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achromatic pure crack (but also bonding) cotton eyed joe one-upping thread *kisses u with tongue*
Eshek and Bermondsey were locked in a psychological battle of wills. She couldn’t exactly remember the precise reason why - something about him disapproving of her friends under the pretence of ‘looking out for her safety’ - and she doubted he was any more certain than she was, but they were both deathly stubborn and so the battle continued. First, Eshek had slightly rearranged everything in his room. Now, phase two was going to be even bigger, even better—
Or, it would have been.
If the small chandelier she had been perched on above Ber’s sleeping form hadn’t suddenly started to rip itself free from the ceiling under her weight while she was getting ready to cover the unsuspecting “Warden” in feathers she’d spent plucking from two dozen dead birds caught by the trainees under her horrible tutelage - and she did help pluck them, the tall, pregnant Proxy crouching on the ground surrounded by half the little trainees in the League.
It was tiny at first, just a little jerk slightly lower than she had been a second ago. Then another. Wuh-oh, she thought, and looked slowly up at the roof. Thin little hairline fractures were appearing in the ceiling medallion above her, the silvery chain holding the chandelier in place cracking its way out of it. What was with her and roofs being bad luck. She was jerked lower again. She hunkered down, her little kitten claws doing little to keep her in place, and looked down at Ber. He looked cute when he slept, all curled up tight like an anxious soldier baby. This was really unfortunate. The ceiling cracked again — and the chandelier came loose. “SORRYBERIDIDN’TMEANTOTKILLYOU—oh.” She and the chandelier landed perfectly at his side, the thud comedically anticlimactic. Drywall rained down over them. She looked down at him, a sheepish grin spreading across her face.
“Bye!” Before he could scream at her — or, worse, tell her how disappointed he was in her in that cold, quiet, quivering voice he got when he was truly angry — she leaped out of bed and raced across the room, flinging herself out the open window. “Serves you right!” she called from the night. A few moments later, however, she reappeared, clinging to all four corners of the window that slowly swung on its hinges from its most extreme position outside against the stone of the mansion wall, back into the room. It creaked slowly, with Eshek silently waiting in full sight with a paw in each corner, seemingly unaware of how awkward this wait would have been for anyone else — and then, when it got into position, she suddenly burst to life and lifted her paw to her face, blowing a flurry of feathers at Ber like the timing was PERFECT and he couldn’t possibly have been expecting it, not in a million years. Her villainy truly knew no bounds. “HA!” she shrieked, and then clumsily let go and rushed back out through the window that she momentarily struggled to get through because it was now a bit too shut. But after bonking her head against the glass once, she finally succeeded and vanished once again like a pregnant ghost in the night.
Maybe the family curse was true after all and the she-cat he’d not-married would end up being the death of him.
At this rate, he was certainly going to lose five years of his life. Or perhaps fifty if cats ever lived that long.
She had started this stupid little prank war, with that 'shift everything to the left by five centimeters'–yes, centimeters, because Bermondsey was no heathen–and he had almost shattered his kneecaps by the amount of things he had almost bumped into before realizing what she had done because that stupid frame wasn't aligned to the center and he hated things that weren't aligned properly being the little control freak he was. He had the eye of a graphic designer honestly, which was strange considering how he was a cat who would probably type with 20 emojis per sentence if he had any understanding of how a phone worked.
It was funny how she had tried to remove all the fluff from his pillows too. Bold of her to assume he didn't just sleep on the floor, or that he could sleep on anywhere in fact, considering how often he was on the road for the past five years. Still, he knew that wasn't it but never did he expect the chandelier to come crashing down next to him while he was sleeping, effectively blowing out his eardrums and sending bits of glass everywhere. Then she had to blow those blasted feathers into his mouth...
Goddammit. He was really starting to reconsider Regulus' offer about joining their 'cuddle pile' in his room, because this was starting to get ridiculous.
"You know the trainees are going to have to clean this up!" he snapped, as he shook off the shattered glass, miraculously unhurt by all of this, as he stalked out of his room. Oh, he was certainly going to make a couple of plans on his own...but first...
Surprisingly, the next morning, he was gone, and thank the gods that the trainees were efficient because the shattered glass had been swept away, and only the frame of the chandelier remained, though Bermondsey would look at it in distaste. Who buys such gaudy furniture in the first place? The only thing left in the room was the rest of the mess she had made and some food that was made to look as if Elizabeth had grabbed him breakfast, except it was all of Eshek's favourite foods, hidden under a pillow just in case.
"Good morning," he greeted the proxy the next morning when she finally reappeared, "thanks for helping me redecorate, I redecorated for you too. Hope you like it. By the way, I stole all your pillows and gave you mine, since you loved them so much." He departed the mansion. Unknown to her, he had certainly put enough traps around his room and hers, practically covering the damn place with flypaper to keep the annoying proxy out.
