#Mime Infestation

[littleeyesofpallas]

So, uh... Was looking something up, and kinda started wondering...

Why? Why are Mime Infestations a thing??

So, technically I did find my answer, which is that "infestation" is not actually a direct translation of the Japanese name for the move,

But that just feels like it shifts things into a different sort of weird...

I get how a mime following you around at like an event space or a big intersection as a street performer kind of humorously mirrors not being able to get away from like, a wasp hounding after your ice cream on a hot summer day. But then the mimes are still the ONLY thing in this list that feels out of place.

Everything else is either a bug, a ghost, or some kind of thing that does kind of infamously swarm or congregate like frogs or tumbleweeds or mold or whatever. So it still makes this synonymous with like... a Plague of Mimes, which is still very funny

[oozebrain]

random question, but do you ever think that art has specific boundaries for certain things? Like we know he kills kids and stuff but does he have any boundaries besides that when it comes to killing or just in general

i could like imagine reader doing something that art is completely against and he hates it. But like what boundaries would he specifically have cause he does do a lot of bad shit lmaooo

idk this has been on my mind for a while

This is a great question!

Something I have considered about Art is… what would lead him to show benevolence to someone vs slaughtering them? Maybe some of it comes down to action?

Demons (at least to me) are bound to the human who summons them until their duty is complete. I can see Art becoming enmeshed in someone who interests him and binding himself to them with an infernal contract. This provides him with a life force and also a companion who is conveniently anchored to the mortal plane. And, for the companion, this binding provides safety from both Art himself and others who would will the person harm.

I’ve also considered that if Art feels indebted to someone they hold power over him and he won’t harm them. Such as, if Art is shown what he interprets as a great kindness or act of generosity, he may feel indebted to them, but I think this varies widely on his mood and how he interprets the situation/human he is considering infesting.

I use infest because I view Art as potentially a parasitic entity who seeks out the life forces of the living to sustain his mortal form. So I think those who could benefit him may see a less malevolent side of him. I’ve also considered a Monsters Inc type situation where he learns laughter actually fuels him more than screams and starts changing his approach to humans when seeking out a companion.

I lean on the fence of considering Art being inhabited by an ancient demigod of mischief and carnal pleasure (specifically humanity’s lust for violence) and feel there could be offerings and rituals that are appeasing to him (such as maggot eggs), but they are obscure and hard to decipher.

I think even as a demon Art has some boundaries and think he may have a fragment of his humanity left before he became a vessel for a demon.

I think as a hard no he doesn’t condone SA because that’s not what he’s about. I just can’t be down with Art doing that.

I also think if a situation triggers what’s left of his humanity he will relent, but it would have to be a trigger specific enough that he could relate to it and get “snapped out” of his haze. I kind of apply cenobite logic to Art in that even though he’s a demon, some humanity still remains.

A big one is I can see him hating petty things like littering and not washing your hands after using the bathroom, and becoming moody and enraged when he sees it happen. So if the reader came in with dirty shoes and tracked all over his freshly vacuumed carpet, there would be some loud, angry miming going on.

Sorry to ramble! I was just really intrigued by this question and would love to keep talking about it!

[wanderfan2000]

Ed, Edd N Adia 2: The Soundtrack.

Tracklist:  1: Autumn Arrives\A Stroll With Ed and Adia. 2: The Leaf Pile.  3: Adia and Ed’s Sneaky Idea.  4: Playing in the Leaf Pile.  5: The Relaxing Afternoon\Spin The Bottle.  6: The Unsettling Visitors. 7: The Phantomimes.  8: Roller Coaster Madness.  9: Falling Down the Cliff.  10: The Infinite Maze, The Backrooms.  11: Double PTSD. 12: It’s a New Dimension After All.  13: Level 1: The Play Area.  14: Exploring Our New Surroundings.  15: The Smiley Face\“We Have Company, Fellows.”  16: The Escape.  17: Level 2: The Shopping Mall.  18: I Think We’re Being Watched… 19: Adia Gets Captured. 20: The Electric Alien and The Ghost Mimes.  21: We Are Reunited Once More.  22: Level 3: The Poolrooms.  23: A Friendly Game of Chase\Trapped.  24: Double PTSD Infests.  25: See You Never, Double D.  28: Johto Victory Theme.  29: The Happy Ending. 

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Lich-Queen pt 5

When I strode into the throne room, the shifter I had spoken to earlier was there, along with her entourage. “Say, is someone missing? I do recall there being more of you before,” I said, by way of conversation.

A brief look of confusion passed over the lead shifter's features, before she let out a polite laugh. “Ah, you must be thinking of the whelp. The one who ran my messages, yes? You know how children are, it is probably off playing with the horses,” she said, her smile conspiratorial.

“Of course. Now, explain exactly what this alliance of yours entails,” I said. 

The shifter shrugged elegantly, her dress rippling as she did so. “The humans have begun infesting this world, as you may well know. They are driving out our people. It is all fine and good for the elves and their pretty little Syvniko, but us shifters have been forced to retreat into the Barrowlands. Do you know how humiliating it is to be forced to give in to mayflies?” The shifter flicked her hair and mimed spitting on the floor. “It must stop. The vampires have reported being driven out of the desert by mining camps; the forest spirits are huddling in smaller and smaller villages; I have even heard reports of sirens being bombarded by fishing trawlers!”

I listened to her tirade grimly. This was what I had walked into, when I rose to power. This was the fate I was bound to prevent. “I understand,” I told her. “They must be stopped. The question is: How?”

The shifter leaned forward, baring her teeth. “We kill them all. Every last one of the bastards. And the ones that we don't get rid of, we keep as workers. They're mayflies, after all. When we whittle them down, we can use the rest for drudge work.”

Slavery and genocide. On a scale our world had never seen before. For a moment, I was reminded of Ako's warning. Perhaps this was wrong. Perhaps I was taking this too far. I could be content with my castle, could I not? I could look after my people and turn a blind eye to the rest of the lands, riddled with humans as they were.

The shifter saw my expression, and pushed forward. “Listen. You may think it safe to leave them be, to let the Kil-aci mountains separate your people from the living. That is false. Already, the Luxatian provinces have begun gathering troops. They call the Crusaders. On a crusade against what? Against your people, against your nation, against you. We must stop them.”

My blood turned cold. Of course the humans were coming for us. Had they not spent their entire lives killing the ghouls? Had Blood-toil and Death-in-me not brought tales of watching their families be hunted like animals? Yes, they had to be stopped. “I… You are right. If it is between them or us, then I would choose my people a thousand times over. Whence my coronation is complete, we shall spread the word.”

The shifter relaxed. “Good, good. I knew you could be counted on, Lich-Queen. It will be an honour to work with you,” she said, kissing my hand. Then, as one, her people left. 

Alone in the throne room, I felt weariness seep into my bones. My love loved me no more. My sister haunted my path. The gods themselves conspired against me. What was a young queen to do but take her frustrations out on her surroundings?

The former Kings’ portraits littered the halls. I had not had the time to have them removed, so they judged me from their place on the walls. Such beautiful pieces they were, strokes of gossamer paint and sprinklings of magic that made them feel alive. They glared at me with bushy eyebrows and dark eyes. 

I stood beneath the greatest of them, that of my predecessor. My sister's love. He had been a lumbering man, yet sharp of wit. He had not the kindness to spare for his love's supposedly magicless little sister. Monster, the portrait's facade named me. Evil.

“You are correct. I am a monster,” I told the painting, all the paintings in that room. “I am a monster you made, with your little room at the top of the stairs, your giggling behind the fluttering of fans, your silent nights with the faint music of galas I was not invited to. I am a monster, and I am taking what I deserve. When you're a corpse dancing to my strings, I want you to remember that you had a chance to be nice to me. This, all this, is what you deserve." I stretched my claws, and scored them down the paintings. 

Soft canvas ripped beneath my fingers, a poor substitute for flesh. With all the pent up rage of twenty long years, I tore painting after painting down. “I hate you all,” I snarled. “Every. Last. One. Of. You.” Kings and Queens alike fell under my fingers. Busts were slapped off their pedestals, and crushed beneath my feet. Tapestries were ripped clean off the wall. At some point, I began screaming, a wordless sound of pure rage. 

I picked up a table. It displayed priceless porcelain from Losaras, seashells from the Selfie Archipelago, and all other sorts of fragile curios. One leg came off in the cracking of bones. The other soon followed. It went crashing down, chiming dissonantly with the terror of broken glass. Using the table leg, I beat the remnant shards to dust, and stood in the centre of the whirlwind.

My throat ached with the aftermath of my fury, claws sore from scratching and smashing. But my heart was lighter for it. I called a few revenants to me, and changed out of my torn skirts. “I think,” I said to nobody in particular, “It is time for my coronation.”

The pieces had all come together. The dice were falling, the spell taking hold. My coronation would fix this. Whence I became Queen, everything would be better.

It would be just like my childhood dreams.

This time, my entry into the hall was triumphant, complete with fanfare. The highest nobles of Ceredell hauled the doors open like common slaves, and they pressed their once vibrant lips to trumpets. Hundreds of men and women turned at the sight of me, and a wave of clapping descended upon me. I flicked a manic curtsey, then gestured at the table before me, laid out as if for a buffet.

“Let me honour you all with a gift,” I announced. “Come, watch the death of the last nobleman of fallen Ceredell!”

(if you want to read the others, you'll find the entire series linked in my pinned post :))

[mindriz]

Very random Cortical Cocoon thought, but Mylene's dad could easily become an Imago in response to his beloved daughter being transformed into a monster and seemingly forver lost to him.

Likely either a grittier version of his mime form or more likely something more centered on his role as a father, or someone who explicitly wants to hunt down Hawk Moth and mutilate him. Maybe both. Maybe a combination there-of, but he'd definitely have the negativity to become a pupae and potential the rage and the drive to become an Imago is my main point.

Yeah that seems like something that would likely come to pass. Not to mention a good example of how an Infestation can cause others in an indirect manner.

Sorry for the delay in response. These past few days have been rather liminal and recently I've gotten these fatigue I can't seem to shake.

[lunaryarn]

Multi-SMP Fanfic: Which Fate's Fairest To Us All - Ch 2

Multi-SMP Fanfic: Which Fate’s Fairest To Us All

Afterlife SMP, New Life SMP and Empires SMP S2 crossover combo!!! I'm back with more MythicalSausage meets MythicalSausage shenanigans!

Characters: Mythical Sausage (1st), Rusty the Copper Golem, PearlescentMoon, Scott Smajor (1st), Mythical Sausage (2nd), Hermes, Mythical Sausage (3rd), Scott Smajor (2nd), Rocky the Goblin, and a couple of briefly mentioned cameos at the end!

WARNINGS: Character death (but they get better because Afterlife/New Life rules are in play), body horror

Chapter Summary: Sausage and Hermes enter the strange portal in the Ancient City. Meanwhile, Myth needs to be convinced to use the one Smajor leads him to. Later, Hermes finds himself alone, but not for long; he picks up a new friend, and soon after meets another version of his father, who in turn has found a relic left in the labyrinth from an entirely different universe…

Sequel to Mirror Tenfold, Beyond the Wall and follows sometime after the events of Thou, O Kings, Fair Be You All (“sometime” being relative to how much time passes in each universe)

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Chapter One ]

Chapter Two

Regardless of having tamed Dolores, Sausage hadn’t found a way to establish a rapport with Wardens in the wild despite a few attempts, so he and Hermes stuck to careful movements and whispers when they reached their destination.

Hermes absently squeezed the straps of his backpack as he stared up at the portal. “This thing is always so intimidating up close. I’ve always wondered why it’s so big. It’s like something made to accommodate Ghasts if they flew in and out of portals regularly. Or maybe the Deep Dark equivalent of a Ghast. Can you imagine what a sculk-infested Ghast would look like? …Uh-oh… That just made me think of Ghasts that produce a sonic shriek like a Warden. They could level cities doing that. Maybe that’s what happened to the people who used to live here…”

Sausage hummed in agreement, amused by how his son had apparently picked up his penchant for rambling off a stream of conscience, although at the moment Sausage was more focused on comparing the gemstone in the Staff with the ones in the portal frame – yet avoiding holding the Staff too close. He had begun to wonder what other powers Sanctuary’s magic had imbued the Staff with. He murmured out loud, “They’re definitely the same. But these are… pulsing with energy. I never paid that much attention to them before to notice that, but I was kinda busy watching out for Wardens most of the time, eh-heh.”

