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bigoltrashpile · 11 months

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I’m been trying to wrack my brain for a proper MerMay prompt but it’s the last day and I still have nothing so uh freebie I suppose it just has to be mermaid related lmaooo

OH SHIT LAST DAY OF MERMAY LET'S DO IT

As long as you could remember, you'd been fascinated by the ocean. Its so beautiful, yet terrifying. Endless, dark, and full of absolutely fascinating life. So, as soon as you were old enough, you immediately began your marine biology degree.

College was hard, but you loved learning about the different ways animals and plants could survive in such an extreme environment. You loved it! But you really wanted to be out on the ocean, instead of just in the classroom. So after years of pinched pennies, searching your couch cushions, and a swear jar, you finally got together enough money to buy your own boat.

It wasn't anything fancy. Just a little sailboat, equipped with a motor, a cramped cabin below decks, and a bit of a leak. It was small, but it was yours. As soon as you had the chance, you took it out on the sea.

Your hands were practically shaking in excitement as you unfurled the sails. It was a cloudy day, with a storm predicted for later that evening, but that wasn't about to stop you. If worse came to worst, you could always stay in the cabin until it blew over.

Finally, you were underway. You stood on the bow, the wind whistling through your hair and the sail above you billowing. You took in a deep breath, relishing the slight sting of salt. This was where you belonged, on the open sea.

You spent most of the day sailing, just enjoying being out on the water. After a while, you couldn't even see the land anymore! Around sunset, you finally decided to head back, when-

CRASH!

You yelped as a bolt of lightning struck the water. It was about a mile away from you, but it still felt incredibly close. You looked up at the sky. The rain was beginning to fall now. "Shit," you muttered. You frantically began to put the sail up. It would be useless in a storm, and you didn't want it to get struck by lightning. It seemed like you would have to rely on the motor. The old, shitty, half-broken motor. Great.

You dashed to the back of the boat, already soaked to the bone. The rain was coming down in sheets now, and the lightning seemed to be coming closer. You reached the motor and-

It didn't start.

"Come on!" you groaned in frustration. You tried to start it again. Nothing. Third time's the charm, and...

It started! It sounded like it had smoked a pack a day for thirty years, but it was working! No sooner did you feel relief, when-

A horrible sound. A mix between a crunch, a scream, and a squelch. The sky was dark now, but in the brief flashes of lightning, you could see a horrible red staining the water.

You gasped. Immediately, you turned off the motor. It wasn't important now. Something was hurt! You leaned over the side of the boat, desperate to see what had happened.

The light from the setting sun was completely blocked by the heavy clouds. You squinted, trying to see through the dark and the pouring rain.

CRASH!

The lightning and the thunder were almost inseparable now. In the flash, you saw something.

A skeleton.

Or, at least, the skull of one. You could just see their eyesockets peeking above the water, glaring right at you with burning red lights. It was alive! With a gasp, you fell back, your ass hitting the deck hard.

A skeletal hand appeared on top of the gunwale. The skeleton...thing's sharp claws dug in so hard that you were sure you heard the wood splinter. The other hand appeared, and then the rest of it.

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, just as the skeleton pulled itself onto the deck. It had wickedly sharp teeth, and a long, angled face. Scars covered its bones, but the three claw marks over its eye socket were especially noticeable. You couldn't move. You couldn't scream. All you could do was stare as your certain doom drew closer.

You managed to tear your eyes away from the skeleton's teeth (the teeth that would probably tear out your throat, you thought) and noticed its lower half. It was...a fish. Bloody scales and a tough, muscular tail replaced the legs of the skeleton. Finally, you knew where the blood in the water came from.

"Y-you're hurt," you managed to squeak out. "I can help! Please don't kill me!"

That seemed to give the skeleton, or, mer-skeleton, pause. It glared at you, eyes full of malice. You met its gaze, trying hard not to be intimidated. If it could understand you, maybe you could find a way out of this. If not, well, at least you would go with some dignity.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the skeleton collapsed. Its arms couldn't seem to hold the rest of its body up anymore. The blood loss and shock was getting to him. You jumped up and ran over to his side.

