vex-fox

[vex-fox]

Forging Belief

Chapter Ⅰ:

A Home So Crowded, Yet So Empty

To save on money, you accepted the offer to stay in your old childhood room with your parents and find yourself reminiscing only to be pulled back into reality.

You felt your stomach doing flips once you started to recognize where you were. Instinctively ducking your head away from the windows in case someone spotted you earlier than intended. When the car stopped, you peeked out and saw your old childhood home. Instead of the deep green with black trimming, it was painted light purple and white trimmings with hanging flowerbeds that sprouted lavender with lilacs leading up to the door.

You sighed. Guess Ma got her wish after all. "Thanks." You glanced at the driver and handed him the last dollar in your creased wallet, a crispy twenty-dollar bill you managed to snag from a malfunctioning vending machine. You hear the greedy voice hiss in the back of your mind of how foolish you are to rid yourself of the very thing that made this world go round so easily.

The man shook his head with a smile, "You already paid," he grinned, tapping his temple, "I wouldn't trade it for anything." He huffed, waving his hand to gently knock yours back away from him, "Now, best be on your way. I want to take my sister out for brunch while it's acceptable brunch hours. You understand." You smile softly, "Thanks, it means a lot." You placed the twenty back into your wallet as your smile shoved the greedy voice in the back of your mind. You waved to the old man, who grunted as you climbed out and pulled your bag from the car trunk.

You slung the bag over your shoulder, leaving one strap hanging without an arm accompanying it. You waved once again as the man drove away, leaving you alone at the end of your childhood driveway with your entire life upon your shoulders. Your melancholic thoughts only deepened when the door opened to see the shocked face upon your Ma. You didn't tell her you were coming, and part of that reason was to catch the slight disappointment on her face before it was covered up by the mask of happiness.

"Eel? Is that really you!?" Her voice rose into a pitch that sounded painful to maintain. Her heels clicked as she hurried towards you down the driveway, her sundress flowing perfectly in the soft breeze.

You felt your heart clench and fall into the dark pit that appeared in your stomach. "What the fuck did you call me!?" was what you wanted to yell at her, but all you could manage was a meek, "What.. did you call me?" You muttered, lifting your head to look at her just when she cupped your face.

"Sorry, sweetie, old habits." She smiled, her thumb gently pressing on your cheek to wipe away a few eye boogers you'd missed. That made you swat her hand away from embarrassment. "Good to see you too, Ma." You adjusted the bag and looked at the house. "Looks like you got busy. Dad wouldn't be too pleased about it." You trailed off when you noticed she was scratching her neck. "Wow. So you were serious."

That made her narrow her eyes at you, and her voice raised. "What is it with you and your father thinking I'm messing around all the time?" She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "So, you actually did, you got divorced." You couldn't help yourself.

You noticed a band of skin much lighter than her tanned skin, an imperfection she took rather easily. "So, who's the new guy?" Your Ma turned around. If looks could kill, you'd be dead twice over. "Why are you here?"

Her words cut through you like ice. "Because... you offered it to me?" She laughed exaggeratedly, yelling, "Five years ago! And you ignored me!" She scoffed, "I half expected that my letter was tossed in the shredder." She started towards her car and turned it on but didn't step in. You were about to walk over to her before she put her hand up that moved to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"I don't have time for this." Your Ma stated, crossing her arms as her lips pulled into a frown. You felt your blood boil, the words slipping from your lips, "That's cool," you shrugged, hoping your nonchalant display was masking your feelings, "you never did anyways." You regret the words the moment you saw the pain in your Ma's eyes the moment she registered them. She clenched her fists but crossed them over her arms, her fingers digging into her skin.

"You didn't even give me time!" Her crossed arms unfolded at her hips. "You want me to make time for you?" She threw the keys at you, making you stumble to catch them, "Make an effort." She opened the car door and got into the seat. You stared at her as she rolled down her window, "Meatloaf is in the fridge. Don't want that; there's soup you can heat up. You know where your room is."

She didn't let you speak as she began to reverse down the driveway; her window pulled up simultaneously. You watched her drive until she disappeared around a bend before you looked down at the keys with a heavy groan.

"Good going, Eel." You muttered bitterly to yourself before you turned and entered your childhood home.

The smells of fresh linen brought back childhood memories. You swear you could smell the gingerbread houses you'd make with your Ma, your tastebuds yearning for the taste of cinnamon after you devoured your hours of craft in seconds.

