#new boulder same hill

[exileorexodus]

holy shit maybe i should just make art that idgaf about the quality or novelty of. like just shit thats basic as fuck but hey, i. actually enjoyed making it. like dude. ive never avoided drawing more in my life. eugh. like who cares if the anatomy and shape language and general skill level isnt up to par with professional animation major kids, im NOT one of them i dont Need to conform to those standards. need to stop holding myself to them because, like. idfk maybe i just LIKE to draw? like damn cant i just oc for my own benefit who cares if isnt some world rocking reality shaking eyecandy shit i just need my stupid ass morons to exist i just need to indulge my own brainrot without wanting to die while i do it

[minamill]

ty to the ppl who sent me music related asks, but they rly stress me out so i won't answer them. sorry <3

[chocolatespyro]

I know I made this as a joke image but this quote and a few others from the same episode i think about a lot.

Like imagine being brought to life in the image of another person and the only one that cared enough to question how you came back is now being told that she's the problem.

That you and your friends have been "nothing but kind" and now she's been hammered into the same square-peg-circle-hole you've been put through your whole entire existence and now you're spitting the same bullshit lies you've been told and exposed to. Because they treated you "well."

Maybe you didn't pay enough attention or maybe you just didn't recognize it, but the way that she's been treated... the way you fell back into the role they wanted you to be in even after trying to reclaim your identity. How you don't even recognize you're essentially still in the same place that you started, and now everything's back to the status quo... god

Hey remember that episode of inanimate insanity invitational where the contestants take in a bunch of feral wild animals, love them care for them and feed them and then make them kill each other in a fight to the death in an arena and how in the fourteenth episode they reference that as a heartwarming example of love and care

"oh there might not be as many of your species as there used to be (because my friends killed them all) but those same people are still a cool community right…? right..?" and they compare that to another character who has been kicked down and spat on and hurt and shunned and alienated by those exact same people the whole season and the narrative decides "yup, this is what I wanted!" sigh.

but hey, all is forgiven 'cause confetti, right?

sorry to the people who thought this was fanart at first lmao

[metalhoops]

Inspired by this post

Steve had watched the world end a hundred different ways. He’d lived the same day more times than he could count, watching the people he loved die or feeling himself die. There were things worse than death. There were memories he didn’t dredge up for fear of calling them into the waking world.

He'd held onto hope for the first twenty recurrent days, which had dwindled to a sense of steely determination until he’d lost count of the days. Then all that was left was the comfort of repetition. He was Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill, day in and day out. Steve kept trying and failing to save Eddie until it was all he knew.

Maybe he was Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods and spent his life paying for it, tied to a rock while birds picked at his liver, only for it to grow back with each morning. Prometheus whose name, by definition, means forethought; one’s ability to consider possible futures. Steve had spent a small lifetime considering futures. It wasn’t a comparison he would’ve made on his own. That was Eddie, who’d spent his childhood with his head in thick tomes of fantasy and mythology.

Eddie Munson came to him like cheap furniture, in crudely disassembled pieces that Steve had been working tirelessly to put together. Each new loop brought him another piece of Eddie. His favourite colour was blue. He only woke up early on weekends to watch cartoons. He liked too much cream in his coffee.

The Eddie that existed in a world where Steve stayed with him and Dustin during the swarm of bats had told Steve his biggest dream was to make enough money to buy Uncle Wayne a proper home. His biggest fear was that when he died, no one would remember him.

Days or months later, with Steve repeating the same damn day, he’d finally learnt why Eddie’s love for his uncle ran so deep. Wayne had taken him in before his dad went to jail when the man caught Eddie holding another boy’s hand. In that world, Steve had stayed with Eddie in the RV as the rest of the group searched War Zone.  

Eddie’s mother died when he was six. He’d told Steve that later, or earlier. Steve had and has lost his sense of past and present. Eddie loved his mother deeply, though was unsure if that love had been misplaced. He recalled two mothers, one who read him bedtime stories and threw herself around the kitchen each morning with her wild theatrics and another mother who was distant and whose temper could turn on a dime. Eddie wasn’t sure which of those mothers was his and which was the mother of memory. All good storytellers know the story shapes itself in the retelling. Eddie’s mother was Janus, god of duality.

Steve understood. He loved and hated his parents. These feelings weren’t mutually exclusive. Steve loved Eddie because he’d spent the last hundred-odd days getting to know him, but Steve hated Eddie because he kept dying. Until he didn’t.

The boys lay side by side in the red-blue soil of The Upside Down, their bleeding sides caked with mud and demonic bat viscera. In the end, Steve wasn’t sure what’d done it. It’d been so long since he’d lived Eddie’s original death that it’d been smeared by the haze of memory and conjecture. All he knew was that a sea of bats lay dead around them and that it was over. Finally, over.

Steve removed his hand from where it was pressed into his side and extended it to ensnare Eddie’s. He felt muscles tug and tear from the walls of his ribs with the effort. Blood flowed freely from the cavity, but Steve didn’t care. He wanted to hold Eddie’s hand. Holy shit, they’d done it.

Somewhere along the way, Steve had fallen in love. It’d taken him ten more iterations to reconcile with the fact he could not only like a man but love him.  That was months ago, in Steve’s time. It was old news. “Steve, you still with me?” Eddie asked, his voice horse.

He was hurt, though not as badly as Steve. All his wounds were superficial. He’d be okay. Steve had been so sick of watching Eddie die, he’d been willing to put his body on the line to make sure it didn’t happen again.

In this loop, he was still ‘Steve’, not ‘Stevie’. They hadn’t grown close enough yet. Eddie only called him ‘sweetheart’ in the iterations where they kissed. Steve wanted to kiss him, but there was the taste of iron in his mouth.

“I’m okay,” Steve insisted, squeezing Eddie’s hand. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his side as Eddie pressed his hand into Steve’s wound.

“Christ, there’s a lot of blood,” Eddie muttered to himself. 

He was bad with blood. He’d scraped his knee down to the bone when he was seven and ever since, the sight of gore made him queasy. Steve wasn’t meant to know that yet. In this iteration, he hadn’t told Eddie about the loop. He’d tried before, but it never helped.

Pain and blood loss drag Steve down into a familiar oblivion. He expected to wake at the beginning of the loop, emerging in The Upside Down from Lover’s Lake, but instead, he found himself in a hospital room with Eddie in a bed by his side. It was late, too late for visitors, but Eddie wasn’t sleeping. His eyes were trained on Steve, equal parts concerned and curious.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Eddie confessed, as Steve’s eyes met his. 

Steve wanted to cry or scream. He wanted to untangle himself from the knot of cords and tubes to crawl beside Eddie in bed as they had curled up together in the back of the RV dozens of times before. He needed to hold Eddie to know he was alive, to understand he wasn’t going anywhere. Steve blinked away tears, balling his hands into fists. He didn’t want to scare Eddie.

“I scared you?” Steve choked out a mixture between a laugh and a sob.

Eddie didn’t know what to do. He never knew what to do when people cried. Steve learned that in the iteration where they’d lost Dustin. He didn’t want to think about it.  

“You almost died, man,” Eddie explained.

He somehow understood Steve wanted him closer. Eddie got out of bed, clutching his I.V. drip as he flopped into the chair by Steve’s bedside. He wanted to hold Eddie’s hand again, but he was out of excuses. He could tell him the truth, but he didn’t know what good it would do.

Steve was still used to thinking of possible futures. He was Prometheus who, unlike Sisyphus, escaped his torment. Steve wondered what happened to Prometheus after he was rescued. Did he return to a normal life? Does anyone bother to ask? Prometheus’ story is always about punishment. Afterwards, he was a footnote in the story of Hercules, but once the heroes leave the story, what’s left?

Eddie would know the answer, but it wasn’t a conversation he’d had with this Eddie. That Eddie was dead. This Eddie was and wasn’t him. This Eddie was Janus, god of abstract duality, god of beginnings and ends, god of life and death.

“Sorry my lame-ass face is the first one you had to see. Robin and the kids were in here all day. Wheeler left flowers,” Eddie tacked on awkwardly.

This Eddie didn’t know Steve. They were strangers. Of course, things were awkward. He couldn’t know he was the one person Steve wanted to see more than anything.

“No, Ed’s—.” Slip of the tongue.

“Eddie. I’m really glad you’re here, man.”

They were back to square one, but Steve could work with that. He’d been working with that for months. This time, Eddie would remember. This time, they had the luxury of taking things slow.

“One thing’s been bugging me all day,” Steve began.

After hundreds of days of getting to know Eddie, Steve had learnt a few shortcuts, a few ways to jump-start his way into Eddie’s heart.

“Can you explain what the hell Mordor is?”

It was a tried-and-true method. By that point, Steve knew Eddie’s response off by heart, but he wanted to hear him say it. Eddie gave him the same perplexed look he always did when Steve asked. It was as though Eddie thought he knew too much like there was some secret he wasn’t letting him in on, but he didn’t challenge Steve on it. He never did.

“Harrington, have you heard of Lord of the Rings?” Yes.

“No.” A million times.

“Tell me about it.”

Read Part 2 Here

[frozenjokes]

mermaid mumbo jumbo takes up rock climbing

ao3 link

Mumbo was acting strange.

It was noticeable immediately when he and Scar didn’t share their usual energetic greeting, though Grian thought it was possible Mumbo just wasn’t feeling it, maybe he was tired, or just started to value his personal space again. It wasn’t a massive deal. Easily brushed off. Grian himself had been set on fishing today, overtaken by a sudden longing he hadn’t felt in so long, and although fishing in this spot was.. less than stellar, he had still been excited, ready with his equipment, his headphones, and a steady determination to make something out of today.

Focused on this, it was easier not to notice Mumbo’s distance from Scar. Not engaging, not playing. He seemed to be busy with something else, combing for pebbles by the shore, but even as Scar rambled on and walked by his side, Mumbo never looked up.

It was a little weird when Mumbo sidled up to the rocky overhang where Grian was perched to stare. Mumbo always did plenty of staring, this wasn’t new, but he never bothered with the rocks, the hill way too steep and the boulders Grian typically used to climb up here were too treacherous for someone without legs. However weird, it was amusing to see the tips of Mumbo’s spiky hair poke up over the side of the overhang, along with the sounds of struggle of him attempting to remain steady on his tail. Mumbo could easily stand five or six feet tall on land, but eight was pushing it, his tail lacking the stability to hold him as it thinned near the end. Grian liked seeing just a second of Mumbo’s head over the sparse grass as he attempted to jump, and then when Mumbo remembered he had hands, Grian also found it silly when Mumbo scrabbled at the dirt and rock, finally pulling himself up enough to rest his head on the cliff edge, arms flopped out in front of him as an anchor.

“Hey there,” Grian smiled, waving with his new prosthetics. He assumed that’s what Mumbo wanted to see, Grian using his invention from the deep. In general, Grian did not find them all that practical, but for holding the rod, it was actually quite nice to get the extra support with the curled fingers. And whether or not Grian found the glove terribly useful, there was no way he wouldn’t be taking it to the beach every day for the rest of his life now. Mumbo made it for him, loved that he was using it, and it was a very sweet gesture, even if Grian was afraid to wash it using anything but straight water- what if it tore or shrunk? Honestly, even if the little finger bits weren’t the most helpful things in the world, the compression did wonders for the little phantom pains Grian kept feeling down his hand and arm, and beyond that, Grian quite liked the cosmetics.. Listen, having claws was awesome, okay! Even if you only had them on three of your ten fingers, Grian just felt cool.

Mumbo lingered until he got uncomfortable by the looks of it, then slid back down the side of the overhang. Based on Scar’s loud laughter, it must have been pretty silly looking, but Grian couldn’t see from his angle. Unfortunate. Grian went back to fishing, thinking very little of it.

He thought a little bit more of it when Mumbo did it again. And again. And again. He and Grian nearly knocked heads when Grian poked over the side just for Mumbo to launch himself up at the same time, both of them making a startled sound and scrambling back.

Scar found this quite funny as well. “I think he wants you to come down, G!”

“Well-“ Grian felt indignant, not having fished in weeks, “I’m fishing! He can wait!”

“He wants you to come down noooww! You’re not going to catch anything anyway, you may as well.”

“I- Just for that, I’m staying put. You can tell Mumbo yourself it’s your fault.”

Scar seemed delighted to do just that, walking up behind the mermaid to deliver the bad news. “I’m sorry, Mumbo, Grian’s fishing. He doesn’t want to come down because he doesn’t love you, but you can hang out with me if you want.” Mumbo’s fins flicked, but other than that, he didn’t acknowledge Scar at all. Maybe he understood though, because Mumbo seemed to be giving up on the cliff side, heading towards something- Oh dear, he was going to try and scale the rocks.

Even Scar seemed astonished by this, both he and Grian watching in mild amazement and Mumbo lifted himself up on the first of many rocks, but he wasn’t a snake or anything, he did not have nearly the motor skills or flexibility of a land animal. The rocks were pretty rough, too, Grian couldn’t imagine they felt very good on his scales. But Mumbo seemed determined, slowly scooting to the next boulder up, then the third, shakier now as he struggled to balance on all three, and.. oh, there he goes.

Mumbo’s middle third slipped off, bringing the rest of himself tumbling as well and landing with a pathetic sounding thwap in the very rocky sand, oof, that couldn’t have felt good. Grian had a few scrapes and scars from slipping himself, though it couldn’t have hurt too bad, Mumbo right back up and trying again moments later.