Hermes glanced over at him. “Maybe because they’re part of what activates the portal, while that one was only meant to point us in the right direction?”

“Maybe… But this portal itself isn’t active right now. I don’t feel any trans-dimensional energy coming from it. Only from the gemstones.” Sausage continued to scrutinize the gems as well as the stone they were embedded into.

Hermes curiously studied his father instead of joining the portal examination. “I don’t often see you being this serious.”

“All the times I’ve been called on for Guardian of Reality duties have always been dire. I have to keep track of any detail that might be important for stabilizing whatever is wrong in the multiverse. Make note of that for your training, by the way.”

Hermes mimed writing on paper. “Got it, Dad.”

Sausage took a deep breath then let it out in a pensive exhale. “All right. Time to test my first theory.” He slowly lowered the crook of the Staff toward the empty air above the bottom frame of the portal. A bright turquoise spark leapt from the Staff to the surrounding gemstones, creating a chain of sparks along the sides that continued across the top until halting at a spot near the middle.

Sausage squinted up at it. Hermes quietly scraped the heel of his right sandal against the floor, triggering the godly-blessed wings on the sides of both sandals, and took flight to make a closer inspection. “There’s one missing,” Hermes reported.

“Right,” Sausage muttered. He glanced at the crook of the Staff, then drew it away from the portal and gingerly touched the gemstone in it. “I get the sense we’ll be needing this, so I don’t think we’re meant to remove it and place it into the frame.”

Hermes studied the indentation where a gemstone would have been, then hovered just above Sausage and held out his hand. “Let me try something.”

Sausage considered for a moment, trying to discern Hermes’ plan without asking, but handed him the Staff anyway. Hermes returned to the top of the portal and very precisely angled the crook so that the gemstone could be pressed into the matching indentation.

There was no audible sound like a Nether or End portal would make, but they both felt a pulse ripple through the air. Small, pale blue particles began to waft from the portal. Hermes cautiously drew the Staff away from the frame. The portal remained active. The gemstone remained in the Staff.

“Good work,” Sausage complimented with a smile. “The official father-son team sets off to protect all of reality! Stay close to me once we’re on the other side. Oh, and let’s get that wool ready, just in case there’s more sculk sensors wherever this takes us!”

~*~

Myth saw right away what could potentially be a trap for him in the Ancient City that Smajor had led him to. The only thing stopping him from releasing a fireball or growling any louder was the risk of Wardens. “If you think I’m setting one foot closer to that portal—!”

“It’s to hold back the sculk vein!” Smajor hissed in response. They had a glaring contest as Myth pointed to the mycelium that lined the area around the base of the portal. “It’s been spreading like crazy every time I come down here to try to think of an approach to this rescue mission! That isn’t normal! Something is wrong with the sculk in this world. It’s a type of fungus, but one I can’t commune with.”

Myth peered around at both the sculk and sculk vein that was on the other side of the supposed barrier of mycelium. Although he couldn’t put his finger on it, he realized Smajor wasn’t lying. “So, how do you want to approach this? Do we enter at the same time and try to find each other first, or do we use that as an automatic ‘split up to cover more ground’ tactic and look for them?”

“The second one. I mean, if we find each other on the way, great, but…” Smajor trailed off as a thought occurred to him. He then sighed in resignation. “I’m putting my trust in you to not leave me in there if you find both of them before you run into me.”

The corners of Myth’s mouth curled upward. “I don’t think I can make that promise.”

Smajor stared blankly at him. “I guess that’s fair. Just keep in mind that when I do find the exit, I might just go through the first portal I find.”

The mirth evaporated from Myth’s face. “No, all four of us get out, because after that we need to sort out what happens to us extras.”

“Good. Yes. Exactly. Now, one idea I had was—” Smajor abruptly went still, only his eyes moving as he looked at something over Myth’s left shoulder. Then he pointed and hissed, “There! See! The sculk vein!”

Myth frowned with mistrust again, but turned his head a little to try to glimpse it from the corner of his eye. But he quickly – and accusingly – darted his gaze back to Smajor. The fungal mage continued to point. Myth reluctantly turned further around to get a real look.

He then saw several strands of sculk vein actively flailing around the side of the portal frame as if intending to get purchase on the front of it and reach in.

Smajor stepped past Myth and swiped his hand upward through the air. The mycelium at the base of the portal surged up over the deepslate beside the frame, converting it fully within seconds. The sculk vein shriveled away and collapsed into dried up clumps of blue-black, the spots of glowing turquoise extinguished.

Smajor stifled a gasp, swaying, but kept his feet firmly on the line of mycelium. “S-See… Th-That’s… Oh, going that fast really eats up my mana…” He took a moment to catch his breath. “I noticed it creeping toward the portal more and more each time, and thought it was merely some random zombies falling victim to the Warden, but then I realized it was definitely moving toward the portal on its own. You saw it… That’s not how sculk vein spreads.”

He paused to allow Myth to affirm the observation, but the phoenix only stared back stone-faced. Smajor continued,  “So, I did what I could to slow it down. I can’t convert whatever the frame is made of, but by backing up the natural spread of mycelium with a boost of my own power, I can convert types of stone with it.”

“And am I to believe that you aren’t actually controlling the sculk vein because it doesn’t spread on its own, and it is a type of fungus?”

Smajor sighed. “I know you’re never going to fully trust me ever again, but can you at least see the bigger picture – that there’s a bigger threat? Maybe we were sent here, specifically, to bring an outside perspective and save this world from what others don’t see happening right underneath them. Since, you know, we spent so much quality time around sculk, right underneath everything in our world.”

“Don’t tell me you’re homesick.” Myth rolled his eyes, then gave a half-hearted smirk. “Do you miss your cell? You were safe in there from the sculk, oddly enough.”

Smajor scowled at him. “I think you let yourself get infected with it. You seemed hell-bent on accepting some kind of punishment for becoming a cursed angel—”

Spits of flame flared off of Myth’s body. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the—”

“Shhh!!” Smajor tried to hush the phoenix before looking around in a panic. “Enough!” he then whispered in a harsh tone. “Too much talking. It knows we’re here. I can feel some new vibrations.”

Myth doubted this claim, yet he did go silent to listen for himself. He then noticed for the first time that there weren’t even any sensors or shriekers in the immediate area. He did, however, pick up on an approaching sound that was quite familiar to him, but likely not to Smajor, so he uttered a quiet laugh and turned toward the staircase that led up to where they stood.

The trundling footsteps were a far cry from the stomping of a Warden, or even of the taller, iron cousins of the copper construct that crested the edge of the platform. Myth shook his head with a mild scowl before whispering, “Rusty, you shouldn’t have followed me down here. You would be safer at home with your buttons to keep you busy.”

Intuitively enough, Rusty also kept his voice down. “Are you sure about this?”

Myth’s expression became puzzled; he was unable to discern the meaning behind the word choice this time. He decided to ask. “Are you saying that because you were worried about me, or do you think it’s not safe at home?”

Rusty didn’t get a chance to reply. A sudden surge of sculk vein appeared over Smajor’s layers of mycelium, strands of it even grabbing at Myth’s feathers and trying to tangle around his legs – as well as around Rusty. Myth grabbed the little copper golem and held him aloft while directing flames from the bottom of his wings to try to burn it off – or at least discourage it from trying to grasp at more of his feathers.

Smajor planted his stance wide on the mycelium at his own feet, now the only section remaining free of sculk vein. He made a motion with both hands like if he was pulling on a rope. The sculk vein was yanked from Myth’s wings and legs. “Go!! I’ll hold it back! Find them! I can’t do this alone! I’ll go back in the cell when we get back to our world, if that’s what you want!”

Myth glanced at the portal. Yet then he narrowed his eyes at Smajor once again. “You were able to use power over that sculk vein. If I go without you, that leaves you to run free in this world. You were quick to take on vampire powers again – maybe that renewed your thirst for world conquest, and with this fungal power you could also reshape the world any way you want! And I’m the only one who knows how much of a threat you are!”

Smajor glared back at Myth bitterly. “So smart, thinking you figured it out. I wish you remembered the time when I was a vampire and you were a wither, and we worked together. Even if it didn’t last long. Even if everything went to hell for us after that. Even if I still hate you and want nothing to do with you ever again. But we keep getting pulled back to each other.” He was beginning to look visibly haggard from the effort of fighting the sculk vein with his magic.

Smajor continued, “Gods, but I would have loved nothing more than to go to the opposite side of this planet and never see you again. But I couldn’t. The question of my double was eating at me. Something kept burrowing into my brain, like the fungus itself, like spores infecting my thoughts to turn them toward wondering why. Why did I end up here? Why this world? Why did I become this?”

He tried to gesture to himself, but the drain on his mana made it too painful to do more than spread his fingers. He winced. “…And why, when I died, did I come right back to life the same? If you want to witness that, then go ahead. I’m about to die from overexerting my mana. But for those precious seconds that I’m unconscious until I revive, the sculk will overrun you and your little friend. You can make a choice, Myth – or I can make it for you!”

Smajor’s face twisted in agony as he forced his left hand to move upward. Myth felt the ground shift under his feet. First it turned into mycelium, then a small red mushroom grew – and then it abruptly sprang up into a full grown, tree-sized mushroom, flinging Myth upward and at just enough of an angle to throw him and Rusty into the portal.

The last thing Myth saw before the portal’s magic swept him away was Smajor collapsing to the ground. The phoenix’s thoughts on the matter clung to the question of whether it was all an act or not, but then the world turned into swirls of blue-black and he resigned himself to merely hoping that Rusty didn’t count as a flesh-and-blood entity so they wouldn’t get separated.

~*~

“Dad? Dad??” Hermes called out in confusion. He knew he should keep his voice down in this strange, dimly-lit place, but having landed on the other side of the portal only to find himself alone made him worry.

In fact, he didn’t even see the portal he would have exited from. The solid wall at his back was devoid of any markings or indication that it even was where he had exited from. Hermes gazed upward, wondering if he had fallen; the wall was certainly tall enough for him to be unable to see if a matching portal was on top of it. His connection to the skies could have been what saved him from a splattery fate on the floor, but his human father wasn’t going to be as fortunate.

Hermes listened, but didn’t hear Sausage calling from elsewhere. He scuffed his heel against the ground and began an attempt to fly high enough to get a glimpse of what might be above.

He saw no colors except for dim blue-black. He spotted a few drifting particles, but they were everywhere, rather than concentrated near a portal. And the top of the wall still kept stretching upward… Hermes set his face in determination and let some demi-god power flow, his eyes glowing slightly as he summoned a boost to get higher. He couldn’t maintain it in a place like this, with apparently no atmospheric currents to grab hold of – only an oppressive, unseeable ceiling somewhere even higher up above �� but he did clear the top of the wall before the boost ran out.

Hermes’ eyes widened in shock. Dismay flooded his stomach.

A gigantic labyrinth surrounded him on all sides with uninterrupted lines of the same towering, taupe walls disappearing into the distance. A split-second reflex had him lunging forward to grab the edge of the wall just as he began to lose altitude. He pulled himself onto it and huffed for breath, bent over from the brief adrenaline rush caused by what appeared to be an insurmountable task.

This was no time to feel overwhelmed. It was time to plan.

He already had the advantage of being able to view the place from on top of it. He would have no trouble jumping over the gaps between walls. He could leave a trail of markers to keep track of where he had been. Even though the ground was far away, his eyesight was godly; he was confident he would be able to spot his father below as he searched.

What did worry him was how Sausage might hold up in the meantime. Would he be worried about his son despite Hermes’ experience visiting other realities? Would being in a place like this raise concerns about Hermes’ ability to navigate, or would Sausage be struggling to fathom the size of the walls while worrying about tracking his supplies, or…

Hermes’ consolation was that his father would at least still have the Staff of Sanctuary to aid him if necessary.

He hastily built a marker using the wool he had brought along, choosing four different colors for each cardinal direction and placing a torch in the middle. He hopped across the nearest surrounding walls to extend the directional indicators, then gently clasped the earring with a pressed flower inside before murmuring, “Magic of Sanctuary, if you can hear me in this place, please guide me to the magic of the Staff.”