Your feet wandered to the kitchen, the memory of gingerbread guiding you. The fridge was decorated with various childlike drawings of stick figures in triangle or rectangle clothing and spiky green grass drawn by your once tiny hand. A smile appeared as you began to look at a few that your Ma made notes on. One of you making gingerbread houses with your Ma, one of what looked to be you teaching a class with your Ma's note; "best parent day."

Your smile faltered when you noticed that one of your drawings was much... smaller than normal. You gently pulled it free from the heart magnet and noticed it was folded to the back. The smile fell into a frown when you saw the entire picture.

The crease was at your hand holding your dad's, who held a long sword over his shoulder. You put the picture back before your fingers could tear it into shreds. The childhood nostalgia was gone, replaced by bitterness and resentment.

'Of course, he's gone!' That voice squawked in the back of your mind. You shook your head and knocked your hand against your temple to silence it. You looked upon the walls around the kitchen, dining room, and, hell, even the bathroom had pictures of you and your parents. That childlike wonder was captured in every moment and made still. You knew it was you with the big toothy smile and always waving at the cameraman, and yet, it felt as if the kid in those pictures had long since died, and that wave was less of a hello but a goodbye. So, you raised your hand to wave at the trapped boy in the photos and walked to your room.

Walking up the stairs, you noticed your mom left pictures of your first days on the wall. Starting from the first day you were born, the first day you had your tooth fall out, your first birthday with cake smudged onto your cheek and nose. Then your first days became school pictures with your Ma and father. From pre-school, you wore a broad smile, sitting upon your father's shoulders with your Ma resting up against his side, her hand on one of your ankles. Your eyes lingered on your sixth-grade picture.

Instead of clinging to your father, you stood next to your Ma with your father no longer in sight. The wonder in your eyes was gone, and the smile so effortlessly pulled for a picture looked like it took everything. The look grew more fake with each photo until you reached the second floor.

You furrowed your brow, pausing when you noticed boxes outside one door. Some even stacked on top of one another. You felt your feet move before your mind could process what was happening. As the door slowly opened, a single thought managed to slip out, 'Hey... isn't this my room?'

What should've been a nostalgic trip of seeing the walls of colorful graffiti, making your bedroom look like a mural. In specific spots with your favorite movie and TV show posters, the bookshelves filled to their max capacity with fiction, comic books, and manga: a few were not even removed from their sleeves. Your hand-made action figures of many fandoms are proudly displayed in your curio cabinet next to your life-sized plushie of a Sleeplax.

Yet, it was all gone. The walls looked to have repaired the small holes in the pushpins from the posters. Your walls, once unique and artistic in design, were replaced with a solid peach color. In place of your bookshelf, a desk with stacking letter trays held colorful paper, organized from paper shade to size to even strength. A book titled "A Dummies Guide to Origami" was perfectly centered on the desk.

Instead of your curio cabinet and Sleeplax stood a mannequin. You didn't break eye contact with it as you slowly opened the closet behind you and shoved it inside in one swift motion. You shuddered before feeling your tense shoulders droop before walking over to the bed pressed up against the wall. You pushed the boxes on the bed onto the floor before falling onto it with your eyes closed.

Your confusion turned into accusations and anger. Why would she get rid of all traces of you!? Did she really not want you here? Where did she put all your old things? Were they hurting her? Why? Why?! Why?!

You took a sharp breath before opening your eyes and felt the gasp that involuntarily ripped itself from your vocals.

Stars.

"Careful, boy." Your Ma's sweet voice came from below as you stuck out your tongue, concentrating on putting the star in the perfect spot, "I want you to see these stars, not any concussion stars!" She finished her warning before you slowly climbed down.

You clapped your tiny hands together before letting out an "It's done!" in a pitch a bit too high. Your Ma chuckled and patted the space next to her on the bed. "Come here, I wanna show you something."

You nodded, walking over and climbing up onto the bed. After a moment of struggling and an assist from your Ma, you lay next to her, both eyes looking up at the ceiling.

The moment the lights turned off, you couldn't help but feel the childlike wonder light up just like the stars upon your ceiling. "They're glowing mama! They're actually glowing!" You squealed out your excitement, pointing to a constellation, "The Little Dipper looks perfect!"

Your Ma chuckled and pointed to another constellation that you put together: "I like that one. It looks really pretty! Like a bear." She smirked at you, which caused you to gape at her: "That is not a bear; that's Leo! That is a lion, silly!"

Your Ma chuckled, pulling you close to her chest. You could feel and hear her heart beat in its steady rhythm, and it made you feel safe being so close.

