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nerdpoe · 1 year

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Like facing off against Cthulu, but it's really just your fears.

Part two, Part three, Part four, Ao3

Gore. Gore warning. Someone waking up in the middle of body horror being done to them. Gore gore gore. Do not interact if that is not something you want to read. I have other works under the tag phanfic that are not like this if you wanna read stuff I do.

Also elements of abuse.

I am not joking, someone wakes up in a really bad situation. Danny is shown in a...very familiar situation if you've ever been an unfortunate victim of abuse. If you cannot handle that, stay away.

~~~~~~~

Dick had been, admittedly, not paying attention. Granted he had been in a rather low-crime area, he could only imagine the kind of tongue-lashing Damian would give him.

Because typically Damian was the first to let them know when they'd fucked up.

Batman was second, but with fatherly scolding.

Alfred would scold quietly, over the course of a week, with disappointed glances and quiet sighs.

He had not been expecting the soft puncture in his shoulder, nor had he been expecting the burning pain afterwards.

The pain had only given him enough adrenaline to turn around and see two figures walking towards him, right before everything went dark.

Then he woke up.

And he really, really wished he had not.

He knew his mask was still on.

He knew his uniform was still on.

He also knew that he was not supposed to be able to feel the breeze on his fucking intestines.

He tried to move his arms, but something held them down. Same as his legs.

There was a deep, permeating ache. A pain that let him know he was in mortal danger.

It was centered on his chest.

His brain was still coming back online, and his head slowly lifted as much as he could bear and looked down.

Red.

Muscles.

Organs.

His skin, peeled back and pinned in place.

A fucking gardening shear approaching one of his ribs.

So much blood.

"Look honeybunches! It's 'waking up'!"

"Oh you! You know better than to distract me when I'm cutting, fudgecakes!"

"I'm sorry, puddin! But look at how it's got red ectoplasm!"

"It really is fascinating, these Gotham ghosts! Let's keep going!"

'No,' Dick thought hysterically, the pain beginning to cut through the tranq, 'Let's not continue, please no, don't don't don't-'

The thought was cut off by the starburst sensation of his rib being crushed, a horrific tugging sensation he could feel throughout his whole body, and then said rib was ripped out of him.

He couldn't help it.

Dick had been tortured before but fuck, this was a whole different level of fucked.

He screamed.

He screamed loud, and long, and petered off into panting sobs.

"Well now, that was rude."

"And he's been so considerate for a ghost so far! Bring out the muzzle sweetie!"

The large one came close to his head, some weird contraption in his hands, and Dick let out a keening whine. He could not let them put that thing on him, he could not-

"Mom, Dad!"

All movement stopped in the lab.

Dick felt his heart sink.

That was a kid. No kid should have to see someone being...being...

He couldn't even think it.

"Hurry, it's Phantom!"

And like that, the two mad scientists, because that was what they were, what they had to be, scrambled to grab a bunch of weapons and bolted outside of the lab.

Quiet footsteps scurried down the stairs and to his side.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I should have stopped them but they never listen and I...I'm going to have to stitch you up. This is going to hurt, but it's the only way you'll live."

Dick shakily turned his head to look at the kid, and oh.

Oh.

He was probably going to end up with a new brother by the end of this.

Black hair, blue eyes, bad living situation, stubbornly determined to do good.

Dick did the only thing he could do.

He shook his head.

"Nuh-no, g-get out. Ru-run."

He had to get the kid away from those lunatics, they could come back at any moment.

The kid's face adopted a stubborn look Dick was all to familiar with.

No, please, this was not the time, no Wayne-family pig-headedness, the kid had to run-

The shackled keeping his arms and legs in place released with a hiss, and he started reaching for his injury only to be stopped.

"Mr. Nightwing, sir, I have to stitch you up now or you won't survive. Please don't touch it, you'll...you'll make it worse."

Oh, Dick didn't like that sentence. It spoke of experience.

This kid was too sweet to have gone through something like what has happening to the professional vigilante, please no.

But the kid didn't waver at all.

With an experienced hand, he grabbed the medical supplies he would need and with a constant mantra of apologies, unpinned Dick's fucking skin from it's place and started piecing him back together.

Sans a rib, obviously.

"You're going to need antibiotics, immediately," the kid muttered under his breath, clearly trying to stave off a panic attack, "this is not a sterile environment. The stitches will have to come out to make sure your uniform isn't in the wound. Some of your remaining rib may need to be amputated, those were not surgical fucking gardening shears-!"

Dick had seen Jason go through enough panic attacks to know what to do.

It was difficult, but he lifted a heavy, shaking hand and rested it on the kids head.

He couldn't card his fingers through the kids hair, but that seemed to help.

The stitches did hurt, but it was a pain Dick was used to.

A pain that meant he was going to get better, eventually.

Necessary and good.

The kid cut off the thread from the last stitch and froze, cocking his head to one side.

Then, with what Dick could only assume as adrenaline fueled strength, he was bodily forced to stand.

He held in the scream, instead clutching at the kids shirt and ripping it.

He'd feel bad about that when he could think clearly.

"Mr. Nightwing, we have to get you to the fire escape, and you have to call the others to save you."

He was being pushed out of a window and found himself leaning on the railing, panting and staring down at the kid.

"I'll distract them as long as I can."

He tried to reach out, to grab the kid and take him with him, but the window shut. The blackout curtains closed.

The voices that he was sure would haunt his nightmares started shouting inside.

Dick struggled up three flights, barely making it to the roof before collapsing.

He couldn't save the kid.

Not as he was.

But his family could.

He activated his comm, which he was never turning off again, thanks, and was introduced to a cacophony of shouting.

No one knew where he'd been, why he'd gone, what had happened, did he have any idea how worried they were?

He felt a smile tugging at his lips and his body start to relax.

No.

He had to stay awake.

"We have new villains," he started, his shaky and faint voice making everyone stop talking, "They caught me off guard. Stupid. Should...should have been paying attention."

"Nightwing, keep talking. I have your location and will be arriving shortly." "I'm gonna need more than a medkit," Dick breathed, letting out a whine as he shifted position, "They fucking vivisected me. Pinned me down like a frog. Don't think I'll ever eat meat again."

"As thrilling as it is that you wish to join me in dietary practices, stay awake," Damian's clipped response did not hold any joy at the prospect.

Yeah, if this had happened to any of his other siblings Dick wouldn't be very happy either.

"They have a kid. Black hair, blue eyes, distracted them so he could do triage. The fuck kind of fifteen year old civilian knows triage?"

"Careful Dickie-bird, you're starting to sound like me."

Oh, that wasn't good. Even as mush as Dick's brain was, he could almost taste the Pit Rage in Jason's voice.

"He's still distracting them," Dick whispered, body relaxing against his will, "Can't...can't protect him. Dunno what they'll do."

There was a flash of red, and Tim was kneeling in front of him.

"Then we'll protect him," Tim said, carding a hand through Dick's hair as he took in the damage, "But first we need to get you to Alfred. Dr. Thompkins is already en route."

Dick let out a sigh, going limp against the roof.

He could hear his siblings shouting at him to stay awake, but he'd done that as well as he could.

His family would keep the kid safe.

He could rest.

