if anyone was going to make art or fiction of the 2006 gang going bowling, i just need it to be known as a part of my lore as a person and what will be true for v!shelby too⊠i was on the varsity bowling team in high school. iâm good at bowling. sheâd be smoking everyone at this game. except *maybe* abolish because he can aim a gun pretty good. i also like to imagine that v!shelby knows how to shoot a gun because she would have taken classes to be prepared for self defense when dealing with werewolves before coming to Oakhurst. anyway thatâs all from me for today
i need to push the v!shelby would be a bunny agenda now. imagine the absolute gang that is a bunny, a deer (drift) and a lamb (avid). before some tragedy would befall this group of preyâŠ
Pearl took a few too many tumbles in ep 6. I don't think she'll survive the next ep (i feel like it's the last one), but she'd go down fighting for sure.
You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Housewardens
Other Parts: Vice-Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo
Riddle Rosehearts
The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the rustle of fabric as you flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a cat forcibly denied its favorite sunny spot.
The argument still hung in the air, an unspoken tension that neither you nor Riddle were willing to breachâat least not yet. He wasnât wrong, not entirely, but he wasnât right either. The impasse was as thick as the silence between you.
Determined to make a statement, you yanked the blanket off the couch arm and cocooned yourself in it, defiantly turning your back to the door. No way were you crawling back to bed tonight. Your pride wouldnât let you. Let him stew in his perfectly fluffed, oversized bed.
Meanwhile, in his room, Riddleâs impeccable composure was fraying at the edges. He lay stiff as a board under his duvet, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all his mistakes. His pillows seemed unusually hard, the blankets too suffocating, and no matter how he adjusted, something felt... wrong.
It didnât take him long to figure out the culprit: you werenât there.
He groaned softly into the darkness. Guilt clawed at his insides, sharp and relentless, each tick of the clock making it harder to bear. Heâd handled things poorlyâhe could admit that, now that the heat of the argument had ebbed. And worse, he couldnât bear the thought of you being upset, out there on the couch, all because of his stubbornness.
With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he threw off his blanket and shuffled into the living room. His breath caught when he saw you.
There you were, fast asleep, your cheek smushed against the arm of the couch, one arm dangling off the side. The sight was far too adorable for the emotional train wreck heâd become. His guilt doubled.
Riddle knelt by the couch quietly, determined not to wake you. But as he crouched there, the exhaustion hit himâof the argument, the guilt, the restless tossing and turning. Maybe just sitting here would suffice. He wouldnât disturb you.
A few minutes turned into an hour. Before he knew it, heâd slumped sideways against the couch, head lolling onto his arms, fast asleep in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable.
When you stirred awake, the morning light was peeking through the curtains. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes, the previous nightâs anger feeling like a distant shadow. That was when you noticed himâhis normally pristine figure curled up on the floor, head resting uncomfortably close to your dangling hand.
Your chest ached at the sight. The idiot. The sweet, guilty idiot.
You reached out, brushing your fingers lightly against his hair. âRiddle,â you whispered. âHey⊠wake up.â
He stirred, blinking up at you with sleep-clouded eyes, disoriented but instantly softening when he saw your face. Without a word, he shifted closer, arms wrapping around your middle as he buried his face against your stomach.
âDonât go,â he mumbles, voice thick and quiet.
You freeze but quickly recover, leaning into his embrace. âI wasnât going anywhere.â
âIâm sorry,â he mumbled, voice muffled by your blanket. âI didnât mean for it to get so out of hand.â
Your throat tightened, and you found yourself carding your fingers through his hair. âIâm sorry too,â you whispered. âLetâs not fight like that again.â
For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in quiet forgiveness. When he finally looked up at you, there was a hesitant, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
âWill you come back to bed now?â he asked softly.
âOnly if you promise to use it too. No more couch-floor accommodations,â you teased, pinching his cheek lightly.
âDeal,â he murmured, and together, you made your way backâcloser than before, warmth filling the space where anger once was.
