#God autocorrect is really trying me today

[luxxtuxx]

WAIT CUTE IDEA hobie could be talking to pav and the topic of reader comes up, Hobie starts ranting about how cool she is (all fluff and stuff) and reader comes up walking totally oblivious and pav says “speak of the devil” and she’s worried he was taking sour of her but pav reassured her it was all good things while Hobie is just kinda baffled by her beauty until he snaps out of it and covers pavs mouth so he doesn’t spoil his big fat crush on her

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!

This is a hobie X Fem Reader.

CW: Pav missing social cues and almost spilling the beans to YN

Im sorry if I spelled pavitrs GFs name wrong. My autocorrect won't let me change it

~~~~~~~~

Hobie watched the girl he loved do tiktok dances with gwen, watching her laugh and cheer. He watched as she struggled with a fast pace dance, seeing how today she was in the 3-inch, knee-high platform hot pink boots he bought her for her birthday. Her outfit looked adorable, A white top with a panda on it, a black and pink plaid skirt, ripped-up black tights, her boots, with a cute fluffy black purse

Pavitr walked over and looked at hobie confused "Hey Dude! Why are you pink? And why are you staring at Y/n and gwen?" he tilted his head confused. It took a second "OH MY GOD YOU LI-" hobie quickly moved and covered Pavi's mouth as Y/N looked their way.

He huffed, "Stay quiet man. she can't know" He growled at him. Pav cheers "Awwww that's so cute! if you ask her out, we could have a double date with me and Gaytari!" Hobie looked at his Indian friend with a frown. "Bruv cant. She is so much better than me" The punk sighs.

"What makes you think that? he asked sitting next to the tall punk. Hobie looks at Pav like he is offended. "Bruv, Have you seen her?" he sighs a bit "Those gorgeous eyes, and her colorful style, her never-ending kindness, Oh and have you seen the way she takes care of Mayday." he stared at the ceiling, "her voice... just her saying hi makes me all happy, I don't get it. I don't know how she has such a hold on me. Every time she looks at me I fall farther in love." He growls "Im not supposed to be soft or mushy or sweet, But she makes me feel that way. And I hate it and love it at the time Ya know" he looked at Pav, who muttered to him "Speak of the devil"

Y/n walks over, "Good morning, pav I thought you were spending the day with Gaytari." Pav hums "I was until I got talking with hobie about his crush" hobie quickly hit his arm "-INg new song!" She could tell Pav was lying "That was great, really good show stopper now the truth"

Hobie was quick to make a cover "Truth is umm, Pav was trying to rally people together to go to that ice cream place you always talk about" He sighs calming down when she bought that lie. "Oh COOL ILL GO ASK GWEN AND MILES" The second she walked off hobie turned red "YOU ALMOST TOLD HER" Pav ran away at the dark voice and hobie chased him

Bonus:

Hobie and the squad sat at your favorite ice cream parlor happily nomming down on the ice cream. Y/n had picked a flavor for everyone, "Mm! Hobie try this" She held her cone near his lips, And at his actions, she gasps. "HE BIT MY ICE CREAM! ARE YOU CRAZY?!" she moved gwen in between them, all of them joking around as hobie watched her joke and thought (I am crazy.... Crazy in love with you)

[sebsallowapologist]

Little Bird || Part 5

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - 7th Year

Rated: 18+

Warnings:  cursing, being overworked, exiling yourself from your friends. 

Author’s Note: it has come to my attention while re-playing the game that I’ve been spelling Garreth wrong, in my defense autocorrect also thinks its “Gareth” so I feel like I should have a pass.

Little Bird Masterlist

I took my sweet time getting ready that morning, brushing my hair and teeth meticulously before putting on my robes and leaving for breakfast. I’d hoped that by dragging my feet the dining hall would be mostly empty and I could just swipe a few things before going to class. 

Of course - I was not that lucky, Sebastian was standing outside of the Ravenclaw dormitories, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

When he sees me talk out the door he stands up straight, moving his bag filled with his school supplies to his other shoulder. ��I was beginning to worry I’d missed you.”

“Running late.” I mumble, not completely over the fight we’d had the evening before. 

Sebastian easily keeps up with me as we walk down the stairs, “I needed to apologize.” He says and I blush, “I was the one who set the Undercroft on fire.” I sigh, embarrassed by my outburst. 

“I deserved it. I had been pushing you too hard and I shouldn’t have done that.” He says, grabbing my arm so we stop walking down the stairs and he can turn to face me. “I’m sorry, Bird.” He says and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “I hate when we fight.”

Fighting seems to be the only thing I’m good at lately. 

I want to give in, just squeeze him around the middle as tightly as I can and say it’s all water under the bridge, but his face last night, the pure fear in his features was burned into my brain. I’d never forget it. 

“Sebastian.” I sigh and pull back. “I just. I’m running late, okay?”

“No.”

“What?” 

“I said no, it’s not okay. It’s not going to be okay until I’ve made up with my best friend.” God he’s so fucking stubborn. 

“We’ve made up, Seb. We’re fine. I just really am running late today.” I lie. “I told Professor Weasley I would meet her before lessons started today and I’m afraid won’t make it in time.” 

“O-Oh.” He says, not really able to argue with that, even though I can tell he doesn’t fully believe it. I don’t often lie to him, and it’s making me feel a little sick.

“Maybe we can have lunch? Or do a dinner with the little beasties, yeah? Ominis hasn’t been bothered by the Nifflers in some time. I think we could go for a laugh.” He suggests, pulling at threads.

“Yeah.” I give a half hearted smile. “Maybe we’ll do dinner.” With that as my farewell I turn and start taking the stairs as quickly as I can without breaking out into a full run, and head to a floo flame. 

To make myself into less of a liar I do go toward Professor Weasley’s classroom. Ever since Fig had died my fifth year, she’d become my confidant. She’d been a tremendous help my sixth year when I was stressed out about school, about trying to rebuild my friendships after everything. 

I slip into her classroom and move to the back, knocking on the door. No one was waiting in the room so I assume she didn’t have a class this period. 

She calls for me to come in and I crack open the door, walking into her pristine office. She was always so put together in my eyes, well for someone who was practically running the school without the title of headmaster. “Good Morning, Professor.” I smile lightly at her and she gestures to the little sitting area sitting by a window. “How nice to see you, how has your term been so far?”

I felt the immediate urge to lie, to tell her that everything was alright, that my year was going beautifully. I didn’t want her to think I was failing, but at this point I wasn’t sure what much of an option I had. 

As soon as I opened my mouth the floodgates broke. I told her about me struggling in lessons, about not being able to contain my magic, or stop myself from fighting with my friends. My the end I had fully lost control of my emotions and I was just sobbing into the sleeve of my robes. 

“Oh deary.” She sighs and comes around to sit on the same couch as me, putting her hand around my shoulders and rubbing my arm comfortably. “And on top of all of it.” I sob. “I’ve got bloody boy problems.”

She lets out a laugh that breaks me from my train of thought. “I know it seems silly, given the rest of it, but really these boys are driving me mad.” I giggle a little, wiping the tears off my face, taking deep breaths to calm down. 

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but they never get better.” Professor Weasley smiles. “I didn’t think so.” I sigh. 

“Does one of these mad boys happen to be my nephew?” 

I blush, answering her question for her. “I can tell him to leave you alone if you wish.” She smiles kindly and I shake my head. “No! No- I think he’s actually quite... charming.” God was this awkward to talk about with his aunt. “But-”

“The Sallow boy?” She asks and my mouth drops open, I’m sure I look like a fish out of water. “How did you know that?!”

“As much as we try to act above it all the teachers do talk. We all thought you were...” She trails off and I shrug. “He doesn’t like me like that, and... he knows about my magic how I don’t always... act normally. It scares the Jesus out of him.” I sigh, “I can’t blame him.”

“I doubt that.” She sighs. I shake my head and stand up, looking at the time piece on her desk. I was already 5 minutes late for Charms. 

I wipe my face once more. “Thank you... for speaking with me.” I sigh, I don’t know fi I felt any better, but it was nice to get off my chest. 

The Professor waves her hand and a quill floats up, writing a note on a piece of parchment. “I don’t know how much I can help in the boy department, but let me know if you need help with any lessons, I’m always here. And I’m going to start looking for someone who might be able to help you with that ancient magic.” The note floats over to me and I grab it out of the air, just a pass for being late to class. 

I nod, thanking her once more before heading off to Charms. 

When I get to my class I slip the paper on the Professor’s desk and slip into my seat next to Ominis, Sebastian on his other side. I open my books and Sebastian leans over our friend. “You’ve been crying.”

I ignore him, now was neither the time nor place for this. “Bird talk to me.” He begs, leaning closer to Ominis. “Bird ple-”

“Sebastian I am trying to pay attention to this lesson can you PLEASE stop pretending I don’t exist.” Ominis groans, maybe a touch too loudly. 

“Sallow, Gaunt. Am I boring you?” The Professor asks, the entire class turning to look at us three. I try to hide my red, puffy face from the prying eyes. 

“No, sir.” The two answer at the same time. 

“Five points from Slytherin, more if you continue to ignore my lesson.” He scoffs and turns back to instructing the class. 

Thankfully, Sebastian drops it.

_________

taglist: @stuffyownswrld​ @findingtruenorth23 @flowered-bicycles @lumiiiiiiiiii

[dmwrites]

Cleo hated many things. She prided herself, in fact, in her ability to loathe things. This included such things as the nether, the end, Joe (sometimes), Jevin (all the time), the sun, the moon, swords, and living people.

Today’s subject of her abhorrent hatred, however, was caving.

“This is ridiculous.” Cleo grumbled, gasping at a noise off in the distance and placing four torches around her at lightning speed. “Gold. Fucking raw fucking gold, and no one sells it. And of course I couldn’t build with gold blocks or yellow concrete. God, I hate caving.” She then screamed, as a bat flew past her. She swung at it with her sword, and the bat, who had been minding its business up until that point, panicked and got stuck in her hair. She screamed, the bat made a lot of noises she assumed was also screaming, there was a zombie that came around the corner that saw what was happening and just kind of turned back around and left. It was a whole thing.

“I hate caving!” Cleo announced to the cave at a whole after she got the bat out. She continued shuffling downwards, digging up ores when she saw them, and grumbling to herself. She hated how deep the caves got now, how the deepslate practically absorbed the torch light, making it all the more scary. She was so full of hate, in fact, that she failed to notice the way that the cave had slowly gone silent of all noise, how the floor was squishier then normal. It wasn’t until the small cave she had been traveling down opened up into an ancient city that she noticed all that was amiss.

“Oh god!” Cleo clapped a hand over her mouth, looking around in fright. The city yawned out before her, only illuminated by the flickering torch and the skulk sensors that lit up momentarily with warning. All around her was that stuff, that inky bluish black, like the starry night sky had fallen into the ocean. Her outburst, thankfully, had not really been noticed by anything bad, and she was left standing shock still, trying very hard not to make a noise. She knew there were two options here: she could leave, the cowards way back, or explore the city for treasures.

She turned right around and left, disappearing through the same hole she’d come from. Treasure and bravery be damned. Now that she was paying attention, she realized that the walls and floor of the small cave halls were covered in squishy skulk. If she was being honest with herself, the stuff always king of gave her the heebie-jeebies. Such a weird substance. Plus, she always felt out of place around it. She walked faster, hoping for stone and deepslate walls again.

The thing was, she could see deepslate up ahead, see her torches where she’d been. But the deepslate never seemed to get close enough, always out of reach. It was all skulk around her. Cleo froze. She was standing on skulk where she knew there had been stone before. This was where the bat had been.

“What?” Cleo whispered in confusion. She looked down and took a hesitant step forward onto the deepslate ahead, but just as she set down her foot, the blocks turned to skulk. Cleo put her hand to the wall, and the same thing happened, the skulk almost hugging her hand.

“Ew!” Cleo pulled her hand away, and took another cautious step. The skulk followed. “For goodness sakes!” Cleo sighed and pulled out her phone and dialed.

“Hello, this is Joe Hills, speaking as I always do in Nashville, Tennessee.”

“Joe, this is no time for your made-up places.” Cleo snapped.

“Hi Cleo!” Joe said quite cheerily. “What’s up?”

“Joe, what do you know about skulk?” Cleo asked, sliding her fingers across the cave walls, kind of doodling with the skulk residue that her finger left behind.

“Well, it keeps autocorrecting to ‘skull’ in my phone.” Joe said. “But, uh, not much else. You can farm it, I think, by like killing things? It likes the dead.”

Cleo froze. “It likes the dead?” She repeated.

“Yes Cleo, I just said that, no need to reiterate my own information back to me. Say, where are you right now?”

Cleo chuckled in disbelief. “I’m in a cave, Joe. And the skulk is following me.”

Joe was silent for a moment. “Huh. That’s weird. It’s following you, what, down a cave?”

“Yeah.” Cleo took her hand away and wiped it on her dress. “Every step I take, it turns that stone into skulk. I guess it’s because I am dead? It likes dead things, I do suppose.” She started walking again, until she caught sight of her hand under a torch. “Oh.”

“Oh what?” Joe asked.

“Joe, my fingers have turned to skulk.”

