#look at him so tiny and skippy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imbeccable-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Separated Ch 9. - Somewhere, Out There

Summary: Twinkle twinkle Wishing Star Can you hear from where you are It has been quite far too long Since it all has gone so wrong Wishing Star please hear their plea Grant their wish, the Warners three

Or, the Warners make a wish.

Nurse walked into Wakko’s room slowly, rapping her knuckles against the door.

“Wakko? Honey?” she called, allowing some concern to seep into her voice. It was nearly noon and Wakko had shown neither hide nor hair to his caretakers. Nurse knew what day it was, knew it was always difficult for him around this time, but she also knew wallowing all day wouldn’t help at all.

There was no answer to her call. Nurse waited another beat before walking further in. She approached the bed on the other side of the still-dark room and carefully sat on the edge of it, next to the lump covered in blankets.

“Wakko?” Nurse quietly called and rested a hand on the top of the pile.

The lump shifted, like it was turning away and hiding more.

“It’s morning, honey,” she continued. “You’re missing the day.”

“So?” came the muffled reply.

“You should get up, play around. Weren’t you going to help some of the shopkeepers today?” Nurse said. That didn’t get her another response, so she continued, “You need to eat, too.”

It was quiet, and for a moment Nurse actually thought food wouldn’t be enough to rouse him, but then the lump shifted again and Wakko poked out from under the covers. With the little light seeping in through the open door, Nurse could see the tired, blank look in his eyes, the bags hanging under them. His tongue hung out his mouth, the corners of which were turned down.

Nurse met his eye and he gave her a little nod. She smiled, a little pained and sad, and gently rubbed his back.

She stood up, then, and helped Wakko down. Together, hand in hand, they walked out of his room and down to the kitchen.

Honestly, calling it a kitchen was being very generous. It was just the breakroom of the clinic that Scratchansniff used to run, before therapy and the like became a luxury literally nobody could afford. It was tiny and the fridge didn’t work half the time and the stove only had one working burner, but it was all they had.

Wakko pulled himself into one of the worn chairs and stared down at the floor as Nurse tried to scrounge up something for Wakko to eat. Outside the window, he could hear people going about their day, trying to survive the cold January climate.

At least he couldn’t hear the guards’ gloating, though. Maybe they were all still recovering from their night of celebration.

A few minutes passed, and Nurse was able to set a plate of food in front of Wakko; a single, unseasoned egg and dry toast.

“Thank you,” Wakko mumbled, trying to push away the memories of full plates and flavorful food from his mind. It didn’t work. He missed the orphanage.

Even when they’d gotten poor and the food quality and quantity dwindled, Wakko and the other kids had always been full. At the time, he’d thought it was because the matrons were magic. Now, the memories of tight smiles and thinning bodies and growling stomachs made Wakko’s eyes burn.

Nurse gave him a smile and another pat on the head, before waiting for him to finish.

It didn’t take long, and soon, the two of them were leaving the broken-down building, heading for the square.

This winter had been particularly hard. With little to no money, most of the townsfolk hadn’t been able to properly prepare for the cold months, leaving everyone freezing, hungry, and ill. The stress was starting to get to everyone, and not even Wakko, with his infinite hopefulness and catchy tunes, had been enough to keep their spirits up.

It wasn’t all bad though. Last winter, a few of the kids, like Katie and Skippy, had been inspired by Wakko’s beacon of hope and had declared they’d go to the slightly-better-off towns to try and get some money to upstart their town’s economy again. They left at around this time and said they’d be back in a year with their fortune.

(Wakko had wanted to go too, but when he’d told Scratchy and Nurse, they’d gotten that guilty, worried, for-adult-reasons-I-can’t-tell-you-why-but-no look on their faces, and he’d been left waving goodbye on the train platform as the kids left to do something substantial for the community.

He just wanted to help too.)

Those kids should be returning soon. Any day now. And if they were successful, then their little town might finally get some color back in it. Maybe they’d survive another year. Maybe they’d survive in general.

Nurse and Wakko had just arrived at the bakery, one of the places still open that Wakko had promised to help out in that day, when a train whistle pierced the somber quiet of the town.

Everyone stopped and turned toward the station, gasping. The trains didn’t run much these days unless there was a need for them—fuel costed too much, and besides, people rarely had the money or time needed to actually travel places, so the trains would just sit in their stations, gathering dust.

If a train was arriving in Acme Falls, then that could only mean one thing.

Everyone—minus the still-recovering guards, of course—dropped what they were doing and ran for the station. They all gathered on the platform or along the tracks, watching as the train made its way closer and closer.

Wakko couldn’t help the excitement blooming in his chest, pushing away his eight-year-old grief for the moment. It’s been so long since he’d seen the town so lively! He could almost burst out into song with how giddy he was becoming.

The train slowed to a stop and one of the cars opened up. Immediately the kids that’d gone to work appeared in the doorway, big smiles stretching across their exhausted faces, all chorusing an excited, “Hi!”

The townsfolk who gathered all cheered before listening intently to their kids’ dramatic declaration of what they’d all earned. Together, they all pulled out their fortunes: a ha’penny each.

Once again, the town erupted into cheers.

(Normally, half of a penny wouldn’t be so much, but with the way the economy was? It was as if they’d all pulled gold from their pockets. And each one had a ha’penny? Their little town was going to thrive!)

Wakko couldn’t help starting up a song, then. He cheerfully sung out, “They’ve got some ha’pennies today!” and to his immense joy, the kids joined in, repeating what he sang and tacking on an ecstatic “Hurray!”

The song delved into how they received their money, and as everyone moved further into town, where the kids were paraded around, they began singing about all the wonderful things the kids could buy with their ha’pennies.

It was the brightest Wakko had seen the town all winter, and he could almost see the depression lifting off the town as they sang and sang and sang.

Really, after all these years, it shouldn’t have surprised Wakko when it so quickly went wrong.

“Yes, we’re all ecstatic about your newfound fortune,” Baron von Plotz announced as he strolled into the opening in the crowd, where the kids had been the center of attention. “Now, about your taxes—”

As one, the townsfolk sighed and groaned, reality setting back in upon the Baron’s arrival.

Perhaps they shouldn’t have sung so loudly about the new money that had made its way into town.

(Wakko bit his lip and grabbed his sweater and looked at the ground. Guilt twisted tight in his chest.)

It was physically painful watching Plotz go through all the kids’ supposed taxes, rambling on about the different branches they were in and how he calculated them. Wakko had to bite down on a growl when Skippy called the king a jerk for his unfair taxing and Plotz only laughed gleefully before telling the poor squirrel that his comment made him eligible for a new tax. Wakko was sure Plotz was just making it all up now, but with him being so thoroughly in charge, there was nothing any of them could do.

Eventually, Plotz finished and took every single one of the ha’pennies. The kids looked so confused and heartbroken, and the townsfolk were slumping, frowning. Somehow, the town had gone from being the happiest they ever were to the most depressed in less than ten minutes.

Wakko was going to be sick.

Slowly, the crowd started to disperse, everyone going back to their jobs despite the futility of it all. Wakko stood stiff at Nurse’s side, still gripping the ends of his sweater in tight fists. Nurse’s hand was gentle against the back of his head, though he knew she was just as angry and unhappy as the rest of them.

Watching everyone return to the gloom they’d just barely been able to escape, if even for a few minutes, made Wakko’s grief come back with a vengeance.

He turned his head up to look at Nurse, and, feeling his movement, she returned his glance. Her smile was tight, and it made Wakko feel worse.

“Nurse?” he began.

“Yes, Wakko?”

“... I miss my sibs,” he said.

Nurse paused, then sighed. She knelt to his level and wrapped him up tight in a hug. Returning it, Wakko’s eyes burned.

“I know,” she murmured, and Wakko squeezed his eyes shut. “I know.”

It was going to be a long day.

Read the rest on ao3

#animaniacs #wakko's wish #separated #yakko wakko and dot #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #my fics

38 notes · View notes

siriusmydeer · 4 years ago

Note

Oh and Hello to you today you fine and brilliantly skilled author who I have came to love and adore, you see I know I’d already recently requested something from you but I had a taste of your absolutely amazingly fine talent and just had to come back for more

Ya see, this person here (hem hem, me) would like to ask if she could request something dealing with Young Remus Lupin Remmy Boi being a sweet older brother during the summer to his adoptive sister who is almost his age and very gay and him letting her hang out with him and the Mauraders because her friends were douchbags and skippy skip to Remus letting her rant about it while they sit in his bed, her head in his lap while she’s curled up in a ball and he’s half-heartedly reading while talking to her about her douche-bag friends before he cuddles his sis to his chest and lets her sleep in his bed that night

Anywho, sorry for annoyin you again but I’ve had a shit day and wanted to relax with one of my fav authors and a cuppa tea

baby i was so excited to write this, my internal message to homophobes lies within this one shot. y/n’s vent gave me very “gia ranting her her friends about being bi and it should be nobodies business”

my little sister

brother!remus lupin x fem!reader, girlfriend!marlene mckinnon x fem!reader

warnings: homophobia, mentions of slurs, mentions of conversion camp, angst? but not rly, fluffy remus, WOLFSTAR💋, swearing, jokingly mentions of murder, big brother energy from remus, um mentions of penises and masterbating😭, lowkey ravenclaw slander (ONLY MALES I PROMISE) and y/n being a baddie

word count: 1.3k

you were.... happy. yes, not in a sarcastic way. you had finally found a girl that didn’t just want to be your friend, or hate crime you. you found a girl that you wanted to kiss, a girl you wanted to love and girl that reciprocated that love. but unfortunately for you, your love choices had consequences and everyone else thought it was there business, commenting on it.

“𝗼𝗶, 𝗹𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗻! 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹 𝘆𝗲𝘁?”

“𝗰’𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗹𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗻, 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘆𝗲𝘁?”

“𝗶 𝗯𝗲𝘁 𝘆/𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿. 𝗶 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹.”

“𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗲, 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁? 𝗶 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗶’𝗺 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁.”

so to society, you weren’t normal. the worst part was you weren’t always the one hearing it, the girls in your dorm heard it, your brother heard about it and his best friends also happen to hear about it. that also never happened to stop them from shooting a hex or 20 in someone’s direction but, nonetheless, you “weren’t normal.”

you were sitting in the library studying next to your gorgeous girlfriend, marlene mckinnon. oh did something as innocent as studying get flipped into so much more, both of you working on mcgonagalls transfiguration homework. all fine and well until the 7th year ravenclaws decided to crawl up your butt and die.

“i see you two haven’t been sent away yet.”

“aw well if it isn’t the two girls who think they’re in love.”

“the two fa-“

one of the boys didn’t even get to finish his sentence before your wand was pinned against his neck, and suddenly he was speechless.

“‘m gonna say this as delicately as possible to spare your shit feelings but, before you finish your very derogatory sentence i would love for you to reconsider your words.” you started, “i personally think it’s hilarious that you gits are so bothered by whomst m’intimate with.”

“for being known as the smart house, you 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 are so bloody stupid. i could rip out my own brain and give it to you and it still wouldn’t be enough for you to learn how to mind your damn business.” you said firmly, “your 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗸 has sunken into the air, so me and my girlfriend are going to get going.”

you took your wand away from his neck before the 3 boys scrambled to the other side of the library, in fear. you gathered both you, and marlene’s things before slinging your bags over your shoulder and walking out of the library. before you could turn the corner, her other arm gripped your arm putting you both to a halt.

you turned towards her beet red face, and eyes shining in adoration. “dude, i think that was the hottest thing you have ever done.” she said before pulling you into a lip lock outside of the library. would you have been very nervous in any other situation?absolutely. i mean you were kissing a female, in public, at school, in 1975. but in this moment you couldn’t care less about anything or anyone, just the beautiful girl that you were besotted with kissing you right now.

“good.” you giggled as you pulled away before pulling her arm in the direction of one of the hidden corridors.

the next time you found yourself diminished over your sexuality, you went to people who you genuinely felt safe and comfortable with. you burst through the marauders dorm, forgetting to knock but quickly covering your eyes.

“i really hope none of you are masterbating right now, because i’m sure as not in the mood to see a penis.”

“c’mon mini-moony, you’re literally never in the mood to see a penis.” sirius replied, you uncovered your eyes and saw sirius walk over to remus’ bed and put his head on remus’ shoulder, and a light blush covered both of there faces. james on the other hand was on the floor writing lily, one of the only other people who supported you, another love letter.

“ok so let me start, sirius and remus please splash some cold water on your face. james, get off your arse and actually be a normal person and try and have a normal conversation with lily because i assure you she doesn’t even read those letters. and the grand finale, if i get called 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 one more damn time necks will be broken and body parts and fluids will scatter on the floor.” you huffed, and sat at end of remus’ bed nonchalantly.

at the part of your mini-monologue where you mentioned being called a slur, james and sirius happened to jump from where they were, surrounding you with questions. “who called you that?!” “i need names, now, mini-moony.” meanwhile remus aggressively grabbed his wand and made a bee-line to the door. “OI! BROTHER OF MINE.” remus stopped at the sound of your voice and turned around, his grip on the wand leaving his knuckles a shade of white. “sit. now.” he scoffed before sitting on the bed staring straight at you.

you debated for a moment, before looking at remus. “lucius malfoy and his toerag puppy dog, evan rosier.” you shrugged before all of them made a run at the door, messily grabbing their wands stomping down the stairs leading to the common room.

as fifth year came to an end, summer eventually came to a start. as you were unpacking your trunk and putting your clothes in there rightful spots in your dresser before you heard a knock at the door. “come in!”

remus opened the door, leaning against the frame. “hey, you okay?” he knew it was a stupid question to ask, but ever since you came into his family he felt a sense of protectiveness over you. he would always look at you like a little girl who needed her laces double knotted because she would trip on them, and how she needed to climb on furniture to grab something and especially when his little sister wasn’t his little sister anymore and became and illegal animagus for him.

“having your picture with nice little names on them, i’m brilliant.” you said sarcastically before sitting on your bed and remus following your lead. he leaned his back against the headboard as you threw your head on his lap, curling yourself to make yourself as tiny as possible. “i mean why the hell does anyone care anyways? it’s not like i’m intervening in there lives, i’m not killing anyone? it works the exact same except it’s a girl and not a boy. i just don’t understand why everyone thinks they should have an opinion on something that isn’t there business to start with.” you vented as he rubbed your back, while reading. “i mean, i understand.” you looked at him with a raised brow, “sirius?” he sheepishly looked up from his book and nodded before looking down at his book again and blushing.

“please, i could spot that from a mile away. i mean you aren’t exactly subtle, at the mere touch you both look like you got out of a sauna.” you said, matter of fact like and pointing your finger in the air sassily, “at least lily and james don’t care.” he mumbled trying to make you and him feel better. “everyone shouldn’t care, but then again everyone else in this universe is also a pest.” you sighed, as he continued reading but not before speaking.