He would have chosen the words my father, but it might be better to invoke the prime source in a dimension that felt so closed-off.

Hermes shut his eyes and waited to feel any kind of tug or general whisper of magic. It came across fuzzy, so he wasn’t completely certain, but he turned to his left and opened his eyes to survey the layout of the walls ahead. He then set off, leaping from one top edge to the next, occasionally setting down a correspondingly colored marker while constantly observing the ground below for any sign of his father.

After what could have been half an hour, he began to consider making a tall marker to denote where he had stopped so he could turn back and try a different direction. He happened to take one last glance downward and saw something moving below – the first time he had seen anything at all besides the occasional crumbling statue or dried-up fountain.

Figuring that he could fly back up if it turned out to only be one of this dimension’s inhabitants – whether sapient or not – Hermes leapt from the wall. His sandals slowed his descent as he neared the ground, allowing him to land without a sound.

Hermes pondered the small creature he was now looking at. He was reminded of his robotic sibling, Sunny. But this smaller metallic creation was made completely out of copper and reminded him of an iron golem. “Hello there, coppery little fellah. Are you native to this dimension?”

The little construct didn’t immediately respond. The antenna on top of its head bobbed up and down.

Maybe it was trying to process his words?

Of course, there was no way of telling if it had any of the same capabilities as Sunny. Which would actually put it closer in relation to an iron golem, after all.

Hermes decided to keep talking. Maybe some key word would register. “Did someone happen to send you out to guide me around? I’m trying to find my dad at the moment. We got separated when we entered the portal and I haven’t seen any trace of him in this massive maze yet.”

The copper golem abruptly looked up at him. “What did you say?”

Hermes smiled in delight. “Oh, you can talk! That’s helpful. Do you know the name of this place? I’ve traveled to a few different dimensions, but I’ve never seen this one before. It makes you wonder why or even how someone built a place like this! Maybe it was originally for the Wardens, before they ended up in the Overworld. Reminds me of another legend from ancient history… Huh! Well, they are called Ancient Cities, after all!”

“Are you sure about this?” asked the copper golem.

“Well, they aren’t called Modern Cities, now are they? At least where I’m from. Or did you mean the theory about the Wardens?”

“No.”

Hermes thought back on everything he had just said. “Are you here to guide me?”

“No.”

“Are you native to this dimension?”

“No.”

“Did… you come from the Overworld?” Hermes now realized this might have been one of those times where he should be careful about which details he revealed about himself.

“Yes.”

The young man did a little more thinking. While he was busy with that, the copper golem started to walk off, continuing in the direction it had been heading. Hermes followed for the moment, trying to figure out which standing empire might have the technology to build a sentient construct. His first thought would have been that it was sent by his godly parent for the exact purpose of being a guide – for who else but a deity could have sight over a gigantic labyrinth? – however, copper was an odd choice for a god who favored gold the most.

The goblins were inventive creatures and would certainly have a steady supply of copper that they had mined up, and this fellow was around their height. On the other hand, Cogsmeade was known for technological advancements…

Hermes glanced ahead to see their path was about to take them into an intersection. “Hey, so—” He dashed in front of the copper golem to stop a possible random turn. “—Can you tell me where you’re going? Or if there’s someone you’re looking for? I can scout around a bit.”

“That’s an odd thing to say.”

“Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I have a few useful powers to help with that. What about you? Any tools or sensors in there telling you where to go?” Hermes was hoping to find out something about this golem.

He was caught off guard by the sadness within the reply. “…No…”

“Oh. I see… I’m getting the feeling that you’re as lost as I am.”

“Yes.”

“Poor little fellah. Here, you know what?” Hermes leaned over to grasp the copper golem under the arms and picked it up. “I’ll carry you for a while, and we can cover ground faster! In fact, if you’re not afraid of heights—”

“What’s wrong with you?!” The golem began to wave its arms around, forcing Hermes to adjust his grip.

“Hey, hey— easy now! I’m just trying to say that I can fly. I can get us on top of the walls to get a better look around! We might spot your person and my dad more quickly!”

The golem immediately stopped struggling. “Okay.”

Hermes gave a relieved smile. He wasn’t in the habit of lugging robots along on flights, and having one flail around at the same time didn’t make the job convenient. He waited, however, until they had passed through the intersection, sparing a glance through the other passageways before sticking to the direction that the golem had been heading, then performed his trick to reach the top of the wall again. This time he aimed to land on top rather than grabbing it like last time.

He almost fell short despite his plan; he felt slightly light-headed afterward, so he made sure to wait a moment before he started walking. After that, he remained on the same wall for several minutes rather than jump across right away. He wanted to ensure he would still be steady on his feet, plus it might help the little golem get used to being carried around.

Hermes couldn’t contain his curiosity for very long, though. “Can you tell me if you have a name?”

“No.”

“Do you even have one?”

“Yes.”

“But you can’t tell me?”

“No.”

Hermes ruminated out loud, “Hmm. Might be one of those things where I need to guess the correct phrase.”

“No,” the golem replied with insistence.

Hermes chuckled. “Mate, you’re an odd one.” He paused to glance toward the ground. He was feeling better now, so he hopped across the tops of the next two walls then glanced down again.

Onward they went, not seeing anything much of interest, until they came across a wall that had partially collapsed in one spot. Hermes leapt down to check out the rubble below – if just to distract himself from his mounting worry about how long it was taking to find his father.

There was the initial pile of rubble but also larger chunks of the wall that looked like they had been flung in both directions down the passageway. Hermes set the copper golem down to scrutinize the scene. “Seems something knocked it down, and either the same thing – or something else – threw parts of it… off? Did someone try to bury something? No way of telling how long it’s been like this. If someone was trying to stop a hostile creature, they might have succeeded, and it freed itself later. I’ll stick with that theory. It sounds more positive. Right, my coppery friend?”

Hermes looked around and saw the golem seemed to be making an investigation of its own by staring at the ground just past one of the larger pieces of the wall. Hermes went over, not seeing anything right away, but it was as good a direction to head as any.

Then he saw the scorch marks on the floor, which was apparently what had caught the copper golem’s attention. “You worried about fire, little fellah?”

“Yes.”

“I could understand why, since you’re made of metal.”

“Are you sure about this?”

Hermes laughed quietly. “As far as I know copper is still considered to be a metal.”

“That’s an odd thing to say.”

“Is it really?” Hermes wondered if the construct considered itself to be made of flesh.

“Yes.”

Hermes was suddenly struck by a realization. “You’ve got limited speech programming!”

“Yes.”

“Well, that will do it, then! I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner. Is that why you can’t tell me your name?”

“Yes.”

“I see, I see. I’ll keep it in mind. Should we have a gander at where this trail leads? I have some experience with the aftermath of an environment being burned, so I would say this didn’t happen recently, which means we’re probably safe from whatever caused this. No promises about anything currently around that might be shooting out flames, so we’ll be careful.”

The antenna on the golem’s head bobbed almost in an excited manner, although its reply was a calm, “Okay.”

The line of scorch marks varied as they followed it, as if it had been created by uneven blasts. The largest singe mark marring the ground was at the end of the passageway, which led out into an open area with a fountain in the middle.

There was also plenty of evidence that a massive battle had taken place here at some point in the past.

There were smashed pieces of a giant statue scattered around and some of the surrounding walls had holes in them. Some looked like more partial collapses, but also appearing as if something had been thrown right through them to dent the next wall behind them.

Hermes recognized another type of scorch mark that danced over the vertical surface of a wall that was just past the fountain. He walked over to touch it, murmuring, “Lightning… and a… trident impact…”

A strained cough rent the air, then a quiet yet hoarse voice rasped, “Who… Who’s there?”

Hermes let out a soft gasp and spun toward the fountain. A figure wearing a dark red cloak was seated against it. He hadn’t noticed them among the unmoving debris. The person coughed again. It sounded like… “Dad?” Hermes whispered.

The thing stopping him from hurrying over was the question of where his father would have gotten the red cloak from. Neither of them had packed one, and Sausage had been wearing his dark blue one when they entered the portal.

The golem then proclaimed, “Yes!” and ran over to the figure. It waved its arms in the air while dashing back and forth in a semi-circle, shouting, “What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with you?”

“R-Rusty?” the person said, the voice now definitely sounding like Hermes’ father. “Shh. Rusty, I’m happy to see you, too – well, ehhh, sort of but not really, I’ll explain in a minute – but keep your voice down!” They coughed again. “There’s something living in this labyrinth and it’s not pleasant!”

Rusty went still, then stepped up close and seemed to gently place a hand on the person’s knee before whispering, “What’s wrong with you?”

The figure pulled down their hood. From where he stood, Hermes saw a full head of hair and a beard that matched the color and style of his father’s when he was younger.

Well, that changed everything. This man must be one of his father’s alternates from another reality. Hermes swiftly made his presence known, coming over to stand three steps behind Rusty. “Um, hello, sir. I found this little guy as I was searching around this place for my dad. I figured I could help – Rusty, was it? – find you, it seems. Are you all right, by the way? Did you get hurt, or… do you just happen to have a cough? I’m Hermes, by the way.”

Blue eyes with black sclera and what appeared to be runny mascara lifted to meet Hermes’ gaze. That was the face of his father alright. Hermes smiled, albeit awkwardly.

It was always a little weird running into doubles of his parents in other realities.

“Well, hello there, Hermes! I’m Mythical J. Sausage. The ‘J’ is silent.” The answering smile looked weary as the man tried to push himself up using the fountain to brace against. Hermes grasped the other’s arm and helped him stand. “Whoa! Strong grip there! Well, you do look the part of a strapping young god. What type of hybrid are you? I’m a Ghast Mage.” He held out his hand, palm facing upward. Small wisps of smoke rose up from his skin. His smile faltered when it was all that appeared.

Hermes was too busy puzzling over the word ‘hybrid’ to comment on the lack of example, although the context clues of smoke and Ghast made him guess there was supposed to be some kind of fiery explosion involved. “Um, I guess you could say I’m a storm hybrid. I can summon lightning among other atmospheric-related things.”

“Oh, that sounds awesome!” The Ghast Mage’s eyes lit up, taking on an orange hue, but then they squeezed shut as he coughed. “Sorry. Yes, I am kind of hurt, actually. I, uhm, got a dose of my own fireball medicine.” He leaned on the fountain again while Rusty rushed to his side, waving his little arms in the air again.

Hermes watched with a faint smile. The little golem’s concern was endearing. “Sorry to hear that. You said there was something living in this place? I haven’t seen a trace of anything yet except a wall back there that came down in one spot, which is what got our attention to come over this way.” He paused to glance around. “It sure looks like a fight went down here, but I can tell those lightning strikes are old.”

“Oh, speaking of lightning!” The Ghast Mage leaned to his right and picked up something that scrapped the floor with a metallic sound. “I found this while searching for the best place to hide! It was really dusty and I can’t tell if it has any enchantments, but maybe you can use it! I just kinda used it as a walking stick to make it over to here.” He smiled as he held out an ordinary-looking trident.

“Thanks! Actually, that’s very helpful.” Hermes took the trident while trying not to seem overexcited; a trident was just what he needed to augment his power. He held it underneath the tines while running his other hand over the haft. “Hmm. It feels like there’s… something imbued in it. But, like… in its core, not cast upon it… It’s like… someone very powerful once touched it.”

“I’ll trust your stormy senses on that. And I’m just as surprised as you to see a spot like this! I stumbled on it while running away. This is one of the few places I’ve seen so far that isn’t half-covered in sculk. Or what might be sculk? It’s the wrong color – like someone combined sculk and mycelium!”

Hermes’ brows lowered in consideration as he thought back to all the areas of the labyrinth that he had seen on the way. “I haven’t noticed anything like that in the direction I came from, but I was checking for a person, not the color of the floor.”

“You would notice it, believe me! Sculk makes sense, because the portal was in the Deep Dark, but mycelium is only on Mooshroom Islands!"

“Tell me more. I was beginning to wonder how this place could be so empty. Sounds like I just happened to be in the most boring part of it.” Hermes sat down on the side of the fountain to listen to the Ghast Mage tell of his time in the labyrinth. It could give him an idea of what to expect out there when he resumed the search for his father.