~~~~~~~~

Bruce did not like seeing his children hurt.

It came with the territory of being a vigilante, but as a father he despised it.

But tortured?

No.

That was unacceptable.

And from what Dick said, there was a child in even more danger, if that was possible.

He stared through the glass as Dr. Thompkins operating on Dick's prone form.

He really had been vivisected.

The Y-shaped incision was clean cut in a way that said he hadn't been awake when it was made.

The bruises on his wrists and ankles told him that Dick's unconscious state had not stayed that way.

The careful stitches that Leslie had been forced to undo had been methodical, practiced.

But as she had said, a little off.

Like the kid knew how to do them, but from a different angle.

The sound of another dummy breaking brought him back.

He couldn't leave the kid-Daniel-with his parents.

No way in hell.

Tim had already run a search on them.

Jack and Madeline Fenton, parents to two children; Jasmine Fenton and Daniel Fenton.

Jasmine was in college, out of the abusive situation.

Her search history showed her constantly looking up affordable apartments for a college student with two rooms, but rent in Connecticut was a bit over a college students head.

It must have been killing her.

The Fenton's had moved out of Amity Park after an episode where Daniel had a psychotic break in school, and the police had started looking into his parents.

Bruce did not want to imagine what the boy had been through to warrant a psychotic break.

Nightwing's feed had showed them a scared kid who knew far too much about medical practices.

A kid who was terrified of the consequences of helping but deciding to help anyways.

There was no question about Bruce adopting him and his sister.

