#// I did give him those monster fuzzy slippers for walking around the house

[abyssmonarch-cookie]

*Notification noise*

#socialstuck #// no clue why we've been doing edgy socialstuck but honestly i just wanted to draw discord's red eyes #// they have red eyes btw. like the notification circle? ye... #// also yes #// I did give him those monster fuzzy slippers for walking around the house #razz art #discord

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only) | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten

chapter 10 - ashes and soot

SFW, around 4K words.

He followed her into the house while trying his hardest not to laugh. She seemed satisfied with her own answer, hoped that it would quell his questioning. Her pacing was erratic once they made their way inside, all manners of ice-breakers and harmless comments flung at him in a very obvious, desperate attempt to divert his attention. It was the first time he saw her lose her composure, fumble with her words, a bead of sweat on her brow as she tried to hide her nervousness. It was hardly a difficult question - did she mean to keep her identity a secret?

The house looked much the same as it did yesterday, perfectly tidy and beyond cozy. The dog pushed past him when he lingered on the door’s threshold, lazily walking towards his spot in front of the fireplace. It tossed and turned for a few moments, finally curling up into a ball, not at all concerned with human matters. Heisenberg approached to see there was no bubbling stew this time, no cauldron over the fire, his stomach grumbling in response. Amidst her anxiety she had taken a moment to ask him to take off his boots as he came in, a casual wave of her hand signaling when she would not face him. The weather had warmed up a bit overnight and the snow had melted some. She would prefer it if he left the mud outside, she explained as she brought over a pair of woolen slippers that were definitely too big for her feet. They looked handmade, but brand new, a sober color that wouldn’t show dirt and matched his usual color scheme. Did she… Prepare for his return?

“I meant your real name,” was his first attempt at prying the truth out of her. He obliged to her request, removed one damp boot and then the other, looking down to slide into the house slippers that, he was convinced, had been made especially for him. “Don’t much care for what the villagers like to call you.”

Heisenberg left the iron pot at the end of the table, trying his best to ignore the sensation of walking on a cloud in those fuzzy slippers. She remained quiet, watched him carefully, as if weighing her options and deciding on the best course of action. He made his way to the couch, grabbing an embroidered cushion before plopping himself down unceremoniously, toying with the stitches on the fabric with his dirty gloved hands. It was as comfortable as he had imagined, comfortable enough to make any of Alcina’s fancy chairs envious. His other arm placed on the backrest, he spread his legs to make himself at home, wiggling his butt almost imperceptibly to seal the deal. He might be having the time of his life, but she for once trembled under his watchful eye.

“I’m afraid that I cannot give you, my lord.” She said at last, her confidence building up after her momentary stumble. He caught the rise and fall of her shoulders as she took a deep breath to steady herself. “I have lost it long ago, in a faraway land whose name slips my mind.” He quite liked the hint of drama - a woman after his own heart -, but the charade would have to end sooner or later.

“So you’re telling me you’ve lived this long without a name?” There was a pregnant pause, her hands stuck midair as she made to reach for a jar high up the shelf, as if she had never once stopped to think about it in that light. Finally, she nodded, let out an embarrassed sigh as she brought the jar of spices to the kitchen counter. “Your parents never thought to give you one?”

“They did, naturally.” Naturally - even some poor family in the back of beyond had the decency of giving their child a name. “But it was never mine.” She finally turned to him, defeated, eyes pointed towards the gaps on the floor, the ones on the ceiling, the candles on the shelf. Anything to avoid his gaze, anything to get this topic over with as soon as possible. For a moment he wondered if this, too, was nothing but a clever way to manipulate him, to have him look kindly upon her. Heisenberg gestured for her to continue, cigar between his fingers, genuinely intrigued by this messed up human being that interested him so, even if she was trying to play him for a fool. “They had lost a daughter before me - Mihaela, she was called. A beautiful girl of ashen blonde hair who never came to see her tenth winter - consumption took her before then.” Her voice was velvet smooth, charming as a storyteller’s should be. “When they found a sickly girl lost in the forest, they felt like God had answered their prayers, returned their most precious gift to her rightful place. I never did look the part, much to their disappointment.” What she said next he could barely hear: “A dead girl’s name for a lifeless girl.”

If it was all a ploy, she was an actress worthy of praise. There was something about the way that her eyes seemed to lose color, her smile turn ever so slightly downwards, that told him she had opened her heart and let him in, entrusted him with knowledge she had been unwilling to part with. Heisenberg found himself averting her eyes without meaning to; not because he felt uncomfortable, not because her story brought back memories. It was a way to relieve her, to allow her breathing room. His presence seemed to burden her, compel her to say more than she ever meant to. It was a courtesy he was sure she would repay in kind.

“It was never mine, but it made them happy. It was the least I could do.” He looked around to try and find any evidence that someone had lived there with her, before her. No picture frames, no yellowed embroidered designs. No knick-knacks that looked too old for a woman her age, no shoes or clothing that hinted at anyone else having set foot inside her home. If Mihaela had truly existed, there was no trace of her left behind. “I much prefer being called what I am.”

Being called was she is, he mused, a multitude of words jumping at him within a moment’s thought. Alluring, Appealing, Beautiful; Charming, Exquisite, Fascinating; Gorgeous, Ravishing, Stunning; Sinister, Mysterious, Divine.

“Well, if you ask me,” he took one last drag of his cigar before putting it out on the ceramic ashtray that hadn’t been there the night before. “That just means we get to find you a new one. I could certainly think of a few words to describe you. I’ll even let you throw a few at me. What do you say?” The challenge in his voice seemed to revitalize her spirit, fire and defiance in her eyes when she placed her hands on the tabletop. “Doll.” Her face contorted in disgust at his first attempt, but that was not what he was looking for. No, he wanted to see her cheeks flush, her breath catch. He wanted something uniquely theirs, reserved for their little rendezvous on cold winter nights such as these. Something that would bind him forever in her mind, so that he could forge loyalty out of her with curiosity for an anvil and charm for a hammer. “Honey bun.” Nothing.

“Sweetheart.” She made her first try, eyebrow raised. Not a scratch. He had expected more of her. “Snickerdoodle.” Gross, but not close enough.

Through dears and darlings and sugarplum and buttercup she stood an impenetrable fortress, even having the gall to mock him and use the words against him in a sickeningly sugary voice. He visibly cringed when she reached a new low with stud muffin; her eyes filled up when her laughter turned to tears after she sent him reeling by calling him her cuddle bear.

They had both been struggling to catch their breath when all merriment seeped out of him, replaced by a burning feeling of disgusting, reprehensible sincerity. For once he had let go of the joe, for once he had let his guard down and the dark corners of his mind do the talking. A lapse in judgment, he would come to chastise himself later, but he could not deny he had begun to see her differently then. It had dawned on him that he had long abandoned the desire to kill or bind her, the turn of events so quick in the brief twenty-four hours they had known each other for. When he opened his eyes he did not see a tool or a weapon, a menace or nuisance; he saw a woman whose laughter brought him joy, who looked wonderful when she replaced the mask of sorrow with a candid smile. He saw someone who could sit with him by the furnace turned fireplace at his quarters in the factory, who could listen to him ramble and not understand a thing but not mind it at all. Someone who could talk away his worries, distract him from his problems. Someone who could pet his hair as he laid with his head on her lap after a long day, who could hold his hand and ground him when the worst of the nightmares came. Worst of all, someone who would, if he gave them both a chance. The word slipped unbidden, a final blow dealt to both of them:

“Liebchen.”

Liebchen, like father would call mother when they thought no one could hear them, when times were better and tragedy had not engulfed them. When he would tuck an unruly strand of hair behind her ear and pull her into a tight embrace that promised everything would be fine. It always made her smile, Karl remembered, and he wished one day he would find someone for whom he could do the same.

It frightened him to see the honesty in his voice reflected in her eyes, how it had pulled on something deep within both of their hearts. They both fell silent as they digested the tension that floated above them, his words both his declaration and his admission, her unguarded expression her own in return. They were under no illusions of what it all meant, he told himself; there were no dreams of a happily ever after together, no plans of eloping and living out their immortality while holding hands. There was no love at first sight, no uncontrollable passion, unconditional devotion. But there was an openness neither had felt in many years of solitary existence, a baring of souls in the comfort of their laughter. They would keep each other at arms’ length and never speak of it, he knew, although he felt it would be impossible to ignore the feeling that they had found the safe harbor they had long given up looking for.

Now was definitely not the time to unpack all that.

She was the first to recover, a click of her tongue too little time to prepare him for the worst that was yet to come. “Silver fox.” He mockingly heaved as he turned away, letting her have her fun, allowing her to trample on the sentimental standstill at his expense. If it had lingered any longer, he feared one of them would explode into a pile of sugary mush.

“I brought you something, pumpkin.” He said once their laughter died down, approached the dining table where she still stood, suddenly all too aware that the damn slippers were warm and comfortable. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours, right?” Heisenberg reached inside the pocket close to his chest to pull out the knife he had spent the afternoon carefully forging, the details far more delicate than the work he was used to. He slid it over to the other side of the table and she caught it a moment later, a wide smile on her face, fingers tracing over the carvings on the handle. It was made of steel, naturally, the relief of a horse and horseshoe, flowers adorning the space around it. His house’s crest, a little bauble so that she would always remember him. He doubted she would forget him anytime soon, anyway - he was quite the character. “Should be better than… Whatever it is you were using before.” He went over to the kitchen counter to fish her old knife out of a ceramic jug, inspecting it closely. The craftsmanship was admirable, masterfully done intricate designs on the burnt wood of the handle. “Bone?” She nodded, still admiring the blade in her hands. He did not imagine gifting a deadly blade to a woman could thrill her so, but she was definitely anything but common.