To Be Continued in [ Chapter Three ]

[fairrryprose]

[BOOK TOUR] THE HERO INTERVIEWS (THE HERO DIARIES #1) // ANDI EWINGTON

It's my pleasure to be hosting a stop on the book tour for THE HERO INTERVIEWS by ANDI EWINGTON today with ESCAPIST TOURS!!! This is a fantasy comedy following Elburn Barr, a Loremaster who once dreamed of being an adventurer, following in the footsteps of his parents and chasing down his missing brother who had left to become a Hero, as he sets off on a quest of his own to interview and chronicle heroes, villains, and everyone in between - everyone who contributes to the adventuring scene. Read below to find out more and check out my review for this book!

My review:

5/5 stars

This (mis?)adventure is riotously funny, fully fantastical, with a writing style that keeps you turning pages and chuckling and a whole assortment of interesting characters being interviewed, with some endearing recurring ones like a talking dead-adventurer skull and a skinny unassuming-looking 'Barbarian' whom you wouldn't think could do much smiting and smashing but manages to make a name for himself, as well as many references harkening back to all the ones we've already met and encountered and foreshadowing future encounters, threading them all together. I had such a fun time reading this!

While at first glance you may think the interviews are disparate, there's an underlying, some-may-say sinister, plot/conspiracy that Elburn stumbles into and slowly (unintentionally) uncovers throughout the interviews that we get to piece together.

It's written, of course, in the style of an interview, peppered with (short) footnotes that add to the humor as Elburn gives his observations and shares his private thoughts and opinions, giving us an insight into his character - personality, family, motivations - as well as contributing to the worldbuilding - little tidbits of factoids - that don't distract from the story but serve to enhance it )and, for the discerning reader, injects funny satirical references to our modern world and pop culture... like Blue Ticks....) I, for one, really enjoyed these footnotes!

The ending was a nice and heartwarming surprise, and was laid out quite well with scattered clues. This book may contain subtle political commentary that, while maaaybe bleak, we eventually learn that what makes one a Hero isn't just going off on countless quests and adventures and exploring dungeons and vanquishing evildoers (or clearing out rat-infested cellars!) and washing it all down with a pint of ale in a tavern, that it's not just conquests and exploits and chasing fame and fortune, as is oft portrayed in adventure stories/media. A true hero lies in the everyday.

And of course, I'd be so excited for the next book, to see where Devlin Stormwind's Elburn's adventures take him next!!!

///

About the Book:

The Hero Interviews by Andi Ewington

Series: The Hero Diaries

Genre: Fantasy Comedy

Intended Age Group: 15+

Pages: 925

Published: December 1, 2022

Publisher: Forty-Five Limited (Self Published)

///

Book Blurb:

Heroes… you can't swing a cat without hitting one. You can't even hatch a nefarious plan without some adventuring party invading your dungeon to thwart you. So, it stands to reason they're a force for good—right?

Well—yes and no…

Elburn Barr is a Loremaster who has turned his back on his family's tradition of adventuring and stepped out into the realm of heroes to interview a whole smörgåsbord board of fantastical characters from stoic, swear-shy Paladins through to invisible sword-carrying Mime Warriors.

Through his transcribed journal, he'll take a cheeky peek at the truth lurking behind the hero myth—and everything associated with them. Across his many encounters, he hopes to uncover his brother's fate—a brother who has been missing for ten summers after brazenly setting out to forge a heroic name for himself.

Will Elburn discover what really happened to his brother, or will he fail in his quest and become another casualty of the adventuring trade?

The Hero Interviews is a departure from the usual swords and sorcery yarn—it's a sometimes gritty, sometimes amusing, but completely bonkers look at the realm of heroes.

See Also:

(This is our attempt at a bit of fun. We ask our authors to come up with a few short, clever, possibly pop culture laden, descriptions of their books just to give a little taste of what’s to come for readers.)

Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire! • You Talkin’ to Me? • So, Mr. du Lac, How Long Have You Been Dead?

///

Book Links:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Hero-Interviews-Andi-Ewington-ebook/dp/B0BFMBQXLR/ 

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Hero-Interviews-Andi-Ewington-ebook/dp/B0BFMBQXLR/ 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62951981-the-hero-interviews 

///

Content/Trigger Warnings:

Shown on Page (things clearly told to the reader): 

Mention of an Orc Suicide-Watch

Toilet humor (poo jokes, etc)

that Barbarians punch Camels (in reference to Conan the Barbarian

Cats eating Mice (A Wild-Shaped Druid)

 Self-satisfying Treants

Some slapstick violence

Drug references

Ale references

Alluded to (things only mentioned in passing or hinted at):

Toilet humor

Sexual encounters

How a blind monk "sees" (using an herb)

Herbal use (drugs)

Drinking (ale)

///

Author Bio & Information:

Andi Ewington is a writer who has written numerous comic titles including Forty-Five45, Campaigns & Companions, S6X, Sunflower, Red Dog, Dark Souls II, Just Cause 3, Freeway Fighter, and Vikings. Andi lives in Surrey, England with a plethora of childhood RPGs and ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ gamebooks he refuses to part with. He’s usually found on Twitter as @AndiEwington.

///

Check out other stops on the tour for this fantastic book below!

[trainergraceneedstherapy]

i was gonna ask something dumb like "fuck marry kill mr mime machamp gardevoir" but genuine question, when you get a shiny wyd with the other zorua

and if you don’t know i would like all of them

@challengedbywiley

Well-Obviously I'm saving one for you bud-I know you love the little babies!

As for the many, MANY others-I got wind someone in Hammerlocke down in Galar need dark types for a Ghost Pokemon infestation problem-I'm gonna train em' up and send em' over, and any others i'm gonna try finding good homes for with other students!

[misscammiedawn]

What is your favorite angry song? Gets your heart pumping angry, dancing around angry and maybe screaming angry.

Thank you for asking, Linny. To my Tumblr audience, I have been quiet about it on this side but I am healing from major surgery and am bed-ridden for the next 3-5 weeks. Linny is sending me a number of asks to help me pass the time.

This question deserves a full answer:

When I was a teenager I used to be big into Papa Roach and Linkin Park. My Rush obsession existed, of course, that is a constant with me... but Rush don't do angry songs. Given I was Going Through Some Shit back then, listening to Hybrid Theory a lot was good for my deeply angry part. The dominant portion of my soul back then that needed to survive being kicked out (twice) and navigate having to work 12+ hour shifts at my temp job to keep myself from sinking further into the rocks of rock bottom.

There was always something so soothing about just getting that catharsis of screaming out via miming along as my disc span inside the work computer. 12 pound disc, 6 pound headphones. A worthy purchase at a time when shutting off my brain and just doing my job was needed.

I think Papa Roach's Infest album got the most play and Broken Home was my favorite at that rage fueled part of my life.

I mellowed out a lot in the past 20 years and these days most of my "angry" music is just BPD music so when I am hurting and upset I tend towards Left At London. Nat's music is trans-BPD sicko mode music and her anthem is Pills & Good Advice, a song about being discharged from a mental facility and the odyssey of trying to get by, being understood and the vague acceptance that none of this is going to go away and no one can save you from it from the outside.

Kudzu is also one I like to project on. The song is more from the perspective of addiction with the kudzu/addictive substance "taking over your garden" but every time I listen and hear "can I stay one more night until I go home" I think literal terms and remember the multiple people who have hosted me in the past and how I used their charity until it all went away. How many people had I selfishly used up all I could use from them until they ran out of love and patience for me?

I listen to that song and get angry at me.

Which isn't what I typically want.

With Pills & Good Advice it is more cathartic. Particularly the climax of the song:

Start to climb, and then I get a little higher (Higher)

I'm a coward, it don't matter what I do (Higher)

From "I can't do it anymore" to "I can't do it, I can't do it"

Told myself I wanna die

So how am I supposed to prove it now?

Spend too many of my minutes getting higher (Higher)

I've attempted way too much to even count (Higher)

I've been committed, but committed to the people that I love

And if I try to love myself, I guess that I could live forever crying

Also the Blacknwhite single is really good for conveying what Splitting feels like within BPD.

(I can find another)

But I'll never find another you again

I've been splitting 'cause it's better than admitting

That it's something that I can't control

I was livid, what you did was nothing easily forgiven

Yet I couldn't let go

And I bet all your friends say, "I'm glad that she's gone"

Then you have Screen Violence by CHVRCHES which is an album that just resonates with me and how I felt between 2019 and 2021 when I burned my life to the ground a 3rd time. I am not proud of my actions... but god it feels good when you can listen to a song and feel like you may not have done the "right" things, but you did something that someone, somewhere can understand well enough to put in to poetry.

Anger being my core emotion is not something I am proud of either. But it's better spent on music than on people.

[wordsonly]

Phoney Hyperarousal

Key-lighted

Eyes met, fixedly strained

Our beauty

Greyed out

Constrained

Sinks

To murky dark division

Bound up in humdrum exposition.

Unsolicited plot twists

Fast cut

Jarring shifts

To a hundred screaming wannabits;

Background actors

Running. Fran-tics

Wild! In all directions

To the harsh frequencies

Of megalomanial

Mega-phoned

Deceptions.

Cut them all down!

Blow them all away!

Eviscerate

Oiled bicep

Grotesque girth

Rippling

Scorching flattened earth

With the P-r-r-r-r-r-r-r -r

The sparks and the smoke

Of a balletic, body-counting trope

Triggered,

Pyro-technical booms

Afore perfervid, blazing

Napalm shrooms

The slow-motioned

Mini- gun

Spun

Spitting to the ecstasy

Of empty shelled

Oblivion.

‘It’s a wrap!’

Done.

Every hysterical man

Child

Woman

Silenced.

For the flood

Will come.

Grey bearded weatherman’s

Foretokened threat

Unsung…

Heaven open

To scratches on a new face

Gutters bleeding cats n dogs

Into rat infested space.

Below.

Where churning grounds

Tweek lattes and stale

Black

Wailing hounds

Synchronised to excessive

Light and sound.

To the replete bowls

Splurging out

Into each and all the gasping

Pleading,

Open mouths.

The sewers, bursting forth

Into non-certificated systems,

Every junction

Every forgotten, legal wisdom

Every pathogenic seaside swim

Or unrequited atheistic hymn

Sermon of the long prescription

Stomach heaving

Dereliction

To nose bleeding medication…

Or every iris

Processing divine photonic information

Into a mesh, e scape-dream

A stream

Of free-associating memes

Beat-meat generation

Mimes

Performing in veneration

Of all the lowly NPCs

Embracing an alternate ‘not to be’

In a nebulous disingenuous fantasy

Where all meaning drifts, disaccosiated

A billon signs of

Hearts and

Minds

Lost.

To the bread crumb trails of addiction

That leads to the fluff

Of

Furry, hyper-sexual stimulated fiction

Or the worst of tv movie screenplays

Beaming

Secret-agent radio waves

To decimate the baddies self

Blowing their members off

The shelf

Rolling over

To a Presidental doggy call

Bouncing another

Headlined

Bullet

Off the wall.

A carousel spinning

To high

Too fast

Vertiginous

Pain exclaimed ?

Or a pre-recorded laugh?

Camera. Speed..Make it Stop!

Peel this burning surface off

The skin your in

The persistent cough

Reuptake serotonin?

Or just

Jump off

[nutrifloaustralia]

The Importance of Light and Ventilation in Hydroponic Grow Tents

Hydroponic gardening has revolutionised how we grow plants indoors, offering efficiency, space-saving benefits, and precise control over growing conditions.

Central to the success of hydroponic systems are two critical elements: light and ventilation. In this blog post, we'll explore why these factors are crucial for maximising plant growth and achieving optimal yields in hydroponic grow tent Central Coast.

Importance of Light in Hydroponic Grow Tents

Light is the primary energy source for plants through photosynthesis. In a hydroponic grow tent, where plants are cultivated in a controlled indoor environment, providing the right type and amount of light is essential for healthy growth and development.

1. Types of Grow Lights

Different types of grow lights can be used in hydroponic setups, each with its advantages:

LED Grow Lights: Energy-efficient and versatile, LED grow lights emit specific wavelengths of light that can be tailored to plants' different growth stages. They produce less heat, reducing the need for additional ventilation.

High-Pressure Sodium (HPS) Lights: HPS lights are favoured for plants' flowering and fruiting stages because they produce a high output of light in the red and orange spectrum.

