#encyclopedia of immaturity

[picturebookshelf]

The Encyclopedia of Immaturity: Volume 2 (2009)

Text and Art: Unknown (the editors of Klutz)

[just-orbiting-you]

jungkook i think has progressed past tae's immaturity, making him a better match for someone like jimin anyway

To be fair, I think a lot of that is jimin's influence. Whether they are romantically involved or not, spending so much time around and having deep meaningful conversations with someone who is soooo emotionally mature and conscientious of their actions and of how they make others feel will make you think more about how you treat others. Jungkook admits to being immature and selfish when he was younger, but I think we can all see how he stepped up and grew emotionally and I think jimin played a big role in that. I mean we even see the ways he stepped up for jimin specifically, like buying jimin bday presents even if he didn't get it for the others or being a jimin encyclopedia about what he likes/dislikes or other times where he's just obviously emotionall aware of jimin's needs. I'm not even implying anything inherently romantic here, but just that you can see that he hears, like genuinely, hears and listens to what jimin talks to him about. And that's a huge part of emotional maturity/intelligence, being able to really listen to someone and understand their needs.

anon is referencing the end of this post: https://www.tumblr.com/just-orbiting-you/757032090657292288/i-actually-agree-quite-a-bit-with-the-other-anon?source=share

thank you for this ask, it really enlightened this clip for me. i thought a lot about this when Taemin's Suchwita ep dropped, specifically this clip above. i thought, even if the members notice that jungkook has taken elements of all seven members as he grew up, i couldn't really place how exactly jimin influenced him, which is kinda foolish looking back.

Jungkook admits to being immature and selfish when he was younger, but I think we can all see how he stepped up and grew emotionally and I think jimin played a big role in that.

the rainy day flight encapsulates this perfectly. we don't know exactly what they were fighting about that day, but we know jimin tried his best to get jungkook to think critically about his actions, even if it was leaving him at the practice room. jungkook remembering that day so vividly and bringing it up 6-7 years later in 2020 goes to show that day really stuck with him. you're right, jimin taking jungkook under his wing early in bts's career was crucial in jungkook becoming who he is today.

when you admire someone, platonically or romantically, you often begin to model that person's outlook and behavior. it's not only clear to me that jungkook cares deeply for jimin just in the way he is so attentive, but also how jk has effectively modeled jimin's maturity to match him. this happened simultaneously as jimin allowed jungkook to practice growing a mutually mature, respectful and vulnerable relationship. growing their relationship helped jungkook grow too.

jungkook once would resort to a little bit of violence/playfighting around jimin, tease him by calling him the least attractive in the group, etc. now he's really puts his kind heart on display, being so generous with jimin, eager to praise him and take care of him. on top of jungkook's emotional growth evolving him into such a sweet

this is why i love jikook so much. their relationship holds so much depth and it's so clear that love and trust each other so much so they would go to the fuckass military together. ugh my jikook :').

[part-time-zombie]

Out Of Sight

pairings: none

summary: logan decides some spring cleaning is in order, and he hopes that clearing out his room will be just what he needs to get back on track.

tags/warnings: logan centric, literally he's the only character in this, angst, hurt no comfort, kind of an unhappy ending, logan is not doing as well as he says he is, this is basically a vent fic sorry

word count: 1366

Logan liked to keep things organized. It was good to keep everything in a system so you could always find what you needed quickly without having to sift through a cluttered mess first. Everything had its place, and if there was no space left for something then there was no point in letting it take up room where it could distract you from what was important.

He needed to go through his things and sort out all the stuff that didn’t serve him anymore, the things he no longer needed to hold on to. He had his notebooks and journals, all filled with valuable information and entries regarding Thomas and the sides, and the problems they faced and how they solved them. No, he couldn’t get rid of those. He sorted them and stacked them neatly in a drawer, not letting them take up any space on his bookshelf. The bookshelf in question currently housed a myriad of textbooks and encyclopedias, all of which have proved to be helpful or would undoubtedly be useful later. He kept those, though he significantly downsized on his fiction novels. He had already read most of them and he didn’t need them to further distract from his studies, from his job. He needed to be productive, first and foremost.

That was what this was all about, ultimately. He needed to make his room more organized and efficient so he could better focus on his work. It was clear that his current level of capability wasn’t enough for Thomas and that he wasn’t fulfilling his role as well as he ought to. It was only fair to assume that if he stopped letting himself get preoccupied with foolish hobbies and focused entirely on his commitment to Thomas’ productivity, then maybe he would finally be listened to. He could be respected again if he was better equipped to fulfill his role as logic.

He certainly needed to work on that. Logic was infallible, it was absolute. Logic spared no room for complications like sentiment or emotion. Logic isn’t designed to feel, only to know. The problem came from the unfortunate fact that Logan could still feel. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he could still feel all the same. He felt anger, sadness, fear, disappointment, excitement, happiness. All of those feelings were nothing more than distractions. Things to sort out and filter through to make room for efficiency. He had no space for them.

Logan knew he couldn’t just snap his fingers and wish away his feelings in an instant. That would be too easy, and nothing was ever kind enough to be easy for him. He couldn’t just get rid of his feelings out of nowhere, but he could get rid of the reminders of those feelings. It was a good enough start anyway, and he planned on boxing those reminders away.

He grabbed his unicorn onesie, holding it close and relishing its soft comfort. It made him feel warm and held in a way none of the other sides did, and it helped him relax after a particularly rough event. He almost thought about keeping it, at least for the purpose of de-stressing at the end of a long day. Then the memory of when Thomas and Patton caught him wearing it came to mind. The shame he felt as Thomas chastised him for indulging in something so childish and Patton mocked him for being so immature still burned a hole in his chest. No, it was just another juvenile toy he needed to outgrow and get rid of. He folded it neatly and put it in the box.

The screenplay Roman had written for him was next. Four hundred pages of intrigue and excitement, all catering to Logan's tastes in storytelling and characterization. It was one of his favorite things to read, when he had the chance. He had reread it plenty of times, committing the mystery to memory by now. The interest and enthusiasm he felt when Roman first gifted it to him lingered even now, a reminder of the one time Roman cared about him. With that knowledge came memories of the numerous other times Roman had interrupted and disregarded him, and the pain and anger he had felt every time. He didn’t need to feel that anymore; it didn’t matter if he was hurting, anyway. All that mattered was that he was useful. The screenplay followed the onesie.

He looked over at his desk, eyeing the Crofters jar he had emptied and cleaned to hold his stationery. It was the first jar of loganberry jam Thomas had given him, the one that filled him with such exuberant delight that he couldn’t help but burst into song. And maybe a few puns. He was never going to live that down now, how immature he had acted in front of the others. How on earth would anyone possibly take him seriously after that? He was a joke now, to the others and to Thomas. He replaced the jar with a proper pencil case before securing it in the box.

Virgil's newspaper was placed on the other side of the desk, folded under a Rubik's cube. Logan had managed to solve all of the puzzles, though it was far more difficult than he had originally expected. Virgil really had outdone himself with how challenging some of the riddles were. Logan couldn’t help but smile at the memory of him decoding the last secret message well into the night, forgoing sleep in favor of the satisfying rush of discovery. In hindsight, he really shouldn’t have done that. He needed to be well rested and focus on his work instead of a silly puzzle. He had tried to prioritize Thomas’ gift to Nico over the puzzle first, but his mind kept wandering back to those simple circled letters and the surprise they had in store for him. His interests were nothing more than a distraction, one he needed to filter out of his life if he was ever going to be taken seriously.

He grabbed the newspaper from the desk and something fell to the floor with a clatter. He picked it up, examining the trinket he had discovered at the end of the puzzle trail Virgil laid out for him. It was a small charm of an image of the Milky Way, roughly half an inch in diameter. It would have looked nice on a keychain or as jewelry. He was honestly very touched by the gift, and had planned on finding a good use for it so he could make the most of it. No ideas came to mind that were good enough, not even now. He put it in the box next to the newspaper.

It was getting easier to box things away. His Sherlock outfit, the jacket he had used for his Halloween costume, his cogitating cap, his old necktie from the earlier videos, even his favorite book. Each item was a reminder of an interest, passion, or hobby that did nothing other than distract him and make him look foolish. They all robbed him of respect and reception, the two things he needed most to win Thomas’ attention. All of them were now placed in the box, ready to be stored somewhere far away from Logan's room and his work.

He looked around the now much emptier space with a satisfied sigh. Now that there was nothing left to distract him or bring up old memories, he would surely be far more productive and successful. Thomas was bound to listen to him now, and maybe the others would too. He wasn’t hoping for any miracles, but it was a good start in the right direction. He sank down into the Mind Palace, a place forgotten by most of the others, and tucked the now full and sealed box away into a dark and quiet corner, where no one would bother to look for it. It could be forgotten and out of the way here, and Logan could be the best version of himself without sentiment or emotion.

Logan gave the box one last fleeting glance before returning to work, distraction free.

@britt-ish123 @nico-the-overlord @rougeside4 @new-zee-land @lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @can-i-take-a-stab @keitaisghost

[batlimeberry-blog]

Had a real life disco elysium momemt.

Video: So people can buy homes and people with babies can buy cribs. Grocerys and more.

Me: crib?

Encyclopedia; success Cribs are a small bed for infants.

Logic: Success; that is why young people refer to their homes as "Cribs". It's their resting place from the rest of the world.

Inland Empire: Success; its more likely immature people call their homes cribs because they still have that youth inside them.

Volition: Failure; God, we are so white...

[teanderthalrex]

Cozy Magical Adventures

TLDW:

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones.

Sorcery and Small Magics by Maiga Doocy

Half a Soul by Olivia Atwater

Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett

A Sorceress Comes to Call by T. Kingfisher

Stardust by Neil Gaiman

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine

Dealing with Dragons by Patricia Wrene

Uprooted by Naomi Novik

The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett

So what inspired this video was the idea that I wasn't always looking for just any cozy fantasy. I always kept coming back to Howl's Moving Castle and I wanted to define a read-alike category for that book in particular. Thus, the cozy magical adventure.

The cozy magical adventure has three parts:

Must be cozy

Must be an adventure

Must have magic

And with these things in mind, I picked my favorites and made a list.

Obviously Howl's Moving Castle makes the list. It has an undeniably domestic quality to it, even if both Howl and Sophie are immature for like over half of it.

Sorcery and Small Magics is truly what made me want to define a feel for these books. It's about two sorcery students who adventure into the magical wilderness in order to break a curse. It has the EXACT vibes I wanted to capture. It's cozy, there's an adventure, and there's a heaping helping of magic.

Half a Soul follows the same vein. I wouldn't say there's necessarily a curse, but certainly having half of yourself stolen by a faery is something. And we have a handsome magic user and cozy regency vibes to top it off with.

The Emily Wilde series also has a handsome magical man. Coziness is inevitable with Wendell around and the books are heavy on magic and adventure.

A Sorceress Comes to Call is probably more accurately defined as cozy horror. But it's a cozy horror magical adventure, okay? And I love love the atmosphere of this one. Very Clue. Cozy but eerie.

Stardust, Ella Enchanted, and Dealing with Dragons are all childhood classics. I can't prove they were all scholastic book sale books but it feels that way. They're nostalgic, cozy, and magical.

Uprooted has the least claim of adventure on this list, but I truly think if you go into a magical forest, it should count as an adventure. Again, handsome wizard who lives alone. Much domesticity.

And lastly, The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett. I wasn't sure if Wyrd Sisters would count. It does to me. But Tiffany definitely goes on an adventure in this series and Pratchett's writing is such a comforting cozy experience to me that I had to include something by him here.

Let me know what you think and if we need to add more read-alikes to this cozy magical adventure list.

[lalas181]

Random brain thought, but like. It is frankly unreal how much The Magnus Archives has genuinely helped me deal with being afraid of things. I may still have run away from the almost-entirely-windows fourth(?) floor of a convention center that one time but oh boy did I ever own those way too tall escalators with my epic Vast-based coping mechanisms!! When I get scared I can do one of the things I like best- this being ascribing things to arbitrary categories that matter to and are usually decipherable by Exclusively Me™ -and just kind of solve it a teeny tiny bit more than I used to be able to. If kid-me had somehow managed to acquire time-travelling Internet and listened to the whole podcast I would not have been phased at ALL by any of the uncanny images I managed to be scared of. Uncanny face in my Encyclopedia of Immaturity book?? Not a thing. Uncanny images can't do shit to me, I am a once and future ✨Actor✨ who is made of bendy straws and actually enjoys clowns. I am heavily Stranger-coded. The face in that one optical illusion where it's a normal face upside down but incredibly jarring and scary right side up cannot get me, not because it is an image in a book for children and not real but because friendly fire is not a thing I have observed things linked to The Stranger as being able to do.

