#wilbur cross daily

[wilburcross-daily]

Wilbur Cross Miss Holloway Daily

sorry yall he lost this timeline (April Fools day edition)

[dailyhatchetfield]

day 194 - sixteen habits that make you poor

[kairithemang0]

Why is Joey passionate when he’s talking about silicon?

[z3phyr23]

Drawing day 10!

Finally reached double digits! I tried for a harder one, and bit off a little more than I can chew. Uncle Wiley! I haven’t drawn a whole lot of people, so this was by far the hardest one I’ve ever done. I left his sketch under him to give him a more marionette-ish vibe.

If you have a character you’d like to see, let me know and I’ll do my best!

[justa-regularuser]

✦ Intro Post ✦

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :���ﾟ. ───

Heyy I'm Dan (any pronouns)!! I make art and shitposts sometimes

Askbox is open so feel free to send asks and/or doodle requests whenever :D

For mutuals: dms are open, pls feel free to talk to me yall are so cool, I'm just scared to talk to you most of the time- Also feel free to tag me in tag games and stuff you think I'll like too :))

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Interests (Green ones are main interests/fandoms I'm most active in rn):

✦ Starcanwrecked

✦ Re-animator

✦ Labyrinth (pls talk to me (and my ongoing 7 year hyperfixation for it) about Labyrinth)

✦ Arcane

✦ Will Wood

✦ Little Shop of Horrors

✦ Jekyll and Hyde/The Glass Scientists

✦ Muppets/other Jim Henson stuff (and puppetry in general)

✦ DC (specifically Gotham and Batman)

✦ Hermitcraft/Life series/other mcyt stuff

✦ Gravity falls, Amphibia, and many other cartoons

✦ The Stanley Parable

✦ Various different musicals

✦ So much more....

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Side Blogs

@wilburcross-daily - daily Wilbur Cross images

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

My tags (will probably add more when I think of some lol):

#justa-regularpost: random posts made by me that aren't art

#justa-regularask: asks I get

#my art: literally my art lol

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Also if you couldn't tell from most of the art I make I'm normal about Wilbur Cross <3

Alright that's all, will update whenever <3

[off-the-rails-raccoon]

Any favorite dsmp headcanons? Or any of yours?

I have an entire Google doc dedicated to heacanons that desperately need to be revisited and rewritten so I'm SO HAPPY you asked this!! Though, I'm not sure where I got them because i usually come up with them by something extremely vague, or something i saw multiple years ago revamped to fit my interpretation of the lore. Of course, I'll only put my favorites, otherwise it'd just be mindless rambling and written works I'm not proud of <3

—Tommy was Aroace and used both He/Him and They/Them pronouns, but preferred masculine pronouns to be used more often.

—After the “Prison Incident,” Tommy suffered slight brain damage, which rendered him unable to perceive depth.

Because of this, Tommy became embarrassingly clumsy. They would constantly bump into door frames, knock cups over, and stand too close to people.

—There was never a day that went by where Tommy didn't gain a new injury. It may have been an odd bruise on his leg or a cut on their face from falling, but he always had something new.

It was rare to see Tommy without bruises or blood staining their face; most of the time, it was just from whacking himself in the face or the near constant nosebleeds he got on a daily basis for no known reason.

—Tommy had an excellent resistance to food poisoning because of how strong his immune system was, thanks to them spending the entirety of their life consuming less than edible things, including: mud, dirt, moss, small rocks, various types of bugs, flowers, unidentifiable berries, bog water, play-dough, rain water, blues clues toothpaste, a chunk of the Egg, random mushrooms, old cigarettes, seaweed, puddle water, uncooked meat, Wilbur's cooking, paper, puddle water, grass, bones, battery acid, raw salmon, worms, and occasionally rotten flesh, oddly.

—Due to dying so close to lava when Tommy was resurrected, it reset his normal body temperature to the unnatural warmth, leaving them vulnerable to the cold.

—Upon being revived, Tommy experienced a sensory overload—after being in limbo for over two months where there was no sensory other than the occasional “visit” from another occupant—and, much like his body temperature, his tolerance for touch lowered drastically.

—Because of the magic transferred from the Revival Book to Tommy, as well as the effects of the Blessing (<- a headcanon not yet developed enough to be put into words)—and probably bits of radiation poisoning from hanging out in Tubbo’s lab too often—they glowed a slight purplish hue, really only visible in the dark.

Tommy, simply wanting to cause chaos, had told Beeduo that he swallowed an entire glow-stick and the radiation he got from Tubbo and his workshop had reacted to the liquid inside, and, the best part, they believed him. (They didn't actually believe him, but they together decided against questioning him further, and instead chalked it up as another cryptid feature of his he didn't want to admit.)

—Tommy occasionally worked part-time jobs at Las Nevadas as a waiter or bartender for pocket money to give to Wilbur.

—Tommy had the same voice as Finn from the hit show Adventure Time.

—While Tommy had a wide variety of songs they listened to, he used to only have access to The Able Sisters and animal crossing soundtracks, given that technology and the ability to access other servers universe-wide was still fairly unexplored.

Because of this, on the rare occasion Tommy didn't have his headphones playing, they would often have audible hallucinations of The Able Sisters in the background.

—Tommy had a habit of biting or chewing on whatever was in hand, to provide a sense of comfort and security.

Often he’d hold his communicator just to chew on it, as an attempt to focus the strong emotion that clouded his thoughts into something physical. Or, more often than not, he’d bite his pointer finger and just hold it between his teeth, which would slightly muffle his speech.

Developed from childhood, the sensory stimulation mannerism originated as a coping mechanism for stress or uncertainty, but gradually evolved into a subconscious habit over time.

—Starting in early Logstedshire, Tommy had begun talking to themself both as a way to cope with the isolation and fill the achingly unfamiliar silent atmosphere, and to continue practicing their German, Spanish, Russian, and Dutch, so as not to get rusty with the languages. However, as time progressed, Tommy's quiet comments to himself turned into loud discursive monologues about both everything and nothing, bouncing incomprehensibly between five different languages, often lasting hours.

This habit had persisted even after his solitude had long since ended, meaning, anytime Tommy would get lost in their own head, he would begin to unintelligibly ramble aloud without realizing (much to the disgruntlement of Technoblade and many, many more).

Oftentimes, it worried Tommy, due to the fact this very habit was one of the first few signs of Wilbur’s spiral.

—Despite their insistence about being 6’ 2”, Tommy was at most 5' 11”. He molded an enlarged raccoon paw-print to the bottom of each of his shoes, to not only disguise his footprints, but also to make him appear taller.

