#Why has it exploded into shambles and falling from the skies

[astrxlfinale]

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE FEANDUFNDA

[linareads]

Almost everyone knows that line from that book,

In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move

It has been mentioned in Tumblr posts, Instagram posts, twitter jokes, what most people might not know is that this line comes from the Douglas Adams book, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, the second book of the Hitchhiker’s Guide book series.

This series is composed of five books and a short story written by Douglas Adams, and another book written by Artemis Fowl author Eoin Colfer. The book I’ve read consists of the five mains books of the Hitchhiker’s series, plus a short story. In the end, the contents of this book are these:

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Nominated as one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read) Seconds before the Earth is demolished for a galactic freeway, Arthur Dent is saved by Ford Prefect, a researcher for the revised Guide. Together they stick out their thumbs to the stars and begin a wild journey through time and space.

The Restaurant at the End of the Universe The moment before annihilation at the hands of warmongers is a curious time to crave tea. It could only happen to the cosmically displaced Arthur Dent and his comrades as they hurtle across the galaxy in a desperate search for a place to eat.

Life, the Universe and Everything The unhappy inhabitants of planet Krikkit are sick of looking at the night sky- so they plan to destroy it. The universe, that is. Now only five individuals can avert Armageddon: mild-mannered Arthur Dent and his stalwart crew.

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish Back on Earth, Arthur Dent is ready to believe that the past eight years were all just a figment of his stressed-out imagination. But a gift-wrapped fishbowl with a cryptic inscription thrusts him back to reality. So to speak. Mostly Harmless Just when Arthur Dent makes the terrible mistake of starting to enjoy life, all hell breaks loose. Can he save the Earth from total obliteration? Can he save the Guide from a hostile alien takeover? Can he save his daughter from herself?

Includes the bonus story "Young Zaphod Plays It Safe"

Having read all of them I have my opinions.

SPOILER ALERT

The books are funny, just reading the first chapters can tell you that the books are very very funny. Some passages of it are enough to make you laugh out loud because they are that funny. It focuses on the story of Arthur Dent, his friends, and the shenanigans he ends up getting involved in. These friends include Ford Perfect, an alien who has lived on Earth for year and writes for said Guide, Zaphod Beeblebrox, an alien with two heads who is also the President of the Galaxy at the beginning of the book series. Tricia “Trillian” McMillian, a human astrophysicist, who meets Zaphod at a party and ends up traveling the universe with him, and Marvin, a depressed robot. These are the main characters of the series, alongside Arthur, who is the main character, and they show up on almost all the books. One of the most important things in the books is also the guide itself, that instead of a book is more of a portable computer with a Wikipedia that spans the knowledge of almost everything in the universe. Another important character is Fenchurch, but she will show up later.

The first two books are funny, lighthearted and make a good show of world building (or destroying). The story begins with the Earth being destroyed to build a special highway, and Ford Perfect escaping just before the Earth explodes with Arthur Dent. With them they take a towel, the most important item anyone can take with them when they travel the universe, and the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe, a guide, much like our earthly travel guides, that tells you the best activities and places to visit whenever your travelling, Ford happens to work for the Guide.

In the end they end up watching the end of the Universe, seeing the last message form God, discovering that the Earth was nothing but an experiment to find out the ultimate question to all things in the universe (experiment funded by rats, the smartest lifeform on earth) they also time travel, travel through different parallel universes et cetera et cetera.

In the end the books are a very fun read, with one exception, which is the chaos. The books are very chaotic, and while that is part of the attraction of the books, the chaos is funny, makes you confused, in a good way, and works to explain what is happening to the characters and how Arthur Dent feels most of the time- However, there comes a point where it’s too much, and what happens its that you end up so confused you’re not really sure what you’re reading. There is no character index, a small summary of each other books in the end, nothing of the sort. So, if you’re confused, you either google the events of the books, or you read back a few chapters to see if you can make sense of it. And sometimes you can, sometimes you can’t.

By the second to last book, it seems like the author is pulling at straws, Arthur is, for some reason stranded on prehistoric earth, travels to space again, and manages to time travel back to his own time, where the earth isn’t destroyed, sponsored by the dolphins (the second smartest species on Earth) who then vanished from Earth. Arthur meets a woman, Fenchurch who can float, falls in love, (they also have sex flying through the skies of London?) travel to visit a man who knows what happened to the Dolphins and then travel to see God’s last message to the Universe (Which funnily enough ends up being “We apologise for the inconvenience”). And then ends up travelling the universe with Fenchurch, although throughout his travels all he wanted was to go back to his own time on Earth.

