#apologies if any of these r incorrect i have only been to a handful of these cities

[muirneach]

presto (toronto/south ontario) // go pass (saskatoon) // opus (montreal/quebec city) // peggo (winnipeg) // arc (edmonton) // compass (vancouver) // metrobus (st john’s)

[gotham--fc]

Avergonyit - An Alexia Putellas Imagine

Not requested, just a little idea I had as I emerge from my woho brainrot and get back into woso

R moves to Barcelona and tries to learn Catalan, what happens when she hears her girlfriend Alexia teasing her about her pronunciation with the team?

I don't speak Spanish or Catalan so I apologize if anything's incorrect I did my best

It probably wasn’t the best idea, moving to Barcelona without knowing any Spanish. Y/N hadn’t planned on transferring, but when Barca Femini makes an offer, well, it’s not like Y/N could refuse. It all happened very quickly, the offer coming towards the end of the transfer window, not leaving Y/N much time to prepare. It really was only a few weeks between the offer coming in, and Y/N landing in Barcelona. She’s extremely grateful that the team got everything set up for her in Barcelona, so Y/N didn’t have to worry about trying to find an apartment or any of those things during the whirlwind of packing and moving across the globe to a place she’s never been.

Needless to say, Y/N’s Spanish was very bad, at least at first. It was a challenge, trying to find her way to the training centre, the nearest grocery store, when she’s not able to ask anyone for directions. Add on that most people speak Catalan anyway, any rudimentary Spanish Y/N could muster didn’t do much for her.

It got easier, the longer she’s here. The team speaks a mixture of Spanish and Catalan, but most speak English too, or at least enough English that Y/N can talk to them. She picks up words and phrases, mostly football terms, since that’s what she hears most often. She’s able to understand what the coaches yell at the team on the field, most of the time, and she finds the areas of the city where people speak English and she’s settles in as well as she can.

What really helps her settle in is the team. Y/N bonds with the other non-Spanish players, them being the first ones she could really speak to without needing someone to translate everything. As time goes on, Y/N finds herself gravitating towards Alexia more and more.

Alexia, as captain, took it upon herself to make sure Y/N was settling in well, and the two hang out outside of training as Alexia gives Y/N a tour of the city and takes her out to her favourite restaurants and coffee shops. The more and more they hang out, the more and more it stops feeling like a captain trying to help a new teammate settle in. Y/N isn’t really sure what to make of it, she knows the ways she’s starting to feel about Alexia, but she’s not sure about Alexia’s feelings.

Things really shift after a tough game, a hard fought win, when the team, despite all being exhausted and sore, decide to go out to a club after. Y/N’s having fun, laughing and dancing with her teammates, and she takes a quick break from the dancefloor to get a drink from the bar. She’s sipping her drink, watching her teammates, when a body slides up next to her.

“Hola carinyet,” Alexia says. Y/N smiles as she turns to Alexia. She’s asked before what the nickname means, but Alexia just smiled and told her not to worry about it.

“Hola Ale,” Y/N says.

“Very good,” Alexia says, “Soon you will be speaking Catalan better than me.”

“I just said hello,” Y/N says. She notices suddenly that both her and Alexia have been leaning towards each other and now Y/N can clearly smell the scent of Alexia’s perfume. Y/N’s distracted by it that she misses what Alexia says next. She zones back in as Alexia laughs and places her hand on Y/N’s arm.

“Do you want to get some air?” Alexia asks. Y/N nods. She quickly downs the rest of her drink and follows Alexia outside.

The air is cool, much cooler than it was inside and Y/N shivers involuntarily. Alexia leans casually on the wall, watching Y/N with a look of amusement.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Nothing, ets bonica.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Y/N says.

“Vull fer-te un petó,” Alexia says in response.

“Ale…” Y/N whines, “Stop bullying me, you know I don’t know what that means.”

“It means,” Alexia takes Y/N’s hand and tugs her closer, “I want to kiss you. Is that okay, carinyet?”

“Oh.” Y/N breathes, surprised. Alexia doesn’t falter, stays where she is, the same easy confident look on her face as Y/N processes her words. “Yeah. Yeah. You can.”

“Bona.”

After that kiss, and the next morning where Y/N woke up with a hangover in Alexia’s bed, they’ve been inseparable. They’ve been dating ever since and Y/N couldn’t be happier. Alexia makes her feel so happy and content and loved. They’ve had a few bumps along the way, but nothing very serious and nothing that isn’t fixed easily.

“Hola lovebirds,” Mapi says as she and Ingrid walk into the locker room. Alexia rolls her eyes and Y/N sticks her tongue out.

“She’s in some kind of mood today,” Ingrid says as she sets her things down in her locker.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it amor,” Mapi says.

Y/N smiles as she listens to her teammates. She really loves it here and she loves listening to her teammates tease Mapi and Ingrid for being grossly adorable. That, and whenever they tease Mapi they don’t tease Y/N and Alexia.

“Ale?” Y/N says while the team is semi distracted, “What do you want to do, uh, després de la pràctica?”

Since they started dating, Y/N has been trying to learn Catalan. It’s a slow process, but she has managed to pick up a lot of words and phrases and ‘after practice’ is one of them. Y/N speaks Catalan more at home when it’s just her and Alexia, mostly because she’s still not confident in her skills. She’s trying to speak it more with the others, but she still can’t do more than basic sentences.

Before Alexia can answer, Mapi snorts.

“‘Després de la pràctica’” Mapi says, “A pronunciació no és important per a tu, Ale?”

“Està massa ocupada amb altres coses,” Patri says, wagging her eyebrows.

“What are they saying?” Y/N asks Alexia. Alexia hesitates in answering.

“Hey Y/N,” Mapi says, “Can you tell me what this says?” Mapi turns her phone to Y/N, a word, embarbussament, written in her notes app. It’s not a word Y/N has seen before, and not one Alexia has taught her, but she tries. As she stumbles her way through, the snickers around the room get louder.

“Are you sure you’ve been teaching her Catalan?” Patri says. “She’s worse than CGH.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N says. Y/N tries to grab Alexia’s arm, but she doesn’t pay attention as she heads over to where Patri and Mapi are sitting and continues joking with them about Y/N’s pronunciation.

Y/N can feel the embarrassment building. The more the laughter builds, the more Y/N feels like crying. She’s been trying her hardest and Alexia has been, until now, so patient with her. Alexia has always praised Y/N for her Catalan, gently correcting her when needed, but always telling her how proud she is that she’s trying. But now, listening to Alexia laugh at her, Y/N wonders if Alexia really is proud of her, or if she just says that to Y/N’s face, and then makes fun of her behind her back. Along with the embarrassment and humiliation she feels, Y/N also feels betrayed. Alexia knows how nervous she is to speak Catalan in front of the team, terrified of making a mistake. Y/N always thought she would Alexia in her corner, no matter what, but now Y/N realizes that was never true.

***

Y/N stops speaking Catalan after that.

She still wants to learn, but after what happened, she can’t bring herself to try again. Alexia keeps asking if she wants to practice her Catalan, but Y/N says no every time. She’s not going to give Alexia anything else to make fun of her about. Y/N starts to distance herself from Alexia. It’s not intentional and not what she wants, but whenever they’re together, Y/N can’t help but remember how she felt hearing Alexia laugh at her.

“Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” Alexia asks. Y/N shakes her head.

“I’m pretty tired, think I’ll just stay home.”

“I don’t mind staying in,” Alexia says, “We can order something or I can cook something for you, carinyet.”

“If you want to go out, then you should go out. I’m sure you can find someone who wants to grab dinner with you. I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N…”

“Just drop it Alexia,” Y/N says, “Go have fun with your friends, I don’t care.”

Alexia doesn’t go out, she orders food for them both and they eat in silence. Alexia tries to make conversation, but Y/N stays quiet. After they finish eating and cleaning up, Alexia grabs Y/N before she can go sit by herself.

“What is going on? What’s wrong?” Alexia asks. Y/N shakes her head. “Don’t lie to me. I know something is wrong, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Why?” Y/N mumbles, “So you can go laugh about it with Mapi and Patri later?”

“What?” Alexia says, “What are you talking about? What do they have to do with anything?”

“You were making fun of me!” Y/N says, feeling tears spring to her eyes, “The three of you, you kept making fun of me.”

“When? What are you talking about?”

“You were being mean about how I speak Catalan. You were being mean. I felt so embarrassed,” Y/N can’t stop the tears falling. “I’m trying my best and I know I’m not good and I know I screw up but it’s not like I grew up speaking it like you! You know how nervous I am to speak it and you were mean to me about it.”

“Bebita, we were just teasing. We weren’t trying to be mean.”

“It wasn’t funny!” Y/N takes a shaky breath. “You embarrassed me, Alexia. In front of the whole team. I felt so stupid. I feel so stupid. You keep saying all these things about how proud you are of me and how well I’m doing and then you let everyone make fun of me and you join in yourself!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were upset,” Alexia says, “I am proud of you and I am impressed by you learning Catalan and I didn’t mean those things I said. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to. I love hearing you speak Catalan, mistakes and all, because it shows how dedicated you are. I love getting to share my language and my city and my culture with you. I’m so, so sorry that I ever made you feel like I wasn’t proud of you, or that you are not the most wonderful, and amazing, and caring person I know.”

“It didn’t feel good,” Y/N says, “It made me feel like crap. My girlfriend being so mean to me to her friends, it doesn’t feel good, Ale.”

“I’m sorry,” The longer the conversation goes on, the more distressed Alexia looks. “Please, por favor, what can I do? What can I do to fix this?”

Y/N shrugs. She doesn’t know.

“I promise that I will never make you feel like that again. Every minute of every day I will tell you how amazing you are, and I will never make you feel like you’re not the most incredible person. Te amo, carinyet, t'estimo tant.”

“I really want to believe you,” Y/N says, “I want to move on from this whole thing and forget about it, but I can’t.”

“I’m so sorry, I feel terrible. I hate that I hurt you. I mean it when I say I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I promise I will.”

“I know Ale.”

Y/N finally allows herself to fall into Alexia’s arms, lets her wipe away her tears. She lets Alexia hold her and comfort her and whisper apologies and comforting words in her ear. Y/N doesn’t know how they’ll fix this, but she does know that Alexia will never stop trying to make it right.

[nikkeora]

For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

-

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

-

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

-

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

-

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

-

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

[fallecupid]

nsfw alphabet with art donaldson. ( headcanon )

.ᐟ.ᐟ warnings :ㅤ dom!reader.ㅤsab!art.ㅤfem!reader.ㅤnsfw content.ㅤword count: 3,3k.

( author's note : i apologize in advance for errors in this text / vague wording / words that are incorrect in meaning ( if any are present in the content. ) english is not my native language, everything written below has been translated by a translator. )

A — ( aftercare ) Immediately after sex, donaldson most often takes time to catch his breath, and later immediately buries his face in you like a damn koala. this is accompanied by his quiet questions about how much you liked it and whether he caused any discomfort.

B — ( body part ) of course these are hands. art melts in your hands, all these small touches on his hair, cheeks, and ultimately his penis. all this makes it the top of the world and brings incredible pleasure.

C — ( cum ) a man prefers to keep you clean, so he either cums in your mouth or on the fresh sheets.

D — ( dirty secret ) donaldson often jerks off in the bathroom, imagining something like bdsm. he wouldn't mind participating in something if it involves you.

E — ( experience ) can you say you are his one and only for life? however, his first time wasn't too damn terrible and he got better and better each time. after all he is a good boy and a quick learner, right?

F — ( favourite position ) donaldson likes it when you sit on him, it opens up a lot more possibilities. plus, this allows him to see your facial expression and understand whether he is going correctly.

G — ( goofy ) art will often say something inappropriate, almost forcing you to tease him. however, he is far from serious during sex.

H — ( hair ) hair is one of donaldson's main weaknesses, if you want to make it wet, just caress the light locks of his head. during sex, he will often ask you to grab his hair while you whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

I — ( intimacy ) art is a hopeless romantic. he suffers with every fiber of his being trying to please you. whether it's a candlelit dinner or going to the cinema with a bouquet of roses.

J — ( jack off ) sometimes he can afford it, on a tennis tour when you are not around. he locks himself in the hotel bathroom looking at your photos and completely worshiping you. sometimes these are video calls, but that's a completely different story.

K — ( kink ) dominance. well, you can’t hide that to some extent what turns him on is how much control you have over the process. more often than not, making him a boneless man who lets his needs come to the fore.

L — ( location ) there is no need to change traditions, so he fucks you (or you fuck him) in your bedroom, away from everything, only a lush bed and quiet moans.

M — ( motivation ) donaldson just needs to look at you to make his dick jump at a frantic pace. but it’s worth highlighting foreplay. what turns him on is how well you can act it out.

N — ( no ) nothing without your permission. even if he fucking wants you, he won't until you give him the green light.

O — ( oral sex ) he wouldn't perform oral sex on his own accord. if you proposed to him, he would happily agree, wanting to please your sophisticated desires.

P — ( pace ) definitely a slow pace. he wouldn’t rush anywhere, but rather would stretch out each thrust like a damn taste of pie on his tongue, giving you a chance to enjoy it to the fullest.

Q — ( quickie ) definitely not. neither you nor he like speed in this matter.

R — ( risk ) he wouldn’t fuck you in a toilet stall or somewhere on the balcony.

S — ( stamina ) usually your sex doesn’t last too long, an hour or an hour and a half, and you’re both already wet and damn satisfied.

T — ( toys ) unusual, but unfortunately not practiced.

U — ( unfair ) art encourages you rather than teases you. a few kind words and you have already pounced on him like a cat on a piece of meat. this is not to say that there is anything bad about this.

V — ( volume ) more often than not, any noise is muffled by your hips or pillows, so overall art is not a problem in this regard.

W — ( wildcard ) during sex, he is too often embarrassed by your comments about the behavior of his penis, so he sits under the covers while foreplay time passes.

X — ( x-ray ) something like 15 cm?

Y — ( yearning ) on a scale of ten it is something around 7/10. sex is relaxing and enjoyable.

Z — ( Zzz ) a man falls asleep once after you, so it depends on how tired you are and whether you will not have a continuation of previous sex.

[deckerswheeler]

let’s break this down, shall we?

**disclaimer!! this is not meant to be an attack on this person! i am only going to be counterclaiming their points or explaining why they are incorrect. i do not mean any harm in this post**

1. “mike/el and mike/will do not parallel each other” this is incorrect. mileven and byler have been paralleled throughout the seasons. for example, when el is stuck in the void and the upside down, the camera zooms in on her and pans out as she screams for mike. the same thing happens when will is in the upside down on halloween after the bullies push him over. it has the same camera angles, same type of music, and the same idea. they both call for mike.

2. byler has groundwork. from season one episode one they have been seen as closer than the other boys. they spent almost the entirety of season two together. the crazy together scene, hand holding scene, and shed scene alone should set their relationship apart from their relationships with the other members of the party. neither mike nor will act that way with dustin, max, or lucas. mike literally said asking will to be his friend was the best thing he’s ever done. if their season two relationship doesn’t show you how much groundwork they have, i don’t know what else will.

3. how are byler shippers “blindly ignorant to how writing works”?? sorry, but last time i checked, stranger things isn’t just a base level “you get what you see” type of show. the duffers have clarified many times that they don’t write at the surface level. everything they do has a purpose. that means minute details that seem like meaningless, second-long clips, could be symbols or easter eggs. many mileven shippers, (not all but a lot), only tend to see what is put in front of them. when in reality, that’s not what stranger things is. if you aren’t reading between the lines or taking note of small details while watching, key aspects of the show could fly over your head.

4. this one is almost laughable. mileven has most definitely NOT been set up as romantic since episode one. first of all, mike and el didn’t even properly meet until episode two. and even then, mike was ready and willing to report her to social services! the only reason why he kept her for so long was because once he found out about her powers, he knew there was a chance of finding will again. he called her a weapon halfway through the first season, i don’t think that’s very romantic. yes, they became close friends early on, but there was not ANY romantic coding until the episode with their first kiss!! obviously mike developed a crush on el, she’s the first girl that ever gave him attention. not only that, but he was living through the trauma of maybe losing his closest friend forever! he was projecting those feelings onto el, while el literally thought they would be like siblings until mike kissed her-- she had no clue it was even romantic.

5. saying mike and will have zero romantic subtext is just plain bullshit. i stated a lot of it in point 2, but there is so much more. in season 3 for example, mike basically outs will during their fight. (some people like to claim that mike was referring to will’s immaturity, but there are so many other ways they could’ve phrased that. like i already stated, the duffers claim nothing they do is accidental, so why would they make that line so vague? it was referring to will being gay. along with all of will’s other gay coding throughout the series, i.e. lonnie calling him the f slur, troy and his friends calling him q***r and a fairy as well as making fun of him for being gay, hopper acting grossed out by will being gay and asking joyce “is he?”) then, mike tries to apologize and travels all around hawkins in the pouring rain!! just to find will. and don’t even get me started on the “not possible” scene... if y’all don’t see the CLEAR flirting in that scene,,,,,, i got news for you lol

6. saying that byler shippers just like “fetishizing handsome white boys” is absolutely disgusting and a gross generalization. i assure you that that is NOT the reason why we ship byler. it’s more or less because we are sick of seeing solely straight couples rushed into a relationship on little to no foundation or build-up and honestly makes no sense when you think about it (cough cough mileven), when there is a relationship with 10x more development right there that isn’t canon simply because it is not heterosexual. we also ship byler because it is a breath of fresh air to see young gay/bi characters and a healthy mlm relationship, if byler became canon it would make thousands of kids so happy who just want to see themselves on the screen! aside from that, we ship byler because of the countless hints, coding, potential, etc, the show has provided.

7. finally, telling us we need to “use a brain cell,” calling us delusional, saying we’re “bending the narrative,” is just mean. there was no reason to make personal attacks towards the people who ship byler. i see people shipping mileven every day and i am not calling them delusional or stupid because they choose to ship it. people are free to interpret the show however they like and ship whatever they want. if anything, you’re the one who is denying canon by acting like mike and will have no foundation or meaningful relationship. also, we’re not “pretending it’s inevitable”??? no one knows how the duffers are going to write the show. mileven could be canon now, and break up later. byler could happen in season 4-5, and it might not. no one knows, so the fact that you felt the need to bash byler shippers for their own opinion and interpretation of the show is pretty sad.

**again... i respect all ships, and i am not trying to attack this person. if i seem harsh it’s because they were SOOO disrespectful in their post towards byler shippers. i know not all mileven shippers are like this, but i wanted to clear up some of this one’s points and share my point of view. i also don’t agree with their behavior and how they addressed people with a different view than them, so i couldn’t let it go.**

[viastro]

when you love someone | joshua hong

ミ★ synopsis: at the age of eighteen, the name of your soulmate appears on your wrist. good thing you and joshua have the same birthday, right?

ミ★ genre: soulmate!au, best friends!au, fluff, angst, humor

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 3,979

ミ★ pairings: joshua x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi ! this one took me a couple days to complete as i had a bit of a harder time writing it for some reason ?? i haven’t written a oneshot for joshua yet even though i currently have an ongoing series for him, so i thought that it was about time. that being said, i hope you guys enjoy it!

“Are you ready?” Joshua asks as you stare hardly at the countdown displayed on his laptop. It’s one more minute until you guys officially turn 18. Yes, you and Joshua have the same birthday. It’s literally the main reason you both first started talking when you were younger. Your guys’ first conversation went a little like this:

“Hi! I’m Joshua.” 

“Hello, I’m yn.” 

“We have the same birthday, I think that means we should be best friends.” 

“Does it?”

And that’s the gist of the story of how you and Joshua became best friends at the tender age of ten. You both were inseparable afterwards, always saying you’re each other’s birthday twin and how it was practically fate that you two met. However, fate always works in mysterious ways.

“What if my soulmate’s name is ugly? Like, I’d have that on my wrist for the rest of my life.” You worry, a frown etching itself on your face the more you think about it. 

“There’s no ugly name yn-”

“Herbert.”

“... okay. You got me there. It’ll be fine though! Don’t stress out about it.” Joshua says in an attempt to calm you down but you nervously bite your lip as you see that there’s only thirty seconds left. Joshua rests both hands on your shoulders, making you turn back to look at him. His face is rid of any nervousness, instead there’s a reassuring smile.

“It’ll be okay, I’m here.” You let out a shaky breath, finally feeling a smile come out. 

“There it is, your smile.” He mutters, letting go of your shoulders so that you both can turn your heads and stare back at the countdown. Your eyes widen once you realize there’s only six seconds left.

five...

four... 

You rub your wrist, feeling more nervous as the seconds go by.

three...

Joshua turns to glance at you, noticing your thumb rubbing small circles where your soulmate’s name will be.

two... 

one.

You and Joshua both glance down at your wrists once the small burning sensation starts, and your eyes immediately widen at the name that appears. You pull your scrunchie out of your hair, covering the name on your wrist. You turn to Joshua to see him also covering his soulmate’s name.

“Who’d you get?” Joshua asks quietly, and you turn your head to glance at him. The purple of his lights reflect against his skin, making him look more ethereal than he should.

“You.” You breathe and his eyes widen before shortly going back to normal. “Wait, are you serious?”

You stare at him for a moment, before letting out a laugh and slapping his shoulder. You shake your head, and he lets out a small chuckle afterwards.

“I’m kidding! You should’ve seen the look on your face.” You giggle and he rolls his eyes, reaching out and nudging you with his hand. He stares at you, before shaking his head and looking back down at his wrist. 

“What about you?” You ask and Joshua shrugs, leaning back onto his bed frame. He looks up at the ceiling, trying to mentally send the universe a message.

“Just some random girl’s name.” He answers softly, and you nod your head slowly. You both sit there quietly for a moment, soaking in the fact that you guys just discovered the names of your soulmates. Joshua breaks the silence first by patting the space beside him. You grin, before scooting over so that you’re next to him. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, feeling him rest his head on top of yours after a second.

“Is your soulmate someone you know?” You ask again and Joshua chuckles.

“You’re so curious for someone who won’t tell me who their soulmate is.” You scoff, lifting your head from his shoulder to squint at him. He smiles at the expression on your face, raising his hand to squish your cheek. You stick your tongue out at him, slapping his hand away and he laughs.

“Happy birthday, yn.” Joshua says, patting your head. You smile, closing your eyes as he begins to run his fingers through your hair.

“Happy birthday, Joshua.”

“A little bit more to the left.” You move the decoration according to his order, and Joshua claps his hands.

“That’s the spot, you can put the pin now.” You shove the pin into the decoration, securing it’s spot on the wall. You step off the stool and follow Joshua into the kitchen.

You and Joshua are preparing the decorations in your house for your guys’ birthday party in an hour. Your mom is upstairs cleaning the bathroom while your dad went out to go and get last minute party favors. It’s truly quite erratic in your household right now considering the fact that also Joshua fell from the stool so now you’ve been the one putting up the decorations.

“Can you try one of the cupcakes and tell me if it’s good?” You ask as you tend to the rice. Joshua picks one up and takes a bite. You hear him let out a sound of approval and you turn your head to see him about to snatch another one.

“Hey! No! Those are for the guys, you have to wait.”

“But it’s my birthday.”

“It’s my birthday too.”

“... and?”

“And... whatever bitch! Wait until later!” You shove Joshua out of the kitchen and he lets out a little cackle as you move the cupcakes to a place where he can’t get them. He sits down at the kitchen island and watches you wash the rice before placing it into the rice cooker. 

“Will you ever tell me who your soulmate is?” You freeze for a moment, before carefully turning on the rice cooker. You turn to Joshua to see him watching you with a serious expression on his face. You laugh for a second before responding with a straight face, “Never.”

“Never ever?!”

“Never ever.” You tell him and he’s about to protest even more when your doorbell rings. 

“It’s probably one of the guys, can you go get-”

“FBI OPEN UP!”

“Jeonghan your voice is too fucking soft for this! You should’ve let Wonwoo do it!”

“Well what the fuck is this oppression.”

“OPPRESSION??!!”

You and Joshua give each other a look after hearing the guys argue behind your front door, and you both giggle. You shoo him towards the door and he gives you a smile, “Don’t think I forgot about the soulmate thing! We’ll talk about it later.” 

You roll your eyes at him and he smiles wider, turning around and heading over to let in the first guests. You turn back towards the stove, a tired sigh escaping you. Glancing down at your hand, you slowly lift up the thick bracelet you put around the name on your wrist, seeing the letters reflect in the light as if it’s mocking you. 

two months later…

“I can’t believe you’ve done this!” You recite the famous vine as Soonyoung picks up the food he spilled from your lunchbag when he decided to scare you as you were grabbing your food. He rolls his eyes, hitting your ankle and you let out a small, “ouch.” 

“I’ll buy you some food after school okay? Anything you want. I’ll even get you boba!” You smile once he hands you back your now empty lunchbag. 

“Can you buy me something too?” Wonwoo jokingly asks, to which Soonyoung shoves him as a response. You chuckle as the two begin to argue, looking around to catch the reactions of your fellow classmates. 

Your eyes land on Joshua talking to a girl you haven’t seen before, and you take note of the happy expression on his face as he looks down at her. You feel your heart twinge, choosing to look down at the floor. Joshua looks up and sees you waiting by the doors as Wonwoo and Soonyoung fight. He takes notice of you rubbing the area on your wrist where your soulmate’s name should be, and he turns to Soojin to bid her goodbye.

