#will be posting this on Ao3 as well

[theonethatyaks93]

My Secret Santa Project

This is my Secret Santa project for @sleepyrabbits You didn’t specify what characters you wanted, so here!! Take some Christmas Brinky fluff that I hope you enjoy!! Also, thank you so much for being one of my followers!!!!!!! It means so much to me and I couldn’t be happier!!! Enjoy your Christmas and I’m wishing you a happy new year too!!

Brain groaned for what felt like the 100th time, his temperament in its worst state it had been in quite a while. He sat crouched amongst the scattered blueprints and materials he had gathered to enact his most recent plan for world domination, which had failed in an elaborate fashion, again. The megalomaniac had hope that this plan would’ve been a smashing success, but, predictably, things soured rapidly.

This year’s Christmas plan had been to produce hypnotic cookies to sell in stores. The cookies would’ve flown off the shelves due to their cheap prices and Brain would have control of the world in an instant. Yes! Even if that hadn’t worked, Brain concocted a backup idea involving subliminal messaging in wrapping paper that said, “Obey Brain”. Surely having another plan in case of failure would guarantee success, right?

Wrong.

When Brain had tried to bake the cookies with the fluid needed to hypnotize the population, they had burned easily, and the treats tasted repulsive and dry, lacking any flavor. Even Pinky’s admittedly excellent baking skills couldn’t save the cookies from disaster. Brain ended up flying into a rage, tossing the dozens of baked goods in the trash can immediately after trying them. Pinky had attempted to comfort him, saying that they could always just make more, but Brain, rather than listen, just decided to execute plan two.

Which also failed. Even quicker than plan one.

Turns out, Acme Labs’s new high-tech printer was broken, and it wouldn’t be fixed until next week. Drat. After receiving that crushing news, Brain moved on to writing out the subliminal messages by hand, but the words he wrote were not hidden in the slightest. In fact, they were so obvious to the naked eye, that they couldn’t be classified as subliminal at all. This was not thought out well for possible hindrances such as a busted printer.

This year’s Christmas plans were by far the worst he’d ever assembled. Brain didn’t even reach the marketing phase for his cookies, despite that secretly being his favorite part of any “advertise something to the general public” scheme. It was enjoyable to spend some time with Pinky, where they could put their creative minds together to make an advertising campaign millions would remember.  And it wasn’t just because Pinky was his non-platonic partner now and Brain wanted to be close to him for an elongated period of time.

Definitely not that. At all.

The shorter mouse had retreated to his planning corner to sulk after the wrapping paper debacle. He needed to escape from all the woes and predicaments that were piling on top of him. He did find it rather odd that Pinky didn’t pursue him instantaneously, but it was a small blessing. Even though Brain really…tolerated Pinky, sometimes his lanky companion could prove a little overbearing for his mindset. This peaceful escape from the hassle of his newest plight was what he needed. Yet, he still felt miserable.

Another Christmas wasted on failed plans. Just like last year. And the year before.

Brain peered at the unorganized pile of blueprints that sat in front of him. He had made them for his Christmas cookie plan, but they went unused for the most part. Now, the paper just felt like it was taunting him. Invading his soul almost. Whispering to him negative thoughts about his recent disappointment.

You didn’t take over the world? How stupid are you?

You didn’t even manage to get to the execution stage!

You are pathetic!

Brain growled, way louder than he intended to, all the anger building inside him. It wasn’t long before he began ripping up the blueprints in a blind fury and tossing them everywhere. The pieces of paper were scattered all over the counter, every which way. He’d need to clean this up later.

The megalomaniac fell onto his knees following his little meltdown, slamming his fists into the countertop surface. He winced at the ensuing pain but didn’t pay that much mind to it. Brain felt a lump form in his throat, though he quickly pushed that feeling away.

Crying was not allowed. Especially for something so meaningless.

Brain took a few steadying breaths, attempting to subdue his rampant emotions. It thankfully worked rather well, for his mind steadied. Though, the lingering guilt that he had pushed aside Christmas with Pinky for a disastrous world domination idea remained intact. Why, again, had he ruined something else that could positively impact his own life?

Poor, sweet, innocent Pinky. An opportunity for quality time was squandered; instead, he was toiling away with mediocre fantasies of world conquest.

The pink-eyed mouse buried his face within his paws, ears drooping, sighing repeatedly as if that would aid in his misery. Brain felt so hopeless, so exhausted, bizarrely cold. He even felt unloved, which was strange since he had a companion of romantic interest. All the warmth of the holiday season never seemed to find him through the many years he’d been enacting plans.

The dreary nature of the situation was just about to pull Brain to a likely cumbersome slumber, until he felt a gentle touch on his left shoulder, tugging him out of his brooding state. He lifted his head from his paws to meet the understanding gaze of his partner. Why did Pinky always have to appear in his worst and bleakest moments?

“Oh, Brain. It’s alright. Narf! No need to be sad over a silly little plan. You’ll make another, even better one tomorrow night!”

A soft smile formed on Brain’s lips. He reached his arm back towards his shoulder, using his paw to cover Pinky’s. “I’m fine, my friend. Just a little distressed about this whole ordeal. I apologize for concerning you.” Brain moved his grasp from Pinky, choosing to look away from him, retreating into his own personal space once more. Pinky’s hold never left his shoulder.

The other mouse’s gentle face fell to one of confusion and concern. “Well, you don’t look fine to me, Brainy. Poit! You seem tense. I mean look at you! You’re all tight and scowly and your shoulders are hunched up and…”

Brain turned around and placed his paw on Pinky’s mouth, silencing him. “Yes, Pinky. I’m fully aware of my appearance right now.” He shifted from his companion, pulling his paw from his friend’s face hastily. But before recoiling fully, he placed a small peck on Pinky’s nose, hoping that would be enough to shut him up.  It thankfully did the trick. At least to halt the uncomfortable conversation that would have likely unfolded had he not done anything.

Pinky swooned dreamily, letting go of Brain for a moment to dance and twirl around the space in an irregular pattern, his paws held close to his chest. Little cartoony hearts formed around his head, circling rapidly and his tail formed into the shape of a heart, which surprisingly wasn’t that uncommon. “Egad! Naaaaaaaarf!” he purred; his voice breathless.

Brain couldn’t help but smirk a tad and role his eyes at Pinky’s overly dramatic display. It was ridiculous, but somewhat sweet, he presumed. He allowed his mind to wander a bit, while Pinky continued to prance around in a lovestruck daze. The shorter mouse was only pulled back into reality when he felt Pinky nuzzling his nose gently, holding him by both shoulders now. Brain’s face went red.

Desperate to end this romantic moment, Brain struck up a question that had been persistent ever since Pinky had arrived at his planning corner.

“Did you go seeking me out for a reason or did you just come to boost my spirits?”

 Pinky pulled away from Brain, a radiant expression evident on his face. “Both, actually! Troz!”

“And do tell what exactly you wanted to inform me, Pinky. Just make it hasty, I’m still downtrodden about tonight’s failure.”

The taller mouse clapped enthusiastically. “Oh, Brain! I can’t tell you! It’s a surprise! You just haaaaaave to wait and see!”

Brain’s usual scowl returned. Great. Another one of Pinky’s “surprises.” Whenever Pinky told him that something was a surprise, he was always met with something extremely peculiar and not catered to his liking; from a horrendous bootleg movie to an ice cream party that had already melted by the time they’d arrived at the cage. Surely, this would not be any different.

“Pinky, I’m not so sure about this. Remember the last time you lured me into one of your ‘surprises?’” He gestured to the unusual kiss shaped scar on his forearm, likely the most dangerous and bizarre incident by far.

Pinky’s face turned tomato red, and he giggled energetically. “Of course I remember! That was the bestest bad surprise good surprise ever! Zort! And may I say, that is the cutest scar I’ve ever seen, darling! He traced his fingers over the specific mark, causing Brain’s fur to temporarily stand on end and a pleasant warmth to invade his senses. His heart was about to burst.

“T-thank you, Pinky.” Brain struggled to force any harsh words out. “But I still don’t exactly believe that whatever you have in store for me is exactly safe per say.”