“What?”

“Joe.” Cleo said again, looking down at the studded bluish black that was coating each of her fingers on the hand she’d had on the wall. “My fingers are covered in skulk.” She wiped her hand on her dress again. “And it’s not coming off.” She turned around, and looked down the cave she’d come from- the entire thing had been swallowed up by glittering darkness. It was very, very quiet in the cave now.

[jdgo51]

Protect Your Peace, Then Live in It

Today's inspiration comes from:

When Faith Meets Therapy

by Anthony Evans & Stacy Kaiser

"Guard your heart above all else, for it is the source of life." — Proverbs 4:23 CSB

Anthony

"The other night I was performing at an event in South Florida, and nothing was going right. Ideally I would have had plenty of rest and water, warmed up my voice, and done a sound check a few hours before the event. But life throws curveballs. Instead, flights were delayed. My driver got lost without cell reception. Logistics were crazier and more difficult due to the pandemic. Nothing was ideal.

I’ve been performing and doing ministry long enough that I have learned how to autocorrect on the fly. But I do know that if I don’t guard my peace, those problems will get in my head, destroy my focus, and wreck the night. I don’t have to hit a home run every time I’m up to bat. That’s not realistic. I only have to get up each day and know that I’m doing the very best I can with what is right in front of me.

Though I’ve learned to find that balance in my career, I am constantly and consistently trying to apply that same balance to my emotional, spiritual, and mental life as well.

Stacy

Anthony is in a unique situation in that even if he’s having a bad day, he has to get on a platform and be upbeat and inspirational. How do you get yourself back on track if you become sidetracked, especially when you feel that you have lost your peace?

Anthony

It depends on what I am facing. Usually, it starts with getting quiet and still. It’s what I need to begin figuring out exactly what might be causing the problem.

I remember when I was a kid having trouble breathing because of my asthma. Dr. Denny would put a stethoscope on my chest and say,

“Be quiet and take a deep breath, Anthony.”

That was what he needed to be able to hear my heart and lungs and to start getting to the root of the issue.

In the same way, I need to be quiet and take deep breaths to hear what is going on in my heart and to hear the Lord’s voice. Whether that’s sitting and doing nothing until my mind stops racing, going on a walk, or keeping a scripture in mind, I have to take the first step of being quiet and still. From there I can discern the source of the problem and figure out the steps that will bring me back to that center of peace.

I think I’ve also become more vulnerable as time has passed. If I am really struggling, I might confess that to family, friends, and sometimes even the audience I’m singing to. I’ve seen moments when God used that to cause a breakthrough in worship. A certain peace and comfort comes from sharing what you are going through with others instead of holding it in.

The Lord has blessed me with many things for which I’m so very grateful, but what I treasure most is the gift of peace.

Peace is priceless.

It simply cannot be purchased. But obtaining it does require work. What I had to learn the hard way is that no car, house, check, roaring applause, new outfit, or amount of Instagram likes is going to give me a true and sustained peace in my heart and mind.

The pathway to true peace opens up when you realize that it is not predicated on what is happening externally. Peace comes when you trust the anchor of your faith, even in the storm. Yes, storms can create fear, questions, and uncertainty, but when you completely and totally trust your anchor, a peace settles deep inside you.

Discovering, experiencing, and protecting our peace is one of the major steps toward internal health. Stacy taught me that peace has to be fought for and helped me develop a plan that works for me.

Peace is priceless.

Stacy

One of my key therapeutic rules is that we are all responsible for protecting our peace. That’s not a passive process. Toxic people, guilt, unrealistic expectations, overthinking, overdosing on technology — we need to be aware of what’s happening in and around us and protect ourselves, because all these things can steal away our peace. Of course, there are also times when our emotions can sneak up on us. Like weeds taking over a yard, stressful and unwanted situations can creep in until they take over every aspect of our lives.

Some people go to church and assume they will automatically find peace because of their participation in that process. But unless you are carrying peace on the inside, even the good things happening externally may not be able to reach you.

Anthony

I did that for years. Obviously, I’m a church kid, and I was there all the time. But on the inside I was still a wreck. It didn’t matter how good the worship service was or if the preacher delivered the sermon of the year. On top of that, trying to pretend like you’re fine when your heart is troubled only makes the pain worse. It’s like having a sprained ankle and trying to walk without a limp.

Now don’t get me wrong; church is very important and something we shouldn’t ignore. But you would be surprised how many people sitting in church pews are just as broken and confused and anxious and depressed as those who don’t even attend. Peace is not automatically downloaded into your soul just because you walk through the church door and sing a verse and chorus of “See a Victory.” Many a Sunday, I would sit in church and be miserable, even though I was singing and praying and doing all the things I thought would bring peace. Then I was right back in the mud of guilt and shame. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I pray through it? Why can’t I get it to work for me?

Internal peace was not my first focus. I was looking to external experiences rather than my own heart, soul, and mind. Jesus told us that the kingdom of God is not something that can be easily observed. It’s not in a song or sermon or even a book.

The Kingdom of God is inside you (Luke 17:20–21).

In Psalm 119, King David talked about hiding God’s Word in his heart (Psalm 119:11). I believe that the Spirit of God gives you peace, and that starts on the inside. External things cannot do that.

The hard truth is that the accumulation of material things can make the lack of peace worse. I remember going on a trip, thinking that distance from my circumstances would fix things. As I sat on the beach and cried, I realized that you cannot run from yourself. The issue was inside me. In that moment I realized that until I did the work, I was going to continue to feel anxious no matter where I was or what new thing I acquired.

Stacy

Notice that many people say, “Rest in peace,” and yet we rarely hear people say, “Live in peace.”

Anthony

The only way to rest is to live in peace. We can rest in peace on this side of Heaven too.

Stacy

With a foundation of peace, you are going to be happier, more productive, and have a better life overall. This is possible even in unpeaceful times. The pandemic, civil unrest, and other external stressors that are out of our control all make it difficult to maintain peace within ourselves. This is why it becomes critically important to manage our regular, daily sense of inner peace as we monitor our emotional health and sense of harmony.

Excerpted with permission from When Faith Meets Therapy by Anthony Evans and Stacy Kaiser, , MA LMFT, copyright Anthony Evans and Stacy Kaiser.

[wodenscild]

OMG I SAW YE ANSWERED AND I HAD TO KEEP REMINDING MYSELF NOT MAKE A VELOCIRAPTOR SCREECH CAUSE I GOT SO EXCITED and dont worry about answering matey !! I won't forget ye if you do not answer, it goes both ways ye know :)

Wut- wut is Cavetown? And wdym out of context messages?? Srry my brain is a bit soggy rn am not too smart with a soggy brain.

I WILL NOT SHUSH >:3 ye deserve such nice things and sometimes ye need a daily reminder that ye really earned yer place and that ye are so so sweet ! Dare i say it- sweeter then sugar 😌

LORE LORE LORE LORE LOREEEEE :D Hhhg am so glad ye wanted to hear it lmao- SO this also connects to the yard time thing ! I am in the void and i get yard time !! In the yard time i come out of the void and can send asks. Sometimes i spent too long out of the void and don't want to go back and then get dragged back in T^T The void is kinda like a black space where there is no gravity, but i can create anything i want out of pure matter! I am quite like a lil' ghost lol.

THATS SUCH A GOOD IDEA !!! Yes house near the yard, (in a forest cause i think of forests and nature when i think of you). and in that house ye shall live! >:] You really are like a small bean who thought it was a good idea to befriend a ghost and now your friends are trying to figure out how to- mmh... Revive me? Figure out who i was before i died?

But i have a more specific vision of "the yard", if you come from the void there is a tunnel where ancient creatures dug a hole in the bedrock (cause i play Minecraft) with a little stream of water running through it... Really pretty cause nature pretty. And bunch of mushrooms cause it's a cave :D that eventually leads to a almost perfect open place in the shape of a circle ! That's where galaxy once was and i followed them to the house 👀 then found you, Fenix, birb etc etc.

My autocorrect keeps correcting when i say "birb" and i keep having to type it over and over till it stops it's so annoying. Welp this was a bit of a longer ramble then it was supposed to be? Doesn't matter you can skip it if you want :]

Really hoping uni goes well for you- it sounds so complicated ToT i try to understand but it's hard.

Also you- what did ye do to me?! i am taking ye'r e vulcubary (vocalbary? Vulcubary? Why words so hard??) Like saying ToT a lot and new icons WHAT KIND OF MIND MANIPULATION DO YE HAVEE. Also saw that birb (autocorrect let me be please) showed me yer favorite reaction thingy? I can't remember correctly :-; but it was a pretty gremlin looking thing with the text "ehehehe" above it and i have to say- i stole it as my lockscreen lol. Now anyone who tries to steal my phone will just be staring at a gremlin saying "ehehehe" while they fail to guess my password :D

Ugh last day of vacation... btw MA2 went to Paris !! I guess i will see you later today? \o

-The one and not so only mystery anon ✨

ALDLSLDLSKDKSKD AWWWW DEAR HEART HI I HAVE MISSED YOU A TONNE!!!!

KSKDKSS umm Cavetown is just a trans artist I like listening to. He comforts me a lot & gels well with the sorta folkish music I have floating around on my playlist ^~^ (tho in the same music I also have power rock & orchestral rock & alt rock so- THERE IS A LIL BIT OF TONAL WHIPLASH BUT SHHHHH IT IS FINE)

& wier ty 🥺 it is nice to be reminded every now & again thst being alive is enough sometimes & I don’t need to do anything more. & the same goes for you too btw :] sometimes life sucks & you don’t wanna get out of bed- but you know what that is completely valid. You are still just awesome & loved ^~^

Gods I love that world building! But I hate how while reading that I thought about The Boy in Striped Pyjamas D: I can’t be having that- I am already crying now /hj

IT FOLLOWS IT FOLLOWS GALAXY HAS AWOKEN AN UNWIELDY BEAST OF LOVE & AFFECTION HELP DKFKAKDKSKKSKS it followed them home & now we are made to suffer with our hearts melting in our chests T^T

& yeah uni SUCKS- the next 3-4 weeks are gonna be a BITCH- with both a sociology & psychology report I need to do- but dw with enough chocolate milk & spicy jerky anything is possible >:3 my only worry is that I get too far into it & I won’t actually end up having time to study Noongar & that would be really sucky >:// Mesabzu Wodenscild, child of all knowing Abzu & Wōden, needs their language studies to stay sane ToT

& YES PERFECT MY PLAN TO SLOWLY INFECT EVERYONE WITH “ToT” IS WORKING >:] Language is wonderfully sticky isnt it darling?~ & OMGS YES THIS ONE

I am in love with it it captures my energy whenever I get a new idea. Actually I couldn’t find it at all online so I asked Birb to send it to me & well-

AND OH POOR MA2 D: WHAT CRIMES DID THEY COMMIT TO END IP IN A PLACE SO HORRIBLE???

[lhrry]

x

[galadhremmin]

there are so many elves with axes in tolkien's work. Though tbh-- I'm not sure if there are really that many or if it's just that I somehow manage to feel surprised every time it's mentioned... anyway people should draw those more (I'm people).

[rosielav]

Y’ALL POSITIVE THINKING CAN SOMETIMES

FLIP A SITUATION!!!! TRY IT OUT!!!!! IT CAN’T HURT TO AT LEAST TRY!!!!

IF YOU CANT BE POSITIVE FOR YOURSELF BE POSITIVE FOR SOMEONE ELSE!!!!!! SOMETIMES SEEING OTHER PEOPLE HAPPY CAN HELP YOU BE HAPPIER!!!!! I HAD A TERRIBLE DAY AND SO DID MY FRIEND BUT BECAUSE OF THE POWER OF P O S I T I V I T Y THINGS ARE LOOKKNG UP!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!

[dear-galileo]

you spin me right around

modern au!geraskier, written for the @thepassifloradiscord fic and art swap!

8.5k words, mature

read on ao3

“I am going to learn magic,” Jaskier declared into his phone. Triss, on the other end, made a noise of surprise. 

“Really? What brought this on? Oh, I can recommend you to one of my professors-”

“I am going to learn magic, and curse Valdo fucking Marx so that whenever he goes to sing, his dick gets smaller.”

“Is that his middle name?” Triss asked. Jaskier paused, already lost in a conversation that he had started. “Fucking? Valdo Fucking Marx? I can’t tell if his parents had great confidence in him, or simply hated him.”

“I’ve made the word cuck in my phone autocorrect to Valdo.” 

“I can’t imagine how often you text the word cuck.” 

“No, but it’s quicker to type that than Valdo Fucking Marx.” Jaskier said easily. Triss laughed, before composing herself. 

“Why are you cursing him? Or should I say, what did he do today?” 

“He’s into painting .” Jaskier revealed dramatically. He was currently walking through one of the many courtyards of Oxenfurt University. Having spent the past two years at this school studying music previously had granted Jaskier zero shame regarding freshmen overhearing his phone conversations. Let them be entertained, lord knows they need it. 

“He’s-” Triss hesitated on the other side of the phone. He could imagine her sitting at her desk in her dorm, twirling a pencil in one hand, her phone in the other. “He’s into painting? Isn’t that a good thing, since he would drop out of your music classes?”

