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mushroom-for-art · 1 year

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Hi @pokemon-ash-aus, I hope you don't mind I borrowed Peach, yes I put her in situations sorry, I think she had a good time though. This was basically my first thought since the plushie ask and you mentioning she'd be anxious with it out and about as an easy bullying target, I took creative liberties like assuming she went to college to get her Pokémon Professor degree because like idk if she did or just went I'm a Professor now binch. Enjoy!

Plushies and Public Transport

Peach couldn't help nervously glancing around, the plush that had been a comfort was slowly becoming a source of anxiety and discomfort as she held the soft charmander in her crossed arms close to her chest. She had already been a bit concerned about going out to such a crowded place in her human disguise, she squeezed the plush in her arms and was glad it didn't have a squeaker inside.

It was a bit odd walking with her feet rather than floating and she really really didn't want to have to do any mouth speaking trying to fake it where she could and use telepathy instead. Her eyes glanced around at the sounds of chattering, did she hear someone say charmander? She wasn't, sure if she was imagining judgment or if people were talking about her. She was glad the plushy was well built because with how hard she was squeezing it to her body for some sense of comfort and soothing she was surprised the head hadn't popped off comedically to make her even more of a spectacle to these people.

She sat on a bench taking off her backpack and holding it to her side while sighing to herself, she could do this all she had to do was make it through these first few commutes and she's sure the anxiety of it all would be non existent and she'd wonder what she was ever stressed about. She watched the feet shuffle past her, the chattering of many people and some thoughts managing to be so loud she couldn't block them out were starting to make her head hurt and an uncomfortable sensation grow in her chest.

She focused on breathing, in through your nose out through your mouth or something like that her exhale passing through her gritted teeth as she attempted to calm. She heard the footsteps before she saw them, a pair of well made proper looking brown shoes stopped in front of her and Peach screwed her eyes closed tight ready for some kind of mocking question.

Slowly lifting her head she quirked an eyebrow and blinked several times in confusion at the sight of another teenager about 'her' age (according to the disguise she was using), hiding their face, poorly, behind a small Spritzee, no wait, it was a plush Spritzee judging by the button eyes the slightly misshapen head fluff and how limp the wings were. Peach blinked once more as she noticed the movement of the others legs, seeing them anxiously shuffle on the spot as their hands gently held the plushies' wings and moved them for emphasis as they spoke.

"Um, excuse me but this dolt was perhaps wondering if she was at the right terminal to get the train to the professor learning academy?" Though they moved the plush for emphasis of the plush speaking rather than themselves Peach could see that she was avoiding eye contact rather heavily.

"...ah…" Peach's voice was very quiet, more of an exhale than speech so thankfully she didn't stutter but, as she looked at this other person likely another student starting this segment of their life watching them use the plush for comfort and as a speaking aid it seemed Peach felt a little chunk of speech anxiety chip away.

She, with slight reluctance, confirmed that they were at the right spot, trying not to show her discomfort at her stuttering or how her lisp affected her words and she watched the others shoulders drop in relief, clearly having been quite tense, though still holding the plush up to hide their face as they sighed and thanked her.

Peach gave an awkward unsure smile, she hadn't been planning for anyone to actually speak to her, other than the ticket master or the person at the ticket booth, so despite the feeling of weird anxiety over something out of script happening it wasn't necessarily unpleasant either, the interaction could've been much worse after all…

They bowed in thanks to her despite already verbally thanking her before watching them look around their hands gently squeezing their plush for comfort as Peach in turn squeezed the soft charmander a bit closer.

"Do, do, do you want to s-s-sit here?" Peach didn't like how her mouth struggled for words or how it emphasized her lisp but something about this individual made her feel a bit more comfortable in her own voice. They nodded through the plush and as Peach shuffled a bit to the side to make room they sat down besides her to wait for their train together. Peach glanced over and assumed by the looks of them and context clues they were also just starting their education just like her.

She did feel a bit rude side glancing at them but she was a bit curious, why did they talk to her of all people? She could spot a few other people who looked like they would have been heading the same way so why speak to her. She noticed as well they kept the plushie up to their face, and after a few moments she was certain she heard them make a quiet chirping sound. Peach blinked but, well they didn't comment on her lisp.

"I'm honestly really glad I spotted you," Peach glanced over again they weren't looking at her she could see their hands softly squeezing the plushie likely in self soothing, "I, was kind of worried I'd have to speak to one of those guys over there," she gestured with the Spritzee plush casually and Peach glanced over at the other group of people she had spotted who must were likely going the same way as them. Her bench companion made a little clicking noise, reminding her of chittering chattering bug types.

"But then I saw you, and you had a plushie too!" Peach held the charmander plush a bit closer at it being mentioned, feeling a wave of defensiveness run through her ready to hiss and defend herself from cruel remarks, "and I thought, hey! That, that looks like someone who I could trust," the tension in Peachs shoulders stopped rising and slowly subsided as she looked over to the other again, "cause well, I don't know anybody but if you have a plushie and I have a plushie then well maybe i'd be okay if I asked you. Plus it makes me feel a bit less anxious too.." They glanced over at Peach with an eye behind her plush and she watched them give an anxious smile before moving the plush to hide once more.

