#and they were cagemates

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Oh no, am I going to accidentally turn Douxie into Cytherea???? Maybe I should rework everything

[ruthlesslistener]

Kept hearing this awful high-pitched mouse scream from one of the cages in the room I was cleaning today, but the mice stopped whatever they were doing anytime I tried to come close, so eventually I just stood still and watched them to make sure there wasn't any legitimate injuries happening just in case

As a matter of fact, there were no injuries. It was just one female humping her cagemates and her cagemates screeching about it. Ten years taken off my life bc a buncha lil ladies were being drama queens

[ghastbutlikegay]

did i ever tell you guys about my mouse ocs

[marmalade004]

RATSWORLD!!!!!!

Edd used to be a housepet for a family in London. His owners lived in a big apartment, where Edd stayed in a cramped cage. From an outside perspective, his life could have been much better. One day, he wakes up to find his cage left in a nearby alleyway, with no idea how he ended up there, but assumes his owners left him there. He escapes the cage, which was left unlocked, and goes on to explore the city himself, meeting Tom later on.

Tom used to live in a pet shop, along with many other rats. Over the months, he watched other rats get taken home, but he was always left behind due to his eyes being unusually dark. Because of this, he often tried to escape the shop and find a life for himself. This led to him being declawed in hopes of preventing escapes. Eventually he gets a chance to run for it, afterwards wandering the streets to learn his way around. He meets Edd, and they continue exploring together.

Matt is extremely naive to the outside world. He was born and raised in the sewer system beneath the city. He tended to be curious of the “surface world”, but only ever left his home when he had to. During one of his rare outings, he takes a wrong turn (he’s pretty forgetful) and ends up lost on the streets. Afraid, he stays where he is, hoping someone will find him. He ends up being found by Tord.

Tord is a street rat. He grew up being an outsider, so he knows how to fend for himself. He spends most of his time scrounging for food in dumpsters. He has sharper teeth and claws than the others, which act as his only method of defense. He lives in a dumpster behind a pizza restaurant. During a day of hunting for leftover scraps, he finds Matt curled up beside his dumpster. Tord reluctantly agrees to help Matt find his way home, which is when they run into Tom and Edd.

Eventually, all of the rats are found by Laurel during an outing, who happens to have a soft spot for animals. She adopts them all, bringing them back to her apartment, giving them all baths, feeding them, and she provides them with their matching colored hoodies, to keep them warm in case they decide to go out again. After finding them, she gives them all names that she finds fitting (since she doesn’t know their previous names). She names Edd as Fluffy, Tom as Cotton, Matt as Sprinkles and Tord as Sunshine (whenever she plays the Sunshine Lollipops song, he runs around the room begging for her to turn it off, but she confuses his running for playing, which is why she names him after the song).

Edd adjusts to living with Laurel easily, since he was already used to living with humans. Tom finds comfort in the fact that he finally has a home to rely on, and also feels more comfortable now that he isn’t defenseless on the street anymore. Matt, who didn’t particularly care about is appearance before he left home, becomes VERY focused on how he looks and smells. When Laurel gives them baths, he is always the one to enjoy is the most. Tord, however, is resistant to befriending the others, let alone living with them. He prefers to be alone, and has survived on his own outside his whole life; mostly it’s his sense of pride that keeps him from staying with Laurel and the others.

Laurel has other pets besides the rats:

Eduardo is a mouse. He enjoys alone time despite living with his cagemates. Because of the close proximity, he tends to pick on the other mice as an outlet. The mice used to be Laurel’s favorite before the rats were adopted, which is where the rivalry between them starts. This rivalry is mostly just between Eduardo and Edd, though the others don’t particularly like each other either.

Jon was the second mouse to be adopted by Laurel. Up until he showed up, Eduardo was feeling comfortable in his new home. He saw Jon as a nuisance, taking up space that once belonged to him, which is why Jon is usually the target of Eduardo’s temper. Jon is rather sociable, but doesn’t have anyone besides Eduardo to interact with, so he tries to be as welcoming as he can.

Mark was the fourth mouse to be adopted (the third mouse was Todd, but he escaped; no one has seen him since). Mark’s arrival did not upset Eduardo as much as Jon’s did, but he still wasn’t pleased. Jon and Mark become friends and get along well for the most part.

———

That’s all I got for now, sorry for such a long read. If you feel like it pretty pleeeease ask any questions you have about this AU, it’s one of my favorites to draw and talk about!!!

[raccoonfallsharder]

I just found out Rockets VA can sing (really good actually) do you have any headcanons based on that?

mmmmm. sorry for the delay, i got distracted by rocket prompt week and also by thinking about rocket crooning in your ear.

he’s always humming, you know? (this is not a headcanon — it’s in the movies.) he’s often humming while he works. and that scene on berhert? where he’s sort of purring along with the music while plotting severe injury to the incoming ravagers? i…

sorry. focusing.

im sure the first few times you hear him mumbling lyrics under his breath, you damn near need to excuse yourself. you know you can’t call attention to it — in a best-case scenario, he'll stop singing entirely. you say nothing, and your silence is rewarded: rocket's mumbling a tune — so low your toes curl in your boots — almost whenever the two of you are working quietly on some project or another. most of the time, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. the rest of the time, he thinks you can’t hear him.

once, while the entire crew was dicking around in the common room and rocket started humming under his breath, pete had commented on it. you'd shot him a murderous look but it had been too late: rocket’s ears had gone flat and his tail had tucked between his ankles and his eyes had swiveled around the room. he'd been shifting and snapping out harsh words so frantically that you were sure he was scarlet under his fur. you’d had to go a miserable dozen cycles before you’d stumbled across him lilting low to himself again in the engine room one night.

fuckin pete. you still haven’t forgiven that guy.

but things get easier — at least between you and rocket — after that. there's a day when rocket looks up and realizes that you can hear him — maybe you're swaying slightly to the sound of his voice, or lightly tapping the soft pads of your fingertips like raindrops on your knee. he stumbles to a fumbling halt. you don’t say anything, though: you just pass him an encouraging half-smile before returning to whatever you were doing. you’ll hang out with him regardless of whether you get to lull yourself to the sound of his deep, pretty voice or not, you figure.

it happens again — and then again. and eventually, rocket stops stopping. he sees you walk into the otherwise-empty common area while he’s clanging away on some new cannon, or you slide into the seat next to him while he’s piloting the bowie alone — and he tosses you a little smirk and keeps going, keeps humming those bars or rumbling those words up over his ribs and out the corners of his mouth.

you’re not the first person he’s sung to, of course.

