Ricky's negative thoughts coming back, one pep talk is not magically going to make those go away. Even if it was a good pep talk, and it did help. Writing Brad and Judy was... fun, actually. As much as I hate them, there's something satisfying about writing characters that are unabashedly deplorable and pathetic. Especially when they get (at least part of) their comeuppance within the same scene. GOD, I hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it. Because that jjjust might be my favorite singular scene in the entire fic so far. And of course, sorry Shaggy, I couldn't forget about Arthur's pain. And any amputees who read this: I'm not an expert. I did like two hours of research and then went where the fic took me. So if I got anything horribly inaccurate, then deepest apologies. But HEY - Cassidy's coming out of hiding soon! Woot woot!!! 🎉 Make way for the QUEEN!!! 👑 This is the longest chapter of the story so far, at about 7,600 words or so. I really do try to write shorter chapters or split up longer ones so updates may be more frequent, but this time I just couldn't. Also, I would like everyone to know I just got a new job. On one hand: YAY! MONEY! On the other hand: even though it's only 20 hours a week, it takes up what are usually my most productive hours of the day. AND I have to juggle it with commuting to school. So between job, school, and schoolwork I have to do at home, I'm exhausted and there's hardly any time for writing so... updates will probably take a lot longer now. 😔 So it's only fair that my last chapter unemployed is a long one. I decided to post Chapter Eleven here on Tumblr before on AO3, just because the response on Tumblr has been so good. 😊 I'll post chapter eleven to AO3 tomorrow morning. EDIT: Fuck it. I've got time and my readers on AO3 have been good to me too. I'm posting it there this evening instead.

Chapters One through Ten of 'One of Us' are presently posted on Archive of Our Own.

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tempportal · 1 year ago

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psychology + mental health : deep dive!

general mental health related trigger warnings apply. feel free to include more or exclude those facts / test results that take too much time or don’t apply, you can check out this list for more personality-related quizzes to include!

quick facts.

diagnoses. due to his aversions to mental health services, Five has never tried to secure any kind of formal diagnosis for himself, and it’s highly likely that he never will, but that does not mean these diagnoses don’t exist despite his personal opinions on the matter — Five underwent multiple psychiatric evaluations and examinations when he joined the Commission, as all new recruits are expected to do, but the results and observations went straight to the Handler, not to him.

though Five himself does not know it, and would likely refuse to believe it if he ever accessed his Commission file, the final consensus is that he suffers from C-PTSD, or complex post-traumatic stress disorder, and IED, or intermittent explosive disorder, as well as obsessive-compulsive tendencies, self-destructive tendencies, persecutory delusional disorder, panic attacks, and alcohol addiction.

triggers. as a result of the unethical experimental procedures he endured at the hands of the Commission, Five can’t venture inside hospitals, doctor’s offices, or dentist’s offices, or he’ll suffer a severe panic attack — even the Academy infirmary is off-limits for him, as the faintest smell of antiseptic or the briefest glimpse of a surgical scalpel will upset him. when the situation is truly critical, however (such as when Viktor slashed Allison’s throat in S1) he’ll typically suppress his panic responses on blind reflex, effortlessly and unconsciously compartmentalizing the trauma for hours, or even days, at a time.

other triggers include : the sight of fire & the smell of smoke, the flash feature on cameras, the genuine or perceived scarcity of the bare essentials (such as food, water, and medical supplies), unexpected or uninvited physical contact from others, (particularly on his shoulders, back, neck, face & legs), performing sexual acts with others, pornographic videos, and physical confinement.

positive coping skills. despite his stated commitment to a fresh start with his family, Five does pay regular visits to Dolores in her department store, and he’ll often discuss his problems with her, quickly coming up with healthier alternatives and solutions to these issues thanks to her input.

additionally, Mr. Pennycrumb quickly becomes a kind of emotional support / therapy animal for him, providing the affection and comfort he refuses to ask for, and occasionally even bringing out his long-buried inner child. Five is noticeably calmer and happier after he’s adopted the dog, and the two of them go practically everywhere together, even sleeping in the same bed at night.

negative coping skills. Five’s knee-jerk reaction to stressful or frightening situations is to reach for the alcohol bottle, and the stronger, the better, but he also willfully neglects his own physical welfare so long as it quiets the mental dilemma — for instance, he often suffers vivid, terrifying nightmares about his past in the apocalypse and his days in the Commission, and his solution to the problem is simply don’t go to sleep. in that vein, he typically resolves his frequent anxieties over the potential dearth of food & water with twenty-four to forty-eight hours’ total abstinence, and he has a secret, hidden hoard of bottled water, canned rations & emergency medical supplies in his closet, as it’s the only solution he’s found to ease his worries.