This sounds like I'm exaggerating, but I swear to you I am not. I genuinely have a little Vast-based mantra for when I'm on particularly bad escalators and elevators, and the other day I identified the kind of fear I was feeling very quickly once I started thinking in TMA terms and was able to discern how to address and ride it out based largely on that information. I am. Very glad for this podcast being a thing I listened to. Genuinely so.

[totowlff]

chapter three — a simple equation

➝ starting treatment is not easy for cassie. nausea, headache, fatigue become part of her routine and a person realizes it.

➝ word count: 4,9k

➝ warnings: none

By the end of January, Cassie had taken the first steps towards having a baby.

She had seen her general practitioner, who performed a physical exam, and ordered an entire shopping list of blood tests to check what seemed like a dozen parameters, and gave her a referral and the results to a clinic in Oxford. 

After seeing her regular GP, she called and made an appointment with the clinic, who recommended she start with a fertility assessment, which involved more blood tests, an ultrasound of her uterus and ovaries, and a mock embryo transfer. The clinic also strongly recommended that she see one of their counsellors during her visit for her initial exams, because she was planning on using donor sperm. 

The real first step, though, was filling out forms. Lots of them — what felt like an entire encyclopedia’s worth. Her entire medical history, vaccination records, a questionnaire on what traits she wanted her prospective donor to have, medical releases, financial documents for payment, family history, all of it. 

By the time she was on the exam table in the IVF clinic, waiting as an ultrasound technician prepared some equipment, she felt like her stomach was churning. Her excitement and anticipation had been replaced by nerves as the day of her visit drew closer, but now, lying on an exam table with her feet in stirrups, she found herself wishing that she’d brought someone with her. Even bringing one of her female friends would’ve been better than coming alone — she wanted someone’s hand to hold, someone to talk to her, to distract her. The staff was all very nice, and the clinic was pleasant enough, but there was still something eerily sterile and cold about making a baby this way.

— Take a few deep breaths and relax — the technician said, turning to face Cassie. The technician had a mask on, and Cassie’s legs were draped with a sheet to protect her privacy, but she still felt exposed — You might feel something cold and damp, that’s just the lubricant. Also, you might feel a pressure or fullness, but please let me know if you feel any pain or discomfort.

Cassie did her best to relax as she felt the ultrasound wand pass into her body. It didn’t hurt, but it felt a little strange. She’d had sex before, but this was obviously nothing like that. It felt like a strange sort of pressure, but nothing more than that. 

After a few moments, the technician turned to her.

— I don’t know if you can prop yourself on your elbows, but you can take a look, if you’d like.

Cassie sat up a bit, resting back on her hands, as the technician pointed out things on the black-and-white screen.

— Here is your left ovary… See that big black spot? — the technician said, pointing out certain features of the image. 

— That’s what we call the dominant follicle, which is the egg that matures and gets released when you menstruate. These other smaller spots here are the antral follicles, immature eggs that aren’t quite ready. And your right one — the technician said, shifting the wand a bit — Looks about the same. And then this is your uterus. Good. If you want to lay back down, I’ve got all of the images I need.

— Thank you — Cassie said, settling back down onto the table. The technician withdrew the wand, putting the equipment away. She left Cassie alone in the room, giving her some paper towels to wipe off the residue left between her legs, and giving her a chance to change back into her normal clothes.

“That wasn’t so bad, I guess”, Cassie thought, as she pulled her pants back on.

Next, she met with one of the clinic’s counsellors. They discussed Cassie’s reasons for wanting to have children, how she’d come to the decision to use donor sperm, how selecting donor sperm worked, and the legal implications of parental rights by using donor sperm.

— Now, all of that said, I do have bad news — the counsellor said, after giving a lengthy explanation.

Cassie’s heart sank, and in the pause between the counsellor’s words, she imagined every possible scenario. Maybe she was barren, her ovaries nothing but scar tissue. Maybe they could tell by looking at her and talking to her she’d be a terrible mother. Maybe it was too late, she was already too old, and her reproductive system had already pickled itself, or turned to stone.

— Unfortunately, Britain is… Experiencing a unique situation where we don’t have as ready of a supply of donor sperm as other countries do. There are a few reasons for this, mostly having to do with the laws around donor privacy, and donor compensation. At this time, we don’t have anyone that matches the questionnaire you filled out with your intake forms.

— Oh — Cassie said. She was relieved. It was hard to hear, but at least the issue wasn’t with her — I see.

— So — the counsellor continued — You have a few options. We can start you on hormonal birth control right away, just to get your cycle regulated, and we can wait for someone that matches your profile to become available. We do get new donors in quite a bit, so it may not be that long of a wait. We could also make a second profile with other traits you’d like to see if we get any matches from that. 

Those options didn’t attract Cassie’s attention.

— The last option, of course, is if you do know of someone who would be willing to provide a sample, you would be able to use a known donor. Now, as I said, sperm donors do not have legal parental rights and responsibilities, so if you use a known donor and you, say, want to co-parent, I would recommend working out a legal arrangement to outline the details of that. I’ve known women who have friends they end up co-parenting with, so it’s not unheard of. If you’d like to think about it, though, we don’t have to make any decisions immediately.

Cassie left the clinic without deciding anything. 

There were advantages and drawbacks to each option she was given, save for the third — she couldn’t even begin to think of any man she’d be comfortable enough to ask to become the father of her child, but not in a legal or emotional sense.

But she did take the counsellor’s advice and left with a prescription for birth control pills. That way, if a donor became available, she wouldn’t have to wait for her cycle to regulate itself by starting the pills just beforehand. She would have to wait a few days for the results of her exams to come back to determine if she would even be able to successfully conceive and carry a child through IVF. She would start the medication once getting the all-clear.

A few days later, Cassie got the results from all of the testing. Everything looked great. Her hormone levels, her follicle count, and uterine exam were all perfect. She didn’t have any fibroids or cysts, or anything else that might cause issues with the process. It was a relief.

She started taking her pills that day, and hoped that it wouldn’t take too long to move on to the next steps.

After a few days, she really hoped the process would move quickly, because the birth control pills were making her absolutely miserable. She’d taken birth control when she was younger — in university, mostly, but it must have been a different kind or dosage, because she didn’t remember feeling as bad as the ones she was just prescribed made her feel.

She had a constant headache, she felt bloated and nauseous. She was exhausted, and she felt like her brain was encased in gelatine. Her breasts were tender and sensitive, and she felt ready to cry at the slightest provocation. She tried to take it all in stride, though, because from what she read, pregnancy would be even worse.

Even so, the exhaustion and her headache made trying to sit through meetings difficult, especially their team’s weekly meeting with Toto. 

As Victoria, her boss and the head of marketing operations, and Toto discussed marketing strategy ahead of pre-season testing, Cassie rested her head on her hand, trying to focus, but she was distracted. Her head felt like it was filled with television static. She tried to regain focus by trying to remember what was being served for lunch in the employee canteen that day, but she had absolutely no appetite because of how nauseous she felt.

“I guess I’ll go downstairs and get some tea after this meeting”, she thought. The coffee counter had a nice lemon ginger tea that would probably do a world of good for her stomach. 

As soon as Victoria wrapped up the meeting, Cassie bolted from the conference room, walking quickly down the upstairs hallway toward the stairwell. 

— Cassie, wait! — she heard at her back.

Cassie stopped and turned around to see Toto striding after her, closing the distance between them quickly with his long legs.

— Are you feeling okay? — he asked, when he got close — You look a bit… Out of sorts. And during the meeting you weren’t as… Talkative as you normally are.

She glanced at his face. He had that worried expression of his again. She hated when Toto looked at her like that, because he could always tell when something was bothering her, or when she felt off. They’d grown very close and comfortable with each other over the past three years of their little weekly chats in the coffee shop, but it still made her feel strangely exposed.

— I’m alright. Just tired. I started on a new medication and… Some of the side effects aren’t pleasant.

— Medication? — he said, arching his eyebrow — Are you ill? Is everything okay? Do you need to go home and rest?

Cassie sighed.

— No, it’s not anything like that, it’s… Well, not something I’d like to discuss in the middle of the hallway, but…

— Well, we can go talk about it over coffee, if you’d like?

— I — Cassie stammered. 

— Or is something you’re not comfortable discussing with me?

— It’s… Well, it’s not that, it’s just… It’s something pretty… I just don’t know if I want to discuss it in the middle of the office coffee shop — Cassie said, looking away from Toto’s face.

— Well, we can discuss it in my office, if you’d like? I can go downstairs and get you a drink, if you want to wait for me there.

— Oh. Yes, we can do that. Um… No coffee today, I’ll have a lemon ginger tea if they have it. Peppermint, if they don’t. No milk or sugar. Please and thank you.

Toto smiled.

— I’ll be right back, then. My office door should be unlocked, go ahead and make yourself comfortable.

Cassie turned back around and headed to Toto’s office. As promised, the door wasn’t locked, so she let herself in. She felt a little strange walking in alone and seemingly uninvited, and it earned her some strange glances from some of her coworkers as they passed by. She thought Toto had an interesting notion of privacy, given that three of the four walls of his office were made of glass, giving the impression that he worked in a fishbowl, but at least nobody would be able to hear them talking. 

Like most offices, his had a desk. It was made of light wood, but it was unassuming and not imposing and imperious like the desk that her father had in his office. It was also sleek and modern looking, more of a table instead of a desk. There was a glass coffee table with two modern-looking armchairs, and a small table with four rolling chairs. 

The walls were also lined with shelves that displayed various mementos and awards, helmets given to him by drivers, a few framed photographs, and a few trophies, including the F1 World Constructors Trophy. All of it, of course, was neatly arranged, and his office was spotlessly clean and modern-looking. He didn’t even have a computer on his desk — he preferred to use an iPad for work, and he had a laptop for when that would not suffice, not wanting the clutter of having a proper desktop computer.

She decided one of the armchairs would probably be the most comfortable place to have their conversation. 

Cassie didn’t have to wait long until Toto returned, carrying two cardboard coffee cups with him. He set one of them in front of her, placing a sachet with a teabag on top of the lid. 

— I wasn’t sure how strong you wanted your tea, so I just had the barista give me the bag. I hope that’s okay. They had the lemon ginger, though!

— Perfect, thank you — Cassie said, carefully taking the lid off of the coffee cup and setting the open tea bag inside to allow it to steep. 

— So — Toto said, settling carefully down in the other armchair. He leaned forward a little, putting his elbows on his knees — Tell me, what’s happening? Is everything okay?

— Ah… Yes. So, I told you I started some new medication, and… Well, they’re birth control pills. Some of them can have fairly harsh side effects for some women, I think, and these ones just happen to not agree with me, I suppose.

Ordinarily, Cassie would feel strange sharing this sort of information with a coworker, especially a male coworker. Especially if that male coworker was her boss, but she and Toto had developed a fairly close, even casual relationship over the past three years. She couldn’t really explain how or why things had progressed the way they had, but Toto had a way of making her feel comfortable about opening up to him in a way she didn’t feel with anybody else. 

She could talk to her sister about some things, but was often afraid of her reaction, or that she might accidentally let something slip to their parents. She could talk to Sybil about things, too, but she knew that she and Sabine were busy, and didn’t want to always bother the two of them with her little insanities.

It didn’t help that Toto would make that expression of his — that face he made when he was worried about something. The way his dark brown eyes went soft, the way his eyebrows pinched together and raised at the same time, and the way his mouth formed into a sort of stretched half-frown. It was a look of pure concern, looking at her like she was someone worth caring for. It was an expression that nobody in her immediate family had ever given her, that she could remember. 

She didn’t know why, but that expression of his could melt away every last bit of Cassie’s resolve. That expression of his could get her to tell him state secrets, if she knew any. It was a good thing she didn’t work for MI:5. 

And the worst part was that she knew he wasn’t doing it intentionally or maliciously, intending to manipulate her, because he didn’t even know he was doing it. 