He just hoped his little display of goodwill was not a ritual binding of souls in marriage in the eyes of some forgotten god.

Heisenberg looked around the house more closely: witch was definitely the right way to describe her. A piece of twine hung from the ceiling, an assortment of herbs and flowers left to dry long before winter had come. The few pots and pans she owned were stacked on a shelf, next to cups and bowls, plates and saucers. Most of it ceramic, some of it wood, the odd one made of cast iron that looked ancient, but was in good shape. A basket of grains, a barrel of produce, an empty milk jug beside the wood stove. The curio was practically a fossil and had lost its glass panes, books of all sorts organized inside it, as well as mysterious flasks with drawings he couldn’t make out. Mortar and pestle made of dark gray stone containing something fragrant, half burnt candles with various motifs carved on them. The rug was a patchwork of animal pelts, visibly sewn by hand with care and precision. It made sense, he supposed, that she seemed to make everything from scratch; no one had ever seen her around the village, neither to visit nor to trade, and if she truly was as old as she claimed to be, modern life was but a distant thought for her.

“Anything in here that you don’t make yourself?” He asked when his curiosity got the better of him, and she answered by showing him the back of her hand, the red nail polish all too apparent in contrast to her skin. There was a childish smile on her face, as if she was betraying something with that small action. The piece de resistance of modern times in her anachronistic little world.

“This is a beautiful gift, my liege.” She curtsied as she spoke, her movements slow but fluid. That, he concluded, was what amused him so, how she seemed to move without ever touching the ground. The airiness in her step made her look like the picture of happiness, of carefree living; one had but to look at her closely to see that her burdens were many, her soul tainted with poisons unknown, and the she seemed to enjoy the wickedness of it all. He could forget his problems and watch her strut forever, wish that he, too, felt willing and able to let himself be, to let his body and mind run free without a care in the world. His little witch in the woods stopped her dance-like pacing then, suddenly serious as she watched him. “But I am afraid you will have to stay for dinner.” She followed suit when he burst out laughing, throwing himself once more on the couch and resting his feet on a nearby stool.

“Planning to fatten me and eat me, you little minx?” His face turned jokingly serious, head moving left and right as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I don’t think I can fit in that tiny cauldron of yours.”

“Oh, please, don’t give me that look,” she began, turning her back to him to dedicate her attention to the slabs of meat that needed cutting and the pans that needed scrubbing. “Dinner time is sacred, you know. Besides,” the mischief in her eyes mingled with something else when she turned to look at him, that sense of affection foreign to him that they had shared not long ago. “You are a sturdy man.” The word had been used against him before, a reprimand when he had settled into a life of comfort after he returned from the overseas. “Have to keep the meat on those bones.” She pointed and shook the knife at him as she spoke. There was something in the tone of her voice that made him feel like an unruly child; she seemed to know how little he cared for himself, how little effort he put into keeping his body up and running from one day to another. “An empty sack can’t stand upright.” As if to finish making her point, she brought the cutting board over to the wood stove, a mountain of cut pork sliding into the pan that smelled of onions, garlic and all manner of spices he would never recognize. He certainly wouldn’t complain, he thought to himself with a snicker. “I hope the stew was to your liking.”

The best thing he had had since the summer of 1931, when his mother was allowed to splurge on ingredients and baked them a cake so delicious he would never forget it. “Jury’s still out,” was what he retorted instead. “Need to run some more tests.” She seemed happy with his response.

Dinner was quiet in the best of ways. The menu tonight was fried pork and creamy, cheesy polenta, served with a side of vegetables and fresh-baked bread. It was simple, filling, and better than anything he had tried before. He could get used to this, he caught himself thinking once more. He glanced upwards towards the mezzanine while they ate, wondering if there was room for a broad man of considerable stature in her almost dwarf-sized bedroom - the couch wouldn’t hold him. Easier than walking here every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner, like he intended to do whenever possible.

His mother had been a “mash everything together and season it with salt” kind of person, aside from the rare moments of inspiration that overtook her, and Mother never cooked for them. He had grown used to quantity over quality, his meals more of an obstacle than a moment to catch a break and enjoy himself. He has to resist the urge to gobble everything down in a couple of mouthfuls like he is used to doing, food finished within five minutes so he could return to his work. She treats dinner like time is of no concern, savors every chunk and every spoonful, but doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of manners, his clumsy way of holding the silverware. It feels awkward at first, her treating his presence like it was familiar. Familiar, that was the word, she had taken him in without question, even though she knew who he was, probably had an idea of the things he’d done. She had taken him in and he had done the same though he would not like to admit it. Was she afraid of him at all? She should be.

“So tell me, sugar plum,” Heisenberg began as she rose to put the dishes in the sink. The witch returned with a pot and two small cups, the smell of coffee filling the air. “You this friendly to everyone? Not afraid some evil monster is going to barge in here and besmirch your reputation?” She chuckled at his words; whether because she feared nothing or because she no longer had a reputation to smear he did not know.

“Not to everyone, no.” For a moment, all one could hear was the crackling of the logs in the fire, and the liquid hitting the glass. “Only to those who don’t run away.”

The coffee was bitter and brewed to perfection - that is, as far as his knowledge of coffee beans went. He always found the beverage too time consuming to make on a daily basis, especially when one-liter bottles of energy drinks were always at hand. If he ran out, he could always turn to instant coffee: cold, burnt and disgusting. He couldn’t think of a better combination for someone like him.

“Why would anyone want to run away from you, beautiful?” He offered with a charming smile, and she looked at him like he had grown a third arm. Had he lied? She was beautiful, nice and kind, to boot. How had she managed to stay hidden for so long?

“Well, I suppose it has something to do with the goat-deer hybrid monster, the quiet of the forest and the impaled heads at the tree line.” Her tone was nonchalant and sarcastic. Why yes, that made sense. Heisenberg nodded in agreement. To a random, god-fearing villager, she would be the equivalent of the Antichrist. It was surprising to know some still sought after her, often enough that tales of her were spun and shared among the locals. It was more surprising still that news of her existence had never reached dear Mother, the riffraff tight-lipped because of a witch who seemed to go against everything they stood for.

“Eh, seen worse,” was his only response. Would she still treat him as kindly if she knew he could turn into a giant metal monster with even deeper seated anger issues? Would she welcome him in with a warm smile if she knew that he dug up and dismembered the corpses of the recently deceased to perform sordid experiments? She smiled as if she did. Who, for fuck’s sake, was she? “You some kind of mythical creature?” She shook her head no, though she reminded him of legends of witches living deep within the woods, sometimes in houses made of sweets, sometimes bearing chicken legs. Or maybe she was a fairy that danced naked under the moonlight, tiny bells tied around her ankles. “Immortal entity?” Another negative, though there was a second of hesitation that did not escape his notice. “A goddess then? Oh, I would love to worship at your shrine, honey.” He finished with a wink, drank the last of his coffee. Your move, gorgeous.

“Nothing but blood and pain in this temple,” To his surprise, her expression is serious, something he had never truly seen before, as she sighed and gestured to herself. “Is it not enough for your lordship that I am your friend?” Her voice is serene but her words sharp. “What more do you need me to be? Name it, and it will be so.” Powerful, he needed her to be powerful, strong, resilient, loyal to a fault. He needed her to stand by his side as the only one he would trust, to aid him in overthrowing the tyrant he was forced to call a mother. He needed her because try as he might to keep going, he was running out of options, out of hope. He didn’t need her friendship, he reminded himself, tried to convince himself. What he needed was to enchant her and control her. “I certainly appreciate the compliment, though I would dare say we are quite incompatible, my lord.” The woman who spoke to him now was no longer the kind lass he’d had dinner with. She was poised, guarded, cold and distant. “Little blood witch in the woods, sturdy metal man in his factory. Wood and steel. Ashes and soot. What good would that be?”

“The way I see it, pumpkin,” he rose from his seat to make his way out the door, having overstayed his welcome and stepped too far. The analogy hits him like a stroke of genius, the missing puzzle piece in his plan as the curtains draw and he exits the stage. “We’d make a damn good axe.”

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #eeeeeeeeeh #virgil writes

[fletchphoenix]

I’ll See You When I Fall Asleep

Hi All! This is Chapter 10 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU! Also!! A lot of you have asked and yes, I do have an Ao3 where I cross-post called ‘fletchphoenix’ too! Anyway, thank you for all your support and onwards with the chapter!!

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Thunder rumbled and lightning crackled outside the window as Varian shook, holding a small test tube in his hands. Where even was he? His eyes weren’t adjusting properly, until the sudden flick of a lightswitch brought about a blinding light. Varian attempted to cover his eyes to block it out, his attempts not working in the slightest. He lowered his arms with a frown and glanced around the room as he regained his vision slowly. Nothing seemed right here - a fantastical vibe surrounded the whole room as he took in all the small details.

    The room was dank, the aroma of rotting wood filling the room which, coinciding with the light, made for an awful pairing that made Varian queasy. Uneven, cobbled floor made his feet slip slightly and he struggled to keep his balance as he felt himself feeling sicker and sicker. There was almost no natural light in the room either - only one half-oval window that sat above a creaky table, covered in journals and various scientific apparatus that he had used many times. A raccoon sat on the table too, snoring with a large sheet of paper lying underneath it. The cause of the bright lights were around six lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and now that his eyes had time to brace themselves, he could see it really wasn’t that bright, with an eerie mood being set in the room. Paper and chalk also littered the wall with frantic scribbles about something he didn’t understand. The sundrop…? He didn’t know. The thing that put him off..were the rocks.