There was a huge gash in the skeleton's tail, but you couldn't get a proper look with the blood covering it, and the rain obscuring your vision. "I'm going to take you inside, okay?" you finally said.

The skeleton snarled weakly, but didn't fight when you threw his arms over your shoulder. With a lot of effort, and a bit of help from your unexpected guest, you managed to drag him into the cabin.

Now that you were inside, and a lot closer, you could see a lot more details. You carefully laid the skeleton down on the floor. The first thing you noticed was how big he was. The torso was a bit above average, for a human, but the lower half was easily seven feet long. Looking closer, the tail seemed to be that of a tiger shark, littered with more scars. You couldn't worry about that, though. The gash in its side was more pressing than just admiring him.

Wait. When did you start thinking of it as a him?

You quickly pushed that thought away. "Stay here," you told him gently. You gave him the best smile you could manage, before racing off to get some supplies.

You quickly gathered towels, a tub of warm water, and the first aid kit that you had, thankfully, remembered to put under the sink when you first bought the boat. You returned to find the skeleton, now leaning heavily against the wall, looking ready to fight his way out. His head was held high, teeth bared, and arms out, making himself look bigger.

You approached carefully, trying to give him a wide berth in the cabin that was barely bigger than he was. "It's okay," you said soothingly. You tried to keep your voice calm and low. You lowered yourself to the wound. "I'm here to help. Don't worry."

"YOU? HELP?" The voice that came out of his mouth made you jump. He could talk??? "YOU'RE THE ONE THAT TRIED TO KILL ME IN THE FIRST PLACE."

"I-I-" you stammered. "You can talk?"

"I'M NOT AN IDIOT."

"I never said you were!" you tried to defend yourself. "I just...thought you were a fish...skeleton...thing. But that's not important!" You shook your head. "I study fish! I know how to help!"

Before you could blink, the skeleton's hand was around your neck. Your instincts kicked in, and you tried to pull his hand away. It was no use, his grip was like a vice! "Don't Try Anything, I Won't Hesitate To Rip You Apart," he growled low in your ear.

You swallowed hard, feeling the claws prick your neck slightly. Frantically, you nodded. After another long moment, the skeleton let go of your neck. "GOOD."

Shaking, you knelt down to his side. Now that you were close, you could see that the gash wasn't too deep. It hadn't hit bone, at least, but there was no sign that the bleeding was slowing. You carefully soaked a towel in the water, before beginning to clean the wound.

For about five painfully awkward minutes, the skeleton stared down at you in silence. The only sound was the rain pounding against the deck above you, and the slosh of water as you soaked the towels. After a while, you cleared your throat awkwardly. "So, um...what's your name?"

"....NOIR."

"Nice to meet you," you said awkwardly. How do you make conversation with a mermaid skeleton thing while trying to heal a wound that you caused? "Do you...live around here?"

Noir rolled his red eyelights, finally looking away for a moment. "YES, I 'LIVE AROUND HERE.' I WAS SIMPLY HUNTING IN THE RAIN, BEFORE YOU SO RUDELY TRIED TO MURDER ME."

"I didn't try to murder you!" Now that you weren't about to die, you could appreciate his voice. It was rough, but not grating, and a pleasing tenor. "It was an accident! I was trying to get out of the storm, but...it didn't work. Obviously."

You sighed. "Okay, the blood is slowing down, but I think I'm going to need to suture it. Is...that okay?"

"OF COURSE. I CAN HANDLE A FEW MEASLY SUTURES."

You smiled. "Alright! Just hold still, please."

Very carefully, you began to stitch the wound shut. Noir sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. As if to play it off, he spoke again. "WHY WERE YOU OUT HERE IN SUCH A STORM?"

