#if you actually cared that much u would've just been quieter in the first place actually.

[cryolyst]

~

[flowerbloom-arts]

A 2434 word long fic about Fuddler talking to a maybe not actually real version of his father after trying to escape from a recent event in his life and failing. Now I would've written a 50s sitcom episode of Fuddler's family that would've lead up to this point if I had the motivation, but I didn't, so here you go. I hope you enjoy this!

---

The set of the show had become undone and the fourth wall was nothing but a non-existent window into the stage, the Muddler, tear stained and tired of his child's shenanigans, went up from the table he was crying at and walked to the empty director's chair with 'The Fuddler' embroidered on the back and sat on it. The Muddler grabbed the megaphone that sat on one of the armrests and spoke into it in a very clearly annoyed tone of voice: 'Cut. Take 2. Excuse me! That wasn't a bad first take but all of you really fell apart at scene 15.'

But the rest of the cast had been frozen in place, basically mannequins, all except Fuddler, who was in fact the mastermind behind this mess. The small and fuddly creature looked around in a slight bit of confusion and decided to walk up to his father on his director's chair, it did have his name on it afterall. 'Excuse me, aren't I supposed to be sitting there?' he asked rather sheepishly, there was a thought in the back of his head that knows exactly why but he's too afraid to make that thought even slightly tangible.

'Well, yes,' answered the Muddler matter-of-factly 'but due to poor management someone else had to take over.' he added, he spun the megaphone around and inspecting it in a rather disinterested manner. If it's anyone, it really didn't seem to be the father that Fuddler knew, even if he was stained with dark brown tears on his face and wore ragged feminine attire indicative of a mental breakdown, which was a sight that would only be familiar as the Muddler.

'Maybe. Though we should probably take a break, that breakdown didn't look all that... The breakdown seemed very exhausting to act out,' Said the Fuddler, trying to avoid going over this episode another time.

'Sure,' Muddler said, he didn't even care to glance at his child, he put down the megaphone on the floor and rested his face on his paw resting on the armrest, looking off to the black void beyond the set or nearby part of the studio.

Fuddler sighed with relief and a tinge of discomfort, he decided it was best to sit down next to his father and look back at the scene that was frozen in time. It was not even the slightest bit amusing to say the least, it's just everyone looking concerned over Muddler having a breakdown but Muddler isn't even there, you could see the Fuzzy, Fuddler's mother, placing a hand on what was Muddler's back, great uncle Hodgkins and Sniff are looking on confused and concerned, and Moomintroll had just walked in with not even the slightest idea of what's going on. The Fuddler stared at it for a few moments before saying what was on his mind while the scene was happening 'That... That breakdown... It wasn't in the script.'

'What script?' Muddler asked as if Fuddler was too dumb to even remember he didn't even make one. Of course there wasn't any script to speak of.

'I- I dunno!' Fuddler blurted out with the realization 'You guys were basically reading my mind anyway! I thought that was something like reading a script-!'

'Were we reading your mind or were you controlling us?' Muddler asked, almost cutting him off.

Fuddler was a bit surprised at the sudden interruption, it's really unlike his father to act anything close to this, is this even his father? Fuddler started to actually question everything about this, as if it wasn't a very obvious thing he should've questioned at the start. He looked down and curled up into a more fetus-like sitting position, kind of avoiding answering the question.

'Now tell me, child, why this?' Muddler gestures vaguely toward the set.

'What do you mean?' Fuddler looked up at Muddler and asked innocently.

'Why the television show?' he clarified, he lowered his resting paw and finally looked at Fuddler for once, though he did look very... unpleasant.

Fuddler felt very uncomfortable at the question and simply answered with an 'I dunno...' like a small child, he certainly looked and acted like one either way despite being an adult.

Muddler sighed disappointedly and went back to staring at the set 'Is this really how you're gonna deal with what happened? What even did happen, anyway?' he asked, even he was unsure of the origins of this.

'I... I actually don't remember... Excuse me, sorry, oh dear... What was I thinking?' Fuddler asked, he was mostly asking himself that.

'That's right, what were you thinking?' Muddler repeated Fuddler with annoyance 'Did you really think you could reduce your own family into cheap tropes and live like that?'