"Sorry! I'm bad at looking at people."

"It's ok-o-okay," Peach reassured, if a bit awkwardly as her fingers gently brushed the fluff of her charmander plush. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea to bring them after all.

They sat in quiet for a bit more as they waited, the sound of the daily commute around them, the other inquiring where Peach bought her plush and Peach very proudly telling them it was in fact made by her brother. Her companion seemed impressed and mentioned her brother must have been quite talented, telling Peach that her mother made her plushie for her to help with her anxiety and that it had a button on the back to open it up to fit in a pouch of scents, saying that at the moment it had a pouch of lavender in because it's meant to be quite soothing which is why she keeps holding it to her face. Peach made an understanding 'ahh', smiling a bit as they chatted, the other even offering to let Peach have a hold and smell of the lavender which even though it wasn't said she could tell that this other person must have trusted her a considerable amount.

The lavender scent was present but not overwhelming and Peach sighed softly at the comforting aroma before carefully handing the no doubt prized possession back to its original owner. They exchanged the names given to their respective plushies with the other having named their Spritzee after the person who first recorded the species and learnt how to use their aromas for perfumes which was incredibly fitting and Peach could only nod her head in approval trying not to vibrate with the fact she knew MUCH about how the aroma was made in the Pokémon body.

Of course the other casually mentioned a did you know fact about the Spritzee and Aromatisse line and the floodgates of knowledge absolutely spilled open as Peach enthusiastically began her deep dive into the history and biology of these scented Pokémon.

Even though her companion seemed to gape at Peach in confusion, when she faltered in her confidence they very quickly jumped in with, "no please keep talking!" And with newfound confidence and assurance she continued her knowledgeable rant with the other nodding along fascinated but mentioning that she couldn't even add anything because Peach was so well knowledged she was amazed.

As they got on the train Peach had managed to go from the scent of the Spritzee line to the Salandit line and it's aromas and how they're created and engineered to be perfume and as they arrived at their stop she spoke with great enthusiasm about the Muk scandal and how it's scent when processed the right way could ALSO be made into a irresistible perfume! And did you know it is said the Oricorio line also have distinct scents along with looks and typing and it's believed that that was caused by the same flower nectar they consumed to change form and type! Her companion did in fact not know this.

Peach more proudly held her comfort plush to her as they walked the hallways to the meeting hall and did notice dotted around more people with their own plushies of different Pokémon, and perhaps bringing her charmander along hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

#My writing #Not my oc #@pokemon-ash-aus oc #@pokemon-ash-aus Peach #Peach can have an infodump as a treat #I just thought the idea of someone else also having a plush and seeing Peach with one and thinking that she's safe to approach was sweet #And you know what Pokémon professors are fucking nerds you know damn well others probably have loads of plushies too #I say teenager in this fic but like idk when they'd start learning this shit I assume at like 18/19 so older teen #Peach can make a friend as a treat #I tried not to write too much actually spoken dialogue for Peach cause I didn't wanna misrepresent her stutter and lisp #Hence her mostly speaking in descriptive paragraphs #Also Peach can be something that's so autism coded whoops sorry I gave her slight overstimulation from all the noise #Also random other student can ALSO be something that's so autism coded #Honestly this was fun to write because I knew I probably wouldn't be able to draw it #But plz enjoy Peach making a fren #I realised I probably should've asked and checked it was okay to write using your oc I'm sorry

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padfootastic · 1 year

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sirius @ james for this one: “what can i get you? do you need water? a hug? space?”

anon we have the same brain fr because i looked at this and had the same thought. (and so did others because i have 2 more asks w this exact premise)

i hope u like this! personally, it’s one of my favs 🙈

Sirius cut his way through the post-dinner throng of students as swiftly and efficiently as he could, resisting the urge to case a wide-area Blasting Charm to clear the route faster. His destination was the large gathering of students in the middle of the courtyard, jeering and chanting.

As he got closer, the voices floating from the centre of the circle became more distinct, making his face twist into a grimace.

“Think you’re so much better than us, don’t you, Potter?” An unfortunately familiar voice was taunting, though it sounded a bit funny, muffled. A part of Sirius knew, even before he pushed through the crowd, that it would just be Snape putting his nose somewhere it had no business being. Usually, it wouldn’t be such a big deal for Sirius who couldn’t care less about him if he was held at wand-point. But today, today he’d decided to go needle James.

Who was already in a terrible mood this week. It was a combination of everything—Effie and Flea’s declining health, the constant chatter in the castle, the pressure from the Quidditch Cup, Lily’s taunts, McGonagall’s nagging—all of it building and building and building until it reached a boiling point. Sirius had been waiting for him to blow this entire week; it’s only unfortunate that it happened the one day they’re in different classes, on opposite ends of the castle, and at the hands of Snape at that. Sirius had heard that something was going down in the courtyard, could only catch James’ name in between the gasps and giggles before promptly booking it out of there.

