#whever we go we meet people who are happy to see you'

[there-will-be-a-way]

Bye bye hospital bed, hello eight pillows

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello!! Do you think you could do a part 2 of my request? An maybe a lil bit of angst with fluff where the reader comes to the mansion crying because someone hurt them?( Maybe techno or dream? Possibly jack manifold? 👀) Hopefully that's ok I just love the way you write it's so good plus it makes my day whever I read :D hopefully your day or evening is going good

<3

imhereforfan-fic : Omg can you do another yandere tubbo x reader x yandere ranboo romantic relationship please? Maybe where they get kidnapped by the dream team? Oh and adding on to my request can it also have some cuddling towards the end haha I’m touch starved and crap lol but can it a full length fic Okay okay okay. So. I'm so damn happy people loved this fic and I got two requests that I can easily add together. I hope neither of you minds too much having your requests mixed together ^^ I deadass wanna cry from how many positive reviews I've received from Too Sweet. ALSO. I'm a little wary of making romantic fics for characters Ranboo and Tubbo so I'm gonna play with the platonic marriage, just making it really fluffy and affectionate. PS: THIS ISNT AS FLUFFY AS I WANTED IT TO BE SOOOO OOOOPS. AAAAND. TOMMY ONLY TOOK ONE OF DREAM'S LIVES IN THE FINAL DISC WAR

LIKELY TO HAVE MANY ERRORS DUE TO BAD WIFI AND LACK OF SLEEP TW: Knives (+injuries that come from knives), kidnapping, taking of canon lives, Dream being power-hungry, minor panic attack, referenced strangulation.

Part One

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo Part 2

A few months had passed since you had moved into the mansion and some... How ended up involved in Ranboo and Tubbo's marriage, as well as being Michael's mother. At first, you were quite unsure about being a wife or a mother, but you saw how happy you had made the three boys and realized how happy they made you in return. In the beginning, neither of them wanted you leaving the mansion much without either of them, but then Ranboo started to notice small and minor declines in your physical and mental health. This caused him to panic and study your symptoms for a few days straight, to the point where you didn't see him once and you were genuinely scared he had lost his canon lives to the point where you kept checking your right wrist constantly for the message confirming Ranboo's death. But thankfully you never got it. When he had figured out what was causing your health to be less than absolutely perfect, he had spoken to Tubbo about letting you out of your room more often and getting you the sunlight you needed. It took a little bit to convince him, but once the goat hybrid learned that you could, or even would, become a lot sicker, he decided to allow you to go outside without them, as long as you stayed within Snowchester. You met a man the first few days you were out, who wore white glasses with blue and red lenses, and a headset with a mic, although he ran away from you the second you introduced yourself as Ranboo and Tubbo's (platonic) wife. Foolish had quickly become your friend around the same time though, which caused Tubbo and Ranboo to be a little unsure because of how he made you laugh and smile, but they noticed how you always kept him at arm's length with friendship and almost physically. Sure you didn't mind too much when he gave you a friendly side hug or pat on the head etc, but you were never really the one to initiate the contact unless you had to. Thankfully he didn't mind your awkwardness around strangers, trust issues, or lack of social exposure, so Ranboo and Tubbo didn't have to threaten a literal god. After saying goodbye to Michael for the day and putting him down for his nap, you got dressed into something more appropriate for travelling the snowy lands that Tubbo owned. Ranboo had to go to a Syndicate meeting, and Tubbo was working more on some buildings around Snowchester, saying something about prepping things to attack Dream who apparently escaped from prison? Not sure could've been rumoured or could be true? You had no clue honestly. You trusted Ranboo and Tubbo to protect you. The crackling of a few pine branches caused you to lift your eyes from the icy water below to turn your head. Walking out of the bushes were three men and one woman, pushing their way through the branches decorated with freshly fallen snow. One of the men was your crown-wearing platonic husband, although dressed up in an outfit you had never seen before, although not too far off from his normal get-up. Ranboo had a long black cape with golden edges and a high collar, held up together by a golden chain. His vest was now a deep royal purple with an eye of ender pin clasped on his tie, and his pants were half purple half black with golden designs sewn in. Beside him was a short female with shoulder-length pink hair and nicely done dark purple and black makeup. Her outfit consisted of a thick and warm lavender sweater with dark purple pants. On her hip was an enchanted netherite sword with a diamond-encrusted handle. You were quick to recognize her as Niki Nihachu, the baker who had lived in L'Manberg, but you hadn't heard much of her since the Pogtopia war. Off to the side, was a man you recognized easily as you had only seen him a few days ago when Ranboo invited him to see Michael, Philza Minecraft. His outfit wasn't too different from what he used to wear when he was a resident in the country, except for the black and gold cape and a black mask covering the bottom of his face. Then... The sight of the final male was the one to make you visibly react. A tall and buff male with a golden encrusted netherite

