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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

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-Rivals- Hermione Granger x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: I’m using the owls grading system for the story so if that’s not right, sue me i guess idk.

Movie/Show: Harry Potter, ignoring the storyline

House/Year: Ravenclaw / 7th year

Request: Can I request a bold ravenclaw reader (her attitude almost could pass as a slytherin ngl) she's been Hermione's rival when it comes to grades and they DON'T get along very well. Reader is the opposite of mione's reserved personality. But rivals don't kiss and make out with each other secretly in the lavatory 😭 pls enemies to lovers (with some tension;) ykyk and then one day, they walk the great hall hand in hand and everyone is like don't they find each other insufferable?

Possible Triggers/Warnings: if you don’t like lesbians get the hell off my page, sexual tension, enemies to lovers trope, cursing

☼-☪-☼

love came unexpectedly at times, you learned that at young age from fairy tales and such. Well all kids did, but kids eventually grew up and came to the realization that fairy tales were exactly what they were, fairy tales. Fiction. Not real.

people could call you cold hearted or rude, but you would describe yourself as blunt or brutally honest. Never afraid to speak your mind or point out injustice when you saw fit. To put it simpler terms, professors at Hogwarts preferred you didn’t speak at times.

“Your too outspoken Ms. L/n”

“Stick to your academics Ms. L/n”

“You wouldn’t be in detention so much so if kept your mouth shut Ms. L/n”

merlin, you were exhausted of hearing your own last name. You guessed the only reason you weren’t reprimanded as worse as the Weasley Twins was because you were one of Hogwarts brightest witches, always excelled in academics, in every subject.

you couldn’t explain it to others even if you tried other then it just came naturally. Your parents, when they were attended Hogwarts were both just as naturally skilled in there studies as you were. So you must have inherited there ‘big brain’ as your mother said many times before.

you were never one to gloat though, it was never your style. You were more humble about what you could accomplish. That was until she got involved. That egoistical, hypocritical, Gryffindor girl. Hermione Granger became the bane of your existence early into your fifth year.

until then Ms. Granger had been the top of all her classes, no one even came close to her intelligence, naming her ‘The Brightest Witch At Hogwarts’ and Hermione wore that title with pride. Being a Muggle born put a target on her head as well as stereotypes.

most students and some staff almost immediately came to the conclusion she wasn’t capable of achieving goals that regular half or pure bloods could. It was a terrible way to think, but it was unfortunately the reality of being involved with the wizarding world.

Hermione was lucky to have friends like she did that cared about her no matter who she was or what she became, but it didn’t stop her need to feel validated in her academics. It was the one thing no one could giver her shit for, because she was the best at it and no one else was.

until that fateful fifth year that was mentioned earlier. It was the time when you finally got your mind and heart into your studie. You blew past most of the student body rather quickly, earning the title of the fastest turn around at Hogwarts.

it was nice

then it wasn’t, for Hermione of course

☼-☪-☼

fifth year / past

“It seems we have two students with an Outstanding this time around” Professor Flitwick spoke as the exams from the previous week had landed neatly onto the wooden desk in front of you. “congratulations Ms. Granger and Ms. L/n”

Hermione’s head perked up like a cat who had heard a bag of hard food shake from the nest room over, eager. She had never heard that name before, it didn’t come as much as an surprise though considering how big Hogwarts was. She leant to the left where Harry Potter sat.

“Who’s L/n? Do you know her?” she asked, casually though Harry knew her better then most. He gave her a half hearted shrug “No clue, try Ron” he suggests. Hermione nods once before leaning over to the right, where the Weasley sat, scowling at his exam.

“Mum’s going to kill me” he muttered, bringing no reaction to Granger’s face. He never studied. “Ron, do you know who this L/n is?” she repeated the question she gave to Harry. Ron turns his head away from the parchment and to Hermione.

his brows furrowed as he searches the corners of his mind for where he had heard the name from, until the visible light bulb popped over his head- well not so visible actually. “Oh um- Y/n L/n. she’s a Ravenclaw, her parents are certified geniuses. They work at the ministry. Department of magical education”

his words did not soothe the wracking thought in the young Granger’s mind. “Certified geniuses?” Hermione echos. “If that’s so how come she’s only getting Outstandings now? she must have cheated somehow” she thought aloud.

“I surely didn’t cheat”

like an owl Hermione’s head turned over her shoulder, her two Gryffindor pals doing the same. In her sight was a girl, her age, in a Ravenclaw robe. She had S/C skin with H/L H/C hair and E/C eyes that were staring back at her. Hermione was almost stunned into silence- keyword being almost.

“the explain the good grade all of the sudden, L/n?”

you looked rather confused. You had never met the girl and she was accusing you of cheating because you had never gotten an Outstanding before? Was this a prank of some sort or fever dream? “I studied for once. You have no right accusing me, i don’t even know you that well”

Harry placed a hand upon Hermione’s shoulder, signaling for her to stop before she caused a scene. Looking back, she should have listened “No right? I have a right to point out people who are just trying to cheat their way through school while people like us actually care about our grades”

what the Gryffindor girl wasn’t expecting was for you to start laughing. Her friend, Cho Chang joining in, finding it just as equally hilarious. Hermione’s face turned just as bright as Ron’s hair. “What is so funny?” you and Cho slowly come to a stop, breathing in and out.

“what’s funny is that your ego is so incredibly large, so much so that it can’t comprehend that someone, not a Gryffindor either was able to match your intelligence. Now shove off ” you said it all with a grin on your face, because you certainly knew you were right.

and from that day, you both despised each other

☼-☪-☼

seventh year / present

and with every exam, every questioned called on by a teacher, you fastly became Hermione’s rival. It was a term Cho used, but you didn’t really see it that way since you weren’t competing with her. You never studied harder to make sure you got the same grade, never tried to sabotage her in any way.

you didn’t care much about it actually

but you did quite enjoy her face, the way her nostrils flared up an her cheeks turned a bright red in anger. It was cute seeing her so mad. Sending er a wink or sly grin when she glared at you became a daily routine as well. When at first you ignored her you now loved annoying her.

never having to say a word was probably your favorite part.

that’s probably when feelings began to mix into it, but you either didn’t notice or refuse to acknowledge them at all. You genuinely thought you hated this girl, so why in the world would you ever think you liked her? Makes sense, right? Were not even going to mention the questioning your sexuality.

“Sit still while i pass out your exams from yesterday. Once you recieve your paper you may get up and leave”

“You think if Snape got laid he wouldn’t be such a prick?” the Slytherin boy spoke, leaning towards you. turning your head ever so slightly, you lock eyes with Draco “Why are you even sitting here?” you whisper back, giving him a mock astonished look.

he rolls his grey eyes, shrugging his shoulders “You never talk to me outside of class anymore” he grumbles. Is he- Is this- What is happening? “That’s because your a little shit and pushed Neville in the hallway yesterday” yeh, you caught his dumbass.

Draco’s eyes widen a bit, not knowing you had been in the hallway during the crime. “You saw that?- what are you his protector?” he says, clearly as an insult, but oh little did he know that you were indeed exactly what he just said and would say it with pride.

“Yes-”

“Ms. L/n, Outstanding as usual as well Mr. Malfoy. Good work, the both of you” Snape places the exams in front of each of you, but you were both to busy staring in shock. This bitter, old, mean, crude man just compliment you. Merlin, you had finally gotten fathers approval

(what in the fuck am i writing)

“Is this heaven?” Draco questioned, staring bug eyed forward.

“No”

“How do you know?”

“Cormac is here”

“Yeah your right, feelings over” both you and Draco sighed, turning to look at each other before laughing quietly. He was a pretty chill dude sometimes. “What!?” the loud screech filled your ears. All heads turned behind you, so you followed that and saw the one and only Hermione Granger.

she was huffing and puffing. You feared for the stick and straw houses in the world for a moment. Harry quickly stood up and pushed her shoulders down, forcing her back into her seat “I've never gotten an Exceeds Expectations before” Hermione sputters out.

she

got

what

now?

oh this was rich, absolutely hilarious, so much so that Draco had already began to laugh. “Poor Granger, guess you really aren’t the brightest witch” he taunted. Hermione looked up, glaring daggers at the Slytherin. Merlin, he had such a big mouth.

then her brown eyes strayed to you, but you only pursed your lips together, providing her no emotion to work off of. In a haste, she collected her things, leaving the cursed exam on the table nd rushing out the door, both Ron and Harry calling out for her.

fuck

standing up, you grab your bag and look down at Draco. His laughter comes to an end and he looks up at you “What?” he asked. You copied his dementor singers from third year, making him look at your hands. You took that time to reach down and flick his forehead.

he pulls away, his palm rubbing his head in circles “Bloody hell, what was that for?!” he exclaimed. What an idiot. “This is why we don’t hang out” you deadpan before finally going to exit the classroom, leaving a grumbling, mumbling Draco. Something about you being ‘mean friend’

☼-☪-☼

only having ten minutes until Charms class you began to search the halls. Merlin where had she run off too? The school wasn’t THAT big- okay maybe it was. You had almost called quits, making a mental note to check up on her during lunch when you passed the restroom.

sniffling and crys were heard. You’ll admit, it kind off hurt to hear. Taking a few steps backwards, you use the palm off your hand to slowly push the door open so it wouldn’t creak like the old shit it was. When it was open just enough for you to fit through, you slip in.

gazing around, you see Hermione bent over the sink, sobbing. You could hear her voice becoming rougher by the second as she destroyed her vocal cords. “Granger?” you say, staying a few feet behind her. Hermione looks up in the mirror, spotting you behind her.

her distraught expression quickly shifted to anger “You” she seethed. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion “Me?” you say back, crossing your arms. “Leave me the hell alone L/n!” she shouts, angry tears flooding down her cheeks. Raising your hands, you offer your surrender.

“Shit, sorry. I was just trying to see if you were okay” you admit. Hermione turns on her heels, facing you directly this time before speaking “Oh so now your my friend, your a bully! All you do is step on my toes and try to make me look like a fool!”

“Are you on fucking drugs Granger? Not once have i ever gone out my way to harm you of any sort. Your the one who is obsessed with trying to be better then me and i never gave a shit. I never wanted to be your rival for three years and i certainly never bullied you!”

the words you spoke went out one of Hermione’s ears and out the other. For someone as smart as her, she could be quite dense when angry “You don’t get to play the saint, L/n! I have spent those three years studying as hard as i can and you don’t even have to try!”

throwing your hands up in the air a crazy person because she was honestly starting to make your brain hurt quite a bit, you laugh loudly “Oh my- no one asked you too! What is so wrong with us being the same?! ” you shouted, finally raising your voice as much as she had.

“Because your not a Muggle! You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone you meet already assume your not worth their time just because your parents aren’t witches or wizards!” she crept towards you and which each step she took you took a step right the fuck back.

this chick wasn’t going to hit you, right?

“I have never judged you for your blood status Granger, i frankly could care less. What i do judge you for is you know, the giant ego thing” you spat back only causing her to gasp in offense “I do not have an ego!” she yells, stepping into your boundaries basically.

you had tried to back up like before, but you were pressed up against a wall at this point. “Yes you do and it’s as big as Hagrid!” you reply. Hermione grabs the collar of your white uniform shirt, pulling you down a bit so her face was inches from yours, trying to intimidate you.

“Take it back!” she threatens. In that moment your eyes scanned her face, noting her almost perfect skin, her brown eyes that looked more hazel up close then far away, and her lips. They looked so soft and inviting. You couldn’t quite understand why you were thinking like this all of the sudden.

but it felt right, so right

in a swift motion you place your lips on Hermione’s. You had thought she’d pull away, but only half a second later her arms were wrapped around your neck, pulling you as close as possible to her. You tangled one of your hands into her light brown wavy mess and the other pushed on the small of her back.

the kiss was messy and sloppy, not amount of anything really could make it appropriate. How did you two go from fighting to almost ripping each others uniforms off? A question no one could really answer but yourself as well Hermione.

it was over as soon as it began with Hermione pulling away, leaning her forehead against yours. You could make out the small smile on her face, it made you smile as well. “That was-” she started to speak, but was stopped by her own laughter.

“Yeah” you breathed out. What had just happened?

☼-☪-☼

four months later

ever since that day you and Hermione would casually meet up in the lavatory to kiss and feel up on each other after, btween, during classes. Anything really. You both had also not interacted at all outside of these visits. Just stayed away from each other as much as possible.

most people thought you two had either made up after three years of rivalry or had decided to no longer interact with each other at all. Little did they know right? Speaking of that, you pull away from Hermione, panting for air “We have divination in three minutes” you spoke.

her face turned to worry instantly making you grin to yourself “Godric, i have to get out of here. Wait a couple minutes” she gathered her belongings and rushed out the restroom not even leaving you with an goodbye kiss. How rude. After about five minutes or so you leave as well

once you get to class you look around the room and spot Hermione already sat with Harry and Ron on one side of the arch like sitting area for the students. “Y/n!” oh not again. Turning your head to the right, you spt the Slytherin boy with his mates.

this guy just doesn’t quit. You plop yourself next to Draco Malfoy “I thought you were going to ignore me again” he admits. Ignoring his statement, you gaze around the people at your table “Where’s Parkinson? If i’m going to be stuck with you gits and Theo i rather it be with her”

Theo cracks a smile while Draco rolls his eyes “She’s sick, stuck in her dorms” he explains. You nod mindlessly and look over at Hermione. She was brushing through her hair with her fingers, trying to make it look like you weren’t tugging on it just minutes ago.

“What’s that on your neck?” Harry asks, moving the top part of Hermione’s robe with his finger, causing her to swat his hand away “It’s just a bug bite” she says with haste. quick thinking, that’s kinda cute. For some odd reason you liked seeing her explain her way out of a hickey that you gave her.

class soon started, but you kept your inventive gaze on her. It was adorable how she would catch you staring and turn a nice shade of red. It brought a smug smile to your face each time. Professor Trelawney had called upon Hermione to ask a question, but she seemed to be too busy avoiding your gaze.

“My dear, Ms. Granger” Trelawney said for maybe the third time until Hermione finally fell back down to reality. She looked at the Professor who gave her a kind smile “Oh um-” the Gryffindor put on a nervous smile, her eyes looking to you. You sent her a wink.

merlin you were such an asshole

Hermione looked at her lap, trying to muster up the words, any words actually. Her savior wore glasses “Hermione isn’t feeling to well. Can Ron and i take her to the hospital wing?” Harry asked. What a buzzkill. Trelawney nods, waving her hand to the direction of the door.

Harry tapped Hermione’s shoulder while Ron grabbed her things and off they went.

☼-☪-☼

a week later

“I have to head to dinner, you should too. I saw that you didn’t eat during lunch” Hermione spoke, buttoning her uniform shirt. You smile, looking into the mirror so you could fix your hair “Watching me Granger?” you ask, turning away from your reflection.

“You know i worry about your health” she said, which only made your smile wider “What is that stupid smile for?’ Hermione questions, an amused laugh in her tone. Shrugging, you lean against the sink counter “Stupid? I thought you liked my quote on quote ‘Goofy smile’”

Hermione shakes her head, grabbing her bag from the floor “I better see you at dinner or i’ll drag you there myself” she said playfully. An idea popped into your mind. “Then drag me” you smirk, tilting your head to the left. Hermione looks at you, shaking her head again. “You know i can’t”

“Why not? It’s been four months. I would like to be your-” you stopped mid sentence. You both had never really gave each other labels before. It was always just the casual make out and flirting, but now you were much more. Fuck it “I would like to be your girlfriend in public”

Hermione’s brow eyes went wide as she heard those words. It becoming a little too real. You saw her conflicted face and immediately felt some sort of shame. Averting your gaze to the ground, you take a deep breath. “Forget i said anything”

“No!- i mean. I’m ready. Plus i’m tired of being distracted by you during class” Hermione lightened the mood just a tad. You look back up at her, cracking a half smile “I’m most likely still going to distract you” you point out, making her chuckle. Cute.

she inhales sharply “Let’s do this” she states confidently, letting out the breath. She reached out, opening her hand for you to grab. In that small gesture, you knew you would be with this woman for as long as you lived. Grabbing her hand, you intertwined your fingers with hers.

☼-☪-☼

hand in hand, you walk into the great hall. Heads turned and pupils dialated at the sight of you and Hermione walking in together. You honestly felt a little self conscious until you saw the bright smile of Cho and Luna as well as Draco who gave you a hidden thumbs up.

both you and Hermione took seat at the Gryffindor table. “So Hermione, how long as this been going on?” Harry asked. Hermione glances at you before her best friend “Four months, one week.” she said, gleaming with pride at her memory.

Harry looked taken aback at the time, but gave you both a smile “Well at least you both are getting along finally” he says, Ron nodding beside “Yeah- getting along” the Weasley jokes. You laugh a bit before leaning over to kiss the temple of Hermione's head.

rivals am i right?

☼-☪-☼

Click here to join my Taglist so you never miss a new story from me!

@the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @queeriacs @marrymetheonott

☼-☪-☼

Kody- Aye look its 10 am and i haven’t slept. Good night, my requests are open blah blah. Anyways, peace.

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seas-storyarchive · 3 years

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Random thought from my brain because reasons

What if Scrooge adopted Gyro (he's like 30ish right?) after he ran away from Tokyolk? Only Gyro doesn't know. And it all comes to light when Louie finds an old box of stuff because of course he does.

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"Well, what do we have here?" Louie sees the official looking paper and then begins to read it. "Certificate of Adoption for.." He then rushed back to the living room. [[MORE]]

"What are you looking at, Green Nephew?" Gyro's voice catches just about everyone's attention from the movie.

"Do you know that Uncle Scrooge adopted you?" Louie asks, not angry, genuinely curious. Could this explain some things?

"No, no. Mr. McDuck took me in after I came to Duckburg while I was working on a proposal to prove myself. That isn't adopting." Gyro said, catching Scrooge's attention as the duck walked into the room.

"It says it right there-" Louie shoved the document under Gyro's nose. "See?"

Gyro reads it, mumbling about children having no respect for adults, and then turns to Scrooge with his eyes wide. "I.. you.."

Scrooge sighs, looking at him. "Ah coul' nae let ye be tak'n bac' ta somewhe'e tha' ye did nae feel safe. Tha' wass tha bes' o'tion. Yo' 'ere almos' eightee', so tha' gav' yo' so'e 'ime ta star' fresh an' no 'ave ta wor'y abou' 'aving a 'ome-"

Gyro is on his knees, hugging the duck and sobbing. This duck gave him a chance, after his family had abandoned him and Akita had used him, going so far as to adopt him within a few weeks of staying at his home to give him a safety net should he need it.

"Le' it ou' lad. Ah go' ya." Scrooge hugged the young man, who he had adopted in secret to give him safety from those who would hurt him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gyro asks, still holding Scrooge in fear and not looking up at anyone.

"Ah don' 'now lad.. Ah'm sorrah Ah di'n't." Scrooge honestly wanted to tell Gyro on his birthday, but instead he gave him the old underwater lab that was still functioning to work on his inventions. Under the Money Bin, under his watch to keep him safe.

"Thank you. For everything, Dad." Gyro pulls away to wipe his tears.

Dad? That.. had a nice ring to it. "Your welcome, me boy." He turned to everyone else. "Ferge' tha mov'e, ther' 're som' thin's we need ta talk abou'."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Bentina asked Scrooge, pulling him aside into the hallway.

"Ah'm sorrah love," Scrooge sighed. "Ah wish Ah 'ad. Bu'.. Ah jus'.. 'e 'ad be'n thro'gh so much an' Ah coul' nae st'nd ta see 'im go thro'gh an'more."

Bentina sighed too, knowing that very rarely sometimes Scrooge's heart would call the shots. "Well, it will be an adjustment, but we'll make do."

Scrooge hugged her. "Tha' is why Ah love you."

Bentina hugged Scrooge back, chuckling to herself. He was an idiot, but he was her idiot.

"So, you're our cousin?" Della asked, planning ways on getting him back for years of black licorice Oxychew. But now making it worse.

Gyro nodded. "Yes, it seems so. Mr. McDad- I mean Dad- he adopted me before my eighteenth birthday so in the realms of legality I am."

"New Cousins!" Webby took photos of Boyd and Lil' Bulb and then rushed over to Gyro with her sisters. "Since Grampy adopted you-"

"Are you our uncle?" Ah yes, the yellow one.

"Please say yes! We want an uncle too!" Of course the teal one wanted one.

Gyro was flustered at the attention. "I.. suppose? You don't have to call me Uncle though." He had a feeling the girls would though.

Scrooge and Bentina walked into the room, and Gyro walked over.

"Boyd, Lil' Bulb.." Gyro called his kids over. "Allow me to introduce my father, who is your Grandfather and he will be addressed as such until he says otherwise, Scrooge McDuck."

"Scrooge McDuck. Status: upgraded to Grandfather." Boyd, after commiting the information to his memory, then hugged Scrooge with Lil Bulb. "Hi I'm Boyd! A very real boy!"