"Oh! Well, I really like the ocean," you admitted. "I'm actually studying marine biology..." That seemed to pique his interest. "And I finally managed to buy this boat, but...I guess I picked a bad day for a test run," you laughed weakly.

"I SEE." He looked away, finally. "WELL....THANK YOU." The words seemed like they were a struggle to get out.

You beamed up at him. "Of course! It is my fault you got hurt." You finally finished the stitches. They looked crooked and honestly kind of shitty, but not too bad for your first attempt, and on a shark skeleton no less! "Well, you're all patched up."

Noir seemed surprised, like he hadn't noticed. "AH. THAT WAS QUICK."

The two of you sat in silence for a moment. "You might not be able to swim well for a while...do you...want to stay the night?" Noir's eyes were back on you, but his bone brows (?) were high in surprise. "I-I'm not going anywhere tonight, obviously, but you're welcome to sleep here. Get your strength back up, I don't know, you can take the bed, of course, and..." You trailed off, incredibly awkward.

"I...I GUESS IT CAN'T HURT. I WILL STAY FOR THE NIGHT!"

You smiled. "Great!" You carefully helped him into the bed, trying hard not to jostle him too much. Even though his tail hung over most of the bed, he seemed okay, if a bit awkward. It was probably his first time in a bed, you thought to yourself absently.

You tried to make yourself comfortable on the floor, but...it was hard. The deck leaked, so you kept getting hit by raindrops. The floor was hard and cold, and you only had the spare blanket to cover yourself. As soon as you were about to fall asleep, you would get snapped back awake by the water or by a large wave.

"OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE." Noir's voice made you jump once again. "THIS IS PATHETIC. GET IN HERE."

"But...you're in the bed?"

"WE CAN SHARE, AND YOUR CONSTANT MOVING AND SHIVERING IS KEEPING ME AWAKE!"

"How is me shivering keeping you awake-"

"JUST GET IN HERE!"

You giggled before carefully climbing into bed. You tried to keep your distance, but the bed was too small. Almost half of you was hanging off the bed, until-

Noir's arm wrapped around your shoulders and tugged you closer. "Relax, I Won't Kill You."

"O-oh. That's a relief." You were glad it was dark, or else he could see how flustered you were. "Um...I'll try to not bother you again."

"Good." Even though you were no longer hanging off the edge of the bed, Noir's arm didn't move. If you didn't know better, you would think you were...cuddling. Now that you were close, you could really appreciate Noir's face. Now that he was relaxed (and no longer about to murder you), he was very handsome. His sharp cheekbones, the scratches over his eye, the deadly teeth...

Finally, you closed your eyes. You could worry about those feelings in the morning. For now, you were just going to relax, and share a bed with your new friend.

#writing #papyrus #papyrus x reader #noir #undertale #undertale imagines #mermay #underfell #my garbage #i kind of went overboard with this one #lmao overboard #like boats #anyway i hope you enjoy!

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idiopath-fic-smile · 7 months

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this one goes out to all my Singin' in the Rain ot3 truthers—

Cosmo Brown had always known it would end like this.

Cosmo was a lot of things—in fact, you could argue he was too many—but he wasn’t dumb.

From the early years, when Cosmo and Don were just kids playing for pennies in pool halls, to their stint dodging rotten vegetables on Vaudeville stages across the very backwaters of America’s backwaters, to their first real breath of success in Hollywood (and then the second and the third and the fourth), Cosmo would catch a glimpse of his handsome, charismatic friend from the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair, that perfect tooth powder ad smile—and know that for all Don’s protestations, someday the guy was gonna meet a wonderful girl and get married, settle down, and very gently slip off to the far edge of Cosmo’s life.

So yes, Cosmo had seen Kathy Selden coming. Not the details, not her sense of humor or her musical little laugh or the madcap way she really threw herself into dancing with them around Don’s place at 1:30 in the morning—and okay, certainly not the part at the beginning where she had jumped out of a cake at a party, but he thought a fella could be excused for not correctly divining that.