Pinky got on his knees and grabbed Brain’s shoulders in a forceful manner, quite unlike his usual demeanor. Obviously, Pinky wasn’t going to be deterred from his goal. “Puh-lease Brain?! I promise that this is a good surprise and that you’ll really, really like it! Please? Pretty please with sprinkles and caramel and chocolate and whipped cream on top?” Pinky begged loudly, putting on his best pouty eyes. He even whimpered a tad and his lip quivered for added effect.

Brain stared into Pinky’s soft blue eyes. He swore there were stars in them since they seemed to sparkle in radiance. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of maroon and heat pooled in his cheeks. Pinky was a master manipulator. Especially when he was trying to convince Brain to do something mundane. He just couldn’t resist, no matter how hard he attempted to ignore Pinky.

“Alright,” Brain sighed, subduing his sanity to Pinky’s little pleading. “But if something else explodes, you’ll be receiving more than just a bop on the head.”

Pinky cheered, jumping up and down excitedly. “Yay! You are going to love it! Narf! I know it with all my little heart, Brain!” He then stared at the shorter mouse, a flirty, seductive, and mischievous look in his eyes. “But I wouldn’t mind you giving me something more than a bop on the head if you know what I mean. Hint, hint! Zort!” Pinky winked and batted his eyelashes at Brain, his tail moving precariously from side-to-side before he began laughing hysterically.

Brain took a moment to ponder, until eventually realizing what exactly Pinky thought he had suggested. His entire face turned beet red and sweat began to form on his forehead. His eyes widened in utter shock and his mind spiraled as he became a flustered mess. It took him nearly ten seconds to regain his composure.

“That’s n-not what I m-meant, P-Pinky.” Brain choked on his own words, forcing himself to halt his stuttering for fear of embarrassment. “Let’s just forget…that… and move along to your little ‘surprise,’ whatever that might entail.” He was relieved that he had calmed down so fast, especially after…what Pinky had tried to imply.

The taller mouse grinned sheepishly. “Oh, right. Almost forgot Whoopsies!” He pulled Brain towards him and held his paw tightly, intertwining their fingers. “Close your eyes, sweetheart!”

Brain welcomed Pinky’s proximity and the handholding, but he still wasn’t prepared for whatever Pinky had in store. “I’m not exactly sure about this…”

“Ha, Brain! No take backsies! Troz! You promised!” Pinky sing-songed, pressing a finger to Brain’s lips, stifling his judgement. Brain groaned; there was no turning back now.

“Very well. Lead me to your inane drivel. But on one condition: do not run with me in tow. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I’ve had enough injuries this week.”

“But I’m not a truck, Brain.”

“I know you’re not a truck, Pinky. Just don’t go off sprinting while we are…uhm.” Brain pointed to their interlaced fingers.

Pinky’s puzzled expression changed to joy again after seeing their paws together. “Got it. No running! I’m going to keep my sweeter-than-sweet bestest boyfriend ever all nice and safe for his surprise!” He gently stroked Brain’s cheek.

Boyfriend? That was new. Pinky had never called him his boyfriend before.

Brain’s face heated up again; his entire body felt warm. Smirking contently, Brain closed his eyes, putting all his trust with his boyfriend friend. He only expected that he wouldn’t fall off the counter, per Pinky’s words.

It didn’t take too long for him to feel Pinky pulling his paw in the direction of wherever this little treat for him was. Brain took steady steps, making sure not to trip and take his partner down with him. He was quite astonished at how slow and gentle Pinky’s movements were; he went through with his earlier proclamation in strides. Brain never felt uncomfortable in any way as the two journeyed together. Occasionally, he felt his arm be jerked to the left or right, most likely due to an obstacle they came upon being avoided by Pinky’s swift reflexes. Dare he say it, he was impressed by the taller mouse’s knack for following instructions given to him.

He was so distracted by how peaceful everything was currently, aside from an occasion chuckle elicited by Pinky, that he stumbled on what felt like the entrance to their cage. Brain’s grasp on Pinky’s paw tightened as he felt his feet almost give way, causing the megalomaniac to almost open his eyes. Pinky helped to steady him, pulling him up again after their near fall.

“Are you okay?” Pinky asked gently.

Brain made sure his eyes were still closed. “Yes, I’m alright. Nothing to worry about, Pinky.”

“M-sorry, Brain. I forgot all about that nasty step. Poit! Silly me! Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

He then continued to guide Brain, who thankfully didn’t receive too much of a startle from the slip. But as they kept moving, Brain was sensing a shift in lighting and a change in temperature. He also began to smell…peppermint? And…evergreen? What exactly did Pinky have planned?

Pinky let go of his hand after a little while, his footsteps indicating that he was seemingly dashing away somewhere. “Stay right there, Brain!” he heard his partner call out to him. Brain didn’t bother trying to go anywhere, who knows what he could’ve run into.

“Okay! You can open your eyes now!”

Brain followed Pinky’s request, opening his eyes gently, his curiosity piqued. What he was met with was…shocking to say the least.

“Surprise! Narf! So, whaddya think?”

The cage had been transformed from a mundane living space into a Christmas-y winter wonderland. There was a small Christmas tree with glistening ornaments and twinkling multi-colored lights. Peppermint and pine scented candles wafted their pleasant aromas in the air. Candy canes were lined in a neat little row and there was a while powdery substance everywhere that looked remarkably like snow. He even heard Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album A Jolly Christmas playing in the background, the crooner’s golden voice accenting the display in front of him perfectly.

Of course, Pinky knew about his little crush infatuation with Frank Sinatra and the fact that he’d listened to his Christmas album every year.

Brain was awestruck at all the colors and spectacle. His eyes widened and he felt his chest swell. It was such a tonal shift from the previously dreary laboratory, to suddenly be thrown into a bright and festive scenario. He couldn’t fathom that Pinky had done all of this, just for him. Granted, he felt a tad bit of shame for not being able to decorate on his own, but he was grateful that he had such a caring and considerate partner.

“Brain! Do you like it? Is it amazingly amazing like I hoped it would be? Hello?”

He snapped out of his astonished trance, Pinky’s confused face only inches away from his. Brain didn’t even bother to back away; he was currently just too dazed to pay attention to their vicinity. “It’s…it’s nice, Pinky. Yes. Really nice.” A faint blush formed on his cheeks.

Pinky was ecstatic. “I knew you’d just love-love-love it! Poit!” He placed his paws on Brain’s shoulders, squeezing them ever so lightly. “Can I show you around? I spent all night working on this for you, Brain!”

“Feel free, my friend. I’ve got nothing better to do.” Brain sardonically remarked, though he smiled ever so slightly to indicate he was still in a pleasant mood.

His lanky companion squealed in delight, before guiding Brain around the display, happily bouncing the entire time.  Brain couldn’t help but relinquish in Pinky’s boundless energy; he was always so cheery. That was somewhat appealing to him.

Pinky first showed off the Christmas tree, which Brain had to admit was very well decorated. The ornaments weren’t haphazardly thrown around, rather they were intricately placed in neat little rows on the tree’s branches. Even the tinsel was wrapped around properly, though the star on top was a little crooked. Not like he was going to nitpick, but it was just something he noticed.

“Here’s the tree! Spent all week looking for teeny-tiny ornaments. Troz! But I finally found some when you were baking those cookies. I even made my own out of those little yummy puff pastries in the drawer, Brain. Isn’t it be-you-ti-ful?” the blue-eyed mouse gestured to his manufactured ornament, which was simply just a piece of circular cardboard covered in cotton balls. However, they were aligned in such a way to where it resembled…them? The little red pom-poms glued to two of the cotton balls certainly indicated that.

Brain flushed a little at Pinky’s attempt to replicate them in an ornament, though it wasn’t executed in the best way. Pinky seemed to notice his telltale blush, smiling even bigger than before.

“It’s us! Aren’t we just the cutest ornament couple ever! And you little nose is so adorable, babe! I just wanna squish it!” Pinky pulled Brain into a slight hug.

“You’ve captured our likenesses…decently Pinky. I applaud you on your efforts and I am endeared by your generosity.” Brain felt the room heat up. Things were getting far too intimate for his personal liking. “Let’s move on.”