They received a hug back. "'ello me lads."

#adopted au #gyro mcduck au #ducktales 2017 #scrooge adopted gyro au #unrelated to my stepping up au #scrooge has *counts on fingers* 5 grandkids #webby may june boyd and lil bulb are his grandkids #bentina is supportive of her idiot #scroogeley #but it's subtle scroogeley #gyro gearloose #scrooge mcduck #unrelated to any of my aus

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kaitwrites · 3 years

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Part 22; Apologies

Word Count: ~3k

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, it’s finally here. First of all I’d like to say I’m very nervous lol. But also, a HUGE thank you to @garbagepale-kid for editing and proof-reading for me. Best Wife Cassie <3. Secondly, she has given me so much confidence in my writing and I love her so much for that. Once again, Cassie Best wife. Also you can follow her (18+) writing blog here. In other news I just finished my last 55 hour week at work, and I only have four more days of work before a week of vacation! Anyway, the next part will be written as well, and I hope you guys enjoy <3

You stared at your phone, watching anxiously as the minutes ticked by. After making it back to the hotel you made a beeline for the little gazebo off to the side of the property. With the late hour and it also being a weekday, you were left waiting alone in the dark, unbothered as you sat on the weathered bench. The only light came from the dim bulb that seemed to hang only by a thread from the tented ceiling. Bakugo had said he wanted to take a shower before meeting with you, but the longer you waited, the more you feared you’d been stood up.

Finally, you spotted a familiar spiky-haired shadow coming from around the corner and your heartbeat spiked in your chest.

You let out a shaky breath as he approached, relieved that he had finally shown up. “Hi.”

He offered you a rare smile, one it seemed only you got to see. “Hey.” He had stopped at the steps, not making a move to come any closer - almost unsure what to do with himself. “So…”

“So?” You questioned, your voice coming out far more confident than you thought it would.

Bakugo huffed and made his way up the few steps, sliding onto the bench beside you. The old wood creaked under your combined weight. He sat facing forward, choosing to stare out into the darkness. “So, you and Sero?” There was a bite to his tone.

Your eyes narrowed. “What about me and Sero?” You quipped back, your tone just as harsh.

You observed him carefully as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, bracing yourself for an onslaught of the usual insults you heard thrown at your friends. “What are you two?”

You were taken aback by how soft his voice was when he asked, and it took you a moment to compose yourself once more before answering him. “What does it matter to you what goes on between me and Sero?”

“Because, damn it!” He let out a hefty sigh, knotting his hands into his hair. “I thought we had something.” He hissed out through clenched teeth.

You turned away in disbelief, unsure of how to react. He planned this whole thing, the song, the apology, in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people, but he wanted to get upset with you? Act like you had been the one in the wrong this entire time? Sure what you and Hanta had was artificial, but did he really expect you to wait around while he tried to figure out how to communicate with you? It wasn’t like you two had been anything official, so what was the big deal if you had started seeing someone? The questions mounted and mixed poorly with a nearly-venomous sense of indignation, erasing any of the calm you’d been maintaining.

You threw your hands up in exasperation, ignoring the way he flinched away from the unexpected sudden movement. “You know what? I thought we did too. But then you kicked me out of your hotel room, wouldn’t tell me why! You ignored me for weeks, Bakugo! I think I deserve an explanation!”

“Fuck! I know!” He shouted, making you jump. He noticed it from the corner of his eye and took a deep breath before he spoke again, this time a little calmer.

“I knew your phone had died so I plugged it in for you. Figured I’d save you the hassle in the morning. It started going off like crazy once it turned back on and I assumed it was those idiots blowing up your phone. He slumped his shoulders, leaning back against the bench. “I was going to tell them to shut the hell up and leave you alone so you could sleep, but the messages were from some guy acting like your boyfriend or something - I got angry.”

You fisted your hands in the hem of your shirt, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the thin material. “No shit! Why didn’t you talk to me?”

His gaze shifted to the floor, unable to look in your direction after hearing the hurt and anger in your voice. “I wanted to! I knew I had upset you and I figured you’d be over it in a few days. But when Kirishima told me just how upset you were I just- I couldn’t. I’m just some asshole, and you deserve better than that. I couldn’t talk to you.”

You glared at his profile, lips pressed into a thin line, waiting for him to face you and continue. The silence stretched on for several moments, so you cut in. “You could have texted me, called me, wrote me a note, sent me a fucking email for god’s sake! But instead, I was left sitting alone agonizing over what in the hell I could have done that made you so mad at me!”

“I realized I fucked up. No matter how much I wanted to talk to you I know I’d just fuck it up and hurt you all over again.” He finally turned his gaze to you, features softening once he saw the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He ventured again, barely audible “But now I realize that not talking to you hurt you more than anything I could have done.”

You aggressively wiped at your eyes as the tears escaped, realizing you were more frustrated by the burst of tears than you were angry with Bakugo.

“You had become such a constant in my day to day life, and just like that, the familiarity was gone. You were gone. You wouldn’t even look at me. I was literally packing my bags a week and a half ago because being around you was not only uncomfortable, but it hurt.”

Bakugo shifted on the bench beside you, uncomfortable from the sudden burst of tears. He wasn’t good with his own emotions, let alone someone else's. A slew of curses ran through his brain as he tried to gather the right words to say to try to make you feel better. A stab of guilt shot through his heart watching your shoulders shake as you tried to hide your face from him. Damn, he thought, this is all my fault. He slid off the bench with an exasperated sigh, kneeling in front of you and tilting your face to meet his eyes. “Damn it, stop crying dumbass.” His hand slid up to your cheek, wiping the tears that continued to trail down your face. “Especially over some asshole.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re the asshole I’m crying over.” You spat, pushing his hands away.

“Listen. I’m not good at shit like this, alright?” His voice no longer held the softness it had just moments prior. You went to speak but he cut you off abruptly. “Just- let me talk, okay?” You nodded, letting him say his piece.

He took a deep breath, eyes pointed at the ground. “I fucked up. I know I did, alright? I’m not- I don’t know how to do stuff like this, I never cared how anyone felt before you came along. To be honest, I regretted kicking you out as soon as I did it, hearing the pain in your voice then- Even now, it’s still… I don’t even know how to describe it. But, fuck. I'm just trying to say sorry, alright?”

“It’s called guilt.” You sniffled, bumping your leg against his.

He moved back beside you on the bench, and after a moment of hesitation he pulled your legs into his lap. Your heart fluttered at the sudden movement, and you were tempted to remove your legs from his light grip, but it felt right. You sighed and let yourself relax into him and he wrapped his free arm around you as you let your head rest on his shoulder. I’m so tired of being mad at him. You thought, I want this moment with him, I don’t want to fight against it. I’ve missed him so much.

His hand came up, stroking your hair with a tenderness that surprised you, and you melted into his touch. “I know what it’s called, Dumbass.”

You closed your eyes, taking in the scent of his body wash. It smelled like the forest after it had just rained, and reminded you of all of the nights you had fallen asleep in his room while you worked on videos or watched movies together. How you would wake up snuggled up to his firm chest and he would complain that you took up all the room on the bed so he had no choice but to be so close to you. You smiled fondly at the memory and felt a few more tears fall from your eyes.

His hand rested on your knee and gently squeezed. “I thought I told you to stop crying over some asshole.” He slowly brought his hand up to wipe at your tears, assuming you would push him away once more. The weight of his hand disappeared from your head, drifting down to wipe your tears even though he was sure you’d try to push him away again. To his surprise, you let him.

You pressed your cheek into his calloused hand letting out a shaky sigh when it lingered a little longer than necessary. You looked up at him through wet eyelashes.

“Say it again.” You mumbled.

He pulled his hand back, confused. “Don’t cry over an asshole? I think twice is enough, you really need to hear it a third time?”

“No, you idiot.” You sighed, pushing his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

He smirked and placed his hand on your knee. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

This time it wasn’t surrounded by a jumbled mess of an explanation, it wasn’t a quick, quiet apology like he had done prior. It felt genuine. It was genuine. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, and you could feel the tears burning in your eyes again, but you pushed them back and let a shaky breath escape your lips.

“I forgive you, but it’s not okay. Learn how to talk to people.” You flicked him on the forehead and he grabbed your wrist, returning the motion to your forehead. “Hey!”

“I’m working on it, woman.” He let go of your wrist but slid your hand into his, gently squeezing it before dropping it completely. “Shitty Hair already told me about you and Sero, but I want to hear it from you.”

“Damn it, Kirishima!” You threw your head back, covering your face with your hands. You had asked him not to say anything to Bakugo about it, scared that it would just anger the blonde and make him never want to speak to you again, and you were aggravated that your best friend had decided to tell Bakugo instead of just letting things take their course. But suddenly, what Kirishima told you had made sense. You two are going to be the death of me. At first, you thought he meant you and Sero, but the more you thought about it, he was talking about you and Bakugo. Mina said that Kirishima had been working with Bakugo for a while, and he was probably just trying to get a handle on the situation, tired of having to go back and forth especially if it was going to be all for nothing. Kirishima never should have been caught up in the middle of the mess between the two of you, Bakugo could have talked to you, and you could have just gotten over it and made him talk to you in person, even when he was ignoring all of your messages.

You narrowed your eyes once more, crossing your arms over your chest.“You drove Kirishima just as crazy as I did, didn’t you?”

He mimicked you, quirking a brow as he crossed his arms over his own chest. “You have no proof.”

“Stop copying me, liar. I can’t believe I’m attracted to a liar.” You reached out to pry his arms from his chest, but he turned it around on you, grabbing yours and pulling you so close so you could feel his breath on your face.

“So you’re attracted to me?” You didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled down to your lips, then quickly darted back up to your eyes, a smirk forming on his own lips

“I never denied it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as he moved his hand up your arm. “You would have known forever ago if you hadn’t been so mean to me.”

His crimson eyes made their way back down to your lips once more, and you shivered under his gaze. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” He leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of you, observing your features carefully as he drew closer. He slowly closed his eyes, but you put a hand to his chest and stopped him. He eased back, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering open and breath heavy as if he had been holding it this whole time.

“What now, dumbass?” He was annoyed, but his voice wasn’t as gruff as it usually was.

“I need to talk to Sero.”

“Oh? Need to fake break up with your fake boyfriend?” He chuckled, hands trailing up and down your arms. “Come on, Y/N.”

“Well, It’s a little more complicated than that.” You bit your lip and looked down, nervous to tell him about what had happened earlier in the night, anxiety eating at your nerves over the events of the evening.

He rolled his eyes as he waited for you to continue. “Spit it out, Y/N.”

Sero had been there for you for this entire ordeal, hell even before Bakugo came into the picture, he was one you could always come to and he would welcome you with open arms, dropping whatever he was doing for you. And what if that kiss had meant something to him? Obviously, you were taken back by it at first and you weren’t sure how to feel, but he knew that all of this was for Bakugo, and since this - or at least something - was happening between you and Bakugo, he deserved to know what happened.

“He kissed me earlier before you guys went on stage. He came down to get some drinks and we ran into each other at the bar. I just wanted to tell you because I didn’t want you finding out later and getting upset with me again.”

“Mother fucker.” He pulled back and his hands tightened on your arms for a minute before he let go. You saw anger flash in his eyes, and you were preparing yourself for an outburst. “I was supposed to be the first one in this damn band of idiots to kiss you.” He was trying to keep a light tone with the joke, but you could tell he was struggling to keep his cool.

“Hate to break it to you, he wasn’t the first to kiss me either.” You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, always shocked at how soft his seemingly prickly hair was.

“Shouldn’t be surprised you kissed that red-haired idiot.” He leaned his head back into your hand as you scratched his scalp, side-eyeing you as you giggled.

“Wrong again! Jirou and I made out once or twice, no big deal.” You smiled as his mouth fell open in shock. “Actually, the only person I haven’t kissed is Kirishima. Well, and you.” His hands made their way down to your hips and he pinched you at your remark.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised. You two did seem close.” Soft circles were rubbed into your sides before a look of realization came across his face. “Wait, even that purple-haired bastard?”

“Only once during spin the bottle when we were in high school.” You giggled, watching a pout form on his lips. “Aw, what’s the matter, Katsuki?” You reached up to pinch his cheek, “you jealous-“ He grabbed your hand, cutting you off and pulling you completely onto his lap, his lips just a few mere inches from yours.

“What were you saying?” He whispered, his lips just barely ghosting against yours, eyes half shut, staring up at you. Goosebumps ran up your spine as he ran his hands up your sides. “Not so talkative now are we?”

You inhaled sharply and placed your hands on either side of his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “I missed you.”

“I’ve been here the whole time.” He squeezed your sides and kissed your jaw, leaving tingles where his lips had met your skin. You visibly shivered and sighed, leaning more into him, allowing him to continue the light trail of kisses along your jaw. “Come back to my room.” He whispered.

You nodded, opening your eyes and peering down at him. “After I talk to Sero.” His grip tightened at the sound of his name and you didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up in disapproval, but he lazily let his hands fall from your sides. “It won’t take long,” you promised, slowly making your way off his lap already, missing the presence of his hands on your sides.

You had barely made it two steps away from him before you felt his hand at your wrist, pulling you back and twisting you around to face him once more. “You really thought I’d let you go that easily?” His free hand landed on your cheek, making its way to the back of your head and pulling you closer to him, his lips finally meeting yours.

Taglist! @hopelesshawks @goustcop @pride-of-persephone @jadenyukis-bodypillow @unawi13-blog @sokka-simp @astroninaaa @pansinspace @oikawasiwa @thelifeoftheshorty @camry-orphanaccount @vhskenma @hallothankmas @pinkquartz19 @reblogs-of-things-i-like @xxoperatexx @kiristanfirsthuman2nd @introvertatitsfinest @garbagepale-kid @calumsfringe @itsmysticalmystery @sirachano0dles @bakugousflowerprincess @fukyouthink @ynfics @hadesnewpersephone @cirtruss @cherryblossom242 @chaichai-the-weeb @sergeant102105 @punicorn999 @definitelynotaundrayah @dangerousluv1 @missalienqueen @coffeeaddictedmay @nxynxy @tansyfleurwhisper @insane-without-delirium @ravenkake @thoretical-theo @overzealous-imagination @delightfulartisancolorauthor @multifixx @emomochi

#The Drummer #Katsuki Bakugo #Bakugo Katsuki #Bakugo Katsuki x Fem Reader #Bakugo x Reader #Bakugo x Y/N #Drummer Bakugo #My Hero Academia #Boku No Hero Academia #MHA #My Hero Fanfic #Boku No Hero Fanfic #Bakugo Fanfic #Reader Insert #SMAU but written

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thefossilwhale · 3 years

Text

signed the saw

mind blind. button x kent, 1.8k words. inspired by this ask about the ROs helping button manage a panic attack (so, cw for depiction of a panic attack/extreme anxiety). sabrina wiseman is unsurprised to find that undercover work is stressful.

The ceiling is dotted at long intervals by waning light bulbs, whose dim halos have a way of blurring the hall’s few distinctive features. Sabrina’s eyes have trouble focusing, anyway. There is grey, and there is brown, and there is the black shape of Kent’s shoulder half a stride ahead, leading her around the next corner.

This stretch of hallway was the biggest obstacle when planning the mission. Relatively deserted, with little chance of interruption, but it was at least a few minutes’ trek between point A and point B, and they needed every second.

Right now, they happen to be perfectly on schedule, and Sabrina is grateful for the dead air. She just needs a moment to collect herself, to align her breathing with Kent’s brisk pace down the hallway. One breath for every four steps, following his lead, and she’ll be back to herself by the time they round the next corner—which is coming up now, she realizes, as Kent takes an abrupt left. That’s okay. One more breath, and she’ll be fine.

She steps through the doorway, which she hadn’t noticed Kent opening, and forces herself back to alertness. The room is small. It’s as sparse and poorly lit as the hallway, with no visible evidence of the files that Kim had emphasized were mission critical. Swallowing another spike of panic, Sabrina opens her mouth, but Kent is faster.

“This isn’t the room,” he tells her.

“Okay.” She presses into the wall at her back and takes another breath. “So why are we stopping?”

The tremor in her voice is answer enough, and Kent is kind enough not to acknowledge it as he turns to close the door. “We can do our job in five minutes, if we have to. We can’t do it if you’re not at your best.”

If it were anyone else, she’d bristle at the suggestion and stride back into the hallway at double the pace. But Kent weights practicality at least as heavily as his concern. From his mouth, the words are simple fact: neither of them can afford her distraction, but they’re a good enough team to manage a detour.

Kent meets her eyes briefly, a small smile teasing the corner of his mouth that she can see. She barely registers it before his focus snaps back to the doorway.

His diverted attention is appeasement enough for Sabrina’s pride, and she lets herself sink. Not to the floor, just the few inches it takes for her neck to fall back between her shoulders, cradling the crown of her head against the wall. Her hands, clasped behind her crumpled back, feel cold and sickly on its lukewarm surface. Her eyes are pointed at the ceiling, but they scan aimlessly without seeing. She screws them shut and waits.

This place needs a makeover, says Nick, who had for several minutes been indistinguishable from the thousand other nervous hums in the back of her mind. How many ceiling tiles do you think aren’t stained? Twenty bucks says it’s five or less.

If there were any windows, she knows he would ask her about the weather instead. But his impression of the space is only as good as her own hazy, stuttering glances, and though he tries, there is little among the blank walls and shadows to latch onto. Still, she opens her eyes and looks up.

He must feel her unease resurging as she takes in the room once again, because his next words come in a rush of thought faster than he could ever speak them aloud: Wait, no, I can already tell that won’t help. Don’t humor me, okay? If I’m not helping, I’ll be quiet.

Nick is, of course, physically incapable of producing any noise in his current state, so he does technically keep that promise. But in the past week, Sabrina has come to understand what it means when someone calls her mind “loud.” Her own anxiety is familiar to her, slowly building and fuzzing the edges of her perception, but Nick’s mind has never felt so foreign. It is deafening in its wrongness, its intrusion. He is terrified.

It doesn’t matter whether he voices it; Nick is worried someone will find his sister having a panic attack somewhere they’d kill her for trespassing, and she would be lucky to die on the ugly floor of that boring hallway because it would mean she at least made it out of this room, whose shadows are growing thicker and more tangible until they seem to press against her throat. Her body falters under the weight of two consciousnesses as their respective panics converge. The wall at her back is painful with its rigidness, its press against her spine, its wrinkled and uneven paint.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sabrina is struck by a sick inevitability. Of course she couldn’t do this, after Nick warned her, after she insisted. Of course her worst mistake would be to play at field agent, and of course she would bring her brother and Kent down with her. If she could think or breathe, she might wonder if Nick felt vindicated by her failure.

“Sabrina?”

Kent’s voice is closer than it should be. She feels him at her right side, between her and the door he’s supposed to be watching.

A hand comes down on her shoulder, gentle as the voice that follows. “Sabrina, look at me.”

She shakes her head, but the scrape of her scalp against the wall is unbearable. She winces and lurches forward. The shaking motion grows tighter, jerking her chin to either side in frantic protest. I can’t open my eyes right now because any visual input will be the straw to break the camel’s brain, and then I’ll really be inconsolable and we’ll either die here, or worse, make it out as failures, is what she wants to tell him, but the words won’t form even in her mind. She screws her eyes shut tighter and finally halts the motion of her chin, holding it angled away from him. Please please please understand.

“Should I not…” He trails off, removing his hand—but it doesn’t go far. When he clears his throat and tries again, she can still feel it just barely hovering above her shoulder. “Is it okay to touch you? Yes or no.”

Sabrina tries to hum her assent, but the flat “hmm” that leaves her nose communicates little. Instead, her left hand escapes from behind her back and reaches for Kent’s wrist. She presses his hand once, firmly, back to her shoulder, where it offers a comforting squeeze, so brief she nearly misses it, before sliding to her forearm. His free hand follows suit, and he pulls her forward off the wall. She only catches herself when her head meets his shoulder.

The darkness as his body shields her eyes is a relief, and the first thought she has in its clarity is to wonder how much of her weight he would bear, if she stopped holding herself upright. Her arms, folded across her stomach, form an awkward barrier between them—one already crossed by the steadying hand he has placed lightly at each elbow, the tilt of her face towards his neck. Leaning against him, with his nose at her ear, she feels the rhythm of his breath, deep and deliberate. It takes a few moments for her own body to match it. After three full breaths shared between them, her mind quiets enough for Nick to resurface.

Okay, Button? His relief is tangible, though she’s not sure how much of it is her own.

She nods—a motion that, in the crook of Kent’s neck, feels embarrassingly like a nuzzle—then answers aloud. “Fine now.”

Mumbled weakly as they were against Kent’s shirt, the words must have been barely audible. Still, his nose dips to her cheek as he nods in acknowledgment, and he takes one step back. Sabrina’s arms slide out of his loose grip to hang at her sides. Studiously avoiding his gaze, she can’t tell what he’s looking at as she turns towards the door.

