#and it spawned this big old brain dump. but here you go i think this is important beyond just 'mind the line between ic/ooc'

[noir-drabbles]

Drafts 1

Summary: Just an unfinished solo writing thing while playing Iron Valley. Basically it was just me testing out what it is I wanted, trying to create my own setting and characters, but then my brain got bored of it. So, I figured I may as well dump it here.

(I said I was going to start dumping my drafts here and I am going to commit to it. Drafts will be half actual prose writing and rambles on the side because I want people to enjoy the ideas and characters I have in my head. Hope this is fun!)

(Oh yeah, here's the link to the game I was playing. Lot of reading but it's easy to start and understand. Really does test out one's creative muscles.)

Today’s Spring pick for the Luminariae Post is as follows:

When a new branch grows, I always worry for what it may carry. The bark upon the trunk is many years old and yet it still insists on growing new leaves, new buds, and new fruits. A large and wise old tree, and yet it didn’t know age. It didn’t know where it should draw its limits. It simply grew and produced, as it always has, even when the threat of disease was always there.

But I’m not scornful. I’ll simply grab my polished clippers and snap off whatever rot has caught onto the leaves, onto the branches. I’ll eat the fruit it gives me, and carve a flute out of the wood I snipped off.

I’ve been there when you were young, when each new leaf would make me dance in the mud because I keep forgetting not to over water you. When your fruits would spawn out of seemingly nowhere, like your love for the world could not be contained, so you had to give it back as much and as fast as you could.

You’ve long outgrown me. I can’t even climb up to the very top of you as I once used to with my own little sister. You could still support me, but the youth in your new branches are not what they used to be. And yet, you still try and grow just as much fruit as you can, even when it’s no longer anything anyone can eat.

You’re just an old fool. You and I are two of a kind. And that it why you will always be one of my dearest friends.

And every day, I thank you for being who you are.

– Carmen

Heyo, author Noir here. So, the idea I had for this little segment is that every start of the new season, the Luminariae Post would post a submission that was sent to them by one of the residents in this small town of Arbor Hills. Typically they pick submissions that have something to do with the current season, or just a general connection to nature that can be connected to said season. It's also meant for the regular folk to take a peek into a small part of that resident that wrote the piece. Just fluff writing things.

Oh, and Carmen is a big ol dragon man, the one that basically provides the Reader with a house and a job, a nice bouncing point since the Reader starts off with literally nothing, not even clothes. He's a nice man, good roommate and clearly misses having other people live in his house. There's this big tree that the whole town pays their respects towards because of the sheer size and reach of its roots. In fact, most of the plants and trees you find often end up connecting their roots to that big tree, as it provides nutrients to said plants, leading to them weathering even the toughest of disasters. Rumor has it that Carmen was the one that planted that tree when it was a sapling, but that's just a rumor.

Spring 2

Time: [0/4]

| Forecast: Sunny | Luck: Neutral | Lucky Color: Lemon |

“Did you hear? Apparently our dear local baker has been in need of a new recipe to put as a potential special.”

“Oh? Which one? Is it that sweetie Ivory or that nutty Obsidian?”

“Don’t be mean Martha. But it is nutty Obsidian. Apparently he’s going a little crazy from lack of inspiration and just wants something new to really make his day pop from grays to happy pinks.”

“Hehehe, well in that case, you think he’ll want to try out some of my homemade cookies? Maybe that’ll perk him right up and get his head out of the pizza oven ashes?”

“Bleh, if you want to kill him… But yes, let’s. I’ll be the merciful one and bring him some of my delicious tea.”

“Let’s poison him together, Lily.”

The idea I had here is basically a cutscene being played out every day, where a couple of characters do something or have a conversation that implies a very long request. The town bulletin is still a thing, but those quests will end up being pretty short. The short requests do change often, I'd say once every two days, while the longer requests are more persistent, changing once every five days. Obsidian is basically this mad scientist-like baker that loves to go crazy with the designs and flavors of his baked goods. And, well, he's prone to losing inspiration and just wants something to get that flow going. He's a pretty intense cosmic star dude, the kind of energy that easy to be overwhelmed with. He has a sister named Ivory who helps out in the bakery, but is mostly found working with wood as the local carpenter. She's not gentle, she has that quiet intensity about her, and is just as wacky with her woods craft. She will get the request done, and will probably add some else to it. A weird feature that you probably won't notice until you accidentally activate it. Like a table that can convert itself into a suit of wood armor. You never know with these two.

Oh, and I have no clue who Martha and Lily are. Just that they're best friends who love to gossip, and were once very competitive rivals in school before someone tried to accuse them of cheating so they'd be unable to participate in theater. Yeah, those two were theater kids, and their rivalry, for the most part, was a fun exaggerated thing on their part that got a liiiiittle too real, but they're good now. They're middle-aged and married to their respective spouses.

“You doing alright?”

You snapped out of your reverie by a rumbling voice that’s not quite meant to overpower the general noise, so much as it should rumble underneath one’s feet.

You didn’t look at Carmen. You looked at his horns instead, all scratched up and chipped at in all their ridged and curling glory. It’s hard to look at him in the eyes. They aren’t particularly piercing, they’re just filled with a love for the world around him. A gentle and boundless love that he’s willing to share with you, a fellow roommate but a stranger still.

It’s… a lot. Too much. But it’s fine. He’s good and nice. He makes you all those warm and filling meals, and lets you take up a room in his house. You had nowhere else to go, but he gave you a hand anyway.

So, are you doing alright? He did ask.

You hummed out a yes. Because words would be too much in all this noise. The sensation of your throat rumbling, of moving your lips and making a conscious effort not to stutter. You’re already a little on edge as is.

“Hmm,” he copied your tone, though you didn’t know if that meant he believed you or not, “I know there’s a lot of little noises, but a small outing like this is good. It is something to get used to, that’s for certain.”

It’s… yeah, he’s right. It is a lot. Carmen’s farm isn’t exactly all the quiet either, with all the cows, chickens and bees he has, but there’s a different quality to the noise of people. It’s a… a rhythm, of sorts. The livestock back home are always keeping out a listening ear to the nature around them, so their own noises follow that beat, usually. But people… don’t really care, nor can they truly listen.

The rhythm isn’t bad, in the sense that it’s wrong and that people should pay more attention. It’s just… different. Absorbed in their own little pocket of time. And those pockets just, overlap in your ears.

You’ll probably get used to it, in the same way you got used to Carmen when you first woke up to his face looming right over under the arbor. It was an adjustment. The man’s over seven feet tall with a broad frame to fit, built over the years from heavy farm work. But, you suppose that’s the average height of all dragons. Well, his specific branch of dragon anyway. You don’t know any other dragon.

You nodded and let your eyes wander over the sparse crowd around you, to the area you’re both sitting on a bench in.

The village’s center, built around a pretty fountain that’s filled with little seashells, all in various pastel colors of white, blue and pink. One little kid in white sandals had to lay her belly on the ledge of the fountain just to reach in and drop her shell. Her little transparent wings fluttered with her excitement, dropping flecks of pink dust here and there.

A water spout spat right up her nose and the little fairy girl snorted then gave a big powerful sneeze. She launched herself right into the air. Luckily, before you or Carmen could rush right over, her father was right there to catch her.

Chuckling, her fairy father said, “I got a precious gift from the heavens!”

“No!” She yelled, raising her arms high like claws, “I am your worst nightmare! I eat your dreams and your banana splits!”

He gasped, “A monster! Oh no!”

She kicked her feet and lost a sandal in her giggles.

You jumped when Carmen gave chuckles of his own. The sheer volume of his voice never ceases to surprise you, that his happiness can be something so… loud? Strong? It’s solid. Which is kind of dumb now that you think about it. You’ve seen him lift an entire tree trunk with his arms and shoulder alone. It shouldn’t be shocking at all to find that his laugh has just as much power behind it.

But it is, because he would always bend down just so people could hear him. He didn’t like raising his voice just as much as he hated going into the details of his private life.

And with a flinch, Carmen realized as much. He looked to the side, scratched the back of his neck, and sighed out, “Sorry.”

Did you look bug-eyed? You probably did.

You shook your head at Carmen. He doesn’t need to apologize to you. It’s not his fault that you’re easily startled. Besides, he’s the one going out of his way to get you situated in this place. He didn’t have to do it, but he did anyway.

He nodded to you then hovered a hand right over your shoulder. He stopped, waited, and when you shifted closer, he patted you. The weight and strength of his bones alone almost made your joint creak.

“I’ll be going on ahead. I need to buy some things for the gardening day this week.” Carmen reached into his pocket and took out a few notes that you don’t really need. He pays you plenty for your services, but saying no to him–especially when he wants to spoil or be nice–just leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He stuffed them in your hands. “Go around, explore. Or relax by the community garden if you’d like. I’ll be by Peach’s place for the most part. I won’t go home unless you want to, okay?”

Ah, here it is, the big send off. You can’t really complain since you asked for this kind of time for yourself, but augh… It’s difficult all the same. You’ve been here for the better part of one year and you’ve yet to make a single friend. You haven’t really been trying, to be perfectly honest. Whenever you go out into the village on your moped, you’re strictly in working mode, schedule and time all planned out. Whenever people would try and talk to you during those hours, you get antsy and anxious.

You hate being off schedule. On top of that, if you weren’t working, you were around Carmen all the time. He’s a friendly and well known face. It’s only natural for people to gravitate towards him rather than you, especially when you would rather hide in his shadow than look at anyone.

You weren’t trying to make friends. Everything was just too unfamiliar for you to do that, or even think of it. And nobody pushed you to do that. In a way, you’re grateful for that, that the people here left you alone for the most part. A nice respect of your time and attention. They made attempts to talk to you, certainly, but that was about where the pushiness ended.

And, now, you’re calmer-ish. You can take the time and try.

You can go anywhere and make a friend.

…

Augh, you still can’t talk. Words just really don’t want to come out.

Well, baby steps, baby steps.

Carmen has since left you to yourself, with money in your hands. A nice sizable amount. Can’t buy a microwave with it, but you can grab a while feast of pastries if you wanted to.

…you know what? That sounds like a good idea. Having something to munch on while trying to make a friend would help calm you down some. Besides, a lot of people frequent the bakery. Surely you’ll be able to find someone who wants to befriend you.

That and you’ve heard of the gossip between those two women over there. Apparently the local baker needs some help. You don’t have any ideas, but maybe you’ll come up with something by the time you get there?

The crowd didn’t really get any thinner as you walked down the white stone path. Lots of people were gathered in small packs, but they were polite enough to shift slightly out of your way. You followed the scent of bread and soon enough found yourself inside the cozy atmosphere of a bakery.

