#doctors would agree with her and they’d be Not Incorrect | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phantomrose96 · 4 years

Text

Twisting Fate

(A what-if idea I had. adjusted the canon timeline a little)

...

From Recovery Girl’s perspective, Sir Nighteye was a horizon.

Lying stiff in his hospital bed, with the setting sun creeping lower at his right, Nighteye’s whole body became ridges of shadows. His face was gaunter, paler at the precipice of death. Caverns hid his eyes, and every sharp angle of his frame threw swaths of shadow, magnified larger, over the left wall of his room. Machines like snakes clawed into his midsection, all cold metallic tubes replacing the functions of organs that had been shredded through. Recovery Girl sat on a stool to his left, shaded in this darkness, smelling on the heat of the radiator the familiar smell of death.

“I have… a theory…” Nighteye’s words were hardly even whispers. They were stow-away nuances on the raspy rattle of his breath. “…and it will bother me if I die without ever having resolved it.”

“What’s your theory?” Recovery Girl asked. She was too used to this, being the receptacle for the last thoughts, wonders, worries, and dreams of dying heroes.

“Izuku Midoriya… He may--…it is possible—he may have a quirk.”

“A quirk, as in one beside One For All, I assume.”

“Not One For All. Beyond that. His own quirk. I have a theory…”

“Izuku Midoriya was diagnosed quirkless. Does this affect your theory?”

Silence rattled around them. Nighteye’s chest rose and fell faintly. “As in… the vestigial joint in the smallest toe, and no observable quirk of his own?”

“Yes, he matches those criteria,” Recovery Girl confirmed.

Sir Nighteye said nothing in immediate response. He laid in silence to catch his breath, and let the room fall back under the sedation of his blipping heart monitor.

“The correlation… of the additional toe joint to quirklessness is about 99%. It is possible for Midoriya to still have a quirk.”

“That is true.” The lamp in the corner clicked on, softly yellow, blanketing the room as the creeping darkness of nighttime set in. “We don’t know how many cases of quirklessness are false positives. What is it that makes you think Midoriya has a quirk?”

Nighteye let out a rattling breath. “By my own nature, and the nature of my quirk… I take pride in having evidence for my claims. I’d like to investigate this before I tell you. …The doctors estimate they can keep me alive like this for three days, at most. Do you think that’s accurate?”

“Three and a half, now that I’ve healed you some,” Recovery Girl answered.

“That’s enough. There’s someone I’d like you to fetch for me.”

“All Might.”

“No,” Nighteye answered with the faintest shake of his head. “Shota Aizawa. He should be in this same hospital. Please bring him to me.”

…

Aizawa and Nighteye spoke only briefly, with an agreement to help, and a message to pass along. Two messages, more precisely.

Aizawa got himself released from the hospital by 6am the next morning, having not slept, and having pulled some strings with the night nurses who knew him well to expedite the process. By 7am, he was back at the U.A. dorms, the very atmosphere asleep this early on a Saturday morning.

Only two students were awake: Momo Yaoyorozu, reading comfortably on the common area couch with a blanket swaddled around her, and Tenya Iida, preparing enough toast in the kitchen to cover breakfast for the entire class.

It was Iida who Aizawa flagged, and pulled aside, and passed the message along to: There was a dying pro hero whom Iida had never met asking for his presence. Aizawa had no further details on what the man wanted, or why, and he knew Nighteye well enough to assume that neither he nor Iida would ever be informed.

The lack of information agitated Iida. His arms jittered, and he pressed for information on why, and what had happened, and what his presence would mean to Nighteye. Aizawa could only shrug and ask if the withholding of that information affected Iida’s answer. Iida paused to consider this only briefly. And then he agreed, of course, because any self-respecting hero-in-training would do everything in his power to satisfy the dying wish of a citizen.

…

When Sunday set in, Aizawa did not go prowling through the dorm areas until the early afternoon, because the other message he had to pass along was for Katsuki Bakugou, and Bakugou’s whole morning was booked solid with provisional license training.

When Aizawa found Bakugou, the boy was freshly showered and sporting a litany of new scrapes and bandages, thumbs jamming aggressively into one of the dorm’s three console controllers for the shared GameStation. From the neighboring couch, Kirishima yelled at Bakugou to not mess us the toggles, to which Bakugou fired off several choice, colorful words back.

Aizawa didn’t bother scolding him. He only pulled Bakugou aside, and gave him the same message as Iida: Pro Hero Nighteye wanted to see him.

Bakugou sneered at this. He knew the name as Deku’s work-study boss, and knew it more potently now that the recent news story broke, and Nighteye’s name made it to the local stations as a hero in critical condition after a daring rescue.

Bakugou asserted this had nothing to do with him. That none of this was his problem. That he owed nothing to a man he’d never met and shouldn’t be expected to bow to his whim. Aizawa said nothing in response. He let the silence linger, and let Bakugou fester in the echo of his own words. Bakugou cracked the silence with a growl of frustration, and a crackle of his palms, and a spat declaration of “fine”.

Aizawa thanked him for his cooperation, and asked if now would be a bad time to follow him to Nighteye’s hospital.

…

By the third day of his hospice stay, Nighteye had become more machine than man. He fostered little presence. His only motion came from the respirator breathing for him. His harsh angles and stark shadows had decayed, softened, sank with him into his very-little-at-all-ness into the bed.

Recovery Girl sat beside him once more. In theory she had come to change bandages and administer healing, but at the sight of the man, she knew even that much was not worthwhile. It was only Nighteye’s comfort that mattered now. She set up an IV drip to ease his breathing and pain, but it would not heal him. At best, it would offer him just a wisp of his voice back.

“Have you resolved your theory about Izuku Midoriya’s quirk?” she asked simply. It was another skill she’d fostered in her professional life – to ask the leading questions of dying people, who in death seemed so strangely prone to avoiding any direct answers.

To her surprise, Nighteye smiled.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Would you like to tell me?”

“Yes. You are the only person right now I trust with this information. I need to pass it along, and I have no one else in mind.”

“And once you’ve told me, should I tell Midoriya too?”

“I don’t know. I trust you to figure that out, if it’s right or not.”

“What’s Midoriya’s quirk?”

Nighteye said nothing at first. He stared at the ceiling, as it seemed he possessed little of the necessary strength to look elsewhere.

“During the fight against Overhaul… I saw Midoriya die. I saw it with my Foresight,” he said, not answering the direct question, which did little to surprise Recovery Girl. “My Foresight has never been wrong. Sometimes, purely in denial, I’ve convinced myself it could, theoretically, be wrong, if only to not feel so hopeless about the futures I’ve seen. But 35 years without a single incorrect prediction is… a devastatingly consistent precedent to contend with.”

“I know this about you. Midoriya was the first to change that future?”

“It was… Chisaki’s future… that I was looking at. I saw him kill Midoriya. I saw him escape. So it was Chisaki’s future that changed. And I suspected, the more I thought about it, that Midoriya may have done it.”

“What do you think his quirk is?”

“I… have more context… I want to explain myself. I asked Shota Aizawa to bring me two U.A. students.”

“Iida and Bakugou. Shota told me.”

“Iida, because, if my hunch was correct, he would be affected too. And he was. My hunch was correct.”

“What was your hunch?”

“When I used my Foresight on him, I saw something I’ve never seen before… All futures I’ve seen are linear. A movie to play out. Singular, immutable, and certain. What I saw in Iida was more like… tree branches twisting around a trunk. One which was strong, and bold, and most clear ahead of him. Like what I usually see. It was a bright and happy future. A future he’s earned. One to be proud of.”

“I’m glad. Tenya Iida is a kind boy.”

“But the small futures… I’ve never seen them before. All gnarled and withered, twisting in and out…. Most of those were empty. I see this when someone is soon to die, but… these looked as though Iida had already died. Several times over. Other small twisted ones… he was still alive, but not a hero, not a U.A. graduate, too heavily incapacitated. No use of his arms. Limited use of his legs.”

“And what does this tell you?”

Nighteye offered just wheezes, catching his breath.

“With… with Bakugou. It was similar but... Bakugou had many more gnarled branches than Iida. Some empty… Others where, it seemed he had never even gotten into U.A. Others as the League of Villains’ hostage. Others in jail. They were not uniform. Some were faint, so I could hardly detect them. Some were so far removed from our reality, as if they’d forked over a decade ago. …Do not worry, his main future is bright.”

“I know All Might has a lot of hope for that boy.” Recovery Girl pushed off her stool. She went and cracked the hospital window open, so that the fresh air may do something for the sweat coalescing on Nighteye’s brow.

“Izuku Midoriya… I know many things about him. Gathering intel is a specialty of mine. And I know he has been lucky in unfathomable ways. Bakugou, that boy, he saved from the League of Villains. Iida, he saved from Stain, just barely, as I understand it. Midoriya’s own acceptance into U.A. was improbable at best. His rescue of a boy named Kota should have been his end, but it wasn’t. He was involved in a fight against the serial killer Moon Fish. He was Shigaraki’s hostage briefly. He played the main role in orchestrating Bakugou’s rescue from the League of Villains. And now, under me, he defeated Chisaki, in a fight which should, with certainty, have cost him his life.”

“There’s no need to remind me of all these. I was the one who healed that boy every time. I know he’s reckless.”

“This is beyond reckless. This is the resume of a boy who should have died many times over. …And I think, maybe, he has.”

To this, Recovery Girl gave no immediate response. Only a deep inhale, nasally, a held breath, an exhale.

“Midoriya may have died already. My Foresight wasn’t wrong, but it was posthumously corrected. It is in the strange nature of Izuku Midoriya that when the people around him should die… they don’t. Midoriya always saves them. And if my Foresight is to be believed, he does not always succeed on the first try. Those gnarled branches into Iida and Bakugou’s futures were fates in which Midoriya had not intervened. Or had failed to intervene successfully. They were fates he was able to twist off the main path, and correct under his own power of will. And that would be a quirk nigh undetectable. How would you document or observe it? The ability to undo the outcomes that ended in disaster. It’s powerful. Unfathomably powerful, if I’m correct about this. Stronger than One for All could ever be. I wonder, if I were to look at Midoriya’s future, how many twisted fates might I see?”

Recovery Girl let her eyes shift to the window, contemplating the skyline, contemplating all the near-lethal encounters Izuku Midoriya had fought through. She tried to process this possibility, and found herself failing to take it in all at once. “Do you intend to look?”