Leona Kingscholar
The argument had been sharp, biting, and the kind of fight where you both refused to back down. Storming out of the bedroom felt dramatic enough to match the vibe, so you grabbed a blanket, stomped to the living room, and threw yourself onto the couch with the weight of your indignation. âFine,â you muttered into the cushions. âLet him have the stupid bed. I donât care.â
And at the time, you didn't. You were replaying his snarky remarks and cursing his stubborn attitude. But the couch was lumpy, the blanket too short, and sleep came grudgingly after what felt like hours of stewing.
When you finally woke, disoriented and achy, something felt...off. For starters, you werenât on the couch anymore. You were in the bed, wrapped snugly in the comforter that still carried Leonaâs scent.
Blinking against the sunlight, you sat up, confusion clouding your thoughts. At the foot of the bed was the blanket youâd dragged out last night, now neatly folded like some taunting symbol of Leonaâs existence.
And Leona himself? Missing.
You slid out of bed and wandered to the living room, where the answer to your mystery lay sprawled across the couch. The sight of him, however, made your irritation waver.
Leona was far too large for the couch. His long legs hung over the edge at weird angles, and one arm was slung over his face to block the light filtering through the curtains. He looked wildly uncomfortable, but his usual arrogance softened in sleep, his face peaceful and unguarded.
It didnât take a genius to piece it together. He must have carried you to bed sometime in the night, only to exile himself to the lumpy couch. The guy could be maddeningly stubborn, but this... this unexpected gesture had you torn between wanting to yell at him or simply kissing him awake.
Ultimately, you decided to settle for the middle ground.
Crouching next to the couch, you reached out and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. Before you could withdraw, one eye cracked open, and a lazy grin spread across his lips.
âCaught ya,â he drawled, voice rough from sleep.
You raised an eyebrow. âYou moved me to the bed, didnât you?â
He huffed, clearly uninterested in owning up to the sentimentality of it. âCouldnât leave you out there whining in your sleep.â
âI wasnât whining!â you protested, even though your cheeks were burning.
âSure you werenât,â he replied smoothly, grabbing your wrist before you could retreat. With a sharp tug, he pulled you down, practically pinning you against him. âDonât see the big deal. Youâre mine, arenât ya? âCourse Iâm gonna take care of you.â
The casual way he said it didnât make it any less sincere.
You sighed, melting into his warmth despite yourself. âI hate how sweet you can be when Iâm trying to stay mad at you.â
His smirk widened, and he tucked you closer, burying his face in your hair. âDidnât mean to piss you off,â he murmured against your temple. âBut youâre not leaving this couch till we make up. Deal?â
You rolled your eyes, but your voice softened. âDeal.â
As the tension melted away and his arms tightened around you, the couch didnât seem quite so lumpy anymore. Maybe this wasnât such a bad place to be.
Azul Ashengrotto
The argument had been tense, the kind where you both said things you probably shouldnât have. Frustrated and too stubborn to stay in the same space as Azul, you grabbed a pillow and marched out to the couch. Heâd barely tried to stop you, his pride seemingly keeping him rooted in the bedroom.
But pride was a fickle thing, and now you were left trying to fall asleep on the stiff cushions. Every creak of the floorboards made you feel a little guilty, knowing exactly who it was.
You didnât even need to look; you could feel Azulâs presence lingering in the doorway, his usual composure clearly absent. The sound of shuffling footsteps returned to the bedroom, and you thought maybe heâd finally leave you aloneâonly to hear those same footsteps inch closer again a minute later.
"Azul, I know you're there," you muttered, cracking an eye open and turning toward the doorway. Sure enough, there he was, peeking out. His glasses caught the faint glow of the hallway light, and he immediately froze like heâd been caught stealing treasure.
âI-I wasnât...â he started, before trailing off, clearly scrambling for an excuse.