“people are stupid.”

“you’re right, people are stupid.”

“but you know what makes us feel better?”

“what?”

“chocolate.”

“wow remus, it’s almost like i had no idea.”

“well i’m always right, so suck it up and take it.” he said shoving a chocolate bar in your face.

“i mean you could always have a sleepover with me where we eat chocolate and laugh at bad movies?” he said before looking down at you.

“remus, first yes, second how the hell does sirius put up with your ‘know-it-all-ness’?” you looked at him smirking, clearly he didn’t like that and he closed his book smacking it against your head.

“𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝘂𝘀!”

258 notes · View notes

themurphyzone · 3 years ago

Text

BatB AU: A Provincial Life

Summary: It’s an ordinary day in ACME Village for Pinky. Until it isn’t.

AN: This oneshot adapts the opening number ‘Belle’ and village scenes, up until Pinky sets off for the castle in search of his father, which leads into the entry Imprisoned.

AO3 Link

Pinky scooped a ladleful of oatmeal into a small, earthen bowl, humming dreamily as he added a dash of cinnamon and several apple slices into the mixture.

Today was a very special day for Papa, and Pinky wanted him to eat a healthy and nutritious meal before he went off to the fair with his invention. It would be a few days of travel, and Papa would need his strength for traveling there and back.

“Papa, I’m going out!” Pinky called as he carefully pushed a large woven basket of acorns outside. “Your breakfast is on the table, so make sure you eat it all!”

There was a sputter and cough of machinery and a trail of smoke from the small room that served as a makeshift workshop next to the kitchen, followed by a loud bang.

“Just getting ‘er warmed up for the final test!” Papa shouted. “C’mon, Madeleine! You may’ve fallen apart for the 264th time, but you can do it!”

Oh, Pinky had no doubt people were gonna love the woodcutting, ax-wielding, only occasionally threatening to take fingers off machine known as Madeleine. She was definitely gonna win that gorgeous blue ribbon at the fair! And even if she didn’t, they’d love her all the same anyway.

He opened the door and stepped into the beautiful autumn morning, taking in the cool, fresh air as he carefully maneuvered the basket of acorns into a red wagon. The leaves were varying hues of crimson and gold, dancing along a gentle breeze that ruffled Pinky’s fur. The sun was peeking over the horizon, slowly bathing the world in light as it rose.

Two songbirds flew merrily above him, their sweet morning song filling the air with beautiful music. Pinky reached up, and one of the songbirds briefly landed on his outstretched hand before flying after his partner, leaving a red feather behind.

“Thanks for the feather!” Pinky shouted to the sky as he tucked the feather behind his ear, where it fit perfectly.

He picked up the wagon handle and pulled it along, the wheels squeaking along behind him.

In the meadow beside their quaint little cottage, Pharfignewton chewed placidly on dew-covered grass. She neighed a greeting to Pinky, and Pinky cheerfully waved back. As much as he loved taking the beloved family horse into town for company, she needed her strength to lug Papa, Madeleine, and all their supplies later. So he had to let her rest.

Reeds and wildflowers of all sorts grew along the banks of the pond that separated the little cottage from the rest of ACME Village. A pair of ducks paddled along in the water, trailed by four adorable, fluffy yellow ducklings. Several tiny turtles sunbathed on an old log, while a large green frog sat on its lily pad and caught insects unlucky enough to stray in the path of a long, sticky tongue.

Pinky took his time crossing the cobblestone bridge over the pond, watching the wild animals go about their day without hustling, bustling, or rushing from place to place. Their lives were very different from their neighbors, despite living so close together.

Little animals, little pond, and little humans in their little town.

Or was everything just bigger than him? He was a mouse after all. It wasn’t hard to be bigger than a mouse, unless one happened to be an insect.

As Pinky crossed onto the other side, he spotted a smooth, pretty gray stone poking out of the reeds. He plucked it out of the damp soil, cleaning the dirt off with the inside of his apron.

It would be a perfect stone for his collection. And he didn’t have any that were this smooth. Most of the rocks he picked up were half-crushed or broken from city streets or well-worn paths. He tucked it into a pocket that he’d sewn on himself, because for some odd reason dresses never came with pockets.

Then he faced the little town, with all its timber and stone buildings lining a narrow cobbled street that quickly filled with half-asleep, half-awake people trying to get an early start on their sales and trades.

To think he and Papa had lived here for three years. While not the most exciting town in the world, Pinky was just happy they didn’t have to move again. He’d spent too much of his life being bustled from place to place since Mama died. The cottage was the loveliest place they’d ever owned.

And while the townsfolk had the same ol’ familiar routine every day, Pinky tried to vary his activities. From baking to horseback riding to volunteering for odd jobs around town, or just taking a day off to nap under a tree and roll down the hilly meadows while grass stains formed on his back.

Just a normal provincial life, yet Pinky often wondered what laid in the big blue yonder. Did the stars and sky look different elsewhere? Do the clouds form big, fluffy, and silly shapes in South America?

“Bonjour!” a man called out as he threw open his shutters.

“Good morning, Emile!” Pinky replied as he skipped past his window.

“Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!” The echoing chant swept across rooftops and streets alike as a new day dawned upon ACME Village.

Everyone from chimney sweepers to merchants to coachmen responded with vigor and cheer, all of them satisfied with their occupations in life.

Pinky greeted everyone he passed, though not all returned the gesture. Everyone was staring at the feather tucked behind his ear, the bulge of the stone in his pocket, or the red wagon with the basket he pulled along. He didn’t think he was that strange-looking.

Unless he had a bit of cabbage stuck in his teeth again. But he flossed really well last night, so he didn’t think that was the case.

“Marie, hurry up with the baguettes!” the baker shouted as he carried several loaves of bread outside.

Pinky inhaled deeply. There was nothing quite like the scent and sound of fresh bread.

“Narrrrrrf! Smells just like heaven, Mr. Baker!” Pinky exclaimed.

The baker set his tray of bread on a windowsill, tapping his foot as he impatiently waited for Marie. “Morning, Pinky. You off somewhere this morning?” he asked, though he didn’t turn around.

“Yup! I’m delivering this basket of acorns to Slappy!” Pinky said, pointing to his basket of acorns. “She really likes the acorns near our cottage but doesn’t wanna make the trip herself. She says it’s too far for her aching joints and she can’t take Skippy along because she’s still trying to convince him that we’re not gonna be shot like Bumbie’s mom if we venture into the meadow, and-”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very nice,” the baker said, half-leaning into the open window. “Marie, I said hurry up with the baguettes! The morning rush is coming soon!”

“Well, if you’d bought the ingredients from Francois instead of Vincent like I suggested then maybe we wouldn’t be running behind, Pierre! But no, you always act like you know best!” Marie snapped.

Not wanting to get embroiled in yet another argument between the baker and his wife, Pinky followed the cobblestone path further into town, where the usual market sprung up, full of local farmers, tradesmen, and merchants.

Villagers bartered and argued and traded like always, and as Pinky stopped to admire a small yellow daisy poking out from the cracks of the street, he could feel eyes follow him closely in that looking-at-you-but-pretending-we’re-not sort of way.

“There goes the funny mouse again.”

“Gets distracted by the littlest things, I swear.”

“Does he even have a useful skill?”

“Besides being the village idiot? Doubtful.”

They’d made those comments ever since he and Papa had moved in. Everywhere they went, people asked Pinky for his trade, and Pinky always told them he took care of Papa and worked various odd jobs around the area for money.

But that wasn’t considered a useful role in society.

He didn’t mind helping Papa though.

Oh well though. He couldn’t delay getting these acorns to Slappy, so he hauled his wagon alongside a horse-drawn carriage that steadily cut through the crowded streets, clearing Pinky’s path.

“Bonjour!” the coachman called to a young woman walking down the street. His eyes were trained on the girl rather than the road, and his horse plowed straight into a farmer’s cart, knocking his produce into the road.

“MY CABBAGES!” the farmer screamed, tearing out his hair as several pigs devoured his vegetables.

The coachman let out a nervous laugh and flicked the reins, spurring his horse forward and blithely ignoring the despairing farmer’s demands for compensation.

“I need six eggs!” a woman cried as she tried to hold several fussing babies at once.

“That’s too expensive!” a man complained to someone selling pottery. “Twenty coins for a pile of cheap clay? Bah!”

Pinky and the carriage parted ways as the cobblestone street changed to an unpaved dirt path. The gossip and chatter of ACME Village faded to background noise.

Slappy had made her home in a hollow tree on the outskirts of town, close enough to get supplies but far enough to deter most from knocking on her door.

Pinky passed by many warning and danger signs that kept most people from bothering the old squirrel. There was a new post up today, right next to Slappy’s front door.

LAST WARNING

NO SELLING, NO PREACHING, NO TAX COLLECTING

KNOCK AT YOUR OWN RISK

Well, what was life without a little risk? Pinky knocked on the door anyway.

He was trying to decide if one of the clouds overhead was shaped more like a monkey or a strawberry when a small brown squirrel in a blue nightgown and cap opened the door. Despite the early morning, he was wide awake and hopping in place, his excitement only growing as he spotted the basket of acorns behind Pinky.

“Morning, Skippy! Got the basket of acorns your aunt wanted!” Pinky exclaimed.

Skippy grinned as he took the basket from the wagon. “Thanks, Pinky! Aunt Slappy will love these!”

He popped a few acorns into his mouth and loudly crunched the shells.

“Skippy, what’d I say about answering the door at this godforsaken hour in the morning?” a cranky voice yelled from upstairs.

“It’s just Pinky with the acorns, Aunt Slappy! No door to door salespeople, preachers, or tax collectors in sight!” Skippy shouted. Then he turned back to Pinky and pointed to his ear. “I like your feather, by the way.”

“Thanks! I like your nightcap!” Pinky said, returning the compliment with his own.

A few moments later, Slappy joined Pinky and Skippy downstairs. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, her long gray tail dragging behind her.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Slappy asked. She tossed several acorns into her mouth and nodded her approval. “Crunchy with a pinch of salt. This is gonna be a good topping for my world-renowned creamed spinach later.”

“SPEEWWWWWWWWW!” Skippy cried, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

Pinky just smiled politely. Slappy took a lot of pride in her creamed spinach recipe, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying it tasted like soggy socks.

“Hey, when I was your age, I ate lots of creamed spinach for dinner. And now I have enough muscles to wield a hundred ton mallet,” Slappy retorted.

“Wow! Was that when dinosaurs roamed the earth?” Skippy asked.

Slappy gave him a light smack on the back of his head. “Little brat. Go grab a few coins from the bureau in my room. Gotta pay the mouse for lugging this stuff across town.”

Skippy blew a raspberry at her and ran up the stairs.

“Your tongue is never gonna go back in your mouth if you keep doing that!” Slappy yelled.

Funny how the Squirrels were his best neighbors, even though they lived on the opposite side of town. They’d helped out so much when Pinky and Papa first moved into the countryside cottage, from showing them all the best places to buy from and all the best trees to climb. Everyone else usually stared at them strangely for not knowing how to find a shop and moved on with their day.

Still, Pinky didn’t want to impose on them or anything. Collecting the acorns was no trouble at all. And he knew money could be a little tight in the village at times.

“You don’t have to pay me,” Pinky said. “Poit. I don’t mind the morning exercise.”

“You’re walkin’ outta here with those coins whether you like it or not,” Slappy said in a tone that invited no room for argument. “Don’t be one of ‘em honor before reason types. That sorta mindset is nothing but trouble.”

Slappy’s long tail flicked in irritation, accidentally knocking a framed painting askew on the wall next to her. She sighed and fixed the crooked painting so that it hung straight. “Can never keep this darn thing straight,’ she muttered.

Pinky had been inside the hollow tree many times, but he’d never seen this painting before. It contained a colorful cast of characters, from a carrot-munching gray rabbit to a crazy black duck to a short gunslinger with an enormous bright red mustache.

In the painting, a youthful Slappy with a manic grin on her face and giant firecracker in her hand was chasing a bald hunter. Her smile was brighter, and her eyes didn’t seem so world-weary there.

“Like it? Old pals sent it to me two weeks ago,” Slappy asked, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “The Looney Tunes Troupe were a rascally bunch, that’s for sure. All the money for a detailed painting, and they can’t afford a better frame. Our shows were legendary back in the day, you know.”

“Never heard of them,” Pinky admitted.

“Course ya haven’t,” Slappy sighed. “Your generation doesn’t know good comedy when it hits them in the bum with a mallet. Troupe’s faded into obscurity now, but they’ve never stopped traveling and being annoying yet lovable nuisances to everyone from Albuquerque to Kalamazoo to Timbuktu.”

Pinky tilted his head. “But you don’t travel anymore.”

If the Squirrels needed something they couldn’t get in ACME Village, they usually asked Pinky to run the errand for them.

“Yeah, well, that’s life,” Slappy said. “Sometimes you’re a nomad with total freedom and other times you gotta flee with your nephew to a different country.”

Before Pinky could ask more questions, Skippy barreled downstairs with as many coins as he could carry. “I didn’t know how much to grab so I just took a handful,” Skippy said, dumping the currency onto a small side table.

Slappy picked up six coins from the pile and dropped them into a small drawstring bag, then tightened the strings and tossed the bag into Pinky’s wagon. “You can have these. I’ve got plenty more lying around,” she said.

“If you're sure then,” Pinky said, picking up his wagon handle and turning it around. “Love to stay, but Papa’s leaving for the fair soon and I gotta see him off!”

“Tell him we said hi!” Skippy shouted, and Pinky saluted back.

Slappy yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “And I’m hitting the hay again. It’s too damn early, and I’m too tired to censor my swearing in front of kids.”

o-o-o-o-o

After his visit to Slappy’s tree, Pinky decided to kill some time at ACME Village’s fountain, where he could enjoy the fine spray of water and run in circles along the stone rim. It was always fun seeing how fast he could go without tipping into the water.

“Sorry!” he shouted as he accidentally trod over freshly washed sheets that a woman had been folding next to the fountain. She made an indignant noise and carried her basket of laundry away, nose high in the air.

And the whispers started up again.

“That mouse may be a beauty, but he is way too peculiar for his own good.”

“You have to wonder if he’s feeling well.”

“Always a dreamy, far-off look on his face.”

On his tenth lap around the fountain, a flock of sheep strolled by, guided by a young shepherd from behind. Two fluffy ewes jumped onto the fountain rim next to Pinky and drank the water. Pinky smiled and stroked their soft wool, and the ewes bleated in contentment.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Pinky whispered into their ears. “Don’t go blabbing this to anyone now...but I believe Papa’s a shoo-in for that blue ribbon!”