The mold doesn't effectively hide his footprints anymore because of his runner blade where his right shoe would be, and when putting the raccoon paw-print next to the elongated groove, it created even more distinct footprints than before. (<- this last part is a tad outdated considering I now have the unwritten design trait of him wearing mismatched shoes, which wouldn't work with a runner blade)

—Tommy had a bad habit of spending days “tabbing out��� (canonically dissociating, like seriously i can't make this up) in dark areas with little to no sunlight or light in general—like their house from paranoia, a random cave to gather cobblestone, or the church for praying—enough that they accidentally grew an increased sensitivity to sunlight.

He did this without anyone's knowledge, but Tubbo was usually able to tell by how much Tommy squinted and shielded his eyes when outside.

—Due to how unnatural it was, the use of the Revival Book caused aging in any dimension except Limbo to permanently cease in its victim. For that reason, Tommy remained nineteen even around three years after the ‘Prison Incident’.

Eventually, Tubbo and Ranboo became fully fledged adults with the responsibilities of a child, mansion, and even a nation, yet they still remained in close contact with Tommy despite the difficulties that came with maturing while he stayed the same nineteen year old he was. Even still, he provided a welcomed constant presence in their chaotic lives. (<- I view this as more of an au than an actual headcanon because I generally like the idea of benchtrio being around the same age)

—Because Tommy learned to stitch sutures before any actual sewing techniques for fabrics, the original L'Manburg uniforms—although almost professionally designed with the help of Niki—were very stiff and hard to move around in.

That actually turned out to be most of the headcanons, my bad!!

[2-sleepy-for-this]

Cause for Celebration

hey guys, here’s the new years fic I impulsively decided to write last minute. Sorry to say it’s not beta read or checked but it’s just a lil oneshot I wanted to get out before midnight.

tw ~ loud noise, Tommyinnit at night

word count ~ 930

Philza followed his daily routine just like he always did after sun down, he walked through the inner workings of the house, it’s walls and vent were familiar to him so much so that he didn’t even need a light when walking. He had rather good night vision as a borrower as well which he was glad for.

He made his way through the tunnel that would take him to the inside of the snack cabinet, admiring the way the light flittered through the cracks of the floorboards overhead. He liked the little things, pun intended, and tried to take things slow despite borrowers quick paced nature.

Not that he needed to be paranoid anymore, the humans of the house, the three beans that had been brothers without other family, knew about him.

No need to hide from the supposed danger, his sons. Despite them not being his by blood, his paternal instincts went wild when he first moved here, and he wasn’t even sure why until he was caught by Techno and found out they were orphans. That didn’t sit right with him.

So of course he had immediately adopted them all, regardless of the size difference and from that point on he was their father, their tiny father that loved them very much.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by loud footsteps running down the hallway he was under. It must be Tommy, that teenager still didn’t understand the concept of quiet, even with a tiny father.

Phil was curious to see what Tommy was so excited about though if his footsteps gave any indication to his mood. So he shifted his course to the nearest wall exit he had, though he still took his time getting there. 

At least, he would have if not for the sudden pounding in the wall near his living room exit, accompanied by sounds of a gremlin child screeching for him, the familiar sound of:

“Phiiiilllll!”

He huffed to himself at his youngest’s attempt to get him out of the walls. Well, it worked, but Phil didn’t mind if his sons needed something.

“What do you want, gremlin child?”

He crossed his arms, walking out of the wall with a glare, no real heat behind it. 

“It’s new years! You gotta celebrate with us, dadza!”

Now this was new… what was that? Sure, Phil knew human beans had holidays for a lot of things, a lot more than borrowers had, but new years? What was the point of celebrating a new year when it was just the passage of time?

Tommy seemed excited about it though, and Wilbur and Techno were there sitting on the couch too… he couldn’t say no to spending time with his sons.

“Alright.. so what exactly do we do?”

“Watch the ball drop, it’s on the television.”

Wilbur pointed to the TV, a machine he rather enjoy watching during family movie nights, it was on a channel show a brightly colored gigantic ball on a building and a countdown timer underneath it. Phil had to admit, the colors were very mesmerizing.

“And once the clock reaches zero we celebrate and drink.”

Techno chimed in with a smirk, Wilbur butted in at Philza’s apprehensive expression.

“Grape juice. We drink sparkling grape juice.”

He clarified with a chuckle, Phil sighed in relief, he couldn’t have his sons drinking alcohol at their ages, he knew that humans needed to be twenty one years old for some reason and he trusted human law when it came to his boys.

Philza agreed to staying and together the family watched the television and laughed, telling stories as time ticked on. It was times like this that made Philza truly happy in his lifetime. If he heard a year ago that this would be his life, sitting with humans who deemed him their dad in a home that felt safe, he’d scoff and say it was crazy…

He liked this crazy life.

Even as Tommy managed to drain his energy before midnight, passing out on the couch while Wilbur and Techno had a ‘civil’ argument with Phil sitting on Techno’s palm, he felt happy. This was the kind of life he thought wasn’t possible for a borrower like him yet he was living proof it was.

Finally his sons, minus Tommy, started counting down from 10

9

8

He was held close by Techno, the surface of his palm rough and textured nicely.

7

6

5

Phil was given to Wilbur and he was hugged against his chest, he clung to the fabric of his sons favorite yellow sweater, feeling comfort.

4

3

2

He looked at Tommy, his youngest son asleep, looking so peaceful as he slept. Phil smiled softly at his secure feeling.

1…

“Happy New Year!”

Three of the four shouted, Phil could care less about how his ears rang at the noise, he could only feel love as he watched his family, Tommy jumped up awake from the jump scare and shouted.

Once they calmed down from the height of the night they were all quick to settle down, the television was off and the lights were dim as the brothers relaxed on the couch, too tired to go to their respective bedrooms. Phil didn’t care though, because while they were all on the couch together it meant he didn’t have to go back to his room in the walls either. 

He didn’t have anything to worry about as he laid down on a pillow in Techno’s lap between Wilbur and Tommy. Maybe new years wasn’t so bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ happy new years! Hope y’all enjoyed and my posting schedule will hopefully get better so dw if you gave me a oneshot prompt!

tag list:

@da3dm @i-am-beckyu @lunar-but-little @phoenix-on-the-run

[littlesoot]

cg!klepto!wilbur headcanons !

tags: @koithelittle , @wilburstamagotchi , @eyluvu ask or dm to be added!

for context of this character check out my main acc’s posts!! -> oneshot , headcanons

❥ his little would most likely be apart of the afterlife or someone he needs to help cross over !!