“I’ll see you after school!” Joshua tells Soojin and she nods her head, a small blush on her cheeks as she watches him walk off. 

“I’m here to save you from third-wheeling.” Joshua announces as he walks up beside you, causing you to practically jump, having not expected him. He lets out a chuckle as soon as you curse under your breath, “Were you really that surprised?”

“Yeah?! Jesus fucking Christ you’re like a ninja or something.” You say, nudging him with your shoulder as he continues to laugh. He pats your head as an apology and you threaten to bite his hand.

“By the way! Soonyoung and I always third-wheel you two. Not the other way around, don’t get confused Josh.” Wonwoo states once him and Soonyoung finally notice that it’s not just you anymore. Your eyes widen at the words and Joshua lets out a chuckle, immediately shaking his head to try and argue that he’s absolutely incorrect. 

“We’re right, you’re wrong, shut up.” Soonyoung says before Joshua can even open his mouth and you raise an eyebrow at him. You reach out to pinch Soonyoung’s arm, only for Wonwoo to interrupt and point out a girl that’s staring at you guys. 

You turn around to see the girl Joshua was speaking to a few minutes ago staring at you guys, and she looks away with a furious blush blooming on her cheeks. She turns around and walks in the opposite direction once Joshua turns to glance as well. 

“Someone has a crush on little Joshie here, ooOOOoo!” Soonyoung teases and Joshua laughs, slapping his hand away once he reaches out to squeeze his face. 

“Let’s head to class-”

“What if it’s his soulmate?” Wonwoo jokes and you freeze, causing Soonyoung to glance at you. Joshua rubs the back of his neck, and you quickly look at his wrist to see the bracelet still covering the name. 

“Wait, is she seriously your soulmate?” Wonwoo asks once he takes notice of how sheepish Joshua looks now. Your eyes widen at the prospect that Joshua may have found his soulmate, and Soonyoung raises a hand to his mouth in shock.

“She’s not my soulmate, you guys are overreacting.” Joshua responds, adjusting his backpack. He grasps your wrist softly, pulling you in the direction of the classroom before they can get another word in. 

Wonwoo and Soonyoung share a knowing look before following you guys.

“C’mon yn! Let’s go get food.” You nod your head, getting up out of your chair to follow Soonyoung only to stop once you notice Joshua smiling down at his phone screen.

I wonder who he’s talking to, you think to yourself. He begins to type on his phone when you get the idea to invite him to eat with you and Soonyoung.

“Joshua, do you wanna come get food with us? There’s gonna be boba too!” Joshua immediately turns off his phone and pockets it. 

“I won’t be paying for you though. I’m only paying for yn cause I spilled her lunch today.” 

“It’s okay guys, I’m meeting with someone later anyways.” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he stares back at you. He breaks the eye contact once he notices someone at the door, and you turn to follow his gaze.

“Hi Soojin, I was just about to head to your classroom.” Joshua greets cheerfully, putting on his backpack and heading over to the girl. She smiles happily at him, opening her mouth to tell him that they’re on the same wavelength.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Joshua says, waving bye at you and Soonyoung as they head out the door. You give him a tight-lipped smile, looking down at the floor once they’re out of sight. Soonyoung looks at you, noticing you rubbing the bracelet that covers the name. 

“It’s him isn’t it?” You glance at Soonyoung, curious as to what he means.

“What do you mean?” 

“Joshua’s your soulmate, isn’t he?” You squint at him, looking back down at the floor as you let go of your wrist. You shake your head no, bending down and grabbing your backpack silently. 

“Let’s go.” You mutter, walking out of the classroom without so much as a glance back at Soonyoung to see if he’s following you. 

“Mom, I’m home!” You announce as you enter the house, slipping off your shoes and leaving them by the door. Taking one last sip of the milk tea Soonyoung bought, you walk into the kitchen, expecting to see your mom preparing dinner… only to find Joshua raiding your pantry. 

He’s humming under his breath as he checks out the newly opened box of chocolate chip granola bars you bought the other day. He frowns at it, placing the box back onto the shelf in order to grab your bag of small ube cakes. 

“You know, if you finish all my ube snacks… I will choke you.” Joshua lets out a small chuckle, turning around to stick his tongue out at you, “Kinky. Will you tie me up too?”

You scoff, motioning that you’re about to throw up at the idea and he laughs at you. He tosses you an ube cake and you swiftly catch it, immediately opening up the package and taking a bite. 

“You’re still hungry? Even after you ate with Soonie?” Joshua asks and you shrug.

“Bold of you to say that when you’re the one who broke into my house to steal food from my pantry.”

“Okay first of all,” Joshua begins, turning around to face you with a finger up in the air. You look at him with an amused expression on your face, “it’s not breaking and entering if I didn’t break anything.” 

“That’s not how it works at all-”

“SECOND OF ALL! I am not stealing. Auntie told me I can eat whatever I want when I come over.” Joshua finishes and you roll your eyes. He chuckles, turning back towards the pantry to grab a packet of ramen to make.

“Who was that girl you were with? Sofa? Soju?” You ask after a moment of silence. Joshua tenses up, before relaxing his posture. He turns around and rolls his eyes at you, but you notice the stiffness in his features.

“Soojin, and she’s new in my class. We got paired up for a project so I invited her to a cafe so we can discuss who will do what. She’s really sweet, I think you and her would get along well.” He explains, sitting down on the counter as you take out your laptop from your backpack. You don’t respond right away, suddenly being reminded of the way Joshua reacted when Soonyoung joked about Soojin being his soulmate.

His eyes were literally SPARKLING when they talked. Do his eyes sparkle like that when he talks to me? Or with anyone else? Do his eyes just sparkle normally?? 

You turn and look at him, trying to see whether his eyes sparkle as he looks down at you. Instead, you find a fond expression on his face, a small smile as he stares at you. Your eyes widen once the feeling of warmth inches up your neck, instead choosing to look back down at your laptop. 

“Is she your soulmate?” You ask quietly, and Joshua bites the inside of his cheek, smile disappearing immediately. He looks away from you and out your kitchen window, a frown now taking over his features.  

“Why should I answer that when you won’t even tell me who your soulmate is?” Joshua responds in an aggravated tone, and you pause, having not been the one with his anger directed towards you before. You let out a sigh, picking up your laptop and your backpack.

“I’m going up to my room. You can stay for dinner if you want, my mom should be home soon.” You say tiredly, heading up to your room and away from Joshua. He watches as you go, still feeling annoyed at the question. He slams his fist down on the counter, clenching his jaw as he hears you shut your door. Joshua lets out a sigh, knowing that he got aggravated at you for no reason. He hops off the counter, walking over to the sink to wash the glass before he goes to your room to apologize.

I’ll apologize and then make us ramen to make up for it, Joshua thinks to himself as he sets the newly washed glass on the dishrack. 

You set your backpack down by your desk, letting out a frustrated sigh as you open up your laptop again. Closing your blinds, you take off your jeans to put on a pair of sweats. You take off your bracelet, moving to reach into your other drawer to grab a wristband when your bedroom door opens. 

“What did I tell you about knocking-” You look up to see Joshua opening his mouth to speak, only to stop and stare right at your wrist. Your eyes widen, slowly turning your head to see your soulmate’s name reflecting directly back at him. You immediately move your arm behind your back, now hiding it from his view. 

“You should’ve knocked.” You mutter quietly in an attempt to change the subject, beginning to hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears as his gaze slowly lifts up into your eyes. 

“Let me see your wrist.” Joshua says, and you shake your head no. You quickly open up your drawer and grab a wristband to cover it, only for him to stop you by grasping your arm softly. 

“Please don’t.” You whisper, tears threatening to spill over. He doesn’t listen to your plea, continuing to slowly turn your wrist so that your soulmate’s name reflects back at the both of you. 

Joshua

A shaky breath leaves his lips, and you shut your eyes tightly as the tears slip past and fall onto your carpeted floor. He slightly squeezes your wrist, glancing at you with his lips shut in a tight line. You open your eyes once you feel a tear drop fall onto his name, and you look up to see his shoulders slightly shaking. 

“Is it me?” He asks quietly, and you stare back at him. His eyes that typically hold a sparkle to them are now glassy, more tears threatening to escape as he awaits your answer. You nod your head and he lets go of your wrist, running a hand through his hair.

“Why did you lie?” Joshua asks, looking at you with a hurt expression on his face. You wipe the tears away from your eyes once your vision gets blurry. 

“Because I know I’m not yours, Joshua!”

“We’re best friends we don’t lie-” 

“Bullshit! You hid your soulmate’s name from me too!”

“You hid yours! And now I’m finding out months later that I’m your fucking soulmate? Do you know how I feel?!” 

“How you feel? I constantly feel like fucking shit knowing that I’m fated to you but you’re fated to somebody else! That you’re going to love somebody else that’s not me! I bet you already found your soulmate considering how you reacted to Soonyoung joking about Soojin being yours.” You yell, more tears falling past your eyes as you feel an indescribable pressure against your chest. You dig your nails into the palm of your hand as you both stare at each other in silence. Joshua finally lets out a tired sigh, ripping off the bracelet from his wrist and turning it towards you. Your eyes widen once you see that it’s blank, and you look back up at his face.

“Your-”

“My soulmate is dead, yn. Their name never showed up which means they’re already gone.” He says tiredly. He walks over and sits on your bed, resting his head into his hands. You stare at him, before slowly stepping over and sitting beside him. You both sit in silence, sorting out your thoughts based on the newfound information that spilled between you two.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper and Joshua peeks at you through his hands. He lifts up his head and turns to you, reaching out and intertwining his hand with yours. 

“No, I’m sorry yn. I should’ve been more understanding.” You shake your head and he shakes his head at you as a response. You frown, shaking your head back and he shakes his head again. You let out a giggle, and he chuckles along with you.

“If we keep arguing about who’s supposed to apologize then we’ll never figure this out.” You tell him and he nods, squeezing your hand. 

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You both sit there in silence once again, your heart going into a frenzy while Joshua’s begins to calm down. He looks at you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, immediately getting your attention based on the way you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Awe so cute, you’re biting the inside of your cheek! You always do that when you’re shy!” Joshua exclaims as he squeezes your cheek and you scoff, slapping his hand away and sticking your tongue out at him. You turn your head and notice the glassiness in his eyes begin to subside.

“What do we do now, Joshua?” You ask and he lets out a breath, straightening his posture as he thinks for a moment. 

“I think we both still need some time to figure out things ourselves before we do anything.” Joshua answers honestly, and you nod your head, only for your eyes to widen once you comprehend what he just said.

“Wait, so you’re implying that something will happen between us in the future?” 

“...yeah? What, did you think I was just going to live my life knowing that I’m the soulmate of the girl that’s quite possibly the best possible life partner?” You shake your head, a small smile threatening to appear on your face. 

“I mean, kinda?” Joshua lets out a laugh, and you find yourself laughing along with him. 

“You’re crazy to think that I wouldn’t take the first chance to be with you, yn. We just need some time to figure some things out since the whole soulmate thing is still so new to us.” Joshua explains and you nod, understanding where he’s coming from completely. 

“I’ll keep hiding your name on my wrist when we’re at school and with the group.” You add and Joshua immediately shakes his head no, looking at you with a grin. 

“Why don’t you want me to hide it?” 

“I like seeing my name on your wrist, it makes me happy knowing that I’m at least someone’s soulmate.” He mutters quietly, letting go of your hand to brush his fingers against his name. You let out a small smile, reaching out and patting his head.

“I’ll cover it until we decide what to do with us, okay? For now I’ll cover it when we’re in public, you can see it when we’re hanging out.” You reassure him and he nods his head slightly, feeling the weight lifting off his shoulders. 

“So… best friends for now?” You ask and Joshua chuckles at your outstretched hand, reaching out and grasping it softly.

“Best friends for now.” He answers with a smile, staring straight into your eyes. You look away as warmth begins to surface in your face again, standing up off your bed and announcing that you’re going downstairs to grab water. Joshua watches as you practically sprint out of the room, an amused expression on his face as he finds himself more endeared by everything you do.

While you fill up the glass of water, you can’t stop thinking of the sparkle in his eyes as he stared at you. Wondering how you didn’t notice that there’s always a sparkle in his gaze when he looks at you.

curious as to how you didn’t realize sooner that the love in his eyes was only meant for you. 

[serensama]

To Release #4-#7

In my unbridled rage, I started and finished everything- even the two I lost for Jumin and Saeyoung. I specifically apologise for Jumin’s- it’s short and brash and nowhere near to the standard that my original piece had. I poured my heart out into that one... and it’s gone. I do not have the strength to try to write it again. So, instead I offer my apologies. This was written in one sitting with no editing, so this will have typos and missing words and incorrect tenses everywhere. Again. My apologies. 

Jumin, Saeyoung, Saeran and V need to let MC go. 

Years ago, I had asked the amazing @promiscuous-jalapeno to write a HC for me when I was too scared to write my own and she did an amazing job- tore me right up it did. I asked her shortly thereafter if she minded if I tried to do it and she was kind enough to encourage me. Nearly 4 years and I’ve finally done it.

Trigger warnings: Character death, curse words, mild sexual themes, and cancer.

This is for my friend, my sister- Susana. I don’t know how to let you go. But one day I will. And one day I will see you again. Rest well until then dear one.

This is for my baby, my puppy Meiko- run free my little one. I know you’ll be waiting for me too. Keep Susana company and keep her safe until we catch up, okay? Good Boy.

Jumin:

-       They came home from a business trip and MC wasn’t feeling her best, but it was a long trip and she was bound to be tired.

-       Except she was sick for over a week and she was too tired to fight Jumin to not send over the doctor to check her over.

-       It wasn’t good news, but not yet the worst.

-       So of course Jumin sprang into action. He called every doctor he knew and every pharmaceutical company, money was not an issue so he could afford to ensure that MC got the best of care. However he never paid for anyone to assist him in looking after his beloved wife.

-       He took time off work and appointed Jaehee into a temporary role to replace him whilst he looked after MC. From fluffing her pillow to bathing her to ensuring the correct doses of medication were taken on time, no task too menial or below him if it was for his MC.

-       And after a year of treatment, she got better. Things were back to normal, sure she wasn’t as strong as before but she had time to build up that strength. To be stronger than before.

-       Two years passed and her sickness was almost forgotten, except when she wouldn’t wake up one day.

-       Jumin couldn’t wait for the doctor to come to him so in his pyjamas he carried her to the car and drove to the doctor’s house himself.

-       There was nothing left they could do. All treatments exhausted, the cure would end up ravaging what was left of her life.

-       Instead of staying idly by at home she refused for Jumin to take any more time away from his company like he had those years before, she wanted to make sure he could still return to being Jumin even when she was long gone.

-       But he didn’t know how to be Jumin without her anymore. He didn’t know anything.

-       The sickness was relentless this time, only weeks before her body rejected the years of hard work and effort she had given to get better. She was weaker than before. She had no more fight to give.

-       However before she was completely bedbound MC asked Jumin for a favour. To return back to the vineyard he had taken her to back when they were just engaged. She longed to see the sunset amidst all the red and purples. Longed to relive a time when things held so much more promise.

-       How could Jumin refuse?

-       It was a long drive but he quite fancied the idea of spending hours in the backseat with MC just talking to her, playing with her hair, her hands or running his own down her cheeks. Any time with her was all he needed to be content.

-       They were talking, just chatting away, lost in the in between, the mixture of what was memory and what could be… when she slipped away from him. So quietly and gently as was her way, never disturbing him in life… or in death.

-       He held on to her, wishing and hoping to anything that would listen to give her back to him. He would pay any price, do any deed if she would just come back. He didn’t know he was saying these out loud. Didn’t know anything else existed.

-       Driver Kim asked if they should head back or perhaps go to the hospital but Jumin wouldn’t have it.

“Drive on.” “But Mr Han.” 

“I said. Drive on.”

-       And so he did. He drove and he drove and all the while Jumin kissed MC’s brow and let his fingers trace her soft, frozen features. She was still warm. He knew she was gone but… she was still warm.

-       They had stopped for petrol not surprising seeing as they had driven throughout the day and it was almost midnight, he didn’t even know where they were. Nor did he care.

-       Then the door opened beside him.

-       It was cold.

-       Cold air rushed through the car and MC would get…

-       “Assistant Kang.” “Mr Han.” “What are you doing here? It’s late and you’re in your nightgown.” “I’m here to help you Mr Han.” “I am in no need of help.” “Driver Kim called me and told me what happened. Oh Mr Han, I’m so so sorry.”

“I… yes. Thank you. If Driver Han needs to be replaced in order to sleep then please arrange for another driver to meet us here and we can continue on-”

“Where are you going to go Mr Han? You know this isn’t right, you need to take her back.” “Assistant Kang this is above your pay grade.” “She was my friend Mr Han. Not just your wife. You can’t dismiss me for trying to help my friend.” “She is fine.” “I wasn’t only talking about her.” “Assistant Kang-” “Jumin.” “Please.”

-       Jumin stopped and stared at his friend, eyes bloodshot and skin pale. “Jaehee. I … I don’t know what to do…” “Let me help.” “If I let her go now… if we turn around and she goes… I don’t belong anywhere. She was my home. When I got back to that apartment that won’t be home because she won’t be there. I can’t return to C&R because that’s where we worked together. Right now… here… this is all I have left Jaehee.” “Jumin-” “If I don’t leave this spot. I can tell myself that she’s sleeping. That none of this is happening and she’s just sleeping until we get to where we need to go. If I go out there… it makes this real. I’m not strong enough to let this be real.” “…” “I can’t do this.” “…” “I can’t do this without her.” “…” “I’m scared.”

“I know. Me too.” “I can’t.” “But you will, you will learn. We all will, together.”

-        Jumin nodded and allowed Jaehee to help. His hold on MC still as strong as ever. However when the time came for him to let go, to relinquish his grip on her, he learned that he did know how to release her hand… and still remember the feel of her hand in his. He took one last breath of her scent and muttered words of love in her ear once more.

-       In time he would learn to live again, how to function in society and somehow continue on. And perhaps, one day he would learn to exhale and know how to breath again.

-       Perhaps.

Saeyoung:

-       It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

-       That was the saying wasn’t it.

-       It kept replaying over and over in his head as he sat in the ER replaying the scene in his head. Trying desperately to retrace his steps and find out where he went wrong, where it all went so so wrong.

-       It was just a normal afternoon, MC had managed to drag him away from the computer and one thing lead to another and they got into a play fight, nothing out of the normal for them. Rough and tumble play was a great opener for rough and tumble sex after all. She had pinned him down between her legs and he pushed on her shoulder a little harder to try to tip her over and instead of the haughty laughter that would normal bubble out of her mouth, she screamed. Blood curdling. Sweat inducing. Heart drop stopping. Screamed.

-       Saeyoung watched as he could see the visible dip in her collarbone as she rocked back on forth above him with tears streaming her face. The red head scrambled out from beneath her, cursing his lack of grace as he accidentally jostled her, her wails of pain resonating deep within his ears.

-       He could feel the adrenaline start to course through his veins and his thoughts clouding and clearing at the same time. He had scrambled to his desk and found his phone and wallet and pocketed them before carefully helping MC up and escorted her to the car, every movement measured and cautious to ensure the least amount of pain for her. And for him. Hearing her cry out like that… it was the worst kind of torture.

-       So there he was. All alone with his thoughts. His cyclical, evil thoughts.  Finding ways he could have prevented that from happening. If only he didn’t hit her so hard. If only he didn’t work so much and paid more attention to her and… shit.

-       He opened and closed his eyes, squeezing the tears away that came unbidden, staring mindlessly at the speckled tile of the waiting room.

-       After what may have been hours or days, two feet came into his line sight, forcing his eyes to rear upwards to the face attached to the scuffed white sneakers.

-       The doctor in front him continued to talk and he could feel his head nod along at what he thought may have been appropriate times, his words muffled and obtuse. Until the word he hadn’t expected popped up and it felt like it crashed straight into his eardrums and forced his world off kilter. Forcing him further down into his seat as if his spine had melted and settled to the floor.

-       It was just game. Harmless. They were laughing. She was laughing.

-       She was dying.

-       The disease already deep in her system, deep within her. Untapped and unchecked. That was why she was so fragile- he had always known that he had to be careful with her- and he had placed the chink in her brittle armour.

-       The doctor tried his best to prepare him and make him understand that were ways to keep her comfortable until her time would eventually come to pass.

“Weeks… maybe months…”

Maybe.

-       She was so small in the bed. Her arm in the sling and so pale even amongst all the white. The bastards had told her everything as she sat in the room alone and in pain, no one to hold her hand and tell her that everything would work out just fine.

-       He would make sure of it.

-       She offered him a small smile and a playful shrug of her shoulder which earned her a string of colourful language falling from her tongue. He smiled and shrugged back. Small, familiar gestures to offer them both comfort; falling short but the intent warming nonetheless.

-       The doctor said his goodbyes and left the two to their own devices.

-       “I’m… I’m so sor-”

“No.” “…No?” “I don’t have enough time left on this earth for sorry ‘Young.”

“You will. I’ll make sure you’re around until you’re old and grey, giving me more time to apologise for all the stupid things I still have to do with you.” “-‘Young-” “Like, I still need to go skinny dipping at the new waterpark that opened up.” “You promised you were going to do that at night where no children would be witness to your dangly bits-” “Or wear another one of your new dresses and stretch out the arms-” “-I can’t believe you did that, Jaehee bought that last dress-”

“Or throw our kid up in the air and accidentally smash their head into the ceiling.” “….”

“The point is… you’re going to be around.” “I will try.” “No, you will be. I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll contact Jumin… o-or Vanderwood… or a couple of the other agents I used to keep in touch with-” “Saeyoung, no.” “… Surely someone will know a better, more advanced treatment that can give us more time and-” “Saeyoung-” “I might have to do a couple of jobs in return-”

“NO!”

-       Her voice echoed out of the room and into the hall, snapping him out of his musings. “No. No more jobs. No Vanderwood. No agents. Don’t… I don’t want that. I want you. Here, with me. I don’t want you out there doing God knows what that could have you hurt or dying-” “AND I WANT YOU TO DIE HERE? NOW? NEXT WEEK? NEXT YEAR?” he bellowed back, hands shaking the end of the bed, her chart clattering to the floor. “If I can fix this, doing it anyway I can, I will.” “Saeyoung… please…” “I don’t want to hear it-” “Please I’m scared.” “… MC…” “I’m scared for me and for you and… I don’t want to do… do this right now and… I want to go home but I c-cant and-”

-        Her words dissolved into shuddering cries, quickly buried in Saeyoung’s protective embrace. Their squabble forgotten the moment he heard the crack in her voice. Saeyoung tightened his hold on her and brushed his lips against her hair, breathing in her scent.

-       He wouldn’t leave her, however he wouldn’t sit futilely by and just watch the woman who saved him wane away into nothing- not when he could do something about it.

-       After undergoing more tests and meeting after meeting of specialists with their shots and pills and treatment plans- they were finally able to go home.

-       Except for MC, it may have been better to stay in the hospital because for all intents and purposes she was alone. He may have not been going out doing secret missions and getting shot at but he was always at the computer or on the phone, talking in hushed tones that seeped through the walls no matter how low he spoke. Each secretive whisper adding to the loneliness she felt inside her own home. Beside her but not with her.

-       Taking care of her every need but not the one she needed most.

-       Time. More than food, water or air. She needed time with him… and she was running out of it.

-       And he… out of options.

-       No one had anything he could access without going back in deep and to do that meant to go crawling back to… MC would never forgive him… but if she was dead he would never be able to forgive himself.

-       It had been two weeks and she looked like she was stable. This mission would pay well and get the CEO of the best pharmaceutical company in his debt, it would take four days, one week tops. It would be worth it. She would be safe and they would have time together, time enough to waste arguing over this and to move on from it. He would do anything.

-       Saeyoung had purposely planned to leave on a night where Saeran was out with his friends and had waited until she had fallen asleep with her dreams playing behind her eyelids. Saeyoung pressed the lightest of kisses onto her forehead, on the tip of her nose and on her perfect lips. His silent apology for what he was about to do.

-       He picked up his bag and headed towards his garage, thankful that he didn’t have to say goodbye to her lest he lose the will to do what was necessary.

-       Steeling his resolve, Saeyoung took in a deep breath and readied himself for a task he’d have done in the other life he had left far behind. Digging into his shirt he found the crucifix at the end of his necklace, the silver shining even in the dim light of his car. A prayer, a wish, a vow- sealed with a kiss to the cold metal.

-       He was ready and prepared. He was all set to go- what he hadn’t accounted for was a certain blonde haired friend walking up his driveway with a bag of fried chicken to share.

-       “…Yoosung?”

“Hyung? Where are you going off to?” “Wh-Why are you here?”

“I was in the neighbourhood and thought that you and MC Noona would like some company? It’s been a while since I last visited.” “Uh… uh that’s… now’s not a good time right now… I uh… MC’s not feeling well and I’m about to get her some medicine and-” “She’s right.” “Um… what?” “She says nowadays you’re so out of practice, you get flustered when you have to lie.” “What… what are you even talking about? Look I don’t have the time, I need to-” “I don’t know where you’re going. Or what you’re about to do… all I do know that you leaving MC alone now is the worst thing you can do.” “All of you don’t understand that I’m doing this for MC-” “And you still can’t get it through that thick head of yours that you trying to do what you believe is best for MC always leads to hurting her more!” “Could you just get out of the way?” “All those years ago- when you pushed her away, made her suffer all alone- you’re doing it again. She can’t talk to you so she talks to me, to the rest of the RFA. You’re letting history repeat because you think you know what is best and not taking her feelings into account.” “Don’t be ridiculous-” “She’s dying Hyung. The way she talks… she doesn’t have long. Are you really going to spend one second away from her when all she wants is you? Not me. Not anyone else. Just you.”