"You know why I love stars?" the question made you look up. " Because they're pretty?" you asked. She chuckled, "Oh, that they are." Her voice sounded distant, and her eyes lived in a dream of whimsy.

"It's because they're safe, " she responded. You couldn't help but giggle: "Nuh-uh! They explode, Mama. Like boom!" You put your hands together and threw them out, landing on your back onto the bed. She couldn't help but chuckle: "Oh, you're very clever," she chuckled, ruffling your hair.

"You're right, but sometimes they disappear, even after they've been with you for so long." She looked away from the stars and out of the window, "and even though they traveled so far away... I can still see them burning bright without me."

You frowned, sitting up and tilting your head. "Are we still talking about stars, Mama?" you asked, making her turn to look at you. The glow of the moon lit up her face, and for the first time, you recognized that look as one of weary.

"Yes, my darling child," she smiled, pulling you close to her chest and resting her head on top of yours.

"I love the stars."

You felt a tear roll down your temple and into your ear as you recalled every constellation you and your Ma had created together, preserved and carefully protected under the renovations.

Did she still look at the stars in your absence? Another tear rolled down your temple and landed on your pillow. Does she still love the stars?

Pings: @sweetstephstuff, @deldemon84

and hello to you: Fay, Mango, and Ian 👋🖖

If you want to be pinged for the next installment, please ask! 🖤

Star Border created by @saradika / @saradika-graphics. Morpheus's eye border is created by me

[vex-fox]

I was doomscrolling through tik tok, got bored, starred doom scrolling Instagram and enjoying pictures of silly pets and foxes and dad jokes. Suddenly I see a post about kids from the 70's and 80's, the latchkey generation of white kids able to live in a world they think was safe because of propaganda and racist ideals were in their favor.

Normally I'd ignore it and move past but the last line was how UNFORTUNATE that this generation is passing and will never come back. I click into its comments section because I wanna see the top 10-15 comments and gauge the responses before blocking the account or not, sure enough "kids these days don't have a work ethic" "we were safe back then" "so many great memories, kids these days with their internet and social media don't make any memories like we did" ect.

I REALLY wanted to start doom commenting on all of them about how wrong they were and how generally stupid it was to compare the generations and proclaim one better than another, I thought better of it and decided instead to rant here. I just don't understand how people can be so misinformed in today's day and age about others without being consciously ignorant and discriminatory. I don't care what generation you are a part of, you wanna reminisce about things that you enjoyed back when you were a kid then have fun, just please don't disparage those who didn't get to have that experience because I'm sure there are PLENTY of people in your own generation who didn't get those opportunities.

If you comment on this post something negative about me, my family, a different generation, a specific set of people, generally push your ideals on me or others, or generally are being an asshat then I'll block you. Keep that stuff to yourself.

[vex-fox]

I feel called out... @embarrassedauthornerd @inactivehermit

[vex-fox]

How can I live in a world where people are so accepting and welcoming. Although differing perspectives and backgrounds can cause some to feel trepidation towards groups of people due to trauma or having experienced intolerance, yet they are still accepting and warm people.

Simultaneously I'm living in a world where a large population grows up never learning empathy for people of differing cultures, being taught hatred and intolerance due to religion or cultural created belief in ethnic superiority.

How can people be so different and so polarized that we all are worried about walking down the street to a shop and thinking others are out to hurt us?

[vex-fox]

Fight

We have fought from the very beginning. Fought to survive the coming heat of the world, fought for the food that kept us going. We have fought for women, land, power, and pride. We have fought for love and hate, our principles and morals. We have fought even for the sake of knowledge and peace. We have gotten very good at fighting, so good in fact that we could likely take on whatever comes our way. Now are risking our existence choosing in fact to not fight for our planet and work to undo or at least slow the heat coming out way. Where is the sense in that? We should fight for scientific advancement and the reduction of pollutants. Fight for the equality that would reduce suffering. Fight for our friends, our brothers and sisters who have been pushed down because of corruption and greed and discrimination. I fight to make a change, will you?