'I wasn't trying to do that!' Fuddler cried 'I just thought...! I thought if I could live just one happy day after 10 years of nonstop misery-!'

'And you did that by retreating into some ideal version of reality the city gave you through a light box?'

'Yes!' Fuddler blurted out, he realised what he said outloud and slowly went back into a balled up position on the floor 'Just... Atleast those people on TV seemed happier... Happier than we ever could've been when we moved to the city,' Fuddler argued with a quieter but ultimately defeated tone, this wasn't how things were supposed to go in his mind.

'Is that why you wanted to move away so badly?' Muddler asked in a more sincere and worried tone of voice, much more like his regular self and what Fuddler would be used to.

'Maybe,' Fuddler answered simply 'Or I guess there were other things too...' he added.

'Oh I could definitely list them off for you,' Muddler suddenly went back to a menacing tone.

Fuddler suddenly felt a great shock to his system and did not want anything Muddler could be implying 'Please don't-'

'Well first of all,' Muddler didn't let his child finish and he didn't seem to care in the slightest 'you didn't like other creatures shoehorning you into their ideas of what you should be, you didn't like the boring concrete buildings, you hated the constant noisiness of that wretched city, you couldn't bare the constant mockery from your own peers, they kept thinking you were a twelve year old - which you never grew out of being one after all these years by the way - and kept thinking you were lying when you said you weren't, you didn't like the lack of frogs or swamps or free things to collect off the street, you were being discriminated against for being a clumsy little mut, and most of all-'

'Please stop!' Fuddler cried.

'MOST OF ALL,' Muddler repeated louder to talk over Fuddler 'You hated me. Your own father. Simply because he couldn't land a simple job and was too feminine for anyone's liking!'

'NO!' Fuddler jumped up and tried to hold onto his dad's arm, but Muddler quickly got it away from him.

'YES! You kept having the same negative comments and jokes repeated to you over and over and you thought they were making fun of you by association! You don't want anything to do with the way I am and yet you keep chugging along the same way I did!' Muddler cried 'You were happy enough to tell my dear old friend mr. Moomin that people said you took after me and leave it at that! What if he asked you even further? Would you have talked about me in a good way!?'

'STOP! PLEASE!' Fuddler was almost in tears at this.

'Oh I see how it is! Just admit it! You hate me! Why else would you shove me in as the comic relief? Why else would I break out of character if you didn't know it'd be completely out of line for who I actually am!? I am anything BUT happy and you know this! No matter how hard you try I will cry eventually because I'm that dumb and sensitive about everything! The only things that you got right about me is that I'm clumsy and that I love you!' Muddler started tearing up through all the yelling 'You know deep down I love you... It's not your fault... right?'

Fuddler wanted to cover his face in his saucepan but unfortunately he was in his sitcom costume which lacked it completely, all he could really do was bury his face in his paws and try not to cry, muddler tears are much like that of a dog's, mixed in with blood waste and it stains your face, you'd need some cloth and water to clean it. Very inconvenient for a man, they aren't supposed to cry, and the stains make it very obvious you did.

'Fuddler... Did you really think this was going to solve anything?' Muddler got up from the director's chair to kneel down and lowered Fuddler's paws away from his face, Muddler's face was... trying to be comforting but that got ruined by the tear stains, which was being added onto by him crying at this very moment, he looked down at Fuddler's paws, looked back up at his face and added '... At all?'

Fuddler didn't make an attempt to make eye contact with his father, those strange 'u' shaped pupils were familiar but the idea of them not being normal at all still brought him some form of discomfort '... I just... Excuse me. I just thought that maybe... If I could feel better, somehow, maybe the problem would be less of a problem...'

'Fuddler, you don't even remember what the problem was,' Muddler said, he held his child's chin up to make him look at him directly 'You know this.'

'I know...' Fuddler admitted 'I think the cause is starting to come back to me... I think... It's still a little foggy...'

Muddler sighed 'How many times have you done something like this?'

'I...' Fuddler started thinking 'I don't know... I never bothered counting.'

'So this clearly isn't the first time.'

'It definitely doesn't feel like the first time... say for the addition of a few cast members,' Fuddler added the last part as a sly attempt at humor, he was referring to Moomintroll, Jumble and Sniff.