He would keep them away from crime-fighting.

They deserved a break from violence.

Even Damian had commented that the room next to his was ready for someone to move into.

His thoughts were cut off by Jason's feed on the Batcomputer.

"You were right," Gordon sighed, meeting Red Hood outside of the apartment in question, "We got the files from Amity Park Child Services. If you're ready to go in and make sure they don't hold their own kid hostage, we're ready to prosecute them."

"Fucking fantastic," Jason's voice growled through the helmet, the man turning to go up the fire escape.

"And should we have Mr. Bruce Wayne on speed dial, then?" Gordon drawled, making Hood pause.

"...Sure. Put the man on speed dial. Kid's adoption bait anyways."

Bruce could hear Gordon in the background getting the officers ready to arrest two new villains, ones that had already managed to capture and torture one of the city's beloved heroes.

Jason made quick work of the fire escape, soundlessly hauling himself to where Cass was waiting.

He paused, and they listened to make sure it would be safe to enter.

The feed picked up Jason moving his head to where Cass pointed out a small gap in the curtains.

The Drs Fenton had their son against a wall, a strange collar on his neck.

It looked like the kid was dissociating, no struggle present.

His shirt was torn, and on his chest...

On...his chest...

A Y-shaped scar.

One that bore the marks of poor healing, likely from previous infections.

Maddie Fenton was in her sons face, clearly threatening him.

And Cass punched through the window with her bare fist, an uncharacteristic show of rage.

From there Jason's feed was a chaotic mix of flashing lights, brief glances of Cass's bloodied hands, and finally, at the end; the sounds of the Drs Fenton screaming in pain.

And then the feed was full of Daniel.

Defiant blue eyes, panic clearly barely held at bay, shoving himself between an enraged Hood and equally angered Orphan.

"Please!" The boy shouted, keeping himself between the vigilantes and his parents even as the cops broke down the door, "Please! They...they're just sick. Please."

Bruce ground his teeth, even as Jason's footage showed his son lowing his gun and reaching out for the kid.

He was taking in Daniel.

He was giving him a better life.

And he would keep him far, far away from the violence being a vigilante would bring.

@skulld3mort-1fan @zelabee @waspsarebetterthanbeesanyways @ailithnight story prompt here

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unsubconscious · 7 months

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Peter Shear, "Double Knot", 2023 Oil on panel, 30 x 30cm

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casinotrio1965 · 26 days

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Disney Descendants : Canon Disney Characters and Their Pixie Hollow fairies who they gave birth to with their Laugh Part 1

Nettle | Caterpillar Shearing Talent Fairy and Princess Marie from Adventures of The Gummi Bears

....

Clank | the Tinker Talent Sparrow Man and Smitty from Dumbo 1941

....

, Spring | Message Talent Fairy and Jane Darling from Peter Pan in Return to Neverland

....

Latia | Forest Talent Fairy and Shanti from The Jungle Book

...

Lisel | Helper Talent Fairy and Princess Eilonwy from The Black Cauldron

....

Rani | Water Talent Fairy and Alexander From Pinocchio 1940

#disney descendants #descendants #disney fairies

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starker-sorbet · 1 year

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When Tony was captured at a weapons demo in Afghanistan all he thought about was getting back to his lover Peter. He was what got Tony through the torture at the hands of the Ten Rings and what inspired him to come up with the idea for an armored suit to escape in.

So it was a great shock for Tony to wake up one morning not to the harsh commands of his captors but to his loves voice calling his name and promising to heal him now he's safe. His love who was covered in the blood and gore of what was most likely the entirety of the Ten Rings who had occupied the cave, if the shear amount covering him was any indication. And the silence that was seeping into the cave.

But what shook Tony wasn't Peter's presence, or even that he was here with Tony, it was the curved horns atop his head alongside a pair of wings at his back.

And all Tony could think was 'huh my lover's a demon'.

#starker #pre iron man #kinda #demon peter #peter rescuing tony #also if your wondering about yinsen #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#i like to think peter dropped him off home with a mysteriously resurrected family #and a post on his chest saying thank you #but its up to you #moodboard #my moodboard

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mundrakan · 2 months

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Prompt: Manegro Potion

@wolfstarmicrofic - 176 words

When in the morning after the prank still no one could laugh about it, when James stared at him, and Remus just looked away, Sirius knew it needed something more, something of weight. Carefully he braided his hair and then cut it off, using his best spell game to shear off even the last bits, until only a dark shadow remained of his mane. Even Remus called him vain, so if that didn't help, he knew no more.