there’s a reason groot loves music. when he was just a sprout, rocket would carefully place groot's small pot right next to where he lay his own head, and he’d croon a lullaby from star-lord’s library of songs. this was how the little flora colossus first learned to fall asleep — and how he woke up — every rotation for the first dozen cycles of his life. even when groot got a little bigger and could leave his pot and run around chasing orloni, he’d still drift off sprawled on rocket’s shoulder or across the top of his head: dozing to the sound of his father clinking away on aero-rigs while humming some melody or another.

even before that — i think rocket probably sung to groot the elder, too, at least once or twice. maybe the first time rocket had seen the big guy lose his limbs, before he'd learned that they would grow back. rocket had promised tibius lark that he’d look out for the flora colossus, and now here's groot — mutilated and in pain. rocket had tried to soothe the groaning, moaning groot to sleep, wracked by guilt before eventually realizing the big idiot was just a giant frickin’ crybaby with limbs that would essentially regenerate.

still, rocket hadn’t minded singing to his friend too much after that.

maybe even earlier, too. maybe there had been a time, after explaining music to his cagemates but before telling them about flying machines. maybe he’d hummed for batch 89 too.

they would’ve thought his childish voice was the most comforting, lovely thing they’d ever heard, i think. sometimes, as you might guess, the members of batch 89 would have nightmares or be in too much pain to close their eyes and rest, and when those nights happened, rocket would have hummed them back to sleep, all low and slow and sweet.

floor would have begged for songs every chance she got. teefs would have marveled at how beautiful rocket had sounded, and lylla — lylla would have told him, very solemnly, that he had a gift.

rocket doesn't think about that very often — tries not to think about those days at all, if he's being honest — but eventually, as you know, his past comes out. it's long after he’s gotten comfortable with you, of course — and raised his son, and saved half the universe, and purchased the skull of a god, and freed himself from the high evolutionary for the last time, and become a captain, but now—

now, he remembers lylla's words.

the star children descend from the arête and different households try to take them in, but it only takes one or two failed sleep-shifts across all of knowhere before it becomes apparent that none of the kids can rest. the children have nightmares — of course they do — and they’re used to sleeping shoulder-to-shoulder with each other in cages, on hard floors. they're used to whispering stories and comforts to each other, listening gratefully to the quiet words of their siblings, small hands gripping small hands in the darkness.

it takes a while to figure out, but eventually arrangements are made — at least until the kids can adjust. spaces are shifted so the children can nest together, and it helps — mostly. drax tries telling stories. cosmo recommends warm milk. howard suggests a quarter-shot of ginsky for each kid (you promptly put the kibosh on that one). nebula comes one night to tell the kids in great detail how she’ll destroy anyone who dares to harm them. you’re so happy mantis went on her journey to find herself but sometimes, when you see how exhausted and hollow-eyed the kids are in the morning, you just wish she were back so she could help them sleep.

and then suddenly it's a few cycles later, and you realize you haven’t heard any more concerns about the kids’ night terrors. you look around and realize they’re bright-eyed again, cheeks glowing, chattering at breakfast. curious as to what ended up working — if it was the indigarran lavender satchets sent by one of kraglin’s ex-wives or it it was the broker boring them with the droning details of the histories of various artifacts he’d once had in his shop on Xandar — you come visiting one night on tip-toe, just to check in.

rocket’s there — curled up on an old armchair someone had brought in for the neverending parade of storytellers and caregivers. his voice rolls over the sleepy children, and their eyelashes droop while he lingers on some notes and skips up and down others. the sound of it curls around them — and you. his voice nestles into the shadows, practically plucking up the edges of the blankets and tucking the kids in all on its own.

you watch as, handful after handful, they drift: eased deeply into dreaming by the power and protection of the captain’s voice, all on its own.

[cafe-mouse]

New friend! Everyone meet Applesauce ♡

(more about Applesauce below cut)

-Applesauce's former owner was evicted from their home recently and abandoned her at their old house along with her gerbil roommate (they were in the same cage together, which is most likely the reason why the end of her tail is missing). I was able to adopt her from my local shelter just last night and she already made fast friends with my other female mouse Sweetpea, who is 2.5 years old (she had a couple cagemates but her last friend that was even older than her passed recently). They've been snuggling and sleeping together under a hide most of this morning and I'm so happy that they're getting along so well despite how much more energetic Applesauce is than her

-Very hyper adventurous little mouse that loves digging and climbing

[heedra]

whenever a rat hears the sound of a cagemate drinking water, it does not matter if they themselves were thirsty before that moment; their sole mission in life becomes to travel any distance and surmount any odds to go slap the other guy away from the bottle

[infiniteuality]

Hey, I’m back

[ gives you the bowling ball. ]

Here take it again, bye.

The dissonance of his cries was unbearable, not to mention the simmering irritation that boiled his divine blood, a trait he unfortunately shared with his cagemate. Black ichor that seared the mortal eye tangled up into a thousand knots in his hollow chest, the sheer force and constraint pathetically mimicked a human’s beating heart, coated in tissue rather than the void he possessed. 

  The whimpers which plagued his broken mind were drowned out as he felt a new weight enter their prison, one that was so heavy he could feel it on the soles of his feet. It wasn’t another person, unfortunately; he knew better than to think his prayers would ever be answered. But a bowling ball.

  He doesn’t say anything to whoever tossed it in, he barely even acknowledges that fact– it’s as if he’s sleepwalking, drowning out his surroundings as his goal becomes abundantly clear in his mind. The tension rises in the room before he even approaches the blunt object, he’s undeniably aware of the horrified eyes that followed his thoughtless movements, and the smell of a familiar ichor which stuck to the walls like glue– it had been that way for weeks, no, months now. Ever since he…

  He cradled the weight of the ball in his frail hands, weak body barely able to carry it without collapsing into itself– hunger was an awful thing, it drank up everything within to try and selfishly satisfy itself at the cost of the collective, an irony.

The cries became louder, incessant, a desperate pleading for mercy–

It only made his grip on the weapon in his hands tighten even more, except this time, he could feel the weight of it, the coldness of its cruel surface.

  It was so loud, He was so loud, his mind was starting to split into two because of him and he could hardly stand it–

A horrid, deafening cacophony, one who’s dissonance only became louder and louder as his hands raised the weight over his head, eyes blinded by a shroud of hate.

It was so gutturally disgusting–

. . . It almost sounded like singing.

  The ball came down with a loud groan, it’s weight made the ground of the small room rumble in pain, sanguine beauty splattered onto the walls, using them as their canvas. He could feel him cling onto his figure, velvet colored his uniform, the rawness and sticky sweetness of the gore that adorned him made him laugh; a sad, spineless sound.