[vex-fox]

You find your familiarity with these characters enticing and you stay with them. Samus and you explore the universe and Lara Croft helps you discover the mystical. You get to run with Sonic and build epic structures with all the lego characters. You begin to forget your life, and that is when they start telling you to go play with Mario. You know somehow if you do then this will all end, but they all are looking at you with pleading looks, begging you to go to Mario. He says nothing as he gives you a helmet to break bricks with. You run with him for awhile and start to relax when you hear something that horrifies you beyond explanation. The one up sound. You barely turn in time to hear Mario say sorry. As you open your eyes you realize your in the hospital and your family is around you. They never understood your obsession with gaming, but there they are, playing an old Mario game together loudly because maybe the sounds will help you wake up. They don't see you stir for a moment and you wonder what happened. Suddenly your sister tackles you with a hug and a doctor comes in to explain that you have been in a coma for the last few months. Your sister had brought your DS once to feel closer to you and was playing pokemon when your fingers twitched. Seeing a marked difference the doctor had advised your family to bring the things that reminded them of you. They may never get why you love video games so much but they love them for bringing you back to them.

A gamer dies and finds themself standing at a crossroads in limbo. They are presented with a choice: Share an eternity with their most beloved video game characters and npcs or find and use an extra life power up to start their life over.

[vex-fox]

Sarah had had a good life thus far, the only thing is that she could always tell who the good and bad people were. Sarah learned very early not to mention that she could see the devil and the angel on people's shoulders, after all "cartoons aren't real". She typically surrounded herself with good people and had just turned 23 years old when she had an epiphany, almost all the good people were boring. To meet new people she went online and signed up for a dating service that places you on blind dates with only knowledge of the other persons name, location to go to, and time of the reservation the service sets to go off of. Sarah was nervous to meet with her first blind date ever, some guy named Damian. She arrived first, took a seat and waited the last 5 minutes to the dates time. Shortly a slightly round man sits down across Sarah, smiles and introduces himself, "hello, you must be Sarah. My name is Damian Weard, but feel free to call me what you want." His smile was brilliant and blinding, but not enough to keep Sarah from shock as she looks and sees no angel on his shoulder, only a solid devil. As Damian begins to frown at your silence his devil says in a clear voice, " well, would you look at that Damian old bean. You are so smooth as to make her speechless." This snaps her out of her stupor and makes Sarah giggle a bit. She had never heard either angel nor devil before but this one was obviously trying to pump Damian up for this. Throughout the rest of the date they talk about this and that, but she cant keep her eyes off the devil on his shoulder. Finally Damian gets fed up with the continual glances to the side and looks behind him on the same side you keep looking at. Seeing nothing he gets confused and asks what in the world Sarah was looking at. "Just your devil, I keep wondering what he's going to say next. He obviously thinks highly of you." Herr response makes the devil jump and look right at Sarah, concerned she might be seeing him. Damian just shrugs his shoulders thinking this is just an odd quirk. They leave the restaurant and go for a walk, the devil finally says, "oh just grab her hand already you dumbass." To which Sarah replies, "If Damian wants to grab my hand he may but you can keep your opinion out of this Mr. Devil." Finally spooked Damian stops walking to look at her akin to fear. "How did you know what I thought?!" He demanded. "It was what your devil said" was her only reply.

Feel free to add on.

You are born with the ability to see whether people listen more often to the angel or the devil on their shoulder, based on the opacity of each- if they listen more to the angel, it’s more solid and the demon is more transparent, and vice versa. You recently met a guy online and you’re finally going to meet. You go in for a handshake and glance at his shoulders, but you can’t see the angel. Only a solid demon.

[vex-fox]

The humans had left their planet in droves looking for new things to satisfy their curiosity and fun things to try. Unfortunately a misunderstanding between one of the groups and the extremely aggressive species of Unsochu created a war of galactic proportions.

When the war broke out, the Unsochu had thought it to be an easy victory because we were obviously a prey species without fur or claws or weapons of any kind. Their thick armored carapace was basically impenetrable. However, they learned as the rest of the galaxy watched that humans were no pushovers. The humans built ships with guns so large it looked like they shot moons out of them, they built tiny ships that could do precision strikes against enemies, they built everything in between. The Unsochu was taken so far by surprise that they were suddenly on their back legs. That war took the better part of 50 years, the rest of the galaxy taking no sides.

Finally the Unsochu was defeated, but nobody would talk to the humans anymore. Nor would humans want to talk to the species that let this travesty happen. They left in one last ship all together, looking at a new galaxy to call home.

It had been centuries since that war. The last human remnants had been pushed to the point of no return and maybe they died before they reached their new galaxy. A few terrologists and their mates were looking around the planet for any technology that the humans had used and found some in unlikely places, such as the top of mount Everest and the the middle of the Sahara desert. After retrieval these scientists figured out how to get the data off these small devices called GO PRO. They watched in awe as they saw humans again with fresh eyes, doing insane stunts and smiling and laughing all the while.