Next, Pinky pointed out the candy canes that were lined in a row, which he insisted had not been licked once. Brain wasn’t convinced since his companion seemed to bashfully look off to the side when he’d told him that. Sure enough, he inspected closer and saw saliva along the edge of two of the candy canes. Why was he not surprised?

“You’re probably wonderin’ how I made the snow, Brain. Zort!” Pinky diverted Brain’s attention to one of the many piles of “snow” scattered about. He picked up a clump of it and threw it in the air, causing Brain to sneeze a little.

“Pinky, what is this stuff?” Brain scoffed in between sneezes. He investigated the substance closer, noticing the unusual fine, gritty texture. The powder also smelled, strangely sweet.

“It’s powdered sugar! The perfect snow substitute!” Pinky said like he was advertising the powder. He put the pile of it down and happily licked his fingers of the excess, chuckling all the way. “It’s so yummy AND festive! Naaaaaaaaarrf!”

Brain couldn’t help but be just a tad confused. There was powdered sugar everywhere; why was there so much? “If I may ask, how did you obtain this much powdered sugar, Pinky? I didn’t notice any new charges on the lab’s credit card over the past few days, aside from ones I made.”

The taller mouse silenced Brain playfully, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “No, no, Brain! A decorator never reveals their seacrates. No matter what anyone else says.”

Why did he even bother with Pinky anymore?

The megalomaniac rolled his eyes at his companion’s mindless comment, before noticing something below the Christmas tree. It was a box, covered in mismatched wrapping paper that wasn’t fully covering the package. There was a little bow and a tag that read“4 Brain!” with a little heart on top, meaning it was for him.

His heart fluttered when he noticed the gift, mainly because he didn’t expect Pinky to get him anything this year. Brain felt a little guilty that he hadn’t spent time preparing a present for his partner, but his world domination plans had taken every waking though of his.

“Pinky,” Brain spoke softly as he struggled to control his steadfast heart rate. “Th-that gift under the tree over there. Is it…did you get that for me?” He held his breath for a moment.

“Of course it’s for you! Poit!” Pinky walked over to where Brain was standing, linking their arms together. “I wrote your name on the tag! D’you think I met some other smarty-smart dashing mouse named Brain yesterday and he just happened to become my bestest boyfriend? And I thought I was the dumb one!”

Brain felt his face turn a soft pink at Pinky’s proclamation. Even though it was slightly annoying that Pinky questioned his intelligence for a moment, he presumed that his friend had good intentions.

“I don’t suppose you’d mind if I opened the gift then. I’m quite interested to see what exactly you got me.” He could only guess that it was going to be another pencil with the eraser bitten off, or a moldy piece of bread that Pinky so happily called “French toast.”

The lanky mouse giggled, suppressing some kind of intense positive outburst. “Go ahead, love! I really think I’ve outdone meself this year!”

He really didn’t want to open it now, considering Pinky’s giddy reaction to him asking about it was so suspicious. But he decided to, for his companion’s sake. It wouldn’t hurt that much to get something outlandish.

With slight hesitation, Brain trudged over to the tree, pulling the decently sized present from under it. He was surprised by the weight of the box; he could not lift it. What on earth was in here?

Brain was just about to pull the top of the box open when Pinky called out to him, causing the smaller mouse to jump in shock.

“Brain! Troz! Wait! Narf! You should read this first!” Pinky panted heavily, handing Brain a piece of paper. The front had a crude drawing of Pinky giving Brain a hug, the two being surrounded by red and green colored hearts.  

Brain smiled a little at the drawing, but he grew apprehensive about reading the letter. Pinky’s writing was infamously illegible and misspelled words always graced the page. He’d adapted to reading his companion’s atrocious handwriting, but a certain something else caused him alarm.

The last letter he’d read from Pinky around Christmastime was…let’s just say it raised a lot of unfamiliar emotions within Brain. He wanted to look at it when Pinky wasn’t around, mostly so he wouldn’t see any intense reactions that the megalomaniac elicited. “I don’t think I should read this now…”

“Nope!” Pinky interrupted. “Read it, please! The gift will make sense afterward! I pinky promise. Cross my paws and hope to poit!”

“Fine.” Brain groaned, there was no discouraging Pinky after his sacred vow. He opened the letter; he was intrigued by how many words were on the page. And, while not perfect, Pinky’s handwriting was very neat, and it appeared that the spelling was competent.

He must’ve spent a lot of time writing this.

Pinky perked up for a moment. “By the way, I used my handy-dandy spellchecker to write this for you, Brain. I wanted everything to be as perfect as you are!”

Blush arose in Brain’s cheeks, not only from the sincere compliment, but since he now knew that Pinky had used the spellchecker that he’d gotten for him all those years ago. He sighed once and began reading.

Dearest Brain,

Hello! Ha-ha! Narf!

This insipid phrase again? Not a very telling sign.

Listen, I know I’m not the best at words, especially since I’m not the brightest bulb in the shed if you know what I mean. But I just want to say, when we became a happier-than-happy couple, I almost couldn’t believe it! I’ve known you for years and years, Brain. I feel like I know you better than I know myself.

What.

You’re hard-working, honest, smart, kind, caring, and extremely handsome. I adore your big chubby head and your smarty-smartness and your funny words and your sleeping noises. You’re my bestest friend, even if we fight and you bop me on the head and yell. By the way, the bops don’t bother me and whenever you yell, your gorgeous voice makes me swooooooon!

Oh.

 I hate it when you get neglected for your attempts to take over the world. You get so sad and that makes me sad. But you never give up and that’s amazing! I want you to succeed, Brain. I want you to do it so badly. You deserve a happily ever after, more than anyone else.

Oh.

Even if you don’t rule the world, I would have lived the greatest life because you were with me. You mean everything to me, and I love you so, so much.

Love? Truly?

If there is one mouse I’d want to spend my forever with, it would be you. It was always you, even during our fights and non-talking time.

Was that all he wanted? To spend a lifetime together?

You’ll always be my chubby hubby, even if we never marry, which is fine! Your decision! But I hope, I’m all yours because you are all mine, every day of the month and year and hour!

Why, Pinky?

Love your #1 boyfriend,

Pinky

PS: When you hold me and kiss me, I feel like I’ve conquered the world. Poit!

PPS: I LOVE YOU, BRAIN!

The words hit him like a freight train at full speed. As Brain kept reading the letter, he felt his mind turn to mush and his heart ache to a painful degree. He sensed a lump forming in his throat, tears pricking his eyes at such a rapid pace. When the letter ended with his partner happily proclaiming to be his number one boyfriend, he sniffed once, trying with all his might to push away the tears. And when Pinky added on that when Brain kissed him and held him, he felt like he’d conquered the world, Brain let a quiet sob slip out.

He read the letter repeatedly, each time he could feel the love Pinky had added to it within his chest. The excess moisture in his eyes fell, with him making no attempt to cease. It had been such a rough day, but his incredible boyfriend remedied all his sorrows.

Yes, boyfriend.

It felt fitting to call him that.

Brain was so lost in his mixed emotions that he almost forgot about the actual present entirely. At least until Pinky reminded him.

“Brain.” Pinky spoke so delicately, like he knew that Brain would’ve reacted this way. “Don’t you wanna open the present? Narf! It’s very important.”

He could only stare at Pinky’s gentle expression, the tears flowing continuously. “S-sure. I g-guess it w-wouldn’t hurt.” He struggled with forcing any coherent words to be said.

 The pink-eyed mouse pulled the lid off the box and pushed the colorful tissue paper out of the way. The first item he saw was all too familiar, yet he thought it was gone forever. It was a small keychain with a globe on one end. It sparkled radiantly in the light. He picked it up and gasped.

“Pinky, is this…?”

“Yes, Brain. I found your globe keychain last week! In a cabinet, behind those heavy books you read all the time. I thought it would be such an amazing surprise to give it to you again, just because I know how much you love it! Troz!”