Kent doesn’t move. She waits, scanning for shadows, before calling softly over her shoulder. “Time to go?”

“If you’re ready,” he says evenly. “We can afford two more minutes, I would guess. It hasn’t been long.”

She hums noncommittally, and Kent steps beside her. Their arms don’t touch, but the space between them is so slight that she would barely have to move if she wanted them to.

Nick?

Don’t you dare, he warns, managing to sound both cheerful and stern. If you try to apologize for what just happened, I’ll start singing the Ghostbusters theme again, and I won’t stop until you’ve thwacked yourself on the head a few times for me.

Apologizing is one thing, Nick, she says. Self-flagellation is a bit harsh.

I agree! So don’t apologize, and I won’t enforce it.

Nick can’t hide a thing from her anymore, and though she knows his lighter mood is genuine, it’s clear how shaken he is. Does he always get that worried, when she has an attack? These circumstances were admittedly exceptional, but how much of that helplessness was her own?

I’m just glad Kent was here, says Nick, nudging those questions into some hidden corner of her mind. He’s all right.

Yes, he is. He’s looking at her, too. She won’t return his gaze, but she feels it on her and thinks he must be gauging whether she’s really recovered. But there is no tension, no intent in the small space between them. Kent is just… looking. Trusting her to watch the door. Thinking something that she’s sure she could never even begin to guess.

“I’m ready,” she tells him, and grabs his hand—knowing that he won’t outwardly react (it’s Kent), but still not looking, just in case. With one tug on his arm, she leads him forward and poises her free hand over the doorknob, waiting on his confirmation.

“Good,” comes his always inscrutable voice in reply. “Let’s go.”

Kent takes the lead again when they return to the hallway, and Sabrina slackens her grip on his hand, slowing her pace just enough that she’ll drop it as he pulls ahead. When his arm stretches uncomfortably behind him, he doesn’t slow down. Instead, he pulls on her hand, with just enough strength that she has to scramble to avoid tripping over her feet. The momentum carries her back to his side.

“Let’s go,” he repeats. His tone is neutral, but he squeezes her hand once as she matches his pace.

A light bulb flickers above them, scattering the shadows. For a moment, the hallway is as indistinct and menacing as when she’d retreated into that room. Kent’s hand is in hers, though, and he doesn’t miss a step. His outline is clear even in the waning light.

They round the next corner.

#oc: sabrina wiseman #sab x kent #my writing #hewwo everyone i hope this is believable as kent and not just some guy!#also i know what you're thinking and YES i made the space as boring as possible so i wouldn't have to describe it #mind blind #i keep writing abt sab having mental breakdowns.... i promise sometimes she is stable #also um! no title bc this is a snippet that turned into a fic on a whim and i just want to post it already <3 #edit: it is several weeks later and i have returned with a title.

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cotncandyboifics · 3 years

Text

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

AO3 Link

My Main Masterpost

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukexiety

Word count: 6.9k (Remus would be proud)

Story summary: A pseudo-songfic; 5 times Remus called Virgil high, and one time Virgil called Remus high.

Content Warning: Marijuana, Characters high on Marijuana, Description of the experience of being high on marijuana, Food, descriptions of eating, descriptions of preparing food, vague anxiety descriptions, insomnia, cursing, Remus Being Remus,(let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: this is just. dorky fluff stuff. Idek lol. Enjoy

...

Virgil grimaced vaguely at his phone, which had begun to buzz periodically. More specifically; Virgil was glaring at the displayed name at the top of the screen, communicating who was currently calling him.

TrashMan 42069 is calling...

Remus never called Virgil. As in... never never. And even if he did, it was 7 am; Virgil sincerely doubted that Remus I-wake-up-at-2-pm-every-day Prince had ever been awake at this time of morning in his life.

The call didn't stop after 5 buzzes, and so Virgil picked his phone up, hurriedly accepting the call and pressing the phone to his face.

"uuum, hiiii...." Remus drawled from the other end of the line. Virgil scoffed under his breath. "I'll have a.... extra large cheese pizza, and another extra large with... extra anchovies...." Remus continued. Virgil genuinely couldn't tell whether Remus thought he was actually talking to a Pizza parlor employee or not, but more pertinently, he was very much disconcerted by the way Remus was acting. He had half a mind to ask if he'd hit his head on something, but... Virgil was gradually growing used to Remus' antics, and every time he'd asked out of his own anxieties in the past, Remus had been More Than Fine. He pushed his nerviness aside with a heavy sigh.

"Re, what are you doing?" his voice came out a bit husky, and Virgil realized this was the first time he'd spoken that day.

Remus didn't reply for a few long moments. Of course, this had exactly nothing to do with the fact that he was having a gay panic over the sound of Virgil's morning voice, which - again - was decidedly not happening.

"Haay Virge," Remus scarcely strung his words together, and they fell on top of each other as they rolled off his tongue in a quite klutzy fashion. It was almost soothing, in its way. "I thought if I pretended that you... that I was... that I thought you were a pizza man, then I'd forget to do... why I called you." Remus scrunched his nose to himself, taking his time to find his words, but eventually he got there. Virgil had been struck with realization part way through Remus' rambling, and was now scowling as if Remus could hear his facial expression through the phone.

"Remus, are you seriously high right now?" Virgil hissed.

"I mean... I think so... I definitely remember..." he pointedly enunciated each syllable of 'definitely remember,' before seemingly getting distracted by his thoughts. Virgil cleared his throat to prompt him. "...uhhhh... I don't wanna call you. Why did I... think that was...good." Virgil couldn't tell if Remus was talking to himself or not.

"Dude, go take a shower and... like, drink some water or something. I'll see you at work later. Please come in a better mental state than you're in now." Virgil hung up, setting his phone back down on his desk face-down, resuming his script read-through of the next production being put on at the theater he worked for.

Several hours later, Virgil was adjusting a few bolts on a light fixture, one of many all lined up on the long bar that he'd lowered from the fly deck earlier. He and Remus were stage technicians, and had both worked at this theater together for nearly two years now.

Remus burst through the set of doors off stage left, arms wide and his custom green tool belt slung over one shoulder like a sash. He bowed a bit dramatically to the stage and everyone on it (which, at the moment, was only Virgil; they were the only two in the theater, since Virgil regularly showed up early and Remus was here early too for once for... some reason) before stepping in long strides toward a burnt out light fixture, a few feet away from Virgil.

"You good?" Virgil murmured, feigning intense focus on a particular few wires. Remus had learned by now that Virgil was a man of few words and many thoughts; there was always a lot more to what he was saying than the small string of words he poured out.

"Heh. Sorry about that. I woke up in a funk, and though a wake and bake might... help. Didn't anticipate calling... you, though." he rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly, focusing his line of sight on the company logo branded into the lighting fixture. "Can't say it won't happen again though! If I call you when I'm that stoned it means I really, really like you," Remus waggled his eyebrows, winking (specifically to highlight his sarcasm - a wink was a telltale sign that Remus' words were entirely a joke) at an utterly deadpan Virgil.

"Sure." Virgil paused for a moment. "Why're you here so early though?"

"Huh?" Remus replied, finishing twisting the bulb out of the fixture before looking up at Virgil, who was now presenting his phone screen to Remus, showing him the time. "Damn! High me can get punctuality! I thought it was three, not two... I was wondering why you were the only one here!" Remus had resumed his adjusting of the light fixture, hunkered over and partially upside down in a way that made Virgil's stomach churn. He only grunted in reply.

...

A recent sound design project had Virgil and Remus talking a lot more than usual - nearly every day. Virgil thought Remus would be a massive pain in the ass to work with, but he was a surprisingly diligent project partner. His ideas were often... eccentric, and at times too far-fetched, but they served as an excellent foundation. They clashed well with Virgil's taste and general groundedness (by extension, a minuscule helping of insecurity) that he brought to the table. They'd worked together over discord for the last few days, voice chatting and messaging through brainstorming sessions and developing their project.

It was 5pm, and Virgil was just beginning chopping some potatoes for a mash dinner when a message notification popped up on his phone.

TrashMan 42069 im tiiiired. gotta get up early to head into the theater, can we work tmrw mornin instead of tn ? wanna have an early night

Virgil smirked to himself, typing out a response.

since when do you sleep before 1am

but like, go off ig

see ya in the ams

Remus never responded, and Virgil resumed his chopping, and soon was plopping the potato portions into a pre-simmering pot.

Night arrived and fell entirely, leaving Virgil alone with his thoughts in bed, staring at the ceiling desperately as if it would put him to sleep. His bouts of insomnia made for horrible company, and yet another reminder of just how awfully lonely he truly was. He rolled onto his side, facing his bedside table just as his phone lit up and started buzzing.

Remus. Again. Odd. And it was... 11pm, according to the bleary text in the top corner of Virgil's phone screen. Not too bad, I might get to sleep by 2, Virgil noted to himself. He accepted the call before his drowsy brain could think through the decision.

"Shit, hi," Remus breathed. The usual sharp edge of his brash voice was gone, leaving soft, rolling words in its wake. Virgil sighed to himself.

"Hi."

"Did I awaken you from the sleep? I didn't think you'd answer..." Virgil recognized the drawl in Remus' voice then, but he didn't mind it so much. He was too tired to be grumpy about this.

"No, I couldn't sleep. I thought you were having an early night?" Virgil ran his fingers through his hair, rolling back onto his back.

"Ah... right... I told you that..." Remus spoke slowly, as if carrying each word, each syllable the way a mother carries her child. Virgil smiled softly into the darkness. "I was feeling like shit, so... I was just gonna, toke up. Knew I... wouldn't be able to... do any of the project... like this."

"Gotcha," Virgil mumbled. He had closed his eyes, letting himself ease into the sound of Remus' uncharacteristically gentle voice.

Remus started humming on the other end of the line, and that only proved to relax Virgil more. He felt himself grow heavy in the bed, limbs going slack and muscles and tendons untensing.

"Are you still alive?" Remus spoke suddenly. Virgil hummed.

"Yeah, I think so," Virgil said. "Your humming is putting me to sleep," he laughed lightly. Remus grew silent. "Uh, that's not a bad thing," Virgil resolved, "I have a hard time... sleeping, sometimes. Nothing usually helps. That's... uh, helping. If you wanna keep... humming, or talking..." As he spoke, Virgil realized just how weird what he was saying - what he was asking for - truly was. He cleared his throat. "Nevermind."

"I have nothing better to do right now, I can hum you to sleep, Virge," Remus' careful voice replied, ever so slowly. "If that's... what... you meant."

"Um," Virgil chewed on his hoodie sleeve absent-mindedly. "Yeah," he finally huffed, "I'd... like that."

Virgil anticipated a lot more awkwardness at this entire situation from Remus. But Remus was a generally oblivious person to awkwardness, seemingly especially so when he was stoned. He almost immediately resumed his humming, and Virgil was out like a light less than ten minutes later.

"Virgie? Did you go... fall into the sleep?" Remus asked after a while. When he was met with silence other than subtle, even breaths, he smiled to himself. He'd helped someone, even while he was like this. He truly didn't want to be doing anything else right now, so he just kept humming into the phone for a while. Maybe it'll help Virgil sleep even better.

The thoughts that an intoxicated mind produces truly are an enigma.

...

Remus and Virgil's sound design project was one of three being proposed to the directors and head technicians for the next production. The three were created as presentations, just the general idea of the design put together so that the one chosen of the three could be put into proper production by the entire sound team.

Virgil's and Remus' won.

They celebrated by indulging in a pizza lunch together before they were to head into work. A large, half pepperoni and half anchovies.

"Are those things actually good, or do you just eat them because everyone else thinks they're gross?" Virgil asked, chasing the floppy end of his next slice with his mouth. Remus grinned with a glint in his eye that Virgil knew all too well; it meant one thing, and one thing only. Mischief.

"Whah if ih's bof?" Remus spoke through his mouthful of anchovy pizza. Virgil scrunched his nose, punching Remus in the shoulder.

"Chew your food and don't talk with your mouth full, that's hecka nasty dude," Virgil laughed. Remus rolled his eyes in a very unconvincing manner, considering he was still smiling.

"Yef, mom," Remus spoke again through his unfinished mouthful. Virgil shoulder bumped him, and finally took the first bite of his next slice.

Not a week later, Virgil woke up rather late. Well, late for him; around 7am. He slapped a hand to his forehead, sitting up a little too fast. He set his hands on the bed beside himself to try and fight the onset of dizziness. After a few deep breaths and shaking his head and hair out, he reached for his phone.

No notifications, other than 2 missed calls from Remus, at 3:12am. Virgil sighed, laughing to himself slightly. He opened his messaging app.

why do u only call me when ur high lmao

...

Virgil was at the grocery store, milling through the dairy aisle, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He was surprised to see Remus' contact as the displayed caller ID, although not that surprised. Remus had called Virgil a few times while he wasn't high since Virgil had sent that message, usually to discuss theater-related things. Though, it wasn't like him to call at 8 in the morning. Virgil pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey Re, what's up?" Virgil said as he started checking the expiration dates on a few cartons of heavy whipping cream.

"Virgieee... Are you walking around with no shoes on?" Remus' voice was calm and subdued.

"Uh-" Virgil was so caught off guard by the question -and the petname- that he literally looked down at his feet to check. Nope, he'd definitely put on his black high tops that morning. "No? I'm at the grocery store. Wh... what?"

"I saw someone," Remus blurted, speaking slowly. Oh, right. Virgil's lips tightened into a annoyed-and-disappointed expression. Of course he's just baked again. "They looked like you, kinda... no purple hair... but jacket- or, i mean, sweater... uhhhm, no... what's it called?"

"My hoodie?" Virgil offered, glancing down at his purple patchwork hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah, that," Remus drew in a long heavy breath. "they had a hoodie." Remus stopped then, as if awaiting Virgil's explanation expectantly. Virgil scoffed.

"So. You saw someone walking around with no shoes on, who looked kind of like me only based on the fact that they were wearing a hoodie?" Virgil recited.

"Well, yeah!" Remus said as if offended that Virgil needed to ask. "They were black shoes, and... and the hoodie was... just like your black plaid one."

"The one that I like... never wear? How do you even... have you even seen me wear that?" Virgil didn't know why he was asking; he must have if he knew of it.

"You did," Remus started slowly, "one time. The pizza time. Said your other one was dirty." Remus spoke like a small child who was being scolded and felt really bad for what they'd done. "And I thought... maybe you'd... dyed your hair back. I don't know why." Virgil sighed.

"Okay? Well, I promise I have my shoes on, and my hair is still purple, and I'm not wearing that hoodie today. I'm at the grocery store right now." Virgil's voice was harsh and quick, and he immediately felt guilt drop into his stomach like a brick. He had no real reason to be this cross with Remus... he was just a bit cranky that morning. "Can I... pick you up anything while I'm here?" Virgil immediately cringed at his attempt at amendment. What a weird thing to say-

"Ooh! Are you at Trader Joe's?" Remus' voice had a newfound excitement. Virgil smiled to himself, glad that his fumbled recovery wasn't really very fumbled, thanks to Remus'... Remus-y-ness. "They have these chocolate truffles that are soooo good..."

Remus gave moderately incoherent directions to where the truffles were shelved, though Virgil knew his way around the store enough that it didn't matter. After a few minutes, he came upon a small red carboard box with cursive gold lettering and a picture of a chocolate truffle on the front.

"Found them. I... text me your address? I can be over in... well, soon. I guess I don't know where you live." Virgil invited himself over extremely awkwardly.

"You got it, sunshine! See you soon," Remus' tone was a lot lighter and he spoke more quickly and sharply, as he did when he wasn't stoned out of his mind. Perhaps the prospect of having his favorite chocolate truffles had granted him some mental clarity.

The call ended, and moments later, two texts came through from Remus. The first was an address, as promised. The second left Virgil with a familiar sense of blind confusion.

ill start heating the milk

Virgil slid his phone back into his pocket, humming to himself. He'd gotten all the items on his grocery list already, so he headed to checkout. Soon after, he was loading a couple bags into the back seat of his car, setting the two boxes of truffles for Remus on the passenger seat as he strapped in.

The drive was surprisingly short to Remus'; less than ten minutes. He triple checked the address when he pulled up to a three story Victorian house, three doors lined up at the top of a set of marble steps.

He took a breath or two, staring down at the boxes of truffles in his hands and reassessing his situation. You're standing in front of Remus' house like a massive dork because you felt bad for getting annoyed at him on the phone. You decided completely on a whim to bring him some chocolate - of all things, but at least he's the one who specifically asked for it - and show up to his house???? his house. Yeah, this totally isn't weird at all.

Virgil took the steps two at a time, ringing the doorbell at the door farthest to the right. He heard the chime from inside, followed shortly by a shrill screech. A few moments later, there was stomping sounds, and Remus came into view through the window on the door, trampling down the stairs like an eight year old rushing to an ice cream truck. He made it to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open.

"VIRGIE!" Remus yelped, looking ready to bear hug Virgil, but was quickly distracted into marveling over the boxes of truffles Virgil was clinging to his chest. "You bought two!? Gods, this is better than Christmas! Get in here," Remus stepped behind the door, allowing Virgil to step inside.

"Did you... screech, a minute ago?" Virgil asked, looking around. He and Remus were standing in what served as a tiny, tiny foyer, a small rectangle of flooring that gave direct way to a rather large flight of wooden stairs. Virgil could see a shoe cubby and coat rack at the top of the steps, and started stepping up them cautiously as Remus closed the door behind him.

"Yeah. People usually can't hear if I say words, like 'COMING!', so I just kinda... scream. It works!" Remus was tromping up the steps a few stairs below him, and Virgil quickened his pace.

"Got it..."

Virgil slipped his shoes off at the top, stuffing them in the cubby. "See? Shoes," he gestured to the shoes now fit snug in one of the cubbies. Remus smiled a bit too wide, nodding his head harshly. "I also don't have that hoodie on today," Virgil spread his arms, displaying his usual patchwork hoodie.

"I'm mainly glad your hair is still purple. It looks h- I mean, I like it." Remus coughed slightly to himself before stepping around Virgil, starting to sock-slide down the hardwood floor hall. "Kitchen's through here! The milk should be ready!"

Virgil laughed to himself, stepping into the hall to follow Remus' trail. He came upon a slightly ajar door, and seeing a glimpse of a stovetop, he slid into the room.

"I also made some whipped cream!" Remus gestured behind himself at a bowl of whipped cream on the counter as he stirred at a simmering pot of milk.

"What's... what's it for?" Virgil asked slowly, feeling like he missed something entirely.

"Oh! Right," Remus seemed to realize he hadn't filled Virgil in. "The truffles are so frickin good by themselves, but I discovered - sort of by accident, don't worry about it - that they make the best hot chocolate. And I... well, I figured we could have some!" Remus spun around at the last part, saucer of milk in hand and smiling a bit maniacally at Virgil. He stepped over to the counter where there were two mugs beside the bowl of whipped cream. "Bring them things on over here. This show can't go on without the starring role."

Virgil shuffled over to Remus, setting the truffles down beside the whipped cream bowls. He felt the need to speak, but couldn't think of any suitable words.

"one or two? I usually do two, I like mine real rich," Remus said, tearing open one of the boxes of truffles.

"Two," Virgil coughed. Remus smiled brightly at him again.

Virgil observed Remus' process. He plopped two truffles into the bottom of each mug - in the process, popping one into his mouth and offering another to Virgil, who accepted - before pouring the steaming milk over them, nearly to the brim of both mugs. Virgil hadn't expected the truffles to float, but there were two bobbing brown balls rolling around on the surface of the steaming milk in each mug. Remus retrieved a small spoon, stirring gingerly as the truffles rapidly shrunk and dissipated into the darkening milk.

"Will you grab the chocolate syrup? It's in the door of the fridge," Remus commented, beginning to spoon whipped cream onto the surface of the hot chocolate. "Oh, and- nevermind, I got it." Remus reached into a drawer beside him, pulling out a small cheese grater.

Virgil returned with the chocolate syrup, setting it beside Remus' arm.

"Check this out," Remus said, pulling another truffle from the box. He started grating it over the whipped cream dollops, and it gently snowed chocolate shavings. "Isn't it pretty?" Remus glanced at Virgil as he switched mugs.

"Yeah," Virgil breathed, watching the little flakes fall and settle on the surface of the whipped cream.

Virgil felt himself becoming infinitely more relaxed and less anxious the longer he basked in Remus' presence. It had always been this way with him, although maybe it was slightly amplified now that they were alone. He leaned himself on Remus, chin on his shoulder. Remus didn't react, other than softening his movements significantly, as though he were afraid he'd scare Virgil away.

"Yes, yes, yes! Man, this is the good stuff!" Remus exclaimed as he squirted a trail of chocolate syrup over the flakey rain on the whipped cream mountains. Virgil chuckled, reaching for the mug nearest him. "Hey! Not yet!" Remus batted his hand away lightly.

