TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
shark vs the universe
KIROKAZE
macklin celebrini has autism
pixel skylines
Mike Driver
No title available
$LAYYYTER
noise dept.
No title available
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Game of Thrones Daily
ellievsbear
The Bright Sessions
NASA
No title available
RMH
tumblr dot com
todays bird
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Greece
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
@buildthatwall-builditstrong-blog
I’m gonna call it a night with replies here because i’ve got a run shift tomorrow at work (yay i get to bring food to people for like 2 hours and then operate a spotlight bless) and mom’s going to get an MRI done and see a specialist an hour away. I wanna be able to wish her luck before she leaves at stupid oclock.
i’ll do more replies tomorrow!!!
The Kid goes red to his ears when she kisses his cheek. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined this would actually happened–he had fantasized about holding her hand plenty of times, but he never thought it’d really happen. Now they’re holding hands and she’s kissing his cheek and she loves him, she really love him.
Letting go of her hands and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, the Kid pulls Zia into a tight hug. He buries his face in her neck and she smells so nice, so clean and fresh. And her hair is so soft, too. She’s so perfect. “Love you more than anything in the world,” he says. “Love you so much.”
Zia can’t help but start to giggle like a schoolgirl, especially as he buries his face into her neck. His eyelashes grace against her skin, tickling her in a way that reminds her of the pet Pecker’s feathers gently touching the inside of her arm or her cheek. Any time it would sit on her arm or shoulder, it somehow managed to tickle her. Now Kid was doing the exact same thing!
His voice is slightly muffled into her collar, but she can still understand him, and happily tells him of her own love for him. At this point, her cheeks are certainly hurting from all this smiling.
“You’re too sweet. You’re going to spoil me rotten, you know that?”
She reaches up to place a hand on his head, fingers carefully finding their way into his jungle of white hair.
“Your hair feels like a cloud,” She chirps, her other hand coming up so she can give his fluffy mane a ruffle. “Like how one of those really tall summer clouds would feel. The fluffy ones that look like mountains! Have I ever told you that? Because it’s simply wonderful.”
Venn shrugs.
“It’s almost unremarkable, really,” he begins, “there were rumours- talk of the City Mancers trying to discover a way to prevent another war from happening. Searching high and low, east and west for a solution. Little did they know the answer was right under their noses…”
He scowls.
“I went to them to apply for a position. It was one of the reasons I’d come to the City, anyway. I was always scientifically minded, scientifically compelled. To share in the advancements of the Caels was my dream… and to help them keep peace between nations? I felt it my duty, and an honour, to aid them.”
He laughs in his usual harsh, humourless way.
“At first they were skeptical, for many reasons. But I showed them what I could do. I showed them what I’d worked on. All those security turrets you’ve seen in the Terminals, the City? My invention. My technology. And I was on the cusp of discovering something deeper, something darker… and they wanted it.”
He sighs.
“So they took me on. It was a gruelling job, but engaging all the same. Besides, it payed much better than the previous one. By this time, you were on the way… We were so excited to bring a child into the new, peaceful world. We were so blinded by the prospect of a possible end to all the hatred and death that we didn’t see it closing in all around us.”
He snorts a little.
“Well, now I’m just being dramatic. But you know what happened next. That’s where your story begins after all. So much of which I’ve missed…”
He folds his hands in his lap.
It was so . . . surreal to hear him talk about his work like this. Before the calamity, he barely spoke of it. She would ask about his day, what he would do (in those very rare chances she would be awake when he came home), and he’d simply say it was nothing she needed to concern herself with. You should go to bed, you have school in the morning. I better not hear you playing your instrument, either, you need your sleep.
A part of her was proud for his work, that he broke through a Cael-dominated field and showed them just how great he could be. Another part of her was so bitter for what he had made, and how he kept it from her for such a long time. No matter how many times she thinks about it, it’s always a mix of emotions that leave her frustrated . . . moreso at herself than her father.
There’s a silence between them after his last few words. Zia looks down at her own hands for a moment.
“My story began and Mom’s . . . ended.”
That was meant to be thought kept in her head, to herself. How had that slipped out, of all things?