“No,” Nighteye said, and it was with finality. “I won’t make it to tomorrow. And there’s someone else whose future I need to see today.”

“If it’s All Might, I would be able to--.”

“No. It’s not All Might’s.”

To this, Recovery Girl startled. Her eyes shifted to Night Eye, who wore the smallest of smiles, his eyes squinted shut.

“After what you saw six years ago… you don’t want to see if that fate has changed?”

“All Might and I have parted ways. I am choosing to entrust his safety to Izuku Midoriya now. I am choosing to trust that that boy has saved him from that future that’s weighed me down for all these years. I am choosing… to pass the torch onto him. All Might has chosen Izuku Midoriya, and I am at peace with it… No, more than that, I accept that. I am content with that. I am happy with that.”

Recovery Girl nodded, but trepidation stiffened her movements. “…Then who is the last person you want to see?”

…

With the light fading around him, Nighteye wondered if this was the first time he’s seen Mirio cry.

The boy was endlessly bright, endlessly shining, a beacon and a pillar and someone who Nighteye was proud to call his pupil. He felt only the slightest knocking pangs of guilt in his chest for the fact that he’d only connected with Mirio as a vessel for One For All. But Mirio had proven himself well above and beyond all Nighteye’s paltry expectations. He didn’t need One For All to be strong.

The true guilt Nighteye felt was in the knowledge that it was his own fault that Mirio was crying now.

Thick opalescent tears swam in his eyes and cracked his voice. Red blotched along his cheeks and sweat clung to his brow. It was a sad sight to see, the raw and wet keens of Mirio’s voice. It was sad. Nighteye wanted nothing more than to see Mirio smile once more.

So he set a gentle palm to Mirio’s cheek, and he apologized, and he blinked his final activation of his quirk into existence.

Mirio’s future was a grand tree. Like Iida’s, like Bakugou’s, it was threaded with splintered branches. Some empty and shriveled and dead. Some dismal and bleak, twirling up like vines. Nighteye didn’t pay mind to those. He focused only on the trunk. That bright and shining pillar surging forward.

It was a future where Mirio was smiling.

A hero. In costume. Beloved and strong and willing. With a smile that alone could save a million people.

Nighteye trusted Midoriya to cultivate that fate for Mirio.

And that was enough.

So Nighteye told Mirio as much. He deserved to know this as Nighteye did. A fine hero. Finer than anyone else. He’d smile again, Nighteye was sure of it.

The light crept to dark edges around Nighteye’s vision, petering out, swimming to a coldness and a darkness and a nothingness. But it was one he could take comfort in. He focused only on the image of Mirio’s smile as the heart rate monitors ticked to nothing, and the breath vanished from his lungs, and the future set before him ran through its final swath of film.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #nighteye #sir nighteye #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

whatareyoudoingwithamaserati · 3 years

Note

" We'll be royalty."

:D any ship and uh- royalty au is all i got

Leo!!!! Hi!!! I love this song and prompt so uh!! yeah!!