She teased him about it once, telling him not to make “that face”, when she told him about an incident from boarding school, where she and her classmates dared each other to go stand on some ice on a frozen pond near their school during one particularly cold winter. Cassie, as a child, was an unfortunate combination of overly cautious, yet easily goaded into things. She obviously fell through the too-thin ice when she was dared by the other girls to try to walk on top of it. The water was not deep, so she simply stood back up and walked back out of the water, but nearly froze on the way back to her rooms, earning herself an earful from her housemother. 

Cassie was sitting in front of him, more than two decades later, obviously unharmed, his face showing how worried he was, even about Cassie from the distant past. It was just the kind of person he was.

Toto cocked his eyebrow.

— I suppose that is fairly personal. Does that mean that you’ve started seeing someone?

— Uh, well — Cassie said, shifting a little — No. I’m not. But, I’ve decided that I would like to have… A baby. I didn’t think I wanted kids at all growing up, but I've come to the realization recently that I did. I think all along, I just didn’t want to give my parents something they were expecting from me. I started thinking about it, and realized that, biologically, I’m a bit short on time at the ripe old age of thirty-five, and I don’t really have the luxury of waiting to meet someone.

Cassie had previously been spare in her details about her family life when talking to Toto, only telling him that she and her parents were not close, and did not have a good relationship.

— Oh. But — Toto’s brow furrowed — But you said you’re not seeing someone, so, how does that work?

— Well, I’m going through a fertility clinic. With… A donor. Basically, they give me medication that makes me release a bunch of eggs at once, the clinic collects them and fertilizes them with a donor, um, sample, and they put the fertilized egg back, and hope it takes.

— So, why the birth control?

— Well, they need your cycle to be regulated, because they need to know when to start the process. It seems counter-intuitive, but birth control pills make everything predictable and put you on a sort of schedule. They also have the possibility of making you feel like shit. Pardon my language.

— So, you’re going to raise a baby… All alone? — he asked. 

— Well… Yeah. I mean, I’ve gone on a few dates lately, but not a single one of them has gone well. It seems like every man I’ve met has expressed that, should the two of us get together, I would be the one to drop my career to stay at home and take care of the house and children, which is exactly what my parents wanted me to do. I very intentionally have avoided becoming trapped in that kind of life, because I know it would make me miserable, but it’s not the idea of having children that sounds miserable, it’s the idea of being stuck at home, being a mother and a wife and nothing more. 

He nodded.

— Actually, I think having my own little family sounds amazing, especially because my own family life was so… Terrible. And it’s something to give my time outside of work, I don’t know, some sort of meaning, some sort of purpose. I know taking up a new hobby or adopting a pet is probably easier, but I'm so tired of coming home to a dark, empty flat every night when most of my friends are busy with their own children and families.

Cassie was looking at the gray carpet in Toto’s office, preferring not to look him in the eye as she poured her heart out to him. 

— Can I ask you something? — Toto said, softly. Cassie picked her head up, looking into Toto’s face again. He had an expression she couldn’t place, maybe a bit worried, but more… Sad.

— Yes?

— Can I be… Your donor?

Cassie blinked. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. 

— I’m… Sorry?

— I don’t really know how it works, but if you haven’t… Picked someone yet, can I, um… Help you with this?

Cassie felt like she must have been hallucinating. There was a faint ringing in her ears, and she felt like all of the blood in her body had left it, leaving her very briefly with the feeling that she was dissociating, her consciousness splitting from her physical form, until she was able to snap out of it, leaving her feeling like she’d been hit by a train. All within a split second. She was speechless.

There was no possible way that her boss had just offered to donate his sperm to her cause of having a baby. 

— I… What? You — she stammered, her eyes wide with shock.

— I know it sounds crazy, and probably even very… Forward of me, but I have a lot of good reasons. At least, I think so. Please, just give me a few minutes to explain.

— Um… Okay…

— I’ve been single for a long time myself, just because of how hectic my schedule got when I was trying to build my businesses. And then, I got involved with motorsport, first with DTM in Germany, then with Williams, and then here. It’s a lot of time away from home, a lot of traveling. The last woman I dated seriously broke it off with me because I was never home. I’ve gone on a date or two here and there in the last few years, but everyone meets on these dating apps now, and I don’t like them. And while I don’t necessarily have the issue of… How do I say this? My age limiting my reproductive years, there’s not a lot of women willing to have someone as old as I am to be the father of their child.

— I don’t think you’re old — Cassie mumbled. 

Toto chuckled.

— Well, thank you for that. Anyway, you know I have a sister, and she has three sons. I love visiting them, because it’s very nice to be around children. They’re so young, and full of energy, it’s infectious. I love going to visit, but they live in Vienna, and aside from winter breaks and summer shutdown, it’s hard to make time to see them. But, they make me wonder what it would be like if I had children of my own, and I can’t help but feeling like there’s something… Missing.

Cassie nodded. It was how she felt about her own nephew, Helena’s son. 

— And lastly, I know I’ve mentioned before that my father passed away when I was young. He had brain cancer, and my parents divorced before he died, I think because his personality changed so much. It was so hard to watch him change into someone I barely recognized, and deteriorate eventually, to the point where his death was honestly a mercy.

A lump was starting to form in Cassie’s throat as she listened to him.

— And so, my mother raised my sister and I as a single parent. She was an anesthesiologist at the public hospital in Vienna. She didn’t make much in her position, not as much as she would have working in a private hospital, but those jobs were hard to come by, and she had a lot of circumstances against her, you know, as an immigrant from Poland. 

She nodded.

— So, she had to work a lot of long days to be able to keep a roof over our heads, to keep us fed and clothed, and to make sure we could stay in school. My sister and I went to the French school in Vienna, and she didn’t want us to have to start all over after my father couldn’t work any more, but the tuition was quite expensive. It’s not quite the same situation, but hearing how you are planning on working and raising a child on your own… I know it’s possible, and I know a lot of women don’t have a choice, my mother certainly didn’t, but if you don’t have at least someone to help, your child might end up living a very… Solitary childhood, like I did. 

Cassie felt something heavy in her chest.

— There were days I hardly ever saw my mother. She was already on her way to work before we left for school some days, so I had to make sure my sister and I got there ourselves, and had to make sure we both got home. She’d come home, rather late, and make dinner, but she was often too worn out to spend time with us. Maybe some kids cope with it better than I did, but I wouldn’t want any child to have to go through that.

He paused for a moment, trying to collect himself, as some emotion started creeping into his voice, causing it to waver a bit.

— It just seems like a simple equation, no? You want a child. I want a child. We both are on good terms with each other, we work well together. I know raising a child together is not quite the same as working together. But, we don’t have to… Be together, or anything. I’m certainly not going to insist we get into a relationship, at least beyond co-parenting, but when you talked about coming home to a dark and empty flat most nights… That’s how I feel, at least, when I’m not on the road.

Now, Toto was gazing at the carpet, like he didn’t want to meet Cassie’s eyes. It was a good thing, because her eyes were wet, like she was going to cry.

The circumstances of each of their childhoods couldn’t have been more different; Cassie’s family was wealthy and well-connected. She wanted for little in the way of material desires as a child, and her parents were married to this day. But, they shipped her to boarding school as soon as they could, and she didn’t speak to them any more. Toto lost one parent to cancer, which left his mother to try to hold things together, at the expense of her relationship with her children. But, the end result was the same. 

They had both felt alone as children, and now, both of them wanted a child in the hopes of being able to heal that pain, and they both wanted to give a child a better family life than each of them had. 

Inevitably, the details of co-parenting would be complex, and would need to be discussed. Legal documents would need to be drawn up, because, as the counsellor at the clinic noted, even known donors don’t get parental rights by default. But the core of their desires were simple, and mutual: they both wanted a child to love and nurture in a way that neither of them felt that they were loved and nurtured. 

Cassie sighed deeply. She didn’t want to make a decision either way that she would come to regret later, but Toto’s story moved her.

— Do you mind if I think about it? — she said — Maybe for a few days? It’s a big decision, and I just want to weigh all of my options.

Toto lifted his head up, taking both of Cassie’s hands in his, giving one of them a gentle squeeze. He had a small smile. 

— Of course. Please. Take all the time you need. And… Thank you.

Cassie got up, still holding her cup of tea, and said goodbye to Toto, leaving his office in silence.

If she expected to get anything done the rest of the day, she was mistaken. Toto's words wouldn't get out of her head.

“Can I be your donor?”, she heard his voice repeat, her eyes lost on her computer wallpaper, a picture of the team the day they won their third Constructors' title. Toto was standing behind one of the pit boards, smiling broadly. His nose crinkled in a certain way whenever he was smiling or laughing, when he was earnestly happy. He was indeed happy that day. Picking up her cup of tea, she took a sip of the warm brew, deep in thought.

“Can I be your donor?”

Cassie came home from work a little tired. Dropping her purse on the chest of drawers just inside the door of her apartment, she headed straight for the bathroom to take a shower. After she finished, she felt a little better, the cool water reviving her a bit. She was still wrapped in a towel when she saw that there was a notification on her phone.

A message from Toto.

Swallowing hard, Cassie unlocked the screen and opened WhatsApp, clicking on his name.

The message was simple, just three words.

“For your consideration”.

Below the text, there were some images that were waiting to be downloaded. She touched the first one and, after a few seconds, a picture of a baby appeared on her screen. It didn't take her more than a second to realize that it was Toto as a baby. The expressive, dark eyes, round cheeks and unruly light hair, that must have darkened with time, was enough for her to realize it.

There was another picture under it, this time of him as a boy. In the photo, he was making an expression that Cassie saw quite often, with one of his eyebrows quirked, as if someone asked him a question he didn’t understand. Cassie laughed when she realized he hadn’t changed a bit.

There were other pictures, all of them of him at different ages and situations and with one common characteristic.

He had been adorable then, and he was incredibly handsome now. 

“Can I be your donor?”, he asked again in the back of her mind.

The answer was on the tip of her tongue.

She opened his name in her phone’s contacts and tapped his number.

— Hi — she said, relieved he answered quickly, before she could lose her nerve — Can you meet me on Saturday at Society Cafe? Yes, on St. Michael’s, across from the Three Goats’ Heads. Maybe 1pm? Great. I’ll see you then.

She hung up and flopped onto her bed, letting her towel go loose. She closed her eyes, and saw Toto’s face, the way he looked when they were talking earlier.

“Can I be your donor?”, he said.

She tried to imagine what he would look like on Saturday, when she told him “yes”. 

[themurphyzone]

BatB AU: Lost and Found

AN: I've been waiting to write this one! Pinky goes through the wringer here but he gets a happy ending!

Ch 27: Lost and Found

AO3 Link

Pinky's fingers drummed anxiously against the floor, his tail lashing from the tension in the air. Nobody was having much luck in their research. 

He was still nervous from his earlier freakout when the Warners' book castle collapsed, though it was quickly forgotten while everybody was trying to find out as much as they could about Warnerstock, King William, and Queen Angelina. 

He didn't remember rushing into danger, picking up Brain, and getting him out of there. 

But the Warners all swore that it was one of the coolest things they'd ever seen him do, even if he had no memory of it. Brain didn't back them up. He'd seemed pretty confused by the tears splashing onto his head, though he thanked Pinky for the rescue. 

Pinky still felt Brain glancing in his direction every now and then. Though Brain tried to be discreet about it, Pinky could see his large ears drooping whenever he looked, completely giving him away. 

Pinky didn't draw attention to it. 

I'm okay, he silently promised Brain. Let's focus on helping the Warners. They deserve to know what their parents were like. 

But they perused atlases, journals, encyclopedias, tomes, even a pop-up book about the countries of the world because they were desperate, yet there was hardly anything about Warnerstock or its royal family. 

And when the country was given one or two mentions in a single passage, on a single page, somebody always wound up screaming at the book in frustration. 

The only thing Pinky had learned was that Warnerstock really liked naming everything Acme for some reason, though nobody could figure out what the random assortment of letters stood for. There was Acme Castle, Acme Falls, Acme River, and Pinky's personal favorite, Acme Butte. 

It had taken Pinky and the Warners five minutes to stop laughing over that one, despite Brain's insistence that Acme Butte was just an elevated area of land, had no relation to a certain body part, and they were all immature for laughing at their purposeful mispronunciation of a geographical feature.

If only the rest of the few things they'd found about Warnerstock were that funny. 