chest plate and a velvet red cape with gold accents as well. There was a rather majestic crown on top of his long braided pink hair and his dark eyes were narrowed behind a set of cracked glasses... His gaze pointing directly at you. Technoblade. Giving a shaky gasp, you stood up from your spot on the edge of the dock and turned to face the visitors. "Where's Tubbo," Techno growled softly, watching as you visibly trembled under his gaze. "Techno, mate. You're scarin' the hell outta her." Phil put his hand on his middle son's shoulder before stepping in front of him, blocking him from your gaze. "Hey, (Y/n), can you tell us where Tubbo is? We just have to ask him some things." "I'm here." An almost unfamiliar voice came from beside you before a hand was placed on your shoulder. When you looked over, you saw the goat hybrid with the coldest look you had seen him wear yet. "(Y/n), please, head into the mansion." Without another glance at the piglin hybrid, you quickly scurried towards the wooden mansion, faintly hearing the worried buzzing noises of your enderman husband in the distance before you slammed the large door shut. You almost ran towards your's or Michael's room in the basement, but then realized if any of them saw you heading down there, Michael's safety could be compromised. So, you quietly sat down in the living room and curled up on the couch, trying to keep your breathing stable as you fought to keep your mind off of the fact that the man who had almost killed you was standing a few feet outside the door of your home. You pinched your eyes shut and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying your best to simulate the hugs you would usually receive from your platonic husbands after a nightmare or a panic attack. ".../n)." "../n)!" "...(Y/n)!" With a terrified gasp, you flung your arms above your head to shield yourself from any oncoming attacker but only felt a gentle touch on your knee. It took a few seconds to muster up your courage, but you slowly brought your arms down and opened your eyes to come face to face with Tubbo, who immediately sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your shaking frame. After an hour or so with your face buried into Tubbo's shoulder, you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, causing you to look up and see Ranboo burying his face into your hair, "I'm so sorry... So sorry... I didn't think they would come to Snowchester..." You murmured a small, "it's okay," to him as you sat up a bit to return the hug for a few moments. Tubbo got up, murmuring something about going to get you a snack and a glass of water, knowing you must've been hungry or thirsty from panicking. After a few moments, Ranboo let go of you and briefly explained that Phil had given him some potions to help Michael adapt to the overworld, and he needed to give them to him. He rested his forehead against yours affectionately for a few seconds before turning towards the bookshelf and walking down the set of hidden stairs after opening the secret door. Once he shut it, you shuddered and rubbed your arms to get rid of the cold chill that had suddenly washed over you. Frowning slightly, you looked around for the source of the sudden cold, only to freeze as you saw the door cracked open, allowing the snow and cold wind to slip in. Ranboo wouldn't have left the door open... "Sorry kid." A deep and growly voice came from behind you, causing you to spin around and come face to face with Technoblade. The tall tusked male watched your expression go from confusion to horror in less than seconds, "It's nothing personal. Really. I just got a favour to pay off." A scream of terror escaped your lips before everything went black. "Hey, Michael!" Ranboo crouched down to greet the small zombie piglin child as he held a few potions of varying colours in his long arms, he set them and a thermos filled with a hot drink down on the table. "I got some new drinks for you to try today! Philza made them a little extra sweeter than last time." The small child squealed and made small tippy tap noises with his

