Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

[sockhopsolly]

The Bedtime Meme

In the great green room, there is a telephone and a red balloon, and a picture of
The cow jumping over the moon,
And there were three little bears sitting on chairs,
And two little kittens and a pair of mittens,
And a little toyhouse and a toy mouse,
And a comb and a brush and bowl full of mush,
And a quiet old lady who was whispering "hush".


WHAT TO DO:

1. Post with your character--name, fandom and any particular preferences go in the subject line as usual.

2. You can either roll or pick a scenario (or scenarios!) from the list or leave your comment blank.

3. Reply to people!

4. Have fun and be mindful of your partner's preferences--while this is not inherently a smut meme, it could definitely turn that way.

OPTIONS:

1. Washing up for Bed: You and your partner have had a long day, and now it's time to wash it all off. Don't forget to scrub behind your ears!

2. Bedtime Story: Some people just can't get to sleep without some sort of story. It can be a familiar book, or even a story of your partner's life.

3. Warm Milk and Cookies (or Chamomile Tea): A warm drink and a few cookies in the belly are just what some people need to relax before bed.

4. Pajamas: What (if anything) you wear to bed says a lot about your personality. Dressed to impress or totally relaxed?

5. Lullaby: Philomel with melody or rock-a-bye baby? Either way, you're looking to lull your partner into a restful sleep with the sound of your voice.

6. Goodnight Kiss: Nothing says 'sweet dreams' like a chaste (...or not so chaste...) kiss at bedtime.

7. Comfort Object: Whether it's a nightlight, a teddy bear or an old blankie, bedtime's not happening unless the comfort object is in the room.

8. Cuddles Forever: The ultimate in fluffy warm coziness before falling asleep.

9. Reluctant Sleeper: Your blankets are itchy. The room's too hot. You want another story. Whatever the reason, you're not ready to settle in and go to bed.

10. Wildcard!: I know I forgot something, so here's your wildcard for whatever else you can fit into this meme, and any mix-and-matching you want to do

Comments

[beeboy]

[ Hugh knows he's one of the lucky ones. Even if he'd ended up stuck on the wrong end of the portal he came from (trapped in some strange new world now for who knows how long — maybe forever), he's still alive, and that's more than can be said for some kids. They all know that, really, at least from when he was from. Stories passed down from Peculiar to Peculiar, from people whose friends or siblings were the victims of some horror or other. Sold into servitude, into sideshows, or even worse than that, if possible. To arenas way down where it's deep and dark and damp, made to use their powers to fight to the death against one another. The unmoving bodies of the losers fed to the Hollowgast, those wheezing things dripping inky black drool from the dark corners, kept in cages of their own.

Orphans are especially targeted, swooped up in the night and taken away, never to be seen again — and many Peculiar children from Hugh's time are orphans, or otherwise abandoned by their parents. He got lucky there too, maybe. His parents died when he was very young, before his own Peculiardom showed itself — before he could potentially be abandoned by them afterwards. A child opens his mouth and buzzing insects spill out; it's...... a shock, to say the very least, one that the caretakers of the orphanage he grew up in hardly took well to. Does one call a doctor? A priest? In the end, it was another Peculiar who came to collect him, and he'd been shuttled from safe place to safe place since.

There's never really been a "home".

When he's rescued from his most recent predicament, while relieved, there's hardly ease. After all, being rescued from one cage could very well mean being put into another one. He's lucky to still be alive, but he doesn't know how long that might last. He strongly wonders, for the first couple of nights, if he should attempt to run away. But he doesn't know this place, this time, and when he sends out one of his best scout bees to check the surrounding area, the poor thing returns shaken by what sights it's seen.... unknowing of how to navigate this strange new world, antennae twitching fretfully, limbs staggering. It takes the bee some hours to calm down. Hugh won't risk sending another any time soon.

For now, at least, it'd be better to stay here. Where there's the warm safety of a house, and he can get food and sleep without worrying about being snatched away as soon as his eyes close — except Hugh doesn't stop worrying about that. Clearly, as evidenced by his fitful sleeping. In his waking hours, the boy is well behaved: a little spooked by Abbacchio here and there, shying away from being alone with him in a smaller space for too long, but he's not been making much of a fuss. He really hasn't said much at all. His bees, alternatively, are not shy at all with the man, and have been following him around any chance they get, gathering facts and information about him.... It isn't at all rare for one or two to cling to Abbacchio's back and stay there for awhile, miniature striped stalkers.