“I thought I lost this.” Brain felt lightheaded. He could only gape at the keychain that meant the most to him. It just vanished a while ago, and at first, he pretended like he didn’t care. But secretly, he’d ran to a secret corner of the lab and cried his eyes out, devastated that he’d lost Pinky’s precious gift to him. And now, his companion had given him the thing that symbolized their relationship. His goals and desires. “T-thank you Pinky. I-I’m grateful for…” He felt another sob coming, but Brain pushed back.

“That’s not all that’s in there.” Pinky leaned over Brain’s shoulder, pointing to the box. Brain returned to searching through the paper, finding something else indeed.

It was a locket, a red heart shaped one. It looked really expensive and very high quality. Brain was tremendously impressed.

Pinky pet Brain’s head gently. “Truth is, I might’ve used the lab card for oneeee little purchase that I thought was important. I’ve been working on these gifts for months and I knew that this would be perfect for you. Open it!”

With still teary eyes, Brain opened the locket. He felt himself shake a little with what he saw. On the left half, there was a tiny picture of Pinky and him kissing; it was their first photo together as a couple from a few months back. That had been one of the greatest days of his life and Pinky had given him a reminder of it. There was also something written into the right half. It said:

You’re My World, Brain!

Below that was Pinky’s wonderfully strange signature, with everything being surrounded by miniscule hearts.

Brain could not take it anymore. Seeing the personalized locket with their love permanently etched into it was such an emotional rush. He put the locket down and collapsed onto his knees, pressing his paws against his face as he burst into loud and uncontrollable sobs. He felt so cherished. Pinky really, really loved him. He was appreciated by the most important thing in his life. That was all that mattered.

As the shorter mouse cried harder than ever before, Pinky sat down on the floor and pulled him into a hug, their bodies pressed together. Brain sobbed hard into his partner’s chest, not even caring that he was making a mess. He just held Pinky tight and let all of his feelings that had been building up all night out. Pinky rubbed his back, placing light kisses on Brain’s head. He wasn’t upset, rather he was eternally grateful. How had he, of all feeble creatures on this miserable planet, ended up with the kindest, most generous mouse to ever exist?

After a few minutes of nothing but crying, Brain sniffled, the tears ceasing. He glanced upward at Pinky, who had the softest smile on his face, making the megalomaniac melt inside. “Did you like your presents, Brain? Zort. Did I do a good job?” Pinky asked while continuing to massage Brain’s back.

Brain felt himself stir, his heartrate increasing. “Yes, dear.” He nuzzled Pinky’s nose. “Your gifts were commendable, and I couldn’t be more pleased with your dedication to me.”

His companion beamed, hugging Brain tight. “I’m so happy, I could just run around all fun-fun-silly-willy! Thank you for everything, Brain!”

“No, thank you, Pinky. For everything you’ve done tonight.” He un-did their embrace but kept his paws on his partner’s chest. “I-I’m flattered, truly I am. But I believe it is my turn to surprise you.”

Pinky looked confused, followed quickly by curiosity. “What do you mean, Brain? Did you get me a gift too? You shouldn’t have!”

“Yes, I did.” Brain felt a dark blush cloud his cheeks. “Look up, Pinky.”

The lanky mouse tilted his head upward towards the ceiling of their cage. Precisely at their exact location, a string of mistletoe hung above them, swinging slightly. Pinky’s face lit up instantly, an obvious blush present.

“Brain…is that…can we…? Egad!”

Brain nodded. “It’s tradition for two people in love to kiss underneath the mistletoe. It would be preposterous if we didn’t honor that. So…uhm…I suppose we can just…”

“This is the best gift ever, darling!” Pinky was shaking about in excitement; it was almost concerning.  “You don’t have to ask me twice! I adore our kisses! C’mere you wonderful mouse!”

Pinky pulled Brain closer, pressing their lips together in a tender motion. Brain was quite taken aback by how forcibly Pinky had pushed them into the kiss, but his initial shock dissipated and was replaced by a warm sensation filling his entire body. He placed his paws on Pinky’s cheeks, taking notice of how heated they were. He felt Pinky’s arms wrap around his waist, their proximity increasing dramatically. Brain moaned as the kiss deepened.

They parted for air, but it was only temporary. Brain immediately grabbed Pinky’s cheeks again and they kissed, even more intensely than before. He didn’t understand how Pinky could be so good at kissing, especially since he hadn’t kissed anyone before they’d became a thing. But Brain was always amazed by what his boyfriend could do, despite his below-average intellect. He sank into this kiss, noticing how Pinky tasted like gingerbread before pulling away to breathe.

Pinky huffed, his face beet red and his eyes widened in glee. “Oh, Brain! I love you so much! Narf!” he cooed quietly. “Merry Christmas.”

Brain peppered kisses along Pinky’s neck, causing the taller mouse to giggle fervently. He smiled at his partner, his mind a mess of romantic thoughts and of his Pinky. “I love you too, Pinky. Merry Christmas.”

“Uhm, honey, we’re still under the mistletoe! I don’t think our little tradition thingy is done yet.” Pinky fluttered his eyes and made a kissy face.

Brain smiled. “I suppose you are right. Shall we continue?”

Pinky’s face heated up. “Yes, we shall. Poit!”

Their lips met again, their kissing session continuing once more. As Pinky leaned into him, Brain felt wonderful. He savored the sound of every moan, sigh, and chuckle, holding them in his subconscious as little reminders. His holiday season had grown a lot brighter, especially with such an incredible and loving boyfriend by his side.

Pinky was by far his greatest gift.

Such a merry Christmas indeed.

(Happy Holidays!! @animaniacssecretsanta)

[newttxt]

pls read the zosan fic “utilities included” and enjoy sanji making his own life as miserable as possible in plain view of his new roommate

from ch. 1 of utilities included (mind the tags and rating)

masterpost

[trensu]

Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants. 

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration. 

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

--

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

--

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

--

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me. 

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it. 

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond. 

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.” 

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[bonchobrick]

Dead on Main au where Jason is of course Danny’s Fright Knight and like all knights do he has a weapon—except it’s his gun.

The batfam + justice league + everyone (except ghosts duh) don’t know that his normal average everyday gun is actually like a super powerful spiritual soul shooter that is, yaknow, capable of blasting someone into an alternate dimension where their greatest fears become real.

So imagine there’s like a big battle where a ghastly ghoul reigns terror on Gotham. The world sends their best hero’s—wizards and occultists are notably high highest in demand—to stop the ghost but, nothing works. All of the weapons and spells and chants fail.

But,

As the fights worsens and the heros scream for people to flee suddenly--

Loud squeaking footsteps echo across the ground. Jason yawns strolling into the battle zone in a ghostbusters t-shirt plaid pants bunny slippers--he strolls up in pajamas--as if annoyed at being woken up and cocks his fucking normal 'i could buy you at walmart' gun at the ghost.

His brothers screech at him yelling ”Are you insane” and to "get the hell out of here" in fear and panic because their idiot brother is trying to kill a real life ghost with a damn gun.

But then Jason shoots the ghost and it works.

The ghost fizzles down with a cry into just a little blob.

The young man then spends 30 minutes lecturing the spirit saying things like “you’re glad I’m not calling the big guy” and “you know our highness would not be happy learning what you’ve been doing” before taking out a thermos of all things and sucking the ghost into it.

Jason then sighs and walks away as if he hadn’t just defeated a hell raising ghost with a gun people can buy off a corner pawn store and a soup container.

Immediately the bat family swarms him with questions

Dick grabs him by his shoulders tense with worry, “Are you okay?”

“Um yeah—“ Jason tries to reply squirming in his hold

Damian cuts him off, “How the hell did your gun a physical weapon hurt that ghastly demonic spirit!”

“Uh that ghost is actually pretty chill you guys just pissed him off." Jason replies plain

They stare at him with a look saying 'you did not call a ghost that has been decimating gotham chill' probably because he did just that.

Tim is the first to break out of the disbelief stupor as he very inteligently says, "What?"

Jason responds easily with a confused quirk in his brow, "Second, my gun affects entities of all sorts, perks to my job and all that."

"How did being a vigilante and also probably crime boss give you a gun that could do that?" Dick asks

Jason sends him a look saying "are you an idiot" as he replies, "Yea, sure, kicking petty thieves and druggies got me my all powerful spirit weapon--No you dumbass, it's from being the bodyguard of the King of the Infinite Realms! How the hell did you guys not think of that!”