..It was a little hard to watch.

Scar was very clearly trying not to laugh, but not doing a very good job of it, and Grian wouldn’t be surprised if the growing frequency of Mumbo’s irritated fin flicks were directed at him, but.. Well, it was funny. Grian couldn’t blame Scar on that front. He did try to go back to fishing, but the pathetic noises of Mumbo flopping onto the sand were a little bit distracting, and Grian couldn’t help himself from looking back every couple minutes to watch. Oof.. If Mumbo wanted him to come down so bad, maybe he should just do it. It’s not like he couldn’t fish on the sand, but he typically tried to avoid casting his line in an area of such high traffic. He supposed he could wade into the weeds, but grimaced at the threat of the cold water. No thanks. Well, he’d catch something up here at least before throwing in the towel.

Mumbo gave up before that happened though, which was probably for the best. Grian thought so at least until Mumbo started messing with his line, argh, he hated when Mumbo did that! It was a bigger issue in the first weeks they’d met, but Mumbo learned pretty quickly this made Grian seethe.. though apparently this wasn’t stopping Mumbo anymore. Grian jerked his line when Mumbo pounced on it, but this didn’t stop Mumbo from trying to pull, his biggest enemy being Grian reeling the lure in as fast as he could.

“You’re going to get hooked, Mumbo!”

Mumbo didn’t give a fuck. He knew the bit at the end was sharp, Grian was certain that he could see the flash of the oncoming lure, too, and Grian was proven correct, though not in the way he’d wanted to be. Grian drew a sharp, horrified breath when Mumbo jumped on the lure, clasping it hard in both hands, then pulled gently, as if reminding Grian not to let go of the rod. Grian almost did when Mumbo pulled harder, steady, but strong, forcing line out of the reel even at Grian’s delayed attempt to stop him. Grian winced hard when Mumbo tore the hooks out of his hand, but apparently it didn’t hurt that much, because in the next moment Mumbo was tying the damn thing to a branching tree root. Oh my god. Oh my god!!!

“Mumbo!” Grian screeched, though Mumbo didn’t look like he thought he was in very much trouble, showing Grian his palms in what looked like an almost-human gesture, but one Mumbo didn’t quite understand. And then he dove under the water, leaving Grian gaping stupidly with his taut rod. “Mumbo!! You untie the line right this instant! I am not cutting my line over something so stupid- I like that lure!!” But it was clear Mumbo wasn’t coming back, and when Grian stopped seeing his dark shape under the water, he whirled on a cackling Scar.

“Go get it!”

“What?” Scar spoke tearfully, and Grian didn’t doubt he hadn’t heard over his own obnoxious howling.

“You’re already wet! Go untie my lure!”

Scar snorted, “Well, sir, even though you asked so very nicely, I wasn’t planning on dunking all the way since Mumbo clearly isn’t in the mood to deal with me today. That’s quite the swim you’re asking of me too, and I hate going over there, the weeds tickle my feet like monsters. Why don’t you go?”

“I’m stuck up here with the rod!”

“I could hold it for you.”

“I don’t have a swim suit!”

“Just go in your clothes? Mumbo wants you to come down anyway, you should say hi!”

“I will not give him the satisfaction.” Grian growled, and Scar laughed.

“There it is.”

“Shut up! You are useless to me! Useless!” Grian held his rod between his legs, grabbing the small tackle box behind him. But just when he thought he’d left his pocket knife in his bag, Mumbo surfaced once more, a wriggling bass in his jaws. He did not acknowledge Grian’s venomous admonishing, turning to where he’d tied the lure, undoing it, then gracelessly taking the heavily injured bass from his own mouth and sticking it hard on the hook. Fins waving contentedly, Mumbo tossed the poor thing right back in the water. Silently, Grian reeled it in.

“...Thanks.”

Mumbo returned to staring. Even when Grian awkwardly brought all his stuff down from the overhang, including the heavily maimed fish, Mumbo only stared, making no move to do- whatever it was he wanted to do now that Grian was within reach. Honestly, the idea of Mumbo’s proximity was a little disconcerting, but Grian crushed the feeling back down. He was so tired of being scared, he just wanted things to go back to normal.

But when Mumbo did move back onto land, he did not go to Grian or Scar. He was right back at the overhang, fins flicking at the bottom of the steep hill. Ah. Grian understood. When he voiced this sentiment, Scar turned, bewildered.

“You understand?”

“He’s made an enemy,” Grian nodded, sage, and at the same moment Mumbo tried once more to push himself up the side of the hill. It was a lot more sad looking from this angle. No, no, this wouldn’t do. “We need to get him up that hill side.”

///

For about the fifteen thousandth time today, Mumbo slid pathetically down the slope. Fuck! Fuck! Stupid fucking hill, stupid legs he didn’t have- why was it so hard to get up there, Mumbo was- He was going to get up there if it was the last thing he did! At the bottom of the hill, face down, he pounded a fist against the sand.

///

“Oohh, y’know, he does look upset,” Scar mused, rubbing his chin. “Actually, I’ve got something in my car that can help! I’ll be right back!” Scar ran off without explanation, and Grian didn’t bother calling after him. Instead, he wandered back over to Mumbo, unsure entirely about what his plan here was, but he felt the need to provide some kind of moral support, in the same way he’d stand awkwardly next to the toilet while one of his wasted friends puked their brains out.

“I believe in you,” he tried, and Mumbo did look up at him, but not for very long, his attention drawn back to the hillside, fins drawn back. “Yeah,” Grian mumbled. “I don’t think I could get up that way either. Especially if I weighed two tons.” Curiosity led him to lay his good hand on the scarred surface regardless; could he climb this? Most definitely not, he did not have the upper body strength for that, not to mention half the fingers on his right hand were gone, but still. Grian tried jumping, a little pathetically. The overhang was probably about eight and a half feet high, and he could hold himself briefly at the top if he used his feet to hike up the side, though not as long as Mumbo could. But now Grian was invested, his attempts to scramble up the side of the hill just as pathetic as Mumbo’s.

Grian was so focused on this new challenge, he had nearly forgotten Mumbo was there. He was currently attempting to dig his feet into the side of the hill to keep steady, but that wasn’t keeping him from slipping as far as his hands were concerned, holding pathetically onto patches of weeds. And then something grabbed his ankles, and Grian couldn’t so much as squeak before being shoved near effortlessly over the top of the overhang. Stunned, Grian just sat there for a minute before peeking over the edge to see a very pleased looking Mumbo, fins waving.

Grian couldn’t help but chuckle, “I guess that’s one way to do it. Your turn, then?” He slid down from the top, dusting off his butt and legs before pointing back to the top. Grian wasn’t exactly sure if Mumbo would be okay with being touched, but he had to assume they both had the same idea here. Mumbo blinked, lifting himself slowly to full height like it was a question. Grian tried to mime pushing him up. Mumbo mirrored the gesture. Did that mean he understood? Either way, Mumbo strained to pull himself to the top of the cliff- woof, it wasn’t every day Grian realized how massive he was. Still, Grian experimented very gently with touching Mumbo’s side, just to make sure it was okay. A little nerve wracking, Grian wouldn’t lie, but while Mumbo’s fins twitched, he did not make any additional movements. Alright. Grian could do this- for the cause!

Mumbo dropped back down, presumably understanding that this was a test. The next time Mumbo flung himself back at the top of the overhang, Grian grabbed near the end of his tail with his palms, heaving upward, but very quickly realized he did not have the grip needed to be effective without hugging the tail. He didn’t want to do this for multiple reasons- Grian always managed to forget that fish were indeed kind of slimy, and also he didn’t particularly want his head bitten off, but Mumbo was trying so hard!

“Whoa! Look at that!” Scar’s voice startled Grian into letting go, and Mumbo in turn slid back down the cliff, fins lowered dejectedly. “That working at all?”

Grian shrugged noncommittally, “He’s too slippery..” though he trailed off when he turned to see Scar. “Is that a step ladder? Scar, there’s no way he’s going to be able to use that, it’ll fall for sure. Why do you have that anyway?”

“You never know when you’ll need a step ladder, Grian! This bad boy’s a little rickety, but we’ll hold it still for Mumbo!”

“Hold it? If he loses his balance on that thing one of us is going to get crushed!”

“Not if he’s successful on the first try! C’mon, he could have crushed you just as easily when you were trying to push him up- not that you were trying very hard, geez, you’d probably have better luck wrapping your arms around him.”

Grian snorted, “Sure. He’s too heavy anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“You think he’ll break my step ladder?”

“Most definitely. I think he’ll take you out in the process as well, there’s no way this works.”

“So you’re not going to help me?” Scar scoffed, marching over to the overhang without waiting for an answer, “You’re the one who declared we needed to get him up there in the first place! Whose side are you on? The enemy?”

“I’ll help.” Grian gave his shoulder a playful shove, “But at the first sign of trouble, I’m gone.”

“There won’t be any trouble,” Scar huffed, getting Mumbo’s attention for the first time today by opening the ladder up and pushing it into the ground. Not even five minutes passed before Scar was face down and twitching in the sand after being crushed by a two ton mermaid, Mumbo sniffing him concernedly, with the step ladder in pieces. Yeah. Just about as well as Grian thought this would go.

“Alright!” Scar shot a pointed finger straight up into the air, making Mumbo jump back in alarm, “Grian, you go to the top. I’m gonna push him up from the bottom and you’re going to pull from your end.”

“Oh,” Grian blinked looking up to the overhang, “You think we’ll both fit up there?”

“Well you can abandon ship if you need to, and clearly you aren’t suited for the groundwork, seriously, that was a little bit pathetic.”

“You- You are being so mean to me!” Grian crossed his arms, “Our friend has gained an affinity for rock climbing, and all you’re giving me are bad ideas and flack.”

“Who’s giving who flack? You’ve been nothing but a Negative Nancy since the start of this endeavor!”

“I think being practical about your bad idea doesn’t constitute negativity, but sure, go ahead and project.”

“I think that’s enough outta you,” Scar went from his hands and knees to knocking Grian’s legs out from under him with terrifying speed, and Grian was not a small guy, Scar should not have been able to sweep him off his feet like that, but before Grian could process any of that, Scar attempting to throw him to the top of the hill was a new and terrifying experience that had all of his attention. Grian screeched and flailed as he was tossed upward, though predictably, he didn’t get very far, and he certainly wasn’t trying to grab on to any overhangs. Scar stumbled as he caught Grian, nearly falling, but that didn’t stop him from chastising, “Come on, G! You gotta try a little bit harder than that!”

“No no no no no-!” Grian did not stop screaming when he was thrown, but this time, his flight abruptly ended, long fingers under his armpits holding him over Mumbo’s head while the mermaid leaned over to hiss in Scar’s direction. Grian stopped flailing, mildly stunned by this development until he was brought closer to the hillside and practically shoved up the side. Broken from his stupor, Grian scrambled to the top.

“Oh my god. Mumbo! Me next! Me next! Mumbo me next!” Scar threw his arms up like a toddler to his disgruntled father, jumping up and down in such a way that seemed to exacerbate Mumbo’s fed up expression. Well, maybe Grian’s imagination was doing some heavy lifting as far as facial expressions went, but Mumbo’s fins seemed to tell a similar story. Mumbo gave Scar a firm thumbs down, a succinct expression of exactly his feelings on the matter, but Scar only resorted to begging, retaliating with his own double thumbs up. Drooping fins indicated just how exasperated Mumbo was becoming, but this was an unfortunate indication to Scar that Mumbo was close to caving, his efforts to achieve this thrill for himself redoubling.

After a lot of Scar pointing to himself and then to Mumbo in a frenzied fashion, Mumbo finally snatched him up, shaking him vigorously and briefly before dropping Scar on his ass and returning to the cliffside. Scar laid back in the sand, KO’d, but equally awed. Grian guessed that probably made his week.

But Scar wasn’t down for long, and when Mumbo moved to continue his journey to the top of the hill, Scar was back up in moments, attempting to communicate what he intended to do while Mumbo mostly ignored him. Grian snorted at that, Scar gaping helplessly as he tried and failed to get Mumbo’s attention, and from what Grian could guess of Mumbo’s fins, the mermaid was absolutely getting quite a bit of satisfaction out of this.

However, Grian didn’t want Scar to get bit by touching Mumbo when he wasn’t expecting it, so he gave the plan explanation his own shot, easier when Mumbo was paying attention to the pantomiming Grian was attempting to do. When Mumbo finally looked back at Scar, Scar gently reached to touch his tail, and when the mermaid blinked, unmoving, Scar took this as permission, giving Grian a hearty thumbs up.

“Here we go! I’ll do most of the heavy lifting, G, don’t you worry.”

Grian rolled his eyes. “I guess I’m not.”

Mumbo looked between them, seeming to understand their shared agreement before lining himself up against the hill side. Grian couldn’t help but notice how Mumbo shook when he heaved himself upright; Grian supposed he’d be struggling too after living in water his whole life then throwing himself at a wall for nearly two hours.. Well, Grian hoped this would work. When Mumbo launched himself skyward, hands over the stony edge, Scar was at his midsection in an instant, but Mumbo didn’t seem to expect Grian to touch his hands, letting go with a small whistle aaaaand based on the frightened yelp from below, crushing Scar for the second time today.