❥ he’s the most understanding person if you’re scared, making sure to guide you along and keep you safe, keeping you right under his arm the entire time

❥ if you grow cold he gives up his coat, no matter what. even if you have a blanket, a jacket of your own, he’s making sure you’re warm

❥ gifts you didn’t trinkets he comes across daily <3 whether it’s a crow feather or a pretty ring someone dropped

❥ sometimes he’ll bring you along with him, telling stories of the many peoples he’s met throughout the years

❥ wouldn’t dare take anyone locket in front of you !!

❥ since he has a very dark style, i think he’d adore if his little was more of the opposite !! like bright pinks and blues, while he looks all mean and scary

❥ will randomly throw the word “grim” before a nickname — “my grim little doll” “my grim darling” etc

❥ he may work for death, but he doesn’t fully explain that! he’ll tell you he’s taking people home so they can rest

❥ his favorite spot to take you is a mossy little patch in the woods, to which he started decorated after you insisted on fixing the small shed there for the two of you — he’ll get fairy lights for you, warm blankets, etc

[rabbitcruiser]

International Civil Aviation Day

”Aviation is proof that given, the will, we have the capacity to achieve the impossible.” – Eddie Rickenbacker

In 1901 something was accomplished that hadn’t happened in the history of mankind, a man flew upon a glider and covered a respectable distance in a manmade device that was not held aloft by lighter-than-air gas. The skepticism that greeted this event was profound, with people all over the world saying the Wright Brothers were more liars than fliers, a claim that would be refuted by a demonstration of what would be the most important aeronautics event in the world. International Civil Aviation Day celebrates the science, art, and sport of aviation that grew out of this initial glide, and the men and women who push the frontiers of it today.

History of International Civil Aviation Day Civil Aviation is incredibly important to the world we know and love today, and touches all of us in ways we can’t realize. When you order a package overnight from Amazon, odds are good that it’s being transported from their warehouse to your front door in the hold of a cargo plane. When you travel across the country or even around the world to join friends and relatives for vacation or holiday celebrations, you’re traveling on a craft that got its start in the minds of Orville & Wilbur Wright.

But air transport can be perilous, and the International Civil Aviation Organization focuses on the safety, efficiency, and regulations that surround the entire industry. ICAO organized International Civil Aviation Day in 1944 and began a campaign to have it become an officially recognized UN holiday, a campaign that would finally see it’s fruition in 1996. Civil Aviation includes everything from sports fliers to large commercial aircraft traversing the sky with the essentials of daily living.

How to celebrate International Civil Aviation Day Celebrating International Civil Aviation Day can happen in a number of ways, from the simple joys of ordering a package the night before and opening it up the next day with the appreciation that it was carried in the belly of a great cargo plane, to booking a flight to an exotic location to celebrate the speed and efficiency with which we can cross the globe. Throughout the country, there are also museums dedicated to aviation, and there’s some great history to be learned by strolling those august halls. So get out there on International Civil Aviation Day and see what the plane has brought to your life!

Source

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

In the clouds

Wilbur looked at his communicator for the daily quests. The assignments that decided whether his child would lose a life — or worse, be unhappy. No child of his would ever be sad, if he could help it.

Now, he wasn’t great at the whole ‘existing in a dangerous world’ thing, death was very probable, even if he loathed to admit it.

But he would make sure that his daughter had a good life until then, at least.

The quests were pretty simple… give the baby a food that starts with a ‘b’, spend time with another baby…

Bathe the baby!

Ah, yeah, that one was probably going to be a problem.

Wilbur didn’t have a bath.

It wasn’t that he didn’t bathe, don’t get him wrong, he had a river outside of his house, and he was happy to duck under from time to time to scrub away dirt and grime. He was content to let Tallulah do the same, would even help her dislodge the flower petals and leaves that always seemed to stick themselves in her curly hair…

But he didn’t know whether that would count. The federation, from what he had heard, was very particular.

So, he did what every person who had just had kids does:

WilburSoot: phil

WilburSoot: phil

WilburSoot: phil

WilburSoot: phil

WilburSoot: phil

Ph1LzA: what mate?

WilburSoot: phil

WilburSoot: oh

WilburSoot: help

He could almost hear Phil groan from atop the wall.

Ph1LzA: okay fine

Ph1LzA: warp up

Wilbur grinned widely and turned to look for Tallulah. As usual, his little girl was being an angel. She was at their (admittedly pitifully small) farm, poking at wheat grains as if that would make them grow faster.

They had food. Phil had made sure that they had a plentiful supply of avocado toast, but Tallulah was apparently sick of the taste. Wilbur wasn’t sure how to break it to her that the wheat would be used to make more bread, so he was opting to cross that bridge when he got to it. Which was decidedly not happening anytime soon, much to Tallulah's current chagrin.

“Sweetheart!” he called, and her head jerked up to look at him. “Anything that starts with a ‘b’ in there?”

She shook her head.

Wilbur hummed. “Worth a shot. We’re visiting your abuelito.”

“And tio Chayanne?” she signed.

Wilbur bit back the words ‘I sure hope not’, borne out of a sibling rivalry that was frankly a little embarrassing considering the age gap between Chayanne and himself.

Not because he didn’t want to say it, but because he remembered that one of the tasks was to hang out with another kid, and Wilbur didn’t really know anyone else on the island enough to do a playdate.

(Okay, technically he knew Quackity and Slimecicle rather well, but he didn’t think that going to see their childrens’ memorials would count for the quest, and there was no need to traumatize his young daughter by showing her such depressing things.)

“We’ll see,” he said instead, smiling. “C’mon, I’ll set up the warpstone.”

She rushed to the tiny building they had set up their warpstone in, circling it with bright eyes, practically bouncing in place as Wilbur worked at calibrating it to send them to Phil and Missa’s house.

It didn’t take long, he practically had the coordinates memorized at this point, but apparently it was too long for Tallulah, who had slapped a hand to the pillar the moment Wilbur drew his hands back, his mouth still partially open, his tongue pressed against the top of his mouth in preparation to form the ‘d’ sound in ‘done’.

He snickered to himself, waiting until he saw her disappear in a flurry of purple particles before allowing the warpstone to take him, as well.

His smell was what returned to him first. The smell of flora, bread in the oven, and a million or so barrels of potatoes.

Then it was sound. The quiet trickle of water. One of those annoying flies that plagued the place. A child’s laughter and the rustling of leaves.

His sight was next, and what a welcoming sight it was. His father, standing there, his eyes rimmed with dark circles but crinkled at the edges with a kind of fondness regardless, smiling at his family.