-       Saeyoung could feel the wall he had built up to cage his emotions slowly crumbling away with each passing second. It was true, he had learned nothing. Making the same mistakes. Hurting the same woman time and again. It was time he made the right decisions.

“So stay. Please Hyung. Don’t do this, not again. She needs you.”

When did you get so smart Yoosung? “Did you bring any of the spicy kind? You know MC loves those the best.”

-       Yoosung smiled and nodded, of course he did.

-       They both went back into the house to find MC sitting up in bed, all bleary eyed and hair sticking up at odd angles.

“… Do I smell chicken?”

-       So they all sat down on the bed, regaling in each other’s company and good food. None of them mentioning the fact that there was a backpack at foot of the bed.

-       Saeyoung made a new promise then and there, amidst the sounds of Yoosung asking MC advice about how to ask one of his LOLOL guild members out, that he would make every last second count and make it worth a lifetime. He would take every chance he could to bring her joy, to make up for all the times he made her sad. In homage for all the times he would never get to make her happy in the future. He would fill her time with laughter.

-       Her descent happened slowly at first, needing to nap a little bit more, the aches in her body happening more frequently. Then as her sickness began to sink its claws deeper into her, the fatigue had her bedridden and the drugs that kept her ‘comfortable’ were slowly getting becoming ineffective. However throughout it all- Saeyoung still made her laugh. Through the pain and the exhaustion, her heart was full. She was not alone after all.

-       They would spend the days snacking and watching anime. Baking cakes for breakfast and having ice cream for dinner. Ordering food at 3am in the morning. Taking long drives out to nowhere and sitting on the roof of his car and stargazing. It was on one such a trip that he knew what their next great adventure should be.  

-       The new drugs she was on… she could barely stay awake. She had mere moments in the day where she was lucid, not enough energy to barely keep a conversation longer than 30 minutes at a time before needing to rest. She was going on without him and there was nothing he could do but…

-       He made one last phone call.

-       She was awake, she knew it- but it was dark… oh that was right… ‘Young had blindfolded her. Where were they going? They were in the car before but she had told him she was tired… she must have fallen asleep and he wanted to keep this destination a mystery… what… what the hell was that noise… “’Young… slow… slow down you’re driving too fast.” “Sorry, no can do MC… I promise, it will be worth it.” “… S’long as you’re being… careful.”

-       A familiar pull drew down in the pit of her stomach as she felt the car lift off the road.

-       The… wait

-       “Young?”

-       Fast. They were going too fast. “Young?!”

-       Her heart thumped harder in her chest, fear coursing through her as she was certain and frail bones could no longer contain the strength of her heartbeat.

-       And then- light- she was so light. Only tied to the world by the harnesses holding her in place.

-       Warm hands unfastened the tie around her head, the light piercing her eyes as they adjusted as quickly as they could. Bright red hair and obnoxious orange glasses, kind amber eyes and smile… such a beautiful smile from the man she loved. Strong arms wrapping around her to hold her close as they swam in the free air of the plane, unbound  from the constraints of gravity.

-       As they came back down the first time MC gasped and clapped in glee, tired eyes gleamed with joy and as she realised just what was happening.

-       “Saeyoung…” “We did baby… we’re at the space station… just like we always said we would be.”

-       Again and again they basked in the feeling of lightness, those snippets of time where they were free of the of the weight of the world and everything that awaited them when they would eventually land.

-       “’Young… we’re flying… we’re flying.”

“… We are.” “’Young… ‘Young…. Flying.”

-       His fingers curled into her clothes as he clung to her, her body so tiny against his and even though she weighed nothing- cradling her lifeless body would forever be the heaviest thing he would ever had to bear.

Saeran:

-       She was just getting a physical because she had gotten a new job.

-       She felt fine.

-       She was completely blindsided by the fact that she had been asked to come in by the doctor who had examined her.

-       Apparently… apparently she had something wrong with her heart. Something she was born with. Largely inoperable and… well it didn’t… it didn’t bode well.

-       She could try some medications to slow down what was happening but…

-       MC told her parents over the phone. She had planned to tell Saeran some other time when she knew how to handle it better, when she could think of a way to make it sound more palatable. But how did you tell the person you loved that you were going to die?

-       No. MC was not ready to tell him.

-       Which of course meant he walked in on her crying to her mother that she didn’t want to die.

-       She didn’t expect him to take the phone and hang up it up. Didn’t expect for him to look at her with wild eyes and limbs shaking, lips pulled tight with worry and blood drained from his skin. She didn’t know what to expect. “Is it true?” was all he could ask, his voice so quiet she could barely hear him. She nodded. “How long have you known?” “Three days.”

-       She didn’t expect for him to throw the phone against the wall beside him as he rushed out of the door, trying his best to ignore her cries of his name. How could she expect for him to handle this well when she couldn’t. MC just slipped to the ground from their sofa and continued to cry on her own, still muffling her sobs for a reason far beyond even her knowledge.

-       He didn’t know what to do. Too many thoughts. Too many feelings. None of them good and all too fast for him to catch between too clumsy hands. He felt as if his skin wasn’t enough to hold him together and he would burst at the seams and still… he would still have too many thoughts and too many feelings.

-       He had to do something. He couldn’t save her. He couldn’t do anything right. But he know so many ways he could do something wrong and he could do those over and over again.

-       He didn’t target anyone specifically. Just some random guy on the street who was yelling at his girlfriend? Sister? Co-worker? He didn’t care. He just had too much pain in his head and in his chest and if he didn’t…

-       He felt an explosion of agony in his fist. He probably splintered a bone or something. Didn’t matter. This pain he knew, this pain he understood and knew how to stow away and forget about. This pain he could handle.

-       So again, one hit then two, until the guy was out cold. He felt someone spin him around and try to subdue him but no, there were too many emotions and not enough skin to contain him. Two guys, then four. Whose blood did he wear on his hands? His own? His foes? He didn’t care. More. He needed more screams that weren’t his own… cries that weren’t hers.

-       Finally someone managed to connect with his eye and he was almost giddy from the sting of their right hook. Yes. Yes. He needed this.

“Saeran! What the hell?” Oh. The actor. Great. 

“Fuck off Zen.” “No. Stop. STOP! What are you doing- hey buddy get off of him I got this handled- why are you attacking these people?” “Fuck them and fuck you. I don’t answer to you.” “What would MC think of this? She’s been by your side and helped you through all these years and you repay her by deciding to on a crazy free for all?”

-       At the mention of her name, a flurry of emotions passed over his face. Anger. So much anger. Until it subsided into a frown, and then a shuddering breath and a chocked sob.

“It doesn’t matter what that woman thinks-” “Woman?!”

“She’s dead.” “What?!” “She… she will be. She’s good as dead. She’s sick. Dying. She’s leaving me behind so … it doesn’t matter what she thinks or does from this point out because.. it’s me. Again it’s just gonna be me so you can go to hell and she can too.”

-       Zen’s eyes softened at the sight before him. Of course. Of course. If MC was his girlfriend and she told him she was going to pass away… well… he couldn’t blame Saeran. He might have done even worse.

“Saeran, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want your pity asshole.” “What can I… is there anything…” “Shut up! I was doing just fine without you. Without all of you. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Then why are you crying Saeran. You say all of this as tears stream down your face. “Okay then. Back to it.”

-       Saeran stared at him in shock as Zen put up his fists and crouched down to a defensive position.

“The fuck you doing?” “Fighting you. This was helping you said, fighting me. So come on. Fight me. Hurt me. Whatever. I can take it.”

-       Saeran stared at him as if he were the one in torn clothes and covered in blood.

-       “If this is something I can do to get you back to normal so you can get back to MC and help her, then this is the least I can do. So come on. Fight me.” “N-no.” “Come on man, I’m a little rusty but I can do this.” “I said no!”

-       “You’re hurting right? That’s why you want to hurt others. I get it. I’ve been there. I’ve done this too. Let it out, let it out on me, don’t hurt anyone else. I’m here for you.”

-       Saeran stepped back as he made to lift his hands… only to slump back down at his sides as he began to cry in earnest. His motives easily revealed, his adrenaline whittled back to nothing. Zen straightened up and dropped his fists. “Let’s go get you cleaned up. You can’t go back to MC like that.” “I can’t go back to MC at all.” “Don’t be stupid. That’s where you belong. Hurry up, it’s getting really late now, we can’t have her all alone at home in your neighbourhood. She’d probably be looking for you if you stay out much later.”

-       She was just about to leave when she found him standing at the front door. She had her jacket half on and her keys dangling from her mouth. Eyes puffy, red, sore. Still. Still she worried about him, looked out for him. Saeran swallowed up the regret that bubbled in his throat and stepped forward, drawing the dazed woman into his embrace. “I’m sorry.” “Saeran-” “I… I wasn’t ready to hear about you. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready but… it wasn’t right what I did and I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you and your father-” “-Mother” “Right. Yeah. I’m sorry. What can I do? What can we do?” “… Dinner? Let’s have some dinner first… after that.. I don’t know either.”

-       MC didn’t take the new job that was still offered to her. He didn’t blame her, who would want to stay in an office job stuck doing the same boring thing day in and out when you had only a few months to… well… office work was never his cup of tea in the first place.

-       “Saeran. Let’s go to Japan.”

“Huh?” “And then let’s go to China. And then maybe we can go to Europe… and maybe to South America? Oh and the Caribbean!” “Wha- what are you talking about MC?” “I want to see the world and I want to see it with you while I can. I don’t want the rest of my life to be just going to the doctors and going to RFA meetings. I want to experience everything I can.” Saeran could feel his heart break. This was what she wanted, this was her final wish. He could never deny her this when it was so easy for him to grant.

“Sure MC. Let’s go to Japan. Let’s go wherever you want.”

-       They travelled through sky and through the seas, experienced culture and food and yes they even made a friend or two. However there was no denying, the travel was taking its toll on her. She was fading. She was tired.

“Saeran… I want to show you where I grew up… is that okay? I’d like to go home.” “Uh yes, yes of course. We can go wherever you want.”

-       It was a beautiful town where she had grown up, she often talked about it when he was going through withdrawals or woke up from a particularly nasty nightmare. She would talk about the small city and about the children who would still play out in streets until their parents called them back home. It was idyllic, so picturesque, he had regretted not taking her up on her previous requests to go there back in the past. It was the perfect place for her to choose to die.

-       They had found themselves atop her favourite hill, under a large apple tree she once described as her first friend to him. She amused him with more stories of her childhood and how this tree had been integral to so many of her memories, from seeing her first scraped knee, to her first kiss. She told him of her memories of him and how she had pictured that if they ever did marry, it would be right here underneath its branches, their wedding date carved into the trunk to preserve their story. “….And what would happen after that?...” “…MC?...”

-       Yet another part of her life spent with the tree that only he was able to remember for her. “And then... when our first child is born we’d come back and etch their birthday beneath our wedding date… we would live a life of adventure and… you would want for nothing. We could do whatever you wanted. We could go where ever you wanted. We could do anything MC. Our story would have been… it would have been something amazing.”

V:

-       He found the lump, as so many partners did.

-       She hadn’t felt anything off and was lax in checking and… he was the one who found it. During a time they were stealing so Lucy wouldn’t be able to disturb them. They loved being parents, of course they did but sometimes… it was nice to be lovers and not just parents.

-       When he cupped her breast and squeezed and a sweet sigh came out of her mouth to wordlessly encourage him on and … nothing came… MC opened her eyes and found Jihyun with knitted in concern as he palmed her, concentration on his face born from careful curiosity and not the kind that resulted in her pleasure. “MC… is this… I don’t think this is normal.” “What?” “There’s a lump here.” “That’s not funny Jihyun.” “I’m not trying to be MC.”

-       Tests. Prodding and poking and biopsies and… options. So many discussions about options. The only option was for his wife to live, the mother of their child to live.

-       It wasn’t easy for either of them to explain to their daughter that mummy was sick but MC always managed to find the right words to say. ‘I am going to come right back and everything will be back to normal’ and ‘no honey this didn’t happen because of you’ and that ‘no matter what, your mummy loves you’.

-       The last one, that one sounded a whole lot like goodbye.

-       She didn’t stay at the hospital for as long as they thought and… the prognosis was good. They had caught it and it hadn’t spread… they just had to watch it. Mummy could keep loving Lucy for many years to come. Jihyun had time to learn how to be funny. She could come back home.

-       Seven years. Every year they would test her to make sure it hadn’t returned… it was the final year she was meant to be tested this way… she was home free.

-       Except it wasn’t a lump in her breast. It was a growth in her kidney and in her liver. Further testing proved it was in her lungs and in her bones. In her bones. It had taken root and…

-       Damn it.

-       No. It didn’t matter. She was going to fight, she was going to do everything she could to stay with her family. They hadn’t had enough time together yet and MC was no stranger to doing things the hard way.

-       The second time around explaining it to Lucy was much more difficult. She was older, she knew about the world and the pain it held for so many people. That illness could take people away from you and not just for a month tucked away in hospital… but forever. There was still the “I am going to come right back and everything will be back to normal’ and ‘no honey this didn’t happen because of you’ and that ‘no matter what, your mummy loves you’.  Although this time there was also having to answer, “Mummy… are you going to die?”

-       She couldn’t answer her, not how she wanted to.

-       “I am going to do everything in my power not to.”

-       Jihyun found himself jealous that even then, she always knew what to say.

-       The treatment was… it felt like she was dying. She didn’t know what she preferred. The first round resulted in some bloating and some fatigue, this time fighting the disease left her unable to stomach anything, the feeling of nausea never leaving her. MC could barely keep her eyes open and most of the time she spent with her family and friends was with her fast asleep. Her loved ones having to be content with accompanying her as she dreamed.

-       However throughout all of it, all the pain she endured, she knew she had Jihyun. Jihyun who juggled taking care of Lucy and helping her get to school and help with her homework and spend the rest of his day by her side. He would read to her and bring in his sketchbook to draw her when she wasn’t looking- and sometimes when she was. He would pick up their daughter and let her spend time with MC, to soak in as much quality time they could before taking her home and making sure she had dinner and went to bed before coming back to spend more time his wife, until the nurses would usher him out as he had, once again, stayed past visiting hours.

-       He was the glue keeping them altogether, he was the rock that would prop them all up- steadfast and strong. Unyielding and unnerved. He had faith that it would be alright, she was going to beat this. She had to.

-       Then one day he was told he could not visit her; that she had developed a strong infection and with her immune system so compromised… she couldn’t afford to get any sort of sickness. She couldn’t fight off a cold to literally save her life.

-       They were separated for weeks. Only the sound of her weak voice at the other end of the line to ease both him and Lucy and fell too short of what he would call a cold comfort. He knew all too well how her voice cracked when she lied… and it would always crack when she said she was feeling much better and it wouldn’t be too much longer until they were reunited.

-       When she had finally stabilised enough for him to return, the nurses had urged that it should only be him to visit and that he would need to prepare Lucy for the next time she could come along. He had only wished they had given him the same courtesy.

-       How could she have lost so much weight since the last time he saw her? How could her cheeks have fallen and her skin turn into such a sickly grey pallor that it physically hurt him to look at her- but it hurt even more to turn away. “I’m so sorry Jihyun.” “Why… why are you apologising for?” “I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it back home.” “Don’t- don’t say that. Don’t say those kinds of things. You had a rough patch and you’re fighting through it. Things will get better, they will.”

-       MC smiled at him, the same pitying smile that so many of the nurses and doctors gave him as he walked the hospital halls. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

-       Fight with me damn it. Show me that fire. You have so much to fight for.

-       The following day, even with all the preparation Jihyun had tried to give Lucy… their daughter had cried upon the first sight of her mother. MC inviting Lucy to come upon the bed for a cuddle as Jihyun slipped away into the bathroom for him to cry in one of the stalls.

-       He was the rock, their pillar of strength, their anchor. He couldn’t let them see him break down.

-       A week later he found MC awake in her bed, sitting up and writing in a book, her smile weak but true when she heard him come through the door. He placed a kiss on her temple and asked her what she was working on, her smile deepening but the words sealed behind her lips. “Can you please take a photo of me? Everyday?” “But… I don’t have my camera with me.” “Oh… well can you please draw my picture and date it each day?” “Of course.” “But not… not how I know you’re doing it. Don’t make me pretty-” “Now MC you are very pretty-” “No. Not your fake pretty where you draw my position but how I used to look like. I want you to draw me as I am. Truthfully and with no pretence.” “...Why?” “I need you to. Please. For me.” He wanted to scream. “For you, anything.”

-       So he would draw her. Her hair slowly falling away, her body shrinking away to bone all the while as she wrote. She wrote and wrote and slept and threw up and wrote and slept. While he woke up, attended to Lucy, drew MC, cried alone, drew his wife some more and came home sleep to do it all over again.

-       He was burning out. The time pretending to be strong shaving away the layers from him, cutting him down to his last threads. Something was going to give but he couldn’t afford to break down now. Lucy needed him, he was her father. MC needed her, she was his wife and she was sick… he couldn’t be selfish… he could do this. He was their rock, their pillar of strength, their anchor.

-       He was broken.

-       He hadn’t realised how much until he had received a call from Jumin. It was well past 6pm… but how could that have been… he had left MC’s side at 3pm to pick up Lucy from school. Yet there he was, in the car with the key in the ignition, engine still and cold. How did he lose more than three hours? What had happened? Did he fall asleep? Blackout? He didn’t feel rested, he didn’t think he would feel rested even after 20 years asleep. “Jihyun, where are you? What has happened to you?” “Um.. I’m at the hospital.” “MC, is she okay? Has something worse happened?” “Uh no… not that I know… what’s the matter Jumin, how can I help you?” “The matter? Nothing I guess. Lucy’s school called me as no one had come to pick her up and I’ve taken her home with me as I found no one at your house. I thought it best she stay with me in case anything had happened so I could take care of her.” “Th-thank you Jumin. Truly. That was very kind of you and I know you’re so busy lately. I’m sorry to put you out, I’ll come right away-”

“Put me out? No, not at all. I don’t spend enough time with Lucy and I was more worried that I couldn’t find you.” “Thank you Jumin.” “Is there anything I can do to help?” “N-no. It’s fine. We’re fine. Just must have fallen asleep in the car after visiting with MC.” “You’re not alone in this you know? You act as if you don’t have the means to ask for help-” “I don’t need to pay a nanny to look after my child or a maid to clean my house-” “I wasn’t talking about money. You have us. You have me. You are my best friend and I am always here for you, even if it’s as simple as looking after Lucy after school.” “…” “Or sitting with MC after work.” “That’s not necessary.” “Lucy told me she hears you crying at night.” “What?” “She told me in the car on the way back home. That she wanted to know how she could help make you happier. She said that you smile when she’s looking at you but when she goes to bed- she hears you crying. She’s a very perceptive girl Jihyun.” “Oh my god… I had… I didn’t know she could.”

“It’s okay you know.” “What do you mean?” “She also said that she felt a little better when you did… because it meant that she could too. But she didn’t like you crying alone, because she knows you’re pretending to be strong just for her and she doesn’t need that, she just wanted to know if there was something she could do to make you happier.”

-       Jihyun couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes and onto his lap. He was grateful that he seemed to be alone in the carpark so no one had to see a man wailing in his car… though he understood that given the location he was probably not the first to do so and certainly not the last.

-       He wept and allowed himself to release his anguish. For an hour, without a word spoken, Jumin let his friend cry and not once did he draw his ear away from the phone.

“Jumin… thank you.” “Anytime. Now, come back when you’re able I’ll have the cook fix you a plate and keep it warm until you’re here. We can all have dinner and you can get some rest and tomorrow, take your time with Lucy at home and I’ll keep MC company until you are able to spend time with her yourself. If you are unable to I will ask our friends to sit with MC. We can all take turns in keeping Lucy company after school too- or perhaps you would let me just buy this hospital and let them move you in and-” “Jumin. No. No thank you.” “Well. The offer is there should you wish to take it.” “You’re a good friend Jumin.” “Of course I am. Now come by, your daughter is monopolising all of Elizabeth the Third’s time and I would very much like to have my cat back.”

-       He was their rock, their pillar, their anchor. But he himself had his own rock, pillar and anchor in each of their friends. In his sweet, kind daughter.

-       MC… would never get better, would never come home. They had accepted that, silently acknowledging that this would be where she had to stay… her condition requiring care that she could not receive at their family home. So he made her room as much of a home away from home for her; filled with pictures and flowers and trinkets that made her comfortable… made him and Lucy comfortable too. It was easier to focus on the person and not the machines hooked up to her when the room smelled like home, felt like home.

-       They were quickly running out of time. She couldn’t sit up on her own, she was in and out of consciousness but still… she wrote in the book as best as she could. So Jihyun would still draw.

-       It was when he was putting the final touches of his drawing one evening before leaving to pick up Lucy from Yoosung’s apartment, that he heard it. The most horrible sound he had dreaded to hear… no more beeps… just one, long, relentless tone.

-       He didn’t get to say goodbye. He didn’t get to say he loved her or that he would look after Lucy. He was so focused on his work and watching the clock the make sure he wasn’t late that he missed her very last moment on earth. He had nodded mindlessly when someone talked to him, he wasn’t paying attention. All he heard was silence.

-       So small and a whisper of what she used to be, her could lift her with one arm though she lay heavy within it, limp and gone. Jihyun allowed his hand to trace over her skin, something she hadn’t really allowed him to do near the end. Too self-conscious of herself to let him indulge in the feeling. The texture was different but the warmth stirring in his heart was the same. This was the face of his wife, her neck, her arm.

-       He was thankful that he had the chance to draw her everyday as she had asked, because his hands would never forget the curves of her face even as they changed through the years. She had become muscle memory. Beautiful to him, in every way and every day he was blessed to spend with her. He was just filled with regret that she didn’t get to hear it from him at the end.

-       He lay her back down, tucking her back under the blankets to prepare her for when Lucy and Yoosung arrived.

-       As he moved the sheets, a book fell to the side.

-       He opened the book to find a page for each day she had been in the hospital. Starting from the first day she was admitted so many years ago when Lucy didn’t really understand what was happening and they were all still counting down the days of her return back home.

“Thank you for letting me be your Mother.” “Thank you for choosing me and Lucy every day and not letting the past dictate your future.”

“Thank you for letting Saeyoung come with some snacks, hospital food, even the fancy kind, still gets boring.”

Each day was filled with one or many things that she was thankful for. Even (especially) on her bad days. Things she was thankful for with him, with Lucy and from their friends. Jihyun flicked through to the final page, dated for that day, a simple line of scratchy writing; her beautiful script changing into plain, almost childlike text with her lack of motor coordination and strength. “Thank you, my love, for seeing past the sickness and seeing me. Every day. Always.”

-       And that’s when he understood, he finally got why she got him to draw her portrait every day. Even through all the pain and suffering, she could find good in the bad. She wanted them all to know that even through it all, she was thankful for them and that it was because of these things that she could endure it. Along with her words, his pictures were a testament of her journey and the role everyone had played in her life.

-       He would need to read a page every day for a long time, perhaps with Lucy or one of his friends- whoever needed this comfort. Knowing his daughter would only be minutes away from having to say goodbye to her mother, he opened up a random page and felt himself smile, even amidst his grief.

“Thank you all for facing the bad days with me, know that even in my sleep I knew you were there with me. Know that one way or another, I will be there with you.”

-       Then he wept with a ferocity he didn’t know he possessed because-

-       MC would always know what to say.

[a-dorin]

before you go | captain rex

word count: 621

warnings: mentions of battle, mentions of death, but fluff other than that! 

a/n: so it’s a been a while before i watched the siege of mandalore arc, so if i got anything wrong or incorrect, please let me know! i decided to write about rex because he always deserves some fluff written about him. i hope y’all enjoy! :))

prompt:  “Hi… ummm I’d like to request literally anything you want to write because you’re freaking magnificent! Although if youre gonna make me choose I’d love either Rex or Cody anything”

(not my gif)

“senator (y/l/n), i do not believe you have access to the hangar,” a clone trooper remarks, his arms folded across his chest. 

“i need to speak with captain rex,” you plead, your voice wavering, “it’s urgent.”

“i’m right here,” a familiar voice cuts in, your heart skipping a beat, “i can handle this, soldier.”

“r-right sir,” the trooper stammers, a slight blush tinging his cheeks, “my apologies to you, senator. i was not aware that you were acquainted with the captain.”

“apology accepted,” you dip your head out of respect, a small smile painting your features. 

the trooper swivels on his heel, strolling away. the moment his attention is no longer on the two of you, rex pulls you in for an embrace, nearly squishing you against his armor. 

nonetheless, you melt in his arms, letting out a content sigh. rex’s lips connect with your forehead momentarily, just long enough for you to savor the way his soft lips feel against your skin. once he pulls away, the area tingles, bliss rippling through you. 

“i was afraid i was going to miss you,” your gaze drifts upward, eyes locking with his, (e/c) meeting a golden honey, “i canceled a meeting or two, just so i could say goodbye.”

a glimmer of happiness dances in his depths, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“i wanted to see you,” you murmur, your bottom lip quivering as tears brim your lids, “you always know how it is, rex. we’re always unsure if this may be the last-”

“i’m coming back,” his tone is firm, “i’m going to come back home. i promise you that, sweetheart.” 