Honestly, it seemed more like a home than it did a bakery, which makes sense since it looked like a store/home hybrid from the outside. But, rather than a home that seeks to hide emptiness with store bought furniture the owner vaguely likes, each table, chair and even the frame of the mirrors in this place were clearly handmade.

It was small though, and all the furniture had people either gathering or sitting on it. There wasn’t anywhere you could just pick and sit down for an hour or two while you mindlessly pick at your pastry and watch the people go by.

A healthy routine makes for a good base for potential friendships. At least that’s how Carmen puts it. You’re not sure if it’s true, but you may as well try, right?

You walk to the back of the line and wait. At the front, behind the register was someone that you can only describe as a galactic black hole. The white light that makes up what you think is hair slowly swirls around in a clock-wise motion, collecting light like a vent does smoke as it slowly gathers in some dark center you can’t make out. The white light hair fades into a dark shadow dappled with white little star pinpricks, doing nothing to to take away from the bright eyes that look around this way and that.

This person had no mouth to speak of as he nodded and packaged a new box of pan dulce. It’s interesting to you, watching the way their body never quite stabilized into something truly solid, but it was enough for his clothes to hang on. He didn’t have a uniform, it was just a set of comfy billowing clothes that had little tears and big patches over what was probably holes.

His form stretched up, bending in ways a shadow would as he gave the box to the person waiting in line.

“You wanted a surprise and a surprise is what you’ll get!”

Aaaand this is where I lost my steam, and I had a pretty good pace going too.

Reader is basically this dryad person that was born from the big tree(of which I have yet to name, eh) and as such, has little to no knowledge of many things beyond the general basics. Socializing is obviously not their thing. Many of the towns people just think they're a traveler from afar that suffers from amnesia, but since nobody witnesses the Reader coming out of the tree, it can't really be disputed that they're not a traveler.

There's a biblically accurate angel just, hanging out in Arbor Hills. He's the current master carpenter and boss of Ivory. He spends most of his time sleeping, and in the rare times one manages to make a request to him, you can be sure that whatever furniture he makes will never break, and will even have a little buff to them.

The angel's name is Peach, because someone called him "an absolute peach." With the last name Angel for the sake of simplicity. No matter how you poke and prod at him, you can't get details about his past, you'll just get references about how empty of an existence he was living before coming here. Now he can dream all he likes.

There's a tradition at the start of a new year to share stories you may have or have written. Arbor Hills is all about communal story crafting, so often the whole town will come together to either craft a new fairy tale, or add on to another existing tale. The only rule is that it has to have at least one true event in there, or be based on a true event. So you could have witnessed a bug trip over grass and flip itself over and craft a tale about a malicious weed that seeks to grow and prank all the bugs that nipped at it. That kind of thing. So, one of the Promises is to get ideas and make a story before Spring 1 rolls around. There are usually two groups, one group that's full of people that have written their stories on their own, and the other group that shares their ideas for a group story making session. Perfection is not expected. Just have fun. And if you don't want to make a story, just be a listening ear.

There's also another tradition where, after reaching a certain age, kiddos go to the community garden to pick out a seed they like and plant it somewhere in the town. This tradition does stretch out beyond just for the kids, you can do this as a new adult, or when you reach a huge milestone in your life. Don't worry about having to take incredible care of it, these seeds are magical and are often deeply connected to you. They grow as you grow, and if they get sick, you can be assured that they'll be taken care of by the garden spirits of the forest.

There aren't many dragons to be found. There be different types of dragons, but their lifespan varies quite a bit between them.

Same for the dryad. There's nobody else quite like you, and if there is, they're usually no bigger than the size of your palm. Tiny, squeaky things.

I know I have more things sitting in the brain, but I need to prodded at to really remember. So, if you want to poke at my brain, be my guest!

[ilovebeing-weird]

K-pop craze

Batfamily one-shot (fluff)

Read this on Ao3

It all started when Dick heard Blackpink for the first time. Ever since then he's been obsessed with the K-pop group. And the main problem? The main problem is that Dick dragged Damian into the fandom too!

Now you must be wondering, 'what do you mean? It's Damian, the Ice-prince, he can't like Blackpink. He is just too…...icy for it'

If it would've been some months ago, I would've totally agreed with you. But, now, things are kinda different. Different? How? Don't worry all of your questions will be answered.

It was a normal morning in the manor…… well as normal as it could be there. Damian was fighting with Tim, nothing new there, Jason was… he wasn't there. Cass was looking at the two boys with interest. Bruce had that, 'Why did I adopt so many children? Oh right, because I am dumb' look on his face and was pinching the bridge of his nose. Alfred, who was so done, was trying to stop them from fighting. And Dick, Oh right, where was he?

That's when he came down the stairs chirpy and happy as always, with, wait is that earphones? When did he start using those? Well, living in the manor, you gotta use something to cut the noise.

He came down saying something that Bruce couldn't quite make out. Wait, why was he saying about killing Love? Did he have another Break-up Bruce didn't know about?

"Good morning Dick" that caught his attention

"Oh, good morning Bruce!" He replied happily and chirpy, nothing seemed wrong. Why was he killing Love then?

"So, how has your life been chum?" How is life? Can he be more lame than that? It's his own son goddammit! He has been living with him for years now. Even Tim and Damian stopped fighting to see how lame he was.

"Life's been pretty good."

"Anything new I don't know about? Like something major? A break-up maybe?" What the hell! Now, he would guess something is definitely wrong, and if he didn't, he would be damn disappointed in him.

Dick's brows furrowed in confusion and he looked at him weird-that's his boy-but answered anyway, "not really, Wally and I have been going pretty strong. I am even thinking of proposing to him."

He couldn't hold it longer, he just asked the question "so, why are you singing about killing this love?" There, he said it.

"Killing this Love?..... Ohhhh, I am not killing Love because I am upset or betrayed, I am just listening to Blackpink. It's a great k-pop group!"

"K-pop? What's that?"

"Bruce, you don't know what k-pop is?" This time it was Tim "I mean I get you're old and all. But k-pop, everyone knows about that!" Cass agreed with him. "Now I understand where Damian gets his sense of music!" Damian attacked him again.

Is this k-pop thing such a big deal? Why hadn't he heard about it before? How dare he call him old? Is he really getting old?

"Oh B, you really need to be aware about what's happening nowadays."

"Well, what is this k-pop."

"K-pop are korean songs, and groups like Blackpink and BTS made it famous."

"What's this BTS now?"

"Nothing, Nothing." The rest of the morning went peaceful with Tim with a stab wound made with a fork on his arm, and Damian with a bruised lower jaw and swollen eye.

"Damian~"

"What do you want Grayson?" Damian asked annoyed

"Wanna listen to some songs~"

"-TT- Is this your stupid Black group that you were talking about? No."

"First of all its Blackpink, secondly pleeease." Dick gave his best puppy eyes.

Damian groaned, no one and he means, NO ONE is immune to Dick's puppy eyes, and the worst part, Dick knows it. "Fine, but Grayson I am going to listen to just one of those atrocious songs."

"Yayy!" Dick squealed like a fangirl. "You won't regret it!"

"I will." Damian grumbled, after all his and Dick's choice in song never matched.

So Damian listened to the song. And, the worst thing, he liked it. How could he!? He's Damian Al-ghul Wayne. He doesn't like these types of songs. There must be something wrong with him. Yet, he found himself sometimes unintentionally singing the lyrics of the song.

He decided just, just to get the song out, he will listen to it again. And he did, but unfortunately the song still stayed and he couldn't get himself to forget it. Rather, he wanted to hear it again.

So, he decided that he will listen to that song, in private without telling his brothers or his father. But, he forgot that his family is full of detectives, or just decided to ignore that fact.

It was one of those rare days when Jason was visiting the manor. Dick and Tim were whispering to each other.

"Hey Dickie-bird, Replacement. Whatcha whispering about?"

"Damian" Tim answered

"What did Demon-spawn do now?"

"He is behaving weird." Dick answered looking concerned

"More than usual you mean?" Dick just gave him a look

"It's like he is trying to hide something."

"Do you think he has a girlfriend?"

"Nah, who is her right mind would date him" Tim answered making a weird face

"Fair point."

"Well, anyway, we gotta figure out what he is hiding."

"Maybe it's just his hormones." Tim and Dick looked at Jason "What, he is a teenage boy, everyone has that stage."

"Uhh, let's just hope it's not that."

"Want me to investigate?"

"We shouldn't invade his privacy."

"Dickhead, you wanna know what he is doing or not?

"Yeah, but….."

"You wanna know right, so no buts!" Dick still felt like he should not do it. "See, take it like you're saving your little bro from danger. Maybe it's Talia again. Maybe he is a clone. Maybe he is doing something illegal. So don't worry and feel sad 'kay?"

"Okay."

So Jason searched, he searched his room, bathroom, under his bed just what was left was his closet, and he didn't want to open it. What? He respects people's privacy, he knows how bad he will feel if someone invaded his privacy. Still, he opened the door of his closet and what he found was something he will never forget.

That person is a Blackpink stan! The fuck! How does he even know what it is!? Is he finally growing up!?

Whatever if Damian thought it was good he had to give it a try. Maybe he will like it. Damian rarely thought anything was nice.

He didn't tell anyone what he found. He just told them to dump their concern out of the window and that he is totally not hiding anything.

So, Jason did, he gave it a try. And honestly, he thought it was adequate…… okay, find, he loved it! But, can you blame him? Dude, they are so amazing, their voices are so bold and so are their dances! He is in love with that band. He could listen to it for hours without getting bored.

Now, Dick was concerned, Damian was still hiding something. Yeah, he was hiding something, no matter what Jason says. And Jason was also acting weird, yeah, he didn't live with them in the manor, but he checks up on him regularly. What? You can't blame him for caring! And not only him, even Tim felt something was fishy.

So, he did what any big brother would do. He interrogated him.

"Okay Damian, you're hiding something. Don't try to deny it, I know you are."

"-TT- I am not hiding anything, Grayson. Now let me go!"

"No can do little D, you haven't answered my questions yet."

"I already told you I am not hiding anything! Don't you get it!?"

"Damian I am your big brother, I would know if you are hiding something."

"If my words are not comprehensible for your small brain, let me break it down. I. Am. Not. Hiding. ANYTHING."

Dick sighed "Guess I will have to use my special trick."

"What special trick?" Damian asks a little wary but doesn't let it show because emotions are a weakness and blah blah blah.

"I am going to give you a last chance if you can find out for yourself."