I totally went of prompt but like that’s how my brain works so!!!

~~~

“Hey, Andrew?” Neil calls, opening and closing every door of their apartment. “Andrew, where are—” He opens the door to the laundry room, pausing in amusement at what he finds.

“So you see,” Andrew tells his captive audience of Sir and King from his position on the washer. He’s cross-legged, a knife balanced between two of his fingers as he talks, eyes lively. “All it would take to overthrow the government is a well-planned riot, with our resident junkie being the one to start it.” He doesn’t even bother to look up at Neil, instead gesturing for him to sit down with the cats. “Sit down junkie, this is where you come in. As I was saying...”

Neil makes a noise of amusement, closing the door and sitting in between the cats as Andrew continues to detail how he would take down the government.

“The riot would work, but only as a distraction. See, while you and all the others we associate with—”

“Our friends,” Neil fills in, the corner of his mouth ticked upwards in a smile. It’s taken him a while to get used to the concept of having friends; somedays it still doesn’t feel real, but he likes it.”

“Yes, yes, our friends. As I was saying, while you and our friends—and Aaron—work on keeping the riot running, I will be breaking into the white house. From there, I shall take out the president, whatever shitbag that is, and step into the role as temporary leader of America.”

“Like you could get past the secret service,” Neil snorts, petting Sir, who’s moved to cuddle him. “They’re good at their job. Really good.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Romero and Lola had a sibling who once tried to break into the white house on a dare. They didn’t make it very far.” Neil says this all with a straight face, not giving away whether it’s a lie or not.

“Point made and ignored,” Andrew says, grabbing the pop can beside him and taking a sip. “I am infinitely better than this long-lost Malcolm sibling, who surely cannot compare to the level of intelligence and stealth I have.”

Neil raises an eyebrow as if to say are you so sure of that?

In response, Andrew raises both his own eyebrow and the can of pop, his expression saying I am absolutely sure of that.

A shake of the head, and then Neil focuses on the pop can. “Andrew,” he says, voice filled with both warning and amusement. “You know you’re only supposed to be having one pop a day. How’d you get this by me?”

In response, Andrew pulls out the empty coffee mug from behind him, pretending to take a sip as he deadpans, “Mm, good coffee.”

Neil starts to snicker; loudly, and it only gets louder as Andrew slips the pop can inside the coffee mug, demonstrating exactly how his little trick works. In between gasps for air, he finally manages to choke out, “Kevin is going to kill you!”

“Kevin can’t kill me if he’s in the middle of a riot while I take out the president of the United States. Successfully, mind you.”

“Valid point,” Neil scratches King’s ears as she snuggles up against him. “You’ve just got to make sure Kevin doesn’t find out until the riot starts.”

“Semantics,” Andrew says with a lazy wave of the hand, putting the coffee cup and the pop can inside of it down. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him. Back to the plans. While I am the temporary leader of America, you will be in charge of both getting rid of all the pigs,” his tone is one of disdain and he pulls a face at even the mention of a cop. “And making sure Kevin can never come near me with another healthy food ever again.”

“What if I’m the one trying to make sure you’re eating healthy food?”

“Then you will be banished and thrown to the wolves.” Andrew rests his chin on his hand. “I pity whatever wolves get stuck with you.”

“If I get banished, you’ll miss me, and that would be a tragedy.”

“If you get banished, I will jump for joy.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Neil drawls, focused on both Sir and King, who’re demanding his attention. “Maybe you’ll start to believe it.”

“I do believe it. Anyways; after I have successfully banished you, and made sure Day can never touch another vegetable in his life, I will set America free, and live a peaceful, Exy-free life.”

“That’ll never work, you do know that?”

Andrew stares at Neil impassively, his lips quirking when King meows. “See, King agrees with me. Her and Sir are the only two who know how to properly appreciate my genius. King meows again, and Andrew nods at her. “I know Neil is an idiot, but what does that make me? I am the one dating the idiot.”

Now it’s Sir’s turn to meow, and Andrew tips his head as he listens to her tirade. “Yes, yes, I do know this is the same Junkie I have plans to rule the world with, but you have to understand; sometimes he can be annoying, and that isn’t any fun for me.”

“I can hear you, I hope you know.”

Andrew holds up a finger, turning his stare onto Neil. “Didn’t your mother tell you it’s not nice to eavesdrop?”

“No, but she did tell me that the second one starts talking to a cat, something is very wrong.”

A shrug. “That’s what all of my doctors have said, but just look at me; I’m doing completely fi—good. Well. Splendid. Marvelous.” He rattles off an impressive list of words, never once using fine, just to prove a point.

Neil sighs in amusement, picking Sir up and holding her to his chest. “What was this about ruling the world with me?”

“Also none of your business. Next question.”

“What if my next question is the same as the first?”

“Incorrect. Repeat questions break rule number seventy-nine.”

“And what happens to be rule number seventy-nine?” Neil asks, petting King on the head as she demands attention as well. “Andrew Minyard gets to do whatever he wants?”

A calculated tip of the head. “Close, but not quite. Rule number seventy-nine is—and I quote, mind you—‘Andrew Minyard gets to make and break whatever rules he wishes.’”

“Because that’s a fair rules system, isn’t it?

“Mm, life isn’t fair, so why should rules be?”

“Fair,” Neil says, putting Sir down and standing up. “In the spirit of rules not being fair, I propose an amendment; rule seventy-nine and a half.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow, putting his pop can down and standing up as well. “And what would that be?”

“‘Neil Josten is the exception to the rules.”

He’s always been the exception, but Andrew doesn’t need to tell him that, the Junkie’d start thinking he was more than nothing.

But is co-owning an apartment nothing? Is having two cats and sharing cigarettes and falling asleep in the same bed every night nothing? Because it sure feels an awful lot like something, and that thought is almost scary. When nothing becomes something, how does one cope with the thought that they could lose that very something?

The kind of nothing that Neil is is intangible, held together by promises of forever and whispered truths.

The kind of something that Neil could be is something different; something tangible. It could be a lifetime, set not in stone but in water, ebbing and flowing but never quite leaving. It could be everything and nothing all at once, and the thought makes Andrew want. He wants the kind of shit you hear about in fairytales because for all the lack of romantic feelings he feels, he still wants the stability granted from a relationship.

“Rule seventy-nine and a half sounds like an acceptable rule,” Andrew finally concedes, gesturing for Neil to follow him. “Roof?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Together, they leave their apartment, Neil swiping the pack of cigarettes they keep by the door for this very reason.

If Andrew tells Neil about how they’d rule the world together when they’re finally perched on the roof, well, that falls under rule eighty.

Rule eighty: what happens on the roof, stays on the roof.

#maserati 200 #aftg #all for the game #AFTG fic #andrew minyard #neil josten #Andreil

66 notes · View notes

pluto-art · 3 years

Text

Syncytium - Chapter 5

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

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

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

October 1st, 1993 - 7:10 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 4th, 1993 - 4:14 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the dam burst.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

Olivia shook her head.

"And you're the oldest, right?"

Yes.

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

No.

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

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

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

At this, Olivia beamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not even for the punch, Brain?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He coughed uncomfortably.

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

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

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

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

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

"The students?"

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

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

"It's not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Globetrotter stared at him for a moment, nonplussed.

"Most likely. Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh! Brain?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At this, Globetrotter smiled.

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

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

4:47 PM

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

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

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

Snap.

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

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

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

6:05 PM

He was late. Of course he was late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Um... In public, Brain?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You bought that for me...?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Um... chaos theory?"

Pinky swallowed.

"Ohhh! You mean like in Jurassic Park?"

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Trozology?"

"Mmhm."

"What is Trozology?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What does he mean, Red?"

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

"What does he mean?!"

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

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

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

"Tell me what you mean, Dex!"

No response.

"DEX! Tell me what you mean!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Were you hurting then, too?"

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

"Yes."

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

"Save your pity."

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

"It's fine," replied Globetrotter.

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

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

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

"For what?"

"Sitting with me."

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

"Mmhm."

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

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

October 7th, 1993 - 4:02 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Put on your helmet, Olivia."

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

"Mmhm."

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

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

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

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

Pinky opened the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"O-O-Olivia, Sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pinky gulped.

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

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

"Yes! Absolutely!"

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

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

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

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

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

"I think you're scared."

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

Pinky bit his lip. Olivia...

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

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

"Then prove it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pass."

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

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

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

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

"Will Globetrotter be there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal," said Pinky.

"Deal," said Olivia.

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

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

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

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

7:24 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HISSSS!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's for my latest plan."

"W-What plan is that, Brain?"

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

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

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

"I promise, Brain!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like what?"

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

"Sooooo... sponsorship then?"

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

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

"Y-You do...?"

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

"Do you?"

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

"What?" Brain asked, a touch worried.

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

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

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

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

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

"So... no blabbing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Author's Notes:

- My dad used to own (and probably still does) one of those big briefcases with the locking mechanisms on them. I always enjoyed watching him fiddle with the combination and pop open the case. Of course, now-a-days, briefcases are pretty much a thing of the past, but I still think about that big ol' thing and its locks sometimes.