Oh, but that wasn't it. He had a long plan for this little war of pranks they'd be having.
Eshek had been walking up the stairs when Ber suddenly appeared, like he'd been waiting for her. She stood below him, eyeing him distrustfully like she was waiting for him to pull tar and feathers or a knife out from behind his back. He was so... calmly chipper. It was the most terrifying thing she'd ever witnessed. Bermondsey didn't say things like 'good morning', or 'thanks', or 'hope you like it' - or 'by the way', because he never forgot a thing, always knew what he was going to say, and there were never any incidental 'by the ways.' The emphasis on 'loved' was the final straw.
It was also kind of attractive, this playing of roles through gritted teeth, but she wasn't going to think about that.
"Moooorning," she replied uncertainly, like the scary nerd who brought the katana to school was talking to her, the prom queen who held court at parties, outside her locker and she didn't understand why. She eyed him weirdly as she made her way up the rest of the stairs and walked past him, looking over her shoulder when she was halfway up the corridor like she was checking he wasn't following her. "Freak," she muttered under her breath. She had been planning to go to her room - but then she passed the open door to Ber's quarters and caught sight of snacks peeking out under a pillow - her pillow. Because he was so in love with her that he'd taken her pillows just to be able to cuddle up with her scent. Who wouldn't? Obviously he'd tried to hide it from her. Idiot. He was so stupid. He always underestimated her. He was meant to be the clever one but she was always out-witting him.
Dancing into the room on her tiptoes, singing a sneaky little "o-ho-ho", Eshek headed straight for the Salmon en papilotte, croque monsieur, hazelnut dacquoise, and perfectly soft strawberry souffle (she was rich, she only ate French food because she thought that brought her disgusting new money some class). But then! Oh, foul villain! She did not see the flypaper!
She didn't notice for a long time. If you imagine someone battling against a blizzard, their full weight leaning forward and held up by the wind, that was Eshek trying to get to her salmon en papilotte. But the sheer amount of flypaper that had collected to her paws and fur was weighing her down, like the 100 layer nail polish challenge. She groaned fiercely, trying to reach her food against the ocean of sticky paper collecting upon her - and finally collapsed. "BERMONDSEY!" she screeched, and all the Mansion could hear the proxy's fury. "YOU HATEFUL LITTLE TWINK! YOU FRIENDLESS LOSER FREAK! YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE VIRGIN! I'M GOING TO TEAR YOU APART UNTIL YOU'RE BEGGING ME TO KILL YOU. UNTIL YOU'RE PISSING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH. UNTIL—"
Eshek was living in Bermondsey's walls. Was this necessary? No. But it was funny. Or would have been funny, if she hadn't been fuming. As soon as the "Warden" left for the day, up at the same time every morning like the disgusting, neurotic little soldier he was, Esh slid her way out of the tight, tiny space between the inside wall and the outer, her fur covered in spider webs and dust and wood shavings, and ran to the door. She slammed it shut and locked it. Then, she ran over to the window, jumped up, and locked that too. Every entrance into the room was sealed - every entrance, except a tiny vent high up on the wall over the door that she was just newly-pregnant enough to still squeeze into. Scraping her way up the wall through sheer force, her little claws leaving long scratch marks on the door and the old, flowery wallpaper, she wriggled into the vent with a metallic clatter and squeezed her way through all the way down to the entry hall.
Finding Ber out in the courtyard, she immediately draped herself across his back, forcing him to the cobblestones in full view of everyone. "Beerrr," she purred in a low, flirtatious voice. She rolled over and brushed a paw down his cheek. "It looks like your room is having renovations done. You can stay with me, though." She twirled his whiskers around her paw. "I loved how dominant you were last time. And those things you did with your tongue..." She let out a dreamy sigh, shivering. There was no worse punishment than physical intimacy. When he tried to get up, she pinned his forepaws beneath her own, squishing them painfully against the ground, and gave him a feral, hateful grin, leaning in so close that his face went blurry. "I'm gonna win, Bermondsey," she breathed. With that, she let him up and swept away. "See you tonight for snuggles, Sey-Sey," she called, mimicking Chelsea's nickname for him. With that, she was gone.
He knew that this wasn't the last of it, but there was no way he'd let someone win. If not for his own sake, then surely for the fact that he knew Eshek had met Chelsea after that comment, and that there was one thing he wasn't going to stand for, and it was his sister bullying him about something stupid like this too. One insane she-cat in his life trying to make him completely miserable was bad enough, but two? Nope. He wasn't going to lose this stupid little prank war.