"A primitive land filled with anarchy and untamed savages who don't observe any type of authority whatsoe-" Brain slammed The Greatest European Empires in History shut. The sound echoed around the room. He shoved the book away in disgust. "I never realized how horribly biased this author was to every country that wasn't his native England." 

"At least you can read it," Yakko scoffed, holding up what appeared to be an old journal. "Can't make heads or tails of this one. Too much fancy script." 

"No pictures?" Pinky asked. He'd tried flipping through a few non-picture books, but he found it really difficult to focus on words alone. 

He'd gotten really frustrated with himself until Brain swapped books with him, then assigned him to skim a pile of books that had pictures in them while he took the heavier texts. 

So far, he wasn't having much luck, but he was grateful to Brain for trying to make things easier on him. 

"No pictures," Yakko confirmed.

Yeah, that made everything harder. 

Wakko was playing with the discarded books more than he was reading them. Nobody dissuaded him from this activity, because it kept everyone from tearing out their fur in frustration. 

Meanwhile, Dot poured over a thirteen part set about kings and queens in the past century. Unlike Brain's more methodical and careful search, she flipped through each page with vigor, her expression growing impatient as the discarded pile beside her grew larger. 

After twenty minutes, she angrily huffed and crossed her arms. 

"Brain, don't you have a part fourteen of The Accomplishments of European Royalty lying around somewhere?" she demanded. "I can't find any mention of Mom or Dad anywhere!" 

Brain glanced up from his own book. 

"You're going too far into the past for your parents' reign," he said. "Look for publications in the past two decades." 

Dot scowled. "That's the thing! You don't have any books that were published recently! Everything is way out of date!"

Brain’s fur bristled as he stood up, fully intending to prove Dot wrong. He flipped through book after book, and Pinky had never seen anyone read so quickly before. 

“1742, 1704, 1721…” Brain said each publication date out loud, his ears sinking with the realization that Dot was right. He pushed away the encyclopedia in front of him when he wasn’t even five pages in. “The curse didn’t leave me a lot of opportunities to expand my collection...”

He shook his head, accepting defeat with a resigned sigh. 

“We could buy newer books,” Pinky suggested. They couldn’t lose hope on finding answers yet. 

There had to be something out there, right?

But nobody else seemed to have much hope for finding anything about the siblings’ homeland. 

Dot crawled over to Yakko and buried her face into his fur. Her normally perky ears flopped to the side, tears rolling down her face as she desperately held onto her older brother. Yakko wrapped his arms around her, lifting one arm so Wakko could crawl into his embrace as well. 

“...I just wanted to know them,” Dot whispered, her voice tiny. 

Pinky’s heart broke for her. Dot was tough, but sometimes she was fragile too. It was easy to forget. 

Brain’s library was enormous. But it couldn’t help Dot feel connected to her parents, no matter how much they wanted to pretend otherwise. 

And when Warnerstock was mentioned, the authors didn’t seem to like the country at all. 

I was just trying to help…and I made her feel worse.

“I’m sorry, Dot,” Pinky whispered. “I really thought this would work…” 

Dot lifted her head. “It’s okay, Pinky,” she said quietly. “Thanks for trying. You too, Brain.” 

Brain glanced at his enormous collection of books. “We didn’t make any progress today. But I will try to obtain some written records about Warnerstock and your parents over the past ten years, even if it won’t be easy with all the censorship surrounding the topic.”

Wakko tilted his head, looking very much like a confused puppy. "Why would they censor our parents?" he asked. 

"Too many bad words for our innocent ears," Yakko joked, trying to lighten the mood. His ears twisted into a circle above his head, mimicking an angelic halo.

"Oh yes, you're the very picture of innocence." Brain rolled his eyes as Pinky, Wakko, and even Dot laughed at Yakko's display.

"Unfortunately, the censorship surrounding Warnerstock began two centuries ago, when a Warnerstockian king committed a grievous offense against the French crown. As revenge, the French royal family decreed that Warnerstock's name and accomplishments would be scrubbed from all its history books. Warnerstock could be invited to major events to avoid damaging foreign relations, but they were never to be trusted and under watch at all times. And the grudge persists to this day." 

That all sounded a bit silly. The entire reason they couldn't find anything was because somebody was mad at someone else long before any of them were ever born? 

"That's…a bit much," Dot admitted. "What kind of offense was it?" 

Brain wrinkled his nose with disdain. "The exact reasons have been lost to time. Which leads me to believe this grievous offense could've been a slightly embarrassing, yet harmless prank instead of anything drastic like an invasion. Overall, it's a silly and archaic law, but the king is bound to tradition no matter what." 

There was a hint of bitterness in his tone. Like he had personal experience with questioning this ancient grudge and was shot down mercilessly. 

"It's stupid," Dot scoffed. 

Brain sighed. "That's what I said, and then I was punished with a fifty page essay covering why the censorship was justified and why certain books like Robin Hood needed to be banned for their pro-revolution content. With an abstract. And underlined key words. And proper citations with a bibliography." 

He shivered, and Pinky moved closer in case he was cold. There was a slight draft from the window. Maybe they needed to close it.

Brain leaned against him with a grateful sigh. 

"I have no idea what any of those are," Pinky admitted. "But I'm sure you worked very hard on it." 

"Well, I'm glad you think so," Brain murmured. "I've never seen so much red ink in my life after I got it back."

Disheartened from the lack of progress, nobody made an effort to put all the books back where they belonged. Even Brain didn't say anything about it.

There was an unspoken agreement that the books would all be put away later. 

"Pinky?" Wakko said, surprising everyone. He was soft-spoken compared to his siblings, and nobody really knew when he chose to speak. "Do you remember your mom at all?" 

Dot lifted her head, watery eyes gazing curiously at Pinky. She must've had the same question too. 

A gentle smile. Laughter. Hugs and kisses to the top of his head. A voice reading fairy tales and getting just as excited as him when the prince and princess kissed and lived happily ever after. The sweet smell of cheese and apple pie clinging to her apron. 

Her name was Brie. She was tall. She was graceful. She wore a flowing purple cloak. 

And she was…faceless. 

Pinky's heart pounded against his chest, his breath stolen away. 

He couldn't remember what she looked like. The exact shade of her fur and the color of her eyes were lost on him. 

"I-I'm sorry. I think…I just need to be alone for a bit," Pinky stammered. 

He dislodged himself from Brain so fast that the smaller mouse nearly toppled face-first into the carpet. 

Pinky stumbled as he rose to his feet. Four uneasy stares burned into his back. 

A small hand slipped into his, a silent plea to stay. 

But Pinky let go, fleeing the library without Brain and ignoring the voices calling for him to come back. 

I can't remember Mama's face. I can't help the Warners get to know their parents. I can't save anybody I love. 

o-o-o-o-o

He didn’t know where he was, or where he was going. He just wandered wherever his feet took him, though he wasn’t sure where he wanted to go. 

Brain and the Warners were probably worried sick about him. He could still hear their voices calling his name, begging him to come back so they could figure out what was wrong.  

They don't know. I’ve been hiding the truth since that night. Keeping it in, hoping they don't find out so they'll still call me a friend. 

He’d betrayed the entire castle and nobody ever realized the truth. They still smiled, laughed, and talked to him like nothing was wrong. 

He wanted to be brave like Brain. But he was too scared of what could happen if he told everyone that he’d led Snowball and the mob to the castle. They’d shun him like the villagers did, or kick him out altogether. And Pinky didn’t want to leave. He loved the castle, Brain, and all his friends too much to ever leave them again.  

It was selfish to keep this secret, he knew. Guilt clawed at his heart, the silence overwhelming in this strange, misty landscape.

Did he wander too far from the castle? With all this fog, he couldn’t see the tall spires even though he was sure Brain’s castle would be pretty hard to miss for anyone who wasn’t blind. 

There was nothing he could use as a landmark. No rocks or sticks to make an arrow with, no trees to mark, or a dirt path to follow. 

The thick mist pooled around him and blocked the sky above. No sunlight reached Pinky, and he didn’t have the moon and stars to comfort him either. 

“Brain?” Pinky called, anxiously wringing his tail when he couldn’t hear Brain’s voice. “Papa? Dot? Can anyone hear me?” 

No leaves crunched under his feet. No birds were singing in the nonexistent trees. There was no breeze to cool him off, nor any sign that anyone else was around. 

Pinky was alone, and nobody was around to help.

Though he was afraid of the mist, not wanting to know if there was anything waiting in the shadows for him, he didn’t want to stay in one place either. 

Cautiously, he walked through the mist in search of the castle. He’d be safe then. Brain would make sure of that. 

Heart racing, he pushed forward. Giving up wasn’t an option. Not until he found his family and friends.

Maybe he needed to stay put after all. Maybe moving forward just meant that he’d lose his way and make it difficult for anyone to find him. 

But Brain would find him, no matter how lost Pinky was. 

His ears pricked at the sound of hooves clopping against the ground. 

Pinky’s heart leapt. Pharfignewton was close by! She’d help him find the castle! Her sense of direction was miles better than Pinky’s. 

“Pharfignewton, is that you? I’m here! I’m really happy you showed up!” Pinky called as the sound of thundering hooves drew closer. “Can you take me to the castle please?” 

A dark silhouette appeared in the mist. 

And Pinky’s hopes were dashed when the silhouette took on the shape of an enormous, shadowy horse-drawn carriage. The horses stopped in front of Pinky, whinnying in agony as the coachman mercilessly cracked his whip against their backs and commanded them to move. 

Pinky’s feet were rooted to the spot, fear overwhelming him as he stood in the shadow of Mr. Itch’s carriage, the words Maison des Lunes emblazoned in crimson red. 

And one of the exhausted and beaten horses forced to pull the carriage was…

“Pharfig?” Pinky whispered, horrified by her agonized whinnies. He covered his ears against the awful noise, but he couldn’t block it out. It echoed in his ears and rattled him to his core. “N-no, that can’t be you…” 

Long, deep scars criss-crossed her white pelt, her once beautiful mane and tail forcefully slashed into tiny, thin strands. Her hooves were cracked and untrimmed, her reins choking her neck and muzzle, leaving her barely able to breathe. 

Her blue eyes were lifeless and dull, a far cry from the vibrant horse Pinky knew. Her bones were outlined against her too-thin frame, head bowed close to the ground. 

She didn't have the strength to pull the carriage, nor enough to stand. 

A chill ran through Pinky. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't Pharfignewton, it was just some horse that looked like a sicklier version of her, but even he couldn't believe his own flimsy lie. 

This was Pharfignewton, more exhausted and despairing than she should've been. Pinky had met her when she was just a lost, small filly, but she’d never lost her spirit then. 

Help me. 

Her eyes were pleading. 

“H-hold on, Pharfig,” Pinky whispered, his heart breaking at the sight. “I’ll free you. Poit.” 

He didn’t know why she was pulling Monsieur Itch’s carriage, but Pinky knew that Pharfignewton would never do such a horrible thing willingly. She was too sweet, and she didn’t deserve this inhumane treatment. 

But when he reached up to try and loosen the reins around her muzzle, a fiery whip suddenly lashed across his hands, and Pinky cried out in pain when he was forced to let go. But Pharfignewton barely reacted. She took the cruel blow quietly, and the new, bleeding scar across her muzzle was the only sign she was affected at all. 

“Now, now, I can’t just allow you to steal my horse,” the coachman said, twirling the whip in his hands, the fire not affecting him at all. “She’s a useful servant, even if she doesn’t quite look the part.” 

“She isn’t your horse!” Pinky screamed. “You’re torturing her! Please, let her go!” 

The white mist turned crimson red, and the coachman chuckled as a flame appeared in the palm of his hand, illuminating his face. 

Pinky gasped, burned hands flying to his mouth in horror. The man before him had a thin mustache, slick black hair, and a finely tailored suit. There was a wicked smirk on his face. He was enjoying every second of Pinky’s suffering. 

The coachman was none other than Monsieur Itch. 

“And just why would I do that?” he asked. "Surely you can't expect me to haul your old man back to the asylum all by myself. I prefer to commit unwilling mortals with style." 

Pinky froze with horror at a loud clang from within the carriage. 

"Pinky! Don't let them take me! Help!" 

"Papa!" Pinky cried out, rushing over to the carriage and scrambling up the wheel. The burns on his hands stung, pain searing through his body, but he gritted his teeth and hauled himself onto the footstep of the carriage. He pressed his ear to the door, ignoring the blazing heat of the carriage. "Are you okay, Papa? Are you hurt?" 