One of the ewes turned and nibbled on his ear, and Pinky laughed as her blocky teeth tugged and tickled his fur. He gently pried her jaw open and his ear popped out of her mouth, dripping wet with sheep saliva.

As Pinky prepared to slide off the fountain rim and onto the small bag of money he’d gotten from Slappy, a regal fanfare went off in the distance, thundering hoofbeats growing ever closer.

A messenger in a white powdered wig blew his coronet and cleared his throat.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE! MAKE WAY FOR HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, PRINCE SNOWBALL AND HIS HUNTING PARTY!”

The messenger’s declaration sent every man, woman, and child running towards the plaza, gathering in front of the entrance of the local tavern, the centerpoint of all social activities in ACME Village.

The hunting party rode in on their enormous horses, spearheaded by the ruler of the province, Prince Snowball. Though only a small hamster, he was famed by all for his keen mind and ability to get results on whatever he set out to accomplish.

Though dressed in only a simple red shirt and breeches for hunting, the only signs of his higher status being the golden crown upon his head and the expensive black horse he rode, his presence commanded respect and awe.

Behind him, a hunting party consisting of the best huntsmen and archers in the land dragged an enormous buck, two wild boars, and several pheasants into view.

“People of ACME Village, tonight we shall dine on these fine specimens of the animal kingdom!” Snowball announced as everyone bowed in fear of a noble’s anger. “Everyone’s presence is required, for I have a further declaration that shall lift this derelict province out of the ashes and into a glorious future!”

His pink eyes were sharp, but beneath that layer of intelligence, there was an undertone of something that didn’t feel right. Pinky couldn’t explain it, but he always just had this odd, icky feeling that crawled up his spine whenever he saw Snowball.

The crowd straightened up, cheering and clapping and praising Prince Snowball’s name for bringing them such good fortune with the promise of more to come.

Pinky’s ear twitched. There was a soft, desperate sound mixed in with the roars of the captivated audience.

And to the left side of the crowd, there was a tiny lamb whose back leg was tangled in a large fishing net. The mother ewe was both nuzzling the lamb in comfort and trying to pull the net off with her teeth, but to no avail.

The shepherd never noticed his sheep were in trouble, too caught up in hailing Prince Snowball to notice one of his charges was stuck.

Pinky hopped off the fountain and slowly walked over to the thrashing lamb and his mother, putting his hands up to show them he wasn’t a threat. The lamb bleated in panic, and the mother eyed Pinky warily.

“May I help? I’m good at untangling stuff,” Pinky asked. He’d gotten a lot of practice when Papa occasionally tangled himself up in threads and wires.

The ewe regarded him for a long moment, then nuzzled the back of her lamb’s head, letting him bury his head into her wool. The lamb’s trembling stopped, his back leg still.

It was a sweet gesture, one that seemed so familiar to him, even though his own mother had long passed. He remembered that feeling of warmth and safety from so long ago, the last time he felt like he was truly home.

Wiping a stray tear from his eye, Pinky untangled the mesh from the lamb’s leg, starting from the top and slowly moving down to the hoof.

“There you go, baby,” Pinky said once the leg was completely free. The lamb pulled his hoof out of the netting, gave it a good shake, then joyfully pranced and bleated around his mother and Pinky.

The mother gave Pinky a tiny nod, bleated to her little one, and together they rejoined their flock. The shepherd was still ignoring his flock in favor of Prince Snowball. Pinky couldn’t see him anymore from the ground.

Pinky picked up his wagon handle, ready to go home and help Papa hitch everything up to Pharfignewton.

Then he felt a pair of fingers pluck the feather he’d lovingly tucked behind his ear. Pinky turned to get his feather back, and jumped when Snowball was just inches from his face.

“Hello, Pinky,” Snowball said. He smiled, but it was more out of smugness than a real smile.

Pinky’s ears lowered, but then he remembered his manners. “Bonjour, Prince Snowball. May I have my feather please? A really nice bird gave that to me.”

Snowball frowned, holding the feather out of Pinky’s reach. The feather crinkled in his tight grip. “How could you possibly need this? It’s hardly good quality for even the cheapest quills.”

“Poit. It doesn’t need to be a quill to make me happy,” Pinky replied.

Snowball rolled his eyes, tossing the feather behind him. Pinky tried to grab it, but it was caught on a gust of wind and drifted to the ground. It landed in a mud puddle, soaking the barbs of the feather and staining it brown.

“Pinky, get your head out of the clouds and pay attention to important matters,” Snowball’s lip curled as he blocked Pinky from retrieving his feather. “Such as showing royals courtesy when they address a peasant like you.”

“Excuse me, Snowball,” Pinky said politely, going around the hamster to pick up his feather. The damage didn’t look too bad. Still, he tried to be careful when he cleaned it with his apron.

Snowball crossed his arms, and the town’s whispers started up again.

How dare he not show proper respect to Snowball, does he fancy himself higher than a prince, why would Snowball pay him any individual attention and not someone more deserving.

“That’s Prince Snowball to you.” Snowball’s fur bristled for a moment, but he took a deep breath and put his arms around Pinky’s shoulders instead. “The whole town's talking about you and your lack of...purpose. And we can’t have that, you realize. After all, a machine requires all of its cogs and gears to run smoothly, otherwise it won’t work.”

“Bet his crackpot father would know something about that!” one of Snowball’s men chortled.

Everyone laughed, even Snowball, who rarely did so. An unfamiliar feeling boiled in Pinky’s stomach.

“Don’t talk about my father that way!” Pinky snapped. His inventions were amazing and he was going to do well at the fair! They didn’t know how hard Papa worked on his inventions!

Snowball glared at his men. “Yes, don’t talk about his father that way, you fools!” he hissed like Pinky hadn’t heard him laughing just seconds ago.

“He’s not a crackpot! His invention’s gonna win the blue ribbon cause it was made with smarts and love, you’ll see!” Pinky declared, just as an explosion went off in the distance.

And he knew exactly where that explosion had come from.

“I have to go. Goodbye!” Pinky dragged his wagon behind him, setting off for the cottage he and Papa called home.

“It’s a pity and a sin,

He doesn’t quite fit in.

He really is a funny mouse,

A beauty but a funny mouse,

He really is a funny mouse,

THAT PIN-”

The sharp, high-pitched crack of a rifle interrupted the village’s song, and everyone ran for cover.

“WILL YA SHUT UP? SOME OF US ARE TRYIN’ TA SLEEP!” Slappy shouted from her tree, her screech blowing tiles and lumber from the roofs of buildings.

Just a provincial life in this little town. Pinky ran across the cobblestone bridge, wondering if he truly had the right to ask for something more than that.

o-o-o-o-o

He hurried over to the cellar, where smoke trailed from the gaps of the heavy wooden doors. Pinky opened the entrance, and a smoky cloud blew right in his face. He coughed and waved it away, hiding his nose in his dress as he hurried over to Papa, who’d been thrown onto his back. A pile of broken wooden planks covered him.

In the corner, Madeleine sputtered, her gears and dials spinning wildly before she finally quieted down, one loose spring sending a gear crashing into a wall.

“Dagnabbit, Madeleine!” Papa cursed, stumbling as he extracted himself from the pile of wooden planks. Pinky grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet, checking him over for any injuries. Luckily, there were no bruises or splinters to be found. “Don’t you stall out on me now!”

Pinky smiled. Papa’s string of random gibberish and mutterings of smart inventor words he couldn’t understand was something he’d been familiar with from a young age. No matter where they lived, it was just one of those things that came with home.

Papa huffed, untying his apron with all his tools and tossing it to the ground. “She’ll never work in time for the fair! What was I thinking?” he lamented. “It’s not too late. Maybe I can cobble something else together quickly! Yes, I’ll just take the doowhatzit out of Madeleine, combine it with the kaleidomajiggy from the old washer, and-”

“You always say that, Papa,” Pinky said, hugging his father around the shoulders. Papa rested his hands over Pinky’s with a sigh. “Don’t worry. I believe Madeleine will work, and she’ll win you that blue ribbon and help you become an inventor for the history books! Narf! Just like Benjamin Franklin, ‘cept without all the kite-flying.”

“You really think so?” Papa asked, his frown turning to a hopeful smile.

“Course I do,” Pinky grinned.

A determined look crossed Papa’s face, and he tied his apron around his waist, nearly tripping over it in the process.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s fix ‘er up!” Papa said, laying down on a flat, low cart and pushing himself under the broken stove that made up Madeleine’s main body. “So how was your morning in town?”

“A little birdie gave me a feather. I found a pretty stone by the pond. And I delivered the acorns to the Squirrels. Did you know Slappy used to be a part of a traveling troupe? I didn’t.” Pinky recanted his morning to Papa as tools clinked and scratched against metal. “Oh, and I guess you’ll be missing Prince Snowball’s feast tonight. They’ll have venison and wild boar there.”

“A feast? That sounds nice. Much better than inn food,” Papa mused. As usual, only part of what Pinky said ever registered with him. “Are you going?”

“I don’t know yet,” Pinky admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a good party...but Prince Snowball is-um, what’s a good word for him?”

“Rich? Smart? Confident?” Papa suggested. “He’s been talkin’ to you a lot lately.”

So everyone’s noticed, even Papa who spent much of his time in the cellar that doubled as a workshop.

“He has,” Pinky agreed. “And he says he can give me a purpose. But...I don’t know. I don’t think he’s right for me. Maybe I’m just as odd as they say I am.”

It was the same everywhere they settled. No matter what Pinky tried to do, the whispers always followed him. He noticed strange things, he wore strange clothes, he and Papa were always strangers in towns where everyone knew each other from birth.

Papa slid out from under Madeleine, wearing a silly helmet on his head that gave him huge, bug-like eyes.

“My son is odd?” Papa asked in disbelief, and Pinky laughed. The helmet always made Papa look silly. “Don’t know where these folks get their ideas from…anyway, I think Madeleine’s all ready to go. Care to give her a whirl?”

“Zort! Am I!” Pinky clapped his hands together. Papa pointed to a lever, which Pinky pulled with all his might.

Madeleine’s bells and whistles sounded, water steadily pumping through her system while steam filled her stove. Pulleys and gears turned along her sides, reaching the front. Her dials quivered until they reached the red zone, and the ax at her front swung down, scoring a deep cut in a block of firewood. The ax swung faster and faster, until one final split the firewood in half and sent one chunk flying.

Pinky and Papa ducked, and the chunk flew over their heads and landed perfectly on a pile of firewood against the wall.

“She works!” Pinky shouted in joy, kissing one of Madeleine’s wooden wheels. “You did it, Papa!”

“I did?” Papa murmured. “I did! 265th time’s the charm, Pinky! Look out fair, I’m on my way!”

o-o-o-o-o

Within the hour, Madeleine was wheeled out from the workshop, covered and tied up with a tarp, and hitched to Pharfignewton.

“Bye, Fig,” Pinky said, hugging his beloved horse’s muzzle. “Keep Papa on track to the fair, okay? You know how he likes taking shortcuts.”

Pharfignewton whinnied gently, planting a sloppy kiss on top of Pinky’s head.

Then Pinky embraced Papa, who returned the hug with the same enthusiasm. And he was reminded of how the mouse and horse he considered his home would be leaving for some time. He wished he could go with them, but someone had to keep house and he was the best one for the job. It wouldn’t be for long, but he’d miss them all the same.

A stray tear dropped. Just another reason he was considered odd. He cried so easily.

“Chin up, Pinky,” Papa murmured, rubbing a soothing circle into Pinky’s back. “I’ll win that blue ribbon along with the prize money, and we’ll begin our lives anew within the week.”

Through his tears, Pinky gave him a wobbly smile. Then he helped Papa onto Pharfignewton’s back.

“Take care!” Pinky called as Papa flicked the reins, and Pharfignewton trotted off at a steady pace, dragging Madeleine behind her. He watched them from atop the highest hill in the meadow, as they went further down the well-worn trail that merchants used for their travels.

Then they were nothing but specks in the distance, swallowed by the thick, twisted branches of the forest. It was an unusual forest, one where the trees lost their leaves in early autumn, making the trees look scarier than they actually were for half the year.

With nothing else to do outside, Pinky went back into the empty cottage. He’d had three years to become familiar with this house, full of odds and ends from Papa’s inventions alongside their meager belongings.

Mama’s cloak hung from a place of honor on a coat rack by the door, one of the few belongings Pinky could take along no matter where they lived.

Hours passed, and Pinky already missed the banging and exploding and sputtering of Papa’s inventions. It was just too quiet without them.

He cleaned the red feather and pretty stone, then added them to his collection. Feathers and rocks didn’t take up a lot of room, and like Mama’s cloak, they could easily be taken to new places as well. He was just very careful not to lose them.

The wagon was tucked away by the door, and the small bag of money was tucked inside a flower pot. It was how Papa always stored money, and Pinky had picked up the habit.

There wasn’t much to do. He’d cleaned the cottage several days ago, cellar notwithstanding. That was Papa’s territory, and he always had trouble finding tools when Pinky put them away.

Suppertime approached.

He could either cook dinner or go to the feast.

Didn’t matter what he chose. He would be lonely either way.

A sharp rap on the door startled him out of his thoughts. How strange. People only knocked at this time when there was an emergency.

“Sorry for taking so long. I wasn’t expecting-” Pinky opened the door, and he immediately stood face-to-face with Prince Snowball. They were so close that their noses nearly touched. “-to see you here, Snowball. Um, this is a surprise. Poit.”

Snowball’s pink eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Pinky remembered that Snowball preferred to be addressed with his full title. “Yes, it’s not often that someone of my standing chooses to grace a peasant’s home with their presence.”

Behind Snowball, there was an entourage of townsfolk. Many wore their Sunday best, which was still quite cheap compared to the royal finery that Snowball bore. A fine red coat, a decorative golden cape slung over one shoulder, and white dress pants. A shiny crown embedded with rubies and emeralds sat atop his head.

“I thought you were all at the tavern for the feast,” Pinky admitted.

Snowball laughed, but it was a joyless laugh. He stepped across the threshold without being invited in.

“Why, Pinky. Your hovel is positively primeval,” Snowball said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. He tugged Mama’s cloak off its hook, stared at it for a moment, then carelessly tossed it behind him. “If this is how you live, then it’s a truly auspicious time for me to come and offer you an opportunity out of this squalor.”

Before Pinky could ask what auspicious was, though he figured it had something to do with Austria, Snowball harshly dug his fingers into Pinky’s shoulders. Pinky tried to pry them off, but the fingers just burrowed further into the fabric of his dress.

“Not to worry, dear Pinky,” Snowball said. “Today is the day all your dreams come true.”