aside from these habits, he also engages in other self-destructive behaviors on a fairly regular basis : he often lashes out at his family and friends when he’s extremely upset or frightened, in an attempt to alienate them and isolate himself from others, and on particularly severe occasions, he deliberately seeks out sexual encounters with others in a subconscious effort to relive his unwanted relationship with the Handler.

attachment style. disorganized-avoidant / fearful-avoidant

love language. quality time and acts of service (to give) and quality time (to receive)

myers-briggs / mbti. intj

are their diagnoses formal (via a doctor or therapist) or informal (self-diagnosis, a hunch, unrealized)? as stated above, Five did receive a formal diagnosis in his earliest days at the Commission, but he knows nothing about it, and he would probably become defensive, or even furious, if anyone ever tried to tell him.

have they ever been treated / medicated? due to his prolonged isolation, Five had become unaccustomed to ordinary stimuli such as strangers, large crowds, and physical contact with his fellow humans, so the Commission inflicted several weeks’ worth of intense exposure therapy on him. however, this treatment only heightened Five’s aversions and anxieties in the long term.

have they ever been hospitalized or treated on an inpatient basis? no.

how old were they when they first started experiencing / realizing symptoms? before he ever jumped into the apocalypse, he had a fairly intense panic attack when he was around eleven or twelve due to an incident of abuse at his father’s hands, but he brushed it off as a one-time occurrence, and never discussed it with anyone else.

do they have a family history of mental illness? not exactly in the biological sense, but his adoptive father displays a few symptoms consistent with post-traumatic stress disorder, and all his adoptive siblings have mental health problems of their own.

how was mental health handled / discussed in the family / community? it wasn’t, really. the atmosphere of constant, cutthroat competition in the Academy meant that any admission of mental distress would be ruthlessly exploited as a perceived weakness.

what are their thoughts on their mental health / their diagnosis? to tell the truth, Five doesn’t consciously realize that he’s struggling with mental illnesses, which often results in some pretty extreme frustration with himself over his symptoms — everyone knows that he’s a genius, everyone knows that he’s the logical and rational and reasonable one, so he can’t fathom why he frequently acts in such unreasonable ways. he catches the scent of an antiseptic ointment, and all of a sudden, he’s shaking and sweating and scared, and he’s got to get away from the smell before he throws up. he heads to the front of the library with an armful of books and his card in his hand, and the lady behind the counter is perfectly nice, but she’s got ice-blonde hair and bright red lipstick, and the next thing he knows, he’s dropped all those books on the patterned carpet, and he’s outside on the concrete steps with his head in his hands, trying like hell not to hyperventilate. he has a particularly realistic nightmare about the apocalypse, on his knees in the rubble with the cold corpses of his family all around him, and even when he wakes up in his childhood bedroom with Mr. Pennycrumb beside him, it still takes him the rest of the night to convince himself that he really is home, and he will never have to go back.

but he could endure these symptoms just as he endured the perils of the apocalypse, and the horrors of the Commission, if he only had a logical explanation for them. if anyone could ever persuade him to confront the fact that his mental health problems really are mental health problems, and this is not any kind of character flaw or personal shortcoming or intellectual deficiency, then Five would have a far better handle on his issues.

in what ways has their diagnosis shaped their life or experiences? due to the fact that he’s never actually accessed the diagnosis he received, it’s safe to say that it hasn’t affected him whatsoever.

symptoms. note that all of the below, on their own, are normative and typical aspects of human functioning. they become symptoms when they last longer than normal, or when they pose a significant impact on someone’s life / functioning.

bold all that are present, italicize those that are resolved, or in the past.

depression. anxiety. panic attacks. disassociation. derealization. depersonalization. suicidal ideation. self harm. homicidal ideation. psychosis. auditory hallucinations. visual hallucinations. delusions. mania. hypomania. racing thoughts. hyperactivity. attention difficulty. flashbacks. nightmares. hyperarousal. hypoarousal. hypersexuality. hyposexuality. psychopathy. risky behavior. catatonia. somatic / bodily concerns. mutism. phobia. agoraphobia. hoarding. obsessions. compulsions. body dysmorphia. hair picking. skin picking. amnesia. illness anxiety / hypochondria. sensory loss. speech difficulty. comprehension difficulty. communication difficulty. tics. defiant behavior. irritable mood. vindictiveness. aggression. pyromania. kleptomania. paranoia. attention seeking. narcissism. avoidance. dependency. pica. rumination. food restriction. food binging. purging. soiling the bed. insomnia. fatigue. sexual dysfunction. delirium. developmental delays.