And, you see, when he rediscovered touch, he realized why that smile had held the barest traces of mischief:

A weight went crashing into his back, and Wilbur nearly fell over with the force of it, cursing under his breath, but he managed to right himself before he hit the stone. Which was great, because this meant that he was able to be beaten over the head with the flat side of a wooden sword.

Wilbur bore approximately three hits before he looked up at the child that was now sitting on his shoulders. Chayanne, his little brother.

“Why?” he asked.

Chayanne scowled, his tiny face screwing up in frustration behind the skeleton mask that had been formed out of his old eggshell, and he tucked the sword beneath his arm to sign the word ‘die’ over and over again.

“Rude,” Wilbur said flatly.

His message received, Chayanne took his sword out and started to hit him once again.

Wilbur sighed. He looked at Phil.

“Well?” Phil said, smiling, utterly unhelpful. “Die.”

Wilbur waited a few moments more, just long enough to get across the point that he was not happy about his current predicament, before he fell back. Right onto Chayanne.

The boy screeched at the weight pinning him down and tossed away his sword in favor of signing in front of Wilbur’s face.

“Can’t read that, can’t get up. I’m dead,” he said, closing his eyes.

Chayanne was not pleased by this development. He made another frustrated sound before throwing his hands down onto Wilbur’s face. Wilbur grimaced, which is never a good thing to do with children, you can not show weakness. Because children will immediately double down on whatever upset you. Hands began smacking at all of the skin that the boy, pinned as he was, could reach.

Another set of hands joined in, little fingers tugging at his shirt to try and make him move as well.

Wilbur, however, was dead, so he was not able to grant the childrens’ wishes.

A light flashed behind Wilbur’s eyelids, and he lifted his head slightly, opening his eyes to squint at his father.

His father was utterly remorseless. He shook out the photo a few times, and then turned it around to make sure it had developed properly.

“Awwww,” he cooed, rushing over to show Wilbur. The three of them were on the ground. Chayanne was frantically hitting at his face, trying to free himself. Tallulah was shaking Wilbur’s shoulder, as if he was asleep and she was simply there trying to wake him. Wilbur’s lips were curled into the barest trace of a smile.

It was, admittedly, a cute photo.

“Give me the picture, Phil, I must burn it.”

“No.”

Wilbur made a mad grab for the photo, but it was gone, tucked away in Phil’s inventory before he could even get close.

Even worse, Chayanne used this chance to scramble out from under him and then snatch up his sword. He held it up in the air, victorious.

Wilbur sighed. He looked at Tallulah, who was giggling at her uncle's antics. “Why must you forsake me so?”

Tallulah only smiled.

Wilbur pouted playfully and looked at Phil. “Not even my daughter is on my side.”

“To be fair, how could she take your side when your opposition is so cute?”

Chayanne huffed and set his sword down once again to sign the words "I am not cute, I am menacing!" at Phil.

Wilbur was also displeased by this development. “This is favoritism, Phil, I’m clearly cuter.”

Chayanne paused, now looking unsure about his previous position. Torn as to whether he should be proud that he had beaten Wilbur at something or remain upset about being considered adorable.

Phil didn’t give the boy much time to ponder this conundrum, because he chose that moment to finally ask Wilbur why, exactly, he was there.

“I thought I would do you a favor, Phil,” said Wilbur, smiling in a way that might have charmed someone else, but did little in the face of the guy who had raised him. Still, he, bravely, continued on: “I saw that the quests for the day said that you have to have a playdate with another kid and, lookee here, a child for you to have a playdate with!”

He motioned to Tallulah, showing her off as if Phil hadn’t seen her several times before.

Phil, of course, smiled at her like a sap. And then gave Wilbur a mildly exasperated look. “I thought you needed help?”

“I…” did not think this through, but Wilbur was nothing if not one to commit to the bit. “I was saying that I wanted to help you, of course!”

“Yeah?” said Phil, smiling in that way that suggested he was only humoring Wilbur. Which did not make sense, for there was no humor in this situation at all. “Then I guess this has nothing to do with the ‘Bathe the baby’ quest and the copious amount of dirt and twigs on your daughter?”

Tallulah shoved her particularly dirt-covered hands behind her back, smiling sheepishly.

“None at all,” Wilbur confirmed.

“And if I were to say that I was just about to bathe Chayanne…”

“Then I would say that sounded like a fun playdate idea!”

Phil laughed, his wing coming out to hit Wilbur over the head. He pouted over this terrible child abuse that he was enduring.

Phil, of course, did not care about this. He turned to the kids, clapping his hands together by his ear. “Bath time!”

Chayanne lit up, grabbing Tallulah by the hand and immediately dragging her off in the direction of the bath, and the two adults shared fond smiles as they followed after them.

Before long, they were in a tiny greenhouse-like structure attached to the back of Chayanne’s house, sitting amongst the flowers and preparing the water so the kids couldn’t complain about freezing to death.

Chayanne had taken out a duck-shaped rubber ring and presented it to Wilbur with pride. Wilbur was not sure why the kid was going to be wearing it in the bath, that seemed counterproductive to the act of bathing, but who was he to argue with a child’s strange outfit choices? He wore the same outfit, every day, to everything, with only breaks to wash it in the river, so he wasn’t one to judge.

Tallulah smiled as she sat at the edge of the tub, waving to the two tortoises bobbing in the water. The tortoises did not say anything back, or even really acknowledge her, too concerned with trying to get out over the sides of the unfortunately slick tub.

“The turtles really don’t like it in there,” Wilbur commented.

“Shut,” said Phil.

Wilbur held his hands up in surrender.

Which was great. They were in the perfect position for him to defend himself when Chayanne jumped into the water, splashing it everywhere.

Those poor tortoises.

But enough about them!

Wilbur turned to Tallulah and motioned for her to come in closer so he could start picking the usual branches out of her tangled hair.

“How do you always get plants in your hair anyways?” he sighed, tossing a leaf aside.

“Flowers,” she signed.

“Understandable, understandable,” said Wilbur, nodding sagely.

She nodded back, just as sage.

Once she was deemed clean enough to take a bath (a strange thought to have, but who wants to get their bath water dirty?), she was helped in with far more grace than Chayanne, and the two parents started scrubbing their kids down. As is the purpose of a bath.

Just kidding, that’s the purpose of the first few minutes of a bath. The rest of a bath should be devoted to just enjoying yourself. Which is what the kids did. Splashing each other, making themselves beards with the bubbles, and playing with those eternally suffering tortoises.

It was nice.

Until. Disaster struck.

After some time, Tallulah gasped.