hooves against the quartz flooring before he sat on the chair. He watched as his tall father sorted through the bottles carefully before uncorking one of the light red ones. Before he could pick up the small pipette, there was an almost unearthly shriek that came from the top of the stairs. "(Y/n)!" Ranboo screamed, unintentionally startling Michael, but that wasn't his main concern as he sprinted out the door then teleporting up the stairs and pushing the bookshelf door with his sword drawn and gleaming with enchantments. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tubbo dash out of the kitchen with his axe drawn and bloodlust in his eyes. Glancing around, the only thing the two men spotted was moonlight and snow spilling through the open door. Tubbo ran out without a second thought and screamed your name at the top of his lungs as he spun around, searching for any sort of sign that would give away your location. Ranboo decided to start looking around the mansion, even though part of him grasped that you wouldn't have screamed without reason. "She's gone..." Tubbo whispered, standing in the doorway, the moonlight creating a dark shadow over his wide eyes. "Footprints are leading to and away from the house, but they disappear on the docks..." Ranboo stayed still, a violent growling noise bubbling up in his throat before escaping past his lips as both his eyes turned purple. He threw his head back and took a breath to scream all his anger out, but froze upon hearing sad whimpering. He turned his head and saw Michael standing at the top of the hidden stairs, whimpering and shaking quite violently. There was part of Ranboo that refused to move, but his brain seemed to flick onto autopilot as he walked over to the child and picked him up. "Sorry... Michael... Something happened..." "Mama?" "...Mama... Won't be home for a while..." "Wake up!" A voice growled before something sharply came in contact with your cheek, shaking you awake. Your eyes shot open and came into contact with... A smiley face? "Aha... Sleeping Beauty graces us with her gaze. It's about damn time." A harsh grip landed on your jaw, making you realize there was a dull throbbing pain in your head. "Huh... Dre... Dream..?" You whispered, barely recognizing the white mask that helped destroy your home and turn it into nothing but a crater. "W-What?" His mask was lifted up enough to the point where you could see his mouth curved up into a sadistic smile. "You, my darling pawn, are just the piece I needed to make life easier for me... I just need to raise the stakes enough for them to be... Well... Stakes. I'm sure you understand." You went to move your hand to slap the gloved hand away from your face, only to give a small whine of pain as you felt a tight pinching on your wrists, making you realize that they were shackled together and likely chained to a wall. "What are you talking about you psychop- Ah!" He tightened his grip on your face to the point where you knew there would eventually be dark bruising. "I don't think you're in a position to be calling the king any names, pawn." Screams and shrieks of pain bounced off of the blank stone walls as the two people standing outside of the door put their heads down with their eyes closed. "You still sure he's doing the right thing, George? Are you still sure... He's the good guy in this story?" "You know better than to question him, Nick." "Don't call me that."

(Y/n) (L/n) was slain by Dream using Nightmare. Life: 2/3 (Y/n) (L/n) suffocated while trying to fend off Dream. Life: 1/3

"He just took two of an innocent woman's three lives. Just to use her as a hostage to make Tubbo hand over the nukes and to force Ranboo to follow his orders... He's a stranger, George. This isn't Dream anymore... Don't be stupid." Sapnap lowered his right arm that he read the messages off of and looked in the direction of his former best friend. The screams of agony were almost haunting as they echoed through Snowchester as silence fell down upon the entire Dream SMP. Shock slipped through the veins of everyone who read the message that appeared on their right wrists. - "I'm gonna kill him..." "I'm going to activate the nukes..." - "Techno... What did you do." "I owed him a favour. What he does after that is none of my business." - "...Isn't that Tubbo and Ranboo's wife?" "Yeah... She was my friend..." - "Tubbo's definitely not happy about this..." - "Ah... Atta girl..." Dream murmured in a mock soothing voice as he gently dragged his knife threateningly along your cheek. "Y'know... You would look better... With a smile." He leaned closer to you, the drawn-on eyes of his mask staring into your dull and tear-filled eyes as a stinging pain came from the corner of your lips. "Sh, sh, Relax... They're just shallow cuts, they won't even leave a scar. I'm not a monster." Time had passed quickly, but also excruciatingly slowly. You had no clue how long you had been down here, or how long you had been dead in between respawns. Dream just didn't seem to be leaving you alone. "Now..." He flipped the switchblade closed and threw it in his pocket before tremours shook the earth below and around you. "What the fUCK?!" He growled deeply before the door slammed open. "How did they even find this place!?" The door was blown off its hinges with a loud bang, causing Dream to duck out of the way of the flying piece of scrap. Light flooded into the room as you shut your eyes tightly, your ears ringing from the explosion. Once your eyes got a little bit adjusted, you opened them and saw five figures in the newly widened doorway. "Let's just say... It was an anonymous tip." "Sapnap?! You dare betray me?!" The black-haired male fell silent as he turned around and walked out, putting his hand on the shoulder of the tallest silhouette in the doorway as he walked by. Once you got completely used to the new light, you began to recognize the figures. Tommy, Tubbo, Foolish, and Ranboo. Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo immediately ran forward and started a barrage of attacks on the masked psychopath while Foolish ran over and began to work on the chains binding you to the chair. After getting them off of you, he silently picked you up as you turned your head to look at the blond, brunet and monochrome boys. Dream's mask got knocked off and was thrown across the room as he was pinned below a growling Ranboo, whose skin looked almost purely black from your angle. Tommy was off to the side, rummaging through Dream's equipment, he already got his revenge when Dream was put into prison, this was Ranboo and Tubbo's revenge now.

