it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.
yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.
it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.
how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.
chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?
how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.
"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.
i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.
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can i request three somehow forced into a fake dating situation
Three stares directly into Martyn’s eyes. They are blue and of an average size. It feels as though maybe this should be against the rules, but according to the book it had read, this was… normal. A normal thing to do on a date. Look deeply into someone’s eyes. It would not be suspicious at all, even though Three isn’t really sure how to look more or less deeply into anyone’s eyes at all. Eyes are not flat, but even when Three Looks, it isn’t as though there is anything interesting in there.
Martyn is sweating somewhat. He looks away first.
Three’s pretty sure this counts as a victory, especially given Martyn can’t see Three’s face behind the mask anyway. It is good Three has now won the game of ‘staring lovingly into its date’s eyes’, because that had been a strange, threatening mortal ritual. It would rather not do that again.
“Haha, thanks again for agreeing to this date,” Martyn says, very suspiciously looking around the small cafe in a bustling semi-private Origins server. “It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to hang out like this. Gods, do I sound stupid.”
“You do,” Three says.
“You don’t have to answer those,” Martyn says.
“Will comply,” Three says.
“Oh, for the love of—we’re on a date. A date!” Here, Martyn winks obnoxiously. “It’s not a mission.” He winks obnoxiously again. “Besides, you should lighten up!”
“Will comply,” Three says.
“You know, I had forgotten how obnoxious that was,” Martyn says cheerfully. “Anyway, I should order us some drinks! Have some conversation! Keep an eye out around us, yeah, for our waiter?”
“You are not very subtle,” Three says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martyn says. “Besides, honestly? I am really glad to just hang out with you. Because we’re dating! On this server for fancy couples. Yep.”
The problem is, of course, that a fancy origins server is a great place for the strangest of people to hide.
When Martyn had asked a favor, Three had been… uncertain. This was not because Three doesn’t care for Martyn—it does, greatly—or because Three didn’t want to see Martyn—they’d met up a few times before now, tentative and quiet and frustrated and all the things that were hard to explain, and then in all the ways they were okay again—but because Martyn, for all Three cares for him, is still an idiot.
Three is its own handler, now. It does not have to follow handlers that are morons. It had told Martyn this. When Martyn had stopped wheezing, he’d explained that it’d be fun. Not Listener business, he promised; he still hadn’t quite gotten out, but he wouldn’t drag Three in, Scout’s honor.
(Three believes him. It’s never been that Three doesn’t trust him.)
It was a friend of Martyn’s that had gone missing. Apparently, on some fancy modded server? And now, Martyn wanted Three to come help him do some recon because, quote, “Jimmy laughed at me until he cried and that hurt me a little bit, not going to lie, and I’ve used up the favors Ren owes me, and Oli was busy. Have you met Oli? You’d like Oli.”
(Three did not like Oli.)
Three agreed, despite its better judgement. The reason it thought this may be a poor plan was because—
“Ah, the lovely Valentines,” the waiter says. He gives them a plate of lovely heart-shaped calamari. Three wonders if they had belonged to heart-shaped squid. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s wonderful here with my beloved!” Martyn says.
The waiter and Martyn both look at Three. Three doesn’t say anything and sits perfectly still.
“Um,” the waiter says.
“It’s for a health condition,” Martyn says, which technically isn’t a lie.
“Very well, sirs, although it may get in the way of the kissing competition!”
Martyn, who had just started sipping some wine, chokes on it.
“I will win the kissing competition,” Three says.
Martyn chokes harder.
“I will see you to it!” the waiter says. “And of course, our patented species comparability exam is the highlight of the evening.”
“Oh. I am not sure I can produce viable offspring,” Three says.
The waiter stares at Three. Three stares back, although not into the waiter’s eyes, as to not cause any confusion. The mask somewhat prevents that from working, though.
“Very well then,” the waiter says. “I suppose just—do you need help?”
“It knows what it’s doing,” Martyn hisses.
“I did do research before coming here,” Three says.
“I’ll just head on,” the waiter says, in a tone that suggests to Three that maybe it did not do enough research before agreeing to help Martyn.
Oh well.
At least the mask means it doesn’t have to keep a straight face as it picks Martyn off the ground and, completely flat in tone, says: “Do not die. I would be sad if you died of something as stupid as choking on wine.”
“I asked for this,” Martyn says.
“Yes,” Three says. “You did. That is why I am here.”
(Beneath the table, it grabs Martyn’s hand. Martyn squeezes Three’s hand back. It had missed him, though. For all they do not see each other often—)
(Well. It had missed him, though.)
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