Behind the Brave Mask

[TogetherAgain]

I realized as I was writing this that I have never posted any Fraggle Rock fanfic. I've written bits and pieces of stories that are my usual heart-wrenching, over-complicated, epic-length creations... but never posted anything. Which is probably good, because my track record for finishing any of my usual heart-wrenching, over-complicated, epic-length creations isn't all too stellar.

But this is just a one-shot. Look, it's already done! How cool is that? Just an idea that popped into my head on a walk the other day and demanded to be let out. So, here it is.

Please keep in mind that it's still a Lisa story, so teddies and tissues may be useful to have on hand.

 

[TogetherAgain]

Behind the Brave Mask​

"Hi Boober," Gobo said as he pushed through the curtain into his friend's cave.

Boober looked up from the radish he'd been slicing. "Oh, Gobo! Good. You can help," he said. "How are Red and Mokey?"

"Oh... Well..." Gobo pulled his lips tight, trying to hold back a laugh. "They'll be fine... as long as they don't kill each other."

Boober sighed and shook his head. "They can't kill each other as long as they both stay in bed, like they're supposed to," he said firmly. "Red's temper again?"

"Mokey's just as bad," Gobo said. "And Lanford sure isn't helping." He couldn't quite keep himself from snickering.

"That plant doesn't help anything," Boober muttered, which only made Gobo laugh more. "I'm surprised Mokey's having such a hard time. If any of us are suited for bed rest, I'd think she'd be the one."

"Boober, she can barely feed herself," Gobo reasoned. "Besides, if you were stuck in a cave with Red right now, you'd be miserable, too."

"I suppose." Boober went back to carefully slicing his radish. "Mokey wouldn't be half as miserable if she hadn't landed on her arms."

"Neither one of 'em would be miserable at all if Red had gotten a little more momentum before she tried that jump over Curious Chasm," Gobo said.

"Do me a favor, Gobo?" Boober paused his work to look straight into his friend's face. "If you're going to mention that to Red, don't do so while I'm on her side of the room. Okay?"

Gobo laughed.

"I mean it!" Boober insisted. "If you want to make yourself a target, that's fine. But not while I'm within striking distance."

"It's okay, Boober. I already had that discussion with her," Gobo said, and he chuckled. "Mokey didn't appreciate me bringing it up, either."

Boober shook his head and started arranging the radish slices on two plates. "With the way Fraggles run and jump around so much, broken bones are inevitable. Especially during greaseberry season."

"Actually... I was just thinking about exactly that, Boober," Gobo said.

Boober stared at him. "You were?" he said. Gobo had spoken very casually—too casually—which meant he either had something up his sleeve or something on his mind.

"Yeah, I was thinking about how broken bones and sprains are bound to happen eventually," Gobo said. "And how sometimes, when I'm off exploring the unknown reaches of Fraggle Rock, I'm not always close enough to someone who can help."

Boober felt his tail flick. "You could try staying close enough that if you scream for help, we'll hear you," he said flatly.

Now Gobo stared at him. "Where's the fun in that?"

"It was worth a try." Boober turned to pour juice into two cups. Gobo wasn't just being casual; he was being casually heroic, and that meant something was wrong. But all Boober said was, "You know how to set a broken bone. You and I learned together, remember? When the Gorg thumped your leg."

"Don't remind me," Gobo grunted, and then he shrugged and went back to being all-too-casual. "I know the basics, but... I thought it might be a good idea to learn a little bit more. You know... in case something happens when I'm really far away."

Boober loaded the plates and cups onto a tray. "Well then, come help me with Red and Mokey. I'm bringing them lunch right now. You can carry my medicine bag."

"Okay. Sure," Gobo said. He grabbed the bag and held the curtain back for Boober, who was carrying the tray. "And maybe if I distract Red, she won’t get in your way, and you can actually do something to help them."

"Gobo, please try to behave yourself. If Red gets any more riled up, we'll have to tie her to the hammock."

Gobo chuckled. "That might not be a bad idea."

"If only for Mokey's sake," Boober sighed. "Is Wembley with them?"

"Might be. Last I saw, he was going to pick some radishes, since Mokey can't do it."

"Good. We're almost out. Now, you do know how to tell the difference between a break and a sprain, don't you?"

They discussed the proper treatment of sprains and broken bones the whole way to Red and Mokey's cave. Gobo did know the basics already; it would have been foolish of him to go on so many long solo expeditions without some fundamental first-aid know-how.