"My answer will not change. No matter how many times you ask me."

"Okay well, you forced me." Dick runs towards Damian ready in a stance "1, 2, 3 and here comes the tickle train!!" Damian tried to run away but Dick was faster and caught him and started to tickle him.

"Grayson…. let….. me…. go….. at…..once." Damian said between laughs

"What are you saying Lil'd, I can't understand you~"

"Grayson…. Leave me!!"

"Whaaaat?~" Dick has the audacity to look innocent, just you wait, there will be consequences for your little stunt and they would be bad. Damian just laughed and laughed trying to grab his dagger or anything that will get him rid of this, but Dick was smarter and already took all of his weapons, How and when? Only he knows that.

Bruce and Alfred passed the room and smiled seeing them behave like normal kids. They didn't know the truth.

"Grayson...... if you…..if you……. don't unhand….. me at onc……. once….. you'll…...you'll regret it!"

"Not until you tell me what you're hiding~"

"F….fine."

"Good." Dick got up from him but still kept a hold on him so he can't run away or try to hurt him. "So, you gonna tell me, whatcha hidin'?"

"I-I….." Damian started to think of an excuse that would let him free ".......do drugs."

"No you don't." Dick wasn't even shocked, if he was being honest he was expecting it.

"Fine….." Damian grumbled "You remember that pink group you told me about?" Damian's face was red with embarrassment

"Blackpink?" Damian nodded "yeah, what about them?"

"I-I…...listen…..to it." Damian was now fully red

"Oh my god! Dames I am soooooo proud of you." Dick kissed Damian's cheek. To which Damian responded by trying to hit him.

"-TT- if this news is known to anyone else, I am gonna kill you."

"You can trust me with your secret Li'l D. No one's gonna know it."

-TT-

Dick went to one of Jason's safe houses to tell him that yeah, Damian was indeed hiding something. That he was NOT paranoid or crazy.

When he went inside, instead of Jason's annoyed voice what greeted him was music blasting from speakers. And it was not any normal music, it was BLACKPINK, so Jason knew what was Damian hiding.

"Jase!"

The music stopped in an instant. Trying to keep his voice leveled, but failing miserably Jason answered him "Yeah, what do you want Dickhead?"

"Come out please."

"Co-coming." Coming out he was greeted by Dick standing on at the gate with his arms folded and feet tapping.

"So, you knew?"

"Uhhh, knew what?" Jason tried to keep his cool and tried not to show his emotions on his face. Honestly, he was not doing so well. Considering the fact that he worked with BATMAN you would think he would be better at this.

"That Damian was hiding something."

"Yeah?"

"Oh Little wing." Dick unfolded his hands and went towards Jason "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to make fun of him or me." Jason moved his face to the side.

"Look at me." Jason looked at Dick's eyes and what he saw was comfort. "Do you really think I would make fun of you or Damian just because you like Blackpink. Hell! I am the one who introduced Damian to it!"

Jason wasn't honestly surprised. Damain would never hear their songs by himself. Smiling Dick kissed his forehead, which was a little farther than he could reach so he had to stand on his tippy toes.

"I would never make fun of you just because you like something. Okay?" His eyes told him that he was stating the truth. Nodding he backed off

"Okay, now tell me why you're here." He tried to keep his image as the emotionless asshole. Which Dick knew he wasn't, because Dick knew how you're feeling always, but at least he tried.

"Uhhh…..I honestly forgot. Anyway, do you have something to eat?" Chattering they went towards the kitchen.

There was peace, and it felt good.

[mewnihistorian]

CCA S1E1

It was the middle of the night and Comet heard rustling down stairs. He grabbed his sword and walked downstairs. “Hello?” Comet said as he walked downstairs. He heard sloshing sounds and saw a cauldron in the fire place, with a tiny person stirring the pot. “No way... that looks like...” Comet said. The person turned around, the same person he’s seen in his dreams before. “What do you think Comet?” She said holding the wooden spoon. “More salt, less salt?” She said. Comet screamed as he put his hands on is cheeks. “AAAAHHHHH!” He screamed, then she had the spoon shoved in his mouth.

Comet woke up with his blanket in his mouth, he then spit it out. “What does that lady WANT?!” Ever since he turned 15 two months ago he’s been seeing images of that lady in his dreams, though that was the first time he saw her clearly. He saw it was morning and decided get ready for school. He put on his red jacket and picked up his shoes when he saw some kind of gunk on the bottom. “What the?” He said as he rubbed his finger on it. “I swear I’ve seen this before.” He then put on a different pair of shoes and headed down stairs. “For the love of-“ Marco stoped when he saw his son. “Corn.” He said. “Your sister ate the whole box again.“ “Um, it could be mom. She’s addicted to that cereal too.” Comet said, entering the kitchen, grabbing a waffle. "No. Oddly when your mother’s pregnant Sugar Seeds revolt her, it’s the only thing she won’t eat.” Marco explained. “Where are they anyway?" Comet asked. “Your sister’s in the living room and Star is in the bathroom.” Marco said. “She’s morning sick again?” Comet asked. “Oh yeah. With Angel not so much, but you... that’s how we learned... so much for the first three days we thought she had some soft of bug..” Marco chuckled. Star then came down stairs, moaning. “Morning all...” She said. “Wow mom, you look awful.” Angel said, popping her head over the couch. “Watch it...” Star said, looking at her daughter. “Bean juice please...” “Come on Star, you know it’s just called coffee, and you know you're not supposed to drink it while pregnant.” Marco said, moving the coffee cup away from Star. “Ugh! Fine...” Star said. “But I do have some good new about our baby, I know what it’s gonna be!” “Come on Star, that is ridiculous.” Marco said. “No it’s not!” Star rebuttaled. “What is mom talking about?” Angel asked, climbing on the back of the couch. “Back on Mewni mew-woman would have a dream that would tell them the gender of their baby, but that’s just an old wives tail.” Marco said. “Is not! I had a dream predicting this one was a girl” Star pointed at Angel “and this one was a boy.” Star pointed to her son. “All dreams have meanings Marco. You should know that.” Star winked at him. “Yeah... dreams have meaning...” Comet said, looking at his waffle. “Um Comet, is there something you want to tell me?” Star said, noticing her child’s face. “Um no. I’ve gotta get to school early!” Comet grabbed his bag and dashed out the door, forgetting his waffle. “Do we believe him?” Marco asked. “Absolutely... not.” Star said. “But if he’s hiding something he has a good reason. How bad could it be anyway?” “He’s our son. Think about it.” Marco said, grabbing the waffle. ……… Comet was walking in the locker area of Echo Creek Academy when he felt something tickling his left shoulder. Comet turned and saw nothing. “Boo!” Solaria said from Comet's right, making him jump. “Ha! You always fall for that!” She said, retracting her tail. “You know you only use that tail for pranks right?” Comet said, painting. “Yeah, and I love it!” She chuckled. Comet headed over to his locker when he was his ex, Rasticore Jr. standing by it. “Hey Rasticore.” Comet said. “Hey Comet.” He said, then handed him a silver spiked bracelet. “I found this at Rex's house. She said you left it after her party last month.” “Thanks. Wait, why did she never give it back?” Comet asked. “I don’t know. She's a Raptorix, they horde things.” Rasticore said. “Well thanks. Hey, were still on to see Eclipsa’s rock show next Saturday?” Comet asked, putting his bracelet away. “Of course!” Rasticore said. “Anyway, later man.” He said, throwing a peace out sign. Comet smiled and turned to see his Solaria smiling. “What?” “You two are so cute together, why did you break up?” She asked. “Because we didn’t make a great couple, okay? Seriously, it just didn’t work out between us. Nobody dumped anybody.” Comet said aggressively. “But we’re still friends.” “Hey, I’m not judging! I’m in love with the spawn of a homicidal genocidal psychopath! Specifically one who wants to kill my family most.” She said. “Yeah I guess so. I mean-“ “But I will judge you for dating Sol's sister. Seriously she tried to behead us all!” “Hey!” Comet said. “You met her too and you had no idea she was planning on axing us! So don’t judge me on her.” Comet then opened his locker. “Yeah, I guess she did seem normal. I mean she looked nothing her mother, but she shares the same beliefs as that fried chicken brained... sociopath!” Solaria ranted. Comet then closed his locker and saw Ashly on the other side. “Someone say fried chicken?” She asked. “We were talking about Mina Loveberry.” Solaria said. “Oh. Well if anyone wants any I have some.” Ashly said. She then pulled her hand from behind her back, revealing a meat leg, she then took a big bite out of it. “Wait, you have fried chicken, but you’re eating a megafowl leg?” Solaria said. “For breakfast?” Comet added. “Hey! Do you know how many calories I burn a day?” She then smacked them on the head with her megafowl leg. “Ow!” They both said. “I need to eat right.” She then took a bite out of her meat. “So why talk about Mina?” “Just talking about my ex.” Comet said. “Oh the one who tried to behead you?” Ashly asked. “Yeah, she definitely takes after her mother. You lucked out with Sol.” She said, pointing at Solaria. “Oh don’t I know it.” Solaria smiled. “What about you Ashly? Aren’t you dating someone from Silver Hill Prep?” Comet asked. “Oh I dumped him. He was a major jerk.” Ashly took another bite. “Wasn’t that like the second one this month?” Comet chucked. Ashly growled and devoured the rest of the meat and hit him on the head with the bone. “Ow!” He said, rubbing his head. Solaria chuckled. “You know you two would make a great couple!” Solaria said. “WHAT?!” They both said. “How could you think that?!” Comet said. “She just wacked me with a bone!” “I know but still, you two just seem like the kind of people who would click!” She giggled. “You two should just give it a chance!” “Solaria, are you sure your brain grew back when your body did after your last shrink?” Ashly said. “Relax guys I’m just joking. Mostly.” Solaria smiled. “Anyway, I’ve gotta met Sol before class. Later.” She then walked away. “Man, can you believe her?” Comet said. “Thinking we you be a couple...” He then put his hand on his stomach as it growled. “Sounds like you need some breakfast. I’d offer you the marrow, but it’s the best part.” Ashly dug around in her bag and pulled out a bag or ribs. “Oops, that my lunch.” She dug around some more and pulled out a bag of chicken patties. “Here.” She handed him a patty. “Thanks.” Comet took a bite of the patty. “I’ll see you later.” ……… It was afternoon and Comet was sitting on his bed listening to his Mirror Pod when he felt something sharp puncture on his leg. “What the-” He looked and saw it was Max. “Dude, what the corn wad?!” He said rubbing his leg. “Would you rather I lick your face?” Max smiled. “Anyway, it’s Friday night! Come on, let’s party!” “I don’t know Max, I just don’t really feel like it tonight. I didn’t sleep well last night...” Comet said. “Oh come on, it’ll be fun!” Max scrounged up next to him. “Come on!” “Max no...” Comet said, lying back down. “Fine. You leave me no choice.” Max said. He hovered over Comet’s desk, specifically his mirror phone. “Max...” Comet said. “Don’t you-” Max then touched his neck to the desk, and floated up with the mirror phone gone. “You’ll get it back after we go clubbing.” “You know your evil, right?” Comet said, sitting up. “Actually the correct term would be ‘devious’.” Max corrected. He then picked up a hat with his horn and tossed it at Comet. “Now geto you butt up and let’s go!!” It was midnight and Comet was heading back into his room, and planted his face on his bed, the light turned on and he growled. “Comet!” Star yelled. “Do you know how early it is? It’s Friday!” She said. “I just needed to come home. I didn’t sleep well last night.” Comet said. “I know.” She said, pulling off his hat. “I heard you screaming. I was already up because this one is already using my bladder like a squeeze toy.” She put her hand on her stomach. “If there’s something wrong, you can tell me.” Comet then stat up. “Fine. Do you regret destroying it? Magic I mean?” He asked. “Oh.” Star said. “Well, there are times I wish I could still narwhal blast. And maybe I was a little hasty, but I still stand by my decision to destroy the magic. Why?” “I don’t know, it’s just my dreams might have something to do with magic.” Comet said. “Maybe. Magic was a pretty big part of our family’s history, and your were raised in a time without magic. It’s only natural you would wonder about it.” Star said. “Yeah, I guess.” Comet said. “But are you sure you destroyed it all? I mean Toffee-“ “Toffee wasn’t four magical Butterflies.” Star said. “It’s gone Comet, all of it.” Star said, then got up. “Now I’ve gotta go pee again. Six more months of this and you’ll get a new brother.” “Which will make Angel the middle child, I heard they can be nasty.” Comet said, then chuckled. He took off his gloves and boots and just went to sleep in his clothes. ……… ……… ……… “....the bond...” A female voice said. Comet opened his eyes and saw nothing. He felt he was in some kind of liquid, and started moving around. “...sew the...” the voice said. Comet continued to looked and saw nothing. “...Cleave the...” ‘That sounds like the Whispering Spell.’ Comet though unable to open his mouth. He then saw a glow coming in from behind him. He turned and saw a small yellow flickering light, moving closer to him. “Start the magic.” It said clearly. Before he even realized it he was putting his hand out. He then grabbed it, and it burned. Comet screamed an bubbles flew out of his mouth. He then felt himself become weightless, and then he head was above whatever he was in. He took deep breaths realized where he was... the Pit. He swam to the edge and climbed out and spat out the goo. He turned and saw the remains of the old Britta's Tacos hut, where the old Earth Well was. “This wasn’t a dream.” He looked closer at the goop and realized it was the same as the stuff on his shoes earlier. “I must have come here... before...” Comet put his hands on his cheeks and started to panic. “I can’t tell mom and dad... or anyone...” As he pulled his hands away and the goo was removed from his cheeks, and slightest of glows was fading away. He then got up and ran off, not seeing a slight glow rising then fading away from the center of the Pit.