explorations / elaborations on any of the above symptoms:

the majority of five’s symptoms are largely self-explanatory, trauma-based, and present in his character throughout the canon series itself, but there are a small handful here and there that might need a little bit of expansion. for example, his disassociation emerged in the earliest days of the apocalypse, as a way to separate himself from the physical agonies he endured — the sensation of suffocation due to the smoke, the constant hunger and starvation, the various injuries and wounds — but this particular problem hit its stride, so to speak, when he joined the Commission, and had to silently suffer the painful experimental procedures at the hands of the surgeons, and the Handler’s sexual advances as well.

as the suicidal ideation was simply a result of his environment, and the hopeless mindset he’d allowed himself to fall into, Five no longer struggles with this symptom whatsoever now that he’s returned home to his family — after all, he never truly wanted to die, he just wanted to be with his siblings again — and the same statement holds true for his visual hallucinations. once he’s left the endless, oppressive isolation of the apocalypse, these behaviors disappear fairly quickly. on the other hand, the auditory hallucinations persist long after he returns home, as he continues to carry on entire conversations with Dolores, and “hear” her responses. the homicidal ideation only presents itself during his monthly aggression cycle (though his siblings would certainly argue otherwise).

unlike the vast majority of his symptoms, his struggles with hyposexuality can’t merely be boiled down to severe trauma — his asexuality is a perfectly natural aspect of his personality, and it would be a part of him even if he had never ended up in the apocalypse, but the disgust and repulsion he experiences during sexual acts does stem from the Handler’s unwanted advances.

tagged by: @immortalled (thank you!! it was so cool to see such a thoughtful, nuanced take on nathan’s psyche!)

tagging: @theseancekid @dvarapala @chaoslulled @creelsclocks @seancez @thenightmareofyourdrems @littleshcp @greatwrath

#@ spark i am so so so sorry that this took me such an embarrassingly long time to complete 😭#tag game #that's one badass stapler! ; ( headcanons )#a first rate pragmatist ; ( meta )

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psychoticwillgraham · 8 months ago

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drag king Will au specifics (not everything but the most important bits)

Will’s trans backstory (the basis of this whole thing):

-his basic labels are non-binary trans man. sexuality wise he’s pan, but with a heavy preference for other trans people and feminine cis men

-still loosely follows canon, but certain events are different. the whole point of this is the cat and mouse game between them with the canon already established (the patient/psych dynamic and will eventually finding out that he’s the ripper). hannibal still tries to initiate Will’s becoming, but the whole thing is filtered through a trans lens where not only does Will become Hannibal’s partner in crime and goes on the run with him, but he also ‘becomes’ his true self identity wise thanks to hannibal and his way of life.

-his relationship with gender: he was raised by his father to be a ‘southern belle’ type of girl, and held to strict female gender roles. once he was able to get to college, he saved enough money to go on HRT, and began living his life as Will. when he first got to Baltimore, he bumped into Beverly, who knew some of the big ppl at the ultra exclusive drag/general hedonism club, and got him an audition which he aced with flying colors despite never having performed in any context and bev is basically his fairy drag mother bc she has experience of her own

-the club’s backstory: it’s basically a place for baltimore’s elite to go and be secretly gay and for drag shows, there’s a certain group of elites (which includes Hannibal) who wear masks and sit in the vip seats and do a digital tipping system so they don’t have to reveal themselves. basically, it’s an underground club where most things are allowed (with extensive rules, so also kind of a sex club, which Will occasionally partakes in but not for money, and does drag and burlesque and occasionally stripping if he has to fill in for someone). it’s very exclusive in its clientele and performers, and only performers who are considered to be amazing and near perfect are invited to work for them. basically, it’s a club for hedonism. politicians go there and extremely powerful ppl in general

-hannibal is a long time supporter and regular of the club (in most of the areas) but before Will was hired, he hadn’t gone in a year and decides randomly to go on the night of Will’s debut because he was curious about how Will would be. Will starts working for the FBI around the same time as his initial debut, and almost immediately knows it’s Will, but Will doesn’t find out about Hannibal going to every single show of his (drag/burlesque/stripping) until about mid way into the fic, which then leads into the section where Will purposefully chooses songs that he knows will rile Hannibal up. basically, Will ups the ante with every performance until he’s able to provoke Hannibal into action (aka they finally fuck).