But the more they talked, the more Boober worried. Gobo was still putting on that casual heroic air, and he had that distracted look on his face like all of this was really about something else. Taken together, those were bad signs. They were part of what Boober silently thought of as Gobo's Brave Mask.

Gobo Fraggle was, of course, one of the bravest Fraggles the Rock had ever seen. Hardly anything seemed to scare him, and when he was scared, he almost never even hesitated to admit it. Maybe that was part of why he always seemed so brave. He didn't mind being afraid, and he didn't let his fears stop him. They slowed him down sometimes, but they never stopped him.

But there were some things that terrified Gobo. Boober wasn't exactly sure what they were, but when things were at their absolute worst, Gobo didn't want anyone—least of all his closest friends—to know that he was afraid. That was when he put on his Brave Mask. Sometimes it was so convincing that they really did believe he was fearless. Sometimes it was convincing because they wanted to believe he was fearless; Gobo's confidence was more comforting than any lucky charm, and he seemed to know that. But sometimes, the Brave Mask was very clearly only a mask, and sometimes that mask only barely concealed a terrified face.

Most of the time, Gobo didn't need the Brave Mask at all. His real face was more than brave enough. He was certainly the bravest Fraggle that Boober had ever known; even braver than his Uncle Travelling Matt. And nothing really scary was happening now. Sure, Red had fallen in a chasm and broken some bones, and Mokey had gotten banged up trying to rescue her, and all of that had been horrible, but they were both fine now... Or at least, they would be, once they healed, and they would stop trying to kill everyone who walked in the door just as soon as the pain wore off. So why did Gobo have the Brave Mask on now? Something terrible had to be on his mind, and no matter what he said, Boober didn't think it was really the idea of breaking an arm or a leg while he was exploring some far-away cave. There had to be something else.

There wasn't time to think about it now, though, because they had reached Red and Mokey's cave.

"How can anyone be so tired without having done anything?" Mokey was saying.

"Tired? How can you be tired?" Red said. "I am so sick of holding still! I'm so bored I can't even sleep."

"Maybe that's why I'm tired," Mokey said. "I'm in too much pain to sleep."

"You think you're in pain?"

"Hey, guys! We brought you some lunch!" Gobo said cheerfully, stopping the argument before it could quite begin.

"Any radish bars?" Red asked hopefully.

Boober scowled at her. "The last thing you need right now is more sugar," he said sternly, and he set the tray down at the foot of Mokey's bed. "We also brought some medicine to help with the pain."

In perfect unison, Mokey and Red both groaned and flopped back against their pillows only to whimper and straighten back up, recoiling from having bumped their injuries.

"That stuff better work, Boober," Red moaned.

"At least it'll be something to do for a minute," Mokey sighed. "Boober, it's only my right arm that's broken. The left one is really fine! Can't I write just a tiny little bit?"

Boober shook his head. "Your wrist is still badly sprained, Mokey. You can use that hand to eat, but you and I both know that if you start writing or drawing with it, you'll get carried away. I don't want you to over-do it. The best thing for both of your hands right now is rest."

Mokey sighed and sulked. It wasn't the answer she wanted.

"And you," Boober said, turning to point at Gobo, "If you ever hurt your legs or feet or even your tail out there, you come straight back home but don't go too fast. Take your time. If you push yourself too hard trying to hurry, you'll just make everything worse."

"What's this all about?" Red asked, giving them a baffled look.

"Oh, Boober's teaching me a little about broken bones," Gobo said cheerfully. "You know, so that I can take care of myself if I get hurt when I'm out there exploring by myself."

"Oh!" Red said just as cheerfully. "You mean like, if you cause a rock slide and get caught under it?"

"Hey, not every Fraggle’s as clumsy as you are, Red!" Gobo teased.

"What?"

"Gobo!" Boober chided from the safety of Mokey's side of the room. "We agreed that you wouldn't get Red riled up!"

"I do NOT get RILED UP!" Red snapped. “Especially not by this guy!”

Mokey groaned and buried her face in her good hand.

Boober grabbed one of the plates of sliced radish and handed it to Gobo. "You handle this. Give her lunch!" he said, pushing Gobo towards the hammock.

Gobo chuckled as he lifted a slice of radish and held it up towards Red’s mouth. “Okay, Red. Open wide…”

She wasn’t amused. “Gobo, if you treat me like a baby, I will bite your hand off!”

Gobo laughed as he handed her both the plate and the radish slice. “Sorry, Red,” he said. He didn’t sound very sorry, but the apology meant that this was just their usual banter and not a real argument.