Tim breathes in, then breathes out, then breathes in again and screams, "Why the HELL WOULD WE THINK OF THAT JAY?!"

"The--" Batman, suddenly beside them, chokes, "Bodyguard of T-the what."

Jason blinks at his family then his eyes widen, "Oh shit."

"What?!" His family screech in panic

"Oh fuck," Jason says with a growing hysteric smile, "Danny's gonna have a big ol' fucking laugh with this."

"Brother who is Danny!" Damian demands for an answer

Jason coughs into his palm, "Oh yeah you guys really dont dont know. So I may have forgotten to explain some... things."

Bruce levels him with a stare that says "you think?"

Jason chuckles nervously, "So y'know how I'm half dead?"

pause

Damian very eloquently responds for the suddenly dying screaming combusting members of his family, "...sure."

"Well I met the King of the afterlife which is like the Ruler of Everything and he was really cute--" Jason says distant in his own world

"Theres a afterlife?" Superman asks casually appearing beside the emotionally wrecked family

"Yea its pretty cool. So I start flirting a bit with the guy and we hit it off, I now im his zombie ghost knight boyfriend lover for all time. Oh and i got this sickass gun." Jason says with a happy grin

"That is a pretty sick gun." John Constantine nods

"I know right?" Jason chirps

"You wouldn't mind if I inspected--" John reaches his hand

Jason slaps it away, "Not a chance you soul whore. Y'know your basically the tax evasionist of the Ghost Zone right?"

John only sighs and leaves

"But yea so I'm like the ghost world equivalent to married with the king and became his knight and thats how I was able to stop that ghost guy." Jason reiterates as if explaining a simple question, "Y'guys get that?"

Tim is on the ground trying to decide whether; sobbing hysterically, interogating jason to find out all the things he doesn't want to know or sleeping would be a better use of his time.

Dick has decided to blame himself and has started to draft a reddit post in the middle of the street starting with "I (23 m) have a younger brother (19 m), who I used to resent but really regret now, he died and came back and doesn't even tell me about what goes on in his life anymore. How do I fix our--"

Damian is just staring at the gun and... Jason pushes it deeper in his holster and shifts to the side, better to be safe than sorry with this thieving shit.

As Jason adjusts his weaponry he hears Bruce sob in the background, "He didn't even invite me to the wedding! Am I that horrible of a father!"

Wonder Woman pats his shoulder reasuringly whilst the rest of the League seem to be trying to calm him down

Jason looks around tiredly at the mess he had created and decides fuck it

"Alright I'm heading out for the night, you guys get home safe!" He yells and without caring to listen to anyone and everyone voicing their confusion he zips open a green portal and stumbles in

He crashes down on an unbelievably comfortable bed

Danny blinks blearily before sending the young man a sleepy smile, "Hey Jay, what kept you up so long?"

Jason slipping under the blankets with a yawn says, "You would not believe the night I just had."

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

Edit: UMM HII The fic is out now here!! you guys are awesome I'll post the new chapter 2 in a hot sec after editting ^^

[i-am-a-fan]

“Miscommunication” - Lmk Pirate Au comic.

Ko-fi — LMK Pirate Au Masterpost

Text under cut

Redson: Ms. Long, I demand that you grant me back the samadhi fire.

Mei: Is that all you ever think about?! Mk is hurt, and the first thing you talk to me about is that stupid fire?

Mei: Time and time again, I watched as Mk tried to vouch for you. Even after we found out YOU started this mess.

Mei: And all you ever talk to me about, is the weapon that almost took his life?!

Mei: I hope you’re happy making your parents proud hurting the people who care about you the most.

[magicinbardsong]

IM CRYING

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 4

You finally find your way into the labyrinth, coming across some new and old faces; both friendly and malicious.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, reader is getting tired of being stuck here and smelling like a bog

Content Warnings; Swearing, some talk of death, reader passes out

Word Count; 2.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

As per usual, don't put my work into AI.

You were finally making some decent progress, what, with not being stuck in some bog and knowing somewhat of where you were going. A vast improvement really! Well, it would be, but unfortunately, you still reeked of rotten eggs and skunk — apparently the bog stench only got worse the longer it stayed on.

“Why did it have to dump me into the swamp,” you huffed, rounding yet another corner. “Like, it could have dumped me beside the water, but, no, no, let’s dump the magicless human right into the putrid bog water! A good guffaw, don’t you think? Ha ha ha HA!”

At least your au de Bog of Eternal Stench kept any would-be assailants away since you hadn’t run into anything (besides a rose bush, ouch) since you started making your way through the labyrinth. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad… damn, maybe your sense of smell was just used to it… hey, if stink helps you not die, then you would gladly stay stinky! Well, bitterly stay stinky is more like it.

“Assholes,” you muttered, rounding another corner. 

But it wasn’t a corner; it was a crossroad. Three paths merged off of the one you were on.

… aren’t labyrinths just one long line? THIS IS A FUCKING MAZE?! You groaned, looking at your possible options which all looked exactly the same.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Of course nothing is easy here, no no no! Gotta make things difficult now.

The hedge behind you rustled, and you whipped around, getting into a stance where you could either land a pretty good sucker punch to the hedge-stalker or make a mad dash away. But out of the hedge crawled out a small, fuzzy, caterpillar. And back at home you would have thought it was cute, but you learned your lesson from the doors; don’t trust it, or anyone for that matter.

You looked down at the caterpillar, and the caterpillar looked up at you, blinking slowly. 

What are the chances… 

“Do you know a way out,” you asked the caterpillar, crouching down so that you didn’t tower over it.

The caterpillar blinked at you again (apparently caterpillars in the Underground have eyelids, which isn’t the weirdest thing considering everything). “No,” it chirped and continued crawling on its merry way, wherever that may be. “But you’ll find the way.” And it disappeared into the growth of the maze, humming a little tune to itself.

You sighed, and pushed yourself back up, straightening out your shoulders and looking up to the sky. “I’ll find a way,” you breathed, looking up at the cloudless sky which was starting to turn a brilliant amber with the setting sun. “I might want to find a way is more like it.”

You looked back down to the ground, looking at the three paths in front of you. They all look the same, save for the ground making up paths themselves, with the middle and right paths looking well worn with travel. And while they may be well worn, there was a voice at the back of your head that was whispering caution. The left-most path was not as well travelled, with dead vines covering parts of it.

“Hopefully you’re right, little buddy since I could use all the luck I can get.” And you made your way down the path, hoping that it was the correct one and didn’t lead you to your death or some other unpleasant thing.

…

…

Lilia was at the entrance of the labyrinth, in front of the two doors.

“Have you seen a human, about this tall, a bit of a temper, and smelling foul,” he asked the doors.

The doors looked at each other before looking at Lilia. “And what’s it to you,” they said in unison.

Lilia smiled, but it was one of mild annoyance, not joy or amusement. “Royal orders I fear. You wouldn’t want the mistress finding out about you both tampering with a royal matter, would you?” The smile turned cat-like since Lilia had backed them into a corner.

The doors paled, with the blue door speaking up. “No no, sir! We would never dream of such a thing!!! Yes, there was a human, a wretched one at that, horribly rude!”

Lilia hummed, cocking a brow at the door. “I do think wretched is a bit of an overstatement now,” he whispered to himself. “Well, tell me where about they are then. The sooner I can collect them, the better for you lot.”

The red door sighed, “Near the heart of it, they took the left path.”

Left path? Why the left path leads to… Shit. Lilia mentally groaned, knowing that regardless of the path you took, you would end up having to deal with them eventually. “Your cooperation has been noted,” is what he said though, giving the doors both a nod before turning into a bat and flying over the labyrinth, trying to find you before you ran into whoever them was.

“Please be clever enough not to die,” he whispered to no one, hoping that he didn’t have to deliver your body to the Queen.

…

…

The left path brought you to what looked like a forest; with old-growth trees, ferns and moss covering the ground, and a list mist hanging in the air. It was peaceful and beautiful, with the setting sun illuminating the mist without burning it away.