[a-copper-butterfly]

Should i continue this?

looks like i have bitten the bullet and have a sort of plan for the ineffable husbands raises Adam fic.

here is a bit, should i continue it?

Title: suggestions welcome

word count: 3991

When a snake regurgitates its food, its normally because it had been grabbed or handle soon after eating or is otherwise subjected to stress.

As Crowley knelt in damp grass on the bank beside the road, he wiped his mouth. The light from the Bentley’s open door revealing the grey sludge that was even now burning the grass. The small part of Crowley’s mind that wasn’t screaming in panic wondered when the last time he had eaten was. Without the help of the rest of his brain, he guessed around six years ago.

Pushing himself up onto wobbly legs, Crowley slid back into the driving seat, switched on the radio as he did so. As he pulled the car back onto the road, Crowley checked the rear-view mirror. The carry cot was still there. This was real.

“Shit, shit, shit, why me, why me?” he muttered to himself. The radio crackle,

“BECAUSE YOU EARNED IT CROWLEY” came the voice of Freddy Mercury.

“Fuck…” though Crowley.

Sister Annabelle Houghton was totally normal, much to the annoyances of her parents. They were traditional occultists who gave her supposedly cursed china dolls and pretty, frilly dresses in attempts to get her possessed. They had even moved at an old house which the nice estate agent had made very clear was the site of quite a few murders and ghost stories. It even had its own graveyard in the garden. Her swing was hung in an old knarred oak tree which legend had it was used as a hangman’s gibbet, but she never used it. When Annabelle eventually grew up, her parents had lamented and had sent her off to the Sisterhood of Chattering Nuns of St Beryl. Not too worried about this, Annabelle went along as she thought it might be interesting.

Now she sat looking out of one of the convent’s window keeping watch for the arrive of Master Crowley and the baby boy he carried with him. The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this world, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. She was very excited; this was a big day and she, Sister Annabelle, would be part of it. A cup of tea sat on the windowsill beside her. It had gone cold hours ago, No matter.

A car came screaming through the gates of the convert an excitement jolting up her spine. Sister Annabelle leapt from her seat and began to quickly click her way down the hall towards the foyer. She turned the corner expecting to see one of her sisters talking to Master Crowley but broke into a run when she saw which sister it was. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Sister Mary Loquacious, she was a lovely person when you were sat having a chat, it was just that things, important things, tended to go wrong when she was involved.

“Mother Superior! Mater Crowley is here!” she half-yelled, her fists full of her skirt as she leaped down the three little steps leading up to the corridor. Crowley quickly ducked behind a column in responses to the shouting. Shouting mostly lead to pitchforks, torches and a bad time for him.

“Greeting Master Crowley” she said, tried to smile and make her voice sound cheerful but her eyes were screaming at Sister Mary Loquacious. If she wasn’t holding The Anti-Christ, she may have shoved her out of harm’s way (harm’s way meaning any damage Sister Loquacious could cause to others, not the other way around). Sister Annabelle stopped next to her sister, peering at the bundle in her arms. The baby gurgled quietly. She quickly curtsied to Master Crowley who was still looking between the nuns wondering if he could slip out before anyone noticed.

The double doors leading to the hospital rooms flew open and a furious old nun stormed through. This was not part of the plan. She ran her icy gaze over the two nuns, who both know the consequences of that stare. Her eyes found Crowley who was trying not to look like a rabbit in the headlights, he was a demon after all. There was no escape now.

Long hair, sunglasses, modern suit, snakeskin shoes? Not what she though one of hell’s best demons would look like. She raised an eyebrow and forced a smile.

“Master Crowley, you’re just in time.” she walked slowly with an air of control. Crowley drew himself up to his full height. The Mother Superior had the eyes of a school master and they are well known for making even the naughtiest individuals squirm.

“Sister Annabelle, please go and retrieve the child of the ambassador and inform the other sisters that the switch will be taking places presently.” she smiled at the terrified nun who swallowed and nodded, turning to hurrying down the hall. Crowley tried to sidle towards the door. He stopped dead when the older nun eyes dropped on him. He tried to give her a confident smile.

“Master Crowley, if you would just pop over to the desk, we have a few papers for you to sign just to keep everything in order.” she turned and glided over to the foyer desk and began to draw papers out of a file. Crowley reluctantly followed her, dumping the now empty carry cot on the desk before propping himself up on it.

Sister Mary Loquacious frowned. She rocked the Anti-Christ in her arms. He was chewing on his hand. She had checked, it didn’t have claws. She looked up at Master Crowley and frowned again. She walked over to the desk,

“Umm Master Crowley?” she asked and terrifying yellow eyes looked at her over dark sunglasses. Something in the very pit of her soul screamed and told her to run. It was the same part that makes skulls scary, even though they are always smiling. She took a step back,

“Yeah?” he grunted. Mother Superiors levelled her glare at the Sister. She didn’t notice, now over the shock of yellow eyes she felt bolder,

“What is going to happen to the spare baby?” she asked. Crowley rolled his eyes to the Mother superior who was trying to set the younger nun on fire via sheer force of will. Without taking her eyes of her pray the Mother Superior said,

“Yes, that was something I was going to ask you as well Master Crowley. We are willing to go through with the switch, but we want nothing to do with disposing of the baby,” her eyes now turned on Crowley “We may be satanic Nuns, but we are not monsters.” Crowley paused at this juxtaposition. He huffed and turned back to the paperwork, one of hells better inventions,

“Put it in the carry cot, I will deal with it,” Crowley replied absentmindedly. “Sure, why not?” Crowley thought “Not like it will matter in a few years anyway”. Sister Mary Loquacious ginned the kind of grin that would suggest she didn’t quite understand what was going on.

“Sister Mary, please take The Young Lord down to Sister Annabelle.” Mother Superior said as she started pulling out more official looking papers. Crowley slouched at the prospect of more paperwork. Sister Mary Loquacious nodded happily and pushed through the double doors leading to the hospital rooms. Now that The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this world, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness was out of eyesight, Crowley felt a weight off his back. He no longer wanted to vomit.

Sister Mary Loquacious had found a potable cot for the anti-Christ, in which he now rested. his red blanket tucked around him. She pushed him down the hall spotting sister Annabelle pushing a similar cot out of room 4. Sister Mary paused outside room 3 ready to make the swap. A putrid smell began to waft up the hall. Both sisters gaged. A similar smell began to rise form the baby in the cot in front of Sister Mary and the babies began to cry in unison. Sister Annabelle reached Sister Mary, her face pushed into her shoulder and her eyes watering.  

“I think our lord has made us an offering,” she gaged as she spoke, “and this little man has also given us a gift too”. She pushed open the door to delivery room 3 and hurriedly pushed the cot in. Sister Mary followed with her own charge.

“You change the babies and I will fetch the carry cot from Master Crowley.”. It was clearly just a excuse to getting out of having to be in same room as the stench for any longer but Sister Mary didn’t want to argue. The smell was truly awful.

In the bed, Mrs Young turned over a frown wrinkling her brow, some internal mothering instinct told her that a baby needed changing but something else told her it wasn’t hers so sleep on.

Sister Mary hesitated as she plucked the Anti-Christ from his cot and laid him on the changing table beside the door. She unwrapped the blanket and dropped it back in the cot. The baby whimpered as she removed the dirty nappy and cleaned him. She cooed at him. “Imagine little me changing the Destroyer of worlds’ nappy and powdering his little tush.” Sister Mary thought to herself. The baby in the other cot began to cry.