“I’m sorry I took her away from you.”
Okay, mouth, now is a good time to stop blabbering . . .
“Well then, I’ll just have to take enough for all of us, won’t I?”
Zulf carefully lifts string after string of beads out of the stall and loads them one by one into his pockets. His eyes slip down each strand of jewelry as he goes, expertly checking for cracks, chips and imperfections.
No thief worth his salt is unable to check for quality.
Finished with the beads, he straightens his clothing, and then scans the rest of the area. He performs a quick circuit, peeking into pots and rattling crates, but comes up with nothing.
“Right, we’ve got beads! That’s something.” he gazes down the path towards a large set of Bullshead Gates. “Whadya think, Zia? Anything you’d particularly like to do up here? There are some nice ponds down that way and, if I remember correctly, some really excellent climbing spots.”
She watches him work, scanning over each bead, jewel, and piece of glass for any sign of imperfections. His attention to even just the smallest details impressed her, not to mention his luck. Everything she picked up was cracked or mangled somehow!
Where to go next? That was a good question. Zia hums, tapping her finger to her chin as she scans the area, her eyes fixating on those large, intimidating gates.
“I like the sound of ponds and climbing,” she says with a smile, “Are they through those big gates over there?”
@buildthatwall-builditstrong
“Damned Peckers, I’ll show you who’s boss around here!”
It started with a simple mess. A bunch of Peckers getting the bright idea of flocking around the Bastion. At first it was mostly harmless, with the birds deciding to just keep their distance. But then they started getting a bit more bold. Started getting closer, trying to grab pieces of paper from the Memorial, some fragments lingering around the Lost-and-Found.
Of course, that made Rucks angry. Started waving his cane at them, trying to get them to shoo away. But the Peckers were persistent, flying around the old Mancer like they owned the place.
That’s when Rucks reached into his tent, grabbing that weapon of his that he was working on.
The sound of explosives could be heard throughout the Bastion, rocking it around a bit as Rucks chased Peckers around with a fully functional Calamity Cannon.
“RUCKS?! What are you DOING?!”
Zia had heard the frantic squawking of the Peckers coupled with the sound of explosions, and had rushed out of her tent to find Rucks firing off at the birds. What had gotten into his head?! Sure, they could be pests sometimes, but she knew the best ways to keep them at bay. Hadn’t she told him that?
She hurries over, taking care to not step directly in the way of the cannon, instead placing her hand upon it to lower it.
“What’s going on? Why are you shooting the Peckers? Gods, Rucks . . . “
Zia’s smiling, which is good, real good, but she’s not saying it back. She… she does love him, right? She has to, this has to be more than friendship. Unless this is what friends do? The Kid’s only ever had Nacie as a friend; he doesn’t really know how it works.
“Course I do. You’re… you’re amazin’. Kind, and smart, and sing real nice. I know I’m not that tall, I know I’m not that smart, but…”
He bites his lip, squeezes her hand. “Promise I’ll make you the happiest girl I can. Do you… do you love me?”
Maybe she won’t say she loves him. Maybe she’ll say she sees him as only a friend. It’ll hurt, but as long as he has her, he’ll be okay.
She can’t help but smile even more, laugh, too. She’s not laughing at him-- gods no, she’s just so surprised that he thinks these things of her. Kind, smart . . . ‘sing real nice’. So simple, and so genuine. There’s nothing flowery about what he’s saying, and she likes that. A part of her can’t believe it, that someone actually thinks such things of her. For real this time!
Zia gives his hand a squeeze in return, taking the opportunity to hold his other hand and gently bring him just a bit closer. She places a kiss against his cheek.
“I love you, too.”
Venn laughs, slightly embarrassed.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head.
“No, we were married in the Terminals. Just before we left, actually… We wanted to be married before we trekked to the City… Just in case…”
He looks momentarily troubled.
“It was a nice ceremony, if a bit subdued. It’s hard to be joyful when war is stamping its feet at your threshold…”
She nods, finding the reasoning to make sense. Between the war, the rush to leave and the lack of family to even be there . . .
