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dennis learning to make the bed to jack abbot standards. sheets tucked at the corners and he can't deny it does make it easier not to climb back into it of a morning where he is exhausted but has to go to work
robby and jack having to get used to the fact that dennis sheds socks like it's his fucking life mission. and complains every morning about never being able to find a matching pair
robby and jack have never agreed on a washing up liquid scent. the kitchen sink is a cold war zone where jack has some organic patchouli and cardamom one going and robby is a genuine fan of target own brand green apple
the lift in jack's apartment building breaks and dennis gets to witness robby in full speakerphone terrorist mode at the kitchen table calling the building super to get it fixed. jack is like it's only the second floor, i can manage but secretly is really very smitten w robby over the whole thing
dennis isn't a big Art fan but they want him to have his own stamp on the apartment, so robby takes him to a local art show/fair (I feel like that would be something he enjoys) and asks him which is his favourite (some abstract expressionist piece in greens and golds and blues) and then by the time they come back around someone's put a little red dot on it. dennis doesn't really know what that means and robby is like oh, that means it's sold and dennis is lowkey disappointed until the next day when it shows up pride of place in their hallway.
they both fuck up a farmers market and are like aw. let's take the farmboy :) dennis is like these people are not farmers PLUS we would shop at an airport hangar size Costco most of the time PLUS why are all these city yuppies cosplaying my culture. have you ever set foot in an abattoir.
dennis has a huge fleece/oodie style pullover with sheep/mountains on it that they both assume he has stolen from santos and think is so tacky and disgustingly ugly until one of them asks whether she's going to be wanting it back and he's like oh no :) this is mine! isn't it sooo cosy :)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Rescued Whumpee/Character stuff where theyâre past the life-or-death phase and starting to recover
Sleep debt - Character whoâs exhaustion catches up to them, falling asleep on car rides / watching movies / anytime theyâre not actively doing anything while they recover
Lost strength - Character struggling do a lot of things they used to be able to do easily, like open sealed containers / take long walks / go up stairs
Zoning out - Character whoâs not all there a lot of the time, having difficulty paying attention to conversations and consistently needing to be brought back to the present
Tremors - Character whose hands shake most of the time, everyone around them pretending they donât see it but they do. And every time they canât help but be reminded of before, when their hands were steady
Hunger - At first, Character seems to pick at their food, reluctant, getting sick more often than not. Later on, once theyâre used to consistent meals, their appetite is back tenfold - they slowly start to branch out, they learn to cook/what they like, and eventually get back to a healthy weight
Showers - Character isnât strong enough to properly wash themselves yet, but able to try. Caretaker starts to notice when their hairâs greasy/tangled after they shower alone, and offers to help again. When Character is stubborn, they suggest alternatives (dry shampoo, just brushing Characterâs hair out, helping only on the bad days, etc).
Talking - Character who has a hard time speaking after the event. Either due to trauma, injuries that affect their speech, what have you; the most Character can do at times is hum, and when they are able to speak, itâs quiet and with a lack of confidence. Caretaker eventually learns to slow down and listen with patience
Anxiety - Formerly outgoing and adventurous Character now struggling with panic attacks, afraid to do the things they used to take for granted (grocery stores, activities, sometimes even just going outside). When theyâre able to start doing these things again after months/years of work and building up to it, they finally feel free. They cry from relief and happiness the first time they come home from taking a trip to the grocery store by themself
@polarspaz My contribution to post-Chris finding out and Leon getting drunk! (And inspired by your art also based on that conversation.) Going to finish the angst reveal at some point (since this is all canon to plague of carapace) but for now we get the silly shenanigans of these two!
...
Chris was⌠well, to put it simply, Chris was a little stressed.
First, there was the whole B.O.W. incident. Second, was running into Leon. Now, seeing Leon would have been enough of an emotional rollercoaster by itself, considering the distance between the two men for the past several years. But this entire debacle was particularly noteworthy, namely because Leon had transformed into a giant fuck off bug.
A bioweapon.
