#Also the light pollution is pretty bad where I am so that was working against us too

[ocdhuacheng]

This is so cute. She is a darling

[keltonwrites]

Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

​Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

[thenovelartist]

Burned Beginnings, Chapter 9

<<Previous  Next>>

25. Shooting Star

“If you could wish upon a shooting star, what would you want?”

Leaning back further in her balcony lounge chair, Marinette looked up to the sky to spot the few stars whose glitter could surpass the light pollution Paris offered. “Can you even really see them?”

In the chair beside her, Adrien turned his head up towards the sky. “Well, not really, but if you could, what would you wish for?”

Marinette hummed. “Like, what kinda wish are we talking about? Are we talking a genie wish or realistic wish?”

“Um… realistic wish,” Adrien answered. “Specifically, it’s been a little while since you decided not to pursue fashion, so have you decided what to do next?”

Marinette looked at him, only to see him looking inquisitively back at her. “Not quite yet,” she said before turning back to the sky. “I guess the more time goes on, the more that a part of me wants to have a job that would allow me to be around clothes in some way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I had to take a little time away from designing to clear my head, but… I think I’m ready to start picking things up again because I miss it.”

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Adrien said, his voice earnest and gentle and soothing.

“I’m not quite sure what that future looks like yet,” Marinette confessed. “But I think I’m ready to start moving forward on it. I’ll do some searching, maybe look for a boutique or tailor shop to work at.”

“I think that sounds like a really good idea, Marinette.”

She turned back to Adrien, only to melt under his affectionate gaze. With this man at her side supporting her like that, she felt like she really could do anything she put her mind to.

“Enough about me,” she said, shifting in her chair so as to face him better. “What about you? What’s your wish? Don’t think I forgot our promise you made me.”

“I didn’t,” he assured, twisting in his own seat to face her more. “I’ve been looking. And don’t judge me, but… I decided that I want to continue working for your parents.”

“Yeah?”

Adrien nodded. “I’ve done my own soul searching, thinking about what kind of jobs I might take. Deciding if I wanted to go to university or find a trade job. Laid out all my options that sounded interesting along with all the pros and cons of those jobs on so many pieces of paper that I lost my desk under that pile. And what I came to is me realizing I’m really happy with where I’m at and the people I’m working with. I did think about going to my old fencing school, though, and taking up that pastime again. But I’m uncertain if my reputation would precede me or not.”

Marinette shrugged. “If that’s what you want to do, doesn’t hurt to try.”

A small smile picked up Adrien’s lips. “We’ll see. I won’t rule it out yet until I know the answer.”

“As happy as I am to hear your progress,” Marinette began. “I also can’t help but wonder if you will for sure be happy with that. Because I feel like there’s more that you’re not telling me.”

For a moment, Adrien studied her with a small amount of surprise before relaxing with a sigh. “You really know me, don’t you?”

“Well, you do return the favor,” she said with a wink.

He huffed in amusement. “Yeah… guess I do.” He then took a fortifying breath. “Marinette, I definitely should have asked you this before I proposed, so I’ll ask you now. Do you want kids?”

Marinette’s brow furrowed in confusion before her stomach twisted into a knot. “Did we really never talk about that?”

A slight panic began to settle in Adrien’s expression. “No, I don’t think it ever came up.”

Exasperated, Marinette tapped her forehead with her fist. “Wow, what a fail,” she muttered before turning back to him. “Yeah, I do want kids. Two or three sounds like a good number. Is that okay with you?”

Marinette watched as Adrien’s shoulders relaxed as relief washed over his face, and she took that as a good sign. “Two or three sounds amazing.”

“Good,” Marinette said, feeling a sense of relief settle over her, as well. “I’m glad.”

“That being said,” Adrien continued. “Back to me working here, part of me wants to take up your parents’ legacy and then one day, be able to give the option of passing on the legacy to our kids.”

A gentle breeze blew by them, yet despite that, Marinette still felt her cheeks grow hot. “You…”

Adrien grinned. “I mean, there might end up being some other place I’d like working, but for the first time, I feel like I belong somewhere. I belong with you and your parents who’ve welcomed me with open arms. And cherishing and protecting that is more important than my job, you know? So, I want to stay here and be a part of this warm place with the people I care about and build something around this warmth. That’s my dream.”

Her heart hurt. She wasn’t even sure why it hurt, only that there were too many thoughts and feelings and emotions piling on top of each other and weighing on her heart. “Oh Adrien.”

She stood from her own seat, only to plop down in Adrien’s lap. He grinned, instantly cuddling her close to his heart and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You mean the world to me, Marinette. And I don’t really care anymore about shooting for the stars when I can have something far more grounded and stable and warm right where I’m at.”

She settled against him, nestling under his chin and relishing just being there with him. “Only if that’s for sure what you want.”

“It is.”

“Then you will always have my support.”

He squeezed her close once again, holding her tightly. It spoke all the words she needed to hear, yet he still whispered, “Thank you so much, Marinette. I love you so much.”

She smiled, feeling warm and oh-so-very-happy. “I love you, too.”

 26. Moonlit Dance

It had taken months of planning and scoping out venues and securing everything needed. But finally, things were almost completed and the wedding was a month away.

Adrien was stoked.

However, there was still one thing he and Marinette had to sort out.

“We are not waltzing at the wedding.”

“Aww. Why not, princess?”

Marinette’s nose crinkled as she pouted. “Because…”

“Because?...” Adrien prodded. He didn’t think he was being unreasonable considering he’d let Marinette plan most of it and only wanted a couple things himself, this one included. Marinette had originally agreed… before hearing what it was.

“Because I don’t want to accidentally step on your toes.”

Adrien snorted in his attempt to hold back a laugh. “Come on. I’ll show you. It’s not that hard.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Oh?” Adrien raised a brow, growing grin on his face. “Is that a challenge?”

Marinette glared at him.

He chuckled then held out his hand for her to take as he bowed before her like a dance partner would. “Come on, princess. Partake in this moonlight dance with me.”

Marinette looked around the balcony they stood on, one covered with her chairs and a little table and basket plants. “There’s like… no room up here.”

He… had to concede to that. “Not for a waltz, no, but that’s not the point.”

Marinette glanced at his hand before looking back up at him, the fight leaving her eyes. “You really want to?”

“Well,” Adrien drawled out, feeling a bit mischievous. “If I’m being perfectly honest with you, this isn’t quite the moonlight dance I’d like to do with you.”

He watched confusion shroud Marinette’s face. “Huh?”

In a flash, he snatched her hand, pulling her flush with his chest. She gasped at the action, her eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Chuckling, Adrien lowered his lips next to her ear. “Yup, but the wedding is a month away, so I can wait until then,” he whispered.

Marinette, sharp as she was, caught his implication immediately. Sputtering, she shoved his chest, pushing away from her. “A-adrien!”

It was rare whenever Adrien caught Marinette totally off-guard like this. Normally, she had the upper hand or at the very least was able to retort back. But to see her so flustered stoked a fire in him, and if anyone thought he was going to waste the opportunity he was given and not continue to press his luck as far as it could go, they were wrong. “Awww, what’s with the surprise, princess? No witty comebacks today?”

She pouted, turning her face away, likely to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Oh, shut up.”

He snorted a laugh. “Wow, you’re really off your game if you’re resorting to snapbacks like that.”

“And you’re nothing but a tomcat if your head goes to the gutter with the words ‘moonlight dance’.”

“Only if it gets under your skin.”

“... okay, that was purposefully bad wording.”

“Look whose head is in the gutter now.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Why do you always have to start these things?”

“Um, excuse me, but I have a hickey on my collarbone that says otherwise.”

She huffed, turning her head away and remaining silent

Adrien grinned, stepping up closer to her once again. “Oh? Did a cat catch your pretty tongue? Let me see.”

Before he could pull her face back towards him, she turned, sticking her tongue out at him.

And he caught her face in his hands and kissed her.

It didn’t last long, but he had made sure to kiss her hard and fierce, wanting to keep her surprised and on her toes. “Aww,” he teased once he had forced himself to pull away. He had to restrain himself to not immediately go back in for more. “This cat almost caught it.”

She looked positively red now. “Adrien, I swear…”

“Hmm?” he goaded. “What was that? Couldn’t quite catch the end of tha—mmpf!”

She didn't let him finish. She dug her fingers in his hair and yanked him closer, smashing her lips on his.

Oh, it was on.

He shoved her backwards. She struggled against him, not wanting to let him win. She never wanted to let him win. But they’d done this enough times for Adrien to know she wasn’t mad about his actions, or else she would have stopped and told him to knock it off.

Since she didn’t, he took that as an okay to keep shoving her backwards into the wall. She moaned into his mouth, suddenly using the wall to her advantage and pressing her body against him, and Adrien practically forgot how to breathe.

Gradually, what had started a battle slowed to a sensual tango as lips and tongues and hands lead and followed in time. Adrien was going to die between the way Marinette raked her fingernails along his scalp and across his shoulders and down his arms and…

Shit, what were they doing again? Because Adrien’s mind was shrouded in a thick haze that only allowed him to think of one thing.

Marinette.

She won this battle. Just like she did every time. He was such a goner when it came to her that he rarely minded. If marrying this woman meant she’d harass him within an inch of his life then turn around and black his mind out like this…

Where did he sign up and how fast could he do it?

It took him until much much later to realize the answers were A) he already had and B)less than a month’s time.

 27. Future Kids

It was a week after the wedding, and Marinette and her idiot husband were just getting back from their honeymoon. The amount of make-up both of them would be wearing for the next week was shocking. And that was just on the visible marks they’d left on each other.

“Home sweet home,” Adrien said, opening the door to his-apartment-turned-their-apartment. He still had half a year left on his lease, in which time they’d go on the hunt for a new place. For now, the challenge of living together would be complicated less by moving. And it was best not to break the lease early if they could help it.

“My boxes are still everywhere,” Marinette commented, referring to the fact she’d brought several boxes of her things over. She still hadn’t moved all her stuff over yet, half her sewing supplies still residing in her parents’ house for the time being until they figured out where everything would go in the small place.

“You’re just settling in. I don’t mind it for now.” Adrien then turned to her, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her in close. “This mess just means I get to have my wife live with me now.”

Marinette couldn’t help but smile, but before she could say a word, her phone went off. Adrien pouted, muttering something about the phone stealing her away, but she just laughed it off before checking it anyway.

“Oh, is it your mom?” Adrien said, looking at her phone as well. “Answer that.”

She shook her head. Adrien loved her parents and her parents loved him. Had Marinette not married him, they probably would have adopted him.

She answered the phone. “Hey, maman. I’ve got you on speaker.”

“Hey, Sabine,” Adrien said, sunny smile back on his face.

“Hi, Adrien,” her maman warmly greeted. “I won’t make this long for now, but you know Tom and I want to hear all about your trip. So, how about you come over for dinner tonight?”

“Yes!” Adrien instantly answered.

“Glad to hear it. Then I’ll see you both tonight at seven?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Um, I’m still here,” Marinette cried, good-naturedly.

“Sorry, sweetie,” her maman said with a giggle. “But it’s not like you have objections to that, right?”

Actually, Marinette did have objections, but she also knew that her parents were either going to ask her now or later, and since that ‘later’ might end up being during work, she might as well get it out of the way now. “No. No objections.”

“Great. Then I’ll see you both tonight.”

“See you then, Sabine.”

“Bye, Maman.”

“Bye, you two.”

After Marinette hung up, the smile dropped from her face as she sighed.

“Huh? Something wrong?” Adrien asked.

“No, not necessarily.”

“Yeah? What’s ‘not necessarily’ entail?”

Marinette took a breath. “Maman and Papa are going to start with asking about the trip, but I know them, specifically my papa, and at some point during this conversation, they—specifically Papa—are going to ask when they can expect grandkids.”

Seemingly unperturbed, Adrien just shrugged. “And we say ‘we don’t know yet’. Field the questions. It’s not like we don’t want kids, but neither of us know when the best time would be to start for them. Easy.”

“You say that now,” Marinette grumbled.

Adrien tilted his head, looking a little like a confused puppy.

Cute.

“Is that the wrong answer?”

“No,” Marinette dismissed. “It’s just that you say it so easily.”

“When it comes to your parents, talking with them is easy.”

“Then I’ll let you field those questions,” Marinette said, slipping out of his embrace. “I am going to go shower.”

“Oh, can I come with?” Adrien asked, sparkle in his eye and hope in his voice.

She scoffed, feeling a little bit of heat creep up her neck. “No, because I actually want to shower.”

“So do I.”

“Then wait your turn.”

“Why, though? Can’t I just come with you?”

“I don’t know. Will you behave?”

“I promise!”

Marinette huffed. “Yeah, I know what happened over the honeymoon. I don’t believe you.”

“So cruel,” Adrien said, pantomiming being stabbed in the heart. “It wasn’t like you slipped into the shower against my will two nights ago.”

Marinette paused. She supposed she did do that.

But considering what followed, it was hardly ‘against his will’.

“So…” His smile suddenly turned devious, and Marinette found herself thinking that grin was incredibly hot. “I guess I’ll just have to call ‘fair fair’ and return the favor.”

Okay, whatever you say, Hot Stuff. Do your worst.

She shoved that thought down as quickly as it came up, knowing she had to remain responsible or else they were totally going to miss dinner. She checked the time on her phone, biting her lip in deliberation. “Here’s the deal,” she eventually said. “Set an alarm; we shut this whole thing down with plenty of time to make ourselves presentable before we go over there.”

Adrien looked like a cat that got the cream, and Marinette knew by the racing of her heart that she was in trouble. But she’d realized during her honeymoon that she’d signed up for this.

She’d also realized during the honeymoon that she really didn’t mind.

[rainecreatesstuff]

escaping is not the same as running away- chapter 3

thoughts are not for the lonely:

Characters: Ranboo, Tubbo, Tommy, Michael_Beloved

Relationships: Ranboo & Tubbo (qp), Tommy & Tubbo (p), Tommy & Ranboo (p), Ranboo & Michael_Beloved (f), Tubbo and Michael_Beloved (f)

Warnings: Mentions of martyrdom and martyr ideologies, descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks.

Summary: 

Ranboo, Tubbo, Tommy, and Michael continue their journey to escape the SMP. Includes Bench Trio goofs, Allium Duo heart-to-hearts, and Michael_Beloved. Enjoy! :)

Ranboo glanced up at the sky as he rowed. The moon was reaching its apex, shining down brightly on the waves that surrounded them. A few clouds dotted the sky here and there, but overall, the skies were clear, giving a view of a beautiful starry sky. Tubbo was gazing at the stars with admiration. Ranboo wondered if his husband had ever seen the night sky so clearly before.

“Hey Tubso, you alright there?” Tommy asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, no, I’m good.” Tubbo glanced back to Tommy for a moment, then returned his gaze to the sky.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ranboo gently poked Tubbo’s foot with his own.

Tubbo pulled his gaze down to Ranboo, and paused for a moment, as if he were recollecting his thoughts.

“Just can’t remember the last time the sky was this clear.”

“God, yeah, last time we saw this many stars must’ve been before L’Manburg, huh?” Tommy rowed a few meters ahead of them, then took his hands off the paddles and stretched.

Looks like they were taking a break, then. Ranboo slowed the boat down, bringing it to float beside Tommy’s.

“Was the light pollution all that bad in early L’Manburg?” Ranboo stretched his back, bringing his hands above his head.

“Eh, early-early L’Manburg not so much, but once the walls were built…”

“Yeah, we had torches on the top, and also buildings n shit were popping up all over the place, so.”

Ranboo hummed.

“Then, of course, Manburg was pretty shit, and there was a bunch of light, and you were there for New L’Manburg, which glowed like a Christmas tree that's been set on fire, so, y’know, not a lot of stars.” Tubbo carefully shifted Michael in his arms as he spoke, laying the toddler down so his head rested on Tubbo’s lap.

“There were a lot of lanterns,” Ranboo stated grimly.

Tubbo laughed.

“Yeah, there were. Gotta admit they were pretty though.”

“Oh, definitely. Definitely fit the aesthetic.”

Tommy snorted.

“‘The Aesthetic.’ You can say spruce wood.”

“Oh shut up, spruce is a great block to build with.” Tubbo cut in.

“You could have chosen oak wood and cobblestone, but you went with spruce.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we didn’t want it to look like an abomination.”

“Oak and cobble are lovely blocks! You know why so many villages are built with them? Because they look good. You know why so few villages are built with spruce? It’s a lesser block.”

“Mhm, you’re one to talk about what looks good. Not like you’ve built several ugly cobblestone railroads.”

“My railroads are beautiful.”

Ranboo laughed as quietly as he could at the back and forth, not wanting to draw their attention away. They continued arguing, and Ranboo saw Michael stir a bit.

“Tubbo.”

Tubbo’s head shot in his husband’s direction, then down at Michael, who was blinking sleepily. Tubbo’s face became one of pure agony.

“It’s alright, go back to sleep. Sorry about that Mikey.” Tubbo gently ran his hand through Michael’s mane, soothing him back to sleep.

The toddler mumbled something half-heartedly, and was out again. Partially against their own wills, Ranboo and Tubbo both let out a sigh of relief.

“Who knew all it took to make Tubbo go soft was a piglin child,” Tommy said, an amused smile on his face.

“You haven’t dealt with a toddler that doesn’t want to sleep before man.” Ranboo gazed at Tommy with what he hoped would be read as horror.

Tubbo laughed quietly as Tommy snorted.

“Can’t be that big of a deal.”

Tubbo perked up.

“Great! Once we’ve got our houses and stuff built, he can stay in yours for a night! I’m sure you’ll have so much fun!” Tubbo spoke with a practiced smile and a faux-cheery tone, his eyes aflame with something sinister.

Sometimes Ranboo was reminded of just how happy he was that he wasn’t Tubbo’s enemy.

“Ahahaaa… yeah… sure…” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “Let’s keep going, yeah?”

Tubbo cackled, and Ranboo rolled his eyes fondly.

“I thank the gods above every day that you’ll never have the opportunity to be a suburban mom.” Ranboo took the paddles back in his hands and began rowing again, straightening out so he was travelling in the right direction.

“Fuck you, I’d be a great suburban mom.”

“Yeah, that’s my fear.”

“He’d be terrifying. He would rule the neighbourhood with an iron fist. Michael would be an iPad kid.” Tommy tossed in.

“Oh gods, no. Not an iPad kid.”

“Yes, Ranboo, an iPad kid. And you would be a malewife.”

Ranboo spluttered, laughing.

“I- why?”

Tommy levelled him with an unimpressed look.

“Well, look at you.”

Tubbo turned away sharply, holding a fist to his mouth in a desperate attempt to stop himself from laughing. The other hand still ran soothingly through Michael’s hair.

“Gee, thanks, Tommy, really- really means a lot, man.”

Tommy snickered as Tubbo coughed into his fist. Tubbo eventually regained his composure, and turned back to Ranboo.

“Aw, it’s okay Boo. You’d make a great malewife.”

“I hate every part of this. I’m going back.” Ranboo mocked jumping out of the boat.

“Noooo, Boo, I didn’t mean it. You’re not a malewife I promise.”

“When we find land I am throwing you.”

“You will not.”

“I will.”

“No.”

“The decision has already been made, Tubbo. There is no going back now.”

Tubbo groaned lightheartedly as Ranboo laughed quietly to himself. Tommy laughed beside them.

“Tubbo will simply kick you lots. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Tubbo froze, and Ranboo paused, slowly turning to face Tommy.

“Wait, have you never picked up Tubbo before?”

“Not successfully.”

Ranboo grinned. Tubbo glared at him with fire in his eyes.

“Ranboo. I will make you regret every decision you have ever made if you tell him.”

“Jokes on you, I already regret most of my decisions,” Ranboo turned back to Tommy, “So, like he just doesn’t let you, or…?”

Tommy’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I- yeah? Like he just kicks you, right? And then squirms out.”

“Tommy, my friend, you have been going about this the wrong way,”

“Ranboo I swear to all things holy if you mutter another word-“

“So, basically, you kinda just have to-“

“Ranboo-“

“Put your hands under his arms and hold him out, like a-“

“I’m going to kill you-“

“Displeased cat.”

“You’re so dead. You are all types of dead. I am going to push you out of this boat.”

Tubbo reached over and shoved Ranboo as much as he could without waking up the toddler asleep on his lap. Ranboo laughed evilly as Tommy watched the two with confusion.

“What, and he’ll stop kicking?”

“Oh, no, he’ll still kick, but his legs won’t be able to reach you. He’ll just tire himself out until you can carry him normally.”

“I hate you so much.” Tubbo pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

Ranboo giggled, “Aw, thanks, love you too, Bo.”

Tommy was looking between Ranboo and Tubbo with something akin to awe.

“Ranboo. My friend. You have made a revolutionary discovery. You have done the gods’ work.”

“Tommy if you even try to pick me up, I will just kill you in your sleep.”

“Ah, but now I have the knowledge that I can simply just pick you up and you will be rendered defenceless.”

Tubbo huffed.

“You two are lucky you’re my friends.”

“We are,” Ranboo said without thinking.

Tubbo visibly softened, like a switch had been flipped. He looked as if he was about to say something, then stopped himself, tilting his head downwards to look at Michael as his hand combed through the kid’s hair. Tommy fake-gagged, and Tubbo rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Shut up, Tommy.”

Tommy laughed, and a pleasant quiet settled over the trio. Ranboo and Tommy rowed in silence as Tubbo began humming a song Ranboo had never heard before. They continued on until it must’ve been one or two in the morning, what with the moon being where it was. Ranboo was beginning to grow sore, and he was sure Tommy must be as well. Tubbo yawned as Ranboo slowed down the boat, Tommy coming to a drift beside them.

“Should we take a break for now?” Ranboo let go of the paddles, not waiting for an answer.

“Please.” Tommy shook his hands before pulling them to his chest and examining them.

Ranboo hoped he hadn’t gotten any splinters. Those would be a pain to deal with right now.

Tubbo rubbed his eyes before turning his head back up to face Ranboo.

“Do you want me to take over for a while?”

“No, you need sleep too, you haven’t slept well recently.” Ranboo reached across the boat to brush Tubbo’s hair out of his eyes, making eye contact with him briefly.

That was something Ranboo had been noticing recently. As much as Tubbo did try to accommodate for his usual dislike of eye contact, he hadn’t found himself becoming agitated at eye contact with Tubbo for a while. If he held it too long, it became uncomfortable, but he suspected that it was mostly just social awkwardness, nothing Enderman-y. He did find that he enjoyed making eye contact with Tubbo though, just for a couple moments when they were safe at home. It felt the same way that giving a hug did.

Tubbo blinked once, then drew his gaze away from Ranboo’s. Ranboo tried to ignore the disappointment that came with it.

“I’ll be fine if I need to.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to. Get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

Tubbo eyed him suspiciously.

“You’ll wake me if you need anything. Got it?”

“Of course.”

“… Alright.” Tubbo carefully pulled Michael into his arms, then slowly sat down on the floor of the boat.

Ranboo turned around and grabbed a blanket from one of their bags, draping it over Tubbo and Michael. He passed Tubbo a rolled-up hoodie, which Tubbo put behind his head to act as a sort of travel pillow. Tubbo yawned again, pulling a yawn from Ranboo and Tommy as well.

“Goodnight, Boo.”

“Night Bo.”

“Night Toms.”

“Sleep well Tubs.”

And with that, Tubbo promptly passed out. Ranboo quietly giggled to himself at how quickly Tubbo fell asleep. A part of him was glad Tubbo felt so safe around him, but another worried how tired he must have been to have fallen asleep like that. Ranboo turned around, surveying their surroundings.

