Tales of the Wub Family

A Tip From Cybop

As the Wublin family grew larger, Clay's stress began to grow. He had about 19 planned out, enough for his song. Although he had Wyre to help him, it was still stressful to raise his children. (Of course, he still loved them to bits.)

"I think it could be having to raise a family and make the others, you know?" Clay put his hands into his lap. Cybop quietly floated next to him.
"Ay don't know man. Maybe vent out some av y'all's frustrations?" Cybops hillbilly accent was loud and clear.
"Maybe? I think I've got a journal? I'm not sure..."
"Be best if y'all do so y'all don't take it out on y'all's younguns, y'know?" Cybop plucked a couple of branches from a dead tree next to him. He floated down and started to build a nest. Clay watched in amazement as Cybop worked on his little project.
"I wish I could build stuff like you do."
Cybop shook his head. "What do ya mean? ya are great at a-makin' stuff. Ay could nevuurr make ayy whowwl kinfolk, that there's faw sure!" He laughed at Clay's thoughts. Clearly, he thought that his comment was ridiculous.
"I mean... yeah... but like... I don't think it's that great... almost anyone could do it." Clay hit his head against the rock behind him, the magma inside warmed him.
"Ay, youngun. Y'all are ayy speciaal one. It's right awful difficult ta make something as awful huge as that there. Ay done thought ya would have known that."
Clay made a hum of disagreement. He knew that it was a big feat, but he still felt like he wasn't doing enough. Would he ever feel fulfilled?
"Look. Ay know ya aren't a-feelin' great. Just know that there y'all do deserve thay err praise, ayn' take y'all's tahm" Cybop made a little smile, his lower jaw raised slightly.
"I'll try. Thanks Cybop."
"Ya're welcome, man" He lowered his head in a little nod.

Clay dropped his bag on the floor. Wyre stopped sorting his jewelry and looked up.
"Hey Big C! How was Earth? Everyone doing good?"
"Yeah. They're doing alright."
"Nice!" Wyre looked over Clay for a second and dropped his expression.
"Are you ok? You seem... upset about something."
Clay nodded his head. "Yeah. I'm fine. It's just- nevermind, don't worry."
He walked to his room. Wyre reached out an arm to grab him, but pulled it back.
Clay cracked his knuckles, sat down at his work surface, and started some writing. He put down random thoughts and points in his mind. How he was feeling, and why it was. What he thought of himself and why he thought that. Anything he could think of, he wrote down.
He got carried away in his journaling that when he looked up, he noticed 3 hours had passed, and it was now 11 P.M.
The page was full of small notes and bits of his mind. He read through parts of it and found a pattern.
He felt he wasn't good enough.

Trying to distract hinself from his realization, he drew a little Wublin concept. A small metallic creature with a red mask and magma like arms and legs that sounded like a tymp-drum. It seemed similar to Earth island with its pallet, where he'd gotten the counsel from Cybop. Maybe he was right. Maybe he did truly deserve praise for Wublin island.
He started getting tired and decided to go to sleep. Cybops words echoed through his head like someone shouting in a dungeon.
His eyelids slowly grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up to Wyre movingg in his room, probably curling up into a smaller ball on his bed.
Clay got up and made himself a simple sandwich; eggs and cheese are always a good combo.
Eating his meal, he heard the shuffling of Wyres feet on the floor and a loud yawm.
"Good morning Wy."
He made a tired little grunt and poured himself a bowl of cereal, not noticing the corn flakes he spilled.
"So, how'd you sleep?" Clay looked up at him. His expression made it clear he was irritated. Clay brushed it off and took a sip of coffee.
The Wublins later woke up and Clay hosted a small game of hide and seek for them. While playing, the thought of praise haunted his brain. He wanted it, but how could he ask for it?
Thwok found Clay hidden in a closet. As they dragged him out, he saw some of them in his lab, directly in his room. He sprinted towards them and looked around for any sign they had ruined anything.
Screemu was hiding under his desk, Zuuker was sleeping in his bed, and Dwumrohl was drawing something on one of Clay's plans.
"Kids! You shouldn't be here!" Clay panicked slightly and carried them out of his room.
"You know dad's room is off limits. Don't go in there again." Clay got on one knee and sternly spoke to them. The three all seemed to be guilty, but have a sense of excitement from breaking rules.

The game continues and eventually they all grow tired. The Wublins go to their respective beds for a nap, and Clay goes to his room to clean up and make the 8th member.
He aggressively sharpened the knife and sketched out a basic shape. It was hard, considering they were the smallest one yet, but he managed through and made it. The Wublin seemed like it had a sort of connection with him. Not just in the fact that it was his child, but that he felt it was apart of him. But doesn't he feel this with every Wublin? Of course, but this one seemed like one he could relate to in a sort of weird way.
The storm outside of Wublin island raged harder then ever. He slammed the door for the oven shut and turn the knob. As he grabbed the spark, a loud crash and thunder made him drop it.
"Shit, shit, shit! Where is it!?"
He got on his hands and knees and searched basically everywhere in his room. You would think it'd be easy to find a chunk of bright static, but surprisingly, it isn't...
After a good 20 minutes and a small panic attack, Clay finally grabbed it and shoved it into the sculpture.

Even after the Wublin woke up, they didn't seem to want to get up, nervous about something.
"Are you feeling alright?" Clay tried to replicate the tone Cybop gave him, the comfort and calmness he gave him.
They opened one of their eyes. It was filled with worry.
"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you." Clay smiled warmly and held out a hand for them to hold. A name idea soon came to mind.
"Tympa. You don't need to worry. I'm sure the others will thoroughly love you."