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uwuwriting · 4 years

Note

So I've seen this future kids prompt pop up everywhere and I love it. Maybe Shouto, Shinsou, Iida and Dabi with their future kids ????

Ooooh I’ve read them as well! They’re so wholesome. I’m happy to oblige dear anon. Love ya. 💖💖💖

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Todoroki Shouto

-He was on patrol with his father when someone bumped into him.

-When he looked down he saw a little girl with snow white hair, laying on the pavement.

-The little girl was crying, her hiccups echoing in his ears.

-His father had stopped a few paces in front of them, watching the scene unfold.

-Shouto knelt down, gently grabbing the girl by her elbows, steadying her as he looked at her.

-She looked...oddly familiar.

- “Are you okay?” he asked.

-At the sound of his voice the little girl snapped her head up, her dual-colored eyes meeting his own and she shot herself onto him, wrapping her little arms around his neck while continuing to whimper.

-Shouto was taken aback by the action, but what had him almost shaking was her eye colors.

-One grey and one e/c.

- “W-we n-need to f-f-find h-her!” she said between sobs. “S-she wasn’t w-w-with m-me when I-I-I woke up!!”

-Shouto wrapped his own arms around her small frame, trying to calm her down.

-Once she stopped sobbing, he untangled her from him.

- “Where are your parents, snowflake?” he couldn’t recognize his own voice due to the softness.

- “W-what do you mean, daddy??” long awkward pause. “And w-why are do you look so y-young?”

-This boy malfunctioned at the word ‘daddy’.

-What does she mean daddy? He’s a virgin for crying out loud!

-And above that he couldn’t bring himself to talk to his crush, aka you, without messing something up!

-How could he have a kid!?

-The little girl was looking at him with wide eyes, his eyes, like she was waiting for him to remember her.

- “What in the world are you talking about, girl?”

-Oh he had forgotten about his father being here.

-Without a word, Shouto scooped her up in his arms and told his father that he was going to take her somewhere safe.

-He was going to take her to you.

-An awkward silence enveloped them as the girl clutched his hero costume in her little fists.

- “So what’s your name?”

- “Ren...”

- “That’s a nice name.... And how old are you Ren?”

-”I’m four.”

-And so Shouto asked her question after question.

-Apparently, a kid at her school got his quirk and it went haywire, sending both her and her twin sister Rei here.

-Ren explained to him that she woke up without her twin which send her into a panic because they had never been apart before.

-Shouto asked who her parents were and if she had any siblings.

-He already had an idea about who her parents were, but he needed to be sure.

-Ren told him that you were her mother and that they had recently welcomed another mini Todoroki to the family, a little girl named Ru.

-Shouto was ecstatic but of course he didn’t show it.

-Once at the school, he went on a mad hunt searching for you.

-He may not have an explanation and he may not have told you about his feeling but you need to see her.

-See the future.

-He was getting desperate until he heard your laughter coming from somewhere behind him.

-Just as he turned his head, he was tackled to the floor by a ball of vibrant red hair.

-The girl in his arms started to giggle and both of the little humans on top of him were bouncing up and down from excitement.

- “Todoroki there you are!! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

-You crouched down next to him, pulling the two little girls off of him and placing the on the floor beside you.

-You gave him an apologetic smile before turning back to the girls.

- “I’m assuming that you are Ren?”

-The little girls both nodded in response, too busy hugging each other to really care.

-The rest of the day was spent with the four of you watching Disney movies and having some quality family time.

-When they disappeared at midnight, you both were exhausted beyond belief.

- “Why did we name the red head Rei?”

-You laughed at his question, admitting that you had the same question when you first saw the little girl.

-Rei thankfully had explained that once they got their quirks, their hair colors changed/switched, so now the white haired one was Ren while she was Rei.

- “So I’m guessing that this is a good time to ask you on a date.”

Shinsou Hitoshi

-When Shinsou saw the five year old girl sitting on his bed when he returned to his dorm after training, he knew something was up.

-The little girl had her head bowed as she sat on his bed, her lilac locks framing her little face but he could see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

-She wouldn’t look at him and he could tell she was terrified by the slight tremble of her shoulders.

-Moving to stand in front of her, Hitoshi knelt down and moved some stray locks from her eyes, revealing the purple orbs.

-Okay now he definitely knew that something wonky was going on here.

-She was a perfect mix of you and him and it made his heart flatter.

-He was positive that you were the love of his life and having it confirmed had him WILDIN.

-He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he married you and you had a kid!

-Best day of his life so far!

-A sniffle coming from the little girl in front of him snapped him out of his daze.

-Stretching his arms out towards her, he motioned for her to come closer and she leaped at him.

-Her small fists balled up his shirt as she buried her little head in his chest, her cries becoming full on sobs at this point.

-Without a second thought he scooped her up and walked back and forth in his room, holding her close to his chest and stroking her hair.

- “I-I don’t know what h-h-happened d-daddy! I was just p-petting the k-k-kitty when this m-m-man came up to m-me!”

-He shushed her, telling her that everything was going to be alright and that no one would hurt her as long as he’s here.

-After calming her down (which was pretty quickly), he took her to the kitchen for a quick snack.

-He watched as the little chipmunk, his little chipmunk, chomped down on the sandwich he had made her, a comfortable silence enveloping them.

- “What’s your name kitty?”

-On their way to the kitchen he had explained to her what he believed happened and how important it was that she didn’t call you mom.

- “Kei. Kei Shinsou.” she beamed at him.

-Kei and him talked about the future, Hitoshi wanting to know everything he could about her family life.

-As it turns out Kei was five and a half ,and not five as she clarified quite angrily when he called her a five your old and she was expecting a baby brother soon.

-Hitoshi was shookth!!

-TWO KIDS? WITH YOU?

-Was he dead?

-At that moment you walked into the kitchen, you earbuds in your ears while the YouTube video you were watching was being blasted through them.

-You hadn’t noticed them until you bumped into Kei’s chair.

-Your reaction to the whole scene was a “I’m too high for this” as you proceeded to pour yourself a glass of water and walk back out the kitchen.

- “Oooh mommy was doing magic grass!!! That’s bad...”

-Shinsou made a note to stop smoking weed from now on.

-They both returned to his dorm room and magically fell asleep.

-Having her small frame snuggle up to him, did wonders to his insomnia and he was out like a light.

-The next morning he was faced with an empty bed and a very confused you.

-He had to explain everything now...

-Oh boy.

Iida Tenya

-Iida had the biggest crush on you that was visible to everyone BUT you.

-You were absolutely oblivious but he like the pinning so he didn’t really mind.

-What he did mind however was the little girl clinging to him at the moment going on and on about how someone used their quirk on her and she woke up in the alley.

-Tenya was losing his shit over the whole ordeal and most importantly over the fact that the little girl was a carbon cope of you, with his hair and eye color.

- “Where are your parents?”

- “How did you get into UA?”

- “Why are you calling me daddy?”

-The moment she saw him starting to panic and go into an air chopping frenzy, she climbed on a nearby ledge and grabbed his cheeks, squishing them in between her own small chubby hands.

- “Stop hitting the air! You’ll hurt it!”

-That... wasn’t what he expected but okay.

-After a small interrogation, he found out that her name was Asami and that you were her mother.

-Plus she might have mentioned a baby brother but because of her rapid talking Tenya didn’t get a chance to ask her about him.

-After she stopped rambling, he decided to take her to Recovery Girl.

-The only reasonable thinker of the four boys tbh.

-On their way to her office they ran into you.

-And when I say ran I mean Asami ramming into you with a loud squeal.

- “Mommy mommy we found you!!!”

-Tenya was positive that you passed out.

-You mumbled something before standing up, taking the little girl into your arms.

-Tenya made to explain but you caught him off.

- “After she’s been ... dealt with?”

-For the rest of the way you and Asami conversed about every little thing while Tenya was burning this image in his brain.

-You looked so happy holding her and the little girl in your arms had the largest smile on her face that was identical to yours.

-He always wanted a family and he had pictured starting one with you.

-That is if he ever found the courage to ask you out.

-Once at Recovery Girl you let little Asami skip into her office for her check up and you two fell into an awkward silence.

- “So...... we made.... her..”

-You chuckled at his words, not believing them yourself.

- “Yeah, she’s really pretty.”

- “I’d say she gets that from her mother.”

-You both agreed to go on a date after Asami left.

-When she finally did you felt kinda hollow.

-Guess you’ll have to get to work to bring her back then wink wonk.

Dabi

-He had no idea why this kid was following him but it was starting to get on his nerves.

-It was like he was a mother goose.

-He took a sharp turn into an alleyway and waited for the kid to turn as well.

-Once he saw the mess of unruly red hair with some scattered h/c strands, he kinda froze.

-Snapping out of his initial shock he tapped the kids shoulder.

-Turquoise eyes looked back at him and he lost it.

- Enter internal screaming affect here.

- “Why are you following me kid?”

-The little boy froze at his words and bowed his head, not meeting Dabi’s gaze.

- “I-I woke up here a-and saw you s-so I followed you.” sniffle “I-I assumed y-you would lead m-me to m-m-mom....”

-Dabi continued to analyse the kid trying to find more similarities between himself and this kid and he came to the conclusion....

-That he had come face to face with a mini version of himself.

-He heard more sniffles coming from the boy, who was trying to hold back his tears and pull of a brave face.

-He was failing but kudos to him for trying.

-Kneeling down with a sigh Dabi looked at him dead in the eyes, his eyes.

- “What’s you name kid?”

- “Kyro a-and don’t call me kid.”

- “Why so...kid?”

- “Because I am not a kid!!”

-As Kyro balled his fists, Dabi noticed a small blue flame emitting from one of his fists and he lost it...again.

-But this cocky bastard is stubborn.

- “Since you’re not a kid you can find your own way home then.”

-He stood up and went to leave when he felt a tug at his coat.

- “No dad don’t leave, I-I don’t know w-what to do.”

-Dabi.exe has stopped working.

-There was a long ass pause before Dabi grabbed Kyro’s small hand and led him out the alley.

- “I’m taking you to someone who might help then...then you are going to tell me who your mom is so I can drop you off.”

-And you can guess who he asked for help.

-Shirakumo Kurogiri the dad villain.

-Once at the hideout, Kyro explained everything to Kurogiri and that he didn’t know how to get back.

-To be honest both father and son were slightly panicking with the whole situation but their damn pride wouldn’t let them express their concerns.

-And then you walked into the bar.

-Two really loud voices called out to you, one frantic Y/n and one panicked Mommy.

-You had your hands full after that.

-As much as Dabi likes to pretend that he doesn’t give a shit about anything, he really loved you and the fact that in the future you two had a son together got him going all dad mode on both you and Kyro.

-For the remainder of the day you were stuck babysitting an adult Dabi and a four year old version of Dabi.

-Both father and son knew that you had reached your limit when you called Dabi Touya so they backed off a little bit.

-Everything came to a halt the moment your heads touched the pillows.

-Kyro and you were out like a light while Dabi managed to stay awake for about five minutes drinking in the image of you holding the little boy tightly close to your chest and interlacing your fingers with his.

-He could get used to this.

-Kyro didn't seem to hate him so he must be doing a good job.

-As sleep was clouding his mind he wandered when you two actually have him.

-Is it in five years?

-In two?

-Now?

-Guess he’ll have to wait and see.

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kaminobiwan · 4 years

Text

inhibition

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Fluff. Sap. Domesticity with a little bit of plot sprinkled in. Dash of sa(n)d, but that's to be expected at this point. It’s Tatooine, y’all.

a/n: Having not read Kenobi yet I actually have no idea how Obi-Wan’s demeanor is towards young Luke, but it’s fic so who cares. They get FAMILY VIBES

This one got away from me. Positively wrenched out of my grip and flew away, leading to the longest fic I’ve ever written, but I think the end result is so worth it. Requested by @snips-n-skyguy0501 and an anon that wanted breakfast in bed and forehead kisses — I hope your foot feels better, Sam! (Taglist)

In the slick of the heat of Tatooine, there isn’t much you could really do but sleep it off.

Even with tiny windows, the determined rays of the planet’s twin suns never failed to make their way into the small compound that had served as your sanctuary for the better part of the past half decade. You can feel the warmth of the dawn seeping in, lingering on your features, but you’re not ready to come back to the living just yet.

It’s not usually that you lay in bed for more than a couple hours past sunrise, but given the past few days, you definitely deserved it — repeated visits to the Lars homestead had acquainted you with some of their regular customers, other families that lived in the Great Chott. With Obi-Wan being the least inclined out of the pair of you to interact with anyone not in immediate danger (“saving his sociability for you,” as he called it), you’d been the one to volunteer some of your talents when you could in exchange for food or parts. This week had seen a favor to one of the couples that bought water from Owen and Beru, with you helping to repair a lower-end vaporizer that had seen shinier days.

The trips across the salt flat had inflicted more of a beating on your feet than normal, and your shoes hadn’t been enough to protect you from the coarse desert floor. You’d come home the night before looking worse for wear, left hand rubbed raw from tinkering and right foot split open by an unforgiving blister, but Obi-Wan had patched you up without hesitation and insisted that you let him wrestle your weary bones to bed.

Now, your lover lays ever-present at your back, but judging by the heavy unmoving arm strewn across you, he’s not fully up either.

Without raising your eyelids, you turn in his grasp, the weight upon you comforting despite the swelter. You hear Obi-Wan mutter something incoherent, but you pay it no mind as you crane your neck slightly in search of his face. Lips meet a bearded chin first, and a hum escapes him, louder now. Still determined in reaching your goal, you stretch, limbs awakening, but mind lagging as it tries to shake free of the clutches of slumber.

It’s a race to consciousness as Obi-Wan starts to stir as well, evidently joining you in your quest for a kiss, and finally, after a few minutes more of half-asleep fumbling, it happens — mouths moulding together blissfully, weak and sweaty from the blazing heat, but your heart flutters at the taste of him.

When you open your eyes, a blue gaze is waiting. Obi-Wan smiles at the way your noses touch, unwilling to separate much from your embrace.

“Good morning.”

You yawn before responding, jerking as Obi-Wan juts an evil finger in your side midway. You’re not sentient enough to shoot him a half-hearted glare, so instead, you mumble it back and accidentally smack him in the face as you move to rise.

He stops you before you can, chin hooking onto your nearest shoulder and tugging down, and you slump back to the sheets with a subdued giggle. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you reply, and he nods, obviously pleased. “I have you to thank for that.”

He mouths at the skin behind your ear, only half-listening, but still fully fixated on you. You wonder if you’ll ever completely get used to his unbridled affection, even after more than five years living together in isolation, free to feel and show your love blatantly and unapologetically.

Not without a price that had been paid, but it was soul-healing love regardless.

“The Marstraps and their garden are doing well,” you comment absently, more to fill the silence as he lavishes you in physical worship than anything. “Maybe we should get into hydroponics.”

A sound of indifference.

“Did you know they have a daughter?” At that, Obi-Wan stills, face buried in your hair. You think his hand twitches at your abdomen, but in your groggy state, you can’t be completely sure. He never seems to know what to say when you talk of such things. Not then, not now.

It’s not like you mean to imply anything by bringing it up, really. It’s more of...a gauge, of sorts. You’re probing. You’re not even sure why.

“Her name is Camie. She’s very sweet.”

Obi-Wan lifts his head lethargically, looking like he wants to utter a thousand words and nothing all at once. This time, he really does grip your hip, thumb grazing your ribcage thoughtfully, but you take it upon yourself to change the subject before things get too complicated.

“What time is it?”

“Still early,” he rumbles, and the gravelly tone sends satisfying vibrations to where your torsos are pressed against each other. “You’ll be able to get a couple more hours of rest.”

“Hmm.” His words trigger your body to succumb to the drowsiness you hadn’t quite gotten rid of, and your eyes droop contentedly again. “Will you be joining me?”

Obi-Wan slips his other arm from underneath your neck, languidly sweeping over your form and nudging your temple fondly with his nose. “Unfortunately, no,” he murmurs into your hair, “but I think you’ll appreciate why.”

Your eyebrow lifts at the cryptic line, but you’re already falling back asleep as he lifts himself fully from you, and you give into the tiredness as his footsteps fade from your hearing.

———

Moments later — you’re not sure if he’s made good on his promise of extra hours — you feel the pressure of puckered lips against your eyelids, the scratch of his beard poking the thin skin around your eyes as you arise for the second time. This time, however, the enticing smell of food invades your senses, and you realize with a start that it’s not the boiled mealgrain that you usually have in the morning.

“Is that — ?” You shift in bed, reclining upon the headrest, but not yet sitting upright. You’re wide awake now, blinking alertly to find the source of the delectable aroma.

“Iktotch toast,” Obi-Wan announces proudly, setting a tray stacked with plates of steaming food on the table beside your shared bed. “And my attempt at a gartro omelet. Though, I couldn’t get all the necessary ingredients.” He sits on the edge, hand finding your blanketed shin and caressing it like second nature. “Just a fair warning.”

The thin sheet falls to your stomach as you twist to get a good look at his cooking, and you’re rewarded with the sight of brightly colored eggs and buttered bread topped with carbosyrup. Compared to the monochromatic meals you’ve come to expect day to day, it’s a welcome change.

In your excitement, you forget about the abrasions from yesterday, the still-raw skin of your palm screaming out in protest when you try to prop yourself up. Obi-Wan spots the small wince, and reaches for you as you cradle your stinging hand to your chest. “Better doesn’t mean good, apparently.” There’s a teasing to his locution, if only because he knows you too well. You don’t want to make a fuss out of it. You’re bested, anyhow, when he squeezes the blistered foot and you yelp. “Here, too. It still hurts? Shall I redress the wounds?”

A shake of your head precedes your response, as you assure him, “No, there’s no need. Truly.” Still, he’s adamant on being of more assistance, and it seems today is a good day. He’s happy, playful, even — it’s instants like these where you catch a glimpse of a different man, the echo of an old friend.

“Anything I can do to ease the pain?” Obi-Wan smirks, but it’s free of sarcasm as he leans above you, his hair falling in his eyes. It’s grown longer now, not quite the lion’s mane of a mullet he’d sported so many years ago, but unrulier than the clean-cropped cut that he’d had during his last years on Coruscant.

Another life.

Though, you suppose, the rugged desert look is growing on you.

“A kiss on the bandage, maybe,” you quip, just as light-hearted, basking in the mood — what a rarity, nowadays, but always because of each other. “Perhaps it’ll help it heal faster.”

Obi-Wan scoots downwards, ruffling the sheets and uncovering more of your pajama-clad figure to the world, and grabs for your toes —

“Not there! I meant the hand,” you cry, just short of a laugh. “Were you really about to kiss the bottom of my foot?”

He joins in your amusement, chuckling as he traces his way back up to you with light kisses that begin at your legs. One on the knee, then on your navel, and right under your breast — the tease. His hands follow hotly along the trail his mouth leaves, yet it’s a heat you’re all too willing to endure. “Darling, you’d know I’d kiss you anywhere,” he says, grin honest and eager, and you smile suggestively at him from your place upon the pillows.

The moment turns soft, though, when he takes your injured hand, touching his lips to the pads of your fingers, completely avoiding the wrappings. Instead, he marks the exposed skin peeking from the bandages, leaving warm touches where he can reach. You let him make his way up your arm, relaxing the muscle and leaving it pliant in his hold, and these kisses are tender, sincere, adoring.

His lips brush the inside of your elbow, and you catch his gaze then, eyes serious and lacking the mirth of before. He beams, nevertheless, and it takes another four pecks up your shoulder, collarbone, and neck until he finally reaches your mouth. Your lips connect in a quiet climax, tension releasing and hushed sighs escaping the both of you as hands find cheeks and jaws to hold. His beard is longer, too, and a subtle drag of your fingers along his scruff doesn’t go unnoticed as he groans into the kiss.

Sluggishly, as if he’s struggling against the pull of quicksand, Obi-Wan pulls away, your digits still tangled in his auburn locks. “Eat,” he murmurs, placing one last kiss on your bare palm. As he places the tray in your lap, you sit up properly, kicking the last of the covers aside. “Company is coming.”