"What else could you possibly want on hot chocolate? Come on, it's getting cold," Virgil whined. Remus only smirked.

"Pantry, top shelf, you'll know it when you see it," He spoke, glancing at the cupboard door a few paces away. Virgil stepped toward the pantry cautiously, opening the door slowly. There, presented proudly on the top shelf, was a bag of mini marshmallows.

"Oh fuck yeah," Virgil reached up, realizing he was far too short to reach the bag. "Uh, one sec," he said, stepping entirely into the pantry, reaching up with all his might. Even stretching as far as he could, he barely reached the base of the top shelf. Remus chuckled from over by the mugs.

"Here, let me help." Remus came up behind him, making to reach over Virgil's head just as Virgil tried to step out of the pantry and out of Remus' way. Virgil essentially walked right into Remus' chest, face to face with his stubbled Adam's apple as he reached for the mallows easily.

Virgil was frozen in place, feeling his face grow hot. Remus looked down at him, suddenly realizing their physical predicament.

"Shit! Sorry!" Remus stepped back, mallows in hand, giving Virgil more than enough room to step out.

"s'fine, don't worry," Virgil mumbled, cheeks red and staring wide-eyed at the floor. Remus laughed a bit nervously, stepping back over to the mugs and beckoning for Virgil to follow.

Once their mugs were properly marshmallow'd (although not s'more'd; neither wanted to go full Ned Flanders on this rainy Saturday afternoon) Remus led Virgil out of the kitchen and further down the hall, to the door at the end which opened up into Remus' bedroom.

Virgil didn't know what he was expecting Remus' personal living space to look like, but whatever it was it wasn't this. There was a very cozy-looking bed that took up most of the floorspace, and a very soft patterned rug at the foot. Against the far wall, beside a wide windowsill, sat an equally cozy-looking loveseat. There were blankets and pillows absolutely everywhere, crowding the loveseat, covering the bed and turning the windowsill into a cozy sitting nook. There was no other furniture, aside from a rustic-looking wooden bedside table that matched a small, overstuffed bookshelf. The walls were entirely covered from floor to ceiling with posters, art pieces, the like; but more than anything, sketches. Scores upon scores of sketches covered every wall, pinned up with colorful tacks and a certain few of them connected to others with small segments of colored string. As well, strung up on some of the hardier tacks were a few strings of fairy lights. Those, plus the salt lamp set on the bedside table made for some extremely lovely mood lighting.

"Woah," was all Virgil could say as he looked around in wonder.

"This is where the magic happens," Remus shoulder shimmied, sidling around Virgil to sit cross-legged on his bed, beginning to nurse his cocoa as he set down the boxes of truffles. Apparently they were far too precious to keep in the kitchen, where Remus' brother could very well steal them.

"Yeah..." Virgil stepped up to a particularly large sketch, one whose tack was connected with string to several others. Something occurred to him. "Are these..." He gestured vaguely at the walls, "are these all yours?"

"All the sketches, yeah," Remus breathed, hiding behind his mug as he took a large sip. He watched Virgil over the brim as the man stared in complete awe.

"That's..." Virgil couldn't think of the right words, and so drew a large sip of his own cocoa. Remus was right, the truffles made for an incredible hot chocolate. He sighed slightly, smiling to himself.

Remus finished his cocoa, tilting his head back to slurp at the residue and remaining whipped cream as he leaned back on his bed slightly. Virgil smirked behind his own mug, licking at his whipped cream.

Remus set his mug beside the salt lamp on his bedside table, beckoning for Virgil to sit with him on the bed. Virgil did, cross-legged an leaning against a pillow that was propped against the wall. He glanced to the windowsill nook.

"You got something of a view," He murmured, craning his neck slightly to see out the window. Remus giggled.

"Yeah! That's where I saw mx. no-shoes earlier." He smiled at Virgil giddily.

"Oh, I see." Virgil smiled back. "Well, I'm here now, purple hair and truffles in the complete package," he spread his arms slightly, and Remus' smile turned into a full grin. He retrieved a truffle from the open box and popped it into his mouth, then throwing a second one at Virgil. It hit him in the chest, and he picked it up, starting to gnaw at it. "You were right, these are super fricking good," Virgil mentioned, taking another large gulp of his cocoa.

"I know right!? Where have you been all my life, beloved truffles," he picked up the unopened box and held it high in one hand, beginning to serenade it. Virgil laughed at him, slapping him on the arm.

"You're a massive dork."

Remus' eyes glinted. "Well I-" He stopped short, the glint disappearing as soon as it returned. Virgil watched his face. No, no dick jokes right now. He gulped and cleared his throat, retracting his arm and pulling out another two truffles from the other box. He held one of them out to Virgil on the palm of his hand. Virgil took it carefully, holding it between his fingers as he took the final sip of his own cocoa.

"Here," Remus reached his empty hand out to take Virgil's mug, setting it beside his own behind them on the bedside table. Remus resumed chewing his truffle, watching the comforter shift with his weight as he leaned back and forth slightly.

"Can I?" Virgil pointed to a few more sketches over the head of the bed. Remus nodded. Virgil got up onto his knees, nearly pressing his chest into the wall as he looked at the many sketches.

Remus got up onto his knees too, sort of knee-waddling over to Virgil's side. Virgil's eyes continued scanning the sketches before they fell onto a particularly familiar looking one. His breath caught in his chest. He reached up to it, tracing the familiar purple plaid of his very own patchwork hoodie. Remus cleared his throat from beside him.

They both spoke at the same time.

"Um, you should probably know that-"

"Remus, I wanted to tell you-"

Virgil turned to look at Remus then, and belatedly realized just how close together they were. Remus' lips were pursed, and Virgil could see that he was chewing at the inside corner of his mouth.

Virgil drew in a breath to speak as Remus moved slightly closer. Pursing his lips shut, he changed his mind, deciding to take a risk.

He surged forward suddenly, shutting his eyes. Remus met him in the middle, and just like that, they were kissing.

It was soft and still at first, lips pressed firmly into each other's. Remus reached one hand up, gently cupping Virgil's cheek.

Virgil pulled back suddenly, but Remus' hand didn't leave his cheek. "I-I'm sorry, I really should've- asked- I meant to say things, i mean, before-" He stopped as Remus set his other hand on Virgil's waist. His face looked incredibly soft and gentle, lips parted slightly as he looked at Virgil like he'd hung the moon.

Virgil intertwined his fingers on the back of Remus' neck, and Remus pulled Virgil back into the kiss.

...

two days later, Virgil was up late again, unable to push himself into unconsciousness. His body was restless even if his mind was exhausted - or perhaps it was the other way around, his mind restless and his body exhausted? He really couldn't tell.

It was nearing 3am, and he was sitting curled in on himself, hugging his knees as he watched the stars out his window. His phone, face-down on the bed beside him, began buzzing.

He tilted his head, sighing as he fought an oncoming wave of exhaustion. He picked up the phone, flipping it to see the caller ID, although part of him hoped knew who it would be.

He pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Remus."

He heard Remus gasp on the other end of the line, before murmuring a small "hi."

"I... are you not sleeping good tonight?" Remus' curious and confounded expression was almost palpable through the phone. Virgil smiled lazily, recognizing Remus' demeanor immediately.

"No, I'm not, but that's okay. The stars are pretty tonight." Virgil paused, scratching at his chin a bit. "Are you stoned again?"

A long pause. "Yeah," Remus blurted. "Sorry I... I nodded, but then, I realized... you can't see me."

Virgil smiled to himself again. "It's okay."

A long, comfortable silence followed. Virgil was too tired to feel the obligatory need to make conversation, especially with Remus. He'd be a fool to expect any awkwardness after a make out session with the spontaneous blob that is Remus, but he'd still been nervous to see or speak with him again. That all melted away now though, exhaustion and vague contentment taking its place.

"Virgie - uh, Virgil?" Remus piped up after a while, rousing Virgil from his trance.

"Yeah?"

"Do you, remember..." Remus trailed off, and didn't speak for long enough that Virgil almost responded to prompt him. "Did you come to my house, and also, kiss me, or was that a dream?" Even through his stoned lilt, Remus spoke a bit quickly, like he was trying to shove the words out of his mouth before he could change his mind.

Virgil chuckled. "That wasn't a dream, Remus. Yes, I remember." I don't think I could forget it if i wanted to tried.

"Oh." Virgil could hear the smile in Remus' voice. "Can we- I mean, do you want to, uh, do it again? Some time?" he didn't sound hesitant, no; just hopeful, and perhaps as though he felt like he needed to be excessively gentle. It was the sweetest tone Virgil had ever heard.

"I'd like that," Virgil smiled.

Remus sigh-laughed on the other end of the line, and Virgil's smile grew. "Cool," Remus said almost under his breath.

Virgil didn't do it consciously, but a big, loud yawn decided to worm its way out of him at that moment.

"Are you sleepy Virgie?" Remus asked in a strange partial baby voice. Virgil snorted at him.

"I'm literally always tired, so if the answer was no, that would be more concerning," Virgil quipped, but his voice sounded spent. Remus giggled a little.

"Can I hum to you?" Remus asked, smile still discernable in his tone. Virgil felt something warm spark in his chest, like a lighter being flicked and lit.

"I'd like that a lot, too," Virgil murmured, curling up beneath his covers as Remus started to hum.

He was out like a light in less than 5 minutes.

And if Remus stayed on the line for another half hour or so, humming to him and listening to his even breaths, who was to know?

...

Virgil felt like an idiot.

That wasn't an entirely rare feeling to him, but this particular time was different.

Despite his general edginess and rebel-against-society vibe, Virgil had never touched a drop of alcohol or gone near any intoxicating substance in his life. Until today.

He'd been Remus' boyfriend for almost three months now, and it was everything he could have hoped; haphazard night trips to convenience stores that ended in oddly romantic motorcycle rides, the odd gestures Remus's... eccentric mind came up with, and Virgil was in dire need of more hoodies he could let Remus steal. All this, but Virgil was still Virgil. He still had his anxiety disorder, he still dealt with insomnia. Though, sleeping in Remus' arms was proving an impressively effective remedy to the latter.

So, when Remus suggested Virgil look into the medical benefits of marijuana in regards to both anxiety and insomnia, Virgil was... intrigued, to say the least.

He did find a lot of supporting evidence through his research, and... well, he thought, what the hell, right? If Remus smokes it pretty much every day, and if this many articles are claiming its reliability... what harm would it do to try?

So here he was, sitting on his couch, having taken a couple of edibles, waiting for the high to hit him. His hand ghosted over his jean pocket, assuring himself that his phone was there in case he needed to call 911 or something. He was trying to do breathing exercises to maintain some sort of calm, but sitting still wasn't his strong suit.

He'd chosen edibles since he didn't want to have to deal with the whole... smoke and coughing side of things. And he really didn't like the sound of vaping. He figured this would be fine as an introductory experience, but he realized that he had no clue when the edibles would kick in.

He pulled out his phone, typing into google.

Marijuana edibles generally take 30 minutes to an hour to induce any psychological effects on the consumer.

Oh.

Well, he figured, there was no way he could sit still for that long.

He stood, deciding he'd make himself some dinner. Something to busy his hands with, and the leftovers he'd planned on heating up would last another day or two anyways.

He settled on some fettuccine alfredo, fairly simple but one of his childhood favorites. He had a feeling he'd appreciate the comfort food while he was... in an altered state of mind.

Virgil, however, hadn't accounted for the fact that he had an almost unnaturally high metabolism, and before he'd even gotten the pasta in the boiling water, things started to get a little funky.

The first thing Virgil noticed, before he'd even registered that the edibles were kicking in, was how he could hear his thoughts. Not literally, but it felt as though his stream-of-consciousness thoughts were more slow and clear to him, as though he was speaking directly to himself.

As he thought this, his vision suddenly came into alarming focus, and felt oddly like an unstable skyscraper. He stared down at his feet, and they seemed so far away, the floor looked far too far away... He gripped the counter nearest to him, trying to steady himself even if he wasn't actually falling. He didn't feel like he had any control over his center of balance, and even if he was mostly stock-still as a pencil, he thought he might fall down at any moment, down the many stories of building beneath him. But there was no stories beneath him... it was only his legs, which he didn't remember being so long. He stared a little harder at his feet. They weren't abnormally far away, were they?

Virgil vaguely registered the sound of over-boiling water as the realization hit him.

Oh. So this is what it's like.

He turned so that his lower back was stable against the counter, sliding slowly down onto his butt. Standing didn't feel safe right now, even if that made no sense.

He didn't really like this. He felt so isolated, so alone in this moment. He was too out of it to focus hard enough on those thoughts for them to really take root, but he was generally aware of them. So, he did the first thing he could think to do.

He pulled his phone very slowly and carefully out of his pocket, as if he thought it was a brittle sugar cookie. He stared at the dark screen for a solid minute, wondering why it wasn't turning on. Then he realized he had to actually touch the screen for that to happen, and so he did.

From there, it was relatively easy; he unlocked his phone, found the calling app, scrolled around a little haphazardly up and down the contact list before finding Remus' contact.

If anyone could help him feel less alone, if anyone knew what he was experiencing... it would be him.

He took a deep breath and held it as he pressed the call button, bringing the phone to his face as it rang.

It only rang twice before Remus answered. "Hello, Jack Skellington! What can I do for you this evening?" Remus' voice sounded a little extra mischievous, and Virgil couldn't even begin to place why.

He was quiet for a little too long, vaguely trying to decide what to say. "Hi." Not the most eloquent, but it worked for a start.

"Hi," Remus replied, the troublemaking lilt of his voice dissipating slightly. "Is everything okay, Surly Temple?"

Virgil giggled a bit. Your brother is funny. You keep stealing his nicknames for me. "I'm, yeah. Sorry, talking. it's hard. Right now." Virgil spoke haltingly, each word firm but isolated from the last.

"Hmmm..." Remus stroked his mustache from the other end of the line. Virgil giggled again, realizing he couldn't actually see Remus stroking his mustache, but could imagine it vividly all the same. There was no doubt in his mind that he was doing exactly that.

"Oh, 'm high," Virgil added quite belatedly.

"Oh! Well that makes a lot more sense!" Remus laughed, but quickly composed himself again. "What are you doing? Are you feeling okay? Is this your first time? What's happening?"

"Skyscraper," Virgil replied matter-of-factly, as if that cleared the air entirely.

"...right..." Remus replied slowly. "Stormcloud, is it okay if I come over? I don't... I want you to be- uh, to feel safe right now."

"Yes, please," Virgil clung to the phone like it was Remus' arm. "I miss you I'm kinda scared," his words slurred together, but at least he managed to say something slightly coherent. Remus grunted in acknowledgement.

"Okay. I'll be there in ten. Want me to stay on the line?" Virgil could hear shuffling around in the background.

"What're you doin?" He asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the refrigerator door, since he couldn't actually look at Remus.

"Putting on my shoes, silly! What room are you in right now?" Remus replied, a sense of protectiveness twinged in his voice.

"Kitchen. floor." Virgil swirled his fingers on the wooden floor.

"Okay. Do you want me to stay- oh, fuck it. I'm staying on the line till I get there, okay Virgie?" Virgil heard the sound of a door slamming, followed by vague trafficky noises.

"You're coming," Virgil spoke, registering it in his mind finally.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Remus repeated, and the sound of Remus' car starting sounded shortly after.

Virgil smiled at nothing. "I love you."

The words were a bit slurred together, but he heard them out of his own mouth loud and clear. He almost clapped a hand over his mouth, a little horrified that he'd just said that.

Sure, he'd known he loved Remus for a while now, but they hadn't said it before. He'd almost said it, once, earlier that week while he was laying in Remus' arms on a drowsy Sunday morning, watching the lines of his face shift and harden as he slowly woke up. But he didn't. And now he'd just gone and said it, while he was stoned out of his mind for the first time, sitting on his kitchen floor about to break into tears-

Remus' voice, a little bit strained, interrupted Virgil's thoughts.

"I love you too."

A pause. "I'm almost there, okay? Everything's gonna be fine."

Virgil snuggled down further into his hoodie.

"I know, cus you'll be here."

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #dukexiety #sanders sides fanfiction #ts virgil #ts remus #human au #5 + 1 fic #5 + 1 things #songfic

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fierte-verte · 4 years

Text

Kings (Casmund)

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Caspian X

Words: 9.4k

Synopsis: In the frigid winters of Finchley, the stories of Narnia’s Kings and Queens live on. And if Peter’s little girl has to choose, the Seafarer and Just King’s might just be her favorite. (Somewhere between movie and book-verse)

A/N: How could I resist? Something about this couple just hits every spot in my tender fangirl heart. Inspired by Lauren Aquilina’s song—King. (Go listen, it’s a masterpiece I swear)

Edmund slipped into the room, squinting to see a small silouhette under the covers. With a knowing smirk on his face, he reached for the walls, feeling a bulb-like shape underneath his fingers. With a click, the overhead lights flickered on, bathing the walls in a warm glow.

The disgruntled figure stirred in bed, but Edmund paid no mind to the noise, scrimmaging through drawers. He let out a soft aha upon finding the box of matches and lit the candle on the dresser, blinking in satisfaction as the wick produced an orange blaze.

“Uncle Edmund?”

Turning around to face the bed again, Edmund found himself eye to eye with his recent case— a brilliant, quite restless one of girlhood. Peter’s daughter, to be precise. His niece, who should be fast asleep by now instead of watching her uncle like a hawk.

“Kathleen.”

She broke into an impish beam, beckoning for her caretaker of the night to come closer. Edmund weaved between the floor’s obstacles and arrived at the side of her bed. It dipped under his weight and let out a creak.

“When will dad be back?”

If Edmund didn’t know any better, the slight uplift in her tone could be readily mistakened as disappointment. But what would he be if not the diplomat, the strategist, the counselor, who had mastered the arts of reading faces and in between the lines?

“Not before you coax me into another bedtime story.” He grinned, a gesture which she returned generously. It was half worrisome and amusing, how his niece had turned out so alike himself. She could own a head full of golden curls, but her wry disposition was undeniably all Edmund’s. Peter had once complained in good humor of one too many sharp tongues and crafty brains in his life, and Lucy could only reach to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“So you’ll tell me one?”

“I’m not sure. Will it suffice?”

She pretended to muse over the question, an effort Edmund would’ve commended if not for her young age. Kathleen certainly had the makings of a diplomat.

“Perhaps you can start with one, then I will decide.”

He scooted and gathered her in his arms, and she laid back against his chest pliantly, fingers fiddling with the edges of her blanket. Who would’ve thought, Edmund Pevensie, out of the court yet still in negotiation, not to mention with a ten year old over bedside tales?

But then again, the Pevensies were always known to be extraordinary, if not out of this world.

For good humor, and to mimick a genuine deal, Edmund raised a hand to which his niece shook firmly.

“Let me take a wild guess at your choice—Ah wait, not necessary,” He teased. “Surely it has to be Narnia again?”

“Hmm hmm,” She hummed, hair bouncing as she nodded. Edmund brushed the long strands out of her face and tucked them behind her ears. He’d lost count already, the number of times Narnia and her story rolled off his tongue like a psalm. Contrary to his siblings’ beliefs, Edmund did not mind bringing up the wild chronicles of his childhood and youth. They helped him remember, no less than they helped him hope.

“Alright then,” He adjusted his legs so they weren’t cramped on the twin-sized bed. “Where to start?”

“When the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve all defeated the White Witch and stayed in Narnia?”

Edmund gaped at the back of her head, surprised and flustered. Time had watered down the repulsion over his own betrayal, though not a fraction of the guilt and gravity its consequences inflicted on Narnia and himself. He assmued she would’ve been interested to hear the dramatic account once more, for if there was any part of the story more striking than Aslan’s sacrifice, it was the lost boy and his return from fallen grace.

“But you know there’s a whole story before that, are you sure the coronation’s what you wish to begin with?”

“I’ve heard that part a million times. Dad said it’s not half as exciting as what happens after,” she remarked dryly. “He also said it was mainly about the Just King being unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant,” The word felt funny in his mouth. “I’m afraid he’s being kind.” The Peter before Narnia would’ve used much nastier words.

“Well, unpleasant or not, he did manage to break her wand.”

“So you don’t think the Just King was at fault, for Aslan’s suffering and the Battle of Beruna? Those sourced from some very questionable choices.”

“No,” Edmund could feel her frown in spite of the curtain of hair hiding her expression from sight. “I do, I just don’t think it really matters much in the end.”

“Oh,” He breathed. Either Peter had influenced her to believe so, or she was, in reality, wiser than they all gave her credit for. A warmth settled in his chest quickly, the same kind he went through when Lucy fired her first arrow. It was pride, and fondness, and so much more.

“He learnt his lesson, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did,” Edmund nodded. “And it was one he would never forget.”

━━

Traitor King. Silver Tongue. The Matchless Swordsman. Narnia’s old scriptures and scrolls had called him all sorts of names, but none were more important than the three words Aslan always refered to him as—Son of Adam, a cue of his humanity, and the highs and lows that were to accompany it.