After much shouting and accusations and verifying they werenât going to kill each other, Chris managed to weasel the story of how it happened out of Leon. The man (or⌠bug?) remained quite tight lipped about some specifics, but Chris got the gist. Spain sucked, parasites sucked, cold sucked. And Leon? Leon was a B.O.W. now. Still him but also⌠not.Â
So. After that incidentâwhich would definitely feature in Chrisâ nightmares for several weeksâand learning the specifics why Leon had been so absent for the past few years, Chris decided it was high time they actually sat down and talked. This time, without any bioweapon secrets looming over their heads.
Which was how Chris ended up here: in some bar in D.C. he didnât remember the name of, with Leon (looking human, this time) seated next to him. Initially, conversation had been a bit strainedâthey hadnât really talked in years, and those years had been filled with silence and bitter absenceâbut slowly they had found common ground again.Â
Chris regaled Leon with a story of one of his newest squad members and a prank turned food fight. Leon explained the many pros and cons of living in Alaska, which led to discussion of Jack Londonâs Call of the Wild and from there to the latest hits in books and movies. Leon was of the strong opinion that the classics were better, while Chris was trying to defend his picks of Transformers and the 300.Â
For the most part, they both stayed away from the topic of work, and the bioweapon in the room.
As the evening wore on, Leon kept downing entire bottles of beer. His words had started slurring a good hour ago, and he waved his bottle around like a man possessed. He was, in a word, trashed. While Chris was a bit concerned for the manâs liver, he chuckled and let Leon indulge. God knows Leon needed it. Leonâs need to get hammered also became even more apparent as drink loosened his tongue.
âIsh like, soooo cooold,â Leon grumbled. âAnnnd you knooow what? I donâve ssshoes. Or a coat.â The manâs nose wrinkled in disgust. âMy ass hurrrtss. Froozen.â
Chris patted him on the arm. âSorry, Leon.â
âIsh not fair!â Leon protested, gesturing vaguely towards Chris. âI like coats. I wanna coat.â The man huffed, looking unfairly miserable for a full grown adult drunk off his ass. âSâ also like. I ssssuck at doors. Doors hate me. Annnnd⌠tiny. Tiny things.â
âDoors donât hate you, Leon,â the BSAA captain said, while privately chuckling at the absurdity. He was glad Leon felt comfortable enough to⌠relax a little, in his presence. They may have really only known each other predominately in passing, and through Claire, but Chris had enjoyed meeting Leon before the man had all but vanished. But, that was past. And right now, Leon was frowning at Chris uncertainly.
âAre you suuuuure the doors don hate me?âÂ
âIâm sure, Leon,â Chris affirmed, patting Leonâs hand. âRelax, big guy.â
Leon slumped, shifting to prop his head on one hand, the other still clutching his beer bottle. He must have been swinging his legs, because Chris could feel Leonâs feet knocking against Chrisâ shins. âI don like beinâ big,â the man lamented, taking another swig of alcohol. âBigâŚbug⌠bug shucks!â With that eloquent statement, Leon kicked his legs harder.Â
Except⌠Chris went rigid as he realized it felt less like something hitting his legs⌠and more like something wrapping around them. Adrenaline spiked as Chris kicked his feet, Leon grunting as Chris bent down to look. His alarm climbed higher as he saw a brown snake twisted around the tableâs support and one of his legs and he started planning only for the snake to shift and that⌠that was familiar.Â
The snake that wasnâtâbecause Chris recognized that barbed blade, one heâd first seen not so long agoâtwitched, a soft click as it scraped against the tile. A snake that, if he followed it, led right back to Leon. What the fuck what the fuck oh shitâ Chris bolted upright, scanning the room but none of the other patrons had started screaming or panicking, so they hadnât been noticed yetâ