He no longer had a mouth to weep, no nose to inhale sharply through, no eyes to cry. 

  . . . His thumb passed his blood-coated face, pondering in the moment of silence he had been so kindly served by another.

He couldn’t help but smile,

after all, he was still so beautiful.

[basement-bird-girl]

//And they were cagemates

[thelibratrix]

Hey, my piggos are getting more attention than anything I've ever done on here, so I thought I'd give you all A Story about my sweet babies, the Gotham Pigs!

Why guinea pigs? I am very allergic to cats, and my husband doesn't like dogs. I had a parrot for five years who I lost very suddenly to an unexpected medical issue; my husband and the parrot never got along. He had rats for a while, which were the sweetest, but when 2-3 years was just too short of a lifespan for me to think about after mourning my bird who was supposed to be a pet for a lifetime.

So: piggens.

These sweethearts are Harley (left) and Ivy (right, with legge). We adopted them in June 2016, after they had been born into a foster home the previous November.

I called them my Halloween pigs. Harley's name was inspired by her checkerboard face, and also established our naming pattern

Ivy was our boss, we theorized she was the older sister based on how she was clearly in charge of that house. She was a beggar and a weirdo, she had chronic UTIs and was just smart enough not to get her head stuck in stuff (something Harley did not share with her).

We lost Ivy at 5.5 years old, suddenly to a tumor on her uterus. Harley started showing signs of mopiness and depression almost immediately - she and Ivy had been a bonded pair, together for her whole life. So, we looked around and found someone to keep Harley company.

Enter: Selena, a one year old who'd been surrendered pregnant, had her litter, and was also in the market for a new friend (both her pups were boys).

Selena was much more aggressively FRIENDS??? than Harley was used to, and bonding them took some time. But we got there in the end.

Harley passed away in January this year, she was 7 and venerable and a sweet old lady and I still miss her very much.

Selena is a very social creature and we knew we wouldn't be able to leave her alone for long. The DM I sent the foster home: "Hi, I have a three year old guinea pig who just lost her cagemate. She's very social and also a jerk. Can you help?"

They could indeed. Meet: Talia.

We are still introducing them, but it's going well.

More pics to come.

Thank you for sharing my sweet beans! I love them, I think they're pretty cute, and I'm glad you do, too.

[arccanine]

I'm realizing I really don't even think to post about the things going on in my life anymore. But I want to share the joy of Pepper with anyone who will listen, and express some of that love that soon won't have anywhere to go anymore.

Last year, for my birthday, we adopted the kindest soul of a ferret I've ever met, Pepper.

Earlier that year, we'd had to put our last ferret, Mishka, to sleep, which was devastating not only to us, but to our remaining ferret, Cinnamon, who had always had a cagemate to play with. She was incredibly depressed being alone, refusing to eat more than the bare minimum and spending so much time curled up asleep in the bed they used to share.

It took us a while to feel ready to "replace" him in our lives. But after six months or so, our hearts were healing, and our remaining girl was still so lonely, so we began to keep our eyes open. We'd half-jokingly look at ferrets in towns 6 hours away right before some long trips, debating whether or not we wanted to break our 2 ferret limit to pick up a bonded pair, since that seemed to be the only option available nearby no matter where we looked.

And then one day, there was a single ferret listed only a few blocks away from our home.

She was 3 years old, raised by a teen girl who no longer had the time for her now that she had A Boyfriend (no hate btw, I think it's a funny and dumb reason, but I'm honestly so grateful to any owner who realizes they're not giving their animal the care they deserve). While Cinnamon and Pepper were interested in each other, Pepper was raised alone with cats and dogs and didn't properly "speak ferret", leading to a lot of miscommunications with body language. We also slowly realized she likely has neural crest disorder (sometimes also called "Waardenburg Syndrome", but that term is really just reserved for humans) — a product of the rampant ferret inbreeding problem with big box sellers like Marshall's. Which essentially meant she was a little bit slower, a lot sleepier, and had some difficulty reading body language, but she was otherwise a healthy and incredibly affectionate ferret.

I remember being doubtful and not ready to get invested in a new animal if she wasn't going to be a good fit with Cinnamon. I actually remember a few times talking to Taran and wondering if we should consider finding her a better home, since it seemed like they were really struggling to connect.

But sure enough, Cinnamon and Pepper grew to love and understand each other despite the not-perfect communication — starting with sleeping together, cuddling, grooming each other, and finally figuring out how to properly play fight (something Pepper was incredibly excited to learn, if not too much so lol). Cinnamon put on some weight again, and Pepper began to open up and show off her silly side.

After a month or two, they were perfect little buddies. She became a part of our little family and our outings — a required member for our weekend restocks at the pet store, park visits, or whatever outdoor events were happening around town. The daily wake-up scritches where she would throw her whole body against your hand, rubbing her face into your fingers and against the soft blankets to help her rub the sleepiness away. The play routine, watching her discover the joy of being bowled down the hall and running back for more, loving chasing you, being chased, climbing tubes, getting into places she shouldn't be, or searching for her next sugar fix (which we wouldn't actually give her, but that sure didn't stop her from trying).

But this all came to a halt last week, when Pepper woke up shivering and wouldn't stop, mouth covered in painful-looking ulcers. We immediately rushed her to the emergency vet. We remained hopeful through the week — we'd caught it early, she was healthy (if not a little pudgy) to help buffer the loss of appetite, and she was receiving medicine to help her fight any possible infections or stomach ulcers. We got her in for bloodwork on Wednesday and let them keep her a few nights to help give her around the clock care while we waited for the results.

It seems like she very suddenly suffered from what we can now only assume is kidney failure. We remained hopeful that this was just the start of a new period of her life where we'd have to give her a little more daily care or maybe some medication, but after they ran another bloodtest, we found out that despite the constant care, nothing had improved, and her prognosis was suddenly much more grave. We learned all of this on Friday afternoon, and decided to take her home with painkillers to help keep her comfortable and loved before we were ready to let her go.

It hasn't even been a year since we got her. And we love her so damn much. It's like I wish everybody else loved her as much as we did, so I could at least feel like she's being mourned properly when we'll finally have to put her to rest.

I wanted to dress her up for the halloween market again, I wanted to watch her bound through the forest to sniff and dig at some more of that dirt, I wanted to take her to the park some more and let some more kids meet an animal they've never seen before — letting her charm them by being a little animal that loves their gentle touches. Her squinty little eyes, the way her ears flatten back as she accepts your kiss on her head, the way she chittered like a little bird when she was happy or excited and running around, the way she rubbed her face and whole body on our fake grass, the way she gently licked at Taran's nose while he held her even now as she's slowly dying.