A shoal was just a hundred or so metres away. He pointed it out to Tommy, who groaned theatrically, then picked his paddles back up and began rowing in the direction of the shoal. Ranboo followed, and they carefully docked their boats as best they could in the sand. Ranboo grabbed a piece of rope from his own bag, and tied his and Tommy’s boats together.

“Just in case.” He smiled, and Tommy nodded.

Tommy stretched, and got into a similar position to Tubbo’s. Instead of falling asleep, though, he turned to the horizon, watching the waves.

Ranboo opened his bag completely, checking on Enderchest, who seemed displeased. The cat meowed unhappily as Ranboo picked her up, placing her on his lap. She stepped off his lap and onto the seat, batting at his hands as he tried to stop her. She settled on the edge of the boat, looking down into the shallow water curiously. With a quick whap at the water, her ears flattened, and she returned to Ranboo’s lap.

He pet her for a while until a loud purr rumbled from her throat. Ranboo opened his inventory, grabbing a couple small fish, and fed her.

“Get why Tubbo calls you a catboy now.”

“C’mon, man, it was so peaceful.”

Tommy cackled.

“You did start purring the second your cat did. You are literally just a big cat.”

Ranboo tried to will his tail to stop hitting the floor in an annoyed manner. It did not work.

“No. Go to sleep.”

Tommy laughed, but pulled a blanket onto himself.

“I take it you don’t plan on sleeping?”

“No. I figure someone should stay awake, just in case something happens. A storm could roll in, or something.” Ranboo idly pet Enderchest as he spoke.

He didn’t mention that being surrounded by water prevented him from calming down enough to sleep, but it seemed like minor enough of a detail to leave out.

Tommy hummed.

“You mentioned… You mentioned Tubbo hasn’t been sleeping?”

Ranboo bit his lip.

“Yeah. He’s, uh, he’s been staying out later, not coming back until well after Michael’s gone to bed. And then he’ll usually stay at his desk for a few hours before I can convince him to come to bed. At least, at least when I’m around.” Ranboo sighed.

“Can’t say I haven’t found him asleep at his desk when I’ve come to visit, though.”

“Really?” Tommy seemed taken aback.

Ranboo frowned.

“I mean, yeah? It’s not really all that surprising that he stays up late, I mean, when I’m there I usually have to like- lure him to bed with promises of like, his favourite breakfast or something in the morning.”

“…Huh.”

“Is that.. abnormal, for him?” Ranboo’s tail swished against the floor.

“Uh, no, not the overworking part. Surprised you find him at his desk though. As long as I’ve known him he’s always woken up at sunrise.”

“Even when he’s been up late?”

“Especially then,” Tommy picked at a loose thread in his blanket, “He slept pretty lightly most nights, but especially when he was up late, so he’d wake up the second the sun got in the windows.”

Ranboo hummed. That was… weird. Since he began staying in the same house as Tubbo, Tubbo usually wouldn’t wake up until at least eight or nine. He told this to Tommy, whose eyebrows raised with surprise. Ranboo watched as Tommy bit his lip, then looked up at Ranboo pensively. Ranboo suddenly felt the urge to sit up straighter.

“What?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You. And Tubbo.” Tommy’s gaze drifted over to the goat hybrid, who was still fast asleep beside his son.

“What about us?”

“… Just that it’s good you help him sleep ‘n take care of himself ‘n shit.”

Ranboo felt his face grow warm against his will.

“Oh, I don’t- I don’t think it’s me, I think it’s probably just ‘cause he’s, he’s uh, not president and stuff anymore? So he’s probably been a lot more relaxed.”

Tommy looked at him amusedly.

“I’ve known Tubbo for a while. When we first met, he’d wake up at sunrise to take care of his bees and check up on his redstone machines. He was a bit like a farm boy in that regard,” Tommy said, turning his gaze back to the ocean.

“Then, the independence war happened, and we were trained to wake up at sunrise every day. Even when we stayed up until ridiculous hours, sitting around a campfire and singing and being dumb, Wilbur would be in our bunks at five in the morning with a bell. You don’t just lose that kind of training. Hell, I didn’t lose it ‘til I stayed with Techno.”

Ranboo wondered a bit where this was going.

“Then of course there was the Schlatt presidency, and Pogtopia. And I think I saw Tubbo sleep a total of three times when he was with us. Then he was president, and I’m not sure his sleep schedule ever improved.”

Ranboo hummed.

“Yeah, I get that. I, um, used to wander around L’Manburg at night sometimes and, and he was usually also out, or his lights were on.” Ranboo recalled.

“Exactly. Even when he first started Snowchester, as far as I know he never stopped waking up at sunrise. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he didn’t sleep much.”

“Yeah. He, uh, he seemed like- gaunt, almost.”

“Yeah.”

Tommy sighed.

“Point is, you’ve gotten him to break that habit, which is pretty fucking awesome, so. Good job, or whatever.”

Ranboo felt distinctly out of his area of expertise. He hadn’t really done anything. If anything, he’d probably annoyed Tubbo into sleeping in.

“I- um, thank you? But honestly, I really didn’t do anything.”

Tommy glanced back over to him for a moment.

“Alright.”

The two fell into a soft silence, the only sound being the waves gently lapping against the side of their boats. Enderchest curled up in Ranboo’s lap, falling asleep quickly as he pet her. Tommy yawned, drawing a yawn from Ranboo as well.

Tommy stared out the side of his boat opposite to Ranboo, his gaze settled on the horizon. Ranboo wondered again how Tubbo had managed to convince Tommy to come with them. Of course, Ranboo was almost certain that if Tommy hadn’t come, they wouldn’t have left in the first place.

Even if he and Tubbo hadn’t been as close recently as they used to be, Tommy was Tubbo’s person. His “other half,” if you want to get cliche. There was no Tubbo without Tommy. At least, not the same Tubbo.

“How are you holding up with… with leaving?”

Tommy rolled his head back in Ranboo’s direction.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Memory Boy?” He grinned.

It was still deflection. Ranboo bit his lip.

“So. Um. I take it not that great, then?”

Tommy laughed quietly to himself.

“I don’t even know at this point. One second I’m over the moon and the next I feel like screaming.”

“I get that,” Ranboo spoke softly, “Or, I guess I don’t get it, really, but I understand. You guys have been there a lot longer than me. There were probably a lot of places and people that were really important to you.”

Tommy hummed.

“Yeah, something like that. It’s weird, innit? Knowing you’ll probably never see some of those people again.”

Ranboo had to agree. The fact that he might never hear Niki’s voice again nibbled at the back of his brain like a mouse. He hoped she’d be open to talk through their communicators, but really, at this point it was a coin toss with most people in the SMP.

“A bit, yeah. It feels kinda odd knowing that I’ll probably never pass by Foolish working on some big project again.”

“Or by Eret’s castle. That’s one of the big ones for me. Don’t know why, honestly.”

“Fair. Her castle was kinda like… a staple of the SMP.”

“The only thing that hasn’t been blown up at some point.”

“Gods bless the power of pride flags.”

Tommy laughed, his head falling back and hitting the seat gently. Ranboo smiled.

“The two greatest powers of the SMP: Withers, and six stripes of colour.” Tommy quipped.

“I mean, Techno’s house was technically blown up.”

Tommy threw him a curious look. Ranboo giggled to himself for a moment.

“Okay so, you know how Phil will like, hyper-focus on things sometimes?”

Tommy nodded.

“So, basically, he was showing his flock something, I think it was some trinket he’d found while he was adventuring. I guess he must’ve left the doors open, because this creeper just walked like, right in, nothing stopping it, and blew up.”

Tommy snorted.

“Dude, Phil was freaking out. Techno was literally on his way home from the Nether and like half of Techno’s chests and paintings and stuff had been blown up. So I go over to see what’s happened, and Phil is just sitting on the floor surrounded by pieces of paintings like it’s a puzzle.”

“Oh god, the old man has no spatial reasoning, did he fix it in time?”

“He saw me walk in, yelled ‘Don’t just stand there, help,’ and then threw a box of ripped up paintings at me.”

Tommy laughed, loud and clear, and Ranboo grinned.

“So we’re sitting there on the floor frantically putting these paintings back together, and Phil’s getting messages from Techno saying he’ll be home soon, and that’s just making us mess up more. And you’ve seen Techno’s house, half the paintings have the exact same colour palette, so we end up getting half of it wrong and slapping it on the wall anyways.”

Ranboo laughed quietly as Tommy buried his head in his knees to avoid laughing.

“Long story short, we did eventually get them figured out, and Techno walked in like, literally a minute later. Thing is, we forgot to cover up the scent of gunpowder, so.”

“Oh god, what did the Blade do when he found out?”

“Oh, man, it was terrifying. It was Phil, so of course Techno didn’t care, but Phil was gonna blame it on me. I would’ve died, man, that would’ve been it for me.”

Tommy chuckled.

“Nah, Techno’s got a soft spot for you. No way he’d kill his favourite random teenager he picked up off the street.”

“Oh! Speaking of that!”

Ranboo opened his inventory, carefully pulling out the netherite Techno had given him. He handed the full set to Tommy, who looked at it with awe in his eyes.

“Yoooo…” Tommy whispered, running his hands over it.

His hand paused at the collar of the chest plate, where the enchantments were inscribed.

“Techno made this.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement.

“Oh, yeah, I guess his writing is pretty recognizable.”

“No, I mean,” Tommy began handing it back to Ranboo, “He probably wouldn’t want me to use it, ‘specially if he gave it to you.”

Ranboo frowned, pushing the armour back.

“He gave it to me for you.”

Tommy looked taken aback, his mouth open slightly and his eyebrows high on his forehead. He pulled the armour back to his chest, running his thumb over the engraved enchantments.

“Good thing I left him the axe, then.” Tommy muttered.

Ranboo hummed.

“Do you want to try it on?”

“Nah, it’ll fit.” Tommy stared at the armour a moment longer, then woke from his stupor, opening his inventory and carefully placing the four armour pieces inside it.

If Ranboo didn’t know any better, he’d think Tommy was in shock. He was just kind of staring ahead of himself, a soft frown on his face. His hands fiddled with the blanket at his chest, and he chewed on his lip.

“Tommy? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, just thinking.”

“You seem to do that a lot.”

“Yeah.”

Ranboo continued petting Enderchest, praying silently that the lull in the conversation wasn’t an awkward one. He couldn’t always tell, so moments like these were a bit stressful. He felt like he should be filling it up in some way, but at the same time, he didn’t want to make Tommy talk if he didn’t want to.

“I, um, I know we’re not like, super close or anything, but if you ever need to talk, I’m here to listen.” He offered Tommy a smile, and Tommy smiled back awkwardly.

“Thanks big man.”

“Of course.”

Tommy stared at the water again for a few moments, before drawing in a breath.

“How has Techno been? Since, uh, since Doomsday? Haven’t really spoken to him.”

“Oh! I think he’s been doing pretty well. I uh, know it’s kind of a sore topic, but, uh, I think blowing up L’Manburg kinda got most of the vengeance out of him so, that’s good.”

Tommy snorted.

“Oh, Niki’s kind of been hanging out with us recently. Not a lot, but I think Techno really enjoys having her around. She’s very skilled and I think he respects her a lot.”

Tommy smiled.

“Good for them. He and Niki were friends back in Pogtopia, you know? So it’s nice they’re like, talking again.”

“Yeah. It was nice having Niki around. I think being around us also helped her. She seems happier than when she started coming around.”

“Yeah, Niki’s awesome.”

“Phil really likes having her around too, they’ll bake together some days. The crows love her, but they love pretty much everyone, so.”

Tommy stifled a laugh.

“Please, do not remind me of the birds. I was outside one day and I guess they thought my hair looked like gold because they decided to start plucking it.”

Ranboo laughed.

“You’ll be happy to know I’ve added one more bird to the ranks then.”

“You are everything that is wrong with this world.”

His laugh dissolved into a giggle, and Tommy giggled as well. The air had loosened again, and Ranboo could barely hold back his sigh of relief.

“But uh, yeah, Techno’s been well. He hibernated for a long while, and he’s been training quite a bit, but every time I’ve spoken to him he’s seemed pretty happy. Uh, until today, that is.”

“Did he give you trouble leaving?”

“Not really, but I think before I explained everything he kind of thought I was just leaving them? So he seemed kinda bitter at first, but once I explained everything he seemed fine.” Enderchest nearly rolled off his lap as he spoke, so he gently picked her up and placed her back in his bag, zipping it up halfway.

“That’s probably my fault.” Tommy’s voice was tinted with regret, the emotion evident on his face.

Ranboo bit his lip.

“I don’t think it’s your fault. He kind of put you in a difficult situation. Everyone did, if I’m being honest. You were kinda forced to choose between two people you cared about which pretty much never ends well.”

“I don’t regret choosing Tubbo. Do regret leaving Techno a bit. Weird innit?” Tommy rolled his head back, “That I can both regret and not regret the same decision.”

Ranboo hummed.

“I mean, I don’t think so. You were kinda forced to make two decisions, one being going with Tubbo and the other being leaving Techno. They were on opposite sides.”

“That’s your whole thing, yeah? Choosing people, not sides.”

“Yeah. I try not to choose sides whenever I can. I think it’s unfair to have to choose between people just because their ideologies don’t perfectly match up.”

“Fair. Would’ve been interesting to have you around during the first war. ‘M glad you didn’t come until later.”

Ranboo tilted his head.

“Why’s that?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably.

“There was a lot of choosing. Dream used to be our friend, y’know? Then, of course, Wilbur started L’Manburg and I guess Dream lost it a little bit. It was kinda like, if you weren’t on our side, you were on theirs, which obviously doesn’t make much sense in hindsight.” Tommy sighed.

“Just, you probably wouldn’t have had a very good time. Wilbur was… a little extreme at times. D’you know I died twice during that war?”

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah, once in the final control room, then again in a duel with Dream.” Tommy rubbed his chest as he spoke, like he could still feel the wounds.

“Yeah. Wilbur had a bit of a ‘Your country is more important than your life’ approach to things. Not that he wanted us to die, but. Y’know how it is.”

Ranboo distinctly did not “know how it is.” He wondered how often Wilbur spoke like that. He could feel dots connecting themselves as Tommy spoke.

“Did he say stuff like that a lot?”

Tommy shrugged, “Eh, not all the time, but quite a bit, yeah. You’re leading a war, you kinda have to give the big speeches about martyrdom ‘n all that.”

Part of Ranboo wanted to hop into Tommy’s boat and give him a hug, though he knew Tommy was still re-adjusting to touch and wouldn’t appreciate it. He and Tubbo must have been, what, sixteen? And they had one of the people they looked up to the most telling them their country’s independence was more important than their own lives. Whether he believed it or not, Wilbur must have been a pretty bad guy to even consider putting that thought in their heads.

Ranboo felt a bit ill just thinking about it. He was reminded of all the times he’d panicked at some stupid thought he’d had, and Tubbo had been forced to help him out of it, and felt a bit guilty. Tubbo must have gone through so much worse than anything Ranboo could ever imagine. He deserved to rest. So did Tommy. Everything about the situation was just so messed up.

He was glad they’d gotten out before something else went wrong and added onto the ever-growing list of reasons why Ranboo wanted to protect Tubbo and Tommy.

“Don’t look so upset, man. That’s just how war is.”

“You shouldn’t have been there. You don’t deserve to go through that.”

Tommy’s lips tightened into a line.

“Maybe not. But what’s done is done. Nothing we can do about it now.”

“You know that what he was saying isn’t true though, right? Nothing is more important than you being alive and safe.” Ranboo spoke in a soft tone, his voice quieting even more so than before.

Tommy stared at him.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” His voice went a bit high pitched, and he cleared his throat, “I, uh, yeah, no yeah, it was a bunch of bullshit.”

“M’kay, good,”

Tommy was eyeing him weirdly, he could feel it, even as he didn’t see it. He shifted in his seat, biting his lip. His hands began fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.

“I just, um, know what it’s like, a tiny bit, to have thoughts kinda like that in your head, and it’s not- it’s not fun, so. Just wanted to, uh, make sure you’re okay.” Ranboo smiled as best he could.

Tommy watched him curiously, but didn’t push.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He shrugged.

“Okay.” Ranboo sighed to himself, making sure Tommy wouldn’t hear.

Deep conversations were hard.

“Are you gonna at least get more comfortable? We’re probably gonna be here a while.” Tommy said as Ranboo shifted again.

“Probably a good idea.” Ranboo carefully sat on the floor of the boat, opposite Michael so he could sit comfortably with his knees to his chest.

As he readjusted, Tubbo groaned in his sleep. Ranboo moved carefully, grabbing Tubbo’s hand in his own and holding it. Tubbo squeezed back in his sleep, and Ranboo had to stop himself from audibly cooing.

“Ugh. How long do you think you two are gonna be all gross and husbandy?” Tommy asked with mock disgust.

Ranboo stifled a laugh.

“If all goes according to plan, forever.”

“Ew.”

Ranboo broke into a giggle as Tommy snickered from the other boat.

“Whatever. Just don’t be gross in front of me. Frankly, it’s weird.”

“I literally just held his hand.”

“Disgusting.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Alright Mr. I Built Myself A Girlfriend.”

“I’ll have you know she was wonderful and treated me right.”

“She was a log with a jack o'lantern on top.”

“Small details.” Tommy made a gesture of waving Ranboo off.

“Mhm, mhm.”

“If you were not allergic to water I would be splashing you with it right now.”

Ranboo snickered.

“Aw, you do care.”

“Alright fuck it.”

Tommy made a show of drowsily splashing water against the side of Ranboo’s boat, and Ranboo snorted in amusement. Tommy sighed like he was exasperated, then yawned.

“Try to get some sleep dude.” Ranboo’s tone softened.

“You shouldn’t have to be up all alone,” Tommy mumbled tiredly.

Ranboo made a mental note to himself to write down that tired Tommy was sweeter than awake Tommy.

“It’s alright, if I need anything I’ll wake you up, alright?”

“Wake me up, not Tubbo.”

“Okay, I will.”

Tommy eyed him suspiciously, accidentally making eye contact with Ranboo. Ranboo decided it was definitely worse than eye contact with Tubbo, but nowhere near as horrible as it used to be with Tommy. Slight discomfort, not panic-inducing.

Baby steps, he supposed.

Tommy glanced away quickly.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“I’m gonna sleep now.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Night Ranboob.”

Ranboo sighed loudly and saw Tommy smirk as he closed his eyes.

And then there was one.

Ranboo took the opportunity to write in his memory book. With his luck, he’d wake up at some point in the next few days expecting to be back in the tundra, and he didn’t want Tubbo to have to pull him out of that panic.

He jotted down the events of the day, and some of the things he’d talked about with Tommy. He left himself a small reminder to keep a close eye on Tubbo, to make sure he was doing okay. And on Tommy, as well. And Michael.

He hoped they’d made the right decision by doing this. Maybe it was foolish to run off so quickly, without letting it sink in. It worried him to think that they might regret it later down the line. But right now, at this moment, Ranboo couldn’t find much in him to care. All he could focus on was the fact that now, his family would be safe. No more war bunkers, or TNT cannons (unless Tommy happened to be bored, he supposed). They could just grow up, and raise Michael, and live without the fear of death lurking around every corner.

Maybe they would regret it. One day. But today was not that day.

And so, Ranboo settled into the night, listening to the distant caws of seagulls and the occasional chirp from dolphins. He sat, and listened, and allowed himself to hope and daydream for a while, as the moon shifted in the sky. Eventually, the sky began to turn orange, the early rays of the sun peeking above the horizon.

He watched the sunrise, and for the first time in a while, he felt at peace. Not the faux-peace they had created back in the SMP lands, but really, truly peaceful. He felt as if he was finally coming home after a long day in the mines. Tired, but calm, and warm. And he could be with his family, and laugh, and feel safe.

Safe. What a precious, beautiful thing to feel.

A soft groaning arose from the other side of the boat. Ranboo turned, and saw a pink ear twitch. Soon, a tiny, hoof-like hand rose from the blanket and rubbed his son’s tired eye, who finally blinked his eye open and looked at Ranboo.

“Boo?”

“Hey, bud. Good morning.”

“Good mornin’.” Michael yawned, crawling out from under the blanket carefully, and flopping down beside Ranboo, leaning on his side.

Ranboo gently rubbed Michael’s arm, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Did you sleep well?”

Michael groaned in response, and Ranboo giggled. He really did take after his other father.

“Do you want some breakfast?”

Michael nodded, and Ranboo opened his inventory, grabbing some bread. He ripped a small piece off for Michael, who looked at it for a moment in contemplation, then promptly shoved it in his mouth. Ranboo sighed.

“You’ve spent too much time around Mimi.” He smiled, petting Michael’s mane.

Michael grinned up at him, taking another bite of bread. Tubbo began to stir across from them, his eyes blinking open slowly.

“Morning Bo.”

Ranboo was met with a groan. He giggled to himself quietly.

“Five more minutes.”

“You can have as many minutes as you need.”

“It’s too early for you being nice, ‘m gonna accidentally tell you to fuck off. Leave me alone for like- just one more minute.” Tubbo mumbled.

Ranboo laughed, and Michael giggled beside him, chewing on his bread. Tubbo stared up at the sky, then glanced around, getting his bearings. Eventually, he brought his gaze back to Ranboo, and Ranboo leaned forward a bit until Tubbo got the hint and moved to bonk their foreheads together.

“Ugh. It’s too early for your husband shit.”

Ranboo sighed good-naturedly.

“Good morning, Tommy.”

He looked over to Tommy’s boat, where Tommy was stretching. He seemed a bit tired, but not as grumpy about waking up as Michael or Tubbo were.

Tubbo stretched as well, then reached into his inventory, retrieving some baked potatoes and steak. He handed them to Ranboo and Tommy, then took some for himself.

The group ate in silence for a while, letting the morning set in. Ranboo finished, and returned to his seat as Tommy did in the boat next to him, grabbing the paddles.

“Ah, no, I’m rowing now. You did it last night.” Tubbo stood carefully, gently kicking Ranboo’s shin.

Ranboo bit his lip. Tubbo had been so tired, and had gotten so little sleep. Ranboo could survive a couple more hours of rowing if it meant Tubbo got a bit more rest.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ll be fine, I’m not tired.” Ranboo offered him a smile, to which Tubbo raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t care. Sit your bony ass down on the other seat or I’ll skin you.”

“Why do you always jump to skinning me?”

“Ranboo.”

Ranboo sighed. He supposed Tubbo could row for a bit, and then they could trade again…

“Fine.” Ranboo carefully moved around Tubbo, sitting on the seat opposite him.

Michael jumped up, sitting beside Ranboo and leaning into his side again. Tommy reached across the boats and untied them from each other, tossing the rope down onto the floor of his boat. Tommy and Tubbo began rowing, heading North.

“Hey, Tommy, are you sure you don’t want me to row for you for a while? You didn’t get much sleep last night, so…”

“I got enough. Rest, dumbass.”

Ranboo sighed, resigning to spending the next couple of hours doing nothing. He released Enderchest from his duffel, to which Michael squealed with delight. Enderchest purred as the toddler pet her gently, eventually curling up beside him on the seat.

Ranboo retrieved one of Michael’s books from his bag, and read to him for a while as the toddler clutched his plushie with one hand and pet Enderchest with the other. Ranboo finished the book, and returned it to its place in Michael’s bag. He opened his inventory, grabbing a couple small fish, and turning back to Michael.

“Here, can you feed Enderchest for me?”

Michael nodded excitedly. Ranboo smiled warmly.

“Alright. Hold your hand flat, like this.” Ranboo demonstrated with his own hand, holding it flat with his palm facing the sky.