  Black rocks shot out of the ground in clumps of two or three, reaching so high they almost pierced the rotting ceiling of the makeshift laboratory. He reached out and rapped his fist against the rock quietly - it seemingly was not breaking. Huh, invincible black rocks? Makeshift labs in an ancient house? It was strange how much they put him off, unease building in his stomach for some reason unbeknownst to him. His eyes set on a large figure in the middle of the room, covered by a towering sheet with small patches of different fabric scattered over the sheet. The stitching looked poor though, as though someone who’d never sewn before had done it. Come to think of it, his clothes were the same, a cyan shirt with a patch on the left arm that was significantly darker than the rest of the fabric. The shirt, however, was almost completely covered by a leather apron, also swamping the brown trousers that he was wearing, stopping shy from the top of his boots. It didn’t seem right for him to be wearing this. A frown crept onto his face as he rested his hands on the sheet, taking in a deep breath before pulling it away and revealing the thing it was concealing. A gasp left his mouth and he doubled over, taking in sharp breaths as the tears instantly built in his eyes. His head shot back up to stare at the sight in front of him.

  A hard, amber substance twisted in harsh turns, sharp spikes of it trailing high and curling at points. His boyfriend was trapped in the amber, his hand outstretched with a note in his hand, a clear expression of pain on his face forever. Tears welled in his eyes and rolled freely down his cheek, his shaky steps inching closer to the amber and his hands resting on it. “Hugo?” he whispered, unsure of whether his father could even hear him from his crystallised prison. 

  “Varian, what have you done?” Varian’s head snapped around to see Rapunzel, hands raised to cover her mouth in shock of the scene unfolding in front of her. She looked so frightened - but not of the amber, of him. She looked different too - blonde locks that must’ve measured over sixty feet were tied back into a mix between a ponytail and a braid replaced her brunette bob. She also wore a purple dress, akin to one an elegant princess would wear. He opened his mouth to say something, before being rudely interrupted.

  “This is all your fault.” Another voice. Eugene’s. He slowly moved from the darkness and placed his hands on Rapunzel’s shoulder, her turning back to wrap her arms round him in a fearful embrace. He glared coldly at Varian, as if he’d done something wrong. 

  More and more voices joined the symphony of blaming Varian, each declaration cutting deeper and deeper each time. He covered his ears, a futile attempt to try and block all of the noise out but it only got louder and louder. People he loved were calling him a monster. All except for..

  “Hugo! Hugo, I’m so sorry!” he cried out, forcing himself to raise his head and eyes darting around the room and staring at the prison of the boy he loved so dearly that he’d created. He couldn’t bear to look at his frozen corpse, too many people crowding and screaming at him about his faults. It was all becoming too much. The yelling, the closeness..he couldn’t handle it. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, moving closer and closer towards the floor. “Hugo!” 

  “HUGO! He yelled and sat up, grasping the bedsheets and letting out heavy, shaky breaths, startling the safe, sleeping form of his boyfriend beside him. His knees curled against his chest, trying to steady his breathing to no avail as his small form shook with every sob that left his mouth. Sweat formed a gross blanket over his skin, presumably from his body reacting to the panic he was feeling. What even was that place? Why did everyone look so different? Why wasn’t Hugo there? The questions flooding his head only caused more stress to take its toll on his body as his breathing quickened once again. 

  “Varian.” His boyfriend’s voice called from beside him, “Hey, can I touch you? Is that okay?” he questioned, Varian giving a small nod before Hugo’s hands rubbed soothing circles onto his back carefully in an attempt to help comfort him until he was ready to talk. Still shaking, Varian leaned in closer to his boyfriend, comfortably moving so they were laying down in a gentle embrace, swaying slightly as Hugo whispered sweet nothings to his boyfriend and placing kisses to the top of his head. “Hey, whatever it was, it wasn’t real. I’m here now and you’re safe. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  As he felt more comfortable and safe, he looked at Hugo’s face. Concern covered it - his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he held Varian’s hands in his own, peppering kisses over them. “I..woke up in a lab. I didn’t recognise it. It was covered with all there..black rocks that stuck out of the ground. And there was amber in the middle. You were stuck inside. Everyone was yelling at me and saying it was all my fault. It was terrifying, Hugo. I couldn’t breathe. I just..” his arms tightened around the blonde, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I was so scared that I’d hurt you. That I’d actually lost you..I don’t want to lose you, Hugh. I love you too much.” he whispered against his boyfriend’s shoulder, the muscles underneath his shirt tensing tremendously in reaction to his words. 

  Hugo sat in silence, holding the boy closer to him and staring blankly at the wall. How..how could he respond to that? Amber..? Black rocks? He let out an exasperated sigh as he pet the hair of the younger boy. He’d never seen his boyfriend so distraught over a nightmare, the other gripping his shirt as they embraced. He reached for his glasses, putting them on before picking up his phone to check the time. 3:54am. Well, they weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon anyway, he decided before shuffling back in the embrace, resting his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “How about we put on one of those crappy romance films you love so much and make some hot cocoa? How does that sound, sweetheart?” The sight of Varian’s slight smile and a nod was all the confirmation he needed. “Okay love, you go make the cocoa and I’ll sort out the snacks. After all, you are the cocoa master.” He added with a chuckle before swinging his legs over the bed, pushing the fuzzy slippers Varian had randomly bought him one day onto his feet and striding down the hall to the living room.

  He set up a mini bed for them on the sofa, bringing over a blanket and pillows for the both of them. He knew Varian’s would go unused though, the younger would most likely opt to lay on top of him with his head on his chest, not that he was complaining. More pillows for him, he thought with a grin as he walked into the adjacent room to get some snacks. Passing his boyfriend, he decided on a wide variety, including candy, chocolate and some ice cream in case that’s what Varian decided to opt for. He glanced over at his boyfriend, whose attention was solely focused on making the perfect beverage for both of them. A lovestruck smile drifted onto his face as he strutted over, placing an unexpected kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, throwing off his concentration for a split second. “Smells wonderful babe, keep up the immaculate work and maybe I’ll teach you the art of making the perfect vanilla latte. Who knows?” Varian chuckled, Hugo silently praising himself for making the boy smile at least a little bit before heading into the living room, an abundance of snacks in his arms.

  Carefully he set them out on the table, being sure to empty out a packet of cat food for Ruddiger into his ceramic bowl, the cat graciously jumping from his perch on the cat tower and beginning his meal. Hugo rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips at his peace offering being accepted so willingly by his arch-nemesis. Hopefully now the cat would let him spend some time alone with his boyfriend, letting them cuddle on the sofa and watch one of Varian’s….admittedly terrible romance films free from any intrusion from the attention whore. 

  He understood the cat’s worry though - according to Varian, he’d taken him in when he was a kitten and extremely malnourished, taking care of him. From then on, Ruddiger had been extremely loyal to Varian, never straying from his human’s side (because let's be real, Ruddiger owned Varian, not the other way around. That cat had almost everyone wrapped around it’s metaphorical finger and it knew that...terrifyingly well) even when he’d executed some very much illegal acts in the name of helping his father. 

  Hugo didn’t blame Varian for his past, loving the boy either way. His dedication was difficult for the other to understand. He’d never really learnt to form any bonds with...well, anyone. Having no parents and growing up in an orphanage that couldn’t have cared less about any of the kids there didn’t help either, even after Donella ‘adopted’ him, it still didn’t do anything. Varian was the only person he’d ever really had an official relationship with, the rest just being out of boredom and the complete and utter loneliness he’d felt because of the distance Donella had put between him and her. He never really had anyone there for him, so he’d just keep on using people for his own personal means and throwing them away without so much of a glance back with no remorse when he was finally done with them. He knew it was wrong - that he was hurting people who didn’t warrant it - but he just didn’t care at all at the time, because he knew he’d never see them again. Right? He guessed that was it - devotion never coming easy to him anyway, so of course it would be a difficult concept for him to grasp anyway. He let out a sigh and laid down on the sofa, pulling the blanket over himself quietly before scrolling through his phone and waiting for his boyfriend to join him.

  “Heya Hugh.” Varian called as he entered the living room, setting the mugs down on the coffee table in front of them beside the snacks before shuffling under the covers, sitting in between his boyfriend’s legs with his back pressed against his chest. Hugo reached out to grab their mugs and sipped the hot cocoa, making a slight moan of satisfaction. “Oh my god, this is so good, Varian!” he cried as he kept chugging the delicious drink, an arm wrapping around his waist, giving his boyfriend time to push it away if he wanted. Varian didn’t seem to mind, already turning on the film and beginning to eat his ice cream happily. 

  They sat in silence for a while, Varian watching his film and Hugo drifting in and out of sleep repeatedly. The only thing keeping him awake was the occasional sound of his boyfriend’s laughter or mumbling to himself at how ridiculous a certain character was being. It was kind of adorable listening to the younger man rant under his breath about something completely fictitious. He kept his gaze on Varian happily before a frown developed on his face. That dream Varian had sounded terrifying, if he was being honest, and it scared him to death. Just how much self loathing was the boy harbouring without even speaking up? Sure, he’d done some bad things in the past, but everyone had forgiven him for that, so why couldn’t Varian forgive himself? It weighed on Hugo’s mind, his nimble fingers tracing small circles onto the other’s stomach gently to keep himself grounded. 