Fluorescent Grow Lights: Affordable and suitable for seedlings and young plants, fluorescent lights are less intense but effective for providing uniform light distribution.

Metal Halide (MH) Lights: Emitting light in the blue spectrum, MH lights are ideal for promoting vegetative growth and can be combined with HPS lights for a full growth cycle.

2. Light Intensity and Duration

The intensity of light directly affects plant growth. In the hydroponic grow tent Central Coast, light fixtures should be positioned appropriately from plants to ensure they receive sufficient light without burning the leaves.

Light duration, or photoperiod, also plays a crucial role in regulating plant growth stages, including flowering and fruiting.

Read More: Indoor Grow Tent Gardening

3. Light Spectrum

Plants require specific wavelengths of light for photosynthesis. LED grow lights allow growers to customise the light spectrum, optimising plant growth by providing the exact wavelengths needed at each stage of development.

Blue light promotes vegetative growth, while red light enhances flowering and fruiting.

Importance of Ventilation in Hydroponic Grow Tents

Ventilation is essential in hydroponic grow tents to maintain optimal growing conditions by regulating temperature, humidity, and air circulation.

Proper ventilation ensures that plants receive an adequate supply of carbon dioxide (CO2) for photosynthesis and prevents the buildup of heat and moisture, which can lead to mould, mildew, and pest infestations.

1. Air Exchange

Hydroponic grow tents require a constant exchange of fresh air to replenish CO2 levels and remove excess heat and humidity.

Exhaust fans and intake vents facilitate air circulation, creating a balanced environment miming outdoor growing conditions.

2. Temperature Control

Temperature regulation is critical for plant health and productivity. Excessive heat can stress plants and inhibit growth, while cooler temperatures can slow metabolic processes. Ventilation systems, including exhaust fans and ducting, help maintain a stable temperature range within the grow tent, optimising growing conditions throughout the day and night cycles.

3. Humidity Management

High humidity levels can promote fungal diseases and affect plant nutrient uptake. If necessary, ventilation systems with adjustable humidity controls, combined with dehumidifiers, help maintain optimal humidity levels for healthy plant growth.

4. CO2 Enrichment

CO2 is essential for photosynthesis, and increasing CO2 levels within the grow tent can enhance plant growth and yields.

Ventilation systems allow growers to introduce CO2 supplements effectively, ensuring that plants have access to sufficient carbon dioxide during the daylight hours when photosynthesis is most active.

Conclusion

In conclusion, light and ventilation are fundamental to successful hydroponic gardening in hydroponic grow tent Central Coast. By providing the right type and amount of light, growers can optimise plant growth and development throughout all growth cycle stages.

Effective ventilation systems ensure that plants receive adequate air circulation, maintain optimal temperature and humidity levels, and facilitate CO2 enrichment, creating an ideal indoor environment for healthy, productive plants.

Whether you're a novice or an experienced hydroponic gardener, understanding and implementing proper light and ventilation practices will contribute significantly to the success of your indoor gardening endeavours.

Invest in quality grow lights and ventilation equipment tailored to your specific plant species and growing goals to achieve optimal yields and cultivate thriving plants year-round.

Source: https://hydroponicsequipmentaustralia.quora.com/The-Importance-of-Light-and-Ventilation-in-Hydroponic-Grow-Tents

[ophidian-bite]

Chains of Harrow for Lavos, Patient Zero for Operator Valadis, and Sands of Inaros for Drifter Valadis! :3

- grineerios

Chains of The Harrow- For Warframes: What keeps them loyal to their Tenno? Does their Infested nature ever surface?

Aside from something of an incurable spring in his step whenever he's taken to be worked on by the ship's helminth, Lavos rarely responds without input. The thing about Lavos is that his strain wasn't an organic infection- it was a deliberate transmutation. There was no pretense of evolution or cultivation, it was *designed* for this right from the get go. Consequently, control over the frame rests entirely with the operator. Or at least, control over the main body of it. The trade-off, the equivalent exchange, is that the snakes have minds entirely of their own. While the Lavos that Valadis now uses is merely a copy of the original, Javi and the Warden still live on through the serpents on his arms and it is only with their willing cooperation that they can be made use of.

Patient Zero: How altruistic is your character? Would they go out of their way to help someone, even if they didn't deserve it?

Valadis likes to *say* that they selfishly look out for themself to the exclusion of all else, but often they're just justifying why they're helping people anyways. Like take Solaris United- they claim they're just in it because they think k-drives are sick as fuck and all these corpus checkpoints are in the way of them shredding, but really they already hated everything about Nef Anyo and finding out about brain-shelving absolutely horrified them. However, when it comes to being "deserving" their judgements are very... lets say *vibes* based. They don't tend to think much about things like "consequences" or "implications," so whether or not they're willing to help is a lot more about if they feel like it than if it's "deserved."

Sands of Inaros: How much of their childhood do they remember? Is there an event from their childhood that impacts who they are today?

In contrast to Operator Valadis, who is very much a child that has not and will not ever grow up despite having to mime and flounder their way through an assumed adulthood, Drifter Valadis is an adult who has been forced to wade through a child's world with no connection to a childhood of their own. Obviously, they did *have* a childhood- one that was very similar to the Operator's, up to a point- but they don't remember anything more than brief impressions of it. It wasn't a happy one, and they likely would have repressed a lot of it even if the void hadn't taken it from them, but it does still affect them subconsciously. It's why they share the Operator's deep-seated hate for authority, even if they express it in different ways. But, ultimately I think their perceived lack of a childhood affects them far more than the remnants of it do. Part of why they spent so long mired in the spiral of Duviri is because they couldn't make the connections to understand it, and hell- they didn't even recognize themself in the Operator initially. Even if they now know otherwise through their coexistence with the Operator, to the Drifter's own memories their life started with a hazy dream of a deal on the Zariman and then loop after loop in the islands of Duviri.

OG post link

[sachyriel]

The hint in his hatred for mimes lies in the punishment he has for them. Chained to a wall facing big letters that say "Learn the words". I think mimes are allowed to leave when they find their voice (and stop being mimes). They promise to bring a new level of street art to the city, one that isn't pantomime. So Vetrinari gets to hate on mimes, but by forcing them to die or find a new creative expression he's elevating the level of performance art in Ankh Morpork.

This has 2 effects. 1 is that it gives the city a small trickle of VERY motivated performance artists who are Eager to Learn new performing arts, making sure the cultural industry of the city always has a supply of Zealous converts to be turned into new talent. Because of Ankh Morporks migration there are always fools who think they can do some pantomime in the big city and not get caught. 2: other cities on the Disc have not banned mimes, they're infested with these talentless hacks who 'haven't learned the words' and it's dragging their performance art sector down. By cutting off this rotten low hanging branch of performative arts Vetrinari is slightly raising the bar for culture in Ankh Morpork. Normally banning mimes wouldn't create a HUGE difference the perceived culture of cities in the publics eye, but Vetrinari TOLD EVERYONE so he made sure people noticed that Ankh Morpork is a culturally refined city on the disc.

Ankh Morpork has zealous creative types who are eagerly competing for jobs, and isn't infested with lazy pantomiming. People noticed because he pointed it out to the public and that ensures not only does the city appreciate his efforts, other regions take note as well, and Ankh Morporkians take pride in knowing other cities think of them as Culturally Refined™️.

Vetinari's one big foible (if you don't count being a functional, reasonable head of state as an idiosyncrasy) is his laws on mimes and their... being put to death or run out of town? It's been a bit.

Now, maybe it's a matter of acceptable targets and meant to be a droll note, or something for which I don't have context.

But I feel like with everything Vetinari legislates and manages from football to murder, this particular issue is nonsensical. Even if he did have a personal hatred of Marcel Marceau (his Disc stand-in, anyway), Vetinari wouldn't let his personal feelings dictate policy. The man survived being enclosed in a going-under-the-water-safely-device with Fred and Nobby Nobbs; he knows how to deal for the greater good.

The nonsensicality is the point. The policy on mimes is a sop to the arbitrary rules and madness of previous rulers, which may actually make citizens more at ease, because everyone in power would OBVIOUSLY abuse that power, and this is Vetinari's "thing."

Of course, Vetinari probably does have a personal vendetta against mimes, and this is two birds with one stone.

[heavens-moonlight]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟦 | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟨

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬. 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐢-𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬! ♡

The silence is suffocating in the aftershock of Ms. Park’s parting following Na-Yeon’s, but the brisk night breeze grazing past your skin is a welcoming buffer. You’re still settled by the windowsill, unsure if enough time has passed to deem yourself safe after what transpired with Gyeong-Su earlier. No one has approached you—not even Su-Hyeok—since your adamant refusal for anyone to come near however long ago. Regardless, Cheong-San’s penchant for risk-taking and blatant disregard for safety has him sitting opposite you on the ledge and staring down at the infested field below, knuckle all scraped and bloody from punching a wall out of prior frustration.

You don’t decline the company this time.

Soft footsteps stop nearby, and even without looking, you can tell they belong to On-Jo. “Chae-Wol, you know you can come back here near us, right? I’m fine, and so are you. If anything were to happen, it already would have. A lot of time has passed since this morning.”

You turn to her. “Do you think we’re immune?”

“Immune?”

“Don’t use big words with her,” Cheong-San teases.

“Are you calling me stupid?” On-Jo crosses her arms, almost pouting.

“You said it, not me.” Raising both arms up in a show of non-offense, On-Jo finally catches a glimpse of the bloody mess that’s Cheong-San’s hands, your question long forgotten.

“What did you do that for?! Look at your hand!” On-Jo chides, but it’s only chock-full of genuine concern as she clutches his right hand to inspect the cuts, oblivious to Cheong-San’s flustered state as he attempts to look anywhere but where their hands are touching. He meets your gaze and you make faces at him mischievously, nudging your head toward On-Jo.

“Do you have a death wish?” Cheong-San mouths to you over On-Jo’s bowed head, miming a slashing motion near his neck with his left hand.

“On-Jo, you should check the other hand too,” you suggest, biting back a smile as Cheong-San narrows his eyes at you.

“You’re not okay, idiot.” On-Jo sighs, but doesn’t let go of his hand. “I’m sorry that this probably isn’t what you want to hear right now, but be strong.”

Cheong-San recoils. “Don’t comfort me. You’ve never been good at it.” He almost pulls his hand away—almost—but thinks better of it. On-Jo’s only trying to help after all.

“Just returning the favor.” On-Jo rests her hand on top of yours where it’s placed in your lap. “I-Sak was one of my best friends, but I never thought about how precious she was to me until I lost her. Thinking about the fact that she’s gone made me feel like my whole world crumbled. I’m thankful for you guys consoling me then.” She squeezes your hand once before facing Cheong-San. “I don’t want you to wallow in guilt as I had, pondering on the what if’s and how we could’ve saved our friends. Of course, we love them and miss them, but they would also want us to survive, and the only way we can do that is to move forward.”

“Do you think Gyeong-Su is out there somewhere?” Cheong-San directs the question at both you and On-Jo.

“Of course, I do. One day, he’ll find his way back to us again.” The stars look a little brighter in the sky tonight, and you wonder if it’s because I-Sak and Gyeong-Su are among them now.

“I-Sak too. I’m sure of it,” On-Jo adds. “We’ll be alright. We are alright,” she rephrases. “I wonder whether everyone else out there is also fine?”

“Your dad’s a firefighter, and Chae-Wol’s parents are doctors. I have high hopes they know how to protect themselves. As for my parents, they should be at the restaurant like they always are; it’s the most important thing to them. Maybe zombies are eating our fried chicken right now,” Cheong-San trails off.

“What I would give to have that fried chicken again,” On-Jo murmurs.

“You said it was salty,” you remind her.

“Still, it was tasty.”

“I want some too.” You remember back to what Gyeong-Su said to you in the recording booth, yet don’t dwell on it too much for fear of a fresh outpour of tears. “I’ll eat enough portions for everyone we’ve lost; one for each of them.”

“Let’s have some,” Cheong-San promises resolutely. “I’ll treat you both once this is all over and we get out of here.”

The conversation lulls, and you leave both of them there by the open window, figuring they might want to be alone even though neither would ever admit it. As you climb down from the windowsill, you spot everyone dispersed around the room lost in their own thoughts, faraway looks in their glossed eyes. Su-Hyeok is perched on the edge of a table outside the recording booth, hands in his pockets and looking down at his feet, unmoving.