-cont: once Will knows about Hannibal going, he starts to tease him slightly at their appointments and pretty much every time they’re together, even at work. he’s testing Hannibal’s patience at this point, and Hannibal starts to drop cryptic hints that he knows about Will and teases him back. eventually, the sexual tension comes to a head when Will does a duet with another king in front of Hannibal (and it’s a VERY sexually charged song), which drives him to act on his feelings and ambush Will backstage, fucking him on the counter and right against the mirrors as the other performers watch from the other side of the room (and they’re both aware of their audience). it’s at this point that Will whispers to Hannibal that he knows that he’s the ripper so nobody else can hear them, and they both confess their love for each other.

-cont: after the final curtain call, Hannibal rushes him out and tells Will that he’ll be staying at Hannibal’s house for the night and Will doesn’t even fight it. once there, Will convinces Hannibal to let him de drag first and get comfy before he’ll do anything else, and of course Hannibal whines about it a bit, but lets him. after Will is out of drag, Hannibal lays him down and tells him that they’re going to properly fuck, and it’s slow and romantic sex, compared to the spur of the moment fuck back at the club. the next morning, they talk about Will knowing he’s the ripper and they formulate a plan to fake their deaths and run away together. Will’s performer friends and contacts at the club help arrange for them to leave the country and get Will hired at a new club under a completely new identity (because not surprisingly, this happens A LOT there) and they live happily ever after as murder husbands in Cuba. before they leave though, they spend a while longer there just to be able to kill and make tableaus together.

-nobody but Hannibal and Beverly ever find out about Will’s job which is why he’s still able to be a performer (because the club is very protective of their talent and have close relationships with gov. officials). Chilton finds out but is appropriately dealt with

-Chilton also goes to Will’s shows and is very creepy about it to Will at work and starts to sexually harass him when Hannibal isn’t with him. Once they know about each other, Hannibal vows to make Chilton regret his advances, but Will stops him from outright killing him immediately. he hatches a plan to bait and trap Chilton at a secret location (that Hannibal owns obviously) under the pretense of a private strip show. when the time is right during his performance, Hannibal surprises him and they both torture him and castrate him. they do this just before they leave the country as their last murder in the US

-during the initial period of Will not knowing, Hannibal starts to theme his tableaus after Will and some specific performances, as a way of courting him. that’s when he finally started to suspect Hannibal because of the same reasons in the show. he starts to realize that the ripper is a huge fan of his and begins to try and cater to him without even knowing who it is, only knowing that he’s in the VIP section and is one of the city elites. as the tableaus get more and more bold and obvious, he officially begins to suspect Hannibal. so he does a number that is tailored exactly to what Hannibal likes and he stands directly in front of the VIP section, making eye contact with Hannibal and doing very sexual movements towards him.

-cont: at the next show, Will does an extremely sexual duet with another king and makes eye contact with Hannibal again when the other king gets on his knees in front of Will and has his face right on Will’s crotch and Will mimes an orgasm. This makes Hannibal absolutely snap, and he confronts Will backstage as soon as he gets off stage and ambushes him in the dressing room, and fucks him right on the makeup counter and up against the mirrored wall while the other performers watch them from the other side of the room while both of them are very aware of it.

-many politicians and even the occasional president have visited the club, some going regularly and requesting private shows with certain performers (Will has been requested quite often, but never actually taken anyone up on it bc he likes to stay out of that mess). Hannibal eventually finds out that Will has privately danced for several of Hannibal’s socialite friends (he only refuses politically powerful people, and socialites are the majority of his clientele) and eventually confronts Will about it, accusing him of sleeping with them. Will just smirks and says that it’s ’confidential’ and Hannibal punishes him for it, well aware that it apart of his job, but does it more as a jealousy thing. when they flee to Cuba, Hannibal lets Will continue doing his job, just not the outright sexual portion of it, and he has to be at every single performance and backstage with him.

-so basically, Will’s kind of a prostitute I guess, but he doesn’t do it for money, he just does it because he likes it and he gets paid more than enough for his actual job so he doesn’t have to charge for sex

#need to come up with an actual title for this verse gdi #there’s gonna be little side stories about their sex life and eventual wedding planning (under their aliases obviously)#Will’s fics

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nataliewallacerp · 2 years ago

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Natalie’s Timeline:

1990; Age 0:

November 25: Natalie Louise Wallace is born at Havasu Regional Medical Center in Lake Havasu City, Arizona, at 8:15 a.m. Her mother, Alice Waller, is a free-spirited insurance agent who followed her boyfriend, Tim, to Arizona nine months ago.