And then, by the last book, Fenchurch is gone, the company that edits and publishes the Hitchhikers has been taken over, the universe is in shambles because of time-travel. Arthur and Trillian have a daughter, a new guide shows up that can turn into a bird and time/dimension travel, takes Arthur’s child into a version of Earth where Trillian never left, still goes by Tricia, and is a journalist, and then the Earth is destroyed again however this time, Arthur, Ford, Trillian, and the daughter all die. (However, Elvis is alive and either playing shows in diners throughout the universe or runs a diner somewhere in the Universe, I am not sure)

And if you were confused by that last chapter, you can see how I felt throughout the book, because it somehow manages to be more confusing than all the others combined. In a sense, the last book seemed, to me at least, to be a last-ditch effort to just finish the story and be done with it.

The ending came out of nowhere, Fenchurch came and disappeared out of nowhere, so did the daughter, no actual explanation is given to what happened to the Guide, and why is the Guide now a bird thing?

None of these questions are answered, however, this still doesn0t detract from the book, and even as confused as I felt, as well as the anger on how it ended, doesn’t detract, in my opinion, from its five-star rating, because it’s still an amazing book.

Its funny, engaging, entertaining, easy to read and worth to read. Even with all its faults this is a book I will recommend to everyone I can and will read again, even if it’s just to read the passages I found to the funniest once more.

I recommend this book, give it five stars, but I must warn that this book is very chaotic, and has little to no set structure, and if that isn’t for you, well, you have been warned.

[cerberosthehellguard]

Oneshot #21

Rating: T

Relationships: AkaFuri.

Characters: Akashi Seijuurou. Furihata Kouki.

Wordcount: 3900+ words

Tags: Pride and Prejudice AU. Frankenstein AU. Fusion. Fluff. 

Summary: It takes something to get something in return. And Furihata got more than he bargained for. Not that he was not happy with it. Per se. 

Author’s notes: The moment I got a prompt for Regency AU I *immediately* //shamelessly// jumped on to a fusion of Pride and Prejudice (all time fave) and Frankenstein (another all time fave) MINUS the angst somehow. Both being the same era, I really wanted to do this some justice. i probably shouldn’t be writing this when I am half dead and fully on delirious on masala chai but, hey, what better time to write?! 

“You can’t possibly waste away you life, living in this-this hovel! of a place!”

Furihata paid no mind. He continued to read his book, lounging casually as you please, on the decadent furniture ripped at the seams.

“I am talking to you! You are to respond to me! Have you no proper manners? Were you raised by wolves?”

Furihata paused. He looked up, and in the most bored and unaffected voice he could muster, he drawled, “Yes, now why don’t you run off and tattle to Mother.” A smirk formed on his lips as he gazed coolly at his sister. “Isn’t that what you always want to do?”

A gasp, a huff and a “Well, I never!” and then some furious stomping before the door slammed hard followed his rebuke.

His smirk grew as he returned his attention back to the book on his lap.

*

“I don’t want to go here anymore.”

“Go where?” Takao whispered from the corner of his mouth, glancing at their professor who was droning on monotonously, clearly as uninterested as his students about the subject, and back to the book he was doodling on the margins of.

Furihata peered at the sketch. Detailed shading and lining of a Bengal tiger. He raised an impressed eyebrow. Takao must be really bored.

“Go here. Classes. School. University.”

“What?!” Takao nearly snapped his neck to look at Furihata. He whisper-yelled, “Are you mad? You are quitting?!”

Furihata shrugged nonchalantly, “I could be doing other fruitful things than wasting my time on mediocrity.”

Takao sneered, “Oh pray tell, whatever those other life enriching things are, O Learned One.”

“You shall see.” Furihata closed his eyes and leaned back on the bench. He stretched his legs under the table and crossed them at the ankles. He lifted his hands behind his head and interlinked his fingers, cushioning his head against them. The deliberate pose of leisure and confidence. “You shall all see.”

*

I am sure this is unethical.

But it is for the greater good.

I am most certainly sure this is unethical.

His mind wars in his head. It’s throbbing; thoughts whirring like bees in a hive. He doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t necessarily have to prove to anyone that he is better than them.

He knows he is.