The mother in the bed yawned but stayed asleep. In an attempted sooth the baby, Sister Mary picked the ambassadors baby up. He was a chunky baby and quite heavy. Sister Mary had to shift him about a bit before they were both comfortable. The white blanket was lost in this juggling. As she bounced the baby the door to the room opened. Expecting sister Annabelle, Sister Mary turned to face the door where a man peering around the door.

“Err Hello. I’m the father, the husband, whatever.” He stammered, walking over to stand by his wife. Looking up he wondered over to the babies looking down at the baby on the changing table.

“Is this him?” he asked in awe. The baby looked up at him and immediately began to cry. Terrified about what he had done he scooped up the baby and began to pat his back.

“Umm no, these two not yours. Your baby is with your wife over there.” She nodded towards Mrs Young and the cot next to her.

Sister Mary was beginning to gag over the smell coming from the baby in her arms, she laid him on the changing table and began to clean him up.

After soothing the baby in his arms, Mr Young laid the baby down in the empty crib. He picked up the white blanket and tucked it around the baby. He walked over to the cot next to his wife and looked down at the baby. A small part of him was hopeful that he would look upon the face of his child and instantly recognized it as his own. But when he looked down at the sleeping baby, he looked identical to the two with the nun. This one was a little smaller but there wasn’t a moment of recognition. Of course, he didn’t say that. He smiled and looked back at the nun who was disposing of the nappy in a small bin next to the table.

“You know he looks like me.” He said proudly. The Nun smiled at him, rewrapping the baby,

“Have you thought of a name?” she asked. There was a nervous air about her. That probably came with having to look after two babies at once. He had new respect for people with twins and triplets.

They had discussed names but not come to any solid concoctions, they had a name if it had been a girl and after twitching the blanket back it couldn’t be used anymore. The baby snuffled in its sleep; Mr. Young jumped back afraid that he would make it cry like he had the other child.

“We haven though of any names for a boy,” he explained as the nun had finished changing the baby in front of her. Then, looking down at the second with a frown, she looked at the baby in her arms. After a moment hesitant, she seemed to come to a conclusion and plopped it in the second cot wrapping it in the red blanket.

“Well, what about the classic like Luke, John, Adam. Bible names and the like?” She rocked the babies in the cots. Mr. Young though about this for a second as he looked back at his son. He didn’t really look like any of those names, but they were good honest names. Suddenly a nun scuttled into the room. She looked a little out of breath. She looked at Mr. Young the way one would look at a velociraptor. She managed to school her features and smile at him.

Sister Annabelle had returned to the front desk and immediate run into Mr. Young who had asked what room his wife was in. Directing the man to the room without a though until she had picked up the carry cot. She had just sent an imposter into the same room as The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this world, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. Picking up her heels again, she took off down the hall and was now stood with Sister Mary, two babies and the carry cot. She turned her slightly manic smile on Sister Mary. She winked. Sister Mary Winked back. They smiled at each other.

“Baby removal services,” she laughed pushing the baby with the red blanket out of the room. She pointed at the carry cot next to the remaining baby and nodded down the hall. Sister Mary nodded back. She placed the carry cot on the changing surfaces and placed the remaining baby in the white blanket in it. Scooping up baby and carry cot she moved to leave the room,

“Umm,” said Mr. Young using the tone of someone who doesn’t want to be a bother but is no doubts going to be a problem.

“Is there any paperwork I need to fill in,” he asked nervously. Always ready to be helpful, Sister Mary nodded and beckoned for him to follow her. It wasn’t until they entered the hall that she realized this might have been a bad decision. She could see Master Crowley’s back to her when Mr. Young held the door open. Trying to think fast she walked up to him putting the now full carry cot next to him on the desk.

“Here is you son Master Crowley,” she said as way of explanation. The yellow eyes turned on her and the primal urge to run shot up her spine. Mr. Young was too distracted to notice, walking up next to her and leaned against the desk.

“Umm, does the birth certificate need signing?” he asked looking over the desk at all the papers. The Mother Superior who had been overseeing Crowley filling out all the correct papers in the right places. It wouldn’t do to have buggered up the paperwork on such a big job. She pulled a file over the papers and put on her best plastic smile. She flicked through the relevant files and produced a birth certificate for Mr. Young. She also pulled one out and handed it to Crowley. Conscious of the presents of Mr. Young, Crowley took the offered page. Mr. Young peeked into cot at the baby.

“He’s a cute one,” he says trying to rope Crowley into a conversation so he can talk about his own kid. Crowley doesn’t acknowledge him. Not deterred, Mr. Young filled in the birth certificate leaving the name till last. He still needed to talk to his wife about it.

“Though of a name yet?” he asked. Again, this was met by silenced. Mr. Young looked over at Crowley, he was well dressed and very out of places here. He didn’t have the look of expectant father. He looked worried.

“We were thinking about Adam,” he continued. This conversation was going to happen even if he had to do it himself. However, this got a reaction out of the other man. He laughed. He snorted then laughed out loud.

“Something wrong with Adam?” Mr. Young questioned, getting slightly defensive over a possible name for his son. The man pushed his long hair back away from his face. He was handsome, even Mr. Young had to admit that.

“No, it’s a fine name. But I knew an Adam once, he was a complete bastard,”.

Sister Mary giggled under her breath. But then frowned at the thought of how a demon knew the original Adam. She puzzled over this for the rest of the conversation.

Mr. Young let his shoulders drop,

“What would you suggest then?” he asked sheepishly. Crowley turned on him and Mr. Young had to squash a sudden urge to back away and make himself small. Crowley looks him up and down before speaking. His emotionless sunglasses making it feel like he wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t but behind the glasses no one could tell.

“Something royal may be. Henry, James, William?” he suggested. Mr. Young felt better about these names.

Crowley looked back at the almost complete page in front of him.

“It doesn’t matter, it will all be over in eleven years anyway.” Crowley mumbled glumly as he looked at the last section of the certificate

FIRST NAME:

It was blank. He stared at it. Did he have to name it?

“Oh,” Mr. Young said confused. In an effort to change the typic he looked into the cot again, “You know, he looks like an Adam.” he added.

Crowley huffed but he couldn’t think of anything better. Plus, it made sense in an ironic way. Crowley scribbled the name down on the final dotted line on the page pushing it towards the nun. He snatched the carry cot of the desk and strode out the lobby. Mr. Young tried to wave goodbye, but Crowley was long gone.

Sister Annabelle handed the baby to the ambassador’s wife who looked down at him with the love of a first-time mother,

“Sorry that took so long Your Ladyship, he is such a scrumptious little man. Every nun in the convent had to coo at him,” Sister Annabelle sighed as she stood back, her job was done. She really needs a cup of tea now.

Mother Superior quietly pushed open the door and came in.

“Oh what a little lord,” she said causing all nuns in the room to smile. “Have you thought of a name?”

The convent burnt down that night. However, the only paperwork that was destroyed was form that night. Apart from the birth certificate of one James Henry Young

Crowley pulled the Bentley into a short dead-end road that was the entrances to a farmer’s field. He cut the engine and the lights of the snarling beast of a car disappeared, leaving only the dark hedgerow in front of him.

The silence enveloped the car, seeming to seep in through all the gaps in the doors and poured out of the vents. Soon Crowley was engulfed in it. He paused, appreciating the moment. The sound of the engine cooling was the only noise that could be heard inside the car. The carry cot next to him cooed. He looked over at his new acquisition and pulled it closer to him. He carefully pulled the small and oh so delicate baby out and laid him across his knees looking up at him. The baby yawned but seemed very much awake. The white blanket that was bundled around him stopping his arms from moving.

Crowley huffed and rubbed his faces pushing his glasses off slightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and began to mutter at the baby,

“Okay first test,”

He pulled his glasses off completely and crouched over the baby sticking his tough out. Letting the glamor over it drop so the tips flicked over the babies scrunched up little nose. His eyes almost glowed yellow in the darkness he didn’t show his true, true form just these small parts. The Baby screeched and Crowley jerked back worried, but unsurprised, that he had terrified the poor thing. When the screech turned into a gurgling laugh, he looked back at the baby who had wiggled free an arm and was grabbing at Crowley with a gummy grin. Slight confused Crowley rewrapped the baby in his white blanket and shifted it to be cradled in his arms,

“Okay so you passed the first test. Now we need to go other some ground rules if this arrangement is going to work out.”.

The baby babbled at him trying to wiggle free of his confines. He seemed fine with the whole yellow eyes and snake toung though. Probably knew no different, Crowley wondered leaning back in the driver’s seat.

“So I will house you, feed you and take care of you until you have worked out how to use a toilet after that we can look into the walking, talking, reading, writing business but there are some conditions that you have to uphold,”.

The baby sneezed, looked shocked at this strange turn of events, blinked a few times before looking back up at the demon. Now that he had the baby’s attention again Crowley continued,

“Firstly, the family you came from, the one that has the antichrist.” The baby watched him with uncanny eyes that seemed to understand what he was saying. That or more worryingly for Crowley he was ranting at a newborn infant that had no idea what was going on and was just watching him make noises in the dark car.

“Warlock, they called him Warlock.”

The baby gave him a half smile, hoping that the smile was from recognizing the name.

“You’re gonna have to be friends with that brat. secondly you will not get in my way or interfere with my work.”

The baby yawned at him. It seemed that all the excitement was getting the better of him its eyes began to slip closed. Crowley rocked him slightly trying not to enjoy holding the child, a small part of him that was thought to be long dead, started to thaw. He placed the baby back in the carry cot in the passenger’s seat. The baby whimpered at the movement but settled back in the crib snuggling into the blanket.

Crowley backed out and onto the road, where was the nearest mother care?

Azriaphale had just got back to the book shop when the phone rang. He paused hanging his coat up on its peg, before picking it up, he suspected who it might be but wasn’t sure. He plucked the phone from the handle and held it daintily to his ear,

“I’m dreadfully sorry but I’m afraid we are closed at the…,” his polite but discouraging scripted was cut by a very familiar voice,

“It’s me Angel.”

It sounded although Crowley was making this call from a phone box. Oh dear, what trouble had he gotten himself into now.

“Crowley? Is that you?” he asked anyway knowing the answer,

“Yes. We need to talk.” He said matter of factly.

“Yes, I rather think we do.” Azriaphale thought of the conversation he had had with Gabriel earlier that day.

Crowley looked through the window of the Bentley at the sleeping baby inside. He hung up the phone and got back into the car. He looked over at the child. He was so small. Crowley stroked his cheek with a black nailed finger.