Grian poked his head over the overhang, and couldn’t stifle a chuckle when he saw a near repeat of twenty minutes ago, Scar groaning in the sand and Mumbo sniffing his hair. Mumbo must’ve concluded Scar was fine though, hardly spending thirty seconds over his body and turning right back to the cliff, ready to try again. When Scar didn’t get up fast enough, Mumbo whacked him with his tail, to which Scar jumped up, indignance expressed in a jumble of words and stuttering that couldn’t have been English. Mumbo only looked smug, and when Scar wasn’t acknowledged, he returned to his post, grumbling but ready.

The second time went smoother. Mumbo’s initial jump got him pretty far, and Grian hadn’t so much as pulled on his end when a massive lurch pushed Mumbo over the edge past his chest. With a little more pulling, pushing, and a lot of flailing on Mumbo’s side, most of him was up, and 100% of that Mumbo was completely squashing Grian, since, as predicted, there was not nearly enough room for the both of them.

It took a moment for Grian to realize that he should be panicking, that this was exactly one of the things he was so afraid of, being crushed, trapped, helpless here, but even with this realization he just.. felt nothing. Huh. Well, he supposed he appreciated his brain and body for doing him this favor. Mumbo being a complete doofus probably helped. Grian was less fond when said doofus started to move, to his credit, attempting to crush Grian less, but Mumbo was far less coordinated outside of the water, and it seemed the best that he could do was curl in a tight circle, the meat of his body behind Grian and the rest of him draped over Grian’s outstretched legs, fins flopped in random directions. Something in Grian- maybe everything- softened when Mumbo rested his head just above Grian’s knee, closing his eyes with the quietest little trill. Oh. Oh dear. Grian could never move again.

Given the look of awe on his face, Scar must have had a similar thought, though when he opened his mouth, Grian was convinced instead that a single thought had never entered his brain, “Alright, I’m coming up!”

“Wait wait wait-!” Grian could not prepare or escape under the weight of Mumbo’s tail, and Mumbo himself had hardly reacted to Grian’s sudden panic before Scar had vaulted the cliffside. Mumbo jumped so hard when Scar grabbed his tail for security that he nearly fell off the other side, Grian flipping around to grab the base of Mumbo’s tail and back to keep him from slipping.

“Whoa, sorry, Mumbo!” Scar didn’t sound very sorry at all as he crawled over Mumbo’s tail and fins, rearranging and squeezing himself under Mumbo’s tail like a blanket, all barriers of touch being apparently broken. Given how still Mumbo was, Grian guessed he was too stunned to do much about this, and Grian did his best to pull the bulk of his body securely back onto the overhang. Scar, on the other hand, was curling up in the space he’d made for himself, resting his head near the end of Mumbo’s tail.

Mumbo whistled something, and given the aggressive flicking of his fins, Grian guessed it was not a happy something, but neither of them were forcibly evicted, and only a few moments later, Mumbo’s chin returned to rest on Grian’s leg. Ah.. Right then.

It took a few minutes for Grian’s heart to stop pounding, but then things were quiet, things were calm, things were.. almost nice. Grian was sitting at a bit of an odd angle, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to lean all of himself on Mumbo’s aforementioned slimy back, but he did cave, especially when it was clear neither Scar nor Mumbo intended on leaving any time soon.

The sun was shining, warm and gentle on Grian’s face. This wasn’t so bad. This wasn’t so bad at all.

In bed tonight, trying to fall asleep, Grian would be consumed by the utter impossibility of something like that happening, of existing there, of being one of the only- maybe the only person who’d made such a connection with a creature that humans knew so little about, it may as well have been alien. What a life this was. More than he’d ever been before, he was consumed with an immense gratitude that he was still here to experience it.

///

‘And then I climbed all the way to the top of that cliff, the one Red fishes off of, all the way to the top! And you know, as much as those two can skeeve me out with their grubby little hands, it was kinda nice to sit up there with the both of them, they’re cute, that’s what I think. Shame I couldn’t stay, but I was pretty dried out at that point, my scales still hurt.’

Mumbo was as yappy as those damn humans of theirs this evening, and Atlas couldn’t tell if this was an improvement to before or far worse. Either way, they were certainly being annoying, and Atlas couldn’t keep themself from a snarky response.

‘I thought the plan was to ignore Scars today, tomorrow, and for the rest of time, what happened to that?’

Mumbo’s fins waved, but there was no irritation there, no lack of amusement, ‘Scars didn’t even notice when I gave it a try, dense little creature. And when they wanted my attention, there was no stopping them, really, there wasn’t.’ Mumbo blew a few bubbles from their nose, setting their head on their hands. ‘I don’t think I could keep it up, even if I wanted to. I’m weak, Atlas. They have no idea what they do to me..’ Mumbo paused, their fins flicking, ‘Both of them, really.’

Atlas’s tentacles twitched at that, though whatever emotion shivered through their veins, they could not identify it. Easy to call it disgust, concern, and leave it at that, but..

‘I didn’t take Scars’s gift today, just pretended to forget it. I think they forgot in earnest if I’m being honest, but that’s besides the point. Tomorrow I’ll set them straight, I’ll do it properly. Nothing will stick in that thick head of theirs if I let this go on. I just wish I had a way to tell them neither of us want their old, stiff fish.’

Atlas snorted, ‘You don’t want the ice, either.’

Mumbo dismissed them with a flick of their tail, unbothered, ‘It’s the thought that counts.’

[yuesya]

Visitors from other lands were a rare sight in the territories of Mondstadt. Not to the point where it was unheard of, but quite an unusual occurrence nonetheless.

Understandably so. According to the legends, the result of the conflict between the Great Wolf-king and the Lord of the Tower was a drastic transformation of the surrounding landscape, including the weather. Rolling hills of lush, verdant greenery turned into endless fields of rime and snow, as the very earth was frozen underfoot. The God of Storms had responded to this by raising high, impenetrable barriers of fierce winds to keep the unnatural winter at bay and protect their people.

Ever since, eternal howling winds have surrounded Mondstadt’s borders.

No beast from the Wolf-god’s kingdom could cross the impenetrable barrier and encroach upon Mondstadt’s territory. Yet at the same time, the storm-winds also served as heavy deterrence to any prospective travelers from other lands. Those rare visitors who found themselves in Mondstadt were few in number, and rarely ever stayed for long before vanishing from the city.

(Coincidence? Unlikely. It was much more probable that someone didn’t want the people of Mondstadt to have contact with the outside world, and the only one who could give an order like that and have it unhesitatingly obeyed would be–)

“What do you mean, ‘vanish?’”

Ventus pauses. His little friend, Barbatos, peers up at him curiously.

“Well, ‘vanish’ might not be the right word for it,” Ventus hums. “It’s more like, ‘discreetly escorted out by the Knights,’ and usually they’re never seen again. Which makes sense, if we’re thinking about how–”

“I’m not interrupting anything here, am I?”

“Gunnhildr!” The wind spirit zips over, tumbling over the shoulder of the blonde-haired girl entering the room.

“Hello, Barbatos,” the young woman smiles, then turns towards Ventus. “I managed to convince my father to let me borrow the clan records you were asking about.”

Ventus’ eyes widen at the piece of good news, “Then, does that mean…?”

“My father agrees that something needs to change, for Mondstadt, and has promised to support our efforts,” Gunnhildr smiles, and there is a steely fire that burns behind her eyes. “Resources run thin within the barrier. There is only so much that can be done without consistent trade or expansion of new territories, and in order for either of that to happen…”

“The barrier needs to go,” Ventus murmurs quietly.

“Don’t let any of the Knights catch you saying that,” Gunnhildr warns.

“I know, I know.” The majority of Decarabian’s knights are from the Imunlaukr Clan. Although the Imunlaukrs were the youngest of the noble lines, they were also fiercely loyal to the Lord of the Tower. They saw the wind barrier as a blessing–

And perhaps it was, in the beginning. But literal hundreds of years have passed since then, and Mondstadt cannot remain cut off from the world forever.

“Here,” Gunnhildr passes him a worn-down book, one that’s remarkably well-preserved, despite its age. “This is my clan’s records of the founding of Mondstadt. You can see it recorded here –Lord Decarabian saved my ancestors from a monstrous beast that had been killing humans for sport. Afterwards, my clan settled in this area. The Hunter proceeded to kill any and all beasts and created a haven for humanity…”

A haven, which eventually turned into a cage.

Ventus flips through the pages slowly, Barbatos peering curiously from over his shoulder. Obligingly, Ventus tilts the book towards his little friend who’s reading alongside him.

… The God of Storms, He who bears the appearance of a youthful man, with hair as black as night-spun darkness and eyes as clear as the blue sky; the winds rise at His command, and thus were the heavy boulders used in the construction of Mondstadt’s first buildings carried down from the mountain kingdom of Sal Vindagnyr…

… flowers. The Cecilia Garden was originally constructed in tribute to the Lord of the Tower, yet He cares not for frivolity. Not once has He ever deigned to visit the garden, but every year the most resplendent blooms shall be gathered in offering to the God of Storms…

… so was the Prince of Wolves slain at last, and vengeance claimed for the Gale Knights who fought bravely in defense of their people. But there are those who express concern, for the Dominator of Wolves, the King of Beasts, shall surely retaliate for the death of a beloved child, and long have beasts feared the Great Hunter who brings death upon the winds for those who trespass on Mondstadt’s lands…

…

“My father said… my clan owes a great debt to Lord Decarabian. All of Mondstadt does, really. No one knows why he’s fallen silent, but… if there’s any way of getting a proper audience, then perhaps…”

It might not be the solution to their problems and concerns, but it would be a good starting point. Ventus exhales slowly.

Decarabian. The Lord of the Tower, God of Storms, the Great Hunter.

Stories have always painted him in the role of a savior, of a caring god who loved his people and had worked tirelessly to keep them safe. It didn’t exactly match up with the current reality of a tyrant who ignored the cries of his people, which meant…

… well, Ventus wasn’t sure about what this meant, exactly. But there were most assuredly missing pieces of the puzzle here –and Ventus intended to find them all.

He had to. For Mondstadt, and for freedom.

For the future.

“There are only a select few among the Gale Knights who’ve met Decarabian in person,” Ventus starts slowly, “The Knight-Captain Kairos Imunlaukr should be one of them, right?”

“It would be difficult to secure a meeting with him,” Gunnhildr frowns. “Unless I use my father’s influence, of course, but…”

“But that’s unlikely to get us a good impression.” More likely, if anything that Ventus has heard about Captain Imunlaukr was true, then they’d earn the man’s ire instead. Which would not be conducive towards anything whatsoever.

“What if we just ask Cecilia?”

Ventus blinks. Cecilia? The mysterious wind spirit who’d appeared out of nowhere that night and helped them, before vanishing again just as swiftly… “Wait, you’re in touch with her?”

Barbatos turns a little lazy loop in the air. “Nope!”

“Uh…”

“But maybe she’ll hear us if we ask nicely?” The young wind spirit giggles. “We could also play a few songs, too, just to make sure we catch her attention!”

Ventus finds himself smiling fondly, “Just admit it, you want a chance to play songs together again.”

Well, it’s certainly an idea. Ventus doesn’t know what role that Cecilia plays in Mondstadt, but… a wind spirit of her power, who was also older than Barbatos and had clearly been around Mondstadt longer... was much likelier to know what was going on with Decarabian, right? Ventus would also appreciate getting the chance to meet her again –and ideally, actually talk to her this time.

I think she needs friends.

… If all else failed, then they’d just have to attempt to ambush the Knight-Captain while he was off-duty, after a night of music and singing and attempting to befriend a standoffish wind spirit who was the opposite of Barbatos in personality. No biggie.

[billlydear]

hi, can i request a hurt/comfort fic where reader is struggling with family problems (maybe like billy or maybe something different) and they’re kind of a jerk like billy too? but then something happens that breaks them down and he just so happens to be there and he actually helps them deal with it. if you’ve already written something like this then i’m sorry, i’m new here 😅 but i love your writing and i’m excited to read more 💓

GOT A LIGHT? - BILLY HARGROVE X READER

W.C 1948 - INBOX (please request !) - GIF CREDIT TO OWNER

A/N: ohh my god i'm sorry i went MIA for like two weeks!! more to come soon, i promise <3 warnings: mentions of abuse, reader is abused similar to billy, they smoke together, angst, angst with a happy ending (? maybe hopeful, not happy 😅)

He's in his car when it happens. It's late, past 2AM, which is why he supposes your mother sees no problem opening the door and shoving you out. You trip over the porch step when she pushes you, landing hard on your ass on the concrete while she looms over you.

"Find somewhere to stay for the night," She seethes, spitting mad, "Because you're not welcome here."

He's suspected it for a while. Anger like the stuff inside of him, anger like the stuff he's seen ooze out of you, that doesn't happen for no reason. He's disappointed but not surprised to watch you fall, staying concealed in the darkness of his car as he watches from across the street.

You don't even try to get up, and Billy knows exactly how you feel. Sometimes, when you're knocked on your ass, you don't get back up. You're a modern day Sisyphus, and the boulder's rolled back down your hill one too many times. He decides to help you push.

He doesn't want you to startle if he slams the door to his car, so he leaves it open. Under any other circumstances, he'd close and lock it, watching from the other side of the street to make sure no one even breathes near it. But it's in the back of his mind as he crosses the street to your house, the slightly chilled night air nipping at his bare, toned arms.