“No.” Jaskier corrected. “He’s into painting alongside his music- he’s making art to represent his songs.” Triss hummed, and Jaskier could tell from the tone that she wasn’t getting the full picture. “Not only has he stolen three of my songs from freshman year and mangled them with his bloody fucking [__], but he’s making toddler-level finger paintings based off of them.” 

“I might need photographic evidence of these.” Triss said. 

“Already sent one to you. It looked like he shat himself on top of a canvas and called it art. I couldn’t bear to stand around and listen to his lecture on what it represented, so I got out when I could.” 

Triss’s laughter echoed through the phone as she checked the photo. “Dear Gods,” she said, putting the phone back to her ear. “That is truly terrible. But how is this magic worthy?” 

“He’s trying to one up me! I bet you he overheard that I am going for that internship at the record studio, and is trying to beat me out.”

“How would bad artwork help him in that case?” 

Jaskier threw up one of his arms, even though Triss couldn’t see him. A freshman with an overloaded backpack stared at him as she walked by. 

“Fucked if I know! But I refuse to let this slide by, I’ve got to do something.” Triss groaned. 

“No, every time you say you’ve got to do something, you end up doing something ridiculous that very much does not need to be done,” she complained. “And half the time you drag me into it.” 

“How many times must I apologize for setting you up on that fake date with him? I didn’t know he was going to spend the entire two hours at the movie talking.”

“You can stop apologizing when I can smell movie theater popcorn without cringing. He tried to hand feed me popcorn , Jask, that’s not something that one could easily forget. He has sweaty hands.”

“Which is why you were never sent on another spy mission- in fact, I gave up the spy missions sophomore year. That’s growth!” 

“If I didn’t know how much you genuinely hated this man, I would say just fuck him and get it over with,” Triss said with a barely suppressed sigh. This was a discussion that they have had before. 

“Getting back to the point-”

“Oh, goody, there’s a point,” Triss said dryly. Jaskier gasped loudly into the phone, just to get his feelings of betrayal across. 

“Rude! You are spending too much time with Yen. She’s a bad influence.” 

“I actually think that she would help you with the penis shrinking spell, if you gave her a good enough reason to.” 

Jaskier considered this for a moment, but Yen still scared him, even after half a year of her dating Triss, his best friend. 

“No, okay. I have to find another medium, and be better at it than Valdo is.”

“You are going to make shitty paintings?” Triss asked. There was movement on her side of the phone. “Oh- Yen’s here, I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Is he complaining about that greasy fuck again?” Yen’s voice distantly said. 

“Yes! He is!” Jaskier called. Yen’s scoff could have been a general one, or because of Jaskier talking about himself in the third person, it was too hard to tell through the phone. “Listen, so I can’t get into painting, a, because that’s too obvious, I would be blatantly stealing his idea, and b, that’s stupid.” 

“I doubt Valdo owns the market to making paintings based off of songs,” Triss started to say. 

“Hush, my lovely beautiful friend,” Jaskier cut her off. “I was going to try wood carving, but then I remembered the last time I held a knife in the kitchen, I managed to nearly chop off my entire hand, so that’s out. That means ice sculptures are out as well. Perhaps sandcastles?”

“We live nowhere near a beach.” Triss reminded him. Jaskier cursed, scowling. He was on his way across campus, back to his car to get to work, so he didn’t have the time to run back to his apartment to scavenge through his closet of abandoned crafts.

“I have an idea,” Yennefer said, suddenly very close to the phone. “Pottery.”

“Like the art of weed?” Jaskier asked, before remembering he was speaking to a very powerful mage who could create a portal to him to smack him, if she so wanted. Thankfully, Yen chose to ignore the joke. 

“Sculpting with clay. I have an old friend who runs a pottery studio in town. They do open house nights every week, where people can try to make their own pieces.” 

“It’s not a castle made out of fine sediment, but that might still do the trick.” Jaskier declared. “Triss, please kiss your lovely girlfriend for me as a thank you.”

“Please do not give me a kiss from Jaskier,” Yen said to Triss. “Is your problem solved? May I spend time with Triss now?” 

Jaskier made kissy noises into the phone until Yen got the point and hung up. A few minutes later, a text from Triss with an address and a name came through. It was just downtown, and thankfully not too far from his apartment. The name provided was Geralt, which the website unhelpfully gave no more information about. 

read the rest of ao3

[blossom-hwa]

Could I request . . . best friend!chan + boys' night out, some platonic banter and wholesome drunk escapades?

Okay ngl Javi I have never gotten drunk or anything so like.... I’m so sorry I don’t know how to write this smdkgshg but I wanted to write platonic banter and I started this like texting series in my last drabble game so.... I kinda continued it here but with a reader too?? I hope that’s okay I’m so sorry kjfskdjhguh

(Read the original text aus here: danceracha | 3racha | vocalracha | the boyz | both groups aka a nightmare)

Stray Kids drabble game: send me a Stray Kids member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

~

Title: Cafe Shenanigans 2: Electric Boogaloo

Pairing: none (all platonic), reader is gender neutral

Word count: 1.3k

Triggers: cursing

~

quick clarification:

better than tony: chan

chingban: changbin

gremlin: jisung

y/n/wow: y/n

~

better than tony: we have a new worker joining today please for the love of god do Not scare them off

better than tony has added y/n to the group chat!

y/n: chan why is this your nickname

chingban: and why did you talk about a new worker all serious n shit we literally know y/n

gremlin: probably better than we know chan tbh

y/n: what’s my favorite color

chingban: ...

gremlin: ...

y/n: that’s what I thought

better than tony: I'm regretting everything rn 

chingban: ???? nothing has happened ????????

better than tony: something is going to happen I know it is

better than tony: it’s only a matter of time

y/n: chan you still haven’t answered my question

y/n: why is this your nickname

better than tony: I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you

gremlin: I'm gonna do it

chingban: I'm torn between wanting to cease existence

chingban: and wanting to see chan melt into the ground out of embarrassment

better than tony: I swear to fucking god you assholes IF YOU DO IT

gremlin: [ sent 1 audio attachment wow.mp3 ]

y/n: oh my what’s this ??

better than tony: y/n go to work

y/n: I'm taking my break now <3

better than tony: I'm revoking best friend privileges

y/n: that’s fine I can make two whole other best friends right here 

gremlin: :D

chingban: :D

better than tony: I knew this was a mistake

y/n: I think my twenty minute break is long enough to listen to a three minute song! 

y/n: bye whores

better than tony: jisung say your prayers

gremlin: I'm willing to take one for the team

gremlin: it was only a matter of time before they found out anyway

chingban: you can’t argue with that

better than tony: I’D STILL RATHER KEEP IT UNDER FUCKING WRAPS

gremlin: are those choking noises from the back

better than tony: this was a mistake this was a mistake this was a fucking mistake

chingban: dw I'll go check on them

chingban: make sure y/n isn’t dead on their first day on the job

better than tony: I honestly hope they choke

chingban: update all is well

better than tony: damn

gremlin: that?? is??? your???? best????? friend??????

better than tony: not anymore

better than tony: anyone who knows about wow must be put to death

chingban: so our entire friend group should be put to death?????

better than tony: are you arguing with that

gremlin: you know what I can’t argue

gremlin: I'm surprised the fbi hasn’t shot us down yet

y/n has changed their name to wow!

better than tony: ok you know what fuck you

wow: what the fuck are you doing to get the fbi to shoot you down

gremlin: IT’S ALIVE

better than tony: unfortunately

wow: it ??????????????????????????????????

chingban: idk about them but I've never done anything that merits being shot down yb the fbi

gremlin: wow is an offense punishable by death

chingban: I agree it’s an offense but death ???????

better than tony: stop texting and go back to work I'm tired of you all

wow: I'm still on my break

better than tony: everyone except y/n stop texting and go back to work

chingban: the favoritism is real

better than tony: y/n is my best friend suck it up

gremlin: I thought you disowned them from that position ???

better than tony: unfortunately they’re still more tolerable than you two combined

wow: I'm still reeling over being called ‘it’

wow: bitch ass han jisung you think I'm Frankenstein’s monster or some shit? or the clown from that movie???

gremlin: do you want me to answer that question

wow: say your prayers

chingban: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

better than tony: I regret everything

~

wow: hey I didn’t know hyunjin/minho/Felix worked at the build a bear at this mall

chingban: literally where have you been

chingban: they’ve been there for at least six months

gremlin: why is only felix’s name capitalized

wow: 1. bitch do you think I come to the mall to go to build a bear?

wow: 2. autocorrect

wow: wow jisung your autocorrect is shit if it isn’t capitalizing Felix

gremlin: what do you come to the mall for

gremlin: also what of it

wow: to bother chan

wow: and mooch off the wifi because the connection at home is shit

wow: oh and work now ig

better than tony: nice to see your priorities

wow: <3

wow: actually jisung. don’t tell me you fucking actually go back and make Felix uncapitalized 

gremlin: caught

gremlin: and wait till they find out where seungmin/jeongin work at 

chingban: what the fuck why wouldn’t you just let autocorrect do its shit

better than tony: he’s jisung do you really need another reason

chingban: fair enough

gremlin: fair enough

wow: also I've known where the fuck seungmin/jeongin work I used to work at the tutoring center too dumbasses

better than tony: isn’t the pay better there? I still don’t know why you quit

wow: if you mean better by like fifty cents then yeah

gremlin: I-

chingban: I thought tutoring would pay a lot more than working at a shitty cafe???????????????????????????????

wow: yeah that’s what I thought too

wow: and then I found out how much chan was getting paid and I was like what the fuck I'd have so much fun working here even with slightly lower pay 

wow: so I quit

gremlin: respect

wow: wasn’t a hard decision

wow: the kids are horrible

better than tony: I thought you liked some of them

wow: “some” is the key word

chingban: ouch

wow: at least I get to fuck around here without getting in too much trouble

better than tony: isn’t sangyeon chill??

wow: Ella isn’t

gremlin: oh I've heard horror stories from seungin

wow: they’re all true

wow: honestly wish you’d burned down the tutoring center when you set fire to the refrigerator jisung

better than tony: HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT

chingban: more like who DOESN’T know about that

wow: seungmin sent me pics

better than tony: betrayed by my own children

wow: he’s more my child than yours and you know it

chingban: does that mean y/n and chan are our parents????

wow: no

better than tony: no

gremlin: oh my god I have more parents now !!!!!

wow: suddenly I feel Regret

better than tony: welcome to my world

gremlin: I'll set fire to the refrigerator again if you don’t say you’re my parents

better than tony: isn't this how you bribed Jacob into giving you hugs instead of giving me hugs

wow: Jacob?

chingban: other worker along with chanhee they’re on vacation for the week

wow: o

better than tony: also please don't set fire to the refrigerator

better than tony: or even try to

gremlin: have my conditions been met

wow: fucking gremlin bitch ass child

wow: fine I'm one of your parents

gremlin: 1/2

better than tony: fine

gremlin: 2/2 :D

wow: let the record say I only ever wanted seungmin and jeongin

wow: and Felix

gremlin: ouch

chingban: ouch

wow: you force me to be your parent you suffer the consequences

better than tony: Felix is MY SON

wow: SO YOU THINK JUST BECAUSE YOU FUCKERS ARE AUSTRALIAN YOU HAVE AN AUTOMATIC BOND? SUCK MY DICK CHAN

better than tony: I’LL FIGHT YOU

wow: SQUARE UP OLD MAN

chingban: jisung did you predict this

gremlin: in reality no but for the clout yes

chingban: ...

gremlin: I am Agent of Chaos(TM)

chingban: that I can see

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (5)

    jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst + soft joon cameo

words: 3.9k

      chapter five

You tossed and turned for half the night and when you finally managed to fall asleep, your phone buzzed with a text message. Sticking your hand out from under the covers, you kept your eyes closed as you looked for your phone and debated throwing it against the wall so you could keep sleeping.

Driven by some sort of a pathetic hope – what if it was him – you opened your eyes after all, only to see that the text came from a student in your Sociology class, Namjoon. You were supposed to work on a project with him and he was wondering if you were free to meet him at the library today.

“It’s Saturday,” you texted back sleepily, thanking the God for autocorrect, “I don’t mind but don’t you have plans?”

You put your phone back down, hoping to get at least a few more minutes of sleep, but another text message came in almost instantly.

“Everyone will flock to the library on Monday and pick out the best books,” Namjoon said in his text, “so I’d like to get a head-start. Would 9 work for you?”

Nine in the morning – considering that it was eight right now – was absolutely not going to work for you because you were still half-asleep and weren’t motivated enough to have breakfast, shower, make yourself look presentable, and drag yourself across campus in an hour. But you didn’t want to be a nuisance, so you texted back, “sure! See you at 9” and sighed your way into the dorm bathroom.