I don't know what else to say other than I just wanted more time. More of what we already had. That it hurts so much that I was expecting more, that she was completely fine the night before, and that I was wrapped up in the monotony of the day to day that I didn't realize it would be our last good night together.

It feels so cruel that some ferrets can live for 8-10 years, and that some barely scrape 4 just because the companies pumping them out don't give a shit about their quality of life. But we've done absolutely everything we could, she went into it as healthily as she could, and we can be at peace knowing it's just her time now. There's nothing else to do now other than keeping her comfortable, saying goodbye to our favorite places and favorite people, and reflecting on all of the joy she brought us in such a short amount of time.

Love you, Pepperoni. Thank you for everything.

[roguemonsterfucker]

Lui is home and seems to be doing well. She got her first round of medication. Knock on wood, she seems pretty easy to give medicine to right now. Hopefully that doesn't change lol.

So. Basically it seems like somehow a chunk of her feathers were pulled out. Likely due to her wing getting stuck somewhere, though I have yet to truly figure out exactly what happened. What I feel comfortable saying is that I'm pretty sure her cagemate, Lestat, didn't do this to her. Also very unlikely it was self inflicted. So somehow her wing probably got caught on something and ripped her feathers out.

In the short term, she has no feathers there and it's somewhat of an open wound. She's getting antibiotics to prevent infection. She also has swelling and bruises on both wings, which is being treated with an anti-inflammatory which should also help her with the pain. With those treatment ongoing, I don't think she's in any great risk of death or anything. She's very shaken from the vet visit right now, but before we left she was acting very normal. A little more reserved than usual but still pretty normal. So I believe she'll be just fine.

Long term, it probably will take quite a while for her feathers to grow back but thankfully it is just a small area and the vet thinks she should be able to fly decently well even without those feathers. Right now, unfortunately, Lui has clipped feathers (which was done before I got her - I don't clip my birds' wings) so she can't fly at all. Once she starts growing in unclipped feathers, she should do very well.

For now, she and Lestat have been downgraded to a smaller cage, both for her safety while she heals (I don't want her falling several feet to the ground and hurting her injury!) and to make it easier for me to give her medication. She will continue to live with Lestat because they are extremely bonded and being separated stresses them both out. The vet said this is fine as long as Lestat doesn't mess with Lui's wound, which is something I haven't seen yet but will watch for.

I'm confident in saying Lui will be perfectly fine going forward. She has a long road of healing, but I'm not worried about this being a life threatening injury and once she starts growing in most of her feathers, I don't think this small chunk of missing feathers will hold her back too much. She's already surprisingly coordinated for being a cockatiel with clipped wings. Cockatiels are klutzes to begin with and taking away their flight feathers makes it way worse, in my experience (which may very well be one of the reasons this happened in the first place...), but Lui moves with a lot of grace and confidence so I'm pretty sure she's going to be just fine in the long term.

Thank you all for your kind messages of support.

The final cost of today was about $650. We may have to do a followup appointment but the vet said it might not be required if Lui seems to be healing well. They said to email them pictures of the injury and that may be enough for them to judge how she's doing.

You can see this post about helping me out. Any help people can give me towards animal food would really be appreciated. I had planned my finances around being able to schedule a few vet appointments this month for checkups and to get hormonal implants for some of the birds to help prevent potential egg laying, but this drained the money I had been planning to use for that. So if anyone can help me buy animal food for my babies, that would help me be able to afford the planned vet appointments.

Once again, though, I will say: Please don't feel like you *have* to help me out. These things will get done regardless, it's more a matter of how soon I can afford it and how much it will impact my other spending. The animals most certainly won't go without food, and if another vet emergency pops up they will get vet care, but I may have to delay the planned vet visits a few months (which isn't ideal but we'll be okay). No one is in danger of starving.

Once again, thank you all for your kind words. This really freaked me the fuck out. You never want to wake up and see your baby covered in blood. 😬 So I really appreciate all of y'all!

[bonefall]

God, after Leafpaw is captured in TNP what if everyone THINKS she is the one whose infertile cause of the Cutter? Even Starclan?

Honestly what gets me more is Graystripe. Leafpaw and the others were only kept loaded up in a van for a while, Graystripe was fully put through the shelter system and adopted out.

I have no idea how he didn't get snipped, tbh. I'm even considering having Millie also be a shelter cat and they escape together BEFORE that would have happened. Instead of her leaving her human behind, they died or she was abandoned.

How exactly did this random cat help Graystripe get out? Well, BloodClan could help, or she could have been his cagemate, or something.

(millie's radio collar au looming in the background)

[squirmiestwormy]

I guess I should properly update you guys on my little herd. I posted my first three forever ago but the herd has changed since then.

The boys

Stripe

Patch

Wilbur

Jiggy

The girls

Dollie

Tilly

Daisy (passed away on December 2nd)

Stripe and Patch are brothers. We believe Wilbur and Jiggy might be cousins. Daisy and Dollie were cagemates until Daisy passed and I adopted Tilly.

Stripe/Wilbur and Dollie/Tilly are 💅🏳️‍🌈

[l3irdl3rain]

Just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Chester!! I had a budgie from a somewhat relatable situation, so I know how tough it is to have a bird that’s darn near feral, though I’m sure it’s much harder with Chester since he’s a lot bigger. My rescue budgie was named Sprite, and she spent 6 years as part of the furniture, just a decoration, no socialization whatsoever except with her late cagemate. It was so hard to socialize her compared to every other budgie I’ve had in my care. (I also foster budgies whenever someone finds one in my town haha!) Like Chester, she never really warmed up to people all that much, but she got to experience actually being part of a family once she was in my care, which was awesome. The two years she spent with me were probably the best of her life, and I don’t say that lightly. We eventually had to let her rest because she had really bad heart failure she hid until it was too late to really do anything about it, but having her was such a rewarding experience, just like I’m sure having Chester is for you!! He just reminded me of my little Sprite, so I wanted to thank you for being so good to him!! ❤️

I’m so glad you did that for your little budgie friend! It sounds so similar to Chester. I don’t think he’s ever going to actually like me, but I know he’s very happy here. I doubt he’ll ever let me pet him but he definitely likes to feel like he’s involved with the family

[patb-goose]

Tense ~ Brinky

Chapter 5

A brief massage from Pinky instills an addiction in Brain and causes him to stumble upon why it is that he likes them so much. Does he merely love the relief, or perhaps the mouse giving it?

AO3

SMALL WARNING: For those that didn’t think this fic was going to get a little spicy. There is a bit of allusion to spicy things here >w> 

—————————

Brain was exhausted. He usually was, after such a long night. It was one of those nights where his body called out for his bed and once there, he could not be moved. You would need to pry him away. He groaned when he felt the bed shift, announcing his cagemate’s arrival. He decided to give a warning, “Be silent, Pinky. I wish to retire.”