“You mean my dream to find a home and a porpoise? Because I don’t know if we have enough money to live by the ocean. Beachside properties get very pricey, you know,” Pinky asked.

Snowball waved off that concern. “You forget that finances are of no consequence for me. But I digress. For now, allow me to plant the image of a wonderful future in your vacant mind.”

“Okay, but I don’t know how you’re gonna water it,” Pinky said.

“Picture this,” Snowball demanded, leading Pinky around the cottage. “A magnificent castle. Two golden thrones, mine higher than the queen’s of course. A few summer homes to expand my sphere of influence. A court of other royals, lesser nobles, while the servants do all the menial work around the fires and kitchen. We’ll have...oh, six or seven.”

“Servants?” Pinky grinned nervously as Snowball leaned in with a chuckle.

“Castles, Pinky. How else would I showcase my power?” Snowball corrected. “And the townsfolk shall become our servants. It will save me the trouble of setting up a hiring process anyway. Besides, you’d appreciate having familiar faces around. Less of an adjustment period.”

Pinky freed himself from Snowball’s grip. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Snowball shrugged. “But in simplest terms, I require a queen. One who is good at smiling, waving, and entertainment.”

Wouldn’t that person become a princess rather than a queen though?

Snowball must’ve seen the question coming. He paused in front of the mirror to adjust his crown.

“There is but one title higher than a prince, Pinky,” Snowball said once he was finished. “In order to qualify for the kingship, it’s required of me to marry first. And do you know who that queen will be?”

“Elizabeth? Victoria?” Pinky wilted under Snowball’s intense stare. “Um...Cleopatra, final answer?”

Snowball shook his head. “It will be you, Pinky.”

A queen? He’d always just been the inventor’s son. An outcast no matter where he lived. How could he possibly be a queen?

“That’s a very generous offer, Snowball,” Pinky said, once he finally found his words again.

“Isn’t it, though?” Snowball said smugly. “You and your father will live in an extravagant new home as you perform your queenly duties, and I will be forever hailed as King Snowball. Both of us shall benefit.”

Maybe he and Papa could live in better conditions. Maybe they didn’t have to move around anymore. Maybe they could afford shoes for Pharfignewton. But at the same time…it wouldn’t be right.

It wouldn’t be home.

Smiling, waving, entertaining. Was that all he was good for? Was that all Snowball thought he could do?

“I thought...marriage was for love,” Pinky said softly. “That’s what Papa always said.”

Snowball rolled his eyes. “It’s a political marriage. It doesn’t have to be built on love.”

Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

It was one of the earliest morals Pinky had learned.

Wish for a home, only for it to be a castle. Wish for a purpose, and it’s to be married without love as a foundation.

“Snowball...I’m speechless,” Pinky said, backing out the front door. He nearly tripped over the welcome mat, but regained his footing. “I...I really don’t know what to say.”

Not even a narf would help him out of this situation.

“Say that you’ll marry me, Pinky,” Snowball replied, and he stalked toward Pinky like a cunning predator, backing him against the edge of the porch. “And after you say yes, I will announce our engagement to the rest of ACME Village at the feast. Attendance is mandatory for a reason.”

“I’m really, really sorry, Snowball,” Pinky said. He’d backed up too far, and the heels of his feet dangled precariously over the edge. Instincts kicking in, Pinky grabbed Snowball’s shoulder to pull himself to safety, though he underestimated his strength. Snowball yelped as he was pulled over the edge, falling into the mud puddle by the staircase.

Oops.

“Sorry, Snowball! But I just don’t deserve you,” Pinky admitted.

The mud-covered crown slipped around Snowball��s head, covering his eyes until he took it off with an annoyed grunt.

Pinky slipped back into the house, grabbed a small towel, and handed it to one of Snowball’s men.

Claude, if he remembered right.

“He can have that one,” Pinky told Claude, who gingerly took the towel like it was a fragile item.

Snowball crawled out of the mud, his royal clothing covered in gunk and sticks. He stomped out of the mud, hands clenching against his sides.

Snowball’s brow lowered, his pink eyes hidden in humiliation and a quiet, seething fury.

Slowly, Pinky retreated into the cottage and hid behind the door. There was something about that look that terrified him. And it wasn’t the fun kind of fear, either.

“You will consider my offer, Pinky. Make no mistake about that,” Snowball spat, his scrutinizing gaze directly on Pinky, despite the door between them. “Claude, quit being daft and hand me that towel already!”

Pinky waited in the cottage until he could no longer hear their voices or footsteps. They must’ve gone back to the tavern for the feast.

He didn’t feel hungry though. Snowball’s proposal left a sour taste in his mouth, like he’d just sucked on a lemon.

“He asked me to marry him,” Pinky said to his mother’s cloak, which was still crumpled on the floor. He gently picked it up, brushed off the wrinkles, and put it on. The fabric was warm against his back, like being wrapped in a ginormous embrace. “But he doesn’t love me. Narf! You can’t have a marriage without love!”

He thought of all the married couples he knew in ACME Village. The baker couple, who were constantly at each other’s throats. Gerard the butcher was always making googly eyes at any woman who bought cuts of meat, much to his wife’s frustration. There was the stressed lady who had to drag her six kids around town while her husband played cards and darts at the tavern.

And Pinky thought of his parents. His mother had fallen in love with his father’s inventive streak when she was the daughter of a town official and Papa was just the crazy mouse whose inventions blew up a lot.

He tied the cloak tighter around himself. Unable to take the silence of the cottage and the stifling influence of the village much longer, he allowed his feet to carry him out of the cottage and to wherever they wanted to go.

He sprinted into the unknown. He wouldn’t be afraid of whatever he found there. The autumn wind blew golden, red, and brown leaves in whichever direction it wished as Pinky climbed the highest hill in the gorgeous flower-filled meadow.

The peak of the hill was his favorite spot, and he was surprised that nobody else came out here to enjoy the view with him. Trees lost their colorful leaves so they could sleep for the winter, the river splashed and babbled along its banks, and proud mountains with mysterious cloud-covered peaks rose high above the landscape.

What laid beyond villages and towns, he didn’t know.

There was something in that great wide somewhere for him. Just a feeling, an inkling, a hunch.

But could he truly go exploring it when his home was here?

Maybe he could convince Papa. Somehow. When Papa came back with the prize money, they could fit Pharfignewton with her shoes and they could all explore together!

Staring into the autumn landscape, Pinky sank to his knees, careful not to squish the daisies and dandelions around him.

Maybe that was home, but��

He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. Would he ever figure that out?

He loved Papa, but he couldn’t really talk to him. And Slappy had her hands full with such an energetic nephew. Pinky didn’t want to impose. Everyone in the village gossiped about him, like he couldn’t understand.

But he did.

And it hurt.

“Would be nice to talk to someone. Anyone, really,” he whispered, and he blew on a cluster of dandelion puffs. His wish scattered along the wind.

Pinky picked up more dandelion puffs. If he blew more around, maybe his wish would come true. And dandelion flowers were very pretty.

Maybe they were considered weeds, but how could anyone call such a sunshine-y yellow flower a pest? He didn’t get it.

Then a distant, familiar neigh caught him off-guard.

Pinky thumped his hand against his ear. Maybe he was missing Pharfignewton so much that he heard her voice?

But he’d recognize her magnificent white coat and spirited blue eyes anywhere.

“Easy, Pharfignewton! It’s okay!” Pinky cried. He scrambled up Pharfignewton’s leg, avoided her flailing hoof, and held onto her muzzle as she bucked and reared in sheer panic. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay…”

Pharfignewton quieted down, her frantic neighs melting into soft, worried nickers as Pinky stroked her nose. She stopped kicking, though she was wide-eyed with fear.

Madeleine wasn’t hitched to Pharfignewton. Nor was she wasn’t the only one missing…

And Pinky suddenly understood his horse’s panic.

“Pharfignewton, where’s Papa?” Pinky asked. “Is he okay? How did you get separated? Did he try another shortcut when I told him not to do it?”

Pharfignewton’s hooves shuffled, and Pinky forced himself to take a deep breath. He was scaring her with all these questions, so he nuzzled her between the eyes in apology. Still, his heart raced with panic.

From the top of the hill, he saw thick, gray clouds rolling in from the mountains. The temperature was dropping fast.

An early winter would be upon them. They had to find Papa quickly.

“Please, Pharfignewton. We’ve gotta find him,” Pinky pleaded.

She whinnied in agreement, and galloped into the strange forest with all its dangerous, twisted branches before Pinky had a chance to settle in his usual spot at the base of her neck.

Don’t worry, Papa. I’m on my way.

End AN: Well, this is beast is complete (no pun intended).

Yeah, poor Pinky’s usual charm doesn’t really work here. Poor mouse.

Slappy is fun to write, not gonna lie. Love her cartoony antics. She’s also led quite the interesting life in this AU.

The reason Snowball didn’t show up sooner was because I wasn’t sure how to tweak the proposal scene to fit. Cause for one thing, Snowball is way smarter than Gaston, but just as arrogant to boot. So I changed Snowball’s motivation into marrying Pinky because it will help him gain a higher title than a prince. He doesn’t actually love Pinky in this AU, but he’s very annoyed at him for that stunt with the mud puddle (though it’s accidental on Pinky’s part rather than intentional like Belle’s).

The reason Snowball doesn’t go seeking a princess’s hand to gain the kingship is cause he tried that already. It was Billie of a nearby kingdom. It didn’t go well.

Also yes the village is named ACME Village because I’m lazy and can’t come up with anything better.

#pinky and the brain #patb snowball #beauty and the beast au #patb fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

jangofctts · 4 years ago

Note

Oh. What about being a mechanic for Fuse's old squad, and you actually really liked Fuse. And you spend your time wondering what happened to him. But then you run into him at some point, and you're just so excited bc holy shit you've missed him. And maybe he's wary bc he thought you hated him like his old squad did, so you have to prove that no! You really like him! And it's one of things where everyone can tell you Love him. And maybe it ends with you proving you love him *wink*

THIS IS VERY SHORT AND I MAY MAKE MORE DRABBLES FOR IT BUT HERE WKEJRWKEJHR

ct-6590 Fuse // reader

warnings; none besides some angst erhkejhr

“Fuse?”

The soldier’s head jerks at the sound of his name, confirming your suspicions. You’d recognize that wild head of hair anywhere.

Truth be told you thought you imagined him sitting on that crate, scrubbing at the ruby red paint on his armor with steel wool. Y’know, like when you really miss someone their face starts to pop up everywhere you go—your mind playing tricks on the subconscious to ease the hollow ache of a long gone friend. But this time he really is there.

And well…it’s been so long. Nearly a year—gone without a trace. Not dead—the squad made sure to tell you that tidbit, but just…out of their hair as Commander Fang put it. No more chances to accidentally blow all of you sky high with Fuse’s wild rewiring of detonators and bombs he so eagerly threw together. You never found it a problem—he’s…well, he’s Fuse. Hotheaded with a locomotive of chaotic energy flowing through his veins and pounding through his chest in replace of his heart—built for a life not under that of command, forced and squished into plates of plastoid and unfortunate fate. It’s not his fault that he’s always been a broken branch, grafted onto a different tree. A cocktail of one part left alone and two parts tragedy. He always meant well…

You just wish his brothers could see the same light you saw within him—another chance before he was abandoned, half dead in that hospital bed—injured by his own explosives.

Stars you’re the luckiest person on Coruscant right now—

When he bobs his head over his shoulder, his brows lift in surprise. You throw your datapac over a spare crate and rush over, giving him no time to escape as you throw your arms around him in a frantic embrace.

Fuse wheezes, nearly flung off the crate before he steadies himself. “Skippy?”

You pull back with a wide smile that encompasses your entire face. “Fuse! I missed you, man!” You ruffle his hair and playfully punch his shoulder. The corner of his mouth twitches, his shocked surprise morphing into one of confusion.

His brows knit together. “What are you doing here? I thought—“

You pull back and poke at his cheek, unbothered when he slaps your hand away. He’s easy to rile up—you remember that detail clearer than crystal. “I’m on leave—just got back from Anaxes. They needed extra hands for the shipbuilding sector.”

The muscles in his jaw twitch was he clenches his jaw, amber brown eyes slipping over your shoulder—looking for shadows, shards of his past that gnaw at the base of his neck with the ivory teeth of anxiety. Anything that remotely resembles the lackluster red of his old squad you both were assigned to. Fuse’s eyes slide back to yours when his search comes up with nothing. “The squad ditch you too?”

You quirk a brow. “Y’know, I expected a bit more of a warmer welcome than this, Fuse. Didn’t you miss me?”

Fuse rolls his eyes and offers you a seat beside him. His eyes track your movements as you fold at the waist and scoop his helmet off the floor. You run your fingertips over the plastoid—It’s almost scrubbed clean of the red paint and there’s an open tin of cyan blue resting on the floor. You hope his new squad is treating him better… “My favorite cockroach—how could I forget.”

There’s a lull in conversation as you dip your head and study his helmet, your tiny smile reflected in the obsidian visor. A lot has happened since he left—Maker you hope he knows that you never wanted him gone. You bite you lip and shove the helmet back into his hands. “I really did miss you.”

Fuse’s shoulders draw tight, wariness flickering in his eyes. The past had not been kind to him and neither have his brothers and despite what you believed about your previous friendship, there is no reason for him to think you’re any different. For all he knows you could’ve played a part in his forced departure. Your chest squeezes tight.

“Hey—if you’re free later, I can take you out for drinks,” you offer with a warm smile. “We can—“

“You gonna ditch me there too?” Fuse interjects with an asinine retort. His face pulls into a scowl, bleeding with hurt and you…you were just the catalyst. Just another piece of shrapnel that’s come back to shred through fresh stitches. You frown as he lets out a deep sigh, refusing to meet your eye. “I should go.”

Even though the hurt that collects in between your ribcage like rotten molasses leaves you stunned, you still reach for his hand when he stands. You leap to your feet as he shakes you off, long legs carrying him swiftly across the hanger. But you’re not one to give up easily.

You jog after him and pull at his arm. “C’mon, Fuse! Just—“ You dodge a pair of R2 units as Fuse continues to stomp down the halls. “Just listen to me.”

He whips around, brows furrowed in a mask of impartialness, grabs you beneath the arm and manhandles you into a side corridor—away from the main traffic and prying eyes. “Leave me alone, kid. You made it clear the first time how—“ Fuse severs his words, pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighs again. “Just go, Skippy.”

You dig in your heels. “No. Not until you hear me out, you complete bantha brain.”

He rolls his eyes at that. “Fine.”