Thankfully, everyone else seemed to be still asleep, so you got the whole place to yourself and could shower for as long as you liked, without fearing that someone was going to rip off the curtain, separating your naked body from the rest of the room – it was the sort of fear that didn’t go away in all of the three years that you’d lived here.

The shower did wake you up but, with waking up, came the memories of last night and the disappointment that Inna had brought home.

Truthfully, what hurt you the most wasn’t even the fact that Jungkook had presumably spent the night with some other girl but rather, the fact that he did so right after you decided not to purposefully sabotage your budding friendship with him and, instead, give it a chance to see what happened.

Well, you saw what happened and you didn’t like it one bit. So, on the other hand, maybe this was for the better. Clearly, there was still a lot of the old Jungkook – the one you knew and loved once upon a time – left in him, but there was also a part of him that you had never gotten to know – that was the part responsible for the end of your friendship seven years ago.

And, stepping out of the shower in your robe, you decided it’d be best to never get to know the foreign parts of him. Obviously, some of those feelings you’d had for him all of those years ago – actually, a lot of those feelings – had survived the long hiatus and were very much making a comeback – if they ever truly went away, that is – so it was best to quit before you got burned. Again.

And then, by a stroke of simply awful luck, you exited the communal bathroom only to see a familiar figure leave someone’s room down the hall. Being the only two people here, the two of you immediately took notice of each other, and you were starting to wish someone had ripped that shower curtain off so you could have died of embarrassment back there, instead of suffering through seeing Jungkook right here.

“Hi,” he said, just as surprised to see you here even though he walked you home yesterday and knew very well where you lived. “W-why are you up so early?”

“I have plans,” you said, your answer more curt than you’d intended. Being subtle would probably work better since you didn’t want him to know how hurt you were.

“Oh,” Jungkook said. He noticed that you didn’t ask why he was here which could only mean that you knew. “Can I walk you? I was on my way home anyway.”

“I’m not going out in a robe,” you said, “I still need to change.”

“Well, I can—I could wait,” he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans to hopefully stop them from clenching into fists. Your coldness was messing with him.

“No need,” you said, abandoning all hopes for subtlety, “I’m sure you’d rather get back to your—well, friend, I guess. She’s probably waiting for you inside.”

You wanted to walk past him into your own room – and would have done so, too, if you were only a little faster – but he was quick enough to get his hand out of his pocket and grab your wrist, stopping you.

“Are you jealous?” he asked and you began fuming at this—very observant and absolutely correct—accusation.

“What? I’m not jealous,” you lied loudly and proudly. “I just think it’s funny how you’re trying to get your life together one moment, and then go ahead and sleep around the next.”

He let go of your hand. “I—”

“If that’s your version of drinking responsibly,” you added with a scoff, “then I have to tell you, it’s not all that different from any other type of drinking you’d been doing since you started college.”

“Drinking—are you going to preach about absenteeism to me now?” he asked, suddenly focusing on the wrong thing. “That’s very closed-minded coming from someone like you. I thought you were—”

“I’m obviously not who you thought I were,” you cut him off again, even angrier now that he’d touched you – just like that time at the party last week – because, despite the circumstances, the softness of his skin felt outrageously nice.

“Okay, fuck!” he couldn’t help raising his voice. “I’m still trying to catch up on all that we’ve missed about each other.”

“Why?” you demanded. “Why does it matter?”

“Because we were friends once upon a time,” he quoted the words you’d said to him and you groaned as you recognized them.

“Once upon a time was a long time ago,” you said. “Maybe what’s in the past should stay in the past.”

Jungkook had gotten into physical fights more times than he could count and yet he’d never gotten punched just by someone’s words until now. It hurt and, frankly, he’d have preferred it if you’d socked him in the eye instead. At least that way you could both could see the damage done.

“Right. Well, in that case, it’s really none of your business how or how often I’m drinking,” he said, his hurt feelings coming out in chilly, stone-hard sentences and you’d already heard him tell you something like this before. You should have listened and hung up the phone as soon as he called to apologize about it.

“Hey,” you raised your hands in defense, “you’re the one who called me last night.”

“I was drunk,” he shot back, his voice as cold as yours had been, “I barely even remember it. Don’t think it means anything or gives you the permission to—”

Not realizing what excellent liars you both were when you were angry, you allowed yourself to listen to him until his words started to sting too much.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said then, turning around to go back to your room. He didn’t try to stop you this time. “I never thought it meant anything.”

You were late to meet Namjoon at the library because, after having closed the door of your room, you didn’t dare to come back out into the hall even after you dressed up and got ready, in case Jungkook had lingered. But it all turned out to be just wishful thinking – he probably left as soon as you went inside – and there was no sign of him anywhere when you did finally come out.

Well, that was that. This time last week, you had been on your way to visit Jungkook at the hospital, and now your very unsuccessful attempt at reconnecting had ended. 

You should have seen it coming, it’s been far too long. Pretending that it hasn’t and rebuilding your friendship on memories had, clearly, not worked.

“So sorry I’m late,” you announced to Namjoon when you finally reached the library, all out of breath and with a very poorly hidden bad mood.

“It’s alright,” Namjoon replied, showing you his cup of coffee, “I stopped by the café next-door, so I just got here myself,” he said and then realized, “oh! I didn’t get you anything, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what—”

“Oh, no, there’s no need,” you plopped down into a seat opposite him. “I had a quick cup before I left the dorm. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded and, taking a sip of his beverage, gave you a look that he’d hoped appeared as nonchalant and not at all suspicious – even though it was – and, as soon as he placed his cup down on the table between you, he inquired somewhat awkwardly, “are you okay?”

You were busy taking your backpack off and putting it on a chair next to you, so his question took you off guard.

“Hmm?” you turned to give him a look. “I’m fine, why? Is it about being late? I was just—”

“No, no, it’s just that—well, nevermind. I thought you looked upset,” he said and then regretted ever bringing it up. His perception had gotten him labeled as creepy several times before. “Sorry if that’s out of line for me to say.”

“No, it’s, uh—” you looked down, unsure if pouring your heart out to someone who was virtually a stranger to you was such a great idea since you obviously sucked at making – or, well, remaking – friends. “I am somewhat upset, I guess. I got into a fight with—with a friend before I left. But I promise it won’t interfere with my work!”

“Ah. Sorry to hear that,” Namjoon said and he sounded genuine, which was nice, considering he didn’t have to try so hard for someone who was just his partner for a Sociology project.

“Yeah,” you spoke and allowed the quiet atmosphere of the library on this early Saturday morning to engulf you both before finally saying, “anyway. Do you have the literature list, perhaps? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

“I have it on my phone,” he said and, in an attempt to sit up straight and pull his phone out from his back pocket at the same time, he spilled some of his drink on the table. “Oh, shit, uh—sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, reacting immediately and reaching for a pack of tissues you always carried in the outer pocket of your backpack. You extended it for him. “Here.”

“Thank you,” he took one out and wiped his own hand first before cleaning the drink off the table.

“Is your hand okay?” you asked. “The coffee seems to be hot.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said with an awkward laugh. He’d already showcased enough of his inability to function as a normal human, he didn’t want you to have to deal with the stinging pain of his palm, too. “So, anyway, as I was saying, I have the list on my phone. I can send it to you and then we can split up to find the books faster.”

“Okay. That sounds great!”

And it really was great because, aside from being somewhat clumsy – he spilled his coffee again when he was pushing his chair back to get up from his seat and then dropped his phone as he was attempting to clean the new puddle – Namjoon was also an honest, dedicated worker and you appreciated that. You’d already had to work on many projects with peers who were more than happy to let you do all the work.

“I love the library at a time like this,” Namjoon told you from the other side of the book shelf as you two began to freely roam the near-empty library, browsing for books. “Not crowded with people, I mean.”

“Yeah, I love it, too,” you agreed. “But I don’t get to see it often, to be honest. I’m one to jump on the bandwagon and come here when everyone else comes.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, usually, I’m like that, too. But I started coming on weekends recently. It’s blissfully empty here, especially in the morning.”

“Everyone’s probably hungover,” you observed. “Parental Advisory had one of their usual ragers last night.”

“Ah, yes,” Namjoon nodded and then, somehow hesitantly, asked, “why weren’t you there?”

He made it sound as though you were supposed to be there and, for a minute, you wondered if your very few public conversations with Jungkook ended up bringing more attention to you and him than you’d realized.

“I—well, I don’t really go to those things,” you admitted, “it’s not really for me. I was home, binging on TV shows instead.”

He laughed – not mockingly but rather, understandably. Like he could relate.

“That’s my usual weekend, too,” he said then, confirming your thoughts and you gave him a smile through the gap between the books on the shelves. “I’ve been catching up on the movies I’ve missed during mid-terms.”

“Oh?” you picked one book up to check the edition and then put it back after realizing it wasn’t the right one. “Did you watch anything last night?”

“I tried to give the Kristen Stewart movie a shot,” he replied, dragging his finger on the spines of the books as he looked for the one he needed. “But it didn’t do it for me.”

“Underwater?” you asked. You had dragged Inna to see this movie in the theater with you. “I didn’t like that one, either. Even though Kristen Stewart was, predictably, great.”

“Oh, you’ve seen it, too?” he seemed surprised as he stopped and glanced at you over the shelves.

“Yeah, horror movies are much more my thing than campus parties,” you said.

“Really?” now he was properly intrigued. “Mine, too.”

You stopped browsing as well and your eyes met even if your bodies were separated by shelves of books. Not wanting to make this awkward, Namjoon didn’t let his gaze linger for too long before he looked back at his phone and continued his search for books.

“What would you say were your Top 3 horror movies of the last few years?” he asked, not just to keep the conversation going, but also because he was genuinely curious. He hadn’t met a lot of other people who were into horror.

“Only three?” you put your hands on your hips, deep in thought. “Okay. I’d choose Get Out, Us… and Midsommar.”

Namjoon wrinkled his nose at this. “Midsommar? Really?”

“Yeah,” you looked at him in confusion. “Why? It was good!”

“Well, it wasn’t bad,” he said, “but it just… I don’t know, it didn’t have enough horror elements for me. You do have good taste, though. Get Out is definitely one of the few late-decade films worthy of its’ horror genre.”

You couldn’t deny that but felt like you had an addition, “I actually quite liked Hereditary, too. It was different from what I usually watch.”

“Is that the one with the actress from The Sixth Sense?” he asked as he pulled a book from the shelf nearby to check the cover.

He was truly proving to be a project partner sent from heavens as you squealed, forgetting the library rules for a minute, “Toni Collette! Yes!”

He turned around, surprised by your excited tone.

“You liked The Sixth Sense?” he asked with a laugh, then.

“Loved it,” you said, still overwhelmed by the realization that you two seemed to share the same taste in movies. “It’s one of the best movies out there, in my opinion.”

“I think it might just be,” he agreed. “I’ve never seen Hereditary, though.”

You stopped walking and turned to him with wide eyes. “No. Are you serious? It’s terrible! I mean, terrible as in, I had to look away from the screen several times and I’m not one that gets fidgety during horror movies. That really proves how good it is.”

“Ah, yes, as the rating for horror movies goes – boring, decent, bad, terrible,” he counted with his fingers as you both laughed. “No, I don’t know, I just somehow never got around to watch it.”

“I have it on my computer,” you found yourself saying, “if we wrap this project up quickly enough, we could watch it. If you’d like.”

“I’d love that,” he said, smiling, and then stopped himself, “although, I don’t think the library allows that sort of activity here.”

“Oh. No, I guess not,” you thought about it for a moment and then came up with a plan, “well, are you free on Monday? We could work on the project at my dorm and watch the movie then. My roommate has classes in the afternoon, so it’ll be quiet.”

You hadn’t even realized that you were inviting a guy you’d almost literally just met over to your room and neither had Namjoon as he considered your offer – trying to remember his own schedule for Monday – and then nodded. 

Truthfully, he didn’t even consider that there could have been some concealed intentions behind your invitation – he genuinely wanted to watch this movie with you since it seemed to have left an impression on you.

“Okay, yeah,” he said finally. “Monday sounds good. I’ll bring my books.”

“Great!” you’d have clapped your hands together if you weren’t holding three books and your phone. “I’ll bring the movie.”

Shortly, the two of you had finished your search for the books for the project and Namjoon excused himself – apparently, his drunk roommate had lost his keys and couldn’t get home – agreeing to meet you at your dorm on Monday.

You didn’t even realize it until you sat down by the table to put the books into your backpack but discussing your favorite movies with Namjoon had helped you forget all about your fight with Jungkook. Smiling solemnly to yourself, you concluded that you were actually feeling surprisingly well right now in comparison to how disheveled you’d been when you first arrived here.

Deciding that it was your choice how to feel about your second falling-out with Jungkook, you chose to move past it with surprising swiftness. If a good conversation was what it would take for you to forget about him, then you were just going to have to find more interesting people to talk to. Inna, once she sobered up, would work perfectly.

You’d have probably succeeded at this plan if it weren’t for the two girls that just arrived to the library, sunglasses and paper cups of coffee in hand. You merely glanced at them, choosing not to say hi even though you thought you’d seen them around the dormitory, as they sat down a few seats away from you.