But that would not last, night was fast approaching and you had nothing to protect you this time; no rowan tree to haul your ass up, and no sort of weapon to protect yourself besides the oh-so-lovely smell of the bog to deter something from eating you. You were pretty sure it would also keep away anything that wanted to otherwise snatch you up.

“AH!” Something jumped out from a tree, and you couldn’t fully register what it was since you were also screeching, much like the creature was at you; you with fright, the creature with amusement and joy.

Two other creatures jumped out from behind the trees and startled cackling, jumping, and clapping. Together, they surrounded you, with no way to really escape them without fighting through.

… you really should have read about fae species, since you didn’t know what they exactly were, or how dangerous they were either. 

One pulled you near a pit and lit a fire, cackling in glee and dancing, trying to get you to join them. “Ah come on, human, have some fun! DANCE BABEY!!!!”

But you stayed still as more creatures came out of the shadows, dancing around the fire, giggling, cackling, and pulling a bit at your clothes to prompt you to join them. You didn’t know, cementing your feet down, your eyes watching their movements with caution.

‘Should you dance with the fae, you shall not stop dancing until you exhaust yourself. And once you wake up, you will continue dancing. This cycle will repeat itself until you dance to death.’ 

At least that was what the book said, and so you stayed still, regardless of how much the creatures pulled at you. While it looked like a grand old time, you remained where you were.

“I don’t have time for dancing,” you answered coldly, flinching from pinching fingers. You were also a bit shocked that Eau de Bog of Eternal Stench wasn’t keeping them away. Either, they couldn’t smell, or, they didn’t care that you smelled downright awful. “So this ‘baby’ won’t dance.”

And should I be offended by you calling me ‘baby’ or am I reading too much into it?

The main creature just shrugged and spun its dancing partner around. “Your loss human! More fun for us then! YIPPEE!!!” And it threw something in the fire to where you could feel the heat on your face.

What now? You were just standing there awkwardly as the creatures danced about, singing something that you couldn’t really make out. All you knew was that the heat, noise, and the dizzying dance of them was making your head pound, and throat scream in thirst. You hadn’t drank anything for over a day(?) — no, bog water did not count — and the heat from the fire made the thirst only worse. Shit.

“Ah, you don’t look too… hot there human,” one of the creatures snickered at its own joke at your expense. “Maybe if you dance with us, loosen up and have a bit of fun, then you can have a drink? Hmm? Dancing won’t kill you!” But its failed attempts at covering up its own malicious giggles were more than enough to stand your ground… which was coming at you quite fast since you practically collapsed.

Was it the thirst? The pounding migraine that wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and hide? Or your exhaustion from making that tiring trek, crawling yourself out of the bog and making the trek again, or the hours you had spent wandering around the maze with no real idea of where you were going? All you really knew was that you were now on the ground with the creatures poking at you to see if you were still alive.

“Aw, man! Are they already dead? That’s no fun!” One of the creatures pouted, raising up your arm, and you let it plop back to the ground. “Come on human! Get up! You’re not a party pooper are you?”

Scre you buddy! Can’t you read the situation?!

You were trying your best to stay quiet, which wasn’t all that hard, since all of your energy was gone. 

“They best not be,” a familiar voice called out.

From your position, you couldn’t see who it was, but you could make out the creatures jumping away from you like you were the hot fire instead of the fire pit. But someone else was approaching until you could make out a pair of shoes in front of your face.

They crouched down beside you, placing their fingers gently at the base of your throat; taking your pulse. “Hmph, playing dead, are we, Beastie?”

That irritating chuckle. The annoying nickname. Those mischievous magenta eyes that now looked at you with curiosity and amusement.

It was him — Mr. Sparkles.

And he had just blown your act of playing possum (well, not really, since you had actually collapsed).

But you didn’t say anything, instead favouring to give him a dirty look. Yet he just shook his head in jest, and proceeded to pick you up and wrap you around his shoulders and neck like some sort of bizarre ermine pelt; better than being carried like a sack of potatoes or the bridal carry you supposed.

“Her majesty sends her regards for not turning or killing her guest,” Lilia offered the creatures. It would be such a waste and pity to see such an entertaining Beastie leave us too soon now. “But do know she won’t take to their condition lightly.”

My condition? I’m not some Victorian child with some unknown illness wreaking havoc on their body you know?! But all that you did was groan and cough. You couldn’t even cough in Mr. Sparkles’ (Lilia’s) face, since you had a lovely view of the moss-covered ground and the fae’s shoes.

He patted the back of your calves, and you would have kicked him if you had more energy, but you didn’t. “Now, we really should be off, since Beastie has… an hour to get out of this maze before they turn into some sort of worm, or a hedge; never know what this old labyrinth will decide on really.” Lilia chuckled at the thought (was it merriment, or was he happy that you weren’t joining the caterpillar you met earlier?).

“No,” you wheezed. “WoRm!”

“See! They said it themself! No worm! How lovely that we are on a similar wavelength, Beastie! Marvellous even!” Lilia exclaimed, and the both of you started levitating off of the ground. “Now, do enjoy your party, Fireys!”

The creatures (Fireys apparently) groaned but got back to their party, dancing around the fire like they didn’t just try to lure you to your death mere minutes before.

“Tsk tsk, Beastie,” Lilia’s tutting brought your attention back to him and you grumbled. “You owe me two favours now, you know. Lucky that I found you… although that part wasn’t hard. I thought you learned your lesson the first time you decided to take a dip into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

You lightly kicked him, letting your irritation be known, but Lilia just hummed. “Now now, no need to be like that! Do you want to smell like a bog when you meet the mistress? She wouldn’t take kindly to your… unique aroma.”

You hissed out a breath since he decided to pinch at your ear rather harshly — prompting for you to answer. “No,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Also, do read up on that book, since you will want to know about the government and fae species etiquette!”

From a smelly bog and fumbling around a maze for hours on end, to finding yourself being taken to fae high society… was it too late to become some worm in the maze? I think being a worm actually has a better chance of me living.

But sadly, you were saved from an eternity of being a worm. Hopefully, Mr. Sparkles (Lilia) would cover for your blunders a little for when you found yourself in front of ‘the mistress’.

...

...

...

...

To be continued!

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @cheezy-moon @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

Link to Masterlist

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 5

Part 1 Part 4

Eddie’s filled a shitty back-to-school backpack with anything useful he can find. There’s more wet wipes, and gauze, antiseptic, and a hammer. He’s got a lighter, a few newspapers, and a few shitty plastic cups. In a fit of whimsy, he stuffs a pack of playing cards in there as well. 

They go.

Hawkins is bigger than he remembers. Eddie’s not sure if it’s just the fatigue, the general atmosphere of this place, or it’s just another fucked-up thing that’s just a little off about this place. Hawkins, but not.

And god, he didn’t ever think he’d be homesick for Hawkins. His trailer, sure. Wayne, of course. But Hawkins? No way.

But he’s pretty sure he’d give his left kidney to be walking down 2nd street with all its residences clutching their pearls and crossing the street to avoid him. 

The street stretches out before him unnaturally. It’s quiet. There’s ash in Harrington’s hair where he walks by his side. Eddie’s never felt more out of place in his life.

“Do you think we’ll make it back?” he whispers. It’s so quiet, it feels like his words bounce across the town, anyway.

Harrington’s gait stutters. It could be from his fucked up feet. Eddie doesn’t think so. His brows pinched, lips pursed, skin golden under its ashen sheen.

“Someone will have noticed us missing by now, right?” He doesn’t sound sure. Eddie can’t fathom why.

“It’s…Sunday, Right?” Eddie asks, not waiting for an answer before continuing, “I’m supposed to be at band practice. The guys will notice.”

Harrington nods, starts walking again. 

“What about you?” Eddie asks.

Harrington’s eyes are shifting back and forth like he’s watching the ghosts of the real world in this fucked up mirror dimension. Hell, maybe he can. 

“Nancy noticed,” he says, quiet enough that Eddie barely picks up on it. He’s looking down at his feet and he looks small. Unsure. Before he looks up at Eddie from the corner of his eye. “Right?”

