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koririmao · 5 months ago

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mouthwashing oc x canon

curly groaned as he reached for his blaring alarm clock on the bedside table, slamming the stop button with an uncoordinated smack. he sat up, stretching until his joints popped, a groggy sigh escaping his lips.

it amazed him that in just three months, that obnoxious sound wouldn’t be a part of his mornings anymore. hell, he wouldn’t even know if it was morning— pony express would be out in the vast expanse of space by then.

the blonde boy grabbed the marker sitting next to his alarm clock and drew an emphatic “X” over today’s date on the calendar.

just as he shuffled toward the kitchen to make breakfast, his phone began to ring. curly smirked as the familiar tune, “chug-a-lug” by roger miller, broke the morning silence. he didn’t need to check the screen; he knew exactly who it was.

“bello?” he answered, voice dripping with playful sweetness.

“bello, curly!” a loud, cheerful voice practically shouted back, the sheer energy crackling through the speaker. “congrats on actually waking up to your alarm for once!” she teased, her laughter bubbling through.

curly chuckled, the sound low and rich, vibrating from his chest. “oh, shut up. you know i’m trying my best,” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

the caller let out an exaggerated, theatrical sigh. “guess this means i don’t have to call and wake you up anymore, huh?”

clutching his chest with mock drama, curly groaned, “oh, woe is me! however will i survive my day without the dulcet tones of miss spume’s voice?” his laugh came out cheeky, the sound lighting up the morning.

“anyways, i’ve gotta go. the cruise is packed for the whole day, and i’d better get my five cups of coffee or else the titanic might just get a new friend,” she quipped, her voice laced with playful mockery.

“catch ya later, captain” spume chimed, sounding almost too cheery for the morning.

“bon voyage! hope you have an amazing time at sea. don’t forget to send me a few pictures of the view! safe sailing, captain.” curly replied, his voice light but genuine, just before the call was abruptly cut off.

it was chaotic, yes— but to him, it was just another ordinary morning.

“daisuke, seriously?! AGAIN?! this is the fourth time this week, boy! don’t you kids have any decency left?!” swansea’s voice rang out, furious as he glared at the younger man.

“hey, hey, enough of that. what’s going on here, anyway?” curly strode over, eyeing the scene—daisuke crouched on the floor, hands shielding his head, while swansea stood, poised to strike.

“i-i-i was just... i-i clogged the toilet... again. i-i’m really sorry, curly! i-i can fix it! i just need—” daisuke stammered, words tumbling over each other in a rush.

“hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. i’ll fix it. i insist,” curly said with a reassuring smile.

“a-are you sure?” daisuke asked, his eyes wide, waiting for confirmation. curly simply nodded, offering a calm, confident smile.

“oh thank you, thank you, thank you, captain! you really are the best!” daisuke sprang up, bowing repeatedly, practically groveling in gratitude.

curly chuckled, patting him on the back, urging him to stop. “no need to bow or anything, kid. just looking after my crew,” he said, grinning.

swansea raised an eyebrow. “what’s got you in such a good mood this morning? i thought you hated mornings.” he gestured to the fine print on curly’s mug, which read: ‘not a morning person.’

curly’s grin widened. “ah, well, when you have an alarm clock with such a lovely voice, who wouldn’t wake up in a good mood every morning?” he gave a soft, almost dreamy smile as he took a sip of his coffee.

anya’s pov

there he goes again. he didn’t mention her name—yet—but god, it’s so fucking annoying.

probably my least favorite word in the dictionary. i mean, seriously, spume? a word for froth or foam? her destiny of working at the sea was sealed the moment she was born.

and yet, fate somehow decided to tie her and curly together. no matter how different they are, no matter how many choices they make that lead them down different paths, they always find a way back to each other.

i want that.

i need that.

i need him.

but with that purple-haired bitch still breathing, i can only dream... but what if i could do something about it?

no, no, that would be absurd. scandalous! how would captain curly react if he found out his innocent, anxiety-driven crewmate murdered his so-called ‘best friend’—the one he’s clearly in love with?

no, i need to think. how can i pull this off without him ever suspecting it was me behind everything?

i continued my exploration of the basement, my flashlight flickering over the cluttered floor.

and then it landed on something strange—an old rag doll, looking more like a twisted relic than a toy.

its body was punctured with pins and needles, its porcelain eyes gouged out of their sockets, and only six threads of yarn remained for hair.

that’s how.

i quickly snatched the doll, shoving it into my pocket with a swift, practiced motion, then turned on my heel and walked away from the box as if nothing had happened.