“Okay, listen, why does it matter that he left early?” one of them was saying as you pulled the zipper of your backpack, opening it up. “Everyone still knows that you went home with Jungkook last night.”

That’s when you froze, focusing all of your energy into not turning around to look at them again. 

One of these girls was the girl whose room Jungkook had left this morning.

“Yeah, but so what?” she replied to her friend. You knew you had to keep putting the books into your backpack or else you’d look weird just sitting here, obviously listening. But moving with minimal noise, so you’d still be able to hear them, was difficult. “Nothing happened between us.”

“I mean, not nothing,” her friend countered and then hesitated, “you did kiss, right?”

“Yeah, but—I don’t know. We kind of did,” her friend said and you found yourself drowning in waves of hotness. You decided you should probably go if you wanted to still have a chance at the swift-moving-on you’d planned. “But it was really more me, kissing him. He didn’t even—he was just there, you know what I mean?”

“Was he drunk?”

“No—well, yeah, we both were,” she giggled. You mentally gagged as you hurriedly stuffed the books into your bag. “But he was sober enough to recognize where I lived.”

“He knew where you lived? Girl, that’s good!” her friend clapped her hands together.

“No, but he didn’t, he just—he knew someone in the building,” she said. You sat up straight suddenly and the two girls stopped talking. Trying to play it cool, you coughed nervously and pushed your chair back, standing up. They carried on, “anyway, I think he just went with me because he wanted to visit that friend who lived there. But he tripped over the door on our way in, and I said that maybe we should stop at my place first, I could get him a drink or something. He said, ‘yeah,’ so we went and… he fell asleep basically as soon as he entered my room.”

“What? Seriously?” her friend asked as you zipped up your bag.

“Yeah,” the girl said. “I sat him down on my bed, left to pick up some snacks from the mini-fridge, and when I came back, he was full-on snoring.”

“Shit. Maybe he’s sick or something.”

The girl wasn’t so sure. “Or maybe he’s just not into me.”

Choosing not to listen anymore or else they’d have to notice you loitering, you picked up your backpack and headed for the exit. Your mind was buzzing and even the walk across campus to your dormitory didn’t help make it stop.

Apparently, Jungkook hadn’t slept with the girl that brought him home – he just let you assume he had. Not that you’d given him a chance to deny it, to be fair, accusing him of sleeping around one second and drinking himself blind the next.

It was clear that you’d overreacted and, in a moment of weakness, you considered calling him to apologize. But then you stopped and reconsidered – he’d told you it wasn’t your business to worry about his drinking. He’d told you his late-night phone call meant nothing and that he could barely even remember it.

So, maybe the argument in the hallway meant nothing to him, too. Maybe you were the only one still thinking about it while Jungkook was already off, doing whatever he did Saturday mornings because, God knew, moving on came easy to him.

Deciding that it was time you listened to him when he told you not to get involved in his decisions, you exhaled shakily and put your phone back in your pocket. 

There was no point to apologize to him about anything.

It was over.

keep reading | masterlist

[sungie]

lee minho ; thunderstorms

- - -

summer decided to take a rain check, and the skies are cloudy and rumbling, the rain outside rhythmically pattering against your window

and although you stayed inside all day, it was nice to take a break from the heat to relax and bundle yourself in knit blankets and fuzzy socks 

you’re scrolling through your feed when a text message from minho makes its way across your notifications

minho 8:45 : how are u inside on a night like this

minho 8:46 : unbelievable 

and first of all, rude, because minho is one to talk 

minho is the epitome of i stay at home and do nothing because i’m tired and you’re boring 

and second of all, bitch, of course you're inside ,, it's raining and stormy

you 8:52 : get tf out who even are you

minho responds not even a second later

minho 8:52 : the best thing that’s ever happened to you that’s what.  but ig ur just not ready for that yet. 

you 8:52 : *worst

you 8:52 : autocorrect really hyping you up there

minho 8:53 : fine, then. definitely not @me eating all this food by myself.

you sit up immediately 

because minho isn’t? he’s not -- you peer outside your window, squinting as you try to make out something in the dark, but it’s kind of hard with the rain and your reflection against the glass. 

you 8:54 : wait

you 8:54 : you’re not?

minho 8:54 : dumbass smh

you fly out your bed and run to the door, opening it with such force that minho stumbles and nearly crashes into you 

it's raining outside, really raining, and you look up and blink to see minho holding a bag to his chest, which he’d apparently pressed against the door to stop it from getting wet

and sure enough, the one thing you immediately notice about minho today is that he looks so pissed 

like, the level of pissed his cats get when he gives them a bath every so often

but when his eyes land on you, it’s like someone switched a flip and minho visibly softens

there’s obvious relief that flashes across his face for a millisecond

honestly, the only reason you know this is because you’ve been around him for so long and you can read him well

and then, because he’s such a tsundere, he ruins it by narrowing and rolling his eyes.  

"i could've died, leaving me on your doorstep like that, the disrespect"

excuse me the audacity

“i didn’t know hyunjin invited himself over”

minho: ಠ_ಠ 

but nonetheless, you quickly drag him inside and are genuinely concerned about his well-being

minho can't help but watch you with hidden amusement

you're trying to do so many things at once

turn on the crappy heater to your apartment, shut the door, try to find blankets, no, a towel so minho can dry off, maybe some extra hoodies you've stolen from him -- until minho has had enough and gently, but firmly, rests his hands against your shoulders to make you look up at him. "breathe, (y/n)."

you're suddenly all too aware of the close proximity between the two of you

and minho's eyes make you lose all train of thought

minho's always been attractive, but damn, he's really gorgeous up close

you suck in a breath and hope that minho sees it as just being overwhelmed, so you gesture to him wildly and hope that he can make something out of it, because you really can't figure out what to say

"i brought us take-out," is what minho finally says with a cheerful smile, and you can’t help the snicker that escapes your lips because his random cheerfulness always feels so fake but also teasing all at once, and you wanna smack him

"you're gonna catch a cold," is all you manage, still fussing over him 

and this is exactly what minho was trying to prevent, but he just rolls his eyes and lets you take care of him, and shh, it makes his heart feel super warm because, god, you're so adorable, and he doesn't know how he got so lucky to have a best friend like you 

you tug the jacket off his shoulders --

“if you wanted to get me out of my clothes, you could have just asked”

“MINHO”

-- and you dump it in the dryer, tossing minho a hoodie that you swear he left at one of these movie nights.  even though both of you know very well, that you stole it from his closet

as you're busy finding blankets, minho pulls the take-out from the bag and opens to-go boxes, frowning when he realizes some of it is cold

he’s super focused about this and pours the cold take-out into a bowl and reheats it in the microwave for a bit to make sure it's warm again

because he won't have his baby best friend eating cold food, no, you're eating the best of the best if he has anything to say about it 

afterward, when both of you are satisfied, it’s time to just crash on the couch and eat food, and minho always gets two different things (although they're suspiciously both your favorites), and he lets you take some of his food, too, if you want

while he simultaneously whines that he does so much for you 

but you know he means nothing by it, because the smile that tugs at his lips when you get happy is everything to him 

minho lets you choose the movie, and after a while, you realize he's not really watching the movie

because he doesn’t laugh as loud at his favorite part as he normally does which is already suspicious

and to test this out, you watch him out the corner of your eye

minho,, minho is really just gazing at you with the softest expression in the world

you’re shocked

he’s actual heart eyes whipped 

when you turn your head to catch him in the act, he tries to play it off as being cool, and he actually accuses you of looking at him,, smh minho you ain't chill

but there's one thing minho hasn't taken into account, and that's the faint blush on his cheeks, and the way he can't meet your eyes again

“minho?”

"i might like you," minho whispers, and it's more of a statement than a question 

you don’t respond, too busy gazing fondly at him

minho looks up, finally, and he knows as soon as he sees your face that you like him back

his soft expression turns into a smirk and he throws a crumpled up napkin at you.  “i knew you were trying to get me out of my clothes earlier”

“minho.” >:(

minho just laughs, but you can tell he’s so happy, and when you fall over to rest your head against his chest, minho’s heart literally skips a beat

"ew get off me.”

and then, when he can’t keep his blank expression any longer:

“I knew you liked me," and he sounds so smug 

"then why didn't you say anything idiot”

minho raises an eyebrow, “why didn’t you say anything?” 

“because!”

“well, i’m not an idiot,” minho scowls

"you’re my idiot”

if someone told you that’s what it took to break minho, you would’ve laughed at them 

but you literally do not understand how minho is unaffected by your mutual feelings, but is soft boy tm when you call him your idiot? like ,, make it make sense please

but cue cute, flustered minho 

and the two of you continue to cuddle as you mindlessly watch the movie, but it's more background noise, as the two of you continue to eat the rest of the take-out while listening to the summer storm outside and gently smiling at each other 

- - 

continue your journey?

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Jockey For Position

Now that we’re done with that long cameo, it’s time for our feature presentation for tonight, and it’s a doozy!:

We open with Pinky frantically running on a spinning globe while Brain stands above him on the…globe holder? I don’t know if that part has a name or not.

“[winded gasps] Can I stop now, Brain?”

“Not until I finish my demonstration.”

Brain, that’s just… Well I was about to say it was mean, but given that Pinky understands the details of his plans better when Brain demonstrates it or draws elaborate diagrams, maybe it’s for the best? I doubt Brain could make that large globe spin just by using his hands, and Pinky’s been seen a lot of times running on the mouse wheel in their cage so he’s gotta be pretty in shape. Still, it feels like Pinky’s been running for a lot longer than he needed to…

You know what? I change my mind. It is a bit mean, Brain.

“When I build my reverse geotropic arrestor, Pinky, and throw it from the North Pole like this…”

The word “geotropic” doesn’t quite sound right. I wonder…

…Okay, yeah, Brain’s getting worse at naming things.

“…In a matter of seconds the cable will become taut, gravity will cease, and everyone will fly off the face of the Earth!”

Oh my GOD, Brain. This has got to be the stupidest plan you have come up with yet! Nothing about this will work.

Well, there goes poor Pinky.

“Leaving us alone to assume control.”

It’s still “us”, huh? Noted.

Long Pinky.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! Haha hehe heh—!”

Pinky, sweetheart, I know praising Brain is kind of your thing but this is one time I’m going to have to call you out on your bias because this is super not brilliant and I’m actually a little worried for Brain’s mental state.

“—Oh wait, no, no. What’s going to keep us from flying off the Earth?”

That’s one flaw of many, Pinky, but I guess it’s as good a start as any.

“We will duct tape ourselves to a tree.”

Because the tree will totally stay in the ground when the Earth abruptly stops spinning. Not that it will stop spinning, because none of this makes any sense.

Brain, did this idea come from, like, a dream you had or something? Is that why the plan is working on dream logic?

I know this is a comedy cartoon and this is all a joke but sometimes Brain’s plans are so fucking out-there I just have to roast him for it.

“Unfortunately we still need to raise money to buy a one billion ton magnet. But I have a solution!”

Oh boy, can’t wait to hear the solution to this one. It’s gonna be stellar if the whole plan today is anything to go by.

Oh nice, Brain’s the one sewing for a change! Usually this is Pinky’s area of expertise, but it’s always nice to see that Brain can do some classically domestic things too.

“Tomorrow is the running of the Kentucky Derby. Do you know what that is?”

Most of my knowledge on it comes from “My Brother, My Brother, and Me” goofs, so my mind keeps autocorrecting it to “Kenfucky Derby”, but go on.

“Umm… Oh! A very large hat?”

“Promise me something, Pinky. Never breed.”

“I’ll try.”

Well, that’s going to come back to haunt them.

“The Kentucky Derby is the biggest horse race of the year. There’s a one million dollar purse going to the jockey riding the winning horse.”

“And I am going to win that purse!”

Okay, first off: Pinky, are you just going to stand there and stare at Brain as he gets changed? Like, I understand they’re naked normally and this is the exact opposite of stripping but umm…

Secondly: Brain, did you really have to get that up close to tell Pinky this? You two are making this too easy for me.

“Zort, Brain! A million dollar purse?!? Ooooh!~ You’re going to need matching pumps and earrings for that!”

Pinky’s got his priorities in order.

“Focus, Pinky, focus!”

“Now watch.”

And now Brain’s ordering Pinky to watch him dress and I just…I have no words. This is all so suspect. Why do you two even need a dressing screen if you’re usually naked anyway? And it shouldn’t matter if anyone sees you get dressed unless this is some weird reverse nudity taboo you two have developed and if that’s the case, why are you allowing Pinky to watch? And if it’s for a dramatic reveal WHY ARE YOU ORDERING HIM TO WATCH YOU CHANGE???

This episode is already so goddamn wild.

I am really not sure how I feel about that pan-up of Brain when he’s thrust his pelvis forward. At least the outfit is cute, though.

“Narf! Oh, Brain, I get it! You’re a beautiful lawn ornament!”

“Beautiful”, huh? Also noted.

“Look at me, narf, I’m a pink flamingo! Ahahaheh!”