“You will find, Edmund, that redemption is only gifted to the worthy. Darkness is enticing after all, or the mighty would not have fallen so easily. Few attempt to rise again, and fewer succeed. You must remember to honor such a gift. It is not to be taken lightly, nor should it be taken for granted. Nevertheless, Son of Adam, you have my faith.”

And so the lion slipped into Narnia and her trees, grand mane blending with the shadows of night. Edmund watched wordlessly, for the silence had spoken enough.

━━

Kathleen wriggled around, and Edmund was soon faced with a sour look from his niece.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Her eyes hardened, not far from the deadpan expression Peter used to fix him with when he spun out a snarky comment in bad timing. That one meeting with the Archenland knight was the angriest Peter had been with Edmund since the Winter Rebellion. But who was to blame Edmund? The poor knight and his bushy brows were too good a joke to pass.

━━

“Honestly, Ed? I thought Narnia’s chief advisor would know better than to compare our guest to a faun’s beard!”

One of Susan’s hands was pressing against her lips in a desperate attempt not to laugh. The other was lying on Lucy’s head, trying to achieve the same purpose. Edmund, never one to stop halfway through an act, had the audacity to wink at them before turning to his fuming brother.

“Oh Pete, you’re right. It was rude of me to besmirch the honor of our beloved Mr. Tumnus. I shall apologize to him as soon as this meeting is adjourned.”

As expected, Peter’s fury had been witnessed by half of Cair Paravel’s residents.

━━

“You’re spacing off again, Uncle Edmund.” Kathleen splayed her fingers onto his cheeks. “You always do that.”

He covered her dainty hands with his own, their calluses a proof of his victorious battles. “Pardon me, sweetheart. A bad habit, you see.”

She sighed, and tutted, then finally decided to sigh once more. “Never mind. Dad does it an awful lot too, and he’s worse than you. Mum tells him off sometimes, when he spills tea on the carpet or wash the blacks and whites together. Grey skirts, grey leggings, grey socks, nothing but grey for an entire month!”

Edmund smiled. Daydreaming appeared to be a common talent amongst the Pevensie siblings, if not second nature. Yet, seeing as it had all been true, Edmund thought perhaps it was more reminiscing than anything else.

“Shall I continue? Or are you still cross with me?”

“No Uncle Ed,” Kathleen inched forward to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. “I could never be cross with you.” Thus Edmund had felt his heart swell two folds.

“And I you,” he replied. “I believe a certain adventure is scheduled for Miss Kathleen Pevensie, would she kindly accept the offer?”

“She would, very much.”

“Smashing,” he dipped his head in a fake bow. “Her handsome, outstanding uncle would be glad to deliver.”

Kathleen giggled tenderly, leaning to press her ears to Edmund’s chest. She deemed both the sound of his steady heartbeat and hushed voice calming wonders.

“On the day of their coronation, the Kings and Queens of Old were dressed in the finest garments, a gift from Narnia’s neighboring countries. They were marvelous, the most splendid attires, made from silk and chiffon and brocade and—”

Edmund’s maundering came to a stop when it met meek reaction from his audience.

“I’m sorry, Kat. None of that made much sense, did it?”

“Not much sense,” Kathleen repeated. “But it sounded like the Kings and Queens were happy with their outfits.”

“They were,” Edmund confirmed. The feeling of swishing silks around ankles bore into his mind, almost as if imprinted on skin. “And so Aslan, the true king of Narnia, entrusted her to the four siblings who had fought and defeated Jadis.”

“Why didn’t Aslan rule Narnia himself, if he was her true owner?”

“To grant the Kings and Queens truths and wisdom that were to be taken back to their world. Although it was entirely known to the four much later in their lives.”

“And they simply trusted Aslan with all their hearts? Granting they hadn’t a clue what it was he desired from them?”

“It might be hard to understand, but yes, they believed in Aslan. For those who placed their faith in Aslan, and loved him unconditionally, the lion would watch over them. Every tree and creature knew so, and therefore were blessed and guided.”

“I am Narnia’s subject, as she is mine.” Aslan laid beside Edmund. “A country is nothing without a ruler, and for the very same reasons why a ruler is nothing without a country.”

A breeze crept into the room, causing Kathleen to shiver thrice. Edmund draped the abandoned blanket over their forms, turning to glimpse at the ajar window. He smiled, welcoming the wind like an old friend.

“The eldest boy of the siblings, as you see, was crowned the Magnificent King. The eldest girl, the Gentle Queen. Their younger brother, the Just King. And last but not least, their youngest sister, the Valiant Queen.”

“Do they not have names, the Kings and Queens?”

“They do, Kat. But even so,” he replied, “Names are of little significance after all, compared to actions and thoughts. Anyone who had Narnia’s best interest in heart would see fit to be King or Queen.”

“Even me?” She looked at him with bright round eyes.

“Especially you.” Edmund chuckled earnestly, for he had a suspicion Narnia may grow to be more than a bedtime story for the girl one day. “I imagine the Narnians would be pleased to have a little warrior amongst them.”

For a second, Kathleen did not speak, choosing instead to tuck her uncle’s words carefully into memory. “Were the Kings and Queens of Old warriors too?”

“They were, indeed. Despite the White Witch’s cease in reign, other dark forces who preyed on Narnia’s beauty remained. It was the Kings and Queens’ duty to guard and defend the land, and see to a peaceful and prosperous life for its inhabitants.”

“The Magnificent, also the High King, was tasked with leading armies in battle. The Just usually stationed near, responsible for devising strategies. The Gentle would be in command of the archers, as she was the most skilled one of all, and the Valiant healed those in pain and suffering with her special cordial.”

“That sounds like an awful lot of work,” Kathleen mumbled.

“Ruling a country is never easy,” He rubbed her back in comfort. “Power and commitment always come in pair.”

━━

Edmund sheathed his sword, then strided across the room to assist Peter with his armor. The air hung thickly, just as though mourning the imminent loss ahead. Edmund’s fingers clasped the buckles that Peter could not reach, the brothers settling in a heavy silence.

“Must we?” Peter’s sudden utterance was so soft, he would’ve missed it under the slightest distraction.

“Some fights are not meant to be avoided, your majesty. You are well informed of that.” Rarely did the Pevensies pay any mind to ranks and titles, much less amongst themselves. But in this moment the High King understood more than ever, that Edmund was speaking not as his brother, nor as his friend, but Narnia’s protector, breathing and living to serve her wholly.

“At times, Ed, I wonder why you aren’t leading the charge instead.”

“Believe me, I wonder myself.”

“Perhaps we should swap. I will draw up plans.”

They shared a look, an exchange limited to the dearest of brothers. Edmund realized he differed little from the boy who could not ‘do as he was told’, and Peter from the youth who did not always have things ‘nicely handled.’

“In that case, Pete, charging will be the only thing we accomplish.”

Three days later, High King Peter and Edmund the Just returned to Cair Paravel, new scars and bruises the proof of an agony that neither spoke about again.

━━

“Were there many battles?”

“Only necessary ones. The Kings and Queens were not fond of violence. Anything that could be solved on paper was done so.”

“I know! Dad taught me the word, you had to sign a tr–tre–trea”

“Treaty, Kat.” Edmund swiped her nose playfully. Any trace of grumpiness from her inability to recall the word was replaced with mirth.

“And yes, Narnia upheld many treaties with its neighbors.” He felt a smirk tug at his lips. “Some more interesting than others.”

Pooh, by the lion’s mane, why bother to hide his amusement at all? Rabadash was and forever will be the most ridiculous Calormen him and his siblings had dealt with. To speak of him was to give Susan a splitting headache.

━━

“Have you ever seen royalty so conceited? I mean, such vanity!” His oldest sister had slumped in her chair, a rare break from her meticulous poise.

“I don’t know, have you ever seen Peter with a mirror?”

Edmund yelped, barely managing to duck from the goblet that Peter chucked at him. Lucy, who was enjoying the afternoon meeting, giggled behind her palm.

As Edmund began shielding himself with a candelabra, another groan of distress from Susan pitted the boys against another one of their mid-day scuffles.

Lucy wrapped her arms around Susan, leaning backwards so they could both lay their heads on the window behind. “For a prince, he certainly lacked the manners of one.”

“And the hygiene,” Edmund added. “Did none of you smell the goon? Ghastly!”

“Ed,” Peter warned, though the gleam in his blue eyes betrayed his true position.

━━

“Uncle Edmund,” The whine of his name reached Edmund’s ears, breaking his train of thought. He blinked and bent his head to see Kathleen peering up at him with the very same eyes, blue and clear as the eastern seas. “You’re doing it again!”

Edmund sighed wistfully, trying his best to appear apologetic. “I’ve been a horrible storyteller, haven’t I?”

Kathleen brooded over his admission. “Not as horrible as Dad. He starts speaking so quickly it all becomes gibberish!”

Sounds like Peter, alright. One would’ve thought after a thousand negotiations, maybe a King could be cured of such hasty habits, but no, Peter Pevensie was just as stubborn as he was magnificent.

“Not exactly a fair comparison. Your dad’s a talking nightmare if you ever get him excited.”

“That he is.” And the pair bonded over their mutual exasperation.

“For fifteen years, the Kings and Queens of Old reigned over Narnia. Not without hiccups along the way, of course, but it was a happy time.”

“Fifteen?” Edmund could hear the dismay in her voice. “I expected fifty!”

“Huh, I suppose it was rather short. Despite the eventual turn of events, it was not in their intention to leave Narnia so soon. The siblings were on a hunt, you see, for a White Stag rumored to grant wishes. They arrived at Lantern Waste, only to fall through the wardrobe and return to England again.”

━━

Edmund glanced down to see thin, nimble fingers. Not the strong hands marked from years of sword practice. He gaped at his reflection to see a clean, pale face. Not the stubble left since last week’s shaving.

He remembered, though he did not want to, how the devastation and loss rippled through each of them.

For Peter, gone was the High King, now an angry schoolboy whose battlefields morphed from clearings to school courtyards. He swung at his enemies, only this time with empty fists and no Rhindon in sight.

For Susan, gone were the bows and arrows, replaced by dull pencils and jeering looks from boys. She remained gentle, only this time it was virtue borne from grief.

For Lucy, gone was the lady in tune with every creature and song, and in her place stood a child whose words weighed no more. Music kept her company still, only this time they did not forge sweet dreams.

And most of all, he remembered himself; gone was the persuasive counselor hungry for justice, his sharp tongue reduced to reticence. Fair play no less important, only this time its rewards appeared hollow.

━━

��What disappointment!” Kathleen exclaimed, hardly able to contain her distress at this point. She was beginning to wish she had settled with the old story instead. That, at least, bore a satisfying end. “They must be crushed, to start all over again... Yesterday, the rain knocked down the twig castle Mum and I built, and that was horrible enough! Will you help us with it tomorrow? I think the new one could use another tower.”

An ungraceful snigger broke from Edmund’s throat. It appeared his niece spoke too soon about her father’s babbling habit, and had gotten the short end of the Pevensie gene stick herself. Well, he guessed they couldn’t all be eloquent talkers.

“Of course, Kat. I’d be honored.”

“Did everybody greet them with grey beards and wrinkles?”

“No,” He shook his head. “No time had passed in England, and the four were children once again.”

“That must be strange. Weren’t they uncomfortable?”

“They were, for how could you be otherwise? England felt foreign to them now. A home from another lifetime.”

“Every streetlight reminded them of Narnia’s stars, every breeze of Narnia’s spirits. Months after, the Kings and Queens never stopped wishing for a journey back to Aslan’s land, where their hearts and souls laid.”

Kathleen began to grow restless again, her small fists clenching at Edmund’s shirt. “And did they, Uncle Edmund? Did Aslan call for them again? Oh, please tell me he did!”

Edmund, sensing the unease radiating off her in waves, resumed to rub soothing circles on her back. Kathleen sniffled, curling up so she could listen to Edmund’s heartbeat better.

“The Kings and Queens were summoned to Narnia a year after their departure, though it was not the lion who brought them back.”

━━

Cair Paravel, or what was left of it, stood forlorn on the cliff’s edge. Vines crawled and wrapped themselves around the previously unblemished pillars, now split into halves. The siblings could not look away till they heard Lucy’s crestfallen gasp and were confirmed it was not all an illusion.

“Our home,” His youngest sister had struggled to blink back tears.

When Edmund reunited with his golden chess, it had felt heavier in his palm.

━━

“To their surprise, a year in England had been a thousand in Narnia.”

“Oh no,” Kathleen half-whispered.

“When the Kings and Queens realized so, they came across a dwarf by the name of Trumpkin, one of the many Narnians who were in hiding. Trumpkin explained that not long after their withdrawal from the throne, Telmar and its troops had invaded Narnia and taken the kingdom for themselves.”

“And Aslan allowed them to?”

Edmund nodded, albeit hesistantly. “He too, disappeared along with the four siblings.”

“If Aslan didn’t call for them, who did?”

“Do you recall, Kat, the gift that the Gentle Queen received from Father Christmas?”

“A magic horn.”

“Correct,” Edmund verified. “The horn was left behind, long believed to be lost until a Professor discovered it. He gave the enchanted object to a Telmarine Prince Caspian, the nephew of a usurper called Miraz—”

“What’s a usupper, Uncle Ed?”

Edmund chuckled. “Usurper, sweetheart. It means someone who has taken power not rightfully their’s. Miraz was a cruel man who murdered his own brother, Caspian’s father, so as to have the throne for himself.”

Kathleen gaped, seemingly gobsmacked by the information. Her expression had Edmund reflecting on whether the story was becoming overtly dark for a child.

“Is this too much, Kat? Maybe I should stop.”

All he received was a groan of objection.

“Fine, but tell me any time it gets too scary alright? Don’t want you getting nightmares in the middle of the night.” His niece grunted in compliance.

“Shortly before the Kings and Queens’ return, Miraz’s wife gave birth to a son. The baby’s untimely arrival made Caspian a threat to his uncle’s line of succession. In order to protect the prince from Miraz’s harm, the Professor sent him away to the woods. Caspian, bewildered, fled with only the Gentle Queen’s horn and his horse.”

“Were the Narnians hiding in the forest too?”

“Yes. It took quite a lot of convincing for them to help the Telmarine prince, but they relented under his promise that Narnia would be restored to her former glory.”

“I see. The Kings and Queens must’ve been back because of the horn then.”

“Clever girl,” Kathleen flashed him a smile. “Aslan had intended for Caspian to seek their guidance. Amusingly, however, things got off to a rocky start.” Rocky was an understatement, seeing as Peter had nearly busted Caspian’s head with a rock.

━━

“Was that really necessary? He elbowed his brother on their way to the How. “I thought I was responsible for the snarky comments in this family.”

He didn’t need to look to see the irritation written on Peter’s face.

“Easy does it, Pete. The boy’s been thrusted into a world of talking animals and moving trees all in a single day. Grace him with a bit of your goodwill, won’t you?”

Peter begrudgingly agreed, but not before casting a dirty glance at him.

“You like him.” It was more an accusation than anything.

And Edmund had simply shrugged.

━━

“Caspian was...” Edmund faltered, finding himself struggling to find the proper words. Even after all this time, when it came to the dark-eyed prince turned king, he had a tendency to be rendered speechless. And for someone dubbed the Silver Tongue of Narnia, it was quite a remarkable accomplishment.

“He was what, Uncle Edmund?” Cynthia’s small hands rocked his shoulder back and forth, the impatient tone in her voice drawing a wistful smile to his lips. To be a child, curious without faults and unaware of the dangers lurking beneath knowledge. Edmund didn’t quite remember the feeling anymore, for that was a life before Narnia.

He looked down at the girl cuddled up in his arms, watched as her misty blue eyes searched his own brown ones, hungry for truth. She reminded him of a younger Lucy then, rich in understanding and sensitivity, yet never afraid to ask the right questions. Edmund’s heart skipped at the thought of his little sister, whose presence had lessened along with the increased clients at her clinic.

Funny, how some people seemed to grow up right under your noses. He suspected Peter and Susan had experienced the same bittersweet sentiments after their first return from Narnia.

━━

“When did you get so wise, Ed?” Peter slung a heavy arm around his shoulders.

“The same time you’ve grown a beard.”

Their laughter echoed through the hallways at Hendon House, breaking whatever solemn spell which had fallen between the brothers over dinner.

━━

“Difficult.” Edmund answered, raking his fingers through fair curls. “Caspian was difficult.”

A rough noise rose from Kathleen’s throat, one which resembled a disapproving grunt. Her hand on Edmund’s shoulder slipped off in defeat.

“You call everyone difficult, Uncle Edmund.” She said plainly, as if her words didn’t just accuse him of a harsh disposition.

“I do not,” He drew back in mild offense. “Call everyone that. Mostly your father, occasionally your Aunt Susan and Lu, but never you Kat.”

“And now Caspian too.” She peered up at him, toothy grin and bright eyes in tow. Edmund found it much too adorable to resist.

“Yes, him too. Although it is a very different kind of difficult, if you must know.”

“Not like the Magnificent King’s?”

“No,” he laughed. “The Magnificent merely drove everyone mad with his bull-like way of thinking sometimes. Caspian, on the other hand, was an infuriating case. When they first met him, he was a prince, not yet a king, and it was clear he had a long way to go before becoming one.”

“Why? Was he a child?”

Edmund shook his head. “He was only slightly younger than the Magnificent. They were quite similar in nature, you see, hot heads and brave hearts. It was precisely so that made it impossible for them to get along initially.”

A brief image of his brother and love standing side by side, clad in traditional armor, flashed across his mind, and for a moment the memory remained terribly vivid. A have-been-king and a king-to-be charging onto battlefields shoulder to shoulder, armed with only rusty sword skills and hope for the country they ruled and will rule—a sight to behold indeed.

Somewhere in his wry mind, Edmund supposed Aslan did have a preference when it came to thrones and successions.

In his younger years, Edmund would’ve struck the earth with his heel, craned his neck and cried injustice at the lion. But the days spent in Cair Paravel’s throne room, watching the golden crown bobbing on his brother’s head as he soothed and advised creature after creature, had taught Edmund to change his mind.

There was no leader more befitting of his title, and no Son of Adam more deserving to be called Narnia’s High King than Peter. Aslan had seen this in the eldest Pevensie before he had known so himself, when he was still all gangly limbs and ruffled light hair. Aslan had known, like he always did with everything else. Edmund’s faith in the lion could not measure to his younger sister’s, but of this he was sure.

Besides, he would never have fit into the line of rulers that included Caspian or Peter. For they ruled with their hearts, and Edmund with his head. Both were equally important, but whereas the former was needed before crowds and armies, the latter shone behind curtains and walls. Edmund would never be comfortable being someone who wore every emotion on their sleeves. Falling in love with one, however, he could testify as unnervingly easy.

“What about the other Kings and Queens? Did they like Caspian?”

“The Gentle Queen found him handsome, and the Valiant Queen trust-worthy. The Just, he was… intrigued.”

“Eventually, the Magnificent also bonded with Prince Caspian over their love for Narnia.” All thanks to me, Edmund thought wryly. Nothing an afternoon locked up together in a grave couldn’t solve.

“To win against Miraz, they had to do so through unity. The fight wasn’t easy, and they lost many soldiers along the way,” Edmund bowed his head, paying respect to the loyal warriors who had lost their lives during the raid. “Countless temptations swayed them too.”

━━

Edmund shivered, but the anger which burned in his veins was overpowering any remains of the White Witch’s presence. How dared they? He stared at Aslan’s sculpted figure, refusing to meet Caspian’s pleading gaze. Edmund did not trust himself, knowing one look was all it took to cave.

“Edmund, you must comprehend that I am—”

“Sorry?” Caspian winced at his scornful tone. “I do, I just don’t comprehend why there was a chance to be sorry in the first place. Did the old stories not teach you enough, of what she can do to you Caspian, of what she had done to me?” His voice cracked, shaking from the sheer terror of seeing Jadis’ face.

Caspian looked equally pained. He never expected things to go south with the Just King so soon, yet here they were, and there was no one else to blame but his own selfishness.

In a split second, the prince had closed the distance and appeared before him. His fingers lingered on Edmund’s waist, almost frantic that the boy would flinch from his touch. And for a moment, Edmund nearly did.

“Edmund,” the young prince called out, soft and desperate. He drew the beauty in his arms closer, till their chests were pressed together and their hearts thrummed in the same tempo. Edmund leaned into Caspian, craving for the other’s warmth. Treacherous mind.

“You’ve hurt me.” So scarcely did he allow a glimpse of the old, icy wounds, but Caspian had never failed to weasle his way through the cracks of Edmund’s walls.

“I have,” A softness landed between the crease of Edmund’s brows. “And for that I am not worthy of your affection, King Edmund.”

“A bit too late for that, Prince Caspian.” He raised his head to see desire, rooted in the strongest respect and admiration only for him. “You must make it up to me, somehow.”

The chilly air seemed to have thawed upon his words.