Eddie looks at this guy he’s hated for years, this guys who Eddie’s sure didn’t even notice him enough to hate him back, and says the only thing he can, “Right.”

“She’s smart.”

“Wheeler seems like a baddess,” Eddie says, even though she doesn’t. It makes Harrington smile down at his borrowed shoes. 

Eddie reaches out, squeezing lightly at Harrington’s elbow in comfort before skipping a few steps ahead, feeling his ears burn red. Harrington jogs to catch back up. They walk in silence after that.

The walk down the winding path surrounding the quarry is harrowing. It’s long, sure, but the way the red sky is reflecting back off the water’s surface has his gut sinking into his boots and weighing his feet down. It doesn’t look promising.

It looks even less promising up close. But beggars can’t be choosers, and Eddie feels one second away from falling to his knees and begging to a deity he doesn’t believe in.

He pulls out one of the stupid plastic cups, toes of his boots dipping into the red water as he bends over the reservoir and fills the cup, handing it to Harrington. Might as well take advantage of his tagalong jock test dummy,, and all that. 

Harrington grabs it from him, staring down at it dubiously. He tips it sideways, eyeing the liquid speculatively as it pours out of the cup and onto the concrete at his feet. 

It’s hard to tell if it’s actually red, even watching it drip onto the ground. The light’s too fucked, but it’s at least transulscent. It’s not blood, or at least not only blood. Eddie’s more concerned about the ash mixed in, to be honest.

Harrington’s still staring down at the remains of his cup like he’s not sure what to do with it. 

“Don’t drink that,” Eddie says.

Harrington doesn’t reply, but he can feel him watching as Eddie digs through his bag, pulling out a drugstore T-shirt and the second cup. He snatches Harringtons cup from his fingers, puts the T-shirt overtop, and then puts the other cup on top of that, before flipping the cups quickly.

Some of the liquid splashes out as it pours into the second cup, but most of it makes it to its rightful destination. Eddie pulls the T-shirt away and eyes the cup. He pours it out again, humming in pleasure and there’s no ash floating in the puddle at his feet.

A glance in the original cup makes him gag. Harrington siddles up to peer over his shoulder at the congealed black sludge left at the bottom, smeared with ash and dirt.

“I’m glad I didn’t drink that,” Harrington says.

Eddie laughs, handing the remnants of the second cup back over to Harrington. The look in the other boy’s eyes tells Eddie he knows he’s the guinea pig in this arrangement, but he gamely takes a sip. Eddie holds his breath when Harrington makes a disgusted face, but when he doesn’t keel over and die, he takes another sip. 

“Tastes like shit,” Harrington says, downing the rest. 

When Eddie filters the next cup, he can’t help but agree. It tastes like too-strong coffee mixed with blood, and Eddie’s never liked coffee. 

“How’d you learn to do this?” Harrington asks as the squat next to each other, Eddie filtering water, and Harrington filling the water bottles they’d collected from Melvald’s.

“I didn’t,” Eddie says, wringing the T-shirt out. When Harrington scoffs, he continues. “I just read about it in a book one time, and thought maybe it’d work.”

Harrington snorts. It sounds like a pig. Eddie hates himself for finding it endearing.

“You’re such a nerd,” he says, nudging his shoulder into Eddie’s. From his crouched position, Eddie almost goes tumbling into the water, but Harrington snags his shoulder and yanks him abc, laughing all the while.

“Fuck off, man,” he says, but it lacks its usual heat. 

It’s hard to completely hate a guy who dragged you bodily out of a window and away from your untimely demise. It’s hard, but damn if Eddie’s not going to try.

They fill the water bottles. It takes longer than it should, as Eddie tries to find clean enough spot on the T-shirt to make filtering the water any more even possible, but they manage.

Eddie doesn’t put the soiled garment in his backpack before slinging it onto his shoulders. It’s heavier now, but something in him eases with the time they’ve gained with the water. Days of survival has now stretched out to weeks.

He thinks of that Thing again and wonders if that’s a good thing at all. With the way Harrington is grimacing as he slings his own pack onto his shoulders, he’s having similarly grim thoughts.

They both stare up at the steep path they’d come down, hours before.

“What now?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs, and starts trekking back up the hill. Without any better ideas, Eddie follows.

Part 6

[wisteriagoesvroom]

happy "breaching the top 10 f1 rpf pairings on ao3" day to landoscar nation 🎂 because it's all about.... two people that are so much the same yet so different. australia vs the uk. oscar's cool collected calm versus lando's ricocheting personality. twitch streams and side hustles and multiple endeavors vs singlemindedness of racing. purity of craft vs embracing everything life throws at you and trusting that it'll all work out. the rivalry that isn't (well it is, but not really). pushing each other to be better. making heart eyes in a taylor swift video, reaching out to your teammate in silverstone after surviving a media maelstrom and him being pleased and stepping closer because he's been given permission to. making fun of your resident weeb for reading the words "kit kat" but just in a japanese accent.

it's being so ridiculously competitive that you'll hide in a burning bin in the name of fun for a game with made up points and then squinting at your teammate ringed with the bright light of the sun and laughing at how stupid this all is. it's making fun of your teammate's music taste that you can hear through the thin walls of the drivers' rooms. trusting the journey. mimicking each other's body language. knowing it's for the marketing but winking at the camera together anyway, like we're all invited to be in on the joke. two parallel lives woven in two different garages with almost identical specs. being so comfortable you have this weird rapport that is kind of a cipher and unknowable to anyone outside of the immediate network or team, but it's so assured and quiet that for the first time the person who's been the person who was once the younger teammate steps up, acts older now, and becomes comfortable with the silence.

it's knowing your best friend was on their renault team and not saying anything about it in public but the motorsport world is so small and specific and the experience so surreal that surely some laylines are just strangely predestined. it's about growing up together. it's watching the brit upstart in a generation of two other brit upstarts chase his dream and give up everything to win and get velcroed to the seat because he's kind of small, just like you, but you dream bigger than anyone dares to dream and you identify with the other's self belief that says you, too, could stand on that top step one day. it's you following the little blue-suited guy racer on social media and liking sooo many of his posts over the years, and not even bothering to hide that fact when you've probably become that goalpost for someone else one day, too.

it's chapter 2, with 3 more to go. it's watching your teammate win his first sprint race and finding it in yourself to be happy for him even when you're sad that it wasn't you. it's publicly saying that the rookie is not a threat, he's a threat who makes you race better. it's making fun of newbie's first day at mclaren and finding him unknowable. and he arrives with all this hype and pressure so what can you do but focus on you and step up your game, but he's always in the background and the periphery, chasing and chasing with this hunger that is unbelievable and unfamiliar because it's always humming in a way that made you mistake stillness for idleness in the past. but now, you know: still waters run deep, so you swim harder, too. drop the dj-ing. become more disciplined. train more. do things that don't matter, less.

because the future is vast. the future is happening constantly if you're ready to meet it. and maybe destiny will be kind, and your names will be remembered. your name, inked on a trophy in the precious metal of kings, and dreamers. your name, inked in gold.

but today, you're 22. you're 24.

you're driving a car as fast as you can, and everything that's possible, feels like it could be possible, right now.

[quadrantadvisor]

So I went to the Danmy Phantom tag on ao3, sorted it to only show fics from 2023 and 2024, and checked to see who the most tagged characters were

Batman is currently a more popular parental figure for Danny than either of his actual parents lol

[ryssbelle]

Poppy for N2 au, it took me so long to make her design cuz I didn't really know what I wanted to do only because I feel like her design is pretty perfect.

But then I just thought about fun outfits to give her or outfits that I would find comfortable if I was wearing them and it all came together.

Poppy here is pretty much the same as here movie counterpart, as nothing really changes on her end of things other than having more insight on Branch through his brothers, and through Lief. Shes also a bit more understanding a bit earlier on because of it but it doesnt do much to change her own character arc I would say.

