The book o' random Oneshots

Slow start

Bet you didn't expect.... THIS! ta-da!

Perfectly wholesome little book that Wattpad can't take down! But, y'all can still enjoy some of the silly lil oneshots and drabbles I make, for those of you who can't visit AO3. :)

Enjoy!
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Horror holds two large eggs in his hands, watching the pan warm over the stove as he prepares to make breakfast. He examines the soft specks on their shells, round and smooth, and he thinks of the chicks Sticks raised on his farm that one spring. He cracks the eggs on the counter, and gets to cooking.

Horror picks at his breakfast. He wants to eat. He wants his magic to be strong. He wants to be healthy. So, so bad. Horror looks up at his mates, chattering happily and smiling at each other over the table. He wants to be good for them. He wants... Horror pauses and tries not to make a face when he looks down at his plate. There's no point to eating today. The delightful scent of eggs and sausage in the air makes him feel sick.

He looks carefully over his mates, waiting until none of them are looking or really paying attention to stand up and slip into the kitchen, where he can put his plate into the fridge and sneak away to his room. Flee. It's in his nature to flee. Fighting has always seemed like too much of an effort. Hell, he let someone else pick his name because he just didn't want to come up with something. Killer had been so helpful in supplying one... He liked it. He kept it.

Picking out names, huh? Horror pushes open his door and doesn't leave it ajar when he closes it. It's a strange feeling. Normally his room is always open. A space for the others to retreat to when the loneliness of their own rooms seems like an enemy. It feels wrong like this. Cut off. Stagnant. Like a pond with no telling ripple of life at the surface. Like his mates are a whole world away. Horror settles onto the side of his bed, listening to the familiar creak of the springs as an uncomfortable sting settles in his cheeks.

He can't even cry about it. Something about that feels so unarguably pathetic. Horror grasps at the hem of his shirt and breathes out a long, shaky sigh. He'd never really thought about it before. Kids. Baby bones. Soulings. He had Paps to raise, that was enough responsibility for him, thank you. They didn't need any more mouths to feed. It'd be downright wrong to bring a souling into the world he lived in even if he did want one. Then again, he'd never really been particularly interested with anyone in his AU... Well, the passing flame(hah), sure. That's one thing, but he'd never had a meaningful, romantic kind of relationship until... Until here. Until now.

He'd never been without someone little to coddle and love on until now. Sugar, who named himself (unlike Horror, who was just too lazy to pick one), was all grown up now. The nest was empty. Horror was on his own, and yet, less alone than he'd ever been before. He has four, wonderful, beautiful, strong mates. They're all... His world. His everything. Horror manages a tear. Isn't it greedy to want anything more? It's not possible, not right, the time is all wrong. They're on missions constantly, Night and Dream's multiversal conflict of interest is still a raging storm...

It would be still unfair to bring a souling into this situation. They'd only be in danger.

But... They'd always have a full belly. They'd always have someone to look out for them. They'd be so loved. He knows how badly Cross wants a family... they'd talked about it a few times. Horror didn't understand it, when they first talked about it, but right now, Horror understands perfectly. He'd never been one to get broody, not even after his heats, which were a rare thing these days. Yet, right now, out of nowhere, this feeling takes him. It's completely unprovoked and irrational, but he suddenly completely understands why Cross was crying, when they talked about that.

Dust was scared, apprehensive about the idea of a souling... But Horror has seen him with kids. He's so good with them. Not scary, small and unthreatening, but still big enough to pick them up and play with them. He's afraid to mess up, with a souling. Horror knows he's too good in the soul for that. Killer loves the idea of carrying in theory, but he almost picked a fight with Cross when he suggested it once. He'd hate being bedbound and having to go to doctor's visits. He doesn't like the idea of accidentally passing on some of his weird soul traits either. He's not necessarily good with kids, then again, Horror doubts he'd give a knife to a kid. Hits too close to home. So that's a start.

Horror smiles a little at the thought. Killer is clumsy, but he's sweet where it counts. He's good at the physical kind of comfort, the holding and the rocking. Talking people down isn't his strong suit, but it's easy to imagine Killer holding a fussy souling in his arms and pacing around the room in leau of rocking them in one spot. Restless, but inventive. He'd like feedings. And bedtime stories. And hugs. And Night, stars he's such a wonderful ward. He's so kind to them already, he's kept them all this time with everything they could ever need or want for. Stars, he would spoil a child rotten.

They would have everything. Even without peace in the multiverse, they'd be so well taken care of... Horror's claws tear into his sheets, his chest heaving. It's so unfair. He misses being well. He misses having the choice. It's so hard to ignore this feeling of loss, of emptiness, when there's such abundance here. Isn't that ironic? Isn't it awful of him? Horror crawls under his sheets, pressing his face into his pillow and trying to ignore the ache in his skull.

Just... What if? His soul aches. Realistically it's hunger pains, but it only makes him think of small little soulings. Tracing the blurry outline of a little white soul within his rusty red magic. And what a sacred thing that is, the connection between soul and souling. What he wouldn't give to feel the first sparks, the first kicks. He'd put up with anything, sore back, sore legs, sore everything, crying, fear, sadness, anxiety, just to feel the joy and love when he held their souling.

Horror startles as something clicks against his nightstand, turning around to see Nightmare weilding a soft grin and a smoothie. A hardcover book sat on his nightstand. Nightmare sits down on the edge of his bed, kicking off his slippers and scooting up next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Horror heaves out a weak sound, reaching out for his hand. Nightmare's deft, small fingers twine up in his own. Horror aches with the thought of smaller hands, little feet and big cries. "I'll never... Be able ta give ya... A Souling." The magic that makes up his voice is gruff and rocky, too faint without anything to fuel it.

Nightmare smiles down at him so so lovingly, pressing a kiss to his skull as he helps him to sit up. "Not yet... My love. But there will be a day."

Horror makes a wounded sound as Nightmare encourages him to take the smoothie. The intent seeping into his hands is warm and caring, concerned and protective. It's all Cross. Horror sighs out some of the tension in his shoulders.

"Don't feel like it."

"I know... But love, your magic is stronger each day. You've been holding onto it so well lately. You're making progress. Don't discount yourself that."

"I know... I just... Miss it. Havin someone lil to look after all the time," he mutters.

Nightmare frowns a little, "it feels lonely, doesn't it."

Horror winces, "yeah."

"Horror, you're one of the strongest people I know... Have I ever told you that?"

Horror gives him a sideways glance, taking a sip of his smoothie as he laughs.

"I mean it." Nightmare's voice is so real, so firm, completely unarguable. Horror can almost believe it. "You'll make an amazing parent one day."

The magic Horror just took in from just a few sips of smoothie is immediately wasted on tears.

"You take such good care of all of us," Night says softly, "and one day... near or far," he continues, placing a hand over the one Horror has balled into his shirt, "I know you will take the best care of our little ones."

Horror aches, but it makes him smile. "Think so?"

"I know so."

Horror sighs, leaning his skull onto Night's shoulder, "one day?"

"One day."

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Remember to attain an appropriate amount of human sustenance, take your meds, and have a good hydration. Don't forget to have a wonderful day, either! Much love from a mothy friend. This is it for my time with you today, But I do hope you enjoyed this chapter you silly little butterflies.

- Arca