“i’‘ll be thinking of you,” you whisper, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. 

“there won’t be a second where you’re not on my mind,” the words are warm, surging with affection as they tumble out of his mouth. 

if only you could hold onto him for a just a few more minutes longer.

if only you didn’t have to say goodbye so hastily. 

gods, was this always the most difficult part.

no matter how desperately you attempted to hold in the tears, the dam always broke somehow. 

tears streamed down your cheeks, your throat tightening by the second as you stood with him, “i-i have something for you.”

digging in the pocket of your gown, your fingers wrap around a silver chain, a circular locket dangling. rex holds his palm out, eyes wide with intrigue, his lips pursed. 

“what is it?” 

“open it,” you wipe your tears. 

rex opens the locket, an endearing smile forming as he glances at the printed photo, “sweetheart, this is beautiful.”

“i hope you like it,” you manage to chuckle as the trooper undoes the clasp, “i-i wasn’t sure-”

his lips collide with yours, your lashes fluttering as a loving, tender kiss unfolds. your breath is taken away momentarily, any last remaining thought dissolving. the kiss is hasty as troopers call out to rex, shouting and hollering. 

“i gotta go,” rex frowns, “you’ll always be in my heart, (y/n). i’m coming back for you. i promise.”

“i love you,” you blurt out, reaching out for one last embrace.

“i love you more,” rex murmurs, his voice soft, “i have to go to mandalore now.”

“i’ll be waiting,” you choke back a sob. 

“and i’ll be waiting for the moment i get to see your gorgeous face again sweetheart,” rex presses one last kiss to your temple. 

as you watch him trot to the shuttle, your heart sinks, the tears welling up once more. however, rex’s words ring through your head. 

you’ll always be in my heart.

and for you, that was enough to dispel any fear that lingered. 

[pluto-art]

Syncytium - Chapter 5

Title: Polarization Words: 11,170 (including author’s comments) Rating: T

Fan Fiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/5/Syncytium

Just as always, I highly recommend the FF.net version, as it includes all accentuated words. This has been my favorite chapter to write so far. Consider it a New Year’s Eve gift. Enjoy. :)

October 1st, 1993 - 7:10 PM

The wall to the cloaked laboratory slid open with a soft hiss as Brian T. Globetrotter quickly shuffled out of his private workshop and headed for the elevator. His ears perked a little as a distant sound caught his ear. It sounded like shuffling. Was that coming from the... trash cans? A yearning desire to investigate had to be cut short, however, as a small ding signaled the arrival of his ride. Not like he could wait another minute anyway. He stepped past the steel doors and poked intrusively at Floor One's button, doing his best not to break out in a desperate dance as his pained expression was shut to the basement.

In a back corner of the basement, a trash can wiggled about unsteadily... then went still. A second later and it jumped about again, rocking back and forth, as if someone were tickling its insides mercilessly. Then, with an echoing pop that reverberated off the walls, from its stomach burst forth a tall white mouse, his hair disheveled and his glasses askew as he shook himself, breathed out a welcome sigh of relief, and hopped out of the can before replacing its lid.

"Sorry, Mr. Trash Can. Zort! Thanks for all the help, though!" Pinky apologized, smiling as he refitted the can with its metallic "hat" and patted it kindly.

Even though no one could hear him, he took care to tip-toe as covertly as he could past where the secret laboratory lay, beyond the elevator, and up... up... up the stairs, only exiting onto the first floor landing once he heard the familiar ding of the elevator below, signaling Globetrotter's return to the basement. He smiled and blew out yet another grateful sigh. That was a close one. He'd almost gotten caught!

Down below, Globetrotter stepped out of the elevator, adjusting his pants a touch and facepalming. That one had been painful... He reminded himself that his next doctor appointment was the following Tuesday, and privately hoped that they'd have a better solution - stronger pills or something. This was getting ridiculous.

Pinky hadn't noticed that, in his haste to hide from Globetrotter's prying eyes, he'd dropped his #2 pencil on the ground at the lab's entrance. But Globetrotter noticed. He picked up the orange object and turned it about with bandaged fingers, a crease or two forming upon his thick brow. This wasn't his. #2 pencil? He'd never be that cheap. Someone had been here...

/\/\/\/\/\/\

October 4th, 1993 - 4:14 PM

It was official: The Halloween party was happening at the end of the month - October 30th, a Saturday. Somehow, after four years of the school going without any employees-only holiday gatherings, Pinky had gotten it passed; or, rather, the principal had passed it. Even with him being one for the theatrics, many still couldn't understand why he had no aversion what-so-ever to such an event, especially considering that it was said principal whom had banned employees-only parties in the first place due to an unfortunate incident. Some were convinced that he had an ulterior motive, though what that might be no one could even begin to guess. And so a mystery it remained, although a good number of teachers were unabashedly excited for the party regardless. A few stragglers, such as Mr. Ages and Globetrotter, refused to attend, finding it a waste of time. Completely. Others, however, such as Mrs. Brisby, Dr. Dawson, and Bernard and Bianca had already picked out their costumes. Mr. Ages and Globetrotter rolled their eyes at this. It was generally agreed upon that the party was to be held at Flaversham's house, as he was one of the most handsomely paid and, as a result, owned the largest establishment. He was also incredibly humble about it and often welcomed visitors. The only rule for this autumn gathering was that no children were allowed, and so Olivia would have to room with Mrs. Brisby and her children for the night. Flaversham was agreeable to this. Olivia was not.

Pinky came across her that afternoon, sulking by his door at 4:14 PM. She had been noticeably absent to class, and as the lanky, spectacled mouse approached the young girl, he frowned at her in concern.

She didn't look at him as he knelt down to her level. The floor was, apparently, much more interesting.

"Olivia?" Pinky began, tilting his head a little, the better to look into those stubborn, glossy eyes. "Class wasn't the same without you."

She sniffed, the tears began to fall, yet still she said nothing.

"Olivia...?" he inquired again, reaching out a soft paw and delicately tucking a finger underneath her chin, the better, of course, to tilt her head towards him. He smiled at her, a kindly, encouraging smile. "I'm here."

And the dam burst.

She threw herself into his arms, sobbing vehemently, as only a child can when they've been denied something incredibly important to them. Pinky hugged her right back, patting her back gently.

"Naaaaarf," her teacher cooed in his unusual way, rubbing her head. "Ohhhhh. Tell me all about it, hm?"

"M-My daddy... says I can't go to the Halloween party!" Olivia managed to choke out. "We always do everything together... when I'm not at school! B-But he said that... I can't go because... this is a party only for the adults." At this, she had to pause, for another torrential downpour threatened to burst, making her breath hitch. She was shaking so much that she'd shook her little tam-o-shanter right off her head. "I promise I'll be good! I won't even drink the alkaseltzer!"

She said this all so seriously, and anyone else might have stifled a snort at such an overly-dramatic display, as well as her incorrect pronunciation of "alcohol", but Pinky was not like other adults. He took Olivia's woes as gravely as if he'd just been delivered the news himself. After all, if he was uninvited to one of the coolest parties of the year, especially one he was to be the host of, he'd be pretty bummed out, too.

"Oh, Olivia...," he whimpered along with her, pulling the young girl back from his shoulder so as to address her properly, and felt his heart practically break at the sight of her crimson eyes. "I'm sure your dad would normally love to have you stay! After all, it's not a real party without Olivia." And he winked at her. That turned her frown upside down, if only for half a second. "I'd be really sad to not be invited to a party, too, ya' know."

"R-Really...?" the distraught little student hiccuped, wiping her eyes.

"Of course! But... you know something else?"

"What?"

"I'll bet some of the other kids are sad that they won't get to go to the party with their parents either. Like... Timothy and Cynthia. They can't go either, can they?"

Olivia shook her head.

"And you're the oldest, right?"

Yes.

"You know what that means, don't you?"

No.

"That means that you're in charge of making your own party!"

"You mean... we can have our own private party without the adults?"

"As long as Mrs. Brisby says it's okay. I'll put in a good word for you," Pinky promised. "Oh, and just between us...," and at this, he leaned in towards Olivia, cupping a hand to his mouth. Olivia extended an ear in interest. "I'm rather jealous I won't be able to attend yours. I'm sure it'll be way cooler."

At this, Olivia beamed.

"It'll be the best party you'll have never been to!"

And she picked up her hat from off the floor and slapped it down resolutely upon her furry little head, the redness of her eyes the only trace that she'd ever been crying at all. She spread her arms wide before hugging Pinky tight around the middle, nuzzling into his chest... and letting a few stray tears leak out in the process.

"Thank you, Mr. Pinky...," she whispered under her breath, and Pinky couldn't help but smile as he embraced her in return.

"You're welcome, Miss Olivia," he replied right back, booping her nose and waving after her as she ran off and around a corner.

Olivia's chipper exit was replaced by a much stiffer entrance in the form of Globetrotter, who stared after Olivia in judgement as he straightened a small stack of papers clutched in his grasp. This didn't phase Pinky in the least.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Brain!" he greeted him cheerfully, and for once, possibly the very first time for Pinky, Globetrotter actually smiled at him. Well, perhaps it was more of a smirk than a genuine grin, but Pinky accepted it either way. It was nice to see.

"Evening, my quixotic colleague," Globetrotter responded, his tone and inflection considerably more chipper than usual. "I take it you're excited for the festivities?"

"Ohhh, yes! Are you coming?" Pinky asked, as he stepped into his classroom. Globetrotter followed him to the door.

"I don't participate in such frivolities," said Globetrotter, hands tucked neatly behind his back and expression monotonous as he watched Pinky grab a tall ladder from the back of the classroom and position it underneath a dead light bulb. "You'll just have to survive without my presence."

Pinky tut tut tutted sadly as he picked out a fresh bulb from one of the desk drawers and made for the ladder.

"Not even for the punch, Brain?"

"It's Brian. Mr. Globetrotter, preferably. And, no, not even for what I'm sure will be... a delectable punch."

"Mmm. Shame," Pinky shrugged, as he popped the bulb in his mouth, clumsily climbed up the ladder, and carefully set down his bulb as he fixed to take out the old one. "I was rather looking forward to having you."

"You were?" Globetrotter asked, surprised. No one ever wanted him anywhere.

"Of course! Poit!" responded the other, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You were one of the first ones to welcome me when I came to the school, and you did so very well in my class!"

"That was... just a fluke," Globetrotter responded rather bashfully, averting his gaze a little.

"You're also the only other person who's still around at night when I go home late. It... makes me feel a little less lonely."

Globetrotter cocked an eyebrow at him curiously. He simply couldn't make heads or tails of this creature. Not only did he care about him for the stupidest, most meaningless reasons he could possibly concoct, he also saw him as an... equal. The very thought sent shivers up Globetrotter's spine. Never in his life would he put himself on the same pedestal as this nincompoop, not if he was paid to do it. Ronald Pinkus was beneath him in every way. And yet... there was something, dare he say it, wholesome about how he flat out refused to acknowledge any flaws in Brian what-so-ever, for flaws he had and plenty of them. This he knew, yet hated to admit. But he'd never met anyone who genuinely looked past them; who not only wasn't afraid to approach him, but sometimes purposely sought him out. It was... odd. Touching, but... odd.

He coughed uncomfortably.

"Yes, well... Maybe you should simply... retire earlier. There's more associates around before six o'clock."

"B-But I can't retire, Brain!" Pinky voiced worriedly, screwing in the new bulb, which popped a stale yellow as he wound it into place. "I just got here!"

"I meant rest. Perhaps you should go home earlier in the day, you... undeveloped fetus."

The insult flew right over Pinky's head to land somewhere in an empty corner, where no one else's ears could possibly pick it up. If anything, Pinky beamed at Globetrotter's response.

"Ohhhhhh! Well, that's different then, isn't it? But, oh, wait... No. No no, I couldn't possibly do that either. What about the students?"

"The students?"

"Yes, Brain! Don't your students ask to talk with you about their problems after class?" asked Pinky matter-of-factly, as he promptly descended the ladder, folded it up, and moved it back to its resting place. He hummed a very repetitive little tune as he did all this. Hm hm, hm hm, hm hmmmm. It was monotonous, yet curiously catchy, in a way.

"Noooooooo... Not usually. Sometimes they'll ask a question about a theory or mathematical equation, of course, but that's to be expected," he said, perhaps a bit haughtily as he checked over his fingernails. "I am not privy to the personal issues and well-being of my pupils. They keep to their business and I keep to mine. This is a school, not a therapist's office."

"It's not?"

Brain stared at him, giving him the most deadpan glare he could possibly muster.

"You are, without a doubt, the daftest individual I've ever met."

"Thank you, Brain," Pinky smiled, and he said it genuinely.

With a shake of the head, Brain stepped back out into the hallway, Pinky following.

"If you'll excuse me, I must return to my state of business," said he, and he began to walk away from room 210.

"Oh! Ummm... Brain?" Pinky asked, remaining by his door as he waved an eager hand towards his colleague.

Brain turned to look back at him, one eyebrow raised and hands once more tucked behind his back.

"Will you be eating dinner here at the school tonight?" he asked.

Globetrotter stared at him for a moment, nonplussed.

"Most likely. Why?"

"Would you like to join me in the cafeteria? I have something for yoouuuuu!"

Globetrotter considered this. Normally, his answer would be a firm and stalwart "NO", but perhaps it would work to his benefit. Being closer to Pinky would enable him to carry out his plan much faster and easier. The lanky teacher was such an unsuspecting ignoramus that he could probably finish the job Scott free, even in a public area. Heheh. Finish the job. Oh, it sounded so devious...

"Ccccertainly. Why not?" Globetrotter replied, smirking. "After all, you... have shown yourself to be a successful member of this institution. I suppose it's only fit to honor that with the occasional get-together."

"Oh, wonderful! Six o'clock then?" Pinky grinned, radiant as a firefly as he clapped his hands together rather childishly and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.

"Yes. Six o'clock. Don't be late," Globetrotter warned, as he turned around to continue in his trek down the hall. He'd barely gotten another foot away from the excited Pinky, however, when he was called back once more.

"Oh! Brain?"

He looked back, a rather miffed expression pulling at his face. If that nitwit mispronounced his name one more time...

"Thank you," said Pinky in a soft voice as he hid his hands behind his back rather bashfully.

"Don't mention it," Globetrotter responded dryly. "It's just a lunch."

"No no. I mean... for the compliment. You really think I'm a success...?"

He said it so sincerely that Globetrotter almost felt sorry for him. Almost...

"Sure," lied his tongue. "You've certainly proved to be of... some worth."

In truth, it was only a partial fabrication. He had shown himself to be successful, if you considered babysitting a bunch of toddlers lucrative. In Globetrotter's eyes, the bumbling professor, if he was even laudable enough to be called that, was only popular from a superficial standpoint - he was likable, he was approachable, he was, as the girls disgustingly called him, "hot", and he was easy-going with children. In short, he was a celebrity, not a teacher. Whatever credentials he did obtain were worthless to someone of Globetrotter's stature; anyone who charmed their way into so highly prestigious of an establishment didn't deserve to hold a position there in the first place. He was enough of a threat to consider ousting due to his fame as a personality, but from an educational angle he posed no competition; at least, not in Globetrotter's eyes. And so he threw him a bone, more as a cover-up than anything, but he didn't expect him to take it so... consolingly. It made him a little uncomfortable.

"Thank you," Pinky said again, beaming. "You've... been the only one to tell me that. Well, at least here anyway. Eheh. Poit..."

Globetrotter frowned at the verbal tick. Few questioned it, aside from the occasional student who ventured to ask what "zort" or "narf" meant. Globetrotter simply took it as a medical condition and left it at that. He'd rather assume as such than entertain the thought that that sorry excuse of a teacher actually enjoyed spewing such nonsense, but, then again, he wouldn't be surprised.

He also frowned at the admittance, somewhat in surprise. Had none of the other teachers thrown him a kind word? Surely they must have. He knew they had, in fact, for he'd overheard their compliments, both in Pinky's presence and not. Most liked him, and those who didn't simply felt sorry for him. At least they'd had some sense to not outright call him a success, because he certainly was not that when it came to earning a place as a professional in the university.

"Just keep doing what you're doing and I'm sure you'll be fine," he spat, perhaps a little too harshly. Pinky noticed not. "You've undoubtedly shown yourself to be popular."

"Oh, not as popular as you, Brain! I'm sure you're still one of the best teachers in the whole school!"

At this, Globetrotter smiled.

"To that I flagrantly concur, my good fellow. To that, I flagrantly concur," grinned the science professor, and he said it so deviously that, if he'd uttered it to any other teacher, they would have flogged him where he stood.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

4:47 PM

Globetrotter clicked on the little green banker's desk lamp that sat on his table. It cast a dim, yellow glow across the mahogany surface, illuminating papers, calculators, a coffee mug, and a gel pen - an expensive one. Rolling in the combination to the lock on his briefcase, he pushed in on the lock buttons, to which the case satisfyingly clicked open. Out of it he pulled: a pair of gloves, some odd-looking tools, a computer chip, a bottle of Aspirin, and a very small, round device that appeared to be magnetic in construction. Indeed, from an outsider's perspective, it looked to be nothing more than one of those tiny black magnets that one stuck to their fridge to pin up such things as receipts and shopping lists. Quite unassuming.

The middle-aged mouse laid out the chip, magnet, and tools, pulled on his gloves with a sharp snap, and got to work. For twenty minutes he tinkered with the device. It was delicate work, requiring much precision, but he reveled in it. Occasionally, his ponderings wandered to, of all things, Ronald Pinkus - how quixotic he was; how precariously he'd climbed up that rickety ladder. Shame he didn't break his neck, Globetrotter thought. Would have made my job much easier...

At 5:10 PM, he stood up from his chair, learned towards his desk lamp, and, with the little magnet pinched between his fingers, held it up to the lamp.

Snap.

It attached to the lamp's outer surface as if it was made to rest there. Globetrotter smirked. Pulling off the magnet, he opened up a side drawer and tested it out on a steel tape dispenser. It worked there, too. The magnet hugged it tightly. Globetrotter pulled it off, nodded satisfactorily, and pocketed it. Of course, this was only half of the test. It would only prove itself after applied.

"Oh, you beautiful little Polarizer," he mumbled fondly, actually kissing the device as he held it securely between his fingers. "Make me proud!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

6:05 PM

He was late. Of course he was late.

Globetrotter tapped his fingers on a cafeteria table impatiently, checking his watch every now and then, even though there was a clock literally right above him, attached to a pole near the entrance of the meeting area. If there was anything that boiled his bottles more than almost anything else, it was tardiness. There was no excuse for irresponsibility.

The cafeteria was completely devoid of life, save for a few straggling servers behind the counter, the janitors, Jak and Gus, and Globetrotter himself. One thing rather noteworthy, if not a tad bit odd, about Acme School of Arts and Sciences was that all classes generally ended at 5:00 PM. The founder of the university had been strict about the doors closing early so as both school personnel and students had ample time to spend in the evenings with their family and friends, as well as have extra time to commit to homework. It was a rule that was still upheld to this day. Some professors, of course, still stayed past "curfew", mostly to attend to extra duties and grading during the quiet evenings, and even then none of them, save for Globetrotter, and now Pinky, ever lingered past 6:00 PM. The one exception was the theater kids - their rehearsals sometimes went until 7:00 or even 8:00 PM. It was the only reason the cafeteria stayed open until 7:00, and even then it was rare to find anyone at a table this late.

Globetrotter welcomed the silence, of course. It was a time for pondering; a time for planning. But he had no patience for late-comers.

He had half a mind to just get up and leave right then and there when in swooped the Trozologist, waving as he headed in a rush towards his cafe buddy.

"Phew! So sorry I'm late, Brain!" he sighed, flopping down into a chair, a bit too close for Globetrotter's liking. He scooted to the side a few paces. "Mrs. Brisby and I got to talking about cooking and, well, the time just ran away with me! Ha-ha! Zort!"

"Yes... I'm sure it did," Globetrotter groaned, not at all amused. "Are you going to refresh yourself?" he asked. He was already on his third cup of coffee and about to get primed for a fourth.

Pinky looked around at this, concerned, before focusing his attention back on Globetrotter.

"Um... In public, Brain?"

Globetrotter's response was a deep, planted facepalm. What an absolute boob.

"The drinks, you ignoramus. The drinks! Are you doing to get a drink?!"

"Pfff. Well, why didn't you say so, Brain?" Pinky chuckled, rolling his eyes and standing right back up again. "Oh! I almost forgot. This is for you."

And he set down in front of Globetrotter a very pretty, very lovingly wrapped little present that, somehow, he hadn't noticed before. He stared at it rather worriedly, as if it might explode.

"Well, go ahead, silly!" Pinky encouraged him, nudging him forward with a nod of the head.

"Th-Thank you," Globetrotter said, not quite sure how to respond. He unwrapped it with delicate fingers, loosening first the decorative red bow tied about the box, then carefully undoing the rose-patterned ivory paper underneath. Inside was a dark green box with a lid on it. He slipped off the lid, peered inside, and pulled out...

"For you!" Pinky exclaimed happily. "Do you like it?"

It was a black coffee mug, with the words 'Best Teacher Ever!' written in white upon the front. It was quite a nice mug, despite the ridiculous phrase - snug in his hands and smooth to the touch. He was equal parts flattered that Pinky had recognized his fondness for coffee and embarrassed that it was that apparent.

"Thank you...," he answered awkwardly. He'd probably have to blot out the text later. Being associated with anything that generic churned his stomach. But he did like the mug. "I... needed a new one."

"Now you can use it with your new coffee maker!"

"You bought that for me...?"

"Of course! Who else would I buy it for?" blurted out Pinky, rolling his eyes. "I mean, everyone can use it, but... I ordered it for you really."

To this, Globetrotter could only stare disbelievingly. He swallowed thickly. What... was with this mouse?! Buying him a mug. Saying he made him less lonely at night. Ordering a coffee maker just so he could enjoy his days a bit more? No one was this nice. Surely, there was some ulterior motive.

"What's the catch...?" he asked, looking serious. There was always a catch. Always.

"Catch, Brain?" inquired Pinky, cocking his head in confusion. "Um... I haven't caught anything lately, Brain. Unless you count this fish," he said, and he pulled out of his pocket an actual, live minnow in a small jar filled with water. "Hellooooo, Jerry!" said Pinky... to the fish. "I caught him in the lake this morning! Still need to buy him a tank, though. Don't I, Jerry?"

Globetrotter simply stared at him, nonplussed, his mouth hanging open a little.

"Go on! Back you go!" said Pinky, tucking the little minnow back into his pocket and smiling at Globetrotter happily as if he hadn't just pulled a live fish out of his coat. "Oh! That's right. Drinks! Aren't you going to get yours, Brain?"

And off he trotted, heading in the direction of the cafeteria to grab, as usual, an odd assortment of foods and a drink. Globetrotter nervously looked behind him at Pinky, as if he might set fire to something... or pull a bazooka out of his pants... or... something. At this point, he didn't know what to expect from this mouse, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Perhaps he was biting off more than he could chew...

But no. He shook his head at the thought. Pinkus was simply an idiot. A kind... thoughtful... very sweet idiot... But an idiot nonetheless. And no amount of good deeds was going to stop him in his plot. Nevertheless, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least try out the mug. He highly doubted it was bugged.

One mug of coffee, and a tray of assorted foods... plus a cup of Sprite, later, and Pinkus and Globetrotter were back at the table, the former laden down with treats, the latter content with his single, fourth serving of Italian Roast. Pinky helped himself eagerly to a sprinkle doughnut, offering Globetrotter a bite as he chewed happily.

"No, thank you. Bad for my... thighs," Globetrotter uttered lamely.

Pinky shrugged and finished off the tasty confection before diving into another. Globetrotter blew on his coffee before taking a tentative sip. It was good. Rich, flavorful, with a bite at its closure. And his lips conformed nicely about the mug. Yes, he liked this mug. Not that he'd ever say that out loud or anything.

For once, Pinky wasn't talking; so preoccupied with a sugar doughnut was he. Normally, Globetrotter would have welcomed this silence, but he'd gotten so used to Pinky always being a chatterbox whenever he was around him (which, admittedly, wasn't terribly often) that he felt... a little uncomfortable not making conversation, strangely.

"So, um...," he began, in a lame attempt to deaden the silence. "What is your opinion on asymptotic analysis?"

"Hm?" Pinky inquired, eyes wide and cheeks bulging with a mouthful of doughnut as he smiled puffily at Globetrotter.

Too complicated. He's not going to understand that, you moron. Globetrotter floundered. He wasn't good at this. Small talk was not one of his strong points.

"Um... chaos theory?"

Pinky swallowed.

"Ohhh! You mean like in Jurassic Park?"

"What?"

"Well, that's what Ian Malcolm always talked about. Chaos theory! Although, personally, I liked Ellie Sattler more. Laura Dern is such a good actress and I loved her in Rambling Rose! She was actually Spielberg's first choice for the role in Jurassic Park, did you know?"

He said all this as he grabbed a bottle of ketchup and mustard each and squirted their contents all over a hotdog he'd set in a bun. At the word "such" he'd given a very feminine wave of the hand that Globetrotter highly disapproved of.

"I did not know," Globetrotter replied, taking a dainty sip of his coffee.

"She also auditioned for the role of Clarice in Silence of the Lambs, but I really do think Jodie Foster was a more appropriate selection. She's quite versatile. I heard she's looking to get back into the directing field soon..."