———

Company was actually more of a child-sitting gig, with the Lars traveling to Anchorhead and reluctant to let their nephew tag along just yet. The four of you had all agreed it was best to shelter the boy until you and Obi-Wan had gotten better at shielding the signatures of three Force-sensitives, and while you were quickly growing used to the strain of the constant use of the Force, there wasn’t a need for unnecessary ventures outside of the community when Luke could just stay with you and Obi-Wan.

On the other hand, if you asked Obi-Wan, he didn’t see why a trip to Tosche Station couldn’t wait until next week, seeing as how you couldn’t walk much without pain. Luke would undoubtedly aggravate the blister when he begged you to play.

But you hadn’t asked Obi-Wan, you dutifully reminded him throughout his musings over the food, unconcerned at the prospect. Breakfast had been as delicious as it had smelled — your taste buds had been assaulted with the flavor, but it had been a gratuitous ordeal that had reminded you of a bustling diner and the toothy grin of a Besalisk. “Just missing the powdered Christophsian sugar,” you’d praised, and he’d barely hidden his glowing simper as he cleared the dishes. You know his apprehension at looking after Luke today is more out of concern for you, rather than lack of willingness.

Just as there were good and bad days of disposition, Obi-Wan’s interactions with his old student’s son were varying. Some visits were joy-filled and vibrant with childish merriment, at the mercy of Luke’s wild imagination, but it wasn’t uncommon for Obi-Wan to retreat to your bed, floored by the striking resemblance the boy had to his father, the memories he tried so hard to forget rushing back in a dark cloud of resignation. Luke was under the impression that his favorite playmate suffered from intermittent cases of sand-fever, trusting enough to believe the excuse. Though he loved you just as much, it was Obi-Wan that Luke idolized the most, and you couldn’t at all blame him for feeling disappointed when Obi-Wan was too unsteady to come out and say hello.

But today, the promise of a happy afternoon rang throughout the air, and you allowed yourself the indulgence of looking forward to the rest of the day. At five years old, Luke was an adoring child, innocent in ways you’d never been able to see, not even with Anakin. He reminded you of a fresh snowbank, ironic as it was, pristine and untouched by the world. Your heart ached to keep it that way.

Luke launches himself at you as expected when he arrives, Owen being kind enough to deliver him instead of letting Obi-Wan make the ride over. Just as well, too — after the doting attentiveness of the morning, you didn’t want to stray too far from Obi-Wan’s side. The former Jedi catches the boy in midair, strong arms wrapping around his tiny frame and swinging him away from you to save you from exacerbating your wounds, and Luke screeches in hysterics as he’s tossed in a wide circle. He attacks Obi-Wan with energetic pokes when he’s finally set down, the older man letting out a surprised oof when he’s headbutted rather hard in the stomach. You muffle a guffaw in your elbow as Obi-Wan shoots you an accusatory scowl, massaging his middle as he assures Owen he’ll return his nephew in one piece. The farmer thanks you both, leaving without a second glance, and Obi-Wan is whisked away by the young Skywalker to entertain his latest fascination with womp rats.

———

They return before dusk, smelling like sweat and death, acrid scents practically steaming off of their robes. You cover your nose as Obi-Wan staggers in through the side door, steadying a chittering Luke as he trips over the trapdoor to the cellar. “Target practice,” Obi-Wan explains, somewhat apologetically. “His aim needs some work.”

“I blew a rat’s head off!” Luke declares boastfully, and cackles while running a victory circle around the kitchen. “It just exploded!”

You turn aghast to Obi-Wan, who ushers the boy into the refresher and instructs him to wash up. As Luke rinses off the trace of the outdoors, you stop Obi-Wan before he can come any closer. You can almost taste the sour aroma that wafts off of your husband. “Don’t tell me he means an actual womp rat. They’re twice his size. If you’re letting him near those predators, Obi-Wan, I’m going to —”

“Relax!” Obi-Wan exclaims defensively, palms raised as if to shield him from your wrath. “It was just a profogg. And we weren’t hunting in the beginning, just setting stink capsules near the hut. Poor thing got too close when we set it off and its friends decided they wanted revenge.”

The clarification does little to placate you, the knowledge that it’s most likely rodent guts contributing to the fumes only further motivating you to stay at a distance. But Obi-Wan has other plans, and a mischievous expression takes over his features as he runs at you, grabbing for your face as you squeal. “Disgusting! Obi-Wan!”

“Not even a peck for your one true love?” He asks, and you bat his hands away. “I was willing to kiss your foot this morning.”

“But you didn’t,” you remark impishly, holding in bubbling laughter. “I’m not kissing you while you smell like an eopie’s ass.”

“Language.” He seizes your wrists as you squirm, though your spirits are still high. You arch backwards, grappling to escape. “Luke might be listening.”

You catch your breath without inhaling in his direction, but it fails when you descend into snickering when a small voice protests, “No I’m not!”

“Go.” While he’s distracted, you push Obi-Wan towards Luke in the refresher, hard. “It’s time for a trim. I think you have profogg gunk in your beard.”

He stumbles back, too late to stop your words from being heard, and Luke yells, “You told me it was a womp rat!”

Another bout of laughter arises in your throat, and Obi-Wan fixes you with a withering glare you’re too perceptive to fall for. “Thanks,” he grumbles, none too grateful, and disappears into the sink.

———

“Careful of your fingers — you don’t want to cut yourself.”

After the bits of wildlife had been safely discarded down the drain and the boys had changed into fresh clothes, you watch as Obi-Wan guides Luke’s wobbly hands down his own stubbled throat. The sight of the shaving cream that covers most of Obi-Wan’s face is priceless, but you opt for appreciation rather than humour as the touching moment transpires.

“Better to cut me than you, but let’s aim for no one, alright?” Luke nods, tongue poking out in concentration as he shucks off more hair from Obi-Wan’s chin. He’s holding the razor with both hands, standing on a stool while Obi-Wan kneels to stay within reach. “Firmly, but with precision. Very graceful.”

Luke’s hyperactivity is nowhere to be found, and you admire his focus. Maybe you should have him shave your husband more often. Both the Lars and you would certainly benefit from the resulting tranquility.

But, no — you’d miss the beard too much.

“Done!” Luke leans back and throws his fists up in delight. Obi-Wan is quick to snatch up the tool to avoid any accidents, and places it back in its compartment as he turns to the boy overflowing with pride.

“Let’s check, shall we?” He rises from his knees with a low grunt and the pop of his joints — one you don’t miss, but refrain from pointing out. For a second, all you see is the back of Obi-Wan’s head as he washes away the lather, then it’s the dismayed twist of his mouth as the uneven patches of missed hair gleam in the mirror.

Luke bounces up and down, making an effort in vain to assess his work. Obi-Wan quickly readjusts his features as you hide your face, silently shaking with amusement. “Did I do okay?”

Obi-Wan squints down at him warmly, brushing the boy’s bangs out of the way. “Yes, An — Luke, you did.” Luke cheers underneath the large hand on his crown. “You did splendidly.”

In a flurry of shouts and whoops, Luke ducks out of Obi-Wan’s arm and exits the refresher, unaware of the almost-slip, but you freeze, more shocked than you have been in months. Years. Obi-Wan’s never done that before.

He meets your wide eyed stare in the mirror, all remains of Luke’s comical shaving job gone, neither of you able to verbalize exactly what you’re feeling.

But eventually, the impact of his blunder fades, and you break free from the fog of your stupefaction.

Your bandaged hand finds his shoulder, soaking up the droplets from his shower, and rubs consolingly, back and forth. You hope it conveys all that words can’t say. A pang strikes you as Obi-Wan lets out a trembling exhale, the unfinished name falling away to the empty room, and you resist the impulse to crush him into a hug.

He needs space.

The watery eyes you expect to see are dry in seconds, and all is well again.

———

You look on as Obi-Wan props Luke’s tuckered form into Beru’s waiting arms, meeting her gaze with a gentle understanding. She secures him into the passenger seat as she mounts the landspeeder slowly, seemingly sensing the hesitance radiating from two of you, uready to let the day end. When they finally depart, Obi-Wan watches them leave from the entrance of the dwelling.

“It’s alright to love him, you know.” You approach him once Beru and Luke are barely a speck on the horizon. You come up to latch around his chest, tiptoeing to kiss his back. “It’s okay to be attached.”

He shifts, rotating so that his back is to the wall after he’s sealed off the door. His own arms raise to encircle you, and you lean your cheek against his bicep before he plants a kiss to your forehead. It spells devotion as you sink further into him, muted ardor enveloping you both. “I know.”

“Do you?” Your voice is quiet to preserve the shroud of calm. “I worry you’re holding back, and you don’t have to. Not here.” Another kiss to his skin. “Not anymore.”

You feel the deep inhale more than you hear it, and his breathing soothes you more than you ever thought possible. It’s proof he’s here, real in your grip. You have each other. “I’m not,” he promises, lips stuck to your hairline. “Though you should know, my heart is reserved for you.”

That brings a laugh out of you, tinkling and bright. You clutch him tighter, warmth swelling inside you in spite of the cooling air of the evening. “You have room for Luke in there.”

Obi-Wan examines you closely, pausing only for a second before he speaks again. “Perhaps more than just him.”

And there it is, the admission you’ve always been curious for yet never wanted to ask. Your breath hitches — only a tad, but you know he picks up on it, and you peer at him cautiously. It’s a conversation you’ve avoided so many times before.

Admittedly, today was the perfect day as any to prime the subject. You’ve never been sure whether Luke has assured Obi-Wan that he wants nothing to do with parenthood or if it inspires a desire to have a son of his own.

It’s not revisited until you’re crawling back into bed, back to his bare chest, and the ghosting touch of his hand smoothing down your front draws your attention away from the sensation of his body enfolding around yours. He’s trying to be discreet, you can tell.

“Practicing?” You whisper, with only a hint of knowing so as not to scare him off. There’s no need, you realize, when you feel his mouth twist into a lopsided smile against your nape and his fingers spread unabashedly across your stomach.

“Perhaps,” he repeats, and it’s enough.

#rini writes #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #SORRY FOR THE WAITTTT LOL SHE'S HERE #I almost named this one 'tales of tatooine' as in 'tales of ba sing se' but I decided not to lmao #this one came out of nowhere tho all the ideas just flew out #as always I hope you like my loves #<3

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tsumugimagines · 3 years

Note

asdfghjkhfsa just got here and aro-ace gang✨✨✨ anyways, can i get some Shuichi, Gundham, Kaede, and Kokichi (seperately lol) stuff? It can be angst, it can be fluff, it can be hurt/comfort, idc, just make it sfw please. (i may or may not have read all the content i can get my hands on for those characters already nope couldn't be me) btw, since i'm going to be hanging around here for a while, can i be 🎮 anon?

Sure! Welcome to the party, 🎮 anon! Anything I want, eh? Well, since you didn't specify if it was with an S/O or not, how about... Painting a friend's nails! Sine you want them all separately, this'll require some creativity on my part. I hope you enjoy it!

Shuichi Saihara

"Please, Saihara-Kun! I am sure you will do a fine job of it. You will not do any damage to my hands!" Kiibo insisted. "I wish to be part of this manicure activity as well!"

"I-I... Well, okay, but... I've never done this before." Shuichi admitted, sitting at the table across from the now eager robot. "Um... What color do you want?"

"I believe this teal color would look best on me." Kiibo replied, pointing to a bottle hesitantly. Shuichi nodded and started to unscrew the cap, only to realize he was twisting the wrong way. He sighed and twisted the cap correctly, opening the nail polish. To any onlooker, one thing was obvious: Neither party knew what he was doing.

"Try and hold still, okay? It'll make things easier." Shuichi requested, taking the brush out of the bottle. Kiibo nodded, sitting up straight and holding as still as he possibly could.

"I understand."

"Kiibo-Kun... I need you to hold out your hands so I can paint them."

"Oh, right!"

With that, Shuichi bit his lip and began to paint the tips of Kiibo's fingers. Kiibo did not have any visible fingernails, but Shuichi tried his best to approximate where they would be. Kiibo didn't say a word or move at all until Shuichi was finally done applying a coat of color to each finger.

"They look excellent, Saihara-Kun!"

"R-Really?"

"Yes, they do! Thank you so much!"

Kiibo and I grew a little closer today.

You gained a Hope Fragment!

Gundham Tanaka

"Hmph... The gall! The sheer nerve!"

"Tanaka-Kun-" Sonia started.

"The idea that I, Gundham Tanaka, Supreme Overlord Of Ice, would engage in such an activity?! Preposterous! Incomprehensible! Inconceivable!"

"Then why do you own a bottle of black nail polish, Tanaka-Kun?"

Gundham seemed to wilt. "I-I... Erm..."

"Tanaka-Kun, such a thing is nothing to be ashamed of." Sonia assured, offering a smile. "Should I offer to paint your nails instead?"

"N-No!" Gundham recovered, hiding his blushing face with his scarf. "I am sure I shall manage just fine. Mirage Golden Hawk Jum-P shall sit by your side as we proceed, to ensure that you are protected from any dark forces that may disrupt this delicate ritual."

"Wonderful!" Sonia beamed, sitting cross-legged in front of Gundham. The sleepy white and brown hamster, as promised, made his way to Sonia's side and curled up there, closing his eyes. Sonia held out her delicate hands, and Gundham proceeded with the manicure. There was a period of silence before Gundham finally spoke.

"Tell me, Lady Of Darkness. Are such traditions as this prominent in the realm in which you usually reside?"

"Oh, yes! I have seen many palace servants with painted nails! I think it is as common in the kingdom of Novoselic as it is everywhere else."

"I see." Gundham replied. He had completed his work quickly and skillfully, applying multiple coats of polish to each finger. Now he was getting ready to apply the clear top coat.

"My goodness!" Sonia giggled. "You seem to have experience in painting nails, Gundham!"

"Hmph... I am Tanaka The Forbidden One! To think I would not be skilled in such a menial field as this is absurd."

"If you say so." Sonia replied knowingly, allowing the breeder to finish applying the top coat to her nails with a smile.

Kaede Akamatsu

"There you are!" Kaede exclaimed, practically lighting up with excitement as the door opened.

"Hey, Akamatsu-San." Rantaro greeted, rubbing the back of his head a little. "What's this about?"

"Oh, well, remember how you gave me an amazing manicure a while ago?"

"Oh, yeah. Why?"

"Well, I wanted to return the favor!" She proclaimed, gesturing to a table laden with all the appropriate items needed. Rantaro could even see a book on the table titled "Manicures for beginners."

"Oh, really?" Rantaro chuckled. "Well, I don't see why not."

"Great!" Kaede replied, sitting down. Rantaro sat down across from him and extended his hands.

"Do you have a color preference, Amami-Kun?" Kaede asked, laying down a towel for her to work over.

"No, not really. Guess if I had to pick, I'd go with either green or black, but my sisters always insisted on painting 'em pink for some reason."

"Aw, that's adorable!" Kaede giggled, opening a bottle of dark green nail polish. "Did they stick little rhinestones on, too?"

"They tried once. I think more polish ended up on the carpet than on my hands." Rantaro chuckled.

"Well, that's what happens when you give kids messy things, I guess." Kaede replied with a smile as she began to paint Rantaro's nails. He let out a small chuckle, echoing the words she had said to him a long time ago.

"H-Hey, Akamatsu-San! That tickles!"

Kaede giggled in reply, continuing on with her work. Rantaro spared another glance at the "Manicures For Beginners" book at the edge of the table as Kaede began to attempt a French Slant of her own. He had a feeling that she would give him a better manicure than his sisters ever had, but he would never have said that out loud.

Kokichi Oma

"Okie dokie! How are things going with you two?" A masked girl with ponytails asked in a singsong voice.

"Perfectly!" Kokichi beamed, not looking up from his work. The unfortunate recipient of the manicure, a well-endowed woman wearing gold hoop earrings, gave a pained smile. Clearly, things were not going perfectly.

"Um... Interesting color combo you've got going there!" Someone else commented, peering over Kokichi's shoulder. "Very... Bold!"

"Nishishi! You flatter me." Kokichi chuckled in reply.

"Did you... Color one of her nails with an orange marker?" Someone else asked. By now, every single member of D. I. C. E was leaning over, looking at Kokichi's handiwork.

"Sure did!" He replied. "Okay... Done!"

"They look very colorful, Ouma-Sama." Someone else chuckled. "And so does the table."

"Nishishi! Of course they- Wait, what?"

Kokichi looked down at the table, seeing the splatters of color that now littered it. Everyone giggled.

"H-Hey! As your Supreme Leader, I order you all to stop laughing!" He scoffed. "We can clean this up fine!"

"I-I'll get some paper towels..." A girl with long brown hair sighed, turning before anyone could say anything more.

"So much for D. I. C. E manicure sessions, eh?" The tallest member of the group chuckled, looking at his red nails that now perfectly matched his bright afro.

"Pfft... What are you talking about? Seems like it was a complete success to me!"

The rest of the group giggled again. Kokichi looked up at them, annoyed.

"Hey! This is a super duper serious matter, you know!"

"Sure it is, Ouma-Sama." Someone else replied, their voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure it is."

#danganronpa imagines #shuichi saihara #gundham tanaka #kaede akamatsu #kokichi oma #kokichi ouma #I'll add the ship tags too. Fuck it.#shuichi x kiibo #sonia x gundham #kaede x rantaro #saiibo #sondam #amamatsu #I tried to keep D. I. C. E vague so you guys could insert whatever personality and name headcanons you have #Enjoy all of this shameless fluff ❤️#🎮 anon

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pluto-art · 3 years

Text

Softly - PatB Fan Fiction

Type: Hurt/Comfort Rating: PG Summary: Baby Brain has known little but pain and misery in an unloving world, but when he gets paired up with a new lab student things change in a way he didn’t expect.

This started out as a mini story in a Discord server and got... a little out of hand. What you see here is how much I typed out in the server.

He hadn't been there long. Two... maybe three weeks? The cold metal had finally become familiar beneath his feet, and the strange blocks, though generally tasteless, kept him alive. There wasn't much that made his new living quarters interesting; there was only so much one could do in a pile of aspen shavings day after day. Occasionally, they would hook up to his cage some sort of liquid that wasn't his usual watery fair. He could never decipher or make heads or tails of the words on the sides of the bottles, saying things like D-D-T or S-N-I-P-P-L-E. The only distinguishing feature to him was that sometimes they tasted terrible, sometimes quite flavorful, and sometimes they tasted like nothing at all. Almost all of them turned his stomach. Driven to thirst, however, he'd play their cruel game. Choice was not something that existed in this crisp, sterile world; at least, not from a personal standpoint. When it did exist it meant the difference between a shock and a treat; a yellow light or a red light; a warm room or a cold one. Choice was manufactured.

He still cried almost every night. He tried to quiet the tears, but they didn't always listen. The others heard him. One or two laughed cynically. Most said nothing; they'd shed their own fair share and would again sooner than later. A single kind soul, a mother rat some doors down from him, occasionally whispered to him a lullaby or two when everyone else but them were asleep. They were songs she sang to her own children to quiet their tears, and she had no less compassion for this unfortunate soul, who was even worse off than her own brood -- he didn't even have any parents to nuzzle up to. Had she her way, she would have mutilated every last living human being in the facility. It was bad enough that they were tested on mercilessly as adults. To do so to children was simply insidious. Alas, she was simply a rat, and so could only dream of days when she wasn't.