Oh LORD, Pinky, how are you—?!?

“I’m a cement deer! Ah hah!”

PINKY, STOP, YOU’RE SCARING ME! D:

“Oh, I’m one of the seven dwarves, Brain!”

That’s more acceptable but Pinky, sweetie, warn me if you’re going to nightmarishly shapeshift again, okay?!

I guess we can add that to the list of random abilities Pinky has.

“Stop it, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you.”

You are much calmer about this than I would be if this happened in front of me, Brain.

“Oh. Right-o, Brain. Narf.”

“Now let us make haste, for we have much to do before the race begins.”

“Poit.”

So then we cut to Churchill Downs, and I can only assume another roadtrip adventure was had off-screen.

“First, Pinky, we must visit the stables.”

“Inside, we will find the winning horse.”

“Err… How are we gonna do that, Brain?”

“The racing form, Pinky.”

My bet’s on... [squints] hLUUNO the horse.

“By analysing the velocity-based pace line, mile turf win and bayer speed figures, we’ll find a grade one stakes claimer who’ll give us a key horse situation.”

“Key Horse Situation” would be a great band name. Also, whoops, little bit of an error on the name plaques, background artists.

What do your mouse eyes see, Pinky?

“Err, can’t we just ride the pretty one?”

SHE!

So here she is, one of the few characters debuting in the Animaniacs run that will matter to PatB lore going forward aside from our main duo.

A fun fact for you all: Phar Fignewton’s name is a triple reference joke. “Phar Lap” was a champion thoroughbred race horse in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Fig Newtons are small pastries filled with fig paste. Lastly, “Fahrvergnügen” was a slogan for Volkswagon starting in 1990. Translated, it means “driving enjoyment”.

Phar Fignewton makes a whinnying noise and ends it off with a goofy laugh.

Brain is not impressed.

“Heavens, they’re multiplying…”

Pinky is instantly smitten with her.

BONK!

“This is a business trip, Pinky!”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Brain.”

“Here is our horse.”

“’Daddy’s Little Angel’…”

I guess it’s an ironic nickname.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Whu… I think so, Brain, isn’t Regis Philbin already married?”

…

Now I’m wondering if Pinky is suggesting that one of them marry Regis or if he’s suggesting that Regis marries the horse. Either way, what the fuck?

Yeah, same.

“The race, Pinky. By combining the statistics and my low body weight, this horse cannot lose! The prize money will be ours!”

GAH! Brain, I’ve had enough minor heart attacks from this episode because of Pinky’s eldritch morphing ability, I don’t need another one of your bizarre close-ups to do the same!

“Now I must take the place of the real jockey.”

“Hello?”

“Is this the Jockey who’s going to ride ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Ed Mcmahon from Publisher’s Smearing House. You’ve just won ten million dollars.”

Pinky delightedly and silently listening in and chuckling in the back is precious.

And honestly, Brain, I don’t know why you’re crouching here, but it’s also cute.

“I won ten million dollars… I WON TEN MILLION DOLLARS! I am outta here! Later!”

The mice are lucky that he’s so excited about winning all that money that he forgets to do basic things like ask when and how he’ll get the money.

“Louie! Louie!”

“Later!”

“Who’s gonna ride my horse? I mean, Louie is the smallest, lightest jockey in the entire world!”

Did you know that there’s a weight requirement for jockeys, but no height requirement?

“Not anymore!”

“[GASP]”

Whoops, I just noticed another error, though it’s minor: Brain’s jockey outfit throughout this scene is light tan and purple instead of the pea green and purple that it’s supposed to be.

“You’re a jockey?!”

“Actually, I am a mouse in the early stages of an elaborate scheme to take over the world.”

The more this happens, the more I’m starting to think that Brain does this shtick on purpose to emotionally and mentally disarm people who would otherwise suspect that he’s not human. The fact that it works shows you just how idiotic the human beings of this world are.

“Well, fine, we all need a hobby but…will you ride my horse?”

Oh, sir, I think it’s much more than a hobby at this point. If only you knew…

“I shall ride! And win!”

His design is a little odd here, but it’s still a good pose.

So Brain next has to be weighed to make sure he meets the requirements.

“Saddle: Seven pounds. Saddle and rider: Seven pounds 3 ounces.”

So if you can recall from the previous rewatch post, a house mouse on average weighs 19g, and a common wood mouse weighs 23g (it can be up for debate which type of mouse Brain is).  Converting Brain’s 3 ounces of weight to grams would result in him weighing 85.0486g.

Brain does have a bit of a cute little potbelly thing going on, but he’s also consistently much smaller in height and width than the average adult mouse in the series. I think the incredible difference in weight is mostly coming from the heft of Brain’s, well, brain and skull…and the muscle mass packed into that tiny body to help keep him upright.

“A genetically perfect jockey! This is fantastic!”

Please don’t phrase it like that.

“…Let’s look into early retirement.”

That jockey on the left is going through some shit, man. He looks like how I feel after working an eight hour shift on the holidays.

And so we skip to the beginning of the race!

That poor, poor jockey…who changed colour schemes for some reason.

There’s Phar Fignewton with a jockey who honestly looks like he’s high.

And here’s our little mousey fella, who has somehow managed to make this aggressive horse obedient.

“Camptown race is five miles long, do-dah, do-dah.~”

He’s so happy he’s singing to himself! This is honestly so precious that I completely forgive him for not getting the lyrics correct.

Coincidentally, Daddy’s Little Angel is positioned next to Phar Fignewton.

“Ooh, isn’t this exciting, Brain?”

Uh oh.

“Pinky, what are you doing here? Your weight will disrupt my winning calculations!”

I don’t know if it’d be that off, Brain. The combined weight of two mice is still much less than that of a human jockey.

“But Brain, it’s too exciting! I—“

[TARGET LOCKED]

“Oooh! Heh. Hello.~”

I think I’m going to save my thoughts on this whole…thing until the end. Right now I will say, however, that I wasn’t quite expecting the tongue-hanging-out-of-gaping-mouth lovestruck/horny??? reaction.

“Pinky, the race is starting!”

Too late, Brain.

And we’re off!

Bye, Pinky.

“There’s baloney in our slacks…~”

Pfft.

So as the race goes on, we get to know a few more of the horses’ names: Isle of Yap (a nice callback to the first PatB short), Flamiel (which is apparently the WB writers’ favourite word?), and Leggo-my-Egoiste (a double reference to an old Eggo slogan and the name of a cologne).

The other jockeys are more than a little surprised by Brain and his steed taking the lead early in the race.

Phar Fignewton is trailing way behind.

Meanwhile, Pinky’s woken up from fainting, seeing the oncoming horses—

--and promptly freaks out and stumbles back down again.

“Victory, she waits for me! Oh, the do-dah-day!”

You really have to stop tempting fate like this, Brain.

Phar Fignewton’s very tired, but what’s this?

Is that…Pinky in harm’s way?

ThePowerOfLove.mp3

Determined and fueled by her inexplicable crush, Phar Fignewton starts gaining ground on the other horses.

Brain didn’t calculate for this!

…Oh! Hi, Warners! Looks like they’re cheering Phar on.

“Oh no! Yah! Yah! Yah!”

I didn’t think whips were allowed in races like the Kentucky Derby, but apparently they are. Their use was only restricted—not banned—in the summer of 2020, which is alarming to say the least.

On a different note, I know some of you folks are now jotting down the fact that Brain knows how to use a whip. I see you.

She makes the save!

And she also wins the race! Way to go, Phar Fignewton!

“In the words of the great Willie Shoemaker: ‘Nuts!’”

It was a good try, Brain, but honestly I’m glad you failed this time if only so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself with your actual world domination plan’s failure later. Maybe take a couple nights off to rest up a bit and formulate plans that aren’t totally bonkers, hmm?

I might as well go ahead and talk about this now. I…am conflicted on this whole Phar Fignewton thing. It makes for a very strange one-off joke about Pinky instantly falling in love with a distaff counterpart of his that’s a horse for whatever reason…but the fact that she’s not a one-off character is baffling in and of itself. Like I’ve said before, she’s mentioned a couple of times going forward as being Pinky’s girlfriend, or as a bizarre joke at Pinky’s expense about him being in/having been in a relationship with a horse. There’s even a small running gag about Pinky’s reaction to people’s disgust about it: “People can be so intolerant!”. I don’t know if the joke is supposed to be one about racial segregation or a wink and nod to queer folks in the only way that the writers could get away with in a cartoon at the time (in a “see, Pinky’s down for a relationship with anyone, even outside of his species!” type of way).

Phar Fignewton herself is a sweetie but besides that she has no personality to speak of and we’re just meant to assume based on physical appearance that she is equivalent to Pinky. And like, she hasn’t been uplifted to human levels of intelligence and sapience like Pinky has because of Acme Labs, but she seems to be naturally sapient for some unknown reason and just simply unable to speak English.

On top of all this, the relationship is very shallow and the only reason we’re given as to why Pinky likes her is because he finds her pretty. It’s perfectly in character for Pinky to easily fall in love, as he does so with other animals a couple more times in the spin-offs, but it just feels weird that this is the one that sticks around purely to become a running gag that gets mentions that are sometimes literal years apart from one another.

And listen, I know the writers most likely made this a thing just because they thought it was a funny joke and a few of them managed to remember about Phar and would use Pinky dating her as a gag. I know this. But it doesn’t make it any less confusing and weird. I remember the jokes about Pinky and horses from way back when I first watched Animaniacs and the PatB spin-off when I was a kid and I never had any context for it because I don’t think I ever saw this specific episode. Coming back as an adult and seeing all these episodes in order and watching this one in particular and finding out the context is “Pinky thinks a horse is pretty and the horse and him are in love and long-distance dating now” is both underwhelming and leaves me with more questions than answers.

…Also, if my earlier theories on why the writers made this joke are correct, does this mean Phar Fignewton is metatextually a beard for Pinky?

I just don’t know, folks. You’re welcome to leave your thoughts on this in comments.

Let’s wrap this up.

So as we can see, Brain is, as usual, back to work on another plan that involves—

—a goddamn cannon, holy shit! What is he using the glue for? That’s a little ominous, given what’s been involved in this episode.

There’s a hammering noise in the background and we see Pinky putting up a photo of Phar Fignewton.

“Pinky, will you please stop that? I’m trying to concentrate on tomorrow night!”

Wow, you’re more irritable than usual, Brain. I didn’t think some delicate hammering would annoy you that much.

“Mwah!~”

…Despite my ramblings earlier, that’s very cute of you, Pinky. I’m sure you could’ve gotten a better photo, though.

“Why, Brain, what’re we gonna do tomorrow night?”

Try to take over the world, of course! Right, Brain?

“Guess.”

…

Umm, wow. That’s a first. You look like you’re absolutely enraged, Brain. All this over some hammering sounds?

This had me taken aback a bit when I watched it the first time, not gonna lie. We’ve seen Brain after a plan’s failure plenty of times before. He’s been frustrated, sure. Humiliated at times, or maybe he just sighs in resignation and walks off into the sunset. It always ends with him simply using these feelings to fuel the fire in him to do better tomorrow night.

This is the very first time we’ve seen him jumpy and irritated at the most minor of things and so angry that he literally refuses to participate normally in his and Pinky’s shared catchphrase. And this was for a plan that was just to fund the real plan! So why is this time any different?

Oh.

OH.

Okay, that’s… That makes a lot of sense, actually. Damn.

Hey, fanfic writers? Ya’ll ever use this as the very first time Brain experiences romantic jealousy? Let me know.

“Oh yeah, try to take over the world. Right.”

I think even Pinky’s put off by this development, if his hesitant and quiet finishing of the saying is anything to go by.

And that’s what we end off with.

All in all, this episode is a wild ride of strangeness in small moments and bizarre additions to lore and ends on the first subversion of the long-running closing gag of the series. It’s not exactly a great episode, but that ending is intriguing enough for one of the main purposes of this rewatch. In short, I’m just baffled.

Luckily the next episode is much better. Next time, the mice head on down to Tennessee to seek world domination via country music.

See you then!

[paganinpurple]

A Feline’s Family - MariChat May 2019

It’s been another hard week. Whilst I found a little time to edit, I found none to write. I’m gonna try writing some more today, but we’ll see. No promises on the next update as a result.

Autocorrect and I had a love-hate relationship during this chapter. It loves to tell me I’m wrong and I hate it because it’s deliberate this time.

Buy Me A Coffee?

AO3

Chapters (If there’s no link, it’s not written yet)

1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10

11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20

21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31

Day 22 - Sick

It was still the middle of the night when Chat awoke, briefly confused by the proximity of the ceiling above him and the darkness-muted rose colour of the duvet cover against his chest. As the memories of the sleeping arrangements from earlier caught up to his foggy mind, and the emptiness of the bed as well, he heard a muffled noise from the floor below.

Peering over he spotted a head of dark, messy hair – as its owner stood bowed over her desk, grabbing at something hastily. He noticed the tissue in her hand when she brought it up to catch her sneeze, tossing it in the trash in favour of a fresh one when she lapsed into a new bout of sniffles again.

