#yeah i like lab rats a normal amount i think

[baelpenrose]

Project Praetorian 36: Pretense of Normal

Kids have to deal with online school, because being government lab rats and super soldiers isn't hell enough - and they are still recovering from a battle! TW for Jonathan's internalized ableism, including use of the R-slur, because I've spent the last two years teaching and kids absolutely still use it, ESPECIALLY when they feel stupid. Oh also you get no points for guessing that Stricken was the one who came up with the fake cover names for the kids whose deaths were faked.

Beta-read, as always, by @canyouhearthelight, who did a huge amount of work in Shiloh's section. Honestly, there was a whole argument that went into the second paragraph of this chapter about caffiene dosing, of all things... Oh, also, yes, this chapter has an abundance of the "thing you read/learn about in school is relevant to your life in a bad way," trope because I'm a sucker for it.

Shiloh

Watching the video with these godawful auto-generated subtitles was always annoying - worse yet because Shiloh was already overstimulated, and was still trying to recover from the battle. Curtis had mentioned it was normal to fully crash a day or two after extended combat, especially for a rookie fighter, but it was making everything in their brain feel like a deep fog.

After the long debriefs with the full team, and higher ups looking over their combat performance, that same brain fog and their fall-off in healing capacity towards the end of the engagement had their loadout being adjusted. Not only were they now carrying conventional medic gear to augment what they could do, with spray on skin and antiseptics for mild burns, chest seals, and other gear to save their powers for when it was really needed, they were now going to be carrying a bunch of First Strike Ration bars which came with an insane caloric density and were fortified with 200mg of pure caffeine concentrate a pop. That, plus microdoses of adrenaline for if they started really fading…They could push much much harder. They wouldn’t be staggering around and falling down helpless. 

They realized they’d zoned out of another important part of the video they were trying to watch - motherfucker WHY DID THIS NOT HAVE A TRANSCRIPT - and rewound again, then realized that the subtitles were so bad that it was almost pointless anyway. Gripping their thigh and squeezing, then drumming their fingers on the desk, Shiloh paused the video and took a breath. 

Then they started googling the topic with places that weren’t FUCKING video based, figuring that they were going to have to figure it out themselves. They knew they weren’t stupid, and they could at least pull off and get the information well enough from other sources, even if it wasn’t as complete as it otherwise might have been. Still, it was annoying to struggle…

They had been staring at the screen where they’d pulled up the article for a while. Come on, focu…they drummed their hand on the desk to get something going, trying to focus on reading about expansion of changing states of matter. It was hard to believe this was relevant to their life given that they were….

Then it abruptly hit them that this was very much relevant to their life and they stood up and stepped away from the desk. No, they didn’t need to understand the physics behind that. They wanted to learn how bodies worked so they could fix it, in case it happened to one of the people they cared about. They tried to force themselves to focus again, but it was…the sudden spike of adrenaline from thinking about the bodies they’d had to try to fuse back together, the exhaustion that was finally hitting…

Leon was finally walking over, signing gently. “Shiloh? You okay?” 

Shiloh shook their head. “Subtitles aren’t working right, and trying to read it from the textbook helped but it’s freaking me out.” 

Leon looked at them, then Shiloh pointed out the passage they’d read. “How the aliens fight. Do I even have to do this?”

Leon took a breath. “Yeah, let’s…try to help you through this lesson, first, so you don’t have to come back to it. Then let’s give you a break. Pretty much everyone is struggling today.”

Mark

He was tired, and staring at a computer was not helping him focus. Still, he had ambitions of going places that probably required a college degree after the war, so he needed to get through it. 

Still, he was focusing on things that would actually help him - he didn’t need to pass art to graduate, so he wasn’t bothering. Math was only up to a certain point, but Curtis mentioned it would help him with logistics, so he was willing to suffer through it. Physics was giving him good ideas about how to use his powers, or use his team’s powers, so he wasn’t going to complain - he didn’t know he wanted to bother with an elective science next year. History may be useful, especially civics, and he was thinking of taking the foreign policy course elective next year to have a better chance as the team traveled. English - eh, maybe, for public speaking, but for the most part it was a thing he could afford to bare minimum so he could graduate and leave public speaking to Xavier and Casey. 

He took some breaths and continued working. Focus - he saw Shiloh stand up, and tried to focus down for himself. 

The questions on this assignment were annoying - how long had he been staring at this one? He pulled some scratch paper and tried to work it out, finding himself more annoyed than before. Set up the problem, realistically if I can do that in real life I can run a calculator. 

He listened to the teacher droning and tried to restrain his anger, his contempt, as the teacher on the zoom screen pointed out that he was obviously not paying attention. Idly, Mark pondered leaning into the ‘insane group home’ thing and telling the truth  that he was busy trying to figure out how to graduate while juggling being a test subject for government experiments and fighting a war with aliens. He’d be written off, and but he’d have this condescending jackass eat himself whole when the whole mess was declassified. No, Mark thought. Complicates my path to graduation if he assumes I’m crazy rather than assuming I’m totally under my own control. And by the time he’d be dealing with the consequences I won’t get to laugh. 

Instead, he refocused on the lesson to the best of his ability, gritting his teeth over the exhaustion. Come on, focus, just a little harder.

Mark sighed as the teacher kept talking, having called attention to him and now leaving him alone while he worked through the problems. He glanced around - Xavier was doing about as well as he was from the looks of things, he gave it about even odds that Echo had gotten fed up with being talked down to by someone with half her IQ and just built an AI to do her homework for her, Casey and Molly were trying as hard as they could…

“Mr. Rosenberg, do you have the answer?”

Mark snapped, the irritation of the stupid fake name he’d been given finally wearing thin his patience after the week, and the teacher of the one day a month he had to show up for actual guided classes having thoroughly run out of luck for getting Mark of all people the day after the battle. He flicked the mic on. “Yeah, this one, and the next, and the next. All the way down to the last five, which I’m still chewing on. I had to do something to entertain myself and listening to you run your mouth wasn’t going to do it.” 

Leon looked over at the vicious tone in his voice - he was almost surprised to hear it. He’d never spoken like that in school before, though he probably would have if Imperator had put him or the others in school directly after abduction rather than keeping him for a few weeks to settle in. 

“That’s disrespectful. A bit of -” 

Mark muted himself before he could fire off the dozen insults that rapidly sprang to mind, and tuned out what else the idiot was saying. Leon approached and asked him what was going on. 

“Just…short fuse. Been trying to focus on getting through school in the midst of the war and I don’t need the teacher’s shit. That’s all.”

Leon looked quietly concerned but nodded. “I understand why you feel that way, but I need you to try to slow down, take a breath. We’ll talk about that more in our next session.”

Casey

English - it had been her choice on what independent study to focus on this week, she supposed, and English was an easier thing to work on than math, but god, really, did she want to be reading Catcher in the Rye in the middle of…actually, yeah. Because it felt like the kind of thing she’d get to complain about if she was back home. So she focused on Holden Caulfield, and his miserable little life, and wondered if her younger brother would be reading it soon back in Cincinnati. How he’d do with it.  How her sisters would do with it, without her to help them with the homework. 

She started on the essay, and tried, just for a minute, to pretend this was her biggest problem. She remembered hating school, and it still wasn’t exactly fun, but now it was at least…it was at least something normal in the midst of everything else. A reminder that she was going to be normal again, want to go to college, want to get married, have kids, be normal again, even if her powers were never going to leave her. 

Something tickled at her as she read it - she got why people didn’t like Holden, he was angsty, self-pitying, obnoxious, mean-spirited, and flat-out gross, but she also understood what he wanted. Looking after his sister and deciding, eventually, to do what he had to because it was the way to look after her, being her…god that was such a dumb expression…”Catcher in the Rye…”

She sighed, as she looked at her essay. If she asked anyone else to look at this, she was going to get psychoanalyzed. Everyone, EVERYONE, hated Holden Caulfield. Jonathan and Echo hated Holden and they were actual orphans like he was, so it probably wasn’t okay to write off his shitty attitude as being trauma related. She hated him for making his little sister worry about him as much as she did, since it shouldn’t have been her job, but him getting his act together at the end had felt good to watch, like someone should have recognized that he made progress in taking responsibility.

She knew Leon would tell her she only felt that way because she’d been parentified, whatever that meant, that she’d been her mother’s secret-keeper, all that. Had been a Catcher for her younger siblings, since she knew that her parents’ marriage hadn’t been going as cleanly as it could be before she disappeared - her dad working all those extra shifts, her mom struggling to keep up with everything she and her siblings did. She’d tried to have fewer extracurriculars to take some of the weight off, help out with the little ones, listen to her mom so the younger ones didn’t learn about it, but…

She looked at the essay she’d written and slowly deleted a lot of it, some of it was too personal. Then she started writing again. 

Damnit. I’m still doing it. Still trying to end the war before it hits them. Not that I can. But…

Casey took a breath. At least school, and all the annoyances and embarrassments that came with it, that could be normal. She could be normal again, eventually. As normal as she’d ever been. 

Jonathan

Why was it wrong!? He’d done everything right! 

He took a breath and forced himself to focus, checked - and realized that some of the numbers further back up the question had gotten flipped around. He tried to remind himself that Leon said he had a learning disability, that it didn’t make him stupid, that if he’d had good parents and wasn’t stuck in Imperator he would have accommodations, he wouldn’t be struggling so hard, but it was hard when he failed over and over in math that everyone else seemed able to do - hell, that Mark was practically blowing out of the water while ignoring the teacher and Echo had mentioned making an AI to do for her so she could learn more interesting stuff.

Fuck, wasn’t ‘learning disability’ just a nice way of saying ‘retarded’? His dad had always told him he was, and pretty much everyone told him he was dumber than a rock. The chair creaked under his grip, and he was suddenly crouching, catlike, as the chair toppled, and he realized that he’d accidentally snapped one of the legs off while just squeezing it. 

Stupid, stupid. He grabbed another chair and sat back down, Leon coming over as he tried to compose himself and talking to him softly. “Jonathan…”

“I’m so fucking done, Leon. I’m fucking retarded and there’s nothing about this that makes sense. I can’t do better with this and I don’t know what the point is because I’m not going to be anything but a Praetorian either way. Can I please, please just drop out so I don’t have to keep doing this? I’m not smart enough for college and…”

He took a breath and Leon asked, very softly, if he needed a hug, and Jonathan nodded, keeping his arms at his sides - he didn’t trust himself not to crush the closest thing he had to a mother by mistake right now, as she held him. “You are not stupid, Jonathan. And you have a future after the war. I’m gonna twist Stricken’s…no fuck that. I’m going to send an email to the school and say that I am concerned about your grades and want an IEP meeting of some kind. We can get you some kind of accommodations, I’m tired of watching you do this to yourself.” 

Jonathan blinked. “Can…can you do that? Will you get in trouble? Don’t get in trouble and get yourself hurt for me. It’s not worth it, I’d rather just drop out…”

Leon shook her head. “I’m not going to get in trouble. Big picture, it’s something that would be expected if a kid is struggling this badly and if I suddenly disappear, it’ll bring up more questions - I’ve been the contact for all of you with the school the whole time. I can’t get away with doing stuff like this often, but while I’m at it I might as well come up with some story about how I finally have the paperwork from the state about Shiloh’s hearing issues and need better subtitles or transcripts.” 

Jonathan took a breath. The thought that this could be better - “Are you sure? That I could actually do it if you get me what I need?”

Leon nodded. “I’m certain. You’re not stupid, Jonathan. You’ve spent your whole life being told you are, but you aren’t stupid, and you aren’t worthless. You have a future after this, after the war, and I want to help you plan for it.”

That was it. He started crying, and gently held Leon. “Thanks, mom.”

[reveseke]

Spontaneous crossover / au time with Spiderverse and Criminal minds about Spiderverse! Reader within Criminal minds ( feat a arcade themed stim board bc i wanted to make one <- TW bright colors & lights + flickering { Glowcore popping balloons } )

(( CW Sooo ~ Rather dark themes, mentions of being a lab rat, kidnapping, possible paranoia at some point even | mention of Jumping spiders ( due to the powers ) | You have been warned, approach at your own risk :3 ( probably didn't get all of it down these were the ones I thought off, if you find more please lemme know! )

Au/tropes — Crossover of Spiderverse × Criminal minds | Sci-fi | scientific super powers | found family (mention/hinted) | Angst(hinted)

Random – concept headcanons | Arcade theme in play

About reader — Masc! Aligned; trans, nonbinary & masc ambiguous friendly ! | He him pronouns used | R instead of y/n or m/n used | teen! reader around sixteen fifteen y.o ? | Hinted to have small amounts of background & a dog! | Tech savvy reader !!

Disclaimer – English is my second language and I'm Dyslexic, grammatical errors are more than going to happen. this is barely proof-read completely, it's just breezed through that's it lol.

DNI — Fudanashis/Fujodashis, fem-aligned, basic DNI criteria(ableists, racists, sexists etc), Maps(+other related terms), Pedophiles, transmeds, TERFS ( + other related terms ), antisemetics, proship/profic, kink/nude/18+ blogs, sh/pro-ana/Ed blogs, blank blogs

Gif ID. Three gifs in upper row; a gif showcasing the 90s arcade mat designs with varying colors and shapes, second gif of a bundle of cables with small flashing RGB lights in between the cables, third gif of cyan and magenta glitters being stirred.

three more gifts row down; a gif of glow in the dark stars if varying colors being thrown down, a gif of two balloons filled with green and orange glowing liquid Uber a black light being driven over by a car popping them, third gif of three arcade machines against a wall flashing lights and active. Gif ID end

Credits — 👑|👑|👑 — 👑|👑|👑

What if spiderman! Au, masc!reader being something similiar to Spider-Man, a teenager and gets to work for the government when he's caught. Of course suffering through the court etc -> as in assault charges that can be linked to him even if it was against bad guys. Y'know lol .

Also bad guys just being criminals most of the time. And actually being normal people. Ofc there can be an alternative of serums etc etc.

If they were serumed up then there would be more chaos tbh.

But I'm still thinking wether or not it be the known sci-fi type with differences to the actual Spider-Man powers. Also bc i personally love jumping spiders, i think the powers will circle them specifically. ( So the suit design descriped wouldn't be the one Spider-Man actually wears bc originality if i ever continue on this concept lol )

R just swinging around and avoiding cops and agents as he starts to realise he's being chased / targeted.

His powers are seen as something pricy and unique, one could say people may be interested in seeing him fighting in a rink.

I think he would be a lab rat if caught by anybody who has the proper or improper equipment and skill(s) to be used.

I think the first time he'd use his powers would be after being attacked or scared and having the fight or flight response activated.

Most likely panicked and absolutely bat shit scared.

At some point may have had something to do with a murder or being an accessory in it. Koff Koff. Or maybe just do something with a murder of somebody in general bc of not knowing how much power he actually has.

:0 Vigilante good guy misinterpreted to be a bad guy bc his powers went haywire.

Oh yeah heh mentioned jumping spiders above, think about ultraviolet vision as something R would be able to access.

Also bc of 15-16 y.o R he would be in highschool during these times. ( Think about it being the present)

Getting a dog for his own protection, company and to combat the possible paranoia the shit underneath may have caused and is spoke of.

Yes I'm kinda just portraying this origin of Reader to be close to the original spider-man origin. Thinking of ways he could get his powers; i don't like the origin how that ended, bc angst i need angst and the Reader being a full lab rat by being kidnapped for tests with other people. Either they survived it or died during the testing. ( I think he could have been a bit younger when this happened. )

Also kinda wanna include Survivalist intuition(link) to the mix in a way, not only for thee possible danger intuition that will be part of the myriad of things the testing may have given him.

Having a friend group that somewhat knows what's up with the reader and tries to help him as much as they can. Which includes possible not talking to the cops or FBI if being questioned at one point bc the fbi found possible lead to the reader after seeing him appearing around newspapers and the streets of Virginia mainly.

If the reader does have parents they are spoken with aswell, if he does not then he's basically taken in as the shared child of the BAU team in time lmao .

If he does not have parents as in they aren't really there in his life that much.

Finding out he's a student, a minor in general surprises them a little, especially after connecting dots and finding out what may or may not have happened to him when he was younger.

After being caught he's held accountable for the crimes he's committed. And doesn't exactly deny them either. But he's also offered a possible job bc they could actually use someone like him in the forces due to his powers.

Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait what if more sci-fi type of shit is going on and the technology is a little more advanced from the 2000- 2018 (i think?) Technology evolution. And the reader was tech savvy and build his own equipment and instead of actual webs or chemically composed webs it's just wires?? Like grappling hooks but small and study as fuck ¿¿ Lmao

So like in a way he's not smart in chemistry way, but in technology & physics way if you will lol ??

And if the reader liked a more colorful arcade-ish designs ?? :0

The fanfiction would be a crossover obviously, but idk if there would a specific world to be put in. Bc spider verse! Reader sounds really cool. Especially arcade-aesthetic style/ tech savvy(kinda like Peni from Spiderverse, but not completely y'know?) version would be really cool.

AAAAAAAAAAA— just thinking about a case where spiderverse! Reader is already part of BAU and is sent to go undercover in a school campus bc there's a killer and nobody knows anything and he's the only one that could easily without raising any suspicious'

Also how he's secretive about being hurt and sucking it up to bandages himself home bc that's basically what he's been doing. The amount of scars and wounds he has and how's he not dead yet ?? The teams shook lol .

Oh also JJ's basic maternal instinct; he's basically if put to work with the BAU department under Hotch as a trainee also under her, Emily and Penny's gaze. Also Hotch and Derek lol imo would look after the reader a little if they're assigned with him.

Also Derek will absolutely if the Reader is energetic and speaks alot pretend to be annoyed before actually being annoyed bc he can't catch a break off of you ( in this situation he'd voice it out politely. Instead of ignoring R completely lol ) . Also teasing how much of a motor mouth R can be.

With Reid he can absolutely talk about the most random things that come to mind and if he doesn't know what R's on about R can actually educate him on it !

Also i actually think especially if the Reader is neurodivergent Reid would absolutely be the best person to talk about hyperfixations and specials interests. In other seriousness you could pour your interests and likes to him and you'd get a good conversation out of it :³ .

Also mama hen Rossi content. You cannot convince me this man does not hen over the team in general. I have seen too many headcanons and hints off of this, + the show let's it up as well in some episodes and I am headcanoning it myself lmao. He's really caring tbh.

Can you already tell I'm hip deep in found family trope content with the old BAU team lol ?

Absolutely think once Penny gets a sniff at something R's interested in she's going to get him something related to that to keep his mind off of the dark things the job forces him into. She's absolutely the one you could just pour out and she's ready to help, care and possible be doting ;; .

Also just randomly thinking about those roof-top chase scenes where reader would be the dominant one bc he could catch up faster with the target especially if it's jumping roof top to roof top. Bc naturally much stronger and longer leaps than a human can do and more stamina. ( Bc of having a jumping spider specific powers )

[bee-in-a-box]

Okay so there's this visual that shows up in Bionic Showdown Pt.2 for about 1 second:

It was really hard to read, but there was also a lot of interesting info about Marcus' robotic anatomy. So I took a few hours and made it into an easier to read (not easier to understand but easier to read fhdjskafh) diagram:

There could be some mistakes, but I am 95% sure that this is what the original text boxes say.

Something interesting to note is that Marcus has a "controller" where his heart would be if he were human, and it controls a "hydraulic actuator" which means it kind of acts like a heart that pumps something, air most likely because there is also a "pneumatic actuator," through his body to allow him to move.

The controller also controls a safety system and Marcus' joint position, which is really interesting because that implies the controller is also like a brain. The only important system Marcus has in his head is his vision system, which even then, Marcus has a backup vision system in his left shoulder. Even if Marcus' head was removed, hypothetically he could still function as normal.

[sevlgi]

aphrodisiac

requested: no

group: twice 

pairing: mina x fem!reader

genre: fluff, extremely mild and short angst

contents: witch!mina, love potions, college!au

warnings: none

synopsis: You’re broke and desperate, so you don’t think twice before taking a love potion that’ll make you fall in love with a mysteriously perfect girl. But maybe you should. 

a/n: hehe i like the idea of this!! i’m just not sure how well i executed it 🤔 happy valentines day, my loves ❤

word count: 6.0k

While everyone knew that working the 9-12 weekday shift at the campus bookstore was the worst job you could possibly get, you didn’t feel quite as exhilarated to have been laid off as you should have.

As the one who had suffered at the hand of old Mrs. Lee for almost the entire duration of your time on campus, you knew the torture better than most. So it was an understatement to say that you were exhilarated to be free of ironing book pages out and restocking the shelves at Mrs. Lee’s whims, that you were practically beaming when you got the email.

But on the other hand, it wasn’t like you had much money to spare, or like you had the ability to find another job in the crowded university. When you felt your wallet in your back pocket, completely empty save for a couple crinkled receipts, the grin faded from your face; after all, it would be even harder to survive without the aid of your measly salary.

So as you pinched together a couple quarters to buy yourself a consolatory iced chocolate, you found that being let go from the shittiest job in the world didn’t feel as triumphant as you had expected. Not when you were, once again, scouring the papers stabled to the lightposts around the campus for anything that offered a quick paycheck.

Well, almost anything.

“I will not.”

“Why?” Lisa was close to whining, though the pout that she directed fully at you did her no favors. “You said you needed to get paid.”

You sighed, “I said i needed to get paid, not launched in the air like a damn cannonball.”

Lisa scowled and tapped her fingers on her face, her hands still cupping her chin as she attempted to convince you. “Come on, the dance team’s willing to pay. It costs less to pay you than to get a dummy, so--”

“That’s not helping to convince me,” you warned. As desperate as you were, and as much as you liked Lisa and her fellow dancers, you definitely didn’t trust them not to launch you in the air and break your neck. “Are you sure that you don’t know about any other job offers? Anything that won’t murder me?”

She considered it, chewing on her bottom lip. You could feel other students eyeing where you sat, one of the only seats in the incredibly tiny boba shop, but you refused to budge until Lisa gave you an answer. “Oh! There is one I can think of, actually. You know the bio lab?”

“Yeah.” You watched her suspiciously, arms crossed. “I’ve been there a couple times. Why?”

“Well, it isn’t a normal bio lab,” Lisa mumbled, leaning in as if what she was about to tell you was the greatest secret in the world. “A lot of them are witches, you know.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t believe in witches, or the supernatural-- both had been proven to be true eons ago, and almost half of the students attending your university weren’t completely human. But you were still a little skeptical that the pretty and equally brilliant girls who ran the campus’s bio lab were... “Witches? Are you sure?”

“Why would I be lying?” Lisa rolled her eyes. “I’m friends with a couple of them, and I know that they’re doing an... experiment of sorts, and they need--”

“Lab rats,” you finished for the dancer. In all rationality, being a lab rat for a couple of young witches with access to a high-tech lab was probably worse than getting launched up in the air by a dance team, but when Lisa slid a flyer over and your eyes widened at the offered money, you instantly stood. “Take me.”

Lisa pouted but stood anyway, taking the flyer back to squint at the tiny scribbled building number. “I can’t believe you trust Mina more than you trust me.”

“Mina? Is that the name of the ‘witch’ I’m selling myself to?” you asked, slightly sarcastic but also slightly curious. At the dancer’s nod, you exhaled lightly and shoved your seat in just to watch the next people scramble for it, and hummed on your way out, “Then let’s meet this Mina.”

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that your entire school was close to dilapidated, but something about the bio lab was almost creepy as you approached it. Lisa had long since set off for the dance room (something about Seulgi breaking Ten’s ankle, she claimed), so you hesitated in front of the cloudy glass door alone. But the thought of the $600 dollars scrawled onto the flyer scrunched in your fist prompted you to push the doors open and step into the lab.

There was already a decent amount of people buzzing around inside; you recognized quite a few of them and nearly laughed at the amount of students willing to possibly be poisoned. But you took the nearest empty seat as someone appeared at the front of the room.

“Wow, this is a great turnout.”

The crowd chuckled lightly, and your eyes nearly bugged out at the sight of the girl standing at the front with papers in her hands. Honestly, she was the kind of girl that you imagined people wrote love songs about-- absolutely perfect without having to really do anything, elegant and soft in a way that still stood out. She smiled slightly and waved, eyes darting around the room. “Hi. I’m Mina, I’m part of the coven that sent out the flyers.”

You joined in the chorus of greetings, but your eyes stayed fixed on Mina at the front of the room. You could see several other girls lurking around in the shadows, probably the other members, though they kept beckoning Mina to speak on her own. “Um, I’ll just... explain the project to you,” she chuckled nervously, darting over to the computer.

Once a slide was displayed on the wall, she rushed back to the front and explained, “Being a potions-focused coven and also biology majors, we wanted to conduct an experiment. A love potion, or an aphrodisiac in scientific terms.”

Murmurs arose around you, and even your eyebrows scrunched together; as far as you knew, aphrodisiacs weren’t real, and if they were, they were probably illegal. In response, Mina raised her hands and her voice slightly to call out, “Hey, hey. It’s an experiment. We were originally planning to accept all of you, but... I think it’ll be hard to conduct an experiment with 50 people, so please fill out the form we pass out.”

And like that, Mina joined the rest of her friends in passing out the clipboards. You didn’t watch them, only scanned the lab for any signs that you were about to die, so when you were tapped on the shoulder, you almost fell off your stool. It was Mina herself, a slight pink tinting her pale skin as she held out one of the forms to you. “Uh. Thanks.” You accepted it with a bow of your head, staring down at the paper. It looked legitimate, with areas for your age, your height--

“What’s your name?”

In your haste to read over the paper, you hadn’t noticed that Mina hadn’t left. When you looked back up, you could feel heat burning at the tops of your ears, and you answered, “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N, though you’ll read it on my application.”

“Oh. Of course. Thanks for coming, Y/N,” Mina mumbled, bowing before moving on to someone else. You noted that she didn’t ask for the name of anyone else, but you passed it off and turned back to the form. Since when did becoming a coven’s lab rat require your blood type, anyway?

After nearly a week, you had almost given up on being accepted into the experiment. But just 5 days after turning your form in, you got the text.

Unknown number [4:57]  Is this Y/N Y/L/N? My name is Mina, we met at the bio lab last week. I’m texting to tell you that you got accepted into the program; we’re meeting at the lab again at 9:00 tonight to discuss the experiment further.

You [5:00]   yeah, it’s me. i’ll be there.

It wasn’t like what you wore to the meeting mattered; all you were doing was being briefed on exactly what was about to happen to you. But all through your classes of the day, through your futile studying, you couldn’t keep your mind off the experiment that you had somehow been accepted into, and whether it was a good idea to go at all.

Suffice to say, you went.

“Y/N?” the girl at the entrance of the lab asked. You recognized her from the week before-- dark hair, bunny-toothed smile. “You are Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you answered, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” she smiled. “We’re just taking roll, making sure everyone’s here. Take a seat inside, if you will.”

You obliged, nodding awkwardly before brushing past her. To your relief, the lab was nowhere as packed as it had been the week before, 7 people including yourself seated on the stools as the girls fiddled with test tubes in the back. One pair of eyes in particular lingered on you, before Mina was pulled back to talk, but your cheeks warmed nonetheless.

“Okay, everyone!” someone else announced, clapping her hands together. “My name’s Jihyo, I’m the head of the coven. This is Nayeon” -- the bunny-toothed girl from earlier waved-- “and Mina. We’ll be explaining the experiment to you today.”

She pulled the projector down and Nayeon stepped up, flashing a grin at all of you. “Basically, we made an aphrodisiac. And to test it, we’ll have all of you do the exact same things with the exact same person-- Mina.”

Mina stepped forward this time, and you couldn’t help smiling at the shy smile that tugged at her lips. “To keep conditions equal, you’ll all be going on the exact same 2 dates with me,” she explained. “I’ll take notes on how you act around me, and we’ll test how you feel about me at the very end. Any questions?”

The room was basically silent and honestly, you couldn’t see a downside to it either. Take a potion once and go on dates with a pretty girl, then get observed like a hamster on its wheel so you could get paid? A million times better than your old job. “Great,” Jihyo nodded. “Then, we’ll get started. If Y/N could be the first one? You’ll just go into a room with Mina to get interviewed and take your first dose.”

“Don’t die,” someone called out as you passed, and you flashed a glare despite not knowing who it was. Nayeon giggled as she opened the door for you and closed it behind you, leaving you in what you assumed to be a supply closet. Romantic.

“Hi,” Mina greeted softly, already seated across the table. “I’ll just ask you a series of questions, if that’s okay.”

“Go for it.”

“Rate how attracted you are to me on a scale from 1 to 10.”

Your jaw dropped immediately; for the first question, it was awfully invasive, especially when Mina voiced it with such a straight face. But you straightened your spine and answered stiffly, “9.” 

It should’ve been 10, but you weren’t trying to look like a literal creep; Mina only hummed and marked a circle on her form, moving on to ask, “Are you considering dating anyone else at the moment?”

“No.”

And in that manner, the questions passed decently quickly, with Mina asking them as flatly as possible and you answering them with the exact same tone. As soon as she set the clipboard aside, though, she returned to her original sweet state. “I’ll just have you swallow this now, if that’s okay.”

The test tube was cold to the touch when you uncapped it, and the liquid inside was suspiciously clear. But you barely gave it a passing glance before downing it like a shot, asking with narrowed eyes, “Is it supposed to taste like nothing?”

“Well, we figured that not everyone would like to taste tequila once a week with none of the good effects,” Mina chuckled and placed the empty test tube in its place.

“How fast will I see results?” you questioned as you stood. “Like, am I gonna wake up in a cold sweat tonight because I can’t handle how much I suddenly love you?”

The girl shook her head, though it was a bit hesitant. “I don’t believe so. It should only become more prominent once you see me more often. Which reminds me, I’ll text you about our first date as soon as I can. Thank you for participating, Y/N.”

You snatched your jacket up and stumbled your way out of the room as quickly as you could, hoping no one was looking as you closed the door behind you with a quivering pulse.

Despite the witch’s words, you were sure that the potion was already taking effect. Why else would your heart start to throb terribly as you looked at her smile? 

mina [8:16]  Hello Y/N! I was wondering if you had class today?

Mouth full of cheap cup ramen noodles, you stared at your phone screen. If Mina was asking you about your schedule, she had to have something planned (for the experiment, of course. You weren’t delusional). And you weren’t sure if you were mentally ready to see her shy smile again.

But when the thought of the $600 dollar check popped into your head, you reached for your phone and started to type again. 

You [8:19]  hey, mina. i don’t have class, actually, is this something about the experiment?

mina [8:20]  Yes! If possible, please meet me at the front of the school, we’ll be visiting the food trucks at the beach. I’ll pay!

Your stomach growled at the thought of the renowned food trucks at the beach by your university, and you typed out a hasty agreement before stuffing your phone into your bag and setting off for your apartment. There was no way you were enjoying such an opportunity for good food (and perfect company) in a slightly ramen-stained hoodie.

Thankfully, Mina didn’t seem to mind you being late when you approached her. “Hi, Y/N,” she smiled and hitched her bag higher up her shoulder. “I’m glad to see you.”

“Hi,” you breathed. Well, at least you tried to-- you could barely remember how to function when faced with Mina in a slightly cropped red top, her hair tied up in a little ponytail. But you followed her down the street well enough, towards where you vaguely remembered a fleet of various food trucks to be. “So, have you already conducted this part of the experiment with everyone else?”

Mina shook her head and answered, “No, you’re the first. You took the dose first, so you’ll be a bit like the guinea pig within guinea pigs.”

You snickered at that, nearly tripping over one of the raised cracks in the ground. Sure, the way down the hill to the beach wasn’t the safest one ever, but at least it was convenient for conducting test dates. “The lab rat. You know, this doesn’t seem remotely like a scientific experiment.”

“What do you mean?” the other girl asked, eyes on yours.

Coughing, you looked away from her gaze, though you could feel her still staring at the back of your head. “I mean... it’s not exactly normal for 7 people to drink a potion that tastes like nothing, then go on dates with a pretty girl and treat that as testing.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“That’s what you got from my whole spiel?” you sighed in disbelief, turning to look at Mina. She laughed, gums showing slightly and her eyes twinkling, and you were forced to turn to the front yet again. “Whatever. Which trucks are we raiding first?”

And as it turned out, Mina was... generous. You were tempted to ask how she was going to keep herself from going broke if she bought that much food for everyone, but watching her bring yet another load of snacks over to where you sat on the wall, you weren’t sure if she cared too much. “Hey. Are you gonna pay for every date?”

“Hm?” She looked up from her Americano and considered the question. “Well, yes? I mean, we planned for the second date next week to be the fair, and I wouldn’t want any college student to have to pay for those overpriced tickets.”

“Aren’t you a college student?”

Mina hummed lightly and dug into her ice cream, sucking thoughtfully on the spoon. “Well, my parents are... well off? I’d like to put it that way, at least. And I think that when I can, I’ll use that to make others happy. Or to further our coven’s experiments.”

“Rich family,” you observed. “Cool.” To be honest, you didn’t really care about how much money anyone’s family made, but it was nice to have all that food paid for. After all, the sheer amount of things Mina bought could’ve covered several months worth of the finest ramen that the restaurants around campus could’ve offered. “Then why’d you end up going to college here with us normal people?”

She raised an eyebrow jokingly and gathered her knees to her chest. “Am I not a normal person anymore?” When you opened your mouth, slightly sheepishly, she giggled and waved a hand, answering, “I ended up choosing this college because my best friends came here. We’re all Japanese, and Sana wanted to come to Korea, so Momo and I just came along for the ride.”

“Ah.” You turned to watch the sky, the sun melting golden into the surface of the waves just a couple dozen feet away. You understood why it was called golden hour as you watched bright yellow rays flicker in Mina’s eyes and glow in her hair, and you had to resist the urge to pull out a camera and capture the feeling of a first date, as much of an experiment as it was. “Makes sense. Then-- how’d you find your coven? I don’t remember a Momo or a Sana.”

“Our coven is a bit... unconventional,” Mina nodded. “It’s just me, Nayeon, and Jihyo. You know that most covens form as children, and they train together, but we only met in college. See, none of us had our own coven, so it was natural that we came together. Momo and Sana aren’t witches, or we should’ve been together.”

You nodded in silence, prompting her to go on. And she did, a soft smile pressing her lips against her teeth as she thought about the girls eh seemed to consider her friends, or her family. “And, well, none of the three of us have had great luck finding someone to love. Or, to love us,” Mina added as an afterthought. “A love potion was just the first thing we fixated on.”

“Finding someone to love you?” you repeated, hand pressed up against your cheek. “I don’t mean that I don’t believe you, but it’s kind of hard to imagine that it’s difficult to find someone to love you. You’re pretty great, Mina.”

She laughed, “I’m glad you think so. But there’s a reason why we chose me as the one to test the potion with.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Mina looked you right in the eyes, a kind of softness swirling in the brown of her own eyes, and responded equally quietly, “We chose me because we thought I was the hardest to fall in love with.”

“Bullshit,” you responded instantly, heat rising to your ears immediately after. But thankfully, the Japanese girl only looked endeared, and you continued, “I mean, I don’t know if this is just the potion talking, but you’re awesome. I... I think I’d like you even if I wasn’t part of this damn experiment.”

She blushed, the hue of her cheeks matching the pink clouds in the sky. “Well, I think you’re exaggerating on that. But it’s not them, I just volunteered myself. I think people just misunderstand me, you know? It’s hard to find the right person for you when you don’t let people see you. And-- I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. On a first date, too.”

“Hey.” When she looked away from you, you reached over to squeeze her hand. Mina didn’t look back up to you, but you knew she was listening from the way she chewed at her bottom lip. “It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. And I can’t say I know you yet, but I can say I wouldn’t mind knowing you. I’d like it, even.”

Mina laughed, barely loud enough for you to hear, and squeezed your hand. “Thank you, Y/N. I think we should finish our food before it gets cold.”

“Oh, yeah.” You let go to reach for one of the many desserts displayed in front of you, barely fazed by the topic change. “Wouldn’t want your parents’ money to go to waste.”

“Please let that go,” she whined.

“Not a chance,” you winked in response, laughing at her pout. “Not. A. Chance.”

“Lili, I think I’m done for.”

“Like, literally?” Lisa asked mindlessly, receiving a light hit on the head in response. “Ow, what was that for?”

You whined, “This isn’t funny. I can feel myself falling, and there’s no cushion underneath me for me to fall onto.”

The dancer rolled her eyes and reached for her milk tea. “Okay, Miss Overdramatic. You know falling doesn’t work like that, no one’s kicking you off a cliff. Especially not Myoui Mina.”

“I’m not being kicked off, I’m sliding.” You made the motions with your hand, a despondent expression on your face as you scowled, “I’m slipping through a puddle of aphrodisiac, that’s what, and Mina poured it at my feet.”

“Okay, enough with the metaphors, I’m not an English major,” Lisa sighed. She tossed a chip at your face, as if being smeared with salt and oil would wake you up from your Mina-induced trance. “You’ve gone on one date with her and spoken to her approximately twice, I think you aren’t falling just yet.”

“Did you forget the part where I’m drugged to fall in love with her?” you deadpanned.

Lisa paused at that. “Okay, I did forget that. Then what? There’s an explanation as to why you’re feeling this way, and there’s a way to get rid of it. Once you get your paycheck, you just stay away from Mina, should be easy enough, since you never met her before this. And you wait for the potion to wear off.”

“Does it wear off?” you groaned into your hands.

“Did you never ask?” Lisa asked in disbelief. “Wow, Y/N, ever heard of fine print?”

You smacked her with your rolled-up notes yet again. “Shut up. But I have a date with her tomorrow, and I don’t know what to do. I’m feeling like this because of the potion, sure, but I’m still feeling like this! And Mina has 6 other people vying for her now, all under the same effect as me. And it feels... bad.”

“Eloquent,” your friend sighed. “Then I have the perfect solution for you. Don’t go on the second date.”

“I need the money,” you shook your head. “Gimme another one.”

Lisa considered it, sucked on her straw as she did, until she shook her head. “I got nothing. All I can tell you is to enjoy it while it lasts, then just... wait. And if it doesn’t wear off, Jisoo unnie’s studying law.”

As horrible as her suggestions were, you could admit that you felt the slightest bit more assured. In the worst case scenario, you could sue Mina for winning your heart, and in the best, the somehow blissful stabs at your heart would be alleviated soon enough. 

As it turned out, you got a chauffer to the fair. Not an actual one, of course-- it was just Jeongyeon, introduced as one of Mina’s friends who could actually drive. 

You really weren’t intending to talk to her at first. She was quiet, too, didn’t even turn on the radio once she started driving, but when something that Mina said crossed your mind, you had to speak up. “Hey, Jeongyeon. Can I ask you something? About Mina?”

“Shoot,” she answered simply, keeping her eyes on the road. 

“Do you think Mina’s hard to fall in love with?”

Jeongyeon glanced at you at that, her expression slightly quizzical. “What do you mean?”

“She said something yesterday,” you explained. “Mina said that they chose her for the experiment because they thought she was the hardest to fell in love with. She said-- something about being misunderstood?”

The older girl nodded in understanding at that and blew her hair out of her face. After a short pause, she sighed, “I think that’s more of what she thinks than the rest of us. Mina... she thinks she’s unapproachable, you know. She doesn’t open up easily, so I’m surprised she told you that at all. But... she’s been hurt several times, and a lot of people think she’s mean or something similarly stupid just because she’s quiet. That’s all.”

“Oh.” You wet your lips and looked forward to the road, where you could see the fair’s Ferris Wheel already in the distance. “I see.”

And that was that. The two of you fell back into silence, and as comfortable as it was, it only gave you more time to think about what you wanted to say.

Maybe you could see why they would choose the girl who thought of herself as unapproachable and quiet to be the test, but they also didn’t seem to think about the obvious warm color to Mina that she presented. She was quiet, sure, but she was sweet, kind... there was plenty to fall in love with, and even if there wasn’t magic coursing through your system, you thought that you could’ve fallen in love with her anyway.

After bidding goodbye to Jeongyeon at the entrance, you found Mina waiting for you by the fair entrance. “Y/N!” she called out, though her voice still wasn’t loud. You could’ve spotted her anywhere anyway, and made your way over. “You’re a bit early.”

“You were earlier,” you smiled. “So. Are we ready to go in?”

“Absolutely.” Mina linked her arm in yours slightly hesitantly and surprised the both of you, but you took it in stride and swung your arm slightly to bring a smile to her face. “I’ll get our tickets, you get in line.”

“I can pay for myself,” you protested, but she waved you off. “...Okay then.”

The fair was loud, a bit too loud to hear Mina’s voice if she talked normally, so you found yourself leaning in every time she spoke. You really didn’t mind it either, feeling her words tickle your ears-- maybe it was closer than you should’ve been comfortable with, but there was a certain adrenaline pumping in your blood that you weren’t really used to. So you continued on, fed cotton candy to her despite her blush, shared a soda, won a teddy bear for her. Nothing that should’ve made your heart beat as fast as it did.

Nonetheless, time ticked by all too quickly, whirling past in a gust of quiet laughter and honestly terrible jokes. The sun set yet again, the streaks of pink and purple across powder blue oddly similar to the first date you had gone on. Mina checked her watch and frowned, “I think we only have time for one more ride before Jeongyeon comes to pick us up. What do you think?”

You barely had to ponder it before you pointed at the tall, neon-lit Ferris wheel with a smile. “Classic date ride, of course.”

“Classic,” Mina laughed in agreement. She let you tug her towards it and stood in line with you with no complaint, digging a selfie stick out from her bag. “Should we take some pictures up there? It’d be a waste of a beautiful view if we don’t.”

You shrugged, “Of course. Might as well have some pictures to remember our last date by, right?”

Mina looked caught between saying something and staying silent, but she settled with a quiet, “Sure” before starting to set her phone up. Your hand in the crook of her elbow, you tugged her forward when it was necessary, keeping your eyes away from her red-tinted lips as much as you could.

Soon enough, wind was blowing your hair off your face and the cart of the ride was creaking slightly under your weight as someone started the wheel. “Whoa,” Mina laughed breathlessly and peered over the edge. “It’s really high up.”

“And we’re only starting,” you agreed, tugging her back by the wrist. “Don’t fall over, I don’t want to get off this ride with a murder charge on my hands.”

“Hm.” Mina reached over to set the selfie stick on the seat opposite the one the two of you shared, shoving you to get you to match her smile. “Come on, 1, 2, 3.”

With every click of her phone camera, you felt yourself coming closer to her, until you could feel the rise and fall of her chest beside you. You were almost at the top of the ride in barely a couple minutes, the soft sunlight almost blinding you. As you waited for the next camera click, you felt Mina’s hand creep up your arm, up, up, until her slightly cold fingers rested on your neck. 

And then she tilted your head, fit her nose right next to yours like it belonged there, and slotted your lips together. You couldn’t think, much less fight whatever force pushed you up against her. You kissed back as best as you could with your senses battling within you, until you realized that the camera shutter had gone off at least ten times.

Mina couldn’t meet your eyes when you did pull back, and she reached over to fiddle with the camera. “Was that a part of the experiment too?” you questioned, your voice raspy.

“Maybe,” she answered, and your heart sank. But she looked up with a smile, her eyes just as confused as you felt. “And maybe not.”

“Oh. Okay,” you said dumbly, then reached over for her hand. There was nothing left to say, anyway, nothing that the slight swell to your lips didn’t already say for you, nothing that wasn’t conveyed when you leaned over to kiss her again.

The idea of allowing a love potion to work its wonders on you was like allowing yourself to be tossed into a trap. But instead of a cold, rough, and terrible trap that you would actively try to escape, you found the trap to be warm, cozy, a place that you wanted to stay-- and a place you knew that you would eventually be ejected from by force.

Once you were in the trap, though, there was no way you could pull yourself back out, especially when you didn’t really want to escape at all. You stayed up for all the nights leading up to the last time you would talk with the bio lab, just thinking about what you would do if everything that had passed by in the last couple weeks was just a figment of an aphrodisiac-induced haze. After all that time, you still didn’t quite know.

But Mina texted you often enough to pull you from that stupor. Thankfully, it wasn’t like one of those stories or dramas, where the main leads somehow fought after their first kiss-- maybe that would’ve been easier than being pulled in deeper. Instead, the two of you talked every day, even if it was only for a little while, and Mina was only worsening whatever situation you couldn’t seem to get out of.

And eventually, the day came where you’d be paid, a day that you had been looking forward to, until you began to dread it.

“Well, doesn’t someone look like a newlywed,” Nayeon greeted at the entrance with a smile, though she didn’t seem to be mocking you. “Come on in, Y/N, we’ll get you started right away.”

The closet was the exact same as it had been the first time that you stepped inside for the interview, but Mina’s smile was much more warm. “Hi, Y/N. How’re you feeling?”

“Good. Fine.” You cleared your throat and attempted to peer at her clipboard. “Questions for me?”

“Yes,” Mina nodded, flipping the pages over. “Are you ready to get started, then? On a scale from one to ten, how attracted are you to me?”

“Ten,” you answered without hesitation this time, and your smile only grew when Mina flushed.

“Okay. Are you considering dating anyone other than me right now?”

“No.” You shook your head, but gulped slightly and leaned back when Mina leaned forward to observe you.

“What about me?”

You paused, blinked, though Mina didn’t seem like she was going to move until you answered, “Yes. I would date you, absolutely.”

She flicked through the pages listlessly before setting them aside and turning back to you. Somehow, Mina looked like she was about to drop a bomb on you, her lips quivering as she calculated the right words. “I... Y/N, I have to tell you something. About the experiment.”

“I’m not going to die, am I?”

Your shitty attempt at humor did manage to prompt a smile from Mina, but she remained serious. “Not that. But- do you understand control groups? In experiments?”

“Um. I think so?” you answered, racking your brain for whatever limited knowledge of science remained with you. “It’s the normal group, right? The one that isn’t experimented on.”

“Yes, just about,” Mina nodded. She reached for your hands and clasped them within hers, eyes pleading for you to understand something that you hadn’t heard yet. “Y/N, you were the control. I... we had to make sure that it was the potion working, and not me, and you- we used you for that. You were never given any potion.”

“I...” you stammered out. Every instinct in you was screaming out to pull away from Mina’s grasp, to question every aspect of your existence that had led up to you being tricked into loving her. Somehow, everything being real only made it feel more fake, even though you now knew that what you had felt was completely you. “I don’t understand.”

Mina said softly, “You fell in love with me, or at least liked me, on your own. You didn’t work as a control group because the same thing happened to you as it did to the others, even though you never took the aphrodisiac.”

“So,” you faltered, “all seven of us fell for you. I’m just the sucker who’s in it for real, huh?”

“I was willing to sacrifice my own feelings for the experiment,” Mina clarified, shaking her head. “I knew I would fall for one of you, but I didn’t think that you, as the control, would be the one who I fell for. And who fell for me.”

Silence fell over the two of you, though you remained there, hands clasped together and eyes meeting with a clarity that speech could never capture. But you tried anyway. “Okay.”

“Just okay?” Mina questioned.

You smiled weakly as a response, “Yeah. Um... how about we go on another date to talk? After you finish interrogating everyone else?”

Mina let go of your hands and let you stand up, but you could feel her smiling at your back as you closed the closet door behind you. Like a repetition of when you thought that you’d be induced into loving her, your heart beat in your throat as you leaned against the wood. 

But when you knew it was real, when you knew that it wasn’t magic seizing you by the hand and pulling you into the unknown, you smiled. Because it felt... right.

[lighttailoring]

Ohhhh yeah I also think about the whole twin flame idea a normal amount, although I guess a more accurate way of describing how I think of them is "two lab rats in slightly different enclosures" - we know from interviews that Dedra's upbringing was not nurturing, (she's "never been touched" aaargh) but she has managed to attain (to some extent) the recognition from the Empire that Syril so badly craves, by coming up through Enforcement, which I doubt is a career path that someone like Syril would have ever have considered, and that's probably down to differences in class and heritage, which is a rotten tooth we haven't even got close to, and and and

But what we've seen so far is that where Dedra bumps into a vulnerability she clamps down on it, freezes it, tortures it into submission (that moment in the hotel where Bix just isn't impressed by her at all and a storm cloud briefly crosses her face, sublime)

Whereas Syril... honestly idk what the fuck you call what Syril is doing. "I am cringe but I am free"? Maybe? He's... being Syril about it. It's like he wants to connect with people but he just doesn't have a fucking clue how to do it. So he ends up destroying Ferrix and hanging around under a bridge like a weirdo. But the desire is still there - I think in Dedra it's under such a thick layer of ice that it may as well no longer be.

They both did what they needed to do, emotionally, in order to survive, but it's warped them, in subtly different ways.

I think it's why I'm so convinced that Syril is going to cross the floor at some point in S2, like 1) I just think it's not as interesting to have them limited to back-stabbing, I want large scale explosions and paranoia and betrayal 2) my mind endlessly circles that "here's how I'd do it" conversation she has with Heert. It's what I'd do. If I were them.

Dedra’s secret fantasy about both Heert and Partagaz is becoming friends with them. No romance, nothing physical, and definitely no sneaky workplace interactions. She wants a friend outside of work she can openly be with.

She knows these things exist. But maybe you're not allowed to be friends with your subordinate and superior. Do you repress all friend-like interaction with them during work hours and only activate it when you've both left the premises? Or can you joke and gossip and discuss mutual areas of interest with them as you're walking to a meeting? If so, to what degree? What are the acceptable parameters? She’s never had a friend before. She doesn't know how this works.

Besides, this is all just an academic exercise at worst and a self-indulgent fantasy at best. She’s done just fine by herself. She's doing just fine. Having any sort of friend would just slow her down. They would compromise her. Weaken her.

[themurphyzone]

Nova Ch 11

AN: This is gonna be the last of the set-up chapters. The story will start snowballing (see what I did there? Heehee) from the next chapter on.

This chapter includes an art piece I requested from the talented @plutonis​, and I’m so glad I can finally show this off because it contains some very gorgeous colors.

AO3 Link

Ch 11: Spectrum 

Terran Date 2015.4.28

Yesterday, Pinky showed me one of his favorite pieces of media to thank me for the story of Heikro var Silda, even though he cried for fifteen minutes because of the tragic ending. While indeed sad, I’m proud to say I remained steadfast and controlled my emotions upon revisiting the story. And while I told him it wasn’t necessary, he insisted and I acquiesced to his demands.

That’s how Pinky introduced me to The Lion King. Once again, I remained strong even when the emotional distress threatened to override my logical mind. It was...rather difficult, I’ll admit. We watched the sequel afterward, and though I’ve created five different charts that list the plot points in order, I cannot come up with a satisfactory sequence of events that connects both movies into a cohesive narrative.

Moving onto real life matters...Pinky seems to be under the impression that I will be a permanent resident of the lab.

Celestial bodies above, what use is my intelligence if I’m trapped among heathen, dimwitted fools who can’t tell the difference between left and right! I refuse to be a lab rat, made to do the so-called dominant species’ bidding. Snowball and I shall be taking over this planet and progressing their backwards society far beyond their wildest dreams! That’s what we came here for, and I will not be sidetracked again.

As for Pinky...well, his imagination can make up some personalities for his inanimate object friends once I leave. He doesn’t have any shortage of those. The newest addition to the crew is an eraser nub with the moniker of ‘Gummy’.

Signing off for now,

The Brain

o-o-o-o-o

Brain saved the new transmission to an encrypted, password-protected file. None of the scientists were technical experts, so the odds of discovery were miniscule or nonexistent. He only had five audio files in total, a meager amount compared to the hundreds of transmissions he’d made back on New Selene. The pointer hovered over the Delete All button. He didn’t have a reason to keep making transmissions when he was leaving the lab behind in just a few days.

Still, he hesitated.

Maybe he could leave it as a memento for Pinky. But even a basic level of encryption and case-sensitive password would remain far beyond Pinky’s capabilities.

Perhaps it was best to leave the issue for another night.

He logged off the computer and joined Pinky, who’d surrounded himself with Gummy and the rest of his inanimate object friends as he played a board game called Monopoly. Though Brain had looked up the rules and goals of the game during his online session out of curiosity, he didn’t really understand the appeal or mass marketability of such an unbalanced game.

Although, given the number of different versions of Monopoly out there, creating and selling his own version of the game with the title of Brainopoly could prove to be a viable plan.

Pinky was playing as if there were four players and not just a free-for-all against a nickel, button, and eraser. It became disturbingly obvious that Pinky was either overly generous or just woefully terrible at mental math, because he continually doled out the wrong amount of money from the bank or his own meager cash pile.

And Pinky was far better off if Brain cut in now, because there was no chance that anyone else was catching up to Gummy, who owned the most lucrative properties and had the largest amount of money.

He had to stop anthropomorphizing these objects. He was starting to think like Pinky, and that was an extremely distressing thought.

“You’re losing to an eraser,” Brain said. Pinky only had a few fives in currency, and the three properties he owned were all flipped over and mortgaged.

“Yeah, Gummy’s just very good at this game! Narf!” Pinky said as he rolled the dice for Mr. Button. “It’s so nice of him to let us sleep in his Marvin Garden Apartments though. Otherwise we’d be homeless!”

“Nice indeed,” Brain replied. For his peace of mind, he didn’t dare press for more details.

Pinky threw the dice, then moved the bucket token seven spaces, landing on the Luxury Tax space. “That’ll be seventy-five dollars, Mr. Button,” Pinky said as he gathered the money, which only totaled sixty. And Mr. Button’s four properties were all mortgaged. Pinky realized this too. “Oh...you don’t have enough. Poit.”

Any normal player would’ve tossed in the towel right there, but Pinky wasn’t a conventional player by any means. He frowned, scratched his head, then picked up his own pile of fives and tossed them onto the sixty, bringing the amount to seventy-five, with two leftover fives for Mr. Button.

“You can have that, Mr. Button!” Pinky chirped as he dumped the luxury tax money in the middle of the board. “With a little more for the bus!”

Pinky had completely knocked himself out of the game.

This was supposed to be an extremely competitive game for families and seasoned professionals, right? Though the rules of Monopoly appeared confusing and controversial to most players, he was certain that nobody would willingly lose with such a reckless method.  

Well...maybe it was just a fluke. Pinky was only playing against himself, so if he wanted to give up the money to something he was making the decisions for, that was his choice.

Besides, he couldn’t watch this game much longer.

“I’ll be your next opponent,” Brain announced. He’d never played before, but the basics seemed simple enough. And the math involved was basic arithmetic he could do in his sleep. “Reset the board at once, Pinky.”

Pinky’s tail wagged as he gathered up the houses and hotels and tossed them back into the box, then settled down as he skillfully shuffled the Community Chest and Chance cards. From the way he hummed and twirled around, an outsider could easily mistake Brain for a playmate instead of an opponent.

Brain quickly read over the instruction sheet, then divided the game currency into a starting amount for himself, Pinky, and the bank.

“Can I be in charge of the property cards, Brain?” Pinky asked as he organized them by color.

“Yes, but I shall handle all other banker duties,” Brain said. “Listen closely, Pinky. I’ve looked up stories about Monopoly games going on for a long time with no definitive winner, so we’ll stop the game when one of us runs out of money, or if chance has favored you or I enough that we can place a hotel on the board.”

“Chance always has a problem with favoritism,” Pinky said as he moved the horse token to the Go space. Indeed, chance hasn’t always favored members of either of their species, but it could stand to be more merciful during a board game. He hugged the horse token to his chest. “Anyways, Pharfigtwoton is always my choice! What’s yours?”  

Brain didn’t understand how anyone in their right mind would want to play as a wheelbarrow or bucket, and the only pieces that interested him at all were the ones that resembled modes of Terran transportation. In the end, he chose the battleship.

He was tempted to call it the Conquistador Two, but he didn’t want to follow the trend of naming random objects.

“Good one!” Pinky said as he pushed the ship over to the horse token. “A gorgeous ship like this needs a name...so I hereby dub thee Battley McBattleface!”

“We’re calling it the Conquistador Two, and that’s final,” Brain snapped.

“The Conquesodor Two,” Pinky agreed.

They tossed the dice to decide turn order, and Pinky won that battle easily since Brain had the misfortune to roll double ones.

On his first turn, Pinky managed to land on St. Charles Place with a high roll. He happily shelled out the money required to buy the property. “I’m putting a nice dog park here!” he declared, placing the unused dog token in the magenta space above the property. “Now Pharfigtwoton can give rides to all the puppies!”

Brain didn’t know if Monopoly required players to create their own storyline, but it certainly made the game more interesting and baffling at the same time. He rolled the dice, sighing when he could only advance to Reading Railroad.

He hoped it wouldn’t be a trend for Pinky to receive high rolls while he was stuck in the first half of the board.

But he quickly changed his mind once he paid up for Reading Railroad and read through the card information. Just like any real life war or corporate strategy, the key to his victory would lie in controlling the flow of transportation and goods!

Pinky landed on New York on his next turn, rambling about taking all the puppies to New York for a double decker bus tour of the city as he slid a stack of bills to Brain. Brain sighed and tossed an extra twenty bill back at Pinky. He wished Pinky would pay more attention to adding properly than the make-believe puppies.

Brain rolled the dice and moved his battleship to Virginia, claiming the property so Pinky couldn’t control one-fourth of the board this early in the game.

“Brain, can I have a house?” Pinky asked as he drew a Community Chest card. He read through the card and grinned. “Awww, I got second in a beauty pageant! Thank you, everyone! It’s such an honor! Oh, and it says I also won ten dollars.”

“You don’t meet the conditions required for a house, Pinky,” Brain said, giving Pinky a ten. He didn’t care about the fake beauty pageant, just that money was either gained or lost depending on luck of the draw.

“Oh, I’ll keep them off the board,” Pinky promised. “I just want a house for Terry to live in.”

He held up the dog token, who was now apparently called Terry.

“Fine, but don’t mix your ridiculous fantasies with the board,” Brain sighed and tossed a green house at Pinky, which smacked him in the head when he didn’t catch it in time. Pinky laughed it off and coaxed Terry to stand next to the house.

Houses and hotels. His Internet searches on the Clarkes led to tons of websites on the Terran real estate market and hotel industry.

Which reminded Brain that he hadn’t shared his research into the Clarkes with Pinky yet. There hadn’t been enough time during the day, where the incompetent scientists poked and prodded them. And in Brain’s case, tried to figure out where the antennae came from.

Their hypotheses, and he was being exceedingly generous when he described their speculation and conspiracy theories as hypotheses, amounted to claiming a Terran mouse and insect had reproduced together.

“I’ve brushed up on the Clarkes so we can properly impersonate them at the party. According to-scrik!” Brain hissed under his breath when he landed on New York and had to pay Pinky.

“Sixteen please!” Pinky chirped. “All proceeds will go to buying toys and treats for good dogs in need!”

Brain grudgingly gave up the sixteen. Probability was not on his side tonight. “As I was saying before cruel fate reared its ugly head, the man I shall impersonate, Anthony Clarke, is an esteemed real estate and luxury hotel mogul, with a net worth in the billions. His success is rooted in savvy, ruthless business against competitors. It appears that he and Lamont are old college acquaintances, which we can spin to our advantage. And...yes! B&O Railroad!”  

He claimed the B&O Railroad for himself, and Pinky wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn’t ride on the Body Odor Railroad even if you pay me in cheese,” he said.

Brain rolled his eyes. “The temptation for cheese is too powerful for your empty mind and bottomless stomach.”

“You’re right, Brain. It’s too yummy.” Pinky licked his lips. “So does that make me Mrs. Zoey Clarke then? Unless he divorced her already. I haven’t kept up with them in a while.” The butler on the phone had made a similar comment, thoroughly expecting ‘Mr. Clarke’ to divorce his spouse by the end of the week.

“So you’re aware of the Clarkes,” Brain said. He rolled the dice, and chance immediately sentenced him to jail. He had to push his battleship all the way to the jail space.  

But all of this divorcing nonsense was trivial to his goals. Hardly worth a footnote.

The objective was to infiltrate the party, mingle with the guests to throw off suspicion, then steal the military weapon and take over the world, not involve himself in a Terran’s relationship drama.

“Ooh, tough.” Pinky clicked his tongue in sympathy as he bought Waterworks. “But everyone knows who the Clarkes are. Didn’t you see anything about all those divorces when you looked them up?”

“I’m more interested in his business ventures than his messy personal life,” Brain replied. “All this talk about divorce is simply incidental. But now I digress. Escaping jail so I may continue my conquering campaign is of utmost priority.”

“Doubles! Doubles!” Pinky chanted as Brain threw the dice. A two and three faced up, but no doubles. Pinky deflated, but only for a moment. Then he picked up a fifty. “Here, Brain. I’ll bail you out.”

From Brain’s brief skim over the rules, he didn’t recall a single one that allowed players to bail each other out of jail. He wanted to refuse and tell Pinky to focus on winning for himself, but obtaining Pennsylvania Railroad, which he’d missed the first time he’d passed through this section of the board, was just too tempting.  

Brain took the fifty from Pinky, put it in the bank, then moved his battleship out of jail and used his draining resources to buy Pennsylvania Railroad. Only afterward did he realize that he’d been steadily losing money every turn and hadn’t gained anything since the beginning of the game.

Contrast to Pinky, who rolled a twelve and skipped over the last fourth of the board, placing him squarely on the Go space and guaranteeing himself a free two hundred. Then he rolled a low number and bought Mediterranean.

A poor investment, given that it was hardly worth anything. But Pinky didn’t think so.

And he wouldn’t stop cooking up new fantasies either. “Now we can host a beach jubilee for your welcome home from jail party! With hot dogs and beach balls and those big umbrellas and-”

Brain lobbed the dice at Pinky so he’d quiet down and allow Brain to formulate a strategy in peace.

Perhaps a pass around the board without purchasing anything would be necessary. He had to rebuild his financial resources again. The downside was that Pinky could potentially take the spaces for himself, but it was entirely possible that he’d miss some of the open spaces too.

So he did just that, finally lucking out when a Community Chest card sent Pinky to Reading Railroad.

But Pinky was incapable of keeping his mouth shut, and soon he was back on the topic of the infamous Clarke divorces.

“-so I think Zoey is number eleven, and I know they all blend together, so when I confuse them I just remember divorce, beheaded, died, divorce, beheaded, survived!”

Brain stared at Pinky, praying to all the ancient Selenian gods nobody believed in anymore that Snowball didn’t have him take the identity of a murderer.

“Oh wait no, no...that’s King Henry, not Clarke. Must’ve mixed them up, poit. Sorry.”

Brain threw another green house at Pinky, nailing him in the shoulder. Pinky yelped, but once he realized he had another house he immediately thanked Brain because that meant Terry’s friend could move next door.

Since there was little point to dissuading Pinky entirely, Brain focused on his game strategy instead.

It was mostly repetition anyway. Roll dice, move piece, board event, repeat. Perhaps it would be considered tedious and monotonous, but the storylines Pinky improvised were what truly made it fascinating, even though Brain could only follow about half of it since Pinky created plotholes within the fantastical yet mundane place named Monopoly City faster than the speed of light.

According to Pinky, he and his sister co-ran an enormous pet supply shop attached to a humane animal shelter next door to the dog park. Meanwhile, Brain was conductor of a magical train and seeking the mayorship because the corrupt mayor was involved with an evil cigarette corporation who wanted to diabolically sell their products to innocent children.

And while Pinky certainly had a knack for improvisation, the matter at hand was that Brain couldn’t resist buying Boardwalk, but he’d used up a third of his money and Pinky wasn’t landing there to make up for the deficit. But Brain also had Baltic, the least valuable property, and Pinky had Park Place, which Brain desperately needed since neither of them had houses on the board yet.

This wasn’t going to be a fair trade for Pinky, but it was the best chance Brain had to etch out a victory. He was going for it.

“Park for Baltic so we can finally build some residences,” Brain said, sliding the card over to Pinky.

And to his surprise, Pinky jumped at the opportunity. “Sure, Brain! If you’ll trade me Oriental for Marvin Gardens. We’re gonna open a Chinatown district!”

He’d be giving Pinky control of the first quarter of the board, but the allure of the most expensive properties was far too tempting to pass up.

They swapped properties, then paused the game to set up their houses. Brain didn’t have enough money to buy houses for all his properties, so he set two houses on Boardwalk and hoped he could deal a staggering blow to Pinky’s finances. And even this decision was costly, for he only had $180 left.

Pinky set four houses on Baltic and clapped his hands together. “They’re beach houses,” he explained, and didn’t bother putting houses on the rest of his properties even though he could afford it.

Brain kept his mouth shut. Best not to give Pinky ideas. So he rolled the dice and got doubles.

Luxury Tax.

Scrik.

Now he was down to $105. But he’d pass Go on his next turn, so he could obtain an extra two hundred and hopefully skip this portion of the board.

Then he landed on Baltic.

He slowly looked at Pinky, and Brain couldn’t tell if Pinky was being perfectly innocent or just very, very good at pretending to be perfectly innocent. “That’ll be $320 please,” Pinky said.

Including the two hundred from passing Go, he’d only have a grand total of $305.

And according to the conditions he’d set, he’d lost the game through losing all his money.

“Can’t pay it,” Brain sighed. “Congratulations, Pinky. You’ve bested me.”

Pinky giggled and threw his play money in the air in celebration. “Aw, thanks for playing with me! I’ve never played Monopoly with anyone before. Never been able to get the board to Pharfignewton’s stable without the play money flying all over the street. It took me a long time to pick it all up. We should definitely do this again, Brain! Troz!”

But there wouldn’t be a next time. No matter how much he wanted to be victorious in another match against Pinky.

“Yes, we should,” Brain forced out, willing his racing heart to calm down so he wasn’t caught in his lie.

Pinky beamed, and Brain only wished it wasn’t so difficult to explain.

o-o-o-o-o

Terran Date 4.29.2015

Tonight, we shall seek appropriate outfits for the masquerade ball. I have been informed that my jumpsuit is not considered formal attire and that we will need to shop for proper clothing. However, I will be bringing my jumpsuit along since I will not return to the lab, and I require my conquering outfit to carry out our plans.

Pinky knows a place that may contain what we need. He’s spent the last two hours finishing his hat for the Kentucky Derby and has proudly shown off the finished product to me. Though I’ll admit that the result can only be considered a hat if one is generous with their definition.

I have not been able to contact Snowball. I can only assume he’s making the necessary preparations on his end.

Signing off for now,

The Brain

o-o-o-o-o

They stood in front of an enormous building with bright neon letters, impossible to miss even with his direction-challenged companion. Thankfully, it was only a few blocks from the lab. After the scientists strapped him to a machine that tested centrifugal force, he didn’t have the energy to walk much further.

“Welcome to Toyz ‘B’ We, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, and Brain cringed at the horrendous grammar of that name. “It's the most wonderfulest toy shop ever!”

Wonderfulest wasn’t a word, but Brain was given no time to inform Pinky of that fact before Pinky dragged him to the entrance, where a large, cartoonish statue of a Terran bee stood off to the side, greeting customers with a cheerful wave of her magic wand.

“So that’s the mascot, Becky Bee,...let’s see, those are the shopping carts and the baskets and those machines that give you washable tattoos-”

“Focus on the clothing, Pinky. Not all the extraneous material,” Brain reminded him as they entered the store. Unlike their disastrous mall trip, Brain had brought along a source of money, an ACME credit card one of the scientists had carelessly left at their desk after purchasing a chair online.

They had a right to use the card as ACME employees who never got paid for their hard labor in experiments. And he promised Pinky he’d give it back once they were through purchasing the necessary items, so it didn’t catch on that pesky ‘no stealing’ radar.

Based on Pinky’s descriptions of the store, he expected an interior full of wonder, excitement, and interesting objects designed for enjoyment for young Terrans.

Instead, everything was a sterile white, yellow, or black. Rectangular kits of building blocks of all shapes and sizes sat neatly in a row, their price tags dusty as if they hadn’t been moved or cleaned in some time.

Dozens of bee models hung from the ceiling rafters, all of them sharing the exact same dead stare and pose. The whole setup was rather unnerving, and Brain averted his eyes.

He spotted two workers at the registers. They scrolled through their phones, not noticing Pinky’s cheerful greeting as he skipped past them. A third worker called out in alarm to them, and they suddenly dropped their phones and picked up rags, repetitively wiping their counters in circles in a poor attempt to appear busy.

The only one who acted like they were in a store meant for entertainment was Pinky, who oohed and ahhed and zigzagged all over the place to get a look at all the toys.

“Brain, look at this Barbie convertible! It’s so sparkly!” Pinky exclaimed before darting off to admire the box art on five-hundred piece jigsaw puzzles, then crawled onto the lowest shelf to hug a life-sized chihuahua plushie. “Narf! This one’s a cutie! And I also like the polka-dotted lizard, that green unicorn, and that rainbow koala looks really soft too-”

Brain grabbed Pinky’s tail, yanking him out of the shelf and onto the floor.

“This store’s already eroding whatever’s left of your mind,” Brain said, dragging Pinky away from the stuffed animals.

Pinky propped himself up on his elbows, humming as they passed aisle upon aisle of action figures, balls, and building blocks.

It was strange how they seemed to be the only customers here. Shouldn’t there be more snot-nosed brats running amok or haggard parents corralling them so they didn’t destroy everything with their grubby hands?

Still, perhaps he shouldn’t complain.

It was a relief that he didn’t have to worry about people trampling him underfoot for now.

But the peace didn’t last long, since Pinky suddenly peeled away in a completely different direction, forgetting that Brain was hanging onto his tail. Though he tried to dig his heels in, Pinky was too fast and the floor too slippery for Brain to bring them to a halt.

Then Pinky stopped on his own, and Brain only caught a glimpse of a metallic table leg before he crashed face-first into it, his nose smarting from the impact.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky said sheepishly, and there were five upside-down images of him. Brain swatted at the one in the middle, but his hand hit empty air instead. He shook his head to clear his vision, and all but the Pinky on the far left vanished.

Pinky didn’t stay put for long, darting past Brain. He hauled himself up the table leg and onto a light blue tablecloth. “You have to come up and see this, Brain!” Pinky squealed, peering over the edge of the table, his tail wagging beside him. “There’s an entire fence made of Legos here!”

Brain sighed, wondering if it was an exercise in futility to get Pinky to focus on the task at hand. “This is the last time I’ll repeat myself!” Brain shouted as he climbed up to retrieve Pinky. “We’re here for the clothes and-”

Though Brain only took fifteen seconds to ascend, Pinky managed to don a cropped, checkered top that showed off his slender stomach and a very short blue skirt in that short timeframe.

“Well, what do you think?” Pinky giggled and twirled in circles, the skirt flying in a graceful arc around his waist. “I could go square dancin’ in this, pardner! Yee-narf!”

Realizing he’d been staring at Pinky’s exposed stomach rather than making proper eye contact, Brain quickly turned away and pretended to find a row of small toy cars interesting. Next to the toy cars, there was a menagerie of small, plastic animals penned in by a colorful fence.

Part of a garden themed jigsaw puzzle served as a lawn under his feet, the pieces leading up to an enormous pink dollhouse.

Pinky took off the clothes he’d tried on, neatly threading a bent wire through the crop top and skirt and hanging them on a piece of string that served as a makeshift clothesline. There were five different clotheslines, each stocked to the brim with a variety of colorful articles.

Brain thumbed through the selection, though he didn’t feel an attachment to any of these pieces. While these clothes were designed for toys, most of them were still too big for him.

Finding something that would fit would be more difficult than he realized.

There was a large empty space past all the clotheslines, but it seemed it would be filled in soon enough. The display had all the signs of being a work in progress, and Brain couldn’t help but wonder who had the patience to put all this together. Certainly not the bored workers at the registers.

It was a welcome splash of creativity from the rest of the dull store.

“Poit. This is exactly how I imagined my dream home to be,” Pinky said in awe. He walked up to the front door and popped it open, revealing a spacious interior. Brain followed Pinky inside and they explored the first floor together, which contained a kitchen, living room, and a playroom.

“I really like the coloring on those kitchen cabinets, and the fireplace is a great touch! Very retro. And the kiddies will have a grand ol’ time in the playroom,” Pinky said as they climbed the staircase to the second floor and walked through two bedrooms and a bathroom.

“Marble countertops would make the kitchen and bathroom more refined,” Brain argued. Really, did Pinky want any visitors to think uncivilized brutes owned the house? “But the fireplace is a welcome touch.”

Pinky shrugged as they entered the master bedroom. “It’s fine as is. Now if the backyard was bigger with a dolphin-shaped swimming pool, that would be really, really amazing!”

And Brain preferred marble countertops, but since he wouldn’t be getting everything he wanted, neither would Pinky.

Brain sat on the large bed that took up half the room, the fluffy covers soft and welcoming. But they were on a mission, and future world rulers didn’t roll around on beds in an undignified manner, no matter how tempting it was.

Pinky threw open the closet doors, revealing more clothing inside. “Oh, these pajamas are lovely!” he said, pressing a yellow nightgown close to his body.

“Anything that would suit our purposes?” Brain asked. In hindsight, doing some research into what people wore for masquerade balls would’ve been helpful. He didn’t know why it slipped his mind. Perhaps Pinky’s scatterbrained traits were contagious.

“Hmmm, it’s all pajamas and casual wear,” Pinky said, flicking through the different articles. He closed the doors and reopened them, as if the formal wear would magically appear if they were out of sight. “No suits for you or the porpoises, Brain.” And he’d been so hopeful too.

“Maybe we can find something in the aisles,” Pinky said.

A sensible suggestion, for once.

Brain tried not to appear reluctant to leave the bed, but necessity demanded it. As he stood up, the fur on his neck pricked, his ears twitching towards the large window in the bedroom.

An odd sense that he was being watched came over him, and when he turned to look at the window, he saw a Terran’s eye peering into the balcony.

They stared at each other.

Then the eye blinked.

And Brain was suddenly very, very glad Snowball wasn’t here to bear witness, or he’d never hear the end of how he’d leapt onto Pinky’s back in his moment of panic.

Pinky yelped, and so did the Terran outside the window. There were several loud thuds, followed by a frantic apology.

Brain released Pinky, rubbing his face to get rid of the blush as he ran down the staircase and out the front door.

“S-sorry!” a young woman stammered as she bent down to pick up several packages of toys, only to lose her large glasses on the floor in the process. She wore the standard uniform of the store. “I didn’t think anyone would be inside! I thought one of the furniture pieces fell over, that’s all!”

Pinky hopped down from the table, picking up the woman’s glasses and pressing them into her hand. “It’s okay!” he chirped. “You scared us good, but now we can laugh about it! Oh, your name tag says Sharon! What a lovely name! I’m Pinky, that chubby alien up there is Brain, and we’re going to a party this weekend where we’ll raise awareness for the plight of frosted animal crackers!”

“That’s not the event’s objective,” Brain corrected, and he had no choice but to let Pinky come to his own conclusions. Stealing the secret weapon on Lamont property would remain classified information as promised. “And if you call me chubby again, I shall have to hurt you.”

Sharon took her glasses from Pinky with a tentative smile, then let him climb up her arm and onto her shoulder. “Zort! You have very good taste in Polly Pocket dolls!” Pinky said, peering down at the packages in her hands. “Do you collect?”

Sharon blushed. “I, um, have a lot of Beanie Babies at home. I’m not really interested in Polly Pockets, but they’d fit much better in this display than a standard Barbie.” She glanced at Brain. “I’m sorry, could you please move? I’m putting a few things in that area.”

Brain moved out of the way as Sharon carefully opened the packages. Then she placed several small tables and chairs in the empty space next to the clotheslines, bending the dolls’ legs into sitting positions and placing them on the chairs. She worked slowly and diligently, taking great caution to not knock anything over or break the items.

“Did you make all this?” Pinky asked. “It’s amazing!”

“Y-yeah, I did. The display, I mean. Not the toys.” Sharon didn’t look at Pinky as she straightened one of the Lego fences. “Store’s been on the decline, and because there’s not really much to do, I’m trying to create a few displays to generate some interest. The toys in this one were supposed to be thrown away since nobody’s buying them, even on clearance, but it just seemed so wasteful.”

She was resourceful. It was a valuable trait, but she seemed more embarrassed than anything.

“Take pride, Sharon. It’s an excellent use of parts,” Brain advised.

Pinky nodded eagerly. “And you’re saving the toys from the evil furnace! I’m sure they’re very grateful to you when you’re not looking!”

“You...you really like it?” Sharon lifted her glasses and wiped a tear from her eye. “Nobody’s ever really noticed my efforts around here.”

“Well, they should!” Pinky declared. “I’ll tell them so myself!”

Sharon smiled as Pinky hugged her face, then rejoined Brain on the table. “Thanks, but I don’t think you came to this store just to invade a toy home.”

“No, we didn’t,” Brain said, seeing his opportunity and seizing it. “We require formal clothes for a masquerade ball, and unfortunately, we haven’t seen anything of interest yet.”

“There’s plenty of interesting things in here, Brain,” Pinky said. “Like the busybody bees up on the ceiling!”

Apparently they had two very different definitions of interesting.

“Well, I can bring out some items from the back,” Sharon offered. “We had to pull the entire line of formal Zuma Ben accessories last week. Some parents found the outfits a little scandalous for their kids, so now the accessories are just going in the trash. But maybe you’ll find something to wear from the pile. Be right back, guys!” She walked away, her steps growing slightly more confident.

“Real Zuma Ben accessories?” Pinky clasped his hands to his cheek. “I’ve never worn anything like that before!”

“It’s just a name,” Brain said. He didn’t see why Pinky was treating Zuma Ben’s name like a sacred object. “As long as we’re dressed to impress, the name doesn’t matter.”

“I just think they’re pretty,” Pinky replied. “And I like looking at them, even if I can’t buy anything. Still, I’m really happy with the clothes I have now.”

But Pinky had a sizable wardrobe. Those clothes had to come from somewhere.

“So how did you obtain your clothes if you never bought them?” Brain asked.

Pinky smiled. “The scientists. They’ll drop clothes into my cage, which is really nice of them! One time, I put on this pretty sundress they gave me and I started itching really bad. I was jumping around like a tiny monkey and I managed to make them all laugh! I must’ve been quite the sight!”  

Pinky laughed at the memory, but Brain was more disturbed at how the blatant act of humiliation didn’t affect him in the slightest. Then the laugh faltered and restarted at a higher pitch.

No, that initial assessment was wrong. True, Pinky could withstand many things, but not even the most resilient being could tolerate the sound of mockery for long.

Should he say something? Was an ‘I’m sorry’ sufficient? Was there any act of comfort that didn’t involve unnecessary physical contact?

Brain wanted to be decisive, but dozens of scenarios played out in his head, and none of them led to a satisfactory outcome. Tell Pinky to cease his laughter, embrace him, talk about the weather. He didn’t know.

Emotions led to nothing but trouble.

“Quit staring,” Brain snapped when Pinky wouldn’t stop watching him like he wanted something.

Pinky’s ears fell, but Sharon came back before the pang of guilt could fully settle in Brain’s stomach.

“Thanks for waiting, guys,” Sharon said as she dumped the accessory packages onto the table. “See anything you like?”

“All of them!” Pinky declared, happily tossing a three-pack of formal dresses into the air. He tried tearing it open, but the packaging wouldn’t give. Sharon helpfully tore it open for him, and Pinky made a happy, grateful sound before pulling a sparkly purple dress over his body. He twirled around. “So how do I look?”

“Lovely,” Sharon giggled as she pulled out her phone. She set it against the Lego fence, allowing Pinky to see himself in the camera app.

“I’ll put this as a maybe,” Pinky said. “But I have to give all the dresses a chance too!”

He tried four other dresses on in quick succession, and all of them went into the maybe pile.

Meanwhile, Brain searched through his choices of men’s formal wear. He wanted the best possible option for successful infiltration, but he didn’t know much about Terran fashion. His nose wrinkled at a powdered blue suit with far too many ruffles. He was fairly certain that wouldn’t garner respect on any planet, so he pushed the offending pack away from his other options.

The pure white suit would get stained too easily. He needed something darker. That one was out.

“Hey Brain, what about this one?” Pinky asked. He now wore a long sleeved lime green dress, which Brain found extremely tacky and unappealing to the eyes. Not even Pinky could salvage that monstrosity. Yet in Pinky’s hands, there was a black suit with a white shirt underneath. Not extravagant by any means, but since the coloration was similar to his conquering attire, it was the most probable choice by far.

But while Pinky was comfortable with changing in front of others, Brain wasn’t so keen on the idea.

“I require privacy,” Brain said. He took the suit from Pinky and went inside the house, shutting the door behind him and ensuring the shutters were closed.

Then he removed his gloves and jumpsuit, shivering from the cold air as he laid the items over a chair. He put on the new set of pants first, then the white collared shirt, and finally buttoned the jacket over his abdomen.

Well, it was comfortable. And it hid most of his stomach too, which was also a positive. But he needed to see how it looked in the light before making a judgment call, so he rejoined Pinky and Sharon, who were playing with different filters on her phone while Pinky wore a magnificent feathery pink dress.

“Now you really look like a flamingo,” Sharon laughed as Pinky changed the filter to sepia, the image now different shades of tan. Pinky blew a kiss to the camera. “This one’s my favorite so far,” Pinky declared with a graceful curtsey.

And the sleeveless feathery dress did seem to match his personality much better than all the other dresses. Flamboyant and quirky, but inviting and friendly as well. A darker pink feather boa was draped over his shoulders, and purple feathers fanned out from the back of his neck. A light green choker was wrapped around his neck. Then Pinky added a matching headband with a light pink tuft to complete the ensemble.

“That will certainly make an excellent first impression on the partygoers,” Brain said.

Pinky changed the phone filter back to normal with one hand, playing with the feather boa in his other. “Egad, you really think so?” he exclaimed. “Hold on a sec, Brain. Where’s the rest of your outfit?”

“Rest of?” Brain echoed. “This doesn’t require anything else.”

Pinky shook his head and dug a red bow and matching sash out of the clothes pile. “You need a few splashes of color, Brain! Or you’ll just end up a sad wilty wallflower!”

“They’d really match your circles,” Sharon added.

Well, he’d always looked good in red. It was a bold, attention-grabbing color.

Brain draped the sash over his shoulder and fastened the bow around his ear, checking himself over in Sharon’s phone. Then Pinky and Sharon started giggling for some odd reason.

“What?” Brain asked. He was presentable at a formal event now, wasn’t he?

“You’re kinda wearing it wrong,” Sharon admitted.

His ears flattened from embarrassment. Selenians typically wore practical jumpsuits with minimal accessories, and none of their databanks ever mentioned Terran outfits. They must’ve found it unimportant.  

“Don’t worry, Brain. It’s an easy fix! May I?” Pinky exclaimed.

Brain nodded his permission, and Pinky removed the bow from Brain’s ear and carefully fastened it underneath his collar, taking great care to not pull the bow too tightly around his neck.

“So this isn’t a sash. It’s a cummerbund and you wear it around your stomach,” Pinky explained as he demonstrated the proper way to wear it. It was relieving to know Terrans made accessories that would hide the slight bulge, and Brain donned the cummerbund correctly.

The accessories really did match his orbs. For the first time, he was dressed to the nines and it was a glorious feeling indeed.

“Aw, you’re both so spiffy!” Sharon exclaimed. “Mind if I put a photo of this on the Twitter page to boost some interest?”

“We’ll return the favor,” Brain said. She deserved some reward for helping them out anyway.

Sharon turned her phone around, ready to snap the picture when Pinky suddenly darted out of frame. “Hold on! Narf!” he cried, shoving a small blue butterfly-themed mask into Brain’s hands and flipping a pink feathery mask over his face. “It’s a masquerade ball, you know!”

While Brain’s mask only covered the area around his eyes, Pinky’s face was mostly hidden by his birdlike mask, leaving only his bright blue eyes exposed.

“Doesn’t that tickle?” Brain inquired as Pinky stretched his boa out for a picture.

Pinky shrugged. “A little. But I don’t mind!”

“Smile for the camera, you guys!” Sharon grinned.

Brain didn’t smile, but he stood in front of the toy house while Sharon snapped pictures and Pinky struck a different pose with every shot.

Pinky’s laughter rang joyously in Brain’s ears.

He would leave that sound behind in just a few days. But it was a small price to pay for the world.

End AN: Maybe this chapter is a little disjointed, but oh well. Sharon is based off the toy store worker who helps the mice in Brain’s Night Off. 

I tried to do the math for the Monopoly game and even pulled out my Monopoly property cards so I could get the amounts correct, but if anything is inaccurate I am hereby excused from responsibility because I am a writer and not a mathematician. Yes i use that excuse every time but it’s true. 

Brain's outfit comes from the tuxedo he wore in the reboot's Future Brain episode. Pluto designed Pinky's outfit herself (somehow we both were thinking lots of pink feathers for Pinky) and deserves all the credit for it cause it's so beautiful. I chose a butterfly mask for Brain and a flamingo theme for Pinky.

[narrators-journal]

A run-in with a succubus

Here we go, another entry in the dr stone modern Monster AU or whatever. This idea just is so much fun to me, so yeah, expect more ship-focused writing or something lololol. Either way, I hope you enjoy my dumb little ideas~

Succubi and Incubi were arguably the bane of a monster hunter's existence. They were born of already dead souls, so they couldn't be perma-killed like a vampire or werewolf could, they often came with a slew of powers that varied from demon to demon in exact powers and strength, so each one was basically an rng-decided-encounter. Senku, however, didn't really mind dealing with sex demons. So, when he was called to deal with a particularly powerful seeming demon who was harassing an entire neighborhood, he didn't mind and just set to work on sniffing out the sex demon. It didn't hurt that the twenty-year-old hunter had fun drawing out the demon lurking around in the darkness of the night. He enjoyed having the chance to make dry ice bombs, light garbage can fires, or do anything to stir up drama in the quiet neighborhood to cover the fact that he was marking specific spots with symbols that he'd later use to banish the succubus from the area until his ruckus finally drew the attention he wanted and the street's temperature dropped a noticeable and sudden amount, one of the biggest signs that a demon was in the area. The thought of a demon now zeroing in on him in the chilly night honestly sent a thrill down the hunter's spine, or, more-so, Senku was excited to confront a creature he could maybe question and mine for information on his species. However, before he could try to bring back any bit of possibly helpful information about sex demons, he'd have to actually encounter the demon he's supposed to be hunting. So, he just returned to acting like an annoying teen or troublemaker who broke into yards and stole a few things before painting a half finished symbol beside a stranger's trampoline and flopping onto the bouncy piece of equipment to stretch out and wait out the demon. I guess now it's up to waiting. Senku thought with a sigh, hating this period in hunting monsters, having to wait. At least with sex demons, they were pretty easy to lure, despite what his slightly snobby mentor, Xeno Wingfield, always told him. All he had to do was get the demon's attention and then wait for the creature to approach him to attempt to feed. Luckily, maybe, for the apprentice hunter, he ended up dozing off completely on the trampoline, only stirring when he felt himself bounce when the tightly woven surface of the trampoline was jostled. When he woke up with a jump, Senku's crimson eyes were met with a sight that he wasn't exactly used to seeing. In general, the leek-haired man wasn't super experienced with sex, so the sight of someone straddling him with half lidded eyes and a coy smirk was already a surprise, but the added temporary shock of the two tails, one to match each half of his split-colored hair and small, equally mismatched horns sent his brain for a loop in the first few moments of him being awake.         "Ah! I see you've woken up!" the succubus cooed, his hands sliding up the hunter's chest until they were chest to chest with the demon's hips wiggling to make his tails sway as rhythmically as a pendulum, "good morning handsome~ I don't think you'd mind if I maybe had a little nibble from you, would you?" The hunter blinked at the demon's words, taking a moment to register the situation before shaking his head, which seemed to shock the demon. Props to the succubus though, because he adjusted very quickly, just cupping Senku's cheek and sending a wave of tingly sensations across his pale skin. However, it was like the warm, euphoric feeling didn't sink in, didn't reach his brain to turn off the common sense as the creature spoke again,           "Come on now, if you're awake, might as well have a bit of fun with a succubus, right? I'm told I'm quite the catch.~" he tried, giving the man a quick kiss, and while it wasn't at all bad, it didn't spark a hormonal reaction the sex demon seemed to be seeking. "Why aren't you falling under my spell?" he huffed, his dark blue eyes shining with frustration and confusion, but all Senku could do was stare while the demon pushed himself back into a sitting position with lashing tails.             "I’m sorry, was I supposed to do something specific? Was the kiss supposed to do something?" He asked, making the sex demon growl at him,            "It's already weird that you woke up when I was trying to feed on you, but you're not supposed to just shrug off my magic. You're supposed to be horny putty in my hands right now, not laying there staring up at me like a kid during his first damned time." he complained, and all the odd-haired man could do again was shrug at him.             "I get the sense I've maybe offended you..."             "No, I'm not offended." he huffed, "I'm just frustrated. I think I need a moment," with that, he rolled off of the hunter, making him bounce on the lawn toy as the cranky demon sat up, now a distance away, to pout. So, Senku sat up and sat on the edge of the trampoline against the mesh barrier around the circumference of the thing, politely waiting a small stretch of time before trying to question his new companion.              "So, uh, why do you have two tails? Is that normal for incubi and succubi?" He asked after a long moment, turning his red eyes back to the succubus to watch the twin tails flick and lash before the sex demon spoke,             "Kinda rude to ask about my biology before even asking for my name."             "Well, alright, my name's Ishigami Senku, what's yours?" that got the apprentice hunter a dirty look, but he did answer,             "Asagiri Gen," he gave a nod, then repeated his question,             "So, why do you have two tails? Is that normal for sex demons?" He watched said tails fall and send a ripple across the taut surface as Gen sighed,             "I come from a line of strong sex demons, the two tails are a feature I inherited from my family, like how you look like your family has a resemblance to one another, this is my line's shared feature for the most part. No, I do not know the biological reason beyond that, it's just something I have." With that, they returned to a momentary silence, full of Gen throwing inquisitive looks towards the man sent there to banish him, trying to get a read on his intimate details, but the leek wasn't giving him any cues as to any deep dark fetishes or secrets, he was watching him, but with the same curiosity a scientist had towards the lab rat he'd just gotten, not a hint of lust or desire in his body language.               "How often do you have to feed?" The monster hunter asked as the sex demon turned to face him, meeting his own question-filled gaze with his own,              "Y’know what? I'll answer your questions if you answer mine, how about that?" Gen offered, giving him a sweet smile while his tails returned to their gentle swaying, and he pretty eagerly nodded, "Great! I can go about 3 months without food if I feed for a month or so straight. Are you into men?" The blunt question made the hunter blink a bit, but he shook the small shock off,              "Yeah, all of my crushes have been men. Are sex demons all bi? Do you have, like, a 'status quo' sort of sexuality?" As he spoke, the succubus moved closer to him, casually answering as he crawled over as seductively as possible,             "Not that I've seen, though I personally am bisexual, but I generally prefer to go for men~" he hummed, putting his hands on the leek-haired man's thighs so that he got another wave of tingly warm sensations as he leaned closer to his face "How many people have you slept with, dear Senku?" The hunter thought a bit, not reacting strongly to the buzzing feeling across his skin nor how close Gen's face was to his when he spoke,              "I haven't slept with anyone, I rarely get the urge to have sex at all, dear...Asagiri," he hummed, and the sex demon's face turned to a look of 'aha' for a moment,              "Senku, are you asexual at all?" He huffed, narrowing his dark blue eyes at the leek, already knowing the answer, but he answered nonetheless,             "I am gray-ace and homoromantic, I think," he gave another infuriating shrug, "haven't put much thought into the labels." At that, Gen pushed himself off of the hunter, flopping back onto the trampoline and making the hunter bounce briefly into the air,                 "God DAMN IT." He groaned, his tails once again lashing in frustration. So, for a moment or two longer, they sat in silence, until the succubus spoke once again, "I know you're here to banish me from the neighborhood, just go ahead and do it." that honestly surprised the hunter-in-training, making him raise his eyebrows at the demon,               "Really? No fight? No argument?" The monster sat up with a long sigh,               "Yeah, I can't exactly fight you, I'm as physically strong as you are without my powers of seduction," he pointed out, "it wouldn't be that much of a fight," He had a point with that, Senku wasn't that physically strong, so he didn't bother arguing and just climbed out of the trampoline's little barrier and hopped down to the lawn. While he got his paint out of his equipment bag, Gen laid on his stomach and watched him grumpily. Why is he still so pissy about not feeding off me? Senku thought, finally just asking while he tried to re-activate the paint,             "Why are you so grumpy about me not being into you? Haven't you run into an asexual before?" The succubus jumped a bit at the sudden question, but once again covered it pretty quickly,             "I have run into asexuals before, but I was wanting to feed on you, you're really cute." he admitted, and the hunter snorted, beginning to finish up the symbol he'd painted beforehand,             "Well, if it's any consolation, if we run into each other when you're not being a nuisance, maybe you can try to, y'know, properly seduce me." he suggested, and that made the demon perk up and quickly agree. With that, Senku finished up the symbol and Gen was thrown from the neighborhood. Yeah, sure, he'd likely go somewhere else to feed, but the leek's job was done, so he was satisfied and simply returned home with a smile.

[pluto-art]

Softly - PatB Fan Fiction

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they left.

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

She came by on a Tuesday.

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

Rachel stood there, smiling at him.

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

And she opened up the door of his cage.

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

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

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

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

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

No response.

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

Brian it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rachel took it as a challenge.

"Watch me," she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

"Here."

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

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

Brian licked his lips. Perhaps....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stepped forward....

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

Rachel smiled.

"Atta boy."

---

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

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

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

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

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

But he was to Rachel.

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

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

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

December 14th.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.

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

"BR-41N?"

"Yeah. He got a yellow."

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

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

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

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

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

"Told what...?"

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

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

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

"Yes."

"It could kill him...."

"Yes?"

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

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

She nodded.

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

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

"Brian?"

Shoot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fine...."

And she turned to walk off. But...

"Miss Field?"

She looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid."

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

---

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

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

---

December 19th 9:15 PM

BR-41N cleaned his whiskers, pondering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brian cocked his head at her questioningly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rachel...."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He's just a baby!"

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

"No!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they rushed at her.

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

-------

- Two Years Later -

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello...," they said.

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

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

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

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

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

He stared at her, nonplussed, still shivering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

La la lu, La la lu, La la lu....”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come with me?" Rachel asked him.

"Where?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rachel shrugged.

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

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

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen anything."

The men exchanged glances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rachel jumped a little and stared at him.

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

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

Rachel smiled.

"Not at all."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rachel didn't look upset, though.

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

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

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

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

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

"Pinky!!" Brain yelped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rachel smiled and leaned forward a little.

"I have a proposition for you guys."

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

"Proposition, Pinky, not proposal."

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

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

Once again, Pinky gasped excitedly.

"Can we, Brain?!"

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

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

Pinky gasped again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ I love you, too. ~

The End

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

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

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

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

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

[heyheydidjaknow]

I finished it, finally! Yee fucking haw! It’s not perfect, but I’m not feeling terrible about it, and the next one is going to be fun. Unless something happens, the next chapter should come up on Sunday as planned. Knowing me, it won’t, but I wanna hope. As always, the table of contents and the previous chapter is at the bottom, and a full list of the shit I’ve published is at the bottom of the table of contents. I’ll do a proper proofread tomorrow. Right now, Grammarly and Kami are carrying the team, so if there’s a mistake, take it up with them.

Chapter 14

“I trust you won’t be creepy.”

“I’m thankful.” Yoshi runs his thumb along the rim of his cup slowly. “You have little faith in me, as I understand it.”

You try not to be disrespectful. “Well, things in your life could’ve gone better, right?”

He seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose so.” He takes a slow drink. “Mistakes from my youth have led to many hardships. Still, though the road has been a long and strenuous one, I would not want to change my past.”

Your untouched drink is cradled in your hands. “You don’t regret anything?”

“It is a foolish and maddening thing, longing for a life unobtainable to you.” He closes his eyes, your own scanning the walls for the photograph you know is in some nook or cranny. “Besides, if things hadn’t happened the way they did, I wouldn’t have my sons.”

You can understand, intellectually, he does not mean to be—and likely is not— as arrogant as you perceive him. Still, something about the way he sits, the way he speaks, even how he looks at you now makes you feel painfully inferior, as if you reacting the way you are makes you somehow beneath him in more than a literal sense.

You decide against arguing the point, eyes flickering from the shrine back to the man in front of you. “I guess that’s true.” You know you are not going to drink any of what he has offered until you have to. “And you’ve always thought like that?”

He nods. “It was what I was taught.”

Nodding, you look back down at your cup, a deafening stillness settling between you two. ‘He convinces me to come here,’ you grumble silently, ‘and all I get for it is a lecture and an awkward silence.’ You look back up at him, setting the clay vessel on the ground and pulling your knees to your chest. ‘I could be doing something else, like fixing my shirt or something.’

“Speaking of them,” he continues, “Donatello tells me you have been experiencing night terrors.”

‘Snitch. Did he tell me he told him?’ “You don’t?”

His eyebrows rise. “Sorry?”

“We have the same trauma,” you explain simply. “Both our families died in fires we caused. Think that counts.”

He does not even flinch. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” He smiles softly. You want to punch him in the face. “I suppose so, yes.”

“You seem pretty calm about it.”

He chuckles at your expression. “I’ve had fifteen years to come to terms with my loss,” he takes another drink. “And,” he jokes, “I was often simply too exhausted to have nightmares back when the wound was fresh; caring for four young boys is tiring, you understand.”

“Right.” You crisscross your legs in front of you. “Yeah, the makes sense.”

“Having said that,” he continues, voice lowering, “I can’t imagine going through what I did at your age.” He sighs. “If something like that happened to one of my boys at this age, I can’t honestly say how they would cope.”

‘Poorly. I’d guess they’d cope poorly.’

“I understand that you and I have differences in ideals and morals.”

“You could say that.” Your mouth stretches into a wry smile. “I honestly only started hangin’ with and helpin’ y’all as a way to make up for my manslaughter. With this exception, I live by the adage, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys.’”

“As I said,” he covers his mouth to hide his amusement, “we differ in that respect. I take it that’s why, when Donatello explained the situation—” you break eye contact—“he was unable to explain in any sort of detail what they were about.”

“Not his circus not his monkeys. ‘Sides,” you shrug, “he was already being really caring and understanding, and I was already sobbing my eyes out, which I’m sure he already told you, so.”

You stare down at your tea. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“Not if I don’t have to, no.” Your face heats up.

“Do you want my help?”

‘I hate this,’ you squirm. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be here if Donnie hadn’t asked me to.”

“For someone who believes in leaving people to their own devices,” he notes, “you seem to value the requests of my son a great deal.”

Your knees are back up to your chest. “He’s important to me. He’s been there for me. It’s the least I can do.”

He takes a beat to gather his thoughts. You brace yourself for a lecture.

“You care for him, then.”

You nod once, treading carefully.

“Romantically?”

You still do not look at him directly, staring instead at the gorgeous screen door. “I dunno.” Your fingernails scratch at the surface. “I’m not exactly in my right mind, you understand.”

“I can’t say I do.” A pause as he takes another drink. “Then again, I’ve only felt for one woman all my life.”

“Look at that,” you try to joke. “Another difference between us.”

“Do you mind letting me in, then?”

“A little,” you admit, “but I will since there isn’t really a point to being here if I don’t.”

“That’s the spirit.” You can hear his smile.

You set the cup down again, glancing up at him before fiddling with the laces on your shoe. “People under stress and without anywhere else to turn tend to latch onto the first people they relate to,” you explain, practicing your knot tying with fumbling fingers; there is no harm in practicing your dexterity. “He was the first guy I met after I died, got kidnapped, and almost got killed by a giant vine creature. I like him,” you clarify quickly, “I really do, but it’s hardly fair to pursue that sort of relationship, especially considering everything going on with the Kraang and Shredder.” Your eyes go out of focus. “We get along great,” you mumble. “He’s sweet, kind, generous, and empathetic. He deserves to make sense of his feeling properly without me muddying things up with my possibly trauma-induced attachment.”

“So,” he clarifies, “it is not that you aren’t in love with him, but, instead, you’re worried for his sake?”

Your face goes scarlet as you choke on your saliva. “T-that’s a bit—uh—extreme, isn’t it?” You rub the back of your burning neck. “I’m not even sixteen, Yoshi. You don’t understand love properly at sixteen!”

“I fell for my wife at thirteen,” he smiles. “It’s certainly not impossible.”

“That’s—look,” you protest, “that is entirely besides the point. The point,” you state, “is that is completely irresponsible for me to pursue a relationship with your son. Frankly, I’m surprised you don’t agree.”

“He cares for you. You know that. Who am I to decide who he does and does not pursue, especially when that person makes him happy?” He reaches for a worn kettle sitting between you two on a table, pouring its contents back into his teacup—you remember Leo telling you that it is technically called a yunomi. “I find love typically does no harm so long as it does not consume you. Moderation is key.”

You look up at him. “So, you don’t have any reservations about it?”

He takes another drink. “I wouldn’t say that. He is my son, after all. In truth,” he admits, “I was more concerned that my sons would never experience what I did than anything. Given the circumstances of our existence, I’m sure you can understand my wish to give them a relatively normal, happy life.”

You sigh. “I guess, yeah.” You adjust your blanket again. ‘Seems counterintuitive, teaching them the art of murder, but I guess that’s his normal.’ “That’s just a generally good parenting thing though, right? I’d hope you’d want that even if you weren’t a giant rat and they weren’t anthropomorphic turtles.”  

A parent. He is talking to you like one might speak to their kid.

“I suppose so,” he nods. “It’s been difficult, but we’ve certainly come a long way over the years.”

The screeching of tires pierces the still air, the chattering of his four sons bouncing off the concrete walls.

You strain to hear what they are saying. “I never noticed that there was an echo in here. It’s less noticeable than in the tunnel.”

“That’s by design,” he explains. “I’ve made something of an effort to dampen it.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” You set the yunomi on the table. You sigh, holding your breath and downing your now gross, cool tea in three quick gulps. “I hate to cut this short,” you lie, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and tottering to your feet, “but I’ve gotta check to make sure everything went smoothly on their mission and adjust my timetable accordingly.”

He nods, deciding not to point your tell out. “I won’t keep you, then. Would you like to borrow my cane?”

This is not the first time he has offered. You, of course, refuse.

“Oh well. I thought I’d offer.” He sets his cup down, staying seated. “It has been pleasant talking with you, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Mr. Hamato.” You nod once in acknowledgment, hopping over to the door and slipping out into the hallway.

Your stomach churns at the stench coming from the lab—you can smell the gasoline. You lean against the wall, making a pointed effort not to eavesdrop and rapping your knuckles against the door. Their voices immediately lower to hisses and someone drags the door open.

“Hey,” Mikey beams. “We were just talking about you. Need somethin’?”

“Just is an over-exaggeration.” There is a considerable amount of protest as Donnie pulls him away from the door with an uncomfortable edge to his voice. “P-please, come in.”

A beaten DIY van sits pathetically on the subway track, looking not dissimilar to a burnt, crushed soda can from where you stand. The once hot pink graffiti has most certainly seen better days, and you squirm at the thought of the sound it must have made if you understand the situation properly. Raphael, who you glance at out of the corner of your eye, looks similarly beat up. Of course, you are not going to say anything because you value your life.

You whistle, smiling incredulously. “So,” you try not to laugh, “I take it you took on the cucaracha.”

“Made it my bitch is what I did,” boasts Raphael. “Shot it with a laser.”

“Cool, cool.” You chuckle at his excitement. “You take care of the egg?”

Is there a better sight than watching the light in someone’s soul die? You would hesitantly say no. “The what?”

“Right outside the building,” you elaborate. “On the side of the road. Looks like a horrifying imitation of an orbee?’

He takes a slow, deep breath, holds it, exhales. “I’ll be right back,” he says calmly, and sprints out of the lair.

Michelangelo laughs. “Were you being serious or are you messing with him?”

“Serious.” You readjust the blanket, trying to subtly figure out how to breathe without being assaulted by the mechanical smell. “I won’t joke about that sort of thing. It’s cruel.”

He hesitates. “… speaking of, are you alright? I didn’t get to ask before.”

The other two are quietly watching the interaction with an odd amount of intensity.

You shrug. “I guess. Probably.”

“Alright,” he nods. “Just lemme know if you need to talk, alright? Donnie’s no—ow!”

“Don’t talk bad about people in front of them,” Leonardo criticizes. “It’s rude.”

“You called him special, like, four hours ago!”

“The word of the day is hypocrisy.” Donatello puts his hand down.

“Hypocrisy’s right” You rub Mikey’s shell reassuringly. “To be fair, though, Leo could honestly probably just dodge it anyway.”

He leans into it. “I guess,” he grumbles, shooting a look at Donatello. “Favoritism.”

“It’s strategic favoritism,” the tallest brother corrects. “It’s to encourage parti pris.”

“Cronyism,” you tease, grinning. “You mean cronyism.”

“Hey, I’m plenty qualified!”.  

You stifle a giggle as his face reddens, looking back over at the battered vehicle, raising an eyebrow.

“That was a team effort.”

“Yeah, okay, Hamato.” You blow a strand out of your face. “How long do you think it’ll take to fix?”

“Half a week? Maybe a bit less.” He looks back at it ruefully. “The spy roach completely jacked it.”

“Clearly.” You remove your hand, Mikey seemingly thoroughly comforted. “Then mind if I borrow a needle and thread so I can fix my jacket? I have school tomorrow.”

“Do you have the dexterity for that?” Leo crosses his arms across his chest absentmindedly.

“If I can hold a pencil,” you reason, “I can do basic stitching. ‘Sides, it’s only gotta hold until I get home.”

“I didn’t know you sewed.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking now.”

Donatello pipes up again. “I really don’t mind—”

“Dude,” you reason, “you have to fix a whole ass van. I’ll manage.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “It’s a quarter to twelve. You won’t finish before midnight.”

“Then sucks to be me.” You shrug. “I’ll fix it here and walk home.”

He looks at you with a surprising amount of incredulousness. “It’s New York City.”

“You go out at night all the time,” you protest.

“I can carry you—”

Immediate panic. “Nah, I’m good!” You try to sound confident. “I walk home all the time, remember?”

“Not at midnight.”

“What’s a couple hours difference?” You would rather get attacked or kidnapped than fly over buildings again.

“A hundred-twenty minutes,” he states. “You know that crime is statistically more likely to happen at night, right?”

“That tracks. What’s different?”

“Violent crime peaks at midnight.”

Mikey butts in. “Why can’t she just go in the blanket? It covers enough.”

Donatello rolls his eyes. “Mikey,” he sighs, “she’s a teenage girl walking around with her torso covered by a single conspicuous quilt. Let’s use our heads here.”

It takes him a minute. “So you’re worried about her getting, like, attacked?”

“… were you paying attention to any of the conversation? Or the lesson we just learned?”

“Dude,” he protests, “when do I ever?”

“What, you mean the one where y’all learned to face your fears or the one where talking about people in front of them is rude?”

The bitter edge to your words is not lost on him. “Look,” he reasons with you, “I-I’m not saying you’re incapable of taking care of yourself—”

“You are, but that’s not the point.”

“Shut up, Mikey.” You are surprised he did not punch him, though, admittedly, you can hardly argue the point. “What I mean is that if you put yourself in harm’s way, you’re going to get hurt.” He nods at Leo. “He’s a really experienced fighter and even he gets overwhelmed if he goes out of his way to do something reckless and dangerous like Karai.” He spits out her name like it is poisonous.

“Since when have you had a thing against Karai?”

The eldest brother sighs. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Unimportant, and nope. Point is,” he continues, fingers twitching at his sides, “it doesn’t make sense to tempt fate.”

You open your mouth to argue. You close it again. He has an extremely valid point all things considered, especially considering everything that has been happening, and although you are completely certain about your stance on him carrying you home, you would be lying if you said the idea of stumbling home without your walker or shirt sounds very appealing.

“Then what exactly are you suggesting?”

He looks off. “I’m suggesting she stays the night, Leo.”

Mikey blinks. “What, in your room or on the couch?”

“It would be up to her.”

That works for you. “Your home. You pick. Where do you keep your sewing supplies?” You slip out of the circle the four of you have formed.

“On top of the bookshelf,” he points. “Behind the cardboard box.”

You nod, hopping over.

Mikey offers his two cents. “It makes more sense for you two to share a room. It’s kinda cold in the front room, and you guys’ll probably end up going to bed at around the same time anyways. She also has your blanket.”

You stand on your toes, fingertips brushing against a plastic container.

“That’s a fair point.” You catch it before it cracks open on the ground. “Training starts pretty early, so she should have time to grab her things before school.”

“See? Foolproof plan.”

“Would Master Splinter approve?”

“Leo,” you call over your shoulder, “he’s slept over at my house twice already. I really doubt he cares.”

“But we don’t know.”

“Then you can go ask him.” You turn around. “Where’s the jacket?”

“In the cardboard box.” Donnie starts towards the train wreck on the tracks.

You pull it down, taking your shirt and jacket and sitting down, crossing your bad leg under the one you can use, despite the nausea. ‘Exposure therapy.’ “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You glance up at Mikey, who crouches down next to you as Leo waves to his brothers and leaves. “You need anything?”

He shakes his head. “Just wanted to hang out with you is all,” he shrugs. “You didn’t go after Donnie.”

“I didn’t,” you nod in agreement.

“Why?”

“Because car.” You unlatch the box, carefully digging around inside for some pins. “That, and the smell is bad enough from over here.”

He crosses his legs in front of him. “That’s fair.” He taps his foot absentmindedly. “You think he knows?”

“I thought I made it pretty damn clear,” you shrug, “but it’s Donnie, so I wouldn’t bet on it.”

He grins at that. “Then do you wanna hang out while you work on that out front? He isn’t exactly talkative when he gets in the zone.”

You shake your head. “If I do, I won’t get much done,” you admit. You unwind a long portion of the thread, snapping it apart. “Besides, the only way to get over a fear is to face it head-on.”

“Alright.” He hops to his feet. “Thought I’d ask. Have fun.”

”Bet,” you mumble through a bit tongue, shaky fingers making threading the needle almost impossible. “You too.”

“See ya.” He waves, running out of the lab.

You let out a breath, picking a piece of loose wire off of a table and creating a poor imitation of a threader. While you genuinely enjoy talking with Michelangelo, you have some things to think over.

Clumsy fingers start on a running stitch. If your timetable still holds true—which, surprisingly enough, it has thus far—the episode after next’s plot will take place in about three weeks. Your cast is coming off in two. You do not know where and when The Kraang are coming through their portal, or if there is any way for you guys to know, but seeing as you are skipping the episode where the turtles get stuck in a labyrinth under the assumption that, without Baxter being bullied by the Shredder and his goons, he has no reason to construct it, you would tentatively estimate the next episode will happen in about a week. You are still fairly sure that Stockman will not get involved with the Shredder without his input until Oroku finally opens his eyes to the dangers and powers of the Kraang, which should happen around the same time as the next episode.

Your eyes glaze over as you get into the groove of it. ‘The next episode is also when the guys get on Karai’s shit list because they betray her, and, if that happens, the episode where the Shredder starts getting involved with the Kraang and comes to appreciate their resources." You prick your finger. ‘It wouldn’t be long after that before Saki gets the idea to create a mutant army, and with Baxter already somewhat on the villainous map, our best chance to make sure he doesn’t end up under his employment is to…’

You wipe the sticky liquid on your jeans, careful of the bandages on your back. ‘It’s not a guarantee that he even knows Baxter exists.’ Your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you try to keep the stitches separated at equal distances. ‘Hell, it’s not a guarantee he’s even alive. Still, it’s better to air on the side of caution and not think about how you’ll have to do it until the time comes.’

You let out a soft sigh. “I’ll buy a gun, when that happens,” you murmur to yourself. “Just want more time where bodily harm is all I have to deal with is all.”

 --

 You slide your poorly stitched jacket over your shoulders under the blanket, pulling your sleeves into place and zipping it up. After folding the blanket up and draping it over your arm, you pull yourself to your feet, hopping over to Donatello and his death trap as he sat down, looking over his work. “How’re the repairs comin’?”

The two of you have not spoken for the three hours it took you to repair the jacket, and significantly more progress has been made on his end than yours. At the very least, the generally rectangular frame was pounded back into submission.

He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and stifling a yawn. “Fine,” he sighs, looking back at the hulking mass of metal as you lower yourself down next to him. “It won’t blow up or anything if it’s driven, but it still needs another day’s worth of work to get it back to where it was before.” You nod along as he goes into more intimate detail, not understanding half of it, but happy to just listen to him talk resentfully about the whole process that you can tell he genuinely does not mind.

“Sounds like a time.” You rest your head on your good knee. “And you’re not gonna fix the graffiti?”

“It rubs off,” he shrugs. “Besides, it’s not exactly important to the design.”

Your head bends in a subtle nod, cheek numb from the pressure of your knee. “Are you going to sleep today?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? It wouldn’t be a bad idea.” His legs are almost crisscrossed in front of him, and he leans his weight back on his skinny, muscular arms. “I honestly don’t want to leave it alone, though. It would be weird to just leave it unfinished.

“Hardly, but alright.” You sit up for a moment, handing him back his quilt. “Thanks for giving me something to cover myself up with, and for not ditching me on a roof, and patching me up, and—I owe you, is what I’m getting at.”

He smiles tiredly. “Don’t worry about it, really,” he reassures you, his face flushing and muscles relaxing slightly. “You’ve made it up plenty.”

“I disagree. I’ve never saved your life.” You trace the fading lines on your cast his brother had left.

“I don’t think a ton of people would literally kill someone for me and my family,” he argues. “That’s pretty awesome, right?”

‘Not sure how I feel about framing murder as a positive thing.’ You do not say anything, looking back at his work.

He sighs. “You should go to bed,” he advises practically. “It’s getting late.”

“Never stopped you.” You straighten your legs. “I’ll go if you come with.”

“Tempting,” he teases with a sudden burst of confidence, hoping to his feet and outstretching his arm to help you up, “but what’s in it for me?”

Your face lights up as your face goes red at his borderline roguishness, taking his arm pulling yourself up. “For as much shit as you’re going to get for it,” you promise, pecking where his nose would be with an almost kittenish smile, “I’ll get up extra early, make everyone breakfast, and go topside for coffee.”

His face almost turns the shade of a human blush, forwardness gone in an instant. “C-can’t,” he stutters, clearly flustered. “When I was eleven, I got addicted to it and I’m not allowed to have any anymore.”

“Relatable,” you giggle. You blow the hair out of your face, comfortable as he helps you walk towards the door, the air between you two charged with electricity. “Is that for all caffeine or just coffee?”

He opens it for the two of you, ever the gentleman with the quilt over his shoulder. “Tea’s fine. Don’t bring tea down, though,” he quickly clarifies. “Leo’ll have a very inconspicuous fit.”

You blink curiously, looking up at him as he pulls you along. “Why?”

“It’s the one food thing he’s particular about,” he shrugs, not bothering to hide his gooey smile as you use his upper arm for support. “Couldn’t tell you why.”

“Are you particular about any foodstuff?”

“Not really?” He helps you up a few steps. “I’m not Mikey, but I don’t think I’m that picky about that sort of thing.”

“That’s fair.”

You do not let go of his arm to use the wall. You do not even think to if Donnie is reading your body language correctly. His smile widens as he opens the door for you.

You give a nod as thanks, lowering down onto the foot of his relatively narrow bed. “Alright,” you clap your hands together quietly as he sits next to you. “How do you wanna do this?”

You are sitting on his bed, willing, with no pretense other than sleeping getter. He is currently on cloud nine.

You look back at the frame. ”Too narrow for us to lay side by side,” you note. “You sleep on your front, meaning you will likely take up most of the room." You look between him and the bed, trying to imagine a position that would work. “You could lay on top of me, I guess, but then your legs would hang off the end.”

“I can sleep on my side,” he offers hurriedly. “If that makes things easier, I mean.”

“You sure?” Your fingers fumble with your shoelaces.

He nods eagerly. “S-so long as you still don’t mind being close to me, I mean. The bed’s still kinda narrow.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “We’ve slept together before,” you reason. “If you wanted to pull anything, you would’ve the other two times.”

He glances off, face still red. “Y-yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “That makes sense.”

You gesture to the bed. “Then,” you nod once, “so long as you’re comfortable, you lay down. I’ll work from there.”

He tentatively lays himself down, facing the wall, tensing ever so slightly as you lay behind him, legs curling up under his thighs.

You lay your arm under your head as a pillow, the other pulling the blanket over the two of you. “This work,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Mhm,” he hums, covering his face with his hands. “We closed the door, right?”

You look back over. “Yup.”

“Locked it?”

“Seems so.”

He relaxes a bit. “Alright,” he nods, quietly reveling in the way your fingers, again, traced the indentations in his shell like the first night.

‘When I wake up tomorrow,’ he realizes, ‘she’ll be right there. Right behind me, in my bed. By choice.’ He smiles behind his fingers. ‘When we get older, maybe we could have our own place. Or our own room, more accurately, where she just lives with us. Imagine her moving in. If—no, when,’ he corrects himself, ‘we defeat The Shredder, if I ever get the nerve, I’ll ask her.’ He reaches his leg back, entangling it with yours carefully. ‘Would we have to get married first? No, you move in before you get married, right? I should’ve paid more attention during those movie marathons.’ He closes his eyes as you drift off, focusing on this train of thought. ‘How long do you need to be in a relationship before you get married? How would we get married, even? Legally, that would be impossible, right? I can’t go to a courthouse. And if we had a child—practically speaking, of course—would they live with us or go to a public school? We could give them a good education, I’m sure, but—’

You shift in your sleep, absently laying your arm over his side and pulling him closer.

He exhales, allowing himself to relax back into you. ‘Not tonight.’ He rests his hand on top of yours. ‘It’s too late, too soon.’ His thumb runs along the back of your hand, letting himself drift off in your arms.

‘It’ll be okay. We’ll last long enough to take it slow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

[98prilla]

Deathworlder Down

Set in @delimeful 's wonderful WIBAR AU. Virgil gets sick, and the others struggle to help him, not only with his illness, but the clear underlying emotional issues.

Next

AO3

...

It was quiet, on the Mindscape.

 Logan was reading, absently twirling his fingers and hands as he studied, recording information, though he was certain most of it would prove false, as it was the little that was reported about humans. Most were comparable to ghost stories or urban legends, but there were a few that seemed more credible, that he hoped would give some more insight into humans in general.

 Roman was off working out somewhere, sparring, he insisted it was just to keep sharp, but they all knew it was because he didn’t trust the human on board not to go feral and kill them any second, despite Virgil’s rather shy and withdrawn personality. Still, at least he was getting his aggression out elsewhere, and not by actually fighting or snarking at the true object of his emotions. He was doing better, still, Logan would give him that, but there was a long way to go.

 He could hear Patton pitter pattering about in the kitchen, chirping and warbling to himself, making his lips twitch up into a smile. It had been far too quiet, without the little Ampen aboard, too much silence to drown in. It was a comfort he hadn’t realized he’d grown accustomed to, hearing Patton hum and chirp and sing all day. Now it was also a relief, a steady reminder their friend was back home, safe and sound, and he frowned again, thinking of how close they had come to losing him for good. That they would have, had it not been for Virgil.

 Speaking of…

 “Patton?” He asked, stepping into the kitchen, the Ampen stopping his trilling as he set the kettle on the stove, giving him one of his warm, happy smiles, that seemed to actually light up the room.

 “Yeah, Lo? Everything ok?” Patton’s antennae twitched slightly, and he focused back on the present.

 “Yes, I believe so, I was simply wondering if you’d seen Virgil today. He is usually awake by now. I was hoping to discuss some… perhaps sensitive topics, that I picked up on during our vidi.”

 It was true. He hadn’t seen much, with how fast it had all turned, and spiraled out of hand, and though Virgil and him had been having question and answer sessions, the ones he really wanted to ask seemed more… personal. So, he’d kept them to himself, and simply continued his observations, and studied up on the information available to him.

 And what he’d noticed was… concerning, to say the least. He was certain the human wasn’t sleeping enough. Unlike most species, humans could run on limited sleep for an extended period of time, but he was slowly becoming aware that just because humans had the capability to do something, didn’t mean it was natural or good for them to do it. They could survive grievous injuries that would have killed any other species, but it came at great physical and mental cost. They could survive intense radiation, but they would sicken slowly and die. They could imbibe substances that a single sip would be deadly to himself, but even in small amounts, it inhibited a human’s survival instincts and weakened them.

 So just because Virgil was running on, at his best guess, four to five hours of sleep a day, didn’t mean that was anywhere near the healthy range of a human’s normal requirements. He’d noticed some of the side effects so commonly, he’d thought they simply were how humans were, until the Vidi gave him glimpses at others, who lacked the bags under their eyes, the deep bruising, that Virgil always had. Virgil was often unsteady on his feet, “light headed” he called it, he often stared out into space for minutes at a time, without registering anything that was said or happening around him, he ran into things, doorframes, corners of furniture, he stumbled and often had to lean against something to regain his balance.

 The other issue was his diet. Logan was absolutely certain that Virgil was not eating nor drinking enough. With his permission, he’d taken his heart rate, he’d calculated how many calories his body must burn, at the least, throughout a day. With no physical activity, no exertion, the very base level of sleep, Virgil was missing at least hundreds, if not nearly a thousand, necessary calories, and that was if he were in a relaxed state, which he never was. The human was endlessly jumpy and frightened and twitchy, and he had admitted that his heart rate was much higher than it should be, most of the time, due to his constant state of high alert. But despite this, he ate nearly the least at meals, always pushing food around his place, making excuses to take small portions, at least half the time Logan was certain he hadn’t eaten at all until he was forced to at their daily dinner together, and only then because he didn’t want to upset Patton. Based on his limited understanding, Virgil was immensely underweight and incredibly sleep deprived, both dangerously unhealthy states for humans.

 “oh! I peeked in on him a bit ago. He'd just woke up, said he was going to take a shower. I’m kinda surprised he isn’t out here yet.” Patton frowned, his feathers fluffing in distress.

 “I see. I'll go check on him, Patton. Save me a cup?” He smiles as Patton’s face lights up again, only half surprised as Patton jumps at him, hugging him. He carefully supports the Ampen, holding him close, allowing his head to rest against Patton's small, fluffy shoulder.

 “Thanks, Lo. For looking out for him.” Patton mumbled, as Logan let him go, setting him back down on the counter.

 “Of course, Patton. It’s the least I can do. He deserves to not only be safe, but feel safe. I am happy to help make that happen.” Patton's feathers pulsed his trademark light blue, a sign of happiness, that made Logan’s hands flutter, trying to record the warmth in his chest, as he turns away.

…

He woke up with a groan, pushing the cupboard door open, jumping as his door opened, hitting his head against the back of the cupboard at the sudden movement, breath speeding wildly, before he registered Patton’s head poking in, concerned eyes on him.

 “Hey, kiddo. Just checking in. Everything ok?” He sighed, but pushed back his exhaustion, summoning a small smile, making it as reassuring and genuine as possible, not difficult, faced with a small ball of fluff.

 “I’m alright, Pat. Just catching up on some zee’s. Was gonna go shower.” Patton nodded, hopping into his arms for a quick snuggle, before chirping a happy goodbye and vanishing out the door.

 He slumped back against the pylon behind him with another groan, rubbing his hands across his face, then up into his hair, wincing as he felt his hair stick straight up, matted with sweat. He’d stayed in bed far later than usual, but he hadn’t slept more. The night had been plagued with nightmares and sleep paralysis, filling him with terror so deep he couldn’t even scream, could merely panic until he passed out once more, tossing and turning restlessly.

 He felt shivery, cold, and his head spun just a bit as he stood, his stomach turning at the motion, vertigo rocking him as he leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to get his bearings.

 “fine. I’m fine.” He muttered, taking a few deep breaths in and out, before making his way to the door, listening for a few moments to make sure he couldn’t hear Roman anywhere nearby, he didn’t think he could handle the Crav’n in his current state.

 Which was normal and healthy and perfectly fine. He had to be fine.

 He made it to the bathroom with minimal stumbling, his vision barely swimming in and out, as he stripped, and turned on the water, hot enough it would probably burn any other members of their little band, but he just sighed in relief as he stepped in, letting the water run over him, soothe the aches building in his muscles. He let out a sigh, halfheartedly scrubbing at his hair, zoning out as he watched the steam.

 As he watched, it seemed to form a shape, to swirl into a nebulous form, and his breathing stuttered, heart stopping, as he stared in fear at the suited figure, one of his captors, a needle stabbing down towards him, and he flinched back, the world blurring and swirling and fading out around him, static roaring through his ears, his heart racing as static filled his vision as well. Distantly, he heard knocks, someone maybe calling his name, then he felt his legs give out, his head hit something hard, and the world went black.

…

“Virgil? Are you alright?” He heard a loud thump, a crash, and his eyes widened, knocking again. “Virgil? If you do not answer me, I am going to enter. Virgil!” Nothing. He threw open the door, breath catching, freezing in place at the sight.

 Virgil was sprawled across the bathroom floor, unconscious. His breathing seemed somewhat labored and shallow, and he could hear the slight wheeze to it from the doorway. What caught his eye first were the endless collection of scars, all across his body, covering nearly every inch of his skin, and it turned his stomach, it made him sick, the level of trauma and abuse Virgil must have endured. He’d known it wasn’t good, known he’d been a lab rat, an experiment, a being to harvest then sell off the parts once he was drained dry, but knowing it and seeing the scars, the marks of old burns from the stun batons, was something else entirely. And nothing Virgil had said had indicated the violence against him to be to this extent. He felt another surge of appreciation, for Virgil having protected Patton.

 The second thing, that finally forced him into motion, was the small pool of red forming around the human’s head, likely where the back of his skull had impacted with the floor. Quickly, he grabbed a towel from off the rack, and rolled Virgil onto his side, wiping away the blood from his neck and hair, to see where to apply the pressure. He breathed a sigh of relief as he located the wound, surprisingly small, given the amount of blood loss, and he was confident a few moments of pressure would easily stop it.

 “ROMAN!” He shouted with all his might, voice shaking and unsteady, hearing the crashing footsteps of the Crav’n immediately, the being sliding into the doorway mere moments later, scales raised to their extremes, teeth bared, ready to fight, no doubt hoping for an excuse to fight the human.

 “Logan? What’s-“ Patton darts in around Roman’s legs, eyes widening as he instantly is at Virgil’s side, trembling, eyes wide as saucers.

 “I need help. Roman, he’s heavy, I need-“

 “Ok. Ok, teach, I got you. Let’s get him dressed, then I’ll move him to the couch. What’s… what happened?”

 “I’m not entirely sure. I knocked and heard a crash, when I entered, he was like this. I suspect it has something to do with his malnutrition and sleep deprivation.” He answered, focusing on carefully pulling Virgil’s hoodie over his head, hands clenching sharply as one brushes his forehead. “he’s burning up.”

 “That’s what happens when he’s… when he’s sick. Humans get all hot and shivery and sometimes their stomach hurts and they can’t eat. But that only happened on the… on the ship. When… when it was really bad.” His voice wavered, feathers flattening.

 “I would suspect that he has been feeling ill for a couple of days now, if it’s grown severe enough to make him pass out. His normal temperature is around 98.6 to 99, I would estimate his to be closer to one hundred and three. Has he seemed off to you, Patton?”

 “He’s spent less time with me. Less time out of his room. I thought he just needed some space, but… but he was trying to hide he was sick, wasn’t he?”

 “Why would he do that? Did he think we’d just abandon him like some deathworlder would an injured comrade?” Roman snorted disdainfully, helping pull pants onto the human, though Patton could see the concern hiding behind his outrage.

 “Contrarily, he probably didn’t want to be a burden. To use up more of our resources and time. He constantly sees himself as lesser, as the least important of the group, therefore the one who should take up the least space, least time, least amount of food. Surely, you’ve noticed, Roman.”

 “I…hadn’t. I’ll take him now, Pat.” He mumbled softly, gently shooing him back as he scooped Virgil into his arms, surprised at how light the human was, his head lolling limply against his chest, his cheeks flushed, while the rest of his face was even paler than usual. He could feel the frantically rapid beat of his heart, his eyes flicking uneasily under their lids, and his scales flattened in concern. As much as he didn’t trust the human, he didn’t want to see him hurting, either. And if what Logan said was true, Virgil had not only been hurting, but hurting himself, out of, what? Loyalty? Worry? He just couldn’t get a handle on him.

 Then again, he hadn’t tried very hard to get to know him, or to give him a chance. But there was something in seeing him so vulnerable, without the usual piercing stare and silent slink, that made him soften a bit, made him remember that despite being one of the most fearsome creatures in the universe, that Virgil was essentially a child, by human standards. He was so thin, too. He could count his bones, under that hoodie. No wonder he was always cold, he had no layer of fat on his bones.

 And those scars…

 Well. It was enough to almost make him rethink his view on Virgil, at least, as he laid him down on the couch in the common area, Patton immediately taking a seat by his head, brushing his hands soothingly through Virgil’s hair, as the human shook, muttering something in his sleep that was undecipherable, though the tone of fear was impossible to miss, as his hand clenched against the fabric.

 “We need to break his fever. Blankets, Roman? I’ll get you a washcloth and water for his forehead, Patton. If he wakes, he is likely to be disoriented or possibly even hallucinate, because of the fever. However, I have no doubt he will calm immensely upon registering your presence. You are… his lifeline, Patton.” Patton nodded, continuing to focus on Virgil, doing the coo chirp pattern used to soothe babies, one of the first things Virgil had mimicked back to him, back on that awful ship.

 “He’ll… he’ll be ok, right? He just needs some sleep and he’ll be okay?” His voice trembled, and Logan’s hands clasped behind his back, eyes darting as he looked for the right words to say.

 “I don’t know. There’s so little information, Patton, I keep looking and there’s just… not enough, to help him, in any meaningful way. There’s no way of knowing if this is just a ‘flu’ or if it is something more severe. I know his heart rate is high and his breathing rasping, but I don’t know if that’s the result of the illness or simply stress, I would give him medicine, but I don’t know what he can have, what would be helpful, and I don’t know what to do if it’s something we aren’t equipped to handle!” He exploded, pacing the floor somewhat frantically, hands flailing wildly, wincing as one smacked the wall. “I don’t know what to do, but wait.” He said, softer, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his hand, looking up as Roman came to stand before him, gently patting one of his arms.

 “It’s ok, Lo. No one expects you to have all the answers. We know you’ll do your best. You always do.” Logan nodded, pulling himself together somewhat, striding off to the kitchen, Roman heading down the hall to raid the extra blankets from the closets.

 “you’ll be ok, kiddo. I promise.” Patton murmured, nuzzling against Virgil’s cheek, giggling as Virgil mumbles again, leaning into his touch, hand unclenching, face relaxing minutely. When Logan came back, he huffed fondly, Patton curled up against Virgil’s shoulder, just a ball of puffed up blue feathers, pulsing soothingly.

[annonmaly]

Spoilers Ahead!

Hi, fellow bored humans! Today is another day to set aside our real-life problems and overthink matters about fictional situations. Because why not? Mochijun-Sensei can make us do that. So, last time I made a post questioning Misha's knowledge of Vani's self-hypnotism. So before anything else, I want to thank you guys who took the time to read, liked, and replied to that post. It is fun to read ideas that even I can not think about.

Grab a cup of coffee and be prepared for a long-ass non-sense.

I am calling human Vanitas = Vani, and Luna = Luna. The pronoun I use is "she" because I would not confuse myself. I know Luna said she is an enby so, do not fight me.

Today, I want to talk about Luna and her death. I know that we have too little information in our hands right now, but my brain cells can still assume something based on what we have. This thought came about with the premise that Luna is an Archiviste.

I can't think of anything that happened to them "that day", but I have a theory of why Vani killed Luna. To make things clear, I will summarize my assumptions and list them down. I made an explanation of each point. Supposedly, those would come first but I didn't expect it to be so long, that's why I decided to just put it at the end. You could ignore it if you want. Check it out if you are curious.

Luna is an Archiviste

Vani is protecting memory from his early childhood

Vani casts the hypnotism while/after he was training to be a chasseur but before Luna's death

Luna bit Vani the day she died

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Here is the idea: I think Vani killed Luna because she forced herself to drink Vani's blood for whatever reason and the self-hypnotism activated. Sound farfetched? Because it is, but I'll show you why I thought it this way.

This is my one and only proof. The eyes are almost the same, right? See, I told you I could make a long-ass post just from two panels. The left one is from the Bal-Masque arc before Vani made a scene. The right one is before Vani and Noe's death fight. I believe that Vani's hypnotism is triggered in both pictures. I actually hesitated if I should do this since Mochijun-Sensei really loves including similarities in the story. You see, Astolfo and Misha made the same eye. But all three of them have the same eyes the moment they thought about why they would kill a vampire.

Vani - to not allow anyone to steal his memory

Astolfo - because vampires shouldn't even exist

Misha - Noe didn't drink Vani's blood.

So yeah, whatever, I'll go ahead and write this one. Vani would be the main focus of this thing.

1. The way Vani's hallucination phrased this is interesting. We know Vani's father died protecting him. What about Luna? If Vani killed Luna intentionally or because of hate, she did not die "because" of Vani. Vani killed her. There's a difference between the two. Behind all that facade that Vani is showing, he's kind. He's not someone who could just kill anyone without any reason when he's in the right mind. Especially if that someone is the one who became his guardian and is helping him to find a cure to make his body normal. Initially, I thought that Luna had gone wild and reach the point of no return. That's why Vani had no other choice. Though if this is the reason, Luna still did not die because of Vani. Now, this phrase would only be right if Luna died protecting Vani or if something happened to Vani. How could this happen if she was killed by the one she's protecting. So, what if, instead of Luna going wild, Vani is the one breaking down. Thus, Luna had really no choice but to make Vani her kin. If she's an archiviste and Vani already casted the hypnotism. It would be triggered and so he had no choice but to kill Luna.

"You give yourself someone to protect that's why you're weak." -Vani to Jeanne

If Luna didn't save Vani and Misha, she might still be alive. If she chose to abandon or kill Vani (when Vani loses his mind), she might still be alive. But Luna chose to save him by making him her kin. She handicapped herself by choosing to protect Vani and she died by doing so.

2. Maybe Luna doesn't want to use this method because it involves blood drinking to leave her mark. If she's an Archiviste, perhaps her reason is the same as Noe does not drink blood "She doesn't want to look at anyone's memory without permission".

3.Vani was never an honest and straightforward guy. If there is someone/thing he wants to protect he wouldn't say it outright. Sometimes we would go full on beast mode, just to hide his real agenda. It already happened a lot (reread the manga for examples). So maybe the reason he strongly disagrees is that he knows that once Luna tries to bit her he would lose his mind and try to kill her.

4. This is just so heartbreaking. Look at how he cried. I think this is not a cry of relief. Vani is crying out of frustration. It's not because he wanted to kill Noe. For me, it's like Vani is saying "I killed Luna, why can't I kill now." I mean, he realized that this ordeal could be solved without killing the other party. But why didn't it happened before?

This is just a half baked theory so of course there are still things that could negate these panels:

If Luna is talking with Vani here, she makes him her kin even before dying. Since everything is so calm. Though I would ignore reality and think that Luna is talking with Misha here. I think that Misha became her kin first since he is breaking down first.

The flashback of Misha shouting at Vani, maybe this is just hallucinations. But if this is true, it means that they spent some time together after Luna's death. And yeah, all of this would be meaningless.

Explanation of each point

1. Luna is an Archiviste. The theory is already out there, so I wouldn't explain it anymore.

2. Vani is protecting memory from his early childhood & 3. Vani casts the hypnotism while/after he was training to be a chasseur but before Luna's death. Going back to my previous post, I mentioned that it is strange for Misha to know that Vani hypnotized himself if Luna is the one who begged Vani to not let anyone take his memory on her deathbed because:

a. The timeline doesn't coincide. The chance that Misha and Vani separated "that day" which is I believe the same day as Luna's death is high. So, there's no way Misha could know.

b. Misha forgot what happened "that day". However, it's not like Vani doesn't want Misha to remember. I don't know but I feel like everything would be civil if Misha didn't mention that he wants to revive Luna. That is the moment everything went a wrong turn.

It is likely that Luna already asked Vani days before "that day" and her death. The problem is if the three are together "why did she only ask Vani and not Misha?". Maybe, Luna and Vani have a shady secret that they don't share with Misha as he's too young. However, if the secret has something to do with Luna, Vani won't even mention something relating to it to Misha, I mean the kid knows exactly the trigger of self-hypnotism. Maybe Luna is not the one who asked Vani. I believe that someone already asked Vani before he entered the church to train as a chasseur. But "who" asked Vani is not my problem today it is "when".

So in short, I suppose that the memory Vani is protecting is something that only he knows at the moment, and it did not happen recently but goes way back in his early childhood. As retracexcviii pointed out, it looks like that the self-hypnotism technique Vani used is the same as what the chasseurs. So, Vani knows this technique way back before he became a lab rat.

Continuing on...

Don't judge but I wasted a considerable amount of time digging information about Vani's childhood (yup, I don't have a life outside). And I found nothing concrete that could help, however, as I said, I could make something out of what we have. So here we go.

In Vani's delirium due to high fever he finally opens up and we had a peak of his life before everything. There's nothing much here, just a simple story, but let's overanalyze this:

a. In the era they’re living in, vampires are not allowed to attack humans. People are even treating them as folklore or old people's tall tales. Thus, random vampire attacks are seldom. The attacks that we heard are from the cursed ones (e.g., Amelia and Thomas) or harboring resentment (I think this is why the vampires attacked Astolfo’s family). Well, the attack on Vani and co. may be a special case. Vani mentioned that chasseurs are hunting "dangerous" types of vampires that are rampaging in the human world. So, there may be a miscreant group of vampires somewhere that hates peace or being suppressed by humans. Right, Misha's mother was also killed by a vampire.

b. When Misha asked what's a band of traveling players then Luna answered that it's a bit like a circus. Vani answered that "It was nothing like...that formal". He hesitated for a moment, meaning, he wanted to say something different first, but he changed his mind. Or maybe he just can't find the right word. I know that someone already mentioned this, but did you know that according to Wikipedia "Charlatan is a seller of medicines who might advertise his presence with music and an outdoor stage show." Now that's another thing to add to Vani and Naenia's parallel.

c. Vani thinks that his father doesn't like it there very much. So, why stay even if his wife is dead? Even if Vani's father could not go back to his family, he could still opt to cut ties with the band and settle down somewhere. He's a doctor, it's not like they would be helpless if they leave. Travelling is not a safe choice if you think about it. Perhaps, he stayed in the memory of his wife? Or are there other reasons?

d. This guy didn't just come to Altus ones before. "No matter when I visit" he already visited during different periods. The times he possibly could go in Altus is before his father's death and after Luna's death. Maybe Luna's going in secretly for whatever reason. I just want to drop it here because it's interesting to take note of.

e. I'm not sure if I should include this since it may be Luna's influence, but Vani knows way too much about vampires and also the babel incident. Also, Ruthven's statement just gives me a weird feeling. Does it mean "You an average human are running around doing ridiculous things, so tell me about 'yourself', kin of the blue moon vampire"? Or "without the context of being the kin of the blue moon vampire, tell about yourself?" I think it is the latter meaning.

There's nothing important here that proves Vani's childhood should be kept as a secret. But this will do for now, I just want to establish that Vani is more than just kin to the Blue Moon Vampire. His childhood, his father, family, and that traveling players are also suspicious. (Why the hell do I find everyone in this series suspicious?!? oh, except Amelia and Riche).

4. Luna bit Vani the day she died. I can't come up with anything that happened "that day". Did Luna has gone wild? Did someone attack them? Did Vani and Misha lose their mind as an effect of that weird doctor's experiment? There's really nothing but I think that whatever happened "that day" led to Luna's leaving no choice but to drink Vani's blood, or to make Vani her kin. There has no explicit explanation of how you make one your kin, but I'm sure drinking blood is included in the process. They would only gain a mark if they were bitten.

I'm actually not done yet. I still have plenty to say, but this should end here now. This is already too long for me to handle. Does this make sense? Or is it confusing? Don't hesitate to correct me if I'm wrong or tell me whatever you want to say.

So, if what Vani is saying is true, why do you think he killed Luna?

See ya' later folks!

Note: I wrote this to indulge my over-thinking self. This is just a random theory, thoughts, assumptions, and/or head-canons. Thank you for taking the time to read and understanding if I made any mistakes or post whatever it is you don’t agree on.

[fandom-sheep]

Fundy 21 APR 21

OSMP Dr*g Lab Part 1/1

The boy is doing disasters!

And now he’s got his new computer! Hooray!

Let’s see if the stream functions. I doubt it but it’ll be funny.

I’m typing this and attempting to fill out digital paper work for my college. Let’s see how this goes.

Hooray cat! We love Boots. Look at that pretty kitty laying on her pillow! I need to do more art for Boots. I’ve done some in the past.

Fundy gets to annoy people with his appearance. Everyone in chat shouting no. I think it’d be funny.

I don’t want to do my work. I just want to watch the chaotic fox boy.

We’ve hit problem two. Woo.

The people demand an Ad.

Oh we get facecam! Oh never mind he’s stuck again.

Ah yes. The temporary facecam.

My stream quality is going to drop just cause it can. I’m calling it.

Poor Fundy wants his mic not to cut out, but its become a thing and we all love it. “Twitch Pr”

He’s trying to break the mic for us. LOL.

Oh things sound Funky.

Echo, echo, echo

Oh no. My poor head.

He’s just laughing at us now.

He’s wondering how he didn’t lose all his viewers, we’re loyal, sadly.

Fox with his lovely base. It always looks so cool.

Ah we’ve been abandoned.

Bless your soulza

Yuck. Normal Minecraft. Yuck Spiders.

Dodge those skeleton shots! Do it!

Enslave Berry Foxes!

He has become a slow airplane.

Posture check. I am laying on my back I have no posture.

The boy eats the valued things.

I almost want to dual wield streams and watch Phil’s reactions to all this, but also not seeing the reactions is funny.

Puns. I love them. RUN FOX RUN!

Fundy Just causing problems on purpose. We love our chaos boy.

Ha ha. Karma.

Fox go YOINK.

Boots? Pet the cat. I wish we could see the cat. Boots is being banished downstairs.

Aww. He’s trying to be helpful. but the zombies just going to burn. Oh he realized before he burned the zombie. Good.

What is crow father doing? Just kelping? Is Phil just ignoring him?

Oh Phil just watching Fundy save the slab.

And giving him a reward. I am seeing parallels between this and what I do with troublesome campers.

I wonder how the crows have been reacting to Fundy being a problem on purpose?

Wealth goes in the mouth.

Sadness. Zombie friend despawned.

I love how Fundy can go from “I am tough” to “I am weak” to “I am tough” its always funny to me.

Something happened with sticky keys but I’m not sure because I was making a hot pocket.

Not crash is typically a goal of driving.

no reusing jokes. Boo someone throw a tomato.

“R” well alright then.

Don’t put wealth in the mouth. Got it.

Chat goes zoom? He’s oh noing.

“I don’t have a phone” as you text on your phone.

Wat. Some donos make negative amounts of sense.

I’d listen to him play that in the background while I work.

Look at the crowfather making his achievements.

Why would a fox have gold nuggets?

Foxes will look at Fundy and go “ah big fox. He is our leader now”

Ooo another video? A game show?

Don’t mind me. Just nearly drowning drinking water because a skeleton dropped on the small fox.

Humans designed bananas. Natural bananas are tiny and seedy. I know, Ive tried one. It was nasty.

Are star fruit rounded?

Foxes are dogs with a cat attitude. Who steal. The thief animals.

Digsirton. Dogson. Dogust. III. What an interesting name.

He was a fox. Because.

Fundy in the ring.

BRB gotta go cover plants so they don’t die during the cold snap.

Plants have been covered.

I know you guys attempted to surf the void and failed and that’s about it.

Now the Fox is chatting with the inchling.

Oops. Didn’t time it right.

He is a spring.

How does everyone have so many diamond things.

Nice. Enderman one shot.

Guilt free trident.

Woosh! With a trident the fox can fly!

And he didn’t thief it. Proud of him.

I love how close everyone stayed near spawn.

Poor lil fox.

Someone get the fox a trident!

Oh Phil’s view was probably great.

We’re looking scuffed again.

Phil witnessing the murder of 1 (one) fox.

Sneeg is a bullet.

Poor Fundy wants to become stacked, but he doesn’t hunt for anything.

Ah the bee. And there he goes.

Secret chest. Lovely.

Storage Unit Fox. Infinite mouth.

Sizzle Fox

Sneeg and Fundy work well together.

I’m betting on “no” for his next death being burning. Someone’s going to stab em or something.

Rats. Oh well. It was just 10 points

Quality entertainment.

Up he goes. He made it! Mitsakes are made (error intended)

Fundy one shotting everything is so great.

Aren’t ghast sounds cat sounds made weird? Or is that just something I heard once?

I’m voting no again. I’ll probably be wrong but again it’s 10 channel points.

No sizzle fox please. He will, but I’m saying no.

He one shot the ghast, but he did sizzle.

All this fox knows is sizzle. Ooo that give me an art idea.

Oh no he’s going to feel bad about the people who donated multiple times when it was paused.

Hi 5up.

Wow calling his “lover” short. How rude. Lol.

Du du du du

The tortles were released. Poor Niki.

I hate the mouth sound effect so much.

Training Arc with the pounce.

I hoard channel points like some people hoard money.

Oopsy.

Because he coldn’t help it? Poor boy.

I’m not involved in the prediction but these people have no hope in our boy.

Bee boy!

Oopsy. He is dead. The predictors were correct.

Bye bee boy.

Bee boy is back!

Ender boy is here! It’s a party now!

Fox just wants a skull.

Also yeah chat no spamming VC. Have good etiquette. We don’t do that’s here.

Prediction once again was right to not believe in the fox.

Drug corner looking nice. We can officially drugs now!

Oh no. He said chat. He does that when he’s ending.

Ah we are ending. That was productive.

Shaders! Gorgeous!

Oh it’s night. I never know if it’s night or not with the fox.

A pretty fox hole.

Phil over there Fox proofing his house.

Ah were attacking Phil. Nice.

The Fundy raid is here!

Tubbo! Really? Oh well. At least there is the mouth.

Anyway. I’m off. Good luck out there everyone!

I’m back to say that Fundy attempting to jump and get Tubbo was great.

Come on Fundy! Get him!

Ah. There goes the low heart boy.

Ah and the bullet appears.

I’m going to chill until Fundy gets Tubbo.

“C’mere” -Fundy

We’re used to watching our streamer get murdered Phil. This happens a lot.

Oooooooooo

He did it!

Go Fundy! Put the Wealth in the Mouth!

Oh no. Tubbo hired the bullet.

The bullet strikes again.

Oh he mouthed the zombie head.

Proud of our streamer.

No Fundy. Quit making problems.

Bees and foxes. Natural enemies.

Oh others can always hear the fox.

Anyway. That settles that. I’m heading off for real.

[remmushound]

Beyond the Bay chapter 1: Omen in the Lights

Authors note: I know I said this was only going to be posted on A03, but I have decided against that and made the choice to expand it to my regular postings on Tumblr; there will be three posts a week; Monday, Wednesday, Friday.

It was late September, the heat of summer waning to give way to the autumn chill that had started to sweep its way through the city. The first snowfall had yet to arrive, but with the cold settling over New York, it wouldn’t be long before the city was blanketed in white. The moon reached its peak in the night sky and was beginning its downward descent into the west; if anyone had been looking up at that moment, they would have seen something miraculous. A falling star, illuminated brightly in the inky purple sky. Falling to earth on a mission from the stars and crashing into the Hudson river, sinking below the surface, a blinking white light pulsating all the way down

~~~

Deep in the undersewers of New York, in the old tunnels that even the most experience sewer workers didn't dare to enter, was a world forgotten by all but the rats and the creatures unseen. The steady drip drip drip of distant, decaying pipes were to this world like bird calls were to the surface. A constant, steady drumming that ceased not night nor day. Sometimes, the soothing drips would be jarred by the rumble of something old, far beyond its best days, giving a groaning complaint of its age. Rarer still would be a crash that told of one of those ancient structures living its last moments before succumbing to the fate of collapse.

Other than that was the pitter-patter of tiny rodent feet as rats, this worlds most plentiful residents, went about their days searching for scraps on which to feast upon. Sometimes they’d come in swarms, all seeking to indulge in the same noxious smell that invaded their senses. Other times they came alone. But they were always there, mostly unseen, some were bolder than others. 

This day there was a noise other than the drip and scuttle and groan of everyday sewer life. There was the sound of motion, the steady echo of rubber bouncing off stone. The powerful strike of muscle against muscle, shell against shell. The sound of the biggest creatures to call the undersewers home, crashing against each other as they all fought over the basketball. Leo and Mikey vs Donnie and Raph.

The game went on for hours. Longer than any human game. Longer than any crash of giants on any continent. It went on for nearly eight hours before the self-set timer ran out and named Leo and Mikey the winners. The win, of course, was taken with very little modesty by the youngest brother. Leo was glad that, in his twenty-two official years of life, he had learned to tune out the incessant bickering of his two youngest brothers as Mikey boasted of his glory and Raph simmered in his defeat.

Still, even someone with as much patience as Leo Splinterson could only let the bickering go so far until he decided to intervene.

“Okay, okay, you both did well.” Leo got between his brothers, pushing Raph back just slightly. Mikey was more than happy to start hanging over Leo’s shoulders, still running that motormouth of his.

“Don’t feel bad, Raphie!” Mikey put extra emphasis on the childish nickname, “You may be a foot taller, but I gots an extra foot in the game brother!”

“Extra foot in the— that don’t even make sense!” Raph almost snarled.

“You don’t make sense!”

“That don’t make sense either!”

“Cool it.” Leo said finally, “The game was a good warm up for tonight's patrol.”

Those few words made the three younger Splinterson brothers melt into groans.

“What?” Donnie complained.

“No way!” Mikey groaned.

“Seriously?” Raph threw his arms out and then slapped them back down against his thighs.

“What?” Leo said, and then again louder, “What? We go on patrol every night!”

“But Leo, it’s our mutation day!” Donnie groaned. “And we’re exhausted! Plus, April made us that cake—“

“Which we can pick up after patrol.” Leo said simply. 

“But what about dad?” Donnie frowned. “You know he likes us to spend our mutation day together.”

“It’s just three hours.” Leo said. “We’re ninja first, always. You know that. Dad will understand.”

Leo turned to leave, the frustrated mutterings of ‘no fair’ and ‘just had to ruin a good thing’ falling on his deaf ears. He didn't turn around; he already knew his brothers were following him, no matter how they dragged their feet or complained. This was their duty, mutation day or not. He couldn’t stand the thought of missing even the smallest occurrence that could cost them greatly in the long run. Shredder hadn’t been seen since Krang’s very temporary control over the city, but that didn't mean the Foot Clan wasn’t still active and preparing to strike. They had to be ready.

The patrol went by with little difficulty. Everything they saw were the same, normal things they’d seen in the weeks before. Men and women stumbling drunkenly home after a night out; the brothers, of course, would follow the latter to ensure she got home without trouble before going on with the patrol. Other than the women they escorted home, they also witnessed the average amount of drug deals taking place and teens sneaking out of their bedroom windows, and homeless trying to keep warm as they prepared for another long, hard winter; Donnie made sure to slip every single one of them a twenty. Whether they would use it for drugs or food was up to their discretion. Donnie didn't care either way. Who was he to judge?

Raph’s whistle stopped the brothers. Two sets of blue eyes and one set of green turned to him as the team fell to still silhouettes. Raph jerked his head toward an alleyway across the street, and four silent shadows passed over the lamp-lit road. Leo’s eyes scanned the area in its entirety searching for anything that could tell of trouble. Anything out of order. He heard three sets of breaths, not counting his own. No voices. No scuffling that didn't come from his brothers. Still he took in all the tiny details that tied together like an intricate spider web. 

Down in the alley, he saw, was a woman, her hair grayed and wearing a sleeping gown. There were no shoes on her feet and no caregiver in sight, and every step of the elder was slow and shaky. Her voice came through the alley in a language he couldn’t understand, so he turned to Donnie for further confirmation of what he was sure he already knew. Donnie listened to the words carefully.

“Guys, I think she’s lost.” Donnie said, flicking his goggles down over his glasses, “Her vitals are stable, but its freezing.”

“What’s she saying?” Leo asked.

“Uh… she’s asking for help.” Donnie said. 

“Should we go down there?” Mikey asked innocently, looking up to Raph.

“What, and scare her outta her skin?”  Raph asked, showing his canines.

“We can’t just leave her!”

“We ain’t gonna, doofus!”

“Donnie—“ Leo started.

Donnie held up his finger for silence as he started to pace the length of the rooftop, speaking into his headset. “Hi, yes, this is Donatello. You know, giant turtle, four eyes. There’s this old lady here…” He went on to relay their location and explain the situation further. His conversation with the authorities lasted only a few minutes before he ended the call. “Police are on their way.”

Leo nodded. His eyes had never left the alley or the wandering lady as she continued to call out. They stayed there waiting, watching her until the police arrived and even after that, making sure the old lady was safe in the police car being driven home. Only then, sure of the lost woman’s safety, did they continue with their patrol. They didn't get very far however before Mikey stopped and gawked at something.

“Woah!”

“What is it?” Leo asked. He followed Mikey’s gaze into the night sky and felt his jaw drop. 


Donnie looked up next, and then Raph; the former took a long, wheezing gasp while the latter remained silent in his awe.

“What in the fabric of time is that?” Donnie asked.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!” Mikey beamed, “And I’ve seen April!”

“Glad we came out now, aren’t ya?” Leo smirked, elbowing Mikey in the side.

“Yeah…” Was all Raph was able to say.

It was like all the painters in the world had gotten together, pallets in hand, to pain the sky in streaks of gold and pink and cerulean. Colors bright and bold, melting into each other like a mixing bowl of everything beautiful in the world. A field of flowers woven into the heavens. The lights over the sky rivaled the brightness of the city itself, and in beauty, New York could never compare.

After their night of patrol and a quick stop at April’s to indulge in delicious, homemade cake, the brothers returned to the lair. Long strides carried Donnie past his father, Splinter’s words of welcome met with a mutter and quick departure. The rat only laughed and shook his head, for of course the first thing his second oldest would want to do after a night of work was to head immediately to his lab for more work. After all, when Donnie’s thoughts hardly let him sleep, it was always good to get some extra studying in. He had to keep up to date with all the latest news, even if it had only been a few hours since he had last checked. Raph stayed around just long enough to give his father a half-hearted hug before hurrying off to his room, and Mikey jumped over the old rat like he were an obstacle on the way to the kitchen. Leo was the only one to return Splinter’s welcome home greeting with a greeting of his own, immediately sitting lotus-style before his master to give a report on the night's events.

Pulling up articles to scan for anything interesting, Donnie was immediately flooded with several dozen headlines on the same subject: the beautiful light-show currently swallowing the New York City sky. Some of them were calling the lights a second Aurora Borealis, while other papers said that rockets or satellites were to blame. In fact, most every paper had a different story! A different theory of origin for the sudden glow. When the turtles had witnessed it on their patrol, it had taken such a long time for them to pry their eyes away from the beautiful canvas; even Leo had fallen victim to the painting in the sky! Along with the headlines, Donnie pulled up an influx of videos and pictures documenting the strange occurrence from all angles of the city, some even joined with reports of a meteor crashing into the harbor. Donnie had seen no meteor, but that didn't mean there wasn’t one!

“Hey.” Mikey, as air-headed as he could be, never failed to somehow always sneak up without Donnie hearing him. The box turtle leaned his full weight on his brother's chair, shoving handfuls of Cheetos into his mouth and crunching loudly in Donnie’s ear. Crumbs fell from his open maw as he chewed enthusiastically. “S’mething cool happen?”

Donnie growled and yanked his chair out from under Mikey, snickering as the youngest brother was just barely able to catch and right himself. 

“You know there is Mikey; we saw it!” Donnie said, scooting his chair back in while dusting it free of crumbs. “Every article here is talking about those lights we saw! No one knows what they are!”

“They’re cool is what they are.” Mikey said, nodding his head and swallowing his mouthful before saying, “Do they have a cool name yet? Bet they have a cool name.” He pointed at the screen with his pinkie finger as he cracked open an orange energy drink and started to chug it.

“Everyone’s calling it something different.” Donnie reported, “But whatever they end up calling it, it’s beautiful. Something like this is a once in a life time experience!”

“Isn’t everything in our lives?” Mikey asked, followed by a burp.

“I guess.” Donnie snickered, “But there’s no telling if these lights will be there tomorrow night! I… I really wish I’d documented it, but I was just… too busy thinking of all the possibilities!”

“I know what that’s like.” Mikey nodded.

“It could be a solar event, or a chemical reaction, or a whole new phenomenon—” Donnie whined as his fingers worked quickly to pull up the most recent reports. “According to these, the lights are still there… and it’s just barely four-thirty.” He pressed his lips tightly together and tapped a pattern on his desk, “M...maybe if we hustle, we could still get some decent pictures before day breaks.”

Mikey nodded and smiled. “We totally could, dude.”

“Yes!” Donnie stood up, rushing past Mikey and started to reassemble his gear, pulling cameras and recordings and notepads— he brought three, just in case— and his goggles too. He could never leave home without his goggles! “We could and we are!”

He grabbed his good camera, a big bulk of a thing the size of his head, and pushed his way past Mikey.

“Are we going somewhere?” Mikey asked.

~~~

They were cutting it close. Very close. But Donnie couldn't pass up the opportunity to get at least a few decent pictures. The ones already posted to the internet by awed humans were one thing, but to get the pictures on his own, from the vantage of the highest buildings, was something else entirely. Donnie could only hope that the solar event would take well to the filters of his camera.

“Just a few more pictures.” Donnie promised Mikey as he set up his camera for another great angle. “Then we can head home.”

“Okay.” Mikey’s response was automatic, the words little more than jargon to the younger brother. No doubt Donnie thought the other turtle bored out of his mind, but it was the exact opposite really. Mikey was so focused on the lights in the sky that his mind wouldn’t let him think of anything else. 

They were so beautiful, flashing and blipping in and out of reality with a mind of their own! Mikey rubbed his eyes. He wanted the lights to stay but they kept leaving. He was desperate to reach a hand out, believing he could touch them the little blips he tried, but his arm refused to listen.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Donnie asked. He snapped another picture of the lights, glad they hadn’t left yet; even with the brightening sky they were just as vibrant and visible as ever. Mikey didn't respond, but that went unnoticed by Donnie being too focused on his current task. “Wonder what it looks like from space!”

Mikey laughed. He laughed but he felt tears on his cheeks. The shinobi whined and lifted his left hand to rub his opposite arm as he felt goosebumps start to dance up the length of his body; at least the left one still listened, he figured, unlike the right one that was like dead weight. But the lights were too beautiful to care, and they were getting brighter too! Closer it seemed. Mikey forgot about his goosebumps as he reached up to touch the colors that started to dance all around him. They felt solid and hot, like burning metal— like he was touching the same stars that started to dance in his head!

Mikey’s lack of response was finally noticed by Donnie. The mutant peeked up from his work to glance at Mikey, groaning with the belief that the turtle had wandered off after a cat or another pizza pigeon. The belief was unfounded and replaced with confusion when he found his younger brother still there, right where he had been when Donnie last checked, still staring. His eyes seemed glassy and that made Donnie tilt his head. The technician’s eyes trailed downward to Mikey’s arm, which looked uncomfortably stiff, muscles bulging and veins defined as if he were under great strain.

“Mikey?” Donnie asked, setting his camera down to take a step closer to his brother. “Are you alright?”

Mikey smacked his lips together as pure heat flooded his mouth, like he had just swallowed a handful of peppers. Shadows were around him, speaking words he couldn’t hear, but they were so familiar to him that he tried to respond.

“Fer… repub… not… don’t like....” Mikey tried. His words came out wrong— that wasn’t what he wanted to say! He tried it again. “Great...er...ggg…”

“Mikey!” Donnie ran forward, wrapping strong arms around the ninja’s shell when Mikey began to slump forward, almost enough to fall off the edge he was standing on. Donnie yanked him back, pulling Mikey to fall back onto the roof instead; Donnie’s body worked to soften the fall for the other turtle as they both went down, the older cradling the younger.

The lights were still there, still overhead, and still blinking their toxic song.

[avengerscompound]

Running to a Standstill - 5

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  1939

Rating:  E

Square filled: none for this chapter

Warnings: none

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers.  While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Chapter 5

It had been a long time since Steve had had to share his space.  Even in the army, he’d ended up with his own quarters after he’d agreed to go on the USO tour.  Now there were bras hanging on a rack in the bathroom to dry.  Toys all over his floor and his fridge was full of things like go-gurt and applesauce that came in satchels.  It was a lot to get used to, but he was enjoying it.  He liked the noise and the chaos at Geo’s bedtime. He liked coming home and you being there whether it be just be watching some tv, or cooking dinner, or giving Geo a bath.  He even liked it when you weren’t there and there were just signs you would be back again.  The dishes in the sink or Geo’s Lego spread out on the coffee table.

After the incident at your apartment, you had agreed to stay with Steve at the tower.  The fact the people after you were willing to commit suicide over anyone finding out where they were from meant this was bigger than just you or Geo.  You had agreed - rather reluctantly at first - to stay with him until they could get to the bottom of it.

His apartment was only two bedrooms and given that you had only been dating for a little while, you’d been sharing a bedroom with Geo.  He hadn’t wanted to pressure you into becoming more intimate than you were ready for and if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he was ready for it either.  Partly because of the high stress of the situation, he worried that any feelings the two of you shared might be too heightened, and partially because he always needed to be sure.  He’d taken two years to get to a first kiss with Peggy.  He was slow to act.

He did like you though and he liked having you around.  He was aware that he overthought everything, but he was also becoming very aware of something else.  He liked being needed.  Right now you needed him and he didn’t want that to go away.

Unfortunately, trying to find the people who had done this to you was proving harder than it seemed.  IGH was a shell company covering the tracks of a medical research group looking into replicating the super serum.  They seemed to have gone defunct years ago after some success though the levels of cover-ups of whoever was the result of that success were the kind only an incredible amount of money could buy.  Steve had put Tony on trying to unravel the threads and he’d eventually come back with the name of a private investigator and an address of her office.

As he rode the elevator up in the Hell’s Kitchen apartment building a thick dread filled him over the fact that the serum had worked so well on him and people were going to keep trying to replicate that again and again until someone worked it out or he died.

The elevator stopped and he and Bucky stepped out.  “You think she might run?”

Steve shook his head.  “From what I gather she’s one of the good ones.  Abrasive, but she’s been linked to the taking out of several criminals.”

Bucky nodded and the two walked to the end of the hall.  The door for Alias Investigations had seen better days.  It had several chunks out of it and in the space glass would normally be sitting, a large piece of cardboard was taped into place.  Steve rapped his knuckles on one of the undamaged parts of the door and it rattled in place.

There was a shuffling on the other side of the door and it creaked open just a little.  The pale face of Jessica Jones poked around the corner, her jet black hair framing her face.

“Oh hell no,” she said and tried to shove the door closed.

Steve caught it and for a moment he thought she was still going to manage to shut the door on him.  They were definitely on the right track. “Ms. Jones, we just have some questions.”

“No.  Fuck, no.  I’m not getting involved in any of your goody-two-shoes, Avengers bullshit,” she said, giving up on holding him back and striding back into her office.  “I have enough of my own shit to deal with than to worry about fucking Aliens and out of control robots.”

“Ms. Jones,” Steve said, as she went and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from her desk, unscrewed the cap, and started drinking straight from it.  “We just want to ask some questions.  It’s about an organization known as Industrial Garments and Handling.  We believe you might know about them.”

She lowered the bottle and narrowed her eyes and collapsed down into the chair behind the desk.  “You’re too late.  There is no IGH.  I shut them down.  Everyone involved with it is dead.”

“You know them then?”  Steve asked, taking a seat.  Bucky stayed standing by the door like he was expecting Jones to try to run.

“I know them.  They did this to me,” she said and clenched her fist on the bottle.  It shattered, spraying glass and alcohol everywhere.  “And I made them pay for it.”

“Did you sign up for experimentation?”  Steve asked, and quickly held up his hands. “No judgment.  I signed up to be a lab rat too.”

Jones shook her head.  “No.  I was in a car accident and they took me.  What’s this about?”

“They were involved in human experimentation several years back.  We believe they were trying to make some kind of combat enhancers,” Steve said.

Jones scoffed and spun around on her chair, and began rifling through a filing cabinet.  “You have so many resources at your hands and that’s where you are?  You’re a little behind.  They were, the army had them and were using them on soldiers.  There’s one still alive. His name is in here -” she spun back around and tossed a stack of files on the desk.  “As for IGH there’s a nurse and a janitor still alive and they’re in prison.  The rest is gone.  You’re chasing a dead lead.  You can relax and take a break.”

“I’m afraid we can’t.  We have one of their test subjects in custody.  They’ve been trying to take her in,” Steve said.  “I’ve found with places like this, you think you get the root of the evil and you’ve just been pruning back some leaves.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed derisively.  “Nice analogy, Cap,” she said.  “I’m sorry about your friend, but they tried to destroy their own work, including me.  I know they’re gone because no one has tried to kill me in months now.  Whoever is trying to get to them, it’s not IGH.”

Steve sighed.  She seemed so certain, but someone had been trying to take you and Geo, and this company was involved somehow.  “Everything you have is in here?”  Steve asked.

“Yeah, take it,” Jones said.  “Now get out.  I have work to do.”

Steve stood and nodded.  “Thank you for your help.  I’ll call you if I have any questions.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Jones said.  “I have friends who’ll get a kick out of the voice message I have from Captain America.”

As they went back into the hall, Bucky laughed softly.  “She was charming.”

Steve bit back his own laughter.  “Well, I guess you don’t have to be pleasant to do good.”

“You can say that again,” Bucky said, jabbing the button to call the elevator.  “You think this is a dead-end?”