You walk over quietly, stopping only when you are toe-to-toe with him, placing your shoes in his field of vision. Su-Hyeok glances up, the addition of another pair of sneakers clearly not his own, eyes widening slightly when he sees you in front of him. He doesn’t say anything, but doesn’t look away either, even as his jaw tenses up, the harsh set of it an unfamiliar sight.

“Are you mad at me?” You make to step away, but Su-Hyeok removes one hand out of his pants pocket to wind around your wrist, rooting you to the spot.

“No, I’m not.” Despite his words, he’s no longer looking at you, eyes falling down to the bite mark still on your uncovered forearm.

“You are.” You’ve known him your whole life. There’s no mistaking when he’s upset. “I’m sorry,” you apologize.

Su-Hyeok looks at you then, eyes softening when he takes in your downcast expression. “Stop.” He tightens his fingers around your right wrist and pulls you even closer, your knees now touching. “I could never be angry at you, ever.”

“But…” you supply, knowing there must be more to his sentence.

“But I was disappointed. Maybe I still am—just a bit.”

“Because I isolated myself from everyone after the incident with Gyeong-Su?” Your eyebrows scrunch in perplexity, not quite understanding his train of thought.

“Yes. No.” Su-Hyeok sighs and runs his hand through his hair with his unoccupied hand, now also free from the confines of his pockets. It flops back onto his forehead, no longer gelled up in its usual style. “It’s not because it’s everyone. It’s because it was me.” You can see him struggling to find the right words to express what he means. “You didn’t even hesitate to push me away.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt, Su-Hyeok,” you emphasize, placing your left hand on his knee, trying to get your point across.

His eyes dart back and forth between your own, dark orbs sincere and honest. “When you’re hurt, so am I.” Your heart stutters in your chest at his words. “You can’t expect me to simply not care and walk away when you tell me to. Do you know how hard that is for me?”

“What if I did turn?”

“What if you didn’t?” You open your mouth to reason, but Su-Hyeok beats you to it. “Remember before when you were going to give up joining the group to stay back with me?” At your nod, he continues. “What makes you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?” He slides his fingers from your wrist down to your hand and holds it tenderly. “I’d do anything to protect you.”

“Su-Hyeok—"

“At least let me pick my own battles. I’ll deal with the consequences of my choices.”

“And if the risk is too big?”

“It’s you. No risk is ever too big compared to the fear I have at the thought of losing you.””

He lightly tugs and you gravitate toward him, falling into his embrace. Despite Su-Hyeok sitting and you standing, he’s tall enough that the position is more comforting than awkward. With how close he is, you hope he can’t hear how wildly your heart is beating. If Su-Hyeok were to hold you a little closer or listen a little more intently, you’re afraid the affection you harbor for him would overflow, impossible to suppress. The hug lasts a lot longer than you both had anticipated, but neither of you wanted to be the first to let go.

“You can’t just say things like that without warning.”

“Why?”

Then, I’ll like you even more than I already do. “Just because.”

You hear Su-Hyeok chuckle. “I’ll give you a heads-up next time—just because,” he mocks impishly, smile much less solemn than before but still heartfelt.

When the two of you finally pull apart, he pats the spot next to him and you sit down, seeing him begin to unknot his tie.

“What are you doing?”

“Here, give me your arm.” Su-Hyeok rests your arm on his leg, wrapping the tie around your forearm to cover the bite mark. The wound is no longer open, though it’s still not a sight anyone would like to look at, much less think about. Out of sight, out of mind. You stare at Su-Hyeok fondly as he works on your arm, unaware. When he places the final knot so that it won’t unravel, he pulls your cardigan sleeve back down over it, fussing about the injury despite your insistence that it hasn’t been giving you any trouble.

Before you can say anything more, Cheong-San’s voice pulls you out of your reverie and mooning over Su-Hyeok. On-Jo is sitting in a chair next to him as he addresses the whole room. “I didn’t—couldn’t—make out any sounds. Not even the smallest one.”

“Pertaining to what?” Su-Hyeok asks.

“After Na-Yeon left and so did Ms. Park, I didn’t hear anything afterward.” Cheong-San glances toward the sliding doors.

“Do you mean screaming?” you deduce.

“Yeah, screeching or anything even remotely similar. We’ve heard it a lot already up until now, but not this time around.”

“Maybe they didn’t die then,” Dae-Su states candidly. “No one stays quiet if they’re being eaten alive.” You blanch at the imagery and in similar fashion, no one else reacts either. “Why do you all never respond? I’m always talking to myself. Might as well start a conversation with the wall at this point.” Dae-Su sulks, placing a hand over his chest as if he were wounded.

“What you’re saying makes a lot of sense.” On-Jo does her best to appease him, but Dae-Su is having none of it, shifting in his seat to face away from everyone as best he can.

“Forget it.”

“My ears didn’t pick up on anything either.” On-Jo’s gaze falls on Cheong-San and they share a simultaneous nod.

“I was scared too,” Hyo-Ryung adds. “I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to act, or how I’d feel if I heard horrifying shrieks, but thankfully, I didn’t.”

Joon-Yeong pushes his glasses up his nose, most likely a nervous habit. “Come to think of it, neither did I.”

“Then, I’m right, huh?” They must’ve made it unscathed, to wherever.” Again, Dae-Su is ignored.

“Should she be though?” Ji-Min squeezes out bitterly.

“Who?” Joon-Yeong scoots his chair a little closer toward the table, thinking he missed out on a part of the conversation.

“Na-Yeon, the murderer. She killed Gyeong-Su and walked out on her own, like it was nothing more than a regular daily errand. Does she deserve to survive? Aren’t you all acting a little too pretentious?” Ji-Min scorns, not taking notice of Cheong-San’s discontentment at his best friend being mentioned in past tense. The wound is still fresh and this talk is only pouring salt into it.

“What about Ms. Park then?” Wu-Jin gloomily queries. “Should she really be included? On the same level as Na-Yeon at that?”

“What are you getting at? Are you saying we’re to blame?” Offended, Ji-Min places both hands on the table, pressing down on the wood so hard her fingers turn pale.

“Regardless, we played a fractional part in how everything went downhill.” Wu-Jin doesn’t spare her a glance, and the rest would rather not play at being middleman.

“I guess we did, huh?” Ji-Min retorts without humor. “The ones who didn’t send anyone to their death intentionally is at fault.” The caustic words carry so much weight, it hangs heavy in the air. You wish the talk of death could be brushed under the rug. “Na-Yeon turned a fellow classmate into a zombie, played the victim, then prevaricated responsibility, but she gets the pass and we don’t? Just because we didn’t listen to her lies, and neither did we defend her wrongful acts, it’s suddenly alright to make hell on earth?” Ji-Min shakes her head. “I had a lot of respect for Ms. Park, but the moment she lectured us on our shortcomings as if Na-Yeon’s offenses were so insignificant, I couldn’t keep her on a pedestal anymore. We didn’t tell her to leave either. She could’ve let Na-Yeon atone for her sins, even if that meant death. Why should we sit here and feel bad? Fuck. What the hell did we do so wrong?” The words in her mini-monologue drip with revulsion and resentment.

You knew Ji-Min was never a fan of Na-Yeon, but for her dislike to seep across in connection to Ms. Park is a surprise. Not everything she said could resonate with you, but you understood the frustration somewhat. Hyo-Ryung tries to console her friend by placing a supportive hand on Ji-Min’s shoulder only to be immediately brushed off, the latter still seething.

It’s only noiseless for a moment before Su-Hyeok speaks up. “Uh, I’m not sure if I should say this—"

“Then don’t,” Wu-Jin teases.

You elbow Su-Hyeok in the stomach and he groans, breathing through his nose with control. “Doesn’t anyone else need to go to the bathroom? Or is it only me?”

“My bad.” You retract your arm quickly.

“It’s not just you. I have to, too.” Dae-Su rubs his stomach miserably.

“It’s been hours,” you chime in. “We all definitely have to go relieve ourselves. The fight or flight response will do that to you.”

“Can you translate that?” a baffled Dae-Su asks.

“It’s an automatic reaction to any event humans perceive as nerve-wracking or fear-provoking. The sympathetic nervous system triggers a release of hormones that does the opposite of making us relax, so everything is amplified, including the need to urinate.” Everyone is looking at you like they have question marks floating permanently above their heads.

“Am I allowed to ask for the dumbed-down version? You know, less for me and more for On-Jo’s sake,” Dae-Su jests, and you hear Cheong-San snicker before On-Jo hits him to shut him up.

“Zombies scare humans, humans’ natural instinct is to flee, and so their body increases the need for everything, including having to pee because of anxiety.” You finish explaining and look at Dae-Su, who finally nods. Next to him, Joon-Yeong fumbles with a tumbler left behind, but thinks better of that option, planting his head face-first onto the table, out of ideas.

“We don’t really have a choice,” Hyo-Ryung mumbles. “How are we supposed to head to the bathrooms?”

“Why are you using that tone with me?” Dae-Su whines. “Su-Hyeok is the one who brought it up, but I’m being blamed. It’s not a crime to need to poop.”

You can’t hold back your laugh and repress it with your hand. How did the conversation even end up here when only a simple question was asked? Everyone’s sentences contain all variations of words for excrement.

“Of course, it’s not a crime, but—" Wu-Jin lets the words hang in the air.

“But what? Don’t deny you’ve been wanting to go as well,” Dae-Su says.

“Yeah, obviously I do,” Wu-Jin states matter-of-factly. “Just…not to poop.”

“Why are they arguing about their urges?” you undertone to Su-Hyeok, entertained by the childish turn of the conversation.

“No clue, but this isn’t getting us to a solution any quicker. I still have to go really badly,” he replies.

You playfully but lightly punch his stomach with both fists, one after the other, before he holds your hands to stop you from messing around. “You’re not helping.” Su-Hyeok laughs at you for worsening the physiological phenomena.

Dae-Su squirms in his seat. “Cheong-San, what about you?”

“I don’t need to poop either.” The blank expression on Cheong-San’s face is even more hilarious when contrasted with Hyo-Ryung’s incredulous look as Dae-Su asks her the same thing.

“What are you asking me for?” Hyo-Ryung retaliates, clearly annoyed.

“Why are you snapping at me?” Defeated, Dae-Su turns away from the table to the window, and you can pinpoint the exact moment a lightbulb turns on in his mind. “Wait, I have a good idea!” He runs to the window enthusiastically.

“And what’s that?” Cheong-San swivels around in his chair.

“Boys and girls will take turns.”

“Where?” Hyo-Ryung seems nearly hesitant to question it even, already wary about the so-called “great” suggestion self-declared by Dae-Su.

“Right here!” He points straight out the window, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

“He’s lost his mind, I swear.” Hyo-Ryung’s face scrunches up in disappointment, more at herself for having entertained that response.

“Cut it out, Dae-Su.” Cheong-San turns away, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything,” someone mutters.

“Why? It’s easy. Girls can wait in there—" Dae-Su gestures animatedly toward the general direction of the recording booth, causing you and Su-Hyeok to turn around, look through the glass, and then back at one another, at a loss for words. “—And the boys can piss out the window.”

“Okay, and what about taking a dump?” Wu-Jin can barely get his question out due to the silliness of it.

“Hmm,” Dae-Su hums, putting his hand to his chin, pondering. “Well, if necessary that you need to go, you can pull your pants down and hang out the window like so.” Before anyone can stop him, he jumps on the window ledge and holds onto the frame, squatting midair with both legs on either side of the support pillar. “Imagine you need to drop your waste off the edge of a cliff, but someone has to hold onto you or you’d fall to your death while pooping.”

You can’t help but burst at the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. Your lips curl, involuntarily, and you try to fight back the onslaught of laughter, but it’s no use as your cheeks swell with pressure. Before you know it, your eyes are crinkling in mirth and the tinkling of your laugh echoes in the room, causing the others to stifle their own at your reaction. You laugh so hard that you fall over into Su-Hyeok, almost knocking him off the table, but you can feel him shaking with laughter too where he’s pressed against your side.

“How will you clean then?” Joon-Yeong throws the obvious flaw into query.