Michael copied his movement, holding his hand out flat towards Ranboo. Ranboo carefully placed the fish on Michael’s hand, and the toddler wrinkled his nose. Ranboo laughed gently.

“Okay, now you can just move your hand in front of her, and she’ll eat them up!” He carefully guided his son’s hand in front of Enderchest, whose ears perked up at the scent of fish.

Her eyes opened, and she gingerly took one of the fish from Michael’s hand. Michael giggled, leaning backwards. Ranboo steadied him from behind, a grin on his face. Tubbo watched across from them, his eyes and smile soft. Ranboo’s tail wagged happily, gently slapping the inside of the boat.

Enderchest plucked the last fish from Michael’s hand, and Michael pulled his hand back, flapping it happily.

“Can I hug you, Mikey?” Ranboo asked.

Michael nodded, and Ranboo scooped him up, enveloping him in a hug. Michael hugged back as tight as he could, then pulled away, bumping his forehead against his dad’s. A soft purr rumbled from Ranboo’s chest, and Michael flopped down beside him again.

Ranboo yawned, and Tubbo lifted an eyebrow.

“Did you not sleep well last night?”

Ranboo paused. The tendrils of anxiety started gently tugging at his stomach and lungs. He could tell Tubbo he hadn’t slept, but then he would ask why, and Ranboo didn’t want him to think they were bothering him in any way…

“Oh, no, I did, I’m all good, just still a bit tired from travelling all night.” Ranboo smiled what he hoped was a convincing smile.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy’s brow furrowed, “You stayed up to keep an eye on the boats.”

“I, um, fell asleep after you did?”

Tubbo frowned.

“That shouldn’t be a question, Boo.”

“Right, um, sorry, but, I really am okay! You know Endermen need less sleep than humans?”

“That’s a lie.”

“…Yeah.”

Ranboo wrung his hands nervously. Shoot, he’d probably just worried Tubbo more, and it wasn’t like there was anything either of them could do about the issue anyways. He didn’t really feel all that tired either, so it wasn’t really a problem. It’s not like he’d continued to travel all night, he had rested, he just hadn’t, y’know, slept.

“Did you not sleep at all? We could have taken turns, if you were worried. You don’t get to sacrifice your sleep just ‘cause you want us to sleep.” Tubbo watched him carefully, as if watching for any tells he might show.

“It’s, it’s not that, well, maybe it is, a bit? But, um not- not totally, at least, um…” Ranboo rubbed the back of his neck as his friends looked at him quizzically.

He really didn’t want to worry them. Or make them feel guilty. But he was probably just worrying them more by lying. Right? Or maybe not, maybe they were just upset that he’d lied, not worried. But Tubbo looked worried. Ugh, this sucked.

“So, you know how we’re, like, surrounded by, by water?” Ranboo began nervously.

Tubbo and Tommy nodded cautiously. Ranboo bit his lip, and saw something click in Tubbo brain.

“Is the water stressing you out?” He asked, slowly coming to a stop.

Ranboo gulped.

“Well, no, not- not really, it’s not like, stressing me out consciously, but, I think it might be an Enderman thing? Like, instinctual, or something. I, uh, I can’t fall asleep in boats, though. There’s just- too much water, like everywhere, and, uh… yeah,”

Tubbo looked at him sadly, and Ranboo felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. Great, now he’s made Tubbo feel bad, and Tommy probably did too, and Michael was probably confused why everyone was upset, and he was just stressing them all out, and they should have just left him behind-

“Woah, Boo, it’s alright, we’re okay, breathe.” Tubbo placed down his paddles, grabbing Ranboo’s hands as Tommy’s boat drifted up beside them.

“I’m sorry.” Ranboo said quietly.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. Breathe. In for four, hold for six, out for seven, remember? Just like you do with me.” Tubbo exaggerated his breathing, and Ranboo copied him as best he could.

Guilt continued to tug at his stomach for making Tubbo deal with him.

“There we go. Alright. We’re not upset, or angry, or anything. I just wish you’d told us sooner so we could’ve figured out a better travel plan.” Tubbo explained, rubbing Ranboo’s hands.

Tommy hummed.

“We should be near land soon enough, so we can take horseback from there. We can probably rest for a while once we get to land too. Tubs and I will be tired from rowing anyways.” Tommy said lightly, gesturing behind him as he spoke.

“Yeah, I- yeah, don’t, don’t worry, I’m all good. I’ve stayed up much longer than this, I’m fine.” Ranboo said nervously.

Tubbo stared at him for a moment.

“You gotta understand why that’s not reassuring.”

Tommy stifled a laugh beside them, and Ranboo huffed.

“It’s true, though. I can, I can handle it, y’know? I’m not gonna, like, break just ‘cause I’m awake for longer than usual.”

“You should still get some sleep.” Tubbo argued.

Ranboo’s ears flattened against his head against his will, and Tubbo noticed, his expression softening. He glanced away for a minute, as if thinking, then snapped his fingers.

“What if we covered your eyes?”

Ranboo frowned.

“That sounds horrible.”

“You mean like with a blindfold?” Tommy asked.

“No, of course not a blindfold. What would he do if we got attacked or something?” Tubbo leaned down grabbing the blanket he and Michael had used to sleep.

“I mean, like, what if you slept with a blanket over your head? That way you wouldn’t be able to see the water, and maybe your Enderman instincts would chill out a bit.”

“Like a parrot.” Ranboo grimaced.

“Uhhh… Sort of, yeah.” Tubbo said, grinning.

“Alright, well, you heard the man, down on the floor with you.” Tommy said, pulling a theatrical groan from Ranboo.

“Seriously, Tubbo, I’m fine, I’d much rather just like, nap, once we find land.”

“Nope,” Tubbo said, popping the ‘p,’ “Sit on the floor.”

Ranboo obeyed hesitantly, and Tubbo tossed the blanket over his head. Ranboo’s tail whipped back and forth across the boat in annoyance, and he could feel himself blushing profusely.

“Is this revenge for something?” Ranboo asked lightheartedly.

Tubbo giggled, and Ranboo smiled, though the other two couldn’t see it. He heard something plop down beside him, and was then greeted by Michael shuffling under the blanket, curling up beside him. Tubbo cooed quietly, and Ranboo heard Tommy scoff. He wrapped an arm around Michael, who gently headbutted his shoulder.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Tommy asked.

Ranboo paused for a moment, biting his lip. As much as he hated to admit it, he could feel the tightness in his stomach alleviating as more time went on under the blanket. His foot was pushed out far enough that it was touching Tubbo’s, and with Michael beside him, the instinctual nervousness he got when he didn’t know where his… his “haunting” was, lessened. Enough that he could actually feel the effects of exhaustion in his muscles.

“It probably will and I hate that.” Ranboo finally said.

Tommy and Tubbo cackled, and Ranboo huffed. They delighted in his suffering, and it was horrible. He could feel the sticky tendrils of anxiety loosening from his throat, though, and he could feel his eyes becoming heavier. Another yawn escaped him, and his tail slowly came to a stop, curling around him and Michael. Tubbo sighed happily.

“Get some sleep, Boo. We’ll keep rowing for a while, and we’ll wake you once we find land, alright?”

Ranboo hummed affirmation, his eyes already sliding closed. He felt something placed behind his head, and leaned against it like he would against a pillow. It was soft, probably one of Tubbo’s hoodies. Distantly, he hoped Tubbo wouldn’t be upset at him for using it as a pillow.

He heard Tommy and Tubbo start bickering about something or other, accompanied only by the waves and, occasionally, the distant squawks of seabirds. His eyes slid shut as his heartbeat slowed, and his brain drifted to thoughts of flower fields and apiaries.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Tamara Fox, Some OC for cuteness Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Sickfic, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Tim Drake is Not Red Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Crying, so much crying, Love Confessions, Cheesy, God it's so cheesy, Cringe, So sweet so cheesy so angsty that you'll cringe, Tim Drake-centric, some Jason POV tho, A wild X-men appereance, I know they're not the same universe but I'm running out of character and running out of creativity, So yeah X-men characters and vaugly their mansion/orphanage too, Bruce Wayne Bashing, Some things that I don't put down bcs it'll be a spoiler, Smoking, Implied/Referenced Sex, POV from a cat????, The Clichést Cliché that ever Cliché, Cliche Summary:

They meet again on a rooftop after ten years. They're different now, and things are not the same. It's all too late. Chapter 1 sneakpeek

“Don’t jump.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Tim puts down his cigarette-clutching fingers and drags his eyes to the source of the voice. His gelled-back hair loses its hold and a strand of ear-length bangs falls to his vision.

Sadly, without seeing him and just from the voice, Tim knows exactly who this person is. One of the Bat franchise, and it just had to be the Red Hood variation, fucking great. Out of all time, it has to be tonight. The world is playing a joke on him.

Tim is sitting hunched on the rooftop’s edge, wishing he’d have some peace and quiet for once, and of course one of these pestering bats just has to bug him at the worst time. Yet, it’s actually pretty rare for Red Hood to patrol Gotham lately, and Tim curses up a storm in his mind. Out of all the days, it just has to be fucking tonight.

No, Tim is not having it.

“This man has too much to do tomorrow to jump.” Tim looks away, getting a light from his suit.

One hand lighting another one of his death stick, and the other unbuttoning his suit and loosens his tie. After a puff and two, Tim drags in and keeps the smoke in, letting his nerves uncoil. Seems like it doesn’t work that well when the big bad shadow of a vigilante doesn’t move from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not jumping, go away, I can’t deal with you tonight,” Tim says as he sighs the smoke away to the red polluted sky, thinking the man must be deaf or just not convinced. Maybe the latter, the bats are famous for their tact after all. People say they’re purely human. Seeing Red hood’s physique, maybe this one becomes meta-human at some point.

Tim looks the other way so the vigilante is completely out of his vision, to make a point that he’s not having this conversation. He looks to the city, engulfed by the red sky. It’s bright since this building is at the heart of the city, where the higher caste of Gothamites live and prosper. You can see the border around the bright side of the city where the lights stop dead and darkness begins. The poor side of the city. The gap is ghastly, it’s what makes Gotham what it is.

Tim is not surprised but highly disappointed when he hears shuffling instead, and when he looks at where the tall brick wall of a man, he already sits down next to him. Red Hood keeps a respectable distance though, at least he has that much of a tact.

Red Hood hooks his fingers inside his helmet, does some finger shimmy, and the red shiny mask helmet is off. His face is still covered by a domino mask, his hair looks damp, and his gloved hands rake his jet black hair back. Curls bounce to his forehead, sighing a fog, the only indication that the weather is reaching the end of the year. In turn, Tim felt his cleanly shaved nape chilled.

From inside the leather jacket, the vigilante digs to look for something, and that’s when Tim realized he’s been looking at the cuts on Red Hood’s exposed forearms from the folded sleeves. Very thick and muscled forearms. This guy either lifts all day or a meta-human, not that Tim cares anymore.

“Got a light?” Red says, plush lips smirking.

Tim sighs, guess he has company today. He digs into his suit and throws him his lighter. The masked man inspects it and Tim rolls his eyes. The lighter is a metal one that you flip, and on it engraved ‘From my heart with love, that this one lasts longer, Tam.’

“A sweetheart of yours?” Says the man, the second sentence he speaks, and Tim doesn’t recognize the voice. Deep, gravely, the typical voice of someone that smokes.

Red Hood extends his hand to give back the lighter to Tim instead of throwing it, must’ve thought it’s special.

“Kind of,” Tim says, receiving the lighter.

Red Hood drags in, keeps the smoke in, “Why kind of?” and sighs.

“Never established the relationship.”

“Commitment issues?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow at the man, sitting just as hunched as him. There’s a pillar beside Tim, and he lays his back there, thinking whether or not he should engage in this conversation. Eh, why not right? It’s not like it’s confidential information, and Tim is just so tired of caring about social politics.

“I was too late,” Tim says. It’s not as painful to say now, but lately, Tim has been numb. He’s been numb for years. Tim’s gay, or so he thought. When he began to really love her, she’s gone from him.

“Girl got another guy?” Red Hood teases.

“Girl got dead,” Tim deadpans. The smile dropped from the vigilante’s mouth, and if only he can see his eyes, panic would look funny on the all-powerful Bat. But, no, Tim can see his tell by the tapping hands.

“Ah fuck, sorry.”

Tim chuckles at the spectacle of an awkward vigilante. Maybe this night won’t be so bad after all.

“Relax, I’m not too sad about it now, it was years ago.”

It’s hard to predict Red’s expression with that domino mask that takes his cheekbones and half his forehead, but Tim’s pretty sure the twist on that mouth means his opinion of Tim isn’t good. Well, not that Tim cares.

“How did she die?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Tim put the filter on his lips and drags in as deep as he can. Too deep, and Tim coughs hard, once and twice that his vision blurs. Her face comes to vision, the morbidity of her expression tips Tim’s nerves off balance. Tim quickly takes another deep drag, “She was in the Joker’s way.”

At the name, Red Hood snaps his face at Tim. Slowly, languidly, Tim looks back. The vigilante clenched jaw and balled fists look like he’s about to kill somebody. Tim knows that a few years ago Red Hood kidnapped Joker, didn’t kill him, and just vanished before popping up again to have a vendetta against Batman. What a load of drama those bunch.

This also means that Tim knows exactly who this person is. Suddenly the voice registers, the familiar jaw, the soft fucking tone.

He blames it on the nicotine that his heart is calmer than he’d like, his mind still not on overdrive, still plagued with Tam’s face as she died in front of him. He’d breathe smoke instead of oxygen if he could. God he wished he’d breathe smoke from now on. Why does it have to be today? One grace from the universe is that Tim -for some reason- feels amused instead of dread.

“You look like you’re about to kill somebody, Red,” Tim says, can’t help the ease and sass in his voice. Tim lays back hunched, crosses his legs. “I thought you let go of your vendetta against the Joker.”

“Where do you hear that bullshit?” Redhood snaps and Tim can’t help but let go another chuckle.

“People talk, words get around,” Tim says.

“Then they’re far off the truth,” Red hisses before dragging in his cig.

“Yet the Joker still roams.”

“Ain’t my call.”

“Is it the big bat daddy calls?”

Red Hood splutters at the name and Tim smirks evilly at the reaction. “Ew, don’t call him that!”

“I can call that higher-than-thou furry hero wannabe anything I want,” Tim spits bitterly, looking out to the city. Sometimes when he’s really lucky, he’ll catch one of the bats twirling in the sky, and now one of ‘em is sitting beside him, but sadly it’s not the most shocking knowledge he has today. “One of these days it’s going to be my turn.”

“What?”

“Dying in the collision of mad men’s evil master plan you refuse to get rid of.”

“Ck, I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“Sorry then, I don’t mean to insinuate anything. This is me telling you loud and clear that you’re all cowards for not killing these maniacs that kill us like ants when you have the power to stop them.” Tim’s voice is even and chill, it did not raise a tone, but it reduces the bulk of a man beside him to still. “Some of us rooted for you when you caught the Joker, and your reputation gives us high hopes that it’ll be the last of him. Then he showed up again.” Tim feels the lighter in his pocket burn, “Then Tam died.”

Tim pumps his lung full of smokes, keeping it in there so that the clawing gloom will die before it takes roots.

“I almost did kill him, Batman stopped me,” the gravel voice says lowly.

Tim feels himself stiffens, now that’s something he doesn’t know. His eyes scan the hunched vigilante, trying to find any sign of a lie, there’s none.

“Shit,” Tim curses, sighing up smoke and quickly takes a deep drag in. “Fuck Batman.”

For the first time, Tim hears Red chuckle, “Yeah, fuck him.”

“Still your family though, right?” Tim says, earning what he thinks is a glare, who would fucking know with that mask. “Why else would you stay in his line?”

Red Hood looks away, not answering.

“Guess I understand. Proving something to someone.”

Red scoffs, “Would you?”

“You know who I am.”

“Yeah, not your story.”

Tim scoffs at the obvious lie, “Look it up. I have better things to do than telling you my backstory that’s a google search away.”

Tim Drake. Son of the CEOs of Drake Industries. Running smoothly since ever he becomes the COO. Yada yada, young and successful, yada yada, has the reputation to chew out the reporters and a resting bitch face, all that shit. Tim doesn’t have the best bedside manners, but when it comes to business, Tim gets things done, and his business partners know to swallow their pride for a potential too stupid to missed just because Tim has fangs.

“I dunno, you’re pretty mysterious in the eye of the media,” Red says.

“Because they’re nosy pricks and not worth my time when they’re asking me about rumors of my flings.”

“They’re not true?”

“What the fuck are you? Does TMZ sent you?”

“Good point, never mind.”

They let the quiet settle in, and Tim isn’t too bothered by the company so much. The red amber eats to his filter. Tim puts out the light and puts the bud back inside the pack while he gets another one. He looks down at his light, which reminded him of Tam. Damn, she was such a good assistant, she’s also his best friend but a damn better assistant. Tim doesn’t let himself think about it.

He lights another, and puffs.

“Shouldn’t you be patroling?” Tim says before he can stop himself.

“Nah, not here to patrol, just some errands.”

“Don’t mind me. I’m not jumping.”

“No, I know that,” Red says, tone softer that Tim narrows his eyes at him.

“Lonely?” Tim teases, putting the filter in his lips while locking eyes to the pair of white lenses.

Red shrugs, “Just wanna kill time with someone that doesn’t wear one of these,” he says, tapping to his domino mask.

Tim hums imagining himself with his family, “Yeah, me too, I’d take a vigilante franchise over family dinner anytime.”

“Aww,” Red surprisingly coos, making Tim flustered.

“Don’t get it twisted, my family sets a pretty low bar for good company.”

“I can say the same, Timmy.”

Tim flinches, “I didn’t say you can call me Timmy.”

“What about friends then?” Red follows up, ignoring him.

“Joker killed my only best friend. Oh god, stop making that face, everyone I know got someone they know killed by the Joker, or Bane, or.... shit just those freaks.”

“Doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I don’t care what you feel.”

“I’m wounded,” Red says in that joking ‘boo-hoo’ voice but it was the last thing to snap Tim’s patience completely. He hates this casual conversation as if nothing happened.

“I’m not jumping, and I know you’re not here just to talk to some random civilian. You know who I am, so say what you wanna say and go,” Tim inhales deeply after the low-toned rant, only to be met with another silence.

They stay quiet for a few whiles again. Smoking the tension away. After Tim’s cig burns halfway, his nerves calmed down. Then he realizes that Red is looking at him. Staring.

“What?” Tim says, sighing smoke.

“Would you kill Joker if you could?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Killing someone isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially if you did it before.”

“You underestimate my anger then.”

Red Hood goes still for what Tim is insinuating. His phone vibrates in his pocket. Tim gets it and his new assistant reminds him of a flight in an hour and he needs to be ready in half. Tim puts out his cig and pockets it.

As he stands up, he looks down at Red Hood, really looks at him. It reminded Tim of the time has passed. It’s been so long.

“Nothing to say?” Tim asks, he has an underlying tone of ‘last chance.’

“Thanks for the light.”

Tim clenches his jaw and breaths slowly. What did he expect? “You caught me at a bad time but it’s good to meet you again, Jason.”

When Tim walks away, his elbow is grabbed and he’s spun to face Jason in all his bulk. Looming over him with his height.

“You know who I am?” Red says with a threat in his voice that makes Tim wants to laugh.

“Are you really that surprised? Or did you forget me when you fucking died?” Tim smiles bitterly.

Moments passed, eyes on each other, chest to chest. The last time he sees Jason, Tim was staring at these white lenses too, and Jason was still as tall as him. At this close, Tim sees tiny tears that heal pale than the rest of his tan skin, bulked up body looming over him that used to be similar to his. For anyone, Tim had two best friends, Robin and Jason Wayne-Todd, he had known the two are the same. Seems like Jason doesn’t.

Doesn’t matter now. Everything said and done. Too late.

“Say your goodbyes now,” Tim says, because why else would his childhood friend pops back again after a decade of not saying anything after he returned to life. Tim doesn’t realize it’ll hurt this bad though. Missing Tam doesn’t hurt this bad.

Perhaps it was because the scar never healed right, but he still thinks of Jason like a big chunk of him that’s been torn away forcefully, even now.

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally says, low and guilty, as he should be, but it irks Tim to no end.

“I lost you, and when you’re back you didn’t tell me,” Tim says, his voice cracks and he curses it to hell. Red Hood’s been around for years, and Jason never came to Tim to say he’s alive.  “If you have nothing else to say, let go of me.”

“I didn’t know that you knew.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you know I was Robin... Did you know... everyone?”

Tim rolls his eyes, “Yes.” Gloved hands still on his elbow, and white lenses not letting him go. The non-challant face he wears slips off as if oil just slicked between the mask and his skin. His heart picks up a beat. There are layers between their skin, Jason’s thick gloves and Tim’s three-piece suit, but it feels warmer. Burning.

“Damn,” Jason curses under his breath.

It’s just a little thing, but Jason’s silence following that is a nother prick to Tim’s skin.

“Is that all?” Tim dismissed, pulling his arm away, but Jason only holds tighter.

“I didn’t know, okay?” Jason pushes, “And you’re a civilian, you’re not supposed to know Jason Todd is back to the land of the living.”

“A civilian,” Tim mutters under his breath. That’s all he is to Jason? All this time. His chest hurts, Tim knows this is because of Jason’s words instead of anything else. “Get away from me.”

“I’ll see you again,” Jason says before letting go.

Before Tim can say don’t bother, the man puts on his red helmet and grapples away. For a moment Tim can see the shadow of red yellow green flying away.

[yaimlight]

Prologue

The theory of how the world would finally come to an end has been the subject of heated discussion for many years, centuries even. Some believed that it would end in war, countries growing too greedy, too hateful and turning on one another until all that remained was an irradiated wasteland, rendered inhabitable by man’s own foolishness. Others believed that it would come when the sun finally died, exploding across the solar system and taking every planet with it. Then there were the ones who were convinced it would be a zombie apocalypse, a government experiment gone horribly wrong that would finally wipe humanity as it was known off the face of the planet. They were all wrong of course but it’s always nice to remember the hack theories of the past, they never fail to make people laugh.

The truth is a little more heartbreaking but to be expected. We, humanity that is, destroyed it. What with our chemicals and pollution, our lack of understanding or the ability to care for the world we were slowly poisoning. Not to mention the small case of over population, millions of people draining the earth’s resources without questioning what would happen when they ran out. We stood by and watched as we forced the world to its knees and then delivered a swift kick between the legs just for good measure.

By 2047 it had gotten so bad that we had little choice but to leave, abandoning our home planet and looking to the stars for refuge. One thousand great ships were built, arks designed to sustain the life of its crew and cargo for thirty years. It took almost forty years but eventually they were all ready, each one standing proud and waiting to carry the human race onward.

Governments promised that no person would be left behind, no living soul damned to the poisonous wasteland that was now earth. It wasn’t till centuries latter when someone finally managed to get inside the archives that the truth was brought to light. The old, sick and frail. The young and weak. The poor and uneducated. They were all left behind, abandoned, screaming and begging for some form of salvation but it never came. No one looked back, no one even felt any guilt over leaving their fellow man behind. In their desperation for survival they lost their humanity and some would say they never got it back.

The human race spread out across the stars, each ark heading in a different direction to search out a new planet to call their own amounts the vast black of space, each ship going further than any human had dared to go before. Eventually, when the ships numbers had dwindled down by almost half and with their supplies almost gone, one was found.

This planet, this new home was smaller than earth but had the same sort of atmosphere and climate. It had one sun, still relatively young and two moons, one of which was always visible in the sky no matter what time of day or night it was. It was a shimmering beacon of hope in the bleak endlessness of space, a chance for humanity to be reborn and was named according.