Not that BR-41N (that's what they called him; no one had real names here) hadn't tried to be friendly with his captures. Aside from a particularly nasty poke from some long, thin, prickly object inserted into his thigh the first day (it had stung; oh, it had stung...) the proceeding couple of days had consisted of simple maze runs and treadmill exercises. Nothing too elaborate. As a child, he'd been used to running around a lot in the field, and sifting through the labyrinths reminded him of the long grass he'd play hide-and-seek in back home, except at the end of them was a tasty prize: a piece of cheese. He liked cheese. In the wild, it was hard to come by, but here they gave it to him generously, provided he finished the courses, which he always did. The fourth day followed in much the same way, but the fifth day brought something different: a sudden shock and a broken tail. That had changed his view of things. Perhaps the harsh awakening wouldn't have been so terrible had it not been followed by other unspeakable things -- poisoned food; friends made that, the next day, would never be seen again; more shocks given as punishment for choosing an incorrect panel; injections that made him see things he'd never seen, monsters and strange colors and other scary things that kept him awake at night; loud noises that came out of nowhere; and often, quite often, the terrifying echo of squeaks, barks, and meows that made up the daily music of Acme Laboratories. He hated it. He hated all of it. More than anything, he wanted to go home. He missed the warmth; the love; the soft whisper of the wind that traveled through his ivory fur. He wanted all of it back. But life? She was a harsh mistress. And no amount of crying, screaming, or pleading, seemed to ever make her turn an ear.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks... months, more than just a tail was broken. Trust was broken. Hope was broken. Spirit... was broken. If there was any love, if there was any future, it wasn't here. Kindness had proved unfruitful, and patience had run its course. He didn't find reason to be willing, nor show charity, towards those who made his life a living hell. What reason was there? What profit was in it? Time had told him, quite bluntly, there wasn't. It had taken him a full month to admit defeat, but admit it he did, and cynical he became, 'til every hand that reached in to grab him was ripe to be bitten, every shot that punctured his stomach was the unwelcome norm, and every newcomer that tried to strike up a friendship was easily ignored. The latter-most was simply wasting their time. He could read the colors on the cages now. He knew that a red mark meant "death". He only wondered why he, as of yet, had never been given one himself. It was as if life itself was laughing at him -- keeping him as witness to the horrors that went on inside the dragon's cave, yet never giving him the satisfaction of death.

And so the third month dawned, chilly and barren, or so the scientists said. Autumn had come. Not that any of the residents within the thick, cemented walls could see it. But the laboratory personnel spoke of it -- gold and crimson leaves, hot chocolate, dried wheat fields. He could almost smell the corn; could almost feel the breeze.... Days passed. For the first time, they gave him a cage mate. E8-WN, they called him. He was kind, but BR-41N had little love left to give. Besides, he had the red tag. It seemed they had only placed him here temporarily due to a lack of space. The next day he was taken to the back. The tiniest shred of pity nipped at BR-41N as he watched the little peach-furred mouse be carried into the surgical room, a curious look on his face. Another emotion was also present within him: jealousy. On the 17th day of September, a new thing happened -- a thing that, for the first time in a while, made the little mouse turn his head.

The school year had started, and, as such, fresh meat was welcomed into the laboratory in the form of fourteen college students looking to continue pursuits in medical science. They were all very quiet during the tour, one or two of them occasionally lifting a hand to ask a question about course materials or contact information. They were each, it seemed, to be given a subject: an animal from the laboratory to study, train, and conduct experiments on. Rats, mice, and hamsters had already been picked out for them, and each was given a black-coated subject or a brown-furred captive to take charge of. Each student's rodent was to be kept in the lab at all times, and specific instructions were given them as to the proper handling of the creatures. At least two experiments were to be conducted on them daily, three if possible. They could spend as much time with their charge as they wished, so long as they got their homework done. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents. Four months to finish their work. Simple.

As it stood, however, there had been a miscalculation. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents.... No. Not fourteen. Only thirteen. There'd been an error. They'd forgotten to set aside an extra subject. The unfortunate student without a charge was a college girl named Rachel. All other rodents were going through tests conducted by various personnel in the lab, set aside specifically for said conductions that couldn't currently be tampered with. All except one....

"So, um, Rachel," their teacher said, checking his student list. "You may have to share with... Peterson.... You know what? We might... actually have an extra for you. Hold on. Let me ask...."

And he departed into another room, calling for a "Jackson".

"Jackson! Can she use BR-41N? I don't think he's going through any rigorous testing.... Yeah? Okay. Yeah, that would work out perfectly. Thanks."

He turned back to his brood, many of whom looked quite eager to jump in to these intriguing studies, others looking downright bored.

"Okay. We have one for you. His code name is BR-41N. He's not going through any major testing, and he's generally given the usual works -- labyrinths, shock treatment, all that. But, um... he bites. Really bad. So... you'll have to watch it, all right?"

"Okay," Rachel nodded, looking a little nervous.

"All right. Umm.... Good. Yes. So, let's head back to the main campus, and... we'll start your work tomorrow."

And they left.

BR-41N had only heard part of all this, and had understood none of it. He shivered in his cage, taking a moment to drink some water out of the bottle that hung there. While the arrival of such a large group intrigued him, especially since it consisted of a much younger set than normal, it also made him nervous. Was it a sign of good things to come... or bad? Or just more of the usual fair? One could only wonder. For now, he was simply grateful that the cheese they'd given him today was, for once, not laced with drugs.

She came by on a Tuesday.

It was an hour after a cosmetics test that he heard a knock on the table. His skin still burned. He was cowering in a far corner, and looked back over his shoulder hesitantly.

Rachel stood there, smiling at him.

"Hello, little one." He stared at her, nonplussed. "I guess you're my charge. You gonna say hello?"

And she opened up the door of his cage.

He shuffled back further. He knew all too well by this point that the opening of a door meant one of two things: food or torture. Considering the fact that she didn't smell of food, he had to assume it was the latter.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Well, hopefully not...."

Although he didn't understand a word of what she said, her tone was calm; soothing. No one in the lab ever talked to him like this. He couldn't help but stare curiously.

She held her hand up to the entrance and made a soft, squeak-like sound with her mouth. He frowned at her. As if that was going to convince him. He turned away.

"No? I don't blame you," she replied, taking a look at his clipboard. "BR-41N. What kind of a freak name is that? Mind if I call you Brain? Or Brian?"

No response.

"We'll go with Brian. Brain sounds kinda weird."

Brian it was.

She kept the door open, and he braced himself. Any moment now, gloved hands would be protruding into his enclosure to wrap themselves firmly about him, not tight enough to choke him, but secure enough that he couldn't escape. But the hand didn't come. If anything, she pulled up a chair, sat down, and rested her arms upon the table on which his cage sat. She was... giving him a choice? He stared at her, unsure how to react.

"Come on, sweet heart," she cooed, rubbing her fingers together encouragingly.

But he wouldn't budge. If this was some new trick, it wasn't going to work. He wished she'd just grab him and get it over with. Sooner or later, she'd have to. It was only a matter of time. And so he waited....

She sat there for a full twenty minutes, trying her best to get him to come over, but he refused to budge, and so she gave up. As expected, she still ran him through a maze, but instead of reaching in to grab him, she found a clear tube and scooped him up in it, covering both ends before depositing him into the run as such. It was... odd, but less invasive than what he was used to. He rather wished the others would do it that way.

Via the same method she returned him to his cage at the end of the test. As usual, he took to the corner, assuming his usual cowardly pose, but he turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Sorry about that. Nice job, though. See you tomorrow."

And so went the next day... and the next, always with the same introduction: She'd open his door, pull up a chair, and offer her hand to him. After twenty minutes of nothing, she'd scoop him up in the tube, deposit him in the maze or whatever other test he was to perform that day, and return him in the same manner. This went on for four whole weeks, always with a kind word, never coupled with a harsh prod or poking of his skin. He came to somewhat look forward to her almost daily visits, not because he trusted her (the one time she had tried touching him [with gloves on, of course], he'd given her a fair warning in the form of a bite), but because it was the only two hours during the day in which he knew he wouldn't be fed poison, given a shot, or made to inhale cigarette smoke. The other students joked with her. By far, she had the unfriendliest mouse out of all of them, and they found her kind advances a waste of time.

"Just pick him up!" a tall boy said.

Most of them had no problem with handling their subjects by the tail; at least, the boys generally didn't. The girls were kinder, but even they didn't take the time to get to know their animals intimately. They also were given the harder tests to conduct on their critters and so tried not to get attached.

Whereas most of the rats, mice, and hamsters given to the students would eventually be killed in some way or other at the end of the semester, via through vivisection, gassing, cancer, or some other method, BR-41N, or... Brian, as Rachel now called him, was not scheduled to be offed anytime soon and so could not undergo such rigorous experiments. As such, she got both the easy job of conducting very simple tests on him, and also the hard job of trying to work with the most hostile mouse in the entire facility.

"He's never gonna warm up to you," one of the other students said.

Rachel took it as a challenge.

"Watch me," she said.

But Brian was proving to be a much tougher can than expected. By the sixth week, he still hadn't even bothered to venture near the cage entrance when she sat near it, even with tasty treats in hand. He simply didn't trust anyone. Not anymore....

October came and went, to be replaced with a frosty November. Whenever Brian saw Rachel now she had a cup of tea in hand, the better to ward off the coming winter chill. Still she tried; still he refused to relent. Until the 9th....

It was late. She hadn't been able to get to the lab until 8:00 PM due to unfortunate series of events that involved a fender bender, two appointments, and a last minute essay. When she got to the lab she was tired... and not at all in the mood to deal with Brian's B.S., and he knew it.

"'Sup?" she asked him wearily, setting down her things in a huff. Only a handful of other people were still in the facility at this hour, none of them students. Fine by her. She preferred the quiet anyway. "We're gonna do something a little different today, bud."

Indeed.... He perked his ears up at her exhausted tone and the fact that, for once, she didn't open the cage door. But she did still slide the chair up to his table.

On the opposite side of the room was a television on a rolling stand. Normally, this was used for surgeries and other experiments. Once in a blue moon, however, someone would use it for recreational purposes -- to watch the local news when there was time to kill. Most fortunately for Rachel, it also came with a VHS player. Into it she popped a tape, before sitting down in the chair and grabbing her hot cup of peppermint tea. Despite himself, Brian took a whiff of the tea, whose scent had wafted into his cage and tickled his nose. It smelled good.

The film began to play. Brian didn't know the name of it, but whatever it was it was made up of very pretty pictures and featured a lot of dogs... and snow (at least at the beginning). It was rather soothing. Still, he didn't move from his spot, save to grab a lab block at one point to munch on, more to pass the time than anything. His stomach was still a little unsettled from earlier. Privately, he was a bit ticked off at the girl. Had she been a bit earlier he might have avoided the shock treatments. Not that they would have withheld them regardless.

It wasn't until the second song that his attention was at last caught.

"La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...."

Sweetly did the animated woman sing her little song, and Brian, captivated, perked his ears. He looked up at the television. She was still singing. He stepped forward, bit by bit, until he was right up to the closed door, two little paws coming up to grasp at the bars of his cage as he stared, entranced, at the screen.

"La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper, La la lu, La la lu, La la luuuuu."

And so it ended, all within the span of a minute, if that, but something had stirred with him -- a remembrance of home, and warmth, and what it was like to be loved.

He was still clutching at the bars when he noticed that Rachel was smiling at him, and he promptly sped back to his corner, embarrassed.

"Atta boy," she whispered, still grinning softly at him.

He refused to look at her. He wasn't touched by it or anything. He wasn't....

"It's okay. Don't be embarrassed," said the girl. "I like that song, too."

Brian stayed in his corner the rest of the movie, but the song never left his mind.

---

The next day proceeded as normal. Once again, Rachel sat by his cage. Once again, she had brought a treat, albeit one he'd never seen before, nor smelled, for that matter. It was small... and white... and fluffy, and it smelled sugary and sweet. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it so very badly. But nothing that ever came from the fingers of a scientist, even a soft-spoken one, was innocent. And so he refused, his back turned to her.

"Stubborn butt," said Rachel, and by her tone alone Brian could tell that it was a snide comment. He ignored her.

"Here."

As had occurred many times before, she left the treat in his cage near the entrance, closed the door, and sat to watch him. His eyes shifted towards the treat. It sat there, staring at him, mocking him. Eat me, it said. No, he thought. Oh, but it smelled so good....

Rachel sighed. So did Brian. She rested her head in her arms, exasperated. Maybe it really wasn't worth it....

Brian licked his lips. Perhaps....

He took a step forward. Rachel remained where she was, head in her arms, not looking at him. He moved another step. She was still as a stone. Patter patter patter patter patter... GRAB. He swooped back to his corner as fast as possible, marshmallow in his mouth. Rachel looked up... and chuckled. Brian dug into the treat, enjoying every second of it as teeth sunk into the savory delight. He'd never tasted anything this good before. It was better than mother's milk; much better than lab pellets; better than cheese....

"Silly little thing," Rachel giggled, smiling as he filled his cheeks with pleasantness. "Wait 'til you see what I bring you tomorrow."

Tomorrow, he was to find out, brought a piece of a doughnut, and the day after that a waffle. He'd never been this darn spoiled before. On the fourth occasion, he was, for once, already at the door, waiting to see what she'd bring. Lady and the Tramp and sugar, it turned out, were the keys to his heart, although he still wouldn't let her touch him. If her hand so much as brushed his fur he was back to his corner in a rush, although, this time, he didn't try to bite her first.

Rachel laughed when she saw the two little paws clutching at the gated entrance.

"You like 'em that much, huh? Here ya' go."

He stepped back to allow her access to the gate, and watched carefully as she placed something savory and smelling of salt inside. He sniffed, investigating as she closed the door. He took a tentative bite. Mmmmm. Yes, this was acceptable. Grabbing it, he rushed back to his usual corner and chowed down.

"Good. A fellow bacon appreciator," Rachel nodded, satisfied.

He ate the entire piece, licking his lips and proceeding to clean himself afterwards. That had been a bit messy. Good, but messy. If there was something he still valued, it was cleanliness. He could at least retain some form of dignity. The state of his fur was one of the few things he still had control over. Unlike some of the other unfortunate chaps, he'd never had to endure surgery or a shaved stomach.

Two little pink ears perked up as his cage door was opened yet again. More treats? No. Just Rachel, hand offered to him once more. Brian sighed. She just wouldn't give up, would she?

A second glance made him aware that she did, in fact, have something in her hand -- another marshmallow. Hmph. Sneaky. And yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it....

"It's okay, little one," Rachel cooed, hand still outstretched, that plump marshmallow beckoning ever so tantalizingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Brian sighed. He looked down at the floor, then over at her hand.

Rachel's eyes widened a touch, but she otherwise didn't reveal her surprise as Brian moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, towards her hand....

He stopped at the entrance, debating. Dare he...? It was a risk. He'd never willing done this, not since he'd been captured. It was a stupid decision. Stupid. And yet....

Her hand shifted a touch, and Brian shifted nervously with it. Rachel waited with bated breath.

He stepped forward....

In a flash, he'd grabbed the 'mallow from her hand and retreated to the back of his cage, not daring to even think about what he'd just done. It was foolish. It was dangerous. And yet, she hadn't tried to grab him, or even pet him. She'd just... given him a choice. And he'd taken it. Somehow, for some reason, he'd taken it.

Rachel smiled.

"Atta boy."

---

Perhaps it was the mere fact, the tantalizing realization, that he had a choice in the first place, that drew him back, but over the course of the next few weeks, things changed.

It had started slow at first. A light brush of the whiskers here; a sniff of the hand there. But, eventually, Brian, of his own accord, stepped into her hand. And she didn't close her fingers about him harshly, or strangle him, or pick him up by the tail. She simply... let him be. It was kind. It was unobtrusive. It was respectful. And he appreciated it.

No longer did the other students make fun, or joke that she'd never gain his trust. If anything, they questioned her.

"How the heck did you do it?" they'd ask, curious.

Even more confused were the scientists themselves. Not that anyone had tried very hard to gain the little mouse's trust. He was, in their opinion, not worth the time.

But he was to Rachel.

December came, and with it a complete turn-around in Brian's behavior, albeit towards one particular individual.

He eagerly rushed into her hand now. No need for the transportation tube. She could carry him on her shoulder to the maze area and pick him up with her bare hands as she placed him in the labyrinth, although she still made sure to let him take the first step and would, more often than not, simply offer a hand instead of plucking him from her shoulder. He still appreciated this.

Every weekday was now a day to look forward to. Sure, he was still tormented by the main personnel, but for two or three hours, two or three sweet hours, he didn't have to worry about anything. On the days he suffered from a stomach-ache, she'd hold him close to her chest and do her best to rub the pain away, offering him tea to ease his suffering, and if he fell asleep on her shoulder and woke up, shaking, from a bad dream, she'd rock him back and forth, singing "La La Lu" to him until the nightmares went away. On those rare nights, when she could only work late and no one was around, she'd bottle feed him. He'd been hesitant (and a little embarrassed) at first, but any reminder of home was difficult to ignore, and so he ended up embracing each form of love and affection with open paws, clutching tightly to her chest some days, as if this hug would be his last. For all he knew, it could be. He'd gotten used to her visits, but what if she left and never came back? He didn't want that love to leave....

December 14th.

The end of the semester was approaching. Rachel had told him, time and again, that she was leaving soon; that she would miss him; that she'd try to come back for the next semester. Brian understood none of this. He was a mouse, after all. Human language was foreign to him. The most he could understand was the occasional word -- his name, Brian, and various names of foods and tests -- and basic inflections that he knew signified concern, happiness, or contentment. But he didn't understand "leave", or "semester", or "miss". He could tell something was wrong, that she was sad, but as to why, he did not know.

A week from the last day of the semester, she brought a surprise: a movie. It had something to do with a rat, and food. He liked it for those things. He wished he could understand the words. It seemed interesting. He sat on Rachel's shoulder the entire time, at least until the end of the film, during which Rachel offered her hand to him. He accepted. She brought him up to her chest, nuzzling him close.

"I'm going away for a while, but... I'll try to be back next semester."

She petted him gently. He stared up at her, curious and concerned. Why was she so sad?

"I'm going to miss you...," she whispered. And, for the first time, she kissed him on his fuzzy white head. "I love you...."

He didn't understand the words, but he understood what they meant; how they felt.

Slowly, gently, he nuzzled close to her... and licked her fingers. It was the first time he'd shown genuine affection outside of nuzzling since he'd been captured. I love you, too....

He didn't understand it, but... there was something in the air that told him something big was coming. Something new. Something was going to be different....

December 18th came just like any other day. The semester was coming to a close. Many students had already finished their courses and gone home for the holidays. The occasional class still lingered on, including the medical science class. Most all had completed training and experimentation on their subjects for the season and were simply spending the next few days filing reports and filling out last minute essays. Some of the rodents wouldn't live to see the new year. Others had already been subjected to vivisection by their handlers and were far from the lab by this point. Subject BR-41N was one of the few who'd been given the same sheet on their clipboard day after day, week after week: a run of the mill of the usual, simple, non-invasive tests, along with an injection or two. But today was different.

As Rachel stepped up to Brian's cage, sipping at a hot cup of tea and smiling as her charge ran up to the bars to greet her, she frowned as she pulled up the clip board. His tag was yellow. Not the usual blue, but... yellow. She set down her cup, ignoring Brian's squeaky pleas to be let out as she looked over the sheet carefully.

Subject Reserved for Project B.R.A.I.N. // Invasive Study -- Cognitive Psychology, Neuroscience Psychology // 4:00 PM - Dec. 20

There was a pause, in which the dip in Rachel's brow furrowed ever deeper, her eyes roaming about the page scrutinizingly, before she slipped the paper out of its holder and headed back out the way she'd came, Brian looking curiously after her.

She marched all the way to a back office, in which sat one of the laboratory heads: Jackson. He looked up over his square-rimmed glasses as she knocked upon the exposed inner door frame.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Hey. Um.... I think you gave my subject the wrong paper."

"BR-41N?"

"Yeah. He got a yellow."

She stretched out her arm, offering the paper as proof, but he didn't take it. Instead, he looked up at her, fingers meeting at their tips, and said:

"No, I gave you the right paper. That's for BR-41N. His procedure is in two days."

His tone was flat and laced with a thin layer of poison, as if her daring to question him was a challenge.

"But... I thought he was just doing mainly labyrinth tests."

"Ms. Field, I thought you were told...?"

"Told what...?"

"He's been scheduled for this procedure for months. We wanted him fresh and so have eschewed more invasive tests until now. Frankly, you've been spending a little too much time with that mouse. He's gotten too friendly. We're not in the business of developing attachment here."

