Tales of the Wub Family

A Quiet Wublin

     Ever since Tympa joined the Wublin family, it'd grown much louder. Not just in the song, but also in their day to day lives. From playing games, to eating, to sleeping, they were all as noisy as could be. There were still 11 spots open, and Clay knew he wanted to make more.
     Clay was sitting with Brump in the Wublins bedroom while helping them fix a Fwog doll. He sewed together the hole in their leg. Brump sat, watching the needle go in and out of the cloth. Clay hummed a small tune.
     "What sing?"
     Clay glanced down at Brump and a soft smile appeared on his face. Brump had recently been trying to learn English from the faerietales Clay would read to everyone at night. It was broken, yet still understandable.
     "I'm not singing anything, it's just Plant islands tune."
     "Plant?" Brump jumped up a little bit as they spoke. Clay suddenly realized he hadn't told them anything about the other islands. All they really knew was Wublin.
      "It's nothing." Clay resumed his sewing.
     Brump was too tired to fight, so they continued watching. Clay yawned as he finished up the last part of the stitch.
     "Here you go, kiddo. Get some rest now. It's a bit late." Clay handed them the doll. Brump excitedly grabbed it with their mouth and start to get ready for bed. Clay tucked them in snugly and softly pet their head. Brump quickly fell asleep, and he left the room for his bedroom.
     The clock on his wall read 10:30 P.M. An hour after the Wublins fell asleep. He heard Wyre shuffling in his bed. He dropped his sewing kit on his desk and laid down on his bed.
     "Big C. Can I come in?" Wyre knocked on his door.
     "Yeah."
     Wyre opened the door and shut it behind him. Maybe he sensed something was off? Who knows...
     "What's wrong dude?"
     "What do you mean what's wrong?"
     "You've been acting kinda weird recently. If you wanna vent then go ahead man. I won't judge you."
     "It's nothing really. It's just.. really loud here with all the kids and stuff, you know? It's been giving me a hell ton of headaches, and I've been having trouble with concentrating. I mean, I usually do, but this time it's... worse."
     Clay put his hands on his stomach and shut his eyes. Wyre hummed next to him.
     "Yeah. I know you've got a ton of space left, right?"
      Clay nodded.
     "So like, maybe just fill it up with quieter ones? Or maybe just... I don't know... take a break for a bit? From your kids? Go back to Plant or Ethereal for a week or so?"
     Clay jolted up from his position.
     "No! I can't leave them! I can't take a break!"
      Clay tightly gripped onto Wyres shoulders.
     "Why? Everyone needs a break. Didn't Cybop tell you that?"
     "Yeah, but if I do, that means that the damage I've received from her leaving is just that. Damage. I can't let them go through that. Or else... it would've all been for nothing."
     Clay relaxed his grip as he spoke, the words falling from his mouth felt like he just removed a ton of weight from his shoulders. Wyre pursed his lips shut.
He sighed and looked at him.
     "Listen man. You're doin great. It's normal to get stressed about a project this huge. Humans always told me that they were stressed from big creations as well. Come on, get some sleep in. I know you haven't in a while."
     Wyre left his room and Clay lied back down. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, so he grabbed his sketchbook and drew some references for statues. The only sound he could hear was the scratching of his pencil.
     The whole time he only had one thing on his mind. Was he really needing a break? Probably. But could he take one? Well, no. Atleast, he couldn't get himself to take one. He started getting upset with himself. Why couldn't he get himself to relax? Why was he like this?
     The paper suffered the fate of dealing with his wrath. The drawings lines grew thicker and darker as he scribbled angrily.
     He suddenly gained back his senses. The paper had a couple of rips and holes.
      Clay whispered angrily to himself.  He knew his reaction was unreasonable and childish, but he had to let it out on something, and no way would it be a person.
     He sat in silence for a while, contemplating himself. His drawing didn't have any hidden design or anything. Just angry scribbles. He tore it out and threw it away.
     Once again, he started to draw again, designing all the small details.
      After about an hour or so, he started to grow bored of drawing the design. He doodled some mushrooms and circles around the paper. Should he have changed the paper? Most likely, but he wanted to see how it would look on the Wublin as well as drawing them.
     About half an hour later, he ends his doodling.  The page was nearly full, and his hand cramped.  Instead of resting his hand, he decided to ink over the sketch with the drawings.  It was somewhat difficult to see the monster, but he managed to make a design that was viable.
     He'd decided about a week or so ago that he'd think of a name before zapping them alive, so he could immediately have something to call them when awakened.  So what would be a fit name?
     The skin was the biggest detail, it was covered to the brim with ill-looking life-forms that made it stand out.  It was also supposed to be quiet, so having it isolate itself and want to be alone would fit that.
     "Dermatology, that's like the study of skin.  So maybe something with that.  And didn't Wyre say something about hermits?  Like someone called me that?  I know people call me quiet... maybe it's got something to do with that..."
     His whispers softly echoed around his head.  Dermatology... too long.  Derma?  That could work.  Dermahermit?  Way too complicated.
     It seemed like every name he thought of was terrible, whether it be too long, or didn't sound right. 
     Finally, he'd found one.  The perfect combination, where you could easily identify the parts.  Dermit.
     Clay mumbled to himself, put his sketchbook under his bed, and fell asleep.

     He woke up.  The clock said it was 4:19 A.M.  No one else but him was awake.  He shuffled out of bed, grabbed his sketchbook, and stepped outside of his room.  The light was dimmed and the sound of the storm was the loudest thing.  He took a hunk of stone and started to carve the shape.  The details were intricate, and he knew it'd take a while, but he still did it.
     He heard quiet music in the background.  Wyre was probably sleeping to his playlist, because it clearly couldn't have been any of the Wublins.  A female voice sings about how much she needs "big boys".  That guy's a little hopeless when it comes to romance...  always listening to weird stuff like that.
     He scrapped the stone and looked down at his sketch.  Instead of stone, wouldn't it be easier to make it out of something like stoneware?
     Maybe, but he couldn't worry about that now.
     His thoughts went wild as he sculpted.  It'd go back to Wyres music, then it'd think of different designs, and then it'd focus on the beat up leather on his knife.  It helped him focus, but it still annoyed him.
     He hummed to himself.  Looking back down at the sketch, he realized just how hard and complicated it really was.  The entire body was covered.  He grabbed a pen from his desk and crossed out some parts.  Only the back and the arms had mushrooms, and the warts were minimal.
     Shortly after a bit of scanning over the design, Clay continued to shape it out.

     He stood back about 2 hours later.  He closed his knife with a quick flick of his wrist and walked over to the egg pile. 
     He grabbed whatever random eggs he found and shoved them into the oven.  He slammed the door shut and turned the dial.  Realizing a bit too late, he forgot that it was loud.  Thankfully, no one woke up (or atleast did anything.)
     However, Dermit did.

     Dermit started trying to get away.  Clay held them back with his arm.
     "Woah, kid!  Just wait a second there."
     Dermit tried to climb over his arm to escape.  Clay held them up gently with his hands.  They squirmed in his fist.
     "I."  He let go of one hand, pointing towards himself.
     "Will not hurt you."  He lightly pushed their chest with his finger.  Dermit tensed.
     Clay set them down on the table.  They looked around fearfully and hid behind a pile of anatomy textbooks.  He sighed and sat down on Wyres bean bag.  Would he ever get them to open up?