As was agreed a message of success was sent out into the stars but no other ark answered and after many years of failed attempts the search for the others was abandoned, the worst assumed. Great minds were lost, loved ones vanishing into the empty void of space but as the old earth saying goes; when one door closes another opens.and with the door to the past firmly shut the way forward opened up, humanity free to flourish once more.

It took no time at all for man to make their home amongst the sweeping landscapes of lush forests and crystal blue seas, learning from our forefathers mistakes. Great buildings like no one had seen before were constructed, great towers of metal and glass reaching up into the clear sky’s and glistening in the bright sun.

Technology advanced in a way that had only once existed insolence fiction but was now a reality. Cars that needed no road filled the sky’s, moving silently through the clouds like birds. Computer screens became a thing of the past, forgotten in favour of interactive holographic images and the computers themselves now so small they fit in the palm of your hand. Robotics advanced so much that most people would never know that the pretty girl that smiled at them every morning when they picked up their coffee was an Android, a swirling grinding mass of electronics and gears hidden behind soft skin and gentle eyes.

People were equals, religion forgotten in exchange for having faith in ourselves. People learnt to work together, to truly appreciate their fellow man and it was glorious. Humanity grew into a loving and peaceful race, the seemingly perfect society where no one man was better than the other, where no religion or opinion decided a nation. And so Renatus was born. The new earth. The second chance.

Centuries passed and soon the story of old earth became nothing more than a silly story to tell children at night, reminding them of the consequences of ignorance and greed. Not only on people but also the planet that had sustained our race for so long. But like the saying goes history had a bad habit of repeating itself and as it turns out perfect doesn’t last, if it was even there to start with.

Like our forefathers we found ourselves on the brink of war, a few men’s greed becoming more important than the well-being of the many. The once proud nation split down the middle, decided by their opinions and their own sense of entitlement. Friend turned on friend, father’s against sons and mother’s against their daughter’s. Family meant nothing now, everything that was becoming irrelevant in the harsh and all consuming reach of war.

The once peaceful streets ran red with the blood of the innocent and the guilty, the clear blue sky’s filled with the violent screams of battle and the pained cries of the bereaved, thousands of people were massacred in the space of a few days, burned in their homes to just cut down in the streets. Darkness consumed the world, shattering the souls of those who survived the first Great War but even amongst the darkest of times the shinning light of hope can still be found, gleaming like gold and calling those who were still willing to fight for their freedom to arms, to make a stand for what was right.

The Children of Renatus, or the COR as they were known as, swept through the cities liberating prisoners of war and bringing much needed aid to the people left in poverty, forced from their homes and left to fight for their survival on the streets. With every attack on the Senate, the Children of Renatus’s numbers swelled more and more, people finally daring to stand up against the tyrants that now ruled over the world and for a while it worked. It seemed like the COR were winning, beating back the Senate until they were on the cusp of winning but good things never do last.

Betrayed by their own leader who had been consumed by greed the location of their headquarters was given up. The COR were almost wiped out in the span of a few hours, taken by surprise and and unable to get the upper hand to defend themselves. Hundreds of men and women were slaughtered and those that were unlucky enough to survive were taken prisoner, a fate all knew was worse than death. Their screams could be heard throughout the Iustitia Praetorium as they were tortured to within an inch of their lives for information on those few who had slipped through the Senates grasp. Once they were broken, no longer the masters of their own. Ines they were publicly executed, a reminder to all that the Senate was all powerful and would always win. Resistance was futile and a,, that nonsense that went with it.

The remaining members of the COR slipped into hiding, scattering into the wind but slowly the Senate found the, eradicating them from existence. Eventually only one stronghold remained, hidden deep within the mountains of Spero. That one last small glimpse of light in the dark.

By order of the High Senate an army’s worth of men were dispatched, moving silently in the shadows of night, their intended target unaware of the hell that was about to rain down upon them. Death’s cold gaze watched them, waiting to strike and claim the souls that foolishly tried to outrun him. They hadn’t stood a chance.

I am a Child of Renatus and this is the story of how I died.

[onyourzeus]

12:15 am | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: 12:15am pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: fluff, small caps words: 2.4k

author’s note: extra fic for tonight, just all around fluffy bf!yonk getting a call from his drunk s/o in the middle of the night. do enjoy.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

younghyun loves the grind. but if there’s anything else that he looks forward to during a hard and long day of working, it’s the feeling of coming home once he’s done. he makes sure to take off his shoes with as less noise as possible, knowing the fact that his roommates slash bandmates are enjoying their sleeping hours of peace and solitude. 

with just a loose shirt and boxers on, he finally feels less restricted and more comfortable in his own skin. the urge to clean himself of sweat, and polluted air that had clung on him with a nice, hot shower is tempting— but the exhaustion in his heavy shoulders and drooping eyelids convince him otherwise. 

he’ll hate himself for dirtying his sheets, but tomorrow is sunday which means it’s time to do his laundry, anyway. 

tossing his used clothes in the hamper, he prepares his body to get swallowed by the softness of his comforter, and the warm void of his thick blankets. of course, before he passes out entirely tonight, he doesn’t forget to send you a text. the one important thing he shouldn’t miss out on. 

really tired. gonna crash in 2 seconds. text you tmr, love you

usually, younghyun would wait until you respond because the many heart emojis that come his way act as his goodnight kiss while the two of you are apart. besides, you normally reply in an instant which is a habit he’s worried about, really, since you need some rest too. 

he tries to fight the sleepiness away from his senses, but the more he sits on his bed, back hunched and ready to collapse, the less energy he has left to wait for your message. he frowns, suddenly wondering about your whereabouts. you always tell him first hand if you’re too busy to check your phone throughout the day, and younghyun appreciates the thoughtfulness. even if he couldn’t reply “okay” right away, the two of you have a shared sense of understanding as to how your kind of long distance relationship works by now. 

sighing, he eventually puts his phone on the bedside table and plops himself in the covers. it feels really, really good to be in his own personal space now, and younghyun thinks he deserves to rest longer than normal tonight; it was a pretty productive day in the studio. he finished another collab with an artist he’s been meaning to contact for months, and he was glad it came to fruition with great success. he also managed to write a few arrangements for the band’s upcoming album, even if the group decided it was too early to work on it yet. 

younghyun believes it’s never too early as long as inspiration is present. if he didn’t so much as write down possible lyrics or harmonies on a piece of paper every day, he’d slowly feel his motivation being sucked out of him. if he was being honest, that was one of his worst fears as an artist, so every day is work for him, it just depends on how much he wants to get done in a day. 

as his thoughts fizzle out in his mind, his consciousness brings him to dreamland until a constant vibrating noise disrupts him from his end table. younghyun is about to pull the sheets over his head, thinking nothing of the sound but an annoying notification from something unimportant— but then he remembers you. 

with his second guess being right, younghyun has a twinge of guilt in his throat for believing you were not worth it to get up from the coziness of his bed. rubbing his eyes to seem more awake, he picks up the call and greet you in a whisper. 

“hi, baby, what’s up?” younghyun says, voice low and hoarse from multiple recordings in the studio. 

“cheese,” you mumble on the other end, voice rather solid and awake which causes younghyun to perk up a bit. 

“what was that?” 

“cheeeeese, brian,” you slur, elongating the repeated word as well as saying it in a higher pitch. immediately, younghyun senses the somewhat incoherent mumble in your nevertheless pretty voice, and judging from the fact you unironically called him by his english name, there was only one explanation: you’re drunk. 

he finds himself smiling as he answers, “are you home, babe?” he wasn’t angry about you drinking, he does remember you telling him a few days ago that you might go out with friends but you weren’t sure when. maybe tonight was the night and you just forgot to remind him; no big deal. 

“i think so?” you hiccup, followed by a soft chuckle. younghyun’s heart soars at the sound, and it pains him at the same time that he couldn’t be there to hold and take care of you. he leans against the headboard, making himself more comfortable as he listens to you ramble on. 

“all i know is that— burp— it was wendy’s birthday… or was it her cousin? cause she was there too, and i never met her before and— oh my god, i don’t even remember her name i’m such a bad new friend— whatever, anyway, it was someone’s celebration and we bar hopped to a lot of places and it became really sweaty and loud and at one point i had a flamingo shot in my hand and and—”

“hold up, flamingo? you mean flaming?” younghyun interjects, chuckling at your jumbled up story. he imagines you shaking your head as you whine at him for interrupting you. “no, nooooo. it was red and fiery and there was a lot of smoke and i’m sure it represented the beautiful, long-legged bird called flemings.”

this time, younghyun couldn’t stop himself from choking out a laugh, and in turn you huff from the other end, and refuse to continue further. 

“i’m sorry, go on. please, i’m interested with what happened after you took this mysterious shot that starts with an f.”

“are you sure you won’t laugh?” he hears you quip in a tiny, slurring voice, and it his chest tightens at the thought of making you go through this drunken state alone. younghyun cards through his hair in frustration towards himself, realizing how much he misses you in the moment. he doesn’t want you to stop talking, god if he can only see your lips move in person—

“i promise, babe. so, what happened next?”

“if you say so,” you mutter indignantly, but proceed with the story even though you’re unsure of where it’s going. “um, actually. that was it. i think i took everyone’s flamingo shots in their hands and next thing i remember, wendy or her cousin or whoever it was tucked me in bed and now i’m in the kitchen eating cheese.” 

the string of words you had uttered made younghyun feel three emotions in succession: one, impressed that you were able to down more than one shot while he’s not there to monitor you; two, relieved that you confirmed your safety inside your apartment; and three, plain confusion as to why you didn’t stay in bed and instead, eating what you say is cheese while on the call with him. 

“can we turn on the videocall?” he asks gently, and you hesitate.

“i don’t look cute right now…”

“you’re always cute. please?” he tries to sound convincing, knowing that you do get insecure when your face is flushed red from the alcohol. even still, he doesn’t tire from complimenting you otherwise. 

“okay,” you relent, and younghyun’s heart skips a beat anticipating the sight of you on his phone. he turns on his camera, and he’s appalled at what he sees: daar under eyes, no make up on, and a face that describes weariness to a T. in this case, it should be him who feels insecure looking the way he is, but he’d take the risk if it meant seeing your face. 

“hello? is this thing on??” after a few seconds of lag, your screen cleared up and younghyun watches you poke the camera repeatedly. “bri, it’s so dark in here am i even alive right now?”

you never fail to lift his mood up during an exhausting day of activities— as your schedules collide against each other, and there would be less time for moments like right now, younghyun only asks for a few texts sent his way as reassurance that you’re still with him. you always comply, and sometimes younghyun doesn’t get to uphold his side of the commitment during the rare days that he just want to shut off the world.

still, he’ll wake up from a text with your name on it, and the hearts he missed the night before. and he feels whole, and ready to take on the world again.

so this time, younghyun wants to make you feel heard— and seen, as these days work seems to occupy more of his time and burden him with the pressure of exceeding his own expectations. you don’t like seeing him worry about how he’s doing in the industry, so younghyun does his best to appear cheerful and curious in front of you— or his phone, at least.

“yes, you’re very much alive right now, babe. are you really eating cheese at this hour?” he shouldn’t have asked. it was obvious the thing in your hand was, in fact, string cheese being eaten in the most ungodly fashion, but it’s you— and younghyun would rather watch you bite into it, cringing inwardly, instead of passing out with another day longing for your presence. 

“let’s eat cheese together,” you suggest, shoving the half-bitten string cheese into the center of the camera as if it was a mic being handed over to younghyun. “do you want to eat cheese with me, bri?” you ask again, tone small but hopeful. you put your hand down, and younghyun finally has a full view of your face. 

you had taken your makeup off, judging from the bare skin and slightly smeared lipstick on the side of your lips. your hair was splayed out down your shoulders, a combination of curly and straight strands framing your beautiful face. he surmises you used a curling iron this morning, imagining the frustration on your facial features as you try to make it work. 

“briannnn, cheese?” 

younghyun focuses on the present, and he notices the glimmer in your eyes amidst the only light coming on your end was his screen’s brightness. he shakes his head slowly which causes you to pout. 

“no thank you, baby, you can have it all.” 

“but i saved some for you, right here. you get the other half. just like you’re my other half. hehe, get it?” 

“yes, baby, that’s very sweet and clever of you.”

“you should hire me as your lyrics… manager. maker? lyrics person? lyricist!” you grin widely after figuring out the right term, and take another bite off the string cheese. 

“i think you’re doing a great job at being my girlfriend, though,” younghyun tells you, and it takes a few seconds for those words to process until he hears the eventual whine, and covering of your face with your free hand. 

“babe.” no response.

“baaabe.” you mumble something he couldn’t hear. younghyun takes in how adorable you are, and doesn’t pester you for a minute. this bothers you, apparently, as you peek through your fingers and catch him doing one of his silly faces that corners you to laugh abruptly. 

“not fair!! you know that works every time,” you whine in defeat, and younghyun can only smile proudly in response. 

“you know,” you start off, and younghyun prepares himself for another stream of consciousness on your end before you continue, “even if we’re far away from each other, and that we can’t eat cheese together, you’re still the best boyfriend in the entire galaxy.” 

if there’s anything else that younghyun loves apart from the feeling of coming home after work, it’s the feeling of being loved by you. 

he waits for you to finish your string cheese, and you argue that you’d like to eat another one. but it was getting late, and younghyun didn’t want to look even more tired on call, so he urges that you two fall asleep while the call goes on. 

as he wiggles back inside the covers, he watches you struggle to get your whole body in the comfort of your blanket. his hand holds on the phone as he readies himself to sleep sideways. 

“stupid blanket,” you mutter in annoyance, deciding to take one leg out of the warm sheets and at last, feel content on your bed.”that’s better,” you sigh, eyes falling asleep before younghyun. 

“comfortable?”

“not really.”

“oh, why not?” younghyun asks. 

“you’re not here beside me.” and your answer breaks his heart. 

younghyun is pretty good at consoling you with his words at times when you need it, but you beat him to it this time. 

“it’s okay though, younghyun, i can get by like this for now. i know—” you yawn in between, “you’re working super hard for the next comeback— actually, you work no matter what project you’re doing, babe. you’re insane, i hope you know that.”

it was younghyun’s turn to blush, and hide his face in the pillow. the drowsiness is making him soft, and weak from denying the truth in your words. he can definitely agree with a lot of people in his life that he needs to take it slow some days. and when it comes from you, he then knows to take that advice seriously. 

“i do know that, baby.” 

“it’s not bad, though!!” you object, zooming in to your eyes as if to let him know you’re saying it as a good thing. younghyun chuckles again, lifting his face up so he can witness your goofy antics once more. 

“i think it’s… really badass. you go younghyun,” you yawn again, dropping the phone as sleep attempts to befall upon you. “sorry, my hand was getting numb.”

“that’s okay, go to sleep now.” 

“no, you.” 

“that’s literally what we’re trying to do, babe.” 

he hears you snicker, and with that he felt it was okay to lay his phone next to him, too. he probably wouldn’t see your face in the morning on the call anymore as his phone wasn’t fully charged at all. however, as he hears you quietly snoring on the other end gives him a sense of security, and the status of his dead phone battery doesn’t matter so much for now. 

“i love you,” he whispers into the night, eyes closing in, smile taking him to dreams where he can hold you tight.

“love you more, younghyun.”

[gumnut-logic]

Worth the Purple

I’m just going to dump this here and walk away. Quality is questionable as I’ve been mostly asleep while writing it. Happy Birfday, Johnny. Sorry it is a day late, I can only sleep type so much, eventually the brain collapses and refuses to function.

I hope you enjoy this anyway.

-o-o-o-

It was late and the sun had long gone down. The villa was quiet. Scott had wandered off to bed early. It had only taken a glare from Virgil to instigate his movement.

The words he had with his eldest brother earlier in the day were obviously taken to heart. Either that or the threat of calling in Grandma if he didn’t get himself some decent sleep had the effect Virgil desired. It didn’t really matter as long as Scott managed some shuteye.

His eldest brother needed management otherwise he’d work himself into an early grave.

Gordon had used his leverage as the injured brother to corner Alan into watching Buddy and Ellie with him after dinner.

Virgil attended to the situation before it became explosive.

Alan was ushered off with a video game and a plead from Virgil to go take a shower before his clothes gained sentience.

Alan’s remarked that John’s discarded trash gained sentience and it had worked well for his brother so, it might not be a bad thing.

The fact the video game in his hand let out a god-awful squawk and died after that statement was probably something Virgil, or at least John should investigate, but as it would probably teach Alan a valuable lesson in keeping his mouth shut, Virgil was willing to let it go for a little while at least.

He doubted Eos would do too much serious damage.

Gordon still had his feet up in their home theatre stuffing his face with popcorn and cheesewhiz.

Consequently, there were large portions of both all over the floor, the seat, his fish brother’s clothing, and the sling wrapped around his left arm.

A comment on Virgil’s behalf about vermin attracting vermin was received with a snort.

Gordon’s distracted answer was that there were no rats on Tracy Island and for the other creatures available, he was helping to keep the ecosystem running.

Virgil commented that he was pretty sure his brother might be capable of encouraging new types of mould.

Gordon told him to go be tidy somewhere else where he wasn’t interrupting a search for the giant cyclops.

Virgil rolled his eyes, checked his brother’s bandages and his vitals -mostly just to annoy him - and left him to it. After all, he had better things to do than tackle lost causes.

He ran into Grandma in the hallway and they swapped family reconnaissance. He knew Kayo was in Brazil for the night, but he hadn’t seen Brains for most of the day. Grandma reported that he had been fed and watered and had possibly developed a new polymer that could be used in the scuff pads on their uniform to help prevent what happened to Gordon from happening again.

It was no surprise. When technology failed, Brains got angry and solutions were the result.

Sometimes several.

Hell, that was how his exosuit was born.

Brains had been so angry that by the time Virgil made it out of hospital, there were five exosuits ready for testing.

Brains saw mechanical failure as personal failure and acted accordingly.

Gordon’s injury was small on the Tracy Scale, but the thirteen stitches in his arm were enough to ignite the genius engineer into a minor inventing fury at least.

Grandma’s hand on his arm squeezed just gently before she drew Virgil into a hug goodnight. He returned her embrace, as always so surprised at just how small his grandmother was, yet so strong.

Letting her go, he headed down to the comms room to chase up the one remaining human occupant of the Island.

John had been missing all evening and while that wasn’t unusual, Virgil felt the need to check on him before bed…otherwise he would be left wondering.

Wondering was never good for sleep.

He had his suspicions of where his star brother might be, so when he found the comms room empty, he wasn’t surprised. A step out onto the balcony and the second most likely place to find John also proved fruitless as the pool glistened in the starlight amongst the empty loungers.

Virgil looked up at the sky. It was a still night. Only the ocean lapping against the Island interrupted the silence. There was no breeze, no rustling of palm or pokey trees. The occasional bat chattered and a disturbed bird muttered, but it was eerily still for their exposed position in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

But the stars told him where to find his brother.

-o-o-o-

It was ever so silent as he made his way up the side of Tracy Peak. The steps he and John had carved into the volcanic rock did their job beautifully, though Virgil would admit that there was no way he would want to do this in bare feet.

That and it was dark despite the subdued lighting. He shone a hand-held torch on the stairs and tried not to kill himself on the steep climb.

He had begged his brother to light the steep ascent, and it had taken some persuasion even to allow the dim red lights that barely outlined the way. Light pollution was a thing and John was a little protective of his midnight vista.

Virgil always made a point of carrying his own torch for a touch of extra safety. After all, it would be really stupid for one of the famed Thunderbirds to kill themselves tripping on stairs in the dark.

As he neared the top of the steps, he lowered his light and shielded it as to not to betray his approach. It was likely John already knew he was there, but there was no reason to disturb his night vision more than necessary.

The observatory was little more than a rock platform high up on Tracy Peak. It sat at a natural lookout point and during the day you could see for miles.

At night it was just shadows and starlit ocean.

It was a good, few metres across and they had used some of the stone they had carved out of the mountainside for the stairs to build a balustrade around the platform’s edge and put in some very basic seating.

John had since added to it with a weatherproof cabinet and storage space for one of his telescopes and there was some technology up here as well.

But they had never built a shelter. John preferred to keep the sky as open as possible and be able to see as much as he could.

And tonight was just spectacular.

Virgil stood a few steps down and killed off his torch, allowing his eyes to adjust fully.

John was talking.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not listen to Gordon?”

“It would help if you hadn’t told me an equal amount of times that I should listen to Gordon. I do believe one of your threats was to ‘swap my processors with a pocket calculator’.” Eos’ voice issued from John’s tablet most perturbed.

His brother sighed. “It is situational. You know that. Gordon acting as an International Rescue operative is far distant from Gordon acting as the brother from hell.”

“And how am I to decipher the difference?”

“The bottle of purple dye and the fact he was requesting entrance to my personal quarters rather than docking with Thunderbird Five should have been a clue.”

“I fail to see how I could possibly have predicted the use of the dioxazine.”

“Then hopefully you have learnt from my suffering.”

“Noted.” There was a pause and Virgil opened his mouth to interrupt. “Should I electrocute Virgil who is currently on approach?”

“What?! No!”

John spun in the shadows and the sparkle of his eyes sought him out in the dark. “Virgil?”

Virgil bit his lip and unshielded his torch a little. “Parenting troubles?”

“Brotherly troubles. An injured and bored Gordon is a menace.”

“You mentioned dye? Shower rose?”

John’s grunt was the only confirmation he needed.

Virgil considered himself to be a nice guy and really, other than revenge, he would never suffer a brother the curse of dye in their shower rose. But he was still a brother and as a brother, a loving brother at that, he couldn’t help but raise the torch in his hand a little to illuminate his younger sibling.

John squirmed under the bright light and Virgil only flashed it up long enough to catch a glimpse of the purple patchwork of his little brother’s hair.

He had to bite back hard not to burst out laughing.  The almost pyrrole orange of John’s hair actually worked quite well with the vivid purple streaks all through it.

Once Gordon was recovered all hell was going to break loose.

It was never wise to piss off John.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

“Did you have to do that?” The astronaut rubbed his eyes.

“Yes.”

Well, he wasn’t going to lie.

John huffed. “Does he need a reason?”

“No, I suppose not.” A sigh. “You got a plan?”

“Not one I’m willing to tell anyone.”

“You don’t trust me?”

John snorted. “It is situational.”

“Gee, thanks.” Though John did have a point. He let out a sigh and killed off the torch. “Do me a favour and wait until I’m off the Island. Better yet wait until Scott is away as well. He doesn’t need it and I don’t want to listen to it.”

“FAB.”

There was definitely a smirk in that voice.

But Virgil hadn’t come up here to plot revenge on the Fish. He had come up here to check on his space brother who had kindly come down from on high to assist while Gordon was off rota.

Virgil straightened and settled his shoulders. “How are you, John?”

“Apart from purple spotted?”

“Apart from purple spotted.”

“I’m good.” John took a step away and looked out over the ocean so far down below. “Settling in. It’s a good opportunity to refresh a few skills I haven’t used in a while.” He looked over at Virgil. “And I’m getting to spend some quality time with you guys.”

A snort. “And paying the price.”

“And paying the price.” He looked back over the water again and Virgil followed his gaze. The night was moonless at the moment and, in the middle of the Pacific, the sky was an ocean of stars.

“Spotting some old favourites?” Virgil knew his brother could see far more from Five than he ever could here, but there was something special about this place.

“Yeah. Eos had some questions and I wanted to show her the difference between space-based star study and Earth-based star gazing.”

“A little daddy-daughter time?” That earned him an exasperated grunt.

“You could put it that way.” But his brother sighed. “I’m not sure I’m communicating the entire concept.”