The general outline of the thing, though, how Don’s eyes followed her around a room...he had been preparing for Don to propose to Kathy ever since she’d tried to throw a pie at Don’s face. And when the happy day came, Cosmo had been ready with his best man suit, his best man speech, a slightly updated version of “Here Comes the Bride” that’d had Don and Kathy laughing all the way down the aisle.

Don and Kathy would buy a house together. They would have a swimming pool and a dog and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little snot-nosed kids who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing!

Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise.

“What?” said Cosmo, hands frozen over the piano keys. He’d been busy with a brand-new assignment; on the heels of The Dancing Cavalier, offers were pouring in and he’d taken the first one scoring a movie that didn’t star anyone he was secretly in love with.

Don had looked a little wounded when Cosmo broke the news last week, but a guy had to start making his own way in the world. Besides, orchestrating layers of strings to swell as the camera zoomed in on Don and Kathy blissfully locking lips in radiant monochrome, oblivious to the rest of the world—well, Cosmo knew that dance, he had mastered the footwork, and he didn’t especially feel like a reprise.

It wasn’t lost on him that Kathy had dropped by his rehearsal space alone today. Of course, he had no idea what this meant—he didn’t think it was about the new job; Don didn’t tend to stay sore at him for that long—but Kathy was acting perfectly natural, and so probably the smart thing was to follow her lead.

“It’s a two-week transatlantic cruise,” she said now, gracefully dropping beside him on the piano bench. “We thought it would be nice to see Europe, take in the sights, get away from all the cameras.”

“Ah yes, such a wallflower, our dear Don,” said Cosmo solemnly. “Besieged on all sides by the love of his public, a tragedy of our times, up there with Lear! Hamlet! Caesar! The one with all the Greeks and the giant wooden horse, nay, nay, neigh.” He played a tragic little trill, for effect. Kathy huffed a laugh and smacked his arm.

“You know that’s not it,” she said. “Being watched all the time—we can’t always do what we want. It’s rotten.”

Tell me about it, thought Cosmo.

He was sort of seeing a fight choreographer named Archibald, who came from old money and was a “the third” or a “the fifth” but nice enough Cosmo might even forgive him for that. Archibald was trim and athletic, with dark brown hair that was just starting to go gray at the temples and enough discretion that Cosmo didn’t think they’d get caught. The only problem was that he didn’t laugh at Cosmo’s jokes, seemed to just tolerate them.

“What do you two even talk about, then?” Don had asked, when Cosmo had let this slip over drinks the same night he’d explained about the new movie project. (Cosmo had been trying to spend less time with Don and Kathy since the wedding but Don had said, “C’mon, pal, we miss you” and Kathy had laid one hand on his arm and peered up at him with her big green eyes and Cosmo was only one man.)

Cosmo had frowned, because Don hated Archibald, for reasons that were frankly mysterious. Then he’d looked up and grinned a grin he didn’t exactly feel and said,

“Tell you when you’re older,” and then Don had choked on his dry Martini even though Cosmo knew Don knew about Cosmo’s tendencies. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Cosmo had never properly gone with a guy before, but whenever a big-shot producer started complaining about all the degenerate queers in showbiz, Don always sharply steered the conversation someplace else. It was all very gallant and noble and knightly, and someday Don would play King Arthur and Kathy his lady Guinevere—

“Honestly, sometimes it feels as if we’re living in a fishbowl,” said Kathy now, in the present.

“And so your solution is to relocate,” said Cosmo, “to the biggest fishbowl on this here magnificent earth. The mighty ocean!” He struck up a sea shanty. “Oh blow the man down, blow the man down / way ay, blow the man down…”

Not everyone appreciated his musical flights of fancy, but when Cosmo turned, she was leaning with her elbow on the side arm of the piano, watching him with her chin on her hand and laughing.

“Just for two weeks,” she said. “So, are you coming?”

“With you two,” said Cosmo, just so there could be no misunderstandings. “On your one and only honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Kathy.

“As what, your first mate?”