Zia wants to ask what he meant by ‘just in case’, but judging by his troubled expression, she’s not sure she really wants to know. Did they not expect to make it to the city? She didn’t like that thought.
“What about your job for the Mancers? How’d you get that?”
“Righty-o, pard’ner!” Zulf exclaims, taking a hold of Zia’s hand again and setting off down the crumbling path. He used to find it funny the way the Caelondian’s spoke to one another, but as time went by he found himself picking up stray idioms and colloquialisms. They’re fun to say.
“Sundown Path. I’m sure you might’ve been here at least once before. It’s the City’s most romantic spot, ‘sides the Hanging Gardens,” he smirks, slightly “No idea who’s bright idea it was to send live munitions down here too.”
He scans the patchy landscape.
“There might be a couple of crates of explosives left. Kid brought some back a while ago so there must be some. Not that I particularly want any,” he drums his fingers across the back of Zia’s hand and squeezes it, “We’ll steer clear of those if we come across any. I don’t much like the idea of destabilizing this place any further.”
The area gives off a warm aura, despite its emptiness. Crates, pottery and abandoned stalls are scattered across the decaying pathway like toys left out on a nursery floor.
Zulf hears a high-pitched giggle and ducks behind a nearby stall, pulling Zia with him. He peeks out from behind the colourful awning, then slowly rises back to his feet.
“Sorry for yanking you down like that. Never certain what’s going on around here. Just an elephant squirt though, lookit her. Isn’t she a darling?”
He points up ahead, towards the large windbag, bouncing her way leisurely along.
“She probably won’t cause us too much trouble if we give her a wide birth. Meanwhile, let’s take a look in this stall.”
He pulls the tarp off it and peeks inside.
“Jewelry! Nice!” he lifts a string of multicoloured glass beads up to appraise them. “Whadya think, Zia? D’you think Rucks would like these?”
Zia remembers the one time she had come to Sundown Path, to meet a Cael boy that she thought she could trust, long long ago. Well, it was romantic at the time, but looking back on it now . . . It left a sour taste in her mouth. She’s thankful to be making new memories here, though, even if it happens to be after the Calamity. It’s not too bad, anyway, and it still retains some of it’s . . . romantic charms, just a bit more beaten up.
She’s brought out of her thoughts by the sudden pull on her arm, finding herself stumbling over her legs to kneel next to Zulf. She wished he would have given her a heads up, and she squints at him in frustration. But the sight of that cute little squirt has her smiling, forgetting just why she had been grumpy at him in the first place. Oh, so adorable . . .
Wait--! Jewelry?
The shining color of the beads catches her eye and she admires them before imagining Rucks wearing the string around his neck and stifles a giggle into her hand. It comes out as more of a snort, though.
“I think he’d love them.”
“He’d look so beautiful, it’d make me jealous!”
simandthedimbulbv2-0 has left a message:
/the way the kid uses ‘good’ and ‘bad’ in your rp made me think of the latest verse of 'love like you’ so i doodled a short crappy comic. id submit it to kid but he doesnt have a submit box!/
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU MEAN LOVE LIKE YOU FROM STEVEN UNIVERSE RIGHT HNGJGLKDMGLD THAT SONG IS????? SO PERFECT FOR THEM AS A PAIRING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOWOWOW BLESS YOU!!!!!
@marshalsbadge i will tag kid so that he sees this, thank you so much!!!!! this might sound rly silly but i am so honored and thrilled to know that our rp has inspired art!! and that you made a connection to a song no less!!!! thank you thank you again!!!!
His heart skips a beat in his chest when she takes his hands. It’s like… it’s like everything fades away when she holds his hands. He’s safe with her–nothing bad can happen now. His past doesn’t matter anymore, all the bad things he’s done mean nothing. She accepts him, she–she loves him? It has to be that. This feeling coming over him, this peace and calm and acceptance, it has to be love. There’s nothing else in the world it can be.
“…Done a lot of bad things. Don’t really like myself. But when I’m with you I… I don’t feel like that. Feel good. And it’s ‘cause…”
He returns her smile, something bright and beaming and open. “I love you.”