- The line "... in public, Brain?" is a reference to a very similar quote from one of the original Pinky and the Brain episodes, in which Brain asks Pinky to do something simple and Pinky, misunderstanding, replies with: "Brain? In public?"

- Marvell is an original OC created by Black Geeky Girl, whom you can find on Twitter and Tumblr.

- The line "positively affluent" is a reference to a PatB-themed story of the same name on AO3 that also features Snowball. Please look it up and read it. It's awesome.

- The ending is, admittedly, a bit rushed, and I struggled with the subtext of the laboratory scene. I'm not certain how apparent it is or not, but, if you don't get what I'm going for, all the better I suppose, as you'll be just as surprised as Pinky in a future chapter.

- This is my favorite chapter so far. I had a blast composing this.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

21 notes · View notes

intimidating-fettuccine · 4 years

Text

For the Sake of Science

I hope you enjoy this, because I am incredibly proud of it and I think it’s my favorite work. Under the cut for length.

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

My parents were very interesting people. They had odd quirks and a habit of avoiding social situations, as their beliefs had made them outcasts amongst their community. My parents both claimed to be pursuing science for the sake of advancing society, but that couldn't be further from the truth at the root of it. They just wanted to test the limits of their "science", and I happened to be the perfect guinea pig for them.

My father was a surgeon in his day to day life, and my mother had been a chemist before she was abruptly fired one day for making propositions to her coworkers that were most definitely not in the job description. She had proposed that they begin experimenting on humans with various chemical combinations to try and alter the human species to a more evolved state, a "perfect" state, as she called it. She had threatened them when they called her insane, and she was fired for misconduct. My father seemed to agree with her ideals, and soon they began trying for a child, a child that they would make the perfect human being, and that child was me.

I don't remember much from my early years. It wasn't until about the age of five that things began to take a turn for the worst in my miserable excuse for a life. I remember that I was constantly getting sick, and I didn't know why. My parents never took me to the doctor and tried to nurse me back to health at home, and it wasn't until I had overheard my parents speaking one night that I learned that they had been poisoning my food. When I stopped eating any food they would give me, they began to take different measures to run their tests.

When I was eight, they renovated the basement in our house. What was once an empty bland storage room was now a medical lab that would soon become a living hell for me for many years to come. One day my mother led me down into the basement, telling me she was going to give me a physical checkup, something she told me was normal for every child to go through. I very quickly learned this to be incorrect. Once I was in the basement, she led me over to a medical be and had me hop up onto it, and before I was aware of what was happening, she and my father had held me down and restrained me to the bed.

My mother then proceeded to pull out some chemical blend that she had filled a syringe with, and she injected me with it at small amounts at a time. She claimed she was giving me a medicine that would make me better, but in reality, she was drugging me, and she continued to do so for many years. She would restrain me and test out new concoctions, and if the results proved to be unproductive she would start back at square one and begin all over again, never asking me if I wanted it, or how I felt other than if it was making me feel stronger, or more attractive, or more intelligent, to which I always answered no.

I learned quickly to not cry out when I would protest, when I would cry, scream out for help, yank on my restraints or try to bite them. My mother had a temper, and my father seemed to have no emotional attachments to me, so he would let her do as he pleased. She would get angry with me because perfect people weren't supposed to cry and refuse treatment. She would often beat me when I wouldn't listen to her when she was feeling kind. If she wasn't she would inject particularly painful substances or make me swallow them. Other times she would tie me up and whip me until her arm was tired or she was bored.

I hated my mother, but I would take her chemical injections over my father's specialty any day. My father was a surgeon, studied long and hard for it, but he, like my mother, wanted to take his chosen study further than moral decisions would allow him. He often did vivisections of me, sometimes alone, sometimes with my mother. Maybe I wouldn't have minded him poking around in my body so much if it wasn't for the fact that I was awake and had no numbing agents used on me to prevent pain. I would just have to sit there and bear with it as he stabbed and sliced and poked around inside me while I tried not to cry out or squirm in discomfort.

Sometimes my mother enjoyed injecting her drugs directly into specific organs, which resulted in multiple organs failing in my body, and me growing even weaker and even sicker. Of course, once they crossed the threshold of human experimentation they had no issues dealing in the black market, and they were able to procure me new organs whenever I needed them. After all, they would spare no expense in their delirious pursuit of perfection. Thankfully my father stopped cutting me open eventually, although it was only due to the fact that my skin stopped healing back as fast. I was fragile, and my skin would just peel right off in some places. Whenever I showered, which I was made to do quite often, I could no longer use regular loofas or sponges because they would tear my skin right off. Such is the expected result of being drugged on a daily basis.

These issues caused my skin to not only be sensitive but look and smell bad. Nobody wished to be friends with someone so visibly dying. A few of my teachers were quite concerned and tried to get involved and help me, but they all of a sudden stopped, most likely to my parents stepping in. They would ignore me and pretend I wasn't there unless they were passing back a paper or something else of the sort. The other students I went to school with weren't as forgiving. They would pick on me, some teasing and some spitting out harsh and cruel words about my appearance, my scent, my demeanor.

I didn't complain when they mocked me and called me horrible things. I didn't complain when they swapped out my food for stale, gross replacements. I didn't complain when they soaked me in water, or when one boy decided to piss all over me while I used the bathroom because as he claimed, I already smelled like shit anyways. I didn't say anything when they'd hit me like my mother would because I was already used to the pain. Some of them got bored because I wouldn't react, and some of them continued because they used me as a way for them to vent out their stupid bullshit frustrations. One particularly nasty bitch ended up calling me "Freakshow" one day, and the name quickly spread and stuck. I would be known as Freakshow for the rest of my academic career, and I ended up keeping in the afterlife, because why the fuck not, ya know? Nobody gives a damn anyway.

My mother seemed to become more and more distressed at my horrific state of appearance. Perfect people weren't supposed to be rotting corpses, they were supposed to be angelic and beautiful. Well, let me tell you, I was not nor have I ever been angelic and beautiful, and her worried distress only caused me to go even further from that state as she would pump me full of even more chemicals to try and reverse the effects of her years of misdeeds. When she realized that wasn't working, she stopped. She quit her injections and studies and tests and I thought for once in my life maybe she'd come to her senses. What a horseshit dream that was. Turns out she was trying to have me go through a sort of rehab, to try and get my body back to what a normal human was supposed to look like. When my body got back to a semi-normal state, she plunged right back into her experiments.

Now, I never gave a rat's ass about anything in life. I had nothing to live for, nobody to care about, no interests of any kind. It wasn't until I met Jackson that I seemed to change that thought. You see, Jackson accepted me, made me feel loved, and never judged me for any of my weird qualities. He gave me something to live for, something to hope for, something to smile about. I began dating him in secret behind my parent's backs, and he did a whole lot to increase my mental state. He got me addicted, addicted to living that is. Trying new things, having a fun time, living life. Dopamine and serotonin are two pretty addictive drugs, let me tell ya, and once I was used to feeling them, I couldn't get enough of it. When I was with Jackson I wasn't Freakshow, I wasn't Dexter. I was Dex. I was alive. I was his.

When I was with Jackson, I thought that nothing could go wrong, that maybe I could escape my parent's grasp. I couldn't have been more wrong. My parents ended up somehow finding out about Jackson around the time I'd turned 19, and unbeknownst to me, they kidnapped him and tortured him for several hours when I was out of the house one day. When I returned home, my father who had been waiting for me quickly grabbed me and dragged me downstairs to the basement to show me their handiwork. Jackson was gagged, naked, tied up to the wall, and mutilated beyond repair. He was barely hanging on, and when he saw me he was choking out, trying to say my name, to say anything. Well, my mom ended up killing him right then and there, right before my eyes. She claimed it was for the sake of science, as she howled in laughter. Well, let me tell you I had never felt such emotions raging up inside me as I did at that moment.

I went absolutely batshit crazy, and it's not something I'm proud of. I went apeshit and lost it on them, screaming at the top of my lungs as I went through catharsis, releasing all my pent up emotions over the years. They tried to calm me down with my mother's bullshit excuse of a homemade anesthetic and ended up killing me. So what do they do? Maybe cry, feel bad, repent for their mistakes? Nope. They dump my ass in the backyard and act like nothing ever happened. Of course, by some ungodly happening, I ended up waking back up. Except, I didn't feel like me. I felt goddamn amazing. I couldn't feel absolutely anything. I felt free. Well, almost completely free.

I made my way up through the dirt in our backyard, and then inside the house where I found my parents discussing adoption, of all things, planning on taking in another child for this. Well, I strolled right up to them, and ya know what I did? I bashed them right over the head with the very shovel they buried me with. Let me tell ya, the most fun I've ever had in my life was drugging and torturing them the same way they had done to me. They were crying, weeping, begging me for forgiveness by the time they woke up. Asking me to forgive them, to let them make it up to me. When they realized I wouldn't change my mind they changed their tune, screaming out that I was a disgrace, a zombified monster, a disgusting creature that would never know love. I had lots of fun that night, and I did it all for the sake of science.

#creepypasta #creepypasta scenarios #creepypasta scenario #creepypasta original character #original character #creepypasta original story #dex martin #dex martin headcanons #dex martin headcanon #dex martin scenario

49 notes · View notes

blindedbythedarkness · 3 years

Text

Josh,

Sometimes it's really fucking difficult to not believe that the universe is personally biased against me. And I know that's kind of rich coming from the one of us that didn't get driven to suicide. But I just, I know you of all people would understand. I wish I had you to really talk to right now.

I'm gonna ramble because I just need someone to listen. But where to fucking start? Life right now is just spinning plates. On one day this week I found out a critical hospital referral I was relying on had never been made; I was rejected by yet another landlord for a house next year that I'd really been betting on; my supervisor met with and bullied me for a solid two hours and my one social event of the week got cancelled. So, that's about when it all started to get too much.

The doctor I've been seeing has been incompetent from the start and made so much work for me in the 6 months I've been in her care. Despite diagnosing my Potentially Life Threatening connective tissue disease, she never even named it in our appointments, leaving me to discover the true horrors of my body through playing detective with my blood results. Long story short, to be confident that I can go on a treatment for it without bleeding out, I need to see a geneticist. But despite agreeing that I should see one, she's refusing to refer me to one directly. Instead, she's referring me to a pain rehab clinic at a separate hospital and saying they can internally refer me to genetics. The wait on the pain rehab clinic? At least two years. Plus, of course none of this information was forthcoming and required weeks of emailing back and forth. So now I'm angry, anxious and stressed about my health. I want to make a formal complaint but I don't know when I'll find the time.

That wasn't even the worst thing, though. The worst thing was uni reminding me just one last time that it truly doesn't give a shit about its students and why I hate it to its very core. The final piece of work I have left to hand in is a research project that I've been working on all year. However, my supervisor is an utter cunt, and I don't say that lightly. He's incredibly narcissistic and rude for a start. For a presentation I had to do, he forced me to use his own slides without ever looking at mine. He once ended an online meeting because I misspoke when explaining a figure, telling me to call him back when I knew what I was on about because he "never forgets what he sees and doesn't want his brain soiled with incorrect information." Given he never remembers what we've spoken about from one meeting to the next, I call bullshit. Oh and this week? He asked me to explain a figure to him and when he said he didn't understand I asked him if he was looking at my screen share. He said no. I just despair!

