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#i want to disect him and pin him to my wall like a bug
void-ink-studios · 6 months
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Wrath of the Wishmaster
You asked, you shall receive.
Thanks for helping me clear my writer's block. I might write more scenes that happened prior to this, but enjoy what's here for now! Might post to AO3 later, who knows?
Enjoy babes!
Word count: 2,500
There were many things Scarab did not understand about the Wishmaster, Prismo.  Many… Many things.
Why did an all powerful being decide to spend its eternity making pickles and writing fan fiction of the universes he observed?  Why, of all things to add to the featureless Time Cube, was there a hot tub?
And why, above all, did he tolerate all of Scarab's... strangeness?
Because no one liked bugs.
That was the lesson Scarab had learned in his eons of existence.
No one liked bugs.  At least, not the kind of bug he was.
Of course, people like butterflies.  They liked to watch the pretty and dainty little things as they flutter along.  But only from a distance.  People still recoiled if they got a good look at their face.  Or anything that reminded them that they’re bugs, and not just living little splashes of color.
And Scarab was no butterfly.
He was a beetle.  Was?  Is?  He wasn’t sure anymore.  So much of himself had changed since he first emerged from his burrow.
And yet, there was Prismo, calling his little chirps and trills "cute." Encouraging him to find places in the Time Room to burrow and hide and crawl.
There was Prismo, who didn't recoil at the site of his real face. Who saw his strange mouth and eyes and decided to kiss it all over, rather than hide it behind his mask again.
So no, he did not understand many of how Prismo operated. But Scarab was not about to complain. He felt more alive in his own shell than he has in eons. He kept his mask off more often than on these days. His hidden arms had seen more exercise than ever before. He was starting to remember the strange language of chirps and trills and buzzes from his old home.
Of course, there were still bad days. Days where he had to sit still and stare at something stationary just to remember what direction was up. Days where he crawled away into one of his hidden nooks to tremble out of sight.
He had been reluctant to let Prismo in on those days, at first. He held up walls and scooted away and flinched enough to get the Wishmaster to back off for quite a while.
But, as he came back into contact with himself, and as Prismo called him beautiful and quirky, rather than disgusting and unsettling, the walls came down.
He wasn't ready to tell him what happened to his antenna and wings. But, Prismo was at least there to turn the screen wall to something calming. Or to rub his aching back and shoulders on days where he could do little else but shake.
It was... nice. He hesitated to call it wonderful, but it really was. Much better than a bug deserved, but he was not about to remind Prismo of that.
No, he had Orbo to do that for him.
He knew he had grown far too comfortable with Prismo when he heard the orb roll into the Time Room, loudly calling for his buddy the Wishmaster. Who was not currently there, but instead tending to his pickles for the moment. He trusted Scarab to watch the main room for any wishers, which he had been doing diligently from his perch on the ceiling.
Scarab froze, stuck to the ceiling like he was pinned there.
Maybe if I don't move, he won't notice I'm here.
It was a nice thought. But when had the universe been nice to him before?
"Uhm... Scarab? Mate? Whatcha doing up there? I thought we cleared up a while back that that creeped people out."
Scarab stayed silent as he crawled back down the wall. He ignored the way Orbo visibly shivered at his method of locomotion, standing at attention once his feet touched the floor.
He unconsciously made a nervous, light buzzing sound, his mouth parts clicking together as the orb stared at him like a disection project.
"So, what's all this then? You think just because Prismo's not here, you can do whatever you want? I thought we talked about this forever ago, Scrabs. You might be just a bug, but you got raised to the pantheon. You gotta act like it."
Orbo rolled to look around the Time Room. Scarab reached gingerly for the remote, trying to alert Prismo to their visitor.
"Seriously, I still feel bad enough for Prismo to get stuck looking at you when you were at your best. If he's stuck with you, it's the least you could do to not creep the guy out. That's not how you show appreciation, Scrabs."
Scarab tried to tune it out. He wasn't creepy, not to Prismo, Prismo called him beautiful, insect traits and all. Orbo swung around to look at him, now noticing his face.
"Where's your mask, man? No one wants to see the horror show your kind calls a mouth. It's bad enough when we have to watch you eat, you can at least put the rest of it away."