So that was it. That’s what he’s been trying to say this entire time, and it made sense now. All those times their eyes met and lingered for a little bit longer . . ., the grip on her hand as he’d lead her somewhere. The Necklace.
The last time she heard those words from a Cael, they were lies, and in her own native language. But this? This was different.
“You . . . Really mean it?” Zia asks, her smile growing to match his in brightness. She knows he’ll say yes, just by the way he’s said it she knows he’s being honest.
But she wants to hear it again . . .
the other guy’s a reeeaaallll party-pooper
“As you wish, sié aila.” he replies, suavely.
“Three!”
He leaps onto the launchpad and it sends them flying into the air. Splay, fold, splay, fold, they whoosh over air currents at worrying speeds, sailing over disjointed landscape until Zulf spots their destination.
Tucking in his limbs and pulling Zia close, he faces downwards and they speed towards the earth.
The current picks up, and they land with a soft flump on grass. Sundown Path stretches out before them. Zulf grins.
“What d’you think?” he asks, glancing at Zia slyly, “Does it meet your expectations?”
Before she could ask Zulf what he’d just said, they were off, shooting through the skyway like two stars across the night sky. Only-- it wasn’t quite night yet . . .
The whole trip is exciting, the adrenaline rush from the Skyway from takeoff to landing keeps her holding on tight to the other Ura. When they finally land, she lets go of the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding in the first place.
Zia takes the time to stand up and dust off her poofy pants before looking around the surroundings. Wow . . . It really was wonderful!
“It’s so pretty,” She says in response, her smile growing as she admires the flowers, the pathway itself . . . There’s some wear and tear from the Calamity, of course, but it only adds to the charm. The Singer tugs on his sleeve eagerly.
“Well, what are we waiting for? C’mon, show me around!”
“Alright…” he frowns, thinking back, “Well, back in the day, a refugee had to get a house in the city! If he wanted to have himself a proper den, the city would send him off to the fringes so as not to offend the city folk with his uncivilized holes.”
Venn snorts.
“Your mother and I wanted a den, though. So they sent us to Prosper Bluff. It was difficult out there, what with the peckers and the rapids and the fickle soil, but we managed to make ourselves a home.”
“I worked in the city back then. Wall-papering job. It payed less than nothing but we survived. We amassed things slowly– stuff from bargain sales, things nobody wanted, even junk that floated down the river. Your mother loved cleaning things up. Fixing broken furniture until it was good as new…”
He smiles fondly at the memory.
“As for food, well, both of us could cook. Whoever wasn’t more tired took up the ladle and the pot. We usually had stew. Good Ura stew is food for the soul and the mind. And the bowels.”
He chuckles in spite of himself, unsure of where that last bit of toilet humour had come from. He hasn’t made a joke in a long, long time. No wonder it’s a stinker.
She could picture it: a beautiful sunset on Prosper Bluff as they found the perfect spot for their den, together. The thought of her mother taking something broken and making it new sounded right, and she could remember quite a bit of furniture from the Den looking as if it had been given new life. No wonder it always felt so . . . comfortable. Safe.
It’s so nice to see a smile on her Father’s face.
Of course, at that joke she can’t help but wrinkle her nose. One thing she didn’t quite miss were the awful jokes.
“Dad!” She groans, but smiles in spite of herself. “Really? That joke’s foul!”
Zia elbows him playfully, laughing along with him even though it had to be the corniest thing she’s heard in a long time.
“When did you and Mom get, y’know, married . . . ? Was it in the city?”
“No!” the Kid shouts, louder than he means to. The sound reverberates off the walls, rings in his ears. “It’d never be anything like that. It’s ‘cause, cause–”
Because I love you. Because you’re smart, and kind, and strong. Because you’re the prettiest girl in the whole world, before and after the Calamity. Because you’re perfect.
But he doesn’t say any of that. He gestures at her noiselessly. Still nothing comes. He sinks to his knees and puts his face in his hands. “…’Cause you’re so good,” he whispers, “and I’m so bad. I don’t know why you like being around me.”