every step felt heavier, like i was carrying a secret—one that could either be my undoing or my salvation. but I wasn’t scared. not anymore.

you will be mine…

~~~

three months later…

“do you really have to go?” spume whined, her arms tightening around her best friend as she buried her face into his chest. curly let out a soft chuckle, patting her gently on the back.

“mm, afraid so. gonna miss me?” he teased, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. spume pulled away slightly, looking up at him with teary eyes, nodding slowly in response.

but the sentiment wasn’t shared by everyone on the crew—specifically, by the raven-haired girl standing nearby, her gaze burning with quiet, simmering with jealousy.

it’s time. she thought to herself, the smile on her lips hiding the dark thoughts that swirled beneath.

as the crew boarded the spaceship, anya stole one last glance at spume through the circular window, a flicker of doubt passing through her. was she really about to do this?

but when her eyes shifted to her blue-eyed crush, who blew the girl outside a playful kiss, something inside anya snapped.

without a second thought, she retrieved the doll from her pocket. the yarn was now a sickly shade of purple, stained by markers, and the doll was dressed in a cheap, slutty sailor two-piece with a matching hat—borrowed from an old barbie. it was meant to be spume. or at least, anya's distorted version of her.

in a fit of frustration, she grabbed one of the doll’s legs, twisted it violently, and yanked it apart. she turned to the window, waiting for some kind of reaction—some sign that her actions had worked. but nothing.

it didn’t even fucking work.

useless piece of shit. no wonder you were abandoned in the basement.

anya sighed, brushing the stray bangs from her face, her heart racing with a mixture of anger and anticipation. she walked slowly to her new bedroom in the rocket, frustration still gnawing at her.

even if the doll didn’t do anything, the feeling of ‘torturing’ spume without actually laying a hand on her was enough to send a thrilling rush through anya’s veins.

she grabbed a pin and jabbed it into the doll’s hands, feeling a twisted satisfaction as she watched it sink into the fabric. then, she twisted one of the doll's arms, snapping it with a cruel tug.

satisfied, anya placed the ruined doll beside her lamp, staring at it for a moment. with a smile creeping onto her lips, she curled up on her bed and drifted off to sleep, the thrill still humming in her chest.

two thousand three hundred and eight meters. you’d think spume was crazy for even attempting to rock climb that height, but the truth was, she had scaled far greater peaks and always emerged victorious.

this was el capitan, a towering granite monolith found in yosemite national park. known for its daunting elevation and technical routes, el capitan was the perfect challenge for experienced climbers—and captain spume was no stranger to either traditional or free climbing.

it was her escape, her sanctuary, whenever she managed to steal a few days off from the constant motion of the ship—when she wasn’t seasick or hiding behind the façade of exaggerated energy to keep the crew and passengers entertained.

she’d done this countless times before, and every climb had been a success. what could possibly go wrong?

right?

but as her foot hit the edge of a jagged rock, the unthinkable happened. a sharp, excruciating pain shot up her leg, and in an instant, her knee dislocated, its joint violently slipping from its socket. she lost her footing, tumbling off the ledge.

now, she found herself dangling over the abyss, one thousand four hundred and six meters above the ground. only her eight fingers gripped desperately to the craggy edge, holding her fragile body weight with each passing second.

her heart pounded in her chest, a cacophony of panic and disbelief. she had never had an accident before. never. but in that moment, she realized: there was a first time for everything.

her muscles strained, attempting to push herself up, but then—

sharp, searing pain. like needles piercing through both her palms. she cried out, her grip faltering as the sensation intensified. in an agonizing moment, her hands gave way entirely, and with no warning, she was falling.

time seemed to slow as she plummeted, her body spiraling toward the ground. her head collided with a small pebble nestled in the grassy field beneath the mountain, the impact jarring her senses.

everything went black.

hours later, a local biker, cruising along the winding trail, spotted the odd sight of two sneakers sticking out from the ground. curiosity led him closer, and that’s when he found her.

lifeless.

she was rushed to the hospital, but the prognosis was clear. spume, the fearless climber, the indomitable captain of the seas— was gone.

as spume’s soul ascended toward the heavens, a faint pull on her consciousness stopped her. her gaze wandered downward, and she saw it—curly’s spaceship. a flicker of hesitation washed over her, and before she could move on completely, she decided to check on him, one last time.

but when she entered, she was met with an unexpected sight. a raggedy doll lay in the middle of the room, a grotesque parody of herself. its form was disfigured, limbs severed at unnatural angles, and the fabric appeared worn and violated.