“Are you okay, Bugginette?” he rasped out. He gripped at his throat as she looked up at him, the mere act of saying a few words feeling like an attempt to swallow a block of sandpaper.

“Kiddy?” she sniffled, her nasally tone making it clear that her nose was blocked up and interfering with her regular speech. “You should be asleeb. You need your res’ to feel bedder.”

“Looks like I could say the same to you.”

Taking advantage of his super-abilities, Chat leapt over the guard rail by the bed and landed almost silently beside her. She flinched for a moment at his reckless actions before giving him a half-hearted swat to the arm.

“You scareb me,” she grumbled when he laughed, her accompanying frown deepening when it transitioned into more of a coughing fit instead as his raw throat protested. “You shouldn’ do dat when you’re sick.”

“And you shouldn’t be down here without a blanket. Besides, I’m only a bit sick. You seem much worse off.”

“Nahb,” she told him, her voice adding a new consonant to yet another word that didn’t need one, “I always seemb worse than I actually am. I don’t feel too bad, excepd that I can’t stob sneezing.” She punctuated her words by grabbing another tissue to catch the next one that exploded out of her suddenly.

“Nuh uh,” Chat croaked out, catching her off her guard by sweeping her legs out from under her and scooping her up into his arms. “Thank God for enhanced abilities,” he thought as he wobbled for a moment, slightly weakened from his illness, but still plenty strong enough to carry her safely.

Keeping his tail  pointed straight out behind him for balance as he began to ascend the steps back up to her bed, Chat desperately tried not to think too hard about the feeling of her arms pressed against the bare skin of his neck or the way she didn’t seem to cling too tightly to him. She had absolute trust in him not to drop her and it made him glow inside with pride.

When he reached the top he gently sat her down, gesturing for her to scoot up the bed and climb back under the covers and -to his relief- she did so, though not without a pause for a sneeze or two on the way. He climbed back down to grab her box of tissues and situated them beside her except when he tried to retreat again this time, she gripped his wrist. He looked up at her face for further clarification.

“You comeb back to bed too,” she sniffed, her inflamed nose standing out even in the darkness.

“I will in a minute,” he smiled, “Just need to get a few things for us first.”

With a quick fumble for the no-longer-hot water bottle from earlier, Chat retreated again to prepare to take care of his Lady.

*

It seemed like only a few minutes later when the words, “Hey, you still awake?” roused Marinette from the restless doze she had slipped into.

“Hmm?” she murmured.

“I made us hot drinks,” came the whisper again, “Lemon and lots of honey with a shot of cold medicine mixed in. Like my mom used to make me when I was sick. If you breathe it in while it’s hot, it can help with the sneezing too.”

Blinking a few times, clearing away the tiredness from her eyes, she tried to focus enough to take the mug from him.

“Sit up properly first, or you’ll choke or probably spill it.”

“Dowing meb? I’ll do boff.” Huh, her nose seemed to be even more clogged than before. Maybe it was to do with her tiredness, or maybe she really was worse than usual.

She righted herself, pulling the duvet up to her chin before freeing her arms to take the mug from him. The steam wafting from it smelled delicious and she inhaled as deeply as she could manage through the one nostril that would allow it. It was with a pleasant surprise that she discovered it soothed her skin where she had rubbed it raw with the tissues.

A tiny, hesitant sip revealed it tasted as good as it smelled and gave way to a much larger gulp from the mug. It was followed almost immediately by a hiss in pain at the scalding temperature.

“Careful!” he scolded her, “It needs to be hot to help the sneezing. Breathe first, drink after.”

“How comeb you’re drinkin’ yours already then?” she huffed.

He smirked gently, not fully facing her as he took a long drink from his own mug. “Didn’t let the kettle boil for mine. Switched it back on for yours. It’s you who’s been sneezing; my throat just hurts.”

“Ohb. Well, are you at least feelin’ any warmer dow?”

“Yeah, much warmer. Which reminds me…” He leant over towards the end of the bed and snapped up the hot water bottle he’d forgotten about, boldly pulling the duvet away from her and tucking the cosy accessory against her pyjama top before replacing the cover.

“Uhb…danks,” she mumbled, a warmth spreading through her from both the water bottle and her sudden affection for his thoughtfulness. “You didn’t habe to dough. I would’b been fineb.”

“Marinette.” His words were chastising.

“I would dough!” she told him, sounding very much offended despite her affectionate smile.

“You’re only sick because of me, Princess. Now blow on it a few times so you can drink it down. I think Sleeping Beauty needs a little more sleep than she does beauty right now.”

“Are you drying to say I look ab mess, Kiddy?”

“A gorgeous mess,” he smirked slyly, “As always.”

She chose to blow on her drink and take a tentative sip instead of responding awkwardly to his dreamy gaze.

*

When her drink was over half empty and Chat had finished his, he took the mugs away, leaving them on the desk below to be dealt with properly in the morning.

Marinette took her time curling up under the duvet, finding the optimum position to sleep in with a nose as snotty and blocked as hers bothering her. She whined for Chat to hurry up the whole time she did so, acting as if he was deliberately trying to slight her by being out of the bed at all. His amused chuckle was quickly becoming her favourite song.

When he finally started to crawl over to her, he laughed at her sprawled form laying in the centre of the bed, gently poking her side to get her attention. “I need some space too, you know,” he snickered.

“Dere’s plenty of roomb if we cuddle dight,” she said back, the cold medicine loosening her tongue enough to be even more forward than she had earlier. She didn’t even notice his startled expression at her words, instead using her arm to sloppily beckon him towards her more.

He responded eagerly, sliding into bed and positioning himself so that her face was resting against his collar bone. She snuggled in close until her nose hit something. From his viewpoint, he missed the way she screwed up her face in irritation, so he had no opportunity to think of it as cute – though he definitely would have done if he had seen the expression.

“Your bell is in de way,” she grumbled, stubbornly giving the mentioned bell a tiny headbutt in defiance, “Be Adrien againd sob I’m comfy.”

He chuckled again, -louder this time- his throat no longer feeling particularly sore when he did, thanks to his drink and most likely to Plagg too. After all, the small creature must have been enhancing his own body’s natural defences to his illness.

“Anything you say Bugginette,” he said fondly, dropping his transformation and his eyelids too, as he started to drift off to pleasant thoughts and dreams for the remainder of the night.

Buy Me A Coffee?

[writtenwhalien]

Hey, loveee 🥰

Well I'm stupid for saying this, but I want to apologize if sometimes there are any errors or mistakes in my responses (I woke up today, got onto tumblr and I was faced with my last night's mess. Jeez! 😅🤦‍♀️) I swear, autocorrect won't stop messing up with me while texting. Plus, that thing where you try to edit replies to a reblog, but somehow they remain unfixed down in the comment box is so annoying. And even though I want to be as fluent as possible in English, I'll never be good enough because it's not my native language. I know that's not a big deal as the main goal is to deliver messages and have an easy communication, but still. I'm a perfectionist... 🥺

In a more positive light, my brain's still processing all the shocking information from last night's reading. What a wild night!?🔥 Hope you have a lovely day in whatever you do and if you feel like talking about anything I'm always here to listen. Love you! ❤❤

Happy April fools' day, btw! God, I hate lies sm and I hate this day as well! (funny how it's right after by b-day 😭)

looooool, no it’s okay, sometimes my typing messes up real bad too and auto-correct makes it worse. it usually happens when i’m really tired. and i find that so annoying too, esp after someone else has reblogged it but your original mistake remains! your english is perfect, i always understand everything you’re saying clearly, not to worry at all! ☺️

aw, i’m happy you thought it was a wild night loooool, alr is definitely going to have a lot more moments like that ;) thank you, anna, i appreciate that very much 🥺❤️ today i’m mostly studying so i’m trying to enjoy it lol. i hope you have a wonderful day too!! 🥰💗💘

and about April Fools, i also hate the day looool, but i’m hoping that hobi wasn’t messing with us on weverse yday, i want his hair to be red again!

[syntheticpoetry]

Constellations

Summary: When the text comes in from Tina, Kurt can hardly believe what he is reading. When Blaine doesn't respond to his messages he thinks his heart may actually stop beating. AO3 link || FFN Link

Author’s Note: I was watching Shooting Star and overcome with a million emotions, mostly having to do with the fact that we don't get ANY conversation or scene with the NYC gang during this insanely emotional episode. So this is my take on it. A little bit of canon, but a little divergence for the Klaine scene I desperately wanted to see as well as Kurt, Santana, and Rachel’s reactions. I promise there is a happy ending in this through the rollercoaster of emotions that is Blaine's mind during this absolutely horrifying ordeal. Big thanks to @roxymusicandlayers for beta reading this for me!

“And I am lost, so lost, but you’re the constellations that guide me.”

_________________________________________________________

“Alright guys, start texting and tweeting, whatever social media you use.  Let everyone know what’s going on here.  But don’t say where we are, shooters have smartphones too.” 

Blaine hears Mr. Schue’s urgent whisper as though he is underwater.  The words sound muffled and heavy with the depth of the room’s collective terror embedded into every upturned syllable.  Despite his best effort to keep the hysteria at bay, they know he is just as frightened as they are.  Blaine bites his lip and remains so still that every muscle starts to quiver, threatening to give way.  The burn feels familiar, like the ache he gets from lifting weights in the gym with Sam, and he pushes through the pain as though it is just one more rep away before they can finally rest.  

Any slight movement will betray his feigned composure and he knows the domino effect of his breakdown will begin.  Around him the gentle, frantic padding of fingers against glass echoes around the room like a discordant symphony of additional gunshots.  He knows they are not as loud as they actually sound in his head.  But the panic in his chest still swells.  He hugs his knees tighter.  The small movement is enough to send the first wave of tears down his cheeks.  He bites his lip harder and tries to focus on the pain of teeth against flesh instead. 

‘I should do what they’re doing.  Pick up your phone.  Keep it together.’

“Blaine, it’s okay.  It’s going to be okay,” Sam reaches a hand out and the touch of his fingers against Blaine’s forearm sends thunderbolts up his spine.  “Where’s your phone?” 

Blaine opens his mouth to speak and instead gasps loudly, the breath shuddering on the sharp intake of air.  He claps a hand over his mouth and squints his eyes shut as more tears come.  His mistake was moving at all.  Statues never cry.  He stretches out one leg and wrenches the phone from his pocket to see it at 1% battery.  With one hand pressed firmly against quivering lips, the muffled whisper comes convulsing out in staccato bursts.   “It’s— it’s almost— d-d—” 

He can’t bring himself to say the word dead.  As though breathing life into it will somehow fulfill some unspoken prophecy, and he is bound to doom them all by simply uttering it.  Sam squeezes his arm and whispers back, “Do you want to text anyone with my phone?” 

Blaine nods frantically when his phone screen finally turns to black.  He gingerly places it on the ground in what feels like slow motion, taking extreme care not to make a sound, and extends his hand out to Sam.  He thinks back to Mr. Schue’s garbled words and wonders if they really are underwater.  

“I can’t get in touch with my mom,” The subdued sound of Marley’s panicked sobbing ricochets off of the walls. “She won’t respond!  What if she— there’s no back way out of the kitchen!” 

While Kitty and Jacob whisper empty reassurances Blaine stares at Sam’s phone in his hand like it is a foreign object.  He knows what he is supposed to do with it, but the phone numbers in his mind are written in invisible ink.  

‘I can’t even remember my parents’ phone numbers.  Oh god, what if we die in here.  What if I never see them or Cooper or Kurt—”

A flash of hands clasped tight, buried deep into a mattress fills his vision.  The breathy whisper of his own name makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  His trembling thumbs begin to fly seamlessly over the keypad and he has never been so thankful for autocorrect before.  Just as he hits send the dull pounding sound of running footsteps in the hall crescendos until—

Rattle! Rattle! Rattle!

The jittering of the door handle makes them all collectively jump as though this is just another lesson in synchronisation for their next competition.  Blaine’s heart slithers its way into his throat, and he drops the phone.  It slides away from him and bumps into Sam’s ankle.  Sam’s leg jerks and sends it careening across the floor of the choir room where it settles underneath the piano.  The entire scene is something straight out of a shitty comedy movie that feels completely unbelievable, like the chances of something like this happening are one in a million.  The irony of the realm of impossibilies reaching its peak today is not lost on him.  The entire room stills.  Blaine wishes that stupid ticking of the metronome in the center of the room would. Just. Stop.  It feels like a countdown.  

Smash!

Blaine jumps again and presses his hand harder to his mouth to suppress the sound that begs for escape.  He hugs his knees closer to his chest in a one-armed embrace and tries to will the demon perched on his shoulder whispering unpleasantries to vanish.   The burn settles in again.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Artie struggling to sit himself up against the cabinets.  He wants to move, wants to help him; but when he tries to unhook his arm from his knees, nothing happens.  He continues spectating as Sam begins lifting Artie up by his shirt until he’s sitting comfortably upright.  Then he witnesses the moment of pure panic in his best friend’s eyes right before Sam hisses frantically to Mr. Schue, “Brittany doesn’t have her phone, she’s in the bathroom! She’s all alone!” 