Please…I can't lose the rest of my family too…. 

He thought of Mama, whose face he couldn't remember, and of his unborn sibling, who never had a chance to live. 

Papa coughed. His voice was weak and raspy, the clanging fainter every passing second. 

"Please, save me, son…" 

Pinky's tears stung his face and blurred his vision. 

"I will! Don't worry, Papa!" Pinky shouted, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. "I'll make your favorite broccoli and cheese soup as soon as we get home! You'll get better and stronger in time for the fair! You still have time to win that lovely blue ribbon for Madeline, and Pharfig and I will be there to cheer you on and-” 

Pinky tried to climb towards the latch, but fingers clamped around his tail and lifted him into the air. Itch’s fingers seared his flesh, tears leaking out of Pinky’s eyes. 

He kicked his legs and reached for the carriage, but he couldn’t escape the tight hold. 

“Relax, Pinky. We always take excellent care of the inmates at the Maison des Lunes.” Itch said, and Pinky shrieked as flames scorched his back. Itch only laughed cruelly. “Thank you for your patronage, but I believe I’ve kept you long enough. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” 

He carelessly tossed Pinky over his shoulder, and Pinky only caught a glimpse of the carriage disappearing into the mist before his face hit rough cobblestone. He pushed himself up to his feet, ignoring the aches in his body as he tried to figure out the direction the carriage had gone, but the mist made it impossible to see a path. 

“Go away!” Pinky screamed, swatting at the mist. Hitting it wouldn’t make it leave, but he tried anyway, even though his attacks did nothing. “I need to go after them! Leave me alone!"

He screamed until his throat was too raw for him to continue. Gasping for breath, Pinky could only lay on the cobblestone while tears streamed down his face. 

I have to find them! I have to save them! 

He couldn't just lay here and do nothing! Why couldn't he stop being so useless? 

But when his cries fell silent, the sounds of a fierce, raging battle filled the air. 

He heard triumphant bellows mixed with cries of pain.

And the cries of pain were from his friends. 

He'd been thrown right onto the doorstep of the castle, right in the midst of his village's attack. 

I led them here. They're in trouble because of me. *italicize*

He was responsible for this battle. Which meant he was equally responsible for ending it. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Pinky stumbled over himself before rushing into the castle. The door had been knocked off its hinges, its wood splintered into pieces along the ground.

The lobby was filled with the bodies of his friends. Though they were inanimate, they didn't deserve to be treated so cruelly. Many had fallen, torn apart by the villagers' weapons and bare hands. Others continued to fight, pushing past their injuries and grief for their fallen friends, but they were slowing down and wouldn’t be able to keep their strength up anymore. 

Pinky carefully avoided the pile of scattered feathers on the floor, not wanting to tread on the remains of the Goodfeathers. Nearby, a broken halo laid next to a crumbled gargoyle. 

A heart wrenching, desperate howl echoed through the lobby. 

In the shadows, Runt cradled Rita’s broken body between his wooden legs. There was a knife caught in the fabric on his back. Half of his golden tassels were ripped off, leaving dangling, ripped threads behind. Rita was lifeless, her wings torn away by force and her Christmas angel’s dress in tatters. A bent wire poked out of her head, her golden halo missing. 

Quietly, Pinky approached the mourning ottoman and returned the halo to its rightful place on Rita’s head. 

“...a-are you awake yet, Rita?” Runt whined, gently nuzzling Rita’s head. “You said you had a special song for me. I really wanna hear you sing, Rita….” 

Pinky backed away before Runt could notice him. He didn’t have the right to say anything when his own stupidity caused her death. 

He blinked back tears, almost stumbling over a knight’s helmet. He couldn’t cry and grieve yet. 

Brain was still missing. 

Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he could still find Brain and help him and everyone escape the castle. 

Pinky rushed upstairs, trying to block out the chaos surrounding him as he raced towards the West Wing. He hadn’t seen Snowball yet. 

Panic coursed through him, and he wondered if he’d arrived too late to help Brain fend Snowball off. 

I can't think like that! Brain's gotta be okay! He has to be…

Though he wanted to stay and help the servants drive off the villagers, he knew the battle wouldn't end until Snowball was defeated. The Crown Prince had only one goal in mind, and he wouldn't stop until it was accomplished. 

Just as Pinky reached the second floor, there was a loud scream from downstairs. 

"Get your ugly mug out of our castle!" Dot screeched, struggling against Jacque’s tight grip. But the older man only laughed, not reacting to Dot’s attempts to pummel him with her base. As a fragile teacup, she was completely helpless. 

Yakko’s fire burned a furious white. Though one of his candles was missing, the intensity of his flames would’ve put a furnace to shame. 

“LET MY SISTER GO!” he roared, charging at Jacque, but before he could set his coat ablaze, another villager suddenly kicked him away. 

Yakko landed in a puddle of water that had been thrown by one of the buckets, his flames going out instantly. Wakko rushed in to help his older brother up, and several men descended upon them while they were in disarray. 

She no longer had her brothers’ protection. 

Jacque hurled Dot to the ground, shattering her into tiny porcelain shards. 

“Dot!” Pinky screamed at the motionless teacup. She was broken beyond repair, and all her attempts to prove that she wasn’t fragile amounted to nothing. 

But nobody heard his cries. The battle raged on. 

The Warner brothers continued to fight for their lives, even though Pinky could see their grieving expressions from afar. They weren’t granted a chance to mourn their loss.  

This needs to end. I can’t let Snowball hurt everyone I care about. 

Pinky rushed to the West Wing before his helplessness overtook him. The halls were empty of servants and were emptier than Pinky had ever seen them. Not even a knight or a maid to be found. 

Echoes of the battle plagued him, the gargoyles’ eyes glaring accusingly as he passed by. 

You did this to our home, they said.  

Except for the battle under his feet, it was silent. The only company was the gargoyles and darkness. 

His mother and sibling were long gone. Itch took away Papa and Pharfignewton. Brain, his friends, and this castle were all he had, and Snowball planned to destroy them too. 

I can’t beat Snowball. I’m just a peasant. He’s a powerful prince. But…I have to try and make him leave everyone alone. It’s the only way. 

A deafening, agonized roar echoed off the walls, and Pinky's heart leapt with horror as a voice snapped at him to shut up. 

"-why would Pinky ever want you? Did you really think he could ever love a disgrace and an abomination such as yourself?"

Pinky ran faster. He couldn't allow Brain to endure Snowball's cruel mockery alone. 

"How far you've fallen since your exile. It's truly pitiful." 

Pinky's lungs burned from exhaustion as he finally reached the West Wing doors, though he couldn't let himself rest until Brain was out of danger. 

"Now, allow me to put you out of your misery!" 

The doors were wide open, and Pinky froze as Snowball held a dagger high above his head, cackling with delight at a barely conscious Brain, who laid helplessly at his feet. 

He didn't do anything to defend himself. 

His pink eyes were downcast, his long ears drooping. He could only let out a sad, longing growl. 

"Get up, Brain!" Pinky screamed. He'd seen Brain fight a wolf before! He could easily fight back against Snowball! "You have to get up right now!" 

But Brain only lifted his head, his gaze falling on Pinky. His thick brows lifted, ears perking up. His despairing growl turned soft and happy. 

And the dagger plunged into his back. 

Brain's happiness swiftly turned to pain and shock, his breathing ragged as crimson blood flowed out of the wound and stained the ground. 

Desperate to get Snowball away from Brain, Pinky charged at him. 

Snowball only smirked. 

And Pinky passed through Snowball like he was never there, his hands closing around empty air before he collapsed on his hands and knees. Snowball laughed, his body and dagger disappearing into mist, stained red from Brain's blood. 

The enchanted rose's last petal blackened and withered, fluttering helplessly in its dying moment. 

Pinky trembled, staring at the spot where Snowball had vanished. There was nothing he could do against Snowball. 

He’d won.

Pinky couldn’t free Papa and Pharfignewton from their torture. He couldn’t save Rita or Dot or any of his friends. And now the mouse before him, who Pinky treasured more than life itself, was dying a slow and painful death. 

In the end, Pinky had no one to blame but himself. He couldn’t stand up to Snowball, and everybody he loved paid the price. 

“...I’m sorry,” Pinky whispered, though no apology would ever make up for his betrayal. 

His hands shook as he removed his cloak and pressed it against Brain’s back, though it didn’t do much to stop the bleeding. 

Even if his actions were useless, he wanted Brain to feel some kind of comfort. He deserved that much. 

“...Pinky?” Brain murmured in surprise. 

“Shhh,” Pinky gently hushed him so the bleeding wouldn’t get worse. “Just rest. I-I’ll try to stop this bleeding.”   

Brain's body shifted as he turned to check his wounds, and Pinky held him steady so he didn't make his wound worse.

"Bleeding? What bleeding?" he asked in confusion. 

He probably didn't realize he'd been stabbed. 

"Snowball…h-he stabbed you, Brain," Pinky said softly. "So please…stay still so I can heal you properly."

He'd had plenty of experience patching up Papa when his inventions exploded. Cuts could be bandaged. Herbs could be used for bruises or pain. 

But…Brain's wound was too deep, too painful to be healed with Pinky's limited knowledge. 

I…I can't give up…I have to keep applying pressure…it's gotta stop eventually! Please, just stop….

But his vision became misty and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. 

The bleeding wouldn't stop. 

Blood soaked through his cloak, staining his hands crimson and spilling onto the floor, covering every surface of the West Wing.

Pinky choked back a sob, tears splashing onto his bloodstained hands. 

I can't do it. I can't save him. I can't save anybody.

All his strength left him, and he could only collapse against Brain in exhaustion, hating that he couldn't do anything for him or anyone else. 

The white mist spread across the West Wing until all the furniture, walls, and floor disappeared. 

And Pinky was lost, adrift once again with only his spiraling thoughts for company. There was nobody here, no place to seek shelter or help. 

Only Brain was left, and Pinky clung to his dying body, afraid that Brain would be gone forever if he let go. 

Brain was barely clinging to life, but once he succumbed to his wound, Pinky would be lost and alone once more. 

Guilt ran through Pinky. He didn't want Brain to put himself through all that pain just to keep him company.

His eyes stung from crying, but before he could try to soothe them on his own, a clawed hand gently caressed his cheek. 

Stunned, Pinky barely registered that Brain was ignoring his fatal injury in favor of helping him feel better. 

"Y-you shouldn't be sitting up," Pinky whispered into Brain's thick, warm fur. Strong arms circled around him, pulling him against a broad chest and soothing heartbeat. "Please, don't make your wound worse…." 

His heartbeat sounded oddly strong even though he was on death's door.

"Pinky…” Brain murmured, his voice pained. “...what exactly are you seeing?” 

Did he not realize he’d been stabbed? It must’ve happened so fast that Brain didn’t even know. 

Maybe he should’ve insisted that Brain lay down more. Maybe he should’ve been calling for help because he was too weak and exhausted to move Brain somewhere more comfortable on  his own. 

But Pinky was too scared of being alone in this strange misty landscape. It was safer to stay with Brain for as long as he could. 

If Brain would let him once he knew the truth. 

"I…I showed Snowball and my village where to find you with the mirror,” Pinky admitted. He didn’t understand why Brain only pulled him closer instead of pushing him away in disgust. “They were trying to throw Papa into a horrible asylum cause he said you were real and they didn’t believe him, s-so I pulled out the mirror and showed them your face, a-and Snowball convinced everyone you were a threat, a-and it’s my fault the castle was attacked and now everyone’s gone cause I put them all in danger! Y-you’re dying…cause I led them right to you…” 

He heard a chorus of whispers come from somewhere in the mist, though he had no idea who was speaking or if they wanted to drag him further into the unknown so that no one would ever see him again. 

Frightened by their voices, Pinky huddled closer to Brain, tears streaming down his face as he realized that he was going to lose the only comfort he had. Brain made a strange noise at this, yet after a moment, he hesitantly reached for Pinky’s hand. 

Shocked that Brain wasn’t pushing him off in disgust, Pinky tried to pull away, but Brain didn’t let go. 

“...they’re worried about you, Pinky,” Brain said quietly. “You’re somewhere very far away right now. And wherever that is…it seems to be a terrifying place.” 

Pinky whimpered, clinging to Brain's warmth for as long as he would let him. He was the only one who could protect him in this horrible place. 