But it shows itself in sleep: fears and nightmares taking on their various forms. The current source of his restlessness is a memory: hidden in an alleyway with a variety pack of other Peculiar children, he's frozen. None of them will fight back; they've seen what happens to the ones who try. The men (not really men, something pretending to be) hold out leashes, and what's on the other end of them are invisible to most of the children, including Hugh. A certain Peculiarity is required to see Hollowgast. But they've all heard those stories about what they look like, the round black eyes shining like an insect's, the long mouth held open and dripping, slurping tongues unfurling outwards like snakes. Monsters used to shepherd the children along, monsters that would snap a neck in an instant. And they can hear them. The awful, wet, way their mouths sound.

Hugh's never known such fear as in that moment, unable to cry or scream or think. It's a blind fear, a paralysing one. But in the waking world, he cries out, softly first, then louder. His fist clenches the sheets as he curls up into them, body desperately seeking some kind of safety, comfort. When the door opens to cast soft hallway glow inwards to the bedroom, the boy doesn't stir, not just yet. He's too far in the nightmare, oblivious to anything going on around him, including the distress of the bees inside of him. A buzzing sound emanates right from the boy's torso itself, a constant droning, and his very skin seems to vibrate up under his shirt. It's... disconcerting to witness, to say the very least, but Hugh doesn't seem to notice any of that at all, face only reflecting a different inner turmoil altogether: mouth tugged into a pained-looking frown, a strained 'Please' tumbling from quivering lips as he pleads with something from his memories. ]

[moodyblue]

[ Abbacchio's own powers can do a lot as far as invading privacy, but he's not psychic and neither is the manifestation of his soul that's called a stand. Abbacchio's as blind to what's going on in Hugh's head as anyone else would be, as blind as he is to the dark room he's opening up the door of.

All he's got to go off of are the little noises of distress, and the...

The buzzing, which is almost a normal sound after a week of living with it. Well. 'Normal' in the sense that Abbacchio can almost cover up his instinctive flinch, not normal in the sense that it doesn't still set his blood pressure and pulse climbing. But despite his instincts telling him that what's housed in the boy is dangerous and to stay away, Abbacchio grits his teeth and stays put.

Look. He's not good at this. He's terrible at managing other people's feelings, honestly, sometimes terrible at even noticing them. But this is a blaring siren and Abbacchio, for all the things he didn't promise Hugh about this temporary stay, he'd said one concrete thing: 'We'll keep you safe'. And he meant it.

And if this is part of that, if this is indeed part of the job Abbacchio's signed himself up for? Then dammit, he'll do it. He sets his jaw and he opens the door the rest of the way and walks into the room. He hits the wall switch and it turns on the lamp by the dresser, but the one on the nightstand must be one that Hugh turns off manually before bed because it doesn't react to the switch being flipped. It's just enough light that he has to squint at first, but there's plenty of shadows left in the room.

Abbacchio then has to face the fact that unless he plans on yelling from the exact spot he's already standing in, he's going to have to approach. He swallows, afraid in ways he can't quite put to words — of the real potential risk of Hugh's power, of reaching out to someone who can turn him down even if it's just a kid, of the possibility that nothing he could try will actually do a single thing to help - but Abbacchio's at least used to dealing with fear. He's a coward, sure, but that's familiar.

He takes a step forward and hears a sad little 'please' from the bed. His blood already felt too-hot from paranoia about everything (especially those goddamn bees, since they clearly hate him) but now it goes briefly ice water cold. ] Jesus, [ he mutters, and then as he comes closer against every instinct in his body, he keeps talking. ]

Hugh, hey. [ God, if he gets stung, he hopes it just fucking kills him. He wouldn't live it down anyway if it didn't. Guilt and worry gnaw at him until he finally reaches out for Hugh's trembling shoulder. ] Wake up, Hugh!