“Anything you wish.”

And their lips did not part until the sounding of Miraz’s horn.

━━

Kathleen tapped his shoulder lightly, now accustomed to her uncle’s sporadic halts. Edmund touched his mouth, shocked to feel the shadow of a lightest pressure.

“Caspian was young, and his princely pursuits in the castle did not prepare him for the outside world. For him, everything was a test designed to prove his worth.”

“Surely he must be good, if Aslan wanted him to be King?”

“Caspian was destined for greatness, but he lacked the confidence to draw it from within. And that is where the Kings and Queens come in, to instill good faith in the prince.”

“Enlightened by their guidance, he became surer of his abilities and a resolute character. When the Magnificent issued a challenge to Miraz and defeated him in the duel, Caspian even spared his uncle’s life.”

“That’s very noble of him.” Kathleen remarked.

“It is. After all, forgiveness is the greatest strength to possess.”

“That was it? Victory for the Narnians?”

“Not quite,” Edmund grimaced. “Turns out, Miraz wasn’t the only Telmarine hungry for control. Another lord, Sopespian, had conspired to betray Miraz so as to rule the kingdom. He framed the Narnians for Miraz’s death, and that sparked a second war between both parties.”

“This lord,” Kathleen had sounded miffed. “He’s not very honest.”

“Power can make a man greedy and foul.” Edmund had witnessed its undertaking first hand many winters ago.

“So they had to fight again?”

“Tooth and nail. They were losing too, outnumbered by the large Telmarine army. Some form of help was needed urgently.”

“Aslan,” Kathleen finished for him.

“Indeed, he returned with the Valiant Queen and awakened the hibernating trees. They aided the Narnians, thus forcing the Telmarines to retreat to a river nearby. Aslan roared, called forth a river-god, and the Second Battle of Beruna ended in the blink of an eye.”

“The Narnians celebrated their victory for three whole days, while Prince Caspian was to prepare for his coronation. The revolution had groomed him into a hero deserving of the crown.”

“Finally, the happy ending I’ve been waiting for—” Kathleen’s sigh of contentment was cut short by her uncle’s dismal expression. “Oh c’mon, somebody ought to give them one by now!”

Edmund didn’t have the heart to tell her that not all stories were granted a perfect closure. “Sadly, the Magnificent King and Gentle Queen were not to return to Narnia again.”

“Not to return, ever again? But how, I don’t understand!”

“Aslan deemed their journey to be a fruitful one. He declared the two to have learnt everything they can from his land.”

“Load of rubbish, I’ll say!”

“Kat,” Edmund chided half-heartedly, for he could not deny he had felt the same way. “Language.”

“But Uncle Ed, if Aslan really loved the Kings and Queens of Old, why rip them away from the one place they love?”

“While it may not have seemed so, England was their true home. Aslan knew they would both wish for a life there. ”

“What about the Just King? The Valiant Queen?”

“They, along with their older brother and sister, also bid Narnia farewell, though a third and final return was in the waiting.”

“Those must have been some painful farewells. I don’t think I would ever manage.”

━━

Caspian led Edmund away from the crowds and scrutinizing stares, up the stairs and to the top of a tower. The sun was setting, its glow dousing every creature and object in a serene shade of pink. Edmund swallowed hard, since words did not appear to save him in this moment.

The newly crowned King watched his lover carefully, eyes drinking in every curve of his body, every strand of hair atop his head, every rise and fall of his chest. He’d been hellbent on stamping them in his memory that morning and the previous night, when Edmund had so willingly bared himself for Caspian to worship.

“Ed.” And the syllable was enough to knock the last coherent though out of him. Edmund’s hands were clasped tightly around the King’s neck, his piercing brown eyes tracing all of Caspian’s features. For a fraction of a second, he had dared hope for a different outcome.

“Don’t forget this.” A peck. “Don’t forget me.” A second peck.

“I won’t,” Caspian bit hard on his lip. “Not even if Aslan tells me to.”

That same evening, Edmund did not risk looking back as he crossed the doorway. Because he knew himself, and he knew he would not survive the heartbreak.

━━

“Approximately another year went by till the youngest of the siblings travelled back to Narnia. This time, accompanied by their cousin, a boy close to the Valiant Queen’s age.”

A look of horror dawned on Kat’s face, which Edmund quickly realized the reason behind. “Luckily for them, this trip spanned hardly three Narnian years from their previous one.”

Kathleen’s figure slumped in relief. “Thank god!”

The little girl could not resist giggling at her own reaction, which prompted Edmund to laugh as well. With all the work at the office, he’d not have a single instant to be silly prior to the present.

“The three landed in the ocean and were rescued by a passing ship, a marvellous craft doned the Dawn Treader. They were delighted to be back, and more so when greeted by a familiar face.”

Kathleen, catching the twinkle in his eyes, clasped a hand over her mouth to prevent a shrill scream. “Caspian!” Came the muffled sound. Edmund gave into his urge to respond just as enthusiastically.

“The Narnian King revealed himself to be the ship’s commander, on a quest to locate his late father’s seven friends. The Gentle Queen’s horn remained untouched, yet his heart must have unknowingly summoned the two.”

━━

Edmund straightened out his shirt, then stroded out to deck with his hands tucked into his pockets. Lucy descended from the stairs shortly afterwards, sporting a similar set of apparel.

“If these unhygienic quarters do not cause my demise first, these scratchy costumes most definitely will,” a nettled Eustace spoke to no one in particular, becoming flabbergasted when none of the crew answered to his complaints.

“I, for one, disagree with you cousin. These must have been the work of Narnian dwarfs, the stitching is simply superb.”

“And you would be correct, Queen Lucy,” Edmund blinked furiously when Caspian emerged from nowhere, two fencing swords in hand. He caught one of them when the Narnian King chucked it in his direction with a wink.

“This early, boys?” Lucy tutted, but it was clear from her sly expression that she was anticipating the approaching match .

“Solely to ensure King Edmund has not lost his expertise,” Caspian’s explaination was followed by a deep bow. Nonetheless, Edmund could sense the snideness beneath his statement, almost as if he was taunting Edmund to retaliate.

Interesting. Kingship had certainly taught the modest man a few tricks.

On this wise, Edmund was not surprised when their swords clashed together in an inevitable draw.

━━

“And what of their cousin? His first time in Narnia...”

Immediately, quite a few of Eustace’s mishaps flashed in Edmund’s brain. He then wondered about Reepicheep, the quirky mouse, and his fate in Aslan’s country. It was a bittersweet affair, to recall all the people he had left behind...

“In the beginning, their cousin was not so welcoming towards the idea of magic, much less a kingdom full of it. He regarded each sight as a hoax or a strange dream, choosing to confide only in the pages within his diary.” In fact, scribbling, scrawling, and scribing was all Eustace had done.

“The crew did not find his addition a pleasant one, despite learning to think elseway as the voyage continued. The Just King, in particular, sought to keep his trap shut most days.” Edmund then rolled his eyes in good nature. “Although Caspian kept him from any extreme methods.”

━━

A hand stopped his way in hunting down Eustace bloody Scrubb. Edmund threw his head back to glare at the interruption. A six feet long, gorgeous interruption.

“Let me go,” He said through gritted teeth. Caspian opted otherwise and pulled a flushed Edmund into his embrace.

“I think today is a rather sunny day,” He talked into the air. “Not suitable for any casualties on board.”

His comment had Edmund’s eyes turning a dangerous dark, breathtaking and lethal like all the Narnian tales described him. “Oh I assure you, King Caspian, there will be more than one if you don’t let go of me right now.”

“Seeing as you refer to me as King, am I wrong to expect you also remember that I am no longer under your command, old King Edmund the Just?”

“Old?” He squawked. “You’re one to talk, bearded man!”

“Well I don’t know,” Caspian shrugged. “What else do you call an ancient being then?”

“Ancient!”

Caspian smirked, but his triumph was short-lived when lithe arms snaked around his neck, pulling him close for their bodies to rest chest against chest. His breath hitched, gaze wandering from star-like freckles to sinful, full lips. Edmund peered up at him through long lashes, putting on a convincing front that would be sure to fool any unsuspecting stranger.

“What a shame,” The Just King drawled. “And here I assume you’ve quite enjoyed having something ancient in bed.” Tipping his head upwards, he met Caspian’s equally amused stare.

“If all ancient things could make such obscene noises from a mere touch...” The Narnian King teased as Edmund’s mouth parted, a pink tongue darting out to reach his upper lip. “Ed—” He warned weakly. “Supper is in twenty mintues.”

The limbs around his neck slipped off in a flash, and Caspian was horrified at the disappointed groan which had nearly escaped him.

“Pity,” Edmund pouted, whipping around to twist the doorknob behind him. “Swordfighting was not the only thing I had been hoping to brush up on.”

━━

By Aslan, where had that boldness come from? Edmund’s face burned from the flashback, yielding an alarming red when he recalled his current surroundings.

“Uncle Ed,” Kathleen examined him dubiously. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Edmund decided that he wished for nothing more but a hole to hide in. “No, absolutely not! Where’d you get the idea, sweetheart?”

“You keep pausing when it gets to the Just King and Caspian, and there’s that look on your face, like you’re both happy and in pain. Painfully happy. Not to mention your cheeks resemble tomato—”

“Alright!” Edmund waved his hands in protest. “I see your point.”

“Please, I’m a great secret keeper! Last week, Dad melted Mum’s lipstick on the stove and I didn’t tell her! Whatever it is, I swear I won’t snitch!” His niece pleaded.

“Sweetheart, there’s a reason I—”

“C’mon Uncle Ed, I tell you everything, even about Mum’s lipstick lying under the couch! It’s only fair.”

Cursing his own poor judgement, and yes it was possible, Edmund exhaled deeply before relenting. “I wasn’t holding back because I doubted your integrity, sweetheart. It is the nature of the secret that I am hesistant of.”

“Why, is it bad?”

“No, not to me at least. Although some people may beg to differ.”

“Oh I hardly give a dime what some people think, Uncle Ed. I love you, and anything you like I’m confident I’d grow to like it too.”

Edmund smiled. Peter had expressed his permission early on, saying some early insight would be nice for his daughter. As a matter of fact, the only hurdle so far was Edmund’s own reluctance. No, he wasn’t ashamed of what he and Caspian shared—It was something sacred and beautiful beyond compare.

“To put things into perspective, the Just King and King Caspian...They were in love.”

Edmund held his breath as the rapid beating of his heart drummed against his ears. What he did not expect, however, was for his niece to trap him in an elated embrace, her deathly grip squeezing all the air out of him.

“Jolly news Uncle Ed! Why didn’t you tell me sooner, I would’ve asked for this story every night!” At her sudden splurt of delight, Edmund’s eyebrows disappeared up into his fringe.

“Really?”

“Really!” Kathleen bobbed her head. “I think it’s romantic.”

“Huh, I’d have to side with you on that one.” He played along in good humor. “The Just King was a dashing young man, unbelievably irresistable in truth.”

“Wasn’t Caspian the heartthrob?” Kathleen muttered with scrunched eyebrows. “Aunt Susan and Lucy both said he was.” Edmund nudged her waist playfully, earning a squeal from the unwary girl.

“Your Aunt Susan and Lucy also get a bit mushy in the head, so excuse their yammering sweetheart.”

“Right, Aunt Susan...Mushy,” His niece replied in faud compliance. Challenging her uncle now would put the story on another excrutiating hold, and she was dying to hear about the two kings. Aunt Susan’s credibility would have to be discounted for the greater good.

“As mentioned, the Just King and the Seafarer, that was what everyone on the ship branded Caspian as, were in a loving relationship. The adventures stored for their voyage served to strengthen their fondness for one another, and through them the two kings came to an understanding of themselves more definite than ever.”

━━

“Edmund,” Caspian whispered into the crook of his neck. The two were laying in Caspian’s hammock, under a sheer blanket that was futile in covering either of their warm and satiated bodies. Edmund hummed in response, flipping over to get a better view of his lover’s features.

“Can I ask you something?” Caspian’s usual firm tone was laced with a dab of vacillation. It reminded Edmund of a younger Seafarer, the demure Telmarine prince who always walked a step behind him and his siblings. But now that boy was a man, and a king not above nor below Edmund’s command. They were equals, in love and in power.

“Perhaps a five minute break, Caspian. Even young men do not possess stamina without bounds.” His joke flew over the Narnian King’s head, and soon he realized the solemn territory they were venturing into. Stroking the nape of Caspian’s neck, Edmund conceded to his question.

“I wish to discuss a matter with you, one brought to my attention by Drinian.”

“We agreed the cabin was strictly for personal affairs—”

“And a personal affair it is, Ed.” Caspian sighed regretfully. “I have been tempted to wait till we are close to Ramandu’s island, yet I fear there is an urgent need for this to be resolved.” Edmund frowned at his cryptic speech.

“Is something wrong? You’re going in circles, Cas, and I’d much prefer straight lines.”

“I am worried that you are not content on the Dawn Treader.” Caspian then looked away like he was afraid the other would strike him.

If possible, it made the Just King frown even harder.

“What in Narnia are you on about? I’m here, with you and Lu, and our insufferable know-it-all cousin, on a ship ten times the size of my bedroom in England. How can you honestly think I won’t be grateful?” When Caspian refused to look at him, Edmund let out a soft grunt, fingers gripping his chin in order to force eye contact.

“Exactly. You and Lucy are sailing on the finest Narnian navy ship, across perlious waters and land, witnessing heaps of projects being carried out without any direct authority over them. Do you notice, Edmund, what the crew out there call you and Lucy?”

“The King and Queen of Old?” Caspian shook his head.

“Legends in flesh.” He gave the Just King a moment to collect himself. “And they’re not wrong. You and your siblings have ruled this land over a thousand years ago, seen its rise and fall,” He then paused wryly. “And rise again. Your reign is celebrated as the Golden Age, and people worshiped you. Now you have returned, not to create but to testify history. You must admit, Ed, that it is a discomfort to do so.”

Of course his pride had been wounded, when his commands became suggestions again. Of course his pride had been wounded, when he had to conform to playing second-fiddle again. But Edmund was still King, and until Aslan said otherwise, he would continue to be. And as Narnia’s King, her future was the utmost priority, something Edmund had long accepted he would not partake in.

Whereas Edmund represented the past, Caspian did so the future. He had seen Narnia under the Seafarer’s governship. She would be in good hands.

“And a valuable discomfort it is, Caspian,” Edmund echoed his partner’s previous words. “Perhaps if we had this conversation prior to your crowning, I would’ve been less at ease. You remind me of Peter sometimes,” He broke into a coy smile at the sight of raised eyebrows. “Always doubting yourselves, picking at faults that don’t amount to a silver of your strengths. Believe me, Caspian, I’m no kind critic. So when I say you are leading Narnia in the right direction, I actually mean it. There isn’t a single moment when I haven’t been proud of you. Been so so proud—”

His next words were cut short, dwindling into muffled sounds under Caspian’s mouth. Edmund returned the kiss with matching fervor, hoisting himself up so he could settle into Caspian’s lap. The Narnian King held him at the waist, lips brushing and sucking at his pulse.

Edmund fell backwards pliantly, exposing his neck and shoulder blades for the other to caress. “Oh Cas...”

“I love you, Edmund Pevensie.” Caspian’s hot breath fanned against his skin. “I need you. Desperately.”

A pleasant heat coiled in Edmund’s chest.

“As do I, my King.” Edmund titled his head, placing kisses on each of Caspian’s eyelids. “Have me. Have me over and over again.”

━━

Kathleen’s dreamy sigh brought him back, her eyes drifiting out the window as she spoke, “Adventures at sea with someone you love...The Just King must’ve felt very romantic.”

Laughing, Edmund waved his hand in front of her. “Earth to Kat, you’re the one to tune out now.”

She batted his hand away. “Hey, don’t make fun of me. You can’t tell me they weren’t having the best time of their lives.”

“They were extremely grateful for the weeks they got to spend together, and the circumstances those weeks were under. Not to mention the Dawn Treader was a lovely vessel occupied by Narnia’s bravest crew. ”

“Ahah! So what could go wrong by any chance?”

“At times the sea would be turbulent,” Edmund pointed out to his niece. “And so was everybody aboard. A festive atmosphere was not guarenteed daily.”

━━

Edmund slammed the door shut. Fine, petty move, but he doubted the Dawn Treader’s walls were soundproof in the first place.

“I’ve said it twice and I will say it again Edmund, you can’t keep thrusting yourself into danger!”

“The serpent was my fear, my responsibility! I should be the person to take it. Not you, not Lucy, not Drinian. Me!”

Caspian’s hands latched onto the bedframe, its knuckles turning white from the sheer force applied. “That doesn’t entitle killing yourself, Edmund. Of everything I dare not command you except to refrain from putting your life on a line.”

“What do you expect of me, Caspian? Complete obedience?”

“No, I just wish for you to listen!”

“I do, I listen! And then I decide elseway. There’s a difference between rash and swift!”

“Edmund, all I ask is for you to heed my words when they are in your best interest. Every so often I would not mind if you reacted more… mildly.” The Narnian King glanced at Edmund, instantly regretting his choice. Stormy eyes bore into his own.

“Well, I apologize for not being of ‘milder’ disposition, although you ought to have realized that long ago.”

“Ed—”

“If it is gentleness you seek from me, Caspian,” Contempt lurched in his stomach. “I’m afraid you have the wrong sibling.”

Despising himself for the outburst ,and even more for Caspian’s ability to rouse such a temper out of him, Edmund rubbed harshly at his face, desperate to remove any evidence of vulnerability.

Lines of tears now tumbled down his cheeks, and through his blurry vision he sensed Caspian’s presence by his side. Edmund leaned into him, choked sobs tugging at his lover’s heartstrings.

“Edmund Pevensie,” He called sternly, albeit with clear adoration. “Don’t you announce such lies when you know how much I worship your fiery spirit. I love you, and I love each side of you. The passionate you, the shrewd you, the noble you, even and most of all, the infuriating you—Now have I made my point?”

The male in his arms acknowledged him with a softer cry.

“I did not intend to hurt you with my words, they hail from good intentions. However, a moment ago I was under the impression that I would lose the most important person in my life, so forgive me if I’m currently reduced to a frantic man in love.”

“I’m so-sorry,” Edmund spluttered. “I was only thinking of keeping you and Lucy safe.”

“Maybe it is hypocritical of me to claim I wouldn’t do the same.”

“Maybe it is,” He sniffled. “But you’re right, I could’ve been nicer about the whole thing.”

“Well then, you must make it up to me somehow.”

If anyone on the Dawn Treader had recalled correctly, the waves that night did not die down the slightest. Yet the two kings slumbered peacefully in their cabin, retreating into similar dreams with interwined hands.

━━

“Mum and Dad squabble over the tiniest problems too. Eventually they work it out anyway,” Kathleen shrugged nonchalantly. “Are the Just King and Caspian like them?”

“More or less,” Edmund answered in amusement.

“I would ask if they got their own happy ending...”

“But?” He prompted. Three heartbreaks in a night might be traumatizing for a child.

“I’m starting to notice the picture here—Not many happily ever afters in Narnia.”

“To be fair, not many happily ever afters here either. Nonetheless, there is happiness and contentment, and they are somewhat close to that. ”

“Did the two kings have that? An almost happily ever after?”

━━

Aslan’s confirmation was agonizing, though expected. This was it, goodbye to Narnia. No more wishing and praying on stars for another return.

Lucy stood facing Aslan, the lion doing his best to comfort her. She was a lady now, akin to when she was one a thousand years earlier. This would hurt her immensely, but she would survive and thrive. For she was Queen Lucy the Valiant, and nobody would expect slighter from her.

Eustace stood facing Reepicheep, the mouse biding farewell with praises for him. He was a Narnian now, different than he was a month earlier. This would inspire him, and he would continue to hope and believe. For he was Eustace Scrubb, and not even dragons could smother his courage .

Edmund stood facing the waves, the entrance to Aslan’s country. He was Edmund Pevensie, as he had been since the birth of time. This would haunt him. This would break him. This would free him. For he was Edmund Pevensie, and mending he did best.

“I don’t believe this is goodbye,” Caspian whispered into his ears. “Since Narnia runs in our blood. And as long as she reaches your heart, I will be with you always.”

“As will I, my king.”

“I do not think I will know love this way again.”

“You may find yourself surprised.”

“But this is the one I shall carry to my grave.”

“Oh Cas, you horrible romantic.” And so they had made peace with their parting. At least in this lifetime.

“King Edmund the Just, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table, it has been an honor.”

“King Caspian X, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands, the honor is all mine.”

━━

Edmund dabbed at the corner of his eye, awed to find himself tearing up even so many years later.

“Yes, an almost happily ever after they did have.”

“Did the Just King ever want to stay?”

Have I ever? Do I still? Edmund knew the answer to such questions all too well, seeing as they had filled his mind day and night following the voyage.