“They’ve been doing this for days,” Mokey quietly complained to Boober while her roommate pitched a relatively calm fit. “I know they’re always like this, but do I have to listen to all of it?”

Boober sympathetically patted her shoulder—very carefully, of course, so that it wouldn’t hurt her. “You could still paint with your tail, Mokey. Maybe that would help you feel better.”

“I’ve been painting with my tail,” she sighed. “My tail is tired. And there’s nothing left in this cave for me to paint.”

Boober patted her shoulder and carefully inspected her injuries while she ate very slowly. He assured her that she was healing very nicely and gave her a little medicine to help with the pain.

Gobo wasn’t really helping or paying much attention. He was too busy keeping Red occupied. He was doing his usual brave, noble, heroic explorer routine that always irritated Red, and she was responding with the usual irritated remarks, insulting him and calling his bluffs at every opportunity. It was enough of a distraction that Boober was able to inspect all of Red’s injuries without interruption, and she even took her medicine with hardly any complaint at all. By the time they left the cave, Gobo and Red had discussed numerous trips they could go on together after she healed to prove how brave and heroic Gobo was, and Red had used enough energy that she would probably be able to sleep, which would do wonders for Mokey’s headache.

It occurred to Boober that Gobo’s “heroic explorer” bit looked remarkably similar to his Brave Mask. Maybe that was what he had seen earlier—not the Brave Mask at all, but just a warm-up round for Red. If that was the case, then there wasn’t any reason to worry… but he would have to make sure. “So, do you feel more comfortable taking care of broken bones now?” he said conversationally as they walked back to his cave.

“Hmm? Oh, sure,” Gobo said. “Of course… I suppose a little broken bone isn’t the worst thing I might run into out there.”

Uh-oh. There it was again, that over-casual, over-confident tone. Was it the hero bit or the Brave Mask? That nervous flick of the tail—that was a bad sign. “You could always find a safer occupation,” Boober said nervously.

The idea seemed to amuse Gobo, but he hardly acknowledged the comment. “I was thinking, Boober. You know all sorts of home remedies for all kinds of pain and sicknesses and all that…”

“Well, someone around here should,” Boober said. “We get into enough trouble.”

“Hey, I think it’s great that you know all of that!” Gobo said firmly.

“You do?”

“Well, of course! You take care of all of us, Boober.”

Boober gave him a long, hesitant look. “Except when you’re out on your big long expeditions.”

“Yup. There is that one little detail. But that's why I really appreciate your willingness to share your knowledge.” Gobo strolled along, oh-so-casual, oh-so-confident. “I was wondering, Boober. Do you know, oh, say… antidotes for different poisons?”

“Poisons?” Boober repeated. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gobo said mildly. “Say like, if someone got bit by a poison cackler…”

“Poison cackler?” Boober said. “You think you’ll get attacked by a poison cackler?”

“Who, me?” Gobo said, feigning surprise. “Aw, Boober… Why, if I didn’t know how to sneak around a cackler… how to dodge ‘em if they attack… why, I wouldn’t even be alive!”

But he hadn’t laughed at the idea. Gobo was afraid of poison cacklers. Yet he still had that distracted look, like this was all leading up to something else.

“But supposing I did get bit by one…”

“If you got bit by a poison cackler, you’d have bigger problems than finding an antidote,” Boober said, and he walked a little quicker. “They hardly ever let their victims get away.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Gobo said. “But supposing I got bit and I did get away. Could you stop the poison?”

“Of course I could!” Boober said defensively. “You mix together dried mushrooms and bronze root. Apply half to the wound and swallow the rest. It tastes awful, but it’ll do the trick.”

“What about the sap of an itching plant?” Gobo mused—confident and casual. “Any way to get that off your skin without scratching yourself half to death?”

“Never scratch if you get itching plant sap on you,” Boober said firmly. “It will only spread the itch and make it worse. Dab it off with moss. That will get the worst of it. Then wash with cold water and dab it dry. Wash at least twice. Do not rub it.”

“Well what about…”

So it went the whole way back to Boober’s cave. Boober rattled off antidotes and cures and, rather than appreciating any of the new knowledge, Gobo just mildly, casually asked about some other horrible thing that could happen to a wandering Fraggle—mostly different kinds of poisons that an explorer might somehow run into. Boober’s stomach churned, not just because of the gruesome subject, but because Gobo was starting to sound a little more hesitant. He was trying to sound calm and casual, but the confidence of his demeanor was slipping away. His tail even twitched a few times.
The Brave Mask. They had to be getting closer to what was really on Gobo's mind.