And on and on he went, sometimes speaking between bites, other times continuing on with a mouthful of food, his thick mumbles so incomprehensible that Globetrotter could only catch a "George Lucas" here and a "Princess Bride" there. It was downright humorous to him that this mouse, who knew so little about the subjects upon which this school was founded, was incredibly versed in filmography. Then again, he supposed it was only appropriate, considering the flamboyant showman that he was. And this was a school of sciences and arts, after all. But then, why hadn't he majored in theater? Trozology, whatever it was, seemed a waste of time.

"You seem to know a lot about cinema," Globetrotter voiced, finally able to find a break in the conversation after a solid ten minutes. The entire time, he'd covertly tried to roam about Pinky's attire with a sharp gaze, looking for anything magnetic he could possibly attach his device to. He eventually settled on Pinky's name tag. Of course. They all sported one, and they were made of metal. If he could somehow stick it on the back...

"Oh, I love the arts!" Pinky responded, clasping his hands together and batting his eyes dreamily. "All the movie magic and the passion and the creativity...!"

"Pinky, might I... see your badge for a moment? Only there's a nasty blemish on it. I... certainly wouldn't want you to walk around with a dirty tag."

"Why, thank you, Brain. How thoughtful of you."

And he unpinned his badge from his coat and handed it to Globetrotter. It was as simple as that.

"So, if you're so into the arts then why didn't you become an actor... or something?" Globetrotter stalled, as his right hand poked about in his jacket pocket to ensure that the magnet was still there. It was. He plucked it out, hiding it in his right hand as he pretended to rub at a spot on the badge with the end of his coat, surreptitiously planting the little magnet on the back of the badge as he did so. Piece of cake.

"Oh, I was going to, Brain! Narf! But I found something else I love much more...," he said, resting a cheek on his left hand as he gazed off into space, a toothy grin curled about his visage.

"Trozology?"

"Mmhm."

"What is Trozology?"

"You don't know, Brain? It's the study o-"

But at that moment, the cafeteria doors burst open to reveal a very angry set indeed: Dex, followed close behind by Maisy, Marvell, Gadget, Tillie, and one other boy rat whom Pinky didn't recognize. Dex and Maisy were shouting at the top of their lungs, oblivious to the few stragglers lingering about the room.

"-never messed with your business before! I know it's important to you. Why do you think I gave you your space?!" Dex yelled at his sister, a plethora of expressive hand gestures complementing his outburst.

"You never 'gave me my space', Dex. You're always hanging out after my classes; checking in on me when I'm trying to relax. How is that 'giving me my space'?!"

"Oh, man. Um. Lemme think. Maybe it's because... I care about you?!"

"Maisy, come on. He's taken a lot of hits for you," Gadget said, stepping forward.

"Oh, like, grade hits? Detention? You'd know a lot about hits, wouldn't you, Dex?"

"Girl, come on. Maisy's right," Marvell uttered, also stepping up. "You're laying it on too hard."

"YOU WANNA TAKE HER SIDE?! THEN FINE! I know you care more about her and Dex than me!"

"I didn't say that!" Marvell countered, looking hurt.

"This is about Mom, isn't it?! You don't know ANYTHING about taking hits!" Maisy practically screamed at Dex, advancing towards him with the ferocity of a tyrannosaurus, causing him to back up with every step she took.

None of them had yet seen Globetrotter and Pinky off to the side, and the janitors stayed as silent as the mice they were from a shaded corner. Pinky looked on the verge of standing up to intervene, but Globetrotter, surprisingly, put out a hand to stop him.

"It's not about Mom! It's... about everything!" Dex choked out. "And don't tell me that I don't know anything about taking hits, Maisy! You don't know the half of it..."

"The hell do you mean about that?" Maisy softened up, but only for a moment. She turned swiftly 'round to glare at her friends. "THE HELL DOES HE MEAN?!"

All of them shuffled about awkwardly, looking embarrassed. Gadget rubbed at her arm, and Marvell bit her lip suspiciously, gaze firmly planted to the floor. But the boy rat looked the most broken of all, and it was him that Maisy targeted.

"What does he mean, Red?"

Red directed his eyes downward, his ears appropriately turning the color of his namesake.

"What does he mean?!"

"I... I promised I wouldn't say, Mais!" he sputtered out, a paw coming up to rub at a sore spot on the back of his head.

"Dex?!" Maisy spat, rounding back on her brother.

"You attend this school just as much as me. You should be smart enough to figure it out," Dex replied, and with that he walked off towards an exit on the opposite end of the cafeteria, purposely ignoring his sister's pleas.

"Tell me what you mean, Dex!"

No response.

"DEX! Tell me what you mean!"

It was as she started crying that Pinky finally made his presence known... via slipping off his chair. It clattered down with its owner, the noise echoing loudly off the walls and pulling every eye in the vicinity towards him. Globetrotter jumped and glared at Pinky.

"O-Oh! Ummm...," Pinky stammered, standing up in a flash and ringing the end of his coat in his hands awkwardly.

Maisy's cheeks turned bright pink. She full out burst into tears as she turned tail and ran back into the hallway, her friends casting one last embarrassed look at the teachers before sprinting off after her, occasionally calling her name.

Pinky swallowed thickly. Globetrotter sighed, long and exhausted, through his nose.

"Why did you stop me, Brain?" Pinky queried, dusting off his coat and propping his chair back up.

"Because sometimes people just need to talk, Pinky," Globetrotter said, slapping the now tampered with badge back on the table for Pinky to take, which he did, pining it on his jacket, none the wiser.

"I don't think that was talking, Brain. That was more like... screaming."

"Well, people need to scream sometimes, too," Globetrotter nipped, draining the last bits of coffee from his mug and heading towards the sink to wash it out. Pinky followed him, demolished tray of food and empty soda cup in hand.

"Have you screamed sometimes, Brain...?" Pinky asked delicately as he tossed his trash and replaced the tray.

Globetrotter didn't answer right away. He looked thoughtful as he washed out his cup.

"Sometimes...," he finally responded, shaking the mug to rid it of the last few droplets of water.

"Were you hurting then, too?"

Another pause. Globetrotter stepped over to a paper towel dispenser, ripping off a piece to dry his cup with.

"Yes."

Globetrotter looked curiously over at Pinky, whose ears had drooped so low that he looked more like a lop rabbit than a mouse. He actually made to step forward, but Globetrotter, already smelling some form of physical affection, backed up, a hand raised in protest.

"Save your pity."

"I'm sorry, Brain. Poit..," Pinky whispered, and he truly was.

"It's fine," replied Globetrotter.

There was an awkward pause, in which neither of them spoke for a solid ten seconds, Globetrotter running a finger along the ring of his new mug, Pinky shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

"I... really should be going. Thank you for the mug. It's... good," Globetrotter ended lamely.

"You're welcome," Pinky said, the smallest of smiles crawling up his face. "Thank you, too."

"For what?"

"Sitting with me."

Globetrotter blinked. It was as if heaven itself was shining a spotlight on him, throwing every opportunity at him to find compassion for this mouse and feel guilty for what he'd done. Well, they'll have to try harder than that, Globetrotter thought. He wasn't going to relent that easily. And, in the most monotonous tone he could muster, he responded with a simple:

"Mmhm."

But the smile stayed. It took a lot, it seemed, to completely break Pinky.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

October 7th, 1993 - 4:02 PM

One of the first things Globetrotter noticed about his brilliant Polarizer, once it had been planted on Pinky, was that... it didn't work. At least, it didn't work on children. Said device had one purpose and one purpose only: redirection. From it a frequency was emitted that affected anyone within five feet of Pinky telepathically. They would be suddenly and inexplicably hit with a desire to preoccupy themselves with some other activity and, as such, never engage in interaction with Pinky for more than a few seconds. As long as he wore the name tag, he couldn't be touched. Poof. His newfound popularity would come to a screeching halt, no one would converse with him ever again, and he'd have no choice but to leave the school, friendless and jobless, leaving Globetrotter back on top as the most notable individual in the school. Or, at least, that's what it was supposed to do.

But it didn't. As usual, Olivia, Timothy, and Cynthia, along with Teresa and one or two others, were at Pinky's classroom at four o'clock sharp the next day, Evinrude arriving twenty minutes later (for the snacks only, of course). The day after that there was an actual line of kids standing outside the door fifteen minutes early, waiting to get in, and the day after that the line was even longer. Globetrotter could only assume that there was some fault in the hardware. But he'd tested it out on himself an hour before he'd met up with Pinky and it had worked just fine then. What was the problem? Perhaps it simply just didn't work on kids, for some reason. But that couldn't be right... Teresa was one of the college students in the school and it didn't work on her either, nor on any teacher that approached Pinky. Strange. He'd have to get the device back and tinker with it some more, he supposed. Not that that would be much of a problem. Considering how easily he'd obtained it last time, snatching it back, he figured, would be a breeze. He decided to simply wait for the right opportunity and nab it back.

Whereas Globetrotter's experiment had failed, Olivia's had gone above and beyond; in fact, it had practically skyrocketed. She now had a total of 271 signatures on her petition, an overwhelming success, in the eyes of her and Pinky. Pinky said that they had enough to approach the principal with. There was just one little problem: to ask the principal to pass their petition, that meant they had to, well, talk to the principal, something no one ever wanted to do. There was only one person in the entire school who wasn't afraid of him, that person being Globetrotter, and even he avoided the angry little maniac as much as possible. Pinky wasn't entirely averse to approaching the headmaster, mainly because he'd simply never met the guy, although there was still a lingering feeling of trepidation due to how unfavorable people talked about him. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. Olivia's petition needed to be signed off on, and he was going to do everything in his power to see that it did!

And so, that afternoon, directly after class, the hallways of Acme School of Arts and Sciences found Pinky marching down the hallway, Olivia's hand in his, as he and his student headed for the principal's office.

They stopped outside the door. Was it just their imagination, or did it feel a bit colder down this part of the hallway? It was a rather darker portion of the school - not as many offices and classes were down here, some of the lights had blown out and hadn't yet been fixed, and the office was situated right in the center of a long strip of hallway, making it the furthest away from the windows. The place simply had a... foreboding atmosphere about it.

Olivia nuzzled closer to Pinky. He smiled and squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"Put on your helmet, Olivia."

"Like on our imaginary trip into the caves?" Olivia whispered, wide-eyed.

"Mmhm."

Resolute, Olivia let go of Pinky's hand and situated her tam-o-shanter more snuggly atop her head.

"Okay. Let's go fight the dragon," said she.

Pinky knocked on the door - once, twice, three times...

"Come in..," came a voice from the other side. It sounded pleasant enough, but there was something a little... off about it; a sprinkle of deviance behind the honey-suckle tone.

Pinky opened the door.

The inside of this room was, if possible, even darker than the hallway. Like Globetrotter, the headmaster owned a green banker's desk lamp, albeit two instead of one, each on opposite sides of a dark black table, and it served as the only lighting in the entire vicinity. Besides a plethora of books encased in rich wooden shelving behind him, a couple of comfortable chairs spread about, a trash can, a blackboard, and a television in a far corner opposite the principal, the room was surprisingly plain. The most interesting thing about it was a standing globe of the world, one of those expensive ones that twirled around and had little red lights on it that clicked on to highlight various hot spots on the map as you spun it. Olivia liked those. She had an overwhelming desire to spin it, but was too scared to ask, especially seeing as the globe was literally right next to the principal's desk. The further away she could be from him, the better.

"Come in, my children, come in! Oh, do come closer to the desk. You expect an old hamster such as myself to see you properly from that far away?" the principal beckoned. He sat in a very tall, very black chair behind the ebony desk. Unlike the uniform layout of the room, he appeared quite relaxed. A little too relaxed, perhaps. He was reclining, bare feet up on the desk, and decked out in a comfortable-looking brown suit and pants set, complete with checkered tie. He looked as if he ruled the world, and the smirk on his face as he smoked from a thick, piping cigar only cemented this.

Pinky didn't think he looked that old - fifty, maybe? Around the same age as Brain. But he also didn't want to be disrespectful, and so he moved tepidly forward, his steps more of a shuffle than a walk, Olivia sliding along a couple paces behind him. Now that she was actually in the room, she didn't feel quite so brave.

"I hear you've arranged something of a party," the golden hamster addressed Pinky. "I must say, I'm quite intrigued. We haven't had an employees-only gathering in four years! I'm impressed you managed to pull it off."

"Th-Thank you, Headmaster," Pinky mumbled.

"Please. Call me Snowball," the hamster said gentlemanly, holding up a hand. "No need for formalities. And who might you be?" he asked Olivia, leaning over a little, the better to see her.

"O-O-Olivia, Sir."

"Olivia. You know, the name 'Olivia' comes from the word 'olive'. The olive tree is a symbol of peace and fertility, something we all hope to breed in this school. Fertile minds; obedient pupils. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Y-Yes, Sir," Olivia agreed, although, privately, she didn't understand what he was getting at at all.

"Please, Mr. Snowball, we've come to you with a request," Pinky interrupted, holding up the petition.

"Oh?" Snowball answered, cocking an eyebrow as he took a long, steady swig from the cigar and blew out an impressive ring. Olivia watched it float around the room, intrigued despite herself. It collided upon the chalkboard and disintegrated in a soft huff.

"It's a petition for a new baseball stadium," Pinky continued, holding out the paper for Snowball to take, which he did, looking it over without much interest. "We got two hundred and seventy-one signatures! I... hope that's enough?"

Only now did Pinky realize that he was twisting his tail in his paws something terrible, leaving little creases in it. He stopped immediately. Olivia had been biting at her fingernails. She also stopped as soon as she saw Pinky do so.

"So... you want me... to sign off on this?" Snowball asked, tossing a rather deadpan look in Pinky's direction.

Pinky gulped.

"Is that... all right? A lot of your students would love to have this back on the grounds! You'd be able to develop a team to compete with the other schools. We could win trophies and good sports reputation!"

"And it would be a P.E. class to add to your curriculum," Olivia added. Pinky smiled at her, impressed.

"Yes! Absolutely!"

"Hmph. You think people would go for this drivel? Two hundred signatures from a pool of three thousand is hardly enough to turn heads," he retorted, setting the petition down on the desk and pushing it towards them so hard that Pinky was thankful he was able to catch it before it clattered to the floor. "I must say, I'm not very impressed."

"B-But, it would do wonders for the school!" Pinky pleaded. "And Miss Olivia here worked so hard to get all the signatures. Didn't you, Olivia?"

"Yes, I did," she admitted, suddenly a bit bolder. Fight the dragon. Fight the dragon. "And you shouldn't be so retorshical. All the other schools have sports teams!"

Pinky gave her a side glance. Too far. Too far...

Olivia licked her lips, in-taking a deep breath for her next burn.

"I think you're scared."

And she put her hands on her hips, the better to complete the effect.

Pinky bit his lip. Olivia...

Snowball frowned. Slipping his feet off the table, he leaned fully forward over his desk, his face mere feet from Olivia's, and growled into her face: "I'm scared of nothing."

Olivia had closed one eye at this, the better to block out the dragon's harsh stare... and rancid breath. He even smoked like a dragon. But she stayed resolute.

"Then prove it!"

"Um... M-Mr. Snowball, if I may...?" Pinky barged in, desperate to fan the flames. It was bad enough she'd poked the dragon's eye in his own cave. They didn't need the fire, too. "Perhaps there's something... we could do for you in return? As a trade?"

That settled Snowball a little. He sat back in his chair, slightly amused.

"Hmph. What could you possibly offer to me?"

"Well, um... A special spot in the party, perhaps? Or a gift...? N-Narf..."

"No...," Snowball replied, waving it off and taking another smoke from his cigar.

"A... ticket to Disneyland?" Olivia offered helpfully.

"Pass."

"A... um... coupon for the world's biggest che-"

"Wait... Wait," Snowball said, cutting Pinky off. "The party, you said... Who's coming to the party?"

"Oh, um, everyone!" Pinky smiled nervously.

"Almost everyone...," Olivia mumbled under her breath, crossing her arms indignantly, but Pinky gave her a look that very clearly told her to shush or else.

"Will Globetrotter be there?"

"You mean Brain?" Pinky asked. "Oh... No, I don't think so. I invited him, but he... said he wouldn't make it."

"Brain? You call him Brain? Ha-ha!" Snowball laughed, actually clutching his chest as he reeled back in his chair. "Ha-ha! Ohhh, that's rich. I'll bet he just loves that."

Poor Pinky and Olivia didn't know what to say. They tried to laugh along, but it only came out sounding unbearably awkward, and so they stopped.

"My good fellow, you've convinced me. I'll sign your insipid little petition."

"Really?!" Pinky and Olivia bother spurted out at once, hardly daring to believe their ears.

"On one condition: Get dear 'Brain' to come to the party. It's been an age since I've seen him, you see, and I'd love to... catch up on things, as it were. Do that, and your stadium is as good as built."

Pinky and Olivia looked at one another. Convincing the most stubborn individual in the school to attend Pinky's party when he clearly wasn't interested wasn't going to be easy, but they'd come this far. Surely, they could try again... and again, if they had to? Wasn't the school worth that? Weren't the students worth it?

"Do we have a deal?" Snowball pressed them, a nasty smirk upon his sour face.

Olivia nodded at Pinky. Pinky nodded back. He looked Snowball straight in the eye.

"Deal," said Pinky.

"Deal," said Olivia.

And they shook hands with him, Snowball squeezing down a little too tightly.

"We have a bargain. I look forward to seeing him at the party. Hm hm. Brain. Ha! Oh, how positively affluent."

And they left him as such, cigar in hand, laughing his head off like an absolute maniac.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

7:24 PM

Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter snapped shut his weighted briefcase. He exited his classroom, shut the door, and locked it, as he always did. Another night; another opportunity to work in the lab. While he hadn't managed to get his magnet back, he'd certainly attended to other projects that required his attention. There was one he'd been quite eager to finish for some weeks. Tonight was the night.

Professor Ronald Pinkus opened his classroom door, but did not exit. Students first. A young boy mole stepped out of the classroom, his face still a little wet, but a smile tickling his face. He shuffled out into the hallway, Pinky and Olivia following him.

"Thank you, Mr. Pinkus," the diminutive mole said gratefully. "I wish my mom would listen to me like you do."

"Think nothing of it. Come by whenever you need to talk, okay?"

"Thank you, Sir." And, shyly, he stepped up and hugged him round the middle. "Please don't ever leave."

"I won't if I can help it, Toby," promised Pinky. "Promise."

"Come on, Toby! We're late!" Olivia kindly signaled. At the end of the hallway, Mrs. Judson stood waiting for them.

With a last squeeze, Toby parted and waved good-bye, keeping his eyes on Pinky until he turned the corner and was lost from sight. Pinky continued waving, even after his student had disappeared. He smiled warmly and sighed, deeply and satisfactorily. Closing his classroom door, he walked down the hallway... and stopped as he heard the familiar ding of the elevator. He turned in the direction of the noise, blinking. This was the fourth time he'd caught Brain staying up late to do... whatever it was he did behind that wall in the basement. He'd been too nervous to follow him the last couple of times, seeing as he'd almost been caught initially, but... perhaps it couldn't hurt to take another peek?

Two minutes later saw a pair of loosely-tied sneakers tip-toeing down the stairwell, heading covertly in the direction of the basement. He stuck his nose around the corner. No sign of him. Already, Globetrotter had gained access into the secret lab, oblivious to the intruder whom had followed him to his private dungeon. Carefully, he stepped towards the wall where he knew a hidden panel rested. Had he been a bit more observant, he might have noticed something following him this time - a camera, set high up in a far corner of the hall, small enough to not draw too much attention to itself, yet following his every move all the same.

Pinky pressed an ear up to the wall, listening intently. He didn't even bother with the panel this time; he knew it wouldn't open for him. Sure enough, he heard clinking and clanking and the occasional typing of what sounded like computer keys echoing through the room beyond, barely audible, but still within his range of hearing.

"Naughty naughty, Brain," Pinky whispered to himself. "What are you doing back there...?"

Suddenly, the noises stopped. No clinking. No clanking. No typing of keys. Pinky froze. He pressed his ear ever harder to the door. Last time this happened, he'd been able to pick up the tell-tale sign of footsteps heading for the door, but this time he heard nothing. Perhaps Brain had sat down to read a book? He almost stopped breathing, listening as hard as he possibly could...

HISSSS!

Without any warning, the door slid open, Pinky giving way as he fell to the ground, one half of his body inside the lab, the other half still laying out in the basement hallway.

"AH-HA! So it was you!" Globetrotter exclaimed, his anger unmistakable as he grabbed Pinky by the shirt collar and, with surprising strength, tossed him full on into the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Pinky shuffled up onto his feet in haste and backed up towards the opposite wall, slamming into a metallic shelving unit full of jars, beakers, and other unusual things he couldn't put a name to. Globetrotter was advancing towards him, looking positively livid as he brandished what looked to be an X-Acto knife at him. Forget Snowball. He could handle that. This was terrifying.

"Completely innocent. HA! I knew you were up to something as soon as I saw that pencil outside my door last week. What are you after? What concoction of mine have you been looking to pilfer?!"

"I-I..! N-Nothing, Brain! I didn't even know about this place until last week! Honest!"

"HA! A likely tale. For all I know, you could have known about this lab since you got here; perhaps even applied because of your knowledge of this facility. Are you a spy? A NASA scientist? Who are you working for?!"

By this point, he was full on in Pinky's personal bubble, a hand practically choking Pinky by the tie as he brandished the X-Acto knife under his chin threateningly. Poor Pinky was near tears.

"I'm not a spy! Honest, Brain! Really I'm not! Please don't turn me into mince meat!" he begged, holding his hands up to shield his face as best he could, a near impossibility, seeing as Globetrotter was so invasive. Nevertheless, the rabid teacher loosened his grip a little.

"You swear you didn't know about this place until recently...?"

"Mmhm!" Pinky nodded fervently, his face full on wet, eyes shut tight as he tried, and failed, to keep the tears at bay.

"Hmph..." Brain conceded, grip loosening further. Well... fine. But don't touch anything! Understand?"

Another fervent nod, eyes still closed, and Globetrotter released him. Pinky clutched at his neck, gasping for breath as he rubbed at the spot where the tie had pulled on him. He rubbed at his eyes, the better to wipe away his pitiful tears.

"Wh-What is this place...?" he choked out, still catching his breath.

"My laboratory," Globetrotter replied stiffly, hopping into his computer chair and proceeding to continue in his voracious typing. "Don't touch anything."

Pinky nodded, even though Globetrotter couldn't see him. Don't touch anything. Already, he wanted very much to tickle the top of a very brown, very fuzzy-looking object sitting on a shelf near the entrance, but he honored Globetrotter's request. He didn't say he couldn't look at anything, however, and so Pinky looked, eyes wide in astonishment as he meandered about the strange facility.

It wasn't a terribly large area, but what he'd managed to fit inside of it was impressive. There were shelves of bottles, papers, strange electrical appliances, various scientific and artistic tools, rows and rows of books, and two computers, one of which Globetrotter was currently working at. A ghostly green glow hung from a double row of long lights recessed into the ceiling above, the emerald hue occasionally peppered with a soft, yellow light from a table lamp here or there. Even in this room Brain had to have his mahogany, it seemed, that being reserved for the bookshelf. But the most intriguing item in the room, by far, was a large, bubbling... something. It looked somewhat like a giant beaker, albeit a bit more bulbous, and with long tubes branching off here or there, like the stretched arms of a huge, metallic octopus. Inside bubbled some greenish concoction. Pinky wondered what it was, and tapped at the glass curiously.

"I said don't touch anything," Globetrotter warned without turning his head.

"Oh. Sorry...," Pinky apologized, taking a step back. "What is it?"

"It's for my latest plan."

"W-What plan is that, Brain?"

Brain sighed, pushed himself away from the desk, and stood up out of his rolling chair to stare at Pinky.

"If I tell you, you must solemnly swear not to spread a word about this to anyone," he breathed threateningly. If Pinky really was as big of an idiot as he appeared, he'd actually keep his mouth shut and not tell the authorities. Strangely, he was probably the only individual in the entire school whom he could trust to keep quiet. Knowing someone this daft had its perks, he supposed.

Pinky nodded and raised a hand, as if taking an oath.

"I promise, Brain!"

"Hmph. Fine. I'm planning... to take over the world!"

He said this in a flourish, hands raised in ecstasy. Pinky wouldn't have been surprised if lightning had shot out of nowhere at such a forward gesture. He'd never seen Brain this passionate before.

"The... whole world, Brain?" Pinky gasped, incredulous.

"Of course," the scientist replied, tucking his hands behind his back. "This Earth has been in a state of turmoil for years. With my genius intellect and general prowess, I'd be able to make it a better place - create a richer, more fulfilling existence for people to live in."

"Ohhhhhh! You mean like charity work! Right, Brain? Better places for people to live and all that? Good food; warm homes; happy little children playing in the yard with their puppies!" Pinky voiced, hands clasped together against his cheek as he grinned widely at the thought. "Oh! And better school systems! And no more people getting hurt. And plenty of money for everyone!"

"Why, yes, Pinky, that's... exactly what I'm talking about. With... the occasional adjustment here or there, of course."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know... A specific rule set for people to abide by. Recognizing me as their leader. World peace. That sort of thing..."

"Sooooo... sponsorship then?"

"Um. Sure... If... that's what you want to see it as."