He stops behind you, boots scraping slightly against the pavement. You don't dare look at him, you know who he is. There's only one person across the street that would be out at 2AM, and he's the last person you want to see.

"Come sit in my car," He murmurs, keeping his voice low in case your mom can hear from inside.

"Fuck off." You keep your eyes down, still turned away from him and splayed over the pavement. You're propped up on your elbows, and Billy sees one of them slowly staining the ground red.

"You can sleep in the backseat if you want," He presses on, ignoring your hostility the way no one ever ignores his, "I'll pass out in the front and keep the heater running."

"Fuck. off."

"I'm not allowed inside tonight either," Billy finally admits, "My dad and your mom took the same parenting class."

You're quiet, and Billy knows you're thinking about it. Thinking about all the times you've seen him threaten to blow, all the times you've heard the whistle of his teapot before it boiled over, all the times he lingers on the street too late to be casual.

"I have a first aid kit under the seat." Billy looks at the red-stained concrete, "And you can bum my cigarettes."

It's a peace offering. It's all a peace offering, a confirmation that there's someone else like him out there, and he'll be damned if he lets you slip through his fingers. He's spent enough time hiding from everyone that could never understand, and now that he knows someone can, he can finally talk. He can finally feel, he can finally relate, he can finally live.

Everything hinges on this. He can't keep doing this, he can't keep spending cold nights on the front steps or sneaking to the kitchen for an ice pack to put over his ribs. He can't do it alone, and you're the only one that can help him. He feels his heart beating out of his chest, pounding in his ears and pooling blood near his feet where they're bent against the sidewalk. His thighs are burning from how long he's been squatting, but he'd rather die than give up and walk away.

He uses your silence to mentally heal your wounds. He thinks about bandaging your fingers, disinfecting your cuts with a thin, pale antiseptic wipe that'll burn his own abrasions. He fantasizes about the simple act of sharing a cigarette with a friend, and you seem to share his thoughts.

"You- uh, you got a light?"

He knows that surrender. He knows the witty quip, the emotionally-distant snark meant to change the subject and disguise hurt for indifference. It's why he doesn't demand a 'Thank you,' because the way you look back at him is enough of one. You let him help you off the ground, and support half of your weight when the knee you'd tweaked gives you trouble. He helps you hobble back to his car, and he even shuffles you into the driver's seat to get you in quick and easy, where the door is still open. No one else has ever sat in the driver's seat of his car.

"I'll get the first aid kit," He murmurs, "Take a smoke."

He hears you wrestle with the pack of cigarettes he'd left on the center console while he digs around in the backseat for his first aid kit. When he gets back with the little plastic box there's one between your lips unlit, and he remembers your earlier question.

"Here," He fumbles in his pocket for his lighter. He yanks it out, sparking it until a flame roars to life. He holds it against your unlit cigarette, watching as the embers form and glow in the dark.

"Thanks," You mumble, and he nods while reaching for your hands. They're scraped and raw, blood dark in the creases of your fingers but light over your palms like you'd formed a fist and bunched it up there. There's rocks in your cuts from the concrete of your front steps, and he picks it out with his fingernails, crimson gathering under them that, for once, isn't his own.

You hiss as he pulls a particularly rough rock from its spot, and he fights not to acknowledge it. He doesn't want you to feel weak, so he keeps picking until your hands are gravel-free. He's far too good at wrapping wounds for an 18 year-old, but neither of you comment on it. He knows you are, too.

"There," He keeps your hands in his own, only a thin layer of gauze separating his skin from yours. He only moves his hands to pluck the cigarette from between your lips with one, and you blow smoke out of the side of your mouth instead of in his face as a thank-you.

"You sleep in here?" You raise an eyebrow, and he throws a scathing glance at his house.

"Sometimes. Only when my dad's having a bad night."

"So all of them," You scoff, "I've seen you out here before. I was gonna-" You pause, scoffing, then bury your face in your bandaged hands, scrubbing it clean of something Billy's sure is vulnerability. He takes a drag from your cigarette while you hesitate.

"I was gonna come out and ask if you were okay," You grumble from inside your protective shell, "But I- I dunno, I try not to be out here at night if I don't have to be."

"You don't know if they'll let you back in," Billy mumbles, nodding while funneling smoke out of the corner of his mouth, "I get it."

You nod, then shiver. Billy suddenly remembers he's still crouched on asphalt and not safe inside, because a cigarette and a friend concoct warmth he's never known before. He pats your knee, then stands, "I'll crank up the heater."

It's weird being in the passenger's seat of his own car. He's been in there to clean, scrape mud from the wheels of Max's skateboard off of the floor while he curses her under his breath. But it's different settling in the seat, head leaning back against the headrest while you shut the driver's side door. Silence envelops the car, and Billy clicks the lights on so that you've got a warm glow cast over you.

"Thanks for the cigarette," You take it back from him when he offers it to you, "That's what- uh, that's why I was out there. My mom found mine."

"My dad doesn't care," Billy spits, grateful for the freedom but doomed by the negligence, "I think he'll be glad if I die of lung cancer so he doesn't have to kill me himself."

You snort, and he's so glad you don't apologize. There's a certain familiarity that the two of you can speak with, you don't have to preface anything with 'okay, this is kind of dark, but-' or 'can i tell you something personal?'. You both have the same lives, and conversation clicks into place like puzzle pieces.

He wonders when the last time you got to relax was, as you sink into the seat. Your shoulders aren't tense and your eyes drift shut, both things that seem impossible for Billy in his own home. He suspects it's the same for you, which is why he doesn't lament the night ending so soon.

He wants to say goodnight to you, like a friend would. He wants to pretend he's at a sleepover on your floor, like your mom had brought you two cookies an hour ago, and now you're playing cards in your sleeping bags. He wants to pretend things are normal, that you're kids hopped up on sugar and giggles, not teenagers on nicotine and despair.

But the scent of smoke fills his car, and there are bandages on your hands. So he waits for your breathing to even out, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest in time with the seconds that slip away from your last encounter with your family. In, out, in, out, further and further away from the horrors in your house.

Only when he's absolutely certain you're asleep does he dare speak, and his voice is barely anything above a whisper, raspy and cautious.

"Goodnight," He murmurs, because he feels incomplete shutting his eyes without saying it. He keeps his head turned towards you as he sleeps, legs splayed open as he slumps against the seat behind him. He's almost afraid to go to sleep, on high alert to make sure that nothing can steal away his opportunity. Making sure the lights in his house are still off, that his dad won't give up and push him back into the house in case the neighbors see him sleeping in his car. He's busy making sure your lights aren't on either, that your mother doesn't storm over and demand that her child be released from the young man's car. And he's making sure you don't slip out yourself, like you're a puff of smoke that could vanish if he puts too much faith in you.

But eventually, his eyes slip shut and don't open again for hours. He goes to sleep with a friend in his car, and he wakes up with one, too. There's light streaming through the windshield, and the car is more than warm because of it. There's birds chirping, there's people walking their dogs, there's chatter over backyard fences, and there's you.

You're flipping through a book of postcards that he keeps in the driver's side door, all of California's scenic spots. Your fingers are brushing over his favorite now, the beaches along the coast that he'd swore to surf clean across. You glance over at him when he shifts in his seat, and you bite the inside of your cheek before breaking the silence.

"Morning," You mumble, averting your eyes to the postcard in your lap, "These are.. these are really pretty."

"Yeah they are," Billy rasps, morning voice in full effect, "Prettier in person, though."

"I'll have to go sometime, then." You hum, and Billy's decided before you flip to the next page that he'll be the one to take you.

[yigaclvn]

Chapter 11: The Faron Region

A night out patrolling goes wrong.

cw: Angst, original character death.  :( 

Michiko stood toe to toe with a blue hinox. The monster was just how the other Yiga described it, huge and with a putrid smell. She gripped her wind cleaver, the black hilt- wait, black handle? The hilt of my sword was originally red..” Michiko thought. The hinox sneered at her as it grabbed a boulder with ease and hurled it at her. 

Instead of moving out of the way or reacting, Michiko just screwed her eyes shut and prepared herself for the incoming impact of the boulder. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes and sat up in her bed. 

“It was just a nightmare.” She told herself as Michiko held her already aching head in her hands, panting from the adrenaline rush. She slowly raised her head as Michiko glanced over at the small bookshelf in the corner of her room — where she kept all the journals Einosuke gave her. Michiko got up from her bed and made her way towards the bookshelf. Grabbing the first journal, she flipped through the pages, looking for anything that mentions hinoxes. She has read through the journals before but it’s been years at this point that she last read them through. 

Was it some kind of premonition? A warning perhaps? 

Journal one was a bust but immediately after flipping through the pages, there’s a passage that catches Michiko’s attention from Ruko Kuni, Einosuke’s great great grandfather. Very briefly, she recalled the story that Einsoke shared about him. Ruko Kuni had become a blademaster at the age of fourteen after his mother died protecting him from a royal knight. 

Michiko doesn’t spend much time reading the initial  passage explaining Ruko’s mother’s untimely demise. It’s rather depressing to think that Einosuke’s great great grandfather lost his family at the young age of fourteen. Especially considering she just woke up five minutes ago. Closing the journal and placing it back on the bookshelf, she takes a deep breath. Michiko stared at the latest journal, realizing she hasn’t documented anything ever since she was promoted to blademaster. She grabbed the book as she headed to the kitchen to make herself breakfast. 

Hours later, after Ayame had cleared her, Michiko is suiting up for patrol duty, donning her new blademaster uniform and attaching Einosuke’s sword which was now passed down to her and on her way out, Sooga tells her that he’ll be meeting her at the Faron Region later. She walks swiftly through the rainforest, knowing it by heart after spending significant time around this area with Sooga. 

After patrolling on her own for a while, Sooga finally showed up with three other Yiga. 

There had been reports of suspicious activity around the rainforest so tonight everyone had their guards up and on the lookout. 

“Is it the princess or her knight?” 

“Based on the intel I received, neither of them. But a strong warrior.” 

“One of the chosen champions?” 

“No,” Sooga replies as he scopes out the hill from where they stood atop. “Possibly the princess’ advisor. She’s also a Sheikah and has the same abilities as us so we’re going to have to pay close attention and make sure we’re not caught in some kind of trap.”

Michiko chuckled and stated, “this kind of reminds me of the first time we met.” 

Underneath his mask, Sooga smiles at the memory of when he first met Michiko. She was anxious then, but definitely proved herself to be a fierce ally in combat. It dawns on him that that young girl a few years back is somehow the same brave woman who stood before him today. He looks over at her only to find Michiko staring off into the distance, eyebrows furrowed. The wind is strong at this altitude and he notices a few strands of hair blowing into her mask. His hand comes up to tuck the strands back into place, but snaps back before he even gets the chance when her body turns to face him. Michiko lifts her mask up to her lips and smiles at him before suggesting a plan of action. Sooga tries to ignore it, but he can’t help but notice what a beautiful smile she had. 

 “Lord Sooga. Lady Michiko.” A retired Yiga woman who was heavily pregnant approached them. Michiko and Sooga had been keeping close watch for any signs of the royal advisor or anyone of the royal family. Right now, she was reporting how her and her brother had narrowly escaped being caught by Royal knights when they were out chopping up some wood a few weeks ago. 

“Where did you see them?” The knights?” Sooga asked. 

The lady pointed to the north side which was basically surrounded by trees. “There. But my brother has fallen ill so I was out picking out some herbs for his medicine. And with me nearing my due date, and the knights randomly raiding houses, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.” 

Michiko nodded to show that she understood the woman’s frustrations. “I understand. I promise you we’re going to make them stop bothering you.” She looked at the woman, who seemed to be in her late twenties. “You should head home. It’s too unsafe to be out this late and in your late stages of pregnancy. Do you have anyone to walk you home?” 

The woman shook her head and looked over at Sooga who was looking off into the distance to keep an eye out on any suspicious activity then looked over at Michiko. “No… my husband died not too long ago and if my baby is a boy, I’m naming him after my late husband.” 

Michiko looked over at Sooga, “Lord Sooga.” Although he had asked her for no more formalities when referring to each other, she couldn’t help but do so in front of others. At least for professionalism. 

“Yes?”

“I’m going to walk her home”

“That man that you’re traveling with, Sooga.. What's your relationship with him?” 

“Oh, we’re colleagues. We’re both in the same ranks in the clan.” 

She’s quiet as she walks, rubbing her stomach as if trying to soothe her unborn child. “He’s very handsome.” 

The lady caught her off guard as Michiko makes a confused face as they both walk and she notices. “Do you not agree?”

“No! No… he’s very handsome.” Michiko’s mind flashed back to when Yoshida asked if she was interested in Sooga. “I’ve just never thought about it.”

“Surely you’ve noticed in your time spent together.”

Michiko is at a loss for words from the woman. She wasn’t blind, Sooga was a very attractive man with a kind heart, wonderful smile, infectious laugh, and strong arms that could easily-

No! He’s my fellow blademaster! We practically work together everyday. I can’t think of him like that. Michiko thinks, shutting out those previous thoughts. 

Noticing her silent debate, the woman speaks up. “I don’t wish to offend you if you’re interested in him. He just reminds me of my late husband.” 