âIsh like⌠bugs, shtupid bugs,â Leon muttered and Chrisâ gaze snapped back to him in alarm. Leon didnât even seem to notice, waving his bottle mournfully. Chrisâ gaze caught on it, eyes widening at the too-dark skin (not skin, not anymore) and bone-white claws wrapped around the glass. SHIT.Â
âLeon!â Chris hissed, grabbing the manâs arm to pull it out of view. His gaze darted around the bar. They were pressed against the wall, with eyes at 9 oâclock and 1 oâclock. Three exits, could pass off slipping out the back as a run to the toilet, but shit trying to get there before someone caught sight of them⌠Canât make a scene. Quiet.Â
âLeon, we need to go,â Chris hissed, quickly slipping out of his side of the table and around to Leonâs. As he slid next to the agent, he saw, sure enough, the entire fucking tail that had slipped out the top of Leonâs pants. And the man himself, apparently wholly unaware he had fucking grown a tail. Chris looped one of Leonâs arms over his shoulders and wrapped his own around Leonâs torso, trying to keep the man balanced. âLeon, shutâ no, give me that beerââ
âIsh⌠being a bug shucckkks,â Leon slurred, leaning his weight onto Chris, clawed hand waving the beer like it was a flag. As Chris pulled Leon up to stand, his tail lifted as well, swaying behind Leon as if to try and help him balance. It didnât do so very well, considering all of Leon was drunk, and so the tail simply flopped around like a drunk fish. And a very visible OBSERVE ME sign. Fuck. âI HATE it, Chris,â Leon continued, head lolling on Chrisâ shoulder. âIsh not fairrr⌠no one likes bugsâŚâÂ
At any other time, Chrisâ heart would go out to the infected man. At any other time, Chris would not be juggling over 200 lbs of drunk adult man that was slowly turning into a giant mutated insect.Â
âLeon! Leon we need to go right now,â Chris ordered, and Leon grumbled, leaning even more heavily on him. Chris glanced down at the tail, before an utterly genius (or maybe stupid) idea popped into his head. Heâd figure out which later. âLeon,â Chris said slowly. âCan you⌠uh⌠wrap your tail around your leg?â
âHmm? Sâwhat?â Leon mumbled.
âTail. Leg. Now.â
Chris wasnât sure how much got through to Leonâs functioning brain cells, but apparently enough, as the tail slowly slithered around Leonâs leg. Leonâs⌠and Chrisâ. The BSAA captain stared in dismay at the armored appendage that had loosely twined around both his and Leonâs calves, like some weird living rope for a three-legged race. Chris shifted, resisting the urge to shiver at the feeling of the thing constricting against his body like a python.Â
But, we all do things to help our friends, and apparently Chrisâ was to be a tail-stand and to suck it up and deal.
With the confidence and presence gained from being on or the captain of strike teams for a decade, Chris boldly shuffled forward in the strangest three-legged race against time heâd ever done. Leon, despite being literally draped over Chris, was at the very least, mostly compliant. They managed to get to the back of the bar with no incidentsâdespite Chrisâ hypervigilance for any wayward looksâand then Chris was shoving the backdoor open and they tumbled out into the alley.
As soon as the door behind them shut, and a quick survey of the alley showed no lurkers, Chris pulled Leon off him. Holding the man by the shoulders, Chris gave him a panicked once-over, searching for signs of further mutation. Aside from the tailâwhich was now sprawled on the concreteâLeon also seemed a few inches taller than he was a minute ago. And something was starting to twitch under the skin of his cheek. Fuck thatâs right, Leon had mandibles as a bug.
Chris mentally wondered at the chances of getting them to the car before Leon turned much further, but quickly dismissed that. His car was a couple streets away and Chris really didnât want a civilian to get eyes on Leon like this. Though⌠waiting until he was a nine foot tall bioweapon wasnât much better. Okay, maybe making a break for the car was a good idea.