“Sure.” She grinned and threw him a quick salute. Cosmo was almost never attracted to women but in this case, he understood the appeal.

He swallowed. “You are aware of that ancient saying, ‘Two’s company and three’s a fast track to divorce court’?”

“You’re hardly a threat to our marriage, Cosmo,” she said, and he agreed, of course, in both directions, even, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. For want of anything better to do, he gasped, clutched a hand to his chest and reeled backwards so hard, he threw himself off the piano bench, landing in a somersault on the floor.

Kathy spun around fluidly on the bench to face him, pleated skirt whirling a little, heels of her shoes clicking together.

“Oh, I said that badly,” she said. “I only mean that it’s more fun when you’re around. We have a better time, Don and me both. Remember the night we decided to make Dueling Cavalier a musical?”

“Do I remember the best night of my life?” Cosmo peered up at her from the hardwood. “Why yes, madam, now that you mention it, I believe it might ring a bell or two.”

“The best—” She frowned for a moment, and he remembered then that as a newly married woman, a newly married woman to Don Lockwood, no less, she’d no doubt experienced any number of evenings that blew that one out of the water.

Even besides that, it felt awfully revealing all of a sudden. Cosmo threw an arm over his eyes. He felt naked. He wished he was naked, because that might at least distract from whatever his face was doing.

“So it beats your time with Archibald, then?” said Kathy shrewdly.

Cosmo uncovered his eyes. He forgot, sometimes, that new as Kathy was to the moving pictures business, she was still a city girl, with a city girl’s worldliness. Also, Don had probably told her; that seemed like the kind of second-hand secrets married people shared with each other. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hardly a topic for mixed company,” he said.

There was a pause.

“So yes,” she said and smiled with a smugness that would’ve been unbecoming were she not as cute as a button.

“What do you and Don have against the poor man anyway?” he groused. “He’s never done so much as sneezed in your direction, and if he did, I’m sure he’d use a handkerchief.”

“For one thing, we know you could do better,” said Kathy, folding her arms.

Cosmo elbowed his way back to sitting, brushing himself off with dignity. “Well, better’s not exactly knocking on my door right now.”

“This town doesn’t have an ounce of sense.” She reached down to offer him a hand up, pulling Cosmo to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. “Listen, two weeks away, it’ll be good for you.”

“What about you two?” Cosmo protested as he reclaimed his spot on the bench, Kathy sliding to make room.

“What about us?” said Kathy with wide eyes.

“Two newlyweds might want some alone time?” he offered weakly.

Kathy shrugged. “I told you, there won’t be reporters or cameras. It’ll be plenty private.”

“What about your matrimonial needs?”

“Which needs?”

His eyes narrowed; she was a terrific actress but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was buying it. Kathy wasn’t dumb either.

“You have to know what I mean. Don’t make me play Cole Porter at you,” said Cosmo. She hesitated, and Cosmo began to pluck out a melody: “Birds do it, bees do it / even educated fleas do it…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s do it,” sang Kathy, finishing the stanza in her lovely alto, “let’s fall in love.”

Cosmo stopped playing.

“I do know,” she said simply, “of course I do, and we’re not worried about it, alright? Listen, do you want to go?”

Cosmo, who had been carefully not asking himself that question, stared down at the piano keys. Did he want to go? He thought back to that night at Don’s, the three of them giddy with excitement and inspiration and sleep deprivation, running through the house, clowning around and dancing with no audience except each other—he hadn’t felt like a hanger-on then, like a third wheel or an extra limb or a chaperone. He’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, one note of a perfect chord.

Still.

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“They’ll have lifejackets,” said Kathy.

“I’ll have to work.”

“We’ll bring a piano.”

“All my houseplants will die,” said Cosmo.

“All your houseplants are fake,” she said. This was true, although he wasn’t sure how she knew since she’d never been to his house. She sighed. “Remember the night of that first screening, when you were about to expose Lina and instead of explaining what was happening, Don told me I had to sing, that I didn’t have a choice?”