“Oh, come now, Brain. You’re not that old yet! Narf!” Pinky remarked and Brain would have bopped him if he weren’t so comfortable. 

Brain closed his eyes, hoping his silence would discourage any further interruption. Then, suddenly, he felt two familiar hands on his shoulders. Their previous routine remembered the feeling of them well, but after him essentially canceling it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel them again. Not like this. Pinky was acting on his own… Brain didn’t disapprove. Still, he had to speak up. “Pinky. What are you…?”

“…You want me to, don’t you, Brain…?”

Brain swallowed, knowing he was blushing. His face was red and he felt entirely exposed that Pinky knew exactly what he was thinking. It was strange. The two of them never shared ponderings, but for once they were on the same page and Brain couldn’t find it in him to deny this truth. “…Yes… Yes, Pinky. I do..”

He felt his friend nuzzle the back of his neck and make the cutest sound the megalomaniac had ever heard. Imagine that. Him finding Pinky cute. Could his face possibly burn any more? He knew it was much more than that. He not only found Pinky cute. He found him attractive. He found himself eager for his presence. Not just his hands, but he wanted the whole of him to surround him. He wanted all Pinky was giving and more. Pinky’s palms and fingertips slid low and then trailed up. They pressed firm and worked each muscle on his back, alternating between each one and then repeated the process. It was so good. Brain couldn’t keep back every moan, as much as he had tried. Pinky had a talent and that talent was his ability to make Brain feel incredible. He pulled at his skin and dug his fingers in just the right way. It felt so…sensual. So intimate. Brain was heating up and knew exactly what was happening. He bit his lip, attempting to not give into the sensations building, the sensations Pinky was causing, but he knew what this was. Pinky was…

He pressed his face into his pillow. Pinky’s hands were low now, just at the base of his crooked tail. He stroked it gently, applying so much care. His rhythmic motions were corrupting Brain’s thoughts. He hummed deep in his throat. Pinky was…Pinky was turning him on. Was this intentional…? Is this what Pinky was trying to do…? Or was Brain just so desperate for him that any touch from the mouse would set him on fire? He didn’t want to say anything. He didn’t trust his voice, and most of all, he didn’t want Pinky to stop. 

And Pinky didn’t. He continued and Brain allowed himself to receive every touch and give into the feelings it brought. “Brain…” Pinky had whispered in a tone that sounded so wanting. Brain desired to hear him that way. He shivered as his voice sent heat downward, his body’s physical reaction becoming very obvious and incapable of being hidden if he weren’t pressed into their makeshift mattress. Pinky pressed his warm body against him. A few embarrassing sounds made their way out. He was holding him now, one of his legs wrapped around him…and Brain could feel a hardness pressing against him. He gasped at the dawning realization; Pinky wanted him, too. He didn’t have time to think about what to do about this because now Pinky was kissing his neck. Brain turned his head and encouraged him to keep going. “Egad, Pinky…” Brain mumbled, borrowing his word because his weren’t working right now. Pinky giggled against him and gave him a tiny lick.

“Tell me, Brain…” Pinky’s hand was under his chin. He kissed and nibbled along his ear. Brain was finding he liked that. “Oh, please…” He moved his hand, trailing it down his arm and had it rest on his thigh.

Brain twisted so that he may view him. His blue eyes were sparkling and his ears were down. His face was flushed and he was such a vision that Brain had to kiss him. Then he had to kiss him again and several times after that. He maneuvered onto his back, pulling Pinky against him so that the kiss could continue. He would never get enough of it or him. He was almost painfully aroused by now. He wanted more. Brain seperated their lips as his lungs begged for air. “What…is it…you want to know…?” Brain would tell him anything, and if it were something beyond his knowledge, he would seek it out just for Pinky.

He heard Pinky struggle for breath. His eyes were half-lidded and he pressed their noses together. “That thing… Poit. The thing you never say…”

Brain’s brows knitted together, trying to discern what it was that Pinky meant. Then, he realized and was blushing for a whole other reason. “Pinky…I…” He tried. Brain wanted to say the words. He so wanted to. Pinky was here and he wanted him and they were on the verge of doing more than he’d ever imagined. He never felt like he’d belonged anywhere as much as he did right now. Being in Pinky’s arms was comfort and home. The taller mouse was kissing him again. Sweetly. It was soft and unrushed, but it didn’t leave Brain impatient. He craved this slow tenderness. Pinky always gave him what he needed and wanted. And Brain…wanted to be loved.

“Pinky. Do you…Is it possible…Could you…lo-” The blasted L word was so hard to get out, even during such a moment. “…have romantically affectionate feelings toward me…?” He looked hopeful. Pinky was smiling at him. Brain chanced a smile back. 

“Oh, Brain…!” Pinky looked happy. He looked pleased, like he understood. The mouse gave several nods and his heart soared.

“Pinky…!” Brain called out just before the two of them began kissing again. Brain couldn’t deny the pure joy he was feeling. Tears nearly formed. Brain was happy. He was in love. They were in love…and could finally experience all that entailed.  He threw arms around his neck as Pinky’s hand went over his thigh and pushed in between his legs. Brain took in a sharp breath and then—

Brain’s eyes shot open. He was awoken to some upbeat music it was clearly too early for. He squinted and then squeezed his eyes once or twice before willing them to remain open. He sat up on their sponge, groggy and grumpy for the wake up call. He could hardly remember falling asleep, but it clearly hadn’t been for long enough. Once some of the fatigue left him, he glanced around and found a food pellet tucked in beside him. 

Pinky.

The action of thinking his friend’s name made him gasp. Suddenly, the dream he’d just had came back to him full force and his eyes trailed down to his lap. He screamed briefly before realizing he really shouldn’t be bringing attention to himself. “This is a most alarming occurrence..” He said, though it was hardly surprising after the scenario his brain had created during his slumber. His mouth was pressed in a long fine line as he immediately covered himself back up with his blanket as quickly as he could. He was thankful that his cagemate always woke up early so he wouldn’t have to awkwardly explain his state. He wanted to hide from the world. His dream had been so embarrassing. So indulgent….and so…unrealistic. 