  “You’re thinking so hard, I can almost hear the cogs in your head turning.” Varian commented, not even looking at his boyfriend as he kept his eyes focused on the TV. “If you’re thinking about what I think you’re thinking about, I’m fine. It was just a dumb nightmare that really spooked me at first. I was so scared of the concept that I’d lost you for good that I couldn’t breathe or even focus. I didn’t even know what I’d done or if I’d even done anything, I’d just accepted that yes, it WAS all my fault. What I did in the past was...well, it was atrocious in all honesty..but that doesn’t reflect who I am at all. You know who I am. I was just so lost without my father, and I couldn’t turn to my mother...I felt like everyone had turned their back on me and that I wasn’t even deserving of the very air I breathed. It’s gonna take me awhile to forgive myself for what I did to Rapunzel and Eugene and, well, everyone. But I’ll get there. Okay?”

  Hugo’s fingers braided a section of Varian’s hair as he spoke, taking in every word he spoke and giving it time to process, admiring his work mid-speech. “Okay doll, I just don’t want you thinking I’m gonna just..up and leave one day, y’know? You know about my old reputation in senior year..how I’d date around and leave a trail of broken hearts behind me but..I just want you to know I’m serious when I say I’m fully committed to you, okay? I adore you for all I’m worth. I’ve never met a guy as spectacular as you are, but I would never ask for anyone different. Varian, I really do love you.” Hugo confessed, subconsciously pulling the boy closer to his chest and shutting his eyes. “More than you’ll ever know. You’ve taught me...so so much about unconditional love and what it takes to be so in love you’d do anything for them so...thank you. Just- thank you.”

  “Aw, Hugo being sappy? Are you the real Hugo or are you an imposter?” Varian said with a grin and a laugh, leaning his head back before closing his eyes. “Let’s just watch the movie, babe...okay? I love you too, for the record.” he whispered back, intertwining their fingers. And thus, the boys slowly drifted into a deep slumber, wrapped in each other’s arms and ready to face whatever the universe threw at them.

Well, almost anything the universe threw at them.

  They awoke, limbs tangled, on the couch to a loud banging at the door. Hugo groaned, rubbing his eyes as he slowly started to sit up, Varian stirring too on his chest. “Who the fuck is here and why the hell are they banging the door so goddamn loud?!” he exclaimed, Varian removing himself from his boyfriend’s lap and heading towards the door. Hugo didn’t understand. Does no one in this modern age have any respect for anyone? All he wanted to do was cuddle his boyfriend on the couch all morning before the inevitable angry texts from Donella swarmed his phone.

  Oh shit. What if it was Donella at the door? Oh god. He’d ever introduced Varian to his side of the family (and quite frankly, he didn’t want to, considering how...dysfunctional it was. It wasn’t even officially a family unit, Donella only being a mother figure) and he didn’t want Varian to meet her when she was mad. Donella had a supernatural strength when she was mad - not even kidding, he’d seen her make one of the strongest men in the workshop, a man who had LITERALLY been nicknamed ‘Skullcrusher’ when he was in a gang for...obvious reasons, cry like a baby on the floor. It was a feat in its own right, however he didn’t want Varian to suffer through that same treatment. He hurried into the hall. “Hey Goggles?-” He froze.

  There was a woman at the door. Her ginger hair was tied into a neat bun, fringe falling and stopping just above her right eyebrow. She had the same eyes as Varian, except a slightly more vibrant, electric blue than his beloved’s,  along with freckles scattered all over her face, hands and what was visible of her arms. She was slightly taller than his boyfriend, still smaller than him, but nonetheless she still possessed some height over Varian. She looked exactly like the woman in Donella’s pictures, the one who used to be her old research partner...though who was she?

  He walked over and rested his hand on Varian’s back, leaning forward slightly to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked astonished and shocked - his mouth and eyes wide in amazement as he spared no mind to Hugo, solely focused on the woman in front of him. His hands shook slightly as he pulled them to his sides. “Mom..?” Varian hardly whispered, taking a step towards the woman, who reached her hand out to cup his cheek gently.

  “Varian-” She called out, a soft smile on her face and tears building in her eyes as she took him into a hug. Oh, yeah. Now Hugo could place the name, his eyes narrowing in disdain towards the woman before him. She was the one who had stopped Donella’s progress in the scientific field, stealing her research and disappearing to the other ends of the earth. She was the one who had ruined her life, and consequently, his too. Her eyes met his and she smiled slightly, extending her hand out to him. “Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself, I’m Ulla. Ulla Ruddiger.” 

  His boyfriend’s mother was his motherly figure’s worst enemy.

  Brilliant.

#varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian x hugo #varian tangled #tangled varian #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varigo coffee shop au

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains / Slenderman and Seedeater x Reader || Oneshot

Title: Into the Unknown

Notes:

Based off the song from Frozen ‘Into the Unknown’.

One Horror Villain in particular is in this story. Wait and try to figure out who it is before it ends ^^ (;

‘X Reader’ as in you’re going to interact with them. Not as in you’re in a romance with them all. 

The Horror Villains are only really mentioned. Except the one you gotta watch out for

I love this. So. Much. 

Plot: Reader has spent her whole life, from 13 years old, searching for, defeating and understanding the creatures of night. They’ve always fascinated her- that they’re so dark, and yet still so coherent. She felt drawn to them, because she felt like she understood them. And she loved the thrill, of being a part of it.

But she stopped that years ago. She’s a grandmother now, a wife. Which isn’t to say that she regrets being either of those things. In fact, she loves it. Which is the very reason she’s put her monster hunting days behind her. She can’t put the people around her in danger, but… there’s something, in the woods, calling out to her.

Warnings: I don't think there is anything actually?  

~~~

I have a surprising, out of the ordinary amount to think about, while you wash the dishes today. See, the window above this houses sink, adorned with pale blue and pink swirls over a white base paint, looks out onto the Black Forest, which unironically is the bane of my existence right now. Something about it, is clearly off in some way. More people disappear between its perimeter then Crystal Lake, Haddonfield and Pleasant Valley put together. And that’s just what normal people, without my experience and expertise can see.

I can feel it. A gut warning, not to go in there. Not for a walk, not to explore and definitely not respond to its calls. I can feel it like a tugging at my heart, like what forced my feet to move down the aisle on my wedding day, and what makes people run away from the basement at night once the lights are turned off all at once. I know there’s something in there, and something in me definitely wants to go see. To feel the adventure in the wind again on my face.

But I won’t. I can’t.

There’s something in this house calling for me to stay away, as well. It’s called family, and love. And no mystical forest is going to tear me from it.

Finishing the last plate, I pull big rubber gloves off my hands and drop them on the side of the sink and flash the forest one more dirty look, before turning away completely and leaving the room.

At this time of day, the yellow painted walls look more a beautiful, late day orange. Shadows from the trees hit, as well, and as I open the windows to let in the air, I feel immediate relaxation as the coolness caresses my cheeks and my neck. Settles me down, grounds me. Fills my heart with something other then the longing and disobedience I’m forcing upon myself.

Once all the windows are open, so I can clearly hear the wind chimes outside and the rooms all cool down, goose bumps crawling up my arms in a good way, I pick up a book from the shelf under the dusty TV and settle myself down comfortably in a chair covered in pillows in various floral designs. Yes, its an old lady chair, but its comforting and looks good with the rest of the décor.

Half an hour of peaceful reading successfully takes my mind off of the forest and whoever, or whatever, is in and allows me to disappear half inside the pages of another murder mystery. Then I hear the bell I handily fixed to the front door because my husband walks completely silently, jingle like an old Café signalling him getting home. “I’ve returned. I managed to find the bickies you like on my travels, so you’ll love me for another day I think.”

A nearly delicate snort escapes me at that, purely happy he’s back and put down my book as the door shuts again and the disembodied voice becomes Hudson when he round the hallway corner and enters the livingroom. A bag of groceries in each hand, which I get up and help him with immediately, taking one and peaking inside. Aha! The biscuits! He laughs softly, at my antic and leads me to kitchen, so we can put the books away. I risk a glance out the window, at the forest just so see how dark it is now. Not orange, but a dusky blue. I turn away from the forest coldly, which cuts off its calls to me in response, and turn on the light.

“So, how were your travels?” I ask, pulling the milk and some sandwich meats out of a bag and heading to the fridge, which he opens for me on instinct before taking the warm foods to the cupboard.

“A hassle, I’m sure is what you want to hear as I was away from you for so long,” I flash him a cheeky look at that for being so cheeky himself, and get another soft laugh back. Almost inhuman, its so soft. I’ve always thought, he must have some fae in him, and theorised that he’s a changing. “But it was quite nice. I walked all down the shops, and looked in most of them. Not the butchers, though. You know why.”

Ah, yeah. The man running the desk there, Dexter, is a bit of a flirt. But instead of admitting that I pick up on his advances, I shrug and take a seat at the kitchen table to watch him put away the rest of warm groceries. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But go on.”

A deep sigh escapes him, which is totally put on as I know he finds my antics endearing- he’s told me too many times before. “You know very well, but whatever. I did go into the Indian grocery though, and I picked up some of those spices I sent you a picture of, and… “He goes on about the spices, which truly did interest me, as they were all the way from New Delhi and had beautiful jars, but suddenly the feeling from the forest picked up. Got stronger, and grew to fill every inch of me. If I were a dog, my ears would perk up and my nose would be going crazy.

That same call for midnight adventure, now made worse because of beautiful night air that made me feel so much better before, as if it’s changed tactics. For a few moments, at least, I stare off into space, towards the tall trees and darkness between trunks of the Black Forest. For a second, I allow myself to wonder what’s in there. Well actually, ‘allow’ may not be the wrong word, as it was completely out of my control.

But then Hudson’s hand lands gently on my shoulder, as he sinks into the seat beside me and successfully knocks me back to my senses just in time. A relieved sigh escapes me on accident, as I turn from the window again and to him. Senses crash down on me and I drop my shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I’m tired today.”

“Tired. Is that what we’re calling it?” He raises his eyebrows, knowing very well what’s really going on with me. And I know what he thinks I should do. But I can’t. Who knows what’s in that forest? It could be dangerous. Could be voodoo, like Chucky. Or something worse, something more demented like spirit. I wont call that to my family by revealing myself to it. He squeezes my shoulder and it’s halfway between comforting and advocative. So, I give him a look, but I lean into him.

“You know why I can’t give in to it.” My voice is nothing but a whisper, because who knows. It could be listening.

“Too much of you is part of that side of the world, Y/N. You can’t cut it off, you should give it a chance.” I look away from his face, and definitely away from the window. The wall, then. “I’m afraid it’ll rip you apart.

“Then so be it.” I don’t really mean it. To take care of my family, I need to be here. And even without that, I’m not ready to die. The years of fighting off things that have, has assured that fear in me. But I want this conversation to be over, so I say it.

He sets me with a serious look, like just saying that hurts him he wants me to never do it again. I glance at him, and sigh. “Promise me to think about it?”

“Can’t do that.” He knows, I can’t.

“… well, its not as if you can avoid it. Its ingrained in you. I’ll just wait and see.” Those little comments, although very true, have me gaping at his audacity. He flashes me a mischievous grin, then pull me up to our feet and wraps an arm around me. “Come on, darling. Let’s go to bed, then. I don’t foresee this conversation ending well for either of us.”

“Clever boy.” I clip, grinning at him when he gapes himself.