Obviously.

Still.

His mother won’t keep her mouth shut anymore. Any more talk of “lack of grandchildren in old age” and “disappointments that she had had to bear for nine months to bring upon this wide Earth” and “what will their esteemed neighbors say when they catch wind that our oldest son has such questionable, abhorrent, intolerable proclivities!” would make him want to run away to the New Lands.

Not that his father would object.

Or his darling sister, who would just be too happy to simper and play coy and bat her eyelashes to gain the attentions of Mother.

No.

He was not going to run.

He was a scientist. A visionary in his own right.

And above all else, a free man who liked his own gender better.

And he would prove his bias did not mar his genius.

*

To obtain something you have to lose something in equal proportion.

That was the first rule of alchemy.

He had had failures. He had, nearly, had his life taken away. Bringing back something to life after it has left the mortal world was a violation of the highest order.

“You are mad, Furi! This cannot happen! What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?! Stop this madness and come back to class.”

“It is unnatural, Furihata. You are breaking the Code. You never break the Code. Fusing or reconstructing a deconstructed product is different than this. You know this. Then why....?”

“Just as well to see you falling apart at this dump. Did you know, Mother handed me a new set of pearls for the Ball this weekend? They are wonderful, aren’t they? Do you happen to even have clean clothes or are you still wearing what you wore when you stormed out of our house? Oh, pardon me. My family house?”

But he would not give up.

Nearly two years into holing himself up like a hermit in his cottage on the far side of town, away from his nosy sister and materialistic mother, away from the disappointed eyes of his friends and professors at the University, he had finally found his calling.

He would bring his subject to life and he would succeed in it. He would bypass all the rules, regulations and laws and be a pioneer in this taboo part of Alchemy.

This was what his genius was made for.

This was his biggest, grandest endeavor.

His legacy.

*

“Erm……Hello?” Furihata tried really hard to sound better than that. It was still a croak at best. He was scared, terrified and numb at the same time.

But he had been successful.

He had gathered the bodies. He had dug back up the freshly dug graves to carve out the parts he needed from the corpses. The rotting flesh and the dirty bones and the oozing blood and the wet mud was the stench he had become accustomed to. He had dug and dug and dug and brought back the parts of the bodies to his cottage. 

Discarding and reattaching and envisioning and discarding again, he had painstakingly stitched them up together. Flesh and bones and skin. The needle was strong and his grip was firm as the thread wove in and out of the decaying skin, holding it firmly together.

He kept the skin fresh, the flesh paused in their decay through potions and oils he could concoct on his own, preserving the body in its current state for as long as possible. He hoped against hope that he wouldn’t have to wait too long to be done. His time was running out. His luck was running out. He could feel it.

He had worked tirelessly, like a frenzied man possessed by a demon, on this body. This particular body. 

The finished subject had been laid on the table. His experiment looked like a man of his age, matted and muddy red hair on his scalp, dull red irises that held no light, pale skin of a dancer.

Furihata had been careful, more than careful. He had done everything he could. Now it was left to the Gods. 

He could feel his victory closing in on him. 

There was heavy rain that evening. There was thunder and lightning and their booming power threatening the windows of his cottage.

He could almost taste his victory.

And that was when lightning had struck, blasting away part of the roof and attacking the table with its staggering strength. His spine chilled as the body slowly lifted off the table and swiveled in air, absorbing the energy from the skies.

Windows shattered, tables and chairs tumbled and skittered to bash themselves against the walls. Furihata crouched behind near the fireplace as the walls trembled, threatening to explode, and the body still circled in the air as the beam of light struck it repeatedly. Rain pelted everywhere outside the cottage, angry howling cries to drown the roar of thunder and yet the room was blinded by the light.

It was over too soon.

Time was still. Time was ticking. Furihata sat frozen where he was. His cottage was in shambles, his roof blown, whatever was left of it was pitiful in the cover they provided, the pillar supports naked and wrecked, and the body……

The body was lying still on the table.

But it was not lying still like before. Not dead-still. Sort of, like, meditation-still, Furihata fumbles in his thinking. His mind is recovering faster than his own body. His nerves were shot but his brain is cataloging everything that happened.

There was no going back. This was it. He had to have done it. If the power of the Gods couldn’t do it, he was as good as dead. Or mediocre. He didn’t know which was worse. 

He thought of reaching out, standing up and examining. His frozen state was responding too feebly to the screaming commands of his mind.