âOkay, Leon, IâŚâ Chris trailed off as he looked back at Leon, only to see the manâs lower jaw had split in two. Leon was also trying to take another swig from the beer bottle he was still holding onto only to stare in confused dismay when it refused to stay in his mouth. You know. Because his mouth was in pieces. Chris sighed. âAlright, Leon, gimme the beer.â
There wasnât much left in the bottle anyways, but Chris would rather take it than Leon try to⌠eat it, or something. He didnât know what the man ate now. With the bottle now out of reach, Leon slumped against Chris, his mutterings a bit more garbled now. But, still understandable enough.Â
âNo âne âikes bugsss,â Leon mumbled, words slurred by alcohol and his new jaw configuration. ââEy âink theyâre⌠gâoss.â He stuck his tongue out, and it was⌠a lot longer than it had been. âBleh. Anâ I⌠big bug⌠no âon âike bugâŚâ
Chris hesitantly patted Leonâs shoulder, idly noting it was harder to reach now. Leon was taller than him. âI like you just fine, Leon?â he tried, the words awkward but hell, what was he supposed to say to the guy?Â
Leon proceeded to sniff and then, before Chris could object otherwise, the infected man proceeded to sweep him into a hug. Chris yelped, wriggling a little as he realized his feet were fully off the ground with Leonâs arms wrapped around him. âYouâre a gooâ âend, âris,â Leon muttered, chin propped on Chrisâ head. âGooâ brotha ta âaire⌠donâ âserveâŚâ Leon trailed off, before promptly stating: âMa âeet âurt.âÂ
It took a second to translate but when it did, Chris twisted until he could look down. Sure enough, Leonâs feet, or more correctly, his boots, were straining in odd ways. Chris winced. Thatâs right⌠Leonâs feet were different too.
âHey, Leon, can you set me down?â Chris asked and Leon grumbled but did so. Chris immediately bent down to look at Leonâs feet, wincing as he saw the fabric cutting into the mix of carapace and skin. âIâm gonna cut these off, okay?â The boots were already beyond saving, but Chris could at least make sure Leon wasnât going to get stuck in the stuff. Carefully, Chris pulled the knife he always carried out of his belt, slicing through the remains of the boots.Â
Leon immediately kicked off the ragged boots, and then crouched down to mourn his fallen footwear. âMa âootsâŚâ the absolutely hammered man mumbled. Chris snorted, then immediately winced as Leonâs feet warped in odd ways. Ack. He pulled his gaze up to Leonâs torso, eyeing the jacket that was struggling to hold all of Leonâs growing torso.Â
âYou wanna take your coat off, man?â Chris asked and Leon sniffled.
âI miss coats.â
Chris sighed. âSure dude, letâs get that off you.â
âŚ
In the end, they did not make it to the car. They stayed right in that alley, as Leon proceeded to vomit all the alcohol he had drunk and then some. Chris patted him on the leg through the carapace. It was as high as he could reach, short of hammering Leon on the stomach. Which kind of defeated the purpose of helping him with the nausea. âYouâre alright,â Chris muttered as Leon dry-heaved. âLet it out.â
âEgh,â Leon muttered. âBleh.â
Chris snorted, skirting around the puddle of bile that had joined the other mysterious stains of the dingy alley. âYeah, man, bleh.â Leon grumbled something incoherent, swaying in place. He was still drunk despite having puked most of the beer out of his system. Chris tried to steady him, not that it would do much good, with Leon being a good three feet taller. âEasy, come on big guy.â
Leon huffed, an odd warble coming out of his throat. Carefully, Chris guided him away from the sick and to a slightly cleaner patch of pavement. âIsh not great âeing big, ChrisâŚâ Leon muttered, leaning his back against the wall. âStuffs âlways so small⌠even you!â Chris blinked as Leon clumsily pointed at him. âYou⌠small, so small. Tiny. Cute. Ish like⌠can pick you up.â
âI⌠cute,â Chris repeated, feeling a faint flush rise to his cheeks. Cute?! âWay to hit me right in the masculinity, Leon. Iâm not cute.â
âCute,â Leon repeated, his tail curling behind Chris as if trying to herd him closer. Chris huffed, which turned into a yelp as Leon picked him up again. âCute,â Leon chittered, in oddly insectoid sounds. Chris wriggled, but Leonâs grip was firm, the mutated man basically hugging Chris to his chest. Chris sighed.Â
Jesus Christ, what is my life? Chris wondered, as he was hugged by an intoxicated nine foot mutated insect man in the back alley of a bar in D.C. Then⌠I am never letting Leon live this down. If Chris must die in shame, heâd bring Leon down with him. Also Claire would find this hilarious.
âOkay, man,â Chris muttered, reaching up to pat Leonâs armored forearm. âCome on, we need to figure out how weâre going to fit your fat ass in my car.â