"There's nothing here, Brain," Pinky whispered. "It's all mist. You're…you're gonna disappear like Pharfig and Papa and Rita and Dot and everyone else very soon. I'll be alone and I can't ever escape." 

This was punishment for his betrayal. In trying to save everyone he loved, he lost them all. 

He messed up too badly to ever be forgiven. 

Yet Brain didn't let go of Pinky's hand. And when he spoke, his voice was soft but full of conviction. 

"You can escape, Pinky. You just need to wake up." 

I need to…wake up? Was I dreaming this entire time? It all seems so real…

But even if Pinky didn’t know what was real or a dream anymore, he trusted Brain to tell him the difference. Still, it didn’t completely get rid of his fear of the unknown. He didn’t know where he’d be if he escaped this nightmare. 

“Brain…if I wake up like you say, can you tell me where I’ll be afterward? I’m really scared…” 

Brain touched his large forehead to Pinky’s."You’ll be home, Pinky. There's a soft bed with fluffy pillows and a sun-patterned comforter. A window with an exquisite view. A wardrobe with your favorite dresses and a wardrobe stocked with perfume. A serving cart full of warm honey tea and chocolate chip cookies that melt in your mouth. And…everyone is here too. They're here to make sure you're okay." 

"Everyone?" Pinky whispered. 

"Yes,” Brain nodded. “Your father and Pharfignewton. The Warner siblings are here too. Rita, Runt, Mindy, and Buttons. And more who we had to bar from entering because it was becoming overcrowded. They're waiting outside the room." 

"...is everyone alive?" 

And they all wanted him to be okay? Even though he couldn’t save them?  

"Everyone is alive and well. I promi-no, I Pinky promise you'll see all of them when you wake up." 

With that solemn promise made, Brain hooked his little finger around Pinky’s, intertwining them together so firmly that nothing could separate them. 

Though Pinky was still nervous about facing everyone, he trusted Brain with all his heart. He wouldn’t be alone in a strange and frightening landscape anymore. 

He would be safe. He would be home with everyone he loved. 

Pinky closed his eyes and took a deep breath, imagining himself nestled among warm blankets and fluffy pillows, surrounded by all of his friends and family. Everyone smiled and laughed as they passed delicious chocolate chip cookies around, humming with delight as they told corny jokes and playfully roughhoused with each other. Nobody was hurt or afraid or sad. 

They were all happy. And they wanted him to be part of their happiness too. 

And when he lifted his head and opened his eyes, the very first thing he saw was Brain, who blinked in surprise before he exhaled heavily, a small, relieved smile crossing his face. 

“Welcome back,” Brain murmured, cupping Pinky’s face in his hands and touching their noses together. 

He was a normal mouse again, no horns or claws and only a tiny pair of fangs that fit inside his mouth, but whether he was a mouse or a beast, he’d always be the same Brain to Pinky. 

Pinky nuzzled Brain back. Though Brain resisted a bit at first, he gave up with a resigned huff and accepted his fate, allowing Pinky to pull him into an embrace. Carefully, Pinky touched Brain’s side, where Snowball’s dagger had fatally wounded him. 

Brain’s shirt wasn’t ripped. There was no blood or pain anywhere. In fact, there was no wound at all. Brain was relaxed and serene in Pinky’s arms.  

“You’re okay,” Pinky whispered, his vision blurring with tears. 

Brain was moving and breathing and living and that was all Pinky wanted for him.   

“Of course,” Brain replied. His rose-pink eyes were watery too, and he quickly wiped them, though it didn’t do much. “Ugh. Do you have to make me produce tears too?” 

Pinky only laughed in response. Brain looked away and folded his arms grumpily, though there was still a tiny smile on his face.

Somebody coughed, and Pinky remembered what Brain said about everybody waiting for him. He and Brain weren’t alone. Papa, the Warner siblings, and Rita were all spread out over the bed too, with plenty of room to spare. Runt stood on his back legs on the floor, his front paws resting on the comforter as he wagged his tail happily. Pharfignewton stood next to him, whinnying with relief. Buttons was trying to coax Mindy down from the dresser. 

“Honestly, I’ve seen trees less sappier than both of you,” Yakko said, playfully sticking his tongue out. 

Brain’s fur bristled indignantly. “I wasn’t being sappy!” he protested. 

Rita gave Brain a toothy grin. “We’re all eyewitnesses to everything you were telling Pinky in his sleep, boss. There’s no point in denying it.” 

Brain blushed, his ears flattening at their teasing. “Y-you were just mishearing things in an emotionally charged situation-”

“Oh, none of us misheard your little Pinky promise,” Dot added. “That bit was cornier than a cornfield.” 

“Cheesier than the cheesiest cheesecake,” Wakko declared as he reached for a chocolate chip cookies from the serving cart. 

Brain groaned, covering his beet-red face with his hands. “That’s it,” he grumbled. “I’m firing all of you and your replacements will be rocks who can’t talk back.” 

The Warner siblings and Rita burst into laughter, completely unfazed by Brain’s threat. 

“We love you too,” Yakko smirked. 

Brain only mumbled something nobody could make out. 

After such a lonely dream, Pinky found it refreshing to hear everyone’s voices and laughter again. But part of him wondered if they’d let him be part of their happiness too once they learned the truth about that night. 

If they knew he’d caused the attack on the castle. 

Even if they cast him out, he thought they deserved to know. 

“Everyone…there’s something important I need to tell you-” Pinky began. 

Brain shifted closer, letting Pinky lean against him without comment. 

But Dot held up her hand to stop him. Pinky clammed up instantly. 

Instead of anger, there was only sympathy in her eyes. 

"Wakko explained everything," she said quietly. "We already know." 

Pinky remembered when Wakko, a mantle clock back then, popped out of his bag and asked him if he could come back to the castle because everyone loved having him there. 

He hadn't realized Wakko saw Papa getting thrown in the asylum wagon because everyone thought he was insane, Pinky trying to save him by proving the Beast's existence with the enchanted mirror, and Snowball riling up the villagers through fear and flames. 

And Wakko saw Pinky's betrayal firsthand. 

He was too scared to even look at Wakko…but he knew he'd have to face whatever he had to say. 

Wakko glanced down at his lap. 

"I told them you were just trying to do everything you could to save your dad," he admitted. "And that you tried your best to stop Snowball and his followers." 

There was a heavy weight attached to Wakko's words. 

If Wakko and his siblings had been old enough to try and save their parents from King Salazar, then they would've taken the chance. 

They understood, and they didn't blame him in the slightest. 

"You were thrust into an impossible situation. Any action you took would've had consequences," Brain said. He brought Pinky's head down to eye level and gave him a kiss on his muzzle. "Still…I admire your bravery in standing against Snowball. You may be frightened of him, but you fought hard to save everyone from his wrath. And I'm grateful for that." 

Pinky hadn't done any physical fighting that night. He'd been terrified that he could lose all his friends and family, regretting the decisions he'd made, and crying because there was nothing he could do to save anyone. 

“I…I wasn’t brave that night,” Pinky confessed. “I was too scared, and I wasn’t useful to anyone. A-and I hurt all of you too…” 

Pharfignewton stomped her hoof, stretching out her neck and giving Pinky a small nip to the ear. She whinnied in protest. 

It didn’t hurt, but Pinky’s hand flew up to his ear anyway. 

“Pharfig?” he said in confusion. She’d never nipped him like that before.

She was strong and healthy, not the sick and frail horse that Pinky had seen in his nightmare. There were no burn marks anywhere on her body, her eyes bright and her pelt sleek and well-groomed. 

She never pulled Mr. Itch’s carriage in real life, but Pinky still wished he hadn’t pushed her so hard to take everyone to the castle when she was injured.

Pharfignewton lowered her head until Pinky’s hand touched her muzzle. 

“It was her choice to push through her injuries, Pinky,” Papa finally spoke up. He crossed the bed and wrapped Pinky in a hug. “She’s a stubborn mule when she wants to be.” 

Pinky hugged Papa back, relieved that he could see and feel him instead of only hearing his frightened voice begging to be saved. “She’s not a mule, Papa,” he said. “I thought you knew the difference.” 

Papa nodded sagely. “Of course, of course. My mistake. She’s obviously a zebra.” 

He seemed a little too proud of his terrible joke, and Pinky couldn’t help but smile..  

Pharfignewton snorted indignantly. Rita and Brain rolled their eyes while the Warners laughed. 

Runt cocked his head to the side, his tongue lolling out. “I don’t get it,” he said. 

“Zebas live in Arica!” Mindy helpfully proclaimed from the top of the wardrobe. Nobody knew how she managed that climb. Buttons balanced on his hind legs, ready to catch her if she fell. 

Fortunately for him, Yakko took notice of his distress and scaled the side of the wardrobe. He was careful to not make any noise so Mindy wouldn’t be startled by him sneaking up on her. Once he was in arm’s reach, he grabbed her by the strap of purple dress and pulled her close to his body before leaping down from the wardrobe with Mindy secured against his chest.  

“Don’t worry,” Yakko said to a very grateful Buttons. “I’ve got plenty of experience at keeping little goblins alive.”

Dot scowled, much to Yakko’s amusement. “Who are you calling a goblin, you ogre?”  

Buttons saluted Yakko and promptly passed out on the floor, already in a deep slumber. 

It was nice to see how much Buttons trusted them to look after Mindy now. He used to get so worried and stressed if she wandered out of sight. 

"Here, kitty!" Mindy squealed, making grabby hands as soon as she saw Rita. 

Rita quickly moved as far as she could from Mindy. 

"Don't feel like having my tail pulled tonight," she said. "I can only tolerate so much." 

To distract Mindy from Rita, Yakko quickly gave her a cookie, and she happily ate the treat while giggling at the silly faces Wakko made at her. 

"Gee, Rita," Runt yapped. "You look like you're having loads of fun up there." 

“Sure am,” Rita said, stretching out her body luxuriously. “You’re missing out.” 

Runt backed up from the bed, tail wagging so fast that it appeared to be a blur. “I definitely don’t wanna miss out, Rita!” 

Rita froze mid-lick, her eyes comically widening when she realized that Runt was about to jump. “Hold on, we don’t have enough room on the bed for-” 

She was the only one who didn’t get into a safe position in time. Everybody else pressed themselves to the edges of the bed, not wanting to be flattened by an eighty pound dog. 

Within seconds, Rita was buried under a massive amount of fur and bulk. She yowled in displeasure with only her lashing tail sticking out from Runt’s chest. Runt glanced around in confusion. “You were right, Rita! Definitely right! This is lots of-hey, Rita? Where’d you go?”

He stood up and looked around the bed, finally giving Rita a chance to catch her breath.  

“I’m right here, you big lug,” Rita scowled at him. Her fur stuck up like pine needles. 

“How’d you get there so fast?” Runt asked. 

“I teleported, you dummy,” Rita frowned at the messy fur atop Runt’s head that never seemed to lie flat. “Now lie down. Your fur’s a mess and I don’t trust you to clean it properly.” 

Runt happily flopped down, his tongue lolling out as Rita positioned herself behind his head and started grooming his fur. 

Pinky thought it was adorable, but he decided to let Rita keep her pride and kept that thought to himself.

A plate filled to the brim with cookies was set in front of him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Wakko exclaimed with a grin. “There’s plenty here for everyone!” 

But Pinky hesitated to take one. 

Pinky betrayed them. And now they were offering him cookies. 

Maybe…it wasn’t really a betrayal after all. They understand how I felt that night, and they know I just wanted to save everyone I love even when I messed up. And most of all…they still want me as their friend. They want me to know I belong here. 

“Go on, Pinky,” Brain assured him, placing one of the largest and most chocolate-filled cookies into Pinky’s hands when he hesitated to take one. “The chocolate will be beneficial to you.” 

The cinnamon scent was heavenly. Unable to resist, Pinky took a bite. It was one of the sweetest things he’d ever tasted in his life.  

“Thank you, everyone…” he whispered, and he was rewarded with smiles from his family and friends in turn. 

o-o-o-o-o

The bedroom was dark, the only light coming from the full moon and twinkling stars outside. The candles and lanterns had been blown out hours ago, and everybody was sleeping peacefully. 

Everyone insisted on staying in the bedroom to protect him from nightmares, and Pinky enjoyed their company too much to say no.