1992; Age Two:

March: Tim accepts a construction job in San Diego, and the family heads to California. Before leaving, Lucy and Tim get married at the local courthouse.

1994; Age Four:

November: The Catholic daycare the family uses for cheap childcare begins to notice that Natalie has learned to sight-read, a sign of high intelligence in children. When told, Tim and Lucy waive off the news.

1997; Age Seven:

September: Concerned that Natalie is showing behaviors that indicate she needs to be promoted to a higher grade, the public school reaches out to the Wallace family. It takes a week for them to establish contact, and when informed of the situation, Tim states, "he'll handle it." Natalie enters class the following day with a raised red welt under her cheek. She never acts out in class again.

1998; Age Eight:

October: Natalie wins first place for her research paper on the human body. Her teachers are so impressed that they want to submit her writing to a national contest, but her parents unequivocally say no. After that day, teachers began to notice changes in Natalie's work. She purposely missed test answers, turned in late homework assignments, and stated she did not complete the required reading. Teachers are perplexed but don't dig further into the issue.

1999; Age Nine:

June: Tim takes new employment with a long-haul trucking company, keeping him out of the home for weeks. During his absence, Alice takes a second job working the night shift at a convenience store. August: When Natalie returns to school, she's primarily responsible for herself and spends most of her nights alone. Bored, Natalie picks up a book on Anatomy from the local library and continues to check things out on science and medicine. October: Natalie breaks her ankle while attempting to use a chair as a ladder. With no one to take her to the hospital and too scared to call 9-11, Natalie tightly wraps her ankle with a kitchen towel, uses frozen veggies to ice her injury, and elevates her ankle until her mother arrives the following day. When Alice takes Natalie to the doctor, the Pediatric Surgeon who treats Natalie is incredibly kind and compassionate. He's also impressed with Natalie's knowledge. This lights a spark in Natalie, and she decides to be a surgeon when she grows up.

2001; Age Eleven:

August: On the first day of school, Natalie meets Aurora Larson- a former home-schooled student. The two quickly become friends, as they are both more intelligent than their peers and are interested in science and medicine. As Natalie begins to stay the night with the Larson family, Aurora's parents question her home life and meet with her parents, which causes tension at the Wallace home. One night, Tim packs Natalie a bag and says if she wants to be raised by those "Rich, Snobby, Know-It-All Bastards, she can." Natalie takes the bus with an overnight suitcase to Aurora's the next day and stays with them for two months. October: Natalie returns home after living with the Larson family for two months. There, she finds her mother sitting on the couch watching TV, drinking a glass of wine. Alice does not mention her daughter's absence, and Natalie never sees her father again.

2002-2004; Age Twelve-Fourteen:

January: Natalie spends most of her time with the Larson family, though she does return home occasionally. For the first time in her life, Natalie feels as if she has adults who care about her, and she begins to excel in her courses once more, following right behind or side by side with Aurora in every class. Over the months, Nat notices Aurora's parents are incredibly tough on their children and often set unrealistic expectations. Soon, those expectations also begin to fall on Nat, which makes her extremely uncomfortable. Shortly after that, Aurora is diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Nat feels incredibly guilty for not noticing how thin Aurora had gotten or helping her friend.

2006; Age Sixteen:

March: Natalie begins living with her mother again. The two women operate more as roommates than as mother and daughter. October: Tim Wallace is declared dead. The Wallace’s receive a large insurance payout. September: Natalie takes the ACTS and receives a score of 34 October: Natalie takes the SATs and gets a score of 1550 November: Natalie begins dating Emery Warner, a boy in her Chemistry Class.

2008; Age Eighteen:

April: Natalie and Emery break up, as Emery has decided to attend college in Ohio, and Nat will stay in California. May: Natalie and Aurora graduate from Westview High School. Aurora walks away valedictorian, and Natalie is named salutatorian. Both of them graduate Summa Cum Laude. After graduating, both girls leave the United States and move to Sweden for a summer Holiday. August: Nat begins working toward her Bachelor's in Biology from Stanford University alongside Aurora. At her first house party, Natalie meets Danielle MacDonald, a Sophomore at Stanford hoping to become an Environmental Scientist. The following day, she wakes up wearing Danielle's t-shirt wrapped in the other woman's arms.