To make matters worse, he's never fucking happy with me. He's made me start my work from scratch 3 times now and had a different problem each time. We're rapidly approaching the deadline now, so to get all the work done for the 3rd time I've been working 9am-5pm 6 days a week. Not that he cares. The results don't fit his hypothesis, so I must simply be incompetent. He even once had the audacity to suggest that I "didn't want to do the work" while looking through a 70 page document of my results, because I couldn't explain the findings of a figure I'd made a month ago off the top of my head.

In this weeks meeting, he again gave me an extortionate list of new tasks to do, while berating me at every turn. With a month left submit my thesis and my write up not started, I tried to explain to him that I wouldn't have time to complete the list. He just shrugged and said, "Well I think you should do it." And yes, this man is aware that I have been struggling physically and mentally recently.

I didn't know what else to do to make him listen, so I contacted the course supervisor (who I'd already briefly made aware of my issues with him). She told me to "quit" and "just get on with writing my thesis"... until four hours later after she had spoken to my supervisor and completely changed her mind. She video called me to tell me to do the work and I just broke down. I don't make a habit of ugly sobbing in front of people I've only ever met twice over Microsoft Teams, but this was a particularly bad day.

"Trying to do this work is going to destroy my physical and mental health."

"I can't do this anymore."

"He never listens to me."

"I've been working 6 days a week and it's killing me."

She didn't care. She told me that since my supervisor is an experienced professional, he must know how much he's asking of me and since he insists it's quick and easy stuff, it must be. This man has never done this analysis himself. He doesn't even know how; half the stuff one of his lab workers taught me and the rest I taught myself.

"Chill out" and "calm down" she told me, "do the work and if you have any problems ask John (the lab worker)"

By the time I pressed the leave button, I could barely breathe, let alone talk. I was just choking and sobbing and had snot pouring down my face. I was just so tired. So stressed. So... ignored. I didn't know where I would find the hours in the day, but I started by cancelling the trip to see my parents this weekend. To them I am not a student, and a student with health problems at that. I am simply a machine to use for free research.

I just wanted the stress to give me a break. I just wanted a break. I was genuinely afraid that my heart was going to stop from the stress alone. I didn't know where else to turn. The counseling service put me on a waiting list. My tutor told me to "just keep trying my best". My mentor told me to talk to my course supervisor. My course supervisor told me to work. A was busy revising for an exam the next day and I didn't want to bother him. So, I turned to my unhealthy coping mechanisms instead.

I didn't mean to do it as badly as I did. I just wanted to scratch my skin enough to feel it burn and give me something else to feel instead of the huge mass in my chest. But the scissors were sharper than I thought and when I looked down there were four long cuts that had gone through the skin and fat. I knew immediately I'd fucked up. There was no way those edges were coming together on their own. Honestly, I was just mad I'd given myself something else to do. So, I covered them with gauze and tape and kept on working. Because I needed to work. I needed to get it done. I would deal with going to the hospital later but I couldn't lose these working hours.

Once the blood was dripping from the gauze I finally, begrudgingly, went to the hospital. Honestly? They were surprisingly nice. They were understanding and they listened. I was so worried that they'd think I was some cringy emo kid looking for attention. I honestly felt like a total knob going there, but I didn't have a choice. I never felt judged or like they thought I was wasting their time or that it was all my fault. Of course, I know that it was my fault and I felt like a fool. But I also don't blame myself for becoming so desperate. At one point a doctor came in with a medical student who was visibly shy and embarrassed when examining me. I told her I had a place at medical school, so not to worry as I'd be in her place soon. And again, I was shocked because they didn't once tell me not to go. I thought they were going to say "if you can't cope right now, starting medical school isn't for you!" But they never said anything like that. Instead they were shocked I'd gotten in to such a good uni and seemed incredibly genuine when they wished me well.

Oh, and the wounds? Thankfully I didn't need stitches so I got them pulled together again with steri-strips. And in case you didn't believe me that I didn't intend them to be so bad, I nearly passed out three times after looking at them. So, I truly am a fucking idiot, Josh. Lesson learnt, I suppose. Though I'm still afraid what will happen next time I run out of options.

It's finally the end of the week now, but the universe still hasn't given me a break. My mum called earlier and told me my rabbit will be crossing the rainbow bridge tomorrow as he seems to have had a stroke. I mean, it's a small mercy that he's an old bunny and he's been unwell for a long time, so it's not a shock. But it's still so sad and I'll miss him so much. What really tops it all off is that I was going to see him this weekend until I had to cancel my trip home due to the workload.

Man, I just. Why does shit stuff seem to come so easily to me? It's difficult not to feel personally victimized when shit news after shit news lines up so well. I wish good things came as thick and fast. I hope to fuck my luck changes soon because honestly I'm terrified that it's taking years off my life.

Thanks for listening, Josh,

6 notes · View notes

hey-hamlet · 4 years

Text

BNHA AU Ideas: Grand Design

Also on AO3!

TL;DR:

If you asked the Heroics Commission why they created Izuku, you'd get an answer pretty close to the truth. The rising power of quirks was making them nervous, and All Might won't live forever.

What they aren't mentioning is the fact that they don't like All Might either.

He's kind and good and dedicated to people over the country. The man will break countless laws to save a single life and has defied the heroics commission on many occasions - something they can't punish him for in any way without being slammed by the media.

So, they come up with a plan.

if you asked the heroics commission why they created Izuku, you'd get an answer pretty close to the truth

the rising power of quirks was making them nervous, and all might won't live forever. 'there might be another quirk as powerful as all mights just around the corner for the heroes' you might say. 'we're just taking away the 'might'' they'd reply

but what they aren't mentioning is the fact that they don't like All Might either.

he's kind and good and dedicated to people over country. the man will break countless laws to save a single life and has defied the heroics commission on many occasions - something they can't punish him for in any way without being slammed by the media

so, they come up with a plan

"if we can't control all might, we make the next all might ourselves"

sure, the doctor who does the work for them is a little shady, but it can't be helped. quirk genetic experiments were recently made illegal in a case spearheaded by nezu himself. nezu doesn't exactly agree with a total ban and is encouraging regulation in place of a blanket stop, but its been years and the laws are going nowhere fast

maybe the man has some shady connections to some shady people all too eager to replace all might? oh well, it can be managed

a pregnant woman called Inko Midoriya shows up at a hospital, dead on arrival, with the baby inside her still clinging to life?

well.

thats just convenient, isn't it?

they extract the child, pronounce the mother dead and whisk the child away into 'foster care', or the arms of the good doctor

when he's revealed to be quirkless? at first the commission is dubious but the doctor assures them this is perfect. he doesn't have to base the quirk off anything, it can be built from the ground up, as exactly the quirk the commission wants

izuku is born 3 months premature to a dead mother and one month later has a strong enough combination of quirks to take down all might when he grows up.

there is a bit of a catch, though. due to the whole 3 months early and dead mother thing, his constitution isn't the greatest, leaving him pretty sickly. the doctor assures him he'll be much better when he grows up (he’s lying). still - it’s a long while until their creation will be an adult. they could let him grow up normally in a nice house, only to pounce on him when he's grown a little stronger

but a chance of letting their perfect child slip away? nope. they resolve to train him as soon as he can crawl.

A few variations of this AU bc I had loads of quirk ideas before I settled on one - Knock Off For All: Izuku has a quirk as similar to OFA as was possible to create without being able to stockpile, complete with the achy breaky bones (no extra quirks) - Power Set: Izuku has a set of the most useful quirks the doctor could think of, ala USJ nomu (Shock nullification, Regeneration, Super Strength, etc) - Midorigiri: Izuku has a powerful combination quirk like a certain cloud mist dude. Probably either a shock absorption + redirection quirk / all 4 elemental types / guardian angel: wings, flight, hard light construct, healing - All for Naught: Izuku has a knock off of All for One that lets him perma copy 5 quirks at a time

So, Guardian Angel is the quirk I’m going with, mostly for the Hawks parallels. They end up basically being raised with each other, hawks jokingly calling Izuku his little brother. He almost cries when Izuku asks what that is.

Izuku’s quirk allows him to fly with a set of wings (he has hollow bones to facilitate this), can create hard light constructs; the more complicated the shape the harder it is and was originally classified as a forcefield quirk before Izuku got creative with it, and gives him the ability to heal.

All abilities excluding flight are based on the amount of ambient light. The brighter it is, the stronger his constructs and the better he can heal. His blood glows. Make of that what you will.

The problem being that while his quirk/s are strong, Izuku himself is very weak. He has chronic anaemia, difficulty putting on weight, a heart murmur, weak lungs, etc. the HA don’t care at all and make him train until he can’t walk.

From birth till 7 Izuku has no contact with people outside the facility, whereupon he is promptly dumped into a public school for 5 days a week. The education he gets there isn’t important, he’ll learn what he needs at the facility. What they do deem as important is A, creating a paper trail for the kid and B, socializing him somewhat.

People flock to him for his quirk, cementing what they always told him. “All of your worth is in your quirk. You have an obligation to save others.”

Plus, they’ve told him he wasn’t born like everyone else, he was created. Different, artificial, inhuman, those where all words used to describe him at the facility. He finds it difficult to make friends.

He forms a strange almost friendship with Bakugo as the only other kid with a super powerful quirk in the school, even if it’s more of a support quirk than anything else. Izuku silently heals Bakugo when he gets into fights, Bakugo snarls at anyone who makes Izuku too uncomfortable. It’s odd, but it works.

Izuku’s personality is similar to canon in the fact he's the same person but it’s a little jumbled.

He’s even less trusting of adults than canon which is saying something, but he doesn’t have canons blatant disregard for authority. If he breaks a rule he makes sure he doesn’t get caught because the punishments he’s had before left scars.

His anger runs a little closer to the surface but he feels like a bad person for feeling any emotion that isn’t positive so he crushes it down under forced optimism. Izuku shows his anger rarely and when he does, it’s quiet and vicious.

If an authority figure tells him to do something, he does it. It takes a while for Aizawa to break the kid’s conditioned need to respond automatically to any request from a ‘Handler’. Aizawa is very afraid of where it came from, but Nezu can’t find anything about this kid other than the record of his birth and his school enrolments.

Izuku thinks he’s less valuable than others which is pretty canon, at least at the start, but here it’s because he’s ‘not as good/natural/ something’ as a ‘normal’ human. Most of the UA teacher see it, but they have no idea why he thinks he’s lesser so their mixed attempts at questioning/comfort fall pretty flat. Izuku is convinced they would abandon him if they knew.

So, Izuku has a complicated relationship with the concept of All Might.

To start off with, even with everything that happened, Izuku adores heroes right down to his very core. Hawks counts the HA lucky that they didn’t accidentally turn Izuku into a villain. Izuku’s favourite hero is All Might, but -

For a start, he was told he was made to be better than All Might. The part of the HA that created him isn’t fond of the no. 1 as someone they can’t at all control, Izuku has basically been taught that All Might is lying to the world with the way he presents himself and that he’s secretly a terrible person and would hate him for both being artificial and for being made to be better than him

Ergo, Izuku is shit scared of him.

Izuku wants to go to UA because Katsuki is going to UA and Katsuki is the only person other than Hawks he’s ever had a somewhat close relationship with. The HA thinks: eh, fuck it, it’ll be a nice fuck you to All Might anyway.

Then All Might is announced as a teacher after Izuku has been accepted and all hell breaks loose.

A brief set of things that happen:

Dadmight and Dadzawa to the extreme, all of 1A basically adopts Izuku instantly (after they get over the fear of his crazy quirk lmao). All Might and Eraserhead are Izuku’s favourite heroes, other than Hawks, so he's both terrified and in awe of them at all times. He finds himself both loving the familial affection he was denied as a child and being terrified they’d think he was a monster when they learnt he was made to overtake All Might, and isn’t a ‘real person’.