He winced, thinking of Kathy’s heartbroken, tear-stained face before they’d pulled up the curtain and revealed who was really singing when Lina moved her lips.

“Yes, and I feel just awful about it.”

“Well, Don doesn’t,” said Kathy. “Because he knew it would take too long to convince me to do something that mean to her.”

“Mean?” Cosmo echoed. “She tried to trap you in a lifelong contract and steal your voice. A common sea witch wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“But there wasn’t time,” she pressed. “And anyway, he knew how it would end.”

“What’s your point?”

“We already bought your tickets,” said Kathy.

Cosmo gaped at her.

“We’ve cleared the trip with everyone at Monumental and anyway, like I said, we’ll have a piano on the boat.”

Distantly, he was aware his mouth was still hanging open. Kathy reached over with one light finger under his chin and gently closed it.

“That’s better,” she said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. It was around this time she seemed to realize it wasn’t some routine, that Cosmo really was well and truly stunned. “Of course, nobody is going to force you to go with us if you truly don’t want to,” she said into the silence.

“These tickets,” he said at last, “are they refundable?”

“Gosh,” said Kathy easily, “I can’t imagine they are, no.”

The thing was, none of them were hurting for money or work anymore, so the fact that Don and Kathy might be out even a few hundred dollars didn’t catch at him the way it might’ve some years earlier. No, the thought that really seized his imagination was the mental image of Don and Kathy planning this together, Don and Kathy discussing the matter with each other, maybe over breakfast—toast and coffee in their dressing gowns, so sure it was the right thing to do that they’d decided to just go ahead and make preparations: oh and a ticket for Cosmo, of course.

He could do it, he realized. He could go. He wanted to go. It was foolish, but Cosmo was an entertainer; he’d been doing foolish things in front of a roomful of witnesses since he was in shortpants.

“I’ll pack tonight,” he said.

“Perfect!” Kathy hopped off the bench and straightened out her dress. “And bring something nice to wear at dinner for a night or two; it doesn’t need to be black-tie formal, a good suit will do.”

He nodded. “I shall leave the top hat and monocle at home. Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes, and another half-day on either side flying to the harbor and back.” She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “The itinerary,” she said. “Don and I are so glad you’ll be coming.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cosmo. “Say, where is that fella, anyway? What’s the big idea, can’t even stick around to ask his best pal to his own honeymoon?”

“He’s planning the trip,” said Kathy brightly. “Last-minute details. Anyway, he thought you and I should have a chat, one on one. He thought it might help.”

He blinked. “Help what?”

“Help us,” she said.

It was all starting to feel like a farce, like one of those old Vaudeville acts with a lot of fast talking.

“Did it?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Kathy warmly. She turned and began to walk towards the door. “See you at the airport tomorrow. Six AM sharp.”

“Six AM,” he said, and then, foolishly, “You know, I can see why he likes you.”

Kathy dimpled. “Oh, likewise!” She tossed him another smile and then she was heading out of sight down the hallway, shoes clacking rhythmically on the tile.

“Well,” said Cosmo to no one. He felt pole-axed, he decided. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt pole-axed in his life before, but there was no other word for it.

He played a chord, then another chord, then a few more.

“Pole-axed,” he sang, “out of whack, when you are near there’s only one drawback: I can’t be clever, no I lack the knack, Darling, I’m pole-axed, out of whack around you!”

It wasn’t exactly Cole Porter, but he’d take it, he thought, reaching for his pen. There was still an hour or two left before he’d need to race traffic home and dig out his suitcase. Apparently, he had early morning plans.

(ETA: if you didn't see, there is now a second part here!)

(ETA THE SECOND: the whole finished thing is now here!

#singin in the rain ot3 #i might write more idk but listen like you can probably imagine the rest of it #old-timey polyamorous shenanigans on a boat #pretty straightforward stuff #there's singing there's dancing and somehow don managed to 'accidentally' book cosmo in an adjoining bedroom etc etc

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