2010; Age Twenty:

January: Natalie takes the MCAT and passes with a score of 520. February: Danielle proposes to Natalie with a 3k Princess Cut Moissanite ring on Valentine's Day. Nat accepts the proposal, though she tells Aurora she isn't sure if she wants to get married. May: Natalie receives her Bachelor's degree and then begins working toward her Medical Degree at Stanford Medical School. June: Nat enrolls in a Medical Mission Trip to Tanzania. She informs Danielle the night before, causing their first big fight.

2011; Age Twenty-One:

May: Nat, again, takes a last-minute Medical Mission Trip, this time to Sir Lanka.

2012; Age Twenty-Two:

May: Nat takes her third Medical Mission Trip to Papua New Guinea. November: After two years of constant fighting and no solid plans for a wedding, Danielle leaves Nat while Nat returns to San Diego with Aurora. When Nat returns on her birthday, she finds their apartment empty. Danielle never contacts her again. December: Aurora's brother passes away.

2014; Age Twenty-Four:

January: Natalie's mother remarries. March: Natalie begins dating Alec Watson, an aspiring Musician, and Stanford Alum with an Undergraduate in Music. Aurora questions how quickly Nat moves on. May: Natalie graduates from Stanford Medical University with her MD and begins her general surgical residency at Stanford Medical Hospital. July: Alec and Nat move in together. October: Alec loses his job, stays unemployed, and focuses on making an album. Unable to cover his expenses, Nat essentially provides for both of them. November: Nat takes a solo vacation to Amsterdam. She leaves without telling anyone except Aurora.

2018; Age Twenty-Eight:

November: After providing for Alec long enough, Nat ends her relationship with Alec. The break-up is quite messy, and eventually, the police have to escort Alec off the property, and Natalie is granted a restraining order. December: Natalie meets Landon Wyatt, CEO of NoStrings, a dating app for people who are explicitly looking for hookups. They start a Friends With Benefits relationship shortly after their first date.

2019; Twenty-Nine:

April: Aurora starts dating a woman named Tatiana. Almost immediately, Nat distrusts the woman. The relationship moves quickly, and the two women move in together, despite Nat's hesitations. September: Aurora begins withdrawing from their friendship, which is incredibly alarming to Nat. Despite insisting, Aurora tells Nat she's okay.

2020; Age Thirty:

January: Landon confesses that he loves Natalie and wants to be a couple. Natalie panics and ends their relationship. May: Natalie completes her surgical residency and becomes a board-certified pediatric surgeon July: Natalie throws a party at the local bar to celebrate her certification. After much convincing, Natalie drives to Aurora's home to pick her up. When she doesn't come to the door, Natalie heads inside, where she finds her friend hiding in the kitchen, having a psychotic episode. Knowing something is seriously wrong with her friend, Natalie calls 911. While giving the operator their address, Aurora begins to have a seizure. At the hospital, her condition deteriorates. Nat starts to suspect that Tatiana might have something to do with Aurora's illness. August: Nat receives an offer from Rady Children's Hospital. Though she doesn't want to leave Aurora at the hospital where Tatiana works, she can't decline the offer financially. She leaves Stanford and moves back to San Diego, though she takes weekly flights to visit her sick friend. September: After seeing no improvement in her friend's condition, Natalie requests that Aurora be transferred to another hospital. After her move, Aurora's health nosedives severely, which prompts a doctor to do a spinal fluid test, finally diagnosing Aurora with Anti-NMDA Receptor Encephalitis. Aurora remains unconscious. October: Aurora returns to consciousness profoundly deaf. She is sent to a long-term recovery facility. November: Aurora and Tatiana break up.

2021; Age Thirty-One:

May: Natalie discovers that Aurora's ex has been spreading rumors, claiming that Aurora was abusive during their relationship. It has a profound effect, and nearly all of Aurora's other friends distance themselves from her and, eventually, cut her off completely. Natalie stays firmly by her friend's side. August: With the help of a cane, Aurora begins to walk again and returns home to Stanford. November: Aurora can finally walk without a cane, though her severe pain lingers.

2022; Age Thirty-Two:

March: At Nat's insistence, Aurora returns to San Diego, where she has friends and support. September: Natalie, tired of California, begins to look for out-of-state jobs. Finding a location needing a Pediatric Surgeon in Laurel, Maine, Nat decides to apply. Shortly after the interview, she receives a job offer. After convincing Aurora that a fresh start is just what they both need, Aurora also takes a position at Sapphire Lake Hospital as a Plasma Scientist. The two women move to Laurel and rent a townhome.

#timeline

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