'Of course,' Muddler said with a touch of melancholy and sat on the floor beside Fuddler, Fuddler followed suit 'Do you think this is normal?'

'Dad, I moved to Moominvalley to get away from 'normal'!'

'You moved to Moominvalley to feel normal, there's a difference. And that's an important difference to realise,' said the Muddler, the black and white studio faded into a sepia tone as it seemed to transition into a lake sort of scene, almost unnoticeably to the Fuddler.

'Why's that?' Fuddler asked.

Muddler picked up a flower that happened to be next him, well- not actually, a sort of ethereal copy of the flower formed which left the real one untouched, Muddler looked thoughtfully at the flower in his hands 'If you know the difference, then maybe you can appreciate the specific thing that makes this place feel like you feel normal.'

Fuddler stared at the flower and glanced up at his father '... You're not really my dad, are you?'

'You think that now?' Muddler questioned with an amused undertone.

Fuddler felt almost silly about it, of course this Muddler isn't real, why would he think otherwise? 'I dunno... I guess I got cought up in the all the acting that... I forgot I'm just talking to myself...'

'Does it really matter, though?' Muddler raised an eyebrow with a slight smile on his face 'Atleast you got it out of your system, you twelve year old.'

'Don't call me a twelve year old!' Fuddler cried in defense.

'Then why do you act like one?'

'How can I not act like one if I look like one?' he said, slightly furious at the subject being brought up.

'People can turn invisible if they're abused enough, maybe this is something similar?' Muddler suggested.

'Tsch, magic, sure.' Fuddler waved off dismissively.

'You stayed as the same Fuddler that you were when we lost Sniff, excuse me but you really don't think there's something connected here?' Muddler asked rather rhetorically 'You graduated college with a degree in biology and live by yourself in the coffee tin you inherited from me and yet you still chase after a woman like you have a preteen crush on her with absolutely no clue as to how to talk to a girl.'

Fuddler cringed at the memory of his attempted courtship of the Mymble and recoiled back into a ball position.

'But atleast it seems like you learned from it, just... Don't let things paint your views so easily, sir,' Muddler placed the flower on Fuddler's head.

'Don't use 'sir' on me...' Fuddler muttered quietly.

'Well, what do you want me to refer to you as? Ma'am?'

'That's even worse!' Fuddler shut down the idea almost immediately, he grabbed the flower from his head and looked at it 'Neither of them feel all that right...'

'Right,' Muddler said 'It's fine if you don't want to be referred to as either of those.'

'It's not just that... I don't really feel like a... A man. Atleast not how the world seems to think of one.'

'You're a button collector, Fuddler. Maybe you should start calling yourself that instead.'

'You can do that?' Fuddler seems to be almost bewildered but not totally against the idea.

'Fuddler, I'm a half woman who calls itself a man, anyone can be anything, especially in places like this valley. You don't have to define yourself by those standards anymore.' Muddler explained.

Fuddler stared at his father with a thoughtful expression on his face 'Like I don't have to define my family by any of those standards...' he looks back down at the flower in his paw.

'That's the spirit!' Muddler punches his child lightly on the shoulder 'And whatever the problem was... I hope you can fix it, it's not easy but... It'll be better for the long run.'

'Right...' Fuddler flicked the flower into the lake, it simply dissolves in mid-air rather than land into the water or anything 'I'm sorry about... Everything. I'm still very, very dumb.'

The Muddler laughed ever so slightly 'You'll get it in time, I promise.'

'... Maybe.' Fuddler said rather hopefully. The Muddler seemed to dissolve away like the flower did and the world faded into full color. It looks like that episode was a wrap, one might say. Now it's time to figure out why it had to be made.

[shall-we-imagine]

Scaredy Cat. (Badboy!SigurdxReader)

Bet you weren't expecting this, huh.

Requested: 26. "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap." From the prompt list.

A/N: Badboy!Klaus was quite popular so why not try this? 🤷‍♀️idk how to write proper bad boys so spare me I'm trying 😂 this is also a bit of an idol AU? 😂 you can call me artist; you can call me idol sorry I'm actually loving the BTS comeback even though a lot of people don't...aannd that's not the right place to discuss this I'll shut up. Moving on.

Genre: Fluff.