Izuku gets OFA, eventually. It ends up improving his physical health which is neat, along with its extra quirks and strengthening of his own.

Todoroki hates Izuku a little from the beginning, although he’d never admit it. Izuku’s quirk is incredibly powerful and he didn’t have to undergo Todoroki’s childhood torment (Which is Incorrect, but he doesn’t exactly know that, does he) When Todoroki finds out (sports festival, Izuku has a pretty emotional response to his little angst time and lets a few things slip) he becomes fiercely protective of him.

Izuku and Bakugo develop an actual friendship and it’s an adventure

Izuku gets kidnapped along with Bakugo at the training camp, during which the doctor, AFO or Shigiraki reveal he was created to beat All Might, just like the Nomu. Izuku wants to run away out of fear/shame, but Bakugo drags him along with the rescue attempt. Izuku, too scared to go back to the HA or UA, wants nothing more than to vanish off the face of the earth. When Aizawa and All Might visit him and Bakugo at the hospital, Izuku breaks down crying and cowers in fear, convinced his teachers are either going to hurt or kill him. Everyone involved is horrified. They try to calm him down but just seeing them is scaring the shit out of Izuku so they end up getting chased out by Bakugo who clumsily comforts him.

#grand design au #bnha au #bnha #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #All Might #yagi toshinori #izuku #midoriya #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #todoroki shouto

220 notes · View notes

fiercyy · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura & Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi, Team 7 - Relationship, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai | Might Guy Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi, Tsunade (Naruto), Orochimaru (Naruto) Additional Tags: AU, Post-Chuunin Exams, post chuunin exams attack, Minor Character Death, Trauma, Team 7 Family bonding, Genin Era, Everybody moves in with Sasuke, he's got room, semi-au, Plot Twists, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Roommates, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 (Naruto) Feels, BAMF Dai-nana-han | Team 7 (Naruto), Team as Family, Slow Burn, Post-Naruto Time Skip | Naruto Shippuden, Mutual Pining Series: Part 1 of Post-Chuunin Exam AU Summary:

Sakura always wished she could relate to her teammates better. She wishes she could take it back.

In which Sasuke acquires some unwanted roommates and a team becomes a family.

(Now at Shippuden Era)

a/n: Anyway, everyone’s bi now.

Chapter 14:

I am compromised.

Safe for now.

Don't think O knows.

Kakashi glances from one scroll to the other. Naruto is back in the village and Sakura is… at least willing to be in the same room as him. Sasuke is in danger. In two years, his family has been flung far and wide, but it seems that now they're destined to be reunited.

He should recall Sasuke. He should report his intel to Tsunade. He should go find Sakura and let her yell at him some more. What would do the most good? Probably the intel, even if seeking out Sakura would feed his masochism streak.

Taking on ANBU missions again has eroded his sense of reality. ANBU allows him to drift, rudderless in a stream that carries him down. He is goalless, living in an eternal period of waiting. Waiting for someone else's mission to end. Waiting for someone to come back. Waiting for someone to forgive him. He has no thought for a life put on pause. He'll continue to hold his breath until it's all over, but it probably won't ever be. So here he'll stay, shallow breath and panicked heart, prematurely gray and sick with grief.

When will it be enough? When will kids stop having to give up their lives in senseless, ceaseless war?

He thought that time was over. He thought that his generation would be the last. But then again, he supposes all generations fight to be the last. Everyone fights for their children to live better, don't they?

Kakashi doesn't have any children, but he has Team 7. A tragedy as old as the world, yet still in the making.

It's over. He's calling it. He'll go to Tsunade, give her the intel and demand they bring Sasuke home. It just isn't worth the risk to keep him in the field. Sure Sakura and Naruto will be a little confused when he tells them the truth, but they'll be happy in the end, won't they?

He slips his shoes on and is about the poof across town, when he's enveloped in someone else's smoke.

"Welcome back, Rival!" Gai exclaims with his usual excess of enthusiasm. "Got a minute?" he winks. Because of course he does. The man has no shame.

He sighs very deeply. Gai is yet another thing that he long ago tried to put on pause, but the man is by no means cooperative. "If I must."

Gai grins. "I insist."

There are days when focus is difficult, anxiety's high and Sakura has to run away from her own spiralling thoughts.

She goes to the hospital first, but Hatsune turns her away. "It's your day off." she says, "you deserve a break!" she exclaims. "Leave or I'll tell Tsunade," she threatens.

Fair enough.

Without permission, her feet carry her to the bridge where Team 7 used to meet. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, she can't forget it. Whenever she's lost in thought and wandering, she always finds herself here.

She hoists herself up on the bannister and twists so she's straddling it. Then she lays back and stares at the perfect, blue sky. Below, the stream rushes by. In the distance, birds chirp. A gentle breeze stirs her hair—it tickles her nose. Sakura can breathe here. And think.

She wonders what her parents would think of her life. The only thing they'd ever asked her for was her share of the chores and good grades. They never told her what future they wanted for her. Sometimes she wishes for a roadmap; she's not lost, but there's too many directions to choose from.

Would they understand her, as she is now? Is she doing enough to make them proud? Would her parents tell her to work things out with her team?

Mebuki made them change grocers once because Urashi-san gave her incorrect change and refused to correct the mistake. She never spoke to him again. She could be petty like that. She demanded her due and accepted no less. Sakura tries to take that lesson from her. When she's put on missions with sexist jerks or an older doctor doesn't listen to her because of her age, she fights back.

So she thinks Mebuki would understand why she's mad.

She thinks about them all the time; what they would say. She wishes they could have met her team, wonders why they never did.

Nothing to be done about it now.

Gai is a good listener, but the best thing about him is that he's perfectly able to fill a silence all on his own.

Kakashi pours tea and Gai talks.

"-It was an innocent misunderstanding. Everything could have been avoided if Neji hadn't skipped the sharing circle."

In the choice between snorting and rolling his eyes, Kakashi does both. "Sharing circle, huh?"

"It prevents all manner of misunderstandings!"

All teams have lots of those to go around.

"It's always best to know peoples intentions," Kakashi concedes. "Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

Gai's foot, which has mysteriously found a resting place against Kakashi's ankle, jerks back. "No," he clears his throat. "I'd much rather know where I stand."

He avoids looking at Gai's face, though he knows he'll find no disappointment there. He stands up anyway, taking the still warm teacups and placing them delicately in the sink.

"I have to go." Which is the truth. "I owe Lady Hokage a debriefing."

Gai's empty hands fist against the table as he pulls them back. He awkwardly knocks on the wood and laughs to himself. "Of course. I won't keep you."

The purpose of not speaking to Gai was, in its own way, self-flagellation. When Sasuke's life was put on pause. Kakashi's was as well. Most waking moments, when not on a task, have been absorbed by worrying about his wayward student's wellbeing. It wouldn't be right or fair to anyone…

So they leave the apartment together and part at the foot of the stairs. He feels Gai's eyes on his back until he turns the corner.

Tsunade reads the scroll Kakashi has handed to her and bites her thumbnail while she thinks.

"He has not asked for an extraction."

Kakashi's eyes narrow. "I'm asking for one anyway."

"He clearly does not feel that it is appropriate at this time."

"He's a child!" he shouts, which takes her aback.

Tsunade rolls up the scroll and carefully places it on the corner of her desk. He's too close to this, she knows she must be delicate. "He's a leaf nin, same as you. He knew the risks." And worst of all. "You're in constant contact. If he feels he's in danger, he will let you know. In the meantime, I'm sending you and your team to follow up on his intel on Orochimaru's base in the Land of Waves."

He shuts that idea down too. "They're not ready. We haven't functioned as a team in two years, we're unfamiliar with each other's skillsets and we're a man down. I need more time."

"Kakashi," Tsunade sighs, "Make up your mind. Do you want to extract our operative in Sound or do you want to keep the rest of your team in the village forever? Because these are conflicting points."

"Godaime-"

"Shut up," she lazily waves him off. "You're like a protective mama bear. My word on this matter, is final."

But of course he doesn't shut up. Why would anyone around here make her job easy?

"Let me take my team on a retrieval mission to the Kusagakure base. Under the guise of recapturing a missing nin. This way we preserve his cover, but provide an escape route if necessary." He takes a deep breath, "And we can confirm that Sasuke's intel is good."

This gives her pause. "Is there reason to believe it isn't?"

He shakes his head, but now that the doubt is in her head, the suspicion won't leave. "Only that they might be feeding him false information as a test."

Sasuke has successfully passed along dozens of tips over the past year, all of them have been good. There's no reason to suspect that will change, but she doesn't say it. She weights her peace of mind against Kakashi's proposition. What could it hurt?

Sakura, for one.

"Fine," she agrees. She's so tired of this. "But an additional team member will be selected to fill out your ranks."

"Fine," he replies in that false cheery tone that she hates so much. Now that he's gotten his way, he wants to be downright delightful. Well, if she can't relax no one else is allowed to pretend. "Will that be all ma'am?"

"What will you tell them?" Sakura and Naruto think the brat's a traitor. How's he going to stop them from accidentally killing him? Then again, she's not sure either of them have that in them. Sakura doesn't talk about it much, but they must have loved the kid. He loved them a lot anyway, enough to fight that hard for a goodbye.

"That they're finally getting what they want."

"This isn't where I wanted to be either," Sakura growls, arms stiffly crossed in front of her chest. "Waiting around for Kakashi again… I could kill him."

"Ne Sakura, maybe calm down a little, uhn? Sensei's consistent at least. Consistently inconsiderate of other people's time is what he is!" He starts out trying to defend him but midway through, his own annoyance pushes forward.

She punches his arm, but it doesn't bruise so he knows it's a friendly jab. She's so different. He notices more and more, but at least she'll never stop hitting him. That's kind of comforting, right?

One of the first lessons Kakashi taught Team 7 was to expect the unexpected. The unexpected arrives with paintbrush in hand, insults on his tongue and blank, blank eyes.

Kakashi's arrival is overshadowed by the intense shouting match already taking place on the bridge. This day is turning out no better than yesterday, that's for sure.

"Children," he greets from his crouched position on the bridge railing. Sakura decides she's standing too close and takes three long steps to the left. This puts her within kicking range of the squabble between Naruto and a stranger.

Naruto's big toe nicks her ear, which zaps her of any patience she possessed. Sakura shrieks and punches the ground. Earth rockets up around her, like a meteor falling to earth. Naruto and the stranger fly apart, rolling into the river with a splash and a tree with a thud. Both boys seem stunned. He doesn't blame them, he's only ever seen Sakura's destructive potential once in person. That little girl is scary.

The stranger looks familiar, now that he can get a better look at him. Could be he's seen him around. Maybe ANBU? Or maybe just on the street. Kakashi's got good recall, but he's struggling to place him. Which is strange, because he's very distinctive looking. Pale as a blank page and just as unreadable, inky black hair and eyes and fashion choices that would make even Gai incredulous. Seems like no one follows regulation these days; everyone wants to show their midriff.

"I don't understand why you are so upset, Uzumaki." He doesn't ask why; he just expresses confusion with an eerie smile.

"Don't talk about my penis!" Naruto shrieks and cups his hands protectively in front of the appendage, like the other boy's going to lunge for it.

"Alright, I didn't mean to offend you, Dickless. I can do that."

Naruto groans and covers his ears. "Don't you see how that's worse?! Don't call me that!"

"But everything I've read about team building indicates that nicknames and jokes facilitate trust between teammates."

Ah. I see.

"Children," Kakashi tries again and three sets of eyes fly to him as they remember his existence. "I see you've already become acquainted." To the stranger in the crop top: "You must be the fourth member of our team."

He uses the tree to push himself to his feet and bows slightly at the hips. The back of his head is matted in blood but he doesn't so much as flinch. "I am Sai."

"Him?!" Naruto demands, running up the riverbank. Kakashi wonders if Jiraiya has robbed him of all critical thinking skills with his indolence. Genius and dissolution so often go hand in hand when it comes to great artists.

"Shouldn't you have figured that out by now?"

"Hello to you too," Naruto grumbles and wrings out his jacket.

Kakashi smiles beneath his mask, "It's good to see you Naruto." He reaches out to ruffle his hair and it strikes him that he's so much taller than he was when he left. He reaches his chin. Sasuke is a little taller and when they hugged, his hair tickled his nose. This is a thing he knows now and they do not.

The boy beams up at him and Kakashi feels a little less like a failure.