Yet, before noon the hair had grown back.

Sirius sheared it off again, it just didn't help. The more he cut it, the more it grew back. In frustration he gave up, only to find it at hip-length the next morning. That give him the hint after all. “Who of you dozed me with Manegro?”

Peter very cautiously raised a hand, and dropped it faster than lighting, when James' hand came up too.

“Ah, shit,” Remus cursed instead of a third raised, grabbing his potion book. “You cut it off, and we check how long it works.”

#wolfstar microfic

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jungle-angel · 3 months

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Spring Writing Prompts

It's finally hit, the spring fever is raging out of control and I'm in desperate need of sunshine, blooming flowers and green grass (lol). Taking requests for Top Gun Maverick, Outer Range, Bad Times At The El Royale, Catch 22 (Hulu), Salem's Lot, Press Play and Lessons In Chemistry.

Going outside and looking for the first signs of spring

Making a flower crown for their s.o

Picnic in the grass

Reading Peter Rabbit to the babies

Baby animals

"I picked these for you on the way home"

Waking up and hearing the birds chirping

Morning walk in the field

"Looks like someplace the elves might've lived"

Finding a fairy ring in the woods

"Might finally be warm enough for the thinner quilts on the bed"

Repairing old quilts from the attic

Warm tea for seasonal allergies

A shortcut to mushrooms

Pressing flowers

The contents of their s.o's nature journal

Tending the beehives and gathering the honey

Windchimes in the breeze

Dancing barefoot in the woods with their s.o

Getting the garden ready

"Darlin we almost bought out the garden section.......again"

Building a little village for the mice that live in the garden

Making a new dress or clothes from an old set of drapes

Muddy feet and shoes

Gathering berries and fruits in the orchards

Their favorite spot in the meadow

Feeding the highland cows (or cows in general) in the pasture

The secret garden no one else knows about

Taking in the smells of the flower garden

"Looks like the birdhouse finally has some occupants"

Painting a scene from a fairy tale outside

Shearing the sheep and spinning the wool

Scattering fallen flowers in the creek with their s.o

A little forest visitor using their s.o's hat as their bed for a nap

Fixing an old cottage and making it their home

Spring baking

Decorating for Easter

Making their s.o a cool peach tea after they've been in the field all day

Warm herb or flower bath at night

"This place reminds me of The Shire"

Fresh flowers for the morning

Tying flower sprigs on the baby's crib posts

Gathering water from the handpump

Hanging out by the pond in the yard

Sleeping with the windows open because it's almost the threshold of summer

Planting flowers for their elderly neighbor

Painting Easter eggs with the babies

Cleaning up the garden

Fixing the old stone birdbath

Hanging the wash on the clothesline to dry

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fullmoans · 1 year

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Home is a Fire | Part 4

They left Stiles out because they knew the nogitsune would tear him apart, but now the nogitsune is gone and Stiles can feel the nemeton telling him it isn’t over — not for him. And maybe not for Derek either.

It was dark when Stiles made it to a patch of land that he thought looked like it might be Hale land. At some point, Derek must’ve taken the rest of the house down but he wasn’t letting it grow over either. All that was left was a large clearing in the trees and a garden. He thought about Derek tending to a garden of poison, leaning over it to pick out weeds, carefully tending to the 20 or so plants growing in a circular patch.

How was he supposed to find a secret underground library when all he saw was a garden and a few weeds that must’ve popped up since Derek had been gone?

“You’re going to need this.” Stiles turned around to see Peter Hale leaning against a tree with a shovel in each hand.

“So you decided to help out after all?”

“Only because I think you might just be determined enough to go through with this.”

Stiles walked over and grabbed a shovel. “I don’t know where to start. Do we dig up every single one?”

“Look at them more closely, Stiles. They’re not all the same kind of wolfsbane.” Peter said, his eyes glowing.

“I don’t have your eyesight. Besides the yellow plant at the far end, they all look the same to me.”

The pair walked closer to Derek’s wolfsbane garden. Up close, Stiles could see the flowers looked different on some plants while others seemed to have been clipped cleanly with shears.

“He was dosing himself,” Peter whispered.

“Dosing himself with wolfsbane?”