“Well, what about…” Gobo held himself a little straighter as they pushed through the curtain into Boober’s cave. “What about, say…” His tail twitched, twice, three times. “A bite from a… a purple cave snake.”

Boober shuddered as he put down his medicine bag. “Those are the worst! Gobo, you’re not going anywhere with purple cave snakes, are you? They’re deadly!”

“Well, I’m not rushing off to meet any! But they’re sneaky little things,” Gobo said easily, and his tail flicked again.

Boober shuddered again. “Let me check my book,” he said, and he grabbed one of his thicker tomes. “Why would you go anywhere near one of those things?”

“An explorer’s gotta do what an explorer’s gotta do, Boober,” Gobo said firmly. His tail twitched behind him. “I—I was just thinking about taking a little trip to Rock Bottom Gorge. I was reading about it, and it looks really interesting. But it also says there might be a few purple cave snakes there, so…”

Boober had been flipping through his book, and now he found the page he was looking for. “Might be? Gobo, it says here that’s their lair!”

“What?” Gobo leaned over to look at the page where Boober was pointing. “Purple cave snake… Known breeding grounds: Rock Bottom Gorge,” he read. “Huh. That’s the other side of the Rock! I thought they were in Red Ripple Cove.”

“Red Ripple Cove?” Boober repeated. He examined the page in his book, but he saw no mention of the place.

Gobo’s tail flicked. “I mean—I know they’re in Red Ripple Cove. I thought that was… mostly where they stayed…”

“How do you know?” Boober asked. “Have you been there?”

“No!” Gobo’s tail snapped into a tight curl near the floor, as if the tail itself was trying to conceal its well-flared baloobius. Gobo stared straight at Boober. “I mean, uh… Not yet!” And then he managed to sound more casual as he said, “Maybe someday… It’s just not a real high priority!” He grinned and nodded convincingly.
Boober stared at him. “I see,” he said quietly. He went over to one of his cubby holes and pulled down a small box. He carefully removed the lid and took something out, then came over and handed the thing to Gobo.

“What’s this?” Gobo said, baffled at the sudden turn.

“It’s a cookie,” Boober said flatly. “You’re supposed to eat it.”

“I know what to do with a cookie, Boober,” Gobo said. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Boober ignored the question. “Gobo, what happened there?” he said quietly.
“What happened where?” Gobo said defensively.

"At the Red Ripple Cove," Boober said.

"Nothing!" Gobo said. "I—I've never been there!"

Boober stared. "Well, somebody's been there," he said quietly. "You're willing to go to Rock Bottom Gorge, knowing it's the home of purple cave snakes. Purple cave snakes scare you, but not as much as Red Ripple Cove does."

"What? I'm not scared!"

The Brave Mask at its most desperate.

Boober put his hand on Gobo's shoulder. "Gobo... I know fear," he said quietly. "I understand fear better than anything else in the world. Better than home remedies, or cooking, or even laundry." He nodded once, hoping he could be as comforting as Gobo's confidence always was to him. "You're scared," he said softly. "And I want to know why."

Gobo stared back at him for a moment. Then he looked around to make sure no one was listening—which was absurd, because they were the only ones in the cave—and he leaned a little closer. "Boober, promise not to tell anyone," he whispered grimly. "Especially not Red. Or anyone."

"I promise," Boober whispered solemnly.

Gobo slowly nodded. "Okay," he whispered.

And for once, the Brave Mask fell away completely.

They sat down on Boober's bed. Gobo's hands trembled slightly as he stared down at the uneaten cookie they cradled. "Boober... You know that I'm an explorer. Maybe even a great one. And I learned to be an explorer from my Uncle Travelling Matt, who's a really great explorer."

Boober nodded. "Mm-hm."

"And you know that my Uncle Travelling Matt learned to be an explorer from my Great Uncle Gobo... who was also a—a really great explorer," Gobo said.

"And you were named after him," Boober quietly recited.

"Yeah, exactly!" Gobo said, looking at him. Then his gaze trailed back to the cookie. "Well... I don't know if you know that my... my papa was an explorer, too," he whispered.

An explorer, Boober silently noticed. Not a really great explorer, like Travelling Matt and Great Uncle Gobo. Just an explorer.