~~~

Later that night, once the sky is a deep, dark midnight blue and the stars and the moon are only just causing enough light to see shapes and dull colours by, I’m still wide awake. Hudson’s fallen into a peaceful sleep, but I’m still laying on my back with my eyes wide open, staring at the uneventful ceiling. The feeling calling me to the forest is so loud, in my ears now like rushing water at the pool, or a waterfall. Or tsunami.

I shouldn’t go. I can’t. I won’t!

The window in our room faces the same way as the kitchen, and if I only get up I could see it. Curb some of this pressure.

But if I do that, there’s a 50/50 chance that I’ll snap and go marauding into the forest at night. Which is dangerous without the definite mystical being hugged inside it.

I really shouldn’t go.

Another couple seconds pass, and I’m getting out of bed and pulling on my dressing down over my comfortable, soft pyjamas. I pass right over the window like the dauntless I am and go right to the front door, which I swing open. A cold rush of air, definitely not from natural sources, comes at me like waking up ice and I look out to the forest, which is a football field sized walk through the snow to get to from here. But that isn’t what’s daunting, despite the fact that I’m only wearing fuzzy socks and slippers to protect my feet.

No, it’s the figure waiting for me. Its huge, too, and I can’t figure anything else in the dark and from this distance. A final moment passes, and I pull a ski hat on over my head and my ears and go marauding towards the forest. “To hell.” I snap, on my way with my fists clenched.

About hallway towards the being, the monster, it starts coming towards me, as well. I don’t know what to expect when I get there. I all I know is that the feeling I’m getting off of it this moment is not benevolent, and I try to believe that. Finally, when we get within 5 feet of each other, we stop. It’s got a skull face that would be horrifying to anyone who hadn’t already seen what’s under the Midnight Man’s mask and the horrible screaming faces on a dream demon’s stomach. And its also got hair, human like and soft looking but unbrushed and probably never been washed, all over its bulging body. It stays still, only moving enough to breath out visible steam from its skull head into the world.

Not one to shy away, and certainly not one to stand by and just look when I’ve been called and decided to come, I take the remaining steps to it. Slowly, and cautiously. I raise my hand like you do when you’re approaching a wild beast, so it can smell you and theirs at least one thing between you and its teeth, which really wouldn’t help but at least makes you feel better, and focus on the way my shoes crush gently into the centre metres of sand under them. The sound’s satisfying, and calms me enough to reach the monster, and touch my hand to the middle of its skull.

A grunt escapes it, causing more frosty air to come out from him and into the world, before he sits his behind down into the snow without fear and pushes gently back into my hand. I feel that familiar, unreal joy at being with another creature, and start gently stroking up and down the smooth material, a puff of frosty air escaping my own mouth as I break into a smile. “Ohh, were you the only thing hiding in those woods? Oh, you’re a sweetheart. I’m glad we met.” A giggle escapes me when he tilts his head and I watch the delicate way his long, wispy fur moves in the wind. He’s the kind of beautiful that forces a smile on you, and a giggle out. Personally, my favourite kind of beautiful.

Relaxing, as the feeling calling me to the forest all but dissipates, I stay with him for a little while longer. As long as I can, actually. In the end, he’s the one who gets up, taps my nose with his huge one, and turns away and trots off. I watch him go, in complete peace and content…

Before my stomach drops and a realisation, made dull because of the nice experience I just had, hits me. The feeling’s come right back, now that he’s leaving, and taking the relief with him. “You… weren’t, the thing calling to me, were you?” I ask it so quietly, I didn’t think he would hear.

But a roar is my response. And the air around me, or in me, whispers Right…

Theirs more.

~~~

The next morning I poor Hudson orange juice and slide it over the bench to him, avoiding the discussion of last nights adventure for as long as I can. Because I know, he knows. He knows everything, somehow. And he’s been giving me a knowing look all morning.

“So,” The mischievous way his voice bends around that conjunction is wholly obnoxious, but I hide my eyeroll badly by drinking my own orange juice. It only makes him want to talk more. “Are you going to go back, tonight?”

Of course! Of course, he knows that theirs more to see. Changeling, for sure.

Setting him with a ‘Stop’ look, I round the counter and head for the living room to sit down and read some more of my book to get away from this, but of course he follows me. “Probably not, in answer to your question.”

He straddles the footrest that goes with this chair and takes my book from me, so I have to focus on him. “Sweetheart, I just want you to be happy. And well.”

“And I you.” I say curtly, and because I want to end this conversation.

“That’s wonderful to hear, darling, but you know what I mean. Didn’t meeting that big, dog-monster feel good?”

Of course, it did…

To that, I have no sarcastic or show-stopping response, because yes. I felt the best then than I have since the last monster. I love monsters, and Slashers, and creatures and beings. They’re my passion, my thing. But I didn’t choose that, and I guess that’s what caught me, here.

I picked my family.

I guess what I’m between, is what I chose and what I didn’t.

I take a deep breath, and look back at him.

~~~

… okay. I think, readying myself to go in. I’ve got a satchel with some food, a couple charms, my compass and all the crystals in the house- plus some dried chamomile petals in little bag, for safety and protection. Don’t know how effective these things will be, you never know when you go up against something new, but it’s definitely worth a shot.  

I’m just squaring my shoulders to go, and start my trek across the field, when Hudson’s hands fall on my shoulders and nearly causes me a stroke. He never makes noise when he walks!! And he knows he scared me, too, if the chuckling is anything to go by. Oh my god…

“Goodluck sweetheart, I have the utmost faith in you.” Oh, his voice is way too cheerful because he won. I should make rissoles tonight, then he’ll be sorry. He hates rissoles. I bet he’s smiling.

Bastard.

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye kiss?”

I turn over my shoulder to look at him, and give him just a squinty smile. “Not on your life!”

“Ooh, you wound me. Okay, have fun!” Well, he seemed to get over that ailment quickly, seeing as he pats my butt to get me going. I shoot him one more greasy, then get on my way.

Across the field to possibly certain doom… but also possible delicious, wonderful adventure, I go.

As I travel across the field and into the forest, whispering in me and in the air gets louder. Just like the voice that said ‘Right’, last night, this one is. Except more urgent, and getting worse the further I go, pushing me on. I feel like what I’m reaching is big.

Past bushes and beautiful autumnal environment I go all the way through, stepping over logs and around trees that stand in my way because the voice knows where I need to go, and therefore so do I.

An hour passes of just stomping, and travelling, until abruptly the voice tells me to Stop! Harshly, of course I follow its instructions. Who am I to ignore a wind voice.

At first, I look slowly around thinking I’ll see it just standing there, waiting for me in plain sight like the monster from last night. And when I don’t see anything, I look harder, because maybe its camouflaged? Eventually though, after about 10 minutes of staying where I am, where it told me to Stop, I give up just peering around and move. I walk around the clearing, forest floor covered in brick coloured, marmalade shades, and dandelion painted leaves, and wet sticks, and patches of snow, and look in as many different ways as I can think of. Maybe I’m looking for something super small… maybe something so big it blends into the picture… maybe it’s not animalistic but a mystical object… But alas, nothing.

Until, eventually, I turn around he’s just there.

“-Holy fuck!-“ I react, jumping back from what, or who, is obviously what I was looking for, having not expected at all for him to be just standing there where I already checked 3 times when I turned around. An otherworldly and staticky yet still somehow spiteful chuckle fills the forest, somehow coming from the whispering of the wind and his person at once.

“Thought I might have some fun, seeing as you made me wait so long. How’s that for consideration? I have things to do, you know.” When he talks, theirs surprisingly no humour evident in his voice. In fact, he sounds bitter, and annoyed.

“Well, hey, man. I didn’t RSVP so you shouldn’t have been expecting me in the first place.” I snap back, getting up from where I’d fallen on my butt and peeling wet leaves off my jacket.