Michiko’s expression softens as she looks over at her. She looks solemn but smiles anyway. Michiko asks about her husband and she explains how they fell in love and his untimely demise. After a short twenty minute walk, Michiko watched as she entered her home for the night. The woman waved and thanked her before closing the door. 

It wasn’t too late by the time Michiko got back from dropping off the lady but the sun had just set. Other Yiga members had also joined in patrolling the area but they were keeping watch up on the hills. And Michiko rejoined Sooga. 

“How do you like Hyrule so far?” He asked. 

Michiko looked over at him. His posture looked confident but relaxed as his arms rested at his sides as he walked. Her hands clasped each other behind her back as she walked next to him. 

“I haven’t gotten to see Hyrule in its entirety but from what I’ve seen, it’s beautiful.” 

Sooga smiled from underneath his mask. “Perhaps someday you and I could visit Satori-”

“LADY MICHIKO!” 

A panicked voice called out to her as both Michiko and Sooga both turned to look and they saw the woman Michiko had walked home earlier running towards them. She basically collapses into Michiko’s arms as she holds her up. 

“Ms. Kochi? I thought you were home?” 

She hyperventilated as she tried to get words out, “my brother.. Royal knights! A- attacked.” 

Both Sooga and Michiko looked at each other. The woman sobs while holding on tightly onto Michiko’s uniform and she gently grasp the side of her face, as she lifted her eyes to look at Michiko’s mask. 

“You know where the hideout is, right?” Michiko asked and the woman meekly nodded. 

“Teleport yourself there now. We will go to your brother.” 

She nodded once again and teleported herself while Sooga and Michiko nodded to each other and raced off to her house. When they arrive, the knights are already long gone and the picket fence is slightly broken and they make their way inside. In the main entrance, there’s signs of a struggle. A broken vase lay on the floor, a picture of Ms. Kochi and presumably her husband was smashed. The glass was cracked and stained with blood. 

“You think they might’ve taken her brother captive?”

Just as Michiko asked, a loud thump made her slightly flinch and they both slowly creeped towards where the noise came from. A pained sob sounds out from beyond the door in front of them. They both look at each other and Sooga nods as Michiko pushes the door open and he instantly draws his blades. Inside, the scene is heartbreaking. 

The woman’s brother had received fatal wounds and he was slowly bleeding out. Even if they teleported him to the hideout to get help, it would be too late. 

The man clutched at his wounds as he glanced at Sooga and Michiko. “They did this to me because I refused to betray Master Kohga.” 

“Please tell me my sister is somewhere safe.” Michiko kneeled next to the man and gently took his hand. 

“Your sister is in a safe place.” She confirmed. 

The man tearfully nodded and closed his eyes, “thank you.” He whispered as he spent his final moments with Michiko and Sooga at his side. 

Michiko was thankful now more than ever that her mask was still on and that Sooga couldn’t easily read her emotions. 

Once they give the man a proper resting place, Michiko and Sooga walk through the Faron Region in silence. 

“Life is unforgiving.” Sooga mused after a while. 

Michiko silently hummed in agreement, not trusting that her voice would give away the fact that she had been crying. 

Sooga sighed in defeat. The night clearly weighed down on him as well. They teleported themselves back to the hideout and gently broke the news to Ms. Kochi. Her silent tears turned into loud, guttural sobs as she processed the news. Michiko held her in her arms and she let her let it all out, as the latter gently rubbed the back. She gradually calmed down and her sobs turned into quiet hiccups. 

Ms. Kochi placed a hand on her growing stomach. “Thank you for giving him a resting place.” She whispered before a footsoldier gently led her to a room where she’d be staying. 

As Michiko turned around to go to her own room, Sooga placed a hand upon her shoulder and removed his mask. 

“Michiko… After tonight, you know you can talk to me anytime. I’m here for you.” Sooga offered. 

Michiko removed her mask and looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity as a soft appreciative smile crossed her features. 

“Thank you, Sooga. I appreciate you.” 

He nodded once and started making his way towards his room, which was across her own. 

“Goodnight, Michiko.” 

“Goodnight Sooga.”

If you’d like to be tagged, comment down below or send me an ask. 🌷

Taglist: @swordsofdevotion @nottheheidi @starrveiled

[successblueprints]

Discipline is one of those things we all know we need, but rarely talk about in a real, no-nonsense way. It’s not about perfection or having everything figured out—it’s about how we show up, especially when things get tough. In this piece, we're cutting through the noise and breaking down some practical, grounded strategies for building and maintaining discipline in everyday life. No fluff, just straightforward advice you can actually use. Think of it as baby steps toward a more disciplined life—small actions that add up over time. Whether it’s pushing through challenges, setting clear limits, or learning how to embrace failure, these insights will help you take control of your mindset and habits, one manageable step at a time. Let’s dive in.

1. Embracing Learning

The idea here is to go beyond just surface-level knowledge. Think about it like this: you don’t just study to pass a test—you study because the information could be crucial when you least expect it. It’s like being the mechanic who knows every part of an engine, not for show, but because one day that knowledge might be the key to solving a real problem.

How I’d use this:I’m not going to just cram facts. I’ll take time to understand the material deeply so it sticks, especially in subjects where real understanding matters long-term, like chemistry or biology.

2. Becoming the Character

Instead of looking up to characters or people who seem to have it all together, what if you just became that person? It’s like putting on a new mindset, the same way you’d wear a suit that makes you feel more confident. You act the part until it’s real.

How I’d use this:When I’m feeling unsure or unmotivated, I’ll flip the switch and act like I’m already the disciplined, focused version of myself. It’s about adopting the mentality, even if I don’t feel it yet.

3. Honest Conversations

We often dodge the truth about where we’re slipping. But nothing changes until you face it. The sooner you admit to yourself that you’ve been cutting corners, the sooner you can fix it. It’s like finally cleaning out a messy room—it’s tough to start, but afterward, everything flows better.

How I’d use this:Next time I catch myself skipping workouts or studying less than I know I should, I’ll stop and call myself out. No more pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.

4. Overcoming Adversity (Sisyphus Mentality)

Think of discipline like pushing a heavy boulder up a hill, knowing it might roll back down tomorrow. It’s not glamorous, but it’s a daily choice. You either keep pushing or let the boulder flatten you.

How I’d use this:When things get overwhelming, like with exams or back-to-back assignments, I’ll focus on just moving forward. One task at a time, knowing every little push counts.

5. Embracing the Furnace (Let’s Skip the Dungeon)

Instead of shying away from challenges, face them head-on. It’s like stepping into a furnace where you get refined, not burned. The more time you spend dealing with hard things, the stronger you get. Avoiding discomfort only holds you back from leveling up.

How I’d use this:When I’m avoiding something tough—whether it’s a hard concept in class or just dragging myself to the gym—I’ll remind myself that pushing through now makes everything easier later.

6. Friction and Greatness

Every day starts with friction, that resistance that keeps you in bed or makes you procrastinate. That resistance doesn’t just disappear. The trick is to recognize it’s always there, but every time you push past it, you get a little stronger.

How I’d use this:Next time I feel like avoiding a workout or putting off a difficult study session, I’ll push through the friction, knowing that every time I do, it gets a bit easier.

7. Embracing Failure

Failure isn’t the end—it’s part of the process. Think of it like learning to ride a bike. You’re going to fall, scrape your knees, and maybe even get frustrated, but that’s how you learn. Without those failures, you’ll never figure out how to balance.

How I’d use this:If I mess up a quiz or struggle with a new concept, I won’t dwell on it. Instead, I’ll treat it as feedback, figure out what went wrong, and try again.

8. Set Clear Limits

Knowing your limits isn’t about being lazy; it’s about being smart. If you try to run full speed every day, you’ll burn out. It’s like running a marathon—you need to pace yourself to make it to the end without collapsing halfway through.

How I’d use this:I’ll stop glorifying overwork. Instead, I’ll set manageable study sessions and take breaks when I need them so I can keep going strong in the long run.

9. Declare Your Limits

Once you know what you can handle, it’s important to communicate that to others. It’s like drawing a line in the sand, setting boundaries so you don’t overcommit and end up exhausted.

How I’d use this:When I feel overloaded, I’ll be honest about it and set boundaries with myself and others. No more saying yes to everything just to prove I can handle it.

10. Prevent Overexertion

Whether it’s at the gym or in your studies, overexertion doesn’t help anyone. Going too hard too fast is how you end up injured, either physically or mentally. The key is to build gradually and pace yourself.

How I’d use this:When I’m tempted to do a marathon study session, I’ll pull back and focus on balance. No need to kill myself over one day’s work—steady progress is what counts.

11. Find Passionate Work

If you’re not passionate about what you’re doing, discipline becomes a grind. But when you care about something, discipline becomes easier. It’s not about forcing yourself to grind—it’s about genuinely wanting to put in the effort.

How I’d use this:I’ll focus more on the parts of my studies I’m actually excited about. That way, I’m working hard because I want to, not because I have to.

12. Clear Goal Setting

Without clear goals, you’re just wandering around aimlessly. Goals act like a map, keeping you on track. The clearer and more specific your goals, the easier it is to know what you’re working toward.

How I’d use this:Instead of vague goals like “study chemistry,” I’ll break it down into something actionable like “review 3 chapters” or “complete 10 equations.” It keeps me focused.

13. Routine Development

Discipline becomes easier when it’s part of your routine. Think of it like brushing your teeth—you don’t debate whether or not to do it, you just do. Building a routine takes the guesswork out of discipline.

How I’d use this:I’ll create a daily study routine so it becomes automatic. Same time, same place every day—no negotiating with myself about when to start.

14. Environment Design

Your environment matters. If you’re surrounded by distractions, you’re setting yourself up to fail. It’s like trying to run through quicksand—you’re not going to get far.

How I’d use this:I’ll make my study space distraction-free by clearing clutter, silencing my phone, and making sure everything I need is within reach so I can focus better.

15. Regular Reflection

If you don’t stop to reflect, you’ll never know how far you’ve come or what needs adjusting. Reflection isn’t about patting yourself on the back—it’s about checking the map and making sure you’re still on the right path.

How I’d use this:Every week, I’ll take a few minutes to look back at what went well and where I need to make adjustments. It helps keep me on course.

16. Self-Reward

Discipline doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the process. Small rewards along the way help keep you going, making the grind more manageable. It’s like giving yourself little checkpoints to look forward to.

How I’d use this:I’ll give myself small rewards after hitting certain study milestones—whether it’s a break, a snack, or something I enjoy. It helps keep the momentum going without burning out.

[functionalasfuck]

First Part of a PhayaTharn fic I’m too impatient to write based on a @writing-prompt-s I saw

Thousands of thousands of years ago, Wansarut held the dying frame of the love of her life. Overcome with grief and guilt, she gave him half her soul and begged the universe to tie their fates together and give her the ability to protect him in the next life and the rest.

Like a goddamn idiot.

Fate did as she asked. Over the course of the next few lifetimes, fate intervened to draw Wansarut and Sakuna’s reincarnated souls into epic romance. And in honor of Wansarut’s request to have the ability to protect him, she was gifted with visions of future danger, and knowledge of her past lives.

Problem was, Wansarut and Sakuna were not exactly a perfect fit. Their initial relationship was forged in the midst of a war, hidden in an illicit affair. Their romance existed within an isolated bubble until it inevitably popped and they were killed.

But Wansarut did love Sakuna, even after discovering the mismatched edges in their early lives. And Sakuna’s reincarnations loved her back.

So they worked on their relationship. They had fights. Big ones. They had to discuss and set hard boundaries. They had to reframe and recontextualizing and renegotiate their relationship as fate did its best to prevent them from parting. And those relationships ended up beautiful. Because a relationship is built with loving hands and hard work.

Problem was, Wansarut remembered all the fights. She remembered all the set backs and struggles and discoveries. And she brought her growth with her into each new life.

Sakuna? Sakuna reverted back to ground zero every time.

Wansarut has relived those same fights again and again. She was in Hell’s Groundhog Day. Sisiphys forced to push the same fucking boulder up a hill, only getting to revel in the top for the briefest of moments before having it fall down and have to start again.

She’s now on her 15th life. This time as a man named Tharn, about to start training to become a police officer alongside his longtime friend, Yai. This life has been good, but it’s been dragged down by constant anxiety over when he’ll be forced to push the boulder back up a hill again.

So when Tharn’s eyes lock on Phaya the first day of training, a dopey look crossing the man’s features as fate flushes him with the feelings of love and devotion from their first life’s run (since fate seems to think their first stupidly short life is the only one Sakuna needs context from) he makes a decision.

If this childish reversion of Sakuna’s new reincarnation wants Tharn in his life, he had better try to find a way to regain his memories so he doesn’t have to start from scratch.

Because in this life, Tharn is going to do whatever it takes to file for the cosmic version of divorce.

[alexaloraetheris]

Sysiphus is not happy, and that's the whole point

I never in my life understand Sysiphus as well as when I'm vacuuming.

Because rolling the boulder up the hill is a punishment. He's free to go to the Asphodel Meadows if he just stops. It's the promise of Elysium fields that keeps him pushing that boulder up, endlessly and forever.

Vacuuming is the same. The dust is endless, and so is the animal hair. I keep pushing that heavy machine, into every goddamn nook and cranny I can reach (but I can't physically reach them all) and it all feels pointless, but it must be done.