The tom immediately turned, his eyes flashing. "Oh sweetheart, why didn't you say so?" he spoke loudly, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I forgot how much you love licking the dirt off my paws whenever we...you know," he gave her a dramatic wink, before nudging her off his shoulders, "oh and I love it when you bleat like a sheep whenever we do the dirty you know, it's just sooooooo funny. Did you want to pretend to be a pony again this time?" He was practically speaking as if he was Romeo under some balcony, announcing it for the world to hear.
The tom scoffed, wondering what the hell she had done to his room this time. Gods, by the end of this, he was going to have to take over Regulus' room and shudders, join their stupid cuddle pile. Oh he was not looking forward to that, but the other alternative was to sleep in the same room as Eshek and he knew there was another plan...unless?
Oh. Oh. He was brilliant. Truly a conniving idea. Pushing the heavy cat off, he gave her a condescending pat on the head. "I hope you have a great day, sweetie, I'll see you tonight." He was going to do something to prepare, that was for sure.
He didn't know how he found so many goddamn onions; it was a good thing that supermarket in the city had an absolute cart full of it, and yes, it might be considered stealing but it wasn't like anyone was looking at it too, and they didn't look great, sort of moldy and weird at this point, but it didn't matter. With the help of a few other cats who seemed almost entertained by the warden's demands, they had sliced it all up and filled Eshek's nest with onions everywhere. Oh, and that wasn't it. He had shoved leftover mice from his last meal into the curtain rods. They'd surely start smelling foul within a couple of days, and who would bother looking into the curtain rods anyway? The smell of the onions were already stinging his eyes, but she'd definitely be crying her eyes out sleeping there tonight.
Better yet, he had acquired a strange device from Saden-kun's little wares. An alarm clock. Oh this was going to be great. He programmed it specifically to ring every 20 minutes, blasting cotton-eyed joe throughout the night. Thank god he brought some earplugs, or well, some cotton she had ripped out of the pillows to shove into his ears.
Tonight was going to be the time of his life. He had purposely taken a nap all day just in preparation of this amusement.
"Mm-hm-hm." Eshek did that tight, squinting, murderous little smile-laugh from this video, still pinning him down. "And I know how much you love to call me Severine so you can pretend your mummy actually loved you." With a face like she'd just sucked on a lemon, except in this case it was out of pure terror, she scrambled away from him and bolted up the steps to the mansion before he could disembowel her.
She wasn't gonna think about how hot that entire interaction had been and how she'd gone all tingly when Ber had so jeeringly called her sweetheart. She was just gonna keep running up to her room and lock the door.
"BBBBBEEEEERRRRMMOOOONNNDDDDSSSEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!" No one in the mansion was going to get a wink of sleep while this war between the Proxy and the Warden continued. Certainly not tonight. The alarm clock had just gone off for the first time, and now Eshek was screaming at the top of her lungs, waking up every cat in the area and making them no doubt leap to their paws with fur bristling and eyes wild. More than just screaming because of the horrible song blaring through her room, she was screaming because the second she'd woken up, she'd found that her eyes were weeping uncontrollably, so much so that she could hardly open them through the thick, globby film of tears, like water in a space ship. Her paws and forelegs were drenched with them. And now her nose was running, and her voice had gone all nasally and clogged up, and the more she wiped her eyes the more it made them sting because, unbeknownst to her, there was onion juice on her paws.
The chaos was so absolute and so overwhelming - Cotton-Eyed Joe blaring in the darkness of her room, her eyes burning and totally blinded by tears, a funny smell everywhere, her nose blocked, the adrenalised fog of being started out of sleep so suddenly into a situation that was just COMPLETELY INCOMPREHENSIBLE - that at first she just lay there, in hell, disoriented and confused and crying to the tune of Rednex's hit single that was so loud it was like the air itself was hitting her head.
Finally, the song ended. Blundering blindly up, she crept towards the place it had come from, sniffing and shaking her head to try and free herself from the tears still leaking from her closed eyes all the while - and, after a moment of pawing around, found it. She opened her jaws wide and, after a few seconds of awkwardly trying to get her mouth wide enough to fit her teeth around the alarm clock, she carried it awkwardly and precariously, with her head held back and her legs stiff, to the window, intent on hurling out down to the courtyard where it would everyone's problem and Bermondsey would be hated universally - when the song started again. It scared her so badly that she let out a shout and dropped it - and then, because she was like a bat in the dark, she couldn't pinpoint where the music was coming from because there were so many signals going out at once. She just staggered backwards in fear, bested by Cotton-Eyed Joe. Finally gathering up her courage, she jumped forward with a warning shout and kicked out at it. She hit it and screamed, because she hadn't been expecting to get it first try and the song was making the alarm clock vibrate and it went up her leg. Inching forward again, she suddenly grabbed it and tried to unlatch the window - to find that it had been bolted shut from the outside. BERMONDSEY. She started screaming, because what else was there to do, she was panicking.