He said all this with a straight face, completely emotionless. Rachel swallowed thickly.

"Sir, I've... been going over this test. It's... very dangerous."

"Yes."

"It could kill him...."

"Yes?"

Rachel simply stared at him, uncertain of what to say next. He wasn't working with her here....

"Look.... What did you expect? You're studying medical science, correct?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well," he continued, a small chuckle of sarcasm escaping his lips as he said it. "Y-You have to realize that... this is a laboratory. We can't keep every subject. And these tests come with a lot of risks."

"Could you possibly do the test on another subject...?" Rachel asked, choosing her words carefully. "Brian is still kind of young, and..."

"Brian?"

Shoot.

"Sorry, I mean... BR-41N."

"You can't start... naming them, Miss Field. That's when you start getting attached. Understand?"

"I know...," Rachel mumbled, cheeks reddening as she looked down at her shoes.

"And the whole point of using him at this age is because his mind is younger. He's fresh."

"But he's just a baby..."

"Yes? And? A lot of the other students are working with infants."

"This one is...," Rachel began, than stopped. Already she'd said too much.

"Miss Field, if you don't prepare him for the procedure, someone else will. Now, you can either do your assignment or lose your credits. It's your choice."

Rachel sighed. Still holding the paper, she let her arm fall dramatically to her side.

"Fine...."

And she turned to walk off. But...

"Miss Field?"

She looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Sir," Rachel replied, after a hefty pause, and headed back to her charge.

---

Brian didn't understand why Rachel was so quiet that day, nor why she cuddled him so much. She whispered to him something about "breaking out" and "night", but he didn't understand what those things meant, although he heard the urgency in her voice. As a result, he was a little more uptight the rest of the afternoon.

Before leaving, Rachel kissed the top of his head again, before setting him back down in the cage and hooking the door. Her good-byes were all but gibberish to him, although he recognized the word "tomorrow". So he'd be seeing her tomorrow. That was good. At least he had a time frame. He was naive to the rest....

---

December 19th 9:15 PM

BR-41N cleaned his whiskers, pondering.

She hadn't shown up today. Strange. "Tomorrow". She's said "tomorrow". Today was tomorrow. Why hadn't she come?

To his left, in a far corner of the room, someone sneezed in their cage. Brian frowned sadly. It was that hamster again. Whatever they'd given him had put him into a sneezing fit for an hour. Now and then he relapsed.

He yawned, stretched, and made for the food dispenser, when he suddenly heard a sharp click of a door being opened and abruptly snapped shut. He turned in the direction of the door. A light flicked on. Brian smiled.

Rachel's feet slid across the floor in haste. Instead of her usual student lab coat, she was decked out in her normal clothes, complete with backpack. Her hoodie was up, obscuring her hair, save for a few strands that stuck out here and there, as well as part of her face. She moved with purpose, albeit a little covertly, looking over her shoulder every now and then, as if expecting someone to grab her at any minute.

Set in a wall above the entrance to the room, a camera followed her. Rachel's eyes shifted at the sound as she moved towards Brian's cage. She knew she only had five, maybe ten, minutes at best.

Opening the cage door, she held her hand out for Brian to step onto. He hesitated. Something didn't smell right....

"Come on. We're busting you out of here, dude," Rachel whispered.

Brian cocked his head at her questioningly.

"Listen, they're going to put your through that splicer if we don't get you out of here, so come on."

There was an urgency in her voice that, despite his misgivings, compelled him to move forward. He trusted her too much by this point.

"Atta boy," she praised him, tucking him in her shirt pocket.

He peeked out, paws clutching at the edges of the pocket interestedly.

"Let's go," Rachel whispered, turning back to the door and stopping as she realized that someone was already standing there....

Framed in the metal doorway was a woman, thirty-five... maybe forty-something in age. Her arms were crossed, and the expression on her face seemed as taught and firm as the scrunchie tightening her poofy auburn hair. Her long lab coat was still settling; she must have only just gotten there. Rachel recognized this woman. Lana, her name was -- she was one of the head managers at the facility. Jackson had obviously tipped her off.

"Fancied a night stroll?" she asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Rachel remained frozen in place, a hand subconsciously cupping her shirt pocket. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You know you're risking a lot for this. That's all your credits down the drain."

"He's worth it," Rachel answered, resolute.

"He's not. You take him and they'll just get another subject."

"At least I'll have saved this one."

"We'd still rather you not take an asset that's been reserved for months for this procedure," Lana nipped, taking a step forward.

Rachel took a step back. Her eyes shifted to a door to her left. It led to several other testing rooms and then back out into the main hallway. Some of the doors had security locks. It was the long way around, but if she was fast enough....

"Rachel...," Lana spoke, tone threatening as she advanced. "Put him down."

With each step Lana took towards her, Rachel moved two back. She could feel herself starting to perspire. Gosh, this was a stupid idea....

"Rachel...."

With a hand cupped over her shirt pocket, Rachel darted in the direction of the door, opening it up in a flash and slamming it shut behind her. Already she was racing for the opposite end of the room, where another door stood.

Brian jumped as an alarm went off, followed by red lights that flashed all throughout the facility. Rachel was already in the next room, her heart racing. She could hear the panicked footsteps behind her, mimicking her own, and hoped upon hope that she was faster than her pursuer.

Rachel picked up her pace as she entered the next room. This one, she knew, required an employee badge to open. All of the students had been given security badges, of course, primarily for general access to the entrance and main rooms. They worked on some doors in the facility. Some, but not all. She'd never been in these rooms. Privately, she prayed that they'd open for her.

Slamming her badge up against a wall panel, she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet nervously.

"Come on. Come oooon! Take it!!"

It did. The door unlocked, and she swung it open in haste to make for the next locked door, which also granted her entrance.

She was faster than Lana, but it didn't mean the woman wasn't hot on her heels. Brian shut his eyes tightly, huddling against Rachel's chest on the inside of her pocket as she darted about, her hand still cupping him securely. He knew, somehow, that this was about him. His ears rotated this way and that at the duo of clicking feet racing down the linoleum flooring. Who would win? Who was he most valuable to?

It wasn't until the fourth room that Rachel started to panic. Yet again, she'd reached a door asking for proof of access, except this time... her badge was not accepted. She shook the door handle feebly, knowing it wouldn't open; knowing this was the end of the line. Despite himself, Brian peeked out of the shirt pocket, just in time to see Lana as Rachel swiftly turned around to face the woman, who stood at the opposite end of the room, hair askew and chest heaving as she glared at Rachel and her tiny charge.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Lana huffed.

"Why do you need him?! Just let me take him and get another subject!" Rachel bit.

"We let you get away with it and you'll set a precedent! You know that!" Lana snapped right back. "And we don't want to waste any more time. We've spent too much money on this project."

"He's just a baby!"

"All of them are meant to be expendable! Hand him over!"

"No!"

Brian's ears flicked. Rachel held her breath. Was it just them, or did they hear... more footsteps?

"You won't have a choice," Lana said flatly, expressionless as she was joined by not one, not two, but five other lab hands, one of the them Jackson, all of them full-time personnel.

"Rachel.... Hand him over," Jackson said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Rachel glared daggers at him, even though she was fully aware of the impossibility of the situation. Like the mouse she was trying so hard to protect, she was trapped, her back against the wall, literally. They were going to take him. They were going to take him and there was nothing she could do about it....

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Jackson continued.

"Please...," Rachel pleaded, breathing heavily. "Please, let me take care of him. I'll train another in his place as compensation, I swear. Just... don't hurt him."

"And then you'll grow attached to that one and try and kidnap it. We've seen it before. You're not the first," Jackson reprimanded.

"Good," said Rachel. "I'm glad I'm not."

Privately, she wondered why she'd ever signed up for this in the first place. She wanted the degree. She wanted it badly. She also loved animals, and knew that following her passion came with sacrifices. What she hadn't counted on was how difficult it would be to accept that. It wasn't feasible, she realized. In fact, it was darn near impossible.

She looked down at the infant trembling in her pocket -- at this little creature that had captured her heart and locked it away, far away from any hopes and dreams of graduating in the medical field of her choosing. "He's not worth it," Lana had said. Was he not? Brian looked up at her, those glossy little eyes staring at her expectantly, trustingly. She smiled sadly at him and, for the last time, cuddled him close, before looking up at the troop across from her.

"If you want him, come and get him," she challenged. They weren't getting him without a fight.

And they rushed at her.

She tried to escape. Oh, she tried... and failed. They grabbed her by the arms as she wrestled against them, cheering Brian on as he somehow managed to escape from her pocket and slip underneath one of the shelving units in the room. But Lana caught him, Brian squeaking as his tail snagged between the beaker and the small metal panel she'd captured him with. He stared at Rachel, his desperate, panicked expression the last thing she saw before being knocked out.

-------

- Two Years Later -

The plan had failed. Rather spectacularly, he might add....

It was the first time in Brain's memory he could ever recall being caught red-handed by any of the personnel at Acme Labs. It was a miracle he and Pinky had managed to escape, but, despite his best attempts, they'd been separated in the process.

He made for a facility some yards away from the main laboratory, sweating as he squeezed under its front door and immediately hid under a cabinet to his right. Lights flashed now and again beyond the windows, desperate voices accompanying them as the scientists searched here and their for the escapees. Brain silently prayed that Pinky had somehow found a suitable hiding spot.

In his position under the cabinet, he backed up against the wall and slid down it, a paw clutching at his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he gulped, sniffed, and buried his face in his knees. Stupid. Stupid.... He'd jeopardized their whole mission. What if they'd captured Pinky? What would they do to him? And even if they did escape, where would they go? He'd ruined everything. Everything....

In his haste to remain undetected, he'd neglected to realize that this room... was not entirely devoid of life. It was a small area -- a security office, to be exact. Numerous monitors took up space on a desk, at which someone sat. They slid out of their chair and stepped over to Brain's hiding place. He noticed... and shivered.

Whatever, whomever, it was got down on their knees to peer at him from just outside the dresser.

"Hello...," they said.

It was a woman. Her voice was soft, and kind, but Brain turned his head away from her prying eyes. Typical. In an effort to not get caught he'd inevitably been ratted out. He immediately considered making a run for it, but, for some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't.

"Hey.... Shh. Shh. It's okay, little one. It's okay," cooed the woman. "You wanna come on out...?"

And she held out a hand to him. She didn't try to grab him, or scare him out. She simply... gave him a choice.

But it had been too long. He didn't recognize her, neither she him... until she noticed the tail. Then she knew.

"Brian...?" she breathed, eyes growing wide.

He stared at her, nonplussed, still shivering.

"Brian, it's me. Rachel," she beckoned, her hand still in place. But he didn't move. If anything, he frowned at her. "Brian"?

And she tried everything -- talking to him soothingly; offering him a treat from her pocket. Nothing worked. Brain simply hid his face once more, willing her to go away; to leave him be; to, hopefully, not report him to the authorities if they came to call.

Rachel sighed. She sat up for a moment, thinking, and blinked. Struck with a sudden idea, she rested her hands on her lap... and began to sing....

“La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...“

Brain blinked... and lifted his head, ever so slowly....

“La la lu, La la lu, Little soft fluffy sleeper, Here comes a pink cloud for you...“

He stood up... and walked forward, right to the edge of the cabinet. She was still singing.

“La la lu, La la lu, Little wandering angel, Fold up your wings, Close your eyes...”

His mouth was fully open now, his round eyes glossy and getting ever shinier. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her face.

“La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper...

La la lu, La la lu, La la lu....”

Rachel stared at him, smiling. He had completely stepped out from under the cabinet by now, his little body trembling slightly.

"Hello, little star sweeper," Rachel whispered to him.

Breath hitching, Brain ran onto her lap, up her shirt, and clutched tightly to her chest, only a second or two going by before he felt those familiar hands hold him gently, securely.

"Oh, Brian...," she choked, kissing his head. He didn't even flinch.

"Why didn't you come back?" he asked, unable to hold back his tears.

"I couldn't," she answered honestly. "But I was able to keep an eye on you from here."

He sniffed and pulled back a little to look around the room. It was, indeed, a security office, and a fairly high end one at that, decked out with all the works.

"I'm an artist now, but in my part time I take the night shift. They at least let me come back for that, probably 'cause Jackson and Lana are gone now," she chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you this time...."

Brain looked up at her, suddenly understanding. All that time they'd never been caught; never been reported. All those months and years that the camera had simply turned a blind eye to their antics. He thought it was simply negligence. Now he knew why.

"Thank you...," Brain whispered. "And it's... Brain now."

"I know," she smiled. “I still watch tv, ya' know. I just still remember you as my 'Brian'. I'm sorry, Brain."

He couldn't help but smile. All this time....

"Come with me?" Rachel asked him.

"Where?"

"Back to my place. I'll hide you. You can have the guest room, if you'd like."

A sharp knock at the door startled them both, and she quickly ran to her desk, Brain in her hands. She lifted him up and under the desk.

"There's a hidden panel in the roof! Get in it!" she whispered to him urgently.

He found it, albeit with a little difficulty. He pushed at a little area that looked as if it had been cut into... and down shifted a small cubby in which she kept an assortment of odd bits and bobs that were probably not supposed to be in her possession -- special looking keys and badges, among other things. He slipped into it, and Rachel pushed it closed before walking over to answer the door....

Another barrage of bangs thundered at the entrance as Rachel opened it, a hand on her hip as she held the door ajar, doing her best to look as ticked off as possible.

"Sheesh! Gimme a minute to finish pouring my tea! Gosh...."

Outside stood two gentlemen, both in lab coats, looking frantic.

"Have you seen a mouse?" one of them said. He was taller and appeared to be the leader. "White. Large cranium. He was with a companion."

Rachel shrugged.

"Is that what you guys have been looking for?"

"You haven't seen them on your cameras?" the second man asked, panting a little.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen anything."

The men exchanged glances.

"We'd better search the place, just to make sure," the leader said, and without further ado they barged in and began searching every nook, cranny, drawer, and trash can they could. They failed to find the hidden cubby, however. "Can we ask you to roll back the footage?"

"Sure, but you're not gonna find anything," Rachel shrugged again.

They did as permitted, scrutinizing every bit of film captured within the last ten minutes. Although they managed to catch one or two glimpses of the mice leaving the lab, as expected, they couldn't find hair no hide of them on any other roll. Behind their backs, Rachel smirked. Smart little guy. Even on the run, he'd purposely made sure not to walk in the path of the cameras.

After several more minutes of scrutiny, they finally gave up, heading for the door in a huff.

"Sorry for your time. Report to us if you find anything," said the leader.

"No problem," Rachel said, shutting the door with a snap behind them and sighing deeply. Yeah, right..., she thought.

Going back to her desk, she pushed open the hidden cubby. It lowered down and Brain immediately jumped into her hand, breathing rather heavily.

"Sorry, little one," Rachel apologized. I can imagine it's pretty stuffy in there...."

He gave her a look, albeit not a very harsh one. He had no reason to complain.

She raised her hand, allowing him to jump up onto her shoulder.

"They'll be back later to go over more footage," Rachel warned, sitting down at her desk and leaning back in her chair.

"I know," Brain said, licking at his paws and smoothing out his frazzled fur.

Rachel jumped a little and stared at him.

"Heh. I forgot you guys talk now...."

"Is that a problem...?" Brain asked, a little nervously.

Rachel smiled.

"Not at all."

She reached out a hand to scratch at a spot behind his ears.

"What are you...? Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho...," Brain melted, reeling a little at first before giving way to a goofy smile and a thumping foot as he pressed into the touch.

"Still got that little sensitive spot, huh?" Rachel chuckled, her scratches evolving into a head massage.

Brain practically fell off her shoulder, Rachel catching him in her hands and raising him up to eye level, the better to get a good look at him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. How demoralizing.... But Rachel simply beamed at him.

"You know... I really missed you."

"I... wish I could say the same...," Brain confessed, shuffling a foot. He imagined he had thought of her often, as an infant, but over time the memories simply... faded.

Rachel didn't look upset, though.

"I understand. It's okay. I still love you."

"I...," Brain began, then stopped. No. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Even with Pinky he couldn't ever admit such a thing, and he loved Pinky most of all.

"You don't have to say it. I know you do in your heart," Rachel said, and she kissed him tenderly on the top of his head.

His ears flattened as she did it, and he almost immediately smoothed out the area where she'd kissed him, but he couldn't hide the blush tickling his cheeks and ears. Her behavior was cheesy as all get out, but privately he knew she was right. He did care, even if he'd never admit it.

Just then, something, or... someone, slipped underneath the door. A white-furred, lanky somebody.

"Pinky!!" Brain yelped.

Brain leapt off of Rachel in a flash, landing hard on the floor and limping a little as he ran into Pinky's outstretched arms.

"Brain!!" Pinky shouted right back. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!!"

He twirled him around in a circle or two before Brain became aware of what he was doing and promptly pushed himself out of Pinky's grasp, clearing his throat, once again embarrassed.

"Y-Yes, well.... I'm... glad you're safe, Pinky," Brain replied awkwardly, patting his companion on the head.

"Ohhh! Who's this, Brain?" Pinky asked, pointing up at Rachel, who still sat in her computer chair, smiling down at them both.

"Umm.... Pinky, this is Rachel. She's... an old friend."

"Nice to meet you, Pinky! I've heard a lot about you. Well, maybe not heard, but... I've seen you guys on the tv a lot!" Rachel said, beaming.

"You have?!" Pinky gasped, clasping two paws to his face in surprise. "Did you hear that, Brain? We're famous!!"

"Pinky, we've been famous many times, all of them never lasting as long as I'd like...," Brain recollected.

"Well, yes, Brain, but never to a friend!"

Rachel smiled and leaned forward a little.

"I have a proposition for you guys."

"For both of us? Is that legal, Brain?" Pinky whispered to his cage mate, looking concerned, to which Brain facepalmed.

"Proposition, Pinky, not proposal."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Well, that's different then, isn't it?" Pinky said, nodding eagerly to Rachel.

"How would you guys like to come room at my place? Just for as long as you need until you can get off your feet."

Once again, Pinky gasped excitedly.

"Can we, Brain?!"

"Well...," Brain pondered, hesitating. The offer, though generous, made him feel rather... helpless and awkward, as if he was intruding.

"You're welcome to any of the food and stuff. I've got havarti," she smirked.

Pinky gasped again.

"Oh, please, please, please, please, pleeeeaaaaase, Brain?!?" Pinky pleaded again.

"You're... sure you wouldn't mind?" Brain asked. "I'd hate to intrude...."

"My house is yours," Rachel said genuinely. "And it comes with a pool table," she added, winking at Pinky.

Pinky was doing his utmost to contain a squeal, biting his lip and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Brain rolled his eyes.

"Oh, all right...," he relented.

"YAAAAAY!!" exclaimed Pinky, jumping into Rachel's outstretched hand, followed by Brain, as she lifted them up onto her shoulder.

"You'll have to hide in my backpack on the way to the car," she said. "The next guy is about to swap out with me."

And she pulled her backpack up from off the floor and plopped it onto the desk, opening it up. Pinky sprung off her shoulder as if it was a diving board, plunging into the depths of the backpack, which, by all accounts, wasn't very deep. Pinky didn't seem to mind, though. He had fun "swimming" around amongst the snacks, car keys, pencils, wallet, and little sketchpad all the same. Brain simply shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. What an idiot.

Rachel was as good as her word. They were given the guest bedroom, along with access to the rest of the house, food included. Provided they didn't draw too much attention to themselves, they were allowed to tinker and plan all they liked within the safety of the back room, and lie low they did, for Acme Labs was on the hunt for a good number of weeks before they gave up on finding them entirely.

Pinky was quite fond of the seemingly unlimited amount of cheese available in the fridge, along with the plethora of movies Rachel had at her disposal. He was often to be found in front of the television, and if he wasn't there he was by Brain's side almost constantly. Brain was most grateful for the space in which to concoct experiments and conjure up plans for world domination, although he had to improvise more often than not, seeing as he didn't have all of the lab's equipment at his beck and call anymore. It was something he sorely missed, but he couldn't say he minded the warm bed and good food that came with their new living quarters either. It was... nice.