Pharfignewton, Papa, and Buttons were curled up together on the floor. Rita was sleeping on top of Dot, who nuzzled into Yakko’s chest with Mindy sprawled out on his arm. Runt’s paws were twitching as he snored, though this didn’t bother Wakko, whose feet were on Runt’s back while the rest of his body remained on the bed. Despite his odd sleeping position, he seemed to be rather comfortable.  

Pinky’s head rested against a slumbering Brain’s chest, while Brain’s arms were wrapped around Pinky’s head. Sometimes Brain forgot that he was smaller than Pinky and would still try to protectively cuddle Pinky against him like he was still a Beast, except that it tended to leave them tangled in an awkward position when they woke up. 

But Pinky didn’t mind. He found it rather sweet. 

Brain continued to snore the night away. He didn’t realize Pinky was awake yet. 

Though it was dark, Pinky wasn’t afraid. He had Brain and Papa and Pharfignewton and everyone else to protect him from his worst fears. 

He just wished he could get to sleep. He knew he wouldn’t have another nightmare tonight, but there was one thing he needed to do. 

He couldn’t let his mom remain faceless. He wanted to know what she looked like, so he could remember her better. 

Unlike royalty, she never had her face painted and hung on a portrait for all to see. 

Snowball tried to force me to forget who I am and where I came from. He tried to take my family, friends, and my home away. He was so powerful, and I was afraid of him, but…Brain told me I was brave to stand against him even when I didn’t feel brave. 

Pinky lifted his head from Brain’s chest, carefully slipping out of Brain’s arms to avoid waking him. He knew how he could accomplish his goal. 

The enchanted mirror rested on the bedside table. It could show him anything he wanted. 

I want to remember her face. And for that…I need to be brave again. 

He tiptoed over to the bedside table, carefully avoiding any stray tails or limbs as he crossed the bed. Grabbing hold of the tablecloth, he hauled himself up. 

I can do this. 

Though he was afraid of what he might see, he wasn’t alone. His friends were behind him.

He’d be alright.

He took a deep breath and picked up the mirror. It hadn’t been used since the night of the mob attack. Neither Pinky nor Brain had been inclined to ask the mirror for anything. 

The handle was heavy in his hands, silver edges glinting in the moonlight. 

He kept his reflection turned away from him, bracing himself for an image he wasn't sure he wanted to see. 

Then he opened the doors to the balcony, allowing a fresh breeze to rush into the bedroom. It was better to take the mirror outside so he didn't wake anyone up when the mirror glowed. 

The full moon and stars provided enough light to see by. It was peaceful and serene out here, a calm over the surrounding forest.  

Pinky sat down and held the mirror with both hands. He was ready now. 

"Please…I'd like to see my mom. Just one more time," Pinky whispered, closing his eyes as he waited for a green flash of light. 

But the mirror never glowed, nor did it make a sound. 

Confused, Pinky repeated his request and gently tapped the mirror. Yet no image appeared. 

While Pinky didn’t necessarily expect to be successful, he slumped over in disappointment anyway. 

Brain said it could show me anything. Maybe he didn’t know there was a limit, and it can’t show anyone who passed away. 

The Warners wouldn’t be able to see their own parents through the mirror either. It seemed like all their attempts to help them remember their parents ended in failure.

Pinky sighed, setting the mirror aside and gazing up at the bright moon that cast its gentle light onto the earth below. He heard an owl hooting in the distance, a cool breeze stirring the highest treetops of the surrounding forest. 

Somewhere beyond this castle laid his old village. He wondered what they were doing now that Snowball was gone. 

Was the baker still waking up as soon as the rooster crowed to bake his fresh baguettes? Was the market still bustling with activity? Were the mothers still trying to juggle basketfuls of eggs and fish while managing their energetic children? 

He pictured shepherd boys herding sheep past a flowing fountain, farmers and merchants shouting loudly as they negotiated their prices, and groups of young women secretly giggling over a man they liked. 

And he saw a cozy cottage on the edge of a meadow, a babbling stream, and blooming wildflowers dotting the landscape. 

That was the village he wanted to remember. A little orderly and strict for him at times, but there were many things to love about his old home too, even when he couldn’t fit in. 

Were Slappy and Skippy doing alright? They’d only stayed for a few hours of rest after the battle before leaving the next morning, and he hadn’t seen or heard from them since. The villagers had turned on them too. They tried to commit Slappy to the asylum and steal Skippy from the aunt he adored. He wouldn’t be surprised if they wanted to move somewhere else.

Then his ear flicked at the sound of approaching footsteps.  

“Enjoying the moonlight?” a voice asked. 

Startled, Pinky turned around. He hadn’t known Papa was awake. 

Papa’s fur was somewhat messy from sleep, but he was healthier than he’d been in ages. Pinky couldn’t have asked for anything more than that. 

“Just thinking about a few things,” Pinky admitted as Papa sat down next to him. “Sorry for waking you up.” 

Papa smiled. “I’m glad I did. This castle has a wonderful view.” 

Pinky leaned against Papa. He hadn’t done this in a long time, not since he was a child. Of course, he was much taller than Papa now, but he didn’t mind taking Pinky’s weight in the slightest. 

“Did you ever find what you were searching for?” Papa asked softly, his fingers threading through Pinky’s fur tuft. 

Pinky made a soft noise, loving every bit of fatherly affection he was getting. He didn’t remember the last time they enjoyed a peaceful night together. But he was happy to have these moments again. 

“...I have a wonderful home with even more wonderful friends. My family is bigger, together, and safe,” Pinky murmured. “And Brain…he helped me in so many ways that I can’t even count. He loves me for me, and I’ve never been happier.”

Everyone accepted him. Everyone wanted him to feel like he belonged, where his nightmares would never come to pass.  

“I can tell,” Papa replied. “If only Brie were here. She’d be so proud of you. And I'm sure she’d love to meet everyone.”  

A wistful expression crossed his face, and he wiped his tears on his sleeve. 

Pinky didn't hear Papa say Mama's name out loud very often. When she first died, Papa always clammed up whenever Pinky asked about her. Then he threw himself at his inventions, working vigorously during all daytime hours and sometimes well into the night, except when Pinky managed to convince him to clean up and eat. He rarely told Pinky stories about her, and the few times he tried, he never finished out of grief. 

“...and I want to apologize for all the times I made you worry over me,” Papa whispered. Pinky quickly drew his father into a hug, not wanting him to blame himself. “I wasn’t there for you as I should’ve been.” 

Dinner that went cold and untouched. Crumpled papers full of inventions that would never be brought to life. A blank, unseeing expression that remained even when Pinky spoke to him, lost somewhere in a happier, yet imaginary time. 

Yet Pinky held no grudge for all those times they had to move because they were broke, or the grief became too much and they had to run, or because people decided they didn’t want them around. 

“It’s okay, Papa,” Pinky whispered. He understood the helplessness and grief that came when a loved one died. “I know you loved her, and you loved my baby sibling just as much. I was never mad at you. Poit.”

Tears rolled down Papa's face, but Pinky could feel the old mouse smiling against him. 

And though he didn't want to cause Papa any more pain, he knew he needed to ask him a question about his mother, before it ate away at him for good. 

"There's something I wanna know about her though," Pinky admitted. Papa's eyes were still watery, but he nodded in encouragement. Since they came to the castle, it seemed Papa was more open to talking about her more. "I…I have trouble remembering her face. I just wanna know what she looked like…" 

Papa gently squeezed Pinky's hands, his gaze falling onto the enchanted mirror. 

"May I see your mirror?" Papa asked. 

Pinky's ears drooped as he gave the mirror to Papa. "I've already tried asking it to show Mama. It didn't work. I don't think it can show anyone who passed away." 

But Papa was undeterred as he pointed the glass at Pinky. 

He stared at the image in silence, not asking the mirror for anything. 

"Aren't you gonna ask?" Pinky said in confusion. 

But Papa kept Pinky's reflection in the mirror. To his surprise, Papa shook his head. 

"I'm already seeing what I want to see, Pinky," Papa replied. "Look for yourself." 

But Pinky only saw his reflection. White fur, blue eyes, that messy tuft he never could comb down, and a pair of buckteeth. 

And yet…

The image rippled, and whether it was the magic or just his imagination, he couldn't tell for certain. 

There was a second reflection over his own. 

The eyelashes and fur were slightly longer, and the nose a bit smaller, but the resemblance was unmistakable. 

I…I look like her. That's why Papa doesn't need to ask the mirror…. 

"You have her face," Papa murmured. "And her heart. So the next time you look in the mirror, you can remember how much she loved you, and how much of her spirit you carry within you." 

Papa's words echoed in his ears, and he shed the last of his tears. Yet unlike the others, these tears were happy. 

His fears of forgetting his mother were laid to rest. All he needed to do was find his reflection, and he would see her. 

And for the first time since that fateful night, Pinky hugged the mirror to his chest. 

It was a precious gift from Brain, and he didn't need to fear it any longer. He could truly appreciate the mirror as a way to remember his family. 

“Thank you, Papa,” Pinky whispered, enveloping his father in an enormous hug.  

Papa patted his back. "You’re welcome. Now let’s get back to bed, shall we? I’m missing my beauty sleep.” 

His father’s sense of humor never failed to make Pinky laugh. 

They returned to the bedroom, and Papa yawned as he walked back to Pharfignewton and Buttons. He was fast asleep the moment his head hit Pharfignewton’s fur. 

Shaking his head fondly, Pinky placed the mirror on the bedside table. He left it face-up this time. There was no need to fear it anymore. 

Everybody slept peacefully, unaware that Pinky had gone out to the balcony at all. Somehow, Wakko and Runt had migrated over to Yakko, Dot, and Mindy without waking up, and now they were just one massive pile of slumbering bodies.

Only Brain hadn’t joined in with the others. His rose-pink eyes were half-open and drooping from exhaustion. He’d kicked off the covers, his hands twitching restlessly as if searching for something that wasn’t there. 

“...Pinky?” he called, his voice barely audible.

Pinky laid next to him, nuzzling Brain’s cheek as he pulled him into his chest. Brain’s fingers curled into Pinky’s fur, their tails intertwining until nothing could pull them apart. 

“I’m here, Brain,” Pinky whispered softly, kissing Brain’s forehead. All the tension in Brain’s body vanished, and he fully melted into the embrace. 

“...good,” Brain murmured, and that was the last word he said before completely succumbing to sleep. 

And I always will be. 

He belonged here. He was loved. He felt safe. 

The nightmares never came back.  

End AN: Pinky's nightmare went through a few revisions for me. At first, he would've just been wandering around in a misty landscape and coming across the fallen bodies of his loved ones. Which does make it into the final version you see here, but the original didn't have him interacting with anyone and he would've been alone. The second involved Pinky in front of a mirror with his reflection mocking him for his failure to save anybody that night, but it didn't feel very involved so I scrapped it.

Brain really was saying all that stuff out loud while he was trying to get Pinky to wake up. He was desperate.

Still trying to work out the kinks of where I'm taking this story next. Now that we've gotten a lot of the mice's leftover emotional trauma out of the way, I can finally bring the story into a new arc.

[ruggiethethuggie]

for @bunnwich - Jan 19 * reference is this post cause i have a big ole birthday encyclopedia. post is not original thoughts. excerpts will be cited.

January 19th The Birthday of Originality | "I see the world in a grain of sand."

Life Lesson: Coping with routine and boring details. The Way Forward: To understand that the devil (and the potential for success) is often in the detail. Luck Maker: Find out what you love to do and what you are good at. Then think about how you can use your passion and talents to help others.

January 19-born are often honest and direct, with a genuine appreciation for beauty. There is an endearing, sometimes childlike, energy and wonder about them; they are blessed with genuine originality. Independent and free-spirited, they really don't care too much what people think and don't take well to rules and being told what to do, so they often rebel with immature behavior. Even if they appear respectable, they soon show what truly unique individuals they are, as anyone who gets to know them soon appreciates. Destined to shine brightly and attract others to them like magnets, they become unhappy if they try to repress their originality. Born movers and shakers, they tend to do better in solitary positions but can work well in groups that allow them to freely use their imagination. The fields of literature, art, engineering and science appeal , and they may be drawn to sports or other physical types of work, as well as careers as experts, advisors and consultants. They can be engaging online experts and video or social media influencers. Bursting with energy, they need to pace themselves: otherwise they risk depression or burning out, so positive thinking and practicing meditation and yoga is strongly advised. For self care, think like a solo mountain climber. Don't underestimate the value of the small and steady steps you need to take to succeed. At the end of the day ask yourself if you gave everything you did that day your very best. Prone to extremes, these people make intense lovers and need a partner who can keep them balanced and give them the occasional reality check. They are intuitive and can often sense what others miss, but it isn't until their early thirties that the emphasis moves towards nurturing their inner life, and herein lies the secret of their success as they age. Once they learn to rather than repress their intuition, and pay attention to the small as well as the big things, their destiny is to inspire others with highly original ideas and make an unforgettable and often exceptional impact on the world.