You sighed and sat up, your frustration ebbing in the face of how uncharacteristically sheepish he looked. This was Azul Ashengrotto, the calculating businessman who could sell ice to Yetisâand yet he couldnât even apologize without peering at you like a child whoâd been scolded.
âIf youâre just going to lurk there all night, weâre both going to lose sleep,â you said, finally beckoning him over with a wave.
Azul hesitated for a fraction of a second before his composure cracked, and he shuffled toward the couch. âI didnât mean for things to escalate...â he started, sitting next to you, his head ducked low, voice soft.
You smirked despite yourself. âYouâre cute when youâre embarrassed, you know that?â
He bristled, his dignity rallying as he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. âI am notââ
âYouâre very cute,â you interrupted, and the smallest flicker of a pout crossed his lips.
Azul looked away, a hint of color dusting his pale cheeks. âYouâre the worst.â
âAnd you still love me,â you countered, pulling him down beside you. âTruce?â
He glanced at you, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. âTruce.â
Apologies came in murmured exchanges after that, both of you acknowledging where youâd gone wrong. You knew youâd both let pride get in the wayâtypical for two people as headstrong as yourselves.
Eventually, Azulâs head rested on your shoulder, his warm weight grounding you. You leaned back against the couch, and despite its discomfort, it felt perfect with him there.
âYou know,â you whispered, running a hand gently through his hair, âfor a guy whoâs made half of Twisted Wonderland sign contracts, you really canât stand your ground for the life of you.â
Azul huffed, turning his face into your shoulder to hide. âDo you want me to apologize again?â
You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. âNope. I think Iâll just enjoy this.â
And with that, the two of you finally let the tension of the argument melt away, falling asleep together on the couch in an imperfect, perfectly âyou and Azulâ sort of peace.
Kalim Al-Asim
The argument had been uncharacteristically heatedârare for someone as sunny and easygoing as Kalimâbut even he had limits, and so did you. When your stubborn streak flared, it ended with you grabbing a blanket and storming off to the couch.
âNo, Kalim, Iâm fine. You sleep in the bed, Iâll sleep here,â you snapped, cutting off his attempts to follow you. His face fell, but for once, he didnât argue, retreating to the bedroom with a defeated slump of his shoulders.
You burrowed into the couch cushions, determined to stay mad, but as sleep started to claim you, the anger dulled into annoyance. It didnât matter. He started it, you thought stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter.
A soft rustle of fabric woke you, tugging you from the edges of sleep. Blinking groggily, you turned your head to see Kalim crouched beside the couch, carefully tucking another blanket over you. He had his tongue poking out slightly in concentration, his touch so gentle that it was clear he didnât want to wake you.
âWhat are you doing?â you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep.
Kalim flinched, looking at you like a startled puppy caught raiding the kitchen. âOh, IâuhâI just thought you might be cold, so IâŠâ
He trailed off, clearly expecting you to brush him off again. Instead, you sighed, your irritation melting as you realized just how ridiculous he looked, trying to coddle you even while you were angry at him.
âCome here,â you said, sitting up and pulling the blanket back a bit.
âWhat? No, I donât want toââ
âKalim.â
His protest crumbled immediately, and he slid onto the couch beside you, tucking his legs up awkwardly. You wrapped the blanket over both of you, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Kalim relaxed into the embrace, resting his head against your shoulder.
âIâm sorry,â he said quietly, his voice small and earnest. âI didnât mean to upset you.â
You sighed, tilting your head to rest on his. âIâm sorry too. I overreacted.â
He perked up slightly at that, his usual cheer trying to peek through. âSo⊠does this mean you wonât sleep out here alone again?â
âYouâre lucky Iâm even letting you under this blanket, Asim,â you teased, though your smile softened the words.
Kalim beamed, his arms wrapping snugly around your middle. âI knew you couldnât stay mad at me forever!â
You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning back into the cushions. The couch wasnât exactly built for two people, but the warmth of his presence made it easy to ignore. Slowly, you both drifted to sleep, Kalim murmuring sweet nothings even as his breaths evened out.