“We can wipe each other,” Dae-Su replies without so much as a second thought.

“What a nutjob.” Joon-Yeong cringes, sorry for himself that he broached the topic in the first place.

“You know what, let’s just hold it in,” Ji-Min settles.

“Rescuers probably won’t make it here for a long while more,” On-Jo says forlornly. “The situation may be the same outside of our schoolground.” She pauses before adding an afterthought. “I have no idea how long we’ll be here, but my dad always told me to separate the bathroom from the living space if you ever find yourself isolated.”

“Where can we make a bathroom and how?” Ji-Min inquiries.

“Over there.” On-Jo points behind you, once again at the recording booth as everyone looks over.

“So, are we following my plan?” Dae-Su pipes up, happy.

“NO!” A chorus of negative responses fly in his direction, including yours.

“Alright, alright I get it. Geez.”

“How are we supposed to hold the waste?” You direct at On-Jo.

“Good question.” She looks around for a second. “I’m sure we can find some supplies in this room that will suffice.”

Everyone stands up to rummage for materials but you’re having a hard time being efficient as Su-Hyeok refuses to remove your interlaced hands. You try to slip your fingers away, but he squeezes them even tighter. “I wasn’t kidding about not letting you out of my sight.” He looks at you in all seriousness.

In the background, you can hear Cheong-San and Joon-Yeong plopping things together to form a makeshift toilet. “Here, put this there too.”

“You’re right,” you hear Joon-Yeong’s slightly muffled reply from the front of the classroom. “Dae-Su’s butt is quite big, so hopefully this will fit. Maybe we can snap the button off of this travel pillow.”

On-Jo slides past you for a second and pulls you along. Unfortunately for Su-Hyeok, he gets called in the other direction by Dae-Su and Wu-Jin to move metal file cabinets. Begrudgingly, he lets go of your hand.

“We can tape these CDs and these paper folders lying around.” On-Jo hands you a few stacks and you easily climb a table, opening CD cases and flattening folders for Nam-Ra to tape to the recording booth’s wide expanse of glass.

“I think this is satisfactory.” Joon-Yeong lifts up what looks like a litter box for humans triumphantly over his head before he opens the booth door to place it inside.

Su-Hyeok is back and is dragging you by the hand inside to where everyone is peering over the newly installed “toilet.”

“How can we poop on this?” Dae-Su tilts his head to the side, bewildered.

“Use the cover to poop, and lift it to pee. Think of it as a regular toilet, or porta potty in our case.” Joon-Yeong shows what he means by raising the pillow and then putting it back down again.

“Out, now.” Su-Hyeok suddenly ushers everyone past the door and before he can close it, you ground your feet to keep him in place.

“Forgetting something?” You swing your hands.

“Oh right, sorry! It almost slipped my mind,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bathroom breaks are the exception to me keeping an eye on you.” Su-Hyeok gently steers you outside, the exact opposite of him pushing the others out in a haste before.

A few turns later, Joon-Yeong bolts from the booth and sticks his head out the window dramatically, wheezing. You’re about to ask why when the smell hits and you can’t plug your nose fast enough.

“Stop overreacting, you punk. The odor isn’t even that strong!” Dae-Su chastises Joon-Yeong, but you’re glad to have gotten a turn before Dae-Su had gone.

“My nose hairs are burning off,” Joon-Yeong grumbles, still gulping in air like a fish out of water.

“There’s nobody out there,” Nam-Ra intones. “All the lights are out; the stores are deserted, and the apartments are dark. People either fled or died.”

“What are you saying?” On-Jo looks over at Nam-Ra.

“I don’t think anyone will come to save us.”

“Aish, don’t be so pessimistic. We’re back to the doom and gloom talk again.” Joon-Yeong leans his head against the window frame.

“Have you met my mom? If she could, she would’ve torn the school apart to look for me, but she hasn’t yet. That says a lot.” You place your hand over Nam-Ra’s and she mirrors the motion with her free hand.

“So what?” Ji-Min is brusque.

“I’m just pointing out the facts.” Nam-Ra is calm, but you can sense tension simmering between the two.

“We all know no one’s coming; you didn’t have to rub it in. At least discuss what we’ll be doing from here on out.”

“We shouldn’t leave safety and go jumping into danger. Let’s wait to be rescued,” On-Jo compromises.

“And if no one ever comes? What then?” You’re used to Nam-Ra’s bluntness, but the others might not be, the possibility of misunderstanding quite high.

“It hasn’t been that long yet.” On-Jo looks at you for help, not wanting for things to escalate.

“Then how much longer? Do you want to wait until we all die living on hope alone?” Nam-Ra is smart, but she might need a crash-course on social interactions.

“I think what she means,” you nod toward On-Jo, “is that we wait for as long as we can, since we can’t find a way out right now anyway.” Nam-Ra accepts that answer and sits quietly next to you. On-Jo shoots you a grateful look.

For some reason, Su-Hyeok has the ability to placate everyone easily and it’s not the first occurrence, but you’re relieved all the same every time. “Nighttime doesn’t seem good for rescues. I’m sure somebody will come in the morning. We did see a lot of choppers flying around earlier. Let’s wait until the sun comes up.”

»»———————————————-————-————-———————-««

When the blanket of sleep lifts off and sunlight starts to seep through between your closed eyelids, you find yourself slowly coming to, blinking languidly away the cloud of fog in your brain. You try to lift your head, unusually comfortable from having slumbered in the same position throughout the night, only to notice that your head is resting on the broad line of Su-Hyeok’s shoulder, his own tipped towards the crown of yours. His blazer is draped across the two of you, your hand laid loosely in his slackened grip. Not wanting to wake him up just yet, you stay unmoving, eyes instead shifting around the room at similar slumped forms occupying various spots in your line of vision.

Cheong-San is the next to wake up after you, and he hurriedly scrambles to the window. With how fast he shot up, you’re surprised he doesn’t experience any side effects of vertigo. “No one came at all.” He turns away dejectedly, coming face-to-face with On-Jo.

“They’ll come for us eventually,” she reassures.

By now, everyone has started to stir, including Su-Hyeok. He smiles as he peers down at you, but doesn’t move to sit up properly, the two of you leaning on one another still.

“And when will that be?” Hyo-Ryung lifts her head up from where she was resting it against the table.

On-Jo looks down. “I have no idea, but we can’t give up yet.”

“We don’t know if they’ll come here.”

“So, you want to go outside?” On-Jo receives no answer from Hyo-Ryung then, but it’s as much a no as a verbal confirmation.

“Suppose rescuers do arrive, how would they know to find us in here?” Ji-Min brings up a good point.

“We can put up a signal for help. My dad taught me one that’s used internationally.” On-Jo definitely misses him a lot with how much she mentions him, but you’re glad that some of the knowledge he instilled in her proves useful, despite the less than favorable situation.

“What was it?” Hyo-Ryung looks more interested and hopeful now.

“The pattern was red and blue arranged together.” On-Jo scrunches her eyebrows together, thinking with no end in sight. Checking everyone’s lukewarm reactions, she sighs and backpedals. “Should we just write ‘SOS’ on the curtains and call it good?”

“Yeah, I think that’d be best,” Hyo-Ryung agrees.

Beside her, Nam-Ra addresses no one in particular. “Three minutes of no oxygen, three days of no water, and three weeks of no food.”

“What’s that?” Su-Hyeok inquires.

“All of what she listed is the 333 rule of survival, or the Rule of Threes for how long a person can last,” you answer. “There’s also three hours without shelter, but fortunately we don’t have to worry about that right now.”

“Only a day has passed. We have to try the best we can,” On-Jo tells Nam-Ra, ever the optimistic and encouraging one.

“After today, we’ll show signs of dehydration, and by tomorrow, we won’t be able to move. It’s going to catch up to us.” Nam-Ra plays with her fingers, speaking in a monotone voice, much like an informative video.

“What do you mean?” On-Jo’s voice is even. “Are you saying we should leave to have a chance at survival, or are you saying that we shouldn’t bother since we’ll die anyway?”

“I actually don’t know my answer to that.” Nam-Ra turns away.

“Don’t bring it up in the first place, then,” Ji-Min cuts in.

Maybe you’re tired of the circumstances, but Ji-Min’s confrontational nature is starting to get on your nerves.

“I think Prez means we should consider all of our options, right?” Su-Hyeok asks, but is uncertain, turning to look at you for support.

“No.”

You hold back a laugh at Nam-Ra’s frank response.

“No?”

“I’m just saying we know nothing. If we were aware of what’s going on, we can think better and make more concrete plans than to simply wait…”

“What do you mean by that?” Ji-Min’s tone is less rude than before, but confused nonetheless.

“What she means—” Su-Hyeok begins but Ji-Min interrupts him.

“You don’t understand her either.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” Su-Hyeok concedes, a spaced-out look on his face.

“Are you suggesting for us to grasp the situation before taking action?” Cheong-San summarizes.

Nam-Ra looks pleasantly surprised. “Yeah, something along those lines.”

“I’ve been thinking in the same direction. We need to gather more information so we can decide whether to wait, run, or leave altogether.”

“How?” Dae-Su turns his attention toward Cheong-San. “What if we do all three of those things at once and kill three birds with one stone?”

“Dae-Su, no. Just no,” Joon-Yeong pats him on the shoulder pitifully. “There’s so many things wrong with that sentence.”

“What? Is it another animal in that idiom?” Dae-Su scratches his head.

“Never mind,” Joon-Yeong deadpans. “Forget I said anything.”

“We can go online if we get a hold of a phone.”

“Good idea, Cheong-San, but we don’t have one in here,” Su-Hyeok reminds.

Cheong-San nods. “I’m mindful of that. We can try the staff office.” He gets up and climbs onto the window ledge without hesitation, looking down and about.

“Yah! Lee Cheong-San!” On-Jo berates, trying to drag him back into the room by yanking on his arm not presently clinging to the window frame. “Why are you always so stubborn?”

“It’s just two rooms across and one floor down.”

“Don’t go,” On-Jo implores.

“I’ll come back if I can’t make it all the way, don’t worry.” Cheong-San gently removes her hold on him.

“Who said I was worried?” On-Jo defends as you walk over to where the two are. “I’m only angry.”

“Of course, why would you ever be concerned about me?” With that, Cheong-San turns away and you look at On-Jo, seeing the despondent look on her face.

“Move over,” you say to Cheong-San, as you clamber up beside him. “I’m coming with.” On-Jo’s jaw drops at your decision, but you shake your head at her and she can only sigh.

Cheong-San is about to step onto the next ledge over, only to stop and convince you out if it. Seeing the look on your face though, he knows there’s no point in arguing. “What’d I say about us being too stubborn for our own good?”

Momentarily speechless, On-Jo pulls herself together. “You guys really are like siblings. I can’t believe this,” she mumbles endearingly.

“When did you ever say that?” You tease, even though you can recall the last time he said it. “You need some brain power, anyway.” On-Jo snorts at that, but doesn’t tell Cheong-San otherwise.

“Shush,” Cheong-San rebukes, not denying it either, despite knowing you’re joking. “Either hurry up or stay here.”

“See you later, On-Jo.” Without another word, you follow after Cheong-San, Su-Hyeok protesting still in the background.

“Aish. Those two will be the death of me.” Su-Hyeok swings his blazer around and sticks his arms through the garment quickly. “Damn it, I’ll be back with them soon.”

When you look back again, On-Jo has her head sticking out the window as far as it will go, watching, and suddenly, Su-Hyeok is also teetering on the edge with you and Cheong-San.

“Woah, what a man of loyalty Bare-Su is!” Dae-Su exclaims reverently from the classroom.

“Keeping you safe is an extreme job.” He reaches out and holds an arm behind you, in case you fall out of balance. “You never make it easy, do you?” There’s no real anger behind his words, just fond exasperation.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You keep moving to the right, keeping in time with Cheong-San’s steps.

“I wouldn’t call this fun.” Cheong-San’s fingers are gripping the wall, trying to stay pressed up against it as close as possible.

“And yet you volunteered yourself, idiot.”

“So did you. If this is what it’s like having a little sister, I’m glad I don’t actually have one,” Cheong-San sticks his tongue out at you, and you roll your eyes. “Also, Su-Hyeok, why do you keep following me?”

“Who else do you have?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be in the middle,” you laugh seeing Cheong-San smile at Su-Hyeok.