“You said it felt like home.” Eos’ voice was tentative.

Virgil blinked.

“I did.”

“But home is on Thunderbird Five.”

John turned to look at Virgil. “Yes and no.”

“That is not a viable response. Further explanation is required.”

“Home is where the heart is.”

“Are you intending that anatomically or metaphorically?”

“The latter. My home is where my loved ones are. Which is why my home is both here and on Thunderbird Five.”

“You love the stars?”

“I love my family.”

Virgil was staring at his brother. John’s expression was somewhat hidden in the darkness, but the emotion in his words was clear.

There was a pause before Eos replied. “So that would make Thunderbird Five your family’s home as well when you are aboard.”

“Partially, perhaps. Though they would have less attachment to the station than I do.”

“Less attachment to me?”

“No, you are not Thunderbird Five.”

“Then Thunderbird Five is my home.”

“Yes.”

“But only when you are here.”

Virgil found himself holding his breath.

“That depends on your feelings, Eos.” John’s voice was quiet.

There was silence after that. The AI left them hanging. Whether it was from indecision on her part or a decision she didn’t want to or hadn’t thought to share.

“She is amazing.” The words slipped from Virgil’s mouth without thought. Perhaps it was the setting with the world beneath and the universe above. Perhaps it was just hearing a simple truth uttered by his usually very private brother.

Or maybe it was just the distance that usually separated John from Virgil that made sharing a moment like this so difficult.

“Yes, she is.” It was almost whispered, but Virgil could hear the smile behind it.

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around his brother’s bicep. “It’s good to have you down with us, John.”

“I’m happy to be here.” A grunt. “Despite the gravity.”

“Worth the purple?”

It was almost a reluctant whine. “Worth the purple.”

Virgil grinned and squeezed his brother’s arm. Gordon was walking toast.

“Are you going to be long?”

That earned him a glare. “I can stay up past my bedtime.”

“Hey, I’m just concerned for your health. You don’t want to push it. You’ve only been down a few days.”

“I know the procedure, Virgil.”

“I’m just saying. Better me than Grandma.”

That earned him another grunt. “You may have a point.”

“I know I have a point, so don’t stay up here too long.”

John opened his mouth, but he paused and shut it again before turning away and walking over to the telescope that had been ignored the entire time Virgil had been up here.

“I’ll be down shortly.” It was said begrudgingly.

Virgil took his cue and aiming his torch at the stairs, flicked it on and started heading down.

“John?” Eos whispered his brother’s name.

“Yes, Eos?”

“Am I worth the purple?”

Virgil kept making his way down the stairs and he didn’t hear his brother’s response.

But he smiled anyway.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[barrysjumpsuit]

blindsided - oc x rafe cameron (ch. 2)

me??? posting chapters two days in a row???? (who is she)

part one

word count: 3k

warnings: abuse and mentions of past abuse, cannabis use, cocaine use, mentions of sex, plot/timing holes (just dont think abt canon too much it’s pretty loose)

synopsis:  christy is a lifelong resident of the outer banks. after a series of hookups with rafe cameron, kook royalty, she’s smitten. what she doesn’t know is about what her boyfriend and brother are involved in behind her back

a/n: really enjoying how this is coming along bc i’m totally just making it up as i go. ya boy jj makes an appearance in this one!! and BARRY!!!! next chapter has more plot i PROMISE 

 --------

The sun was about to set as Christy arrived home.

“Home” was a relative term. She lived in a trailer with a leaky roof, messy yard, and weird smell. Strange people she didn’t know were always there, and it was hard to truly feel at peace when she was there. The only thing that kept her coming back, especially after getting with Rafe, was her brother. 

Barry truly was the only thing she had left. The two of them had always been as thick as thieves – they still were, but their own respective businesses had changed them. Christy just grew and sold a bit of weed. She made a couple hundred bucks here and there, mostly targeting tourists. Barry’s dealings were much more illegal, and all the bad things that came with selling blow naturally happened at her house. 

She could hear the crackling of a fire as she rounded the corner of the trailer. Barry and a couple others sat there, whooping and hollering. “Look who finally decided to make an appearance,” she heard her brother yell. He raised a beer in the air as if to make a toast. “My favorite sister!” 

“Just making sure you’re not twitched out somewhere, B,” Christy said back, not altering her path to the door. Right as she went to pull open the screen door, someone pushed it open, stumbling out of the trailer. “Excuse you.” 

“Watch your mouth when you speak to me, little girl,” the man growled at her. 

“I’m the one who lives here,” Christy replied flatly, not budging, and the man suddenly had her pinned to the wall of the trailer, a forearm pressing against her throat. 

“Yo Luke, lay off of her!” she heard Barry call. Her hands were grabbing at Luke Maybank’s arm, her eyes forced to meet his. His pupils were blown up and delirious. “What the fuck, man!” 

Barry pried Luke off of her, and Christy leaned against the cheap railing on the front steps to catch her breath. “Get the fuck out of here,” she heard Barry tell him before he turned to her. “Bro, you good? Where have you been the past few days?” 

“I’m fine,” Christy said. Her heart felt like it was going to beat through her chest. Barry reached out to grab her shoulder, but she instinctively flinched away. “I’ve been staying with someone.” 

She was aware of Barry watching her as she pulled open the screen door and went into the trailer. It was hot and stuffy. Inevitably, somewhere, something was growing mold, and they would have to deal with it like they had to almost every other time a storm knocked out power. It made her feel guilty as hell, knowing she was staying with Rafe in his kook mansion, while her brother was stuck here, alone, with whatever coked out friends he had with him. 

After deciding there was nothing she wanted to eat, Christy made her way through the messy living room and down the hallway to her bedroom. She kept the door locked. Fishing the key out of her back pocket, she unlocked the padlock and stepped into her bedroom. 

Her plants were moved hastily in front of her window, since the power knocked out the lights they normally sat under. They took up most of the space in her bedroom, and they also occupied her parent’s old bedroom. Christy couldn’t be bothered to water them; she just took off her shirt and laid on her bed, sweaty and with nothing to do. 

She rolled over, pulling out an already loaded bowl and lighter from her nightstand. Pushing herself up, Christy brought the pipe to her lips and lit up, breathing deeply and bringing the smoke into her lungs. She blew out a thick cloud, almost having to cough. The greens were strong but tasted good. She took another hit, then another, before leaning back and closing her eyes. 

It was almost unnerving to think about how quickly she had fallen for Rafe. They sporadically hooked up throughout the past couple years. A lot of times they were each other’s rebound. Other times, it was at parties. Despite being from the Cut, Christy was often welcome at kook parties, going where her brother wouldn’t dare going to move product. She didn’t like having a middle man. Grow, harvest, sell, consume. That’s how she liked her bud to go. 

She knew Barry and Rafe had a history. But Barry has beef with a lot of people, and so did Rafe. Christy didn’t side with either. Rafe hadn’t paid Barry enough, failing to hold his end of the deal. But Barry had ripped Rafe off, knowing his family had more than enough money to repay him. It spiralled from there until they fought and beat each other an inch from death. Since then, Rafe had cleaned up his act as well as sobered up, and she hadn’t seen him at her place since. It was better that way. She didn’t have to worry about the crossover between her relationship with him and her relationship with her brother. 

Barry was a shitty person. Everyone knew that. He moved more cocaine than anyone else on the island. It was impossible for him to hold onto a relationship for more than a week or two. He had a temper, and a mouth and fists to back it up. Despite this, Christy knew he was her lifeline, and she was his. Whenever they had to run errands or go anywhere on the island, they tried to go together. Safety in numbers. 

Both of them had people that hated them. 

Barry more so than Christy, but they both had enemies. It was just how the politics of drug dealing worked. Christy mainly targeted tourists, playing her cards smartly. In and out, one and done. She premeasured the bud into $10 bags, or as joints using cigarettes. It was a big hit. At each kegger she went to, she could usually pull two or three hundred bucks. 

Christy took another hit before inspecting her pipe. A friend of hers had blown and crafted it for her birthday this past winter. It was a swirling design of pinks, yellows, and oranges. It looked like a sunset; every night, she would smoke on their west-facing dock and watch the sunset. 

Except tonight. The sky was dark by the time she made her way outside. Barry was no longer by the fire, which was dying. Two of his buddies were still there, laughing at something funny only to them. Christy walked past them, down the dock and onto their little boat. She sat down next to Barry, their shoulders lightly touching on the small bench seat. 

Her mind was still racing, and she lit her bowl again. “You’re not going to that kook party tonight?” Barry asked, his voice still with its disinterested tone. 

“Nah. With the power out I’m not sure how much bud I’m going to able to get through this. They need light to grow.” 

“I’ve been rotatin’ them in front of the windows for you. And watering them,” Barry said. She could tell he was coming down from a high he had likely been riding all day. 

Christy could also tell he brought this up for a reason. 

“How much short are we?” she asked quietly. “I can see if I can pick up extra shifts.” 

He shook his head beside her before putting his head in his hands. “I don’t know man, but we’re short. Fuckin’ Agatha fucked us over, man. I can’t get any more for another couple weeks and I don’t have much left.” 

“A lot of mine won’t be ready to harvest for a few weeks. Shit, B, why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It’s not like you were here,” he said. His words stung, and I knew he was right. “It’s not like you’re ever here anymore except to smoke pot.” 

“Barry,” Christy said, trying to be as stern as possible. “I’ve been working every fucking day. Agatha scared people away, so I’m not making good tips. It’ll bounce back soon, okay? I’ll make ends meet. Every time I come home you’re just blitzed to high heaven off your own product. You’re as guilty as I am.” 

Her brother’s shoulders shook with a laugh, and he wiped his nose with a forearm while she took another hit. “I suppose so. You’ve got something on your neck, by the way. Who’s that from?” 

Christy stiffened and almost launched into a coughing fit, and Barry knew he caught her. He looked over at her, expecting an answer after she exhaled the smoke. “Some tourist I met the other night at a kegger. Thought he could strike a deal with me.” 

“Hmmm,” Barry mused. She couldn’t tell if he was buying it or not. “You’ve gotta be careful with them tourons and kooks, never know how they’re gonna use you.” 

The weed had hit her enough so that Barry’s words didn’t fully register in her brain. “They’re always up to something,” she agreed. The swaying of the boat underneath her was an odd feeling and she leaned back in the seat, throwing an arm on the back of the seat behind Barry. 

The stars were brilliant on the south side of the island, with no light pollution to drown them out. Two nights ago, she and Rafe sat on the roof of the Cameron house, looking at the same sky, but the lights were so bright you could see only a handful of the stars. 

It was the simplicity of being a pogue that Christy liked. She didn’t have to worry about her social life or schedule outside of work. She didn’t have to worry about her image. She didn’t have to worry about businesses or making people happy or petty things that Rafe worried about. She could do what she wanted, when she wanted.

With the sky stretching endlessly above her, she felt like she was inside a dome. Like she was in a snowglobe. Agatha was the shake, mixing everything and everyone up. Now, the snowflakes were settling into new positions. Some were unstable, perched on plastic trees or people or houses, bound to fall to the ground. Some were already on the ground, back to their original positions. Others still, small little pieces of glitter, swirled around in the liquid inside. 

She didn’t want to inevitably settle back into her old life. It was too mindless and mundane. Wake up, work at The Wreck, sell weed to tourists, hook up with random people. It was repetitive. Christy wanted something with meaning and risk. What was the view like, perched on top of the tallest tree in the snowglobe? Sure, it had potential to fall back to the ground like all the other pieces of snow. But there was also potential to stay there, seeing things no one else could and experiencing something it hadn’t experienced before. 

Maybe Rafe was her tree. Holding her up with supportive branches, his roots deep into the soil of Tannyhill. He was here to stay, at least for now. 

Maybe it was Christy’s turn to join him.

--

By four in the afternoon, Christy was done with her day. 

She woke up early, tending to her plants before locking up the two rooms and heading to work. The morning shifts were her favorite. Less asshole tourists and more local residents. Christy knew them well, making polite small talk with the older people and getting plenty of tips. Working at The Wreck was nice. It gave Christy a sense of anonymity, making her feel less like a pogue and more like a normal person. For her work shifts she cleaned up nicely, interacting with people who didn’t know about her relation to Barry or her side hustle. 

After Christy clocked out for the afternoon after her ten hour shift, she shouldered her backpack and lazily threw her apron over one shoulder. Under her work clothes she wore her swimsuit, ready for an afternoon of surfing with Rafe and his friends. 

Stepping outside into the bright sun, she saw Kiara talking with her friends. Christy liked Kiara – she was one of her closer friends, but their relationship didn’t touch the bond she had with those three boys. Christy was friendly enough with them, and she gave them a wave as she walked past. 

“Hey, Christy!” 

A voice called out behind her and she turned around to see JJ jog up to her. John B rolled his eyes as he left the group to follow Christy. “Yeah, JJ?” she asked. 

“Hey, uh, we’re going to have a kegger at the Boneyard tonight, if you’d like to come. I’d like to do some business with you.” 

“How much you want?” Christy asked, ignoring any euphemisms people often use when asking for weed. “You better claim yours now, I’m running low.” 

“You and everyone else on the island,” JJ said, smiling. “Five grams?” 

“You got it, I can bring it to you tonight.” Christy pulled her cigarette carton from her pocket, taking one out and lighting it. “By the way, tell your father it’s rude to assault people at their own home and my brother doesn’t want to see him again for some time.” 

JJ’s face dropped. “What did he do? Did he hurt you?” 

She blew out the smoke before answering. “Pinned me against a wall. Nothing that hasn’t happened before, but… B’s stressed out and it won’t be good for either of them or for us if he sees him any time soon.” Christy lowered her voice slightly. “If he needs any blow, let me know and I can be a middle man. Okay?” 

“He’s a piece of shit,” JJ muttered, not answering her question. 

“JJ,” Christy said sternly, and JJ’s wandering eyes returned to meet hers. “Give him my contact information. I’ll deal with it so you don’t have to. Okay?” 

“He’s not your problem,” JJ said, but Christy knew she got through to him as good as she could. “Thanks, Christy. I’ll see you tonight?” 

“You got it,” Christy answered, giving him a playful salute with the hand that held her cigarette. At that, they turned away from each other and she started off to where she told Rafe she would meet him to go surfing. 

The cigarette gave her a slight buzz. It felt like a warm hug, enveloping her. That little bit of pep was what she needed, coming off an early morning and long shift. Pretty soon, the pavement turned into sand, and she could see several figures ahead holding surf boards. 

“How was work, baby?” Rafe asked as she walked up to them. He pulled her into a kiss before she could answer. Christy’s hands rested on his bare shoulders, standing on her tiptoes in the sand to reach his lips. 

“It was good,” she replied. “Glad I’m here and not there, though.” 

Kelce fake gagged at her words, and Rafe rolled his eyes at him. “Fuck off, Kelce,” Rafe said, kicking sand towards him. Rafe was wearing his sea foam green board shorts, the color glowing against his tanned skin. 

“He’s just jealous,” Christy cooed, walking away from Rafe to give Kelce a hug. “It’s okay Kelce, I love you too.” 

“Oh wait a second, was that the L word?” Topper asked, breaking Christy and Kelce apart. Topper looked from Christy to Rafe, raising his eyebrows. 

Christy looked at Rafe, who jumped in. “Sure was, Top,” he said nonchalantly. “Now can we shut the fuck up and get into the water?” 

Kelce gave Christy a confused look at Rafe’s short temper, and Christy just shrugged. They had brought her board, which she left at Rafe’s house. After taking off her clothes, much to the boys’ delight, she slipped the band around her ankle and the four of them started towards the water. 

It was a good evening for waves. The water was refreshing, and it was nice to do something normal after Agatha. Rafe’s idea of a date defaulted to a ride on the Druthers, as if to wow her, followed by expensive wine and sex on the boat. It was nice, and she enjoyed it, but Christy had had sex on plenty of boats and it was never her favorite thing.

Surfing with Rafe and his friends was much more up her alley. She was a good surfer, and Rafe knew it. While they were on the water, Topper and Kelce gave him shit for having his ass owned by hers. Christy countered right back, pointing out that she was also owning their asses. It gave her a small victory: something she was better at than the kooks.

They tired quickly, and Christy mentioned the kegger at the Boneyard. “Bring Sarah, it’ll be like a double date,” she told Topper, much to Kelce’s dismay. “And Kelce, look at you. You’re gorgeous, all wet and glistening and half naked. Just stand in the water like that tonight and the girls will be all over you. I’ll make it my personal mission to find you someone.” 

The kooks were never one to turn down a party, especially one with easy pickings for both fights and girls. Topper called Sarah while they were walking back to Rafe’s truck; they put their boards in the bed and Christy climbed into the front seat, while Topper and Kelce crammed into the back of the cab. 

“She’ll come,” Topper reported. Rafe dropped off Kelce before driving to the Cameron estate.

Topper left to find Sarah, while Rafe took Christy to his bedroom. “Can I shower?” she asked, and he nodded. 

The Camerons had hot running water. Another thing she didn’t have on the Cut. It brought up those conflicting emotions again, as she remembered hearing Barry grumble about not being able to shower, which was a very non-Barry thing to complain about. Christy had insisted he use some of the distilled water she had for her plants, but he refused. 

She would have to swing back home before the party tonight to get weed, both for JJ and the tourists. Not much was left – she wanted some to keep for herself, but she needed money. 

Christy really didn’t want Rafe anywhere near her place. 

She just had to hope Barry was out, and that no one was there, or things could get bad.

----

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[mhdiaries]

Wave 3 Operetta Diary

July the Twenty-fifth

Hey Fynn! I’m going to keep a diary. I’ll send it to you when school starts and you can read about my adventures...if I have any. I sure wish you’d join the modern monster world and get yourself a computer or at least an iCoffin so we could exchange email or texts. Having to send everything by ghost post seems like it takes forever, not that we don’t have it, but you get my drift. Anyway, the morning after the going away party y’all threw for us - which was clean outta fright - we caught a scream boat and headed up river to the “home of the boos”. I talked daddy and mama into lettin’ me go see the ghost of “you know who”. Daddy kinda rolled his eyes and said okay - betcha if it was a bunch of them old opera harpies all wearing helmets with horns sticking out he’d a jumped up and clicked his heels. At least he didn’t say no and I could smell the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches before I got there. Turns out there was a jam session and I hadn’t seen that many singers and players gathered in one spot since the day the music died. They even let me sit in with them on a set. I had to promise not to sing though. Must’ve heard what happened down in Terrorbone Parish I reckon. During the jam I used that new lick you taught me and even that big ol’ werewolf guitar player you like so much howled and said, “Oh Red, I’m gonna be singing the blues if you don’t teach me that.” I told him I could show him but I couldn’t teach him. For that he needed to come find you. I was sad to leave but daddy wanted to head east so he could go check out some old opera house that was supposed to be grand. Turns out I enjoyed it more that he did since they weren’t exactly performing the kind of music he expected :)

July the Twenty-seventh

How did we get to the new opera house? Well there’s this underground train that somehow connects to the catacombs below Monster High. That’s where the opera house is, not in Monster High but under it. I actually met a group of ghouls from Monster High at one of the stations while we were waiting to change trains. They were all on the MH Fear Squad and were headed to some kind of competition or training or something. I didn’t really understand it all but they all seemed very nice although the captain of the team was a bit high and mighty for my taste. Got to go now, sorry so short. 

August the First

We have mostly settled in although we still got some unpacking left to do. My guitars all made the trip just fine too. I was worried but I guess I shouldn’t have been. Those cases you gave me protected everything just like you said they would. The opera house is in pretty ghoul shape although there hasn’t been a production done here in many years. I reckon that’s why we’re here, well at least why daddy and mama are here. It’s a whole bunch different from the riverboat opera house though. This one has a big ole pipe organ that sounds like a whole fleet of riverboats coming down the “big muddy”. Of course the first thing daddy did was hop on that thing and play Toccata and Fugue in D minor...who didn’t see that coming? Later on I lugged my amp out to the middle of stage, plugged her in and played a little riff that lasted long enough for daddy to come running in and tell me to stop polluting his opera house with “that noise”. Whatever. I didn’t feel like arguing although I did finally quote that thing you quoted to me - “There’s only two kinds of music. Good music and the other kind.” To which daddy said, “Yes and I would have you play the other kind somewhere else.” Reckon I should have seen that coming too. I’m sure in no time though daddy will have this place snoring with “good music”. ;p

August the Seventh  

I explored the catacombs a little more today. A ghoul could seriously get lost down there if she wasn’t paying attention. It’s like there’s a passages that go every which a way. Some just dead end and others seem like they go on forever. Some of the things I discovered are:

- An underground lake with a big island in the middle that has an old castle on it

- A passage that leads from the zombie side of town straight up to Monster High

- Lots of rooms and halls blocked by doors that you need some kind of key to get past.

I also found, or I guess I should say Memphis found, my new practice room/recording studio! I would have totally missed it because it just looked like a crack in the wall to me but Memphis must have sensed something though ‘cause he shimmied through that crack quick as a gnat’s sneeze. Before I knew it, a section of what had just looked like part of the catacombs wall swung open like a door and there was Memphis hanging upside down by a thread with a big fly-eatin’ grin on his face. The walls inside were covered by some kind of moss, not like the stuff that hangs off the cypress trees back home, but more like a soft carpet and it lights up! How creepy sweet is that? I have no idea what the room was originally used for but there are power outlets on one wall and a big table in the middle. Memphis and me brought all our equipment down here, cranked everything up and just went to town! You want to know what the best part is? When the door is shut you can be standing with you ear pressed right up against it and still not hear what’s going on inside. I don’t think I’ve ever had a place where I could play and sing without worrying about who might be listening. Maybe moving here won’t be so bad after all.

August the Eighteenth

Yes I have gotten out of the catacombs and my new recording studio to check out the town although I probably wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t needed to get some new strings. I ended up at the Maul - they’ve got a pretty good music store and some shops where I might actually find some clothes I like but you know me - I spent most of my time in the music store. They have a scary slick selection of guitars - nothin’ like you’ve made for me of course but I played a few anyway cause they just looked so sad hanging up there on the wall all by their lonesome. I was just kinda picking a little bit when I got the feeling some monster was watching me. I turned around and sure enough there was this little frizzy haired werewolf staring at me. Now you’d be proud of me cause you know normally I don’t like being interrupted when I’m playing but there was just somethin’ about her that made me call her over. I asked, “Ain’t you never seen a monster play guitar before?”

“Not like you,” she said. 

“Good answer ghoul friend.” Her name was Howleen and after I played some more she asked if I would teach her. I put the guitar back on its stand and looked at her for a minute. “Why do you want to learn to play guitar?” She sorta shrugged a little and said, “I guess because no other monster I know plays guitar.” I shook my head and told her that from the time I was a little ghoul all I’ve ever wanted to do was play and sing. “If I’m not actually playing or practicing I’m thinking about playing or practicing and if you took lessons from me I’d expect you to be the same way.” I knew she wasn’t ready for that. I did show her a few chords though and she actually caught on scary quick. She’s got long fingers and good ears. I told her that she ought to sign up for lessons with one of the music store’s guitar creatures and when she had learned everything they had to teach her to come and see me. She screamed all right with that and the music store even threw me in a set of free strings for getting Howleen to sign up with one of their instructors. Who knows, maybe she’ll end up loving to play as much as I do...hey...I said maybe didn’t I?