“Fuse—“ You begin, taking a steadying breath. “The others never told me what happened to you. I thought…well I don’t know—I thought you’d come back. If I’d known I—I’m sorry, Fuse.”

You swallow and glance up. He is a stick of candle wax lit from both ends and could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it’s about to fall. You biggest regret is not staying—not fighting to find him under the guise of to much work. He lets you take his hand when you reach for it—jaw still clenched tight and eyes pooling with conflicted decisions.

“Let me make it up to you,” you tempt. “Please, Fuse. You deserve a night out with your favorite cockroach buying you drinks, right?”

He runs a hand through his fire like hair and bobs his head in a tentative nod, a smile tugging at his lips. “Free drinks you say?”

You huff. “Yeah, whatever. Say yes before I change my mind.”

He does.

It’s not exactly the emotional reunion you were hoping for, but it’s a start. A fresh opportunity to heal his misgivings and false perceptions. This time you wont let go of his hand.

#it's bad I know im sorry wejrwerh #ask #keida answers #sunburst squadron #my writing #clone trooper oc #clone trooper oc x reader #clone trooper x reader

58 notes · View notes

star-spangledstud · 4 years ago

Text

MIND GAMES - THREE

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The team goes on a mission. You meet someone who might expose you.

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :) Sorry for being MIA for so long. I’ve been sad. Blegh.

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

Over the few days that follow, you become increasingly paranoid. It’s your own fault, because you shouldn’t have lied to the people that have welcomed you into their homes with open arms, but lying is a survival skill that you were taught many years ago, and old habits die hard. You become shadowy, avoid team members in the hallways and common areas of the penthouse floor you all share, and stay in your room as much as possible without alarming anyone. Of course Natasha knows something is up, but Steve doesn’t, and he waves off her concern as you simply ‘needing more time to adjust, Nat’. You watch their body language during breakfast – one of two meals a day you simply cannot get out of without causing anyone’s alarm bells to start ringing – and engage in light conversation wherever possible to keep them out of your hair.

Guilt gnaws at your insides when you find yourself wandering the deserted wrap-around balcony at nearly 3 a.m., brain searching for a clue to any bad things that might happen. If any one of them figures out you’re ex-hydra you’re done for, that much you know, but the man with golden hair and twinkling azure eyes might just be your ticket to safety.

The thought alone sickens you, because you vowed never to mess with someone’s feelings to get what you need ever again. It’s a twisted thought, but the vines of its root wrap themselves around the stem of your brain nonetheless.

A month after first moving in, you’ve already figured out their routines. Steve’s the early riser of the bunch, getting up every morning at 6:30 a..m. sharp to go on a run around the city. On rare occasions, he manages to convince Sam to come along with him, but more often than not, he remains in his bed until at least 10 o’clock, when Steve’s already come back to shower and get dressed for the day. Tony and Bruce are in the lab 24/7, both of them constantly bickering about artificial intelligence and microbiology among other matters you can’t even begin to understand. As a result, you don’t see them around too often, a notion you don’t particularly mind. Clint left to be with his family two weeks ago and hasn’t been back since, and Natasha leaves all the time, sometimes for days at a time. You don’t dare to ask anyone where she goes when she disappears, but nobody seems surprised to find her seat at the dining table empty again.

It’s a gloomy day when you wake up to find the entire place void of all life. Not even Steve, who’s adamant about his morning coffee, is there to grace you with his presence when you walk into the kitchen that Saturday morning. The counter is clean, no empty coffee cups, half-eaten bowls of oatmeal or bread crumbs to indicate anyone’s eaten yet, and all of the chairs are still perfectly lined against the table.

Your pulse involuntarily quickens to an uncomfortable pace, and you bite the inside of your cheek until the metallic taste of blood is heavy on your tongue. With quick steps, you walk towards the common room, footsteps loud in your ears when you consider where they might be. As expected, there’s nobody there. The TV is switched off, there are no dents in the heavy fabric of the couch from where Steve usually sits, and again, no empty cups or bowls can be found on the coffee table. You have the jitters when you finally get to the library, which is again void of all life.

Black socks covered in small holes squeak across the wooden floors when you walk around the room. It’s not surprising to see the library vacant. You’re sure Avengers have more pressing matters to tend to than reading books on any given day, but it was your last hope nonetheless. With your head tilted to the side, you focus on scanning the titles that line the walls. You follow every shelf in the room until your eye finally catches something. You take the book with a sigh, flip through its tattered pages, and wonder for a moment which one of the Avengers has read the crap out of Pride and Prejudice. Definitely not Sam, judging by his internal monologue. That guy doesn’t appear to have an ounce of romanticism inside him.

“They’re out,” a gentle voice suddenly says behind you, “Steve didn’t want to wake you up this morning to tell you.”

You slap your hand over your heart in surprise, and inhale sharply, “Jesus Christ, doc. You scared the hell out of me.”

Bruce throws his hands up in the air and shrugs his shoulders, “Sorry, it’s just me.”

“Are they on a mission?” you ask, feeling your heart jump in your chest like a skippy ball.

“Yeah, they should be back in a few days. Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You swallow thickly, noticing all of a sudden how your mouth is dry like sandpaper, “you just spooked me, that’s all. What kind of mission is it?”

“Intel gathering, in an out. That’s why I didn’t come. They only bring me when they need the green guy,” he says.

“Oh yeah,” you reply slowly, “how’s he holding up?”

“Asleep,” Bruce smiles, then clears his throat, “for now, anyway. Would you like to get some breakfast?”

You follow Bruce through the rain, which started to gust from the grey sky just as you were getting dressed. You’d rather have said no, but you knew you couldn’t; it wouldn’t be polite to decline his offer. Besides, he’s oblivious, and for whatever reason, he trusts you. When he bites into his chocolate croissant, you know why – Steve’s let you in. This notion once more confirms the thoughts that have been occupying your mind for the last week; Steve is your one-way ticket to inclusivity.

You shudder at the thought and fake a smile before taking a large sip of coffee. The cafe is small, mostly empty, and your seat by the window gives you a perfect view of pedestrians struggling in the howling, icy wind. One year ago, you could never have imagined yourself sitting in a café with a cup of coffee clutched between your fingers, chatting with someone who you could potentially call a friend. The idea alone of being able to enjoy a warm mug filled with freshly brewed coffee would’ve sounded preposterous to you.

There was no warmth with HYDRA. Only cold.

It takes the team three days to return from their mission. Three long days, during which you spend most of your time with Bruce in his lab, perched on a desk-chair with a book in your hands while he works on – actually, you have no idea what he’s working on. You quickly grow to become fond of him, because he doesn’t feel the need to constantly fill the silence between you with empty words. His thoughts are coherent, focused on his project, and the lingo is too advanced for you to understand, which makes it easy to drown out. His inner monologue is quiet, except for a few angry words from the Hulk when Bruce becomes frustrated with his work, but that only happened on day two, and only for ten minutes.

Steve smells like gun powder and sweat when he hugs you softly against his chest after exiting the Quinjet. Natasha waves at you, and the smile that dons her dirt-caked face surprises you, but you return it nonetheless. Sam even ruffles your hair, causes a sound to escape your throat that you haven’t heard yourself make in over a decade; a strange combination of a snort and a chuckle that sounds like music to your own ears. Your heart pounds again, but in a good way this time, because for a small moment in time, you’ve managed to put the guilt on the back-burner. The roaring engine behind you falls silent at last, and nobody else visibly exits the plane before you make it inside.

“You held up okay?” Steve asks as he follows you back inside the building.

You nod in response and shove your hands deep inside the pockets of your hoodie, “I’ve been helping Bruce with his research.”

“Oh, did you? How’s it coming?” he asks.

His eyes sparkle like two tiny stars even through the exhaustion that nearly forces them shut every time he blinks. He’s exhausted, you can tell, and you have to bite your tongue before you make a comment about the state he’s in.

“I mostly sat there while he did all the thinking. Turns out computer science isn’t really my thing after all.”

Steve fights a yawn that threatens to overcome him, and nods, “yeah, I feel you. I can barely get the damn things to start. I’ve given up on technology.”

He turns back to face you when he’s come to a halt in front of his room.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you where I went,” he tells you, meaning it as he says it, “we kinda left in a hurry, and you were still sleeping.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “I understand.”

He quickly retreats after that, leaving you once again with nothing to do. You go back to your room to grab the worn copy of Pride and Prejudice from your nightstand and, after plopping down on your bed, flip to the page where you last left off. You read for a while, before the idea to make some tea with warm milk and honey pops into your head, and you skip along the hallway to the kitchen with the book securely wrapped in your arms.

You’re surprised to hear Steve’s voice when you enter the common area, and a smile appears on his face the second his eyes fall on you. You raise one arm to wave at him, but a loud gasp and a large thud followed by the sound of breaking glass have you freezing on the spot before you can open your mouth to greet him at all.

Your head snaps towards the source of the sound, causing your neck to twist and crack painfully. Red, glowing eyes meet your large ones when you dare to look up at whoever made the noise, and the book in your hands falls to the ground with a loud bang that startles everyone in the room. You stumble backwards when you can feel the woman standing before you deep inside of your head, and you nearly trip over the rug when you instinctly try to get away from her. Frantically, you scramble to stop her from seeing more than she’s already seen. Still, by the time you manage to build up a mental barrier to keep her out of your head, it’s already too late.

You haven’t seen her before, and you can’t remember for the life of you if the image of her has popped up in any of the Avengers’ heads. Your brain is mushy, images hazy as you try to focus on keeping the woman from digging around deeper. You can see distant memories of your time with HYDRA flash before her eyes, and the images blur with the present in a spasm that makes your eyes water.

Wanda Maximoff lets out a shrill, piercing shriek, one that chills everyone to the bone. Thor, who you didn’t even know was there, is by her side before she can collapse onto the cold, hard floor, and Steve jumps up from his chair before you have time to register his movements. He grabs your arm and drags you out of the kitchen, fingers digging painfully in your tender flesh when he pulls you away from the scene. Sympathy fills Sam’s dark brown eyes when you turn back around to look at him, and guilt roils in your stomach when the redhead sinks to her knees with tears streaming down her face.

Your arms hang limply to your side when you watch Steve pace back and forth around his room. You’re waiting for him to yell at you, to tell you to get the fuck out of the compound and never return, but he remains awfully quiet. His silence confuses and unnerves you simultaneously.

His eyes, swimming with unimaginable depth, find your face while the scent of his cologne and pure testosterone invades your nostrils. Pressure clamps down on your chest, and the intensity of his gaze causes you to shiver. Never in your entire life have you wanted to read someone’s mind more.

“Are you alright?” your head cocks to the side, mouth twitching while you try to find words.

You nearly gave that woman an aneurysm, and he’s asking you if you’re okay?

“Yes,” you stammer,��“I’m so sorry.”

“Wanda is telepathic,” Steve says, “she has trouble controlling what she sees sometimes.”

“Like I said, I’m so so-”

A soft exhale leaves your lips when Steve’s hands find their way to your shoulders, and your voice dies down in your throat when he bends down slightly to meet your eyes. Calloused fingertips penetrate the thin material of your t-shirt, and the warmth of his hands creates a buzzing sensation just beneath your skin.

“She was in Europe, scouting the location of the mission with Rhodey. She’s been in Eastern Europe for a while, that’s why you haven’t seen her. I should’ve told you about her.”

“Will she be okay?” you ask. You hardly recognize your own voice.

“Sam’s got her. She’s stronger than she looks. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.”

You don’t know how to respond. You crave a cigarette all of a sudden, even though you don’t smoke. Alcohol then, maybe, to numb down the prickling sensation of firing synapses and goosebumps that line your bare arms. Yeah, a good couple of shots of whiskey will do the trick. Not vodka though, you hate that stuff.

You bite your bow-shaped lips and inhale deeply. Steve is so close that you can feel his breath fanning across your face. It’s wrong, being so near him after what just happened. You’re on thin ice. It won’t be long before the entire team, undoubtedly informed by what Wanda just saw, comes barging into Steve’s room, ready to drag you away to prison or worse, put a bullet through your skull. You deserve it, you think, for what you used to do. For who you used to be. You almost want somebody to call you out on your shit, because then at least you wouldn’t have to hide it anymore.

But seconds turn into minutes, and nobody comes. It’s quiet, except for the sound of Steve’s breathing and the steady beating of his heart, and you realize when he looks at you with sympathy and sincerity that you hate yourself for lying. It’s an ironic realization, because lying is like second nature to you. HYDRA spent so much time ingraining it into your brain that it’s become almost like a second language, a means of communication that flows so naturally that you don’t even have an accent anymore. It’s brought you many things, and ruined even more people.

Your hands are going numb from how hard you’re clenching them into fists. Steve’s thumbs are rubbing small circles on your shoulders, and it takes all of your effort not to shake them off. You’re disgusted with yourself, bile threatening to rise to the back of your throat while the sensation of his warm fingers on you is the only thing left for you to feel. The world is dark and cold, but the heat radiating from Steve’s hands is just enough to stop you from getting frostbite. The concern is evident on his face, from the deep crease between his brows to the thin line of his lips; he’s worried about you, someone he doesn’t even know. Someone he would kill if he’d met you under any other circumstances.

You want to go home, you think to yourself, but as soon as the thought appears do you smack it down with your fist. You don’t have a home, you scold yourself, just like the doctors would tell you when you cried and screamed on the dingey operating table in the early days, when they didn’t control you yet. When they still wore their special masks to stop you from controlling their minds so they could freely fuck with yours.

It’s an icy reality, one that rattles you to your core every time it makes an appearance. Steve’s eyes are still scanning your face, which is twisted and contorted into a painful scowl before you even realize what’s happening.

An inexplicable panic washes over you, heart jackhammering in your chest while your cheeks turn a sickly shade of pink. A bead of sweat rolls down your back, followed by cold shivers that envelop your skin in ice. The scent of laundry detergent and cologne hits you like a truck, and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from gagging.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice melting and morphing into the sound of rain slamming against the window like gunfire.

“My head,” you cry out in a desperate whimper, “it hurts.”

Steve forces your body down onto his bed, and while you begin to writhe in pain that causes white spots to dance in front of your eyes, he closes the curtains to keep the light from coming in. His mother had head aches all the time, and she’d be in bed for days on end if they got bad enough. He remembers her clear as day, lying in bed with an empty bucket next to her on the floor in the dark, because the light hurt so bad it would make her vomit sometimes. He’d tiptoe around the house because the sound of his feet creaking across the floorboards would pain her. He recognizes her in you, lying on his bed with your hands clutching the sides of your head.

“I’ll get you some aspirin,” he says, quieting his voice, the incident with Wanda long forgotten as instinct takes over.