Scarab felt small. Tiny. Just like he did when he first met Orbo, who took one look at him, and decided he wasn't meant for the glittery Judgement Hall. He barely even noticed when he shuffled the plates back over his face.
"Much better. So, where's Prismo then? Not like I came all this way to talk to you, right?"
Orbo laughed. Scarab didn't. He just kept his eyes trained to the floor, still quietly chirping to steady his nerves. His world started to feel tilted. What he wouldn't do for his cane right now.
"Cut it with the noise, mate. It's like you've forgotten you're a god or something. You want to go back to the dirt? Is that it? I can talk to Boss for you, if that's what you want."
"...No. That won't be necessary."
"That's what I thought. Now, where in Glob's name- Oh, Prismo! Buddy, there you are!"
Scarab didn't look up to acknowledge the Wishmaster's presence. He felt so tiny. Just like a gross little bug pinned to the wall.
"...What are you doing here, Orbo?"
That made Scarab look up. Prismo's tone. All the warmth had been sucked out of his voice. There was an edge to it. One that the beetle had never heard before, not even during the whole Fionna and Cake disaster.
"Aw, mate, can't I just come check on my good buddy? It's been ages since your last party, man. Us at the office are just itching to groove again. We'd love to see you!"
Prismo's expression was unreadable. Scarab wasn't used to not being able to read the Wishmaster, he was usually an open book. The blue eye shifted between Orbo and Scarab subtly.
"Just haven't been in the partying mood, Orbo. I've been having some friends over for board games, I guess, but I'm not planning on a party any time soon."
The star core seemed to catch Prismo's shifting glance, turning his attention back to Scarab. The beetle stood ramrod straight. Partially to not draw attention to himself and partially to prevent his body from shaking on uncertain legs.
"Oh. Prismo, buddy, why didn't you say anything sooner?" Orbo rolled back over to Scarab, smirking.
"Say what sooner?"
"That this dude was killing the vibe in here! I mean, I totally get it, I wouldn't want a party either if that was lurking in my place somewhere."
Prismo's expression hardened.
"Scarab's not 'killing the vibe' Orbo. He's been nice to have around, he plays board games with me, Cos, and Death."
Orbo rolled his eyes.
"Prismo, you're cool. You don't have to keep it quiet for his sake. Just say the word and I'll find something else to do with him. It's not the first time he failed to learn a lesson."
"I'm not keeping anything quiet. I like having him around. He's actually pretty cool when he's got the space outside of work, and you're being, like, really uncool, Orbo."
Scarab was stunned. He'd been the only one to ever really talk back to Orbo. He'd never expect someone to do it on his behalf.
"What? Me, uncool? Pris, c'mon, mate. You're allowed to say he's creepy, we all know it. He's a bug. You know, those little creepy crawlies? I thought I trained most of the creepy stuff out of him by now. I know you're everybody's buddy, but you really need to make sure the lesson stays in his head if you don't want him weirding you out. Like, I came in here and he was on the ceiling! Looked like a ghost or something. And without his mask! I thought I made it clear his face is a horror show. Thank Glob I got him to put it back on before you had to see it, bud. It's a real doozy, I'll tell ya."
The beetle wasn't looking at Orbo anymore. No, he was watching the growing horror on Prismo's face. Horror not directed at him for once.
"Dude, Scarab's not that bad. A bit uptight when he's stressed, but still a pretty cool dude. Why should he have to hide so much? This is the Time Room, you're supposed to relax in here."
"Oh, Prismo, you sweet dream child. Scarab's not cool. He's not like us, you know?"
"Like us?"
"Buddy, you're the dream of one of the greatest living wizards in the multiverse! I'm the core of a collapsed magic star! That's where gods like us are supposed to come from! Scarab though? He's just a bug. A creepy crawly cockroach that somehow made it up from the dirt he's meant for."
"Didn't he manage to take down a galactic level threat that you couldn't catch?"
"He got lucky." Orbo looked annoyed. That usually ended well for no one. "Knew I should've finished his punishment before he came here..."
"I thought this was his punishment."
"Oh, no, I'm talking about his punishment for trying to start a revolt. Went over my head to the Boss! All over that nonsense with that unauthorized universe of yours. I was gonna take his legs. Maybe should've pulled out his other arms as well. I still can, if you wanted me to, mate."