Bonus

Part of Poppys design was based off a design I had made for previous rulers of Troll Village/Tree

Namely Queen Protea who I designed as Poppys grandmother

Named after the Protea flower which part of her design is based off :D

In the context of this Au Protea was the one who conceptualized the tunnels while her son, King Peppy, was the one to follow through after her death

[patolemus]

I constantly think of Lucerys gaslighting gatekeeping and girlbossing his way through the war as a hostage to the Greens and I think it is too beautiful

Like, Larys Strong keeps getting in the way? Lucerys will pretend to be scared of him, create some fake proof of something nefarious he’s done (let’s the honest, the man has probably done it at some point) to show to the Council, and tell Aemond he feels unsafe with him around and that he wants his head

I imagine it would go somewhat like this:

“It was Larys Strong,” his voice echoes in the silence of the court room. Then, whispers break out, louder and louder until everyone is yelling.

The man in question looks surprised. He obviously never thought Lucerys would use this opportunity like this.

That is his problem then, for not realizing the beast that lurks beneath his skin.

“And what do you have to say for yourself under this accusation, My Lord?” Alicent asks. Her face has gone ashen, and Lucerys wonders how does it feel to have such an important ally be alienated like this.

“It is no true, of course. The Prince is probably mixing up his memories. He was in a very traumatic situation at the time,” Larys replies smoothly. It will not save him, even if this time he is innocent.

“I don’t feel safe around him,” despite his steely expression, Lucerys wills tears to well in his eyes. He grabs Aemond’s arm. “I want his head, qȳbor.”

It is not a request. It is an order.

Aemond unsheathes his sword before anyone can say anything else.

[pearlynia]

Imagine young Sirius getting chased by a bunch of ducks at the park and young Regulus laughing his ass of instead of helping

[try-set-me-on-fire]

pick me, choose me, love me

9,335 words || rated T

Eddie wants to scream. Eddie wants to talk to Buck. There are questions he should ask - Do you know when the bleeding started? How long has it been? How bad does it hurt? Are you injured anywhere else? There is a conversation he wants to have - If I leave you here I don’t know that you’ll be alive when I get back. There are protocols, in disaster situations. If you can only save one person, you save the one most likely to survive. Beyond protocol, you always fucking save the kid. Beyond that, it's our kid. It’s our fucking kid, it’s Christopher, and I am going to get him to the surface and in doing so I am going to leave you for dead. But it’s Buck, and they never really needed words to talk, and Buck is still looking at him, and Eddie knows what he'd say. He'd downplay the injury. He knows the protocol. And he’d already said it, damned him out loud, he’s going to take you back up top and then come back for me.

Tag list under the cut

@cm1031sr @buck2eddie @lillathelegend @hermscat @anxieteandbiscuits @swiftiesisters14 @shortsighted-owl @eowon @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @courtjestermerlin @soitgoghs @starlingbite @simplybuddie @goodiecornbread @bingobanjo83 @panbuckley @anatargmova @melodysims @thatnamewill-probably-change @iinryer @thebrofriends @thefangirloutof-time @librathefangirl @fernt1408 @leothil @buckley-diaz-rules @hermscat @the-little-red-queen @readeries @fjuckers @prince-buck-diaz @demieddiediazz @thebirdling @spaceprincessem @daniwib @tulipfromtheinternet @adarkbouquet @devirnis @buckitup @bog-kreature @canyouhearmyfear

[carlyraejepsans]

Halfway to the sofa, they stopped, making a small sound like a grumble of annoyance. For a second, the red glow in their eye grew faint. "Sleep," they rasped out in a low, halting whisper, "I saved you an ache in the neck." It took him a second to register that the kid wasn't talking to him. Mostly 'cause Frisk didn't speak. To him. Or ever.

Sans wakes up late into the night and sees something he shouldn't have.

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

YOU KNOW WHAT???

TIME TO--

"Brothers' Night!"

Click, click, clack, tap.

The familiar sound of his little brother's typing sounded around the corner as Sonic rounded it and made his way into the lab. Tails was zoned completely into whatever he was working on, his eyes glued onto the screen, not even shifting as he tried to reach for his juice box and swiped at empty air twice before he found it and took a sip.

Stifling an amused grin, Sonic wandered closer and leaned an arm on the fox kit's head. "Whatcha doing?"

"Uh . . . making calculations and preparations for an upgrade on the Tornado's integrated drive generator. I want it to be a bit more durable in case of another crash."

"Ah." Sonic stared blankly at the screen, deciding to pretend he knew what that meant. He nudged Tails's shoulder. "Have you eaten today?"

It took Tails a moment to respond. "Yeah, I had lunch, I think."

"You think?"

"Uh huh." Tails started typing again, then squinted at the screen and zoomed in on something.

Sonic frowned thoughtfully.

"So did you hear what Amy and Cream were up to today?" he asked, trying to test something.

"Uh."

"They went camping out in some canyons last night, and they're out hiking today! Amy said we could join them next time!"

"Yeah."

Sonic grinned and shook his head, then glanced at the clock. It was past their normal dinnertime.

In the blink of an eye, he'd rushed off, readied up the living room with blankets, pillows, and a few small tables, then dashed back, scooped his brother into his arms even as he yelped, "Hey—!" ran back to the living room, and dumped him into the couch cushions.

"What gives?" Tails demanded, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. "I was in the middle of—"

"Nope!" Sonic interrupted, striking a pose atop the coffee table. "Break time, lil bro! Or should I say, brothers' night! Complete with a meal of your choice, storytime, board games, maybe a pillow fight, a sleepover, and no screens for the rest of the night!"

"Wh-What?" Tails stammered, looking somewhere between thrilled and horrified. "But what about the integr—"

"Tomorrow, bud!" Sonic hopped onto the couch next to Tails and dragged him in for a noogie. "You, little man, have spent way too much time working in front of screens today. Do you have any idea how bad that is for your eyes? This is an intervention!"

"I suppose . . ." Tails mumbled, but he was grinning. "We haven't done this in forever."

"Precisely why this is a perfect time to do it!" Sonic flipped off the couch and regained his pose on the table, even as Tails protested that he was going to dirty up his living room with the dirt from his shoes.

And so the evening progressed. Tails convinced Sonic to take his shoes off to spare all the blankets and pillows. Tails chose pasta for dinner, and they had mint ice cream for dessert (at least, Tails did; Sonic just had chocolate, since he was a bit sensitive to mint). They played an infuriating game of Monopoly that lasted two and a half hours. Tails won, and Sonic got his revenge by chucking a throw pillow at his brother's face.

It ended up escalating into a full blown pillow fight.

Somehow that turned into a karaoke battle, which then turned into a comedy show by Sonic with lots of sassy commentary from Tails. They made popcorn and stuffed themselves with far too much junk food, until 3 a.m. hit and they found themselves lying around half-buried in the mass of pillows and blankets, each getting more and more loopy as the conversation spiraled.

"Beef can't get sick," Tails found himself mumbling. "Dead meat doesn't get sick."

"I was talking about the possibility of cows turning into zombies, not contaminated lunch meat," Sonic muttered drowsily in response, breaking into a yawn.

"If the zombie cows die, do people still get turned into zombies if they eat them?" Tails asked, his voice muffled as he spoke into a pillow.

"I thought zombies don't die."

"Well, if someone blows them up in a bomb, they'd probably die."

"They'd be disintegrated. And then no one could eat them."

"Or they'd just turn into fiery zombies."

"I don't like zombies. Can we change the subject?"

"You started it."

"No, I was talking about . . . something else entirely. You just thought I said 'beef.'"

"What were you talking about before?"

". . . I forgot."

Slowly, they both lapsed into silence, until both had drifted off to sleep. They slept in till noon the next day, and even though cleanup took a while (neither of them remembered spilling half the popcorn into the couch), neither had any regrets.

Tails had forgotten just how much he loved Brothers' Night, but he was determined never to forget again. And he couldn't thank his big brother enough for dragging him away from his work to do it.

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

BWAHAHAHAHAHA Y'ALL THOUGHT I WAS DONE FOR THE DAY??? PSYCH!!!

💙💛

I literally just whipped this up on the spot lol. I LOVE DE FLUFF!! Also the late night conversation about zombies and beef was heavily based off a near identical late night conversation I had with some friends at a sleepover a couple weeks ago 😋

Edit: here's the AO3 link