Shortly after a lot of struggling, many more steps, and scaling the wall down on a pipeline, Cheong-San is finally able to peer into the open window of the teacher’s office. His quick movement backward leaves you and Su-Hyeok confused.

“Can we go in?” Su-Hyeok tries to look past, but he’s too far away. Cheong-San shakes his head. “Come back, then.”

“What now?”

“We can hang by our hands and go in that way,” Su-Hyeok suggests, but thinks better of it when he looks at you.

“I’ll manage.” It might be too far of a stretch for your legs to reach compared to the boys’ extra height, but there’s no harm in trying.

“No, I mean, Chae-Wol.” Cheong-San looks almost embarrassed to ask. “I overheard On-Jo telling you she has someone she likes.”

Su-Hyeok reaches over you and shoves Cheong-San, who barely hangs on. “Is that really important right now?”

“I’m just curious is all.”

You smirk. “Sorry, girl’s code.” Your back is pressed against the wall so you reach over and poke Cheong-San in the stomach humorously. “Who else do you need when you have Su-Hyeok?” You drawl, and he slaps your hand away lightly.

“Yah!”

You giggle but whisper back to him. “Just tell her. If not now, when?”

“Later, or tomorrow, or never, maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want to ruin anything.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s creeping closer to the window, back to being serious.

“See anything?” Su-Hyeok is leaning in next to you on one side of the conduit while Cheong-San is on the other, scanning the room. You and Su-Hyeok climb over when Cheong-San doesn’t elaborate. If the situation were different, it would be entirely comical with how the three of you are sandwiched together spying on zombies.

“Shit,” you hear Su-Hyeok curse as the creatures spot you all outside the window.

By a stroke of luck, the office door is thrown open with so much force, the framed certificates rattle on the wall. Some fall off from being shaken too hard, drawing the attention of all the zombies. With them distracted, Cheong-San, you, and Su-Hyeok nimbly jump through the open window and drop to the floor, whispering in hushed tones.

“What’s that?” There’s a loud crushing sound nearby, almost as if someone was repeatedly smashing an object.

“Not sure, but let’s find out.” Cheong-San starts crawling on all-fours and you follow, appreciative for the uniforms having built in shorts, otherwise all the climbing and running up until now would have been a problem.

From underneath a large oak desk that’s sizeable enough to conceal you all, you can see someone’s shoes. You drag your eyes up and confirm they belong to Eun-Ji, who appears more than worse for wear, breaking phones madly.

“I’ll destroy them all!” She screams, and you’re not sure if she’s talking about the phones or whether she’s still hung up over the bullies you and Su-Hyeok saved her from the day before.

“What the hell.” Su-Hyeok pulls you closer so you’re more shielded by the desk.

A phone slides across the floor, having somehow escaped from Eun-Ji’s wrath and Cheong-San stretches his arm as far as it will go to grab it. There’s a second of silence as you all realize Eun-Ji has spotted the movement. A brief flash of recognition passes across her features as she meets your eyes, but it soon disappears when she zeroes in on the metal device gripped in Cheong-San’s hand.

“I’ll kill you! Give it back to me, you fucker!”

This Eun-Ji is so vastly different from the one you knew of before that it gives you whiplash. When she lunges at Cheong-San, Su-Hyeok grabs her and throws her into the row of cabinets that line the far wall, her body hitting it with a loud thud. With how much ruckus you’re all making, it’s no surprise the zombies are drawn back into the room.

“Damn it!” Cheong-San ducks to the right, and you dodge to the left, avoiding zombies from every direction.

“Chae-Wol! Cheong-San!” Su-Hyeok is flinging zombies aside, but a group of them drives him back out the window, balancing precariously on the ledge to avoid gnawing teeth.

You slide under another table only to jump up on the other side as Cheong-San tries to make use of metal folding chairs as a barricade. By the time Cheong-San crawls over next to you, Su-Hyeok is attempting to enter the office again to bring the two of you to safety. The zombies by his feet are making that mission near impossible.

Cheong-San grabs your hand in one of his, and bends down to pick up the phone he dropped by his feet just minutes ago in the other. “Su-Hyeok! Just go! We’ll catch up later! I’ll guard her, I promise!”

Su-Hyeok catches your eyes as the three of you get separated further and further. “Fuck! Not again!”

“Go!” You shout at Su-Hyeok as Cheong-San pulls you along, kicking the door shut behind to keep the zombies closed in the room.

It’s quite hard to keep up with Cheong-San when his strides are bigger and longer than yours, but you try your best to keep pace with him. You’re running blindly with your hand tightly clasped in his as the two of you rush outside. The brick wall that looms in the distance is way too high, almost like a dead end, zombies advancing from all sides.

“In!” Cheong-San ushers you forward, and never in your life have you jumped so fast through a window. He follows suit, and once again grabs your hand as you dash down the ground floor hallway.

The very first classroom that you both see, you throw open the door and Cheong-San all but slams his body against it from the inside, clicking the lock shut. You’re trying to slow your breathing and heart rate with your face against the door as Cheong-San sags behind you. When the two of you look back, your eyes widen at the sight of Gwi-Nam holding the principal hostage, shoving his face down hard into the coffee table smack dab in the middle of the room.

Gwi-Nam doesn’t see you at first since you’re covered behind Cheong-San’s form, but as the latter moves to the side, Gwi-Nam’s just as stunned, if not more, at your presence.

“Sir?” Cheong-San still addresses politely.

“What are you two doing?! Remove this psycho off of me!”

You’re in shock to say the least. So, your group didn’t include all the survivors left in this school after all.

“Yoon Gwi-Nam…”

“Cheong-San, come here and tie his arms for me. He won’t stay still.” When the principle makes to complain again, Gwi-Nam only slams his head harder against the table’s surface.

“You’re finished, you hear me?! Expelled! Untie me right now!”

You gasp as Gwi-Nam doesn’t hesitate to press the blade of a knife against the principal’s throat, pointing menacingly and with purpose.

“Wait! Don’t!” You exclaim at the same time Cheong-San yells out the bully’s name.

“Why not? This bastard tried to kill me.” Gwi-Nam scoffs. “He told me to bring his car around. What am I? A chauffeur or bait?” Reiterating the request gets him riled up once more, and the knife draws ever closer to the principal’s neck.

A chime has you looking away and toward Cheong-San who has pulled out the phone he grabbed earlier to record. “What are you doing! Put that away!” You whisper-yell. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Yes! Good job!” The principal praises, much too excited for his current predicament.

“I’m filming everything, so either you let him go, or I’ll send this as evidence to the police.”

“I’m going to kill you!” Gwi-Nam’s words echo like Eun-Ji’s and it twists your stomach with dread, because while hers were all bark and no bite, you know he would follow through with his intent. A repeat of earlier was not what you were after, especially if another separation ensues.

“Stop acting like human trash for once.”

“Cheong-San!” You warn, trying to stop him from getting footage, but he directs his arms away from you, not listening.

“No one respects you because you act all tough,” Cheong-San spits out.

“I rule this school now, don’t you get it?” Gwi-Nam swings his bloody knife reflexively.

“My ass.” Cheong-San rolls his eyes. “Like hell you are. You’re nothing but a loser scumbag who will spend his entire life being the bullies’ dog.”

Gwi-Nam grits his teeth. “Say that again!”

Without waiting for a response, he slits the principal’s neck as the older man tries to get up. You can only stare in horror as a torrent of blood gushes from the cut, rapidly staining the carpet below.

“Fuck you.” Gwi-Nam swipes the blade on his white button down, painting it red. “Do I still seem like a loser now?” He steps threateningly closer. “Whoever doesn’t listen to me, dies. Now give me the damn phone.”

“You just killed—” Cheong-San splutters.

“Hand it over!”

As Gwi-Nam is about to charge at Cheong-San, you throw your body in between them, and it makes Gwi-Nam halt. How that’s effective, you’ll never know.

“Over my dead body!” Cheong-San’s taunting fuels Gwi-Nam to toss you aside and you hit the wall hard, but not enough to cause injury.

“That can be arranged!” Gwi-Nam snarls.

You’re trying to get your bearings again when bile rises in your throat at the sight of Cheong-San almost getting stabbed. From your angle, it looks as though he did.

Gifted with agility, he sidesteps, and Gwi-Nam only manages to butcher the door. However, the victory is short-lived as he turns around and lands a harsh kick to Cheong-San’s stomach, sending him to the floor with a groan. The phone glides across the floor in your direction and you grab it hastily, swinging the door open again. Cheong-San somehow managed to tackle Gwi-Nam in the meantime and runs out with you.

Gwi-Nam gives chase soon after, and you see him launch his knife through the air as a last resort. You don’t have time to give Cheong-San a warning, opting to block his back without thinking.

You flinch and hold back a yelp as the flying object hits your shoulder blade and cuts through skin before ricocheting to the floor, but you don’t stop running, not daring to look back or assess the damage done.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟦 | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟨

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐱’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

[five-rivers]

Your decapitated short was great! Now I’m imagining Danny trying to communicate increasingly absurd explanations in spite of being temporarily mute, through increasingly roundabout methods.

Sequel to this.

.

“Run that by us again,” said Tucker.  

Danny’s core whined in frustration as he prepared to go through the whole, stupid charade.  Again.  

First, he pointed at his ruined bandages.  

“Do you want us to help you with those?” asked Sam, concerned. 

Danny made a slashing gesture through the air, since shaking his head was currently a no-go.  

“Karate?” suggested Tucker.  

Danny clicked his tongue and pretended to wash his hands.

"You're anxious?"

Danny glared and crossed his arms that would hopefully be more understandable as a ‘no.’

"Dissapointed parents?"

Apparently not.

He mimed writing. Again. The first time was what had gotten him into this charade mess, but maybe Sam could help now that she was here.

"A perscription?"

"He's asking for something to write on, you weirdo. I'm sorry, Danny. I left my backpack back in the classroom, and I think Tucker's PDA got fried by Technus."

Of course. Danny couldn't help the way his face crumpled.

"Hey, it's okay. We can work this out."

"Yeah," said Tucker. "Just start from the top."

Fine. Danny gestured over his shoulder.

"Throw it out?" guessed Tucker.

"Back? Back there?"

Danny pointed at Sam and kept going, trying to act out the incident.

"Okay, yeah, you've lost me. What was this?" She inexpertly tried to replicate the outline of Dash he'd made with his hands.

That was it. After this, he was going to learn sign language, even if it double (triple?) killed him.

But for now...

Danny grabbed Tucker's wrist and tugged him down the hallway to the bathroom and threw open the door.

Tucker squeaked. "Why didn't you tell us Dash was passed out in the bathr- Oh. Yeah."

.

Following the Dash-passed-out-in-the-bathroom incident, Jazz and his friends more or less bullied Danny into letting them take care of smaller ghosts.

Of course, Danny was still the only one who could detect ghosts. (No, the Fenton Finder, which even now only found him, Danny Fenton, with any consistency did not count, Jazz.)

He jogged up to Jazz and tugged on her sleeve. She turned away from the poster she was tacking to the bulletin board.

"What is it?"

Danny made 'spooky' hands.

"Jazz hands? Sparkles?"

Why did everyone suck at charades so much? He glared.

"Oh! A ghost. Where? What kind?"

He brought up his hands and made a twisting motion.

"They tried to strangle you! That's terrible. Where is it?"

That's what Danny was trying to tell her. He made the twisting motion again, then pointed to the front of the school.

"Wait... it's on the road?"

Not exactly, but close enough. He held up eight fingers.

"Eight ghosts on the road? I'm not my way!"

Danny refrained from sighing.

Later, when Danny saw Jazz again, she patted him on the shoulder and said, very seriously, "I think you should carry around a pad of paper from now on. I did not get 'Mr. Lancer's car is infested with ectopi' from that."

.

Danny rushed into Sam's room, phasing through the wall and started flailing his hands. She, surprised, pulled off her headphones.

"You're so lucky I'm already dressed and you're already dead... wait, slow down, jeez, I can't make out anything, unless you're trying to tell me everything is on fire."

Beyond exasperated, Danny picked up Sam and phased her through the roof.

"OH MY GOD, EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE."

.

"This video is part of a series on sign language! Today's video is about finger spelling! Follow along with me as we go through the alphabet!"