"If we're all going to be on this team, we need to learn to work together," Kakashi proclaims, "And what better way than a test?"

He produces two bells from the breast pocket of his jounin vest, makes eye contact with Sakura and smiles so big his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Turns out, Kakashi has not in fact seen the extent of Sakura's potential. And Team Kakashi is mission ready.

Gai's mind is still on his not-talk with Kakashi when he reports for duty alongside his team. He's unhappy and Gai understands this. If something bad were to happen to Lee or Tenten stopped speaking to him or Neji betrayed them all, he would be a wreck. He cannot blame Kakashi for his pain, but wishes that he would share it. A burden is lighter, carried by two. He supposes this liminal space is better than a definitive 'no'. They've spent so many years as rivals. When the possibility of more came into view, it was a wonderful surprise. Maybe is better.

"Sunagakure's emissary, Temari of the Sand requires an escort to return to her village," Lady Tsunade doesn't have a scroll to hand him. It's a simple mission, requiring no further details than the prescribed task. "You may remain a day before returning. When would you like to leave?" This, she directs at Temari.

The girl shrugs, "Now's good."

It's been a while since Gai has travelled to Suna. He likes the food, it's spicy enough that it helps with the heat. This will be fun!

"Maintain cover, expect us."

Generally, Sasuke and Kakashi communicate by written letters because it is the quickest and most accurate way to communicate information. It ensures that Pakkun does not remain in enemy territory overlong and his chakra isn't likely to be sensed. When he delivers messages by word of mouth is means that Kakashi was in a rush or he expected follow up questions.

Pakkun's face is always grim, but he has an air of resignation as he tells him that two years of work are crumbling.

"He's overruling me?"

Pakkun hesitates. "More like checking up on you. It's up to you how you receive them."

Sasuke understands, "So I have not been ordered to return."

"They're coming under the guise of a retrieval mission. You can use this as an opportunity to stage a capture or earn more trust by fighting back. In the meantime, try and find out who's discovered you."

Wait. Does this mean-? "A retrieval mission. So it's Team 7 coming."

He and Kakashi discussed them when they met covertly. Naruto hasn't been in the village for a while, but he was due back soon. And Sakura's doing well, according to their teacher. She's a chunin now.

"Yes."

Team 7 on a mission without him. To come get him.

"…Do the others know?"

Pakkun is not a very demonstrative dog. But he puts a paw on Sasuke's knee as he tells him, "No."

a/n: You may notice that I'm doing this thing where I skip over scenes from canon. This is because I don't want to rewrite scenes from canon, that's no fun to write or read. Instead, I'm letting you infer stuff, if it's confusing at any part, please let me know!

I've also moved around the Akatsuki stuff. It never made sense to me that they basically delayed their plans for 3 years for no reason? So I'm choosing to stretch out the Akatsuki arc so we can deal with Orochimaru properly first. This means that YES, we are headed to Suna for the Gaara/Akatsuki plotline, but other Akatsuki things are getting pushed back.

RE: KakaGai. Why? Dunno. My hand slipped and I love it./p

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this very weird journey. I love knowing what y'all think, don't be shy!

#sasusaku #naruto #team 7 #fanfiction #kakagai #if you can't hold on #iyc #my fic

27 notes · View notes

thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: PTSD

A/N: We’re coming out of the angst mood and this will be the last wholly flashback chapter. We return to present day in Part 8. Doesn’t mean there won’t be flashbacks, but the action is now moving forward!

And I can’t believe the number of people who have followed this blog in the last week or so (has it only been that long?) and the people who are liking the posts. Y’all know how to make a girl feel good. :)

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5] [PART 6]

Part 7

Road to Recovery

It was the sharp yelp and half sob that startled nurse Cider at her desk. Looking up she realized the sound came from her only occupied bay. She got up and walked into the room to find Sirah laying awkwardly in the bed, tears trickling down her face.

“You tried to move again, didn’t you?” the nurse asked. She didn’t need an answer, she already knew it. She was just being polite. Sirah gave a slight nod. She’d been fully conscious for only forty-eight hours, but every moment of it was a cycle of pain and then calmness as the drugs kicked in. She was in the pain portion of the cycle.

“It’s so hard to breathe, Cider. I just can’t seem to breathe.”

“I know, honey. Let me get you more comfortable and see if that helps a bit.” Cider stepped out and waved over another nurse. They came into the room and each grabbed Sirah under her arms to pull her gently up. But something about the way they held her made their patient go rigid with fear.

“NO!” She cried out. “NO, don’t take me!”

For a moment, she wasn’t in the med bay, instead her mind was suddenly back in California and trapped in the fear she felt while captured. She started shaking violently and both nurses dropped their hands. Cider reached out and touched Sirah’s forehead gently, calling to her.

“Sirah, honey, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just me and Tea. We’re here to help you, it’s okay.” Cider rubbed her palm on the woman’s forehead while grasping her hand with the other. After a moment, Sirah’s eyes looked over at the nurse and seemed to refocus.

“Good, honey. Good.” She kept her voice calm and even. “Tea and I are going to help you move, remember? We’re going to put our hands back under your arms and under your legs. And you’re going to be more comfortable. Yeah?”

Sirah nodded and this time, while keeping her eyes focused on Cider, she let the nurses move her. Soon she was shifted higher and suddenly she felt as if she could breathe again. The nurses tucked her back in, took a few vitals, and patted her hand before they left. While they worked, in the shadows outside the room stood Champ. As the nurses passed him, he paused before entering the room. Looking at the ceiling, he took a deep breath and willed the tears from his eyes before walking in.

Normally, the man was larger than life, standing taller than most of his agents physically and bigger than everyone else through his personality. But when Sirah laid eyes on him, she noted he looked smaller, older even. He sat down next to her bed and took her hand, cradling it to his cheek. She let the tears stream down her own as his warmth seeped into her hand and then into her heart. She was home again.

---***---

She had been in a coma for several weeks as the med team worked to fix what they could, but once she woke up, the reality of what happened to her began to set in for the team. The trauma of her experience wasn’t something she had been trained to handle and she spiraled deeply into this scary new world as the days passed. Soon the personality that inspired Tequila’s Shirley Temple nickname was gone and in its place was a woman full of fear.

One day after Ginger had visited for some time, Sirah cried pitifully when her friend left. She curled into herself the best she could, thinking her friend was never coming back. The abandonment compounded everything.

Champ and Dr. Licuados consulted daily with the in-house therapy center about the situation. A therapist was assigned to her, code named Orange, but in the early days there wasn’t much either doctor could do to ease the pain and fear. The three watch as Sirah nearly become a ghost of herself.

Her friends were sick to their stomachs at the change and tried to do whatever they could within their power to help her through it. After the event with Ginger, the four of them agreed to take turns being with her. Just being in the same room was often enough for Sirah most days, so they’d bring work or field reports or even just books to pass the time.

Ginger took the mornings, Tequila took the afternoon shift, and Champ stayed by her side in the early evenings. But Jack was the one to stay with her at night. Seeing his sleeping form on the couch next to her brought her immense comfort and often, she would reach out and touch his hand with hers. Every time, even dead asleep, he grasped hers in return and never let go.

---***---

A month after she woke from the coma, the doctors agreed to move her to a private therapy bay to continue her recovery. Her cuts had scarred over, her burns were stable, and the breaks and fractures were just about healed. She was able to begin the next phase of her healing and the days took on more structure.

Physical therapy in the morning with Tequila there as her own personal cheerleader and sometimes Ginger when he was out on assignment. Regular therapy with Dr. Orange in the afternoons, and in the evenings, Jack came “home” to stay with her. Champ made it a special order to have lunch with her daily and sometimes his wife would join them.

Her recovery probably wouldn’t had gone as well as it had were it not for her friends. The love and support they provided guided her through the dark moments. One night, after she had been cleared to take a shower, Sirah stood beneath the water, relishing the feeling of being clean. Without thinking, she turned her face upwards into the spray and immediately her brain was flooded with the memory of her water boarding.

She pulled back, gasping and cried out before she fell against the shower wall in terror. Immediately, Jack rushed into the bathroom, calling her name. He pulled back the shower curtain and found her sitting on the floor, crying and shaking with the memory. He turned off the water and dropped to his knees. He wrapped her in his arms and held her against him. Nothing he could say could reach through to her, so instead he rocked her body as she cried. It cut him to the core and broke his heart into a million pieces. Soon she quieted down, and her arms snaked around his waist.

“Moonshine, let’s get you cleaned up.” She nodded and was patient while he soaped up a rag and gently cleaned her. He rinsed and dried her off before helping her dress. When he got her settled in bed, he texted Tequila to come take his place. When he arrived, Jack outlined what had happened and said he needed to step out. Tequila clapped a hand on his shoulder before sitting down on the couch. If Jack needed a minute, then dammit, he was getting one.

Jack ran down to the training room and turned on the lights. He rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles as he walked over to the punching bag. He took a deep breath and threw out his right arm. The contact stung but it didn’t stop him. He took the rest of his anger and grief out on the bag. He eventually collapsed against it, exhausted, but calmer.

---***---

“Orange. . . can I talk about that night?” Sirah sounded hesitant, but the therapist gave her a reassuring smile. Half a year had passed since California and Sirah now found herself curled on the end of her couch, wrapped in a blanket. The therapist sat at the other end, leg drawn up and facing her.

“Needles.” Sirah looked out the window. “I could smell the needles of the redwoods as I laid there. . .” Their talk continued and several times, Sirah broke down. She cried for Malbec and Sherry, the agents who were her friends. She cried for herself. She just cried all the tears she couldn’t while captured. And then she talked some more.

After nearly three hours, she felt exhausted, but lighter. Facing California was hard, but each day seemed to get easier. Dr. Orange told her to sleep a bit and left the apartment. But for the first time in weeks she didn’t dream of pain or of fire or even of a dead woman’s eyes. Instead she dreamed of New York City.

“Jack, are we sure this is correct?” Sirah looked at the notes sent from HQ regarding the case. They sat in his New York office reviewing files and she scribbled notes in the margins.

“I’m sure moonshine, I don’t think Tequila would send us incorrect notes.” Jack flipped through the file in front of him before turning back to the computer. He updated a few things and went back to the file. Sirah picked up the notes she made and gathered a few more items.

“I’ll be right back. . . .” her voice faltered as she looked out the window. He turned to see what captured her attention. Blocks away from where they were at, fireworks lit up the sky. She walked over to the window in a sort of trance, mesmerized by the beauty of the scene – the brightly colored fireworks against the dark sky and the surrounding glow of the city. Jack walked up behind her to watch, too.

Without thinking about it, he laid his hands on her shoulders and his chin on her head. She sighed and leaned back into him, eyes still on the display. He dragged his hands down her arms and wrapped her close against him. She melted into him and they stood in comfortable repose until the display ended. The sky darkened again, and the sounds of the city were no longer muffled.

She turned in his arms and pressed her face against his chest. Her arms came up around his waist and she clung to him. He shifted and kissed the top of her head. She smiled into his chest and sighed again, this one even more contented than before. She eventually moved out of his arms, dragging her hand across his chest as she walked around him. He caught the smile on her face, and one grew on his own.

“I’ll be in the library for a bit. I want to check up on some things. Can you wait a few hours until I have more information?” She looked at him.

“Moonshine, I’ll always wait for you.” She beamed at him and slightly nodded her head before taking her items and walking out the door.

He’d wait a lifetime for her if he needed to.

---***---

She woke up from the dream with a contented smile on her face, an event that hadn’t happened since before California. As she became more alert, she realized she was alone. Everyone worked to keep a similar schedule as before even after she moved back into her home and when she looked at the clock, she noticed it was close to dinner time. She asked Champ to come to dinner and as if her mind conjured him, he walked through the door, knocking as he entered.

She smiled as he sat down and laid out the dinner his wife made. He also handed her a lumpy package that had her name scrawled across it. She opened it and while he went to get plates, she pulled out a beautifully thick navy sweater. It was oversized and the sleeves were longer than normal.