All eyes turned onto her as she pulled her flute from her pocket, and Wilbur grimaced as he realized that it was waterlogged. She looked him in the eyes as she brought it to her lips. It made a pitiful sound, water bubbling out.

She looked at him for a long moment, scandalized.

“Honey…” he said, at a loss.

She faceplanted in the water.

“NO, TALLULAH!”

While Wilbur righted her in the water, scrubbing at her face with the towel around his shoulders to make sure she was okay, Phil frantically searched through his backpack. Eventually, he procured a… piece of bamboo.

Tallulah looked unimpressed. But, to be fair, it was hard to look impressed when your hair was a wet mop in your face.

Phil smiled. “When we’re done here, I'll make you a new flute. How does that sound?"

Tallulah lit up. “We must finish now!” she signed.

Wilbur laughed. “Okay, okay, let me just get the last of the suds off.”

Despite her original excitement, though, getting them out of the bath was not easy. Chayanne hugged his duck floatie, squinting at Phil with contempt when he dared to hold up the towel, waving it in a way that he clearly hoped to be tempting. Tallulah sunk until she was beneath the water, only the top half of her face peeking out, her mouth blowing bubbles when she sighed.

“Okay, fine, we’ll wait,” said Wilbur.

Bad move. Never challenge children. They are the most stubborn things alive.

Eventually, the water got cold.

However, the kids still refused to get out.

Not because they didn’t want to get out. They would be more than happy with that at this point. But because they didn’t want to get out first.

Phil pulled the tub stopper out. A tiny whirlpool began stealing away the water and bubbles.

“Smaaaart,” said Wilbur, who had never had kids before, and therefore was not expecting them to continue sitting there until they were shivering wet in an empty tub.

He locked eyes with Phil. They nodded once.

And then, with the kind of coordination only seen from those who are comrades on the battlefield called raising dragon children, they wrapped their towels around their kids and dragged them out. The kids screamed bloody murder, but there was no one there to hear. No one other than their exhausted parents who were just trying to make sure they didn’t get sick.

They looked up at their parents, affronted by their care for them.

“You’ll get over it,” Wilbur told Tallulah.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” he almost sang.

She melted a little. Hesitantly, she lifted her hands to sign the words, “I love you too, papa.”

They both ignored Phil bargaining with Chayanne in the background, promising to let him wear the floatie for just a little longer. ‘A little longer’ would surely devolve into ‘until mere seconds before bed’.

Until then, though, they changed the kids, and Wilbur tried (and failed) to figure out how to give Tallulah one of those towel hats that women always put their hair into, and Phil whittled the bamboo into the promised flute for Tallulah, and Chayanne started bickering with Wilbur about whether or not he could claim the MCC win when, by his own admission, he was only there to balance out the frankly overpowered team he had had during MCC4…

Before they knew it, the day had faded into night, and it was time for them to start heading home.

Wilbur smiled as he glanced over his tasks.

“Thanks for everything, Phil… I think that’s everything done for to –... oh! I need to give her something that starts with ‘b’. Do you have anything you can spare?”

Before Phil could open his mouth, Chayanne gasped and held up a finger, the (possibly) universal ‘one moment’ gesture, before rushing off. He came back bearing a baked potato, presenting it to Tallulah.

Wilbur plucked it right out of the boy’s hand and then offered it to Tallulah.

Chayanne scowled.

“Tasks say that I have to do it,” Wilbur explained.

Chayanne looked no less displeased.

And strangely, Tallulah mirrored his expression. She took the baked potato into her hands and looked down at it for a moment before staring at Wilbur with wide eyes. She, somehow, looked even more affronted by this meal than she was whenever he gave her avocado toast.

[wilburcross-daily]

Wilbur Cross Daily #22

Yall get a gif for today

[dailyhatchetfield]

day 198 - nap time

[peterrefur]

Genesis 2:2-3 ⅏ Student!Wilbur Soot x GN!Reader  

Summary: Leading up to exams, feeling overwhelmed by pressure and expectations. Panic and anxiety affect your physical and mental state, making studying difficult. Amidst the chaos, you find solace in the presence of Wilbur, who provides stability and support. As you embrace, you feel a sense of clarity and self-compassion.  Notes: Hey Mate!!! I’m Peter and I say right away that English is not my first language. I’m curious to hear your opinion about this work in the comments! Enjoy! 

𝔸s the exams draw near, the mounting pressure and the weight of expectations begin to take their toll. I understand the overwhelming feelings that accompany this demanding period, as they resonate within me as well. In the face of these challenges, panic and anxiety make their presence known, swirling like quicksand in the pit of my stomach, making it difficult to swallow or take a deep breath. My heart races erratically, seemingly without reason, and my limbs feel heavy and uncoordinated, as if they are detached from my control.

The relentless cycle of studying, both early mornings and late nights, consumes my days. I immerse myself in the pursuit of knowledge, juggling the demands of schoolwork, assignments, and the weight of expectations. The dormitory's bustling atmosphere, coupled with the constant presence of noisy flatmates, adds to the chaos that engulfs my daily life. In the midst of this cacophony, it feels as if I am trapped in a swirling vortex.

𝔸midst the chaos and the relentless pursuit of academic excellence, there is solace to be found in the presence of Wilbur. He stands tall, his lanky frame a beacon of stability amidst the storm. Every time I heard two soft knocks on the door to my dorm room I knew Wilbur, with his perfect white shirt, red tie, cross necklace and round glasses would be, on the other side.

And that's probably the case today too.

Knock. Knock.

Who normally knocks only twice?

One time is an accident, two is not enough, three is perfect, and four is the police.

𝕀 stand up from my desk, on which I have notebooks and textbooks strewn about. Wearing loose trousers in a half-unbuttoned uniform shirt, I open the door and immediately see Wilbur's beaming smile.

"Hey-oh... You look tired." says the annam walking stick boy. I look at him with tired eyes that haven't seen sleep for thirty-one hours.

"Yeah... Come inside." I open the door wider and with a tired gait I return to my desk and fiddle with the pen in my hand, concentrating on studying for tomorrow's exam.

𝕀 continue to study, I can feel Wilbur's presence lingering in the room. His footsteps approach, the sound of his shoes tapping lightly against the floor. With a gentle sigh, I finally give in to the exhaustion that has been tugging at my weary mind.

"I can't seem to focus any more," I confess, my voice tinged with frustration. "There's just too much to cover, and my brain is shutting down."

Wilbur moves closer, his caring eyes fixed upon me. He understands, with a tender touch, he reaches out and gently takes the pen from my hand, setting it aside.