He frowned a little heavier, grabbing the food pellet beside him and took a bite. Everything hadn’t been unrealistic… Even in his dreams, he was never able to properly confess his feelings. He couldn’t honestly think Pinky would allow him to skip that part. And for that matter, do basically anything that had occurred in that…fantasy. He shivered. He couldn’t believe his head had concocted such a thing. The idea that he wanted to be that way with Pinky… His hands all over him, and his mouth pressed to his. Kissing him with such passion and tenderness. Yes… He swore he could still feel all these sensations and had a desire to relive them. The hands holding his pellet became shaky. He shook his head to free himself from the images.  Brain really needed to stop thinking about it, or he’d never leave this bed.

He finished his breakfast, his thoughts thankfully settled, and got up to see that the cage was unlocked. Of course it was. The music alone had Pinky written all over it and he was intent on giving him a lecture about it. Looking around, he noticed that the lab was empty this morning. That was welcome at least. After a small bit of walking, he caught sight of Pinky in front of the television and nearly had a heart attack at his appearance.

 He wearing yet another ridiculous outfit (spandex exercise wear this time. Curse him… ) and copying the work out moves he saw on screen. He hadn’t noticed him yet. Brain took advantage of this to watch in silence, pondering how to approach him but found himself entranced; his chosen attire, the way he moved, the constant swish of his tail. He felt sweaty and he wasn’t even the one exercising. 

This insatiable attraction..

Brain should not be this close to him…not after that— Brain didn’t let his mind finish, but it didn’t have to for the blush to color his face. He jumped when Pinky did a spinning move, but by some miracle he hadn’t noticed him. He was too engrossed in his program.

 Brain managed to avert his eyes finally. He was appalled that he’d stared for so long.  

He had to say something. He had to start. Putting it off was obviously affecting him (in ways he did not want to think about… He was pleading with his mind not to.) 

“I can’t do this..” He mumbled to himself, looking less than confident.

He started to back away and then turn around, but stopped himself at each attempt to run. Running was easier, but he knew it was only a temporary solution. He could not hide this forever, not now that he was aware. No. He needed to release it. He needed to voice the fact aloud. Only then could he return to some sense of normalcy. No matter what Pinky said or thought…

Besides, its not like he had to tell him everything…(Certainly not that shameful dream! As far as he was concerned, that never happened.)

He straightened and then exhaled silently before taking a few steps toward him.

He was ready.

Wholly prepared now, Brain raised a finger, opening his mouth to speak and took a breath in—

“A one! And a two! And–!”

SMACK.

Pinky’s arm’s had suddenly opened wide and the force of one of them colliding with his face sent Brain flying into a nearby wall with audible impact.

He twitched.

“This is what you chose? A possible concussion and a mouse who has all the IQ of an expired ham sandwich?” Brain fell forward, flat on his face and then rolled over to glance upward, briefly seeing stars.

Pinky was suddenly aware and whipped around to where Brain had landed. He gasped happily at the sight of him.

“Brain! Have you come around to the idea of exercise tapes?! ” Pinky questioned, skipping over to his friend. He hovered over him with an air of optimism, as if he were completely oblivious to his actions (and he likely was..)

“…I’ve come around to the idea that I’d like to strangle you with it” Brain commented, to which Pinky laughed loudly and helped him up.

“You’re so funny, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed before pulling him along right back over to the television, whether he wanted him to or not. 

Brain yanked his arm away the second they arrived and he rubbed his wrist. Contact from Pinky right now was not something he could handle, as innocent as it was. Even looking at him was a challenge. Pinky had no idea whatsoever of the things going through Brain’s mind, be him conscious or not, but he felt ashamed regardless. He had no right to be thinking of him that way. It was probably a good thing he’d stopped the massages when he did…Just imagine if he’d had that kind of reaction while awake! He would never come back from that, and it certainly was the worst possible way to come clean about his feelings.

 Brain should have anticipated this. After all, with attraction comes….attraction. The sheer fact that he’d come to terms with the feeling of love should have alerted him that somewhere inside him he had certain…desires. 

His eyes trailed to the side to view him, despite him knowing he shouldn’t. Brain should just walk away and stay distanced until his mind was more clear, but instead he indulged. 

Pinky resumed his imitation of the exercises he was watching, although his interpretation was a bit more exaggerated and it looked more like a dance. When he noticed Brain had merely been standing still, he turned his head to him, “Get into it, Brain. You’ll feel better!” He did spin with his arms up, “Let all of that stress just melt away. Narf! No more aches and pains and days where you feel all twisted up in knots and bows” As he said this, he contorted into an awkward position where he found himself quite stuck. He struggled to get out of it, grunting and pulling.

Brain watched him, unamused with a hand on his cheek, suddenly finding it very difficult to believe he had just had a wild fantasy about…this..

“You make a startling argument…” Brain said.

“See? Its really quite simple when you get the hang of it.” Pinky said, despite his position.

“Yes. Let me know when you manage that.” Brain replied and as Pinky untangled himself, he made to correct Pinky on the matter of his enthusiasm for exercise. After all, he had gotten these tapes for him and his issue, and his insistence just told him that he’d forgotten entirely about their previous conversation. “It was only a ruse, remember…The massages?"  Brain didn’t know why he was reminding him. It was much better that he forgot, but he could not help himself. It agitated him to no end when Pinky could not get his stories or facts straight. He also…may have been a little annoyed that after all of Brain’s agonizing over this situation, it just seemed to slip through Pinky’s mind easily. Could this mouse retain nothing?

“Oh. That’s right.” Pinky replied, having just remembered. He stood, lightly clapping his hands. Then, he made a hum in thought as a curiosity struck him. “So, does that mean that every time you’ve ever complained about your back, you were just wanting me to give you a massage? Egad! Had I known—” The thought seemed to excite him because he could recall many times in the past.

“Don’t be foolish! Of course not. Do you really think I would waste my time trying to find different excuses disguised as logical scenarios just to get you to provide a service I supposedly developed an obsession with…? ”

There was a pause, then a shrug. “I mean, you did, didn’t you?”

Brain’s face fell, Pinky had him there.

But, that didn’t mean he had to let him know that.

“No, no, no. This was a completely isolated incident. I have never thought of it before nor since the last occurence. I do have occasional muscular fatigue.” He folded his arms in a defensive manner. He scoffed, “Every time…” He rolled his eyes. “Bah.” After a moment, he gave him a pointed stare, “and didn’t I say not to bring that up again?”

“Technically…” Pinky replied, twisting as he did a couple stretches along with his video. “You said not to bring it up unless you did, and you did! Zort! I just wanted you to play along with me and my fun-fun workout tape.”

Pinky was two for two. 

Brain grumbled.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested.” He told him. Brain’s mind supplied that he much rather watch him continue than participate himself. It’s a thought that surfaced against his will, but that wasn’t his fault; The dream, Pinky’s attire and the way he moved so…provacatively were to blame. “I have no need for such things. Besides, who has the energy for exercise first thing in the morning? Put your hand down, Pinky.” Pinky did.