August the Twenty-fifth

Monster High ain’t like our one room ghoul house back on the delta. I got a chance to really check it out today after Headless Headmistress Bloodgood sent daddy and mama a note asking if they would send me up to see her. So I made my way up from the opera house to her office and introduced myself. She seemed very prim and proper and I was wondering how long it’d be before I’d have a special seat with my name on it outside her office. She told me shad had just been going through my records from the school back home and that she was pleased to have me as a student at Monster High. She also said, “I will expect excellence from you and neither shoddy work nor laziness will be tolerated or rewarded.” I said I reckon I expected the same from myself as long as she didn’t expect me to be the same kind of formal phantoms as my daddy and mama or to back down every time some monster said “boo” to me cause that ain’t who I am! I sat back and crossed my arms cause I expected she was going to give me a lecture on rules and manners and obligations to our monter legacy but instead she just kinda leaned forward a little, put her head in her hands and said, “I understand your father’s performances have been known to bring down the house, but I’ll expect you to blow the roof off this sucker.” Right then and there you could have knocked me over with skeeter’s wing. Monster High may turn out to be a place where every monster has to play off the same sheet music.

August the Thirty-first

Hey Fynn! There was a dandy meteor shower last night. I took that cypress body acoustic you made for me and went down to the beach. I pretended that they sky was a sheet of music and each shooting star that fell was a single note. I played until my fingers gave out and then I just sat back and enjoyed the show. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to keep up with my diary once school starts but I want you to know that even if I’m not glad all over I think I’m going to like it here just fine. 

[chargetheintruder]

My one-year pandemic anniversary.

I likely won't have much time tomorrow, the 17th to actually do much online, to honor my fifty-two weeks of strangeness with COVID-19, beyond mark my calendars with something like:

One Year does not equal two weeks, damn it.

But even so, I should likely post something, even if a day early, just to take note of what happened to me, what I've lost, and so on.

Because you see, I went into 2020 on meds for everything (mood disorder, prostate issues and all that) and with plans. I did. I was still thinking I could recover some clothing and furniture for this penalty box of an apartment I'm half-stuck with, and that I could maybe get some new friends or a girlfriend sometime soon.

Then this pandemic hit. Only at first it was an outbreak and I had gotten it twisted because like a lot of folks early on I was working on partial info at best. I live in a blue state and near a University campus, so I jumped to some conclusions about how this was going to be a "campus illness" and how red staters were just partying it up because no campuses meant no outbreak, right?

Wrong. This was a pandemic, at least partially because a) some 5 million people went to the Wuhan province in the PRC to celebrate the Lunar New Year and many of them likely were Patient Zeroes, and b) because a lot of those people spread the thing to Europe first, insuring further spread.

So really, losing my chance to vote on that Election Day in the Democratic Primaries (because of lockdown) so that someone other than Biden would get chosen was the least of my worries. I had to get used to distancing, abusing my sleeves for coughs and sneezes, THEN masks, and also dealing with crazy people and only those being anti-mask for any reason, while LOTS of people were still against WASHING THEIR HANDS.

And also. . . I had the problems I had with my forced moveout of August 28, 2018, largely because I needed to be IN TOWN, since I had no car, true, but also because I had problems with LACK OF HUMAN CONTACT. Guess what this pandemic, then, shoved down everyone's throat (except for people with very nice internet connections)? Right. And here I was desperately trying to keep it together for the longest time with no internet connections because of outdated equipment, but also because I didn't want to give in to Comcast's monopoly power over this entire damned town (right next door) where I was forced to move. Yeah.

Fast-forward to October of 2020. I didn't like Biden but Trump was hellbent on becoming Hitler Lite, and it was clear everyone with half a brain had to stop Trump. So I took my mail-in ballot, filled out and everything, to a ballot box that I thought would be safe. That entailed a short bus ride on a route I was no longer familiar with. I came masked up. I rode in the center of the bus as usual. An older lady up front was coughing up a lung and not, NOT wearing her mask over her nose, and barely over her mouth.

I got sick about a week later and looking back, I'm pretty sure it was COVID-19. I took no chances and self-quarantined for a month to be safe to everyone else around me. I gave in and had internet by then, even if my access to my own Chromebook was super-limited still (thanks Google, you jerks). I could make it. The virus itself seemed to only give me digestive/GI issues and body aches, no big deal, right?

Problem was, I started coughing and feeling tired and dizzy all the time afterward. Long COVID, made worse by my being in a sick-house of an apartment building where the lease said it was a "no-smoking building" but the tenants and especially my neighbors, just gave no fucks and kept lighting it up in their apartments and polluting my own (under and through the baseboards). And it was all I could do to stay online and push others to vote, and support Georgia, and to be patient with Team Victim in the hopes that something would be done about the bastards who got us into the mess. You know, the landlords and rich bitches, and yes, the local University too, who invited all of the Han Chinese exchange students here to my hometown, had out-of-state, red-state landlords show up and pander to them exclusively, to the point that locals were ran out of town wherever possible? Those guys.

Those red-state, Republican guys. But in the process, I got re-addicted to chatting with my long-distance flirt on the internet, among lots of other things, my health got worse and it got to where I barely got out once a week, then once every 2-3 weeks, because of virus surges. Getting out was rough anyway because of the masks--nobody had a face, which made it hard for me to talk to people and not be freaked out and paranoid. The only uncanny valley issue I really have--facelessness--and it was the one I had to deal with. And I had lost my friends, mostly, except for the last pen-pal I have out-of-state, and she's busy with her husband and family too.

Point is, here I am now. A year into this. Worn-out, ragged, depressed when I already had depression, in bad health when I already had old-fart health issues, nothing to do anywhere outside when I had little to nothing to do inside to begin with. No, really, I don't go out to eat, just to eat out of a bag in the parking lot, or to walk it home and it gets cold, sorry. And ordering pizza and cheesy bread really only does so much. My life and finances were already ruined from the forced move-out and now there's literally nothing, no friends locally, no social contact, nothing, nothing, nothing, thanks to this plague, this plague, this plague, and people get to hurt us again, a thousand-plus times as badly as 9-11-2001 did, and they get to walk, and walk and walk. Meaning the Han Chinese, the landlords from Trumps on down, and also the alt-reich supporting the shit-show.

I hope you can see where this would make a fellow a bit crazy. More so than usual. I would hope the vaccines make things all right again, but even that has problems since it lets people off the hook. And also, since I have a bit of a ruined trash-mouth that's maybe half my fault? *lol* Meaning I might look better with a mask on in perpetuity, ugh, even if I don't feel like it.

What do you do?

[shizuku1303]

Promisetale_by_Shizuku

In a certain world like Dreamtale but not Dreamtale either.  This place is like paradise, hundreds or thousands of flowers are always blooming in this place.  If you come from other AUs, you will think these flowers are simply two ordinary flowers, but these flowers are cared for and protected by two beings.  These two beings seem to have known and understood their duties from the moment they were born through the light of the flowers.

Sharing is a gentle and quite shy boy who always hides behind Selfish.  But he always feels warm and happy when he is beside Selfish, to him Selfish is like an older brother (these two characters are twins).

As for Selfish, when you hear the name, you think he's a hateful person, right?  But no, he has a kind and warm heart with an elegant, calm appearance, he is very quiet and quite hates noise but Sharing is the exception.  Besides Sharing he feels he needs to be more mature, he sees Sharing as a loving and warm little brother.  Selfish always takes care of Sharing from his clothes to eating and sleeping.

The flowers that they must protect and take care of are Selfish Flowers and Sharing Flowers, Sharing is in charge of taking care of the Sharing Flowers because whenever someone is sad or desperate he cuts a flower for someone who is feeling sad and hopeless. Flowers are like Echo flowers that can make voices, but Sharing Flowers emit words of comfort and encouragement that make others feel energized so everyone loves Sharing and wants to be friends with him.  And Selfish, he is in charge of Selfish Flowers, this flower helps those who feel hate, hate themselves to feel better through the provocative words of flowers that make people feel more effort and effort.  But almost everyone misunderstands the meaning that flowers bring, so they always throw back and say Selfish is bad guy, evil, witch,... many bad words are on his head, making him depressed. And of course Sharing will not know because he was led by everyone to go out leaving Selfish in the middle of a lonely field with so many harsh words.

Sometimes Sharing saw a lot of wounds on Selfish's body, he asked:

_What the matter with you, Selfish?  Sharing bewilderedly asked

Hearing Sharing ask, Selfish's tears seemed to spill out, but he still managed to hold back and proved himself fine:

_No, I'm okay!  I just tripped while taking flowers ... - Selfish smiled wryly.

_Moh ... You are too careless!  - Sharing hug Selfish

Seeing Sharing like that he wanted to hide in his heart more because he was afraid he would make Sharing worry too much, just like that and every day that passed, he was bullied, beaten again and again when Sharing was absent. After each bullied, he held his face and cried painfully ... Alone, alone and lonely with no Sharing beside.

Leaning towards Sharing, everyone loves him, yes, they love him because of his innocence and easily taken advantage of.  And of course, no one wants to be friends with him, they just use him to get the Sharing Flowers.

_Hey Selfish!

_What's matter Sharing?

_Someone invites us to a tea party tomorrow!  Do you want to join?  - Sharing was excited.

_ Um ... I'm not going anywhere ... I'm pretty tired ...

_ Moh ... You should be more sociable!

_ I think ... You shouldn't trust them too much ... - Selfish hugged the book tightly.

_What do you mean !?

- I don't think they are good ... They are using you ...

_You must stop that selfish thought!  - Sharing shouted cut Selfish.

_Sharing ....?!  - Selfish panicked.

_I ... I'm sorry ... Selfish ... - Sharing embraces Selfish.

It seems that Sharing is crying, because he hurt Selfish?  Selfish was also quite surprised because this was the first time he saw Sharing cry.  Not bothered that Sharing hurt him, he patted his head and comforted Sharing.

_No okay ... But promise me one thing ...

_Is what...?

_What is the matter ... Please always be by my side, don't leave me anymore ....- Selfish burst into tears like a child.

Sharing was also extremely surprised, as it was also the first time he saw Selfish cry.

_Ukm!  I promise !  - Sharing hug Selfish.

After that promise, Selfish thought Sharing would fulfill his promise ... But no ... Sharing a little later and his bullying higher and higher might be like L.O.V.E.  His mind grew darker ... A crazy think appeared from his mind.

"I hate you, I hate you Sharing!"

_Are not !  No ... I don't hate Sharing ...- Selfish cries and sobs.

Selfish increasingly depressed, he felt he was no longer himself ... But he still did not blame Sharing but tolerated him because he loved Sharing ... Probably ...

_Oh ... See what this exhausting monster is!  - From far away a stranger is approaching him.

_Who are you ?  - Selfish looks up at the sticky guy.

_How cute!  You reminded me of that disgusting past!  - He strangled Selfish with a tentacle.

_A ... Are you a Nightmare !?

- Surprised?  Your negative emotions excite me!  Want to join my group Bad Guys?

Seeing Nightmare's smirk, Selfish laughed contemptuously.

_Ha ha ha!  Sorry but I want to be a better guy than make a mess like you!

Nightmare was angry at hearing that but he caught his thoughts, and said:

_Then you forgive it?  That promise is broken.

Hit black heart but he still forced a smile to justify.

_Selfish I have always believed in my Sharing!

_Lie !  - The tentacles strangled his tighter_ He abandoned you!  He broke his promise to you! - He grabbed the Soul of Selfish.

_ Get out ... You hateful octopus!

_Let's see - Nightmare leaves.

It seemed he sensed something so he just left like that.  From afar, a group of people brought a variety of tools such as knives, cutters,... to the flower garden.  They looked sure they weren't good people, so Selfish defended a small knife in his body.

_Oh ... Looks like a monster like you is still trying to live too much?

_ Get out of this flower garden now!

They ignored him and proceeded to exploit the Sharing Flowers, seeing that he pulled a knife and stabbed the destroyer in the throat, killing him from blood loss.

_You ... Are you bored of living !?  - They shouted loudly

_I am bored of living!  Come here if you dare!

As for Sharing, he was still happily having tea with his friends, his Soul felt insecure.

_What's the matter, Sharing?

_ I'm okay ... But my brother doesn't seem so well ...

_Do you mind that autistic guy!  Life or death has nothing to do with you, right?

Hearing that, he understood more about Selfish's warning before, he clenched his teeth and frightened eyes and ran towards Selfish.

Selfish is working very hard right now, he alone cannot win against those five tall and muscular men, at first there were 6 but he already killed 1.

_Kill it and go on with your work, fools!

_Wait big brother ! We still have fun with that_ He looked at Selfish with lustful eyes.

Selfish tries to dodge them and runs quickly to where his corpse tries to pull out the knife but unfortunately gets crushed by one of them.  He struggled fiercely and the knife in his hand stabbed them in the stomach of the adulteress, injuring him.  He was trying to get puberty and was hit by someone who was holding a large log and broke a skull in his left eye, causing him great pain.

_That is a fool!  - They trampled you.

_I won't let you guys steal the flower garden!

Then he tried to reach the Sharing Flowers, he only lightly touched the petals and the flowers turned blood red and a little black until scared.

_W... What did you do !?

_I ... I don't know ... It can't be ...

_Kill it !

Luckily Sharing stopped those thugs.

_Do not harm my brother!

_What did you guard him do?  Look at the flower garden that was polluted by him!

_W... What ...- He panic.

_N... No ... Please listen to me Sharing ... I didn't do it on purpose ...

_You shut up!  You are too excessive Selfish ... Flower garden like this ... Not by you, but by whom?  Selfish!

Selfish's heart was broken into a hundred pieces, his heart was torn by thousands of knives, he laughed, a savage laugh.

_Hahaha!  I'm wrong!  I am wrong to trust you Sharing!  You break your promise!  Now dare to blame me !?

Selfish greedily ate those defiled flowers like a hungry devil, feeling great but also extremely painful.  His body gradually became extremely painful, and his eyes and fear of being lost poured out a red-and-black fluid that was as clear as blood and a very disgusting smell like the smell of a corpse that looked disgusting and scary.  Sharing and many people died.  Above him, his Soul turned into a ragged Selfish Flowers.  The sky darkened with blood red, signifying that something bad was about to happen.

Everyone around them ran away in a panic but could not escape the scythe of death due to the petals that Selfish shot.  The wings flowers cut human's neck, pierced the heart, cut the body in half,... A horrifying scene that Sharing thought only appeared in Dreamtale's legend.

_S ... Selfish ...?  - He tried to call his brother's name.

_......

_ Are you still there ...?  Answer me ...

_Shut up !  Shouted Selfish.

_I... I'm sorry ...

_Sorry ?  See what the hell you turned me into !?  You break your promise!  You blame me!

In his out of control rage he manipulated a petal to cut the back of the Sharing's left hand.  Not yet mentally stable, Sharing was crushed by Selfish.

_P ... Pain ... It hurts Selfish ...- Sharing burst into tears.

No matter how painful his brother was, Selfish used the knife he used to crack the Sharing's skull at first.  Sharing screamed in pain, the more he struggled, the more he hurt him.  One shot, he stabbed a powerful knife into his right eye.  Suddenly out of the eye and on the crack of the Sharing skull bloomed a Sharing Flowers different from the rest of which was two colors, the light radiating from the flower immediately pushed Selfish away.

_Wh ...

_Enough, follow me!  - Nightmare tease Selfish.

_Selfish!  Wait !

Sharing knelt helplessly and cried, all surroundings were ruined, corpses were scattered everywhere.  So his Promisetale was destroyed like Dreamtale.

_I'm so tired ... I don't want to continue ...

As if he was able to finish himself, there was a gentle hand on his shoulder with a warm whisper.

_This must be your destiny, follow me together to bring positive energy to the multiverse and bring your brother back!

_ D ... Dream ...?

_Now... Let's go!  - Dream holding Sharing hand pulled away.

_W...Wait Dream...!

Inspiration to write that story by :

#Dreamtale_JokuBlog

#TheGrinningKitten

I use google translate so there are some incorrect words, I hope everyone understands ^^"

[openyourmindtocloseit]

The Illusion of Need In My Life

What do you need? Do you desire to live a life oozing with passion, pleasure, and beauty? Would a bottle of Bordeaux enhance your sense of personal grandeur, with its elegant label harkening back to the 1920ies era of dancing, literary giants smoking in cafes, and midnight strolls down narrow European city streets with dewy, stone paved roads glistening in the moonlight? It would sit there on the table with some fresh fruits, a few stinky cheeses that cost a pretty penny, and some toasted nuts and chocolates to complete this romantic sight. It does create an ambiance. Real wood, candles, french music wisping through the house, the smell of bread being baked. We are human, and being such our senses tell us something about what is good and what’s bad. Those rotten eggs, yeah, they smell bad, you shouldn’t eat them. That lavender, it is lowering your stress and evoking feelings of peace and tranquility with each sniff, you should continue to wear that lotion and to smooth the wrinkles in your hand and allow the tension you have had in your face to relax, it was barely perceptible before that moment. How long had your brow been furrowed? I digress. We use our senses to tell us the difference between good and bad, sick and healthy, dangerous and safe. These are good things and it is wise for us to discern these things and not blindly walk, this expression in itself is based on a revoking of our senses, but what I am saying is we don’t walk blindly into situations that would endanger us. We use sense and sense comes from that wise use of senses. At this point I may have lost you, and I do apologize for belaboring these words and describing to you something so commonplace, does it really need to be discussed? Well I would argue that many things I perceive and see to be obvious points of fact in life and in the human experience, have in my lifetime become things many people around me seem to question, or are urged to question. Is it all an illusion? Are we really just mindless chemical factories that operate on some sort of cosmic battery pack and everything I hope, sense, will, and pray for is not only pointless, but it was pointless to believe it wasn’t pointless. Depressed yet? Yeah, me too. Let’s leave that behind and get to the meat here. 

What I have learned about my senses is that they are powerful and at times I find it hard to overcome them for the good of myself and those I love. It is evident to me, that I am constantly being marketed too, and yet, at times I forget that it is marketing and that it is not necessary for a full life to own more beautiful things, taste more delicious wines and foods, and have more cozy days in sweaters. I do love those things and do not intend to leave them out of my life, however, to acknowledge to oneself that the feeling of need is not the actuality of need is important. Today I was looking at these beautiful bottles of wine and I had some other work to do, but I thought, I really have to figure out how to get this for an affordable price because life is less rich without pleasures like this, and I love the taste of good wine and pair it with a good meal, well I am a darn connoisseur, and I can encourage others to live richly without the money or luxury, but simply with a bottle of wine… which both cost money and is a luxury. You may say, yeah I think this is just your disordered mind, but I know more than I have this experience when we see something that seems like it could really elevate our lives and believe that it is of utmost importance to find another area to pinch in order to bring that luxury into our lives. For now, I am thankful I saw my insanity before I purchased a box of wine way over what my budget would allow, which is approximately zero dollars spent on wine. It is so unromantic. I like to be the Parisienne in my mind, and believe that I would rather have wine than rice, and that my legs will carry me anywhere I absolutely need to go if my car breaks down. The truth is, however, I do not live in Paris. The city I live in is stretched across miles and miles, and many areas are dilapidated and industrial spaces that do not always keep the most savory characters on it’s corners and streets. I would be putting myself in more potentially dangerous situations due to traffic, pollution, people, and general exhaustion if I walked each place I needed to be. I would be wiser to save my wine dollars to get my car tuned up or save for an upgrade in cars entirely. I humbly divulge this information to tell you that this has to be conscious for me, it is not obvious. I am unreasonable, I am sensuous, and senseless… Which seem like contradictions, but we don’t rely solely on our senses and their pleasures, we rely on our consciousness, and that consciousness can also be disordered which would be mental illness, but more on that another time. 

Really, what would be most beneficial is not to buy more things, although many things help us to lead more productive, well ordered, loving, lives and I am not against all purchases by any means, even purchases of wine, I do hope someday to budget a few delectable wines into my life, but many purchases are wildly unnecessary and are at their root a sort of covetous discontentment. It is your fault, because it is your heart that reacts to these advertisements and we know from Jerimiah 17:9 that:

 The heart is deceitful above all things,

    and desperately sick;

    Who can understand it?

… and yet, we can help ourselves a bit. What does that look like for me? Oh, well, simple thankfulness, knowing what’s in my home already, and also unsubscribing from things that market to me endlessly. I often get off social media and have recently realized that being free from that constant stream of marketing is also helpful. I would encourage most people to say goodbye to social media for good, but I understand the right attraction to it. The benefits rarely outweigh its detriment to my life. However, I plan to write on that another time. For now, I leave you with a bit of wisdom from Saint Augustine, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” and this great piece of poetry from Job:

Job Continues: Where Is Wisdom?

28 “Surely there is a mine for silver,

and a place for gold that they refine.

2  Iron is taken out of the earth,

and copper is smelted from the ore.

3  Man puts an end to darkness

and searches out to the farthest limit

the ore in gloom and deep darkness.

4  He opens shafts in a valley away from where anyone lives;

they are forgotten by travelers;

they hang in the air, far away from mankind; they swing to and fro.

5  As for the earth, bout of it comes bread,

but underneath it is turned up as by fire.

6  It's stones are the place of sapphires,1

and it has dust of gold.

7  “That path no bird of prey knows,

and the falcon’s eye has not seen it.

8  dThe proud beasts have not trodden it;

the lion has not passed over it.

9  “Man puts his hand to the flinty rock

and overturns mountains by the roots.

10  He cuts out channels in the rocks,

and his eye sees every precious thing.

11  He dams up the streams so that they do not trickle,

and the thing that is hidden he brings out to light.

12  g“But where shall wisdom be found?

And where is the place of understanding?

13  Man does not know its worth,

and it is not found in the land of the living.

14  iThe deep says, ‘It is not in me,’

and the sea says, ‘It is not with me.’

15  Itl Cannot be bought for gold,

and silver cannot be weighed as its price.

16  It cannot be valued in the gold of Ophir,

in precious onyx or sapphire.

17  Gold and glass cannot equal it,

nor can it be exchanged for jewels of fine gold.

18  No mention shall be made of coral or of crystal;

The price of wisdom is above pearls.

19  qThe topaz of Ethiopia cannot equal it,

nor can it be valued in pure gold.

20  “From where, then, does wisdom come?

And where is the place of understanding?

21  It is hidden from the eyes of all living

and concealed from the birds of the air.

22  Abaddon and Death say,

‘We have heard a rumor of it with our ears.’

23  t“God understands the way to it,

and he knows its place.

24  For her looks to the ends of the earth

and sees everything under the heavens.

25  When he gave to the wind its weight

and apportioned the waters by measure,

26  when he made a decree for the rain

and wa way for the lightning of the thunder,

27  then he saw it and declared it;

he established it, and searched it out.

28  And he said to man,

‘Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom,

and to turn away from evil is understanding.’”

[eottoghe]

Little Boxes - Fifteen

A Jeonghceol Domestic AU where they live in suburbia with their six year old son Chan. Jeonghan is an active member of the PTA, a soccer dad and chauffeur, and a supportive parent all around. His loving husband cares deeply for his passions and will follow him to the end of the world if it keeps him and his family happy. Follow their journey as they get caught up in fun and zany adventures when they fall outside of the guide lines of your average neighbor. Don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I want to see how many different domestic prompts I can get out of this AU before I run out of steam.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

In the distance there’s a slight hum. A dull whirring that stays on one continuous pitch like a nagging drone. It’s one you can ignore for a bit. It’s there, but your mind just hasn’t noticed. It’s the kind of sound that doesn’t grab your attention right away, not until someone points it out.

But then that hum grows louder. It gnaws and grates on your eardrums like the most offensive thing you’ve ever heard. It gets closer and more forceful, invading the peace you once had. And then it’s right by you, white noise drowning out anything but the sound of that obnoxious, throbbing hmmmmm.

Landscape Monday.

It is u͟n͟a͟r͟g͟u͟a͟b͟l͟y͟ Jeonghan’s most hated day of the week (underlined and bolded). Just thinking about it brings a pounding to his skull.