“Hm, no, well I suppose you aren’t the one who called this meeting, so… “He mutters- well, I say mutter because he says it like he doesn’t want me to hear, but he doesn’t lower his voice. He’s not afraid of me hearing, he would just appreciate it if I wouldn’t listen.

Cocky bastard.

I watch, cautiously as he raises a long, white, spiderlike finger to his left temple and taps it. “Telepathetic.”

“Oh… “Heat builds up in my cheeks, despite the freezing cold. “Uh, sorry.”

“And I thought you mortals were aware of me… Offender sure as heck doesn’t try to keep us a secret.” That unlocks knowledge in me. He’s Slenderman, of course! I didn’t realise, because I truly didn’t think he existed! A Creepypasta, used to curb teenage lust and loneliness. But, honestly, his figure should have led me to that conclusion. And if not that, then the hundreds of other clues. The way the voice in the ‘wind’ sounded like it was in my own head, the very fact that we’re locate din the Black Forest, in Germany… Maybe Hudson’s right, and I’m out of tune.

“Hm, yes, quite. You are incompetent.” Man, that telepathy is going to be a pain. I thought Slenderman was supposed to be a gentleman… but, then again. I guess, he is a recluse. And he really doesn’t care what he says.

Despite his rudeness, it is amazing that he’s real. It sparks an awe in me, that’s even more intense then the creature from last night. He, is the epitome of what monster hunters and explorers want to prove is real. He’s... a dream come true. I’m… I’m tickled, and… humbled, to get to meet him. So tall, and amazing. Majestic from every angle.

But… I’m still confused.

“So, what did you want me for, anyway?”

Immediately, the long, thin tentacles that were hanging decoratively dormant around Slenderman flick annoyedly and his mood takes an instant change to even worse. I take a quick step back, hoping beyond hope that distance will calm him down. Because if now, there is no way anything in my satchel will save me. “What did I want from you?! Why… He said you n- … “Again, with the ‘he’. Who’s he?

I want to know, but not enough to get decapitated for it so I don’t ask out loud.

Slenderman’s words cut off into static air sizzling around us, as the cogs in his brain start working faster, I’m sure, before he comes to a conclusion. He turns his head to ‘look’ at me again, without eyes, and stays silent for a moment. The air feels even colder then before, as the static gets momentarily unbearable and I squeak, covering my ears. Then it cuts off, and he sighs in utter annoyance. “Get out of my forest.” And with those last, sweet parting words, he disappears.

“I… “ I look around, to make sure he isn’t waiting behind me to kill me, because he just seems like that kind of monster, before closing my mouth and curtly turning to go home. Well, that was… I’m not quite sure.

It was amazing, getting to meet him… I’ll never forget it. My heart’s beat feels errative, and calm all at once because this is my passion… but… I’m still confused. Who’s ‘he’? Why did Slenderman call me? What was all this about?

But… then again… I think as I walk. As disappointing and hard as it may be for me, and any other monster afficionado… the fact of Slender’s age does have to play a part. And the fact, if we are to believe all the information that’s on the internet, that he lives alone and contact others as little as possible, so… well, he might just be off his rocker. Maybe… Maybe I shouldn’t put much stock into the things he said. He seemed confused himself. And, to be honest, a little instable.

I worry my bottom lip as I emerge from the forest again and hour later, or less because the way back always takes less.

If I’ve learnt nothing from this experience… except of course the Slenderman is real and a real jerk, too… it’s that I cant live anymore without this feeling, that I get when I adventure, and meet something new. When I realise, that all the myths and legends and stories that humans have told over the years may be true, somehow.

It builds me up, and makes me feel brave. I’ve missed it.

I… I don’t know, if I can go back to dormancy.

After I open the front door of my house, and close it behind me I lean back into it, tired and giddy. I’m so giddy, that I nearly don’t notice the smell of dinner on the stove but when I do my tummy rumbles, and I push off the door and go into the kitchen. I find the pot on the stove, and a note on the pot lid.

‘Y/N, dearest.

I’ve gone out for a walk while this boils. So, if you come home while I’m out, know I’ve just gone down the path in the backyard, not run off away from you for I could never do such a thing.

I hope your trip went well, and I can’t wait to hear about it over dinner.

Oh, and the garlic bread is in the oven and is probably burning.

Xoxo,

-          Hudson I.’