Could I alleviate my suffering? Could I have fewer animals? No. The dog is mom's. The two older cats have gone through enough trauma in their lives, I can't uproot them again. I can't give Kalašnjikovka away, because she may be cute and cuddly, but how do I trust her new owners won't throw her out of the house after she breaks their cups, their porcelain figures, their Swarovski bunny set? Her last owners did just that.

Could I share the burden? Have someone else push the boulder up the hill? No, my mother has chronic pain and a bad hip. On a good day she can do the dishes. There is no one to share the burden with.

Could I stop? No, because the dust accumulates. And the Asphodel Meadows (a dusty house) have no appeal to me.

So I push the damn boulder (vacuum cleaner) again and again, hoping against hope to see the Elysium Fields (a clean house). But the boulder is enchanted (the house is old, and the animals always shed). I shall never suceed. Because for a moment I reach the top of the hill, and the boulder stays still, I, in my endless hubris, am satisfied, and sit on my rock in Tartarus, in peace.

But then mother comes home, sees the dust bunny hiding in her slipper, and says: "I thought you said you were going to vacuum today! Have you even done anything?"

And just like that, the boulder rolls down the other side of the hill. And I have to get up from the rock again. And again. And again.

One must imagine nothing. Sisyphus is suffering. But if we must, I suppose we can imagine that Albert Camus has never had to push a vacuum cleaner.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's a 1925 chateau that looks like a castle in Waite Hill, Ohio. 6bds, 10ba, $4.425M.

It has a very castle-like entrance foyer. Like the stone, brick, and wood combo. That display shelf is unusual, too. Very nice.

Unfortunately, the home is empty and the realtor chose to use obviously Photoshopped furniture. But, let's focus on the architectural details like the coffered ceiling and the cool black fireplace in the sitting room. Really, I think it would look better empty.

This is a lovely sunroom that's an extension of the kitchen. The shape and color of the wood, plus the carved details and paned windows make it so attractive. Ignore the stupid modern Photoshopped furniture.

The large kitchen is wonderful- features a gorgeous stove with a stone backsplash and Medieval style hood. Love the huge carved island, light fixtures and detailed ceiling.

Beautiful counters, tile backsplash and gothic style upper doors.

This is nice- dark wood, detailed coffered ceiling, and a stone fireplace that looks like it's made with boulders.

Love that they used different woods in each room. Homes with the same wood throughout get boring and matchy-matchy. This game room is beautiful. Look at the details on the doors.

And, here, we have a large 2 lane bowling alley. Fantastic. And, it's a part of the family room.

Love the black and white ceiling in the huge primary bedroom. There's a sunroom area for sitting and relaxing, plus spiral stairs to a space above.

Here's the sitting area w/o the fake furniture and it looks much better.

Isn't this fabulous? A gorgeous secret hideout in the bedroom. This is so beautiful, it's the top of the tower. Note the details on the stair railing.

Gorgeous marble en-suite with a separate tub room features a copper clawfoot tub.

Castle hardware with amber glass door knobs.

Love the color of the wood and the shape of this hall.

The details in this home are stunning. Beautiful ceiling and railing. Plus, the piece on the left must be a built-in with a marble top.

Beautiful secondary bedroom with a lovely ceiling and large window seat also feature carved doors on the cabinet.

This bedroom is different- it's a more modern style with regular walls, but the ceiling is great and so is the long window seat. It might be part of the guest apt.

Another stunning bedroom. The woodwork in this house is superb. This fireplace wall is just beautiful. Look at the carved frame molding around it.

Every bedroom has something new and beautiful to offer.

Gorgeous marble and wood in this full bath.

Modern family room in the finished attic.

This amazing home is on 14.15 acres and features a pond, but no pool. There is a golf course just beyond the trees. In addition, there's a private ski slope that is already wired for a ski lift, full court basketball court, and guest apt.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/7265-Markell-Rd-Waite-Hill-OH-44094/34501560_zpid/

[imbuedebauchery]

Did Sisyphus ever learn to feel joy?

Do you think, after countless times pushing that impossible boulder up the hill, he learned to love the way his muscles flexed and how they ached after a day of good pushing? Do you think he began to time himself and celebrate the days where he got to the third plateau before the sun marked noon?

Do you think, day in and day out, Sisyphus learned to love the hot sun on his face, or the cool rain keeping him present? Do you think he laughed at how deeply he tanned, and laid himself out on an outcropping to tan his stomach just the same?

Do you think that after that final push, finding a new ledge to try and nestle the boulder into, only to watch it crumble away and release the boulder back down - do you think Sisyphus stood and watched? Do you think he enjoyed watching how fast it could roll? Do you think he sat there a moment, on top of the world, and felt the mountain breeze comb through his sweaty hair and cool the droplets on his back?

Do you think, on the days it frustrated him most to watch the boulder roll back down, to gaze on the perceived failure and reel through the memories of just how many times he had tried to succeed - do you think he ever ran the rest of the way up? Felt his feet straddling that peak? Looked out onto the world, alone and cold, and screamed as hard as he could? Do you think he felt pleasure when his vocal chords tore from the strain and his voice reduced to a gravelly whisper and all his anger was made known to the universe?

Do you think he enjoyed the run down? Do you think he dropped to his side and rolled as far as he could?

Do you think he laughed? That he smiled? That he knew the rest of his life was right in front of him? Do you think he felt peace?

[xerith-42]

Hmgngmhn dialogue idea between Travis and Aphmau that I can't be bothered to make into a proper scene yet but I'm very proud of

"Aphmau, are you a reader of ancient mythos?"

"I can't say I am. Laurance always has some comparison to make to their plays though."

"Hm. Guess I'll have to tell him this some time."

"Tell him what?"

"There's an old myth about a man named Sisyphus. I've thought about it a lot."

"Care to tell me what's on your mind?"

"The finer details don't really matter, what's important is that Sisyphus was punished by the gods. As a punishment for his ambitions, he was cursed to eternal torture. Push a boulder up a hill, and then push it back down."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Does it accomplish anything?"

"Nothing."

"That's awful."

"It's how I felt on that island. For a while, every single day was the same thing. Wake up, fight off the Demon Warlock, get yelled at for fighting off the Demon Warlock, go to bed. Then you wake up and do it all again."

"Up the hill..."

"...Down the hill. It's maddening."

"Strangely enough, I think I can relate to that."

"Really?"

"Not exactly, but a similar concept. Being a lord can feel like that sometimes. Wake up, check in on everyone, address problems in the village, start a new project, go to bed. Then you wake up and do it all again."

"But you like being a lord."

"I love it. And I would never call it a punishment."

"So it's not really the same."

"Why not? Who's to say Sisyph-- Sisy-- That guy! wasn't able to eventually love that boulder!"

"Wh-What??"

"Or maybe he loves the hill. But he has to love something, otherwise why would he keep going?"

"Well, the gods also cursed him with immortality so he couldn't die."

"You said the finer details don't matter!"

"Okay, but that's not a finer detail!"

"Then why didn't you say it before?! You said--"

"I know what I said--"

"No! No, you specifically said "finer details don't matter." You didn't say Sisy-whoever was immortal, so it's counted in those finer details!"

"Oh my Irene. I said that in regards to things like his family, and why he was punished."

"Are you saying that someone's family doesn't matter in their story? That they should only be known for their most miserable moment?"

"...It sounds awful when you say it like that."

"Then tell me the full story."

"Fine. Sisyphus was a tyrant, who slaughtered so senselessly that the gods sought to punish him. In response, Sisyphus attempted to cheat death. He used his own wife and risked her life while doing so. As recompense he was given the immortal life he craved, but burdened with the punishment of his boulder and his hill. An endless task with no meaning, no purpose, no respite. Endless solitude, endless repetition."

"Oh."

"I'm... still trying to figure out what it means."

"Why did he do it?"

"I don't know. I don't know why he did any of what he did. And quite frankly... I don't know if he deserved his punishment."

"I... Don't either."

[anna99blog]

Dark x Reader: Nightly Expedition

The night has always amazed you. No matter what people said or how they feel about it, it never ceases your curiosity of what goes on when the sun sets. And this particular night was no different. You wanted to try and get a picture of a rare Eastern Screech Owl, a species of bird rarely seen by human eyes. So, gathering your camera, some snacks, a warm jacket, pocket knife, and your drawing supplies, you were ready for your little expedition. You left your home just as the sun was setting and began making your way to the woods ahead of you. By the time the sun's rays and the blue skies hid themselves behind the hills and mountains, the moon and the stars take their place. It was a wonderful sight as you walked through the woods. You can see the many animals walking up from the day's slumber, the moon shining brightly in the dark sky, and the plants surrounding you showing all new sets of colors. It is a beautiful sight to be hold. It was so beautiful, that you couldn't help but take your camera out and snap a few pictures of the environment around you. However, as you were doing that, you were completely unaware of the mysterious figure watching you from afar. His bright blue eyes observing you, watching your actions, making sure he isn't seen nor heard before deciding to make his way towards you.

You catch a picture of some Gardenia Augustas, a white flower that blooms only in the darkest of nights. It is also your favorite kind of flower (if it's not, then you can pretend that it's something else). As you were looking at the photo on your camera, you hear what sounded like rustling coming from one of the bushes behind you. You turn around, a light gasp escaping your lips as you did so. You look towards the bushes, which hasn't stopped shaking. Your brows furrowed a little, and your heart beat quickened. You place your camera down on a Boulder and you take one small step towards the shrubs. As you did, however, a small brown and white rabbit appears, it's small nose twitching, catching all the scents surrounding it. You let out a small sigh of relief. As you turn around, you look at your camera, and to your surprise, you see the same white flower you took a picture of on top of your camera. You pick up the delicate plant, being careful not to damage it. At that moment, you start to think 'who could have done something like this?' As you thought this, you could have swore you heard something from behind you, but you couldn't decipher what it was. Deciding not to think too much of it, you continued your trek through the woods.

You didn't have to travel far, as when you walked, you heard the screeching sounds coming from the high tree tops. You look up, your eyes widening in pure amazement. There, perching on a branch of an oak tree, you see your target, the Eastern Screech Owl. You couldn't believe your own eyes. You bring out your camera, being as quiet as you can. Making sure the frame and lighting are just right, you snap a few pictures of the bird before it decided to fly off into the night sky, leaving behind the sounds of screeching as it flew away. You look at the photos you've taken, feeling very satisfied with your findings. You couldn't help but wonder if there was someone or something helping you throughout your small journey. As you make the trek back to your home, a dark figure watches your form leave the woods, a soft smile appearing on his face. Feeling happy for what he did, he leaves the woods to finish up his nightly duties.

[theboywithburninghands]

Okay. Executive decision. Posting the first chapter of my two-parter here, because I'm loaded with caffeine and I want you guys to see what I've been up to all week. Uh it's pure Funnybunny, so sorry if you wanted some Ragatha romance stuff... Uhhhhhh also like... it's a bit long? And character driven rather than romance driven. Hope you like it anyway! Oh and I'm linking the AO3 if you'd prefer that. T/W: Mild cartoon violence, self hatred, a sex joke

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55822147/chapters/141729268

Like Rhinestones, Falling From the Sky (Part 1)

he grounds of the Digital Circus had two states. Daytime and sunny, nighttime and clear. It was a constant that no one bothered to disturb. Caine could grant a lot of requests around the circus, but rarely in any way the asker might want. Ask for a few wildflowers to add some color on the grounds? Congratulations, now there was an entire field of flowers, flowers that smelled like cheap, nose-tickling perfume and grew so thick and snared that it was impossible to walk around outside. Ask for a cool, dim day because you wanted a nap? Hey presto, now the entire circus was engulfed in an impenetrable fog that made Silent Hill look like the Aouzou Strip. The performers all followed the same motto when it came to the weather:

If it’s already broken, don’t break it any more. 

Due to this motto being in place, it was a complete mystery as to why all the performers were shaken awake early one morning by a skull-rattling crash of thunder. 

Kinger was the first out of his room, bursting through his door with a melodramatic wail.

“They’ve finally arrived! The harvest has commenced! They want ALL of our garmonbozia!!!”

Zooble was out of their room next, screwing their head back on their torso and limping over to the eldest performer.

“Relax! Chill the f#%@ out, old timer, it’s just thunder.” they snapped, still not quite awake. 

As if on cue, another rapturous tremor of thunder tore through the air, Ragatha emerging from her room and staring worriedly at the ceiling before joining the group.

“Are you guys okay? That’s some crazy weather we’re-“

Ragatha let out an “eep!” as Kinger seized her by the front of the dress.

“Ragatha! We’re under attack! What’s Morse code for SOS?!”

Ragatha gently took hold of Kinger’s wrists and guided them off of her dress. She smiled and her voice took on a warm, fuzzy tone. 

“Hey… no one is attacking us, Kinger. It’s probably been ages since you’ve heard a thunderstorm, hasn’t it? There’s nothing to be afraid of.” she cooed.

“Unless that’s what they want you to think.” came a slippery voice from behind her. Jax leaned against the wall, one foot flat against it. He sported a tired but nonetheless smug grin. 

“Jax, quit it. Can’t you see he’s scared?” Ragatha chided, but Jax continued as if she hadn’t spoken, walking right up to Kinger. 

“Who knows, maybe they’re after your bug collection, Kinger, or- OW!”

Zooble silenced Jax with a single, well aimed punch to the cheek. 