He needn’t have bothered.

For the redhaired man on the table had woken up and was sitting and looking straight at him.

*

“Akashi, can you give me that?” Furihata instructed, his papers lying scattered on the table and his glasses slipping down his nose.

Akashi moved the sofa nearer to the fireplace before handing Furihata his coffee, “This tastes vile. Why do you have it? Tea is more palatable.”

Furihata smirked, “I know. But this keeps me awake.” He frowned at his writing and corrected it before turning around on his chair.

Akashi Seijuro shifted the arm chair and fluffed up the cushions - the right way, as instructed by Proper Etiquette for Every Respectable Household, which he insisted on reading despite Furihata’s constant protests - before settling in, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles and his clothes a bit tight for his frame. Furihata made note to buy him more clothes next time they went to the market.

His cup of Darjeeling Tea awaited Akashi on the table next to the book with its bookmark intact. He looked relaxed and at peace as he stared into the fire.

The man who was not to be.

The man who was unnatural and an abomination.

The man whom Furihata brought to life three years ago.

It had understandably taken a while. Furihata may have had no compunctions with breaking rules but there was bone-chilling fear radiating through every nerve in his body when Akashi had woken up.

He had thought he had created a monster.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

It had taken months to make him talk on his own and not imitate Furihata all the time. He had taken to following Furihata everywhere; in the end, it turned out to be safer than leaving him to his own devices.

Akashi - that was the name he had chosen for himself after a lengthy debate - was smart. He was smarter than Furihata. He was probably smarter than their whole class, Furihata estimated. He picked up on things quickly, especially vocal and body language cues to convey what he wanted.

He could convey more with just a glance than a twenty word sentence. It was frightening. It was thrilling. Furihata didn’t pay attention to the thrilling part. 

“For first names……what would you want it to be?” Furihata had sat on the floor, the patched-up rug providing little comfort.

Akashi was silent as usual. He didn’t talk much, choosing to observe and respond only when direly necessary. Furihata liked having a silent companion. It was a nice change to the outspoken and brazen and talkative people he had had his entire life. He was beginning to crave Akashi’s company more than anybody else. He refused to pay attention to that detail. “Go on.”

“Shintarou? That’s my friend’s name and he is very smart, just like you!”

Akashi stared.

“Okay, maybe not. How about, Sei? It means excellence. How does that sound?”

Akashi hummed thoughtfully and looked up. And nodded. “Seijuro. Akashi Seijuro.”

“Akashi Seijuro it is.” Furihata grinned, all his teeth showing, extending his hand, “Hi, I am Furihata Kouki. Let’s be friends.”

Akashi looked at the hand and the grin that was stretched on Furihata’s face. He felt it mirror on his own as he clamped his fingers over Furihata’s in a sure grip, “Friends.”

*

Akashi quickly learned to brew potions and drinks and liquids and certain drugs that could keep his body alive and his skin looking healthy. The stitches were near invisible now, after nearly three years of his new life. Kouki had been a novice inventor and a terrible tailor when he had sewn his organs together. But it had made to. 

He walked and roamed and explored the world outside of the tiny cottage, adjusting to life as a human, as a friend of Kouki who had come from far away - a convenient story for the nosy questions - and who did not know the local traditions.

His life, his existence was because of Kouki. He owed it to him, for however long it turned out to be. He wasn’t immortal, he knew. His life was through dead flesh and bones and it would feed and rot and decay soon. But he could control the decay as long as he wanted. And wanted to serve Kouki till then.

He knew he was an experiment, a live subject meant to be examined by people who were other than Kouki and more nosier and ruder than any human had any right to be, with their invasive questions and prejudices and horror of the unknown, which in this case was him, the walking horror.

But he could stand all that. With Kouki by his side, he would.

“This cannot bloody be happening!” Kouki stormed into the house, their house, and slammed the door, its hinges protesting. “I cannot believe the nerve of that woman!”

He slumped onto the sofa, pulling a cushion and placing it over his face and screaming into it. Akashi watched from the tiny kitchen, his tea in hand and a French translation book for beginners in the other.

“What happened this time?” He took a sip, and frowned. It tasted different. Funny. He and Kouki prepared the same way - Kouki was the one who had taught him and let him find his own taste - but it tasted better when Kouki made it. He decided not to ponder too much over that detail.

“My mother happened.” As if that were all the explanation needed.