Tears blur your vision at this point, and it takes every ounce of focus that you have left to keep yourself from screaming out in pain. Aspirin won’t help, but you don’t possess the capability to tell him not to bother. You’ve experienced this type of pain before, and have endured it without medicine each time. Many times actually; while you were forced to extract information from the people taken and captured by HYDRA with whatever means necessary. This time however, it’s come as a surprise and it’s caught you completely off-guard, although you suspect Wanda’s poking and prodding has something to do with it.

With all the strength you have left, you manage to pull the covers over your head, engulfing yourself in darkness and warmth to drown out your senses. The sudden darkness is disorienting, but you welcome it with open arms. Steve opens his mouth, but shuts it, and heads for the door without uttering another word.

All you hear when Steve exits the room is the sound of your former victims crying out in despair.

NEXT CHAPTER.

TAGLIST:

@foxyjwls007 @littlegasps @hurricane-abigail @idk123906 @ bubblicious-trashcan @wooya1224

50 notes · View notes

greekbros · 4 years ago

Text

"greek-Bros: Phallic Judgement"

*Surprisingly, Dionysus had gone back to Rome to cause more mischief with Hermes, this time they've brought Ares along*

Dionysus: *again disguised as a wine seller* ok gentlemen, behold. The foulest creatures to crawl on the face of the earth. *Shows just random Roman citizens*

Ares: *who for some reason decided he wanted to disguise himself as the world's most intimidating slave* ......ugh....the goats? *Sees a goat*

Hermes: *cleverly disgusted as farmer* haha no. You see, these guys are absolutely weird. They insist of "rationing" Sapa, they have taxes for literally existing and above all.....their wine is watered down! But they have the best bread I've ever tasted though.

Ares: ... really?

Dionysus: don't be fooled by their baked goods my dudes. These are cruel and unrelenting scum folk. Uncultured, ignorant, and above all....they've inslaved every single country they've conquered.

Hermes: .....it's mostly about the wine isn't it?

Dionysus: ....*turns dramatically* their most unforgiving sin.

Ares: *has wondered off to see a statue of himself*.....my dick isn't THAT small.......*looks at the name plate saying "Mars"* ......I can't believe these guys misspelled my name....*takes some charcoal, scratches out Mars and writes Ares*

Centurion Gaurd: Excuse me slave! Where is your master! Slaves are not allowed near the devine statue of the gods.*sees that Ares has wrote his name on the statue's nameplate* What the?

Ares: *doesn't know the centurion was referring to him considering he's in disguise* .........*turns to the see the back of the statue* ....at least they got the ass right.

Centurion Gaurd: EXCUSE ME! Please stop making remarks about the sacred statue! You've defaced sacred property!

Ares: *slowly peaks over to the centurion* ....hey ugh there's a thing on your helmet*

Centurion Gaurd: oh really? *Pats around his helmet* where?

Ares: *points to the centurion's face* There's a shit attitude a little all over your FuCkInG ugly mug.

Centurion Gaurd: *realising what he meant* YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!

Dionysus: *walks into the situation* Oh there you are Skippy! Bad boy I thought I told you to stay close to me and not open your mouth! *takes a little stick and weakly whips Ares's shoulder with a single thing of wheat*

Ares: *confused* ...wut?

Centurion Gaurd: Is there YOUR disrespectful slave?

Ares: wait you said I was going to be a noblem-*gets a loaf of bread in his mouth by Hermes*

Hermes: please shut up or we'll leave you here to fend for yourself.

Ares: *kinda just enjoying the bread* hmfhmf.

Dionysus: You see my good sir, my slave is extremely stupid, dumb and has testicles the size of grapeseeds. He was used as a human kickball when he was an infant and was raised by goats. He can't help himself sometimes. *Tries to clean the charcoal off the statue*

Ares: *angry noises* ?!?

Centurion Gaurd: .....Ok...you have the pay the "Disrespectful Slave" tax fine.

Dionysus: .....*grumbles and takes a bag filled with gold coins* ....*gives it begrudgingly* .....*grits his teeth* have....a...good day.

Centurion Gaurd: *takes the gold and sees that it's drachma* .....hmm.....*takes out a piece of paper with a semi-crude wanted poster of Dionysus, Apollo and Hermes* ......hmm.....I watching you....sir. *leaves to find Mortus*

Dionysus: *turns to Ares and glares at him* ....you owe me 20 drachma.

Ares: *has finished eat the bread* Why? Don't these mortals know we're gods?

Dionysus: No! We're here in disguise so that was can destroy the city again. You are here to make sure the country doesn't get a chance to get back up.

Ares: Fuck yah. *Literally has no idea what he agreed to*

Hermes: *saw the wanted poster in the centurion's hand* ugh...guys we REALLY need to finish what we came here for because they're definitely on to us.

Dionysus: yeah yeah I know....come on let's go. I want to destroy the coliseum again.

Ares: what's a coliseum?

Dionysus: *suddenly a huge grin forms across his face* Hermes .....is the coliseum....open?

Hermes: let me check. *Literally speeds next to the coliseum and saw a Roman sign that says "Grand Re-Opening" and zips back to Dionysus* yeah. It's open.

Dionysus: perfect. *Pops a waterskin filled with wine, and chugs it* oh gods I'm FuCkInG dry. It's like this place sucks your very essence or something.

Hermes: hmm....yeah, shame really. *as he was following Dionysus and Ares, he accidentally dumbs into a familiar face* oops sorry miss.

Octavia: *turns around with a baby in her arms that looks suspiciously familiar* Oh pardon me sir. I didn't mean to bump into, the market seems rather busy today doesn't it?

Hermes: It's ok, I was just heading to-*knotices the baby* .....ugh...

Caius the baby: *smiles at Hermes as if he knew Hermes was his dad* ba-ba :D

Octavia: Oh sweetie, daddy is working. Oh children are so wonderous, even at a few months old, they have such an imagination. By the way, have we met before? You look so familiar....are you from the countryside?

Hermes: uuggggh *trying his best to not look Octavia in the eye* yeah, I get that all the time. Trust me I have some of my own, I mean children that is. Also no I don't think I have? *Literally hoping she doesn't recognize him even though he shape shifted into her husband a year ago*

Caius: *still happily cooing over his real dad*

Dionysus: come on buddy le-*put two and two together and scowls at Hermes* ......you didn't.

Hermes: ugh....

Dionysus: nevermind we're off! *He pulls Hermes to the direction of the coliseum*

Octavia: hmmm what a strange young man. He's handsome though.

Caius: *coos in disappointment* :(

*later*

Dionysus: *rubs his hands* hehehehehe....

Hermes: this better be worth it. I thought we would write our names on the temple walls here or something.

A Roman Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen! This grand reopening of the Coliseum shall be in honor of our Lord and Emperor Caeser!

Caeser: *does the Royal British wave*

Dionysus: peeeeerfect.

Hermes: ......hey I got to ask...why did you bring Ares?

Dionysus: some bulky bastard is currently the head champion gladiator here, he use to live on Crete before the Romans decided to kidnap a few warriors there....let's just say my pettiness will come with effort.

Hermes: ......ok seriously man what are talking about?

Dionysus: look no one says that their dick is bigger than mine and actually gets away with it.

Hermes: ....you know....you could just smite someone. I mean it's not graceful....but it's effective.

Dionysus: hoho, I'm going to make this extra dramatic.

The Roman Announcer: And now! You're great champion, Maximus the Well-Endowed!

Maximus: *a huge, hulking man came out, roars out* HAIL CAESAR! *Leans to the announcer* I am going to get my 20 hot virgin women after this right?

Announcer: *whispers* yes yes. AND HIS CHALLENGER *looks at a note which was scribbled on his hand* ..... "Skippy the Not-Well-Endowed"! *Looks back his hand still not believing what he had read*

Ares: *is just happy to get into a fight, however was oddly enough only was only wearing a loin cloth and a helmet, armed with a shield and spear* ......oh boy, a whole stadium just for killing? These people rock!

Hermes: ........you didn't....

Dionysus: yep.

Ares: *steps side to side like an exited kid* comeoncomeoncomeonstartthefighting.

Maximus: Alright Skippy, time to end your tiny dicked existence. *Raised his sword on to Ares but Ares was able to break it with his helmet* !?

Ares: ....that's it?

Maximum: *confused* ugh....*waves to order in more weapons, all of which fail to hurt Ares*

Ares: .......aw come on...you guys have some shitty ass weapons. Bet YOUR weapon is just as shit.

Maximus: grrrrr.....YOU PUNY SLAVE! *Rips off his armored skirt* See! You're fucking wrong!

Roman crowd: *gasps*

Dionysus: .....

Hermes: *whistles* holyshit....dude this guy is hung.

Dionysus: If there's one god who can contest me....the only god who's dick is so epic, so powerful, so irresistible, so near perfect......that Aphrodite can't FuCkInG resist it on a daily basis.

Hermes: Heracles?

Dionysus: No buddy, Ares. Ares is the guy who's dick is better than mine I mean come on a guy who shags the goddess of love more times than any living thing HAS to have something going on down there

Some Roman Karen: EXCUSE me is pronounced Venus! We don't use greek words here.

Dionysus: Please leave me alone lady.

Some Roman Karen: *rhees in anger*

Dionysus and Hermes: *both are struggling to ignore her*

Ares: ....ok...that dick of your isn't that great.....*rips off his loin cloth* .....THIS....is a dick.

Crowd: *the women and gay men swoons over the perfect of Ares's bare body, men quake and cringe at their own feeble members and put to shame*

Caesar: *completely unimpressed and decided to leave* hmf. Pathetic.

Maximus: *wriggles in shame* HOW c-C-C-could this be?! The most PERFECT COCK? Oh my gods why is it fucking glowing?!

Ares: ....what you don't shave yourself weekly? I mean come on man that's how you keep the ladies coming back?

Maximus: *starts crying a little*

Dionysus: *cackling uncontrollably* SO THATS HIS SECRET! *writes on a piece of paper saying "shave, dick, weekly"*

Hermes: *still not fully understanding why all of this* ........you brought Ares here JUST to emasculate some gladiator?

Dionysus: Oh much more than that Herms.....much much m-

Roman Karen: EXCUSE YOU SIR ITS MERCURY!

Dionysus: *has had enough and turned her into a chicken* there much better.

Hermes: .....are you ok? Did you have your wine today?

Dionysus: I RAN OUT OF WINE LONG AGO!

Hermes: *deep sigh* not again.

Ares: *now in full naked display* ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!? *The crowd roared and cheered*

Dionysus: well....yah want to set the animals free from their cages?

Hermes: fuk ye-*feels a tough and strong hand practically crushing his shoulder* .....*turns to see an old man who clearly was Zeus* .....

Zeus: .....boys.....

Dionysus and Hermes: .....Uh Oh.

Zeus: *took each of them by their ears like a discontented mother* you're BOTH grounded for bothering these mortals and above all abusing the dark, unholy power of the sacred male member ....if I had a third arm it would be reserved for Ares. *Looks down at Ares now just doing some naked dance for the crowd*........*deep and disappointed sigh*

Dionysus: but dad, I do that like everyday.

Zeus: I don't care if I don't discipline you or Hermes right the now, Hera will have MY male member nailed to the wall.

(Later that day)

Mortus: *inner noir detective monologue* after several months, nothing. Absolutely nothing. The suspects disappeared from the face of the empire. Likely their crimes have caught up with them. My only consolation to solving this case....is the mysterious birth of my son and my faithful wife. .... speaking of which...why does Caius have blue eyes? Me and Octavia have brown.....did ...she?....nah that's impossible.

The Centurion from earlier: MY LORD! I FOUND THE SUSPECTS!

Mortus: *dramatically turns around* This better be the right ones this time.

*much later after apparently an orgy broke out at the coliseum*

Mortus: .... Absolutely disgusting. Practicing Sexual Festivities without a license is punishable by crucifixion, Mark.

The Announcer (Mark): B-b-but sir! It wasn't my fault! Some slave was to challenge Maximus and they just decided to remove their clothing and everyone went wild! ....to be fair the slave did look a little attractive BUT the fornicating ceased once the slave disappeared.

Mortus:....was he accompanied by a portly, dark haired ..... individual?......an extremely attractive blonde slave and a thinner more athletic young man with brown hair?

The Announcer: ...hmm...well yes minus the other slave.

Mortus: Hmmm.....the plot thickens.....are these the mysterious criminals that destroyed the coliseum last year?....What is the motivated behind these depraved individuals?.....

The Announcer: ugh...why are you talking to yourself?

#greek bros #greek-Bros #Mortus #roman vs greek jokes #greek gods #dionysus #hermes #Ares #Zeus #greek mythology

26 notes · View notes

badwolfrunning · 4 years ago

Text

Family & Bonds AU Headcanons

I an dabbling in a couple of AU’s currently. Primarily what I have posted is a Family and Bonds AU titled....Family Bonds. (original. v crafty. wow.) Anyway, lengthy post under the cut.

I shifted the family tree from Bonds in order to accommodate the incredible characters designed by middlewarnersibling in Family to be the Warner trio's parents, and I love that story line for them.

In Bonds, it seemed odd that Bosko would some how not notice his lover's aging or just how she managed to keep all three kids a secret, but I figured, one was totally possible and that one child was Slakko, their father from Family. So it goes like this:

Oswald and Ortensia have a daughter named Odelia.

Odelia has an affair with Bosko Warner

Culminating in middlewarnersibling’s character Slakko Warner. Odelia still never tells Bosko and before the baby arrives, Bosko’s bleeding heart brother, Kokko offers to marry Odelia so the baby at least appears “legit.”

So Kokko becomes the Warner trio’s legal grandfather.

According to Family, Slakko meets Ophelia, a cat toon who sings and dances. They hook up and reluctantly wind up in a shotgun marriage and eventually all three kids are born.

Yakko is approx 5-6 years older than Dot and 3 years older than Wakko, putting him solidly in the middle.

Their birthdays are all in different seasons; I have decided Dot is mid-late June, Wakko is early October and Yakko is January, so their age gap gets all wonky at certain times of the year.

Babs and Buster were actually about 14/15 respectively at the launch of Tiny Toon Adventures which makes them both a couple years Yakko's senior.

I also think it makes for an excellent joke about Yakko always gunning for older women.

(For future reference, yes this makes Buster a solid 7 years older than Dot.)

The rest of the primary Tiny Toons crew is pretty much on par with the exception of Hampton and Dizzy who I headcanon as younger by about a yearish.

(Why yes, Yakko and Dot both have deep seated parental trauma, why do you ask? Wakko does too but it uh....comes out in a different way.)

I headcanon an interesting arch for Slakko which involves something of redemption? In Bonds while Bosko is on the hunt for the Warners he finds this other Warner and decides to see if he has any information. Slakko is living alone in a bit of a shite apartment and mostly keeps to himself and has been ok at staying out of bigger trouble. So when Bosko and his boys arrive at his door he's suspicious and ready to make it a fight if he has to. But there isn't much of a fight; Bosko demands to know where the trio is, Slakko honestly has no idea but Bosko doesn't believe him. The weasels and whomever else Bosko brought as his cronies beat the shit out of him but he holds true to his story.

So Bosko finally believes him. More or less. He doesn't want to have to come back here so he decides to make sure that Slakko can't ever 'see' his children again and has whomever's with him hold him down and burn his eyes with dip. So Slakko's left blinded, injured and probably should be dead but he's not.

Yakko remembers that his folks hardly ever reported an injury or used a hospital unless they absolutely had to. So, close to the end of the show Yakko finds out his father actually used medical services and decides to figure out how to get himself listed as an emergency contact. Not that he intended to ever come to assist but more so that he can make sure to be notified of anything particularly fatal. In Family, he lamented that he never got to say goodbye to their mother and as much as he disagrees with him, Yakko never wants to miss that chance again. So, post Bonds, he ends up finding out about Slakko's sudden blindness and discreetly, not to the knowledge of Slakko or his sibs, decides to help out. Just this once, is Yakko's reasoning.

Um....some cute things I headcanon....

I kept Wakko's diabetes....not cute but like, it's more light hearted than that other stuff tbh

Also not 100% cute: Babs continues to go to therapy to address things like depression and PTSD but it takes some....convincing for Yakko to see someone again. Especially after being made to on the lot. But after a particularly bad night he agrees to give it a shot.

Basically, they coax each other through episodes and have learned to spot when they're each using coping mechanisms in harmful ways and call each other out on it. They make a fantastic team.

They also don’t totally shy away from the conversations with their daughters. They introduce what’s appropriate and with their age gap that can be tricky.

They both also have a very....interesting time being parents early on. Babs is waiting to see if she'll feel what her mother must have felt that made her leave them in a huff and Yakko's struggling to come to terms with the fact that there was nothing wrong with him, his father just never wanted them. Basically they're looking for when another shoe will drop but it won't because they don't just love their kid, they wanted them.

They got to make a choice their parents didn't.

I do have fankids for Babs and Yakko, both girls, both named after powerful women in art and history. Lucille Ophelia and Jacqueline Madeline. (If any of you know the Madeline namesake I will be impressed AF)

Lucille very strictly goes by Lu, call her Lucy and you die (unless you're Wakko. This kid plays favorites and he is it.) and she is a handful of a teenager. Sharp tongued and sharp witted.

Jackqueline, or Jackie, is 5 years younger and is so naive and sweet it hurts and she is Daddy's Girl capital D. Yes, at first they figured she was just masterful at the cuteness game like Dot was but as it turns out, she's got that Wakko style innocence.

Babs jokes that she's clearly actually Wakko's kid. (There is absolutely no possible way for that to be true. Which is why it's funny instead of suspicious.)

They have both watched Animaniacs and Tiny Toon Adventures and just to piss off her dad, Lu says Tiny Toons is her favorite.

Skippy, like Dot, had a dance focus and so, in a few years' time, she's gonna run into him on the set of a music video. That'll be fun!

Babs and Yakko have pissed of more than one director for going off on what appear to be essentially joke tangents but it's actually the two of them attempting to out do each other until there's a clear winner. They are both spotlight hogging, competitive lil shits.

It's Babs' idea for Wakko to try fronting the band he's in and his bandmate get stupidly jealous and steals his girl....oops.

Dot is stupidly beautiful and very much lovable (wow. shocking.) And some poor poor blue bunny is gonna fall face first into a sitcom level affair....and since he can't tell either of his best bros about it he ends up drunkenly calling Babs who just laughs her ass off the whole time.

Yakko can play chess in his head. Like...he doesn't need the board. He can just keep track of the pieces. (Honestly, having to be so damn smart is a complex brought on the physical and verbal abuse from his father.)

Wakko....honestly, as smart as he can be and as righteous as he is, he has that Warner independence streak something bad after touring. He tries a bit much and ends up starting a fight with someone and long story short, he's caught with that twink stuff from Family (unfortunate name tbh basically, think crack.)

Yakko is obviously beside himself and Dot is more or less oblivious as she's at university at this point. Basically, shit hits the fan and the brothers split.

Dot tries to keep in touch with Wakko but he severs the connection from both his sibs.

Wakko does get clean. He also falls in love with a remarkable human toon named Jesse.

He’s also still friends with Foghorn, who is actually a pretty great support in all of this.

I headcanon Wakko as demi homosexual.

Much to her own surprise, Babs LOVES being a mom.

Yakko struggles with partnership. A lot of what goes into being a parent are things he’s already experienced and he has a hard time NOT being a know it all and actually partnering with his wife....it’s a fun dynamic.

Yakko also still has a crush on Max Goof that he SWORE he was over but after seeing him at random very much IS NOT.

It's not just Wakko making horrible choices btw. Sorry this was meant to be the cute stuff....uh....

Both Yakko and Wakko walk with their sister at her wedding (told you things will circle back!)

#animaniacs #family and bonds #family bonds au #is it an au when it's just blended fics?#bonds #family #animaniacs family #animaniacs bonds #Headcanon Time #fanfic #relax #he isn't going to leave his wife for max #pretty sure #lol #none of these kids are het or mono tbh

51 notes · View notes

tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 3 years ago

Text

Malon's First Time At The Hospital pt.2

-trespassers

pt.1

Pairings: The Gray's (Pennywise, Aquarius, Kandy and Archie)

Warnings: Some Fluff at the start and violence/gore at the end, Michael Myers since he's a warning

This is kinda shitty, sorry... I was good at writing stories, once, but I think I'm now losing my touch /:

Don't hesitate to tell me if I did any mistakes, it would be greatly appreciated, like usual!

Since the Voorhees asked Archie and his family to watch over Skippy, the boy was playing with the rabbit in the living room, his sister looking at it from the couch with big curious eyes. It was the first time Kandy saw a rabbit, so it's sure that she was really curious about the small fluffy creature hopping in their living room. Archie made some noises to catch Skippy's attention as noises from the kitchen could be heard, his mother making some breakfast. Pennywise was obliviously out hunting, so she didn't have to make another portion for him, like all the times she made some food. Aquarius' eyes darted to the doorway to the living room as she watched the children play, a small smile on her face as she finished the food for her and Archie and prepared Kandy's. It was kind of sad that Pennywise was almost never there to eat with his family, but his wife could understand, even if it hurts a bit. What she wouldn't give to have him eat one 'normal' meal with them, it wouldn't kill him.....

With a sad sigh, Star called out to her children and watched as they put Skippy back in his cage, Archie taking his sister into his arms and putting her on her high chair. While they were eating, Archie suddenly spoke up. ''Mom...Could I have a pet for my birthday?.....'' With raised brows, Aquarius looked towards her son with a surprisede expression on her face and wide eyes as he adverted her sight, rubbing the back of his neck shyly...

Oh boy...

---

At Camp Crystal Lake, since it's protector wasn't here, some trespassers were walking through the woods, laughing loudly and playing some random music like they were the only ones in the forest, which they would discover in a while, wasn't the case.

It was a group of three, a man and two women, a blonde and a brunette. The man stumbled, clearly drunk as he carried a can of beer in one hand, being the first one to speak as he pushed back his sweaty hair back and threw the can. ''It's kinda stupid what they say about that killer in the woods, if he killed anybody who walked in, how would they have known that he did kill them?? '' He said as the two women chuckled, the blonde clinging to his arm as they continued to walk. ''I don't know...'' She started before her eyes widened and she pointed to a familiar wooden cabin. ''Look! Maybe it's his cabin where he stacks pile of bones and leaves the dead bodies in his makeshift basement-'' The latter continued with a playful nudge and a wiggle of her fingers to the silent brunette, who looked worried about something as she stared into the bushes. The three laughed a bit, unaware of the figure stalking them as they went towards the cabin, knocking and making sure to look into the windows and try to see if there was someone, which wasn't the case since the occupants were at the hospital with their daughter.

Since they were so unaware of the person stalking them, they entered the cabin, still laughing, and picked the lock, like most cliché horror movies that happens in the woods, getting silent for a while. When they heard the lock clicking, they smiled triumphly.

You would have thought that there would have been more? Well, you were wrong. Jason never thought of putting up some traps or whatever that can cause arms near the cabin, because he didn't want Malon falling in them and/or hurting herself, his wife too.

The man exclaimed like he got scared by something and laughed as he entered, the two women behind him rolling their eyes and going in, not closing the door as they looked around. ''Would you look at that! '' The man once again opened his mouth, showing off the living room as the brunette girl stayed on the mat at the front door, uncomfortable about how clean it was. '' Guys.. I think there might-'' She mumbled and was cut off short as she was snatched and impaled through the back of her shirt on a kitchen knife, gurgling sounds coming from her as her friends walked deeper. They were oblivious to anything that was happening, smiling in amazement and not realizing that their companion isn't there anymore nor that it was clearly someone's house. A short red trail followed The Shape as he walked into the woods and carried the woman by the arm, ignoring her pathetic wimpers and gurgles. He found it 'funny' in a way how they always seemed to beg or want to say something when they clearly couldn't.

After walking for maybe 2 or 3 minutes, Michael effortlessly swung the body down a hill, the woman barely alive as her bloodied figure rolled down the leaves and dirt. When he went back, the door was closed and he could hear the voices of the two trespassers that were still alive, music blaring from inside the cabin.

With a roll of his eyes under his mask, he walked through the front door like it was totally normal, his icy eyes spotting the blonde and the man on the couch making out. Before it could get more heated, the floor creaked and the man opened his eyes, then tried to push what we could guess as his girlfriend off of him. His dark eyes looked at the Boogeyman's figure and before he could scream or warn the blonde, he was stabbed through the front of his throat with the same knife that killed his friend and now girlfriend. Blood poured between the lover's still locked lips and the man moved his gaze to the one before him, finding the girl's frightened blues staring back in shock. The couch was now stained a darker shade as blood slid down their body and made the fabric wet.

It would take some time to get the crimson liquid out, but at least he got rid of the problems, Michael thought for the first time. It was weird since he felt this tiny pulling feeling, but he guessed it was normal since Jason was probably one of his only acquaintance that wasn't a victim.

Twisting his weapon out in a swift motion, he stabbed the girl's back as the boy pushed her towards him, trying stupidly to make a run for the door. He limped and left a trail on the wooden floor, one hand clutching his heavily bleeding neck as his future killer got the knife back in his grip with a squelshing sound and walked silently towards him, the blonde's body falling to the ground. Even if he could get out, he wouldn't make it with a wound this deep. One of Michael's bigger hand snatched the back of his stained shirt as he stabbed him too, a gurgle leaving his lips before The Shape left the body fall to the ground, going back to the living room. Again, without efforts, he took the girl's body on one of his shoulders and the other one before walking out and closing the door behind him.

In approximately 10 minutes, the cabin was a total mess. The wall at the back of the couch has some blood splatters on it from when the trespassers got stabbed, their speaker still on the coffee table and the couch cushions stained with a dark wetness. There were some mud tracks, foot prints more precisely, going to the door and to the couch too, lots of blood on the living room floor and a trail going to the front door, some smaller splatters there on the wall.

I don't think Michael's coming back to clean that, though, nor buy another couch...

#randomly a fan #pennywise #michael myers #jason voorhees #SoundCloud

6 notes · View notes

vkookjamz · 4 years ago

Text

⋆☽Kitten☾⋆

|| Prologue. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

| 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑘𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑥 𝐶𝑎𝑡-𝐻𝑦𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑑 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 |

"𝘉-𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭..?"

𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯. 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦..

---------------------------------------------------

Y/n's POV

You felt your knees become weak looking up into Jungkook's dark eyes that were looking right back at you.

"As I was saying baby girl, instead of Appa, you should really call me.. Daddy.."

His same dark look returned, now also wearing a mischievous smirk that was oh so intimidating.

You couldn't tell what emotion this was he had, all you knew was it flustered you with each glance and each word he spoke with his voice that somehow managed to get octaves lower.

"Well baby? can you be a good girl and call me daddy from now on when we're alone?" his hand moving up from its place on your hip, now slowly rubbing up and down along the side of your body.

You gulped. "I-I-... "

"Yah Jungkook-ah are you in there?! get out so she can change! we still have more outfits for her to try!"

You were at a loss for words- thank god Jin had shouted from outside of the changing room just as you were about to speak, or in your case let out a soft whimper due to the fact that's all your brain would let you do at that moment in time.

Jungkook let out a sigh raising his hand to rub against his temple. Pulling away from you he opened the door of the small space to exit, quickly poking his head back in to look at you.

"I want an answer when we get home kitten" he gave a wink before leaving you alone to ponder about the encounter, although as soon as the door closed you sank down to the floor as your heart was racing.

'Aish Jungkook.. what are you doing to me..?'

~Time Skippy~

It'd been awhile since you all finished shopping, but judging by the darkness beginning to coat the sky with the sun about to set. It was getting late. Dinner time late.

"YAH- I WANT PANDA EXPRESS!" Taehyung hollered wildly flailing as he walked, causing Jin to let out a groan and rub the top of his head. "TAEHYUNG-AH!- we aren't getting that! we have food at home!"

"That. Is a LIE" Taehyung hissed dramatically as he narrowed his gaze at the oldest male.

Jimin let his the corner of his lips peak into a tiny smile. "Caught in a li- "

Jin snapped his head in his direction pointing a finger, "Jimin you finish that sentence, I will physically grab you by the neck and shove you down the shower drain along with Tae"

"ANIYA. JIN-HYUNG I'M JUST TRYING TO LIGHTEN THE MOOD-" he whined throwing himself into his hyung.

Rolling your eyes you let your head shake with a smile at the threes bickering, there was always something happening with these seven. Even when they all were walking towards the exit of a place some new crisis would develop.

"Tae, Jin- how about we all just go out to eat? as in a sit down restaurant so that way you both can stop screaming in public?" Namjoon questioned.

Once he'd suggested that option everyone seemed to stop moving and look around at their current surroundings.

Jin and Taehyung were in the middle of the mall, both looking around to make sure no one was staring.

Jimin and Hoseok stood behind in the back still carrying numerous bags of your clothes that you had bought. And of course you, Jungkook, and Namjoon all looked at them from the side.

Meanwhile Yoongi was ahead of everyone holding the door open, becoming impatient from waiting for everyone. "Restaurant is fine now just please lets go already, my legs are tired"

Letting out a groan before walking out, causing Jimin and Hoseok to rush from the back to follow him eagerly before the door closed.