"Sometimes, my love, rest is just as important as studying," he says softly, his voice laced with compassion. "Your dedication is admirable, but pushing yourself beyond your limits won't yield the results you desire. Allow yourself a moment of respite."

ℍe guides me away from the desk, leading me towards the cosy corner of the room where we often find solace. The worn-out bed welcomes us, it's comforting embraces, a sanctuary from the chaos of academia.

“‘By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so, on the seventh day, he rested from all his work. Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it, he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.’ Genesis 2:2-3” Wilbur quotes the Bible from memory as always, hoping that I will find the same inspiration in these words.

"You're right," I murmur, my voice filled with gratitude.

Wilbur's fingers intertwine with mine, his touch grounding and reassuring. "You're incredibly talented and hard-working, my dear," he whispers. "But remember, your worth is not solely determined by your grades. Take the time to recharge. Trust in yourself and your abilities."

As I allow his words to sink in, I take a deep breath, releasing the tension that has accumulated within me.

𝕀 nestle into his side, finding solace in his comforting presence. The fatigue that had consumed me begins to fade, replaced by a gentle serenity that envelops us both. The weight of my textbooks and the pressure to excel momentarily fade away, replaced by the warmth of Wilbur's embrace and the gentle rhythm of our breathing.

"I'm grateful to have you by my side," I whisper, my voice a soft affirmation of my love and appreciation. "You are a good boy."

Wilbur's hand gently strokes my hair, his touch a soothing balm to my weary soul. "And I'm grateful to be here with you, supporting and cherishing you every step of the way," he replies, I can hear his voice cracking and when I lift my head to look at him, I can see how red in the face he is.

"Do you like it when you're praised?" I ask, smiling.

Wilbur's cheeks flush with a deeper shade of red, his genuine and humble nature shining through. He chuckles softly, his voice carrying a hint of bashfulness.

A playful twinkle glimmers in Wilbur's eyes as he chuckles softly. He adjusts his glasses and meets my gaze with a mixture of affection and self-consciousness.

"Well, I suppose everyone enjoys receiving praise now and then," he admits, a bashful grin spreading across his face. "It's a nice feeling to know that your efforts are appreciated and recognized." As he speaks.

"I think you're more than just a 'good boy'," I reply, my tone gentle yet sincere. "You're kind, compassionate, and incredibly supportive. I can't thank you enough for that."

𝕋he colour of his cheeks is like a golden hour sky, his pale skin and beautiful blush. He reached for my cheeks and lightly kissed my forehead.

"I'm just doing what feels right, my love," he murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness. "Being here for you, supporting you, it's the most natural thing in the world. It brings me joy and fulfilment. God tells me how to help you."

We lay there in silence for a while, our intertwined hands a testament to the connection we share. In the warmth of his embrace, I find solace and reassurance, knowing that our love is a source of strength and inspiration.

"I'm fortunate to have you," I whisper, my voice filled with a deep appreciation. “Thank you for being my rock."

[commaclear]

Okay I wasn’t planning on writing one of these today but I have to do this right now or I will explode

So vab!Wilbur is currently doing his whole thing with this game he’s playing and leading Quackity on. But I cannot wait for that to come back to bite him in the ass. Wilbur is so sure of himself. He has this type of confidence that he’s clearly spent a lot of time perfecting. However, he’s got so much self doubt that is going to inevitably balance it out

Wilbur’s cockiness about him totally lying to Q to lead him on because why on gods green earth would he ever want out is like when you’re sick so you call in sick to work and then the second you don’t feel like death you feel like a master manipulator for lying to your boss. Even though he definitely has his reasons, he’s completely playing it off as his own mastermind when that just wouldn’t fully check out. He claims he doesn’t want out and it seems like this whole plan is to fuck over schlatt. Although how much is that going to change when he realizes that it’s not the only option

Not to mention Wilbur’s attitude towards lots of things. The way he treats sex as a regular thing he has to do. That having sex with people he can’t even remember is part of a daily routine. The people he sleeps with regard him as a collectible item. Like something to cross off your bucket list. Then there’s how he claims he has to party and drink and do every drug he comes into contact with. Plenty of other stuff too

Behind his plan to deceive/use Quackity, there is something genuine. He likes the idea that he’s too complex to figure out and too smart to understand, but I feel like he’s honestly lying to himself to cope with the fact that no one’s actually taken the time to understand before. For a while he’s been treated like an object to use and I think it’s definitely fucked with the way he treats himself

Anyways. The thing I see happening with all of this is that Quackity is genuinely someone who wants to help. Honestly, I feel like there’s a chance he could’ve been in a similar situation in the past. I swear I’ve seen someone say something about him not really doing the whole relationship thing except for the one time he did that turned out not so great.

I’m not saying he’s got the same issues with being used for his body or being forced into crime, but there’s that relation of being stuck somewhere that is slowly killing you the longer you stay. It would explain the whole workaholic attitude he’s got towards solving cases and how his entire demeanor shifts when he realizes Wilbur’s asking for help. It’s a pattern in your fics where Quackity dedicates his life to reversing the damage done to him in the past, but never actually processing or dealing with his past.

He feels very sympathetic and understanding towards Wilbur, meanwhile Wilbur is using him for personal gain. The moment Quackity realized Wilbur wants his help he was fully ready to do what it takes. He went from disliking Wilbur to devoting all his time, attention, and energy towards the man.

The emotional investment is going to cause him to get hurt when he inevitably figures things out. Wilbur knows there’s a chance that Quackity’s going to find out before he is supposed to. He’s seen the way Quackity throws himself into his work and how far he’ll go to get answers.

Quackity also has all the stuff with being sexually repressed (which is definitely something I wanna touch on later) and now there’s this part of him that finds Wilbur attractive. Whether it’s the circumstances, porn, pent up sexual frustrations, or genuine feelings doesn’t matter. It’s going to lead to something eventually.

I feel like at first Quackity’s going to take the feelings more seriously than Wilbur, especially considering how he hasn’t allowed himself to get close to anyone in so long. Honestly if Quackity could run from how he feels I’m sure he would, but he’s more worried about getting Wilbur help. Although I don’t think he’ll be the first to act on them

Wilbur is gonna act first but that’s just because he sees it all as a fun game. Something that’s more enjoyable than meaningless sex, but still treated like meaningless sex. And I doubt Quackity is going to let that happen.

Tbh I feel like no matter how rough it is, Quackity isn’t going to treat Wilbur like an object. Q has a complicated relationship with sex and whatever shit Wilbur’s used to is not going to fly.