© Excerpt Cite: Francis-Cheung, Theresa. “January 19.” The Encyclopedia of Birthdays, Thunder Bay Press, San Diego, CA, 2022, pp. 20–20.

[houseaeducan]

Lysander is going to give Vivienne the wrong heart because he’s an immature loser who hates feeling talked down to and has an encyclopedia’s worth of complexes she directly clashes with. And so giving her the wrong ingredients for whatever silly little surely unimportant project she’s working on will be a #epic prank. This is going to be so awful

[picturebookshelf]

The Encyclopedia of Immaturity (2007)

Text and Art: Unknown (the editors of Klutz)

[theboarsbride]

Was tagged by @hobbitmajora! Thanks! 💛

Last Song: Send Me an Angel by Real Life - I was listening to TMATB's playlist a little too obsessively RIPPP-

Last Show/Currently Watching: Lmfao lots and LOTS of Spongebob- 😭 (though I cannot really watch past liiikeeee season 10 or 11?? because that's when it gets cringe, overstimulating w the animation and sounds, and becomes very much a KIDS show that's just a little dumb, poorly-written, and immature)... Also very, very, VERY slowly but surely making it through CBS' Beauty and the Beast (1987) because it's my self-indulgent MILF Era comfort show.

Currently Reading: Been listening to a lot of audiobooks at work lately (Libby is a GODSEND)! Currently listening to Thistlefoot by GennaRose Nethercott and Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett - I'm enjoying both so far! In terms of physical books, I got class textbooks, but I'm about halfway through Solita by Vivien Rainn (aka the fucking awesome @vivienrainn!), which has been such a delight to read!

Current Obsession: Currently in that calm between hyperfixations lmao, so i've no single obsession atm. A combo of writing my stories (especially TMATB and the Eldritch Little Mermaid WIP - which has been going through huge developments, for a school assignment!) and school assignments have been taking up about 99% of my brainspace rn... literally no thoughts, head empty. ;_;

Thanks again for the tag!

I tag @bluestockingbaby @emilynightshade89 @waddlesworth and whoever else would like to do this!! <3

[kaosuqi]

[ID: A tweet from depths of wikipedia (@depthsofwiki) saying "I generally think wikipedia vandalism is unfunny and immature and I care enough about the sanctity of the encyclopedia to act like a total narc when people deface it. but there is one example that unfortunately makes me laugh every time I see it. so here you go.

In the comments is an image of Queen Elizabeth with what looks to be Eminem's haircut with a header and caption reading "Yung Lean" and the description saying "Yung Lean in 2008" /End ID]

saw this while exhaling my vape and started choking on it

[sarahrserfati]

Exploring the Potentials and Challenges of Virtual Distribution of Contemporary Art, Jonas Blume

Random Access, Nam June Paik, 1963 (2000)

"The kind of work which exists and is being experienced exclusively on the Web, bears also medium-specific advantages. Jon Ippolito sees its greatest potential in the non-linear viewing experience. He uses the 1963 installation Random Access by Nam June Paik to illustrate how the artist attempts to circumvent the restraints of temporal media’s linearity before the advent of the Web (Ippolito 2000: 25). Paik constructed a web of audiotape on a wall that could be played by moving a handheld playback head over the tape, without any constraints as to directionality, speed, and entry/exit points. Ippolito sees the Web as the technological solution for breaking down the linear experience of audio and video, which he makes clear by using a quote from Paik:

The only reason why videotape is so boring and television is so bad is that they are time-based information. Human beings have not really learned how to structure time-based information in recording and retrieval very well, because it is new. No one says the Encyclopedia Britannica is boring although it has lots of information, because you can go to any page of the encyclopedia, to A or B or C or M or X, whereas when you watch videotapes or television, you have to go A, B, C, D, E, F, G. (ibid.)

Because of this medium-specific trait, along with its aforementioned hyper-textual and participatory dimensions, the site of experience for Net art and its descendants is the Web itself."

Blume, Jonas. “Exploring the Potentials and Challenges of Virtual Distribution of Contemporary Art.” In Digital Environments: Ethnographic Perspectives Across Global Online and Offline Spaces, edited by Urte Undine Frömming, Steffen Köhn, Samantha Fox, and Mike Terry, 97–116. Transcript Verlag, 2017.

http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv1xxrxw.10

In Jonas Blume's Article he compares post-internet artists to the work of post-modern situationists- He sites Guy Debord's categorisation of the Derive and Detournement as a recurring theme in post-internet art - recognising a kind of glitch-feminist approach that unearths the inherent social biases that inform popular imagery on the internet. This is a really interesting and a very fair comparison. There is almost a childishness, cynical immaturity in the responses of some artists to the internet that contain very fair criticisms that are sometimes lost in the spectacle of inverting social expectations. I want my work to contain more subtlety and integrate the beauty of the internet and technology, and almost celebrate - as Marisa Olson states.

[matthat]

101-150 of the 187 Books I Read in 2022

101. A Rule Is To Break: A Child’s Guide to Anarchy - John & Jara 102. Politics Powers - Faith Ringgold 103. Art I Facts - Phaidon 104. Tiny Houses, Simple Shacks, Cozy Cottages, Ramshackle Retreats, Funky Forts… - Derel Diedricksen 105. The Altruists - Andrew Ridker (read ⅓) 106. Rosa Parks - Mariapaola Pesce/Matteo Mancini 107. Death of the Daughter-In-Law - Judith Lichtendorf 108. The Clitoris - Rikke Villadsen 109. Kinski - Gabriel Hardman 110. Grown Up All Wrong - Robert Christgau 111. A is for Angry - Sandra Boynton 112. And That Makes Me Mad - Hillary Knight 113. The Alphabet from A to Y - Steve Martin and Roz Chast 114. What’s That Face? - Julien 115. Before/After - Julien 116. Bad Little Children’s Books - Arthur C. Gackley 117. The Colors of Us - Karen Katz 118. Aster of Pan - Merwan 119. Patent Depending: Vehicles - Steven M. Johnson 120. Everything For Everyone: An Oral History of the New York Commune 2052-2072 - M.E. O’Brien & Eman Abdelhadi 121. Phoolan Devi: Rebel Queen - Claire Fauvel 122. Fox 8 - George Saunders 123. F My Life 124. Pulp - Ed Brubaker 125. Firepower - Robert Kirkman 126. Appleseed - Matt Bell (½) 127. The Treasures of the Black Swan - Paco Roca + Guillermo Corral 128. The Encyclopedia of Immaturity - Klutz 129. The Encyclopedia of Immaturity, Volume 2 - Klutz

130. I Never Promised You a Rose Garden - Mannie Murphy 131. Festival Days - Jo Ann Beard 132. The Last Opium Den - Nick Tosches 133. Pure Hollywood - Christine Schutt (½) 134. Things To Look Forward To - Sophie Blackall 135. A Wealth of Pigeons - Steve Martin 136. Venomous Lumpsucker - Ned Beauman 137. Crabtree - Jon & Tucker Nichols 138. The Depth of the Lake and The Height of the Sky - Kim Jihyun 139. The Midnight Fair - Gideon Sterer & Mariachiara Di Giorgio 140. The Wanderer- Peter Van den Ende 141. The Fire Never Goes Out - Noella Stevenson 142. Love In a Time of Climate Change - Brian Adams (skimmed) 143. Against Pain - Ron Rege Jr. 144. J & K - John Pham 145. Heaven’s Door - Keiichi Koike 146. Kill Them All - Kyle Starks 147. The Nao of Brown - Glyn Dillon 148. Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel 149. Rosie Revere, Engineer - Andrea Beaty & David Roberts

150. The Pipers - Paul Du Coudray & Elizabeth Handle

[morgana96]

"Did you really type all of that just to not actually contradict anything she said? Why?!"

I have, in fact, contradicted a lot of it. Sjfohn's reply includes numerous incorrect assumptions about how the Shroud elementals think and perceive their world. It infantilizes them by comparing them to toddlers, refers to them as "cruel" and "racist", and generally applies human behavior norms to their actions.

All of that is inaccurate to the actual nature of the elementals. They don't attack things because they're immature or cruel; they attack things because they're territorial wild animals.

They also don't have sight or hearing: they can't understand spoken language, and only "see" other living creatures as aether. So claims that they're racist are automatically incorrect, because they don't even know what race is. The prejudice's true source is from prejudiced Gridanians, not elementals.

I did my best to address all this in my response, as well as my takes on other subjects they mentioned like Ishgard and Gridania's paranoia around outsiders. I also included multiple citations and examples that contributed to the formation of my opinion.

As for why, I've already explained it. FFXIV fans (and plenty of other fandoms) have a terrible habit of mixing up canon story and lore with personal assumptions and biases, even when the actual game will openly show the exact opposite. Even when they bring up good critical points (just as sjfohn did regarding Gridania's writing), the strength of those points get weighed down and weakened when incorrect lore gets thrown in as well.

I also blame ADHD hyperfocus 🤣.

"I respect your commitment (two weeks?!), but you literally missed the entire point of the post you're replying to."

How have I "missed the entire point", exactly? Many parts of sjfohn's reply directly contradict the established lore. And those misconceptions have clearly effected the way they perceive certain parts of the story.

I provided evidence and examples of lore that helps explain why I disagree with sjfohn's view of the elementals, as well as my own interpretations of the plot points they criticized. Interpretations that I made clear they had no obligation to agree with if they see it differently.

What "point" is being missed?

"Also, it's actually pretty insulting to be like 'well you have to do your due diligence, make sure those things REALLY happened' when the 1.0 lore is so important and yet you didn't take it into account."

I fail to see how pointing out the game's known history of retcons is "insulting". That's literally the reason they rebooted the game in the first place: to take the things that flopped in 1.0 and rework them into something better. That's not me saying that nothing from 1.0 matters anymore. Just that not everything from 1.0 applies to the game's current incarnation.

Also, I didn't dismiss the mentioned 1.0 cutscene at all (though I do still wish I'd been able to find it to get a better understanding of what happened). I simply applied lore and examples from the game and encyclopedias to explain why I disagree with the interpretation of "abuser vs. abuse victim".

No offense, but your claim of "respecting my commitment" rings hollow when your criticism of my writing gives the impression that you didn't read it all.

"Also, you realize 'toddler gods' wasn't literal, right? Like, it was a way to describe their behavior. Not actually calling them literal toddlers."

Is there a particular reason why you feel the need to condescendingly explain to me what an analogy is? Because I assure you, as a woman with a Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing, I do know lol.

But analogies are made for a reason; they are meant to compare two seemingly dissimilar things to each other in a way that makes them comparable.

Like I said earlier, comparing elementals to "toddlers" is infantilizing them from a human viewpoint. They're not immature, or refusing to "grow up". They literally don't understand the human condition, and are never going to.

Calling them toddlers is a bad analogy. It's inaccurate and doesn't work because the elementals don't mimic human thought processes or behavior in any comparable way.

"i wouldn't blame a bear for eating my leg. But I'd still have no fucking leg!"

Yes, that's right. It would fucking suck. That's the exact point I made in the response you apparently "respect the commitment" of.

It would be valid for anyone in that situation to be upset about it, or even develop a phobia or fearful distaste for bears.

But what wouldn't be valid is for someone to go back to the forest where it happened and start trying to kill all of the bears there, all while calling them evil/cruel and claiming it would be morally justified to cause their extinction.

This is the mentality the "kill the elementals" crowd perpetuates.

Sjfohn isn't part of that crowd, as they've clearly stated they think killing the elementals won't fix the problem. However, they were still repeating many of the same misconceptions that those players tend to spread as fact, which is why I wanted to address them.

FFXIV players who want their WoL to kill the Elementals: "My WoL would be applauded for freeing the Shroud of their evil and their death will fix Gridania's shortcomings, prejudices, and xenophobia."

The actual likely consequences of that scenario: