#agu: drabble

[callmemana]

All Grown Up:

Summary: The Kazansky and Kerner’s watch their daughters graduate from High School.

🚨warnings🚨: fluff, soft Slider and Iceman moments.

{masterlist 📚} {previous chapter 📎} {next chapter 📖}

In honor of our baby Mousey graduating HS in a few weeks!

It was a hot afternoon in May on the Miramar base that the Kazansky family were currently stationed at.

Ice and Dragon couldn’t be more proud of their daughters as the couple and the Kerner’s sat by one another to watch this big moment in their children’s lives.

The tight friendship between their parents had been carried on to the Kazansky sisters and the Kerner girl.

When both women were told that they had a low chance to have a baby, it pained them to know that they wouldn’t be able to experience the same things as other couples on the base.

But by what seems like a wish upon a shooting star, within a month of each other, Rachael and Jade found out that they were pregnant.

Tom and Ron were very helpful during the pregnancies and tried to be there for every appointment and when the men couldn’t, the women would be each others support systems.

They were all thankful for this day, the girls because they could finally follow in their parents footsteps and join the Navy and the couples because it showed that their babies were growing up.

The girls were all dressed in their official Navy Officer uniforms, hair slicked back in the mandatory bun, and the Navy chords laying on the back of their necks.

Nerves shot up their backs as they waited in the line before walking out to the football stadium that held the awaiting parents.

Baylie Kazansky, the eldest, started the hand holding train with the two other girls behind her. As the leader, she made sure to care for the younger two.

Raven was in the middle and the youngest of the group, the older girls protected her at all cost and wouldn’t let anyone hurt their Mousey.

Last but not least, was Amanda Kerner. The only child of Slider and Whiskey, but saw the Kazansky’s as her second family.

All the girls had ‘graduated’ in the second semester of the school year and gone to bootcamp between then and now.

Today made it official and would get their diplomas that they worked so hard for during the four years of high school they finished.

The music started and the line moved to the door, one by one all the students came outside and sat in order, just like they practiced earlier in the day.

A speech was made by the Salutatorian before the Principal and the Vice Principal made their own.

A moment of silence was announced for the Military members present and who had passed then the Valedictorian made his speech.

More time passed before the Principal started to call the names of students.

As the last of the surnames that started with J’s were called up to the stage, Baylie buzzed with excitement and squeezed Raven’s hand, who in which returned it and did the same to Amanda.

“Baylie Ann Kazansky,” Mr. Simpson called and with one last squeeze, Bay started her walk to the stairs that attached to the stage.

Thinking quickly she jumped in the air on the last step and did a little heel click, a smile on her face after she stuck the landing.

She heard the shouts of her family as she shook her Principal and the Vice Principal’s hand as she held the diploma and the photographer took the picture.

At the end of the stairs stood a junior who handed her a red carnation with a silver ribbon tied in a bow around the stem.

She was just barely to her seat before her sister was called. “Raven Alice Kazansky-Fischer.” Mouse, as her nickname suggests, shyly took the stage and did the same as the many students before her.

Seeing her older sister cause chaos, just like her mother and aunt would’ve done, decided to also do something.

So, with a half-assed plan created, she slid down the bannister and almost fell on her face.

Amanda Kerner was known for being clumsy, often falling over her own feet, so why would today be any different.

“Amanda Louise Kerner.” She stood up and started to make her way to the stage, glancing up into the bleachers to find her family. Once she did, she gave a small smile and held her head up high.

When she was on the last step she missed and almost fell flat on her face, but at the last second saved herself.

Amanda started to laugh and her face heated up a little embarrassed about the whole thing as she walked up to the Principal and copy the hundreds before her.

After she had her carnation in hand, made her way back to her seat as the next student was announced.

The three girls scooted the chairs closer and held hands again, this time their achievements in the other as they all waited for the rest of the students to be called.

Ron and Jade both could see her body move with giggles and her face flushed a light pink as their daughter took the diploma.

Tom lightly smacked Ron’s shoulder as he laughed at his niece.

The Kerner parents have no idea where their daughter’s clumsiness comes from, both steady on land and in air, but they always had a good laugh about it.

Often making jokes and sharing the moments with Tom and Rachael.

Both couples did this with their children and the hilarious memories that would forever be remembered.

It only took seconds before the laughter turned into tears as they cheered or whistled for their children.

Proud was not the word that could describe this experience, because they all felt like that wasn’t the right one to use.

Both couples felt more than proud for their children, but didn’t know if there was a word to explain how much.

After the last student was called, another speech was made and then the Principal said the sentence that the girls and the couples were waiting for, “Please give a round of applause for the graduating class of 2017! You may move the tassel from the right to the left!”

One by one starting from the closest to the stage, all the lines of students started to exit and were free to find their families.

Ron, being the tall giraffe man that he is, spotted the girls first and guided the others to the recent graduates.

He didn’t wait for his daughter to see him, immediately pulling her into a bear hug and squeezing tighter when he feels her jump, a chuckle vibrates through his chest.

He knows that she realizes who it is after the chuckle, and turns around in his arms to hug him back.

Jade joins not too long afterwards, wanting the father and daughter to have a moment just for them.

Soon Ron lets go for the same reason as his wife, a special moment shared between a mother and a daughter.

More tears are shed as the embrace continues before Jade eventually brakes it, too choked up for words.

Ron stands in front of his little baby, tears gathering at his eyes as he looks at her in the Navy Dress Blues and sees a younger version of her mother.

He lightly punches her chin and whispers, “Here’s looking at you kid.” Amanda sniffles, tears threatening to fall again as she softly punches his chest, “Here’s looking at you dad.”

Ron pulls her into another hug, wanting this moment to freeze in time.

The Kazansky’s are too lost in their own little world to pay attention to the Kerner’s.

Baylie, the daddy’s girl she is, runs to Tom first. His callsign might be ‘Iceman’ but right now, his ice cold persona is gone for his beautiful daughters.

He pulls away slightly and kisses her forehead, “Come home to me, Bay.”

Baylie reaches up to her father’s forehead barely in her tippy-toes, gives him a soft head-butt and whispers back, “Always.”

He doesn’t stop the tears, nor would he want to. Both crying freely as they hug each other tight.

“You’re tarnishing the Iceman name, you know.” She chuckles.

“Right now Bay, I could care less about that, not while I have you in my arms.”

A short amount of time passes before Raven is in his arms.

“Keep me in your heart,” Tom murmurs into her hair.

“Keep me in your mind,” Raven replied into his chest as she squeezed him impossibly tight, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He doesn’t want to ever let go, so blessed to have a moment like this to share and remember as the years go by.

He never thought he’d get to experience his children’s birth, so he was beyond happy to see them graduate.

Rachael lays her cheek against Raven’s head as the two hug, tears falling from her eyes to the young woman’s hair.

Raven was in no better shape than her mother, tears running down her face as they hugged.

After a couple of minutes went by, seeing that Bay and Tom were finishing their little father-daughter moment, she reluctantly let go. “I’m beyond proud of you my little Mouse.” “I’m proud to be your daughter, biological or not.”

Rachael couldn’t hold the gates and started to cry again, but soon was hugged by her eldest. “You know that we’ll always be your little girls right?”

Rachael petted Bay’s hair, followed by a kiss, “I know, I know. It’s just hard to believe that our babies are so grown up.”

Bay didn’t respond, just squeezed her tighter. All the words needed exchanged between them through the embrace.

The memory etched into her minds eye forever.

Individual family moments over, the two families came together and celebrated the girls’ graduation with hugs and ‘I’m so proud of you’s.’

They all took turns taking pictures of each families before asking someone passing by to take a group.

With that done, they all hopped into their cars and headed over to Top Gun where their Aunts and Uncles were gathered and ready to see the Graduates.

When they arrived they were all bombarded with open arms, food and drinks, and ‘congratulations!’

The girls could tell by the warmth and smiles that these strong and brave men and women they’ve known their whole lives were just as proud as their parents.

The girls knew that their support system was always going to be there for every accomplishment they go through and couldn’t be more happy by that fact.

And as the years go by, more and more memories were created and photographed so they could all look back and relive the moments and the feelings they all shared.

Birdie’s Basket🧺: @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @starlit-epiphany @gracespicybradshaw

🏷️ list:

[deepinsideyourbeing]

- Lista I/Lista II de Drabbles

- KINKTOBER

- Solstice Tales

Alfonsina Carrocio:

- Puntos Finales

Enzo Vogrincic:

- Movie Night

- Rum on a Fire

- He calls me the Devil

- Con toda devoción

- Tiempo

- No te alejes tanto de mí

- Delirio de Condenados

- Far Too Gone

- Good Occasions

- Into Your Arms

- Creep

- Until the Ribbon Breaks

- Sub!Enzo HCs de @mintmoon456

Esteban Kukuriczka:

- Standing in the light of your halo

- Ray of Sun

- Lejos del Sol

- Insaciable de @moviestarmartini

Felipe Otaño:

- Fuera de Foco

Matías Recalt:

- Una condena agradable

- Con toda devoción

- Delirio de Condenados

- (Des)Horas

Santiago Vaca Narvaja:

- Delirio de Condenados

- Golden Slumbers

Drabbles:

#Letters to Agus

#Letters to Enzo

#Letters to Fer

#Letters to Fran

#Letters to Juani

#Letters to Kuku

#Letters to Mati

#Letters to Pipe

#Letters to Santi

#Letters to Simón

#Letters to Sina

[cloudypinkblink]

Coughs I just felt like doodling Masaru. Dudes on my head 24/7

Also trying to get better with drawing Digimon LMAOOO I’ve never been a very good animal/creature artist so I struggle a bit! Def did use refs for those agu doodles <3

Sorry I’m dead; working full time plus insecurity LMAO I hide away in discord.

But I’m gonna push myself to start writing drabbles bc I love Masaru sm.

Also the doodle of him and Chika bc 1.) fall is upon us 2.) I love them sm

[jinmindeulle]

i have some more drabbles to post before starting a longer work and i need an answer to this question:

you can also send ideas if you have some over the asks! i want to expand my portfolio hehe

(I vote just to see results earlier)

—agus 💕

[adropofgoldenrachelx]

No Show - A Thread: Part One

Summary: Rachel has been a no show for a while and Toulouse shows up at her door to find out what’s going down. She tells him her story, and why she’s been hauled up inside for a week. It’s kinda sad but also it’s cute and we’re not sorry. Reply order: Rachel, Toulouse (blockquotes).

Featuring: Rachel and @beaumont-ague , Mom (Arianna) and Dad (Fredrick). Also guest appearance from Dad’s Moustache.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of panic attacks, flashbacks, references to past trauma as with the drabble.

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It wasn’t like Rachel to choose not to go to her classes. She hadn’t missed a single day (except for three days where she was overcome with an unfortunate flu and forced to stay in her bed) since enrollment, and by every intention she wouldn’t miss another. College had been a grand milestone in her life, after finding her freedom and spending her first two years in an intense schooling program to bring her up to the standard (or as close to) of her peers. It hadn’t been easy, given what they were working with, but she worked her butt off and was finally allowed to enrol in Redwood College when she received her high school diploma. Rachel loved learning, so much so that, after finding enough courage, she would sneak into the back of lecture halls she wasn’t enrolled for just so she could learn as much as humanly possible.

So, for Rachel to be missing from class for a day, two days, a week was strange.

She hadn’t told anyone she wouldn’t be there. It hadn’t been planned, but she had lost so much sleep lately that she slept in for her morning lecture, and then couldn’t face showing up late in the afternoon. It spiralled from there, and now here she was, cooped up in her bedroom a week later wishing she wasn’t. Artist Block she would say, all the while painting away at the mural on her bedroom wall.

It was Rachel’s father, Frederick, who answered the door. He was an imposing figure, moustached for the gods and flaunting a raised brow at the young man who had knocked looking for his daughter.

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse didn’t really pay attention to who he saw and who he didn’t see around campus on a daily basis. Actually, he never really paid all that much attention to anything on campus, let alone people. He was always in his own world, rushing to classes or trying to get inspiration for a new piece. However, one person that he knew for sure he hadn’t seen in a few days was Rachel. At first, it hadn’t dawned on him that he didn’t see her for a few days. What gave it away, was the fact that he’d delivered his latest gift to her for their gift exchange, he hadn’t received one back. Even if they’d only known each other a short period of time, it just didn’t seem to be in character for her to up and quit. At least not without an explanation.

Of course, that wasn’t why he was worried or upset. He didn’t mind that she hadn’t given him a gift. In fact, he did feel slightly guilty for enjoying that he was currently winning. The lack of gifts in their exchange had simply alerted him to the fact that he hadn’t seen her recently, prompting him to ask around. Rachel was fairly popular. Of course she was, he thought to himself as he’d gotten plenty of answers when asking for her around campus. Toulouse had managed to get her address, and fortunately someone was nice enough to tip him off that her parents could be sort of… strict. How strict, he hadn’t known, but he thought it better to make a decent impression than show up in his sweatshirt and joggers that he’d been wearing to class. Substituting them for a polo with some slacks and loafers was a much better choice. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t take pride in his appearance, he really did. But, it was to be expected of a college kid to just want to get through class, and really, he didn’t have that many people to impress. Throwing on a watch and trying to comb his unruly mess of hair before leaving, Toulouse made sure to bring his phone and one of his rings, which he often used as a fidget toy. He didn’t suspect he’d need it, but it wouldn’t hurt to have it along. When he’d arrived at Rachel’s address -at least, he hoped it was the correct address- he was met by a rather tall man with an even more intimidating mustache. This was where his proper etiquette would come in handy. 

“Hi Sir,” he greeted the man politely with confidence. “My name is Toulouse Beaumont, I go to school with your daughter. Some of us were worried when we realized we hadn’t seen her around the campus in a few days, and were hoping to see that she was alright. I also had some assignments to drop off for her, if that’s alright?” Holding out a small stack of papers, only the top was a legitimate assignment. The rest were ones he’d made up, copying previous lesson plans he’d seen or received. Of course, no one else would know that without a very close inspection. “One we’re supposed to work on together, actually,” he added quickly after, to strengthen the chance he might get to actually see Rachel. Her father could very easily just take the papers and ask him to leave, which he had prepared for, though he was optimistic. 

—————————————————————————————————

Frederick could hardly help himself from vetting everyone that came within a ten mile radius of Rachel and their home, and had no intention of being any less intimidating when Toulouse introduced himself politely, or explained the reason for his visit. “Rachel is doing perfectly fine,” he answered, offering no further explanation to her current plight. It was none of this young man’s business, after all. “I’ll pass the a--” Frederick was soon interrupted.

Rachel’s mom had been in the sitting room reading, but emerged behind her husband shortly after Toulouse introduced himself. Arianna was a touch more savvy than her husband (though not any less protective) and knew that it was important for Rachel to still see her friends. She recognised his name after Rachel had come home from the festival gushing about paper flowers and cupcakes. Arianna didn’t have to say much to Frederick -a cough and a lifted brow was enough- before he stepped out of the doorframe begrudgingly.

“Rachel’s in her room,” Arianna offered, gesturing to the foot of the stairs. It was important to her that Rachel was treated like everyone else, and if that meant letting her friends in to see her, then so be it. The young man didn’t seem like he would hurt a fly anyway and Arianna was sure her daughter wouldn’t want to miss out on too much work. “You can head up, but knock on her door first. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll pass the assignment on for you.”

Rachel was still occupied by her painting, huddled under a quilt on the floor like she was turning into a human tent. She wasn’t sure how long she had been trying to mix this very specific shade of coral, but she had every intention of keeping at it, humming and singing and mumbling to herself to pass the time and fill the silence.

Had she any inkling that Toulouse might appear, she would have made herself look slightly more presentable, maybe even tidying up her paints and forty other hobbies and projects she had been occupying her hands (and her mind with) over the week.

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse was never that great at talking to older men, and he knew the exact reason why, but he didn’t feel the need to disclose that at the moment. Fathers and father figures just weren’t a comfortable subject for him. Mothers, on the other hand, were different. He knew how to win over the heart of a mother figure. If it weren’t for Rachel’s mother sitting in the other room, he was sure that he would have to go back to his dorm and try to figure out a different way to speak to Rachel. Thank god for that, as she quickly stepped in to allow him into their home. 

With a grateful smile, Toulouse gave her a wave. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. I promise I won’t overstay my welcome.” If Rachel didn’t want company, he’d leave willingly. Still, it didn’t hurt to try, right? He mainly was just glad to hear that she was alright. Toulouse hadn’t completely lied when he said there was something that the both of them were meant to work on. It just wasn’t an official assignment. Rather, something to cheer her up. That was of course, permitted that she wanted to be seen. 

Taking the stairs up to the second floor, Toulouse took a guess at where Rachel’s room would be, and was just about to knock when he heard soft humming on the other side. Definitely her room, then, he thought to himself. His hand had been raised, ready to knock, though it slowly lowered as he listened to her sing more. She sounded nice, better than most people who casually sang to themselves. It may have been a selfish move, but rather than announce his presence, he stayed for a moment and just enjoyed her singing, eventually joining in subconsciously as he leaned up against the wall. 

—————————————————————————————————

Arianna offered Toulouse a sweet smile, all the while side-eyeing her husband who had puffed up his chest and was acting a little miffed. She would have a gentle word with him later, but for now they would leave Toulouse to it. Rachel’s room wasn’t terribly hard to locate, as she had started painting her door with some pretty flowers (fully intending on moving on to every door in the house when she had the time for it). 

Rachel continued to sing, none the wiser to the listening ear at her door. She liked to sing, finding it a pleasant way to fill silence. She sang in the studio sometimes, and she sang in the shower, and when she was making breakfast. It was a comfortable past-time. Of course, she didn’t always have an audience (a visible one anyway) and so the faint voice from the hallway, matching her song, caught her off guard. Dad didn’t sing (and the voice wasn’t deep enough to be Dad’s if he did). After a short continuation, to make sure she wasn’t going completely loopy and making up harmonies in her head, Rachel’s singing fizzled out.

There was a brief panic that her parents had left the house, and someone had broken into her house. (That had happened before, it wasn’t a wild conclusion to draw.) With her quilt still draped over her shoulders, Rachel grabbed the first thing at hand (thankfully not a frying pan) and crept toward her bedroom door, opening it just enough that she could see who was standing on the other side and close it swiftly if she had to.

It was a surprise (a pleasant one) to find Toulouse leaning on the wall outside her room, a stack of papers in hand (and an equally pleasant look on his face.)

Oh no. Oh no, the room is a mess! My hair is a mess! I’m holding a weapon! He’s gonna think I’m a weirdo!!!

There was no time to fix anything, so all she could do was stare dumbfounded from behind her door frame. “Hi…” Rachel managed, throwing on the closest thing she could find to a cheery smile. Should she bring up the singing thing? It was kinda cute… No, no that would be peak weirdo, he obviously didn’t know she could hear him, right..? She went for the safe option. Or rather, the obvious question that anyone who wasn’t totally freaking out right now would ask. “Uh… Come here often?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the right one. 

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse wasn’t sure how long he would wait before knocking on the door. He was preoccupied listening to her sing, which was probably weird, in hindsight, but he’d deal with those consequences later. Sure enough, later came quickly, and Rachel was opening the door faster than Toulouse expected her too. Maybe he was singing a bit louder than he thought, since it seemed a little too coincidental that she would be leaving her room at that moment. 

He made no comments about her appearance, or the fact that she was only looking at him through a crack in her bedroom door. “No, actually. Not yet, at least,” Toulouse responded to her question with a chuckle. “Actually, I’m sort of surprised I made it this far. Remind me to thank your mom later.” Clearly Rachel wasn’t expecting company, and he could understand why. Anyone who knocked on the door would have likely been greeted by Mr. Moustachio, potentially with a scripted list of questions before being turned away. He wasn’t rude, just... stern, from the impression Toulouse gathered. 

It was at that moment that his eyes lowered a bit to an object that Rachel was holding in her hand. Pointing to it hesitantly, Toulouse furrowed his brows before asking, “Is that… is that a lamp?” The amount of effort it took for him to keep a straight face was almost painstaking, a smile creeping onto his face as he tried not to laugh. He sort of understood, afterall, given that he’d just been standing outside her room with no warning. “Maybe we ought to plug that in, yeah? It’d be a bit hard to read these in the dark.” He gestured to the papers in his hand. 

Mentioning the assignments was mainly so that in case her father was listening to their conversation downstairs, his story would ring true. While he didn’t want to invite himself into Rachel’s room, as that was sort of a private matter, the suggestion of plugging in the lamp and going over the papers implied that it might be easier to do so somewhere other than the hallway. 

—————————————————————————————————

Rachel was kicking herself for her awkwardness, though Toulouse seemed to take her stupid question in his stride. It had hardly occurred to her that Toulouse would have knocked the front door, and that Dad would have answered it. He meant well, Rachel knew, but she wished he was less stubborn sometimes. “Oh, you made it past Dad,” she laughed apologetically. “Sorry about him, he’s kind of… He means well.”

Rachel grimaced, glancing down at the lamp in hand. What on earth was she thinking? That a lamp could save her butt? She floundered for a reasonable explanation as to why she brought a lamp with her to greet a guest at the door. “... Yes… Yes, this is a lamp. I was just-- It needed… dusting...” Yeah, that could work. She was going to dust it! The reality was Rachel was jumpy, but there was no chance she was going to explain that right now.

Wildly embarrassed at sporting the lamp, but deciding hiding behind the door was only making it worse, Rachel opened the door just enough to invite Toulouse in, still hiding behind the door itself. Now that she knew she wouldn’t have to use the lamp on him, it seemed silly to leave him standing out in the hallway. “Sorry,” Rachel laughed quietly. “Uh, you can come in just-- Ignore the mess?”

By Rachel standards, the room was a bombsite but it wasn’t nearly as messy as she thought it was. Everything had a place, and she tidied every morning when she woke up to make sure nothing was amiss. There were paints and a few sketchbooks dotted around the floor that she had been using, and a half eaten plate of cookies on her dresser as well as a few odds and ends not in their proper home. (Notably, the paper flowers Toulouse had given her at the Hootenanny had a special place on the centre of her bookcase, inside a tiny vase, and the other gifts from their competition were set out neatly on her desk by the window.) By any other standards, her room was perfectly fine but she scurried to place the lamp back where it belonged and then set about moving a few things to make the place seem more presentable.

—————————————————————————————————

This was probably the first time that Toulouse got to see Rachel’s awkward side. It was a nice change of pace, really, though he wouldn’t dare say that out loud. No, he would keep that to himself for his own enjoyment. “I can tell. It’s alright, seriously. I’d probably be a little weary too about some strange kid showing up at my doorstep.” Giving a shrug, he looked back at her with a playful grin. 

Did he believe the lie? Of course not. Did he pretend to? Yes, yes he did. “Makes sense. I usually forget to dust my lamps, but you know, too much dust could be a fire hazard. Good on you for being proactive.” Toulouse was grateful for the invitation inside, slipping past the door. Truthfully, he was pretty curious to see what her room was like. Toulouse always thought that a person’s bedroom was another outward expression of themselves, and to be invited into one was a rather intimate matter in a different way than most people would associate it. He liked his space, and only if he fully trusted someone would he ever let them into his room back home. At school, it was slightly different, but still, he liked to control who was and was not allowed to see certain things.

Immediately, he started to look around, not at the so-called mess that Rachel tried to get him to ignore, but all of the things that made this Rachel’s room. Besides, it was hardly messy at all. He noticed the paper flowers that he had gotten her, which made him smile, perhaps even more than seeing all of their little knick knacks from their gift exchange going on. Then, he noticed that Rachel was fussing about, trying to clean and organize what she likely saw as the mess she’d left behind, not thinking anyone would be over. “You don’t have to do all of that. Trust me, my room is five times messier than this when I’m home for longer than the weekend. I’ve seen far worse,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood before bringing up the serious topic. “Sorry I didn’t say anything before showing up. But, since you never returned the gift I gave you last time, I just had to come find out your excuse.” 

His words were light, and playful, and much better at bringing up the subject of Rachel’s absence than flat out asking her why she hadn’t been at school recently. It must have been a good reason, considering it wasn’t like her to skip, from what he knew about her, and the fact that she looked hesitant and possibly even scared to open her door. 

—————————————————————————————————

It seemed her Father was weary of anyone that showed up at the door looking for Rachel, whether they were rough and tumble or not, but she couldn’t blame him for it, given circumstances. Of course, Toulouse didn’t know the circumstances. Maybe if none of this had happened Toulouse could have waltzed right in. “I did tell him about you, a little, but there’s not much convincing him everyone is fine.”

She glanced at the lamp, giving it a quick dust (partly to prove the lie, mostly because Toulouse was totally right and she didn’t want the curtains catching fire.) “Yeah, it’s always the last thing to get cleaned, I guess.“ Despite the insistence that she didn’t have to tidy up, Rachel continued to do so anyway, putting things back where they were supposed to be, with the exception of the paints that she intended on using to work on her mural after Toulouse left again. If anything, it was nerves. Something to keep herself occupied with that didn’t involve any anxious tugging at her hair (her tell). Usually she was better practiced in hiding all of her messy feelings, except for those who knew her, but she wasn’t having much luck today. “At least let me clear you a seat,” Rachel insisted, lifting a few cushions to give them a good fluff before she plopped them down at the bottom of her bed. She didn’t have guests over very often, and her desk chair wasn’t the most comfortable. Cass always sat on her bed when she visited, so it didn’t seem strange to think Toulouse could do the same.

Rachel gasped with the realisation that, in cooping herself up, she had forgotten all about Toulouse’s gift. So much so that she hadn’t even thought about making it yet. Immediately, she jumped to the conclusion that he must think she was a terrible friend for not keeping the exchange going and then saying nothing to him all week. That was textbook bad friend, right? “Oh no! I-- Sorry! I forgot all about it and I haven’t made it yet but I promise I’ll return it by, like, Tuesday.”

(Toulouse, well-intentioned though he was, had picked a bad week to visit.)

“It’s just that it’s been kind of a weird week and I got… artist’s block and stuff and it went totally out of my head.”

—————————————————————————————————

It came as a bit of a shock to hear Rachel admit that she told her parents about him. Surely that was normal though, wasn’t it? To talk about your friends to your parents? Toulouse never really understood those parents who had known their children's friends for years and yet still couldn’t be bothered to remember their names. He hoped that if he were ever to become one that he wouldn’t be one of those. “Maybe he’ll warm up in time,” the blond shrugged. Not that Toulouse was planning on coming over every day, as that was a bit excessive to think about now, but still he’d hoped to spend more time with Rachel in the future, thus meaning eventually they’d probably come round each other’s homes more often. His mother would definitely be more than willing to have her over. 

Something was definitely wrong. Over the years, Toulouse had been able to pick up on habits that people tended to develop under stress or trauma, and this was giving him flashbacks. Clearly Rachel was bothered by something, and though he wanted to be there to listen to it, he also didn’t want to force her to talk about something she didn’t want to. Clearing them spaces to sit was fair enough, so he didn’t object. Before sitting down, Toulouse took his shoes off so as to not get anything dirty. 

Unfortunately for Toulouse, Rachel must have been too focused in her manic cleaning spree and overthinking that she didn’t understand he’d meant to go about it in a light hearted way. That wasn’t what he cared about, really, but he wanted Rachel to open up on her own terms. “Hey, hey, it’s fine, Rachel, really.” Anything he said however was going in one ear and out the other as Rachel continued to ramble. Finally, Toulouse just reached forward and grabbed her hands, squeezing them to get her attention. “It’s fine. I’m not worried about the gift, or how long it takes, really. Don’t fuss over it. I’ll survive another week, I’m sure,” he smiled softly, shaking his head to reassure her that he didn’t need it right there and then. 

Letting her hands go, Toulouse put them by his sides as he scooted further back onto the bed. “Everyone gets artists’ block now and then, no need to stress about it. I just meant that you haven’t been around, recently. Is everything ok?”

—————————————————————————————————

"I hope so," Rachel replied casually, truly hoping her Dad would relax a little more around any of her friends. He seemed to like Cass well enough, but Rachel guessed that was mostly because of her job. She didn't invite many other friends over, but that was mostly because she preferred spending as little time indoors as she could. Still, it would have been nice if Dad's moustache didn't turn upside down whenever he was greeted with a new guest.

Rachel was trying very hard to remain as chill as possible, and keep the freaking out to a bare minimum. Usually she was better at hiding her worry than this, or she thought so at least (but there was a lot to unpack with that, which was another thing Rachel didn't need to completely spiral over). Her smile was still genuine, thankful for the company that Toulouse offered, but it didn't quite hit her eyes in the usual sunny way. 

It felt a little like she was walking in circles, moving things here and there that didn't need to be moved and she would have kept at it had Toulouse not taken her hands, catching her off guard and stopping her in her tracks. Rachel had jumped to so many conclusions in a minute that now she felt all kinds of silly for worrying over nothing. The squeeze of their hands was just enough to halt that worry. "Are you sure..?" Rachel asked quietly, just to be totally one hundred percent sure that he wasn't actually upset about the gift thing.

It was an instinct to twist the ends of a lock of hair when he let go, rapping it absently around her fingers as she sighed onto the free space on the bed. She didn't think anyone would notice her absence enough to wonder where she was, let alone come to check up on her. Rachel hesitated too long to reasonably answer yes to Toulouse's concern. Artist block wouldn't cut it. Would a proper explanation do any better though? Rachel wasn't sure what she could even say without the risk of Toulouse freaking out too.

"I've been worse?" Rachel admitted finally, a grimace masked by a bashful laugh. "It's… hard to explain. I didn't think anyone would notice I was gone, I'll be honest. I just… I mean, I wanted to go to class but I just couldn't, I guess. I don't know." 

—————————————————————————————————

As someone who was used to having his own difficulties with anxiety, Toulouse understood that Rachel was probably just acting on those impulses, which was why he didn’t try harder to stop her from running about and cleaning. Sometimes you just had to get it out of your system, and he understood that. Control what you could, and confront what you couldn’t. Only, it was the confronting part that he was worried about for her. Had she even taken the time to sit down and process why she had been missing classes? He didn’t know the reason himself, but he hoped that she did, and would understand why that was.

Grateful that catching her hands seemed to calm her down at least a little bit, he nodded casually with a smile. “Absolutely. Besides, you know you never even had to get me one in the first place. I haven’t been expecting any of the ones you’ve given so far. Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d give up one day, ‘cause that’d mean that I won,” he teased, laughing as she sat down on the bed.

Anything was hard to explain when it came with emotional baggage. Toulouse was sure that he could handle it, though, after years of practice. “Try me. I bet you I’ve heard stranger stories.” When she mentioned not assuming anyone would notice she was gone, however, Toulouse took that a bit personally. He didn’t show it of course, but the personal offence was only because he really didn’t think Rachel was being as kind to herself as she could be. “How could someone not? I mean, you’re probably one of the most outgoing people who go to that school. It’d be stupid for no one to notice.”

Laying down on his side, Toulouse propped himself up onto his elbow, his gaze softening as he looked to her to continue speaking. He wanted to know as much as she would tell him, but didn’t push too far. “That’s understandable, I mean sometimes we all need a break to deal with emotional things. Do you think talking about it might help? I’m a great listener, if I do say so myself,” he humbly bragged, trying to get her to smile. 

“Or, if you’d prefer, I can ask you questions completely unrelated to any of that, and try to take your mind off of it? I have the perfect one to start,” Toulouse assured. “For example…” His facial expression suddenly got quite serious, leaning in slightly toward her as if to tell her some sort of precious secret. “How long did it take your dad to grow that moustache?” He couldn’t even keep a straight face as he nearly burst into laughter, shaking his head. “But really, I have to know! It’s quite impressive.��

—————————————————————————————————

Glad that Toulouse wasn’t fussed about the gift, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. It was one less thing to worry about. That being said, there was no way she was not going to give him a gift at some point just because she was feeling down. It was a competition, after all. Rachel wasn’t a quitter. “Sorry, you haven’t won yet. This is just a momentary interlude.”

“Trust me, you really haven’t…” Rachel insisted through an awkward laugh, running her fingers through her hair. She would be willing to put a bet on it, actually. If it wasn’t her own story, she would have thought the whole kidnapped as a baby, raised by a fake ‘Mother’ in isolation for nineteen years, then rescued by some dude who eventually abandoned you and became your art teacher four years later all while coming out relatively unscathed thing was totally made up. Truthfully, it had been suggested to Rachel that she didn’t bring it up as flippantly as she had done when she was first introduced to the outside world and now she wasn’t really sure if she should bring it up ever. She said nothing to the fact that people might actually notice if she was gone, shrugging it off to avoid arguing another case against herself.

“I’m not sure if I should,” Rachel admitted meekly. It might not do any harm, or it could tarnish Flynn’s newfound reputation. Rachel held her breath when Toulouse leaned in like he was about to tell her a secret, and snorted a laugh when his question came. It was a totally unexpected one. “He does have a very impressive moustache, doesn’t he?” Rachel nodded, relaxing just enough to keep laughing. “He’s had it as long as I’ve known him. I think he even had the moustache on his wedding day.”

A distraction would have been welcome, but it also could have been part of the problem. Everything previously scattered around her room had been a distraction, as was the current patch of wet paint on the wall, and the five batches of cookies she had baked for everyone at the precinct, and everything else she had done until she couldn’t take it any longer. Rachel desperately wanted the distraction Toulouse was bringing in making her laugh -Cass would have insisted she face the problem head on instead- but if Toulouse had any intention of sticking around, it made sense that he would have to know what was going on.

Rachel hesitated for a moment, looking rather serious as she looked for any sign that Toulouse would nope on out of the conversation the moment he realised just how much baggage she was about to unload on him. He seemed trustworthy enough, but that kind of thinking had gotten her burned before. “Can I trust you?” she asked. It seemed the simplest way of knowing. She didn’t think he would lie. “I mean, I probably should actually tell you some things if we’re going to be friends and all that but if I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out.”

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse had to admit by now that he was curious. What could be so mind boggling that Rachel seemed to think he would find her crazy. He had his own fucked up past, sure, and knew very well that most people did. For whatever reason that just didn’t seem to fit Rachel’s personality. For someone so nice to have such dark secrets… it was both scary and intriguing. “Hey, I understand. Trust me, I won’t take it personally if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t want to make you talk about it.” 

Hearing Rachel laugh was possible one of the best sounds he’d ever heard. The worrying after not seeing her for a week or so had been dialed down once he made it past her front step, but making her laugh made it worth the concern. “Do you think it takes a lot of effort to keep it looking so nice? I mean, one could only imagine,” he continued, chuckling to himself as they joked around. The joking didn’t last forever though, and by the expression change on Rachel’s face, he wondered if she was going to start opening up more. 

Had Rachel not looked so serious, Toulouse might have answered somewhat sarcastically. But with Rachel, his sarcasm meter was usually lower anyway. So instead, he gave her a reassuring nod. “Of course. I trust you, so I hope you would be able to trust me. Here, give me your pinky.” Toulouse shifted closer to her, sitting upright on the bed with his own pinky extended. “Have you ever heard of a pinky promise? They can never be broken, so that means they’re extra special,” he explained with a smile.

Toulouse took his pinky promises very seriously. Hopefully Rachel would too, since this was the best way that he could think of to ensure she trusted him. “You should never make a pinky promise if you plan on going back on your word. So, I’m going to pinky promise to you, that whatever you tell me, anything at all, whether it be that you have an evil twin, or like… you hate coffee or something ridiculous,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Whatever it is, I pinky promise I won’t freak out, and that you can trust me with anything.” 

—————————————————————————————————

“Don’t tell him I told you, but he spends ages in the bathroom preening it.” A sincere smile swept Rachel’s features as she looped Toulouse’s pinky around her own. Rachel never broke a promise. She liked having a signifier of trust here. “Thank you,” she replied gently and could only hope he meant it.

Rachel took a deep breath; it was mostly to steady herself, but it was also a preparation for the long, rambling story she was about to tell. She supposed the best way to go about telling the story was to just let it all out in one fell swoop. The quicker it was out, the quicker it was done and the quicker Rachel could shrug it all off like none of this was really that big of a deal. 

“Okay, so,” she began, pushing her hair back from her face. Just rip the bandaid off. “I’m a-- I was a Milk Carton Kid. I was kidnapped when I was a baby, and raised by a woman who I thought was my mother. She homeschooled me, sort of, and said that there were people out there-- out here-- that would want to hurt me, or steal me. That I had to stay inside the house, with her, so she could protect me.”

Rachel took a pause, glancing carefully at Toulouse. Any sign of a freak out and she would end her story there. It had been the easy part for Rachel to tell, but it also happened to be the part of the story that made most people uncomfortable. Still, Toulouse promised not to freak out, and Rachel was going to hold him to it. She went on but her stomach was starting to turn itself in knots again, and the fingers through her hair found a lock to tug at.

“‘Mother’ was the only person I knew for my whole life, and she never let me-- I never-- I thought everything outside of my home was dangerous and scary, and that the ruffians and thugs would probably get me. I had thought about asking her to take me to see the lights for my birthday a few times, but something always came up so we never did… Um, but anyway, one day when ‘Mother’ was gone someone broke into our house, not realising I was in there, and I obviously totally freaked out and hit him with my frying pan because I’d never seen a grown man before.” 

(At this, Rachel hoped Toulouse had forgotten about the lamp.) 

“When he woke back up… I asked him to take me with him. I wanted to see the lights on my birthday, and he agreed to take me there and bring me back in one piece.”

Here, Rachel hesitated. She had lost so much sleep in the past few weeks over the next part of the story that she could feel the knots tightening, and her eyes starting to sting at the corners. That would surely be enough for Toulouse to process for a moment while she swallowed the horrible feeling.

—————————————————————————————————

When Rachel started to tell her story, Toulouse used all of his focus to make sure he was giving her his undivided attention. He could tell as soon as she started that it was a very emotional story. What he didn’t expect however was just how traumatizing it was going to be. Not wanting to be disrespectful by interrupting, Toulouse let her get everything out, hoping it would help her from stopping and creating awkward silences. Watching her body language, it was obvious that the topic was uncomfortable to talk about. For that, he commended her greatly. 

As soon as she did pause, Toulouse jumped into the conversation so that she wouldn’t feel embarrassed. He had promised not to freak out, and though all of this was pretty freak out worthy, he wasn’t going to break his promise. “Wow… so you’ve only really been home for a few years? That’s… well, I couldn’t even imagine.” For Toulouse, his family meant everything. To think that Rachel was raised from such a young age to find out that her mother was just some deranged lady who’d kidnapped her? He wouldn’t have known how he’d react. No wonder she was having so many emotions the past week. Not to mention she’d robbed Rachel of things like basic human knowledge. To have never seen a grown man before sounded almost impossible. 

“So… you saw them, then? And what happened after that? I mean, obviously you found your parents eventually.” Toulouse could see she was hesitant to continue. Pausing for a moment, he shifted his positioning on the bed to get more comfortable and turned to her. “You don’t have to keep going, if you don’t want to. It’s just- I know what it’s like. To you know, go through something pretty traumatic.” He didn’t want to unload all of his trauma on her, especially not when this was supposed to be a safe time and place for her to tell him what was on her mind. Rachel deserved to tell her story with no judgement and no diversions. 

—————————————————————————————————

“Four years this month,” Rachel admitted quietly, a strange melancholy lingering in her chest. It felt like much longer, and somehow like no time had passed at all. Until recently, Rachel thought she had been doing just fine settling in. She had been doing just fine. No one had counted on her past bumping into her on the streets. Rachel didn’t expect Toulouse to understand what any of this had been like. Hell, she hardly expected him to believe her at all, what with how outlandish it must have sounded. But he hadn’t ran yet, and he hadn’t freaked out, like he promised. For that Rachel was thankful. So for all it was uncomfortable, she thought it was best to continue and leave nothing up to speculation.

“I did see the lights...” she replied, watching Toulouse carefully as he shifted on the bed. For the most part, Rachel had kept herself rather close, a knee pulled up to her chest, a comforting arm around it. There was an ever present twisting of her hair. She took another pause from her story to offer Toulouse a genuine, heartfelt smile, finding some sort of comfort in his reassurance. “Thank you, Toulouse…”

Determined not to hesitate again, Rachel buried her discomfort and went on. “It gets kind of complicated after that. Or more complicated, I guess. After we saw the lights, Fl-- the man was supposed to take me home, but he didn’t. He, uh… He brought me here, to Redwood Hollow instead. He left me at the Police Station without an explanation and I thought I would never see him again.”

“I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know who I was, didn’t know I was missing. My birthday wasn’t even my real birthday. And suddenly they were asking all these questions, trying to get me to prove that I was this missing kid and before I knew it I was meeting my real parents and testifying against ‘Mother’ in court even though I barely knew what she had done wrong. Then they realised that I knew literally nothing, and I had to go on this schooling program just so I could maybe go to college one day…”

Of course, this explained a few things, but she didn’t think it explained why she had been skipping class, and at that thought the tears sprung from her eyes. “Sorry… This is definitely not what you signed up for.”

—————————————————————————————————

Four years. Four years! Toulouse couldn’t even imagine being away from home for one let alone four. Then again, Rachel hadn’t even known that the home she was living in wasn’t home. She hadn’t suspected anything at all until that day, and even then, she had no clue what was going on. Toulouse’s head was spinning as she told the story, it getting wilder and more complicated as she told it. Honestly, he wasn’t shocked that she remembered it all, but he was surprised that she was willing to tell it. 

“Wait, so if you really had no idea that you weren’t with your actual mother until this man showed up, did he recognize you? You know… after he regained consciousness,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I mean, it’s good and all that you weren’t hurt, but that part is sort of suspicious that he would just agree to take you somewhere. Especially since he broke into the house not knowing you were there.” 

It was definitely a lot to unpack. Toulouse had a hard time imagining Rachel trying to process it all back then, especially since it must have been one hell of a shock. “I mean, I signed up to listen, didn’t I?” He reassured her. After a moment, he shook his head though. “Damn… I mean, I just can’t imagine what that must have felt like.” Running a hand through his hair, Toulouse sighed, looking back at Rachel. “I’m guessing there’s more, though, right? I mean, if that was all the past, what’s been happening now?” 

Before she could even respond, Toulouse held up a hand. “Wait,” he hesitated, laying down on the bed on his side and motioning for her to do the same. “Might as well get comfortable, right? Okay, I’m ready.”

—————

All Rachel could do at the question was shrug. By all accounts, it didn’t make any sense, but it had been advised that Rachel didn’t dwell too long on Flynn’s true intentions. “I guess he must have recognised me or something,” she replied, pulling some hair away from her neck to show a small, dark mark behind her left ear. “I have a birthmark shaped like a sun behind my ear, and I look a lot like my Mom when she was a teenager. He probably heard about the reward and when he realised who I was… It was a lucky fluke.”

A nod of her head followed when Toulouse asked if there was more. They were up-to-date and now the whole reason she hadn’t been in class was looming. All that other stuff had been easy in comparison to admitting that things weren’t going so great now. 

Rachel froze with her mouth drooped open, paused before the answer could find her tongue. Her eyebrow raised as Toulouse held up his hand and he proceeded to lie down, and she almost assumed he was preparing for a nap at how boring he was finding her story. But then he went and made her laugh quietly despite her nerves and in spite of her tears. She didn’t move immediately, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist, and then with a sigh she lay down on her side, propping herself on her elbow to mirror him.

“I thought I was actually doing okay until, like, a week ago…” Rachel admitted through a sniffle.

She had to think of the best way to word this part of the story. Obviously Toulouse would know who Mr Rider was, and the last thing she wanted was for any of this to taint his opinion of him. For all he had hurt her, for all she was now convinced he hadn’t cared about her at all, Rachel still thought there was good in him, and that he deserved to be treated as fairly as anyone else. With a defeated huff, she plopped down onto the bed to stare at the ceiling, half-way painted with the beginnings of a new mural.

“So, you know the man that found me? I haven’t seen him since he left me at the station four years ago. And then just before the Hootenanny I bumped into him on the street and it was like-- I don’t know, it was like nothing had happened, and obviously I was kinda surprised but I thought that was the end of it until he, like, showed up at college.” Rachel took a moment to steady herself, in between speaking a mile a minute and crying more than she wanted to. When slightly less frantic, she glanced at Toulouse out of the corner of her eye. “You know Mr Rider, the new art teacher..? That’s him. He didn’t even say anything and I’ve just been pretending we never met because I thought I would be fine, ‘cause he seemed fine. And Cass was like oh you should tell the school and get a new teacher, it’s bad for you to talk to him and I was like no, it’s fine, I’ll be fine, nothing’s gonna happen! And now… Tada! I wanted to go to school, I really did, but I just-- I couldn’t get past the driveway.”

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse could see there was a look of confusion on Rachel’s face when he asked her to wait a second. For a moment he wanted to apologize and reassure her it wasn’t a bad thing, but she seemed to come around quick enough. He could tell that she was a little emotional about all of this, but didn’t comment on it as he didn’t want her to feel embarrassed. She didn’t have to hide the fact that she was upset around him, but he did feel bad that this had impacted her so greatly. “So what happened a week ago then?”

Watching her carefully as she fell on the bed, Toulouse wondered what she was thinking about. He took the opportunity to follow her gaze to the start of a beautiful painting. Smiling to himself, he turned back to give her his attention, and just in time, it seemed. When he heard the name of the man Rachel had been talking about, Toulouse nearly sprung up out of the bed. But, he had promised to keep it together, thus the most he gave in response was a wide eyed stare. “No… no way. You’re serious?” Mr. Rider had seemed cool enough, Toulouse thought, though he always got along better with his female teachers. Of course, he hadn’t really put in the effort to get to know him, but now he kind of felt like he did. At least, a part of him. 

“Wait, so Mr. Rider broke into your house? And then was still allowed to teach? How does that make any sense?” That was probably the most confusing part about all of this. Toulouse was raised with the knowledge that there were people in the world who committed crimes, but those crimes had always been followed with a consequence. Then there was the conflicting opinion of Cass, who he didn’t really know, but he had to admit they had a point. Clearly it wasn’t good for her mental health to be seeing him this soon. Not out of the blue, anyway. 

“No one is going to think less of you because you missed school, Rachel. It’s okay to take that time that you need.” Rachel was still at a very vulnerable part of her life. Toulouse recognized that, and wanted to make sure she knew that it was okay. But also, he just really wanted to give her a hug. Debating it over in his head, he finally said fuck it, why not? and decided to offer one. Nudging her gently, Toulouse motioned for her to come closer, holding his arms open. “You look like you need one,” he offered, rather meekly. 

—————————————————————————————————

Rachel waited for the penny to drop, for Toulouse to lose his mind over the ordeal. Continuing the absent twist of her hair, she could see out the corner of her eye the look of total disbelief written across his face. “Mmhm. Deadly serious.”

In Rachel’s head, the whole breaking-and-entering thing was a total non-issue. She had learned enough of Flynn’s history to know why he had been breaking into her house in the first place, and by the time they were off to see the lights that detail was all but forgiven and forgotten. Cass freaked out about it because she was a police officer, so of course that made sense, but at this point Rachel couldn’t see what the big deal was about a previous thief teaching an art class. (Her judgement was quite clearly skewed in the wrong direction, it seemed.)

“Everyone gets really hung up on that part…” Rachel muttered incredulously, already having logiced her away around the dissonance of being terrified of ruffians and thugs and completely sympathising with one. She was blissfully unaware that he had done jail time for his crimes too.  “I don’t know, I guess he was just going through a rough patch a few years ago? I mean, it was petty theft. It’s not like he killed anyone.”

Rachel sniffled a few more times, and though she wasn’t totally okay, she managed to pull herself together just enough to stop sobbing. “I know…” she replied quietly. “It’s just that-- I don’t know… It’s a whole mess.” She would have lay there moping for a few more minutes had it not been for the nudge from Toulouse, which took her by surprise. With his arms open, she hesitated (Rachel never asked for hugs no matter how badly she wanted or needed one). “I do kinda need one,” Rachel admitted finally, giving a thankful smile before she scooted close enough for a good old hug. “Thanks…”

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse could tell that she was dismissive about it. Though he didn’t want to pick an argument by trying to explain that any crime was still a crime, he also worried about her judgement of character. Deciding that wasn’t the focus of the conversation, he let it go. Obviously the college would have looked into it, right? So it was probably fine. At least, he was going to say it was for now. “Yeah.. you’re probably right, it’s probably nothing…” Even if it was just nothing, Toulouse wanted more information. For now, getting to lay down with Rachel and just comfort her would be enough. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he hummed, giving her a comforting squeeze. Besides, a good cuddle was always the best kind of thanks, really. Of course he couldn’t say that out loud —at least not yet. Toulouse didn’t break away from the hug just yet, wanting to enjoy the moment a bit longer. “But I mean… if you really want to thank me, I’d take a look at the papers I brought you. Some of them are boring school work, but a majority are fun. I made some up, and some are just fun things to do when you get bored of just sitting at home,” he explained, letting her go from the hug with a playful smile. 

“I don’t know if there was more I need to hear about, but if you want, we can take a break,” he offered. Rachel seemed to be pretty drained emotionally, and he didn’t want to push her further. “Can I ask you a silly question, though? Had you really never seen a man before? I mean, that’s pretty crazy,” he said with a chuckle. “Most of them aren’t that exciting, though, so you didn't miss much.” 

—————————————————————————————————

Rachel hoped it was nothing; she couldn't take any more curveballs at this rate. (Admittedly though, if one good thing came of this, it was that Toulouse threw a soft curveball by showing up, like a weird, cuddly saving grace.)

Just as apologising had become a force of habit, it seemed thanking people for tiny things was right up there beside it, and she had to actively think about not saying sorry for saying thank you. Her curiosity piqued at the mention of the things Toulouse has brought, pulling back just far enough to give him a flash of her raised eyebrow. She had all but forgotten he had something in his hands, you know, because she was so preoccupied with the lamp and all… "What's in the papers?" she asked, wondering if some of it was missed homework and what on earth he could have made up.

“A break would be nice. I think that’s everything…” Rachel sighed, a strange feeling of relief finally hitting her. A faint blush crept its way across Rachel’s cheeks as she nodded in admission. She wished she had been making it up, but Rachel hadn’t even laid eyes on the Postman. The house had been surrounded by a great deal of trees and high hedges, and a wall that was supposed to be unscalable. The Postman left letters in a postbox outside the garden gate, and Rachel had been forbidden from collecting any mail until the late afternoon, when he was long gone. “I wish I was kidding,” she laughed bashfully. “I mean, I’d seen men in, like, pictures in books and sometimes on TV and stuff, but never in person. I think everyone is a little bit exciting, but I don’t exactly have much to draw from.”

—————————————————————————————————

“Some missed assignments, nothing too major. Plus you have an extension to do them. I had to ask around a bit, but everything should be there,” Toulouse explained. “The ones that are made up were just in case your dad tried to take them.” Chuckling slightly, he shook his head, turning to look at her. He was glad that Rachel agreed to take a break, though he knew that sometimes when people got into slumps like this, taking a break only made them feel worse. Fortunately Toulouse was always good at making them fun. “Some of the activities are things like watching a bad movie on purpose, baking, trying a new skill, helping Toulouse with an art project, you know, just fun stuff.” 

That last activity he’d slipped in there purposely, hoping that it would peak her interest. He wanted to collaborate with her on something, if she was willing. Of course he hoped she was, otherwise he wouldn’t have put it in there, but that meant he would once again have to get past her father. Unless he came at a time the man wasn’t home; her mother seemed much more accepting of strangers into their home. 

Toulouse couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the idea of never having seen the opposite sex in person. “What about when you went to the doctor? Grocery shopping? A taxi? Surely you had to have at some point,” he further investigated. Rachel made a fair point, he supposed. There were plenty of things that each person had that might have been exciting, but as far as men go, Toulouse wasn’t very impressed. “Do you think I’m exciting?” he teased, his lips quirking into a half smile as he waited for her to answer. The feeling was mutual, if her answer was yes. Toulouse found her very exciting. Just then, the sound of the doorknob turning caught his attention as he directed his gaze toward Rachel’s door. 

—————————————————————————————————

“You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” Rachel replied quickly, hoping that her absence hadn’t been too much of a burden on her friend. She was quite sincerely touched by the gesture and the effort, but the last thing she wanted was for anyone to go out of their way for her, friend or not. “I promise my Dad isn’t that scary once you get to know him,” she insisted, though she couldn’t completely understand why Toulouse might think he would take the papers away.

“Those definitely sound like you made them up,” she laughed quietly. Fun, yes! Not real assignments? Definitely. Luckily for Toulouse, Rachel was as naive as the day was long; his not-so-subtle hints, that would have been obvious wink-wink, nudge-nudges to everyone else, went right over poor Rachel’s head and she took the bait without even realising it. “An art project?” she asked, thoroughly interested.

It occurred to Rachel that Toulouse probably didn’t realise the extent of I Never Left. She genuinely hadn’t seen another human being because she genuinely hadn’t been allowed to leave the gates of the house. “Nope. I didn’t get to go to any of those places. I… couldn’t leave.” Now, for some reason, Rachel was blushing furiously. Her only ideas as to why was being embarrassed about the not leaving thing. It obviously had nothing to do with Toulouse asking if she thought he was exciting. “I might,” she replied, trying to play it cool. She didn’t have time to offer further explanation before her bedroom door opened.

Dad’s moustache peeked around the door, the rest of his head following quickly after. He looked just as gruff as when he had answered the door, his brow pulling together when it was apparent the pair were sitting far too close for comfort on the bed. Rachel paid it no mind, and threw on her usual sunny smile (hiding the fact she had been crying moments prior).

“Your mom said I should bring you snacks…”

—————————————————————————��———————

End of part one.

[kernelmeow]

QuiObi Drabble || Highlander AU

***

Obi-Wan breaks through the scotch mist, shaking the beads of water from his hair and coat. The trek was a grueling ascent of hard terrain, but Obi-Wan navigates the path with familiar ease.

Atop the plateau the world is vast and small beneath him. The grasslands reach far beyond the horizon, and the clouds so close that he might simply scoop a handful within his palm. For all the splendor there was to behold, it was not the view for why he was there.

He hauls the knapsack up his shoulder, slipping from the weight it held, and presses on.

It’s not long that he spies the quiet host of this dominion and approaches until he stills before them, and inclines his head as a gesture of respect.

“Beannachd caraid,” he greets.

A sharp eye cut from a large sapphire stares at him, unblinking.

“Fàilte agus bi sàbhailte.” The voice rumbles like boulders descending a mountain, the earth quaking in submission. While accustomed to this nature, Obi-Wan felt the living power in each syllable, in each exhale of breath.

The eye blinks and then the head on which it resides rises from the ground to acknowledge his visitation. Obi-Wan still remembers the first time - would never forget how he gasped at the sight of the magnificent creature.

He smiles fondly up at the dragon. At Qui-Gon. That was the name which he had been privileged to be gifted with.

***

[revasserium]

if you want to, can I request redamancy and Nikolai?

send me a word and a character, and i’ll write you a drabble :)

redamancy. nikolai 

correlation does not imply causation – it’s a simple concept, basic, fundamental, facile, even, and nikolai knows it makes no sense to try and read meaning into gestures that might not have any. like the way you seem to smile just a bit wider at him, or how he could always feel you watching him, or how even Elizabeth seems to know something he doesn’t when she curls up on the couch where you’d just been sitting, purring loudly as if to make nikolai extra aware of how she could sit where you’d been sitting, even sit in your lap if she wanted, and he could do nothing to stop her. 

cats are such vexing, petty creatures, but nikolai supposes that’s why he likes them so much. they remind him of himself, sure and aloof, though churning on the inside with the endless desire to be loved. oh, to be loved. 

he thought he understood it, the concept of love, and scientifically speaking, even theoretically speaking, he does – to the minute details of neurons firing, how we’re just bodies drawn to other bodies with the most genetic variation, how when you strip everything down, we’re just a series of electric impulses passed along the wires tangled beneath our skin. 

meeting you made him question everything he ever thought he’d known. 

about truth, and life, and falling in love. 

you were art and passion, and depth too, even though the first time he’d seen your eyes go wide at a titian, he thinks you innocent. you prove him wrong, of course, time and time again, prove to him that humans are more than the sum of their parts, more than urges wrapped around bone-china skeletons, biological processes stuffed into muscle and salt and skin. you show him that spirit is sometimes a tangible thing, that happiness can weigh just as heavily as sorrow, or regret, and that love, oh love – 

that love is so much less about falling and so much more about learning to love the feeling of giving up to gravity. it’s trust in a way that he’s never encountered before, one where there’s no escape route, no helicopter to swoop in and save him, no guaranteed bed of pillows to cushion his fall when he hits the ground (and they always, always do, no matter how long the fall). it’s a kind of trust that requires him to give himself to the unknown, and he’s never really been good at that. 

but somehow, someway, he thinks that if he could just make you smile a bit more, listen to you laugh just a little longer, he doesn’t care how it’s done, just that it’s done, and that he’s the one to do it – so he gives in. he learns. and he learns. and he learns that you’re just as lost as he is, but you’re not scared at all. 

“that’s why it takes courage,” you say, cupping his cheeks as he looks up at you from his position beneath you on the sofa, your legs on either side of his hips, his hands warm around your waist. 

“because you never know what’s going to happen tomorrow, like a meteor could drop out of the sky and kill us all.” 

nikolai laughs, shaking his head, his smile widening as he does so. 

“let’s not be so morbid. i’m sure we would’ve been alerted long before now if there were anything heading into earth’s orbit.” 

you sigh, running a finger down the bridge of his nose before letting it fall over his lips. 

“still, we can’t be 100% sure.” 

he seems to weigh the options of aguing with you, but relents in the end. he seems to be doing that a lot lately; maybe he’s losing his edge. or maybe, he’s just falling even deeper in love with you. 

“but, i’m choosing to love you anyway.” 

nikolai tugs you down for a kiss that is more tongue and teeth than lips and sweetness, and when you pull away, both of you are breathless. 

“good.” he doesn’t say the words piling up at the back of his throat like souring grapes, threatening to tumble out if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut. he kisses a line down your throat and eventually, he manages to maneuver both of you into his bedroom where he kicks the door closed, almost on Elizabeth’s tail (he’ll pay for that dearly later, he’s sure). 

and he looks down at you, now pinned beneath him, a flush on your cheeks, your lips parted and kiss-swollen. 

he thinks that the true courage isn’t in not knowing if the world will end, it’s knowing that one day, this love could end, and choosing to love still, in spite of that. 

[celestialvexation-arch]

Ague

a joxkin drabble for @rotten-dandelions for their wonderful donation!! thank you so much and i hope you enjoy ; A ; 

The coughing sounded worse than yesterday, he noted as he returned to his seat next to the nest of furs. He watched his son’s nose twitch at the scent of that familiar scent -- the herbs and tobacco that’s to announce the Joxter’s arrival after having to venture into the winter woodlands to forage for not only food, but plants that are to aid in the illness. 

At first, it had been nothing but chills and shivers that both mumriks believed to be because of the freezing temperatures. However, when they are to return to the this quaint hut and Snufkin started a fire, he began to shake even further. It didn’t take long until he’s quickly undressed and under the thick furs with a cold comfort atop his forehead. 

The Joxter’s eyes illuminated within the dim lighting, yet it’s absent of its usual cheeriness.

He knew that his son is a strong spirit, but among his travels did he knew that this fever is a great ailment that isn’t expected to leave within a week or so. And that is with the proper remedy to treat it. 

Mumriks are known to be resilient towards certain illnesses, but no matter how powerful the system is to be, there is always a sickness that’s to bring them down to their knees and have them be vulnerable for those fortunate enough to come across one.

A groan from Snufkin soon caught the elder’s attention, leaning over with a raised brow. “Still alive, fortunately,” the Joxter would hum out and had Snufkin been anyone else, they would have been aghast by his somewhat indifferent tone. He knew. He could see the way the Joxter’s focus remained on him. The way his pupils are to dilate as though elated in seeing his son’s progress.

“Ngh... Pa...pa...” Snufkin coughed out, his father leaning back as to not become infected himself. 

“Rest, my dear. It seems like it is wearing down...” he started as he then got up from his seat over to the small stove nearby. Snufkin blinked his heavy lids, settling his shivering and cold-sweated body into the furs as Joxter lit a match to heat the pot.

The sweet scent of herbs is enough to soothe his stuffed nostrils, completely congested to the point where he can feel the filth clogging his senses. He quickly reached over to grab hold of a rag to cough into it before his father continued. “...However, I can see that it still affects you for the worse. Hopefully, this tea is to help with that.” Crushing the leaves whilst waiting for the water to boil to make tea.

“I’m not surprised that you did fall ill,” the Joxter said as he took a few inhales of his pipe. “The winter is harsher this time of year -- ice covers the lands, and a few inhabitants of Moominvalley had gotten ill themselves. 

It’s been rough, apparently.” 

Snufkin remained quiet as he watched his father pour the water into a cup, adding the crushed leaves to it then returning to his son. 

Snufkin gingerly got himself up, sniffling for a moment when the cup is handed to him after it was blown to slightly cool it. Handling it carefully, the young mumrik longs to truly smell it to its potential since his clogged nose prevented him at times. The Joxter’s tender smile is enough for Snufkin to take a few sips of the tea.

The warmth of it sliding down his throat, soothing the aches of it then having to settle comfortably in his stomach made the mumrik all but purr. His eyes closed to take a moment to savor the flavor before opening them to gaze fondly at his father. “...Thank you, papa,” Snufkin beamed, taking more sips of his drink while the elder mumrik hummed delightfully. He didn’t mind his father having to join him among the furs, already given up on the protests of having him stay away lest he is to fall ill himself. 

Lips pressed against his cheek as arms embraced Snufkin, and the Joxter’s head rested along his. Even when the winds are to howl outside their home and made the old wood creak, the mumrik felt more at home than anywhere else. He noted that his father remained cold even after having to near a stove for some time, but that was fine. 

Despite the winter making itself home, Snufkin’s thoughts drifted to the anticipation of blooming flowers and sunlight kissing at his skin.

[vesuvianvienna]

Linguistics

Okay, so first disclaimer, I don’t speak either Gaelic or Russian. I used Google Translate, so they aren’t going to be 100% accurate, but it’s a drabble for a fictional universe, so who cares right? There will be a translation key at the bottom. 

@arcana-dumpsterfire @anjatheapprentice @goatman-entrapment @bazzpop @fernleavesillustrator

The sound of something heavy being knocked to the ground and a sudden cry of pain had Julian leaping from his desk, his chair teetering back on two legs before toppling backwards. Long legs carried him with great haste to the kitchen where he had left Vienna, heart rising into his throat. She was bent over the sink, her hand plunged to the wrist in a bucket of water, and was shouting in a language he didn’t recognize.

"In ainm Dhia! Táim chun tú a chaitheamh san fharraige, píosa cac! Máithreachas!"

For a moment, he stood stunned, storm-grey eyes darting from Vienna to the stove to the small iron kettle she used to make tea lying in a puddle of steaming water on the floor. She was still muttering angrily, her brows pinched, eyes flashing venom-green. After a beat, he spoke, carefully avoiding the still-hot water as he crossed to her.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? What happened?”

Instantly, her eyes returned to their normal warm hazel and her expression smoothed out when she realized he was near, lifting her hand out of the water with a chagrined smile. “The handle snapped on the kettle and it burned me,” she explained, turning her arm to show him the angry red welt across the back of her hand. “Sorry if I startled you.”

“Not at all,” he assured her, gingerly taking her hand in his own to examine the burn; he had been startled, but now wasn’t the time to admit it. “Well, fortunately, I don’t think I’ll have to amputate.” His eyes flashed as he grinned, and her laugh dispelled the last of his worry. “An aloe compress should fix it right up.”

Julian, ever gentle, guided her to the table and sat her down while he snipped a small frond from the aloe plant she grew in a pot by the window, scraping out the clear gel inside into a clean piece of muslin and squeezing until it began to ooze through. Carefully, he applied the compress to her hand, wrapping a length of gauze around it to hold it in place. “So,” he began, his eyes steady on his work, “what exactly were you shouting?”

Her cheeks turned pink, her expression turning sheepish, like a child caught in an act of mischief. "Well...they weren't exactly phrases you'd hear in civilized company."

That cause the corner of his mouth to lift in a grin, tying off the gauze though he didn’t relinquish her hand just yet. "Since when have I ever been considered civilized company, darling?"

Vienna laughed softly, then with her cheeks still pink, she leaned forward and murmured the translation. Julian threw back his head and laughed, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. "I always knew you'd make a fantastic pirate; you can swear like a sailor already!" He brought her injured hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips, still chuckling. "You'll have to teach me how to properly swear in your native language, I've been meaning to expand my repertoire."

Vienna cocked her brow, the edges of her lips curling in turn. "Only if you'll teach me some in Nevivonian."

His lips pursed in thought as he grew silent, recalling a few of his favorites. “Well, one that Mazelinka liked to use was podlaya pizda. Then there’s ublyudok, sukin syn, mudak, and my personal favorite, sifiliticheskiy pridurok.” He ticked them off on his fingers, the strange language dripping off his tongue like rainwater, and Vienna didn’t realize she was staring until he gave her a questioning look. “Sweetheart, you’re blushing.”

Now that he said something, she did feel a bit warm around the neck. “It’s just...well, you don’t speak your native language very often, and it’s…” Her flush deepened a shade or two. “I may not know what you’re saying, but I like hearing you say it.”

He practically purred at her admission, reaching for her waist to draw her closer. “Really? Perhaps we could teach each other some more intimate phrases?” His fingertips slid up her arm as he leaned forward to brush his lips against the shell of her ear, his breath tickling her skin as he murmured. "Ya zhazhdu uvidet' tebya razdetym i zhelayushchim, samym lyubimym v moyem serdtse."

Vienna felt a shudder ripple down her spine, goosebumps breaking out across her flesh as a wave of heat pooled in her belly. “Two can play at that game,” she muttered before looping her arms around Julian’s neck, pressing herself against his chest and batting her lashes up at him. “Ilya, gráinn, cén fáth nach gcaitheann tú mé thar an tábla seo agus go nglacfaidh mé liom mar fraochÚn bréan?" As she spoke, her unbandaged hand slipped down his neck, dragging her nails down his throat hard enough to leave four red trails, though not quite hard enough to sting. Nonetheless, Julian let out a throaty noise of pleasure, shivering in her arms, pressing one hand at her lower back to push her hips against his. Slowly, as if waiting for permission, he brushed his lips against hers, the barest whisper of a kiss, until she took his face between her hands and brought her mouth crashing down on his, kissing him properly, passionately, hungrily. Hands clutched, eyes closed, hips rocked as they sought heat and friction, until they withdrew, panting and grinning. 

“Bedroom?” Julian’s eyes were wide, pleading, flushed from the tips of his ears to the top of his chest. Vienna nodded, clutching him as he rose to his feet, arms secure around her as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I think I could use a more...thorough lesson in your language, love.”

Gaelic:

In ainm Dhia: God damn it Táim chun tú a chaitheamh san fharraige, píosa cac: I’m going to throw you into the ocean, you piece of shit Máithreachas: Motherfucker gráinn: darling cén fáth nach gcaitheann tú mé thar an tábla seo agus go nglacfaidh mé liom mar fraochÚn bréan?: why don’t you throw me over the table and fuck me like a filthy whore?

Russian: 

podlaya pizda: dastardly cunt ublyudok: bastard sukin syn: son of a whore mudak: asshole sifiliticheskiy pridurok: syphilitic moron Ya zhazhdu uvidet' tebya razdetym i zhelayushchim, samym lyubimym v moyem serdtse: I long to see you stripped and wanting, most beloved of my heart

[cocklesdestielfiction]

Hi guys! How are you doing? I was wondering if I could share a (not-beta-yet) drabble about Priest!Cas/Contractor!Dean with you. Would that be OK? Thank you!

Heya Darling! Agus here! Yeah sure, every thing you wanna share for us to reblog, just tag us and we'll take care of it!!!

Hope you're having a good day, ♡

[tospititontheon]

@illuxions​ || this was supposed to be a drabble

              ✮

                                     There’s a heavy silence in the otherwise active dream realm. Slowly he draws closer to the center. Things twitching and turning, hallways changing as he walks down them. the hands of dolls reach out, brushes against the fabric of his long coat and passing through it. He pays them no mind, not like he could help them or they could ever return to how they once were. There’s the sound of boots as he walks, yet his feet don’t touch the floor. There aren’t even any feet beneath him, just the fog that comes flowing after him and the chill to the air around him.

                                      This is getting so tiring. So painfully tiring. How long has he come down these very same winding halls to find her curled up within? He seems to open a door at random, stepping in without fear, walking closer to the Noah curled up on the loveseat hidden in the room. Gently a cold hand reaches out, smoothing down unruly hair as he kneels down to face level. 

                                       A gentle smile is offered as he tries to comfort his dear ‘sister’. He knows he's partly to blame for her current agony with Adam twisting the knife he’s put in her chest. Slowly blued lips part, ❛❛ Ag titim go tapa ina chodladh. Go bhfaighidh an buachaill beag seo brionglóidí blásta, I measc na luaithreach agus na lasracha a lasann spéir na hoíche. Ceann ar cheann, ag titim go bog ❜❜

                                       His voice comes out just as velvety as it had when they’d been together in that house when they’d grown up playing together in the wheat fields, when thunder cracked across the skies and rain poured, and they hid away in mother’s room. Yet he sings the song mother sang to them both in those scary nights to comfort her now, twenty years after his death. They were losing time. Soon, soon the others would be returning. They needed to act, but he also needed Road to be in her right mind for this all to work.

[lithuanias]

mleczko i/agus siúcra

(milk and sugar)

irepol drabble inspired by @felicja-j ‘s most recent artwork. written for @aphrarepairweek2018 day 6: snow.

“a ghrá” - “my love”

A red stag’s cry echoed across the still waters of Lough Leane and the snow-covered trees and peaks of Killarney’s mountains.