___________________________________________________

“Oh honey, no goddamn way!” Kurt snatches the remote back from Rachel.  “Santana and I were here first, you don’t just get to come in and throw a hissy fit about having a bad day so you can put on whatever you want.  How do you know we didn’t have a bad day too?” 

Santana averts her attention from the television to watch them instead, positively beaming.  Their fights are honestly her favourite thing to watch.  Always far more entertaining than whatever trashy reality shows she and Kurt had been immersing themselves in lately.  Today it had been a marathon of the first season of Rock of Love. 

“Well, considering you’re both in the exact same spot I left you in this morning I seriously doubt it,” Rachel huffs loudly and sinks down into a creaky wicker chair, arms folded tightly across her chest.  Kurt rolls his eyes at her and changes the channel back before the gentle buzzing of his phone across the coffee table distracts him from Rachel’s moodiness. 

“Go make some popcorn and I’ll let you vent— oh,” Kurt stares down at his phone.  

“What?” Rachel lowers her arms, keeping them folded across her stomach still, and exchanges her scowl for curiosity. 

“Sam texted me, he usually never…” The rest of his sentence trails off once he opens the message, leaving them to stare.  He loosens his grip and drops his hands against his thighs, the phone resting precariously on his open palms.  After the fourth quick scan of the text the message still does not seem to sink in. 

Sam 12:36 p.m. I love you so much and I’m so sorry about everything that happened I’m so glad I got to see you at the wedding you’re amazing and deserve everything in the world I’m so proud of you don’t ever settle for anyone less than perfect because that’s exactly what you are 

‘This can’t be for me.’

“Kurt, what is it? What’s wrong?” Rachel leans over, her palms on her knees now, her brows furrowed in concern. 

“What’s Trouty mouth saying?” Santana snatches the phone from him.  He does not even protest her invasion of privacy, his brain is too busy slicing through the fog to decrypt the reasoning behind the message.  She frowns and looks between the screen and Kurt a few times.  “Did I miss the part when you and Sam got together? No way my gaydar is that far off.”

“There’s no way that’s for me.  He obviously meant to send it to someone else.  Do you think he meant it for Mercedes?” Kurt plucks the phone back from her hands to reread the message before typing out a reply. 

Kurt 12:44 p.m. I don’t think you meant this for me? 

“What did it say?” Rachel pipes up and cranes her neck to try to read over Kurt’s shoulder.  Kurt tilts the phone to show her.  “Ooooh, wait did something happen between them at the wedding? Wasn’t he there with Brittany then though?” Kurt shrugs and scrolls through his contacts until he lands on Mercedes’ name. 

Kurt 12:50 p.m. Okay maybe random question but is there something going on with you and Sam again? I got the weirdest message from him just now 

Mercedes 12:55 p.m. ???? What did he say? 

Kurt takes a screenshot of the message and forwards it to her. 

Mercedes 1:00 p.m. Omg nope nothing happened with us at the wedding.  Maybe he meant to send it to Brittany? Has he not replied? 

Kurt 1:02 p.m. Nope

Tina’s name flashes across the top of his screen in a drop down banner and he taps on it.  “Oh my god.”  The words come out small and frightened as he reads the message.  “Tina just said—”

“She just texted me too,” Santana replies in an eerily despondent voice that Kurt has never heard her speak in before.  It suddenly makes the situation feel ten times more real.  For once, she’s silent as she stares down at her own phone, frantically typing out a text.

“Me too,” Rachel whispers.  “Oh my god, do you think everyone is okay?” She stands and crosses the room, pacing by the window as she rereads the text over and over again.  “Kurt, have you heard from Blaine?”

‘Blaine.’

Kurt cannot find the words to respond to her as he taps on his favourites list.  Blaine’s name is still at the very top.  He had told himself he had never gotten the chance to adjust the list and remove him after their breakup.  Really, he never had the heart to erase his name.  The sight of it now makes his throat constrict.  He tries to speak but no sound comes out.  

“Brittany isn’t texting me back.  Neither is Sam,” Santana borders on hysterical as she grips her phone between her hands like it is her only lifeline.  Kurt mimics her action as he composes a text to Blaine. 

Kurt 1:10 p.m. Tina texted me are you ok

“Has anyone heard anything from anyone else?” Rachel asks.  Neither of them respond. 

Kurt cannot look away from Blaine’s name.  The feeling washes over him suddenly and intensely, dragging his logical mind into the riptide of superstitious terror as he recites the name silently like a mantra.  If he looks away, he might lose him forever.  It doesn’t make any sense to think that way.  He knows it.  But it provides some tiny semblance of comfort and control as he tethers himself to it and waits for a response.  Two long minutes pass by and still nothing comes. Tina’s name and phone number fills the screen, swallowing Blaine’s name, and he finally finds his voice, the words frantic and choppy as he taps multiple times to decline the call, “Someone call Tina, she’s calling me.  Someone call her so she stops calling me!” 

The sight of Blaine’s name again anchors him down once more and the rest becomes background noise. 

'Please be okay.  Please be okay.  I’m never saying goodbye to you, you idiot.  Just text me back.  Please.’

__________________________________________________________

“Mr. Schue, I have to get to her! I have to make sure she’s okay!” 

Blaine watches, horrorstuck, as Mr. Shue and coach Beiste struggle to restrain Sam.  He is thrashing wildly in their arms, his quivering voice crescendoing past the panicked whispers that everyone else has adapted.  It isn’t until coach Beiste whispers something in his ear that Blaine cannot hear, and Sam locks eyes with him that he finally settles down.  Blaine exhales sharply, lungs blazing and heart thudding at the base of his throat, and realizes he must have been holding his breath at some point.  Sam slinks back over to their corner and sits beside Artie, his head hanging down in defeat.  Blaine tries to parrot back the same empty promises Sam had whispered earlier, wants to tell him everything will be okay even though he is not quite sure if he believes it himself, but nothing comes out.  

“Maybe she’s with Tina,” Artie whispers hopefully to Sam.  “Maybe she isn’t alone.”

Blaine takes note of Artie’s lack of confidence and how he is careful not to speak in absolutes.  But maybe he is right.  He thinks about the word maybe in the context of his life.  Maybe Kurt did not want to admit how much their hookup at the wedding had meant.  Maybe he and Kurt really are back together.  Maybe Kurt still loves him.  Maybe he will see him again when this entire ordeal is finally over with.  ‘Maybe’ starts to feel like a pretty good word the more he thinks about it.  ‘Maybe’ feels like hope.  ‘Maybe’ feels like a second chance.  

The sound of a door opening breaks through Blaine’s inner dissection of the word, and he looks over just in time to see Mr. Schue skulking out of the door.  It reminds Blaine of one of Finn’s video games about spies and stealth.  Maybe they will get another chance to play it together after this.  He clings to that and tries to focus on the upcoming Friday night dinner with him, Burt and Carole as Marley’s sobbing continues to grow louder.  Her gasps for air further enforces his previous belief.  Maybe they really are underwater. 

It isn’t long before the choir room door opens again and a collection of cheerleaders rushes in followed by Mr. Schue.  Blaine watches Sam vault off of the cabinets like a spring loaded toy to pull Brittany into his arms.  She has never looked so terrified before.  But there is no sign of Tina amongst the red and white uniforms.  Blaine forgets about the maybe’s floating around his brain like buoys at sea and feels like he is drowning again.  He twists his head away and stares down pathetically at the blank screen of his cellphone, willing it to magically come alive.  

‘How could I have forgotten to charge it? I used to lecture Kurt about this all the time.’

Maybe it is a sign.  Maybe it is a metaphor of sorts.

He does not know when Artie began recording them with his phone, but the start of Marley’s hiccuped confession fills his lungs with water again.  “In the bottom of my desk drawer,” She breaks off to compose herself.  The volume of her crying sends off alarm bells in Blaine’s head and he tunes out the rest of her message.  He looks towards the hastily strewn barricade against the door.  Maybe it will prove to be sturdy, but it does not feel like enough.  The continued tapping of fingers against glass screens fills in the gaps of silence between the metronome and scattered crying when Artie pans the camera onto Blaine.  It feels like a slow dance towards a death sentence.  Maybe the rhythmic ticking really is a countdown. 

“Blaine, do you want to say anything to anyone?” 

He drops his face down into his knees.  Maybe he should take the opportunity to leave behind one tiny fragment of his life before he becomes another forgotten statistic.  But Artie has already redirected the phone towards Sam and Brittany when Blaine looks up again.  Maybe he has missed his chance.  ‘Maybe’ starts to feel like a cursed word now.  Like something sinister and evil and concrete.  Maybe he has inflated the word with too much hope causing some sort of rebound effect.  Maybe—

“All clear!” 

The words break through the hurricane in the choir room and suddenly everyone is getting to their feet except Blaine, who still feels sluggish and dazed.  Sam and Brittany approach him and hold out their hands.  He stares at their open palms, trembling and sweaty, and his body acts before his brain does to grasp them.  They lift him up like he is made of helium despite the lead shackles he envisions around his ankles.  He becomes aware of Sam’s arms around him and shakes away the anchors in his own arms to return the embrace.  The burn is still there, leaving his muscles fatigued and weak, but he cannot bring himself to let go now that he has latched on.  

“It’s okay, it’s okay.  See? We’re okay,” Sam whispers against his ear before Blaine realizes why he is taking such extra care to console him.  The sound of his own sobbing, punctuated by rattling intakes of air, reminds him why he tried to remain so still at the start of all of this.  He buries his face deep in Sam’s neck to muffle the sound and feels the addition of Brittany’s slender arms around both of them, leaving him sandwiched in between.  The shuffling sound of footsteps towards the door leads to the eventual end of the embrace and Sam jogs over to the piano, crouching down to retrieve his phone before they join hands and follow everyone else on the way to the parking lot.  

“Blaine, I have a charger in my car.” Sam says as he raises his phone to his ear.  Brittany slips her hand away from Blaine and he hears her whimpering Santana’s name before seeing she has also pulled out her phone.  Blaine laces his fingers with Sam and clings tightly as they weave their way through the crowd towards Sam’s car.  “Mom, hey I’m okay.  We’re okay.  We’re outside now— please don’t cry, I promise I’m okay.” 

When Sam finally pulls his hand free, Blaine thinks he might just float away.  It takes Sam only a few seconds to wrench open the car door and jam his key into the ignition.  “Blaine, here— Wait, Kurt’s calling my phone.  Mom, let me take this, and I’ll call you right back? Blaine’s phone died, he has no way to— yes, I’ll be right home as soon as I can.  I love you too.” 

Blaine’s fingers are numb by the time Sam has pressed the phone into his hand.  Kurt’s frantic, breathless voice breathes life into them, and he curls them tightly around the device just before it is about to fall.  “Sam! Brittany called Santana and said you guys made it out.  I can’t get in touch with Blaine, is he—”

“It’s me,” Blaine exhales and the volume of Kurt’s sob makes his knees shake.  He leans against the car door but slides down it as Kurt continues to cry loudly in his ear.  

“Why weren’t you answering me?” Kurt sputters out, his voice traversing the length of his entire vocal range like a warmup. 

“My phone died, that’s why I texted you with Sam’s—”

“You didn’t say it was you!” Kurt’s voice rises three octaves.  Blaine presses the phone closer to his ear like it will actually close any of the distance between them.  “I thought it was a mistake! I thought it was Sam! Why didn’t either of you get back to me on— Blaine, are you crying or laughing?” 

“Both, I think,” Blaine responds airily between watery laughter.  In the timespan of less than two hours he feels as though he has mastered every element associated with human emotion.  The fire in his lungs has been reduced to embers as Kurt’s voice continues to blanket him.  The laughter should feel inappropriate, but it feels like letting go.  It feels like a release.  He finally feels grounded.  “The stupid phone— it was insane— I dropped it and Sam kicked it under the piano— if you saw it— I’m sorry, I don’t know why I can’t stop laughing, but it just feels so good to hear your voice again.  I thought I was never going to hear it again or see you or—”

“Don’t you ever, ever, write a message to me like that again!” Kurt interrupts his rambling and suddenly the laughter becomes lodged in his throat.  Maybe he had been wrong to assume all of those ideas about them earlier.  Maybe Kurt’s next few words will feel like an actual gunshot wound.  

“Kurt, I’m sorry, I thought—”

“I told you I’m never saying goodbye to you,” Kurt parades through his apology, trying to sound bold and certain.  Blaine can see the hairline cracks in the foundation as Kurt wavers through the next command.  “Don’t you ever try to say goodbye to me like that again, do you understand me?” 

“Understood,” He replies with the remnants of his previous laughter, the solitary sound coming out strangled and relieved all at once.  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You’re sorry you—” The way he says it sends shivers down Blaine’s spine.  It is the same breathy exhale that had been reserved for their night in the hotel as their hands sank deeper and deeper into the mattress.  “Blaine, you must have been fucking terrified, how can you focus on me?” 

“Because I love you,” Blaine says simply.  For once there is no anxiety or fear to cage the confession.  It flies freely over the soundwaves and he does not worry about the reply because he already knows the response without Kurt having to say it.  But Kurt says it anyways. 

“I love you too.” 

‘Maybe’ starts to feel like a second chance again.  ‘Maybe’ feels like a promise.