“Can you shut up? It’s too early for your schoolyard bull#%&$.” Zooble drawled. 

Jax massaged his cheek and gave a petulant “Jeez…” under his breath. Pomni was out of her room next, stirred from sleep like the rest of them. Her black eyelids hung over her eyes like an eclipse, and she dragged her body over to the others as if it had weights tied to it. 

“Hey, morning, Sunshine!” Jax smirked, a hand still on the cheek Zooble punched.

“Go #%&$ yourself…” Pomni mumbled, staring off into the void. 

“YEESH, everyone is crabby this morning. I can’t even say hello withou-“

KRK-BOOOOOOOMMMM!

A peal of thunder like a boulder tumbling into a dump truck shook the air again, everyone instinctively covering their ears (or where their ears should have been.)

“Okay, we should see what’s going on! Maybe it’s part of a new adventure..?” Ragatha proposed as soon as the rumbling subsided. 

“Wait! Where’s Gangle?!” Kinger cried.

There was a soft click as the door to Gangle’s room was opened just a crack, the ribbon girl peering just one eye out and trembling like a leaf. 

“What’s happening…?” she mewled. 

Zooble pressed their foot on top of Jax’s to keep him from speaking up. 

“It’s just a storm, Gangle… We’re gonna go see what’s going on. You wanna come with?” Ragatha smiled and approached Gangle’s door, offering a hand. Gangle gulped and took Ragatha’s hand with one of her ribbons.

“Okay…” she whimpered. 

Jax made a “gag me” motion but remained quiet. 

The six performers headed out into the main room, nearly tumbling onto the chessboard floor from another apocalyptic boom of thunder.

“Does this sort of thing ever happen out of nowhere..?!” Pomni shouted, her crabbiness from lack of sleep bubbling over.

“Didn’t you hear Caine when you first got here? ‘THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS IS A PLACE WHERE ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN!’ Chaos is sorta par for the course.” Jax replied. His impression of Caine was actually pretty good, and might have made Pomni smirk a bit if she wasn’t so irritable. 

“Jax is right,” Ragatha chimed in from further ahead. “Around here you have to expect the unexpected, and prepare for what isn’t there.” 

“Yeah, but the way I said it wasn’t stupid.” Jax replied. 

The six of them reached the tent’s exit. It was zipped closed, but quavered feverishly. A small pool of rainwater oozed through the bottom of the flap, occasionally lit bright pearly blue by unseen flashes of lightning from outside. 

“Okay, so it’s definitely storming. Now we know.” Jax drawled, crossing his arms. 

“See Kinger? No one is coming, it’s just bad we-“

Another tremendous crash of thunder interrupted Ragatha, and a half-second later, all of the lights in the tent sputtered and died. The only light left was the heavily censored sunlight from outside filtering under the tent flap. 

“I f#%&$ng hate it here…” Zooble sighed. 

“Okay, no one wander off. Let’s all stick together and find our way back to our rooms…” Ragatha began.

Gangle jolted with a yelp. “Someone grabbed me!”

“Jax!” Zooble growled.

“It wasn’t me! I’m all the way back here, Hodge-Podge!” Jax retorted from the darkness. 

“It was me, Gangle! I grabbed your hand…” Ragatha interjected. “I’m sorry, I thought you would need a hand to hold.”

“Tha-That’s not my hand-”

The performers squinted as a corona of light bloomed in the middle of the room. From the center of the ring, Bubble appeared, glowing with an iridescent, rainbow colored light.

“And God said, let there be LIGHT!” he announced, his squeaky voice echoing throughout the tent.

“DON’T BE RIDICULOUS BUBBLE! IF ANYONE’S GOD AROUND HERE, IT’S YOURS TRULY!” Caine floated down from on high, emitting his own faint light, just enough so he could be seen clearly against the backdrop of darkness. 

“There is no God here…” Zooble muttered.

“Amen.” added Pomni.

“SO MY LITTLE SUPERSTARS! IT SEEMS YOU’VE ALL BEEN MADE AWARE OF OUR INCLEMENT WEATHER!” Caine unzipped the tent entrance. The sky was charcoal black and arcing with threads of lightning. Rain slashed across the grounds in great sweeps and the howling wind eagerly pushed its way into the tent, bringing in a spray of raindrops that doused the six performers, who covered their faces and demanded Caine close the tent again, which he thankfully did after just a few seconds.

“BUT NOT TO WORRY! WHILE I FIX THIS BROUHAHA, YOU ALL-”

He paused for another crash of thunder. 

“-YOU ALL WILL BE ENJOYING AN ADVENTURE!” 

“La dee da.” Jax drawled.

“SO, PLEASE ENJOY YOUR TIME IIIIN-”

Caine snapped his fingers. There was a moment or two of silence before Caine looked down at his fingers and snapped once again. Then again. 

“Huh. That was supposed to open a portal.” Caine said sheepishly. 

“Did you try turning it off and on again?” Bubble asked, squinting one eye.

“Havin’ issues there, Caine? It’s alright, it happens to guys your age.” Jax said with a grin. Pomni felt the corners of her mouth raise, despite herself. 

“I DON’T APPRECIATE YOUR INNUENDO, JAX!” Caine declared, brandishing his cane with a trembling hand. He tried a few more futile finger snaps. 

“So, we’re stuck here..?” Gangle asked, wringing her ribbons together. “In the dark..?”

There was an ill-timed crash of thunder that made her jump and squeak a little too loudly. She covered up her mask as bright pink blush marks formed under her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m with Ribbons, Caine,” Jax said, jabbing a thumb at Gangle. “Everybody knows monsters like the dark since it’s easier to hide.”

“Okay, cut the Twilight Zone bull$#!%.” Zooble scoffed.

“As someone who’s actually seen The Twilight Zone,” Ragatha piped up. “The quote is ‘There’s nothing in the dark that wasn’t there when the lights were on.’ So we’re fine, Gangle. It’s just us.” 

“Nerd.” Jax replied.

In the midst of this whole exchange, Caine had snapped his fingers a good two dozen times before clapping his hands to his face/teeth and bellowing in frustration. 

“Excusemeforjustonesecond!” he spat before disappearing in a flash of light and some confetti. Bubble looked around, barely managing a “Bye-!” before popping, dousing the light and plunging the room back into darkness.

There was a moment or two of silence before another peal of thunder shook the tent. Gangle let out a quiet, uneasy groan as everyone tried to get their bearings in an almost total absence of light. 

“I’m going back to bed.” Zooble announced flatly. The only indication that they were leaving was the sound of careful footsteps receding into the black.

“Wait, can you find your way there?” Pomni asked. 

“I’ll figure it out.” Zooble replied, nothing but a voice from the darkness. Pomni listened to their receding footsteps before she began to pace back and forth. 

“I can’t believe it, he just left us here. Not even a flashlight! Isn’t this place supposed to be magic?! How does the power even go out?!”

“It is the first time I’ve ever seen this happen since I’ve been here…” Ragatha admitted. “What about you, Kinger? You ever seen anything like this?”

“Right now I don’t see much of anything…” Kinger replied matter-of-factly. 

Another roar of thunder, Gangle making an unhappy noise and clinging to Ragatha. Since it was dark, Jax couldn’t see, and thus couldn’t tease her for it. Ragatha patted her on the mask. 

“I don’t want to go off by myself… What if something happens?” she whimpered.

“Come on, Crybaby, you’re not seriously worried about monsters, are ya?” Jax drawled. 

“You’re the one that put the thought into her head, Jax.” Pomni replied. 

“I was joking .” Jax snarked, as if it was the most obvious fact since “water happened to be a little damp.”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny.”

“Yeah?” Jax’s tone darkened. “Well unfortunately, Clownface , the funny guy-”

They were interrupted by a dry, metallic scratch and a spark of orange light. Kinger held a silver lighter in his hand, which supported a tiny yellow-orange flame. 

“…That’s my lighter.” Jax said after a moment. “Where did you get my lighter?!”

“Wait, Jax, why do you have a lighter at all?” Ragatha interjected. 

“None of your business. You need to stay outta my stuff, Hoo-Hah.” Jax took a few steps towards Kinger. 

“I only found it.” Kinger said, taking an equal number of steps back.

“Bull. I don’t leave my stuff layin’ around. Hand it over.” Jax stuck a gloved hand out. 

Kinger looked down at the lighter, then to Jax, who put his hand forward more insistently. Kinger snapped the lighter closed, smothering the fire and disappearing into darkness. 

“Hey! Where’d you go?!” 

“Kinger, wait! We need the light! Don’t go!” Gangle begged. 

There was a grunt and a crash somewhere in the dark, the thunder replying in kind. Another dry, metallic scratch and Kinger reappeared, illuminated orange and standing over by Gangle and Ragatha. 

“What was that?!” he cried, stiffly holding the flame out in front of him. 

“It was me, you moron!” Jax’s irritated voice called out from somewhere in the void. “I couldn't see my hand in front of my face! Now hand over my lighter before I-”

Kinger yelped and snapped the lighter closed again.

“Both of you, stop it!” Pomni shouted. “Jax, I don’t give a $#!% if it’s yours or not, it’s all we’ve got for light right now, so quit acting like a p&!€# for two god&@#% seconds! Kinger!” 

They heard the jester take a breath and soften her voice. 

“Kinger. We need the lighter to see. Can you please turn it back on so we can at least get back to our rooms?”

There was a pause, another rumble of thunder, and at last, a metallic flick as the lighter sparked again. Kinger’s hands shook. 

“Thank you…” Pomni said with a weary smile. “Lead the way, if you don’t mind.”

The five performers made their way towards backstage, slowly and methodically in the cavernous tent. They passed an overturned pile of brightly colored shapes, Jax delivering a well aimed punt to a mint-colored cylinder, which sailed off into the darkness and landed out of sight with a drumroll of thuds. 

“Was that the thing you tripped over?” Ragatha asked, her smile audible in her voice. 

“Felt like kickin’ something.” Jax replied tartly. 

After a few minutes of careful maneuvering amidst peals of thunder, the five of them made it to the corridor backstage.

“Well… what do we do now..?” Pomni asked.

“Do we have to do anything?” Jax replied.

“Well… not really. But I think it might be fun to have a slumber party!” Ragatha said brightly. 

“No offense, Ragatha, but I don’t know if any of us are really in a party mood…” Pomni said, rubbing her left arm with her right hand. 

“No, no, it doesn’t have to be an actual party. We can all just hang around in my room! I’ve got some candles we can light so we can see, and I’ll teach you guys how to make a blanket fort-” 

“You have candles?” Pomni interrupted. “Oh, that’s really good news… Now we don’t have to sit around in the dark. How many do you have, Ragatha?”

“Oh gosh, um…” Ragatha rubbed her chin with her hand. “30? No, 40!” 

There was a period of silence. Kinger held the lighter out so she was illuminated. 

“What?” Ragatha asked, putting her hands on her hips defensively. “I need to de-stress every once in a while too, y’know!” 

“If the tent ever burns down, we know who to blame.” Jax quipped. 

“Oh stop it!” Ragatha flapped her hand dismissively.

“Can… we have a few? Just to have a little bit of light around here…” Pomni asked, touching the tips of her fingers together. 

“Yeah! Absolutely, come on!” Ragatha led her fellow performers to her room, unlocking the door with a bit of flourish and motioning them inside. “After you!” 

The four of them entered her room, Kinger leading the way with the lighter. Ragatha’s bedroom was… on brand. In the dim light, they could make out some plastic furniture that would have been right at home in a dollhouse. A pink, squat tea table surrounded by some plush and frilly cushions. The table came complete with an old fashioned white China teapot and cups, a glazed pink and yellow flower painted on the side of the pot, and the rims of both the cups and pot were lined with gold leaf (or at least a serviceable imitation of it). In the opposite corner, a CRT television sat within a yellow floral patterned hutch, and a game console was hooked up to it. Her bed sat neatly made on the far end of the room, a canopy like Pomni’s, although striped with magenta and cotton-candy pink rather than red and blue. At the food of the bed sat at least a dozen stuffed animals, a teddy bear, a camel, a tiger, and more, all in a neat pile. While they should have looked cute and inviting in the light, in the near dark, they looked uncanny. Their shoebutton eyes caught the flame’s reflection in such a way that made them look insectoid, and their vacant, pleasant expressions staring off into nothing gave off the impression of someone who had lost their mind gazing into the abyss. 

Ragatha hurried over to the hutch, opening a drawer and taking out a brand new white candle. 

“Here’s my stash,” she chuckled, rummaging around in the drawer a bit more. “I have a couple that are scented too. Do you guys like… apple cinnamon or toasted marshmallow more? I’m more of a sandalwood gal myself…”

Jax made a noise of disgust. Kinger stared intently at a stuffed elephant, as if waiting for it to blink. 

“Nanny cam…?” he whispered to himself. 

There was a crash of thunder and everyone jolted. Gangle covered the top of her mask with her ribbons and Kinger fumbled with the lighter, managing to keep hold of it. 

“Good thing you have that, Jax. I just ran out of matches…” Ragatha sighed, setting up a neat cluster of candles 

“Okay, um, I think we should use a couple to light the hallway, if it’s okay with you…at least until Caine fixes things.” Pomni said. “Um, and if I could borrow one or two for my room-”

“Me too please.” Gangle chimed in, raising a ribbon. 