And it was.

Despite the phenomenal success Furihata Kouki had become in the field of Alchemy, laurels and accolades showering on him everywhere he went, his own family had been displeased about the yet uncertain marital status of their son. Akashi had never exactly met them but from the stories he had heard, he could very much like to scorn them. And would love to. With glee. And finesse.

Akashi sat next to Kouki on the sofa, pulling Kouki’s legs over his lap and running a comforting hand over them. Kouki simpered.

“Oh, daaaahling, you would not believe what happened!” Kouki started in a falsetto, imitating his mother, Akashi supposed. He hid his grin behind his cup. “Your sister met this incredible match and look! They own half of bloody Kyoto! Of course, that is more than enough reason to pack away your sister and sell her off like the cow she is, but, of course, I have only her welfare in mind and, of course, I do not plan to beg shamelessly for dowry and make use of their connections to get our, oh so, irredeemably tarnished reputation back on the society pages. 

“Of course, I am proud of that little, erm, uhh, what do you call it, daahling? Experiment, is it? Ah yes, experiment! That one that made you teeny-tiny bit noticed in our narrow-minded little town, that one where you had that thing paraded around town and called yourself a genius ha! Oh, you little pumpkin, you, a genius? What a mockery! 

“Of course, it doesn’t matter anymore since you can now put away your little problem and forget your identity and everything you built for yourself and force yourself into a union with one of the sisters of the groom! Oh, how wonderful it sounds! My two children married off and making babies with God-knows-who, so I can roll around in money and wear expensive gowns and pretend my good-for-nothing son was never a day gay in his life!”

Furihata wheezed.

His frustration had been simmering since he heard his mother prattle on and on about the alliance, especially because of her blatant disregard for his tendencies. It had switched to a boiling point when she had belittled his work and reduced him to a pawn that was frankly, in her words, incapable of giving her a grandchild.

He had stood up calmly and left the house that was no longer his, without a single word.

“What is meant by gay? Being merry, is it? And that is.....wrong?”

The question woke him up. He stared at Akashi who was looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Curiosity and something else.

He rubbed his face in exhaustion, sitting up, at eye level to Akashi. “No. You are right. But it has a slang meaning these days. Gay is a new, modern word used to address those whose…….attractions lay elsewhere.” He was prevaricating, he knew, but he had to hope Akashi knew by now what he was talking about.

Akashi cocked his head, a slight frown appearing between his brows.

No such luck, apparently.

“Gay is when you are…….attracted to your own gender.” Furihata sighed. Akashi’s brows were lifting. “It means, I am a flaming homosexual and would probably not be able to get it up for any woman at all.”

Akashi looked like he was processing the information. That was one of the many good things about him. He was never shocked. He would stare at anything he didn’t comprehend and would doggedly persist until he did. The extensive libraries they had spent all their time in, in every town they visited for their seminars, had attested to it. He was smart, knowledgeable and modest.

And most of all, able to take things in stride and bend them to will.

He was Furihata’s silent strength.

Furihata would gladly have his life turned over again and again if it meant he were to stay by Akashi’s side.

He feared his feelings were stronger than friendship, slipping into the kind he was defining to Akashi about, but he couldn’t care less.

He loved who he loved.

Undead and probably straight included.

“If I am attracted to you, does it mean I am, gay, as well?”

Furihata was glad he was sitting down for this.

*

Furihata cursed as he fixed his tie. It had become loose again. It was the third time. This evening alone. 

Akashi had gone off earlier. He had had something to do before, an errand he had said, and had vanished. It was disturbing. 

It had been three months since Akashi had come out to him, so plainly as if exclaiming “Oh, it’s Thursday!”, as if he hadn’t swept Furihata’s life cleanly from under his feet. 

And had then gone back to behaving as usual. All inquisitive questions and politeness and openness reserved for Furihata. 

It was frustrating. 

Now, when he had finally obtained a carelessly thrown invitation to his sister’s wedding reception - just the reception, mind, a Ball it was to be and everything - Akashi had sauntered off, leaving Furihata dateless. 

Furihata cursed again, wishing he could abstain from going. But knowing if he did, he would never hear the end of it. It was clearly a choice between Snide Remarks for Life at Every Family Dinner or Arriving at Wedding Without A Date and Refraining From Making A Statement About Being Gay. 

Priorities and all that. 

And so, he had arrived. 