Once in a blue moon (which ended up being once a month), Pinky would request Lady and the Tramp for movie night, not just because he liked it, but because of Brain's unusual reaction to it. He liked to watch him subconsciously lean up against Rachel as they sat next to her, eventually breaking down into a fit of silent tears as "La La Lu" danced around the room. Sometimes Rachel would pick him up, holding him close and massaging his head as he calmed against her chest. Oftentimes, Pinky would join them, cuddling up next to Brain as they nuzzled together in Rachel's warm hands.

"I love you, Brain," Pinky would mumble sweetly, giving him an extra squeeze.

"I love you, little one," whispered Rachel, petting him softly.

I love you, too, said Brain in his own little way, holding them both just a tiny bit tighter, a smile creeping its way up onto his face. It was nice, being loved....

~ I love you, too. ~

The End

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

The ending of this is meant to be sort of an alternate to Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain. What if they'd ended up there after running away from Acme instead of at Elmyra's?

I didn’t realize until after writing this that it makes no sense for Rachel to be cool with Brain talking one minute, only to be surprised by it the next. It’s a glaring error on my part, but I left it in as a reminder to myself that I need to be more careful. Lol.

Technically, this whole thing is a self-insert, although the name of the girl is not my real name. It’s actually the cognomen of my very first rat. Ha-ha. But the personality of the character is me -- how I talk; act around animals; and most likely what I’d do if put into this situation. The exception is the chase scene. I don’t think I’d act that... panicked? Who knows, though....

This is kind of a way I show compassion for Brain, seeing as I cannot, of course, give him an actual hug. I love Brain more than any other fictional character I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching on screen. It’s not a romantic love or anything. Certainly not. It’s more... maternal. The desire to love and protect is strong. That combination of: individual with a tragic backstory + laboratory setting + main character who happens to be a mouse = the perfect concoction to turn my heart to mush. I owned rats for many years and have a great love for animals, and tend to get attached to certain fictional characters, so here you have the result. He’d be as averse as ever to physical affection, but if I could hold Brain in my hands, plant a kiss on his head, and tell him he’s loved. I would. Thank God for Pinky.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

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nlrpg · 3 years

Text

homecoming weekend: Capture The Flag !!

As the sun begins to set on the west coast, Nemean Lion’s campus begins to welcome more guests into the Demicenter. Visitors with a ticket to Capture The Flag receive a bracelet that allows them entry into the campus’ Arena, a first for the public in Nemean Lion’s history. A magical portal created just for today grants them transportation from the Demicenter to the Arena, as NL takes its precautions and doesn’t allow a chance for them to snoop around other restricted parts of the campus. The bracelets they wear give them access to only the Arena, which shouldn’t be a problem, because who would want to be anywhere else during the main event?

Fit like one of the world’s best arenas, the stands allow for an audience of about 20,000, and today’s event is sold out. The center field is slightly larger than usual, however, and for now sits as flat, grassy turf. There’s a steady roar of the thousands of fans in the Arena, which include most of the demigods and their families in front row seats, here to cheer on their members. NL Administration, including manager and CEO, sit in box seats to watch over the members in their care and make sure this goes well. And just like advertised, the event is televised, and a magically experienced crew are all set up around the Arena, streaming live to millions of devices around the world.

Music and fanfare begins to sound throughout the Arena as the two teams enter the field, led by the two team captains. Falling in line behind captain Theo Choi of Team A are Juniper Johnson, Drew Suh, July Chin, Grace Marshall, Viola Lovera, Ezra Stokes, Narumi Kato, Jesse Garcia, Vera Marshall, James Koo, Minjeong Park, Regan Morgan, Alessio Castellani, Charla Lee, and Axel Green. On the other side stands Team B, comprised of Nick Spencer, Safiye Bennet, Cyrus Tan, Simon Hong, Mira Funetes, Prim Tran, Mayumi Ishida, Stormie Burbank, Tristan Day, Gigi Gautier, Carly Serrano, Pandora Liu, Ace Aguilar, Holly Sharp, and Kennedy Xun all captained by Cynthia Byun.

Once both teams stand ready on either side, Marina gives a cue, and a low rumble echoes throughout the venue. The turf begins to morph before everyone’s eyes, transforming the flat field into a forest landscape, the work of their own extremely skilled manager who’s power most people don’t see too often. Hills and trees begin to cover the distance between the two teams, until neither can see their opponents, a vast forest landscape shrouding each other from view. Clad in armor, donning their weapons, and with abilities at the ready, it’s almost time to begin.

Floating above the open roof of the Arena are honorary white marble thrones gilded in gold. Twelve, to be exact, though they sit empty as they always have on days of events like these, only ever a show of courtesy, a sign of respect to the gods that watch over them. Or, at least, that’s how it’s always been in the past.

An almost imperceptible hum begins to stir in the air, raising the hair of everyone’s arms, and somehow commanding a hush across the stadium. Marina Ren and Daphne Saengmai share a surprised but knowing glance just as light begins to shine bright from the skies. In a golden haze, ethereal figures begin to materialize in the noble thrones above the Arena, though not every seat becomes occupied, as everyone below counts six otherworldly figures. Their faces are somehow shrouded by both shadow and light, features undetectable, and to the mortals they have no idea who is who, only that for almost all of them, they’re in the presence of gods for the very first time. The demigods, however, know the order of those thrones by heart, and know which gods now watch above them.

Demeter. Ares. Apollo. Artemis. Aphrodite. Hermes.

Marina smiles once up at them, takes a steadying breath, then brings her attention back down to the field. She gives the signal, a horn blows, and the game begins.

Team A sprints into action, sending its slew of offensive players into the forest. Theo Choi leads them, weapon in hand, running through the forest to act as the first barrier of defense, and as soon as she finds members from the other team, her sword clashes with Mayumi Ishida, who leads offense as well for Team B.

The Team A captain is flanked by July Chin and Jesse Garcia, who though not heroes, hold their own against Mayumi and her own backup, Mira Funtes, who are unfortunately outnumbered. Besides, this first scrap is only the first defense.

The two huntresses of Team B, Gigi Gautier and Ace Aguilar use their tracking abilities and experience from training with the hunt to dart quickly and quietly through the forest, looking for the easiest pathway to Team A’s red flag for the rest of their teammates, then throw an arrow into the sky as signal. They have to be excellent, after all, their lady is watching.

Their teammates, Safiye Bennet and Stormie Burbank see the signal and begin heading towards the direction, escaping most of the scuffle in the middle of the Arena. Grace Marshall, propelled in higher view with her aerokinesis, catches it too and sends a signal to her own teammate. Ezra Stokes holds a piece of tech in his hands as he runs towards Grace’s signal, the device able to scan for heat signatures and when it picks up the daughter of Aphrodite and daughter of Dionysus heading toward what should be a clear path, they come head to head with him and Viola Lovera, ready for combat.

Thankfully, Simon Hong of Team B had also caught his team’s signal, and darts past them unseen, using his shadow travel for increments at a time. He gets to the clearing of Team A’s flag and then finally to the flagpole itself. He grabs the opponent’s bright red flag, about to step into his shadow travel to get it back to his side of the field, but before he can make it out, gets clothes-lined by Alessio Castellani and a broad-staff, who tries to wrench his team’s flag out from his grasp.

Though her teammate is down, Holly Sharp comes upon the scene and knows the objective is victory and grabs the red flag from Simon, and before anyone can stop her, begins to use her enhanced speed to get out of danger’s way and head back into her team’s direction.

In the middle of the forest, Team A’s Minjeong Park, Vera Marshall, and Regan Morgan are tucked behind tree trunks, peeking out to sling arrows across the way, aimed at the trunks hiding their opponents, Pandora Liu and Tristan Day, who fire arrows back just as quickly.

But when a well-hidden Axel Green conjures up some sunlight in Tristan’s face, the Team B archer misfires, hitting Holly in the thigh on her journey back, and everyone springs into action for the flag in her hand.

When the first member of Team A makes it to the clearing that holds Team B’s blue flag, James Koo finds it unguarded, and foolishly begins to reach for it. But a very quiet-footed and stealthy Carly Serrano pops up from seemingly nowhere and lulls him into a gentle sleep before he can do it. This strategy might’ve continued to work if Narumi Kato hadn’t been expertly observing from the treeline, and dashes in next, knocking Carly to the ground with a well-timed shove before she can stop him from grabbing the blue flag.

However, Nick Spencer also springs from the treeline and races after him into the forest, attempting to protect his team’s flag. The two boys catch each other and parry blows and strikes, and just as Nick is about to take the upper hand, Drew Suh and Charla Lee of Team A help their teammate.

Noticing their teammate is in need, Kennedy Xun joins the fray and attempts to sword fight with the rest of them, but quickly ends up knocked harshly back by Charla, tripping on a tree root and spraining their ankle in the process, down for the count. Nick stops to help his friend, but not before focusing hard on Drew who now has the flag and mind controlling him into dropping it. It works, though thanks to his limits, it also sends him down.

Prim Tran of Team B leaps into view, running towards her team’s blue flag to try to save it, and that’s precisely when Team A’s Juniper Johnson descends like a bat out of hell. Donned in black streaks of war-paint on her cheeks that absolutely no one asked her to wear, she charges terrifyingly towards the blue flag, butting Prim with her shield to block her, and snatches it up, running back in the direction of her team’s field.

She’s a mighty opponent, ditching the shield and brandishing her combat knives like a demon, she makes it past Cyrus Tan who attempts to block her with a wave of water from the small stream she leaps over.

She makes it past the middle of the field where the largest cluster of demigods still fight over the red flag, zipping past, only a passing thought to those in the brawl who don’t notice the royal blue cloth in her clutch.

When she finally hits the clearing, finding almost no one there, she’s nearly victorious. Until, previously hidden in shadow, emerges Cynthia Byun, longsword in hand. Team B’s captain, having been lurking with her umbrakinesis, uses this one last opportunity to keep Team A from winning. Though her opponent is a graduated hero, and this captain is only in training, they exchange blows almost well-matched. Cyntha’s longsword clangs time and time again with Juniper’s combat knives, managing to disarm one of them and slash an clean streak against the daughter of Hecate’s upper arm.

Expending one last feat of strength, Juniper uses some magic to cast up an illusion of shadow, as if she might have duplicated Cynthia’s own power, and it confuses her opponent and shields herself just enough to buy the one second she needs to fake in one direction and the lunge toward the golden flagpole. Cynthia, only allowing herself that one brief moment of doubt, dashes forward with her longsword in the direction she knows Juniper would have chosen, feeling her blade connect on the downstroke with the flesh of Juniper’s leg. But it’s just too far and just too late. Juniper has secured the other team’s blue flag onto the golden pole.

A triumphant horn sounds, and the speakers blare.

“Game! Team A has won this match of Capture The Flag!”

The crowd erupts into roaring cheers, Team A celebrates as Team B accepts the loss, the foliage and terrain of the landscape morphs back into a grassy field as the speakers continue to announce the victory.

Healers begin to jog onto the field, tending to the wounds and injuries of all the players, and Marina has already made her way down, beginning to congratulate and shake the hands of the victors, and thank the defeated team for a job well done.

The cameras pick up the crowd happily cheering in support, the pridefully exhausted faces of all the team members, and Marina’s smiling face thanking everyone for coming out tonight as music continues to sound and confetti falls all around the glamorous Arena. The view of the lens pans up to try to catch a glimpse of the gods above, but apart from a lingering light they leave behind, they’re already gone.

Game well played! Rest up, demigods, enjoy the night with your families, and we’ll see you all for the Homecoming Dance tomorrow!

#nlevent #nlevent003 #thank you to everyone who participated and allowed us to write with your badass characters!#gg guys

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rocksandrobots · 3 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 33 -Don't Mole On My Parade

"Beware evil doers, for I, the mighty Minimax, doth roam the streets with my trusted partner Fred, along with his newest protégé Varian, and together we plan to buy a DVD!"

Varian watched the small robot jump upon a mailbox to proclaim this lofty goal. The little automaton looked just like his namesake, a mini Baymax, but his behavior was far different from the robotic nurse. Hiro had built him to be a sidekick for Fred and so the robot acted just as if he came out of a silver age comic.

"Hey Fred?" Varian asked.

"Yeah?"

"What happened to 'keeping a superhero's identity secret is rule number one in the hallows of superherodom'?"

His friend looked back at him confused, "It is. Why?"

"Because your robot pal isn't exactly what I would call ' inconspicuous'. Aren't you worried someone might recognize him and, you know, put two and two together?"

Fred looked surprised, as if he had never considered this possibility. After a moment's thought he called after his robotic companion.

"You know, your right. Hey Minimax,

come here, you need a disguise."

The little android dutifully ran up to the teen and Fred pulled out a pair of sunglasses and placed them upon its head.

"There! How does that look?"

"Like a small white robot wearing sunglasses."

"Exactly! Usually he wears a cape when he's superheroing."

"You seriously don't expect people to be fooled by a pair of glasses do you?"

"Why not? It worked for Henry Reeve. He played Captain Fancy in the tv show."

"Yeah but I doubt the guy was a two foot tall robot."

"As far as we know…." Fred said stone faced as he looked Varian dead in the eye; the way he often did when spouting some crazy theory that no one else believed.

Varian decided to cut his losses. There was no getting through to Fred once he latched onto an idea; regardless of how ill advised and detached from reality it was.

"So where are we going again?" Varian asked instead.

"We're going to the comic book store to buy a copy of the Professor What DVD that just came out."

"I thought you already owned every episode though?"

"I do. Of every aired episode that is. This is the "lost serial". It was recorded but never broadcast due to a production strike during the 70s and the only way to see it was through bootlegs. But now the EBC has released it in full on dvd, plus extras, like special interviews with the cast and such."

"Ok, that's cool, I guess."

"Mega cool! I can't wait to see it in all it's high definition glory!" Fred joyously squealed only to sober up as they neared the comic shop. "There's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"Richardson Mole" Fred growled.

"Mole?" Varian echoed, confused.

"My arch nemesis, remember? His is the only comic store in town that currently has any copies. The rest won't get theirs till next week!"

"Then why not wait until next week to get it then?" Varian very sensibly asked.

Fred looked at him aghast, "And let Mole gloat over getting to see it a whole week early!? Un-uh! No way! Buuuuut he won't sell me a copy; so that's why you're here."

Fred wrapped an arm around Varian's shoulder and pointed at the other teen's chest as he recounted his plan.

"You see, Minimax and I will cause a distraction drawing Mole outside. While he's gone, you quickly grab a dvd from the display stand and mix it up with a bunch of other stuff you're going to purchase and dump it all on the counter. Hopefully he'll be so annoyed by what me and Minimax have planned, that he won't notice that he sold you a copy along with all the other things you grabbed. It's the perfect plan!" Fred rubbed his hands together devilishly.

"Uh...hun….Ooor I could just walk in there and buy a copy outright instead of paying for a bunch of stuff I don't want." Varian countered.

"You know... that's so crazy…it just might work. Minimax; new plan!" Fred yelled after his robot.

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

The comic shop was not much different from the store inside the mall that Fred had taken Varian to on his first day in San Fansokyo. The main difference was it was a freestanding building and the cashier was a short child perhaps only a few years younger then Varian himself.

"Hello, welcome to my sho--oh it's you, Fred." The kid interrupted his enthusiastic greeting towards Varian the moment Fred walked in behind him.

"Why hello, Mole, unpleasant as ever I see." Fred retorted back with equal disdain.

Mole only sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do you want Fred?"

"Oh contraire, it's not what I want but what my friend here wants." Fred gently but firmly nudged Varian up to the counter as he said this. "Tell him Varian."

"Uhhh...I'd like the newest Professor What DVD...the lost episode one?... P-please." Varian wasn't sure what he had expected when Fred first asked him to come along on this quest for a DVD, but being glared at by a very irritated 12 year old from across the counter wasn't it. Moreover he hated being put on the spot like this. He really had no context for this apparent feud Fred had with this kid.

"Really?" Mole raised an eyebrow. "And there's no chance that my rival Fred here didn't put you up to the task of buying the dvd for him?"

"Uh...d-does it matter?" Varian shrugged, now completely bewildered. He had assumed Fred was only exaggerating about Mole, same as he exaggerated about just everything, but no, turns out that the pre-teen really was that petty.

"Uh, of course it matters." The kid replied as if Varian had missed something obvious. "I have the only copies in town and in limited quantities. I'll only sell them to true fans of the series, otherwise someone might just buy from me and then sell it at a mark up price online or something. Now why should I give someone else that advantage when I can corner the market?"

Varian raised an eyebrow at this explanation but Fred stepped in before he could say anything.

"Hey, Varian's a fan. We've been marathoning the series. Tell him, buddy." Fred gave Varian another nudge.

"Oh really? Well then, Varian, who is your favorite Professor?" Mole's voice dripped with incredulity.

"Y-you mean there's more than one?" Varian began to ask in confusion but Fred jumped him, covering Varian's ears with his hands. Though it did little good as Varian could still hear Fred shushing Mole.

"Shhh...Careful with the spoilers Mole!"

"I knew it! I knew It!" Mole yelled back. "You just dragged your friend over here to buy the special edition dvd for you!"

"I did not!" Fred snapped back.

Minimax jumped up onto the counter and pointed a finger at Mole. "No one accuses my Fred of trickery, foul villain. For even though that is indeed the plan and you must have only deduced that with your nefarious cunning."

"Minimaaaax!" Fred whined.

Varian was losing his patience. He shoved Fred off him. "Look, yes, I came here to buy the DVD so Fred and I could watch it in our marathon. But so far we've only watched the first season and more copies are arriving in a week, so what does it matter!?"

"Wait? You've only seen season one, as in the original series first season from 1963?" Mole asked.

"Uh..Yeah?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Mole." Fred interrupted again. "He's going into the series completely blind. He doesn't know about… r-e-n-e-w-a-l yet."

"Renewal?" Varian echoed now even more confused. Fred had tried to drop his voice to a whisper but Varian heard anyway.

Mole's entire demeanor magically changed. Gone was his standoffish and combative nature and in its place was a look of genuine excitement.

"Ooooh, how I envy you my friend! Imagine being able to experience the whole series fresh! Oh..oh, then what's your favorite story so far?"

"Ummm...I liked the one we just finished… it's the one where they're stuck in the middle of the French Revolution."

"Interesting choice." Mole said intrigued. "So who's your favorite assistant?"

"Well I don't if she counts as an 'assistant' but my favorite character so far is the Professor's granddaughter, Sue."

"Yeees!" Mole exclaimed suddenly, taking Varian a back. "Finally, someone who sees sense! Sue is so underappreciated. You know what?" Mole continued as he reached behind the counter to pull a dvd box off the shelf. "Just to show my support in your endeavor to embark on such a daunting quest as to view the entirety of Professor What, here is the dvd to complete the collection, free of charge."

"Really?" Varian asked bewildered as Mole handed him the coveted copy.

"Yup, just come back and let me know how you enjoyed the later seasons, or stop by and maybe check out some of the other Professor What merch I got for sell."

Mole cheerily waved goodbye as Varian, Fred, and Minimax walked out of the shop.

"What just happened?" Fred asked.

Varian opened the thin box to see the disc inside. "Well, apparently your mortal enemy just gave me a free dvd."

"I don't trust it." Fred said darkly. "Mole is up to something."

"Do you want me to return it?"

"No!" Fred quickly exclaimed and reached out to grab the case. But Varian snatched it back out of his reach.

"Now, now, he did give it to me, you know." Varian said as if reprimanding a small child and a sly grin slowly formed on his face.

"Oooh, but.. But I waited years to see it… pleeesee."

Fred was practically crawling over him to get to the dvd but Varian fended him off while trying unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter.

"I'll tell you what… I'll let you have it…but for a price."

"Name it."

Varian thought for a moment. "I wanna drive the limo."

"Oh… but Heathcliff…" Fred stopped mid sentence as Varian waved the dvd in his face, his crooked smile growing wider.