“He wishes a lot of things, sweetheart. A wider bed to stretch his legs, a larger office to place his shelves, a lighter pot to cook his supper. And for some time, a chance to remain in Narnia too.” He kissed the crown of her head gently. “But not this instant.” Or how could I have met you?

“The time will come, Son of Adam, when you shall understand. For every sacrifice you sow, there will be fruit. What you reap may not amount to what you’ve given up, but you must realize it makes the fruit no less sweeter.”

“Someday, I want to go on a ship too. Dad says I’m not allowed to be a pirate, but we’ll see.” She spoke with such resolution that Edmund could not bear to let her down.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to convince him.”

Kathleen, satisfied with his response, snuggled closer into his embrace. Edmund watched as her eyelids drooped and her breathing evened. The low hum of an engine outside signified the end of their night.

Tucking his niece in, then snuffing out the candle and lights, Edmund was halfway out the door when a voice stopped him.

“Uncle Edmund?”

“Yes Kathleen?”

“I hope you’ll see Caspian again someday.”

He smiled. “I hope so too.”

Narnia was, after all, a strange land—And with even stranger ways to unite two kings.

Knowing that was enough for Edmund.

-Finite-

#narnia #casmund #edmund pevensie #edmund x caspian #caspian #the chronicles of narnia

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magpie-scribbles · 3 years

Text

So I just had to do some headcanons for my 2 V's and their LI because they live rent free in my brain 24/7

V/Valerie:

-She uses humor and sassiness to hide that she is one who baby that is actually very soft and afraid on the inside. She rarely opens up and spends a lot of her her time trying to come of as cool and funny rather than let people know she is afraid.

-Jackie, Misty, Panam and River are they only ones that can get her to admit things without prying (aside from Angel who I headcanon eventually calls her after remembering parts of their convo and they become friends)

-She often talks with Misty about spiritual things since she follows a lot of the ideas Misty has. She never feels judged around her and enjoys just hanging out, lighting up some incense and talking about the metaphysical.

-She prefers Val to Valerie. Most times she's only called Valerie when she's in trouble (the good old fashioned full name fear). However whenever River tries to use it, it does other things to her and he uses it like a goddamn weapon when he wants to.

-Absolutely 💯% cannot cook. River tries to help, he really does but as soon as he leaves her alone for a second some how everything goes to hell in a handbasket. Still she loves to help, mostly because watching River do his thing is a treat.

-Good with kids, due to the Nomadic upbringing and the sort of shared family aspect of that life. Would never admit it (especially to Joss because she knows how it would end) but she could see herself having one or two kids in the future.

-Loves just snuggling down with River after a long day and vegging out and watching trash TV. She has a lot of energy but the quiet moments with him where sometimes they don't even talk calms her and makes her heart feel so full.

-Loves when River's dominate side comes out in the bedroom, though she absolutely also loves to test her luck with how much she can push him and how naughty she can be before she gets 'punished'.

V/Vincent:

-100% feral gremlin, he's not the brightest bulb but honestly he doesn't care. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is quick to state his excitement or displeasure. He shields himself off from his more "guarded emotions" like fear. Because he tries to be a tough guy he really does.

-He can be a big softy with his friends and is not above crying in front of him because tough guy attitude be damned he loves them and trusts them. Would protect Misty with his life because she's one of the few people he thinks is the most kind and genuine person he's ever met.

-Doesn't know shit about spirituality but listens when Misty talks and tries to pay attention though honestly he's clueless. "So is my...heart Chakra messed up 'cause I hit that car last week with that bike I stole?"

-He HATES the name Vinny and he will go full on feral if someone calls him it. The only one that can say it is Jackie and Panam, and even then he'll play fight and hem and haw about it. Vin is okay but he's still not a big fan. Like Valerie he often only ever hears his full name when he's in trouble. But when Panam uses it he's literally that on Tik Tok (when I use my husband's full name) (immediate fear lol)

-He became 💯% smitten with Panam when she pulled out the rocket launcher to bring down the AV with Hellman. He's also charmed with the fact she so good with technical stuff (he was a nomad as well but he ham-fisted his way through a lot of his "fixes").

-He has a lot of energy and can get distracted easily so when Panam puts his head in her lap and rubs his brow and temples he absolutely melts because it's hard for him to relax.

-Would definitely sub for Panam and has definitely thought about her pegging him. Despite how tactless he can be, he wants to be at least somewhat put together when he broaches the subject. (Panam ends up asking first and he becomes and absolute puddle).

#male v cyberpunk #v cyberpunk 2077 #female v cyberpunk 2077 #v #cyberpunk 2077 #river ward cyberpunk 2077 #river ward #v x river ward #panam palmer #panam x v #headcannons #little smutty #i love them all so much

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somestansomewhere · 3 years

Text

Frank’s Dementia in 11a

Points to discuss:

Moments where Frank forgot.

Things he might be able to remember.

Other characters finding out.

Aftermath...

So to start of, I made a list of every instance in SEASON ELEVEN A, where Frank’s memory seemed a bit off, I’m not gonna analyze the whole series for this but I’m sure there’s more there. Now:

Moments Where Frank Forgot

11x01

1. Frank’s History of Chicago

While this does appear to imply just the opening monologue, there are actually several moments throughout the episode where Frank is talking about the Gallagher’s running Chicago to Alan. And while this seems like typical “Frank being drunk nonsense”, plus a spectacular opening to the season... I now see it in a different light especially after:

2. Frank’s Memory Elixir

Frank LITERALLY has a line asking for “memory elixir”, meaning booze, which Alan hands him. Ironic since he has ALCOHOLIC DEMENTIA. You can’t tell me that wasn’t intentional!

3. He Forgot Bars Were Closed

Now, I may be reaching here... BUT when Frank enters The Alibi for the first time this season (what a grand enterence btw) he says “I heard somewhere all bars were open again”. V responds by saying something along the lines of “three weeks ago maybe” and that the mayor shut them down again. Frank says “Well who the hell can keep track”. And okay, yeah maybe Frank genuinely didn’t know... but this is the bar he goes to EVERYDAY. Not to mention if they shut down less than THREE WEEKS AGO, Frank should know... idk this one might not count but I added it anyway. Kermit is unaware of bars being open/shut down in 11x03 so moving on:

11x02

4. The Alibi’s Secret Enterence

Okay, again REACHING! However, when Frank entered The Alibi through the Keg Zone door he forgot to use the “secret knock” and Kev had to remind him about it. Now in 11x01 he used the front door (and I’m not sure he knew to use the other door in that ep) but still at least he remembered to use the correct door in 11x02.

11x03

This is where it got noticeable.. strap in, here we go:

5. Taking Franny to School

He took her to the wrong school. This is the same person that knows the Southside perhaps better than his kids (lol), like the back of his hand! He not only took her to the wrong school but a middle/grade school. Franny is in elementary/preschool school. You can see in WHM’s face here that Frank was confused...

6. Uncle V and Aunt Kev

Maybe just a comedic slip up, but Frank calls Kev and V “Uncle V and Aunt Kev” as opposed to what they really are. Maybe he forgot? I’m reaching LOL.

7. Debbie Is Not Fiona

Frank talks about one of his favorite MEMORIES with Franny’s mom: Debbie, but “oh no, maybe that was Fiona”. Small moment, typical Frank but... nonetheless, poor memory. The writers are smart by mentioning Fiona in this scene... it’s “a Fiona mention”, we’re going to remember this, and that’s probably why they did it.

8. The Paper Store

Yeah, this was the first red flag for me and if I can recall, the moment EVERYONE knew something seemed off. Frank, walks out of the paper store with Franny and cannot remember where he is, or where they are headed. Once he is reminded of their “goals” for the day (by Franny, a five year old) he proceeds to head to the paper store... Franny once again let’s him know that they already went there and Frank notices the paper already in his (Franny’s) backpack. Ouch.

11x04

9. The Nation of Islam

Ooo this one hurt! After Frank suggests to visit The Nation of Islam in an attempt to get their help to get rid of the Milkoviches, him, Kev, and Liam do. We SEE them go there. It’s a whole scene, so later in the episode when Frank suggests to go ask them for help AGAIN as if it were a completely new idea, we as an audience know they already did that. As Kevin says they “JUST did that”. Frank forgot. Shit.

11x05

10. Mrs.McCurdy

Frank discusses with Kev about murdering Mrs.McCurdy, later he tries to murder her. We see it, we remember it becaue she grabbed Frank’s dick. It was funny, the scene evoked laughter, it forces the audience to remember it. Frank mindlessly walks into The Alibi and Kev asks Frank if he “did the thing”. Now at first Frank is confused. They were using “quotation talk” earlier so yeah I get it, but then when Kevin is more direct with Frank, Frank thinks Kev is implying that he had sex with Mrs.McCurdy... Frank is clearly confused. Only then does Kev point out that he meant MURDER. Frank takes a second, again if you watch he does not know what Kev is talking about, but then it hits him, and he remembers. Thus continuing the convo like nothing.

11x06

11. Monica

Now this one REALLY hurt. Frank’s first scene of the episode is a sex scene between him and Letty. She’s blonde, and Frank calls her Monica. He truly believes he is sleeping with Monica, only Monica is dead, she been since season seven. When Letty mentions that she isn’t Monica (thinking Frank calling her that was only a sex thing), we see WHM’s brilliant preformence once again. Frank doesn’t know what Letty means, he thinks she’s Monica. Then when he realizes she isn’t, he gets this lost dejected look on his face. He’s confused and knows that he keeps getting confused.

Frank says “I gotta get to work”. Letty asks him where he works and Frank is left bewildered.

12. Seven

Okay so remember Frank and Franny’s adventure in 11x03? Frank visits a dry cleaners to get some weed. They make a point of Franny saying that Frank will pay SEVEN for the weed. No offer is made and Frank must get it somewhere else. Throughout the episode Frank refterences SEVEN to Kev & V as the asking price to sell. We as an audience are forced to remember SEVEN. Also in 11x03, as Debbie frantically looks for Frank/Franny, she visits the dry cleaners where they were (retracing their steps). We as an audience have been there twice.

Now, in 11x06 Frank goes to pick up an order but like, we already saw him go there episodes ago. When the woman behind the counter literally tells him she has nothing for him and he argues with her, WE KNOW she is right. Once again, Frank forgot. I’m so sad. Not only that but Kev and V don’t have Frank going on runs anymore. Ian & Mickey are doing it... Frank is legit lost and forgot that he’s not doing that anymore, Kev tells him he’s not in 11x04.

Ms.G even says to Frank that she doesn’t need to write anything down to remember it because the “Mind’s a steel trap”. She doesn’t owe him... she can use her mind to remember where Frank cannot. The irony.

13. Pedestrian, Blue, Handlebar (abc)

a) Frank getting hit in the head results in him having a visit to the hospital where a nurse discovers that Frank has no clue how he got there and more specifically, how he got hit in the first place.

b) The saddest part, when asked his name he remembers FRANK. But has to look down at her sheet to know his last name is GALLAGHER. This is the man who walks around saying “It’s up to Frank Gallagher to save the neighborhood”. He forgot his last name.

c) The scene goes on, the nurse asks him to remember three words: pedestrian, blue, and handlebar. They discuss other things, then she asks him to tell her those words. It’s so abundantly clear that Frank just cannot. He doesn’t remember. He was told like 30sec ago and gets, for the first time ASHAMED. He’s the most shameless person ever (hence the title of the show) but now the tides have turned. He “doesn’t wanna play this game anymore”. Frank can recognize AGAIN that he is confused, only now he is forced to face it. The nurse noticed, she runs some tests and Frank learns that he has early stages of alcoholic dementia. This isn’t his liver, he can’t get a new one, this is his brain.

14. + 15. Letty & Terry

Just two bonuses, Frank wanders aimlessly into the Alibi again (like in 11x05) because it’s routine for him. Letty calls him over. Frank forgot they were supposed to meet there. :(

Frank and Terry on the porch: Maybe it’s just bad writing or they were trying to make a point but like a “Gallagher-Milkovich War” never happened??? We watched the show for 11 seasons... Also are the Milkoviches actually from Poland Frank? I’ll excuse that one cuz Ian mentioned it too, but I thought they wer Ukrainian. These seem like writing mistakes tho so oops.

Things He Might Be Able To Remember

Frank has his and Franny’s name tattooed on his body... he literally forgot his last name at the hospital. And if he forgets a bunch in 11b then that’ll be the payoff for the tattoo... he might not know why the tattoo is there or who the people are listed on his arm, or even what it means exactly, but he will know that Frank loves Franny.

Where he lives. Frank never threw out the paper with his diagnosis. He might remember his home, however the conflict comes in the fact that the Gallaghers might be selling it. He needs to be around people/places that are familiar to him. This could jeopardize his memory.

The Alibi is where Frank seems to just walk to or go to whenever he has no clue where he is or going but it’s subtle. I could see him getting lost and no one knowing where he is and Frank just being at the Alibi beacuse idk muscle memory? He’s on autopilot.

Early stages of ALCOHOLIC Dementia can improve. Like if maybe Frank were to tell someone and if he wasn’t removed from the Gallagher house, and oh I don’t know if Frank STOPPED DRINKING, he could remember. But I don’t think we’re heading in that direction, especially if the house is sold, and let’s face it... it looks that way.

Fiona? Will he forget her... this all feels reminiscent of 4x11.

Other Characters Finding Out

Franny, Kevin, and Liam, are the only people who have REALLY been subject to the possibility of noticing... but think about it. Franny is too young to notice anything, Kevin is not the brightest bulb, he doesn’t seem to realize it either, and Liam was exposed to it once, but at that time he was so scared about the Milkoviches that he didn’t notice it. Maybe if he saw it again, he would. Liam is smart enough.

I wonder if the Gallaghers will just find out the hard way (,like those stills from 11x08 are making me think,) or if anyone will begin to seriously pick up on it. I intially thought they would show Frank forgetting in front of each character until someone was able to notice but scratch that. They seem to be setting Lip up on the “alcoholic path” this season, (and I may go more into depth about that one another time, it’s another big post if I do get into it). But what will the Gallagher’s reactions/feelings be towards Frank’s diagnosis? Mickey and Ian had many Terry/Frank discussions in 11x06 literally setting up for it. It hurt when they all kept dismissing Frank because yup, they don’t know yet. They would have to help him in order to keep his memory maintained, but that’s the thing... Frank’s pride. He might deny their help even if they actually were to give it to him... Either way, I’m “looking forward” to see how this all unravels and how everyone finds out and what their reactions will be, which brings me to my final topic:

Aftermath...

So what happens? Will they sell the house, potentially causing Frank to forget? Will he not know his kids, his history? Will he die? Will Frank finally stop drinking... yeah I doubt that... So what WILL happen? Will the Gallaghers be left to take care of Frank? Will they even do that? Will he remember them?

What if in 1x01 Frank’s narration IS his memory? We see him talking about his kids to someone? It circles back? I don’t know, but either way I expect this whole thing to pull on our heartstrings. When the rest of the regulars find out... it’s gonna get real, and rough.

Interesting stuff coming up in 11b I’m sure. Let’s see how this plays out for our Protagonist and Patriarch: Frank Gallagher.

Omg, if you read through this, you are so cool and I really really appreciate you! Please send me an ask or write a note, I would love to get your take on the matter. 💙

Hope you enjoyed this analysis and I hope it didn’t go on too long.

#frank gallagher #season 11 #shameless season 11 #shameless #gallavich #dementia #my lists

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trojc-rewrite · 3 years

Text

The Rise of Jimmy Casket Rewrite, Chapter 2

Warning - Blood

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After the agreement at Dunkin, the group left later that night. Toast drove, Colon in the passenger seat, while Spooker played music from the back. Mostly indie with the occasional rap song. But as the day got darker, the three grew more and more tired.

Toast checked the clock on the dash, 12:01 AM. His entire body was stiff and his eyes felt heavy. He looked around, seeing the tall pine forest loom around them for miles. He didn’t feel like pulling over and resting for the night would be a good idea.

“There might be bears, or raccoons.” Spooker said.

Colon gave him a confused look, “But you like raccoons.” He pointed out.

Spooker retorted. “NOT IN THE CAR!”.

Toast gave them both a tired look and they both shifted away. “I think I saw a motel sign a few miles ago, it might be up ahead.”

They drove for a few more miles until they spotted it. It was a run down place not too far away from town. It was old and browned, but you could tell it used to be an off-white color. A sign that once was a light up sign was now broken with one fizzling bulb. Broken stairs climbed the sides of the building, several steps rotting and mold covered. But, it would have to do for now.

Toast booked a room and the three shuffled into the small place. The inside looked about just as bad as the outside. With a pull out cot in the living room, a love seat, and a small kitchen with a stove that looked like it hadn't been used in years. Everything had a weird acrid smell to it, like it was damp. “The wonders of mold!” Colon had joked.

Toast decided to take the love seat with stiff, hardened cushions and let Colon and Spooker take the cot, which looked like a new king size mattress compared to the love seat, which made crunching sounds when you shifted on it.

Toast sighed, and stared at the ceiling while Colon and Spooker chatted. His anxious brain whispered to itself, making him upset, “Is this really worth it? Do Spooker and Colon think I'm the world's biggest idiot? I wouldn’t blame them if they did, I’m making them go on a goose chase for one of my stupid hunches.”

He turned over on the rough love seat and stared at his phone screen, no calls from Ghost. Not even a text. Toast blinked tiredly; why did his eyes sting? Ghost did say he wasn’t sure if he was going to come back, and he obviously didn’t want to be around him or the rest of the P.I.E gang.

“I failed him.” Toast thought sadly. He put down his phone, blinking away his tears. Why was he crying? Toast shifted his gaze to his golden wedding ring that stayed on his necklace. He delicately picked it up, reading the inside of it. “Till death do us part.” Toast could almost taste the irony.

He took a deep breath. He had had enough of having pitiful thoughts today. He took off his necklace and set it down beside his phone. Before closing his eyes, Toast watched as Spooker showed Colon a funny video on his phone. The two laughed and smiled, genuinely happy. Toast couldn’t help but smile at that. At least not everything about this “vacation “ was horrible. It made Toast happy when they were happy.

He closed his eyes, inviting the dark to consume him.

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Toast was in a white void, it smelled like freshly fallen snow. It was refreshing to his senses, not having to look at ugly greens and muddy browns like the inside of the motel.

He looked around, “Hello?”, he called out. A soft breeze flew over him, ruffling his hair. He then heard a familiar voice call out to him.

“Johnny?” A soft voice returned. Toast’s heart leaped in his chest, the voice both seemed to calm him and send him into a frenzy. What a weird effect.

He ran towards the voice, his shoes made a tapping sound on the floor, like high heels on marble. “Mary?!” He cried out.

His late wife’s figure became more visible as he approached, she materialized from the white. Her curly brown hair bounced off her shoulders as it did when she was living. Her soft hazel eyes gazed warmly at him. The breeze made the rim of her long red dress wave in the wind. Toast crashed into her, breathing in her familiar, yet forgotten scent.

“Johnny, it’s been a while.” She murmured to him, smoothing his hair. Toast fought the tears that welled in his eyes, but it was no use. He let out an ugly sob, which shook his entire body. Mary gave him a sympathetic smile, her own eyes filled with tears.

“You’ve come a long way since we last hugged.” She said, still combing her hand through his hair. “I miss you, my love. But I’ve come to warn you, and I’m afraid that I cannot stay for much longer.”

Toast looked up at her, her hazel eyes filled with a fierce love. He then heard yet another familiar voice through the misty white.

“Johnny!” Toast turned to see the outline of his friend. Ghost. Toast's eyes widened and he reached out for him.

“He’s not really here, I’m afraid. Just the powers of this realm making him appear here.” Mary said, taking his hand in hers.

“But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Johnny.” She turned him towards her again. She took both of his hands and looked at him.

“Is, is he okay?” Toast asked, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She nodded.

“If you mean is he alive, yes. But there’s more to worry about than if he’s alive.”

She turned serious, her hazel eyes boring into him with desperation.

“Protect your friends, Johnny. You are all in great danger.” She said. Mary’s figure became more distorted and transparent, but Toast didn’t want to let go of her.

“No, Mary. Please don’t leave me alone!” He cried out, still holding onto the fuzzy static of her hands. Mary’s hazy face smiled.

“Oh my love, I’m always with you.” She whispered. And then, with a gust of wind, she was gone. Leaving Johnny alone.

A sob choked Toast, getting stuck in his throat. He bent down onto his knees and sobbed, his black hairs falling in front of his eyes. He stayed there for a while, sobbing out.

And then a smokey scent filled the air, washing over him like a toxic blanket. He looked up from his hands.

A winged figure stood yards away from him, long black hair waving in the wind. Four wings sprouted from it’s back, feathers dancing. It’s face was also guarded with tinier wings, moth's wings creating eyes. It stared at him. Toast felt vaguely threatened by it.

He got up shakily, walking towards it cautiously. As he approached, ringing filled his ears. And then his dream exploded into fire and black, shattering like glass.