"Well, I think that's just wonderful, Brain!"

"Y-You do...?"

"Well, of course!" Pinky continued, prancing about the room now, not at all shy about toying with a test tube or a Newton's cradle. For once, Brain didn't stop him. "We all could use a better place to live in! Peace and love for everyone! That's what I teach every day, Brain."

"Do you?"

"Of course. If I'd known about this place earlier I would have supported you a long time ago! Although, I don't know why you have to hide it all down here. Don't you want everyone to know what good you're planning on doing for the Earth?" Pinky asked, shrugging confusedly.

"U-Uhm... Well, it has to be a secret. If anyone knew about this, they'd... probably try to stop me," Globetrotter fumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Why?"

"Well, you know... Taking over the world. It's... not exactly a normal thing to put on one's "to-do" list."

"Well, it should be!" Pinky retorted, hands on his hips. "If everyone was as kind as you the world would be a better place!"

Just then, Pinky gasped, struck with a sudden idea.

"What?" Brain asked, a touch worried.

"Brain! What if we keep it a secret until allllll of your plans are ready, and then we surprise everyone with a big, save-the-world party!"

"Ummm... S-Sure! That's... kind of what I had in mind, actually."

"Egad! It's brilliant! I'll handle all the party preparations when the time comes, don't worry. I'll get balloons and decorations and... OH! Cake! We have to have cake, Brain! But will two hundred cakes be enough to feed everyone?"

"Pinky...?" Brain asked tentatively. "You... promise you won't tell anyone about this, right?"

"Of course not, Brain," Pinky said matter-of-factly, waving a hand. "I mean, you did almost kill me back there, but now I see that you just didn't want to spoil the surprise!"

"So... no blabbing?"

"My lips are sealed, Brain," he promised, making a "zipping" motion across his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. "But only if you'll let me help!"

He meant it in jest, partially. Even if Brain said no, he still would honor his request to keep the secret a secret, but Brain took it literally. He sighed, facepalming. Positives and negatives, he supposed.

"All right. Fine. But just... stay out of the way as best you can, all right?"

"Promise!" Pinky swore, beaming. "Um... do you mind if I hang around here for a little while?"

Brain narrowed his eyes at him. Just because they were now technically partners in crime didn't mean that he wanted Pinky hanging around any longer than he needed to. Then again, it wasn't as if letting him stay a bit longer would hurt anything.

"Just as long as you keep your paws off my lab."

"Yippee!" Pinky exclaimed, jumping once up into the air before reengaging in deep exploration of the room.

Brain sighed, turned back around, and planted his caboose firmly back in the computer chair. Every now and then he'd pause in his typing to stare curiously at Pinky as he looked at everything in the lab, trying his darndest not to lift a finger as Globetrotter had asked. Brain rolled his eyes, finally consenting.

"Fine. You can touch the books. But be careful with them," he warned.

"Oh, thank you, Brain! I won't rip a page!"

"You'd better not...," Brain mumbled under his breath.

Pinky sifted through the books, eventually finding one he liked and sitting down cross-legged on the floor, such as a child might during reading time. Brain shook his head at this. A past conversation came to mind...

"You're also the only other person who's still around at night when I go home late. It... makes me feel a little less lonely."

He stared at Pinky once more, head cocked to the side questioningly, before turning back to his work. The lanky newcomer was, undoubtedly, an annoyance. He was oxymoronic, incredibly daft, and a thorn in Brain's side. Things hadn't been quite the same at the school since he'd arrived. He was a pest that eventually needed to be eradicated. And yet, as Brain sat there, listening to the soft turning of the pages behind him, with the occasional 'ooo' or 'ahhh' complimenting a particularly good part of the book, he had to admit that the presence of someone else in the room, someone kind and nonjudgmental and supportive, made him feel a little less lonely, too.

-------------

Author's Notes:

- My dad used to own (and probably still does) one of those big briefcases with the locking mechanisms on them. I always enjoyed watching him fiddle with the combination and pop open the case. Of course, now-a-days, briefcases are pretty much a thing of the past, but I still think about that big ol' thing and its locks sometimes.

- The line "... in public, Brain?" is a reference to a very similar quote from one of the original Pinky and the Brain episodes, in which Brain asks Pinky to do something simple and Pinky, misunderstanding, replies with: "Brain? In public?"

- Marvell is an original OC created by Black Geeky Girl, whom you can find on Twitter and Tumblr.

- The line "positively affluent" is a reference to a PatB-themed story of the same name on AO3 that also features Snowball. Please look it up and read it. It's awesome.

- The ending is, admittedly, a bit rushed, and I struggled with the subtext of the laboratory scene. I'm not certain how apparent it is or not, but, if you don't get what I'm going for, all the better I suppose, as you'll be just as surprised as Pinky in a future chapter.

- This is my favorite chapter so far. I had a blast composing this.

[collegestudentvevo]

a thought on cancel culture

inspired by this post from @veraiconcos

i think we should cancel cancel culture. it’s become so toxic and overused that it doesn’t do it’s intended job anymore. i also believe that “cancel” has become so much of a buzzword it doesn’t have a proper meaning either.

i think it is completely necessary to hold celebrities accountable for their actions but to also remember that they are human and by no means perfect. we forget that celebrities are also people who are bound to make mistakes. but how they move forward from those mistakes is very telling about the people that they are. 

as explained in the post i linked above, matthew gray gubler is a celebrity who is by no means perfect. he has made mistakes and he has said things that we would now consider “problematic” or something we should “cancel” him for. he has previously used the r word and mentioned in a poem that he is “dubious of lesbians” which has been interpreted different ways. i have my thoughts about those actions of his but i am neurotypical and i am not a lesbian so i don’t have a place to speak on those actions publicly. i will say that the word “dubious” is defined as “unsettled in opinion, doubtful” by Merriam Webster’s Dictionary. which i interpreted to mean that he does not anticipate being in a relationship with a lesbian, therefore making sense to me, but i also think it wasn’t needed to be said in the poem. again, that is not for me to decide. it is for the lesbian community to determine the value of that statement. here is another post��listing things matthew has done that may be considered problematic. 

tw // SA

there also have been sexual assault allegations made against matthew, that i have heard of. i also was told that the woman who made those allegations said that they were false. but i have no receipts on this information so if anyone has info or links regarding this, that would be greatly appreciated if you could send it to me or reply to this post!

i would also like to mention, that as a victim of SA, i will always stand on the side of victims and survivors. first and foremost, we need to believe women, victims, and survivors before coming to the defense of the accused.

back to celebrities and cancel culture in general

i believe that to some extent, cancel culture has been used for good. especially cases in which racism, sexism s*xual assault, homophobia, transphobia, etc. have played a part in certain celebrities’ lives. some people refuse to educate themselves on the matters at hand and i don’t think anyone should continue to “stan” or support celebrities, groups, etc. that uphold values like that. i don’t believe anyone should support celebrities, groups, etc. that have beliefs and political values that don’t align with their own. some people say that they like to “separate the art from the artist” but i don’t believe that that is possible in today’s day and age. if i listen to an artist like xxxtentacion or whatever the fuck his name is, who has multiple r*pe and p*dophilia accusations against him (i believe) i am indirectly supporting him. streaming his music on spotify gives him streams which translates to a certain amount of profit. giving streams and support to artists like this, tells them that they can still be successful, even after doing the terrible things that they’ve done and refusing to apologize or change their actions. 

but there is a time when cancel culture is used far too often. if someone says something slightly wrong they get canceled almost immediately. for example, demi lovato had a finsta account on which she was presumed to be making fun of and tearing down selena gomez. i did not see the actual posts or account, only screenshots, but i agree, tearing down other women is not acceptable. but demi wasn’t doing this in the public eye and she did address it afterwards. although i’m not sure if we got an apology, she addressed it and her actions have shown growth since then. 

i think the important thing to remember is that we are all human. we all make mistakes and what matters is that we learn from them. we all (including celebrities) need to take accountability for our mistakes and to also take the time and resources we have to constantly be educating ourselves on issues in other communities that we may not be privy to. a big example of this is the black lives matter movement. i am a firm believer and support of the movement as i believe everyone else should be. and if someone doesn’t know or understand what the movement is about, they need to take matters into their own hands and educate themselves on the systemic racism in america, the problems with the police force, right wing arguments, left wing arguments, etc., etc. no one, and i mean NO ONE has an excuse to not be educated. yes, make a mistake but make sure you learn from it. when someone tells you that you said or did something wrong, offensive, incorrect you need to listen to them. listen to their story and to why they are upset about what you said/did. then, take it upon yourself to further educate yourself on the issue.

cancel culture has been blown out of proportion and the fact that “cancel” is such a buzzword nowadays i do believe that it has lost its meaning.

but. if a celebrity does something that a group says is offensive or problematic, we need to listen to that group. we can’t excuse behavior just because we think “he would never do that!” or “he’s so sweet i can’t imagine him ever saying something like that.” just because it’s hard to believe doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. at the same time, we need to allow celebrities to atone for their sins. celebrities need to be allowed growth as well, just like anyone else.

the issue of cancel culture is complicated and complex but it’s worth talking about. if i made a mistake in this post or in any of my posts please let me know! if i ever did something that was offensive or rude or anything that may be negative, i want to know so i can learn from it. i think everyone else should hold that belief as well. 

i could probably talk about this for years but thank you if you read my thoughts on this.

one last thing: i love matthew gray gubler. and as i said earlier, he is not perfect. i would love for him to apologize for everything he’s done wrong in the past, but i’m not even sure if he realizes or remembers doing those things. that doesn’t excuse his lack of apology, but we don’t know how he’s changed since then. he seems to me to be a person who tries to be kind to everyone and to stand up for what is right. but, we, as fans, are not a part of his personal life. we do not know the true matthew gray gubler, who he is on a daily basis. we can ask for him to speak up on issues or to apologize for saying a word or something in that vicinity, but we don’t know what he does in his own time. i don’t think we can expect him to broadcast his every move and every political belief and every value. i just think that is unrealistic. we won’t know where he stands on every topic ever, we just have to trust that he would do the right thing and if proven otherwise, we take it from there, i think.

these are certainly just my personal thoughts and by no means are they not flawed. i think there will always be flaws in arguments about topics like these. i think all we can do is try and learn and expect those we look up to to do the same.

i love you all. treat people with kindness :)

[mearta]

A Chevalier’s Promise - Chapter 3

Ainchase Ishmael x Ciel (Bluhen/Chevalier)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959063

Fanfiction Summary: To the outside world of Elrios, the Steel Queen and the newly appointed Grand Duke Ishmael have announced their engagement. Many speculate it was love at first sight; in reality, they have merely forged a political alliance to stabilize their respective reigns. Ciel, aside from his typical obligations as Her Majesty’s knight, must ensure things go smoothly with the alliance. Yet upon meeting a peculiar fellow, he soon realizes the troubles surrounding the Grand Duke are more than they appear.

The countryside strolled past them as the horses walked along the old path. The last time Ciel saw a normal tree was years ago. The vegetation in the Demon Realm delved into shades of blue, purple, but never green. Alas, the atmosphere inside the carriage was less than desirable. Sir Bluhen sat across from Ciel. Meanwhile, Lu and the Grand Duke shared the carriage in front of theirs.

“Have I caught your eye?” Sir Bluhen smirked as he continued to gaze out from the small window.

“Why did you insist on this arrangement?”

“I think you’re quite special,” Sir Bluhen said.

“What do you mean?”

“I like you. A lot.” He turned to face Ciel and crossed his legs. “By the way, please call me Ainchase from now on. Ain is also fine.”

“...A fake name?”

“Bluhen is an alias.” Sir Ain chuckled. “I also don’t need even more strange looks from the priestesses.

“I see.”

“You’ve heard about the assassins from Richter, right? That’s where you come in. Your qualifications are quite good.”

“There must be a reason for not using one of your people to-“

“With the... enemy around, we have to resort to our own methods.”

Ciel raised an eyebrow. Sir Ainchase leaned back, smiling at Ciel’s expression.

“Regardless, we’ll be seeing each other more often.”

Ciel sighed before returning his attention to the outside.

***

In the textbooks, the capital city was drawn as a solemn figure, standing like a picturesque relic of history. As they neared the entrance, the landscape warped and proved those textbooks were incorrect. The supposed white walls, tall buildings, and a single tower were nowhere in sight. Instead, a strangeness encroached; part of the brilliant blue sky turned into something akin to peeling paint. Beneath such was a mixture of purple and black. The wrongness was neither a darkness, nor something Ciel saw from the Demon Realm.

“So you see it,” Sir Ainchase said. “That is the result of the enemy’s movements.”

“Surely you must have a good explanation.”

“Reality, space itself really, has been changed into a troublesome obstacle. Perhaps corrupted is a better word.”

“Then how will we pass through? Will we need to eventually fight this corruption?”

Sir Ainchase shook his head. “Hopefully, we can avoid such a situation. As for the former, just watch.”

Both carriages were brought to a halt; Ciel looked out the window. They were at the edge of a barrier made from distorted space. He heard of it before in the reports, but the spies still managed to infiltrate and gather intel. One of them even mapped out the possible entrances. Their current location, however, was not one of those supposed areas. The Grand Duke left his carriage and approached the barrier. Stopping before it, he raised his hand. A white, glass-like sword began to form. The sword’s elegance and distinct shape was unlike any blade Ciel had seen with his own eyes. With the blade, the Grand Duke cleaved the barrier. It cut through the warped space and created a passageway. The weapon dissipated, and he returned to his carriage.

“It’s a shame he has to do that every time,” Sir Ainchase commented.

Once the second carriage passed through, the space bended to seal the hole.

In the growing silence, Ciel recalled a previous conversation with Lu. It was one of their many discussions of how Grand Duke Richter was able to take control of the duchy. They had heard he owned a particular weapon: Fünft · Glänzendes Schwert, the Shining Fifth Sword. Its original wielder was a minor god who directly served Goddess Ishmael. To their dismay, the records only mentioned this minor god as the Divine Executor.

“Divine right certainly persuades a lot of people,” Lu had mused, setting aside her teacup. “Hence why Timoria’s backing from Angra Mainyu was used as a reason against my claim to the throne.”

Ciel skimmed the excerpt written on the document again. “‘I am the Judge who stands in the full light of Ishmael’s providence. To impose the Goddess’s will is my duty. Come forth, Fünft · Glänzendes Schwert,’” he read aloud.

Lu giggled. “How dramatic. Yet supposing such a thing does exist, I wonder how it shall do against our Sefirot Phantasma.”

“I shudder at the amount of cleanup I would have to do,” he had muttered.

Now, the two men regrouped with the Grand Duke and Lu. She flapped her wings and began to float off the ground.

“Is that how you will greet the priestesses?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear anything, Grand Duke.”

Ciel swallowed his exasperation. “Your Majesty, please return to His Grace’s side. I doubt a lover’s quarrel will get us anywhere.”

She realized what he meant, scowled, then landed next to the Grand Duke. Lu held out her hand to him.

“Dear, may I ask you to be my escort for today?”

“I understand.” He took her hand in his own.

Sir Ainchase cleared his throat. “You two deal with the priestesses. Sir Ciel and I have our own date to do.”

He dragged Ciel in another direction, waving goodbye to the Grand Duke and Lu. Before Ciel could ask anything, Sir Ainchase began to explain the history of the duchy and various buildings. He pointed out services such as the alchemist, the blacksmith, an accessory shop. Ciel was thankful Sir Ainchase let go of his arm while they strolled. The marble statues, the canals, the gilded accents on the architecture were intricate. It had its charm, but Ciel preferred the Demon Realm or Lanox. The latter was a faded memory from his childhood, but he could never forget the smell of smoke or the crackling fires from the forges. He, Abysser, and Anular planned to visit that place again but never could set aside the time.

“...Sir Ciel?”

Ciel blinked, seeing Sir Ainchase’s perplexed look. “My apologies. What were you saying?”

“Would you like to see the Giant El?”

They had stopped at the entrance of the El Tower. The spies’ report mentioned a giant rock housed in the interior of this facility. Ciel scanned his surroundings. There was a lack of knights and servants even.

“For something so important, should you not have more personnel?”

“Unfortunately, I am the personnel. Don’t worry, the priestesses also have a duty of guarding the Giant El if I’m away.”

As they entered, a hooded figure was there to greet them. Dressed in golden and aquamarine garments, she bowed before Sir Ainchase.

“Welcome back.” Her voice was gentle like a flowing spring.

“Is everything going well, Lady Sasha?”

She nodded. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Who is this?”

Ciel bowed. “My name is Ciel, servant to Queen Luciela R. Sourcream.”

Sasha frowned when he said Lu’s name.

“Her Majesty is with Richter right now. Why don’t you meet them since I’m here now?” Sir Ainchase winked.

“All right. Please, excuse me.” She rushed off before casting another look at Ciel.

“Does she not like Demons?”

“I don’t know. Now then, this way.”

Ciel followed him, and several corridors later, they arrived in a single room. In the center was the Giant El. The crystal sat upon a floating pedestal-like object, surrounded by winged statues. A teal-whitish glow emanated from the Giant El; the color was similar to the Grand Duke’s hair.

Sir Ainchase gazed at the El. “I’m still in disbelief that Richter and I are still here.”

“How so?”

“Restoring the Giant El should have killed us. But as you can see, we’re still here.”

“If you do not mind me asking then, who or what saved you?”

“The Holy Creator, Elria. In exchange, I am his servant now.” Sir Ainchase shrugged. “Richter can enforce the Goddess’s will in my stead.” He turned his attention back to the El; the smile on his face did not quite reach his eyes. The beginning of a palpable solemness emerged from his shadow. 

“I see. Your gods are quite different from those in the Demon Realm.”

“...Let’s talk about your actual duties here. Formally speaking, you are Richter’s bodyguard. So when needed, you’ll be by his side. No different than protecting Her Majesty.” He paused. “Otherwise, you’ll act as an assistant to his advisor. His advisor, of course, being me.”

“I suppose we can figure out a schedule.”

“Right. So, our first mission. Since there’s only me, Richter, and the priestesses, we’re limited in terms of who can go where, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I’m quite concerned about the… lack of servants and guards.”

Sir Ainchase waved his hand in a dismissive fashion. “We don’t need more of them. What we need are the El Masters, the humans who should be actually guarding the Giant El.”

“I don’t think I can be of much help in training El Masters.”

“Oh, no, no, no. We’re going to be finding the El Masters.”

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Retrograde (Pieces of the People We Love, Part 2.)

Description: Not many people had the chance to see a vault or to mean anything in the world of Pandora. Will a hardly built relationship in the loneliness of the desert have the potential to change anything in the world of anarchy and chaos - or will the friends try to murder each other?

A/N: One time, my friend asked me if I would like to drink Dr. Bob or classic Coke when she was making an analogy for a random movie. So Dr. Bob is sort of a long running jokw when comparing a bad movie.

Warnings: A lot of guns, violence, reader is a tough badass - not a vault hunter tho. They’re badass and don’t give a fuck. And Scooter is a dumb bitch, as always. All Psychos and Fanatics are various Vine references - oh, what luck that reader can understand them since she is friends with Bandits.

Word count: 3.6K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad​, @nemodoren​

Series master list:  H E R E

You were looking straight into the man's face for what seemed to be infinity, it was almost half an hour, while your entwined fingers supported your resting chin. You sat there like that for the past hour while Scooterboy was eating like crazy. He was sure hungry like a wolf.

That was pretty acceptable and reasonable, as far as you could judge - he was pronounced DEAD several years ago. The worst part was that the whole Pandora probably mourned for the best-known, and basically only, mechanic in the business. And now, he was just looking at Pintley and ate almost everything from his plate, looking like a hamster. Scooter literally stuffed his faces with homemade fried Skag bacon and Pintley's bread - definitely one of the best combinations in the entirety of Pandora.

"Are you done with the food?" - A mumbled cold as ice filled the room when Scooter finally finished the fourth plate of food and his last can of the Dr. Bob cola. The drink was sure as hell not healthy and barely nutritious, but it was the only soda Pintley had in Hell's Cauldron's pub.

"Now, you're going to explain to me how the hell are you alive and why, for the fuck's sake, have you respawned here." - The rhythm of your words was slow, your tongue rolled every syllable on its top - as if Scooter had some brain damage. Each of you was staring at the mechanic with hidden curiosity; this was a miracle, to say the least. Was he inside the database the whole time? If he wasn't there, could it be that the systems had some hard time figuring where should it respawn him? It didn't matter how you approached the problem - any of the solutions was making sense to you.

"Ye man, I'm done for now. Thanks for payin' for me, anyway. I don't have any cash on me since..." - Scooter zoned out for a second, watching a small spot next to your head. He was doing that quite a lot throughout his eat-all-you-can episode. His eyes fixed on a precise point somewhere inside the room. It was unnerving.

Without wanting, your eyebrows had risen on their own after a minute of complete silence. You've counted every second of Scooter spacing out before deciding to drag him out of the trance. Slowly, you rose both your hands and clapped. The metallic one could clap pretty loud, so it made Scooterboy freak out, looking around with genuine fear on his face. You've given him another ten seconds to get it all together before you leaned a bit closer, still staring at him without any clear emotion on your face.

Scooter, at first, was staring back at you. Then, he chuckled and leaned his back into the chair. - "How can I know, man? I'm only Scooter, I do cars. Ye, I could repair you a network or stations when ya would like me to, but nobody except those Hyperion robots doesn't know how does New-U work. Can I have another Dr. Bob? I'm really thirsty." - Scooterboy asked you politely, raising the empty can to your eye-level. Oh, he was negotiating, that was what he was doing. He wasn't going to tell you anything without another can of the naughty mysterious cola, right? Well, if this was the case...

Slowly, you closed your eyelids so much that they became two small lines, thinking about murdering Scooterboy just for the fun of it; it wouldn't be that bad, since he would respawn at the station again. It would be maybe morally incorrect, but who were you to care about such bullshit? Being the responsible adult you pretended to be, you managed to overcome your sour feelings against Scooter and calmed down, leaning your back into the chair as well.

"Listen up, young man. You'll tell me everything you remember from the last time you were alive and I, as a little show-off of my gratitude, will buy you another cheap and disgusting cola. Are we on the same page?" - Another few seconds passed until Scooter nodded in agreement before you stretched your arm to Pintley; the old man basically tore the money out of your palm, making you shoot a furrow in his direction. With the speed of literal lighting, he fetched another red can of the soda; everyone was eager to hear Scooter's tale so they could piece the story together on their own.

That didn't mean you would completely wipe the thoughts regarding Scooterboy's sudden and unexpected death in your head. For a reason, when you managed to wrap yourself in some rather unpleasant bullshit, murder scenarios were your usual go-to tactic to calm down once more. Like most things on Pandora, this tendency couldn't be simply explained or treated by walking straight to a therapist's office. If you'd believe what Blindy told you here and there, another psycho named Jay had a small psychologist office on his own - but let's be serious, what good could a therapy by a psycho do? Your situation wasn't that bad for now; until you'd randomly go on a rampage, you weren't planning on booking an appointment.

The staring contest was going on for a few seconds, yet when neither of you cut the staring off, your normal arm slowly rose another two dollars, as you kept on watching Scooter intensely. Anticipation was in the air as the mechanic leaned closer to Pintley, catching the soda between his fingers. After that, he just gave you an innocent gaze. - "I blew up." - Scooter said simply, shrugging his shoulders. That made Billy, who was sitting two tables away from you, laugh out loud.

"BITCH DISGUSTING!" - Rayray yelled and every single one of you, including Scooter, looked at the bandit boy. Scooter was the only person in the room who certainly didn't know what Rayray just told him; given Blindy gasped for air, it couldn't be nice. "Dude, there's no need to be this harsh. Calm your tits and apologize!" - You yelled in Scooter's defense and so did Billy.

Not that you were a master psycho-to-normal translator, yet you could at least roughly understand what Rayray just said. Each of you had your mouth opened as you stared at the bandit boy. You could rarely hear him say something so outrageously accusing. What he said was so damn rude; he was accusing Scooter of lying just like that.

"There's no need to be so fuckin' aggressive, you deadbrain! You don't know if he's lying or not! Say that you're sorry. Do you even realize that enough people already think that we're nothin' but stupid idiots?!" - Billy said in a firm voice and stared Rayray down, almost smacking him like a bitch. Rayray and Billy had a father-son relationship which could simply be described as ridiculous. Yet, since they both lived in the same bandit colony, somebody had to lead Rayray to behave as well as he could.

“I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'VE DONE THIS.” - Rayray said in a low voice with his head hung low. Everyone shook their heads and looked at Rayray with disappointment just before shifting their looks back on Scooterboy. Each one of you was wondering about the story Scooter had to tell; as you looked over to him and observed the face his face was looking, he surely wasn't done with the story just yet.

“There was a group of weird people travelin' with my friends and one day they came to me and ask “Hey, Scoot, ya willin' to make us a rocket? Need to go to Helios ASAP.” and I was like “Yea”. So I and my pal Janey built them a rocket, but there was a small mechanical problem and my hand was stuck in the rocket... And it needed to blow up, so they could continue their journey to reach Helios, alrite? And it took me to hell and back, man, I tell ya.” - Scooter smiled a bit at that thought. - “I remember it blowin' up. Me bein' on it. And now I'm sitting here with new friends, sippin' some good old Dr. Bob. How is Helios hangin'?”