“In theory, one could dose themselves with a small amount of poison in order to minimize the effects of it over time. This is, of course, incredibly dangerous, but it’s also the best explanation for a vast garden containing many varieties of it. Stiles,” Peter hesitated, “Wolfsbane has a lot of mysterious magical properties.”

“When we found Laura, it was the wolfsbane that kept her in her wolf form, right?” He asked.

“Exactly. If Derek had this many varieties of it in his system when he was burned on the nemeton, well I don’t know what that would do. Sometimes, it is used to hold a wolf in their current form, in a sort of stasis. Maybe you’re not wrong. Maybe a part of Derek is being held back.”

“I’m not wrong.”

Peter turned around and pointed to a variety of wolfsbane on the outermost part of the garden. This variety seemed to be a bright purple in the moonlight and the flowers cut back more than the others. “Nordic Blue Monkshood.”

“Kate laced her bullets with that.”

“She also burned this house down. That’s the one we need to dig up.”

So Stiles and Peter got to work. Stiles carefully dug out the plant so that he could replace it when they left. Peter dug out a deep hole until he hit something. Together, they dug the shape of a metal square, about 2 feet below the ground, until the entire door was visible and the dirt around it was packed in tightly enough that they could open it. “You first,” Peter said, leaning on his shovel and looking down.

Stiles laid his shovel down and crouched to open the door. He thought he might need to ask for Peter’s help until the door quickly swung open. Stiles could only see the top of a ladder leading down into the dark. With no phone to light the way, he took a deep breath and climbed straight into the dark.

When Stiles reached the bottom of the ladder, he reached around for a wall or something to hold onto. To his left, he felt a rail. Slowly, he took a step forward and stumbled. His foot seemed to go right down through the air. He tried again, slowly, and found a step beneath him. At the tip of his foot, he could feel where that step ended, too. He was on some kind of staircase. Suddenly, it shook with a crash.

“It’s just me,” came Peter’s voice behind him. He had decided to forego the ladder and just jumped straight down. “It’s a spiral staircase. Hold onto the railing and stick to the wider steps beside it. I’m going to find the light. Moonlight alone is not enough light even for me.” There was another crash from Peter jumping off the side and hitting a floor below them.

Stiles followed Peter’s instructions and went down the staircase. When he reached the bottom, he only made it two steps before colliding with the wall. As soon as he hit it, light flooded the rest of the room. There were a few bulbs hanging loosely from the ceiling. Peter was across the room, at the other wall, his hand still lingering on a panel of switches. Stiles studied the room between them. The staircase was immediately in front of him, an intricate, metal fixture. To his left there were 5 tall shelves with thick end pieces that concealed the books on the shelves from his view at this angle. As he approached them, he saw rows and rows of books, old and new, that seemed to be organized by subject rather than any kind of alphabetical order. The shelf farthest left contained only information with titles relating to werewolf history. The next shelf had “Beacon Hills” written on almost every item, not just books but maps and picture frames and a trunk near the bottom.

“I don’t see anything about the nemeton specifically, but there are books on Druids over here,” Peter said from another row. Stiles left his shelves and found Peter on the far right, against the wall. There were a few books with “Druid” in the title at the bottom of the shelf. Peter was crouched down in front of it, holding one of the books.

“I’ll take them all,” Stiles said. There were only four books counting the one in Peter’s hand. He could return them some other time.

Together, Peter and Stiles turned off the light, climbed to the small door, and covered the library with dirt. Stiles dug out a small circle over the library door and replanted the wolfsbane plant. You could still see their disturbance in the garden when they left. Peter had a car along the side of the road just a short walk away and drove Stiles back to Derek’s house, where his car was. They didn’t speak to each other again after they left the library. Peter didn’t seem like he wanted to chat and Stiles was trying his best not to fall asleep on the drive over.

When Stiles made it back to his old bedroom, his dad was already fast asleep. A clock in the kitchen read a quarter after midnight when stiles passed it for the stairs.

After a quick shower and a change into plaid pants, he sat cross legged on his bed with the four books in front of him. He read through them until his eyes wouldn’t focus anymore.