"̷̛̲̪͝Ỳ̵̧̖͒̉o̸̟̔̆û̶̩̟̍͊'̸̧̺̎̉ṟ̷̰͘ế̴͍̰̎ ̶̤͆̎̒g̶̭̋̇o̸͍̐͑i̸̼̟̾ņ̷͊̈́̈́ĝ̷̰̤̈́ ̵̘̉t̵͖͠ȯ̸͎ ̴͎̐̈́r̸̰͙̾̑͝e̸͚͌͑g̴̛̗̦͑ř̷̳̳̱e̵̲̿̕ṫ̶̨͓͗ ̷̢͊E̷̬̪͒͊͂V̷̟̒͝Ë̸̜R̷͐̄̏ͅ ̶̲̟̤͗͋t̴̝̎o̵̖̐ư̴̞̾̇c̶̡̙̐h̵̹̜̣̒͂̂į̴̙̤͠n̴̤̼̻̅̚ǧ̵̹̙̌͜ ̵̥̞̏m̶̱̳̦͗̌y̴̱̮͒̒̄ ̶̮̈͑͆f̸͉̽̄à̵̹͠m̵͕̓̅͋í̸͇̩͔̿l̷̰̫̳͗͑y̸̡͌̊́.̶͓̇͝"̸̡͆ ("You're going to regret EVER touching my family.") Ranboo hissed lowly before he and Tubbo began applying weight to the sword pressed against the speedrunner's chest. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before you felt a bottle press into your hands, causing you to re-open your eyes to see Foolish trying to hand you a healing potion. You eagerly took a small sip from it, feeling the small slices on your cheeks form back together and the pain from the bruises around your neck vanishing completely.

Dream was slain by Ranboo and Tubbo using Ranord

There was a clattering noise before two sets of footsteps running in your direction. Slowly tilting your head in their direction, you saw Tubbo with dark bags under his eyes and Ranboo with plenty more scars on his cheeks from tears. You were pulled from Foolish's arms and brought down to sitting on Tubbo's and Ranboo's laps, their arms completely wrapped around you. The goat hybrid was nuzzled under your chin while the enderman's face was buried in your hair. "We should have come sooner..." "We shouldn't have even left you alone in the mansion..." "I'm sorry... I should have never left the manor..."

[newt-grundy]

some rabble

Holy shit. I am being swarmed with thoughts and emotion right now, so I’m just gonna write it all out. First off, fuck, that flew by. It seems so unreal that I’m already leaving, and in a huge way I feel shame and regret for wasting my time. I can’t help but think I should have played with Holland more, or I should have drew with him, or read him books, or just did a lot more than just hang around, play video games and such. I mean, that’s not all we did, but still. That little bugger gave me a big long hug and it’ll be the last “big hug” I get from him for a long time coming. I have to remind myself how unconditionally he loves me and he probably doesn’t even feel a fraction of disappointment in me. Regardless I still feel like a shitty older brother and I want to cry, I’m literally holding back tears right now. That little bastard is the one person who makes me cry I fucking swear.