"Ok. Fine." Fred relented. "But on one condition. Heathcliff has to teach you how to drive it."

"Deal."

They shook hands and Varian handed over the movie.

"Huhzzah!" Minimax proclaimed. "And once again the heroes have concluded their quest and now return home victorious!"

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

"Hey Mole," Fred shouted as he sauntered into the comic shop. "Do you got any replacement parts for a limited addition Space Hike laser gun? I kind of broke mine dur---"

Fred's voice trailed off when he noticed that the little store was empty. A week had passed since he and Varian had procured the Professor What DVD and Fred hadn't seen nor heard from his nemesis in that time. Fred didn't think that was too odd, it wasn't like he and Mole talked daily or anything, but it was suspicious for his rival to leave the store unattended without closing shop first.

Fred's senses went on alert and he instinctively went into stealth mode: dropping to the ground and crouching on tiptoe as he looked for booby traps on the shelves, behind the doors, and under the displays.

He didn't find any.

Though as he ransacked the counter during his search, he did hear the distant sound of laughter and music coming from the "staff only room." Which wasn't a room really. It was an elevator that went into the basement. Mole had a private arcade down there and must have been playing video games and had simply forgotten to lock up.

Satisfied that there was no danger of a prank literally blowing up in his face and covering him in some sort of slime or soap bubbles or something else that was similarly messy (Fred never forgot that time when Mole dumped dumped a bucket of chocolate fudge on his head five years ago) he decided to go down stairs to ask Mole about the previously mentioned parts.

What he found was far worse than a bucket of chocolate syrup.

In the basement Varian and Mole were both playing a video game. It was an old stand up arcade machine and on it was a retro beat 'em up. Both seemed to be enjoying themselves and called good natured taunts as they furiously pressed buttons trying to one up the other.

Neither had noticed Fred enter.

"Oh you're going down now!" Mole cheered.

"In your dreams!" Varian laughed.

He pressed the block button and his little pixelated character averted a punch from Mole's pixelated avatar and then grabbed said character into a hold and bodied slammed him to the ground.

"K.O.!" A distorted voice from the machine announced and Varian threw up his hands in victory.

"Ah…. Man!" Mole bemoaned. "You got lucky. I had you on the rocks."

"Yeah, I did." Varian admitted with a snicker.

"Best two out of three then?" Mole asked.

"Naw.. I got an essay I need to finish bef-" Varian paused mid-sentence as he turned around and finally saw Fred. Who just stood there with his mouth agape.

"Uh...hi, Fred."

Fred just pointed his finger at them and made an unintelligible sound like a cross between a gasp and a squeal.

"How the heck did you get in here Frederickson?" Mole said irritably.

This seemed to awaken Fred from his stupor.

"Betrayal!" He shouted, still pointing his finger accusingly at them both.

"Now Fred, don't overreact." Mole chided. "My friend Varian and I were just playing a friendly little game of Street Combat."

"Friend? Friend ?! My bestest buddy and protégé playing video games with my arch nemesis and mortal rival! This just like when Captain Fancy found the Fearless Ferret robbing banks with the Toymaker in Earth's Greatest #20!"

"Fred…" Varian started to reason with a weary sigh but Fred interrupted him.

"No. I don't want to hear it!" And with that he turned around on his heel and marched back into the elevator. "But mark my words Varian, Mole can't be trusted." And with this warning he pressed the first floor button and the elevator doors closed.

Varain rolled his eyes and followed after his friend. "Sorry Mole, I gotta go smooth things over with Fred. I'll see ya later."

"Okay, oh I almost forgot" the Professor What convention is next month. You want to go?" Mole replied as Varian hurried over to the elevator.

"Yeah sure, sounds like fun." Varian answered back distractedly. "I'll see ya then." He waved bye to Mole as the door to the elevator closed.

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

When the elevator opened back up Varian saw Fred stomping away down the sidewalk outside and raced after him.

"Fred! Fred, wait up!"

"Why? So that you can stab me in the back again?" Fred called after.

"Fred...you're being ridiculous."

He stopped, incensed, and fumed at Varian, "Ridiculous?! Oh, I'm being ridiculous now am I?"

"Yeah, you are." Varain stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I see how it is. Crazy Fred is just being paranoid again. It can't possibly be that Mole has been trying to ruin my life since he was in dippers. Seriously, when I first met him he was a week old and I had to be the one to change him. It was all downhill from there."

Varian crossed his arms and gave Fred a reproachful look.

"Oh you don't believe hun?" Fred defended, "Well did he tell you about the time he cut the power to my house so he could win the online auction for Captain Fancy 133? Or the time he spilled hot fudge on me at his 7th birthday party? How about the time he stole my prized Captain Fancy pants? Oh, or how he bought out the mech wrestling league just so I couldn't own it? And he doesn't even like wrestling!!"

Varian didn't answer and kept up his disapproving glare.

"I tell you Mole is just using you to get to me. Don't you see? It'd be the ultimate revenge if he stole my protégé away--."

"Ok, first off, I'm not your "protégé" or "apprentice" or whatever, and second off, Mole never mentioned you the entire time we've hung out. Couldn't it just be possible that he wants to be friends with me and that you're making a big deal out of nothing?"

"Oh really? Then how would you feel if I started hanging out with that princess you hate so much? Rapunzel! Yeah, wouldn't you be hurt if I became pals with your mortal enemy."

A shadow fell across Varian's face and his mildly annoyed glare transformed into cold steely gaze.

"Fred."

"Y-yeah."

"Rapunzel left me, my father, and my entire village to die. Your 'mortal enemy' just buys the same stuff that you want."

Fred looked like a man who had just had a glass of ice water splashed in his face.

"Ooookay...I-I'm beginning to see the difference…"

Now it was Varian's turn to storm off in a huff leaving Fred to stand there bewildered.

"Wait! … She did that ?!" He turned and ran after Varian. "I thought fairy tale princesses were supposed to be nice?"

"Well, they're not, and my life is not a fairy tale Fred."

Fred pouted as he tagged long after Varian, unsure of what to say now.

Varian stopped at the bus stop to wait on his ride home and Fred sheepishly stared at his shoes. After a few awkward minutes he spoke up.

"H-hey, Varian.."

"What."

"I'm sorry….maybe I overreacted a little?"

"A little?" Varian raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, a lot. But I just don't understand why you want to even hang out with Mole."

Varian heaved a heavy sigh and relented. "Look...I just, don't have many friends ok? And before I came here I didn't have any friends. So if someone invites me to hang out with them then I wanna go. Cause that doesn't happen often, and I don't like being alone, and....and Mole doesn't know who I am or about my past. Same as Carol, or Karmi… It's just nice to feel normal for once."

"Annnd you can't feel normal around me cause I know you're magic, right?"

"For the last time Fred, I'm not magic." He growled through his teeth and then in a gentler voice said. "Also, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, you're not normal."

"Fair. Though, if we're talking 'normal' I don't think Mole counts either."

"Maybe not, but I don't think he has a lot of friends either. I guess in that way we have something in common."

Fred looked thoughtfully at that. It was true, Mole really didn't have any friends; a combination of homeschooling and being a huge nerd had left the kid pretty isolated. Fred understood that. He'd been there too, but then again he wasn't a huge jerk to people.

"I still don't get it…. Buuutt if you want to hang out with Mole I'm not going to try and stop you."

"And you're not going to pitch a fit, or sulk, or argue with me if I do?"

Fred heaved a sigh. "No. I'll be very mature about it….also very confused…but I'll be cool, promise."

"So we're still friends?" Varian asked with some slight trepidation.

"Well of course we're still friends! That was never in question. Friends have fights sometimes, ya know, but they always stick together in the end."

He gave Varian a playful nudge on the shoulder and Varian smiled back.

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

Big Hero Six walked away from the college campus and headed towards the parking lot where Wasabi had parked his car. The gang of teenagers laughed and conversed until the squeal of tires on pavement sounded off in the distance and the sound of motor revving became louder and louder.

Soon a fire red sports car came barreling down the drive towards them. They jumped back as the car skidded to a halt next to them, making black marks on the pavement.

The little group stared in shock at the close call and a window rolled down to reveal the driver.

"Hey guys!" Varian cheerfully called out, oblivious to the fright he had caused them.

"Varian, what are you doing!?" Wasabi yelled.

"Oh, Heathcliff is giving me driving lessons."

The Frederickson's faithful butler tilted his head to give the other teens a better look at him. He was dressed in his usual work attire but save for the pair of sunglasses he wore. He said nothing but his stoic face broke into a sly grin and he gave a thumbs up. He was clearly enjoying being chauffeured around for a change.

"Yeah, Fred let me borrow his car to practice with." Varian continued and then turned to the man sitting beside him. "You were right Heathcliff, this is cooler than the limo."

At this Gogo punched Fred in the right arm.

"Oww, what was that for?" He rubbed his arm ruefully.

"You never let me borrow the race car!" She said deeply offended.

Hiro also gave Fred's left arm a much lighter smack just to get his attention. "Yeah, and I got a learners permit; same as Varian."

"Yeah but I'll get my actual license before you so I need the practice more." Varian smugly replied.

Heathcliff interrupted this friendly spat with his usual soft spoken British accent, "Master Varian, how about we learn how to pass other cars safely on the road next; and see how fast this bad boy can really go."

"Heck yeah!" Varian laughed. He moved the gear out of 'park', yelled "See ya!", and slammed on the gas. The car took off like a shot; burning rubber as it went.

"Oh what fresh horror have you unleashed?" Wasabi asked Fred as everyone stared dumbstruck after the boisterous teen and renegade butler.

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Hey I’ve recently lost my job and am currently hunting for work so story updates will be slow.

If you would like to help out you can all way support me on ko-fi

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

#varian #Fred Frederickson IV #minimax #mole #big hero 6 #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #BH6 the series #bh6

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shadowdianne · 3 years

Text

A/N: -Quietly leaves these here.- Given what I’m writing at the moment I’m still on the fantasy side of things but not entirely about this particular topic so I’m having a blast whenever I think of these little snippets. This is still done in pair with a friend that asked me to follow her throughout the month as we both wrote small snippets of the word prompts. The rules being hardly any editing and more of a string of consciousness workshop than anything else.

They do not follow a particular logic but some are interconnected. Somewhat. Leaving the link for the first batch in case anyone is feeling curious.

14.-Cardinal

The virtues and sins are patiently listed down, just below the saints that you are supposed to follow blindly whenever you cross the portal between the world outside and what lies inside. You usually read up on the names with contrite expression, hoping others would understand your worry for devotion. There is very little to say to those who consider both penance and reward as unavoidable truths that can be condensed so neatly on written stone. Never pay any mind to the scorch marks around each and every pew, they seem to say with those unblinking eyes. The lines that have been there ever since the building was found amidst a set of others on the old part of town after all; why should they pay them any mind?

15.-Entrance

The door creaked as the boy made its way inside, worn boots scuffing against the panels so old they were half-covered in cobwebs so thick they could form entire architectures. He tried his hardest not to damage any of it, worried of spiders that would crawl their way up his bedroom window, find his eyes and ears, and made their way inside of him. It was no use, however, so rich they had grown, and so he mumbled a quiet prayer to the ground that surrounded him before making its way further into the foyer, leaving behind the main entrance and finding its way to the old silo in where the bones, yellowed by time, awaited him with the echo of a murmur growing ever-present with every step he took.

16.-Bell

The metal has long ago been corroded and left to rot, the wooden beams that held the structure together have been eaten or destroyed by both fire and wind but there’s still a firm layer of oil and grease around it, from the times in where it was taken care of, from the times in where its sound marked time and days and nights. They look up towards it, expecting almost to see it, moving, silent, silent, until a single note resonated through them all. It never came, of course, neither the sound of the movement: the old bell had long ago ceased to sound. Why then, the youngest of them would whisper, sometimes it almost seemed as if they called for them? Names like whispers through the nighttime sky.

17.-Book

The process of binding can take up hours; patience is a virtue that one needs to solidify within one self before even trying to accomplish anything with the pages that threaten to wrinkle and tear without the protective barrier the binding provides. The master is always gentle when he binds, always attentive, and well-mannered. There’s a fervor to his words, however, a particular tremor if one looks well enough. As if the process would, indeed, be sacred. The apprentices are always bored when he explains the process, however, promising that they would be slow, soft, but when the time comes, neither of them is capable of doing it like the master requires. And so, another book finds its bindings and another apprentice is asked for.

18.-Candle

The wax melted so very slowly that if it wasn’t because she kept an eye on it, she would have never seen how it started to disappear, the earth below sipping on the molten liquid as time passed. She knew she needed to go back; others would probably start to get worried if she didn’t, of course, but she had been tasked with the fire the candle represented and hold, she merely needed to wait. The door would be closing as soon as the last drop was consumed, but she still had time, did she not? Time for a little more waiting, for a little more, just a little more. She didn’t even realize when she fell asleep.

19.-Nonsense

Fragment disappoint finance engine finger limited allocation man encourage mask reduction interest army comedy grand height release referee flag shake convenience reverse spill delete cold plagiarize smile instruction mud terrify raw afford stimulation sigh fate guideline haunt sentiment track hip training export midnight moral win muscle layer intention stomach train desperate

20.-Wizened

The flowers dried as the adventurer walked, the cold starting to bit into his skin and, not for the first time, he found himself thinking back to the old woman’s cottage, next to the silo, he had passed last while trying to get any food for the path that awaited him. She had been kind, stubborn, even, while trying to sell him a bag even if he had refused it. “I have a backpack.” He had said, and the old woman had narrowed her eyes, her wizened face moving as she whispered something in a language he had been unable to follow; accent so thick it didn’t seem like any dialect he had tried to learn previous to his travel. The strap of his backpack had frozen some hours ago, his belongings scattered, and the decision of needing to pick the bare essentials one he hadn’t made lightly. He now wondered if she had known.

She had, of course, but she would never tell.

21.-Feline

The cat purrs, the sound of quietly bubbling soup filling the silences the creature leaves, the sound of wood against wood, of brushing brooms against hard soil a cacophony that feels welcoming even when eyes are slow to open, senses not quite still there to return. Mouth feels like ashes and sleep and stagnant water about to be flushed down. There’s smoke somewhere, an open flame, a set of rosemary drying to it, some tea that is not quite as tangy as you would remember, some runes written on the insides of your wrists. The cat is atop your lap, eyes closed, tail coiled around your fingers as you try to move for your mind only to fall back, back to a dream that is not yours to begin with. You try to say it to the first figure you come across, made out of ink and letters written by bards so far away from you their voices are echoes of odes that you would never get to listen to. The shadow does not answer, for it is unable to. The cat keeps on purring.

22.-Musical [Bonus points if you know the creature this is based from]

They chant, always chant, as you follow their voices through the bushes and the undergrowth of the forests that are closer to home, they always smile as your eyes follow the trickle of rivers that weren’t there the day before. Their hair is always long and limpid around their forms and they kept on brushing it as you move closer and closer still. Their feet are of those of the duck, you would later say to those around you with eyes glazed by the water, a portion of your soul gone like the wind that carries on the tune of their throats. They look at you as if mad, but they nod, either way, hoping for your own voice to stop singing a tune that is for the dead.

23.-Wicked

And the treatise was broken, and the kingdom fell for the souls of those who inhabited to transform and twist and reform into something that wasn’t human any longer as the mountains kept on growing, the blue of their color transforming into grey and then into green as they formed new hills, smaller in height than what it had been before. Eroded, would the scholars say, by time. And so, the grass grew longer and greener and the faults of those who had lived grew distant in time as their bodies fed the rivers and the trees, the paths once taken by wolves now devoured by ivy and loneliness. And the historians spoke of witches and kings and magic that had been once been thought true as others would say that wicked was just a form of the energy the land took in order to survive. But she never quite believed in that, not when time came to be precious, imperfect, as every clock began a new tune, the moon rising bloody and blue and purple and yellow, marked by the hexes once given to the land and soil she now lived and breathed.

#aughost #batch 2

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

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U N P L A N N E D, part 1

There was one other time when you found yourself like this. Just once.

In a bathroom stall in your college dorm room, your roommate on the other side with bated breath. What’s it say? She had asked, her voice echoing off the beige tiles that spilled into the messy living room, littered with solo cups and stale tortilla chips.

This time you were alone. No roommate on the other side of the door, no beige tile. Instead, a clean, white bathroom nestled on the third floor of the Los Angeles Facebook office.

The white plastic stick in your hand, this time, showed a tiny plus sign. A light pink symbol of what was usually happiness. But alone in the bathroom at work didn’t feel like a happy place.

You stared down at it, wondering if the tears in your eyes were responsible for the blurring of the result. You shook it, wiped at your eyes, and checked again. Still positive.

So you capped it and tossed it into the top drawer of your desk a few minutes later, more than happy to pretend that it wasn’t a looming disaster. A life-changing, career-altering disaster.

When it burned a hole in your drawer, begging you to open it and pray that the plus sign had changed, you decided to text Lexi.

Y/N L/N (3:34pm): Broke down and took a test.

You put your phone face down, hoping that an impending text from your roommate wouldn’t create a higher heart rate than what was already pounding in your ears. You tried to take a few breaths.

This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t the way you pictured life and it certainly wasn’t the way you pictured your summer. When the phone buzzed next to your mouse, you grabbed it so quickly you almost dropped it to the floor.

Lexi MacMillan (3:35pm): And??

Y/N L/N (3:35pm): Positive.

You stared at the screen, watched as the three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again, and then vanished. You imagined Lexi sitting on set, maybe in her dressing room or maybe right beside her co-star, typing and erasing, typing and erasing.

You ignored the email that came through on your computer, likely a request from a team member to edit one of your last images, this marketing campaign is due at 5pm! This marketing campaign was also the furthest thing from your mind right now.

Your phone started buzzing in your hand, a picture of Lexi with big white sunglasses splashed itself across the screen. You answered it quickly, holding a hand up to your mouth to keep your voice low and your words private.

“Hi,” you said, heading back for the bathroom that was around the corner from your office.

“What the actual fuck, dude? Are you serious?”

“Yes--why would I lie about that? Do you think I’m that twisted?!”

She let out a noise of exasperation. “No, I just--I don’t know--I thought you were being paranoid or some shit! I didn’t think it was actually possible!”

“Me neither,” you said, shutting the door behind you and leaning against the cool metal. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s alright. People get false positives all the time, right?”

Her voice was suddenly more relaxed than it had been, like she realized how serious this was and how fucked you were.

“I think people get false negatives,” you replied, defeated.

“Okay, well, you can take another test tonight.”

“Okay.”

“And then if it’s still positive, you have to go to the doctor. That’s the first thing.”

“Right.”

“They’ll do another test there,” she informed you.

“Uh huh.”

You thought back to your most recent sexual encounter, half drunk and giggly, white linens and sneaking out when he was asleep on top a memory foam pillow. Lexi already made it home, she was high on the couch with a bag of pretzels when you sauntered in at 4am. You made pizza bagels and laughed until sunrise about the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in what felt like ages.

I don’t know how you made it that long, she said. You must have an extremely low sex drive.

Or you just have a high one, you laughed. You’re always horny.

You didn’t think about it again for weeks. Okay, that was a lie. The drinks were good and the sex had been even better. Lexi had dragged you along to the party even though you knew all the players. You had deadlines for days coming up and a Sunday night didn’t seem like a good time to end up drunk somewhere near Laurel Canyon. But you went anyway.

The first time you realized something might be off was when you were a day late. It never happened. You lived your life on schedule and your period followed the rules--it was no exception. It typically came in the morning, and by bedtime, you were only a bit concerned. You went to sleep with confidence that you’d wake up to it.

The second day came and went, too. Lexi put on her OBGYN hat and assured you that it was nothing to worry about. Women are late all the time, uteruses have a mind of their own, really.

Days three and four were busy at work. Five and six were spent finalizing ideas for a new commercial campaign for a product launch, dinner with Lexi and Glenne. It wasn’t until the seventh day, when the light purple app on your phone gave a gentle nudge. Be sure to log your period!