“Gah!” Garlic bread! I smell it now! Damnit Hudson!

~~~ BACK IN THE FOREST. THIRD PERSON POV~~~

The man in the dark coat, and silvery beard, slips easily into Slender Mansion and to Slender’s study without the other Pasta’s knowledge, but certainly not without Slenders knowledge.

“You made go see that stupid girl as your one favour… and she didn’t even know you sent me after her??” The pen in Slenders hand snaps, making him sighs deeply and put it down, wiping his hand of ink with a handkerchief. Inkubus but smiles.

“She needed to be reminded of what she loved. It was important enough for the favour to me.”

“You’ve confused her. I don’t think I’d keep things from my mortal, if I ever was idiot enough to fall in love with one… “Slender finishes cleaning his fingers, and turns in his seat to drop the ruined handkerchief in the bin by his desk. He sighs, in defeat, because he knows he will never get through to the other immortal. He’s never been able to, before. What’s new now? “But, then again, I wouldn’t make that mistake, so I really don’t know.”

“She’ll be fine. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. I saw the whole thing, and it worked wonderfully.” 

Slender sets Inkubus which is a blank look to anyone else, but which is one of total deadpan to him. “Whatever. It was a favour, so now you can go back to your wife. You burnt the garlic bread, and she’s not happy about it.”

#Horror Villains x Reader #Slenderman x Reader #Seedeater x Reader #Slenderman #Seedeater #Slashers x Reader #Inkubus x Reader #Oneshot #Into the Unknown #Author's Favourite #Inkubus

[archived-deadpoolxandxfriends]

"You're not a monster." - Ali to Wade

@brightengale

This one got away from me but I’m not mad about that! Hope you enjoy it

Alison’s sincerity broke Wade’s heart. She appeared to truly believe in what she was saying when she said: “you’re not a monster.” He would have laughed if the action didn’t feel like he was choking.

He wanted to push her away and tell her she had no idea what she was talking about. He wanted to show her how wrong she was and finally reveal all of the monstrous things he had done for the sake of money, all the while kidding himself he was making a difference.

Instead he walked away from her, ignoring her pleas for him to stay, come back, don’t go. He didn’t know if he was pleased or appalled when she didn’t follow him outside.

The night air was fresh with a chilling bite to the breeze that swept around him. He was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of old sweats. He was barefoot. He hadn’t planned his dramatic walk-out properly. He wrapped his arms around himself as he carried on walking, not sure where his feet were taking him.

Despite having no destination in mind, he ended up at the workshop that sat at one of the far-ends of the property Alison shared with Bucky and Steve. The light was on and Wade could see Bucky moving around inside of it. Wade headed over to the workshop and knocked on the door. He went in when Bucky said ‘come in.’

The workshop was a treasure trove of weaponry. This was Wade’s first time stepping inside of it and the sight of all those guns, blades, knives, and everything else that could possibly cause harm made Wade’s mouth hang open. Bucky was sat on a tall stool next to a workbench that run across the length of the workshop on one side. On the bench in front of him was a high powered sniping rifle, in pieces as Bucky cleaned it.

“You good?” Bucky asked, bringing Wade out of his revelry of Bucky’s collection. Wade’s eyes connected with Bucky’s sharp blue ones and Wade felt as if he was about to be interrogated by the world’s most frightening assassin; which, to be fair, wasn’t that far from the truth.

“No.” At least Wade’s answer was honest.

Bucky reached behind himself and pulled another tall stool around. He patted the seat and Wade dutifully sat on it.

Wade had crash landed back in Alison’s life after he disappeared out of it too many years ago. He wasn’t the same guy he had been before when he was Alison’s bodyguard. He was scarred inside and out. He had done terrible things, as well as having terrible things done to him (some of them by his choice). He didn’t deserve Alison and yet she had (after a period of adjustment) welcomed him back into her life. Her life that now included Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Alison had talked Steve and Bucky into allowing Wade to stay at their house for a few days while she and Wade worked out the finer details of what they were going to mean to each other now.

Wade had fooled himself into believing that he would be able to fall back into the rhythm he used to share with Alison and it had worked at first. Until she started to ask questions about his time away from her and how he went from Wade Wilson to Deadpool. That was when she tried to tell him he wasn’t a monster and that was when he ended up in Bucky’s workshop.

“Wanna talk about it?” Bucky asked.

Wade, who was famous for his ability to talk endlessly, shrugged and said nothing. He winced as he heard Bucky suck a breath in through his teeth.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But if you’re gonna mope in here, you can at least be useful.” Bucky reached over and grabbed another rifle which he handed to Wade. “I’m assuming you know how to clean one of these?”

Wade nodded as he took the rifle from Bucky. His hands relied on muscle memory as he began taking the rifle apart. He noted the rifle hadn’t been used since the last time it was cleaned but he didn’t question Bucky’s logic of cleaning it again.

“Normally, I ain’t one for talking too much,” Bucky said, his voice quiet and controlled. Out of his periphery, Wade could see Bucky was watching him, gauging his reactions. Wade kept his focus on the rifle in his hands. “But I got a couple of things I wanna say and since it’s just the two of us here, now seems like a good a time as any.”

Wade opened his mouth to say and defend himself against whatever it was Bucky was going to say, even though he hadn’t said it yet. Bucky held up his hand and Wade’s words died on his tongue.

“Let me say my bit.” There was no anger in Bucky’s tone. No judgement either. “Alison told us all about you when she found you again. But she didn’t tell us everything, like what you got up to after you left. I did some digging, made a few calls, and I got some answers. On the surface, you were like any other mercenary. You killed for money, simple as that. But it wasn’t that simple, huh?”

Again, Bucky fixed Wade with his sharp blue eyes, studying Wade carefully, catching every tick his face made. Whatever Bucky saw there made him continue.

“You didn’t take out just anyone. You took out sex traffickers, pedophiles, murderers. You were cleaning up the trash. You could’ve gone after anyone but you stuck to the filth. Your track record is nearly as long as mine but I saw what you were trying to do.”

“Bucky-” Wade wanted to tell him it wasn’t like that. The way Bucky was framing it was making him sound like some kind of hero. Wade wasn’t a hero. Heroes aren’t supposed to enjoy causing bloodshed.

“Wade, what I’m trying to say is you don’t have to hide that shit from me. I get hiding it from Alison and Steve, but you don’t have to do that with me.”

Bucky turned on his stool so he was now facing Wade. He put his hand on Wade’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “It’s up to you if you tell Alison and Steve about the details. It’s not my place to tell ‘em but I’ll be by your side if you want me there.”

“Why?” Wade choked out the word. “No matter how you put it, I’m still a monster.”

“Maybe you are. But if you are, then I am too.”

“You’re not a monster, Bucky.” Wade was resolute about that. Bucky was one of the good guys. Wade had known that since he read the Captain America comics when he was a kid and he had known it when all of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra’s files had been dumped on the internet. What had happened to Bucky was monstrous but the man was anything but one. Wade couldn’t say the same about himself.

“Yeah, I am. But it’s OK. Because we’ve got Alison and Steve willing to take chances on us. Makes me think that maybe we ain’t as bad as we think we are, y’know?”

Wade stared back at Bucky and to his credit, managed not to dissolve into a puddle.

“I really wanna hug you right now,” Wade said with a faint, nervous laugh.

Before he could say another word, Bucky pulled him into a warm embrace. God, he smelled good and Wade couldn’t resist burying his face in the crook between Bucky’s neck and shoulder.

They only eased up on their hug when there was a soft knock on the door and Alison’s voice could be heard. “Buck? Have you seen Wade?”

“I’m here,” Wade called out before Bucky had to say anything. He lifted his head and pulled back from Bucky. The fact Bucky kept one of his arms around Wade’s waist caused Wade’s stomach to do backflips.

Alison eased her way into the workshop, a fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders and fuzzy slippers on her feet. She looked surprised to find Bucky and Wade practically snuggling but she gave them both a small smile. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said softly.

“Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry,” Wade said. He offered one arm out to Alison so she could join in the hug. There was a moment when Alison hesitated but eventually she shuffled over from the doorway and both Wade and Bucky put their arms around her too. Alison said something but her voice was muffled in all of the cuddling.

“Huh?” Wade pulled back so he could look down at her. Bucky brushed some of Alison’s hair back from her face as she looked up at Wade, her eyes shining with what Wade hoped to be happy tears.

“I said: it’s good to see you guys getting along.”

“Bucky let me clean his rifle,” Wade deadpanned, earning a snort from Bucky.

“Wade’s real good with his hands,” Bucky added, his tone matching Wade’s.

Alison stared at the pair of them wide-eyed before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Wow,” she said with she regained some of her composure. “Just wow.”

“Next time, I’m hoping Bucky’ll let me sharpen his blade,” Wade continued.

“Only if you promise to respect me in the morning.”

Alison erupted into more giggles. “I don’t know who’s the worst influence on the other,” she teased.

Bucky grinned at Alison before planting a kiss on her cheek. “Wade’s made me build up an appetite. Anyone else hungry?” Bucky carefully extracted himself from their embrace and started to head out of the workshop, leaving Alison and Wade alone for the moment.

“Are we good?” Alison asked, her earlier mirth vanished in a blink of an eye.

Wade nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry about walking out. There’s a lot of shit I need to work through before I can tell you about it. But Bucky said he’d help me.”

“You need to stop walking away from me,” Alison warned him. “If you need space, tell me and I’ll give it to you. You can leave as long as I know you’re coming back.”

“I know, Sparkles. I’m sorry.”

Alison reached up to cup Wade’s face with both of her hands. She stood on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “C’mon, you. We better book it back to the kitchen. Steve’ll eat everything Bucky cooks up if we don’t get in there quick.”

Wade and Alison left the workshop after making sure everything was put away, the lights were switched off and the door was locked. They headed back to the house, arm in arm, and for the first time since Wade had crashed back into Alison’s life, he felt a little less monstrous and a little more like a person who deserves good things.

#brightengale #ww (the merc) thread #jbb (the sniper) thread #awesome foursome #angst warning #but it has a happy ending

[jelanisaeed]

Round 4: VS Alolan Meowth - Legends Part 4

Edit: Sooooo, I had a whole plan for Jasper's arc...and then world events happened lmaooo sooo, I made the chaotic decision to switch it up! So I changed the ending of this chapter and propelled it into a new direction!

And boom! Chapter 4! This one came along much smoother than I thought it would. Once I had a clear idea, everything fell into place. Of course, a little midnight inspiration helped a lot too

Oh, and I probably should have put a disclaimer before. For returning readers, the first 3 chapters are a rewrite so please go back and read so you don't get confused

Now, we meet Jasper in his newest form! I'm happy with how he came about. Before he was just a rough idea of a person, but now he has some much better character. I like it.

For this chapter, I had two albums helping me out. The first write up, I was listening to 11:11 Reset by Keyshia Cole. The best song for this chapter had to be Unbothered. Its a mood lol. Buttttt, then inspiration came a few days later after I wrote this! And I was struck by Something New by K. Michelle. And at that point, I just had to listen to the whole All Monsters Are Human album  It helped a lot tho lol

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it!

…

Pokémon Adventures: Turquoise, Jasper, & Ammolite

Round 4: VS Alolan Meowth – Legends Part 4

Location: Veilstone City Date: August 4th, 3000 Time: 8:45am

Veilstone City had its own lore. Albeit strange with convoluted plotlines. Baryte had read up on them on the way there. The most popular of them claimed a meteor shower granted people the power to carve out the mountain! An awesome tale if it were true. Too many conflicting accounts, however, made it impossible to know. If only he could time travel or something—that was possible, right?

Probably a pokémon capable. Pokémon possessed many astounding abilities. Time travel couldn't be too hard. Maybe an ancient pokémon helped make Veilstone City? Oh! What if it fled to outer space?