(Second Person Point of View)

Being friends with an idol had its pros and cons. On one hand, it led to you being friends with all his group mates, and it also scored you dates with other idols. On the other hand, you barely get to even see your friend; it's always video calls, and even those aren't as often as you'd like. But what can you do? As long as he's following his dream, you're happy for him.

Sometimes, however, you wish you could just have him around whenever you need him. He's always very caring towards you, but he can't help it that he's busy. So, sometimes you just have to suck it up and deal with your own problems yourself. Or do you?

Pacing around the living room, you contemplate calling Serge. If he was sleeping, you really didn't wanna disturb the tiny bit of sleep he gets. What if he was busy doing something else? He usually calls when he's free anyway..

"It's okay; I'll be fine." You whisper to yourself reassuringly, even though your voice came out filled with uncertainty. As you approach the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, you flick on as much light switches as possible. There ain't no demon attacking you tonight, nope.

You down the refreshing glass of water. "There. That's not so bad. I can do thi-" your sentence was cut off by your own squeal. What was that noise?

You hesitantly inch closer to your open kitchen window. As you were scolding yourself for leaving that window open, you peek into the back yard of your house. There it was. The source of the noise.

You could see the bushes shaking violently, indicating something or someone was in there. Trembling hands reach to quietly shut the window and blinds, as you tip toe away from the window. Maybe it was the fact that you were home alone getting the best of you, but you were terrified to the core. Someone might be lurking around in your backyard, and that would explain the odd noises you'd been hearing for the past hour or so.

You rush back into the living room. What in the world were you supposed to do?

Call your parents? They're thousands of miles away; they can't particularly help.

Call the police? Okay, you're not actually sure someone is out there, and you don't wanna just call for nothing..

The only person left to call was Serge..

You promised yourself that you'd call one time; if he doesn't pick up, you have to try to ignore the noises.

Please, for the love of everything good, pick u-

"Hello?" A voice deeper and more calm than Serge's booms through the phone.

You frown. "Um, isn't that Serge's phone?"

"Yes, darling, but Serge is shooting for his up coming drama right now, so he can't respond to the phone he forgot at the dorms." Darling? Oh, it's him. "Figured you might need some company, though, so I replied." You could almost see him smirk.

Now, when you say you're friends with the group Serge belongs to, well, there's an exception, and that's the one and only Sigurd Curtis. Fans love him for his 'mysterious charms', but all you could see is an irritating jerk. And now was really not the time for him.

"So? What did you call for?" His question reminds you that you hadn't replied to him earlier.

You sigh. "I called for Serge, but he's not here, so I'm hanging up."

"Oh, come on, am I not good enou-" you hang up before hearing the rest of his teasing and whining.

You couldn't really understand him much. He was generally quiet, but somehow, when it comes to you, he becomes the most talkative person on the planet. Which would've been fine if he didn't use all his power to tease you and flirt with you for no reason.

Well, there's no other choice but to deal with the unreasonable fear yourself.

#####

"This is not working." You huff, unable to stop thinking someone might break in. Your house didn't have a single light bulb turned off, which was probably going to be a pain when your parents receive the electricity bill, but you didn't have any plans of turning any of them off for now.

You stare at your phone, as if silently willing it to start ringing and showing Serge's picture. Of course, that didn't happen even after you stared for a full minute.

"Should I try calling again?" You sigh.

You took your heart thumping in fear as a yes. You prayed with all your power the idiot would respond, but once again, you were greeted with the flirtatious tone you feared hearing.

"Missed me already?"

A loud groan sounds across the empty room. "When is Serge coming back?"

"I don't know, cupcake." Knowing he specifically uses this to make you uncomfortable, you try your best not to cringe. "I've just been informed you're home alone. Is that why you want Serge? You're scared?"

Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Usually..when my parents go on trips for work, Serge spends his time talking to me to get my mind off of the fact that I'm home alone." You admit sheepishly. "Sometimes he even sings me to sleep." You add in a quieter voice, part of you hoping he didn't hear it. You didn't even know why you were telling him this; maybe sleep-deprived you was extra friendly and liked over sharing.

"Oh." A pause was followed by a confident statement, "I could do that!"

"W-what?" However, there was no response. "He hung up? What in the world is wrong with that guy?!"