Held the polite, tight-smiled conversation exchanging pleasantries with Mother and his sister and hugging Father comfortably, for a few scant minutes before he wandered off in search for a drink.

He muddled and elbowed his way through the dancing crowd when he was forcibly stopped by someone. 

By Akashi. 

Dressed to the nines and smiling at him like he held a secret. 

Holding out his hand as if for a dance. 

“Sei....?”

“May I have the next dance, Furihata-san?”

Furihata was taken aback and in a daze as he answered, “You may.”

*

“Oh, my word! You should have seen their faces!” Kouki was still laughing, holding his stomach and tears leaking from his eyes as he cried, “Priceless!”

Seijuro beamed, his grin a constant on his face as he watched Kouki, “Would you care for some tea?” He didn’t wait for a reply as he put the kettle on.

Kouki made his way to the small kitchen and swung up and settled himself on the counter. He was flushed still, from laughing, and his breathing was wonky but he was more bewildered by the whole experience than anything. 

He observed Akashi as he set about taking off his dress robes for the evening and carefully folding them, brushing off the creases. 

Akashi had waltzed his way in to the Ball and had swept him off his feet, outing both of them to the entirety of their society in one fell swoop. They had danced, twirled and laughed at the reactions of the shocked crowd around them, not minding the attention the slightest. Puce did not suit the shade of pink his mother and sister turned into, glaring daggers at them both. 

They had taken an early leave, knowing they would be hearing of this little event forever. 

That thought sobered Furihata. “You know, we would have to move from this place, now though, yes?”

Akashi didn’t say anything as he took the kettle and poured the tea into their cups.

“People.....They....are going to be talking about this. For forever. We would have to.....move on. For some quiet.” Furihata clasped and unclasped his fingers on his lap, afraid to look up. He didn’t even know how Akashi felt. What he felt. He couldn’t just presume Akashi to follow him everywhere. Even though he wanted Akashi to. Very much. So much. 

Akashi placed his teacup in his hand and lifted his chin, “I wouldn’t mind going anywhere. If it is with you.”

Furihata gaped. 

“I.....have a confession to make.” Akashi sighed and took a sip of his tea, and grimaced, and put it on the counter before facing Furihata. “I may have been unclear about my intentions previously.”

He looked nervous. And a little afraid, Furihata thought, but didn’t dare to break the silence. This was it. Akashi was going to let him down gently. Say, he was just joking. He was straight, after all. Or, he was gay but didn’t like Furihata that way. Kouki didn’t want to know which would hurt more. 

“Kouki, I may not be what you wanted, as your life partner, but would you give me the chance to be?” Akashi’s eyes pierced Furihata’s with their burning intensity. Flaming red met chocolate brown as they sent a silent plea. 

Furihata choked out a laugh.

He slid off the counter and picked up Akashi’s hands and held them in his. Interlacing their fingers and leaning in, he whispered, “Yes.” 

Akashi’s breath came out in a rush of relief as he placed his forehead against Furihata’s, “Oh thank God. Kouki, I-”

“Oh, we are moving to America,” Kouki continued conversationally, his lips teasing Seijuro’s with every word, “I have heard they are very open-minded about such things there.”

Seijuro picked up the baton easily and grinned, “Then you must allow me the honor of loving you every minute of this new adventure.” And swooped down on the kiss with a blissful sigh. 

[grand-malice]

Robo Ragtime Ch #1

Inkwell Isle; an island bustling with many fine folk. From the expansive beds of blue skies, to the far reaches of hell, such an animated locale never lacked for excitement. Within this land of magic lived two eccentric boys, known for freeing the souls of its denizens through their heroic deeds and their own misfortunes. Little did they know, their trials were far from concluded. And for one other, their journey was soon to begin.

     “Aww, c'mon, Mugs. Can't we just sneak into-.”

     “For the last time, Cuphead, we're not breaking into Dr. Kahl's junkyard. Those security bots would cook us alive.”

      The Cup brothers trekked along the familiar, lush thicket, discussing their current predicament in the meantime. ‘twas not long until they came upon the verdant meadows, continuing along the path before them.

     “You know how long it took us to make that soap box car? I'm not letting all that go to waste just ‘cause the mad doctor decided to scrap it for his ‘research’", Cuphead ranted, gesturing with air quotes all the while. “Ummm, isn't that why he did it, though?”, inquired his brother. “Oh no, Mugman.”, answered Cuphead as he leaned towards him. “There's a reason he didn't show up at the celebration that day. Probably has some beef with us after what we happened to his giant robot.”