The silence in the Time Room was deafening. Scarab has seen a lot of expressions on the Wishmaster's face. Contentment, sadness, boredom, amusement, joy, frustration, all of it.
But he had never seen rage. Not until now, anyway.
"What?"
Orbo seemed to completely miss the change in atmosphere, as he carried on just as before. "Oh yeah, it seems to be the only way he actually learns. Thought the antenna would be enough, but nooo, Mr. Buggy Bigshot still thought himself better. I really thought the thing with the wings would've gotten through to him, but I guess not."
The lights in the Time Room went out. Not even the stars from the void outside shed much light into the cube. Scarab never thought he'd miss the sickeningly bright yellow of the Time Cube, but he's permanently paint his shell its color if it would turn the lights back on.
"You. Did. WHAT?"
There was a guttural hiss coming from where Prismo once was. Blue what replaced by a bright purplish pink, staring down at Orbo and Scarab. A friendly smile was replaced with jagged teeth. Fingers replaced with claws. And a growl rumbled through the cube.
Scarab didn't think. Just acted. He opened himself a passage into the lower levels of the Time Room, scurrying in as fast as his legs could carry him. He could faintly hear Orbo yelling after him, but he ignored it completely. The adrenaline let him ignore the pain, ignore the feeling of constantly tipping over. All his instincts told him was run and hide.
He crammed himself into one of his many makeshift burrows, backing as far into the hole as possible.
Prismo was angry, he knew that much. Anger meant pain. Anger meant he'd lose another piece of himself. What would it be this time, he wondered.
It didn't matter he knew Prismo would never hurt him. It didn't matter he knew he probably couldn't be hurt like that while in this form. All he knew was to curl up and hide.
And so he did.
He shook, in fear and pain, and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. But he didn't dare come out of his cubby.
So he waited.
He didn't know how long it was until he felt the familiar tingle of light against his back. He flinched, a frightened trill falling unwillingly from his throat.
"...Scarab? Sweetheart, are you there?"
...At least he sounded like Prismo again...
"...Yes... Yes, I'm here."
"Good, good. I... I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I don't like what I am when I'm like that but... What Orbo was saying... Your wings..."
Scarab felt his elytra twitch under Prismo's touch. The ragged scraps of wings shivered as well, as the beetle sighed out a soft little chirp.
"...It is the way of things, Prismo... Orbo is not the only one with thoughts like that. It's what I've been taught for eons. No one likes bugs, after all."
There was a long silence after that. Prismo was looking at him with a sad calmness. He reached his other arm into the hole, petting a hand over the parts of his face he could reach under the mask. The bug shivered pitifully into the touch, trying and failing to resist the urge to lean into it.
"...You deserve better, Scrabby."
That's what did it. That's what broke the dam.
Scarab wept into Prismo's hand, shaking hard enough to make his carapace rattle.
"Shh... It's okay, honey... Can you come out here?"
It was slow. Almost painfully so. But he managed to peek his head out of his hiding spot. The Wishmaster gave him a kind smile, if not a sad one.
"Can you let me see you, beautiful?"
Scarab hesitated. Orbo's words echoed in his head, loudly, cruelly.
"...I'm not pleasant to look at, Prismo... Much less beautiful..."
"Nope. Not true, Scrabby. C'mon. Let me see that pretty face of yours."
"Prismo..."
"Please, Scarab?"
The beetle sighed. His face plates shivered again, tucking behind his head. His eyes stared, wide and wet at the Wishmaster. A soft kiss was planted on his forehead.
"There we go. Much better."
Scarab refused to start bawling again. Instead, he climbed the rest of the way out of his burrow to curl against Prismo's chest.
"You don't have to worry about Orbo anymore, by the way. He won't be coming back. Not for a few eons, at least."
Scarab didn't choose to question it. Not right now at least. Instead, he closed his eyes as Prismo's hand pet gently over his aching back, the beetle unconsciously opening up the elytra. The dream's hands were always careful when working around his sorry wings. They made the ache go away.
Scarab began chirping. Softly, at first. But it slowly grew, morphing into a simple, but filling cricket song. He heard Prismo softly join in with a light humming.
He might've been just a bug.
But it turns out at least one person likes bugs after all.
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