“I need to get my camping stove…” Kinger muttered, still engaged in a stare-off with Ragatha’s stuffed elephant. 

“K-Kinger, you have a camping stove?” Pomni asked. 

“The h@!! do you need one of those for?” Jax also asked, crouching beside Kinger to see what was so interesting about that and stuffed animal. 

“…In case the power goes out.” Kinger replied after a moment.

“This is the first time the power has ever gone out…” Ragatha admitted, but she smiled anyway. “I’m glad you’ve been thinking ahead though.”

Ragatha then gasped. “Oh! We can make tea! I have the best recipe I need to show you guys! It’s perfect for a day like today!”

“I’d like some tea. Something warm to drink would really hit the spot.” Pomni said with a faint smile. Gangle also nodded. 

“Hey, I got a suggestion too.” Jax called, raising a finger. 

In one swoosh, Jax snatched the lighter out of Kinger’s hands, closing it with a clink and extinguishing their one source of light. 

“Jax, hey! I can’t see!” complained Ragatha.

“My lighter, my rules. I’m heading back to my room.” he said.

“What…? Jax, you’re kidding. We need the lighter for just a little longer, then it’s all yours.” Ragatha insisted. 

“It’s already all mine. You stole it. So now I’m keeping it.” Jax replied from somewhere in the dark. 

“Jax, come on!” Pomni shouted. “Everyone could have light again if you would just-”

“Everyone will have light again when Caine gets the electricity working. Just be patient.” 

“But… But Jax…” Gangle began, her voice quavering. “I’m… I’m scared of the dark, please just let us light a few candles…”

“Nope. Your eyes should adjust soon enough.”

The sound of Jax’s retreating footsteps and the open and shut of the door were muffled by another churning rumble of thunder. Ragatha sighed from her place in the dark. 

“Well, don’t worry everyone. We can have a slumber party even in the dark. It’ll take a bit more time to set up and we can’t do as much, but-”

Everyone jumped at a sudden angry yell and thunk. Pomni punched the wall, then felt her way towards the door, throwing it open and stomping out into the hallway. 

“Pomni’s very angry.” Kinger said in a hushed voice. Ragatha set her candles down on the hutch, a few of them rolling off and clattering to the floor as she carefully made her way to her door in almost complete darkness.

“Pomni? Pomni, where are you going?” she called out into the hall. 

It wasn’t too difficult for Pomni to find Jax’s door feeling around in the dark, it was right across from her room, after all. Her right hand aching from punching the wall, she banged on his door with her left. 

“JAX! GET OUT HERE!” she bellowed. 

“Pomni, hey, it’s okay-!” Ragatha insisted, alarmed at the newest member’s sudden explosion of rage. 

“NO! No, it’s not okay! I’m sick to death of him acting like this! It ends right the #%@& now, you hear me?!”

Pomni shouted all this as she feverishly twisted the handle of Jax’s locked door. After several mighty turns, she scoffed and took a few steps back. 

“You wanna hide like a coward? Fine!” 

“What’s going on?!” Zooble’s voice shouted. They had poked their head into the hallway after hearing the racket outside. 

Pomni took another couple steps back until she was almost touching the opposite wall, then ran forward, barging Jax’s door with her shoulder. Thunder roared. 

“Pomni!” Ragatha cried, her voice cracking. “Pomni, what are you doing?! Are you okay?!”

Pomni took the same number of steps backwards and ran forward, smashing into the door again, eliciting a splintery crunch from the jamb. She backed up once again, both her right shoulder and right knuckle ached now, but she barely felt it. Truth be told she couldn’t pinpoint just one reason why Jax’s behavior had enraged her so badly. She was angry from lack of sleep, she was angry that Jax was being such a selfish bully for no reason, she was angry that he had the capacity for kindness and yet chose to act like this- 

Her rage burned blue-hot as she charged at the door, bracing her shoulder for impact. The impact never came. She sailed right past the point where she should have met hard wood, stumbling forward into a boneless somersault. She tumbled over herself and ended up in a sitting position. 

Jax’s room had incredibly faint daylight filtering in from his window. The sky was still the color of a dusty tire, mostly black with flecks of lights. Flashbulbs of lightning popped from within swollen thunderheads. 

Pomni heard the door shut behind her. In the faint light, she saw Jax turn the lock on his door before turning to look at her, arms crossed.

“You almost broke my door, newbie.” he said with almost parental condescension. 

Pomni didn’t say anything in return, only glaring. Anger prickled down her back. Thunder boomed. 

“You know what? Take it.” Jax took the lighter out of his pocket. It shined in the stormlight. “If you’re gonna throw such a hissy fit about something so tiny, you might as well have it so you don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have. Go on. I don’t want it anymore.” 

Jax held his hand out, the lighter on his palm. Pomni reared back and slapped his hand away, the lighter bouncing off the wall with a weighty thud, doing a few midair loops and finally skittering to a stop a few feet behind her.

“What the h@&&?! I gave you what-”

“SHUT UP!!!”

Pomni barked this order with such ferocity that Jax immediately fell silent. It seemed to have shocked the jester herself, as she took a moment to find her voice afterwards. 

“…Why? Why did you do that?” was all she managed to get out.

“I don’t like people touching my stuff.” came Jax’s reply. Despite his shock at being yelled at, he managed to keep his tone cool and even. There was a millisecond flash of lightning. Thunder rumbled.

“Not that. Just… why do you always..? I know you’re capable of being kind. I’ve seen it firsthand. They don’t do anything to you, Jax! So why do you just keep picking at everyone?”

“Because they let me.” 

Pomni felt her anger froth to the surface again. 

“Oh. OH. That makes perfect sense! So you’re cruel because you can be! Nice to know you’re just a sadist then! Ha! That saves me a lot of time, then! We’re through. Get outta my way.”

Pomni snatched the lighter off the ground and pushed past Jax.

“…I’m not a sadist.” he said without turning around. 

“You just said you’re cruel to people for fun. That’s the definition of a sadist!” Pomni unlocked the door to his room and placed her hand on the knob. 

“It’s not for fun.”

Her hand slid off the knob. There was a rolling growl of thunder. 

“So what is it then?!” Pomni turned back to Jax, walking up to him and poking him in the chest. “You keep changing your story! First it was ‘I want them to hate me instead of their situation,’ now it’s ‘I do it because I can.’ So what is it? Tell. Me. The. TRUTH.”

“You want the truth, huh?” Jax said. Half of his face was silhouetted in shadow, his tone steeped in frosty ire. 

“YES. Or you can forget about us. About all of this. It’ll be like we never met.” Pomni asserted. 

“FINE.” Jax hissed. He turned to the window, looking out on the maelstrom of clouds and wind and rain. Another blinding flash of lightning and grumble of thunder.

 “I… I hate myself.” 

For a good 10 seconds, the only sounds were that of the rain on the digital grass and the wind buffeting Jax’s window. 

“S-S-Say again?” Pomni finally asked.

“I hate myself.” Jax repeated, not taking his gaze off the storm. His affect was neutral, but his eyes were distant.

“You… hate yourself?” Pomni echoed. 

“Yeah.” 

The jester chewed on one of her gloves. A flicker of lightning and a softer, yet prolonged burble of thunder rolled across the grounds. She removed her glove from her teeth.

“How do I know that’s not a lie too?” she asked, looking intently at the floor. 

“It’s not.” Jax immediately replied. “I guess, just, believe me.”

Pomni continued chewing on one of her gloves. She jumped a little at an especially loud crack of thunder, but otherwise remained rooted to the spot. An excruciating minute passed.

“…Okay. You hate yourself.” Pomni finally conceded, throwing her arms out and letting her hands slap against her hips. “So?”

This query got Jax to turn towards Pomni. The icy glare on his face could have shriveled flowers. “The £@€# do you mean, ‘so?’” 

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Pomni shot back.

“So? You hate yourself so you treat everyone but me sometimes like trash?! What kind of excuse is that?”

The corner of Jax’s mouth twitched. She had prodded a nerve with that one. He turned back to the window, looking out on the storm-swept grounds. 

“Get outta my room.” he ordered.

“No.” Pomni said with a humorless laugh. “You seriously think I’m gonna go ‘Oh you poor baby, I didn’t know; all is forgiven?’ just because you said you hate yourself? It doesn’t work like that! I hate myself too and I don’t act a FIFTH as awful as you do!”

“What do you mean, you hate yourself..?” Jax demanded quietly. 

Pomni took a deep breath. Well, he had been honest with her. She waited for the latest boom of thunder to quiet down before continuing. 

“I don’t remember everything about outside… but I remember that before I came here I… I was alone. I never went out drinking or dancing; I had no one to go with. Hadn’t kept in touch with my college friends and didn’t associate with anyone at work. How could I? I never had anything to talk to my coworkers about, I never reacted right to anyone’s jokes, I only went to team building exercises if they were mandatory… But it wasn’t like they didn’t try! I got invited to dinner or to birthday parties, and I always said no, I was busy. You wanna know what I was doing?”

“Pomni-” Jax began 

“No! Ask me what I was doing!” 

Jax didn’t reply. Pomni finally shrugged after a moment and answered her own question with a phony smile.

“Nothing. £@€# all. I was doing sudoku, or watching a movie I had already seen, or scrolling on my phone in bed. And I hated myself for it! I would cry into my pillow, I was so lonely! I would tell myself how stupid, stupid, STUPID I was, and how I was an idiot who didn’t deserve friends! I had every opportunity to get out of the hole I dug for myself, and I didn’t, because I was scared they would hate me even more than I thought they already did.”

Pomni felt her anger rise once again.

“Uh huh. But guess what? I never picked on anyone. I never made anyone else feel worse! I hurt so badly some days I wanted to DIE and I still tried my best to smile and treat everyone around me like a PERSON! You hate yourself? SO F#%&ING WHAT?! That doesn’t give you the right to make everything around you worse!” 

Pomni panted, doubling over to catch her breath. She braced herself for some sort of projectile Jax might throw at her. Instead, he only stared at her before turning back to the window. Thunder rumbled. 

“I’m… sorry you hate yourself. Really. It’s the worst feeling. But it’d be so much better if you just… didn’t hurt people. Let them in and helped you heal. It’s what I needed, and now that I have friends…”

Pomni stopped herself. She stared down at the floor again. She hated eye contact already, eye contact after an argument was like staring at the sun.

“So… why do you hate yourself?” Pomni asked after some more silence. 

“What does it matter?” Jax replied. 

Pomni scoffed. “Don’t give me that. Has it occurred to you that I actually care about you? If I didn’t, why would I even be asking? Why would I have kissed you after you made me salmon a few nights ago? I like you, Jax. But you can be a real p&!@% sometimes, and that isn’t okay, even if your pain is real. Why do you hate yourself?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jax said firmly. 

Pomni let out a protracted sigh, chewing on the finger of one of her gloves and looking down at the floor one last time before looking back up at Jax. He was looking out at the storm.

“Okay. Thanks for at least giving me a real answer. I’ll bring your lighter back in a bit.”

Pomni headed for the door once again. She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she practically jumped out of her skin with a sharp gasp. She whirled around and took a few steps back, Jax pulling his hand back in shock. 

“W-What?! Don’t… don’t touch me!” she snapped reflexively. 

“…I’m…” Jax began. 

Pomni crossed her arms and waited, looking everywhere but in Jax’s face. 

“…I’m…” he tried again. “I’m not being… I’m not just being difficult. I don’t remember.”

Pomni quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t remember what?” 

“Why. I don’t remember why I hate myself. It’s just gone. Poof, right along with my name.”

Pomni licked her lips. She was thirsty from all the shouting. 

“You’re… being serious right now? You aren’t just trying to weasel your way-”

“No. No, I’m- I’m totally serious.” 

Pomni managed to look into his eyes for a moment. They were big, but his pupils were tiny despite the extremely low light. Just the way he’d looked after she had seen him have a nightmare. Scared. 

“…That’s horrible.” Pomni said, looking away after she began to feel itchy. “I… can’t imagine how horrible it must be to hurt and not know why… like a pain in a phantom limb.” 

Jax didn’t say anything, looking back out at the window. Lightning flashed, a bright pink-white splinter across the clouds, and there was a tremulous rumble of thunder that followed. 

“But… you shouldn’t take it out on people. Even if it makes the pain stop. There are other things you can do…” Pomni added. “And… And I’m willing to listen to you whenever you’re hurting. Even if I’m hurting too.” 

Jax looked back at the jester, who immediately stared down at the floor. 

“Why? You barely know me. You said it was so hard to make friends back in the real world. What makes me so special?”

Pomni swallowed. She really needed something to drink. 

“I know. That it’s bizarre for me to like you when I’ve always had such a hard time. But… I want to help you anyway. Isn’t that weird?”

She managed a smile and to look him in the eyes again. Jax gave a short “heh…” and looked away this time. 

“Thanks, Pompom.” he said.

“Anytime, Bunny-Boy.” 

The two of them shared an awkward chuckle. Pomni cleared her throat.

“Um… do you want to come with me? I’m gonna go have tea with Ragatha and the others…”

“I think I’m okay…” Jax replied. 

“Jax, come on. It’ll be fun… Please?” 

Pomni offered a hand. 

“Alright, alright. But only ‘cause you said please.”

Jax took the jester’s hand, Pomni sparking the lighter and leading the way back to Ragatha’s bedroom.