      “It was either that or have our own souls taken. Besides, we freed his soul as well.”

Cuphead turned to give his brother a questioning stare, leaving him in a stupor until finally, it hit him, “Oh wait, it was his robot's”.

      “Exactly. That guy would sacrifice whatever being it had just to save his own skin. He's a real rascal, that one.”

      “Yeah, I bet if we had our own, we'd be a whole lot nicer to him.”, Mugman remarked.

     As this exchange transpired, they came to approach a bridge raised atop a running stream, lined with all manner of rocky formations. They started across the oaken walkway, each step creaking it all the more. 

     “Look, if all you're gonna do is listen to Elder Kettle and have our work be for nothing, go ahead. Me, I'm gonna get our car back!", Cuphead declared before marching forward, determination plastered on his face.

      Mugman sighed dejectedly, troubled by this reckless streak on display. “Fine, I'll join you. But only because I can't let you go on your own. Not after you got walloped by Ribby and Croaks.”

      “ Hmph, whatever you say, then”, muttered the red one, forming a furrowed brow.

      The two continued their course throughout the islet, until the very first die house came into view. Cuphead, still miffed at the “protective” presence of his brother, felt his hand boil with a radiating orange hue, a building tension rigged to explode. He quickly turned, took aim at the nearby clump of forest, and released a charge shot with all the rage he could muster. As it vanished through the thick leaves, he let out a relaxed sigh, but not without his brother's eyes on him. “Something wrong?”, inquired Mugman with a concerned look. “Nah”, was all Cuphead responded with. It was then they heard a nearby clank, seemingly from that same foliage. Both turned towards the noise, taken aback by its sudden emergence.

     “By golly, what was that?”, wondered Cuphead.

     “How should I know? Didn't sound like any tree I've heard.” Mugman then motioned for Cuphead to come along. “C'mon, let's see what it was.” He immediately objected. “Hey, what happened to taking back our kart?”

     “That can wait. For now, we need to check out what the noise was.” Cuphead simply rolled his eyes and tagged along.

    After a few moments of brushing aside any wayward shrubbery, they soon came upon a small clearing, previously unknown to either of them. As the two took continuous glances of this untouched glade, Cuphead was the first to spot a small hill erected at its center, where the sun's glow gleamed the brightest. Atop this miniature summit was a peculiar, oblong structure draped with tinges of greenery, effectively masking its true appearance. “Hey, Mug, look there. What is that?”, Cuphead pointing to the object in question. “Don't know. Could be anything.” 

     “Well whatever it is, it's long past due for a trim.”, he japed.

     “Oh gosh, no. Job like that calls for the entire quartet”, chuckled Mugman as he stepped ever closer to this mysterious figure. His pace slowed as he began to make out finer features like its robust build as well as its box-like head. On its forefront was a mangled hatch, oddly captured in a square indent while enveloped by an alloy unlike the rest. After maintaining a fixed gaze upon the unkempt unit, he noticed an absence of vines on its midriff, a mark made in no small part by Cuphead's little "vent". Then, as if on cue, ”Hey, Mug. We gonna get going or what?”, yelled the excitable cup, snapping him out of his stare.

     “But shouldn't we-.”

     “It's easy.", Cuphead interrupted. "All you have to do is just go and give it a look-see”. He scurried over the looming hill and began inspecting this pile of scrap, sporting a most curious expression. As he noted its lifeless eyes and grated mouthpiece, suddenly the ground gave way under his misstep, causing the boy to grab at the robot's head before rolling down at rising speeds. Mugman flinched at this sight before leaping out of harm's way, leaving his sibling to slam into a nearby rock. 

     Cuphead's...head twirled from the ordeal, until a booming, metallic slam brought his and Mugman's attention to the summit. No sooner did they perceive the robot tumbling towards them than their fleeing from its path. Each impact dug through many a layer of earth, only to end when the same rugged rock stopped the careening machine dead in its tracks. Not a few moments passed when the stout boulder cracked, then crumbled into small chunks, leaving the two boys in a state of shock.