“You have no idea what is going on. I envy you Adam,” the baby sighed in his sleep.

[tune-collective]

The 20 Best deadmau5 Songs

The 20 Best deadmau5 Songs

He may not be one for metaphors or lofty album titles, he may not know how to refrain from weighing in on any given subject, he may not really know how to play a bunch of traditional instruments, but Joel Zimmerman, aka deadmau5, is absolutely one of electronic dance music’s greatest producers.

He’s quite prodigious with eight studio albums released in 10 years, a successful label that helped spawn Skrillex and others, and his own music production Master Class series. You get the feeling he does everything the hard way, but he somehow does it so well.

Here’s a list of the 20 best deadmau5 songs to date, in our critical opinions. Enjoy, and feel free to disagree.

20. deadmau5 – “Bot”

For Lack of a Better Name is deadmau5’s fourth studio album and one that cemented the noise artist as one of the greats. It spawned tons of hits, and while “Bot” isn’t the LP’s grandest achievement, it is one of deadmau5’s most interesting songs. It’s full of wacky textures and frog noises. It sounds like the tribal music of exotic aliens who dwell in some kind of fantastic cyber jungle.

19. deadmau5 – “Alone With You”

This glittering bit of progressive house come from Random Album Title, deadmau5’s beautiful third LP. The persistent beat keeps bodies moving through the sparkling, melodic mist. It’s the kind of emotional build one happily and aimlessly explores over and over again.

18. deadmau5 – “Closer”

That exciting five-note progression should be instantly recognizable as John Williams’ alien-speak melody in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Daft Punk also used the sample, officially titled “Wild Signals,” as the intro to its Alive 2007 set, but deadmau5 takes the motif and turns it into something even grander. He deviates after the first two minutes, though those five notes continue to make their way in and out of the melodic lines. Maybe the aliens are listening.

17. deadmau5 – “Snowcone”

The first official single from deadmau5′ latest album, W:/2016Album, earns its name. It’s light and airy atmosphere captures the feeling of a light snow, and as we move forward into the beat, we find ourselves exploring deadmau5 hidden love of hip-hop rhythm. Kanye West and Pete Rock are fans. They shared a video of themselves listening to it in the studio, upon the reception of which deadmau5 announced “Snowcone” as one of his favorite songs on the new LP.

16. deadmau5 – “Infra Turbo Pigcart Racer”

Track five from while(1has got to be one of the most unique weapons in deadmau5′ musical arsenal. At just more than nine-and-a-half-minutes, it tells the supersonic story of, well, let’s pretend it really is a piggy racecar driver. It’s called Fast and the Furriest, and it is all about one adrenaline junky porker who makes his way into the Tron world and unlocks the true supersonic potential of those light bikes. Alright, I just made all that up, but doesn’t it sound like that?

15. deadmau5 – “Hi Friend”

This song perfectly captures the vibe of going out to your favorite nightclub and running into everyone you know and love. Lots of electro, heaps of filters, and dope party raps from MC Flipside.

14. deadmau5 – “Aural Psynapse”

Though it appears on 2011’s 5 Years of mau5 double-disc compilation, “Aural Psynapse” was first recorded and released in 2001 under deadmau5′ former alias Halcyon441, another Joel Zimmerman screen name lost in the annals of time. Proving the old adage that everything old is new again, the single went on to peak at No. 7 on Billboard‘s Dance/Electronic Digital Song chart. It’s a beautiful, emotional song where synths take the lead in all shapes and forms. Definitely a classic deadmau5 atmosphere.

13. deadmau5 – “HR 8938 Cephei”

This stand-alone release never graced an official deadmau5 album. It was one of Zimmerman’s Soundcloud dumps, but it’s nothing to overlook. At nearly 11-minutes long with a distant star namesake, it’s a progressive journey that starts cold and somber, builds into a hopeful, shoulder shaking beat, and here and there blasts the listener with strong, powerful moments.

12. deadmau5 – “Brazil (2nd Edit)”

Whatever happened to the first edit of “Brazil?” Well, deadmau5 decided it wasn’t that important. He might have been right. This track has been sampled by Kylie Minogue, Alexis Jordan, and Taio Cruz. It’s got an infectious beat and an easy-going staccato synth melody. Does it make you feel like you’re in Brazil when you listen to it? It’s a lot cheaper to enjoy than a vacation, in any case.

11. deadmau5 – “Maths”

Who’s ready to get weird? We are, and deadmau5 is bringing the electronic, alien funk heavy on this cut from 2012’s > album title goes here It served as the album’s lead single, and originally, it was supposed to be the final track on 4×4=12. The anxious, rising motion of the hook is the stuff dance floor come up dreams are made of. No one can stay seated when a tune like this gets dropped. This weird little tune is a get-up-and-go machine.

10. deadmau5 – “Moar Ghosts N Stuff”

Question: Why does “Moar Ghosts N Stuff” precede “Ghosts N Stuff” on 2009’s For Lack of a Better Name? Answer: Because deadmau5 is a troll, and he does whatever the hell he wants. This creepy organ intro is bone-chillingly cool. It’s actually a sample of Frederic Chopin’s Piano Sonata, Op. 35, No. 2 in B-Flat Minor, if you care to know. The vocal sample is from a monologue in The Brain From Planet Arous, a black-and-white, 1957 sci-fi indie flick. It also is an incredible way for deadmau5 to say “yeah, I just totally changed the game, and I am one of the best ever. Part two comes before part one. -shades fall on eyes- Deal with it.” This motif is one of deadmau5’s most memorable and instantly recognizable melodies. It just had to crack the top 10.

9. deadmau5 – “Sometimes Things Get, Whatever”

Another absolute fan favorite, this one being an early cut from 2008’s Random Album Title. It’s an easy song to relate to. We’ve all been overwhelmed by life to the point that we revert to cold robot mode, right? Zimmerman probably feels this way all the time. He’s totally that perfectionist sound engineer guy who frets over everything. I can’t actually say that with certainty, but c’mon, listen to this. Ironically, it’s a pretty straightforward and simple composition. He’d probably have a big explanation for why that’s not true, of course. It probably took like a million hours of engineering to create this. It’s probably too complicated to explain, so, you know, whatever.

8. deadmau5 – “Animal Rights” with Wolfgang Gartner

Storytime! This jam dropped a couple weeks before I turned 23, and the night of my birthday, I was partying in college, and some drunk frat guy wandered into our after party and heard it was my birthday and decided he was gonna give me a lapdance. So I put on “Animal Rights” and he was like “Hey, I really like this song. Who is it?” And I was like, “Don’t worry about it and take your clothes off.” That has nothing to do with how awesome this Wolfgang Gartner collaboration is, how it’s super funky and was totally exciting and fresh at the time, how it blends Gartner’s signature “complextro” sound with deadmau5’s awesome, techy atmospheres – but then again, maybe it does. Either way, go get a lap dance from a frat boy to it. It’s a pretty fun experience, even though he’s totally feeling himself more than you are.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_esYONwdKuw

7. deadmau5 – “The Veldt” feat. Chris James

Grab your reading list. This tune is inspired by a Ray Bradbury short story, also titled The Veldt. That’s more to do with Chris James’ original lyrics, but it’s still totally awesome. You should know Ray Bradbury as the guy who wrote Fahrenheit 451, and if you don’t, get it together! deadmau5 created this song live during a 22-hour livestream. Dude is insane, right? The original version is just more than eight-and-a-half minutes long, and when the radio edit ends at just more than two-and-a-half, you’re like “wait, where is the rest of the song,” but the video is really cool, so we share it with you. This is a majestic bit of music, a perfect combination from deadmau5 and James.

6. deadmau5 – “Some Chords”

I nominate this track for Best Song Title of All Time. Basically every song in the history of ever could have this name, but only deadmau5 was lazy and clever enough to think of it. The chords in question are the backbone for the song, the musical template around which the beat aimlessly meanders. The chords evolve through different instrumentation, all the while the texture accents weave in and out to build the song to an aggressive fever pitch. 

5. deadmau5 – “Raise Your Weapon”

Heartbreak is never easy, but the music is inspires is some of the best ever written. “Raise Your Weapon” is a rallying cry, something to cling to in times of sadness. It’s opening piano notes, matched by singer Greta Svabo Bech’s listless vocal entry, welcomes your sorrow, but soon, the song finds strength, just as you will, given enough time. Bech is positively powerful by mid-section, and of course, so is the music, which eventually dissolves into a dubstep breakdown. It grips the listener from beginning to end, and though it’s a rather primitive bit of dubstep, it’s got some of the cooler noises we’ve heard in the garish genre. We’re happy to hear those piano chords finish it out, though. Part of your sadness never dies.

4. deadmau5 – “Faxing Berlin”

Faxing is an outdated form of communication, but it may have still been slightly relevant when deadmau5 first released this track in 2006. Email was totally relevant by then, but old people, you know? Famously supported by Pete Tong, “Faxing Berlin” is actually deadmau5’s first single ever, which is worth celebrating in itself. It’s also the first-ever release from mau5trap records. It’s also a constant favorite among fans, it’s slow build progressive vibe being absolutely quintessential to the deadmau5 sound. It’s one of his chillest, prettiest compositions. It’ll put you in a trance you’ll never want to escape.

3. deadmau5 – “I Remember” with Kaskade

“Faxing Berlin” is beautiful, but “I Remember” is one of the most luscious, gorgeous, all-encompassing electronic tunes of all time. It’s got classic written all over it, from the moment the beat and chords hit your ears, to the transcendent minute vocalist Haley Gibby sings into the mic, on through its full, spell-binding nine minutes. It’s kind of the perfect rave anthem, with soft female vocals whispering vaguely positive messages and chords in the tone of soft blues and whites. Something about it makes me reminisce about raves I went to in the mid 2000s, or maybe that’s just the song’s reminiscent vibe creeping into my head. I see what you did there, guys. Good game.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7ArUgxtlJs

2. deadmau5 – “Ghosts n Stuff” feat. Rob Swire

Here we are again, these instantly-recognizable synth chords, this moment-defining sound. Of course, this time, we get the incredible Rob Swire, a man who was already a legend for his work with Pendulum, and who would go on to be even more famous as Knife Party. Swire is a beast on this track. This song was originally created at the request of Pete Tong, who essentially dared deadmau5 to make a new tune in time for his appearance on BBC Radio 1 Essential Mix. It’s one of deadmau5’s biggest hits ever, which is more than impressive for a last-minute production. This beat matched with these scream-along vocals makes for one of dance music’s most memorable refrains. It’s a classic. Kids 20 years from now will be like “have you heard Ghosts n Stuff,” and wish they were around to party in 2009, for sure.