Maybe next time, you thought sleepily, youâd just let him win.
âYou can have your perfectly fluffed pillows and skincare routine in peace,â you muttered, tucking yourself in with a spiteful sense of triumph.
Vil Schoenheit
The argument left both of you simmering in silence, which for Vil was a rarity. Instead of his usual icy composure, he seemed genuinely rattled. You, however, werenât in the mood to care. Grabbing a blanket with theatrical flair, you stomped to the couch.
Once comfortably cocooned, you scrolled on your phone, trying to drown out the lingering annoyance. Thatâs when you heard itâsharp, purposeful footsteps marching toward you.
Before you could react, Vil appeared like a vengeful storm god, looking every bit as flawless as a deity would while furious. With a huff that could make kingdoms tremble, he reached for your arm and began dragging you back to the bedroom.
âVil, what are youâlet me go! Iâm fine out here!â you protested, but his grip was firm, his annoyance palpable.
Once you were unceremoniously deposited by the bed, he turned to you, pointing at your neatly made side. âYou are sleeping there,â he declared.
You folded your arms. âIâm sleeping on the couch. Deal with it.â
He tilted his head, his expression a dangerous blend of frustration and disbelief. âAbsolutely not. Youâve ruined my entire evening, and now you expect me to suffer further by sleeping alone?â
âRuined? Seriously?â you shot back.
âYes! I require my beauty sleep, and I canât possibly get it knowing youâre out there, sulking on a couch. Itâs impossible to relax without you next to meâso you, are going to have to take responsibility!â
The sheer audacity of his statement left you blinking. It was so dramatic and entirely Vil that you couldnât help itâyou laughed. Not a little chuckle, but a full-bodied, slightly wheezing laugh that made you clutch your sides.
Vil crossed his arms, arching an offended brow. âI fail to see whatâs funny.â
âYou,â you said between giggles. âThis whole âitâs your fault I canât sleep because I love youâ nonsense. Youâre ridiculous.â
He didnât deny it. Instead, he sighed, and once your laughter subsided, he gestured to the bed again, this time more softly. âPlease. Donât make me sleep without you.â
You relented, sliding under the blankets. As you settled in, Vil switched off the lights, the room going still.
âIâm sorry,â he said quietly after a moment. His tone was sincere, lacking the sharp edges from earlier.
You shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him gently against you. âIâm sorry too.â
Vil let out a contented hum, nestling into your hold. With your body heat mingling and the earlier tension dissipating, it didnât take long for both of you to fall asleepâtogether, as it should be.
Sleep came in patches, your mind replaying the fight in a loop. At some point, the dull ache in your bladder forced you to stumble toward the bathroom. On your way back, you froze, hearing quiet, panicked murmurs drifting from Idiaâs room.
Idia Shroud
The argument had been roughâsharp words, bitter edges, the kind of fight that left your chest heavy. It didnât matter how much Idia stammered his way through an apology or tried to explain his side; you werenât ready to hear it yet. So, in an act of frustrated finality, you grabbed a blanket and retreated to the couch, refusing to spare him another glance.
âOrtho, what do I do? I think I really messed up this time,â his voice wavered, thick with worry. âThey probably hate me now. Like, actual hateâno respawn, no restart. I mean, who else would put up with me? Iâve completely blown it.â
You sighed, anger ebbing as guilt trickled in. You hadnât meant to push him that far, and his usual self-deprecating spiral sounded more frayed than usual.
Pushing the door open, you caught the tail end of Orthoâs voice. âBig Brother, you shouldâoh!â His robotic eyes darted to you, scanning the scene. A moment later, he gave a tiny thumbs-up and practically zoomed out of the room, leaving you and Idia alone.