Stiles was freezing cold. He could feel the hair on his skin raised in the cold. It wasn’t a breeze, just a solid feeling covering him. He opened his eyes, with effort, and found himself laying on top of a large piece of wood. He was on the nemeton. He couldn’t make himself sit up so he rolled to his side. A young Derek was leaning against the stump, crying and covered in blood. Suddenly, Derek looked up at him, eyes glowing blue. When Stiles broke eye contact, he could see a girl. He remembered hearing about Paige. He looked away from her body and caught his own arms in the corner of his vision. He, too, was covered in blood. He looked closer and started to count his fingers. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… 6.

When he looked back to find Derek, it was no longer the teenage version of him but Derek as he remembered him. He had more gray in his hair but otherwise he looked exactly like he had 15 years ago.

“You have to come get me, Stiles,” Derek whispered. Hearing his voice, Stiles jumped, he sat straight up.

He felt the warm air before his eyes opened. He was sitting up in a tub of water and half-melted ice. Everything around him was white except for the nemeton, 20 feet directly in front of him. Derek wasn’t there anymore. There was no more blood. On top of the nemeton grew sprouts of wolfsbane. All different varieties and different colors that Stiles could clearly see in the light. The image jarred and suddenly young Derek and Paige were sitting at the roots again.

Stiles stumbled out of the tub of water, the warm air soothing his numb limbs. He tried to get his balance and make his way towards the teenagers in front of him. Suddenly, Paige moved her head to look at Stiles. Her eyes glowed silvery blue. Tendrils of the same silver blue light spread out from the nemeton, curling around Stiles’s ankles. “What’s taken is returned,” Paige whispered.

“What was taken?” Stiles shouted across the 15 foot distance remaining between them.

“What’s taken is returned,” she repeated again, faster. She repeated it again and again until the silver blue light was everywhere, surrounding him.

Then everything erupted into flames.

Stiles woke up screaming.

“Stiles!” When Stiles opened his eyes, he was on the floor instead of his bed. His father was running towards him, shouting his name. He rolled over with a ground to lay on his back. “What happened?” Noah grabbed his arms to help lift him up.

“Nightmare,” Stiles said. “Derek, the nemeton, blood, fire – the usual.”

“Stiles, you have to let this go,” the Sheriff said, looking away from his son and over to the growing wall of post-its, pictures, and yarn.

“I’m too close,” Stiles said. He shook his dad off and went back to the bed. He flipped through the books in front of him. “What’s taken is returned,” he whispered to himself.

“I have to go to work. Please, don’t do this to yourself, Stiles. You couldn’t have saved him.”

“What’s taken is returned!” Stiles shouted to the empty house. In one of the books he found the phrase. He didn’t understand exactly what the context was but he knew those words. He couldn’t stop repeating them. He found the phrase in a section about ancient druids and nemeton rituals. The book seemed more to gather history than to explain the rituals.

What’s taken is returned. The nemeton requires a sacrifice. We give unto thee to receive tenfold. What’s taken is returned. What’s given is rewarded.

Stiles took a deep breath. He was feeling relieved, if only slightly. He was right. There was something bigger going on with Derek, with the nemeton. He didn’t know what but he knew that it was real. It wasn’t just his grief. The nemeton, or Derek, or maybe both were trying to reach him. He knew someone who’d been in the nemeton. He knew someone who could hear its voice. He just hoped they hadn’t left town yet.

#lol #derek hale #fanfic #sterek #sterek fanfic #sterek fic #sterek fix it #stiles #teen wolf #teen wolf fix it

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arc-misadventures · 2 years

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What Are Those?! XI

Jaune: Hello? Professor Goodwitch, you wanted to talk to me?

Glynda: Hmm? Oh, Mr. Arc please come in.

Jaune: Thank you. So what is… Hmm…? What is this about?

Glynda: I wanted to talk about the files for sexual harassment claims you’ve made.

Jaune: What about them? (Sniff, sniff)

Glynda: Well you will be relived to know that the school will be releasing an official statement advising all students, facility, any, and all visitors attending, Beacon during, and after the Vytal Festival, to be advised that any attempts to sexually converse you, or any unwanted sexual advances will be disciplined to the highest extents of the law. This should hopefully deter the more rampant sexual advances towards you.

Jaune: R-Really?! (Sniff!) That’s great! You have no idea how tiresome all of this has been!

Glynda: Considering the shear number of complaints I have been given by you, and others on your behalf I can fathom a guess.

Jaune: Even if this stops a little… (Sniff) A-A little bit, things will be way… (Sniff, sniff!) Way better!

Glynda: You don’t think this will work?