Once she was cleared to wear regular clothing, Sirah had taken to completely covering herself. She was self-conscious about the scars all over her body and while the logical part of her brain said no one would care, she still did it anyway. Champ’s wife was a quiet woman, but she was observant and smart as hell. Champ wouldn’t have married her if she wasn’t. The sweater was something that would give Sirah the cover she wanted with much comfort.

“Champ, can we talk for a moment?” She sounded serious as he returned and sat down next to her.

“Of course, honey. What do you need?” The voice was kind and she found herself feeling ever grateful she had such love around her. It’s why she knew she’d get passed this.

“Don’t call me Sirah anymore.”

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #pedro pascal #agent whiskey x oc #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal x reader

34 notes · View notes

t-m-o · 4 years

Photo

Mirai Nikki (KakaIru)

Yeah, I wanted to write a Future Diary AU back in the day.

This was back when Kakashi in the KakaIru fandom was turning into kind of a stalker where he would watch Iruka from the shadows and spy on him out of love.

I wasn’t super into the idea of Iruka liking that kind of behavior but I really wanted to dig into the idea of a literal stalker!Kakashi like in Mirai Nikki. Iruka would have met the original Kakashi and fallen in love with him only to be thrown into a situation with the unhinged version of Kakashi and having to deal with this version he hadn’t fallen in love with.

Heh, look at all those dividers I used to use.

“I love you,” the young man gritted out through tearing eyes and pulled the limp body closer, whispering out his lover’s name just in time for the sky to open up above him. Eyes widening, he clung to the body with what little strength he had left in vain as he felt himself being pulled up, his grip on the lithe form bellow slipping as he was ripped away, giving one last desperate cry before he was wiped of the face of the earth.

“NOOO!!!”

Iruka’s head shot off the desk and he snapped his eyes open, heart pounding and gasping for breath as he slowly realized his surroundings. Tense shoulders falling, he took a deep breath with closed eyes before looking out his window at the calming moon that shone brightly with her full face in the midnight sky.

It had just been a dream and Iruka sighed with relief, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he pulled himself over to his bed. With a quick promise that he’d finish that essay in the morning, his head hit the pillow and he fell right back asleep.

X-X

Iruka glanced out the window and sighed, his eyes traveling over the school grounds, adjacent buildings and skyscrapers beyond. He’d been at school for ages now and he wanted to go home already even though his parents probably weren’t there. It was Friday and they usually took the evening to go out to supper together.

Flipping his book closed as the bell rang, he stood and headed out of the room, the other students filling out alongside him.

He felt cold despite the warm temperature outside and shivered. He’d been feeling bleak over the past few days and his mood was dropping lower by the second. There was no reason to it but he was tired, the daily routine beginning to bug him and nag at his mind. It felt like he was in some endless cycle that just dragged on and he couldn’t help but feel lost.

Just like always, Kotetsu called to him, motioning him over to their spot by the main gate and Izumo continued on with explaining another one of the world’s exciting events to the two of them in hushed tones.

“I’m telling you, this has never happened before,” Iruka frowned at the chosen topic.

“So, what if the stars are a little off?” he asked and made the other brunet look at him with skepticism. “Can’t scientists be wrong?”

“Iruka, this hasn’t happened in over fifty years,” Izumo’s lips twisted down not unlike Iruka’s, “What’s wrong with you? You’re usually a lot more positive.”

“I don’t know,” the idea wasn’t incorrect. The brunet usually was more chipper and open. With no more than a sad shrug, he let his gaze drift and zoned out of the conversation until Kotetsu grinned at him.

“Oh, I get it. You’re moping because you haven’t seen Mr. Right yet, am I right?” Iruka flushed as soon as those words reached his ears, heart pounding in his chest.

“It’s not like that!” he snapped as the other young man refused to back down, poking Iruka in the side.

“Oh, come on, Ru. We all know that you have feelings for him,” Iruka batted away the hand and looked away.

“You know we’re just friends…” Izumo snorted.

“Yeah, Ko and I were ‘just friends’ too but look at us now,” Kotetsu leered at his boyfriend and gave him a perverted smile.

“Guh,” Iruka stood and picked up his tray with a jerk, leaving the lovebirds to dump his tray and head for his locker.

This was how the lunches with his friends had been going for the past few days. They’d talk and then tease him into leaving, Iruka going back to loom in the classroom. Maybe it was just him, maybe he needed to see a doctor or something.

Quirking his head to the side, he sighed and tried to lighten up. It had probably just been a long week. Despite the summer break coming up in a few weeks, the days just seemed to drag on forever and that was probably one of the reasons why he was in such a grumpy mood.

Iruka yelped in shock when he was slammed into a locker, falling to the ground with a sound flop. Groaning and rubbing his sore shoulder, he was getting ready to call his attacker out when he looked up and saw who it was, deflating instantly and saying in confusion, “Ka-kashi?”

“Iruka?” the young man looked down at the brunet he’d plowed down, Iruka staring up in shock at him and feeling his mouth go dry. Blinking, the older man’s visible eye widened in shock before he said, “I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you…”

Grabbing in outstretched hand, Iruka pulled himself up and shook his head in refusal, “no, it’s alright… I wasn’t really paying attention either.”

Cheeks flushed and Iruka looked away from the other who gave him a sorry smile, “Still, I don’t think it was very polite of me. Maybe I could get you a coffee sometime to make up for it?”

The casual offer made the brunet grin and say, “that might be acceptable.”

“Great… say, lunch tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” the gravity of what he’d just agreed to came crashing down once Kakashi had nodded and left with a wave, the brunet’s heart beating and tumbling around in his chest. The breath he’d been holding was left out with a pant and his lips fell into a grin that reflected how his inside felt as if they were lighting up.

With that ecstatic smile still stretching his face, he snickered happily to himself and hopped away, taking the steps towards his class two at a time, the shadow around the corner smiling to itself before slipping away.

X-X

As expected, his parent’s weren’t home but Iruka didn’t really care anymore. He bounded up the stairs and threw himself onto his bed, rolling around on it with that beaming smile still attached. Shoving a pillow in his face, he screeched into it momentarily before pulling it away with a deep breath, the smile slipping, “Get a hold of yourself, Umino. It’s just lunch.”

“Lunch?” a voice near the back of his mind asked, making the brunet grin again and nod as he closed his eyes.

“Yup,” the voice made a confused sound and Iruka let his mind go, dropping down into the world of his thoughts as he opened them again. Before him stood suddenly a man clothed in green who was peering down at him with confused eyes, bushy eyebrows scrunched together. He gave his imaginary friend a big smile and said happily, “I’m going to have lunch with the Hatake Kakashi tomorrow.”

“Hatake Kakashi?” Gai frowned and straightened up.

“Yeah,” Iruka’s lips were falling, “What? You’re not happy for me?”

“No, no, I am,” Gai gave his trademark thumbs up as he said, “I hope you have a wonderful time on your lunch date with your long-awaited crush, Kakashi!”

Iruka flushed and stammered, “I-It’s not a date!”

“Sure, sure, I’ve gotta go; Hiruzen’s planning something big.” Smiling to himself, Gai waved at the brunet as he started to fade back into Iruka’s consciousness. Cheeks still burning, Iruka rubbed at his face and fell back onto the pillows with a poof.

Was it a date? The brunet couldn’t tell but it wasn’t completely improbable that the figment from his imagination was right.

Gai always had a good sense of what was to come, even when Iruka had first thought him up when he was eight and without friends. He still didn’t have as many friends as he’d like and it got lonely when Kotetsu and Izumo were wrapped up with each other but the great comfort in his situation always was the ever-happy and exuberant Gai.

There was also another figure that he’d made up when he was a boy, one who was like the role model his parents had never been for him. His name was Hiruzen and they’d talk whenever something was on his mind or bothering him. Lately, though, the old man hadn’t come to mind even once which had probably been the reason why Iruka had been so depressed in the first place.

A buzz in his pocket made him bolt up and yank his phone from his pocket, the screen flashing up to show him that he had a new text. Curious, he opened up the new message and felt his heart skip a few beats.

It was from him, from Kakashi.

702 St. Catherine street, 12:00, be there or be square ;P

It briefly occurred to him that he hadn’t given Kakashi his number but he shrugged it off. Izumo or Kotetsu had probably given it.

The way Kakashi had quirked his lips up at him bubbled up and Iruka tightened his grip on his pillow as his thoughts fell back into those of the older man and his devil-may-care attitude.

X-X

“Hiruzen?” The old man glanced down at his assistant from his perch and motioned for the man to come closer, his aide gliding up passed the shelves upon shelves of books to the Third’s hovering platform. “Sir, it seems as though Kakashi and Iruka are planning to meet each other downtown tomorrow.”

“Apparently so,” the old man snapped his book shut and picked up another, the statement completely going overlooked to his assistant’s annoyance.

“Is that alright?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll just have to see how things unfold.”

X-X

There was no smile on his face, his lips turned down and his brows furrowed together, and the brunet’s heart was racing.

He wasn’t sure he could do this. The feeling in his stomach made him feel dizzy and he tried to take calming breaths, his grip on the strap of his bag tightening. As happy as he had been before, the brunet was now panicking and shaking with nervousness.

What if Kakashi didn’t show?

Ideas of him and his gang of friends laughing as Iruka entered the school on Monday floated up and he felt his core drop into his stomach in distress. He just wanted to go home before he threw up but he didn’t want to turn around, the promise of the silver-haired man being there too great to pass up no matter how hopeless it seemed.

He rounded the corner and felt the world drop into slow-motion as he spied the small shop, his breaths coming out in pants as he hurried to the shop, slowing once he stepped inside. His gaze swiftly scanned the shop and his heart stopped.

As he stood there, in front of the door, other people excused themselves around the frozen brunet who caught back his breath.

“Yo!” Kakashi smiled once he saw the brunet and stood from his chair at the small table he’d picked by the window. Iruka was grinning brightly at him and he couldn’t help but smile back, his one eye closing happily.

Closing the distance between them, Iruka flushed and said, “Sorry, if you waited long.”

“I just got here myself,” the older man smiled and stood, “I’ll go grab us something. You want anything specific?”

“No, that’s alright,” politely declining, the younger man watched Kakashi go and left his inside jump around a bit. He was just about to sit when something hit him.

It was like a wave, an icy one that fell over him all at once and made his skin prickle agonizingly as he felt his breath being clogged in his throat. The sensation made him shiver and he almost double over when his eyes caught on something outside, a shock of orange hair that drew his attention and he froze with his eyes on them.

A man slipped inside and met Iruka’s gaze, their attention solely on each other as Iruka’s conscious let the world around them fall away and his shoulders slumped. Deep, brown eyes pulled him in and took hold, their grasp on his tightening as the man whispered out, “come with me.”

Iruka suddenly was moving through the little tables of people and out the door, finding himself in the nearest alley but unable to move even though there was nothing to restrain him.

The man with entrancing eyes came closer, a breaths distance away, sending chills up his spine and his pulse to skip beats as they grew closer and closer by the second. His vision fell into black and white as the other man came within reach.

With one last hitch, Iruka was about to pass out when the world sprang back into color with the blood that suddenly spurted out of the man’s neck, the brunet’s mind becoming his once again.

Gasping and fighting for breath, the young man fell and scrambled back as far as he could from the bleeding man, snapping his head up to find a dark silhouette in the alley’s mouth with a handful of throwing knives. The person stepped forward, drawing another knife that glinted in the afternoon light, and Iruka scrambled up to his feet in fright.

About to turn and run, the brunet’s movements were halted when he saw whom was the man with the sun at his back, Kakashi’s hair glimmering in the sun as he stared at the scene with his dark eye.

“Ka….Kakashi,” Iruka stammered and slid back against the wall at his back, trying to get away as Kakashi stalked toward him.

“Don’t worry, Iruka. He’s dead now.” Scoffing, the brunet nodded and laughed hysterically at the other man.

“Oh, yeah, that’s for sure,” he snapped and shook his head, whole body trembling when the image of blood from the dead man’s body close to him gushed into his mind. “You friggin’ killed that guy, Kakashi!”

“He was going to kill you. What else was I supposed to do?” those words made Iruka’s eyes widen. What was he talking about? What was going on?

Shaking his head jarringly, Iruka staggered further back only to have Kakashi swiftly step up in front of him.

#kakairu fanfic #WIP Wednesday #tuf #tmo's unfinished fics

5 notes · View notes