“That’s a shame. Troz! But since we are on the subject. Are you really sure you don’t want any more massages?”

“Yes. We’ve already had this conversation.” Brain remembered, because Pinky had agreed to his terms far too easily and he’d been very annoyed about it. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?” He had his arms folded.

“I guess I’m just confused.”

“That is your natural state of being, Pinky.”

“You’ve got me there. Zort!” He laughed a bit but then continued his train of thought, “But I don’t understand why you changed your mind.  You said you reeeeally, really liked it. And I liked it, too.” He suddenly got the idea that Brain was just being shy again and his heart swelled, pushing its way into his expression. “Ohh, its okay if you don’t ‘need’ one, Brain. I’m happy to do it.” Pinky didn’t mind if Brain didn’t have any of his occasional pains. He would give him one regardless. He wouldn’t if Brain said so. After all, he’d said he’d respect his wishes, but truthfully, he’d love if he said yes.

“Tempting, but no.”

“Mmm…” It was a bit early, he realized, “Later on, then…?” Pinky wondered with a tilt of the head and a lifted palm. 

“Pinky, I am perfectly fine! There’s no logical reason for it.  I don’t even have any tension for you to ease.”

“I don’t know, Brain, you look pretty tense to me.”

“That’s because you are agitating!”

“But Brain.” Pinky started and began making hand gestures, which Brain couldn’t help but notice. “No more stretching..? Or pulling? Or kneading…” He stopped to remember every little way he had massaged Brain, which he had a surprisingly good memory for and continued describing (unaware that Brain was growing more flustered with each descriptor), “Or that pressing on that one spot that makes you make that silly face…” He glanced ahead at a reddening Brain and pointed, “Yes. Like that, but less angry! Narf!”

“Stop pestering me!” He shouted, slapping his hand away. “If I say I don’t want something, then I don’t. Now would you please forget I ever had any interest in whatever you are capable of doing with your hands? I want nothing to do with it anymore.” Brain was saying precisely the opposite of what he felt and hated himself for it. Pinky was offering him exactly what he wanted. Heck, he was even giving him several openings and Brain was taking none of them. But how could he while he was in this headspace? His potential reaction would be disastrous(not to mention incredibly embarrassing), and its not like he could explain that to Pinky nor would he want to. 

Pinky’s ears went down for a moment. He looked sad. When Brain saw it, he returned with a similar look. He knew he hadn’t meant what he said but his desperation had just made it come out. Brain knew this was for the best but he felt like he was continuing to make his situation worse and worse. How could he possibly confess now after that scene?

Brain huffed and decided to leave Pinky to his devices (though he did turn down the volume on the television) and go off to spend some time on his own. He should have done that in the first place. 

He’d lost his composure back there, and he really did not want that to be the way this came out. (but could you really blame him with the things Pinky had been saying? Brain considered himself fortunate that he leaned towards concealment rather than an ill prepared confession laced with frustration, even if he regretted upsetting Pinky.)  It was far too early in the day to be this stressed. He needed time to think about what he was going to do and how he was going to do it, especially after digging himself way deeper into this hole with his outburst. 

 Brain needed to plan out his confession and consequently clear his mind of it; and if his dream was anything to go by, he really needed to clear it.

This was the only option. Brain was good at planning. He just needed to treat it like any other plan. (Especially because it was obvious he was incapable of just saying it on the spot.)

“Perhaps I just need some practice beforehand..” Brain wondered, tapping his fingers together. “All speeches benefit from rehearsal. This is no different.” He swallowed, his shyness showing even though he was alone. In fact, his paranoia made him check a few times. He could not handle it if Pinky snuck up on him before he was ready. “In fact, maybe if I just….say it out loud a few times, the pressure will ease. Maybe I won’t have to speak it directly to Pinky at all!” 

Brain liked that idea. 

He just had to say it. 

After all, if Pinky’s response to his confession didn’t matter whatsoever, why should he bother in it at all? Yes. It didn’t matter. Brain did not care. How Pinky felt about him was of no consequence. He could, and probably would, reject his feelings outright and it would not bother Brain in the slightest.

Yes. 

Brain knew he was going backwards but was choosing not to acknowledge it.

He took a deep breath, opened his mouth but nothing came out. He pouted. 

“This isn’t right…” He stated. He needed something to talk to, to create the illusion that he wasn’t being a complete coward. He grabbed a empty papertowel roll and stood it upright before stepping back. “There.” He said. “Practically indistinguishable. You even have the same intelligence.”

Brain stood there in silence for the next five minutes, just staring ahead at the tube as if he expected the words to come out on their own.

“Bah. This is ridiculous. What am I doing?” He turned away, folding his arms. He looked across the lab. He caught a glimpse of Pinky flipping through channels now. He was completely distracted. He knew there wasn’t any chance of his little rehearsal being heard. So, he didn’t know what was stopping him. This was risk free. He turned back to the roll and walked closer to it.

His brow narrowed and he took a deep breath. “Pinky. Listen to me. I’m only going to say this one time!” He began and then leaned back, unsure about the wording, “Perhaps, too aggressive…” He cleared his throat and began again. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, I’ve become somewhat….No..” Brain stopped himself, dissatisfied once more. “When two mice….Uhh…if you remember all those times we pretended to be more than mere associates in the midst of a plan…” Brain shook his head violently. Why was starting always so difficult? All these starters were language that felt stalling to him. Almost designed to make him feel more nervous about getting to the point.

The point.

Yes.

Just say it.

Just the three.

“I-I-I—” as he spoke, focusing on the papertowel roll, his stressed mind made it begin to warp into an image of the actual Pinky staring at him. He began to sweat profusely and bit his lip. He was finding it complicated to just get past the first word. He refocused. This wasn’t Pinky. He could do this. A heavy gust of air left his nose and he pressed onward. “I….luh….lah…” He grabbed his throat, it felt like the rest of the sentence was lodged in there.”Mmm…I…” He tried again, hoping he wouldn’t be caught in another endless loop of stutters. Unfortunately, there was not much improvement. He tugged on his ears, so close to tearing them off, and in the end, he wound up tearing the entire paper towel roll to shreds in frustration. It hadn’t helped at all. As it turns out, even while being completely alone, just pretending to confess to Pinky gave him the same amount of anxiety. It only felt safe inside his head. He covered his eyes as he slowly calmed himself.

So much for his theory on the easy way out. It may have been therapeutic to just say it out loud in general, but he would never know because apparently he was so emotionally stifled that he couldn’t even say the blasted word without choking. It was bizarre! He had said it before! Did the context of Pinky really make that much of a difference?