The intimacy shared between them is going to be ingrained in Wilbur’s head and he’s not gonna be able to go back to what he was doing before. If he was hardly getting anything out of all the hookups prior to that, he’s most definitely not getting shit out of them after. For the first time in a long time wilbur had sex with someone he wanted to have sex with. He wasn’t just doing his job or upholding a reputation for once. Even if he would try to keep up with the habit, it would probably feel wrong. He wouldn’t be able to just zone out now. Instead he’d be aware of every little thing that couldn’t compare to the way Quackity made him feel.

I know I kinda strayed far from the original topic, but this whole thing started with Wilbur’s whole thing coming back to hurt him. But all of this shit is to say after Wilbur notices how dull every attempt to go back to normal felt, he’s going to want Quackity more than he thought he did. What started as a game has turned into something that plagues his thoughts and makes him feel more alive than he has in years.

I think he’ll try to contact Quackity. First he try’s texting him. No response. He checks the cameras, finding Quackity sitting in the living room, and Wilbur can’t help but feel a bit disgusted with himself for spying. He swallows the sickness and tries calling Quackity. Almost immediately he’s sent to voicemail. The auto generated voice telling him Q’s voicemail box is full is like a knife to his chest. He forces himself to get past the churning in his gut and rewinds the security tape. He watches Quackity pickup his phone, scoff, hit the decline button, and slam his phone on the table followed by the man grumbling to himself. Wilbur doesn’t turn the volume up. He doubts he wants to hear what was said.

Unsure of what to do he decides to show up at Quackity’s place. And Quackity isn’t having it.

At some point between their last interaction and now, Quackity figured out everything. And it is gonna hurt both of them. It’s going to hurt Wilbur because he finally found someone who cares. It’s going to hurt Quackity because he finally trusted someone only to find out they were using him.

Anyways. This is a disorganized mess of predictions and analysis and I just from person to person but. I haven’t done this in a while. This is like a warm up I highly doubt a lot of this is even right. But for some reason I just couldn’t stop lmao

- Quackity analysis anon

(I’m fucking back and I have so many other things I need to talk about. I can’t rest until I get it all out I’m gonna go crazy)

Things that you said that were 100% accurate: 8

No I will not elaborate on which. But I'm posting another chapter very very soon, and I need to answer this ask before I post that chapter (big things are coming)

Beyond excited to have you back in the analysis game, I think you're gonna like the next few chapters ;)

[cnacertificationprogram]

Discover Top CNA Schools in Chicago: Your Path to a Rewarding Healthcare Career

Discover Top CNA Schools in Chicago: Your Path⁤ to a Rewarding Healthcare Career

Are you considering a rewarding career in the⁤ healthcare‌ industry? Becoming a Certified Nursing Assistant⁤ (CNA) is a fantastic choice, allowing you to provide ‌essential care to patients while embarking on a fulfilling professional journey. In this guide, we ‍will explore the ⁣top CNA schools in Chicago, detailing their‌ programs, benefits, and tips to help ⁣you ⁤succeed in your training and subsequent job⁤ hunt.

What is a Certified Nursing Assistant ⁣(CNA)?

A Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA) plays a​ vital role in healthcare settings, ⁢working under the supervision of Registered Nurses ⁣(RNs)⁤ and Licensed ‍Practical Nurses (LPNs). CNAs assist patients ⁢with daily activities, such as:

Bathing and grooming

Feeding and meal preparation

Monitoring vital signs

Transporting patients

CNA training programs equip students with practical skills and‌ knowledge to excel in‌ this crucial position. With a growing ⁢demand for healthcare‍ professionals, ⁢becoming a CNA can ⁤lead to various⁢ career advancement opportunities.

Why Choose ⁢CNA Schools in Chicago?

Choosing to​ study in Chicago offers several ⁤advantages:

Abundant Opportunities: Chicago is home to numerous healthcare facilities, providing ample job opportunities for CNAs.

Diverse Patient Population: ⁣ The city’s diverse demographics mean that CNAs ‌will ⁢gain experience interacting with‌ various cultures​ and ​backgrounds.

High-Quality Programs: Many CNA schools in Chicago are accredited and offer hands-on training, ensuring you receive a ⁤quality education.

Top CNA Schools in Chicago

Here’s a list of well-regarded ⁤CNA‍ schools in Chicago to ‌help you get started on ⁤your educational journey:

School Name

Program Duration

Location

Website

Chicago ‌State University

8 Weeks

Chicago, IL

csu.edu

Wilbur Wright College

8 Weeks

Chicago, IL

ccc.edu

American Red ⁤Cross

3-4⁢ Weeks

Chicago, IL

redcross.org

City ‌Colleges of ⁢Chicago

8 Weeks

Chicago, IL

ccc.edu

ProTrain

6-8 Weeks

Chicago, IL

protrain.edu

Choosing the Right CNA Program

When selecting​ a CNA program, consider ‌these factors:

Accreditation: ⁢Ensure the program is accredited by a recognized agency.

Curriculum: ​Review ⁤the ‌curriculum to ensure it ‌covers essential skills.

Cost: Assess the tuition and available financial aid options.

Job Placement Assistance: Look for ​schools that offer⁣ job placement services upon graduation.

Benefits of​ Becoming a CNA

Embarking on​ a⁤ career as a Certified Nursing Assistant comes with several ⁢advantages:

High Demand: CNAs are in high demand, leading to job security ‌and ‌opportunities for‌ overtime.

Entry Point into Healthcare: Becoming a CNA can be a⁢ stepping stone to further education and specialization in nursing.

Flexibility: Many facilities offer ​flexible ⁣hours, including part-time and night shifts.

Satisfaction: Helping others leads to ​personal satisfaction and a sense of purpose.

Practical Tips for Aspiring CNAs

Here are some practical tips to help⁣ you succeed as a CNA student ⁤and future ⁢professional:

Stay Organized: Keep materials, notes, and assignments organized to streamline ⁣your study process.

Participate Actively: Engage in class discussions and seek hands-on practice opportunities.

Network: ⁣ Build relationships with instructors ​and fellow students⁤ for support⁢ and job opportunities.

Prepare for the Certification Exam: Take practice tests and review key concepts to increase your chances​ of passing.

Case Study: Success Stories‌ from CNAs

To inspire you further, here are brief ​stories from‍ successful CNAs:

Maria, 32: ‍After completing ⁣her‍ CNA program at the American Red Cross, Maria quickly ⁣found a job in a local nursing⁣ home. Her dedication and ⁤compassion helped her get promoted to a patient care coordinator within two years.

James, 24: James chose Wilbur Wright College and, through hands-on ⁤training, gained confidence in⁢ his⁢ skills. He is now pursuing⁢ his ‌RN‌ degree⁣ while working as ‌a CNA, showcasing how this role can be a stepping stone.