1. deadmau5 – “Strobe”

I don’t think anybody would argue against “Strobe” being deadmau5’s best song. It’s iconic. It’s got all the elements that make deadmau5 the producer he is. It’s slow and pretty, it takes time to evolve, it’s got a slow and steady build, it erupts into progressive house perfection, it even carries a bit of hard electro edge. It’s just the jam. It’s such the jam, deadmau5 recently reimagined it for mau5trap’s 100th release, then he gave it away for free because he knew all you fools wanted it so bad. It’s one of those perfect electronic tunes that stays with you forever, and for that, we owe deadmau5 our eternal thanks.

Source: Billboard

http://tunecollective.com/2017/02/14/the-20-best-deadmau5-songs/

[burndownthehousetonight]

((I just finished up an RP with @wolvesbotsetc! It’s kind of short, but for something that was finished in about a day, it was pretty lengthy! All y’all go check his blog out, he’s a cool dude! ❤))

It was almost too perfect. No, not the junior police officers who just had to chase after some suspected thief and be the hero of the day, but where he ended up. A long-abandoned city townhouse with the only back entrance being the broken fire escape? It was too crazy to think someone would jump onto something that broken, yet alone in this kind of pouring rain. Especially not some fresh-off-the-press officers with the combined abilities of a termite. The clutter from his cheap backpack was thankfully inaudible over the pounding storm. The sound of the officers' footsteps fading away from the building was replaced by the sound of rain echoing through the building. It was strangely soothing, given how violent the rain itself was. And it looked like some old furniture was left in this mess dating back for decades. It was definitely robbed of anything of value long before, but maybe it would be a fun place to snoop around. As the hedgehog walked around, he would hear a small buzzing behind a door, something… mechanical. No breathing could be heard, just… buzzing. As he walked forward, a small light could be seen under the door. Was someone actually here? Or was it just some strange valuable that stayed on this whole time? Impossible. This place must have been left to rot in the nineties, there's no way anything from then would still be running. He waited and watched. The same buzz and glow. The echoes made it hard to concentrate, but he was sure he didn't hear any breathing. Maybe someone left something in here? A flashlight, probably. He technically wasn't wrong. There was an electronic left in the building. But it wasn't a flashlight, or anything he might have expected or even thought of. He didn't expect an entire robot with eyes that appeared to be the guts of flashlights repurposed into the voids of the face, like some strange Frankenstein's monster of engineering. Its cold eyes and segmented tail reminiscent of a spine would have been terrifying normally, except... was it cold? It was covered in water and appeared to be shivering. For as unnatural as it looked, it acted strangely natural. Not just natural, but vulnerable. "Uh... Are you alright?" Rob looked up before letting a few sparks fly, apparently the source of the buzzing. “Who are you,” it said in a low, blunt voice. “I can’t imagine you own these shambles.” He said, trying to get up before sparking and falling. “Error: Water levels too high for movement function, rust levels 60%,” before going back to it’s regular voice. “Great… can’t move til I dry now… probably shouldn’t have let it all seep in…” he said to himself. Manic had heard his brother speak tall tales of fighting a robot version of himself. He dismissed it as garbage. Now he realized that these kinds of robots might not have been as impossible as he thought. He looked around, but there was nothing like a towel or rag in the area. All he had was an athletic backpack and... "Uh, here, dude, would this help?" He put his backpack down on the ground and took off his vest. It was slightly damp - Manic had thankfully gotten out of the rain barely after it started. There was a moment of hesitation before he stepped forward, and placed it over the robot's chest like it was a towel. "You are- You're a real robot. I'm not seeing things or anything, right?" But the rust felt real enough, and the arms were far too thin for this to be some intricate costume. Somehow, this wasn't fake. The bot looked at him, grimacing. “Oh yes, I’m a big ball of flesh and fur underneath a big hunk of metal. That’s why I’m shooting sparks, and why I’m repeating error messages I’m forced to report whenever I’m waterlogged. Totally a mobian,” he replied, jerking the towel away from him and wiping himself off. "Alright, I gave you my vest so you WOULDN'T be sparking and making error messages." Manic fired back. "Now are you gonna drop the sass and let me help you out, or do you want me to jet and leave you to rust in this dump?" A completely hollow threat, but Manic didn't ever want to put up with this kind of sarcasm. He stood up, and looked around, still in disbelief. "If you're done being salty, I'm gonna check the other rooms for bedsheets or whatever." He hurried out into the other rooms, scanning around and eventually stumbling across a tired and weathered old bedsheet. It was full of holes, but it was the best they had for the situation. That situation being absolutely bizarre, of course. What the hell had he just stumbled across? The bot watched him as he got back. “Why are you here anyways, huh? You have to be hiding from someone. And considering I’ll be here, and you’re seeming to make yourself at home, I assume you’ll be here too. So spill.” "No one likes a snoop, buddy." Manic said. "I'm helping you out here, ain't I?" He knelt down next to him, half wanting to slap his metal face and wholly wanting him to stop bugging him. The sheets weren't comfortable to the touch, but they absorbed water just fine. Not that it mattered much, given how rusty he was. He kept giving Manic that glare. "Alright, you want an answer? I'm a thief." He lifted the robot's arm, and started patting it with the sheet. "But I ain't robbing anyone randomly. Some dude was being a dick to me, so I was a dick and took some random crap from him. You happy?" The cat nodded, “I see…” he said, looking off as he dried himself as best he could, before handing the rest of the blanket to the hedgehog. “You want something to listen to?” He asked from out of nowhere, looking at the other. Manic looked out through the hole where a window once sat. The rain was coming down just as hard, and it seemed like this guy wasn't going to be able to leave any time soon. Besides, he didn't want to get drenched, either. "Uh- let's try this again, dude." He sighed out, still slightly bitter. "I'm Manic. I mean, if you wanna listen to something, go ahead, but how-" This was the first time he really noticed the two antennaes he had instead of ears. He tuned through the variety of stations, a mix of sup-par popular music stations and more decent variety shows. "Wait, dude, uh-" He didn't want to say anything TOO stupid. "You ever tune in to the really low frequency stations? There're some really good music stations down there, and some reeeeeeally bad ones." The cat gave him a slightly odd look, but nodded, going lower, tuning into a few number stations, amateur kids trying to do radio, before finally settling on a hard rock station, turning it to a low volume and letting the music play through speakers buried in his chest. “Rob,” he said, holding out his hand. “Not a fan of my name, but it’s what the creator wanted so… apparently he likes puns.” Manic gave an approving nod and returned the handshake in a way he would call casual and cool, but anyone else would call lazy. "Please tell me your full name ain't robot," he said, visibly cringing at the thought. "That'd be like naming your kid 'spawn' or 'offspring', wouldn't it?" No, he didn't want to insult his name any more. "I mean, you've got good taste in music, but I thought you'd WANT to be all sassy?" Manic joked. He kept staring at his acquaintance, and the strangely natural ways his body moved and folded as he moved. "I'm sorry, dude, I ain't ever met a robot before, this is a lot to take in." He noticed a plug on the back of his neck. He hadn't seen this kind of socket on any modern equipment. Combined with the rust, he was clearly older than he was designed to look. "Who are you? Like, aside from just a sassy robot, I mean." He let out a soft sigh. “You’d be half wrong. Full name is Ro-bert. It sucks in every aspect of the word,” he scoffed, before answering the hedgehog. “I was made… 42 years ago. I was meant to be a butler of the future… look how well that turned out.” He sighed. “I think I was deactivated…. 10 years after I was actually made." "Deactivated?" It caught Manic off-guard. "You were in some kind of statis, or whatever?" There were probably times when any of this rust could have been removed or prevented, but that was clearly no longer the case. He must have simply reactivated one day with new newfound decay. "Woah... That's some heavy stuff." He never wanted to be heavy. His brother was Sonic, of course he liked being goofy and excited. As he looked at Rob and started desperately hoping that Rob wasn't going to think of it as creepy, he noticed how plain his metal was. Not that it was ugly, but there wasn't any branding or anything of the sort. "I mean, dude, you don't have Rob printed on you or anything. Hell, even if it was, it must've rotted away by now. You can choose a name for yourself, people do it all the time." He made a grin that, even to a robot, said that there was something mischievous rattling around his brain. "Maybe 'Salty'? Or 'Smarmy Boy'?" The robot looked at him. “You will call me nothing of the sort. And I have no name I like more, I hate them all. I don’t understand why names are even used, it could just be numbers or something of the sort.” "Okay, I'm gonna sound real nancy for saying this," Manic said, already laughing at his doubtless ridiculous response. "But my sis? She's got a kid, and she says it's all about 'having a WISH for your CHILD!'" He enunciated everything in that overly snobby tone her husband used. "Like Sonia? It means wisdom, I think. You name your kid Sonic; It means fast, so you want him to be fast. You name your kid Manic; It's a kind of depression, so he's gonna get diagnosed with depression." Given his chuckle, he clearly wasn't broken up about that fact. "Hold on, I like giving people nicknames, gimme a second." He looked at rob as he was drying. Of course, a bunch of very silly ideas came to mind, although maybe calling him 'killbot seventeen' or 'Yog Sothoth's Automaton of Ultimate Death' would have been insensitive. But hell, his only experience with robots was bad horror and sci-fi movies, and this dude was just basically a normal guy who couldn't handle the rain. ...Right, he forgot about the rain. "Uh, dude, you feeling any better? You think you can move now? The robot tried to get up, wincing at the thought of falling down and repeating damn error messages. Remarkably though, he was fine. “Seems most things have dried up,” he replied back, giving a small smirk. “Thank you, Manic,” he said, before sitting back down. “Though it’s not much help if I can’t leave but… at least I can walk.” "Whaddya mean, not much help?" Manic scoffed. "You've got walking legs and like, three empty, decrepit awful rooms in some crappy building to explore. That's more than two rooms! You telling me you can't stay entertained with all of the option you have?" "Hey, speaking of entertaining," Manic said, "If you wanna be smarmy, remember when I said there's weird stuff on low frequency stations? I found this one channel, and- I think some dude just got a transmitter, and he's trying to do his own show? It's just the dumbest conspiracy theories, like, all day. If we're stuck here, might as well riff on something that ain't my face, you know? Wanna check it out?" As joking and silly as Manic was, he clearly wasn't stuck here. But Rob sure was. And even if he did have stolen goods on hand, he still wasn't gonna get caught in somewhere like this. The robian tuned in, before looking over. "So why are you still here?” He asked, looking over “You aren’t stuck here, and it’s been silent outside for ages now” "Eeeh, more than before." It was still raining, but the pop-up shower had let up to a more moderate rainfall, rather than the buckets