     The absence of overgrowth surrounding the robot allowed for greater clarity. Before them was little more than a metallic corpse, void of any power, any life in its circuits. It bore retracted limbs in each socket, alluding to a miniaturized stature. Despite the veritable beating it had endured, there was no discernible damage found on the vessel itself. No cracks, no holes, not a dent on its smooth surface. This pristine condition astounded the children, their faces slack-jawed at this sight. "It's...just as it was before.'', Mugman assessed.

     "No doubt about it. This is some strong stuff here.". A fleeting moment of ponder ensued between the two, after which their faces snapped upwards as they each gave a knowing smile. They then slowly faced their prize, both bearing the same thought in their unlidded minds.

10 minutes later

     “Hhhhhnnnnghh! Put your back into it, Mugman!”, yelled the brasher of the two. “I'm trying, but it's just so h-heavy.”, he grunted, straining even his own voice. “We're almost home. Just a little further.”

     “Really?”.

     “Nah, it's still gonna be a while”.

     “Ugghhhhh”, was what Mugman cried out before falling flat, his hopes dashed and his spirit quashed. Cuphead followed shortly after, filling the air with his heavy panting. They had dragged the inactive bot across the island, each lugging an extended leg over his shoulder. 

     “Look, if we make use of this thing's parts, we'll have ourselves a better ride than we did before.", emphasized Cuphead. 

     "Huh, thought you didn't want all our work to go to waste", mocked Mugman. "Hey, I know an opportunity when I see one.", retorted Cuphead.

     "I'm sure you do", smirked Mugman. He turned to view the distance they'd gone, only to discover an unwelcome trail left by all their toil. He flinched in fear at this realization. "Umm...", was all could utter as he patted his brother's shoulder. He turned to bear witness to the same appalling sight, an upheaval of soil left in the wake of their dead weight. "We might have to change gears.", Cuphead stated while rubbing the back of his mug.

     10 more minutes later

     Unscathed was the ground beneath with their latest approach boasting faster results. The same could not be said for the sanctity of their home, for its atmosphere filled with the grunts of two boys hard at work, bearing the weight of the world upon their fragile frames; more specifically, the steel scrapheap perched on their sweaty backsides. Every step a labored shamble, their every movement a constant test of balance. Such an undertaking, while efficient, more so than their previous drag, threatened to crush the pair under its sheer weight.

     As both boys laboriously carried the chrome cargo in tow, their eyes lit up as he spotted the cottage. “We're here!”, Mug exclaimed. “Finally!”, added his fellow cup. They then made their way to the entrance, where Cups promptly kicked open the door. "Okay, Elder's not back yet.", he observed, before moving further with Mugman.

     "C'mon, let's...take it upstairs before he comes back.", bleated his brother, desperate to relieve himself of this bolted burden. As they came upon the stairway's base, Cuphead swiftly adjusted himself to better grasp the bottom side of their load. "Easy, now.", he instructed as they took each moment to make a watchful step. A painful process, which eventually saw them up the ascending steps.

     As the crimson twin ever slightly twisted the knob, Mugman suddenly stumbled forward, running Cuphead's end into his face as he was abruptly pushed backwards. When he recovered, he noted his twin struggling to hold the machine in position. By instinct, he rushed to pull the robot's feet, simply to realize his efforts only extended their length. With one last mighty heave, their prize finally burst into their quarters, causing Cuphead to crash into the wall. A resounding thud followed suit, rattling the floor before settling down. Cuphead stood to see a fallen Mugman before asking,"You okay, there, Mugman?".

     "Yeah.", he answered, trying to raise himself up. "We are never...doing that again!". Cuphead made his way to his heaving fellow, where he slung his arm over his shoulder and slowly walked him to his bed. He sat Mugman down, the latter falling onto his cushioned flat. Such was his fatigue that he refused to adjust himself, opting instead to rest for a spell in his misaligned position. With that, Cups collapsed on his own bed and was out cold in a matter of seconds.

      After a period of well-deserved rest, they awakened to glance at the fruit of their labor. Wasn't long until a short grumbling was heard. "Think we ought to treat ourselves?", asked Mugman. A toothy grin took shape on Cuphead's face. "Does a pot boil with tea?", the other quipped, prompting a laugh from both boys. Enthralled at the prospect of good eats, they hastened downstairs towards the front door. Just as they reached over their hands, it suddenly turned open, alarming the two of their caretaker's return. They stopped in their tracks before an unmistakable figure entered, and spoke. "Back rather soon, aren't you, boys?" Cups gave a half-baked smile as he weakly waved, "Hiya...Kettle".