There was no way you’d miss it altogether. You’d been careful and you watched him toss the condom into a garbage bin in the bathroom through tired eyes. He fell asleep beside you while he traced a circle on your skin--you were sure you’d never hear from him.

So you slipped out in the early morning light and took an Uber home, knowing that while it might not mean anything, it was at least a story to tell your close friends and to keep tucked away in your mind.

“Okay--I have to go,” Lexi said suddenly. “Derek’s being a dumbass today and can’t get his fucking lines right, so, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay,” you said, voice small, blurry-eyed again. You let yourself slump down to the floor, at least thankful that this time, the tile wasn’t beige.

You did your best to make it through the rest of the day, playing Lexi’s words over and over in your head. People get false positives all the time! You weren’t so sure, but telling yourself that seemed to quell the nausea.

Traffic was heavy on the way home, sunglasses pushed up on your face and radio high enough to drown out your thoughts. You parked your car on the same leaf-littered street in Century City, walked the block to your apartment, and dropped your bag on the floor before heading for the bathroom.

Lexi keyed in right after you sat down, water on to induce the stream of urine that you had prayed for the whole way home.

“Hi,” she said, pushing her sunglasses off of her face and dropping her keys on the kitchen counter. She let out a small laugh at the sight of you: pants around your ankles, hair up in a scrunchie, pink plastic cap in your mouth as you held the second stick between your legs.

The afternoon sunshine danced through the window, a breeze from the open sliding door felt like sweet relief in your stuffy first floor apartment.

“Hi,” you breathed out, flushing and pulling up your pants before capping the test and putting it on the counter.

She took a few steps towards you, her eyes wider than usual. “How long does it take to show up?”

“I don’t know--a minute or two, maybe? The first one was quick.”

She came over and stood beside you, her eyes on the tiny window where the result would appear. She crossed her arms and leaned over, letting her shoulder bump into yours.

There was one line forming, like fog fading in the early morning, the other came into view as the two of you stood side by side. You let out a shaky breath--tears in your eyes again when she turned to see you.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not the end of the world.”

You didn’t say anything in response, but a few sobs escaped through your lips when she wrapped her arms around you. She smoothed your hair with her hand and eventually brought you back to the kitchen, pulling two beers out of the fridge and setting them on the counter as she rummaged through a drawer for a bottle opener.

“I can’t have that!” You said, pointing at it like it was poison, mascara smudged beneath your eyes.

“Oh fuck,” she said, a small laugh from her mouth pulled one from yours, too. “Damn--sorry, it just--felt like a good option.”

“It would be,” you said. “Typically.”

She was quiet for a second. “Is it his?”

You shrugged, staring at the shade of dark red polish on your nails. “Has to be, right?”

“You haven’t had sex with anyone else?”

She asked as if she didn’t know. You shook your head.

She sighed. “That, uh, that makes it a bigger deal.”

“I know--I don’t even--what am I supposed to do? Call him up and tell him? I don’t even have his number.”

“Maybe we should call Glenne.”

“No!” You said quickly, shaking your head with force. “Don’t bring her into it yet. She’ll just tell Jeff and I need to figure shit out first.”

Lexi bit her lip, torn between the two options. She’d known Glenne since they were kids, they grew up down the street from each other in Sherman Oaks and when they got drunk enough, they tried to remember the super secret handshake they’d made up in the 8th grade.

You’d met Glenne plenty of times in college, especially after Lexi became a more permanent fixture in your life. You’d met Lexi at resident assistant training the fall of your sophomore year, but you still had no clue how adults trusted her to be in charge of eighteen students each semester.

The party was at Glenne’s house--the one she shared with her boyfriend Jeff. You’d met him a handful of times, too, but you typically opted out of the dinner parties or cocktail hours that Lexi invited you to.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like her friends. They’d always been nice and welcoming, but being the one person not involved in the entertainment industry normally left you feeling like the odd man out.

What's the latest at Facebook? They’d ask, gathered around a table with wine glasses in hand.

You’d give them the update, tell them about whatever marketing campaign you’d been working on or whatever new feature you’d helped with, but the conversation always made it’s way back to music or acting or something in between.

Glenne worked for Apple Music in artist relations, her boyfriend for a prominent artist management firm. Lexi MacMillan, a self-proclaimed B-list actress in a new Netflix series, fit right into their world of Teslas and hedge fund investments.

She never liked to admit that she came from money, and she was more than humble about the uneven split in your rent or the fact that she often paid for groceries. Your salary at Facebook was good--more than a lot of your other friends who had graphic design and marketing degrees, but it was small in comparison to the type of money the rest of them were pulling in.

“Well she’s gonna be the easiest way to get in touch with him.”

“I know,” you waved a hand and took a seat at the island. “Just, not yet. I mean, don’t you think I’ll need proof? I can’t just show up on his doorstep and say: ‘hey, remember me? I’m your manager’s girlfriend’s friend’s friend and we had sex one time at your house in late April and now I’m pregnant?’”

She stifled a laugh, nodding as if it was a good idea, her tone completely serious. “I mean personally I would love to see you do that.”

“Well, I’m not,” you said firmly. “There must be rules for this type of shit. I don’t know the etiquette.”

“You mean the baby mamma etiquette?”

You shot her a look, narrowed eyes before you let your forehead rest on the counter, a groan from your lips. “My life is over, Lexi--this is seriously the worse thing that can happen.”

She brought the beer bottle up to her lips to take a swig. “Which is why we should call Glenne.”

“I have to go to the doctor first, okay? That way we don’t stir up any shit without really knowing if they’re right or not.” You motioned over your shoulder to the test you’d left behind on the bathroom counter. The other, from earlier, was still in the side pocket of your work bag.

Lexi nodded, brown eyes with a new shade of sympathy.

A woman bounced her baby on her knee, big blue eyes looked up at the two of you, nervous and caving inward in the waiting room chairs.

“Do they all stare like that?” Lexi leaned over and whispered, her gaze fixed on the tiny human beside you.

“I don’t know,” you said quickly, hoping she wouldn’t make any other remarks. She didn’t--quickly distracted by the nurse who called your name and greeted you both with a smile.

“Y/N?”

You stood, walked forward and ignored the nervousness in your stomach. Lexi was following behind, she’d been positive and upbeat in the car as if heading over to the gynecologist for what you’d both been referring to as a legit test was a typical Wednesday morning errand.

“Are you her partner?” The nurse smiled over at her when she pointed at a chair in the hallway for you to sit in. She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around your arm when Lexi pulled her head back.

“No, just her roommate.”

“Just my roommate,” you nodded, repeating her words as if that’d ease the tension in your muscles.

The nurse smiled, scribbled a few numbers on a post-it and before handing you a small, plastic cup. You disappeared into the bathroom and realized you’d never thought so much about pee in your entire life. When you were done, you walked back to the small room that the same nurse pointed you towards to find Lexi in the small visitor’s chair beside the paper-lined exam table.

She looked up quickly, a life-like plastic uterus was in her hands. “I maybe broke it.”

“Put it down,” you ordered, rolling your eyes at her childlike curiosity. “Let’s just get in and get out, okay?”

“Knock knock!” A voice from the doorway, Laura Weston, red hair and blue eyes. Her white coat covered a pink blouse, one that matched the color of blush on her cheeks. “Good to see you, Y/N--who’s this?”

Lexi extended her hand and smiled. “Lexi MacMillan, roommate and moral support, nice to meet you.”

“So I hear there’s a possibility of pregnancy?” Dr. Weston sat down on a rolling stool, picked up the chart on the counter and flipped through some pages. She closed it, waited a second, and offered a smile when you didn’t answer. “How are you doing?”

You nodded, licked at your lips, and then met her gaze. “Been better.”

You’d been seeing Dr. Weston for a while--you found her card in the health services building on campus during your Freshman year. Now, a whole seven years later, her smile was a calming presence in a moment of fear and uncertainty.

“Well, note says you’ve taken two tests, and they were both positive?”

You nodded again. “Just a drugstore brand, though. I don’t know how accurate they are.”

She tilted her head side to side, lifted her shoulders a bit when she rolled towards the counter. “They’re good enough--we’re running the urine sample now and that’ll give a good idea, too. Would you like to do a blood test to be sure?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Let’s do that.”

“Okay,” she nodded, “I’ll have Justine order that for the lab downstairs.” She produced a paper wheel diagram, the colors of the rainbow seemed to distinguish different parts of a typical menstrual cycle. “When was your last period?”

Lexi handed over your phone. “April, the middle of the month. I was due eight days ago.” You pulled up the app that now seemed like less of a friend and more of a source of shame. You were proud of how well you knew your cycle. You could typically tell when you were ovulating, knew enough about your PMS symptoms to know what to expect.

“And do you know when the possible date of conception was?”

“April 18th,” a tinge of red on your cheeks. “That’s the only possibility.”

So sure, maybe you weren’t the most sexually active human on the planet. Maybe you were slightly embarrassed that the first time you had sex in a good eleven months resulted in a possible pregnancy.

She scribbled something on a piece of paper, just like the nurse had. A knock on the door that Dr. Weston had shut behind her. The same nurse delivered another post-it note. Pink this time, not blue like before. Dr. Weston took it in her hands and then looked up at you, an unreadable look on her face when the nurse quietly left the room.

“That urine sample read positive, too.”

You didn’t mean to do it again, but another shaky breath left your mouth and Lexi was on her feet, a hand rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort. You wiped at your face, feeling guilty for the outburst of emotion.

Plenty of people wished and hoped and prayed for this moment. They dreamed about it and tried for years to have this moment. And you’d been stupid enough to stumble your way into it. Ahead of schedule, unprepared, and unplanned.

“I’ll order the bloodwork and you can do that on your way out--just to be sure. But take some time and when that result comes back we can talk about some options.”

You nodded--her words were a jumble of sounds that you couldn’t really comprehend. She offered a smile and left the two of you alone, Lexi still standing beside you.

“Let’s go do the bloodwork, okay? We can get ice cream when we’re finished!”

You nodded, wiping your cheeks again before hopping down from the table. You knew she’d keep her word.

The sunny California sky and a cone of soft-serve from McDonald’s made the afternoon somewhat better. You worked from home and went to bed exhausted, almost feeling detached from reality.

You talked with Lexi that night about having Glenne over for dinner. It’d been a few weeks since you’d seen her, drinks after work one night to celebrate Lexi’s show getting signed for a second season. So when she knocked on the door of your apartment the next evening, Lexi opened it with a big smile.

“Hi, hi,” she said, opening her arms in greeting. “Look at your beautiful face,” she pinched Glenne’s cheek between her thumb and forefinger.

Glenne laughed and pushed her hand away, leaning around Lexi’s shoulder to see you in the kitchen. “She’s high already?”

“No,” you laughed, “she just loves you.”

Glenne made her way past her friend, offering you a hug before she set her purse on the counter. She’d always been so poised--perfect, clear skin, hair that was always flawlessly colored and cut. She took a seat on one of the stools and put her chin in her hands, “please tell me you have margarita mix.”

Lexi laughed, rounding the kitchen counter and heading for the fridge. “Oh, do we!”

“Tacos are on the way,” you said, reaching for glasses from above the sink.

Mexican was always the go-to. You’d moved in with Lexi after college, and when Glenne ended up living only a short drive away, take-out became a regular reason for a get together.

“How’s life?” Glenne stared up at you. “I’ve been so busy which is why I had to cancel on that movie last week. But--what have you been up to?”

Her question was pointed at you. While you and Glenne were definitely friends, you trusted that she communicated with Lexi a lot more regularly about life updates.

You cleared your throat, ignored the awkward glance that Lexi shot in your direction when she reached for the tequila above the fridge. “Same old, you know. Just work, and stuff.”

Okay, so lying wasn’t a strong suit. You forced a smile and turned to Lexi, hoping she’d jump in with a hilarious story or funny remark. She was too busy lining up the cups, ready to distribute the liquor.

You looked back to Glenne. “Uh, I wanted to talk to you actually.”

That got Lexi to turn around. Her eyes were wide, lips parted as if she was thinking oh, you’re doing it right now?

“Remember in April, at that party--” You trailed off, referencing it as if it was ages ago.

“The album wrap?”

“Yeah, when I, you know, got laid for the first time in a while?”

She laughed, looking up at you with an amused smile. “Yeah?”

Glenne had been the most excited about your rendezvous that evening. When she’d first introduced you the two of you, she made your promise you wouldn’t get all weird around him. Apparently people did that. You laughed it off and tried to ignore him at the other end of the dinner table--an Italian restaurant in Studio City for her birthday last fall. He showed up twenty minutes late.

Lexi was still now, tequila on the counter, she wore nothing but a pair of shorts and a tube top in the afternoon heat. Glenne was impatient, the smile fading from her face when you broke eye contact with her for a second.

She tilted her head to the side. “What? You’re freaking me out.”

“I’m, uh, I’m actually pregnant.”

Quiet. Outside the windows, the setting sun illuminated a hazy Los Angeles dusk. Kids swam in a pool at the house next door, their laughter was muffled through the sliding door out to your patio. It felt strange to say it like that. Up until this morning, the word possibly had been sprinkled in, a safe and reassuring disclaimer.

“You’re joking,” she said, readjusting in her seat, the color drained from her tan skin.

You swallowed. “I’m not.”

She looked over to Lexi, then brought her gaze back to you. “And you’re saying it’s his?”

You rolled your eyes a little. “He’s literally the only person I’ve had sex with in the last year.” Lexi came over to the counter to stand beside you. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the smooth granite. Glenne just stared at you, still in disbelief.

“I took two home tests on Tuesday and went to the doctor yesterday.”

What you didn’t tell her is that you cried this morning when the email came through, new test results available from Dr. Weston’s office! Positive. Both the urine and the blood test. There was no denying it now--even if you wanted to.

“Holy fuck,” she said. “Holy fucking shit. This is not good, you guys.”

“Don’t, Glenne,” Lexi stood back up and shook her head, making a face at her friend. “She’s already freaked the fuck out and she won’t stop fucking crying, okay? She doesn’t need you to add to that.”

You tried to swallow the emotion now, heat to your cheeks when Glenne rolled her eyes.

“I’m not trying to add to it--I’m just--I have no clue how they’ll take that.”

You knew who she was referring to. His team. The people around him who’d made sure, for all this time, that something like this never happened.

She let out a sigh and looked up at you again. She stood from her seat and rounded the counter. “I’m sorry--I just--are you okay? How are you feeling?” She hugged you, it felt more obligatory than genuine. “You haven’t told him, have you? Does he know?! Jeff doesn’t know!”

“No--you two are the only people who know. I haven’t even told my mom.”

Glenne’s arms still encircled you, Lexi stepped over and hugged you both, a kitchen group hug. “This means more tequila for us, Glenney.”

“You’re fucked up,” she laughed in response, pulling away and looking at Lexi.

It was quiet for a second, that was Lexi’s cue to make them both a margarita. Glenne went to sit back down, immediately going into business mode when she clasped her hands on top of the counter.

She took a deep breath, you were unsure if that was for your benefit or her own. “So--okay. Where are you at with it all?”

“Are you asking if I’m, like, excited? I am not excited. This is not how my life is supposed to go.”

“Oh enough with the plan, will you?” Lexi rolled her eyes and poured the liquor into two matching glasses, nonchalance lacing her voice.

“Well forgive me for ideally wanting to find a partner before having a baby,” you shot back at her.

“That’s not what I mean,” she turned around. “It’s just--I dunno, dude, you’re always so hard on yourself if something doesn’t go according to the plan. I get it--this is a big one, but, stressing over your plan isn’t gonna help.”

Glenne nodded, almost reluctant to side with Lexi. “I’ve heard about the plan. You are obsessed with the plan.”

“I’m not obsessed with it,” you retorted. “I just have a good sense of how I want my life to go.”

Had. You changed the verb tense in your mind. You had a good sense, until now.

“Well, are you...gonna keep it?” Glenne’s question was innocent, her eyes searched your face as soon as the words left her mouth, she looked nervous, like she didn’t know if it was okay to ask.

A tired voice. “I don’t know,” you shook your head. “I haven’t even thought that far.”

She nodded. “You have to tell him. Have you even talked to him at all since then?”

“No,” you laughed. “It was only, like, a month ago.”

“He didn’t text or call?” she pulled her head back in surprise.

You shrugged. “No. I wasn’t expecting that. Why? Did he mention me?”

“It came up once or twice, yeah.”

“With who?”

“With me and Jeff--and Lexi.”

You turned to your roommate, narrowed eyes when she delivered the drinks. You knew she’d seem him once since then--a brunch one morning before Glenne left town for business.

“I told you about it--he just said you were nice and that we should all hang out,” she mimicked his accent, earning a laugh from Glenne.

“That wasn’t the first time you met him, though, right?” Glenne pulled the glass to her lips, took a sip and then made a face. “Jesus, strong enough?”

“I figured you might need it since your boyfriend is about to be hella upset.”

“Thank you, thanks for that,” you made a face at her. “But no--” you turned back to Glenne to answer her question. “I met him at your birthday party last year--in Studio City.”

“Right,” she nodded. The doorbell rang and Lexi went to greet the delivery person, or, more so, the tacos.

“But listen, you can’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t even know what I’m gonna do yet.”

She closed her eyes, made a face that told you it was going to be hard to keep her mouth shut. You leaned forward and lowered your voice, hoping to convey how serious this was. “Give me a few days to just--to talk to him first.”

She dropped your gaze, bit at her lip. You knew it was a big ask. Don’t tell your boyfriend something that is about to make his life a living hell.

“Please, Glenne.”

She let out a long sigh, one that sounded like it was slowly deflating her lungs, tired and unsure. “Fine,” she said. “But you’ve got to get in touch with him then--like, soon.”

You nodded, Lexi reappeared from the front door with a box in her hands and a smile on her face. “Okay--two for each of us and plenty of guac to go around.”

“So,” Glenne pursed her lips. “Need his phone number?”

It felt like one of those dreams you couldn’t wake up from. Like a cloud that looms over the city when everyone is dying for a sunny day.

You ignored the two phone calls from your mom you got in the span of three days--quick to text her some excuse about work or being busy with something at home. It felt too soon to tell her. You didn’t even know what he’d say or what he’d think or do or feel and the last thing you wanted to do was get a bunch of people involved in this before you even knew what to expect.

There were a few options, in terms of what his response might be. Glenne had continued to prep you that night in your kitchen, the more margaritas in her the more she accepted that she was now complicit. In moments it felt normal, laughing and talking and then watching a stupid youtube video of some kid falling off of skateboard.

But when you went to bed and then woke up, realizing that no amount of sleep would change the current predicament, you decided that maybe it was time to get in touch with him.

You had no clue when or how or where. Over text? On the phone? Lexi agreed that was too impersonal. Out to dinner? Too public. In person? Terrifying, and possibly not an option.

The truth was that you didn’t know him. He was someone who happened to be friends with your friend. Nothing more, nothing less. At least, that’s what you told yourself when you saw a billboard on the side of the 405 with his face on it.

So you didn’t know if he’d even want to see you--he might consider you an acquaintance or even a stranger and maybe he had no desire to ever speak to you again.

You went about work and life as if everything was normal. You showered and brushed your teeth and took solace in knowing that whatever form of life was inside you was so tiny that it could just as well be a blip on the radar.

A story in the future of hey, remember that time, when you were, and then it...

Plenty of people got pregnant and lost it, not even knowing until it was too late. You weren’t sure if you were wishing for that, in all honesty, but you knew that the alternative felt too overwhelming to think of right now.

But when you found yourself sitting outside in the courtyard on your lunch break, a search typed into the app store for pregnancy tracker, you figured that maybe it was time to bite the bullet. If you were starting to think in terms of what size fruit a baby is at any given stage, maybe it was time to loop him in.

You pulled up your text thread with Glenne--scrolled up past a meme and a recipe she’d sent you, until you found his name and number. You clicked it once, create new message.

You stared at the blank bubble. A thousand words and a thousand choices of what to say and how to say it. With a rush of adrenaline, you exited out. Clicked the number again, call now.

It rang. Three times. Then voicemail. A deep breath, you stood from the bench and started to pace.