Now that was a theory Baryte liked. There had to be tons of pokémon out there. Some even lived amongst them like clefairy. Someday, he proclaimed with clenched fists and burning passion, he would encounter them all.

Someday soon, he hoped.

For now, Baryte settled for handling his delivery. He arrived in the city at dawn. And as sunlight bled through the parting clouds, scientists rushed through the streets with mounds of paperwork clutched to their chests. Led only by the dimming streetlamps illuminating their path. The life of his dreams. Baryte sighed. Someday he would be amongst them—a famous scientist with discoveries sealed into the paperwork by ink.

Studying all the fossils he scavenged—just like Papa!

No time like the present right? Baryte mused. All the best scientists found their start here. Perhaps he should give that meteorite field a visit? Professor Kapok wouldn't mind so long as I deliver it today anyways.

With a confident grin, Baryte took off. The meteorite field wasn't hard to find—on the eastern side by the residential area. Deserted, even at this hour. No surprise there—many scientists spent their internships studying here. Still, a fresh pair of eyes never hurt.

"'Sides, I got the perfect research buddy," grinning, Baryte tapped the dusk ball on his belt and summoned his rough and tough cranidos to his side. "Cranyte, ready for some research?"

She grinned. Always eager to help regardless of the task at hand. Unlike a certain rockruff he knew…

Baryte took his time examining the craters. Scribbled notes in his favorite fossil themed notebook. A good scientist always kept one handy.

Yet, he didn't observe anything bizarre. Just the average meteorite sight. Although, the did glow heavenly in the morning sun. Even—Whoa! A strange burst of energy smashed into his gut! Chilled his bones as he shivered. Had to be from this meteorite. It glowed different than the others—a powder blue instead of white.

Better get in closer.

He stepped closer…only to roll away as his senses rumbled. Barely avoiding a slash that severed the stone where he stood! His assailant—a gray cat with a golden coin on its forehead—sidestepped a rushing Cranyte and purred.

It wore a slick smirk as it wagged a paw in his face!

"What's the big idea?" Cranyte rushed it again, but the cat backflipped and struck her with a nasty kick to the butt! "Cranyte!"

The cat just smirked and shrugged off Cranyte's angry snarling. It shook its head, eyes darting to the crater.

The crater— "Hold up, Cranyte." Baryte followed its gaze and found a group of floating rocks circling the meteorite in a strange dance! "Are those pokémon?" If only he brought his camera! The cat purred and its smirk turned smug. "Thanks for the heads up!"

It shrugged. And, with one final smirk, it strolled off.

Odd little pokémon. Smart though—Baryte hadn't even seen these pokémon!

Probably used to blind humans like him. Some scientist I am, Baryte chuckled. Next time, he would pay better attention. Now, he had a delivery to complete. Hopefully they stuck around—he would love to catch one.

"Maybe Professor Kapok knows 'bout 'em." With a smile, Baryte walked away. Cranyte took to his side with ease. "C'mon girl, let's deliver this package."

Scientific studies could wait just a bit more, he reasoned.

…

The residential sector looked much blander than he thought. Elevated above ground level like much of the city. But had the dullest houses in existence. The parents brought some life to it. They rushed out of the area—morning toast clenched in their teeth and briefcases swinging. Baryte laughed. Just like Papa in the mornings.

Though, one parent stood out. Somewhat portlier than the rest with a full bread and gleaming yellow eyes. Dressed like a scientist, except he opted against the glasses and kept a spoink-themed briefcase. A Porygon floated by his short afro while a grumpig—with a messenger bag slung across its chest, no less! —took up the rear. He shot past Baryte, muttering something about medicine as sweat beaded his nutmeg skin.

Seemed like an unreliable guy. And a slob if the coffee-stained tie was any indication. Not the best role model, he sighed.

Shrugging, Baryte went on his way. The house was another easy find. It stood out with its cosmic paint job and star-shaped mailbox. Even had a satellite dish on the roof! Not a bad place to live, he decided.

He rang the bell and waited. Waited…and waited. Yet no response followed. Frowning, Baryte glanced at his pokétch. 10 am—someone had to be up!

Guess I'll leave it the mailbox. Baryte shrugged. Easy enough. Now to find a diner. He knew he should have made some soup when he woke up. Papa always said never to miss breakfast. Maybe that was how he missed those pokémon.

He turned to the mailbox and…found that cat staring back at him! Perched on top with another cocky smirk.

"Err, hi?" The cat huffed and turned up its nose! The gall— "What's that for?"

Cranyte didn't appreciate it, either. She snarled and kicked at the ground. Not that the cat cared much.

"Kito, you done antagonizin' 'em?" A handsome guy walked over with his arms folded behind his head. As Banou would say, a real snack! With skin carved out straight from the night sky and twinkling pale yellow eyes. Silver hair worn in a tapered afro. A truly cosmic guy—ewww, Baryte cringed. Well, would be if he didn't reek of sweat! Still…it made his tight, star-themed tank top and short shorts cling to his well-toned body.

"This your pokémon?" Baryte raised an eyebrow. "It's rude. What is it?"

"You get used to it," Cosmic Dude mused with an easy grin. "And it's a meowth—from Alola, of course."

Baryte pursed his lips. "Not something I'd ever want to get used to." Honestly, Cosmic Dude couldn't be much of a trainer with an attitude like that. Or was it just these meowths? Better look into it later.

Cosmic dude didn't seem phased though. He looked ready to speak when the door finally opened.

"Jasper?" A sickly woman walked out with a cacturne behind her. Her floral housedress and fuzzy green slippers didn't match the energy of her dull ebony skin. Nor the frizzy mess of her massive silver afro.

"Did you ring the bell?"

Cosmic Dude flinched. "Mommy—why are you up?"

Mommy? Come to think of it, they did look alike. Cheekbones and skin tone matched. Although Cosmic Dude didn't inherit those eyes.

Pretty selfish of him to leave her home alone. All for a run? Baryte never left Mama home like that. Good thing that cacturne came with her. It kept her balanced and sent a strange glance his way. Almost protectively—like it didn't know if he posed a threat yet.

Its questions went unnoticed by the duo, however. Locked in their conversation of hush whispers. Only pausing when the mother dissolved into a harsh coughing fit! Yet all Cosmic Dude did was wince and nag her through it. Rude, much like his cocky cat.

They're made for each other, he snorted.

Wait a minute. Did she call him Jasper?

"Sorry to interrupt," he interjected softly. Cosmic Dude gave him a halfhearted glare before nodding. "Are you Jasper Korinaztu?"

Cosmic Dude smirked and folded his arms behind his head. "Yeah, that's me. 'Sup—you a fan?"

Baryte rolled his eyes. "Hardly," he retorted and pulled out the package from his knapsack. A neat box wrapped in yellow paper. "But I have a package for you from Professor Kapok."

Jasper accepted the package and muttered a quick, "thanks," before glancing over his shoulder. "Kito, stop buggin' that cranidos."

Sure enough, that cat had Cranyte chasing after it! Damnit—when did he miss that? Baryte called out to her, but she ignored him. Instead rushed the cat for a vicious headbutt! Well, it would have been if that cat didn't jump over it.

Baryte slapped his forehead with a groan. "Seriously? Train your cat, dude!"

Jasper laughed. "Believe it or not, that's him on a good day." A good day—Baryte huffed. No sense arguing with a lousy trainer. "Tell ya what. Come have breakfast with us. For your troubles, ya know?"

Have breakfast with his cocky jock? Please. Baryte opened his mouth to retort. And his stomach interjected with a vicious snarl.

"Sure, I guess…"

Some free food never hurt.

…

Baryte expected the house to be a boy's den, like his cousin's. Clothes flung around and the pungent aroma of sweat-stained furniture. The usual. But, he walked into a clean house filled with posters, awards, and trophies! Not just sports trophies—like the track trophy on the mantle. There were science trophies and medals too! Awarded to a Darnell Korinaztu. Hmm, the father, perhaps?

Still cool! He should have expected this from the outside. However, Jasper didn't pin him as a science guy. Well, he didn't think highly of the dude anyways. Couldn't be too bright with a pokémon like that as his partner.

The mother led him to the dining room while Jasper brought over the best food ever! Sickly or not, this lady threw down in the kitchen. She made oran berry pancakes better than his favorite diner in Oreburgh! With a satisfied sigh, Baryte leaned back in his chair.

"Satisfied?" Jasper sat across from him and grinned, brushing his thumb against his nose. "They're my specialty, ya know?"

"Wait, you cooked?" Baryte glanced over to the mom. She seemed satisfied nibbling on his pancakes. Not that it stopped her cacturne from dotting over her. "I thought that—"

"—Mommy's sickly," Jasper cut in with a forced grin. "So, I do the cookin'."

Oh, that made sense. Papa did the same when Mama got sick too. Still weird to hear a kid picking up the slack. Didn't she have a husband? A woman as beautiful as her couldn't be single. Not with eyes like hers. Now those put a sea of shining stars to shame!

"I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am." Baryte confessed, but she waved him off. "I hope you get better soon."

Her soft smile lit up her skin better than the sun ever could. "Thank you. Jasper takes good care of me."

With practiced ease, Jasper waved her off with, "Nothing you wouldn't do for me."

"But it's more than you should." She spoke softly. "Latched to my side like this."

"Mommy," an eerie tension filled the room with Jasper's frown. Something about it sent chills down his spine. "It's fine. I promise."

What an…odd relationship. "Hey, Jasper—how old are you?"

Jasper responded almost instantly, eyes beaming as his cool grin returned. "Thirteen!"

Just as his file indicated. Athletic and paired with a pretty rare pokémon. Shouldn't be hard for him to a trainer. Plus, that cat defended those pokémon with precision. Maybe it had reason to be cocky. Shame it ate like a tepig. Goggling down its pelts by the fridge as a few fell to the clean tiles.

Gross, he scoffed, so much for trained. The cat in question locked eyes with him and smirked. Even slid a claw across its neck! That rude, mannerless—

"Have you started your journey yet?" Baryte interrupted that train of thought before it got worse. "How many badges do you have?"

Jasper only winced and toyed with a strange bracelet on his wrist. Star-themed like his clothes but had a peculiar charm Baryte couldn't make out.

"Jasper hasn't left just yet." His mom intervened with sadness in her eyes. "He's been taking care of me since I fell ill."

Ah. More pieces fell into place. Yet no matter how he split it, Cosmic Dude wasn't suited for his mother's caretaker. An admirable effort though—Baryte loved seeing caring kids. Especially when, years ago, he almost found himself in the same predicament. Thank Arcues Professor Kapok found him on that magical blue moon night.

Professor Kapok, Baryte smiled, taking a sip of his drink. He worked hard as an assistant for months and gained friends and support in Paxton and Banou. All thanks to that sweet human being.

"I can tell you love your mom." Jasper nodded eagerly but his eyes never left his bracelet. A nervous tic, perhaps? Daddy has a similar fixation with his goggles. Something Baryte picked up as well. "However, I think you should give the journey a chance."

Jasper raised an eyebrow. A strange emotion filled his eyes as he tore his gaze from that bracelet. Fear, Baryte guessed, but it didn't fit his aesthetic.

"You should really open this package. It might change your perspective."

His lips twitched before settling into a frown. Brows furrowed and his hands tightened into fists. Thoughts must have raced through his mind, Baryte knew.

Jasper fell silent with a heavy frown frozen on his face. But those eyes fell to his mother. Locked in another of their silent conversations. Baryte couldn't understand how they did it. Even Daddy couldn't read his mind like this—were they psychic?

"Ight," Jasper finally said with a smooth grin. "I'll take your word for it."

I hope you're proud of me, Mom. Baryte grinned and pulled the package from his knapsack. I did good.

…

How'd y'all like this? I really enjoyed playing around with Baryte. He's a fun guy if a bit critical. I wanted to be sure he sounded a bit different from the jaded Paxton and I think I did a pretty decent job. If not, it'll definitely be different down the job. They're my newest characters so I'm still learning about them and their kinks lol.

For Jasper, I did make a change for him from the OG stories. Starting with a new partner pokemon! At first, he had a munchlax and it was cute and all, butttt low-key uninspired lol. so, Alolan Meowth came along! He was already written getting a meowth anyways so I just switched it up. This was pre-sun and moon so once I discovered Alolan Meowth, everything just fit. I was tempted to do Galarian Meowth, but this felt right.

Next chapter we'll be seeing more of Jasper and his mom so stay tuned!

As always, feel free to leave a review or PM me with your opinions!

#Pokemon #LGBT