Steve flicked through the folders as he got onto the elevator.  “They obviously didn’t go away completely.  Whatever remnants existed might have been absorbed by something else, and going off how hard it was for me to keep that door open, I’d say they might have gotten closer than most at replicating what was done to us.  I’m guessing that something has taken what they can and is after Geo to fill in the blanks.  This is a start.”

The elevator stopped and Steve and Bucky began to make the walk back to the tower.  It was only seven blocks and even with the fact they were going to get stopped several times on the way, it was still easier to walk it than try and find a parking spot in Hell’s Kitchen.

“I should grab something for dinner on the way home,” Steve mused as he shoved the folders into his jacket and zipped it up.  But he and Bucky pulled on their ball caps and put on sunglasses.  Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket to hide the telltale glint of metal.

“What?  You sick of home-cooked meals already?”  Bucky teased.

Steve chuckled and nudged Bucky in the familiar way that always came so naturally to him, his shoulder bumping into his friend’s and pushing him slightly off course.  “Hardly,” he replied.  “I just worry about her thinking she owes me.  I’m really up in my head about it.  It’s hard dating someone who’s living with you and who is that reliant on you.  The line between normal boyfriend and girlfriend things and a person in a vulnerable position thinking that they need to comply with a request so they feel safe is blurred.”

Bucky’s lips twitched and he shook his head.  “Steve, I love you, pal,” he said.  “But do you overthink or what?”

Steve shrugged and let out a breath.  “I’ve never been good with this kind of thing, Buck.  You know that.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Bucky agreed.  “And it’s sweet how you worry about things like that.  It’s the reason why it took us so long to hug when you finally tracked me down though, you know?”

“Yeah,” Steve said.  “I know.  What do you think I should do?  I want to move forward with her.  I’d even be happy if she started sleeping in my bed, but all we’ve done is some quick pecks on the lips when I’ve gotten home and cuddling on the couch.  And I don’t even know if I can count the cuddling on the couch because she cuddles with you too.  You’ve always been better with women than I have.  What would you do?”

There was a heavy silence in the air while Bucky seemed to think it over.  When he finally spoke his voice sounded slightly tight and Steve wondered if he’d pushed him too far into thinking about how he used to be.  “Take her out again.  On an actual date.  I’ll watch Geo if she’s okay with it, or I’m sure Clint and Nat will come around if she still doesn’t trust me.  Talk about it with her.  Then kiss her for fuck’s suck.  Properly.”

Steve nodded, still not quite sure how to actually talk about it.  A date would be good though, the domestic thing made it hard to do anything romantic anyway.  “You wanna have dinner with us?”

Bucky nodded.  “Sure.  What are we having?”

“Burgers seem safe don’t you think?”  Steve said.  “Geo would probably eat a cheeseburger.”

There was another small nod from Bucky and Steve pulled out his phone, texting you for any special requests and to make sure you didn’t start cooking.  He hoped he could move things forward with you a little, but it wouldn’t be the first time he ended up having unrequited feelings for someone.  Either way, it was nice he could have you both in his life sharing dinner.

// NEXT

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 267: My Name Is

Previously on BnHA: Hawks stabbed Twice in the back of the head. Twice stabbed another guy in the back of the head. Everyone’s just running around stabbing or being stabbed. I should probably clarify that Twice actually died, because this is a shounen manga, so sometimes you have to clarify that this particular stabbing was actually fatal. Not just one of those flesh wound stabbings. Anyway so it was super sad, and now Dabi’s gonna face off with the sexy scarred murderous Hawks, and Toga and Compress are also going to be feeling a bit stabby after all this probably, and so that’s the general mood here I guess. I kind of need a break now so I’m wondering if we’re gonna cut to any of the kids. Because if we stick around Horikoshi may actually have to give us Dabi flashbacks. God forbid.

Today on BnHA: Tokoyami has a flashback to when Hawks told him he’s weak to being set on fire. This terrible thought weighs on his mind as he and the other lads and lasses of U.A.’s child soldier vanguard are escorted away from the battle via Fatgum and his absolute goat of a quirk. Dabi is all “:D you killed Twice, I’m gonna set you on fire repeatedly now” and Hawks is all “ffff no that’s my weakness also WHO ARE YOU” and WE GET SOME HAWKS FLASHBACKS?! and then Dabi is all “:DDDDDD [CENSORED]” and it’s literally fucking censored fuck my life. but also !!! because he actually fucking said it, though?? He really went and revealed it just like that?? And now Hawks knows, and he’s all shocked, and Dabi goes to kill him afterwards but TOKOYAMI IS ALL “ON YOUR LEFT!!!!” and OH SHIT. Also Endeavor saves Miruko so DOUBLE OH SHIT. Oh my god. I’m sorry this summary is all over the place but I can barely type a coherent sentence now so just TAKE THESE EXCLAMATION POINTS AND GO!!! SPREAD THE WORD. BE FREE.

everyone before we begin I would just like to tell you about my discovery this week. I learned that when I type the word “Dabi” on my phone the next word that the keyboard predicts is “flashbacks.” google keyboard is on to me. so now the FBI and the CIA and whoever else google is selling all my data to all know. I can only imagine. “she seems to spend an inordinate amount of time talking about ‘Dabi flashbacks.’ what’s a Dabi.” I’ll tell you what a Dabi is. it’s a guy whose fucking flashbacks we never fucking get that’s what

anyway so let’s read this chapter whose spoiler tags have already been filling up my dashboard, which is always a good sign. who will die this week? Horikoshi please have mercy on us in light of recent real life global events. maybe you can just have everyone abruptly decide that they are all done fighting and want to go home

-- GOD BLESS US EVERYONE

who could have known, years ago when the very first mangaka was drawing the very first color page, that this medium would one day soar to such great heights. who could have imagined that we would one day be witness to this masterwork, this magnificent fucking triumph of a colored manga page. holy shit. I will cherish this always

for real you all think I’m joking but I genuinely don’t want to scroll down lol. let’s just stay with Miruko forever. where it is safe. and sexy. goddammit

OH SURE, THEY GIVE US HAWKS FLASHBACKS

anyways but lol

guys. we’ve been over this. fire is everyone’s weakness. just. I’m not quite sure people like Hawks and Kamui Woods actually grasp that. do they think normal people catch on fire and they’re just “oh, this is actually all right.” also, side note kids, please don’t use this answer if this ever comes up during a job interview

wow

what a gamechanging plan of action. don’t catch on fire. Toko write that down

WOW

you guys. YOU GUYS. IT GOT BETTER

who could have known, years ago when the very first mangaka was drawing the very first gag panel, that this format would one day ascend to such lofty summits. who could have envisaged that we would one day behold such a showpiece, such a grand fucking slam of a joke panel in a shounen manga

anyway Horikoshi sure does love his English portmanteaus. I’m kind of stunned by how great this is you guys. but getting back to more serious observations, all I can say is thank fucking god somebody is actually thinking of the children! nothing terrible had better happen to them or I swear!!

so Fatgum is explaining that the plan was to have them use their respective quirks to help take out a bunch of bad guys at once, and that the grown-ups will now proceed to rope them all in and capture them. and dammit, I was trying to avoid having to post the panel because it takes forever if I post a lot of them, but I just noticed Mt. Lady over there stomping fools in the background and so now I have no choice

A+ chapter so far you guys. 5 stars. keep it up

one-and-a-half year-old Kaminari Denki has already fallen asleep. he wishes he could live there. I wish I had the words to adequately convey how utterly delighted I have been by this entire “everyone rides around in Fatgum’s belly” mini-arc, which is now my favorite part of the entire series (as always with the exception of “Dear Midoriya I’m really sorry”)

and I also just really love the timing of it?? right after the “here’s that angst you ordered” emotional sobfest of the last chapter, we’re taking a quick break to cut back to the Fatgum Express (excuse me, Fataxi) just to keep things from getting too heavy. this is such an important balance to strike. please don’t let this arc get too dark, Horikoshi

oh shit

right, Dabi?? but I’ve had an entire week to process my feelings about it and I’m more or less good now! how are you

not particularly great, then

and also, fuck. so Horikoshi was gracious enough not to show Twice’s murdered body even though he confirmed he was indeed killed (so apologies to anyone who was still holding out hope. it sucks but at least we’ve got closure). first he cuts off the bottom of the panel, and then he has Dabi literally cremate him on the fucking spot. there’s really going to be nothing left at all of him or any of the clones. I’m just gonna sit here and try not to think about that or else I’ll get sad all over again

anyway, so also Hawks’s wings have been totally incinerated now it looks like, and he’s just barely yeeting himself out of the way with whatever he’s got left

boy this is getting rough

love how Horikoshi is avoiding showing Dabi’s face!! that was sarcasm by the way because I don’t love it! he pulls this shit all the time with Bakugou too! show us their emotions dammit!

anyway. how kind of Dabi to stomp out Hawks’s flames for him like that. you see. they’re still friends

HOLY SHIT

APPARENTLY IT IS??? I GUESS WE ALL GRIEVE DIFFERENTLY LMAO. SOME PEOPLE GET SAD AND CRY AND OTHERS JUST GET REALLY SCARY AND CRAZY

like. not to nitpick or anything, but your tear glands are actually located above your eyes. maybe he means his tear ducts. also I’m not a doctor or anything and I can barely name like three bones actually so maybe I should just shut up!

anyways though, out of courtesy let’s just take Dabi at his word that grinning like a deranged lunatic is a perfectly normal response to watching your friend get murdered by your sexy archenemy. who is to say

and what exactly is your dream again? to make Stain’s will a reality or something like that? so purging the world of false heroes I guess?

DAMMIT DABI FIRE IS HIS WEAKNESS

most people would at least scream, wouldn’t they? Hawks??? does that not hurt??!

DSFKJSL:DKGHLSDKGHL

no!! I won’t be fooled!! Horikoshi and Dabi flashbacks is like Wile E. Coyote and painting a fake tunnel onto a cliffside! don’t be conned by his deceitful forced perspective!

LOL YOU SEE

apparently this man really will do anything to keep us from getting a Dabi flashback, even if that means giving us Hawks flashbacks instead lmao. WELL SHOOT. OH DARN. POOR US. WE’LL JUST HAVE TO SETTLE try not to look too happy guys he can sense satisfaction

anyway so here’s baby Hawks

okay, so -- does fandom still hate Hawks. like, I haven’t checked the bnha tag much since this weekend so I don’t know if the general consensus is still “yeah he’s cancelled” or if we’re cooling down at all yet? anyway so I apologize if liking Hawks is still A Wrong Thing To Do, but just fyi he’s still adopted and I haven’t unadopted him and I love him unconditionally even though he’s in timeout. and so now that Baby Hawks has appeared to rival all other Baby Characters (BABY YODA WATCH YOUR SIX!!) with his lil wings and his Endeavor plush and his quiet lil nodding head, I just need you all to know that I would die for him without hesitation and that’s just how it is friends

(ETA: also, jesus christ. “Keigo-kun, you can say goodbye to your name from now on!" I’m surprised they didn’t assign him a fucking number. what the fuck. time for some grueling training, lab rat #184. better get ready. jesus. he’s like 7.)

sdlkfjLSDGHOSIDFOIOOIIO

THE MAN THAT -- WHAT. WELL HOT DAMN, TAKAMI THEORISTS! GO ON AND GIVE YOURSELVES A BIG PAT ON THE BACK. YOU EARNED IT.

snap. gotta calm down. too much hype all of a sudden. easy does it

OH ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT’S IT??

noooo go back. fuck

and how the hell do you still have eyebrows, Hawks. how are you still even alive, let alone sexy. is fire your weakness?? is it really??! WELCOME TO BNHA THE MANGA WHERE ANYONE CAN SURVIVE ANYTHING. EXCEPT FOR BEING KILLED OFF-SCREEN AFTER WEEKS AND WEEKS OF BUILDUP

WHAT THE MONUMENTAL FUCK

HORIKOSHI WHERE ARE YOU I’M READY AND WILLING TO VIOLATE SOCIAL DISTANCING RIGHT NOW TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE SO COME ON

what the fuck. is this a Tarantino movie. or an Eminem song. anyway but we all know what he actually said though so let’s just scroll down and see how Hawks is going to take the news

oh my. I suddenly understand Dabi’s “grinning like a lunatic” reaction to witnessing a tragedy now. ohhhhhh that’s the good angst right there

so now Dabi says that if he wasn’t Hawks’s target in the beginning, then Hawks “would’ve been done for from the start”? ...what. lol what. am I just too tired to understand this you guys. I’m so confused

okay well I still have no fucking clue what that all meant but on the next panel he’s saying that Hawks shouldn’t have been focusing on Tomura or the League

is he suggesting that he has the power to bring down the hero system by revealing that he, the son of Endeavor, was made into a villain? am I reading into this right?

holy moses. I can’t believe this is really happening. this plotline is finally on the move oh my god I can’t even I’m getting way too excited I can’t??

HEY WHAT

well it matters to me you big melodramatic jerk!! don’t even pretend like you’re really gonna do it. I have zero fear of Hawks actually dying right now, not after that. there is way too much plot attached to him, gtfo with this fakeout shit

but more importantly, why the fuck are we cutting to Gigantomachia now oh shit. don’t tell me Fatgum got the babies out of there just in time

FUCK ME I NEARLY SCREAMED OUT LOUD

HE CAN BE ACTIVATED BY THE RECORDING OF AFO!! SOMEONE HAS THE FUCKING ON SWITCH IN THEIR HANDS OH SHIT, THERE’S THE DISASTER WE WERE ALL FUCKING WAITING FOR RIGHT THERE

WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO MIRUKO NOW??? CAN THIS CHAPTER GET ANY MORE HYPE MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS

let the bodies hit the floor let the bodies hit the floor let the bodies hit the floor let the bodies hit the [deep breath] FLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO --

OH NO!?

okay like any reasonable person I am very concerned by the implications of this. and yet a part of me just wants to focus entirely on the “AM I GETTING TIRED AFTER LOSING AN ARM AND A SHITLOAD OF BLOOD AND FIGHTING FIVE NOUMUS ALL BY MYSELF FOR LIKE AN HOUR? ...NAH.” you’re absolutely right Miruko that would be ridiculous

ARE YOU SERIOUS

either she’s about to die and she knows it, or SHE WAS JUST TOYING WITH THEM WHAAAAT. I genuinely don’t even know which it is?? but it better not be the former and it absolutely is the latter though

GOSH DARN THAT MIRUKO

THERE SHE GOES. MY CZARINA

excuse me did this guy just fucking impale her

SHE ONLY HAS THE ONE GOOD HAND LEFT LIKE CAN YOU PLEASE. can you fucking not, though?! and also I forgot that being impaled through the torso is another thing in this series that’s actually fatal. well fuck

(ETA: also he ripped out her hair!! look here you piece of shit I’m gonna --)

lmao but yeah, somehow

Horikoshi. if you kill off your one cool strong top ten female hero character. just so you know. I will. ...you know what, just don’t do it, how about that. just don’t

ohhhhhh I might be about to get really mad you guys. we’ll see. we’lllllll see

SON OF A BITCH

GODDAMMIT, OBVIOUSLY TOMURA CAN’T FUCKING DIE SO WHY DON’T YOU FUCK OFF WITH THIS ENTIRE SCENARIO YOU’RE PRESENTING TO US RIGHT NOW HORIKOSHI, HOW ABOUT THAT. fuck everything I can’t believe chapter 267 page 16 was the last page of the entire manga you guys. tell me I’m reading way too much into this

ffffff

you literally had the perfect chapter. Fataxi!! Baby Hawks!! censored Touya reveals!! why would you go and. ...

I knew it was a mistake reading past that amazing color page you guys

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OH MY GOD I DIDN’T SCREAM BUT I SAID “HA HA!” OUT LOUD?!

-- AND AGAIN!!!!!

YOU WANT SOME??? YOU WANT SOME?!?!

FUCK YES. EXCUSE ME WHILE I CRACK OPEN THE WINDOW AND SHOUT SOME EARNEST “WOOOOOOO!!”S DOWN UNTO THE CONFUSED STREETS BELOW

y’all. I was this close to cancelling every damn thing. you don’t even know. my god I think I was grinding my teeth there

“you know what this manga has had quite enough of as of last week? tragic deaths! you know what it has not had nearly enough of? dramatic last minute saves! you know what it hasn’t had any of? TOKOYAMI VERSUS DABI, A.K.A. YOUR NEW FAVORITE MATCH-UP OF ALL TIME, YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME.” geez. calm down Horikoshi. be cool man be cool

you guys. it was almost perfect, and then it wasn’t, and then it very much was. my god. how did I not see that Tokoyami save coming with all that buildup in hindsight. clearly he saw the fire on page four and was all “oh no! his weakness”

only thing is. it’s yours too, bud. :/ don’t think I’ve forgotten how this all played out during the forest arc. and meanwhile on top of that we’ve got Gigantomachia about to have the rudest of awakenings. goddammit. why is everything so dangerous and so awesome thanks I love it but geez

[delaneytveit]

Satellites Part 14

LOLOL Tumblr really didn’t want me to post this part, first it wouldn’t let me transfer the story, then it completely deleted the post, then it wouldn’t let me copy and paste, then it deleted it again. 

The things I  go through to update on here. 

Well in the original I was super excited to tell you guys that I got a new job but ummm excitement has depleted with this h3llsite’s choice of violence. anywaysss... come say hi to me on twitter! I need new vld friends and also if you’re feeling generous, maybe consider supporting me on ko-fi? 

Twitter - sfw -> @/spacemom_laney | nsfw -> @/15_agentwash

ko-fi - ko-fi.com/delaneym_15

Now lets get back to Lance and the gang! 

(Part 13) (Masterpost) (Part 15) 

It was a few hours before the rest of the team returned. Long after dinner, Keith, Lance and Coran stood on the bridge, ready to welcome the beaten and battered team back.

As much as the three knew about the team’s state, it didn’t dismiss the fact that once they had finally entered the room, they were able to fully relax.

Apparently, the mission had gone well. A good amount of information had been acquired, which though bittersweet for Lance, he felt a swell of pride for his fellow paladins. They had pulled off the mission well.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. His friends had seen where he had been held. Where he had been stripped of himself and put back together. They had seen what had been done to him.

However the longer he heard about the message, the more confused he got. That didn’t sound like a testing facility. It didn’t sound like anything besides a normal ship. That couldn't be right. Project Leo was a research project, an ever going experimentation.

“Hold on, are you sure you went to the right ship?” He asked, interrupting one of Pidge’s rambles.

“Uh, yeah! Don’t you have ears? We literally said that we got the info we needed!” Pidge exclaimed, clearly annoyed.

“Hold on Pidge, let Lance talk.” Lance was grateful for Shiro, statement. As much as he knew Pidge didn’t mean to be cruel, it hurt that she thought she knew more about this project than the literal subject of it.

Pidge huffed, but didn’t say anything else. Instead she along with everyone else looked at Lance expectantly.

“What you’re describing sounds nothing like where I was held. I thought the mission was to infiltrate a testing facility.”

“Hold on, you mean there's more ships?” Keith exclaimed. Of course there were more ships. There’s no way they’d only have one ship, why didn’t anyone even think about that? Keith felt like an idiot and by the look on everyone’s faces, save for Lance, the feeling was shared.

“Well I was held in a testing facility. That was how they were able to do all of the um...experiments.” Lance hated talking about it, but he knew he would have to someday. “So if there was no lab, which you guys definitely would not have been able to miss, then yeah there's more than one ship.”

The team stared at him dumbfounded. No one really knew what to say.

Pidge had been positive that the ship they were infiltrating for the mission was the same one that Lance had been held on. It was clear now heer mistake and she cursed herself for not thinking about it. If Lance had gone with them, he would have known instantly.

“Well, now we know.” Shiro stated simply.

Everyone seemed to agree with that, and the conversation was quickly steered away to focus on the information Pidge and Hunk were able to steal.

Thus began the day of sifting through files.

Shiro had ordered everyone to rest before dinner so that they could talk more about it. They had a lot to work with and apparently a lot more questions to ask Lance.

+

The team was gathered in the lounge room, the sound of various conversations filled the air as Pidge sat on the couch, fully engrossed in her typing. Sure Shiro had said that they needed to rest, the mission wasn’t that hard but it had taken a significant amount of time and it was no doubt that everyone was tired - the Green Paladin could only sit still for so long.

She was searching through some files and attempting to get them translated. It was a long process and she was sure that she would be up until the early hours of the morning and still only have finished half of them.

She was mourning her sleep when a voice startled her. Lance had leaned over, apparently he had questioned what Pidge was doing, though she was too distracted to hear him.

Pidge watched as Lance’s eyes grew wide at the sight on her screen.

“Pidge, are those the files from today?” he asked, the room instantly went quiet.

“I-I was just translating them.” she didn’t know why she was feeling uncomfortable about it, but she did, immensely. Maybe it was the look on Lance’s face, or the unmistakable tenseness of his body.

It was clear his demeanor was seen by everyone as Keith leaned towards the Blue Paladin and placed a hand on his arm. “Lance?”

He took a few more seconds to stare at the screen before pointing at the numbers at the top of the current file.

Subject 7234.

“That’s me.”

+

Pidge had been given the green light to get as much out of the files as possible. She was determined to find out as much as she could out of the information, for Lance’s sake. They needed to know the extent that he went through during his experimentation.

Pidge halted her typing momentarily.

Lance had been experimented on. Her friend, her brother, had gone through this process. Had been treated as nothing more than a lab rat for who knows how long. From the information she had already translated, it was clear that the process was a lengthy one. Lengthy and painful. Lance had been subjected a whole new form of torture for the gain of scientific knowledge.

And he remembered almost all of it.

She didn’t think she would ever get the look on his face out of her mind. The haunted look of realization as he read the numbers. They gave him fucking numbers. Called him by fuckin numbers. They reduced him to those numbers, as if that was all he was.

As if he wasn’t a human being. A person, with a family, dreams, desires.

But none of that mattered to them, and they had made it known.

The more she learned about the process, the more horrified she became. How had Lance endured all of that? How was he still alive?

The next day, the team met on the bridge to discuss Pidge’s findings.

“So, any knews?” Hunk asked. He had been feeling uneasy since the mission. The thought of his best friend having to go through what he did completely alone broke him.

“Well, we know that they were trying to enhance their soldiers. I found out a little bit of their process.” Pidge announced. “Essentially they were testing a serum that enhanced the subject on a genetic level, targeting the DNA specifically.”

“Uhh, Pidge, audience.” Shiro reminded her.

“Right, basically whatever they did, they wanted to make it permanent. So instead of like introducing lab made hormones and stuff, they were making Lance’s genes exhibit extreme versions of themselves.”

Keith had been listening quietly, but something just wasn’t adding up. If he had only paid more attention in biology. “I don’t get it, what exactly did they do?”

Pidge huffed, “Think Captain America, but without the dramatic reveal, and a much, much longer process. The serum at even a low dose would speed up Lance’s genetic metabolism and hormone production to a lethal speed. But too low wouldn’t give any results, so they had to introduce it over time.”

“Over time?” Hunk asked, he had been nervously twiddling and picking at his fingers since the conversation had started.

“Four doses.” It was the first time Lance had spoken that day besides a goodmorning at breakfast. He was sitting on the platform of the consol, his eyes never leaving the floor. “They did four doses over the span of 8 weeks. The first two were separated by five weeks, the last two were only a week apart from each other.”

There was a heavy silence in the room, stretching longer than comfortable but no one seemed able to break it. It seemed that with more answers they only got more questions about the project.

“So, they were trying to make super soldiers, right?” Keith finally asked.

Pidge nodded.

“But something isn’t making sense. If they were trying to enhance their own soldiers, then why use Lance?”

“Why would they test it on their own soldiers?” It was Lance that answered Keith’s question, eyes finally looking up at the group before him. “Think about it, all the other tests failed, why would they risk perfectly good Galra Soldiers.”

“...But yours didn’t.” Keith pointed out.

“It almost.”