Monday is the chosen day that the entire neighborhood alights with grass cutting, weed whacking machinery. Their purpose is to shape up bushes, trim hedges, even out lawns, and get on Jeonghan’s last nerve apparently. It begins at 8 am every Monday. The quaint little suburban neighborhood they live in is punctual with its activities (unfortunately for him). Even down to the form and fashion of their grass cutting techniques, they strive for perfection.

A company is hired to maintain the “artistic integrity of higher living” they say in the monthly newsletter taped to their door. But Jeonghan knows that’s only code for “we need to appeal to the market”. And although grateful that he doesn’t have to drag the lawnmower back and forth with the summer sun burning his fair skin, Jeonghan absolutely despises the existence of this company for the sole reason of them ruining an entire morning for him. Once. A. Week. Maybe if they didn’t begin their work before he’s fully had time to relax from the morning rush of dropping Chan off during the school year. Or if they’d not take hours upon hours (late afternoon and they would still be going strong) to finish.

But here he is. In bed. Groaning for the fourth time since he noticed the damned buzzing.

 “I forget… this is why I don’t take Mondays off.” Seungcheol can’t ignore it either. His hand drags down his face making his frown droop.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes open. The frozen scowl on his own face can’t be masked no matter how hard he tries. Looking at his husband, he doesn’t seem to be holding up much better. Jeonghan’s always wondered how his pout can be so permanent even when he isn’t actively trying to convince someone to do something for him. It’s cute and maybe he wants to reach out and poke his puffy cheeks but he won’t. Instead, he lays on his stomach with half his face buried into the pillowcase.

Seungcheol stretches on his back. He stills after his joints pop a few times and turns to eye his husband. He looks just as groggy.

“Do they do this—”

“Every Monday.”

The humming began to grow quieter as if the growling monster was stalking away. They both relax into the bed, sighs matching each other.

Seungcheol rolls himself on his side mimicking Jeonghan’s position. He cradles his head in his own arm and nuzzles into it. Even if his eyes are squinted and sleep ridden, Jeonghan thinks they look pretty under the orange stream of light beaming through their sheer curtains. His long eyelashes are like fans as he blinks once, twice. Even the crust in the corner can’t deter Jeonghan from staring quietly at him. It was almost romantic as they lay in peace, the low buzz complacent in the furthest crevice of their minds.

 Brum-Brum-Brum-brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

 Jeonghan is transported straight back to hell, temporary silence long forgotten. No dewy brown eyes, big sweeping lashes or faint orange glow can distract him from the engine of a small motor winding back into full fruition. The metallic clang clashes with the thwip of the wire and the machine sputters to life. He can almost picture the exact scene with how LOUD they grate on his ears.

Jeonghan presses impossibly close to Seungcheol. Their legs naturally intertwine like missing pieces of a puzzle finding their purpose. His head steals the fold of his husband’s arm bringing their morning breathed faces too close for comfort. And then Jeonghan is pulling a stray pillow from somewhere behind him to shove against the other side of his head. Like this, he is sandwiched between Seungcheol’s arm pillow and an actual pillow and the sound goes muddled.

It does for a bit anyway. The sound cuts through his pillow like the weedwhacker does the grass. It sounds like the person cutting it is simply there to play a game of charades like he’s in the newest Star Wars movie swooshing his weapon through the air. He can’t believe there are actual twelve-hour ASMR videos of this noise. But also he can believe it because there are. He’s stumbled upon them once too many times while looking for clean with me motivational videos. (Also ASMR. Don’t judge him.)

Anyway, they’re not sleeping in any time today. He pushes away the pillow in frustration but stays glued to his spot, seeking purchase in the natural scent of Seungcheol and the warmth his body radiates. His chest is firm, his other arm pulling him tighter. With the arm under Jeonghan’s head and the other wrapping around his upper shoulder, the blaring of the landscapers don’t seem as bad anymore. Jeonghan snakes his arm around his waist and their cocoon of an embrace is nice amongst the background.

It’s short-lived when a seven-year-old comes hurdling—and he means hurdling into their room, flinging himself right in the middle of their pile and bumping his bony elbows into the softness of their flesh.

“It’s so LOUD!” Chan shouts, nestled now in between his parents. Jeonghan wants to comment on how he adds to the noise pollution but he doesn’t have the energy. The parents scoot apart and Chan lays defeated between them. Seungcheol starts stroking his messy hair out of his face. It’s been getting longer since summer break began. Chan still isn’t used to these Mondays since he’s usually in school at this hour.

 “Well I guess it’s time to get up since none of us can sleep anyway.” Seungcheol says the words like he speaks of regret yet his expression emits the calmest of pheromones, a gentle smile turning the natural downslope of his lips upward.

 Jeonghan thinks it’s okay this way too. He’s content to lay here a little longer just like this.

[dfordragons]

The Divine & The Damned

The last of the unfortunate explorer of Glimmerwood, now entangled in poisonous animated vines was finally blown away by the silver-haired elfs peculiar yet somewhat majestic purple eldritch beams before she got back to scratching her painfully itchy injuries.

“That’s it?”

A deep voice sounded from under the black helmet with the meticulous resemblance of a skull, the dark tone of which was mitigated only by a grey gem embedded in its centre as he perceived the environment around them. The weeping that had surrounded the forest for a while had yet to stop, if anything, it only grew stronger.

“I think so?” A taller, slender man responded; his pale skin highlighted his blue eyes.

“Oh no” A dwarven girl, sharing the same colour tone as the elvish figure said in awe.

“Rynvia? What is it?” Another dwarf patted her on the shoulder, unlike her, he was covered in deep wounds from his bald head to the toes most likely, but nobody could see below his shoulders with the swamp water up to their neck.

The weeping grew stronger as a figure hovered from tree to tree.

The figure in the skull helmet went back into his battle stance, yet he knew not what they were even talking about, he wasn’t the most perceptive, nor the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Okay make us fly, Doronin make us fly right now!”

He screamed as he eventually saw the figure approach, hovering and crying, but magic wasn’t that simple.

The hovering figure looked magnificent as she approached them, her messy, green hair had a charm to it, while her blue eyes only added to the wood-elven characteristics she bore. Yet her translucent figure only spelled trouble in their heads. As she saw them she stopped weeping, well, sort of.

“Who.. Who is this?” she asked.

“She talks..?”

“She talks.”

“Wow.”

“She’s so pretty.”

They all whispered amongst them.

“I..Am Leonard?” he said through the helmet as he sensed her undead nature.

“And I’m Doronin” sounded the declared sorcerer from a safe range.

“And Rynvia” the dwarven girl said in awe while the other dwarf stayed silent as did the elven figure, not a few seconds passed before she took note of her.

“And you…You…Who are you?” She said as she hovered towards her, in just as much awe as Rynvia spoke to her. Her eyes pinned on her.

In an awkward, somewhat troubled by her behaviour tone she responded hesitantly

“I’m Yliv.”

“You’re so pretty Yliv” she continued

“She is isn’t she?” He mumbled before getting back to his senses

“That’s not the point, who are you, what are you doing here?” Leonard turned around to look at her, still sceptical and caught off guard.

“I…” she scratched her translucent head.. “I don’t remember who I am” she said as she started crying again

“I remember I was so pretty… And this forest was so pretty…” all of them looked around in the horrible swamp they were currently in.

Rynvia remembered, she remembered the vision she had from Lyreth, the one who had sent them there. The one who had started this quest of theirs. She remembered how pretty the forest was, and grew sad knowing what it turned into.

“But then.. Fire.. A mad dragon.. A FUCKING HORRIBLE DRAGON. MEN ARE DICKS” She screeched as she continued remembering,

“AND THIS SLUT, THIS HORRIBLE SLUT CAME FROM ALL THE DEATH AND DECAY AND TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY. EVERYHING. USED MY OWN PROTECTORS AGAINST ME. THIS SLUT.”

Her voice pierced their ears as they were trying to listen yet cover them. They all looked at each other. Her eyes never stopped looking towards Yliv in awe despite the hatred in her voice.

“Um..” Leonard broke the silence after her bipolar monologue.

“But you’re so pretty” she continued saying towards Yliv.

“You are too” she responded awkwardly

“But I’m dead” she started weeping again.

The rest stayed silent before Leonard continued.

“Have.. Have you by any chance come upon a pretty tree.. Like Yliv?”

Without looking away, she responded in a sweet voice

“A pretty tree.. I like that tree.. But I can’t get close..”

Yliv figured that this was due to her not being part of the living, her experienced had taught her at least that much.

“Would you be able to take us to that tree?” Doronin added.

“I.. I could.”

“We could also help you with this.. Slut?” Leonard continued

“This slut.. THIS SLUT. SHE’S A HAG. SHE’S A HORRIBLE HAG.”

“How about you take us to the tree, and once we are done there we will help you with her.” He tried to reason with the creature.

“What is this?” the dwarf whispered to Rynvia

“I think that’s a Banshee, Dean. But she’s so pretty” she responded with her pupils dilated as he grew silent, unsure of if her response was troubling or reassuring.

“I can guide you there.. Because.. Because you are pretty” she continued looking at her.

“I shall lead the way.. Do you want to lead with me Yliv?” she said eagerly.

“I think I’m better in the back.. Looking around….” Her tone was more of a questioning tone on whether this excuse would work than a statement.

“Okay..” She said disappointed as she led them.

“But stay.. Stay quiet, my creatures.. My beautiful creatures from this THIEVING SLUT are very perceptive”

They treaded for hours in the swamp waters and the mud before reaching the drier part of the swamp. The humidity combined with the summer heat even below the thick tree line wasn’t making their journey any easier. Eventually they decided to settle for the night in a hollow tree trunk. It wouldn’t fit all of them, but someone had to keep watch.

Yliv against her better judgement decided to go above the tree line to measure the distance towards the bespoke tree. She soon found out that she should’ve trusted her instinct, as she turned into a raven, she flew through the tree line.

Before she knew it she became entangled in a spiders net. The only problem was that the spider was much bigger than anticipated. Lucky for her, as a giant raven she was also stronger than her average bird, breaking free from the web right before she became dinner. Flying down entangled in the web she had an anomalous, yet still elegant landing.

“Um.. You have white stuff on your hair” Doronin pointed out while the rest laughed.

“Could be worse.” She responded.

“Was everything okay up there?” he continued

“Everything was fine.” She smiled back before turning her back and facing the creepy, yet somewhat cute Banshee they had met.

“So how far are we?” Leonard asked

“I couldn’t see much.” She responded before Kaylen, Doronins owl flew upwards.

Luckily, he was much more elegant than a giant raven. Seeing through him, Doronin saw the beautiful night sky without the light pollution of Westgate, but not much else aside from small, star-like looking lights far from where they came from, perhaps the Irraebor. Coming down from his brief flight, the party had decided to gather a few materials for a fire.

Doronin, willingly scattered to find possible materials to use, before sticking his blade handle on a tree and.. Taking a piss.

In the meanwhile, Dean stayed with the ladies, rather silent.

Until everyone except for Dean heard in their mind

“Dear Arthur”

“Dear Rynvia”

“Dear Yliv”

“Dear Doronin”

“I, Lord of Waterdeep, Chosen of Mystra, Laeral Silverhand summon you to have an audience with me about your recent claims. Force Grey will meet you and accompany you from Irraebor to Waterdeep safely. They shall await at the Black Talon Headquarters for 3 days starting tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

The authoritarian voice finally seized to speak.

“Um..We’re kind of busy.” Rynvia responded while Yliv didn’t bother responding.

“Don’t. Be. Late.”

Doronin stuttered in the sound of the Lord of Waterdeep

“Um.. Can we get an extension or something? We’re out of town for now.”

The same response as Rynvia sounded in his mind.

“We’re in the middle of something here. Isn’t the fact that the king of Cimbar has said so?”

Leonard had grew in cockiness

“The king of..” she said laughingly in his mind

“It’s funny, because the king of Cimbar is here for talks these days.. Tell me, when were you the king Arthur?”

Leonard started panicking. His brother was there. If he was there, that was bad.

“Listen closely. Do not trust him.”

“You listen closely. Don’t. Be. Late”

“I won’t be responsible for you losing your kingdom.”

He never heard back.

“So I was wondering.. Where did you say you got that armor from?”

Yliv asked Dean while resting in the tree trunk, fully knowing the armor was identical to the bladesinger she had met a few days ago.

“This Vanduin tailored it for me.. It was a gift for winning my first fight in Ysgard.”

“So everything has a price for him?”

“Proving yourself is his moto.. Not one I’m fond of, I died many times in this place, rather not talk about it” he said in a more serious tone

“I understand.”

Rynvia was just looking at her brother, both happy and nostalgic about how they were as kids.

“I..” He took out a small gem stone

“I have this.”

“What’s this?” Yliv tried to get a closer look to the stone

“It’s meant to take me back if I wish”

“And.. Do you?”

“Not really, but it’s something I thought that’s cool” he smiled back at her and looked towards Rynvia

“We have to find our brother.”

Leonard overheard the last sentence as he was coming back from his gathering trip with Doronin.

“I believe we have to speak, Dean, Rynvia.” He also said in a serious, yet somewhat uncomfortable manner.

“Yes?..”  She responded.

“I had told you that before I ran away I was a general of the army of Cimbar..”

“Yes?..” She kept repeating

“Well, we were fighting barbarians in the mountains for a while, at some point we fought these Bhaal priests, at that time Bhaal was unknown to me, aside from them being murderous heretics.”

They both remained silent.

“Long story short.. I think your brother was a high priest for them.. And he may be in our dungeon..”

Both of their eyes went wide, no, everyones eyes went wide.

“WHAT?”

They both screamed.

“And.. This thing you described, Dean. About him being a different person after touching this staff. I believe it’s the same thing that happened with my helmet.”

“OH NO” Rynvia screamed

Indeed, the situation was dire, he had fought for his life against this cursed helmet before claiming it against a Bhaalspawn, he called himself. He was warned that should he fail, his soul would be trapped in the helmet, and instead, his body would now be used by whoever sat in the helmet, waiting for a victory for so long.

“I had a message from the Lord of Waterdeep, she said that my brother is there for talks”

“We did too” Rynvia spoke for both her and Yliv.

“Same here” Doronin raised his hand.

“We could potentially intercept him once we’re done here, but first I need you to contact Fenduin and have him plead to Silverhand not to trust my brother.” He said as she Rynvia already started tracing the spell glyph in the air.

“Um… Hi.” She said counting words with her fingers.

“Tell Silverhand, not to trust the king of Cimbar…” She said looking at Leo in a ‘Is that fine?’ fashion, nodding back at her.

It wasn’t long before she heard Fenduins calm voice and elven manners respond.

“I already have done so as promised. Glad to hear you’re alive. I’m in traveling to Irraebor looking for this Alia Arthur had mentioned…”

As she transferred the message to Leonard a sigh of relief sounded

“At least there’s some good news.”

It was good news indeed; she was the only thing that he missed from home. Although as of lately, the feelings of nostalgia had started fading away, or rather replaced with the fulfilment of the present, maybe for the better.

Under the wing of a powerful political figure and archmagi, she would have little to fear, he hoped.

Conversing back and forth, eventually the party ended with the hope of returning Leo to power in Cimbar, and, getting her brother out of whatever predicament he had found himself in, assuming it was a similar case.

“Maybe have a convict touch the staff, then he can take their body”

“Or maybe a different race, did he ever want to be something else when he was little..Like.. Taller?”

The conversation went on and on before they eventually warmed a few stones to bring into the hollow tree to keep them warm, a fire would probably attract unwanted attention.

“I can keep watch…” said the Banshee smilingly.

“Um..” Leonard doubted her.

“I’ll do it, I don’t sleep” Yliv continued

Her patron had given her many gifts indeed, curing her insomnia was one of them, there’s no insomnia when there’s no need to sleep.

“And if she does anything weird, I’ll wake you up.” She said in all seriousness this time around.

Leonard stayed out with her for a while before passing out, trying not to stare at her like the Banshee did.

“So.. It’s been a while since we stayed in the same room, I miss being roomates..” he muttered before he said it out a little too loud for his own good.

“Really?” she responded.

“I was used to having someone creepy staying awake all night.” He said laughingly, but with a few pinches of truth in there.

“Well, we’ve grown richer, and more comfortable.”

“That’s true.. But it was pretty nice” He kept hinting with no luck.

“Do you like it?” He pointed at the owl hair pin he had paid rather handsomely for.

“I do, I hope I never have to use it though” she responded as she played with the magical strings.

Each of the strings once broken would emit a painful ping in the receivers mind. Yet they would also let them know that someone was in trouble.

“It’s a good night.” He said looking.. Well, at the trees above them, possibly for any giant spiders.

“Oh, good night” She said before his eyes went wide in awe

“No I meant it’s a good night..”

She busted out laughing.

“True.”

And so the night passed, Leonard passed out near trunk entrance, with the Banshee staring at Yliv all night long, her idea of ‘keeping watch’ was vastly different from what the group had in mind. There was no dawn break to measure the time, nor there were any birds to be heard, but few light rays eventually started penetrating the thick swamp.

As she blinked, she bathed in darkness. She knew this darkness, she had grown in it, she felt safe. Yet it felt different, the Queen was not there to greet her, nor could she hear her steps.

Another blink, and she appeared amidst a village square. It rang no memory bells. People screamed and ran away as she walked towards the source of terror. Only to see what she originally thought to be a tiefling standing above a crying female elven teenager. An older male elf begged for mercy as the bodies of villagers lied on the ground. From where his spine was, bones that were as sharp as razors came out.

“Do not worry, I shall not hurt her, but our deal was I could have anything I wanted.. Anything that you owned.. You own this village..” the tiefling said with a grin in his face.

As she blinked once more, she was back to the swamp, with the Banshee creepily staring at her, yet Yliv finding it weirdly comforting that she was indeed still there. Whatever that was, it was new. And she wasn’t sure it was for the best.

Staying out during the night was rough, she was sure to catch a cold, yet Leonard slept outside too, he was too big for the tree trunk, or perhaps he was just making sure she was safe. And his warmth, even when he slept, kept her from catching a cold in the middle of nowhere. Leonard, on the other hand had ironically woken up with a cough in the morning.

Rynvia opened her eyes to the sight of Doronins peculiar owl indiscreetly staring at her chest. It wasn’t long before she regretted the fact that she could talk. With her being a minor annoyance, she snapped her fingers as battlecries sounded in the forest. Leonard jumped out of his sleep, grabbed his sword and charged towards the sound at the distance. Rynvia may have gone a little overboard with her thaumaturgic cantrip, but she sat back and enjoyed the reaction nevertheless.

It wasn’t long before she called the cantrip off. Leonard had only ran some meters away, still within the vicinity of Yliv and the rest as he stopped, listening carefully after the abrupt ending of the screams. It was then that he heard the sound of multiple insectoids screeching around him, preparing for their first meal of the day. A dozen of ooze-leaking spiders had started coming around him, probably attracted from his own battle cry. They didn’t look very threatening, aside from being the size of his palm. With the rest of his comrades rushing to help, Rynvia wrestling each of them until they were squished while Dean, Yliv and Doronin had a the backseat of electrocuting and barbecuing them, it was over quickly.

“That was eas---” Leonard spoke too quickly as one had crawled inside his plate armor, he felt its teeth.. Or was it claws? Dragging along his back, her acidic poison burning him to the bone as he screamed in pain. It looked bad, but nothing Rynvia couldn’t take care of with the divine powers Liira had entrusted her with.

Despite their victory, they kept looking around for the ‘barbarians’ Leonard had heard… Rynvia never told him the truth, she liked her head in-tact, plus, nobody would argue about the fun factor of the situation they had gotten themselves in without anyone getting hurt.. A lot.

The party proceeded eating their not-so-glorious breakfast compared to their time spent in Westgate, at the Baron Fenduins keep, or any other day before their arrival to the mansion, be it a casino ship, or representing a magic shop owner at the fighting tournament in Oakrun. The banshee slowly but steadily led them through the drier parts of the swamp towards the tree they had been talking about all along.

Eventually, they arrived. The dim light from the thick forest line of the swamp finally started breaking by the summer sun. The dirty waters and the musty, somewhat decaying smell around them started changing. In front of them lied a clear, deep blue lake. A small island sat in the middle of it, bearing a tree beautiful enough to make up for the entire unfriendly swamp that they had treaded in.

“That’s as far as I can go” said the Banshee as if she was about to cry..Again.

“We’ll be back” Leo assured her as he started taking off his armor.

“I can make us walk on water” Rynvia said halfway, receiving a miffed look from Leonard which spent the last 5 minutes donning off his equipment ever so slowly.

After a bunch of small discussions on how wise it would be to walk on top of uncharted waters, they had decided to take the risk. Leonard took the first step in while fully expecting to sink, to his surprise, he didn’t. Yet something else occurred.

A pinching sensation surrounded him from head to toe, for a split second he wanted his skin to melt off him, before a peculiar sense of warmth he hadn’t sensed in a while surrounded him. The smell of lilac replaced the smell of the swamp entirely. His dark, somewhat rusty helmet became partially grey, as if it was purged from the misdeeds of the past.

The rest followed, experiencing similar sensations, with Rynvia being the least affected, she was used the divine energy surrounding her, yet not necessarily that kind.

After treading rather quickly to the other side of the shore, hoping they wouldn’t attract any lake predators, they had arrived to the centre of the island. The warmth grew ever more stronger with every step towards the tree. The entire island was covered in its roots. Pink petals were scattered in the air and in the ground. None of them could remember the last time they encountered something this beautiful. Edgar, Ylivs Raven went on a patrol with Kaylen to scout ahead. Through his eyes she saw a tall statue of questionable material standing near the tree bearing an inscription at the bottom of the platform it stood on. In the meanwhile, Leonard examined the tree through his divine senses. The entire place seemed to overflow with abjuration magic, whilst a stronger aura came from the statue. The tree itself radiated with divine magic. He proceeded to touch the tree, looking for potential passage, yet only found a small hollow, only enough for his hand to fit through.

Rynvia took an alternative approach, deciding to hug it instead, while her brother kept an eye out for potential threats. The warmth as she hugged it overtook her with positive emotions. She remembered this place through her vision of the past. The dying place of a deity. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for what had happened to her.

At the same time, Yliv and Doronin examined the inscription plate of the statue, it read;

“Only the bold and the worthy shall be blessed by her divine grace. Those who prey and steal shall lose much fore than their filthy hands”

Simultaneously, Leonard had already placed his hand in the hollow, using the bag Lyreth had given them in their first encounter, remembering his words on the potential hazards of the item he had sent them to recover. As his hand went deeper, he could feel the warm pulse of whatever lied in there.

Yliv and Doronin were debating on what the inscription could mean, clueless of what was going on behind them. The statue was marvellous. It wasn’t stone yet it was sturdy as stone, it wasn’t plate but it shined just as much. And last but not least, it may have only been a statue, but they felt intimidated.

And then, Leonard finally pulled something from the tree.

“I got it.”

He said loudly.

As they turned around and headed towards him, he felt the abjuration magic that surrounded them fade away, the tree had started to wither. Rynvia started screaming to Leonard to put it back as it turned into just another tree of the swamp. The dirty waters that were being kept out finally slipped in the blue lake, the water slowly became muddier by the second. The smell of lilac had turned into the musty smell of the swamp waters. Yet he felt something else, as he saw Doronin and Yliv head his way, the abjuration magic from the statue did not cease to exist. Instead, as they turned around they saw the statue leaking of blue, most likely arcane energy from every part of it where its armor had a gap. The runes on its shield and weapon had brightened up, as it stepped off the platform.