earlier. "I mean, you're still stuck here 'til the rain's over, right? You shouldn't just sit around in some dump alone for a while. Especially if you're gonna need maintenance like that, or whatever. Suffering's better with someone else, you know?" Manic didn't seem to get how thoughtful his sentiment was. He just sat where he was near Rob, listening to the radio station he tuned in. Odd, he wasn't mocking it or anything. The robot let out a sigh, looking down. “I don’t really need maintenance, and I've been a loner for most of my reactivation time… it’s not that terrible to be alone in my opinion…” he said, trailing off into thought. He couldn't see any kind of controls for the radio, they must have all been internal. Still, as Rob trailed off into thought, so did the volume until it was just a murmur. "I mean, yeah, I get that, dude." Manic finally responded with. "But I mean, company don't hurt, either." Still, they had gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe he wasn't over Manic's sass yet. "Do you want me to go, dude?" The robot shook his head. “I don’t mind either way. I'd probably leave too if it weren't for the rain…” he said, before his right pupil light flickered off. “Shitty bulbs…” That was just sad. The rust and earlier errors were enough to make Manic sympathize, but one of his eyes blowing out? It looked like he was just falling apart in front of Manic. He should have found meeting an anthropomorphic robot cool. But he was very far past his prime, and if his creators abandoned him, he was likely far away from anyone who knew how to repair him. Manic opened his backpack. All of the things he'd taken from that guy who used to live a few apartments down from Manic were just meaningless trinkets, none of which had any kind of bulbs attached. "Alright, if I'm not wrong, I think there's an electronics shop like two blocks away? You know what bulb that is? If you're fine waiting, I could pop out and get you a new one." He couldn't help being a sentimental person. He couldn't leave someone alone in this state! “I need no fixing,” he stated. “I’m a shamble already, nothing can fix that. I’m better off falling apart until I’m a mangle of machinery and rusted metal. Just like the living things of this earth. I've served my purpose, apparently poorly at that,” he said, “don’t waste your time.” "Because you're a lost cause at this point," Manic said, almost sounding annoyed or moching. "You had potential, but you failed to serve it, and don't have any more potential, so you have to make due, and all that shit." Manic looked almost angry at this point. Some switch inside him had been flipped. "What, you think you're the first person to think these thoughts? Tons of us have had to live with self loathing. I know what you're gonna say, so don't insult yourself, mate. You're a sentient robot built on antiquated tech, you know how incredible that is? You know how incredible you could be with a few modern upgrades? You know how much you could do if you DON'T give up and let yourself rot away." He was standing now, almost shouting his words at him. "You're NOT a waste of space, and don't give me that 'wasted purpose' bullshit." He squatted down, getting on eye level with him. "Now, you're dropping the loathing bullshit, and you're telling me what kinda bulb that is, and you're letting me help you clean up. Got it?" “You aren’t doing shit for me. You aren’t my creator, you aren’t my owner, you're just some thief who happened upon me. And I don’t want to be upgraded. I don’t want to have to be shut down yet again just for someone to put me in some new material or do some stupid shit for me just so it can degrade and rust again, and again, and again. If I am turned off again, I want to stay off, so I never have to stand on the planet and wonder what my purpose is as everything around me gets replaced. People, plants, buildings, planets, everything that lives gets replaced by something better, and they want everything they have to be replaced by better and better things. I want to stay the same, damnit. I’m not replacing this bulb, and you aren’t about to fix me.” Manic listened. He listened to every word, and absorbed every meaning. "Like I said, you think you're the first person to have these thoughts?" He said quietly. "Everyone's looking for a purpose, a meaning, whatever. And yeah, watching the world and all this crap get replaced is shitty. But you ain't the fashion or phones or whatever that change overnight, you've got a consciousness. Even if it's old 70s hardware, you're a person. A robotic, metal person, but you're still a damn person. And conciousness doesn't just change in a night." He squatted in front of Rob as he spoke. "If you want to stay the same and enjoy what you've got, good. That's what every other Mobian's living with. But you clearly don't wanna rust. Yeah, you say you hate yourself, and you say you wanna rot, but what about when you get waterlogged, hm? What about when you're rusting to death in some pile of rubble? You snatched my vest immediately, don't act like you hesitated. You don't want this to happen, and you know it. And even if you still wanna die for some reason, I'm watching you have a good time those last few days, got it?" He spoke strangely severely. "You ain't dying miserably on my watch. And again," he said as he pointed and waved his finger at Rob, "You're dropping the loathing bullshit, and you're telling me what kinda bulb that is, and you're letting me help you clean up. Got it?" “I don’t say I want to die, I say if I die I don’t want to wake up again. The void is nice. I don’t have to think, I don’t have to do. what pains me is when I have to be powered back on by some flesh person, I have to have every single idea, every single memory, every single movement pushed back into my soul, as I start up. Imagine if when you woke up from your “sleep” and had every single memory, good, bad, or indifferent, shoved back into your mind, and you have to watch them flood back in. Imagine suddenly having to relearn every single thing your body does in the blink of an eye, from the legs up. It’s utter hell, not to mention if someones crammed an upgrade into you, or a new outer casing, or some other shitty thing that’ll break down in 5 years, you have to have all that memory shoved into you too.” He said, staring at the hedgehog with a piercing, 1 eyed one voided gaze. “You wouldn’t want to sleep ever again, would you?” Manic stared back, racing for something to say. But there was nothing he could say. It was such an extreme case, he couldn't relate himself to anything that was coming out of his mouth. It did sound like torture, Manic couldn't argue anything he said. He just had to take every word he said. "I guess I've got no idea what you're going through, dude." He spoke gently. "I really do wanna help, dude, but I guess I've got normal Mobian problems. I think I'd say the same things." He sighed. "But people can still help you, dude, without turning you off. If you don't feel pain, you could get like, patchwork metal attached if you want that. I guess if you don't ever want to have to start up, then don't let yourself turn off. But you already know that." The moment was uncomfortable, and the damp air didn't help. "Are you gonna be alright? Like, mentally?" He sighed. “I wasn’t built to have sanity, so there’s no point in asking that…” he said, laying down and looking up. “40 watt bulb, as long as it’s a screw in it should work,” he finally muttered, sighing. “Be quick.” Manic hesitated for a moment, before giving him a pat on the shoulder and bolting out of the building. He'd walked in worst rain storms than this. It was just water, he'd be fine. He thought over every word Rob had said time and time again, trying to come up with something he could say that might have helped. Something silly, or serious, just something that wouldn't make him feel worse than Manic likely already made him feel. He was gone and back in maybe ten minutes tops. "Alright, they had the same brand at this place, so you're in luck." Manic sat down next to Rob, hesitating fiddling with his eyes. "Uh, this isn't gonna hurt, is it?" But the replacement was easy, simply removing one appliance bulb and putting in another. Although from as little time as they'd spent together, Rob knew that smug, mischievous grin meant he probably had another dumb joke in mind. "Hey, you won't beleive what they had." Manic reached into the bag, and pulled out- was that just a metal box? "I think it's supposed to be something you put circuitry in, or something? I mean, it looks pretty close to these curves on your arm," he explained, indicating a hole rusted into his arm. "I've got a soldering iron back in my van, we could probably cut it to shape and get that baby covered up." The cat shook his head. “I don’t need it, I work fine without any metal there,” he said, sighing as the light flickered back into existence. “But thank you…” he said, looking over. “So… after this… what next? You just gonna go steal more stuff?” Manic laughed and smiled. "The days when I needed to steal to get by are loooong gone, dude. I've got other jobs and hobbies and crap!" He smiled, and looked away. "Actually, I do a lot of music stuff. I'm a singer and a drummer. Sometimes guitar, but my playing's kinda... Meh?" He wiggled his hand and grimaced as he spoke. "I was just gonna head home and get tuned up, but I've got a show tonight. There's this pizza place near that Honey Clothing store, 'Meltdown', that I play at weekly. Every Thursday at eight." He smirked, and looked over at him. Despite what he said next, he said it like any other joke, sticking his tongue out and making a stupid grin. "So, you wanna come and watch? The self-loathing brigade needs to stick together, after all." The cat shrugged. “Maybe if the rain lets up before that… not like I have anything else to do that is,” he said, shrugging. "Don't get too excited," Manic sassed. He quickly regained his normal happy tone, reaching under his vest. "Hey, I always have some of my CDs with me." He rummaged through a hidden pocket, pulling out a CD with a surprisingly 80s styles label. "I dunno if you've got a player, but if you do... Want a taste before you see it live? Or wanna experience the real deal?" The cat looked at him, shaking his head. “No cd player that I know of, and i know everything about my body… so…” "Come on, you're a futuristic robot! Just cram it in your mouth, chomp it down! That probably wouldn't kill you dead!" Manic was back to his goofy ways. "Well, whatever, dude, guess you're hearing it all live. Don't worry, it ain't screamo or anything. Come on, have a good time, just distract yourself from your bad thoughts and have some fun!" As much as he joked and messed around, he was still somewhat taken aback by everything Rob shouted at him. "Hey, uh, do you have a phone or anything?" He said, reaching back into his vest and pulling out his own. "I know what that stuff's like. If you ever want to just hang out on a bad day or rant it out or whatever, you can hit me up, alright? You want my number?" The cat nodded, as he pulled out a phone from an inner storage area on his leg. “Only text though, phones don’t pick up my voice,” he said. "Really? That's kinda wicked," Manic admitted. He started pressing Rob's number into his phone. "But seriously, dude, I know you don't think much of yourself, and I know you don't think you're programmed for sanity, but don't let those kinds of thoughts run you, alright? People don't just wanna watch each other suffer, they wanna see each other thrive. People are good, dude." "...Even if they're just street thieves with bad hair." Maybe he wasn't the laughing type, but he was still starting to enjoy the time they spent together. And hell, maybe if he chose the right songs, he could get some genuine smiles out of him at the show later. "The rain's starting to clear up, I think. You mind if I head out, dude? I gotta get ready for the show." The robot nodded, heading off to the fire escape to look out and check, soon confirming that the rain had stopped. He stepped out, before looking at the hedgehog. “See you there”. With that, he walked off. Manic watched him walk away for a moment... and then turned around to grab his bag. He had a lot to do. He had to put on clothes that didn't smell like a decayed building, he had to get ready for his set... ...and he had to put together the perfect set list to make sure he'd get a smile out of him.