It seems so out of nowhere, like I basically just got back home and now fuck, I’m leaving. I wish I would have gotten more time with my friends and said so much more to them and made them feel loved. It’s so hard not to let Babylon just, instantly changed me and especially putting me back into my default Babylon mode. I can’t believe how much fucking time I wasted watching TV, playing video games, just scrolling that goddamn facebook wall. I fucking screens, I abhor them, it’s pretty much the main reason I left last time and a big reason right now. It’s a shame I don’t have better self control where I can just use my computer for only productive means. Instead it’s like, hours of youtube videos, hours of facebook, hours of pornography, then some writing. The entire time I was gone last I didn’t watch any porn at all and it was fucking awesome. It was great, I never had that shame or struggle or anything. I barely even masturbated and since I didn’t have porn or really the chance to even masturbate (or will) then I would just fucking, get laid, like how humans are supposed to do it.

Technologies goal, with social networking and such is to just replace all human needs of other humans with a more artificial stand in. We use porn for girls, facebook for friends. We watch groups of people hanging out (it’s most tv shows, just people hangin out) instead of spending time with others. A lot of young men now just forsake dating entirely. When you have so much porn whenever you want, you simpy nip sexual desire in the bud all the fucking time. God I hate it, I have to leave. I have to go so I wont even have the tempations of bablyon and in a way I’m just switching those temptations for others. Sure I’ll meet people, be more sociable, write and read, and barely look at screens but last time I left I ended up smoking meth so, it’s simply a matter of pick your poison.

But I feel this is right. I have no desire to get a job, or really any need if I’m home and my parents take care of everything. I have no future in Iowa and that’s pretty much darn guaranteed at this point with the mountain of slander that now surrounds my name. If I’m homeless and struggling for the basics than I’m forced to work hard and I’ll get the satisfaction that working hard entails. Ah fuck it I don’t want to explain all of it. I know what’s best and it’s not even about what’s “best”. I’m done with always trying to be healthy and stable. I’ve never been fucking stable, never really had much of a stable life, why try and force it? Why trim off the lows and tops and sort of dull myself out. Numb myself with tech, and get caught up in some job I don’t believe in and all that fucking bullshit , fuck it! I snap everytime and that surely isn’t healthy. Better to die with some tweaker smashing my head in, or the bull shootin me, or falling off a train than to die by my own hand, alone in an apartment for one with only friends around that I saw once a week if that. Don’t misinterpret I love my friends here it’s just, people don’t really need people when are those needs are met by money, and the strangers time that money buys. I crave intimacy, and it’s so goddamn hard to ever be intimate when there’s always a fucking screen on, of some stupid comical whatever. I feel it’s really hindered my relationship with my family and friends and I grew so close to people on the streets because we never had that. You spend days with someone, struggling to survive, hours just waiting around entertaining each other, you grow fucking close, and you grow quick.

I’m still just self-rationalizing. What’s really bothering me is missing my brothers and my friends and feeling like I don’t make anyone happy. That I don’t give enough love or enrich anyones life and If I don’t do that then surely it’s not a noble or fulfilling life to live. I’m always so fucking caught up in myself. The artist type with a million projects and always just strategizing and thinking how to make a song better, or a magic deck better, how to write this story, paint this ect. I turn real people into fictional subjects of them all, all their feelings and being simply relative to mine. Savannah once said I saw others as mere extensions of myself and I fear she’s right. I’m afraid I’m a legitimate narcissist that doesn’t really care or empathize with others. I habitually deny those who request my intimacy and then go give my love to some stranger who just dumps it out. I really haven’t learned. Still Chasing girls, getting high, writing songs. Same shit I’ve been doing for five years. Life is still horrifying and intense and wonderful and just fucking insane all the time.

I mean, I’ve gotten better I think. Despite the whole abbie/jesse fiasco I think most people that actually know me think I’m an alright guy. They would probably say I’m nice and kind and helpful, I’m so fucking anxious about it and I do take action to try and be all those things. Give my time to others. I’m always thinking when I’m talking to someone “now don’t just respond with how that relates to you, ask a question, get to know them, let them talk about themselves, it’s not about you” ya know? Like someone says

“hey I have a pet rock”

And I want to say “oh yeah I had a pet rock my rocks name was yaddie yadda and I got it on whever and shit”

But instead I say, “oh that’s cool, what’s your pet rocks name? where did you get him?”

Ya know? But the problem with this is I want people to be fucking interested in me. I want to show everyone all my songs and artworks and have them see me as I see me. Because if I’m being honest I feel like I’m a fucking special person. Here comes the fucking ego, sorry, but like, how could you be good at something but be unaware of it? How can you make good art without understanding what good art is, and thus making the intention of making “good” art? Because I feel like I’m one of the best goddamn artist, on any account, that I’ve even met, and I strive to be so. I put in effort fucking all the time, every day, for hours, I obsess over the stories I write, rack my head over painting, plan, illustrate, strategize.