First-Hand Experiences: What⁢ to Expect

As a student, you can⁣ expect a blend of classroom learning and clinical ⁤practice. Recommendations‍ from CNAs include:

Being proactive during clinicals to gain ‌practical skills.

Asking questions and seeking feedback from instructors.

Building empathy and patience when interacting with ‌patients.

Conclusion

Embarking on a career as‌ a Certified Nursing ‍Assistant is not just a job; it’s a path to enriching lives and contributing to the well-being of your community. With numerous CNA schools ‌in Chicago, aspiring healthcare ⁣professionals have access ‍to high-quality training that sets them up for success. Take the ⁤first step today, explore your options, and discover how you‌ can build a rewarding healthcare career ⁤that⁢ makes a difference.

https://cnacertificationprogram.net/discover-top-cna-schools-in-chicago-your-path-to-a-rewarding-healthcare-career/

[wiredaughter]

@augustwritingchallenge: enemies to allies

♤♤♤

rebuilding bridges ◇ enemies to friends ◇ wholesome ◇ 1,147 words ◇ ao3

Redd's Song

Tom has been waiting all week for this night. It’s Saturday, and that means as soon as darkness falls over the island, K.K. Slider is to make his usual appearance in the plaza. His ears twitch with excitement, he just loves the singer too much to hold his enthusiasm in, no matter how many times he sees him perform. And no matter how crammed Tom’s work week is, or if the rain catches him on his way to the Resident Services building, nothing can get him down on a Saturday… or nothing so far.

It’s Orville who finds him at his desk this morning, looking so distressed his beak keeps clicking when he tries to explain what’s happened. Tom follows him to the airport worriedly, to find Wilbur running in circles around his beloved plane. There’s been damage from the storm the night before, and there’s no way they can get it on the air today.

Tom rubs his paws down his face, relieved. As awful as this is, nobody’s been hurt and the Island Representative is sure to fix it shortly. He hasn’t seen her all day, but she’ll likely drop by later to get her daily Nook Miles. ‘I’ll make sure to let our Island Representative know of this wrinkle, yes, yes!’

‘But Tom,’ pipes up Isabelle, who’d followed them there. ‘How is K.K. going to get here now?’

The ground sinks beneath Tom’s tiny raccoon feet as he realises she is right. ‘To the pier!’ He decides. ‘We need to get Kapp’n in the case immediately!’

Nothing is quite immediate in this island, and as they run into villagers that have heard the news in their way, he finds himself thanking Phil and Freckles and some horsey who just moved in, but explaining they don’t need someone to take the stage in K.K.’s stead. There’s a solution in the works.

Or there should be, but it appears the reason the Representative hasn’t been by Resident Services yet is she’s off to some mystery island, rendering Kappn’s boat inaccessible until she returns.

‘Unh-hunh, and who knows when that’ll be…’ grumbles Elvis, who’d been looking for the Representative and now joins the K.K. Crisis Committee.

As much as he’d usually disagree with the lion, Tom has to concede he’s got a point. Without the boat, there’s nothing to be done, and even if they start trying to repair the aeroplane now it’s too late. There’s no way it’d be safe to fly on time. The brainstorming session starts getting heated after Raymond boasts that he’d never have only one plane, needing at least two backups in any case. As tensions rise, someone clears his throat loudly from the shadow of a palm tree.

They all turn, following Tom’s motion as his eyes land on the last person –the last fox– he wants to see in this moment. With a blue apron that looks way better tailored than the last one he saw him in and a selfsatisfied expression, Redd stares at him, absentmindedly biting into a pear. Tom darts a glance to the villagers and, gauging by their expressions, he can guess which have crossed his path. He sighs.

‘You are not allowed on this island, Redd.’

‘First off, that’s Jolly Redd now, Tom, the brand has changed and the business as well! Maybe we could luncheon one of these days to catch up, what do you say?’

‘Not interested?’ Tom can’t help saying it like a question. It’s hard to make affirmations around the fox, but he’ll have to find a way to stand his ground.

‘And second, I hear you’re in need of a boat. You see, I happen to have a boat myself and I’m sure you know what a fan of K.K. Sli-’

‘Don’t say his name.’ Tom’s paw covers his mouth before he can finish. If Redd’s weapon is his speech, he’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t have it. ‘And how would you know about any of this?’

‘We asked for his help!’

‘... help!’

Regretting getting out of bed at all, Tom turns to find his apprentices standing very close together, eyes darting from him to Redd. Although he’s been sure to caution them against going into business with a fox, he’s not told them anything about Redd specifically. Still, would it be too much to ask for his employees to lend an ear?

‘How about it, then?’ Redd’s words are muffled but he’s still making his point. ‘I get your troubadour here on time, and in exchange… I get to stay for the show, deal?’

Tom pinches his raccoon nose, effectively giving up his attempt to silence Redd’s lying fox mouth. The Island Representative is out chasing exotic bugs and picking moss, the show is tonight, he’s got to take charge. ‘I’ll need to inspect this boat of yours. And I’m coming with.’

Redd’s boat is as shabby as he’d expected it to be, and still, it will do. They set sail without exchanging more words that are strictly necessary, disgruntled to be in each other’s close proximity again, and he can tell Redd is; no matter how calculated his veneer of nonchalance is.

K.K. is most accommodating, and they leave their differences to the side in the presence of their idol. The trip back is less tense, both of them in their best behaviour and K.K. happy to answer questions about his craft as he tunes his guitar and plays around with some scales. This is the most time Tom has spent with K.K. Slider and a part of him can’t help but be thankful to the boat. And its owner, peripherally.

The show is a success, the representative’s back from her expedition and the whole island congregates to hear the music. Tom stands next to the entrance to the Resident Services building, taking in the breezy night, as many of the nights he’s spent listening to his favourite singer and yet, different. Redd stands to the side, eyes glued to K.K.. Earlier he’d tried to hustle some sort of raffle, as expected, but he’d given it up as soon as K.K. started playing.

As the first notes to Comrade K.K. float in the air, Tom walks over to Redd, who gives him a sidestare, more cautious than distrusting. ‘Well. It seems we’ve saved the day, mister businessman.’

‘So it seems.’ Tom pretends not to notice as Redd takes a step closer, still not looking at him. Very quickly, before he loses his nerve he adds. ‘If you were serious about grabbing lunch, that’s something we could do, hm?’

Redd turns to look at him this time, blinking twice like processing the words. The smile that breaks through his face now is less knowing than his usual business mask. ‘Yeah, I think I’d like that,’