Then Jin, Taehyung and Namjoon followed leaving you and Jungkook alone to trail behind them all.

"Alone at last huh baby?" he wiggled his brows giving you a wide bunny smile followed by a chuckle.

You simply purred at the image nuzzling your head up underneath his chin to hide your slightly pink face into his neck.

This was perfect, if you thought being his pet cat was a great life before- now you were clearly mistaken. Although as you began to think about it, how did you become human- well- half human- in the first place?

Your brows furrowed together at your thoughts, pulling away from Jungkook slowly but still keeping close to his side.

He seemed to notice and gave an almost unnoticeable frown as he looked down at you, reading your body language. "What's wrong y/n?"

"Its just- how did I turn into this..? I don't remember much of anything before you.." Jungkook pursed his lips, holding your hand he led you out towards the exit following after the others.

"After dinner I'll talk to you in private alright? when we're all home- I don't trust talking about it when we're out in public"

You felt your heart sink, was he embarrassed of you? did he not want anyone to hear of him having some weird cat-girl in his life??

Letting out a silent sniffle you quickly blinked your watery eyes to keep from crying, it was strange how this new form suddenly caused you to feel so many emotions quickly after another-

"Aish what took you guys? you walk slower than Yoongi-hyung when he first wakes up" Jimin joked nodding over to the older.

"But he doesn't move at all when he first wakes up- he just kinda lays there.." Yoongi looked towards Namjoon and Jimin with a look of confusion at their statements.

"How the hell do you two know so much about my sleeping habits??" having an almost disgusted face at the assumptions he thought up.

Joon frowned, "Have you forgotten we've shared a room-"

"Ah- okay yes but what about you Jimin-ah?" Yoongi raised a brow and focused more on Jimin, as did everyone else.

Even Jin looked up into the rearview mirror to spot Jimin, who was now sitting quietly twirling his thumbs in his lap.

They all continued to talk chaotically, while you sat staring out the window at your place in the back seat, Jungkook and Tae at your left.

Drowning out all the sounds of their nonsense, you looked up into the dark sky that glittered with tiny stars and a crescent moon that seemed to shine brighter than ever.

Looking at the moon always seemed to put you in some sort of state, a mix between wanting to go ferral and some calming comfort.

I will awaken soon enough, but do not fear what you are. That's their job..

That is until just then..

A/n: I've gotten some ideas for this..

-ⓙ

153 notes · View notes

sergeantsporks · 4 years ago

Text

Swapped

Ch 3/5

Ch 1, Ch 2

Ao3

Or read under the cut

It was a small patch on his knee, like a scrape, but it wasn’t a scrape. It was stone. Blue stone.

And suddenly, worries and anxieties he hadn’t felt for CENTURIES came flooding back in a rush.

What if they saw?

What if they found out?

What if they realized that he wasn’t the real Hisirdoux?!

And now, now there were new anxieties, things he hadn’t worried about centuries ago.

What if they hated him?

What if they turned him away?

What if they never wanted to see him again?

What if Zoe’s face curled up in disgust as she realized she’d been kissing a troll mouth. Worse, a changeling mouth?

What was going on?! Why, why now, after centuries of no problems, was he turning to stone? He hadn’t once transformed back to his troll form—what if he was supposed to do that every so often, or it would start to leak through?

There had to be someone he could contact to find out. The Janus order—they’d know. Right?

So he snuck out.

When Archie’s snoring started, and Zoe’s breathing slowed down to the little puffs he knew meant she was deep in dreamland.

Douxie felt a weird ache in his chest at the thought of not hearing those little sounds again. He needed to fix this problem. Now. Before it spread.

So he crept through the streets, almost certain that he’d seen a bar with a sign that had two faces on it. Two faces. The Janus order. It was worth a shot, right?

So he went inside. There was only one solitary bar girl, and she gave him an odd glance. “Sorry. We’re closed tonight, kiddo. Reserved.”

“Gunmar,” he blurted. He didn’t know any changeling code, because that wasn’t one of the things Dictatious—Dictatious, he hadn’t thought about the many-eyed troll for so long—had told him. So he just blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

The bar girl’s eyes widened. “Oh! Sorry. What’s the problem?”

“I’m turning to stone,” Douxie babbled, “I’m turning into stone, but I’m not trying to transform, it just happened, and I don’t know what’s going on!”

“Ooookay, you’re obviously new to this. Slow down. Show me.”

Douxie rolled up his pant leg to show her the blue stone spot on his knee. “Why’s it doing that?!”

She peered closely at it. “If I had to guess? I’d say your familiar scraped a knee. Weird. Normally the goblins take such good care of them.”

Douxie grabbed her sleeve as she turned to go. “How do I find out?”

She blinked at him. “Wow. You really don’t know anything about being a changeling, huh? Okay. Look. You can check in on your familiar any time you like. You just gotta.” She screwed her face up, made a retching noise, and spat at a mirror. Douxie jumped back.

“That’s disgusting!”

“Nah, look!”

Douxie steeled himself to look at the glob of spit on the mirror, and saw that it had transformed into an image of a little baby girl, asleep in a crib. “That’s…”

“My familiar. Cute little thing, isn’t she?” The image faded away. “You try.”

Douxie’s spitting wasn’t nearly as impressive as hers, but the image appeared. Hisirdoux was in a stasis trap, a bloody scrape on his knee. “That’s him!”

“An adult? Wow. You are a weird little changeling, aren’t you?”

“I wonder what happened…”

“Well, usually the familiars are babies. They don’t go anywhere. Yours probably just got loose, and fell before they got control of him again. If it’s really bothering you…” The changeling looked around. “Go to America. Arcadia Oaks. The leader of the Order lives there, Waltholomew Stricklander. He might be able to figure out what’s going on. Watch out, though, there’s a troll colony living there, and it is the homeplace of the trollhunter. Good luck.”

Douxie nodded and slipped away, creeping back inside the house he shared with Archie and Zoe before they woke up. It was just one scraped knee—like the changeling bar girl had said, it was probably just a problem with doing the sleeping spell on someone a little older. Nothing to worry about.

Until he woke up with thick lines of stone lashed across his chest.

No. No, no, no, no!

Douxie touched the stone lines delicately. They were just the right distance apart for a set of Gum-Gum claws. He yanked a shirt over his head, fast before Zoe or Archie saw. This was getting out of hand. He needed to get in contact with Stricklander.

Xxx

“America?” Archie asked, sounding slightly-disgusted, “Why America?”

Zoe grabbed his hand. “New York?! I’ve heard things about New York—we could be vigilantes! Do you know the crime rates there, Douxie? And we have to go to at least one rock concert, promise me!”

“We’re already vigilantes,” Douxie laughed, “Just the magical kind. What, you want to add muggers to our resume? No, not New York. I’ve got somewhere else in mind. Arcadia Oaks. Supposedly, it has a troll colony. And where there’s a colony of trolls, there’s bound to be… pest problems.” He gave Zoe’s hand a squeeze, some of her excitement leeching into him. And it was exciting! Leaving Europe for a totally new continent? Once he got this whole familiar thing sorted out, there wasn’t any reason not to have fun. “But I promise that we will go to New York and see a rock concert first.”

“Yessssss!”

Xxx

“Okay. Our first order of business ought to be looking for stable employment and—”

Douxie and Zoe both ignored Archie, hopping off of the bus and tearing around the city. “It’s so sunny here,” Zoe complained, “It’s like Italy all over again!”

“Oh, you liked Italy,” Douxie replied, “It is a bit bright, but—”

“Hey! What are you two kids doing out of school?!”

Douxie jumped as a police officer approached them. “Oh—we’re… new in town?”

The officer snorted. “I can tell.”

“I’m an adult. Actually.” Zoe offered, “I don’t have to be in school.” She pulled out an ID—when had she gotten a driver’s license?!

The officer squinted at it, then shrugged. “Alright, Miss Zoe, you’re off the hook. What about Skippy here?” He jabbed a thumb at Douxie.

“Wha—Skippy?!”

“Him?” Zoe said with a grin. “Oh, no. He’s a minor. Tiny little baby. Ship him off to school.”

The officer nodded, turning to Douxie. “And which school are you enrolled in?”

“Uhhhhh Aaarcaaadia Oaaaksss…. Academy?” Douxie tried, shooting Zoe a dirty look.

“Haven’t gotten your uniform yet? Alright, come on, in the squad car, I’ll take you to school. And you, Miss Zoe, try to be a better influence on him, will you?”

The officer dragged Douxie into the car, and Douxie mouthed “I’ll kill you” at a snickering Zoe. Actually, though, this was a good opportunity, while he was separated. “Hey, do you know anyone named Waltholomew Stricklander?” he asked the cop as he drove through the streets.

“No. Odd name. Closest we’ve got is a Walter Strickler. Teaches at the other school. Why?”

“Uhm. Just… looking for an old family friend. Thanks anyway.” Just his luck that there really was an Arcadia Oaks Academy, he thought gloomily as the car pulled into a school. He got marched to the principal’s office.

“Are you missing a new student? Possibly an exchange student?”

Right. The principal would say no, he’d make a getaway, and then he’d hunt Zoe down and throw her into the nearest body of water.

“As a matter of fact, we are! We didn’t have time to get his uniform, but…” A schedule, a map, and a stack of books was thrust into Douxie’s hands. “You should be in Calculus right now, young man.”

No way! Seriously? Douxie gave him his best apologetic grin. “Yes sir!”

Great. Now he just had to figure out what calculus was.

Douxie would have bolted, but the cop was watching him all the way to the classroom, so he edged inside. The door creaked far more than he thought was necessary, and the teacher turned to face him.

“May I help you?”

Douxie brushed his bangs back behind his ears nervously. “Um. Hello? I’m… new here?”

“Ahhhh, the transfer student! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“Heh. Well, try telling the cops that.”

“Hm, yes. Set your things down, and then why don’t you come up to the board and fill in the radian coordinates on this unit circle!”

Douxie could speak elvish, orcish, trollish, a number of human languages, and decipher wizard code, but he didn’t have any idea what she’d just said. He scooted ever-so-slowly to the back of the classroom and set his books down, then shuffled to the front of the classroom, taking the marker from the teacher like it was a poisonous snake. The giant circle covered in indecipherable markings loomed up at him. He hesitantly wrote a 2 on one of the blank spaces, earning a snort from someone in the front row. He ignored them and kept writing random numbers in the blanks. More snickers made his ears burn, and finally he capped the marker and set it down.

“Alright, class, hands up if you think he’s right.”

No hands went up.

��Sit back down, please.”

Douxie trudged back to his seat in what was possibly the most shameful walk of his entire life while the teacher spouted more calculus nonsense that went over his head. He tried to pay attention for a bit—he really did—but it became pretty obvious pretty fast that he was missing about 4 years worth of previous math that he should know in order to understand this, so he put his head down on the desk, praying for it all to end.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that punk’s dead?” someone else in the back hissed to him with a snicker, “Where’s your uniform?”

“Hank, shut up!” someone else responded, “I’m pretty sure he’s one of the public school kids sneaking in! His accent is so obviously faked!”

“My accent is not—” Douxie shook his head. What did it matter? He was a centuries old magician who knew arcane secrets of the universe that the Calculus teacher could never hope to understand. The opinion of a few regular human teenagers shouldn’t have mattered.

It shouldn’t have.

At lunch, he hopped the fence and ran for it, beelining for the public school. The academy kids whooped and cheered as he ran away. Excited that something interesting was happening? Or glad that he in particular was leaving? Not that it mattered to him.

He had to check in on this Walter Strickler, just in case. And sure enough, when he peered in the office windows, he could spot magical items lying about with regular things. Douxie cracked open the window and slipped inside. Wow. This guy really did have quite the collection of magic books. It wouldn’t hurt to read a few while he was waiting, would it?

He was halfway through his third book and the last school bell had rung for the day when he heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. He hastily shoved the books back in their spots and waited, suddenly realizing that if Walter Strickler wasn’t a changeling, he was going to have to talk his way out of a nasty breaking and entering situation.

But when the door did open, Douxie could recognize the changeling in him—it was something about the way he carried himself, like he had centuries of experience.

“Hey there,” Douxie said casually, “Got a little changeling question for you.”

Strickler didn’t seem too concerned by his presence, fiddling with a pen. “You are drawing far too much attention to yourself. Getting dragged off by the police? Skipping school? And that accent-! What kind of a sad excuse for a changeling are you?”

“No one exactly gave me a crash course in being a changeling!” Douxie protested, “And besides, I’m a changeling masquerading as a wizard masquerading as a human. I think I’m doing pretty well, all things considered!”

“The special assignment. Hisirdoux. I thought you were a myth. What with having no way of contacting you and all.”

“Uh—well—yeah. Not the point. I’ve got a bit of a situation. My familiar seems to keep injuring himself somehow? I want to contact Dictatious. Make sure everything is alright.”

Strickler snapped the pen shut. “Contact the darklands?!”

“Uh… yeah?”

“No one can do that! Do you think I’d be searching tirelessly for the eyestone if I could simply ring for Gunmar on the telephone?!”

“How come? Changelings seem to get in and out pretty easily.”

“It’s not the same. I’m afraid I cannot help you—it may be frustrating, but you will simply have to operate on less than ideal information. And, ah, Hisirdoux? Do try not to draw any more attention to yourself.”

Xxx

“You are not funny,” Douxie grumbled as he pushed open the door to some kind of tech shop.

Zoe grinned, hopping off of her place on a bench and going on tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Awww, did someone not have a good day at school?

“No kisses. According to you, I’m a minor and you’re an adult.”

“Don’t be irritated at Zoe,” Archie piped up, “I’m the one who enrolled you in school.”

“You did what?!”

“There are things I cannot teach you, Douxie!”

“Like calculus?! Get real, Arch, I’m never going to need calculus! Besides, when am I going to have the time?! I’ll need a job, and—wait a second, why are you talking in here?”

“Oh, this place?” Zoe said affectionately, “This is run by hedge wizards. Aaaaand there’s no customers at the moment, so we’re good. I have a job here now, actually. They’ll be able to use more money for their magical projects now that they won’t be paying an electric bill anymore.”

“Okay. Fantastic. School, Archie?!”

“Just stick it out for a year, alright? You’re listed as a senior, so you’ll graduate, and you can do whatever you want after that.”

“Assuming I can graduate! I don’t know any of this stuff, Arch! I’m going to fail everything!”

“You’re a quick learner. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’ve spent centuries doing nothing but bouncing around the world hunting monsters. I’m sure one year of schooling will pass in a flash.

#i am still filled with rage that i ever had to waste brain space memorizing the unit circle #toa #tales of arcadia #my oc #my writing #my fanfiction #swapped #changeling!douxie au #dalmar #douxie

6 notes · View notes