Leonard wasn’t surprised but wanted to get its attention to protect the rest. And so he did;

He walked forward with the stone in hand. The statue remained in position. Everyone who could sweat within their party was already sweating.

The phrase below the platform started echoing from within it. Yet nobody knew what it meant. The knew that it was neutral, for now at least, towards them.

“We are not here to steal.”

He said.

“We.. We work for Lyreth?” He hoped a name would work.

It didn’t.

“Orion maybe?”

Neither did that. Or potentially the language was not correct.

Doronin decided to step it, not for the good of the group necessarily, but because he secretly wanted this very stone himself, but nobody ever really suspected it.

“I could speak to it in celestial, just give me the stone so I can have its attention”

Leonard passed the stone to him unknowingly.

Repeating the very same steps, no progress was made. With the statue eventually slowly clobbering his shield and weapon, Doronin took it as an act of aggression. That wasn’t the case, not until he put the stone in the bag at his side. From 40 feet, the statue took a step only to leap a breath away from Doronins space. They all had finally realised its true height, standing at just about 7 feet it was already intimidating before it was animated. Yet it didn’t attack.

“Bad move. Let’s reset this.” He thought as he took the stone from his bag and held it in front of him once more using the bag as a glove.

“What do you want us to do?” He spoke in celestial as the statue extended his arm that had yet to unsheathe his sword. He placed the stone on it with the bag, before the statue tore the bag apart and left it on its open palm.

“You said you weren’t allowed to touch the stone..Why?” He looked at the rest

“Not sure.” Yliv responded.

“Do you trust this Lyreth?”

“He looked genuine. Why?” Leonard said

Doronin wasn’t sure but he was getting the message to touch the stone.

They spent quite some time debating their next move while the echoes of the inscription kept sounding through the statue. Eventually, they had decided if one was to touch it, it should be Rynvia. The purest of them.

She walked up and Doronin tied to pick her up before realising dwarves are not as light as they look. She slowly climbed up the statue before she touched the stone. The magnificent energy she felt flowing from it was majestic, yet it soon turned into scorching pain, but she didn’t leave it. She fell on the ground with it and kept holding it.

What the rest saw was Rynvia slowly turning into dust, that’s where her brother stepped in and grabbed the stone with her, slowing its effects while looking at the rest. They were all hesitant, yet she wouldn’t let it go, and they wouldn’t let her go. Leonard stepped in next, with Doronin and Yliv following suit. The energy overwhelmed them as they were trying to hold it for as long as they possibly could

‘The worthy and the bold’

Gif Taken from: https://www.quora.com/Avengers-Endgame-Why-wasnt-Tony-disintegrated-after-holding-the-stones-just-like-guardians-of-the-Galaxy-in-GOTG-vol-1

It kept repeating into their minds before a shockwave sent threw them on their backs. A cloud of shimmering dust was raised by whatever had just occurred as they called for each other.  

Eventually the dust settled, they all lied on the ground looking at each other. Dean rushed to Rynvia making sure she’s alright, only to realise a halo flickered on top of her. Rynvia looked at him as he was running towards him as his movement seemed otherworldly as if he glitched. Doronin saw both as he realised sparks of lightening, or static electricity were flickering in the same manner, he turned to Leonard as he felt an uncomfortable wave of heat radiating from him, yet there was nothing to note.

“Maybe the arcane users had experienced a malfunction due to the arcane explosions” he thought.

“Wow.”

Said Leonard as he looked around him making sure everyone is alright before finally stumbling on Ylivs otherworldly appearance. He always found her clothing style creepy, possibly because of the cloak of raven feathers that occasionally seemed to somewhat animate on its own while making the dim candlelight in the room that they used to share even dimmer. But this time it was different. Her eyes constantly flickered between green and endless, pupil less purple glitter. As if the sky had found refuge within.

Yliv looked at him with a curious grimace

“Huh?”

“Your eyes” he pointed

“Um..”

“Oh shit, the stone!” he remembered as he started looking around. The statue that was previously echoing the inscription on its platform now lied on the floor, half shattered in dust and the rest partially dipped within the ground. They all searched for the stone with no luck. Instead, using his divine senses he felt a beat of divinity from each of them, including himself. Unsettling, yet warm.

Looking around them, they quickly assumed they wouldn’t be the only ones who heard the loud explosion, with whatever little was left from Rynvias miraculous water walking ability, they started rushing for the shore, away from the opening which could end up being an arena, or a tomb.

While crossing, they saw two figures heading towards the island before noticing their presence. A tall, grey haired man alongside a red haired woman started to approach them.

“Yo, Doronin” she shouted from afar.

“Shit” He thought, quickly clenching his fist and muttering an incantation silently to replicate the stone they had just lost.

Being a mistrusting bunch, they kept on their course until they reached the shore, with the two figures quickly catching up to them.

“Long time no see, comrade” She smiled as she walked towards them. She wasn’t as elegant as he had originally met her, partially bloodied and worn off. With the head of a some forest creature hanging on her side.

The rest looked at him curiously

“Who is she?”

Yliv said first

“Oh? I thought you’d mention me to them already, I’m somewhat offended.”

The man behind her seemed at a much better condition, one would doubt he had even drawn his sword during whatever encounter they had in the forest.

Rynvia, seeng she was wounded, gave her a.. Hug.

She was just as surprised being on the receiving end

“That’s some good illusion magic, I’ll give you that”

she said as she noted the flickering halo on top of her head.

Leonard looked for their newly baptised Banshee, Geltrud, with little luck.

“Before we go on, have you seen a banshee by any chance?” Leonard interrupted

“A..Banshee?” she responded while the man stayed silent.

“Yeah, we sort of promised we’d take care of a hag for her.”

The rest of the party mentally face palmed while this conversation took place.

“Met a hag, killed a hag.” she pointed towards some partially destroyed woods on the other side of the lake.

“Are you sure she was a hag?”

“It was a hag. She can give one hell of a massage” she said as she fixed her dislocated shoulder.

“Well, that makes it easier for us, I still wanted to say goodbye but I guess there’s no nee—”

“I can see you’re in a hurry so let’s make this quick, Doronin, that is Nathan, Nathan, that is Doronin.”

Nathan looked at him surprised

“I’ll be damned. So it is true” looking at him somewhat fascinated from whatever he thought he looked at.

Doronin looked in awe

“Wait..” his eyes went wide.

“I promised you information, I found the next best thing.” She said smilingly at him as she extended her wrist, he knew what she expected.

“Wait, wait” he said repeatedly.

“What are you saying? This is my..Dad?”

Nathan laughed

“I’m not your father boy. But I am an associat—”

“No more talking before you hand over the stone.”

The rest had finally began to catch up with whatever was taking place.

“The stone?” Leonard looked at Doronin.

“You didn’t tell them about being one of the good guys either? Really Doronin?” she sighed.

“You threatened me not—”

“And I thought you’d know better than that” she interrupted again.

“Oh well, that’s something you can work on later, may I have the stone, please?”

“Why would you want the stone, and who are you?” Yliv moved forward

“Oh? My name is not necessary, my mission is. The stone rightfully belongs to Ezekiel, and that is more than enough of a reason for me to acquire it.”

“Eze..Who?”

“Look, girl. We’re the good guys, you can hand over the stone as you have no need for it. In return, we will make sure everyone in the realm remains safe. Win-win, see?”

“I don’t. We are working for the good guys too.”

“Oh? And who would that be?” she said as her eyes flickered for a second as she rested her hand on the grip of her sword.

“I’d be careful with your response.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It very much does.”

While the conversation went back and forth, Rynvia silently prayed to Liira to calm the spirits.. It wasn’t a good idea. As the calming hymn sounded towards the woman she hugged, she looked down, knowing what she had just tried as she pulled her sword.

“Tell me, is that what the good guys do? Charming everyone else?”

In the meanwhile, Doronin had sneaked away and towards Nathan.

“So.. You know my dad?” he tried saying without his voice breaking.

“Yes.” Nathan looked at him with even more interest, and somewhat sadness as he was closer.

“How would I know?”

“We can arrange a rendezvous. And you can meet him. How else?” he said stoically towards him.

“Wow” he said astonished.

As the scene became more heated on the side of the party, Nathan drew his sword and took a swift slash towards the red-haired woman, severing her head.

“That just made things much easier.”

Leonard said looking at Nathan.

“It has. I am going to try and say this once, please, leave. I have business to attend with Doronin.”

Doronin looked back at him.

The rest of the party looked towards him.

“We can’t really do that.” Rynvia responded.

“This man just betrayed your trust. Are you willing to defend someone like this?”

“He’s right.” Leonard thought

“No, but he has to explain himself.”

He looked around them.

Doronin started explaining the story to the rest, while the atmosphere grew more static by the minute.

Nathan didn’t stop looking at each of them with pinches of regret.

“My dear Doronin. What you have just narrated was the story of how secrets never stay secrets unless you’re the only one that knows about them.. And I, have to be the only one who knows about what happened to you and your mother. I want you to understand, I never wanted to do this, nor do I want to do what I am about to do. But it was for the greater good. The good I and your father have done; I can’t allow it to be undone. Not for a single life. “ Nathan followed as Doronin finished his story.

He raised is open palm towards the party, as neon blue sparks flew from him towards them. It had finally occurred to Doronin, his powers were identical to Nathans, identical to the ones that Aerdrie had slowly been handing over to him from when he was struck as a new-born. The overflowing energy shook everyone to their core, most of them barely made it while Leonard stood in front, taking most of it. Doronin was overflowing with lightening, a little more barely harmed him. Yet he knew the gap between their power levels was unprecedented. While angry, he maintained his composure to think. He had to survive.

“Please.” He looked at the rest, “Leave.”

Dean had rushed towards him seeing his sister overwhelmed, taking two swings at Nathan, slightly disrupted from the eldritch energy coming his way, as well as keeping Leonard at bay in combination with Deans peculiar fighting technique he managed to tear a small wound on his otherwise stone-hardened skin. In return, Nathans sword flew out of its sheathe, while unpredictable, Deans reflexes saved him, only for it to make a 180 degree turn before stabbing him in the back. Rynvia saw this, as he kneeled and coughed blood on the ground. A bolt of divine light gathered in her palm as she shot it towards him with all her might. Nathan didn’t move, he instead stood in front of it, taking it in full force, only to barely be scratched to Rynvias surprise.

Radiant energy burst from Nathan, knocking Dean unconscious as Doronin and Leonard could hold their ground. Doronin muttered an incantation as he started growing in size, ripping apart his armor. White body hair started replacing the tears in his armor with electric blue highlights as he roared and tried to punch Nathan. It was then that Nathans wings finally spurted, lightening the blow of the giant ape before he took off the ground to gain the higher ground on them. Rynvia barely ever missed with the hammer she was given by Tristan, yet Nathan not only evaded it, but used it as a boost to fly higher.  

The fight kept breaking out, yet the more blows the party missed the more they realised that their enemy was formidable. Too formidable even. Yet he was holding back. He wasn’t actively trying to kill them; he was trying to make them falter. Leonard had never sensed this scorching aura from a being before. If they did manage to take him down, it wouldn’t be without sacrifices.

Leonard kept seeing himself within Nathan, as Nathan did see himself in Leonard. They shared the same sense of duty, making absolute sacrifices for the greater good. He couldn’t fight him, not like this, not for someone who had just jeopardised their trust. He went near Yliv as he asked her to trust him and follow his lead, unknowingly of what he was about to do, she nodded. Nathan had finally found their weakness; Comradeship.

A glimmer of hope grew when one of Ylivs blasts finally landed while the ache from her hex symbol on his face had him lose his edge for a split second, only to wilt as he rushed through the party, grabbing her by the neck and scooping her off her feet. He was worn off, they all were.

“Stop.” Leonard shouted as Nathans sword had just landed in his arm as he was about to pierce through her chest.

“We don’t want to fight you anymore, you were right.”

He continued, while Nathan looked at him, somewhat confused. He could sense lies, and Leonard wasn’t lying.

He took his sword up and slashed towards Dorinin with necrotic energy overflowing from his sword.

Doronin roared in pain, even in his adrenaline-induced form as blood gashed out of his wound.

Leonard looked towards Rynvia, nodding at her, she was confused but trusted him, she knew the situation was dire, she then started taking swings. Yliv wasn’t sure what was happening, yet she held tight on her staff as she waited for the right moment the tides would turn.

Dean was appalled, but his sister had asked signalled him to follow, he couldn’t afford risking her life.

Doronin eventually started turning back to his plane touched Aasimar form, as he panted, bleeding, he muttered an incantation while coughing blood. He flipped a diamond in the air, and from the diamond came fire. Fire strong enough to match the breath of a dragon. Nathan was caught off guard, yet he stood there, taking it. His face had partially melted as he walked towards Doronin, always with regret.

“You can leave. You don’t have to see this.”  he reassured the rest.

Yliv had rushed to them, she was looking at all of them, waiting for a sign.

Doronin started running towards the depths of the swamp, confused as everyone was attempting to strike him down. He couldn’t think anything else than making it out alive. Dean looked at his sister once more with doubt as he ran towards him, giving him the final blow as he cut his tendons before he passed out. Leonard followed him, as he lied in the ground, he plunged his sword in his back, blood started soaking the ground as it run towards the swamp waters. Even Nathan was caught off guard. The cool air that often surrounded his sword grew hellish hot, almost burning him as he gripped it as firmly as he could, making a final twist. He always thought the wind surrounding it was attuned to his emotions. Yet this time he wasn’t sure if that was his state of mind that was reflected in the temperature of the wind or someone elses.

“I told you, he was our problem.” Leonard continued.

“I..” “I am sorry.”

He looked at all of them and their wounds.

Yliv hadn’t partaken in this. She just stood there, her legs below her raven-feathered cloak were shaking. Her eyes had gone wide.

“I didn’t do anything to him”

She kept thinking

“I didn’t do anything for him”

The echoes were interchangeable.

Nathan headed towards the dismembered body of the red-haired woman. As he placed it over her neck and chanted a couple of words radiant energy started searing the wound.

“I wasn’t planning to kill any of you. Your courage is admired, and so is your sacrifice.”

Those were his final words before he flew above the tree line, leaving them to mourn.

The woman eventually gasped as she woke up and grabbed her sword heading towards the group standing on top of Doronin.

“You’re lucky the rest of you lot is alive after trying to take us on.”

Leonard looked at her dead serious

“Your friend cut your head off, nobody tried to take you on, now leave.”

She stared at them confused.

“I..”

“You can sense if we’re lying can’t you?”

She could. But it didn’t make sense.

“He also brought you back, if it helps.”

Her confusion only grew.

“Did he take the stone?”

“There is no fucking stone. The stone disappeared. You don’t believe us, go and take a look. Now leave us, we have a burial to take.”

“If what you say is true, then the entire Faerun will turn into a burial because of your incompetence.” She said as she walked towards the now withered tree.

They sat in silence for twenty minutes. Dean moved away from the group as he couldn’t stand the sight.

The woman eventually came back, only to ask for further details, yet nobody was willing to speak. She couldn’t blame them. She had failed, and it did not matter how, the consequences were what would matter. She sweated as she walked towards the forest frantically before they lost sight of her.

They all remained silent for the next few hours, they buried Doronin, Rynvia made the utmost preparation to pray for him in the afterlife before rushing towards where she had seen her brother last. She found him, wiping off his already clean sword.

“Why did you leave?” she said silently

“I need some time” Dean said as he avoided eye contact.

“Is this what you’ve been doing since I was gone?” he continued.

“Doronin betrayed us, it was a bad situation.”

“Is this how you justify it? Is this how you’ll treat our brother? He killed our parents.”

“That’s different.”

“No Rynvia, it’s the same. If not worse.”

“We spent a month with this guy, we spent our entire lives together with Damon.”

“A month that you could’ve all died. You fought zombies, pirates, demons, a dragon, Rynvia. A dragon.”

“Did you never think of killing our brother when he sent you in Ysgard?”

“Never. I was angry, I was mad, I died a thousand times. But it never occurred to me.  I don’t wanna know what would happen if I betrayed you”

“You really wouldn’t.” she said in a serious tone before her voice broke and tears started dripping on the ground.

“When I came back, I wanted to see my sister and family. I was sad to find out what had happened, but I at least was happy to have my sister back. But now I see that it’s not the person I had known for the better part of a century. And I’m.. I’m confused.” He never made eye contact, he just kept on wiping his blade.

“I…”

“Go back with the rest, Rynvia..”

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I’ll try.”

She started walking back as she shouted

“I love you.”

No response echoed.

In the meanwhile, Yliv and Leonard sat around the burial site in silence. Leonard look at her shaking hands but wasn’t sure if he should try to comfort her.

“You didn’t follow my lead.” He said bothered

“I’m not sure what you expected me to do” she responded after a long interval

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure about that either.”

She had never imagined killing an innocent, let alone a comrade.

“He had betrayed us. If anyone was going to die in this it was him.”

She didn’t respond. Neither did he continue to justify what had happened.

“He redeemed himself.”

She looked back at him confused

“Do you still trust me?”

“I don’t know”

“Help me unbury him, please.”

They both started excavating the grave once more, as Rynvia was coming back she cluelessly helped whatever they were trying to do, perhaps one of them wanted to give their regards, she was too disoriented.

Eventually, Doronins cold, muddy and moist from the swamp body was finally uncovered.

A burning sensation started radiating from Leonard as a couple of withered wings spurted out and his armor turned entirely dark, aside from the grey gem that remained embedded in his skull shaped helmet. From under his helm his eyes had turned bright red as he started chanting.

Both Rynvia and Yliv were daunted from the intimidating sight yet somewhat comforted by the unexpected warmth that emanated from his grim appearance. He continued to chant for the better part of the hour, as he did, he felt the divine essence slowly going dormant and his emanating radiance fading while Doronins colour returned and Leonards sword thrust that pierced through his heart started mending, physically at least.

[vkstar-cornman]

Contexts

Lately I’m still feeling very reluctant about blogging and write reflections from time to time, especially the weather had made me quite ill and unproductive. The book art responding to 24/7 started off brightly, but now I am experiencing the phase I would had the same in every other project, which I start being very skeptical on whether if this is a good idea to keep developing on.

 So for clarity, for my own reference, I’ll try to explain what I will be doing to myself through inscription to boost my own confidence on this one.

 Basically, we all started from the same point, which is to go to 24/7 in Somerset House and see the works being curated together in there. ‘Sleep’ and ‘Surveillance’ were some of the strong concepts being emphasized throughout the exhibition, but I had enough of explaining what I’ve seen there because I’m pretty sure I have done it multiple times already. I will directly skip to the inspiration part. Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg’s Synthetic Orchestration gave me an idea of doing a book with birds as the major appearance in book, her work displayed the restlessness from urban life had extended, and disrupted biosphere as well, causing birds to sing earlier and loud, a change in their communicating mechanisms.

 Birds are such fragile yet agile animals that we spot commonly in a lot of places. They have co-existed and dwell in the city with humans for long ages, and I do believe the 24/7 culture shapes their life different in many ways, emerging the traits from a sleepless routine into their nature. Besides light and sound pollution coming from either rapid industrialization or for the needs of working class, there are more physical environmental pollutions than we could imagine that are forcing birds and the other part of nature to adapt such an anxious living mode, which is almost incompatible to most of our natures, not just as human, but as a moral living creature.

 What I always found fascinating about birds, is how their life cycle works. Depending on larger or smaller breeds, there’s quite a range in life span, but what matter the most is the stages in life to them are pretty much the same. They go from eggs to hatchlings, nestlings to juvenile and lastly, subadult to fully mature. For smaller breeds, their dead bodies are usually hard to find, as instead of natural causes, they mainly died from predation due to their position in food chain. I don’t actually think there’s any part seems so magical about the life of birds, but I’m just genuinely interested in where do they go before and after at the stage where they still require parental care. Just like the type of things we face in our lives, I study it to try to find associations, because associations always makes good metaphors in communication.

  Cutting to the chase, so how is the contextualization working in this project? Some of the people look into how 24/7 culture and late capitalism keep infecting birds, or just genuinely urban wildlife in future, and the unpredictability of impact on the nature just remind me the fact that many people are yet to be delivered to this world, until the age of much more uncertainties comes. For some other family-related certain issues, I decide to dedicate this book art project to the next generation, the generation alpha, a generation fully immersed into the bestest technologies we are seeing nowadays. Some may argue that millennials and generation Zs were already those people of era that lacked the witness of how technology shifted rapidly. What separate us apart from generation alpha, is they will face contract to social media in a much younger age and also a larger extend then we did. It is good or bad? As always, for generally any topics, there are always the good side and the bad side, but only to find out which will outweigh which.

 For example, from a video I watched recently that explains a marketing strategy labelled as a creation under ‘late capitalism’, which companies like fast food chain restaurants would take their online presence onto a personification, creating a less formal and official link with netizens, which in contrast boosted their ‘relatability’ and proximity to the public, a friend-like approachable figure with certain unique personalities which could summon an entire ‘fandom’, instead of just a platform grouped with admins that give you really polite but autogenerated replies. The publication and use of hugely popularized substances in millennials and gen Zs like ‘memes’ are largely used to gather a fan base. The idea is no longer to make professional promotions and advertisements in order to attract customers, but to immerse some kind of virtual character into your life, an online presence that you actually think of as a mortal person or even an acquaintance you know from online, that marketers found best apply to the newer generations people.

 This kind of techniques start appearing in about mid 2010s, which is the age where generation alpha could either just born, already been born, or starting to explore the world and gotten exposed to internet. Saying this also mean that most of these kids will not be able to witness how these marketing strategies were used and a world before such things existed, and what happens is that it could be very difficult for them to be aware of not constantly getting instilled with such ideas and ‘advertisements’. It sounds like its merely, remotely related to how late capitalism brings 24/7 culture, sleeplessness, blablabla…. But the idea is, there will be people out there, trying to be your friend and mostly their only purpose is to make themselves hard to be gotten rid out of your heads. The world is spinning at hot speed, and each day there are people coming up with multiple ideas about advertisements or other idea-instilling mechanisms, that seems very harmless on surface, but also doesn’t make an antipathic psychological effect on general public. The true negative effects are very subconscious and unpredictable, and that’s what makes it scarier, it will probably make the next generation even less independent with a mobile device or social medias, even we together will bring more advancements in the foreseeable future.

 The questions I kept asking myself, is what will happen to them? How will they cope with many upcoming challenges? Will we altogether, be able to solve the problems together? With medical advancements, the latest two generations of people (0-20) are currently treated with the best medical welfare and medication, who are believed to potentially live until 22nd Century. With that being said, generation z and alpha’s timeline of life will be quite similar and will be sharing a lot of time working and collaborating together. What are the things we as a previous generation, a multitude of people who have slightly witnessed a bit more than the alphas do, can remind them of? What are the things generally everyone out there can advise these hatchlings who haven’t seen the world yet? Even though myself is still in an early stage of exploring how this world work under the current system, what are the things we need to fight against? What are they thing we should believe in or not?

 I guess these could be counted as my responses to the exhibition, not initially though. I will never be able to find the most fully-covered or precise answers to these questions, but I will try to explore them, and find the keys to the doors after another one. For the book, I focused mainly on the message and with my limitations on accurate measurements, I was a bit uncomfortable in trying to create a distinct format or an original prototype to the book itself. What I want to do, is illustrate the life of birds with multiple medias. What I have already done is screenprinting, drawings with unorthodox ways and digital amendments, the main idea is to create digitally configurated images with natural techniques (sunography in replacement of x-ray? Handdrawing instead of computer-generated image) . During the growing up process for the birds, they don’t face terrorisms or wars, but they face the terror of being exposed to technology and medias in an early age, which effects are quite inmost as I have mentioned.