And sure enough, he got there just in time to see James send his fist into Snape’s jaw with a ridiculous ‘crack’ that Sirius can hear all the way to where he’s standing, making him wince slightly. Clearly, this isn’t his first, because there’s a stream of blood running down Snape’s nose, pooling over and around his mouth. There’s a scratch-bruise situation on one of his cheekbones that he’s guessing is from James’ Potter Ring.

James is…not entirely blemish free—there’s a wicked bruise blooming on his temple—but in comparison? He looks practically untouched.

It’s no wonder, though, because despite Snape’s mouthing off, it’s clearly an act, put upon for his own sake just as much as for others. Now that Sirius is right in front of them, he can see exactly how terrified the guy looks, though he’s made a valiant effort to hide it. One look at James and he immediately understood why.

James had Snape lifted up against the wall by his collar, teeth bared and a feral tinge to his eyes. His hazel eyes were almost black as he said, “Say something like that again, Snape, I dare you.”

Clearly, the Slytherin had lost the few brain cells he had left because he actually opened his mouth to answer. James didn’t give him the chance, only pushing him harder into the granite. “I will end you, Snivellus, don’t try me. Stop fucking running your mouth if you can’t deal with the consequences of it.”

That was the point Sirius decided to step in. It didn’t seem like anyone else would—Remus and the other prefects were standing on the far end of the hallway, huddled and whispering furiously; no teachers were present—and judging by Snape’s rapidly reddening face, he was less than a minute away from getting his face fully bashed in. Sirius didn’t want James to deal with the aftermath of that in his current state if he actually went through with it. There were too many people around, anyway.

“James,” he called, stepping forward. He could’ve sworn he heard at least three different sighs of relief but all his attention was now fixed on the way James’ fists clenched harder at the sound of his voice. He sighed—so it was like that, was it?

He stepped up to the two of them and placed a hand on James’ forearm. It was taut with tension, like steel to the touch, almost blazing hot. Ignoring the fact that James was deliberately ignoring looking at him, he started massaging his arm with a light touch, gently working his way down from his elbow to wrist, feeling the muscles loosen with each second. Once he’d repeated the action a couple times, he started rubbing circles with his thumb on the bottom of his palm, increasing the pressure with each rotation.

Eventually, it didn’t take more than a minute before James’ shoulders sagged, almost imperceptibly, and his fists unclenched. Snape, who’d been uncharacteristically silent so far—perhaps showing some of that Slytherin self preservation and realising Sirius was his best bet to getting out here without further harm?—quickly slid out from under his arm, going to stand a safe distance away. He opened his mouth, forgetting that distance meant nothing when James was as good with a wand as he was, but Sirius quickly put a pin in that one.

“Piss off, Sniv,” he muttered, not even bothering to look in his direction.

“Black you—“

“I said, piss off,” Sirius growled, arm moving so fast that Snape couldn’t track the wand now pointed between his eyes if he’d tried. “Now.”

With whatever was left of his tattered dignity, Snape tucked tail and fled. Good riddance. Without sparing a single glance towards the rapidly growing crowd of students, he tucked his wand back in its holster and wrapped a hand around James’ wrist, pulling him away from the courtyard and into one of their hidden alcoves on the ground floor. It was quite removed from the rest of the castle and the most traffic it saw was when the Bloody Baron and Grey Lady decided to rehash some centuries old fight.

Once they were properly inside, he dropped his bag to the floor and pushed James agains the wall, pressing as tightly against him as physically possible, not willing to let a single inch of space between them. For a few minutes, they did nothing except look at each other, James’ breaths sounding like heavy pants in the empty room.

Sirius held James’ face with both hands, hard enough that his fingers pressed indents into his skin, knowing the pressure grounded him. “What can I get you, James? Do you need water? A hug? Some space?”

James stared at him as if seeing through him, eyes unfocused and far, far away. Sirius pressed harder, curling his fingers for his nails to dig in, willing James to come back to him. And of course, James did.

“I need you.” Rough hands grabbed the front of his robes, pulling him forward abruptly and with a little too much force. Sirius had to grab onto James’ shoulders—not that he was complaining—just so he didn’t topple them both sideways. Gently, he shifted his grip until one arm was curled around James’ and the other was buried in his hair, cradling the back of his head. He tucked James’ head under his chin, trapping his hands between them, holding him as tightly as he could.

He knew James needed to be clutched when he was like this, that he loved being surrounded on all sides—as if someone was holding all of him, refusing to let any part of him go. He craved safety, comfort, when he got overwhelmed and this was the best way Sirius knew to give it to him.

They stood like that until the sun set and the air cooled, but all that Sirius cared about was his James—his breathing easier, eyes less frantic, and face much more relaxed. If all he had to do was hold tight for a while to get him there, then well, he’d be the happiest man on earth.

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