Frost settled in the corners of the cabin’s fogged up windows.

“Good morning, love,” mumbled Ireland. He rolled over in bed and kissed Poland’s cheek.

“Mmm.” Poland stirred underneath the quilt and sleepily put a hand on Ireland’s chest. “Dzień dobry.”

“Too early for English?”

“Mmm.”

“Did you sleep well?” whispered Ireland.

“Mmm.” Poland rolled over to “I don’t want to get out of bed,” he muttered. “It’s snowing.”

Ireland half-heartedly rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Oh dear, it’s ten o’clock,” he said.

“We’re on our honeymoon,” said Poland. He curled up and rested his forehead against Ireland’s chest. “I don’t want to do anything.”

“A ghrá,” Ireland said. He ran his fingers through Poland’s soft hair. “I’m going to make some tea.” He kissed the top of his head. He pulled on a robe and left the room.

At the thought of an empty bed, Poland followed Ireland out the door, wrapping the quilt around his shoulders.

In the small kitchen, Ireland turned on the kettle and set down two mugs.

Poland shuffled over to him and put his arms around him.

“Hello,” said Ireland, amused.

“Hello.” Poland brushed his lips against his shoulder.

Ireland glanced out the window. The snow fell softly outside, covering the valley. It felt warm inside, but going outdoors would mean having to put on jackets and boots and hats…

“What do you want to do today?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Poland.

Ireland poured the hot water into the mugs and smiled. “I agree.”

“Your tea wakes me up.” Poland shuffled over to the fridge and took out some milk.

Milk for Ireland; milk and sugar for Poland.

In the middle of pouring milk, Poland said, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Ireland.

Poland set the milk down and pressed his lips against Ireland’s.

The tea needed to cool down anyway, thought Ireland, and he rested his hands on Poland’s waist.

[deepinsideyourbeing]

"Tengo que confesar que es increíble que Creep sea tu número 1, porque para mí fue bastante oscuro." Jajaja qué dirá esto de mí, no? *laughs and sweats nervously* No sé, me gustó mucho este fic porque te mandaste alto AU con Stalker!Enzo, todo el lore y la historia en sí (que tiene bastante potencial para seguir explorando este AU, ya sea con una continuación o simplemente con un escenario random).

Hasta el día de hoy que me queda la duda sobre el lore de Santi en Delirio de Condenados, por qué el Principito no dijo una sola palabra en todo el fic? 😞 Creo que hablo por todas cuando digo que ya se decidió fingir demencia y pretender que Reader nunca existió y que siempre fue solamente el trío (?

Gracias a vos por escribirnos todas tus historias 🫶🏻

Juro que no era en un mal sentido 😭 Sólo me pareció increíble porque, desde mi humilde punto de vista como escritora (leáse soy una perfeccionista que nunca está contenta con nada), me sorprende que alguien llegue a pensar "Sí, va en el puesto 1". Comparto que tiene más potencial para seguir con una secuela, drabbles, etc que permitan seguir desarrollando ese universo. Y ojalá Enzo me perdone.

En cuanto busque el link del drabble lo voy a insertar *acá*. En ese drabble que era como el detrás de escena o director's cut -este término me gusta más-, dejé entrever que Santi se sentía mucho más cómodo con Enzo que con el resto de los presentes (+tenía miedo de la reacción de Mati, entendible), por eso con Enzo habló más y después estaba re tímido.

Sorry but I'm a sucker por esos dos juntos.

El trío con intervenciones de Agus *suspira dramáticamente*.

[writingring]

Home Alone: Bored in the Cottage

Another installment of my new drabble series starring Rosanna the human and Agu the naga!

Rosanna gave a frustrated huff when she found she needed to go to the market or they wouldn’t have food. She cast a anxious glance at the young naga, who was drawing on the living room floor. She hadn’t left him home alone while he was awake since she found him- she had no idea how he would handle it. With a deep breath she decided not to make it a big deal.

“Agu, I need to go into town. I’ll be back in an hour or so, okay?”

Agu obviously thought this was a big deal.

By the time Rosanna had her shoes on he had raced over and was tugging on her skirt whining. “Aw, I’m sorry, dear, but you can’t come with me and we can’t live on the garden alone.” She felt horrible at the heartbroken look he was giving her, but she couldn’t bear to imagine what other people might say if they saw him- Lord knows how old-fashioned those people were. “Now, now, I won’t be long. You’ll draw me something nice for the fridge while I’m gone, won’t you?” The naga begrudgingly nodded and let got of her skirt, sadly watching as she kissed his head before leaving.

Agu didn’t like how lonely the house seemed as soon as Rosanna wasn’t there. He was sure she would have a quote from one of her books to describe what he was feeling, but with her not here he would never know.

He was tempted to flop on the floor and sulk, but without his mother figure to coo over how cute he was when he pouted there was no point.

He finished his drawing of the garden as he thought about what he could do for the next hour. He couldn’t run the bath by himself, so that was out of the question. He couldn’t use the stove either, so no soup (not that he knew how to make it anyways). Playing outside was no fun if Rosanna didn’t play tag with him or let him cover her in flower crowns. They didn’t own any games for only one person and even if they did there was no point if there was no one to praise him when he won.

Most people would take this as a sign that they needed to be less dependent.

Agu took this as a sign that Rosanna should never go anywhere that he couldn’t.

Just as he finished the final plant in his drawing he had a thought: Rosanna loved receiving his drawings. With this in mind, he spent the next hour making as many drawing of as high quality as he could. He was so focused that he didn’t even hear Rosanna until she was right next to him.

“Ah, that looks good, Agu.” He immediately abandoned his work in favor of clinging to her legs. “Hey now, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” She sank her hands into his afro to rub his scalp as he whined. “Alright, up we go,” she muttered as she picked him up, the boy immediately burying his face in her neck as she rubbed his back. “There, there, dear. How about next time I only go for half an hour? Would that be better?”

“Rosie stay,” he insisted, clinging tighter to her.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I either have to go for an hour every other week or half an hour every week.” She winced as another whine came from the naga. At this point his arms had a death grip on her shirt and his tail had wrapped itself around her waist. The next twenty minutes were spent soothing the boy until he was calm enough for his nap, though he didn’t let go of her even in his sleep.

“I guess parenting a naga is harder than I thought,” she mused to herself. Agu’s hand, which had slipped off her shoulder, moved blindly across the mattress until it found her own and wrapped around a few of her fingers, making Rosanna smile. “It’s worth it, though.”

Tags: @write-it-motherfuckers

[jinmindeulle]

hiya beautiful souls!

i wanted to have your feedback on my works and what you’d like to read next, in terms of type of fic. feel free to participate!

*I voted so I can see results earlier!

thank you to all my fellow carats following my blog! 🤍 — jinmindeulle (or agus 😊)

[scxthach]

o m'anam | pàirt aon (drabble)

Disclaimer: Hover over Gaelic text for translation!

That night, sleep had not pulled her into its gentle embrace.

Cold and wet. The storm that had breached upon the shores of the Isle had already begun to unleash its fury on the fortress that dared make its stand near the sea. Waves crashed against the edge, some rising so high that the shadowy figure in the fortress’ small window could have sworn they tasted the salty water from the Loch just below. At night the Loch looked much like a pit of blackness willing to swallow anyone whole who wished to jump into its watery depths. 

“Cha do chaidil thu fhathast?” A voice came from the thick shadows that gave the fortress its name. It was her daughter, Uathach, who seemed to also have trouble sleeping. The energy in the castle was palpable; so many warriors resting in one place who were excited for the battle to come. Scathach was certain that one warrior in particular was probably somewhere practicing, which is why he wasn’t sleeping with the now anxious Uathach. Men were such simple creatures. The older woman sighed and turned towards her daughter.

“Caidil a-nis, Uathach.  Chan eil fhios agad dè bheir amàireach.” Though she was telling her that she knew the words were no comfort. They weren’t meant to be. Uathach was not a child and seriousness of the battle to come should not be lightened for anyone anyone in the castle. Uathach could see as much in her mother’s tone and knew better than to argue. Only just the other day her daughter had tried to suggest to her that staying in the fortress was the better option. Could Aife even penetrate it’s defenses? Probably not, but that didn’t matter.

“Is dòcha gum bi sin fìor, ach theagaisg mi gaisgich. Tha iad ag iarraidh glòir. Dè an seòrsa de ghaisgeach a bhiodhinn nam biodh mi a 'falach?“

After such a conversation Uathach knew better than to question her again. As Scathach began to walk past her daughter she stopped when she realized something. Her tone was almost scolding, the way one would a mother to a child.

“A bheil dragh ort mun bhalach?” Scathach asked, her sanguine eyes fixed on her daughter’s nervous back. The mother in her shouldn’t have been surprised; Uathach had been laying with him for a while now and in a way the girl was smitten. He had a playful, rambunctious sort of personality that made people either hate him thoroughly or enjoy his company--sometimes both at once. Many of the students in the castle knew better than to attack him out of anger now, though.

“Tha e airson sabaid cuideachd.” That didn’t answer her question. Moreover, she already knew that, whether he had said it in so many words or not. The boy was brimming with so much confidence that she was sure he thought he could finish off her sister all by himself (( mun note, HAHAHA)). Uathach could feel her mother’s eyes piercing her but the girl didn’t break down. Instead she turned to meet her mother’s eyes with a firm determination. That was enough.

Before the girl could speak, Scathach raised her hand and quietly said, “Lorg an gille agus cuir a-steach e don t-seòmar agam.” There was a flair of jealousy from her daughter at the command, as she thought her mother was going to lay with him that night instead. Ah you sweet summer child...but just as Uathach opened her mouth to protest---

“Sa bhad.” The word was said with so much force that it made her daughter visibly shudder. Scathach need not explain her reasons to her foolish daughter, nor her plans. She would keep  Cú Chulainn out of the battle if she could--besides, this battle wasn’t the death she predicted for him anyways. Before leaving the stone hallway Scathach looked out the carved window once more at the dark horizon. Though the waves couldn’t be seen easily, they were there, crashing against the cliff in a constant battle.

Perhaps the battles of the days to come would be never ending like a wave against the shore. But which sister was the rock and who was the battering wave?