He exhaled and took a moment to ponder. So, maybe he couldn’t rely on saying the words to nothing in order to get his relief. There had to be some other way. A thought came that suggested he should perhaps ask Pinky how he felt about him…?

“Please. That wouldn’t be news. I already know that. He tells me almost everyday…” Brain argued with the idea out loud. Pinky gushed about their friendship. He was always hugging him and spouting his sentiments. Brain didn’t need to ask. He was his best friend. It warmed his heart to know it. But Brain knew that was the extent of it. He wasn’t as far gone as Brain. Pure, innocent Pinky wasn’t going through his experience. Just having the thought of asking Pinky how he felt was as if he was clinging to some sliver of hope that just maybe he was thinking of him similarly. He forced a laugh. “How absurd. Pinky…No. That would be more trouble than it’s worth. I certainly can’t even imagine it…” Brain folded his arms, desperately trying to act like it was the most preposterous and funny thing he had ever thought of. “Pinky actively thinking about me, wanting desperately to convey his own romantic interest…” His expression shifted to something more enticed, “…As though he’s had all this pent up desire only waiting for an ideal opportunity to release it…And once having the chance, taking full advantage!” Brain was blushing now, but so caught up in his self rant to even realize he had switched from mocking the idea to fully fantasizing over it. “… pressing near me…and holding onto me…and whispering his inanities before placing his mouth over mine….and…and suddenly…we’re in the cage…and then…and then before I know it…”

He trailed off and upon realizing just how flustered this line of thought was making him, he zoomed away towards the sink to cool off before it got any worse. He was borderline sizzling by the time the cold water hit him.

————–

"Whatcha doing, Brain?”

Brain was alert by now, having decided to stay beneath the faucet until he completely cleared his head, so Pinky’s presence did not catch him by surprise. “Righting myself.”

You sure look alright to me! Narf!“ Pinky said with an enthusiastic gesture. Then he noticed there was no steam and Brain seemed to be trembling. "Though, That looks awful chilly. Did you go for the wrong lever?”

“Cold water stimulates the brain with electrical impulses. The shock increases alertness and clarity, as well as raising energy levels.” Brain explained to him. “Basically, it helps one think better” He certainly needed to be doing more of that, if he wanted to avoid being caught up in more delusions.. 

He moved to the side, away from the rushing water, when he notice a rope of cloth tumbling down the side of the sink. Glancing at it for a moment, he decided he had been in here for long enough and began to climb. He met Pinky at the top, who helped him the rest of the way onto the rim. 

Pinky felt like he understood. He stepped back a few centimeters. “Oooh. Do You think if i spent enough time under cold water I’d be as smart as you?”

“I didn’t say it performed miracles…” Brain said dryly, before shivering and rubbing his hands together.

Taking notice, Pinky went to turn off the faucet and returned to Brain, dragging a hair dryer. He turned it on without warning and it blew the shorter mouse off his feet completely. After a few seconds he turned it off and looked on with a guilty expression. Brain briefly growled in irritation but couldn’t focus on that because a moment later he was a ball of static fur. Upon the sight, Pinky had a fit of laughter and Brain took the closest object and threw it at his head. Once recovering, Pinky apologized and went to find his Darbie hair brush.

Both seated on the counter, Pinky began to brush through Brain’s fur in almost complete silence save for some light humming on Pinky’s part. Brain sighed, cutting through it.

Pinky frowned. “What’sa matter, Brain? I did say sorry.”

“It isn’t that, Pinky…” Brain assured him. He was silent for a few moments after that, closing his eyes and just relishing in the soothingness of the brush going through his fur. It was very serene without a trace of roughness. Pinky was very careful and it had him feeling content somewhat.

But there wasn’t complete contentness, because Brain still had a problem. He was a failure. Not only had he failed in taking over the world up until now, he still failed in something that should be a thousand times easier.

As much as Brain told himself he didn’t, he did actually care what Pinky thought of him. He may not expect anything to come of this confession, other than releasing the pressure from holding a hard kept secret, but he did fear a negative reaction. He could deal with the world not liking him. They were fools, and he knew they could be won over eventually with one of his well constructed schemes. But Pinky? Pinky was the one person in this world he felt like he needed to be liked by. Not…not liked in the way that he did, although that would be nice…very nice….but liked as a friend. Pinky was a good friend, too good for him to deserve. Perhaps that was what was halting his words… Brain’s love for those in the past, while painful, had all been bearable because Pinky was always there. Pinky was his constant. He did not want to make another error and this time not have a Pinky to pick him up.

He slightly tilted his head in an effort to glance at Pinky in his peripherals. After a few seconds, he stared ahead again.

This paranoia was getting him nowhere. This was the one scenario where he wished he could be more like Pinky, who spoke his mind regardless of hardly having one.

“How do you do it…?” Brain said out of the blue.

Pinky stopped for a moment as he thought about Brain’s sudden question. He didn’t know what he meant at first, but then he glanced at the brush and smiled., “Well! I find starting all the way at the top to be the easiest, and then slowly gliding all the way dooown–” Pinky demonstrated this as he spoke.

“No, Pinky. How do you say what you feel so easily?”

Pinky had to think about that one, but not for very long, “Poit. I suppose usually I open my mouth and things just come out!” He stuck his tongue out and kept his mouth open, waiting, “Narf! Haha! See?” He grinned and continued brushing, flattening fur with his hand when he needed to.

“If only it were that easy…” 

“Oh, but it is, Brain.”

“No, Pinky, it’s not. But I suppose I can’t expect you to understand. You do next to no critical thinking” Brain said and shrugged, “You can’t just say the first idiotic thought that pops into your head. “ He raised his arms, “What if your entire friendship hinges on this one conversation? What do you do if the other person doesn’t like what you have to say?”

“I say it anyway.” Pinky replied and Brain twisted to view him, looking less than impressed with his response. Pinky continued to explain, “Why not? I say things you don’t like all the time, don’t I?”

Brain hadn’t been thinking about it that way. It actually took him by surprise. “Hmm…That is true…Many things..”

“There is a lot of them,”. Pinky snorted, “And you still like me, don’t you?”

Brain had to face front once again, so he wouldn’t be staring at him while he gave his answer. “In a manner of speaking…”

“Well, there you are, then! Now, go on, Brain. Do it! Tell me the first thing on your mind!” Pinky exclaimed, opening his arms and tossing his little hairbrush aside.

Brain folded his arms but did as requested. “You are a buffoon.”

Pinky laughed loudly and leaned forward suddenly to hug his large head, squishing his ears. Brain, who was normally annoyed by this kind of behavior, found himself smiling.