The silence that had suddenly surrounded you all was uncomfortable, to say the least. Quickly, you glanced over Pintley to look out of the window. Until that day, you could still pinpoint the exact location where Helios was hovering in the sky. Never in those long years since it had blown up, you'd look in the sky and think "Man, it's strange to not see an ugly-ass space station there". But, somehow, that was precisely what you've been thinking about at that moment. Obviously, if Scooter was dead for the past seven years, his first instinct wouldn't be to look up and search for the most hideous view you've ever had encountered. But not that you realized he wasn't fucking with any of you, it felt strange not to see the station there. As if it was your personal guilt that some jackasses had blown it up.

It was you, again, who decided to speak the first. With a gulp, you've leaned forward to lean your elbows to your thighs, trying to say it in the most natural way possible. - “Scooter... Helios was blown up by a group of pretty weird guys.” - It was nothing but a mere whisper. - “Five years or so ago.”

For a moment, Scooter didn't seem to be connecting the information. It didn't click until a few minutes later. - “Wait, what? And... Sanctuary?” - Scooter leaned even deeper into his chair with his gaze directed into the oblivion. Why did you have to be the one who had to tell the deadman all the news? Why wasn't anyone else speaking? But as you looked over to the men around, their gazes only answered "Well, you've started with it, don't be a pussy now and finish what you were saying". Did Scooter even know that Handsome Jack was dead now? That there were rumors about discovering about four or five new vaults on the sister planets of Pandora? Did he know that the Children of the Vault had risen all over Pandora? And if he didn't know... How much were you supposed to tell him if you didn't want him to have a hysterical seizure?

“Okay, we might have to trace what you know, get your timeline matching ours and we will have to tell you... So many new things that you may shit your pants.” - You mumbled and opened another Dr. Bob. It took quite some time before you managed to somehow connect your memories with his. It was almost ten p.m. when you ended. Occasionally, you managed to line-up his memories until the moment when the original Sanctuary was attacked by the flower-army or who (don't act so surprised - anything was pretty much possible on Pandora). As the tales said, the town was now blown up into millions of tiny rocks and the VHs had constructed a literal spaceship (which was Scooter's sister Ellie). Again, you couldn't tell how much of it was true. You couldn't be quite sure that anything on the planet Pandora you heard had actually happened.

But mostly, it all seemed to true - that Helios has fallen, that Sanctuary was teleported by the legendary siren Lilith, known as the Firehawk, or that Handsome Jack was posting a job wanted posts for Vault Hunters wanted just so he could easily kill them off. Carefully, you told Scooter about the chaos that started when Sanctuary was blown up and the vault key had been lost in the desert. Back then, it was hard to notice the entire Pandora changing since you've been living in a literal desert, but you could tell that something wasn't adding up. When you told him about the siren-powered Calypso twins, you couldn't leave out their cringy streaming career.

You told him all about how the COV had recruited most of the bandit and psycho clans all over Wastelands, starting their big suicidal cult somewhere in an old base, growing bigger with each month. They weren't a serious threat, serious pain in the pain at their best, but they could be quite something to deal with at times. Of course, were now including all the women that were insane enough to join them, which was among the first questions Scooter was wondering about. Now, there was a small amount of free-psycho-bandit-whatever clans remaining in the deserts and wastelands. Most of the bandits joined the COV; the places they've been living in before were now empty, lifeless and Pandora was a bit less fun without the random encounters.

“So, you aren't in contact with Lilith? Or Moxxi? Or Ellie? Or basically anyone?” - The man asked suddenly after being quiet for a moment. You weren't thinking of yourself as the most empathetic person in the whole of the desert; you've told Scooter all about the reality you've been living in for the past couple of years. For you, it was natural to take it all as the matter of fact - but you couldn't forget about Scooter being a man-out-of-time. It could take him some time to understand the rules of today's Pandora and you had to be patient with him for now. Until you'd get rid of him and get back to your old life.

The question about the VHs and Crimson raiders made you surprised. How could you be in contact with them when you never met them before? - “I don't even know them personally, dude. Hey... You okay, Scooterboy?” - The can with the nasty cola was laying on the table as if Scooter didn't even want it anymore. His face went two shades paler and the grin on his face had faded away. - “You look like you're about to puke.”

Now, he lowered his head and played with his fingers, fidgeting them around. Yeah. It was tough to get accustomed to. So many things had changed since his days on Pandora and even though, it all remained almost the same. It must've been feeling pretty surreal. - “Nah, man. I'm not about to puke, don't ya worry. It's just too much to take in. That's all. I'll be alrite.” - He answered. You could tell something's off. He was an exploding ball of energy and happiness just two hours ago; now, you managed to destroy his confidence, positivity, and to murder his good mood. Wow. Good job, you.

“I'm sorry if you think that your friends abandoned you here..." - At that point, Pintley looked on the back of your head. Was he dreaming or were you being... Nice to someone? What happened to you? Were you trying to calm Scooter down? Did you finally grow as a person? Oh, but then the rest came, destroying the nice-person aura you had for a bit. "But that's true, man. They left you here because they thought you were dead-dead... And that's kinda fair if you ask me. I both know it, you know it, Rayray knows it. We all do. Keep it together, yeah? You were fucking dead for the past couple of years. There are so many new things to get accustomed to. But if you'll chicken out of that, you're a pussy." - The tone of your voice was empty and emotionless.

Pintley, for a minute, saw some kind of humanity shining through the aura of I-don't-give-a-diddly-damn you've been keeping ever since he met you. The truth was - you simply didn't care enough to "do emotions", as you called it. You weren't good at it at all, so you didn't bother with trying. Maybe that's was why you were living on your own in the middle of a desert. That was a pretty plausible explanation.

There were some people you'd call friends, yeah. You even liked to joke around with them. You could do sarcasm, irony, and arse-biting jokes that were sometimes really offensive. But every other emotion was a literal mystery to you. You couldn't quite show them off even if your heart was warm and full of love. And it was even worse when somebody pissed you off. As soon as you turned on the killing-machine mode, as Pintley called it, you didn't care about being as subtle as possible. Nothing in this world couldn't stop you from shooting someone, killing them, or simply throwing them through the window? Oh, how many times did you have to pay Pintley a new window? He wouldn't be able to count it even if he'd like to.

Yet, even though your dead stare and emotionless expression, the man smiled and patted your shoulder. With a furrow, you watched Scooter slowly backing his hand back to his lap, since you seemed to be thinking about biting the said arm off. "At least I respawned here, where ya people are actually pretty friendly under playin' that "I'm a badass and cold" facade." - At that, Pintley grinned; since you didn't know what you should respond, you just nodded and made a weird sound. You didn't know what to answer - you never met anyone that would see you as a... Friendly person? Ugh. Sure, pretty friendly persons live in a cabin hidden far, far away from any signs of society and they have actually fun when they hunt Skags. Right... That was a description of your normal local weirdo, not a description of a damn nice person. As you finished your internal monologue, you snickered under your breath, shaking your head as you unconsciously sat in a defensive position; your knee was thrown over your knee, your arms were covering your torso.

"And where you're planning to sleep, Scooterboy?" - Pintley asked. Since he was done with all the cleaning, he lightened up a cigarette, leaning his shoulder into a near doorframe. - "You know. Just wondering."

Scooter seemed to realize it at the same time you did; where will the poor guy sleep? Pintley had a guest room, sure, but you could already tell something fishy was going on since Pintley himself was the one calling the shots. You knew a spot or two in the forest where Scooter could make a small campsite; you've been sleeping there when the hunt took too long. - "I hadn't thought of somethin' like that. Wow. I am a homeless person, isn't that quite funny?" - Scooter said, clearly being more saddened than before. Damn, were you and Pintley trying to outdo each other in bringing Scooter's mood lower than before? Clearly, you had more points for the entire Calypso mascarade, but this was an impressive move, to say the least.

Of all people inside the room, it was Blindy who answered. - "Y'all know we can't take him to Ham's Creek. Guys would eat Scooter alive, Cowboy." - Blindy shrugged his shoulders and you just nodded. It was clear Blindy wasn't joking around - every time you had to visit Ham's Creed, you had goosebumps all over your body. Even if you didn't think of yourself as an emphatic person, you surely thought you're courageous. Damn, your day-to-day job was to hunt Skags down. But Ham's Creek? That was a whole another universe of horror and things that were unseen until you stepped inside the psycho territory. They would grill him like a pig and you didn't second-guess that they would even manage to find an apple which would they stuff into Scooter's mouth. That wasn't a nice image.

Pintley, the traitor, sighed too. - "I would give him a room if Jocelyn wasn't over right now." - Pintley said in a low voice, which was merely indicating how deeply in love your friend was. That mothersucker. Oh, you knew her. You precisely knew who Jocelyn was. With a confused face, you've been the one to answer Pintley's confession. "Listen, man, love's nice and all... But... Just theoretically... If you have your girlfriend over, and you have sex with her... Why don't you guys sleep in one bed? As far as I know, it's kinda considered to be normal." - It was a frown on your face that made Pintley realize you didn't buy his bullshit at all.

The old man only reddened before mumbling an answer. - "Jocelyn and I aren't ready for such a commitment to sleep in one bed." - At that, you had enough. The next sentence kind of... Slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. "Pintley, do you realize that Jocelyn is a figurine? You can literally put her anywhere else and let Scooter have a sleepover at your place before we figure out what to do with him." - The tone of your voice was so incredulous that your voice just slipped an octave higher. For a moment, you've been looking at each other; but it didn't make Pintley say "okay".

It was at that second when you realized what was going on. No, Pintley and Blindy didn't agree on this beforehand, yet both of them were sure it wasn't to be them who would have the boy in their home that night. The truth was that you had an ultra-old couch at your place that was just... There. - "Ah, you sons of a bitch." Right after that, you stood and expected Scooter to do the same; as he remained sitting there, you just snapped your fingers in front of his face, which freaked him out. As he was picking himself up from the ground, you walked through the pub while putting your significant hat back on.

"Looks like you'll be at my place, boy. Get up, Blindy will drive us home.” - And right before you left, you've shown Pintley your middle finger, making the man chuckle under his breath.

[cinnamonrollstark]

Irondad Bingo: Trope: Protective Tony

Wow, thanks for the repost @irondadbingo!! Hope yall like the last one. If you haven't read it yet, do, because this is the second one in this little mini series! Enjoy!

◇◇◇

Peter's been sleeping in Tony's bed. He refuses to leave, get up, or to eat. He's still and unshakable, and hasn't cried since Tony picked him up. It scares the man, even though he knows that greif is different from person to person, he wants Peter to feel free to express what he needs to.

Periodically, Tony comes in with a drink and a snack- neither of which the boy consumes. He's focused on the blue walls of Tony's bedroom, breath still and concentrated.

"Kiddo?" Tony asks at the door, not picking up any real movement from Peter. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Just the slight movement of Peter's head, the almost nonexistent shake of curls. "Okay." He says, crossing the threshold, over to the bed, where he sits next to Pete. He rests a gentle hand between the boy's shoulder blades, sinking with each breath.

No words are enough to fix this. I'm sorries and condolences do nothing to mend him. The only thing that has made the slightest impact of the kid in the past three days is contact. Hugs, ruffles of the hair, and at night, being sandwiched between Tony and Pepper.

Tony was never a snuggler before Pepper, but when he started having nightmares, the warm form of her body molded around his was the only thing that could save him. He understands that now, as he pats Peter's back, occassionally running a hand through his hair. It's a very intimate thing, but in a very innocent way. Intimate in the way a newborn is as it rests against a parent's chest, feeling the heartbeat of a mother or father against their own.

Tony can feel Peter's heart, and he's grateful. Peter is alive. He cannot fathom how he or anyone else might've managed if he'd been with May that morning.

His heart breaks for the child. May was a kind and patient soul, a good mother- even only as a role she'd stepped into, an aunt in a parental set of shoes- and this loss is greater than Tony could ever wish Peter to outlive. He is small and shaky, a child taking his first steps in a world without one of the closest people to him.

Somewhere in another room, CNN drones on, some famous Republican and some famous Democrat arguing over something unimportant. Tragedy puts it all in perspective; everything outside this world is menial, a grain of sand against the asteroid-sized hurt.

"Peter, buddy. You've got to eat something," he whispers, expecting resistance. "I know how this feels, but you are here, Peter, and because you are here, you need to take care of yourself."

Peter rolls sideways against the comforter of the bed and props his head against his hand. His elbow makes a dent in the fabric.

"Okay," he resigns. "Okay. I'll eat."

He doesn't look too enthused, but he accepts Tony's word, and slowly gathers himself up and out of the bed. He stands in front of the blinds, and soft afternoon light creates a halo over his chestnut hair.

Tony watches him from the safety of his pillows and is amazed at his strength. From legs to belly to shoulders to neck, he holds himself upright, and manages to stay that way.

"On one condition," adds Peter, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "we go out somewhere."

°°°

Tony had definitely been suprised by the suggestion, but agreed all the same. They pull up out front and wait a moment before exiting the car. Peter's shaky in his seat, likely nervous about being in a car.

"What is this place?" Asks Tony, because he's lived in this city forever and he's never seen this resteraunt.

"A thai food restaurant. I haven't been in a while."

And Tony's not opposed, because honestly, if he thinks about it, pad thai doesnt sound so bad. When the sit down inside, he notes the lively lighting- bright and colorful. It seems like a great environment to be in tonight, and he feels that it will cheer him up.

They flip through there menus, and although he's not sure why, Tony gets the sense that's something's wrong. Peter frowns at his menu, either in concentration, or maybe he's just upset.

There's an item on the menu he just knows will make Peter laugh, thank god. "Pete," he starts. "Look at this."

Tony flips the menu around and points to the dish, giggling. "I could totally go for some Larb right now, what about you?"

At first Peter smiles, but the expression falters and crumples after a brief second.

"Oh, Peter." Tony grabs his hand across the booth, squeezes the soft skin. "Don't cry, buddy."

He instantly regrets it, although Peter doesn't really seem to mind. He's too focused on reeling it in, but Tony wants to tell him to forget that, to go ahead and cry if he needs to.

Peter wipes his eyes, smearing tears across his cheekbones. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and let's it out. "I'm sorry," he says, hiccuping against the ball in his throat.

"Don't apologize. You do what you need to do."

"I know," sighs Peter, sniffing. "But I don't want to cry right now. I want to feel something other than sad or numb, and that's all I've got right now."

Tony gathers his thoughts for a moment before he knows what to do. Peter's been singing this song, nonstop for the past few months, a relentless tune that plays in the back of Tony's mind whenever he sees the kid.

"What are you doing?" Peter asks in response to Tony stepping up on top of his chair, and then the table.

"I try to say goodbye and I choke," Tony starts. Peter is instantly embarrassed.

"Mr. Stark. Get down."

"I try to walk away and I stumble,"

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose. "Oh my God."

"Though I ate a pie and its clear,"

"Those aren't the words."

"My world crumbles when you are not here!" Tony puts his hands on his hips. "Get up here."

"Tony. No."

"Tony yes. Goodby and I choke," He continues, louder now. By now, a good lot of people are staring. Waiters and waitresses are not amused.

Peter resigns to the fact that he has to join in. He stands on his booth and sings with Tony,

"Try to walk away and I stumble,"

And they're loud, now, probably too loud. Tony continues to sing the incorrect lyrics but Peter adds, "and though I try to hide it, it's clear, my world crumbles when you are not here."

"Sir," says a waiter, hands planted angrily at the small of her back. "I'm going have to ask the two of you to step down and exit the resteraunt."

Tony steps down and holds up a hand. "You finish singing." He looks to the waiter, who is annoyingly taller than him. "Let him sing."

"Sir!" Says the waiter, as Peter finished. "My wo-o-r-ld it crumbles, when you are not here."

When he's done, Pete looks down, satisfied. "Its time the two of you leave. Now."

And that same faltering, from before, that spark of joy that flits out of those big brown eyes, and it's the waiter's fault. Tony's fist rises and plants itself squarely under the man's nose before he can stop it.

As he tries to recover, Tony watches the light filter back into the kids eyes, and he pulls him off the table.

"Let's get out of here," he says, his hand gripped around Peter's exiting the door and laughing as it clinks in goodbye.

When they get to the safety of their car, Peter smiles at him.

"Well," he says, "I certainly didn't larb him."

And he laughs, and it's a glorious sound, a miracle to hear considering recent events. When Tony catches that fleck of golden hope hidden in Peter's irises, he hopes it never fades, and if it does, that he is not the cause.

[cycwrites]

A Taste of Home

A post-Nowish, Mitchsen-centric, drabble prompt from the Master Beta, @tiny-maus-boots. Sorry this took so long, Nerd.

Takes place in some nebulous future after Beca signs with DJ Khaled, puts out an album and goes on tour.

Rating: Teen

Words: 4236

Also on AO3 and FFN

All my other stories in this series: Tumblr  AO3

~B~

“Vienna sucks.”

“Beca.” Chloe half chided, half soothed. “You’re just tired, love.”

Beca slumped in the chair at the desk in her hotel suite. “I am not. It’s still fucking freezing here.” She resolutely ignored the fact that she’d just been rubbing her eyes like a toddler. She could clearly see the concern in Chloe’s face over their sometimes fuzzy Skype video chat and she wanted to stop whining but it was just too much effort.

At first being on tour had been fun and amazing, except all her girls had jobs and couldn’t take a nine month sabbatical to travel the globe with her. Still, the excitement of the crowds and the energy had been enough to keep her going, along with the frequent video chats whenever they had time, individually or together. She was home for a week or two every couple of months for R&R, but after the first six months the novelty was wearing a little thin once the concert was over for the night.

Then Theo had starting pushing on her to maybe extend the tour since she was doing so well, add a few more months to the end which would extend it to almost a full year of travel. At first he was subtle about it, but then it became almost daily; if it wasn’t directly after her concerts than it was the following morning when they were getting ready to fly to the next stop.

“How can I help?” Chloe asked gently.

“You can’t.” It came out petulant and she knew it. “You’re more miles away than I care to think about.” Just the memory of Chloe’s arms around her, something she hadn’t felt in a month, was almost enough to bring her to tears. “Theo is being an annoying turtle, no one can make a decision without my input and I just want them to leave me alone so I can rest.” The whine was in full force but she couldn’t stop it; she knew her voice was cracking and the absolute last thing she wanted to do was have a tantrum about being on fucking tour when she knew it was the at least the fourth best thing to happen to her. (The first was Chloe, the second was Staubrey and third was the rest of the Bellas if anyone had cared to ask her.)

“Oh, Becs,” Chloe whispered and reached out to touch her laptop.

Beca flinched and realized that she’d been incorrect before; the absolute last thing she wanted was for Chloe to be sad and not have any way to comfort her. Of course, the fact that she was directly responsible for making Chloe sad made her feel even worse.

‘Jesus Christ, get your shit together,’ she told herself harshly. ‘Boohoo, you’ve got a top ten selling album and people are paying to see you sing every two to three days. Cry me a fucking river.’

She shook her head and forced herself to sit upright. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m fine, really.” Chloe’s expression didn’t change and she knew she hadn’t fooled Chloe in the slightest.

“Tell that to the dark circles under your eyes.” Chloe put her elbow on the desk and propped her chin on her hand.

Beca sighed and felt pathetic as she muttered, “Bed’s too bigsmall.” It was the curse of being used to a nine foot bed filled with three other bodies; it was also definitely one of the worst things about being on the road. She’d tried sleeping aids but all they did was make her groggy for a good fifteen hours, no matter how much sleep she’d gotten the night before. She was making do with melatonin but she still tossed and turned. It was getting just that little bit harder to work up the level of energy she needed to maintain for her concert and it wasn’t like she had a full ninety minutes of twirling around a stage like some artists.

‘Seriously, how the hell does P!nk do this shit for over a year?’ Beca wondered for the nth time since she’d left home.

“I know the feeling.” Chloe said softly. “We miss you.”

“I mis-” Beca stopped when there was a soft knock at her door. “God fucking damnit!” She slammed her hand on the desk. “I told them I didn’t want to be disturbed!”

“Beca,” Chloe sat up and leaned forward. “Don’t-”

“No.” Beca said as she glared at the door across the room. “I specifically told Theo I didn’t want to see him tonight. That I needed to get some sleep. He fucking chucked me under the chin and told me ‘You do look a bit knackered. Get some rest.’”

“I know but…” Chloe started with a sigh; Beca had bitched at his audacity at least twice in the hour they’d been talking.

“And… Okay,” Beca kept going, already launched past her tired frustration into actual anger. “Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled ‘what the fuck do you want’ when room service came by –”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Chloe murmured. She’d been witness to it and forced Beca to call down to the desk to both apologize and ask that she be undisturbed for the rest of the night.

“So…” The knock came again. “Sonofabitch.” She stood up so hard the chair almost tipped over.

“Beca!” Chloe said but Beca was already stalking to the door.

“I said,” Beca snarled as she ripped open the door, “I do not want to be dis-…” She blinked three times, sure she was hallucinating. Maybe even having a stroke or something. Maybe she had brain damage. Because Aubrey could not be standing in front of her. In her hotel. In Vienna. Aubrey was at home. Being an amazing lawyer. With Chloe and Stacie.

Except Aubrey was there. Standing in front of her. Wearing faded and ripped blue jeans, a rumpled t-shirt that looked suspiciously like one stolen from Beca’s closet, a leather jacket, her hair in a ponytail and a gym bag slung over her shoulder. And, Beca’s eyes dropped from where she’d been staring into the tired face smiling gently at her, Beca’s Stitch onesie in her hand.

When Beca stood frozen in the doorway, Aubrey gently nudged her backward until she could step into the room and close the door behind her. The second Aubrey dropped the gym bag Beca’s paralysis broke and she threw herself at the blonde, wrapping her arms around Aubrey’s waist. With a soft oof when Beca collided into her, Aubrey cradled her close and tucked Beca’s head under her chin as she stroked her back. Immediately Beca felt warmer than she had since they had landed in Austria a week ago. Aubrey’s warm body relaxed her but it was nothing compared to the warmth of ‘home’ that Aubrey’s scent brought her.

“Baby.” Aubrey whispered.

Beca lifted her head and found Aubrey’s lips already waiting. The soft kiss soothed the last of Beca’s frayed nerves and she felt almost lightheaded as the tension left her. She parted her lips and Aubrey slipped inside, deepening the connection; reassuring more than building the fire that was always banked between them.

When they broke apart, Beca sighed and rested her ear against Aubrey’s heart, listening to the strong comforting beat. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, love.” Aubrey squeezed her again. “Chloe sent me.” Aubrey pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Stacie sent this.” She jiggled the hand holding the onesie.

“Oh shit!” Beca jerked upright. “Chloe’s on Skype!” She stepped back, taking Aubrey’s free hand and tugged her over to the desk where she found Chloe waiting patiently with a happy smile and a single tear running down her face. Sometime in the last few minutes Stacie had appeared behind her, her chin propped on Chloe’s shoulder. “You guys… I…” She went to sit but Aubrey beat her to it then pulled Beca into her lap. “I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me.”

“Can’t ruin the surprise, B.” Stacie blew a kiss at her. “Plus Chloe tells me that you might need a lawyer anyway because you’re going to kill some innocent hotel staff person for doing their job.”

Beca winced. “Not one of my finer moments.”

“No.” Chloe agreed but smiled to take the sting from it. “But this is still new and strange and while you’ve come a long way from the ‘I don’t even sing’ girl we met years ago, sometimes…”

“Change and I don’t get along.” Beca sighed as Aubrey rubbed her back. “I still can’t believe you stealth sent Aubrey like a cuddle ninja.”

“And now that she’s there,” Chloe looked past Beca. “You’re gonna put our girl to bed so she can stop being a cranky pants about sleeping alone.”

“To be fair,” Aubrey laughed. “I remember you being disgruntled the last time none of us could stay overnight at one of your competitions.”

“I have no memory of this. You must be super jet-lagged.” Chloe said innocently. She stuck out her tongue when Stacie poked her in the side.

“We’ll talk again tomorrow,” Stacie said. “We’re going to hang up on you now. I’ve gotta get back to work, but I came home to see the big reveal when Aubrey texted us she landed.”

Beca checked the clock. It was almost 9pm in Vienna so it was only 1pm back home. “I love you guys.” She reached out and pressed her fingertips to her screen. “Thank you.”

“Have a good rest of your day, loves.” Aubrey said, her hand resting over Beca’s on the monitor.

“We love you both.” Chloe smiled gently.

“Maybe now that you’re in good hands, you can sleep.” Stacie paused and Beca knew what was coming. “Or not sleep becauseyou’re in good hands.”

“How long did you take to think that up?” Aubrey asked affectionately.

“Just now.” Stacie shrugged. “I’m good with my mouth.”

“You mean with words.” Chloe half turned to look at her.

“That too.” Stacie shrugged and looked back at the monitor. “It’s killing me to do it, but I really am going to disconnect now.” She smiled gently. “You really do need to get some sleep, Beca. Let Aubrey take care of you. I love both of you.”

“I will.” Beca promised, feeling sleep eagerly tugging at her for the first time in what felt like months. ‘Probably since the last time I was home,’ Beca mused.

“Love you too.” Aubrey said just before Stacie hung up.

They sat there a moment more, Beca having turned sideways to cuddle, before Aubrey’s yawn startled them with its suddenness and volume.

“Oh Bree,” Beca reluctantly stood up and offered a hand. “You must be exhausted. It’s like, what, thirteen hours if you’re lucky to get a direct flight?”