curly’s ship had always been filled with oddities, but this? this was different.

her breath caught as she examined the doll closer. the missing limbs mirrored the intense pain she had felt during her fall—the agony of her knee dislocating. the pins embedded in the doll’s hands caused a flash of recognition, recalling the sharp, needle-like pain that had coursed through her palms as she lost her grip on the cliffside. it was undeniable.

it was her.

but who would do this?

who would dare desecrate her life like this?

why would anyone—especially someone associated with curly—create such a grotesque tribute to her?

desperation clawed at her as her thoughts raced. answers. she needed answers.

without thinking, driven by a surge of anguish and the need to understand, she possessed the doll, allowing her essence to seep into the plush fabric.

she lay still, suspended in the lifeless toy, her heart pounding in the silence. she waited, unable to move, unable to cry out. she could only wait for the owner of the room to return and provide the answers she so desperately sought.

finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, faint footsteps echoed through the room. the door creaked open, and anya stepped inside. she closed the door behind her, turning to the doll, her voice flat as she greeted it.

“hey.”

the last thing she expected was for the doll to respond.

“hey”

the word echoed in her mind as her heart skipped a beat. she stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor, her back hitting the door. her hand instinctively reached for a nearby coat hanger, which she pointed at the toy as though it could protect her from whatever madness she was plunging into.

“y-y-you talk?! o-okay, what the fuck is happening?” she stammered, her voice shaking with disbelief. she laughed maniacally, the sound hollow in the quiet room. “i’ve been chasing after curly’s love for so long that i’ve lost my damn mind. now i’m even hearing the doll respond to me…”

she curled into herself, pressing her palms against her stomach in an attempt to calm the rising panic.

then came the voice again, sharp and sarcastic.

“wait, wait, wait... you like curly? is that why you made a voodoo doll based off me and abused the fuck out of it?”

anya jumped, startled by the words—it spoke again—and her pulse quickened.

“s-so you do talk…” she muttered, shivering from the sudden realization. She cleared her throat, standing up slowly as she dusted herself off. “y-y-yes, a-and? w-w-what are you gonna do about it?” she tried to sound tough, but her voice betrayed her anxiety.

before spume could reply, anya cut her off, her curiosity overwhelming her.

“wait... if you’re here, but you’re supposed to be on earth... and now you’re a doll... wait...” anya’s eyes widened as the pieces began to fall into place. “did you...?”

“bingo-bango! your little scheme worked, and now i’m dead as a rat. congrats, i guess?” spume’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, though there was a tinge of sadness in it too.

anya froze, her heart racing in a cocktail of fear, surprise, and something else��joy? she didn’t know anymore.

“w-w-wait, that wasn’t the plan… i just... i wanted you to be unattractive for curly… i didn’t mean to...” her voice trailed off, the weight of her actions crashing over her. she curled into a ball on the floor, her sobs rising as tears poured down her face.

“i’m such a fucking monster... curly would never love someone like me…” she choked, her sobs wracking her body.

but spume didn’t leave her in the misery.

she hopped off the table and onto the bed, and gently, she moved towards anya. without a word, spume wiped away anya’s tears with her fabric hands, the salty liquid soaking into the soft material.

“hey, hey, don’t say that…” spume’s voice was soft, soothing in its quiet reassurance.

“one thing i know about curly, even if the most sinful person came begging on their knees, he would still forgive them… just tell him how you feel, anya.” spume smiled gently, her voice encouraging as she urged anya to take the risk, to open her heart.

anya’s sobs quieted, her tears slowing as spume’s words seeped into her like a balm. she wiped her face with shaky hands and nodded, determination slowly taking root in her chest. “you’re right. he deserves to know. he also deserves to know that his best friend will... no longer be greeting him when he comes home to earth...”

she carefully cradled the doll in her hands, now feeling a strange bond with the very thing she had once cursed.

“thank you, spume,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “i’m sorry i... let my emotions get the better of me...”

“no worries, girlie,” spume shrugged it off like it was nothing. “friends?” she asked, extending her fabric fingers toward anya.

anya managed a smile through the tears, gently shaking spume’s hand with her thumb and index finger.

“friends.”

-end-

#mouthwashing #curly #captaincurly #anya #swansea #daisuke #ponyexpress #slay #oc #orignalcharacter #fic #fiction #fanfiction #ocxcanon #heeeyyy so i actually dont know what to do with my life anymore but i wanted to post this so yeah we're doing that #stay slay my babies #mwa #au #alternative universe

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