I mean, its like magic the gathering. The best magic players are who gives the game the most thought, who thinks the most about how they make their deck, essentially. I’m pretty good at magic, because I spend embarrassing amounts of time thinking about it. I’ll be up at five am just pacing and chain smoking and thinking about what cards to switch with what. I watch several series on magic, I watch judges explain rules, I research cards all the fucking time. And because I put all this work in, I’m good at magic.

And so, I do the same fucking thing with any art that I’m working on. I research heavily on what music to download then lay there on my back in the dark, giving the entire album my full attention in one setting, carefully studying what the music is, how they made it, all the parts and how they interact, ect. I put in this effort with any of my artworks and I put in mass amounts of time into constructing my own songs, and I have no shortage of inspiration because I have fucking insane feelings all the time, like I fall in love with everyone and hate people and hate systems, and love stupid little things and am always tying ot figure out how everything and everyone works, and I understand style and how to obscure and contort ideas into a voice and blah blah blah. Point is, I’m good, ok, arts subjective yeah whatever, with anything, the more effort you put in, the better the result, but like, the thing is,

No one gives a fuck. Because everyone is doing the same exact thing, the world is over saturated with twenty three year olds makes sad songs about their past girlfriend, and writing poems about being confused and painting girls and making magic decks, and essentially just complaining all the time, and they all want everyone else to see and acknowledge but everyones so focused on themselves that they can’t really take it in. When I listen to any music it always just comes back to me, how it makes me feel, what aspects of the music can I glean to then use in my own. A big reason I even enjoy art is because it motivates me to do my own. I’ve stopped listening to albums half way through multiple times just so I can go practice because I’m like ‘fuck this shit is good, I need to do better!”

I’m certainly rambling, god this is a ramble, one I wont even bear through to read but this is one of my last chances to use this computer to type out some shit so that’s what I’m doing. It’s five am, my brothers are getting up, reading up to leave with my grandparents on vacation, I’m glad I get to say goodbye again. I can hear Holland getting up he’s so cute in the morning. He rubs his eyes in that cliché way where he uses his entire fist like what?

It’s gonna be ok. I’m going to have fun, and feel great feelings and the road will be scary and terrible, I’ll be uncomfortable and in pain, maybe contract some more diseases, get some more holes in my teeth, fuck up my spine. But I’ll also witness miracles, meet incredible people and show love to them. I’ll help feed them when they are really hungry, I’ll take drugs with them, play games, talk laugh, open up. I’ll play my songs, and they will play theirs, we’ll settle drama and rabble, some of us will fuck, some of us will fight. I’ll never know what’s going to happen and I’ll become spiritual, put my trust in the road, manifest. I’ll have to psyche myself up to do illegal dangerous things. I’ll show off infront of girls I find attractive, compete with fellow men, I’ll be humbled when I’m defeated and uplifted by others who praise me. I’ll be alone and bored, hiking along the road, or waiting for a ride, or just staring up into space as I’m laying in my bag, too cold and anxious to sleep and my mind will just be turning over and over again and maybe something will come of it. But I always sleep, days are too exhausting to not, and I’ll wake up and do it all again, with no real end or goal other than what I’m wanting that day, I’ll change my mind constantly too, always excited and always disappointed, happy and sad and at least I’ll be fucking alive and feel like I’m living alive. If I die young I die happy and if I’m 80 and still homeless with nothing I won’t regret because my life was full adventure and excitement. I had brothers I fought along side with and I fell in love with women and confided in them and held them and tried to make them feel safe. I was nice to dogs and talked to them, didn’t hurt bugs for the fuck of it, not even spiders. I tried to learn and listen and grow. I stuck to my guns, didn’t give up guitar, didin’t stop trying to force my artistic perspective everywhere. I was an entertainer, I was open, made people laugh, usually a good person to go to if you were bothered and wanted to talk about it. It’s everything I’ve already done, just gonna keep doing it over and over, try and reach as many people, be a part of as much as the world I can. Then die, and soon after be forgotten, but hey that’s how it works. Could be a lot worse, and anything in retrospect really wasn’t all that bad.