"He wanted to find the real boundaries of Fraggle Rock. Where it really ends," Gobo quietly explained. "Well, this one trip... He went through Red Ripple Cove... and that's where a purple cave snake bit him." He looked up at Boober's face. "You know how the poison works. It's really painful... and really, really slow. It can take weeks."

Boober nodded reluctantly. "A long, slow, agonizing, excruciatingly painful death," he said sadly. "It drains all of your strength. You get weaker, and weaker..."

Gobo nodded. "Papa used all of his strength to pull himself home," he whispered. "Days and days, all alone, just trying to walk, and then crawl, and then just drag himself along." He stared down at his cookie and shook his head. "He made it home, just barely. He said my name, and Mama's name... and then he was gone."

Boober wrapped his arm around Gobo's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Gobo," he whispered.

Gobo shook his head. "I don't remember it. I've only heard the story," he said. "I mean, I used to hear it, before Mama..." His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "I barely remember her, even. I've just always had Uncle Matt, and I have all of you. And that's the only family I've ever needed." With those words, his voice was strong again, even if only for a moment. He sounded like the same Gobo Fraggle he always had been.

Boober nodded. "We're all the family I've ever needed, too," he said.

They smiled at each other. Gobo broke the cookie and gave the bigger half to Boober. They ate together in silence, each with an arm around the other. Nothing needed to be said until the last crumb was gone.

"Boober..." Gobo said hesitantly, still not quite the same confident Fraggle he usually was. "I... I face my fears. It's all I know how to do with them." He looked at his friend, scared and lost. "I'm not ready to face Red Ripple Cove," he confessed.

"That's okay," Boober said soothingly. "You don't ever have to be."

"Of course I do," Gobo said. "I'm an explorer. That's what I do."

Boober shook his head. "Gobo... You're always the first one to say that it's okay to be afraid."

Gobo squirmed a little. "Well, yeah..."

"Well, let me tell you that it's okay to stay afraid," Boober said. "You don't ever need to face Red Ripple Cove."

Gobo didn't look very convinced. He also didn't look very willing to argue. "I'm scared of purple cave snakes, too," he said quietly. "Any Fraggle should be. But I'm tired of turning and running every time I see the slightest signs of one." He looked at Boober. "I want to know what to do. So I can be ready. So that I won't have to be... as scared. There's gotta be something that'll stop the poison, if you're bit... right?"

Boober nodded. "I think there is, if you treat it right away. Let me take a look." He got up and examined the page that his book was still open to. He nodded again. "Rockweed powder and ground silver tooth ferns," he said. "But it has to be applied within half an hour. After that, well..."

Gobo stood next to him and quietly stared at the antidote written on the page.

"I have an idea," Boober said. "Why don't I make you a package of home remedies for all the most common poisons? You can keep them with you in your pack when you go on long journeys. And I can show you how to use them. That way, no matter what happens out there, you'll be ready."

Gobo nodded slowly. "Sure, Boober," he said. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Good! We'll start now," Boober said. "But you have to make sure to check these with me every so often. Some of them lose their potency after a while. And some, if they go bad, will do you more harm than good."

Again, Gobo nodded, and his usual bravery—not the Brave Mask, but the real bravery—slid back into place. "We'll go over all of it every time I leave for more than a day," he said firmly.

"Good! That should be often enough," Boober said, and he briefly examined his book. "Let's see... We'll start with the rockweed powder."

They worked together, assembling small pouches of various dried plant bits and mixtures. As they prepared each one, Boober explained and sometimes demonstrated how it was used and what it would treat, making Gobo recite everything back to him.

“Looks like I’m gonna need a bigger pack, eh?” Gobo said cheerfully as the pile of remedies started to grow. “Maybe we should go with smaller doses. I’m only one Fraggle, and if I do get hurt, I’ll head for home anyway.”

Boober reluctantly agreed. “But if you travel with other Fraggles, make sure to bring more, okay?” he said. “After all, if one of you gets hurt, the other might get hurt, too.”

Gobo considered it. “Well… it makes sense, I suppose. As soon as there’s more than one explorer, you start needing more of everything.”

That was when Wembley came into the cave, making that fun bouncy noise in his throat with every step. “Hi, guys! What are you doing?”

“Oh, hi Wembley!” Gobo said. “Boober and I are just putting together some of his home remedies for me to take with me on long expeditions. That way if something happens to me, I can treat it right away.”

“Really?” Wembley said. “Wow, that’s a great idea!”

“Yeah, I thought so, too!” Gobo said. “It’s a great idea, Boober!”