Idia froze when he noticed you. His shoulders hunched as if he could shrink his already wiry frame. âI-I didnât mean for you to hear that. Sorry for being pathetic. Again.â
Rolling your eyes fondly, you stepped forward and opened your arms. âCome here, you dramatic dork.â
His eyes widened, hesitation etched into every inch of his posture. When you didnât move or drop your arms, he finally shuffled over, nervously slipping into your embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him securely, and his entire body seemed to deflate as tension drained out of him.
âI thought you werenât coming back,â he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder.
You huffed softly, rubbing his back. âIdia, I wasnât leaving. Just... needed space to cool off. And honestly, hearing you lose your mind over it made it hard to stay mad.â
âCool. Cool, cool, cool,â he mumbled, the words tumbling in an embarrassed rush. âUm, does this mean...?â
âIt means I still love you,â you interrupted gently.
His grip on you tightened for a moment before he pulled back, pink dusting his cheeks and his hair glowing pink at the ends. âIâm sorry,â he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it.
âIâm sorry too,â you replied, kissing his cheek and earning a startled squeak.
Together, you made your way back to bed. As you settled under the blankets, his fingers tangled hesitantly with yours. The argument seemed miles away now, replaced by the steady warmth of simply being with him.
âIâll try to be better,â he murmured into the quiet.
âYouâre already enough, Idia,â you replied, squeezing his hand.
And as you drifted off to sleep, you felt his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles, grounding both of you in the quiet comfort of reconciliation.
Malleus stood frozen for a moment, processing your declaration, and you could feel his pout even with your back turned. "You do not need to sleep on the couch," he finally said.
Malleus Draconia
The argument left both of you tense, and you were too mad to deal with Malleus' brooding silence. Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off toward the couch, refusing to even glance at him. "I'm sleeping on the couch," you announced. "Goodnight."
"I'm not changing my mind," you shot back, tossing the blanket onto the couch for emphasis.
There was a brief, sulking pause. Then, he went quietâsuspiciously quiet. You peeked over your shoulder just in time to catch him crossing his arms with a look of smug triumph spreading across his face.
âMalleusââ
Before you could finish the thought, a flash of green lightning struck the couch, reducing it to a pile of ash with alarming precision. You stood there, jaw dropping as the faint smell of charred upholstery wafted in the air.
"Well," Malleus said, ever so matter-of-factly, "it seems the couch is⊠out of commission. A most unfortunate turn of events."
You turned to him, dumbfounded. "Did you seriously just smite your own couch?"
He looked at you expectantly, his lips pressed into an overly calm smile. "The bed is still available," he offered, gesturing toward the bedroom as though that solved everything.
Your anger reignitedâif that was even possible after witnessing such sheer audacity. Without a word, you dropped your blanket onto the floor, flopping down dramatically as if making it your personal mission to out-stubborn a dragon fae.
He stared at you in bewilderment, clearly expecting a different outcome. For a long moment, he didnât move, as though trying to process your act of defiance. Then, with an audible sigh, he finally caved.
âAlright,â he said softly, crouching to your level. His eyes held a rare vulnerability. âI⊠overreacted. I apologize for upsetting you.â
You bit back a smirk, pretending to be unimpressed even as you felt your resolve softening. "I wasnât thrilled about it, yeah."
Malleus tilted his head, something of a pout returning to his expression. âWill you come back to bed, then? The floor hardly befits someone so precious to me.â
âOnly if you promise not to zap anything else," you teased, finally relenting as you reached out to take his offered hand.
He helped you up gently, his grip firm but careful, as though he feared breaking you. âI cannot promise to never act rashly in defense of my love,â he murmured, leading you back to the room.
Settling into the bed together, you couldnât resist poking at him one last time. âYou really destroyed your own couch just to keep me near you, huh? You know they make coupleâs therapy for this, right?â
He chuckled softly, pulling you close. âI would smite an entire castle if it meant you stayed by my side.â
âNoted,â you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldnât hide the warmth in your chest. As you both drifted off, tangled in the sheets, you couldnât help but think how absurdly lucky you were to be loved by someone so dramaticâand so utterly devoted.