She flinches at the sudden bark of a shout that erupts from the Kid. It wasn’t often that he raises his voice, let alone says much to begin with. Zia wonders for a moment if she had upset him, but tells herself it couldn’t be that, if she’d done something, she figured he’d tell her. Well, he’s certainly trying to tell her something, at least.
The singer watches his hands motion to her until he’s sunk to the ground, and she’s quick to join him on the messy floor of the Forge. She can hardly hear him, even when she’s holding her breath . . .
“Bad? Who-- Who said you were bad?” Zia’s concern turns to frustration. “I’ll beat them up for calling you something you’re not!”
She covers her mouth for a second, wondering why that was the first thing to come to the tip of her tongue. How would that be helpful? She watches him for a moment before scooting closer to gently remove his hands from his face . . . So she can hold them.
“I like being around you because you’re, well . . . You. You’re strong and cool, and you’re nice. Goofy, too. And you’re genuine. You’re the Kid, and I like you.”
Zia hesitates a moment before looking up from their hands to him, that reassuring smile upon her face.
“I think you got it mixed up, honestly. You’re the good one here.”
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. “Everything’s fine,” he mumbles. “Just…”
Maybe he could pretend he’s drunk. Just say whatever he wanted to say and do whatever he wanted to do and blame it on the alcohol. Be honest and shameless and never deal with the consequences. But that’s no way to live. He has to be honest. The Kid looks to Zia, looks her straight in the eyes and says, “Sometimes I can’t stand to be around you ‘cause–”
The rest of the words end in his throat. He tries to finish the sentence, but no sound will come out. ‘Cause I love you so much. It dies on his tongue.
The eye contact between them is something Zia’s never quite experienced before: it’s intense to the point where she wants to look someplace else, anywhere else, but she can’t. It’s nearly impossible to look away, even as stands up from her stool.
“Because what? What is it?” A part of her feels flustered, frustrated, confused, concerned--- alot of things that make her chest swell. She’d like to just give up, leave whatever else he has to say to her imagination and spare them both from this dance . . .
But there was something he wasn’t saying. As a man of few words, whenever he spoke, she wanted to hear it all, not just half, or a quarter. Maybe she was being greedy or selfish, but she found herself diving for the truth all over again.
“Is it because of who I am? Because we’re-- different . . . ?”
“Great!” he grins.
Zulf taps his chin and mulls over their choices. Eventually he nods and takes a hold of Zia’s hand tightly.
“Sundown Path is usually nice this time of day. Whadya say, Zia? Will you be my date?” he winks teasingly, then turns to the skyway. It’s always a little trickier flying the skies with two people, but he can manage, and Zia’s not a bad flyer herself.
“Okedoke. On three, arright?”
She’s taken aback by the date comment, to the point of a slight flush forming on her pale cheeks. Zia composes herself and grins right back. Two can play at this game!
“I’ll have you know, I’ve got high expectations now, especially if this is a date. I expect a beautiful landscape!”
All sass aside, she nods to him. She’s excited for this sudden adventure, and knows she’ll be in good hands with Zulf.
“One, two . . . “
“That I…”
The words stick in the Kid’s throat. He doesn’t let his brain go far enough to finish the sentence, doesn’t let it form the words that have been under the Kid’s tongue since the moment he met Zia. He won’t say the words he has to swallow every time he’s around her, won’t think the thoughts that keep him up at night. He is short, and dumb, and ugly, and she is perfect. He’s not good enough, he’ll never be good enough. They’ll find more people some day, and Zia will find a nice boy then, someone who is handsome and smart. She’ll find someone else, someone who can make her happy. Someone better than the Kid.
The Kid takes a deep drink from his Black Rye. His hands tremble. “Should start your drink,” the Kid says. “While it’s still cold.”
Zia gives him a confused look, and after a moment, she tries to piece it together.
“You want me to know that you . . . should start my drink? Are you sure? I mean--- That doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense.”
A frown settles upon her face, and her confusion turns into concern, moreso than before.
“Is everything okay? You-- you know you can tell me anything, right? You don’t have to, but I’m here for you whenever you need someone to listen.”