“Thank you,” Boober said, pleased that his home remedies were getting so much attention, but he silently took a moment to pause and wonder at Gobo. Just a few minutes ago, he’d been afraid that he might need these remedies when he was all alone, and now he actually sounded excited by the possibility. It wasn’t his heroic explorer bit or even the Brave Mask; it was just Gobo, thrilled for even the most dangerous parts of exploration.

“So Wembley, did you pick any good radishes?” Gobo asked.

Wembley looked down. “No… There’s a bunch of really good ones in the garden, but… I… I couldn’t decide which one to pick,” he bashfully confessed.

“Oh, Wembley,” Boober sighed, shaking his head.

But Gobo just grinned. “That’s okay, Wembley,” he said, starting for the door. “We’ll go and help you decide.”

“What?” Boober froze.

Gobo took one look at Boober’s face and his flared baloobius, and he remembered what Boober had just told him; that it was okay to stay afraid. “I mean, I’ll go help you decide, Wembley,” he said immediately. “We’ll be back soon, Boober, and then I’ll help finish this up.”

Boober sagged with relief. “Okay. Good luck!” he called after them. “Be safe out there!”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Wembley said. “We’ll bring back a really terrific radish!” He turned to keep walking and put his hand on Gobo’s back. “Besides, what could go wrong now? I’m with the bravest Fraggle in the whole Rock!”

Gobo laughed. “Only sometimes, Wembley,” he said, slinging his arm around Wembley’s back. “Besides, I wouldn’t be half as brave without my friends always there to help!”

“Well, we wouldn’t let you down,” Wembley promised.

“And I won’t let you down, either,” Gobo promised.

And all of us know it, Boober thought as he watched them go, and he quietly smiled.

 

[The Count]

Yay! Hail the triumphant return of "good" fic. And a oneshot by der Lisa!

It shows you've been reading up on someone else's FR fics in preparation for this one. I really like how Gobo opened up to Boober about his true fears... Fears, past the point of all other fears. Fears of snakes, fears of rats, fear of someday growing—er sorry, got carried away there for a moment. Losing a parent's never easy. Especially when you have the memories of the last moments before then attached to it, even if it's just a story you've heard and don't rully remember it in that first-person sort of way that death has sometimes.
And you came up with the best solution for to get through to ... With a cookie.
There nothing a good cookie can't solve. Now where me cookie?
*Tosses a choc chunk crumb disc to my the furry blue devourer.

Boober: I know fear.
Yes... Yes you do, and that's an aspect of his character I like muchly.

Sure hope and get better soon. There's only so much aggravation from an antcy jockette who can't run and play and swim and crash that a quiet artistic type can take when both in close captivity together.

Thank you for posting, it's a welcome refreshing thing to find your particular brand of fic here nowadays.
*Leaves more cookies.

 

[charlietheowl]

What a nice story! It's good to see that Gobo was able to open up about his worries and fears to Boober, and that Boober was able to help him out. Boober may be nervous, but he's able to help other work through their fears. Thank for you sharing.

 

[Slackbot]

Wow. That story was a pleasure to read. I enjoy fics that delve into what makes the characters tick. I can tell that you've gotten into Gobo's mind with this one. He's brave and blustery and cocky, but not (usually) stupid about it. He can admit when he's afraid, even when everyone else expects fearlessness of him. You've caught him at a delicate spot, when he's wavering on the edge of bravery and bluffing, and written him well. And Gobo's not the easiest character to write.

As for Boober, I like how he carries his part here. He's there for support, both in matters concerning health and nutrition, and as a confessor and comforter. He turns his weaknesses into strengths by combating danger with prevention and cure. Unlike Gobo, he doesn't have to face his fears head-on. That ain't his style. And I see you agree that he's always gonna have some comfort food on hand.

So, in conclusion, very good story, and thank you for posting it. For someone who doesn't write Fraggle fic (or post it, at least) you write it well, and I hope you post more.

(PS: Speaking of comfort food, Boober was a stinker for not letting Red have a radish bar. He could bribe her into good behavior with those!)

 

[Vincent L]

Amusing to see Lisa write a Fraggle Rock story. Amazing how the style carries on from the Muppet stories.

And a oneshot by der Lisa!

Always Denglish…

 

[animalrescuer]

Such a sweet story! A great Gobo story, he learn that he can always be open about his fears, even his biggest ones, to his friends and he knows they can always support him every step of the way, the best lesson a fraggle can learn.