So now, to any onlooker, there was just Eshek, the pregnant Proxy, standing by the window alone in the dark, holding an alarm clock blaring Cotton-Eyed Joe, her closed eyes streaming with tears, smelling of onions and screaming. She raised her scream, both in volume and in pitch, trying to be louder than the song. So now there was Cotton-Eyed Joe and a Proxy just standing there, trying to out-scream it because that was how you asserted dominance and won and made it stop. She was so terrified. She was so confused. She was so tired and in so much pain. All the mansion would have heard was the song and the screaming coming from the same place. She hadn't even thought to try and find the off-switch, because she'd been woken so suddenly into hell itself.
Finally thinking of another option, she turned and hopped off towards the door on three legs, still holding the alarm clock in her right forepaw. Her nose was mostly blocked and filled with onions and tears - but she was a killer and with her last scrap of hateful determination she pinpointed Bermondsey's sent. Finding him, though she couldn't see him, she screamed straight in his direction and hurled the alarm clock at him - from the sound of it she knew she'd hit him dead on. "STRESS," she screamed, over the blaring of Cotton-Eyed Joe, eyes still closed and streaming tears over her cheeks. "IS NOT. GOOD. FOR THE BABIES."
He had spent the night literally moments away from dissolving into peels of laughter. Oh this was so good. This was the best idea he had ever had, and he'd be hard-pressed to find a better idea after this, but well, surely he had a few more after staying up thinking it through and watching every minute of this fiasco. It was absolutely hilarious; served her right for all of the things she had been doing to him the past couple of weeks.
He winced as the alarm clock hit him in the shoulder, and he scowled, pressing the button that would turn it off, before trotting over with a laugh. "I was just trying to prepare you," his smooth voice had a tint of vindication with it, "you know you'll have to wake up at every odd hour to feed the kits when they're born, and they always talk about being emotional when you're nursing, so now you're pretty prepared for the kits, I think, but I can turn the alarm back on if we want to practice a little more."
A cackle left his mouth as he disappeared into the night, finally pulling the cotton fluff out of his ears, quickly escaping before Eshek could get her revenge.
Esh just stood growling and panting like an angry bull in front of him. "Turn the alarm back on, Bermondsey," she hissed, "see what happens. Go on. I dare you." And then, with that obnoxious cackle, stinking of onions and covered in her own tears, she was alone. "AND IF YOU EVEN THINK FOR A SECOND YOU WON'T BE HELPING ME FEED THEM AT 3AM AND BURPING THEM WHEN THEY NEED IT YOU CAN THINK AGAIN," she screamed after him through the window.
Eshek hummed as she worked. Was it perhaps morally wrong to slip poppy seeds into the meal of your kits' father? Maybe. But Socrates is dead. And we are not. So live laugh love, put sedatives in your baby daddy's food. The hair-dye was only temporary and it smelled of strawberries, but it still painted Bermondsey's fur a lovely shade of pastel pink. From head to toe, including his cute little ears and his button nose. Of course, because she didn't think to put the gloves on, it had also dyed her paws pink up to her elbows, so really it just looked like they had a cute matching couple's halloween costume. But she thought she kinda suited the pink, more than Ber did. "Wakey wakey eggs and bakey," Eshek purred softly, leaning in close to press her forehead against Ber's and stare, smiling, at his closed eyes that were just pink blurs this close up. She gave his forehead a little wiggle with hers. The dye would wash off after a day or two, but he'd be noticeably pink for... oh, a week or two. She pecked a little kiss against one of his eyes. "You had a visitor from a fairy and she left you some sparkles!" As she cooed, she leaned back and, reaching up above him with one paw, sprinkled glitter down upon him. Just a light dusting, but he was one very shimmery Warden now. "Don't you just look so pretty? Ber, will you be my girlfriend?"
Post by achromatic on Oct 25, 2021 18:12:27 GMT -5
God, why did he look like a sparkle cat? What was this, a 2008 deviantART fangirl's dream? He looked at his paws, before scowling. Why was it all so sticky? "I'm going to take a bath, and no, I won't, I can do better," he growled, giving Eshek a glare. Oh, he was going to get his revenge for this one. As he disappeared into the forest to get his bath, he spotted a few prickly seed pods. With a wicked grin, he plotted his next idea.
When Eshek left for the day, he got the trainees to fill her room with those sticky, prickly seed pods, hiding them all over her nest and den, before putting her favourite food in her room once more, stuffing it with yarrow and old mouse bile he had found in Charlotte's storage. Sure, even if she didn't fall for that one, there were plenty of other things in the room.
Oh, and he also took a poo on her bed, just to be even more petty, before disappearing back to his daily activities.