Toast lurked upwards, panic filling his chest. The smell of smoke filled his lungs and he looked around. Colon and Spookers' horrified faces filled his vision, Colon's hands were around his shoulders shaking him.

“Toast we have to go! Come one get up!” He yelled. The room felt hot, making them all sweat.

“What’s going on? What happened!” Toast asked, getting up. He grabbed his wedding ring and phone and put them away on himself.

“The building’s on fire! C’mon we have to go!” Colon yelled, fear filling his voice.

A large pillar fell into the room, slamming on the floor. Flames engulfed it, reaching the cot and setting it ablaze. Orange and red danced in Toast’s vision.

The floor cracked under everything's weight. “I saw a fire exit down the hall when we got to this room! That’s our exit, let’s go!” Toast felt his anxieties in his brain but forced them down. Now was not the time to be having second thoughts.

The blistering flames grew and ignited around them, smoke filling the room. Spooker coughed, shaking his head.

The floor made a loud crack sound, and the large pillar sunk through the wood. A hole grew in the floor, the wood blackened at the edges.

Toast leaped over the hole, dodging the flames that licked and jumped at his legs. Sweat and smoke filled around him. He could barely see, feeling light headed. He reached out for Spookers hand.

“Come on Spooker!” Toast yelled. Flames roared like lions around them, screaming and wailing in Toast's ears. Colon nodded to Spooker, hesitantly, the young red head reached for his hand and jumped. Toast grabbed his hand and pulled him over. Spooker tumbled awkwardly onto the planks and reached the door. Toast ushered him out into the hallway, then turned to Colon.

The hole in the floor was wider, hot air and tiny flames growing from it. It gaped at him, taunting him. One mistake and his friend would be dead, falling into a pit of embers and coals. Toast shook his head, he wouldn’t let that happen.

The smoke was strangling him, making him cough and search for any clean air. He reached out his hand. Colon narrowed his eyes and got ready to jump.

Then, with the speed of a snake, a flaming piece of wood swung from the ceiling at Colon. His friend tried to swerve away from it but it floundered his jump. He landed on the crumbling wood, hanging over the pit opening below them. Panic surged through Toast and he bent down.

Toast hauled him up, the cloth of his friends shirt was rough and hot. Another piece of wood struck out angrily from the wall as it crumbled. “Colon, look out!” Toast cried, and pushed his friend out of the way.

The flaming wood dug straight into his leg, going into it like a knife through meat. Toast cried as the splintered wood buried into his flesh, awkwardly hanging out of his skin.

Colon looked at him horrified, but Toast limped out. Cinders spat at them, like the flames were cursing them. The two ran to the fire escape while Spooker waited by the door, looking anxious. The youngest swung open the door, and the three ran down the crumbling stairs. They ran to the street, and Toast’s leg couldn't handle the weight of himself anymore.

He fell down the cracked cement, scraping his knees on the jutting rocks. Pain surged through him again. “If they don’t use our taxes for fixing these damn streets then what do they use them for?” He cursed angrily about the road's condition. Spooker and Colon lifted him up and dragged him across the road, lying him down on the soft wet grass.

The three breathed heavily, watching as other civilians ran out in different directions. Toast's leg burned, begging for the wood to be removed from his flesh. The oldest coughed, wheezing for the night air.

He sat upwards, studying the injury. It was buried half way into his skin, blood seeping through his clothes. The wood was blackened and damaged, splinters hanging off of the sides where it had split from the wall. It hadn’t hit any bone or anything, but he knew he needed stitches.

He tried to block out the fire and calm down. His adrenaline rushed through his veins, screaming for his body to move. But he took a few deep breaths, the fire was starting to dissipate anyways, flickering still but weaker. “We’re okay. Colon and Spooker are okay. And Ghost probably is too. Everyone is okay.” He thought.

He bit his lip and took the fractured wood in his fingers, and began wiggling it out of the wound. His arms felt weak, and he grit his teeth. For what felt like a gruesome forever, he finally got it out.

Spooker and Colon watched as he took the piece of jagged wood and threw it into the street. It thudded on the broken cement, his blood splattering under it. Now, Toast needed a way to stop the bleeding.

“Guys, do me a favor and rip off one of my sleeves, please.” He said through gritted teeth. Spooker leaned over and ripped off the white sleeve on his button up. Then, handed it to his boss. Toast tried his best to smile at him, but the pain in his leg was too great. His eyes were welled with tears, and there wasn’t a doubt in Toast’s mind that he was crying.

He tied the white cloth around his leg, trying to slow blood flow. The red fluid stained his sleeve. It wasn’t great by any means, but it was better than nothing.

They stayed there for what seemed like forever, watching fire trucks put out the fire. No paramedics were in sight however, which wasn’t good. Toast would just need to power through until the morning.

The three stayed silent, staring at the rising smoke in the sky.

“Watch us survive all this and then we can’t even find Ghost.” Colon joked. Toast weakly laughed, feeling tired.

Spooker and Colon turned to him. “Thanks for not letting us die back there.” Colon said. Toast nodded, the pain in his leg starting to ebb away.

“No problem, that’s what good friends do.” Toast said. His eyes felt heavy, begging him for sleep. Toast gave into it, sighing.

Colon and Spooker watched him silently as he closed his eyes, their concern hanging in the air.

“Ghost, please be out there.” Toast silently thought, before falling asleep.

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Whips and nae naes!!! Longest chapter!!!

Hope yall enjoyed! Next chapter will be out soon!

#p.i.e #paranormal investigators extraordinaire #venturiantale #johnny ghost #johnny toast #fred spooker #colon ghostie #mary toast #jimmy casket

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jarofstyles · 4 years

Text

Fan Club II

A/N: Let the tension begin to build 😈This part is a little shorter than the others but it’s a necessary step - n + d

send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: angst, anxiety attack, and tender moments

word count: 3.5k

Harry was confused on all levels. Y/N was in his brain like a damn worm and didn’t seem to ever be coming out of it. That was the most frustrating part. It had been about a week, his second bakery visit being short and sweet with another hug and asking for 2 more lemon squares, but he had been a bit bland with texting back. He was trying to distance himself. Not fall for the good girl next door act.

“Harry, please at least make this believable tonight. I’ve seen a few tweets talking about you going to the bakery so someone must have been a fan in there, so make sure tonight you’re a gentleman to her. People are watching.” Jeff Warned. It wasn’t like Harry sat around and complained about her. He barely said a word. He did tell Jeff he didn’t trust her, but he had restricted any social media usage because he knew the moment he found Y/N’s pages he would stalk her for a while. He would need to make sure it didn’t happen.

They were sharing a car to the restaurant, and everyone knew the secret so when they pulled up to Y/N’s place, Harry felt a little more relaxed. Jeff would take over until showtime at the restaurant. There would be paparazzi by the time they left, but going in would be far easier.

Y/N was nervous to say the least. This would be her first time being photographed officially with Harry, holding hands and everything. It was a big deal and she wanted to look nice. She had done her whole routine, showering and smelling nice, doing a light makeup that she saw all his past girlfriends do, and changed into her outfit. She felt sexy but still fashionable, definitely not too expensive. Just the right amount of everything.

When she got the text saying the car was there, she knew it was game time. Y/N made sure to bring her keys, her phone, and wallet, putting it all in a small fashionable blue over the shoulder bag before walking to the elevator and making her way out to the car.

“Hey.” Y/N smiled as she opened the door, climbing into the car and buckling up. God he looked delicious. His hair was all floppy, his outfit matching hers in a strange way. The two of them together looked good, she couldn’t lie. “You look nice.” She said once again, but she really did mean it. “Smell nice too.”

They both sat in the back seat, Jeff and his wife in the front. Harry smiled lightly and nodded. “Uh, thanks. You too.” He went back to his phone. Honestly, if he didn’t? He would have died. Honest to god died. Her tits looked immaculate. Harry hadn’t seen them like this before but he was nearly choking on the way he wanted to bury his face between them. The first he had dated weren’t really all that big in that department— nothing wrong with that. But she had the perfect amount. Perfect handfuls. Something he was positive would be lovely to suck on. Fuck— fucking hell.

He had to look at his phone or he would get hard. Y/N smelled good too. Like coconuts, vanilla. He wasn’t sure if that was a perfume or a bakery thing but he enjoyed it thoroughly. They kind of matched, too. which was weird. They hadn’t discussed it.

Y/N sighed a little, not really knowing what she was expecting considering they were in private. She would rather spend no time with him in private if this was the case. She went all out to look nice for him to just say, ‘you too’? God this would be hard.

“Hi Jeff, hi Glenne, it’s nice to meet you.” Y/N spoke sweetly, “I’d give you a hug, but you know.” She chuckled and sat back, trying to ignore the fact that Harry was ignoring her. What a terrible fake boyfriend he was, really wasn’t into the whole method acting thing.

“Hey!” Jeff greeted. “Are you ready for the first pap run?”

“You sound so cheery about it.” Y/N laughed, “I guess I’m ready.” She shrugged and pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I reckon dinner will be fun, bit more excited about that. Get to chat with you all a little more.” It was the honest truth. She wanted to spend some quality time with Harry and with Jeff and his wife. If she was going to spend a full year knowing them? Hell, she wanted to make the most of it. She didn’t just want to fake being friends with them.

Was she serious? Harry thought. Come on. That wasn’t real. There was no way she actually thought they would buy that excuse. She didn’t give a fuck. No way. But of course— both of them bought into it. It was like Harry was the only one who could see that this was sketchy. That it wasn’t what was right. She was too sweet for her own good and that alone had Harry very, very suspicious. He listened to them chatter and took glances at her every so often. This would be torture for him. The whole thing. He was so physically attracted to her that he was worried that it may show when they weren't supposed to be acting. Y/N seemed to get along with them great. It was another thing that made him want to pull his hair out. She had to be bad in some way. No one was genuinely this nice and sweet without having a bad side. Gorgeous or not.

Jeff and Glenne were genuinely nice people, and Y/N was thankful that at least they were being open. Then again, Jeff was Harry’s best friend, then surely there was just something wrong with her. It had been a few days since they met and Harry wasn’t letting up no matter what she did. It would be a slow burn she assumed. She looked over at him, catching him already looking at her with a small smile. Y/N turned her attention back to the front of the car, watching as Jeff pulled up to the restaurant.

It was go time. Y/N walked out of the car after Harry, moving her hand to hold on to his bicep as they walked towards the restaurant. She didn’t really have a method to her acting, she simply did whatever felt natural. Let herself go whenever they were out in public.

Harry placed his hand over hers and squeezed. He could tell she was nervous, and regardless he didn’t want her to be nervous here and feel upset. Especially when they’d be looked at and photographed.

When they walked into the place, he looped an arm around her waist and let her lean into him. He felt a small hand on his jacket lapel and let her play with it as Jeff took care of the reservation arrangements. They’d been sat outside at a nice place with those bulb string lights, lots of plants. They’d be sat facing people so photos could be taken— but the people wouldn’t know that. He’d have to keep a good face this whole time. It was going to be a new challenge but part of him was giddy to be able to play it up and touch her during this time.

Y/N’s nerves weren’t really that noticeable, but to anyone else it would just seem like she was nervous because she was on a date with Harry. It was a normal reason to be nervous and frankly, she felt it made her seem more relatable. Despite the fact that Harry and Y/N were acting, they seemed to flow quite naturally and easily off of one another. It didn’t take a lot of effort, she just leaned into him whenever he touched her and vice versa.

“Ooo this is nice.” Y/N commented on the look of the place. She had obviously never been here before, but it looked like it would be good. The smell coming from the kitchen was incredible as well. “Thank you again for inviting us out..” Y/N said to Jeff, purposefully saying us instead of me so anyone who heard knew they meant Y/N and Harry as a pair. She scooted her chair a little closer to Harry, making sure there was enough space for them to have subtle touches if need be. Y/N wasn’t sure what Harry would want, but she wanted to have their options open and ready. She had never seen him actually interact with a woman like this except for when he was with Kendall and those photos leaked. She wondered how he would act when he meant for people to see.

Harry felt the pressure but also knew he was lucky Jeff was here to keep the conversation going. He was feeling a little awkward but fell into his conversation relatively easily.

“So the bakery... Harry said it’s lovely. That the lemon squares are amazing.” Glenne broke the ice, opening up her menu. It was a midrange pricing so he was hoping that she wouldn’t freak too bad. Money really wasn’t an object to Harry. Granted, most of his clothes were gifted to him and he didn’t pay for much luxury items because they were sent for promotion, but he didn’t mind spending if it was for a good time. He had millions.

“They are very good. I like them a lot. All of the things are great, though.” Harry complimented sincerely but she wouldn’t know that. His arm hung over the back of her chair, subtly showing ownership. that’s what it would come across as anyways. Most people wouldn’t know this about Harry but he was possessive, jealous, and pathetic when it came to his lovers. He didn’t like sharing. He loved being alone with them and being in their own worlds. He hadn’t had a perfect fantasy of that yet but he figured he may as well get out his affectionate wants when it was supposed to be shown. Pass it off as acting.

Y/N smiled brightly when her bakery was mentioned, her pride and joy. She was just about to speak when he complimented her baking even more. That was cute. Too bad it was all acting. She needed to get out of that mind frame though and really sink into the character. She’d deal with her emotions at a later time.

“That’s sweet, thank you.” Y/N smiled over at him, setting her hand on his thigh and rubbing her thumb against the fabric of his pants. “But yeah, my sister opened it up 5 years ago and I co-own. We have a solid flow of customers. It’s really fun, we’ve been saving to get it refurbished.” Y/N explained, also looking down at the menu. She quickly decided on the grilled miso salmon and carried on speaking. “I want to buy the upstairs bit as well. Want to open it up to local musicians to have gigs there and stuff. Also possibly wanted to do a kids baking class. Lots of ideas.” Y/N smiled, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. She was really ambitious and career driven, always wanting to improve. It was something she took pride in and hopefully Harry would come to admire about her.

Harry was impressed. She had ideas and they didn’t seem to involve being famous, so to speak. She seemed to want her bakery to do well but anyone who had a business desires it to thrive.

“That’s a lovely idea, pet.” His hand took purchase on her shoulder then. It was bare, jacket off so he ran his thumb over the softness of her skin there. Absolutely delicious. Y/N had to know that she was fucking gorgeous. That she had inspired many a man’s fantasies. He could see down her shirt slightly and had to adjust slightly, knowing he would get a stiffy if he continued. Harry was watching for any telltale signs she was lying but from what he could tell, she really did want to do that to her bakery. And that was pretty admirable.

It took a second for Y/N to relax into Harry’s touch, not having expected it. The feeling of his rough calloused fingers caused butterflies to erupt in her tummy. She could only imagine how good they would feel on her clit— fuck she had to stop.

“Lots of musicians in the town would thrive off of it. A little bit of exposure and a place to play goes miles for people who aren’t very hopeful.” Jeff confirmed. “You’ll have to ask Harry for opinions when you do that. He’s good at that stuff— the stage design.”

Y/N hummed in response, “I’m sure Harry could come up with some brilliant ideas, always does.” She complimented, sending him a small wink just to keep the ball rolling. It was nice to be able to flirt and know that it was meant to be reciprocated. Maybe this whole acting thing wouldn’t be too bad? She could just live out her fantasies like this.

The waiter came and brought over a bottle of wine for the table and took all of their orders. Though the restaurant was mid range, she still had a feeling that this was a place posh people went. She’d have to get used to that as well. Y/N felt too normal for places like this, but then again, Jeff was really good at making her feel comfortable.

To Harry, the dinner was weird. Not in a bad way. But he had found that their chairs had gotten closer during the meal. They’d touched each other a bit— not sexually. Or trying to be sexual, he should say. He had been living out part of a mental fantasy, letting her hold his hand and play with his rings when they waited for the food to come. Y/N hadn’t gone for the most expensive thing— rather a cheaper item and he had tried coaxing her into getting something a bit more, but she said no. It was weird that she was acting like money didn’t motivate her. Isn’t that why she took the damn job? But they’d been touching subtly and talking, Harry smiling down at her pretty little face. He had an urge to kiss her too— which had scared the fuck out of him. He wanted to swoop in and taste her gloss before it went away but he couldn’t. When they finished though, Harry looked at her and began to talk.

“Listen— May get intense, yeah? Lots of cameras flashing. Just hold on to my hand and don’t let go.” He was serious. There were a lot of cameras and a lot of flashes and he didn’t want her to freak.

This part did make Y/N nervous. The cameras. She had seen pap videos previously and they always made her uncomfortable to watch. It was scary having people say things to you whilst bright cameras were flashing.

“Okay, I trust you.” Y/N told him in a soft voice, giving him a small smile that really was only meant for him. Part of her didn’t want this night to be over, she wanted to hang out with him some more and chat with him. It was her day off tomorrow so she didn’t mind staying up late and going home if that’s what he wanted. She doubted he would want her to stay the night.

Harry held her hand and as soon as they stepped out, the cameras flashed like crazy. Asking Harry to look at them, to say who his girl was. Who she was. How old she was, what’s her name. Were they dating? But Harry got irritated when he felt her move behind him, seeing someone had pushed her slightly and she had stumbled. He stopped in the middle, gently grabbing her hip and pulling her to walk with him.

“Be careful, mate.” Harry said to the pap, brows furrowed. “Alright, love?” Y/N looked flustered, but nodded. So he continued on, lifting her by her waist and putting her in the car before climbing in behind her. Genuine concern took over when he saw her breathing heavier, face knitted in concern as he gently pulled her over and let her hide her face in his neck. His glare was actually visible to the outside where people took photos through the windows before Jeff sped off. “Hey.. Y/N? You okay?” Harry spoke, pulling her back.

The experience was something Y/N couldn’t explain. As a person who had mild anxiety, she thought that she could handle a situation like that but it was intense in a way that she truly didn’t know what to explain to anyone. You really just had to experience it to know. When she was pushed it really sent her into a small panic, trying her best to hide her face a little now that she’d felt what paps could really be like. Harry came through though and genuinely helped her. She was so thankful for him and for him sticking up for her as well. It meant a lot. It went by so quickly she could barely process it, a bit shaky and out of breath. Going off instinct she nuzzled her face into Harry’s neck, taking deep breaths to calm herself down and relax. It was over, she had jumped the first hurdle and things would get easier from there. At least that’s what she told herself.

“Y—yeah, I’m okay... that was just.. a lot.” Y/N told him in a soft voice, still close to him but she wasn’t sure if that was okay. Y/N decided that it would be more hurtful if he moved her off than if she moved herself, but she really couldn’t do that right now. “I’ll be okay, just need a second..”

“It’s okay.” Harry rubbed her back a few times. He wasn’t a complete asshole. She was obviously shaken and he couldn’t even blame her. He wasn’t sure why so many had popped up— he was positive they’d only called for 3 but, that’s a later question. “You’re alright? Yeah? Shit’s scary sometimes but you made it through.” He didn’t know why he slightly melted but seeing her in genuine fear and feeling her shake slightly against his body made his urge to protect her come right to the front. “Jeff, drive around for a bit, yeah? Pop into Waitrose and get her a drink.” He could tell that she was going to be okay but needed a little coddling. He continued to rub her back and let her hide in his neck. Her breath was hot against his neck, and he felt her start to calm down.When Jeff came back, Harry gave her the drink and gently peeled her away, letting her stay seated close to him. “Slow sips. Just relax. You did great.”

Y/N kept herself nuzzled into the crook of his neck while she waited, finding that to be the safest place on earth. She relaxed just by taking in his scent and feeling his heart beat through the pressure point that beat against where her nose was. That combined with his hand on her back was doing the trick. This wasn’t acting and she knew it wasn’t. It gave her hope that he wasn’t in fact a shit person, he was concerned and cared enough to ask Jeff to drive around some more and get her a drink. She really did appreciate it and him.

“Thank you.” Y/N said quietly, taking the bottle into her still slightly shaky hands and took a small sip before taking another slow one. Y/N did do great, she knew she did. She had seen enough pap videos to know how to elegantly carry herself, but there were way too many paps there. She’d never seen that many. Maybe people were just that excited to see Harry have a girlfriend.

Harry knew later on he wouldn’t regret being kind to her right now. She was genuinely terrified and he didn’t want that for anyone. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she didn’t want fame, but that didn’t mean he could trust her. Maybe he could be nicer. But he had to keep a distance because his cock was not on board with that. It wanted to bury itself in her plump little ass. But whatever— he could use that visual later.

“You’re alright, Y/N.” Harry watched her carefully. “Didn’t know that many were going to be out there but, don’t worry. We’ll make sure we do our very best so that doesn’t happen again.” She wouldn’t get away from paps— but having 20 flashing cameras blinding her and pushing? That wouldn’t ever happen again. He was willing to risk his career on that. No human decency.

“Now, let's get you home.”

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

[part 3]

A/N: H is soft, he cracks under pressure 🤧- n + d

let us know what you think!

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#writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry writing #jarofstyles

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pluto-art · 3 years

Text

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.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

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