No longer than 2 minutes later, you were jumpscared by the doorbell. You silently approach the door, unsure who would be at the door. Of course, there was a face that popped into your head, but you somehow still couldn't be sure if it was really him.

"Sigurd?" You eye the taller male. His hair was freshly dyed black; he was even given an undercut while the hair on the top of his head was styled in a messy quiff. His attire was black as usual. Of course, as an idol, he had to switch colours, but when he got to wear what he wants, he'd almost always dress in black, to add to his 'mysterious' aura- you assume. He wore a black tank top with random scribbles on the front, matched with black skinny jeans that had some chains hanging from them; you never really understood that odd choice of clothing, but you didn't question it. What you did question, however, was the choker he wore.

"Sharing closets with your dog or something?" You point at the strange accessory. It was adorned with spikes and a few silver chains intertwining with each other; the best way to describe it was that it looked like a dog's collar.

"Ha ha very funny. It's called fashion, pancake, you wouldn't understand." Wearing a sympathetic smile, he pats your shoulder, allowing himself inside.

"Are you hungry or something? Wasn't it cupcake at first? Now it's pancake? What's with that?" You roll your eyes. Nice sleep-deprived you was nowhere to be seen, apparently.

He glances at your chest before looking back into your eyes and giving an innocent smile. "Nothing." He walks further into the house, not waiting for a reaction from you.

"You little-" you bite back an insult, knowing he just enjoys pushing your buttons. You had to stay calm. "Why are you here? I didn't even invite you. Plus don't you have work or something?!"

"You implicitly invited me." He points out, "And, no, we're on a break, remember?"

A sudden knocking noise makes you jump before you could even respond to the dork that made himself comfortable on your couch.

He stares at you with a raised eyebrow, "that was a branch hitting the window.."

"I knew that." His intense stare doesn't waver. "Okay, fine. It scared me..a little! I'm scared of being home alone, and there's a person lurking outside the house and-"

"There's a person lurking outside the house?!" He hops off the couch, his expression -for once- not smug or playful but concerned. It somehow made your heart skip a few beats. Surely, you were overreacting, though; there's no way he just looked attractive because he seemed concerned. There's no way you suddenly noticed how well black contrasts his skin tone, making it suit him beautifully. Nope.

"Well, I'm not very sure it's a person.." you explain shyly, "I just heard some noises and saw the bushes moving.."

"Man, you freaked me out for nothing." He runs a hand through his visibly soft hair. "Where was it you saw the bushes move?"

"Okay, stay here and keep the door locked; I'll take a look outside to ensure nobody's out there." He instructs, after you show him to the back door.

"Sigurd, you don't need to do this. What if someone dangerous was out there?" You attempt to reason with him.

He chuckles, "you worried about me, cupcake?"

You pretend to gag. "You might as well find yourself a ride home cuz I'm not gonna be opening that door again."

After a few moments, you hear Sigurd call out for you, claiming you should come out. He has teamed up with the serial killer outside and plans to trick you into getting murdered?

"Oh my god stop panicking; just come out! It's a puppy for God's sake!" He shouts, even though he really couldn't see you or your desire to ignore his request to leave the safety of your house.

"Fine!" You shout back, as you reluctantly pull open the door. The view beyond the door certainly made you glad you complied with his request, though.

Sigurd was crouching on the grass rubbing a small Pit bull's belly. It wiggled its tail happily, as he continued to shower it with affection. You almost let out a small awwhh. You almost forgot that this was the same guy you threatened to not let back into your house.

"I think that's my neighbour's puppy." You muse, as you approach Sigurd and the pit bull. You check the red, spike-filled collar. "Look. It's matching with you." You tease.

"Hey! How many times do I have to explain-"

You cut him off to add in a mocking tone, "it's fashion!!"

He merely glares, to which you laugh. It was your turn to tease him for once. "Anyway, we need to take it back to its owner." You state.

"Can't we keep it for a bit longer, please?" He pouts, catching you off guard.

"U-uh, um, we can't!" You begin to object, but all you could think of was how cute that was. Looking at this guy, with at least 2 sets of ear piercings and a hair cut to display a rebellious aura, just sit there pouting at you because you told him to take the puppy back to its owner- it was so strange yet so adorable.