Taking this to the galactic science community they concurred. Humans may have a capacity of violence, but are not inherently violent. The Milky Way was all the lesser for their loss but at least there was still history that could be found. Maybe, just maybe the humans would return...

CAN U IMAGINE

In the future, imagine how many Go-Pros will be found in snow mountains containing the last moments of people’s lives. 

Imagine if aliens find them and can see us, humans, doing an extremely dangerous sport, yet having fun.

(Add on!)

[vex-fox]

Absolutely, I'm fairly new here and would love to listen.

Reblog if it is alright if I come to your blog and anonymously confess something to you.

[vex-fox]

Just reposting to save. This has no right being this cute

if you’re having a bad day, here’s a cute little marching band

[vex-fox]

Humanity

It’s easy to forget that among the Umvirate races humans have the least distance from their evolutionary ancestors. They’re charming and friendly, and get along with damn near everyone.

But there are moments when we’re reminded just how animal these newcomers still are. For me, that moment was when our ship crashed.

Smoke clogged the air, pouring from combusting electronics. My ducts wheezed forcefully, trying to force the particles out. Logically I knew it was a waste of effort; no one would be able to lift the section of ship that had me pinned. But every species has some degree of survival instinct in them, and mine wouldn’t let me stop.

Thank the algorithms for that.

A shape burst through the whirling smoke and flames, forcing them to curl around it and snarling as the tongues of fire licked at its exposed flesh. A brief hope swelled within me before my rational mind quelled it. I cannot be saved, it said. Do not drag anyone down with me.

“What are you doing here?” I called, recognizing our human, Ash, whom we’d picked up not two calendars ago. “You have to get out!”

Ash barked in a hoarser laugh than normal, the smoke, I assumed, and said, “And leave you behind? Not happening.” I could see the human’s eyes now, darting about taking in the situation. The pupils widened as it saw where I was pinned and for a moment I was horribly reminded that it came from a predator species. Logic, thankfully, overrode the accompanying worries. Still, it did not have enough strength in its frame to move the metal that had me pinned, not with under this gravity, not even with its deathworlder build.

I tried again to warn Ash away as it approached, but a snarl was the reply I got as the human braced itself against the floor and pinning metal. I closed my ears in grief. We had been warned, of course, how humans will imprint on crew members, treating them as they would family. It was part of what attracted us to the idea of hiring one, after all. But we hadn’t accounted for the bonding working both ways, and now I felt guilt for Ash’s impending death.

I did not hear – as my ears were screwed shut – but rather felt the metal warping as it was bent off of me. Shock overtook me as my brain attempted to make sense of the event. Ash could not have the strength to do that, but somehow did. Thank the algorithms. By the time I could process everything that happened fresh air was assaulting my ducts. Gratefully I inhaled and stared up at the beautiful, grimacing beast that had saved me.

Us, I quickly realized. Several other crewmembers, only somewhat singed, lay in the field around us. I could hear Ash’s ducts working overtime to supply fresh air to its system and my sight returned to it. The human’s eyes were wide and staring at the burning wreckage. Not in fear, I realized, but focus. A focus so intense that I shivered to even be on its periphery. But the guttural roar that burst from the duct of the human shook me even more.

Ash began sprinting back into the burning ship. I lay there in silent horror watching my companion defy every survival instinct it must have and charge back to save more of our crewmembers. And then I saw it happen again.

And again.

And again.

Seventeen members were saved before the fire became too intense for even the deathworlder. It collapsed to its knees at the burning entrance making sounds I recognized as distress. Having recovered enough to move, I drug myself forward and wrapped myself around the human in the manner that I had been told was comforting. It must have worked as the human gripped me tightly – uncomfortably so – as it wailed in grief for the lives it could not save.

I learned later – almost as an aside while giving my report – how it was that Ash was able to accomplish what I had thought logically impossible. Evidently under great stress humans secrete a natural compound very similar to higher end combat stims. This gives them increased energy, further resistance to pain, and unbounded use of their freakish strength. That last thought especially chilled me. It was haunting to know that every feat of power I’d seen until then was subconsciously limited by their brains to prevent their own body from tearing itself apart.

Despite the tragedy, Ash thankfully chose to stay on, though I think it was uncomfortable with the newfound deference shown to it. But there was nothing to be done about it.

After all, to us Ash was an angel.

[vex-fox]

I love this

Santa is on strike due to global warming.  All presents this year will be delivered by Sasha the Christmas Tiger.  Milk and cookies may not be sufficient.