Jaune: P-People are still going to flirt with m-m-me! B-But… (Sniff) No one is going to offer to be my personal… Hahaa… Personal harem member, thing… again…

Glynda: Are you alright, Mr. Arc?

Jaune: (Sniff~!) I-I’m fine! E-Everything is fine!

Glynda: You’re starting to hyperventilate…?! What’s wrong, Mr. Arc?

Jaune: N-Nothing I can’t handle! (Sniff) Oh gods… Q-Quick question! D-Did you have a shower recently…?!

Gylnda: Indeed I did.

Jaune: D-Did you p-put on any… Oh fuck… Did you put on any perfume?

Glynda: No, no I just did my hair, and my make up. Why do you ask?

Jaune: Ah-Haaa…

Glynda: Jaune…?

Jaune: Ah?! N-No reason! J-Just curious, is all! Can I go?! I-I need to c-clear (Sniff!) I need to clear my nose!

Glynda: I have some tissues if you need them.

Jaune: Won’t help! Not even close! I-I need to leave, now! Please!

Glynda: Very well…? You may leave, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Thank you! Bye!

(Slam!)

Glynda: …?

Glynda: What was that all about…?

~~~

Glynda: Hello, Bart, Peter.

Oobaleck: Hello, Glynda.

Port: Glynda, my dear how are you?

Glynda: I’m fine. But, I just had a rather odd encounter with, Mr. Arc. Hopefully you can clear some things up for me, Bart.

Oobaleck: With, Mr. Arc? I hope it wasn’t something unbecoming of him.

Port: From, Mr. Arc?! Nonsense! Mr. Arc is a gentleman through, and through!

Glynda: Indeed he is, but our interaction earlier has me concerned.

Oobaleck: Why do you need my assistance?

Glynda: Well, he said some specific things to me that meaks me believe that whatever was wrong has to deal with him being a faunas, and since you have been studying him I wonder if you could share some light on some things.

Oobaleck: I shall endeavour to do so! What happened?

Glynda: I told him how the school will be releasing a statement warning students, visitors, and such that those trying to sexually converse him will be punished.

Port: And, about time! They’re actions as of late have been disrupting my class; Much to my, and Mr. Arc’s dismay!

Glynda: Agreed. But, when I told him the news, he seemingly started to have a panic attack.

Oobaleck: Has he ever acted like this before?

Glynda: As far as I remember, no he hasn’t.

Oobaleck: Did he say anything to you during your discussion, or do anything odd perhaps?

Glynda: Well, he seemingly had trouble breathing, and he kept on sniffing deeply. He then asked if I had a shower, to which I did. He then asked if I had put on any perfume, which I forgot I to put on. Then he started to panic even more, and all, but bolted out of my office afterwards.

Oobaleck: Sniffing… and you weren’t wearing any perfume?

Glynda: Correct.

Oobaleck: Oh… Oh this is fascinating!

Port: Do you have an answer then, Bart?

Oobaleck: Indeed I do: You see, each human’s have their own natural body oder’s. And, if you smell another humans natural oder, and you find it appeasing, it means you two are highly compatible. This phenomenon is more commonly seen in faunas because of their heightened sense of smell. And, since discovering, Mr. Arc is a faunas, I have learned he has a highly acute sense of smell.

Glynda: W-Wait?! Compatible?! You don’t mean?!

Oobaleck: Because you didn’t wear your perfume to hide your natural body odour, and were in such close proximity to, Mr. Arc, he was able to smell the full brunt of your body’s natural body-odour.

Glynda: M-Meaning?!

Oobaleck: Mr. Arc now considers you to be a prime mate for him.

Glynda: W-W-What?!!

Port: Hmm… You, and Mr. Arc… I approve! It’s about time you found someone to spend your life with, and I for one think you two would make a wonderful couple!

Glynda: You’ve got to be joking?!

Oobaleck: All things considering, you are quite lucky.

Glynda: Lucky?! How am I lucky considering a student sees me… I-In such a manner, lucky?!

Oobaleck: Well, if it wasn’t for, Mr. Arc’s seemingly strong sense of self control, he may have lost control, and decided to mate with you then, and there. Such cases are rare, but they’ve been known to happen.

Glynda: …

Glynda: WHAT THE FUCK?!!

#rwby #jaune arc #glynda goodwitch #rwby oobleck #peter port #jaune x glynda #glynda x jaune #rwby arcwitch

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