You do your best to ignore the red adorning your cheeks, as you stand your point and demand he takes it back.

"No fun." He grumbles, as he lifts the puppy and holds it to his chest. "Fine; where's the house? At least come with." He gets off the ground. That's when you first notice some minor details of his tank top. The sides were sort of see-through, allowing you glimpses of his toned body underneath.

"Whatchu starin' at?" Your eyes meet with the smug male's. His smirk just never left his lips, as he continuously wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"Nothing!" You push past him, giving yourself a way to hide your burning cheeks. "That's the house; just follow me." You announce, mainly to change the topic.

After doing your duty as a noble neighbour and returning the puppy to its owner, you head back to your house, Sigurd following behind- obviously.

"I'm so tired." You yawn.

The dark haired male gives an excited grin. "Time to sing you to sleep!" He claps happily. Mysterious charms they say. That guy is the biggest dork you've ever seen. You are friends with Serge, though, so maybe second biggest dork.

"You really don't have to-"

He cuts you off, "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap. I want to do it, and you want me to do it too." Well, he wasn't wrong. Sigurd's voice is really unique; it's one you really enjoy listening to. This would pretty much be like a private show..how can you say no?

"Well, get comfortable cuz I'm not gonna strain my precious vocals just for you to not fall asleep." He informs, earning an eye roll from you.

Once you place yourself in relaxing position and pull the covers up to your chest, Sigurd begins singing quietly and soothingly. His voice was so calming and gentle, urging you to throw away your worries and let the sweet melody carry you to the land of dreams. Which you inevitably did. Your eyelids had already gotten too heavy for you to keep them open; therefore, it took no time for you to drift into deep sleep.

######

An annoyingly loud ringtone disturbs your comfortable sleep, and you force your eyes open.

You hear a groan coming from the edge of the bed, almost giving you a heart attack before you remember last night's events.

"Hello?" Sigurd grumbles into his phone. As it was a video call, you could see the caller- Serge.

"Sigurd, wher- wait a minute; is that (Y/N)?! Why are you in bed with (Y/N)?? (Y/N), why are you in bed with your least favourite member of the group??" Serge cuts off his own speech to begin yelling about the situation he misunderstood.

"Wait; what do you mean least favourite member?? Why am I your least favourite?! Who's your bias then??" Sigurd complains. What made it funnier and cuter was the fact that you could tell he was genuinely offended by him not being your bias.

"Guy." You confess, "or Joel."

"I spent the night here and sang you to bed; don't I at least get an upgrade??" He whines.

"Hey, why am I not your bias?" Serge joins in, also visibly offended.

"You're my friend. it's weird to have you as a bias." You defend.

"Joel and Guy are your friends too!" Serge just isn't having it, clearly.

"Oh my god, Serge, just let it go, please?" You plead. It was too early in the morning for this.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. We'll discuss this later." He states. "Anyway, Sigurd, where did you leave my phone? I don't wanna keep using Guy's! Well, not that he would let me, but yeah."

"Your pho- oh." Sigurd's confused expression switches to an embarrassed one. "I might've taken it with me?" He pulls a second phone from his pocket.

"Sigurd, I've been calling since morning! You better bring it back right now! I can't believe you-" Sigurd cuts off Serge's rant by hanging up. "Well, I guess I have to go. Man, I'll never hear the end of it!" He groans, to which you giggle lightly. "I mean it is your fault for taking his phone." You point out.

"I was comforting you!" He defends. He looked so hurt you didn't appreciate his 'efforts', which made you want to pinch his cheeks or something. His hair had gotten messier, somehow making him even more attractive, yet you wanted to pinch his cheeks. Well, in your defense, he was acting like a child.

"Anyway, I'm gonna get going now." He pushes himself off the bed. "If you ever need someone to spend the night again, always call me." He winks. "You're an idiot." You shake your head.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)." He smiles. (Y/N). This was the first time he calls you with your real name ever since you met.

"You just called me (Y/N)." You grin victoriously.

"No, I didn't, cupcake." He yells, disappearing into the hallway. You throw your head back in frustration. He just won't stop being his annoying self, huh? Sadly, you felt yourself liking it and waiting for another meeting with him.

"I'm getting bias wrecked, aren't I?" You sigh.