Beep. “Hey, uh, this is Y/N--uh, Y/N L/N. Lexi MacMillan’s roommate. I hope you’ve been well since I saw you, and, yeah--maybe we could get dinner or something soon. My number is--the one I’m calling on, so, I know you’re probably really busy right now, that’s fine. Just, uh, yeah, would love to talk with you. Okay, bye.”

You pulled the phone away from your face and wanted to throw it into the bushes. Would love to talk with you? That didn’t exactly do it justice.

You let out a breath and clicked it to sleep, hoping that maybe it’d get lost in translation and you’d never have to talk to him or see him or think of him ever again.

Something told you that wasn’t very likely.

You went back inside and finished up the day of work, thankful for distraction from Aarav when he found you in the lounge.

“Did you see the request that Carson sent?” He dropped his laptop on the coffee table and headed for the vending machine nearby. “Not to sound like a dick, but, he’s out of touch with reality. I’m concerned about him at this point.”

“Why?” You laughed, “cause he doesn’t understand that we can’t deliver a whole project with only two hours to do it?”

“Exactly,” he leaned down to reach for the bag of popcorn it spit out. “Hopefully he just fucking leaves and goes to fucking Tinder--he could even go to the Instagram department, for all I care.”

“Levi hates him anyway--pretty sure he regrets hiring him.”

He came to sit next to you and then opened the bag, putting his feet up on the glass table in front of you. “Yeah, well, Levi’s out of here as soon as he gets something with Apple.”

You smirked over at your favorite coworker, knowing exactly what was coming out of his mouth next.

“And then you’ll get promoted. Much deserved, the queen of saving my ass.”

You brushed your hair off your shoulder playfully. “You’re welcome.”

He cleared his throat, opened up his laptop. “Levi’s great--but if you’re my boss, I’m working remotely two days a week instead of one.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said, giving him the side eye when you looked back to your screen.

You fell into comfortable silence--grateful for the change of scenery from your office that was far enough away from Aarav and Simone, the two people who made work feel like fun. So you got back to the project, sent your designs to Carson when you finished, and prayed that he wouldn’t have a fit over the fact that you didn’t take his advice on using the Aileron font instead of Arimo.

He emailed you, eventually, but you didn’t have time to read it. As soon as it opened on your screen, your phone rang--a Los Angeles area code appeared on the screen and you felt your stomach drop to the floor. You looked over at Aarav. “Sorry--I, uh, I have to get this.”

You stepped away, leaving him on the sofa with your laptop, hand still deep in his bag of popcorn. You swiped across the screen, brought the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, uh, Y/N? It’s Harry.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: Y’ALL. I’m back. As if starting a new story literally DAYS after I finish one isn’t crazy, here I am. Come talk to me and let me know your thoughts or your theories because THIS ONE is gonna be a wild ride.

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila

#unplanned #harry styles fic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #1dff #harry styles writing #idkthisisjustforfanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles smut

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longveil · 3 years

Text

Shattered Silence

s e v e n d a y s p a s t

The whispers had stalked her. Quiet, insistent, the small voices insinuated themselves where once His voice alone had sought for her within the crooked passages of her mind. Soft, sibilant, their words barely an echo, but always present. Their insistence had drawn her to seek silence, but even the Alchemist’s refusal and grudging capitulation had not borne promised solace.

I̸i̴l̸t̷h̸ ̵v̸w̶a̴h̸,̶ ̴u̶h̸n̷’̶a̷g̴t̷h̶ ̵f̸h̷s̴s̵h̵ ̷z̷a̵ (Where one falls, many shall take its place.)

The old dream had been forgotten, she had closed the doorway, and Seraanna could only discern a portion of what the whispers bore. Words were spoken and repeated over and again, so unlike the murmurations that once assaulted her in her first weakness.

Until the Truth was torn asunder.

At that moment, she did not know where the distant pieces had fallen, where the gaping wound of shattered Truth was laid bare. But in the dead of that night, as her eyes flew open wide with the expectation that she would find her own bedchamber splintered and rent, they spoke. Finally. Clearly.

E̴n̸’̵o̴t̴h̵k̸ ̷u̴u̸l̴g̴’̷s̶h̶u̷u̶l̸.̶ ̷M̵h̴’̸z̴a̵ ̵u̸u̴l̸w̶i̵ ̶s̴k̶s̴h̵g̴n̴ ̷k̴a̸r̶.̴ (There is no light after death. Only a place where even shadows fear to go.)

“they don’t always lie”, the child’s delicate voice followed, “not to us”

Seraanna knew.

n o w

Oh, she reveled in it.

No longer suppressed, no longer hiding. Wreathed in darkness upon the very stairs of Stormwind’s Cathedral, Seraanna was welcomed and embraced among those dispatching of the risen dead. A tenebrous wraith herself, flitting through rifts torn in reality’s fabric, moving above and across the rooftops of Stormwind.

Tearing them asunder. Sharp-edged shadows rising from dark alleys to rip and tear at the rotten walking flesh that dared to assault the place Seraa barely called home.

It left her exhausted, but the distraction granted by those around her? Exhilaration. Fear, anger, righteous vengeance. Joy. Guilt. Relief. Writ large in the near hysteria that grew by the day. She barely had to reach out to know it, to feel through others what now came so difficult to her own experience.

The night was spent near the Huntress’ side, no longer a distance between them measured in devotion, of what was accepted and denied. Only the grim revelry.

And when all fell briefly quiet? A guest unexpected, seeking... no, drifting, to a change of scenery and questioning words within the warded bounds of her apartment.

Not since she shed tears at her mother’s grave had she been so close to true feeling.

And still, the shattered Truth laid distant, an open wound at the edge of her perception. Its time approached.

Seraannna knew.

---

{Several references and tag-ins: @easternkingdomer, @theparkhurstalchemists, @mozelledeliond, @abighail-stalsworth and others. I didn’t get to tell all the stories I wanted before Shadowlands officially starts, but this? This will do.}

#longveilstories #silence arc #broken truth #within Seraa's mind #so yes its hard to follow #because so is she

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strawberry-skies-xx · 3 years

Text

white

W H U M P A D V E N T 2 0 2 0

day 1-3 | hypothermia/out in the cold | @whump-advent-calendar

summary: Hiccup swears under his breath, then shivers and grimaces. Note to self: never decide to use the cover of snow for an attack, he thinks bitterly, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide, any direction to go that wouldn’t be putting himself right in the Hunters’ path. He isn’t even sure what direction they’re coming from.

word count: 2792

tags: hiccup/astrid, hypothermia, hurt hiccup, hurt/comfort, happy ending

main masterlist | story on ao3 | next entry >>

Stupid. This is the worst plan Hiccup had ever come up with, and that’s in a long history of “worst” plans that usually ended up working out very well.

This one, however, had gone wrong, and it had gone very wrong, and it didn’t seem to be looking better.

It didn’t seem to be looking anything, really, because Hiccup can’t see. The snow falls thickly, obscuring everything from view. Underneath his feet - his freezing feet, his metal leg is ice cold and the only thing stopping it from transferring it to his actual leg is the wood between his leg and the prosthetic, and even that is cold - the snow rises to just below knee height, hindering his movements. He has no fur coat, nothing but his leather armor and his one boot, both of which the cold is sinking quickly into.

The only good thing about this is that if he can’t see, the Hunters can’t either, and that buys him some time.

If the cold doesn’t kill me first, he thinks morbidly, shivering with his arms wrapped around himself.

Toothless was somewhere; Hiccup had lost him when they’d both gone down, crashing into a thick copse of trees and getting separated when they landed. He’d searched for several minutes, following the sound of Toothless’s roars, but the snow was far too thick to see in and he’d realized he was nowhere near his dragon. So now, he is walking simply to find somewhere to get warm - he’s no use to Toothless dead.

The trees had ended behind him, and all Hiccup can see is endless white - white snow, gray-white sky, white falling snow, white snow-covered hills in the distance, white snow-covered trees in front of the hills. He’s getting rather sick of the color, and is imagining red and orange flames, violet plasma blasts, anything warm that he can think of. It’s really not helping very much.

He can feel himself slowing, mind getting fuzzy and legs dragging slower and slower through the snow, and he knows this is the beginning of hypothermia. He has no idea how long he’s been out here, the world being suspended in an eternal state of dull gray sunlight and falling snow, but apparently it’s long enough for the cold to start really affecting him. He has to keep going, though - if he stops now, there’s no doubt that he’ll die, but he might find a cave he can shelter in.

And then he hears a stick snap, and the voices come from off to his right.

“I saw the Haddock boy go down with that dragon of his.”

“We can barely see out here. He could’ve flown off already and we’d be freezing our asses off for nothing.”

“Viggo would give us a reward if we captured him, though. He’s said so himself.”

There’s a distant grumble, and then a reluctant, “Fine. We’ll keep searching.”

Hiccup swears under his breath, then shivers and grimaces. Note to self: never decide to use the cover of snow for an attack, he thinks bitterly, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide, any direction to go that wouldn’t be putting himself right in the Hunters’ path. He isn’t even sure what direction they’re coming from.

It’s all white, endless gods-damned white. Hiccup groans in frustration. “Think, Hiccup, think,” he mutters under his breath, but his thoughts are fuzzy and it’s hard to make his mouth move. He’s already forgetting the words that the Hunters said, that they’re even after him - he swears again. His hypothermia is worse than he thought, he thinks briefly, with effort, before that thought disappears and he shivers.

He picks a direction and runs as fast as he can in the thick snow. He’s helped only by the fact that one of his legs is metal - if both feet were freezing and affected by hypothermia like one is, he’s sure he would’ve been even slower. As it is, he feels like he isn’t running at all, and it’s far too much effort to keep the thought of run in his mind long enough to keep going. He’s lucky he doesn’t pick the direction the Hunters are in.

The voices echo behind him, getting fainter. Hiccup keeps running, dragging his feet through the heavy snow, forcing himself to remember the reason he’s doing this, that he has to.

The minutes drag on; his mind gets fuzzier. Run.

He forgets why he’s running, barely moves fast enough to be considered a proper walk, but he has to run.

An indeterminable amount of time passes like this, Hiccup’s mind and body slowing until he feels like he’s about to collapse and the final thought of run finally slips away from him. He’s surrounded by white, now, as he keeps moving for no reason at all, and he’s so, so cold. His whole body is ice, though he’s stopped shivering and has his arms still wrapped around himself, though it’s useless at this point.

He wonders why he doesn’t just stop and collapse, why he keeps going. It seems like a good idea, to just sink into the cold and the darkness threatening to overtake him. He’d be warmer in the darkness, he thinks, wouldn’t have to keep going through his overwhelming exhaustion.

He almost does - feels himself slow until he almost stops, feels his legs almost give out - until he sees something moving in the white, something dark. Whatever part of his mind is still coherent forces him to keep going, walking towards the black shape until he breaks through the snow and stumbles into a cave.

He falls, using too much effort to walk through the snow and not slowing his momentum fast enough when the snow abruptly ends. The stone is cold against his skin - but he can’t feel it, anyway, his entire body is numb. Something in him is satisfied at the fact that he found the cave, though he can’t remember why, and he relaxes right on the ground.

The darkness is welcoming, even in the cave. Hiccup feels a little warmer, sheltered from the snow, and he’s so tired. He just goes limp where he lays, a few feet in the cave, and lets exhaustion overtake him, unconsciousness rising quickly to drag him down.

Toothless whines as he and Astrid walk through the storm, tail flicking. He looks up at Astrid when Stormfly stops, losing Hiccup’s scent in the deep snow, and gives a quiet, worried whimper.

Astrid frowns, shivering in her fur coat and putting a hand on Toothless’s scales. “We’ll find him, Toothless,” she says, reassuring him as well as herself. They’ve been searching for hours, the Riders following her and Toothless and keeping warm by the heat of their dragons - and now, even the dragons are getting cold.

Toothless whines and sniffs at the snow, pawing at it and then looking up into the dense snowfall. All the tracks Hiccup might have made have been covered by the snow, and they don’t even know if he was captured by Hunters before he made it to a cave - or before he… well. She’s not going to think about that.

Stormfly chirps and makes her own low whining noise, feet shifting in the snow as she sniffs at it and comes up with nothing. Astrid wants to cry, her hope slowly dying as they keep searching and Stormfly loses the faint scent of Hiccup’s trail. It’s been hours, she thinks despairingly. She doesn’t know how long he could’ve survived on his own - which means he’s either captured by Hunters or- or-

No. Hiccup isn’t- that. He’s the most stubborn person she knows, he’s not gone. He’s not gone.

Her hands curl into fists and she feels spiteful anger rise in her. She starts walking, forcefully moving through the snow. Toothless follows reluctantly behind her, giving a curious whine.

“Uh, Astrid? Where are you going? Stormfly lost the scent,” Tuffnut says confusedly from behind her.

Astrid glares at the snow and keeps going. “We’re obviously going in the right direction. We need to find Hiccup, so I’m going to keep searching. You can stay behind if you want,” she replies - a little too harsh, but she’s worried and she lashes out when she’s worried. Especially when there’s the possibility that Hiccup is- is dying. Not already- not that yet, but dying. He’s not gone. She would’ve felt it.

After a moment, she hears the dragons huff and the other Riders follow behind her, fanning out a little to search in every direction. They’re reluctant to go far, for fear of losing each other like they lost Hiccup, but they at least look all around them.

It seems like forever that they’re searching when Stormfly perks up, chirping and running lightly on the snow. Toothless follows a bit slower, and Astrid struggles to keep up with them. “Guys! Stormfly found something!” she calls back to the other Riders.

In a few minutes, Astrid stumbles onto stone when the snow abruptly ends and she’s covered by the roof of a cave. Toothless whines and nudges at something in the dark, circling around it. Stormfly opens her mouth and holds a low flame, dimly illuminating the cave.

Orange light plays over Hiccup’s unconscious form right by Astrid’s feet, and she gasps when she sees him. A thin layer of snow covers his feet and legs from when the wind changed direction, and his lips are a worrying shade of blue. She crouches down and brushes off the snow from his legs - his prosthetic foot is ice cold, and his armor is cold as well. Even his skin is cold, as she takes his hand and squeezes it.

Blood rushes into his hand when she does, coloring the pale skin a light red. Toothless whimpers and nuzzles underneath his hand, pressing his body up against him and curling around. Hiccup doesn’t respond; Astrid shoves down the panic and presses her fingers to his throat, feeling for a pulse.

It’s slow, far too slow for it to be normal, but eventually she hears a thud-thud beneath her fingers and she almost sobs in relief. He’s alive, he’s alive, she thinks desperately to herself to calm the panic.

Toothless nudges his nose under Hiccup’s body and Astrid nods, standing up. “You’re right, Toothless,” she says. She unclips Toothless’s saddle to get better heat from his scales and helps him drape Hiccup over his back, laying him on his back down Toothless’s body. She leads him further into the cave so Toothless can lay down carefully, keeping Hiccup on him.

She turns to the other Riders. “Does anyone have a light?”

Snotlout holds his lantern out and she takes it, setting it down in the middle of the area she’s designated. “Alright. Hookfang and Barf and Belch,” she turns to the dragons, who give answering noises, realizing how bad the situation is, “can you put your wings up to block the wind?”

Hookfang growls and rumbles, stepping back a little and onto his hind legs, spreading his wings to cover the entire length of the cave. Barf and Belch look at each other, then follow Hookfang’s lead, moving in front of him and raising their wings a bit lower to cover the open bottom edges of Hookfang’s wingspan over the cave.

Astrid smiles at them in thanks and looks around at their little area. It’s a small cave in the first place, and she doesn’t want to have to heat up too big of an area.

She walks over to Hiccup, picking up his hands and raising them. “Stormfly?”

Stormfly chirps and walks over, opening her mouth and holding another low flame. She puts herself near Hiccup’s hands, enough to feel the heat, and Astrid rubs his skin a little as she holds them, feeling warmth slowly return.

The other Riders have sat down against the far wall of the cave. Astrid turns away from Stormfly, letting go of Hiccup’s hands. Stormfly starts moving her mouth up and down Hiccup’s body, close enough for him to feel the heat, like a fire, but far enough it won’t burn him.

“Fishlegs, can you stand guard with Meatlug and tell us if anyone is coming? We shouldn’t have to be here long, not with Stormfly and Toothless warming Hiccup up, but we can’t leave and fly in the cold with him like this.”

Fishlegs nods, glancing over at Hiccup. There’s a dark, determined look in his eyes when he walks away, Barf and Belch folding their wing in to allow him to pass. Astrid turns to Snotlout and the twins when she’s finished, then glances at Hiccup.

Suddenly, there’s nothing to do. She can’t do anything else to help Hiccup, and the cave is as heated up as it can be with one lantern and two dragons blocking the wind and wayward drifting snow. It makes her feel a little lost, a little helpless, and she paces with the feeling. She hates feeling helpless, even if she knows she did everything she could to help Hiccup by the glances she gives up at Toothless and Stormfly every few minutes.

It’s a long, torturous hour that they wait, Astrid growing more restless and Snotlout and the twins’ bored antics only agitating her further. Even their antics have an edge of desperation to them, an edge of too-much-distraction that comes when the thoughts of something worse is beating at the edges, threatening to take over. The dragons shift restlessly too, Stormfly taking a break from holding a flame to guard the cave while Hookfang moves his head slowly up and down above Hiccup’s body, fire held in his mouth. Toothless whimpers concernedly, head twisting back to look at Hiccup.

Finally, they hear him stir. Toothless’s head snaps back instantly, and Hookfang leans back, still holding a flame in his mouth. Astrid, Snotlout, and the twins all go silent, looking up.

“Hiccup?” Snotlout asks tentatively, the first real sign he’s shown that he’s as scared for Hiccup as Astrid is.

There’s a cough, then a pained groan, and Hiccup’s head lifts. Toothless warbles and whines, trying to nudge at Hiccup without knocking him off his back and failing.

Hookfang steps back, letting Astrid rush over to Hiccup as he tries rolling onto his side and help him down without falling. He lands unsteadily on his feet, and Astrid helps hold him up as he leans against her.

“Hiccup, how are you feeling?” she asks when he’s quiet, simply staring at the ground.

“Not…” he stops, and she waits. He holds up one hand, slowly flexing his still-cold fingers, and tries again. “Not… terrible,” he gets out, as if it was difficult to say.

She nods. “Okay, do you think you can fly Toothless? I’m sorry, but we really need to get out of here. We’re still in Hunter territory.”

She hates doing this, but he’ll be able to warm up for longer at the Edge, and there will be no threat of the Hunters finding them. The sooner they fly back, the better Hiccup will be in the long run.

He nods slowly, again after a long pause. “Yeah,” he says slowly, voice slightly slurred. She frowns in concern, but walks him over to the wall where he sits down and turns back to start strapping Toothless’s saddle back on.

She finishes a few minutes later, helping Hiccup back onto Toothless. He can barely sit up, and she frowns deeper. “Hiccup, what if I ride with you? That’ll keep you warmer. Stormfly can fly on her own.”

Hiccup’s brow furrows for a moment and then he nods, his eyes drifting shut. Astrid climbs behind him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him back against her chest. He leans against her, almost limp in her arms, and Toothless stands up, looking back with a concerned whimper.

“He’ll be fine, Toothless,” Astrid says, and smiles when Hiccup’s hand twitches, rubbing back and forth on Toothless’s scales.

The other Riders have already gone to their dragons, Snotlout extinguishing his lantern, and Fishlegs has gotten the message too. They all turn and take off into the still falling snow, barely able to see but warm with their dragons and Hookfang on fire in the middle of them, relying on their dragons’ innate sense of direction.

It’s a while before Astrid notices Hiccup has fallen asleep against her, foot locked into holding the prosthetic tailfin in place. He’s breathing steadily and still with cold skin, but it’s not ice cold like before and his pulse is stronger. She smiles, feeling the final edges of panic recede and a calm peace fall over her, pulling Hiccup closer to her.

He’s okay. He’s alive. They’ll all be okay.

next entry >>

#httyd #httyd fic

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