“I may have had dad help me with the arrangements.” Aubrey took her hand and rose to her feet and picked up the onesie she’d draped over the chair. “Plus I got a few hours’ sleep on the plane, but… yeah. Sleeping sounds really good about now.” She held out the outfit. “Stacie says you have to sleep in it since you’ve been cold. She doesn’t want to lose any of your important bits to frostbite. She says, and I quote, ‘I’m too fond of her goodies to risk it.’” She pursed her lips. “Personally I think it’s because of that day you told her it made you feel like she was hugging you.”

Touched at her girls’ thoughtfulness, Beca laughed and took it. “Alright. C’mon, bathroom is over here.”

Aubrey followed her, detouring to grab her bag from beside the door. “This is a pretty nice suite they’ve got you in.”

Beca shrugged one shoulder, still not used to having a multi room suite just for herself. “It’s too much for me. I generally just stick to the bedroom or curl up on the couch when they get me these.” The room was nothing compared to the opulent setup that Khaled had had back on the USO tour, but they generally had a separate bedroom and master bath, a sitting room and sometimes a secondary room that was usually set up like an office. “I feel stupid complaining about it… ungrateful maybe.” She rolled her eyes at herself and voiced her earlier thoughts. “‘Oh boohoo and woe is me. I’m quasi famous and people pay to watch me sing.’”

“But you don’t even sing.” Aubrey flashed a smile at her that Beca couldn’t help but return. “But I can see how it could be lonely,” Aubrey offered as they walked into the bedroom where she set her bag down and began unpacking it. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be with you sooner.”

“Sometimes the band comes up.” Beca shrugged as she watched Aubrey pull out clothes that were still somehow neatly folded even though they had come out of a duffle bag. “Theo and a few of the other brass types make an appearance.” She smiled fondly as Aubrey put her clothes in with Beca’s in various drawers. “We haven’t lit the place on fire yet though, so I don’t know if that counts as a rager by your standards.”

“Pfft.” Aubrey said as she folded the bag and set it on top of the dresser before grabbing her toiletry case.

“You want to shower before bed?” Beca asked as they walked into the bathroom where Aubrey whistled at the size of the walk in shower and the whirlpool bath.

“As heavenly as that tub looks,” Aubrey said wistfully, “I think just want to wash my face, brush my teeth and curl up in that small bed with you.” She opened up her case and began to unpack it just as efficiently as she had the duffle, lining her things next to Beca’s.

Beca chuckled. “Aubrey, that’s a queen sized bed.”

“Right. Small.” Aubrey looked at Beca through the mirror and smiled. “Someone’s gotten me used to something bigger.”

Beca shrugged. “Guilty.” She moved over to the counter, setting her designated pj’s on it. “I must be tired because I know I should be turning that into a super dirty innuendo but I don’t have the energy.”

“I’ll say it tomorrow.” Aubrey offered as she began to wash her face. “Stacie would be disappointed in us both if we let it go.”

“You do love me!” Beca joked as she did the same.

“You’re my moon,” Aubrey said simply after she’d rinsed and Beca felt the threat of tears swelling at the back of her eyes.

“You’re our Earth.” Beca stroked Aubrey’s arm, still partially unable to believe she was actually there.

“Sap.” Aubrey sniffed slightly but Beca could clearly see her own emotions reflected back at her.

They finished cleaning up after the long day, brushing their teeth and hair, before changing into their pj’s: Beca in her Stitch onesie, though she left the hood off, and Aubrey in a pair of sleep pants that looked like ones Chloe had worn in college and… Beca laughed when she realized what Aubrey had pulled on. “Is that my Boob Man hoodie?”

“Maybe.” Aubrey turned off the bathroom light and Beca turned on the lamp beside the bed. For Beca’s 24th birthday, post Fourth of July drunken party videos, Stacie had gotten Beca a hoodie that said “I’m A Boob Man.” Aubrey had put her foot down on including a picture of Beca’s hands on her chest even though Stacie had promised to leave out their faces.

“I wondered where that went.” Beca turned off the main overhead light, watching as Aubrey pulled back the covers and crawled into bed with a grateful sigh. “Should’ve known.”

“Probably.” Aubrey settled into the middle of the bed and looked up expectantly. “Well?”

Beca slid into bed and half curled, half sprawled on Aubrey’s left side. “I still can’t believe you’re here.” She wiggled until she found the right spot and Aubrey’s arms closed around her.

“You needed me.” Aubrey shifted and pulled Beca closer.

“As if it were that simple,” Beca said, thinking of all the planning that had to have happened. Even with General Posen’s help it would’ve cost a pretty penny… though, Beca reminded herself, with the tour sales as well as the album still getting decent numbers, money wasn’t something they had to worry about when things like last minute flights came up.

“It was.” Aubrey’s hand gently stroked her back through the fabric. “You needed us. I was able to come.”

“How long did work let you go for?” Beca asked, not wanting to admit how much she wished Aubrey could stay with her the rest of the tour. She lifted her head when Aubrey hesitated and the smallest bit of tension went through the body under her.

“I…” Aubrey took a deep breath. “I quit.”

“What?” Beca pushed herself up. “You what?”

“Quit.” Aubrey reached up and brushed aside the hair that had fallen into Beca’s eyes. “You know I haven’t been happy there since we got back.”

“Yeah but…” Beca trailed off. “Aubrey, please tell me you did not quit because I’m being a big baby over the fact that I am alone on my tour?” Her brows drew together. ‘Jesus I sound like a spoiled brat.’

“I did not quit because you actually are alone on your first tour since none of us have been able to come with you.” Aubrey met her eyes. “Beca, I haven’t…. Oh I don’t know.” She sighed. “It’s… too routine.”

Beca snorted. “I never expected to hear you say something like that. You’re the Posen with the plan.” Aubrey’s brow arched and Beca said quickly, “Which is important because I never have one and sometimes I need to be kept in line.”

Aubrey’s mouth quirked. “Nice save.”

“Thank you.” Beca watched her, worried. “But to quit?”

“You know when I’ve had the most fun doing deals lately?” Aubrey waited and Beca shook her head. “Negotiating your contract with Khaled’s label. Finalizing the details of your tour.”

“You were kind of amazing at it.” Beca mused.

“It was something new, something other than just getting the most out of an artist for your old label.” Aubrey’s eyes had gone distant but now they focused back on Beca. “And I was wondering if you’d… maybe allow me to be your manager full time.”

“Yes.” Beca said without hesitation. She was currently on her fourth – or was it fifth – manager through the agency recommended by Khaled and she already knew the two of them didn’t mesh and it wasn’t going to last. “I would love you to be my manager, Bree. No one else can boss me around like you can.”

Aubrey laughed. “I don’t think that’s exactly the way it’s supposed to work…”

“Fine, you can boss Theo around for me and keep me from calling him Turtle Man when I get pissed at him.” Beca leaned down and kissed her. “But only if you’re sure.”

“There’s obviously going to be some things we’re going to have to figure out, like… do I need some sort of license or to form a company or…” Aubrey trailed off as she yawned so wide her jaw popped. “But we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“I think you just want to be your own boss.” Beca said as she rolled over to turn off the light before snuggling down again. “But I don’t envy you coming up with a company name.”

“BCS Talent.” The reply was so quick it was like she’d known Beca was going to say it.

“Of course you already have a name. You don’t do anything until you’ve covered all the angles.” Beca laughed and lifted her head again to smile down at her.

“Since you’d be my only client, I pondered ‘Mitchsen Talent.’” Aubrey’s eyes twinkled at her. “But I didn’t want to keep answering questions about why I mashed our names together.”

“Because we mash ourselves together as often as possible.” Beca said, kissing her.

“Yes, but I don’t want to tell strangers that. But this way…” Aubrey stroked her fingers through Beca’s hair. “It’s named after what matters most in my life.”

Beca inhaled deeply through her nose. “I hadn’t… I should’ve… put that together.” She inexplicably felt like crying again, touched beyond all measure at how much thought Aubrey had put into it already.

“Stacie took some convincing. Something about the last time she let me go out of her sight and into another country… But she came around. Chloe took less, once I explained why I wanted to do it.” Aubrey tugged a lock of Beca’s hair. “She has never trusted that your managers had your best interests at heart and not just their own.”

“Probably.” Beca said lightly. “I’ll fire Kas tomorrow.”

“Beca!” Aubrey laughed. “We need to talk first.”

“No, we don’t. You’re my manager and that’s final.” Beca put her head back down on Aubrey’s chest, happier than she could’ve dreamed possible.

“Then as your manager, I’m telling you that we’re going to sit down and talk logistics.” She put her hand over Beca’s mouth as she drew in breath to answer. “Tomorrow. After a giant breakfast that’s going to fill the massive table in the other room.”

Beca nodded and Aubrey slowly removed her hand. “Alright. Whatever you say… manager.” She grinned as Aubrey let out an overly exaggerated sigh. “Bree?”

“Yes, Beca?”

“Thank you for coming to Vienna.” Beca felt Aubrey’s hand on her chin and let her head be tilted up until Aubrey’s lips met hers. When they parted again, she said softly, “You’re not a dream, right?”

“I’ve got you, love.” Aubrey said and kissed her again. “I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I love you, Aubrey.” Beca kissed her one last time, a lazy comforting stroking of tongues and lips.

“I love you too.” Aubrey’s fingers slipped from her jaw to wrap lightly around the arm across her waist.

Far quicker than she’d gone to sleep since the last time she’d been in their arms in The Expanse, Beca felt herself drawn into slumber, the steady beat of Aubrey’s heart matching her own.

~A~

Aubrey woke to gentle kisses. They were placed delicately at the corner of her mouth, along her jaw, her eyebrow and even her closed eyelid once Beca knew she was awake. She sighed in contentment at the weight resting against her side and the hand drawing designs on her stomach.

“You kept your promise.” Beca said before kissing the tip of Aubrey’s nose.

Aubrey smiled but kept her eyes closed. “A Posen-Conrad always keeps their promises.”

“You guys are good at that.”

Aubrey opened her mouth to answer but Beca’s lips covered hers in a kiss far less chaste than the ones they had exchanged the prior evening. She gave out a happy purr as Beca licked down into her mouth, languid but passionate; unhurried but definitely an indication of how the rest of the morning would go and Aubrey felt desire coiling as the rest of her body woke up.

At least until she opened her eyes, intending to wish Beca what was apparently going to be very good morning and found Beca leaning over her, all sleep tousled and warm…

With the Stitch hoodie pulled up over her head.

Aubrey began to laugh.

Beca propped her head on her right hand, watching as Aubrey fell apart every time she took in the blue ears on top of Beca’s head. Aubrey laughed so loud and so long that she snorted, which caused her to giggle even while she was mortified, but then she’d catch sight of Beca’s patiently waiting face, surrounded by blue fuzzy alien, and she’d lose it all over again. When she’d almost exhausted herself, Beca merely pursed her lips when Aubrey took a peek at her and snickered.

“Aubrey.”

“Yes?” Aubrey let out a giggle, keeping her eyes closed.

“Stacie has made love to me in this onesie.” Beca hadn’t stopped tracing designs on Aubrey’s stomach since the first giggle and now she curved her fingers around Aubrey’s hip. “I don’t see what the problem is.” Her tone was nothing but pure amused affection and despite the fact that she just can’t, Aubrey felt herself melt.

“That’s because you guys are aca-pervs.” Aubrey giggled again, high pitched and borderline hysterical at the image that formed and she knew at some point she and Chloe would have to watch them re-enact that. ‘Would you like to be pot, or kettle?’ she mentally asked herself and snorted again.

“Guess you’ll just have to take it off me.” Beca said silkily in her ear and Aubrey’s laughter tapered off into a moan as Beca’s hand moved up to cover her breast.

“Yes please,” Aubrey breathed as her back arched into her lovers touch.

Beca kissed her. “Let me properly thank you for saving the rest of the team from a very cranky artist.”

“I think, and I mean this from the very bottom of my heart, that the pleasure is about to be mine.” Aubrey’s hands slid over Beca until she found the row of buttons on the onesie. “After I get you out of this and naked.”

Beca smiled at her as Aubrey slowly undid them one by one, humming in anticipation with each inch of skin exposed.

“I love Vienna.”

[sanderstalker]

The Fault In Our Sides Chapter 4: Bold

Warnings: Name calling and hurt feelings. Let me know if there are any I missed 

Word Count: 986

__________

Thomas, after much debate, finally called Angel, and asked if she wanted to meet somewhere, to which the answer, surprisingly, was ‘yes’. They decided to meet up in a park, a public place, but not so crowded that Thomas would be recognized, considering his internet fame. It was decided that the most ideal time, was around 5 the next day.

        “Are you sure we should be doing this?” Virgil asked Thomas as they walked to the center of the park.

        “Well, now that I think about it, no.” Thomas said truthfully, “But I think she needs our help.”

        “YEAH!” Morality hollered as he popped up, “Did you hear her awful comments?! Violence was totally in control! And poor Timidness!”

Virgil thought back to the shaking creature he saw.

        “Well, I guess if we fail, nothing bad can really come of it… though we gain nothing if we succeed in turning her opinion of herself.”

        “Incorrect,” Logan showed up, “A logical conclusion would be that we gain a new ally.”

        “YAY, FRIENDS!”

Thomas chuckled as his Morality gained even more enthusiasm, that ability being surprisingly possible.

    The group, now joined by Roman, found their way to a small bench at the center of the vast grassy area, seeing Angel not to far off, sitting next to a patch of out of place color. Upon coming closer, Logan saw the odd color to be several small trinkets, and a blue bag.

        “I see you have made yourself comfortable already,” he noted, earning a startled squeak as Angel started to shove the trinkets in her bag before anyone could see them, to the onlookers confusion.

        “Sorry for startling you.” Thomas chuckled nervously, Virgil getting the better of him.

        “It’s… It’s fine.” Came the abrupt answer, “Why did you want to meet?”

Patton started to say something, but was stopped as Roman put a hand to his mouth, reminding him of the conversation they had on the car ride to the park about being subtle.

       “Well, I was thinking, since we both have… uh… these, as you called them… Faults? I thought maybe we should try and figure out why we see them together, you know, find things out and… stuff.”

Thomas’ explanation was met with silence.

        “Why?” Violence revealed herself, an accusing look turned towards Thomas, “And what makes you think we want anything to do with you and your nambi-pambi sides.”

        “LEAVE BAMBI OUT OF THIS!” Patton hollered.

        “I SAID PAMBI YOU NIMROD!” Violence hollered right back.

Patton shrunk back a bit, tears starting to form at the name calling.

        “Hey,” Virgil started, “That, was uncalled for.”

        “Said the one whose existence has always been uncalled for.” Violence stated, “Then again, we’re both in the same boat aren’t we?”

Violence felt a small tug on her baggy sleeve. Looking down, she saw the shrunken form of Timidness.

        “Violence…” the girl whispered, “Stop… you’re hurting both of their f-feelings.”

        “And suddenly you care?”

The teddy bear holding girl shrunk back as she whimpered, her expression that of an apology as she looked to Virgil and Patton.

        “Enough, both of you.” Angel sighed, “To answer you from before, sure, maybe I can find a way to get rid of these nuisances.”

Timidness seemed hurt at her choice, though it was not noticed as Violence shoved her back.

        “Do you… think you might come to understand them if you try?” Patton asked, wiping his earlier tears away, though they threatened to come back as Violence glared at him.

        “Angel never wished for that before, why would she now?” She snorted, then disappeared before Angel could make a retort. This left Timidness quite alone as she shook.

        “How much can one person hate themself?” Roman wondered, though he didn’t realize it was out loud until Logan elbowed him in the arm. This made the Prince figure look toward their ‘could-have-been’ friend, finding her looking at him, completely appalled.

        “You know nothing, you wanna-be royal pain.” She seethed, “Look, I just want to be normal, that’s all. Who wants a constant bombardment of voices in their head? Only someone INSANE would want something like that.” At this, Violence showed up again, Indecisiveness just behind her, “WHAT NOW?!” She turned to the two. Violence merely shrugged, a mocking smirk on her face.

        “This isn’t logical, Angel.” Indecisiveness stated, “We are wasting time.”

        “You stay out of this,” Angel pointed an accusing finger at her version of Logic, “Go back and be silent like you usually are when I need you.”

Indecisiveness sighed, and disappeared, though not before sending a glance toward Logan, an apology hidden behind it. She had tried.

        “I’d have to agree with Indecisivness,” Logan supported, “Your argument is rather flawed.”

        “Said the robot who wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between an emotion and an emoticon.”

Though Logan was badly hurt, he did not show it as he shook his head in dismay.

        “Perhaps, Thomas, we should give up on this foolish endeavor.”

        “Go ahead!” Angel laughed, “You won’t be the first!”

At this, three of five turned, already done, the only two being steadfast being Thomas, and Patton.

        “No.” Patton said firmly, standing tall as his usually cute and fun loving demeanor was replaced by that of someone who was saving a life, “We will be the first, the first to stay.”

Angel was silent as her eyes became wide, Timidness poking her head from behind her.

        “R-really?” She asked in awe, a wide smile growing on her face as Patton nodded his head, a sweet, familiar smile coming back to his face. “THANK YOU!” Timidness ran at him, and hugged him around his waist, the girl being only a fraction of his height, the teddy bear held firmly behind him.

    The three that started to leave, turned, seeing the whole of Angel’s sides beside her, all in awe of what was gracing their eyes. Timidness, was being bold.

_________

This is my favorite chapter of this so far because I love the small been Timidness. Like she is so heckin cute. I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did. Sorry this chapter was so late. I got my wisdom teeth pulled last week and have ben kinda out of it since then. I am just now feeling like a normal person.  

Tag List: @mavisturtle, @logicallyanxious-morallyromantic, @anony-phangirl, @sleepyssnail, @phlying-squirrel, @virgilcrofters, @ierindoodles, @yangsembercelica, @barlibismi. Let me know if you want o be added or removed

[inbonobo]

this person is #fun, @JordanBPeterson | ContraPoints #philosophy #debating #postmodernism #skepticism

the other criticism I got from the AMA:

besttrousers 856 points 4 hours ago*

Professor Peterson,

Thanks for joining us today!

I’m a behavioral economist who works on labor issues, and I’ve been reading some of your work, such as the Self-Authoring Suite, with interest. It’s helping me think about potential interventions to help unemployed people rejoin the labor force. Thanks for putting it out there!

However, I’ve also been very frustrated to hear some of the claims you’ve made about economics, many of which been inaccurate.

It’s important to be precise in your speech, so I’ll give you two examples, before my question (I apologize for the length, but I thought it was important to provide the original quotes, and a brief summary of why they were incorrect):

Example 1

Here’s an excerpt from your recent interview with Cathy Newman:

Newman: Okay. Sure. But I want to put to you that here in the UK, for example, let’s take that as an example. The gender pay gap stands at just over 9%. You’ve got women at the BBC recently saying that the broadcaster is illegally paying them less than men to do the same job. You’ve got only seven women running the top FTSE 100 companies!

Peterson: Yeah.

Newman: So it seems to a lot of women, that they are still being “dominated and excluded”, to quote your words back to you.

Peterson: It does seem that way, but multivariate analysis of the pay gap indicate that it doesn’t exist.

Newman: But that is not true, is it? I mean, that nine percent pay gap! That’s a gap between median hourly earnings between men and women!

Peterson: Yeah, but there’s multiple reasons for that. One of them is gender, but it’s not the only reason. If you’re a social scientist worth your salt, you never do a univariate analysis. Like you say, well women in aggregate are paid less than men. Okay, well then we break it down by age, we break it down by occupation, we break it down by interest, we break it down by personality.

Your claim that “multivariate analysis of the pay gap indicate that it doesn’t exist.” Is incorrect. For an overview of research in this area, you can see Blau and Kahn’s 2017 review of the literature.

I suspect that you are looking at analyses that include occupational controls (based on what you said in the interview, and tweets like this one).

However, using occupational controls in this way is actually leads to a flawed analysis, as women choose what occupation to pursue. If women are being discriminated against in a given field, you would expect them to be less likely to pursue a career in that field. Including occupational controls will therefor lead to a biased estimate. It’s what statisticians call “collider bias”.

(For details, see the discussion of this issue on page 74 of Causal Inference, or the /r/economics FAQ)

Example 2

In one of your lectures, you said the following:

Because women have access to the birth control pill now and can compete in the same domains as men roughly speaking there is a real practical problem here. It's partly an economic problem now because when I was roughly your age, it was still possible for a one-income family to exist. Well you know that wages have been flat except in the upper 1% since 1973. Why? Well, it's easy. What happens when you double the labor force? What happens? You halve the value of the labor. So now we're in a situation where it takes two people to make as much as one did before. So we went from a situation where women's career opportunities were relatively limited to where there they were relatively unlimited and there were two incomes (and so women could work) to a situation where women have to work and they only make half as much as they would have otherwise.

There’s a lot that incorrect here – wages have not been stagnant since 1973 (I suspect you are thinking of household income, which has been more-or-less constant due to compositional changes due to later marriages), doubling the labor force would not halve the value of labor (the economy is not a fixed pie, more workers in the labor force grow the economy).

Most importantly, the premise is wrong. It’s not the case that it used to be possible for households to have one earner, and now it is not. Instead, what happened was we saw dramatic increases in the effectiveness of “household production” (think: laundry machines, clothes that need less frequent repair, microwave dinners). In 1965, the average women spent 32 hours/week on housework, and 10 hours a week on childcare – a full time job!

We aren’t poorer than we used to be, or working more. Instead, we’ve seen people effectively move from one industry (domestic labor) to another (firm labor).

Question

I know you’ve found it frustrating when your research has been misrepresented in the media, so I’m sure you can understanding the frustrations economists have when reading or listening to you misrepresent economics. These are common mistakes (we catalog them all the time over at /r/badeconomics) but also would be pretty easy to correct by talking to an economist, or reading the relevant literature. It's also important not to make such mistakes. Many of your fans have read these and now incorrectly believe that their wages are lower because of women entering the workforce.

What is the mechanism you have been using to check the accuracy of the claims you make about economics – or other fields you are not an expert in? What can we economists (or other experts) do to help you better understand these fields?

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[–]decimated_napkin 179 points 3 hours ago

Perhaps I'm missing something here, but I feel like not controlling for occupation when assessing pay differences is more disingenuous than controlling for it. Yes, it's possible that women are choosing to not go into certain fields due to prejudice, but it's also possible that they simply don't like those fields for other reasons. Who are we to say? Since we don't know which it is, it would make sense to me to exclude that division from consideration and go with the method that would generally make the most sense, which in this case would be controlling for occupation.

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[–]wumbotarian 17 points 3 hours ago

I'll note this is an issue for any wage regression. We know education impacts your wage. but how much education you got is a choice. We need to control for the control, which is hard to do!

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[–]wumbotarian 94 points 3 hours ago

When doing a regression, we examine the effects of an independent variable (controls or "right hand side" variables) on dependent variables ("left hand side" variables; in this case, wages).

It is very important that the independent variables are indeed independent. They're not caused by anything else. They're "exogenous". If an independent variable is itself dependent (called "endogenous"), we need to control for that dependent nature with its own independent variables. Otherwise we get fundamentally incorrect results.

Occupational choice is not independent (no choice variable is independent). We can see that the choice of a job would be dependent on preferences for, say, job time flexibility. Or the pay someone gets. If pay is unequal between men and women in a given industry, women will choose based on that pay gap.

Therefore, it is not disingenuous to leave out occupational choice (or other endogenous right hand side variables). You simply cannot do any accurate analysis with dependent right hand side variables. It's not slight of hand done by feminists or anything. It's akin to pointing out that 2 + 2 != 5.

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[–]kmmeerts 7 points 2 hours ago

It's still disingenuous to lump in occupational choice with all the other uncontrolled variables, and to ascribe it to discrimination. The right thing to do would be to control for occupational choice, and to find the effect size of it, just like for every other variable. Only then can you start making hypotheses and finding narratives.

I don't doubt occupational choice is influenced by discrimination, but we have the statistical tools to study it, there is no need to keep it uncontrolled.

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[–]wumbotarian 4 points an hour ago

It's still disingenuous to lump in occupational choice with all the other uncontrolled variables, and to ascribe it to discrimination.

So we have experimental evidence that discrimination exists. While this is not indicative of the wage gap existing due to discrimination, it should update your priors that discrimination is an issue in hiring.

The right thing to do would be to control for occupational choice, and to find the effect size of it, just like for every other variable.

Okay, but as I explained you can't "control for occupational choice". It's a dependent variable. You'd need an instrumental variable that itself is independent.

I don't doubt occupational choice is influenced by discrimination, but we have the statistical tools to study it, there is no need to keep it uncontrolled.

We have the tools but not the variables/data! That's the point.

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[–]Stagnolia 11 points 2 hours ago

This is so awesome, thank you so much for contributing this. I am a STEM student and I love love love science but so far in all of my classes we’ve never dived into the complexity of controlling for dependent variables like this. Your comment was super informative and I’m going to save it to have on hand!

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[–]SuperSharpShot2247 12 points 2 hours ago

Economics doesn't have the benefit of the perfectly controlled experiments hard science does. While there are economic experiments, they're limited to testing economic theory and behavioral trends. For things like gender wage gap, the effect of legalizing marijuana, the effect of education on income, etc, we need highly sophisticated statistical tools to block out the "noise".

This is probably why your STEM classes haven't gotten into this level of control! I'm an undergraduate in Economics and typically we don't even learn the Instrumental Variables (IV) method (I only know it from a special class)!