Characters used: Bo, Luke, and Dale
Summary: The adventure of a Boy named Bo.
Some notes: Working under the pretence that Luke is 21 and Bo is 12 when you move to the island. I utilize a sort of imaginary map somewhere between Castanet and Waffle Island so forgive me when the terrain doesn't make a great lot of sense with what you might already know.
Once upon a time there was a boy named Bo.
Bo was a modest child, raised by carpenters- No, before that there were parents, but he's since forgotten the feel of them; he'd entered his first foster home when he was only three.
His carpenter guardians went by the names of Dale and Luke, a father and son respectively. He entered their house when he was eight years old. When they'd met Dale was an adult to look up to and Luke was a teenager of seventeen. And that meant that he was the most influential to young Bo, still a mere pupa of a lad...
This is the account of that which he will never forget.
"Hey bro," Luke waved. Bo waved back. Luke had the natural charisma that put everyone around him at ease even within seconds. "Heh...Bo...Bro... that works." He laughed, pulling on his gloves and popping knuckles. Bo blushed.
In the morning both Dale and Luke began sluggishly, somehow managing to reach the kitchen with a series of jerky yet controlled movements. Though father was unquestionably more capable than son it was understood that since Luke's ascension into adulthood he'd allowed himself a few more indulgences. Dale would wordlessly accept his son's frivolous high-five and they would drink coffee from mugs that Bo thought appeared closer in size to soup bowls than teacups.
Once the caffeine reached the synapses in their uncannily similar neuro-centres they moved on to accomplish even greater mental feats- brushing one's teeth for example. Luke often found this nicety taking place at the same time as he dressed or attempted to smooth the unruly spikes of his hair under a choice flaming bandana; his toothbrush poking out the side of his mouth as he struggled to maintain dual focus.
Dale plodded; his muscle and size challenging the very structural integrity of the humble bungalow. It was the only time he didn't manage to contain his stomps. He would check the day's schedule with unlaced boots and kiss his wife's photo without fail. Bo did not know why she remained merely a picture on the mantelpiece, nor did he dare to ask- it was what it was and it would be so until Dale chose the moment to explain it to him.
His carpenter guardians weren't unkind but they were men; they didn't dote on Bo even while he was seven, then eight, and nine, and Bo was glad of it. He wanted to grow up exactly like these men. He wasn't a foster child, or even a house guest, he was a second apprentice bested only by legacy. It did not matter that, due to his status as a youngster, his responsibilities were limited: he made himself useful in other ways.
"Oohh.." Luke breathed, becoming tangled in the t-shit that was tight around his forehead and halfway down his torso, "What is this, it's like a bunch of flowers and a cloud are hugging me..."
Bo pinched his nose furtively, successfully preventing a snort of laughter from escaping. "It's just fabric softener."
"What-a-what?" Luke asked, his head pulling free of the collar and his bandana misplaced.
"Never mind," Bo grinned.
Dale stepped back into the room, fully dressed and no longer in morning-mode, Bo noted. His posture became thirty degree's more rigid with the sensation of impending orders; the laundry was all but forgotten.
"We have an order from the mainland, we have until Friday and it's for the whole Rococo set." Luke straightened as well, but instead of the seriousness Bo reflected he emitted an aura of adventure. Dale nodded, "Yeah Luke- that means balsa."
"All right!" the knuckles popped again. Luke preformed a variety of fist-pumps and stretches. Bo didn't have the chance to enquire about the significance of balsa wood before Dale had already moved to the dining table and spread out the plans.
"Bo," he called gruffly, the boy in question leaping to his side, "you're on planing and staining."
"Yessir!"
"But if you have time I'll also show you how to carve and use the router."
Bo's eyes glistened. He wanted to nod again, in an affirmation of strength, but his mouth moved first, "Really?"
Dale's smile was lost under his bushy moustache. His big palm dropped down over Bo's head and rubbed until his hair became tufted. He left the plans open and went to open the shop.
Bo continued to stare at the drawings with the awe of the child he tried to stifle.
"Good for you, man," Luke congratulated, his fist settling where Dale's hand had just been and grinding gently. Bo giggled and brushed him off. He remembered the bread in the oven and immediately dove to check it.
"Balsa, salsa, balsa, salsa" the older boy began to sing. It was neither melodious nor memorable but the enthusiasm that caught his knees and gave him a jaunty bob as he turned back into the hallway was catching.
"Luke!" Bo called him back, the bread safe and unspoilt.
"Yeah Bro?"
"What's..." Bo began uncertainly, trying to avoid staring at his toes and instead looking into Luke's smiling eyes, "what's balsa?"
Luke was unstoppable- Bo learned that early on. It wasn't that he couldn't keep his focus, and it was difficult for Bo to see a lot of people make this mistaken observation; no, Luke had focus like heroes had super powers. It was only that he used this super power in a way that so many others didn't seem to understand. His calling was physical exertion, and timber, it was probably something of a balm when he fell a tree. Bo could only acquiesce that it was due to some primal male instinct he himself did not possess. He felt much more at ease with smaller tasks: the drilling, the sanding, and the cleaning. His respect for Luke grew at an earlier rate than his wariness.
There was a loud crack, brought to a close by a kick that was both swift and deadly. A groan and a cheer; Luke whooped in his victory, putting a boot on the fallen trunk and his axe over his shoulder. Sweat glittered on his brow and he swept it aside with the back of his free fist.
Balsa is a wood that grows on the small inlet in the West. It's a little rare but quick-growing and it's because of these properties that Luke was so excited. Balsa meant that he was required to go on an overnight trek to obtain it. Their Rococo collection was expensive for both its fine detailing and predetermined expenditure; that meant that it was an infrequent order at best, but even rarer was the event in that someone requested the whole bedroom set. Luke would be gone for three days rather than the ordinary one.
Before Luke was old enough Dale used to bring him along to watch. Bo imagined Luke as a baby all bundled in a papoose and slung over Dale's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, watching his father with bright yellow eyes that understood nothing only watched that axe fall again and again. In his imaginings baby Luke never cried.
"Can I come with you?" Bo asked quietly that afternoon. It didn't matter that he understood his limitations; he would be the one to take the place of the useless potatoes. Despite this, his thirst for adventure had been slowly expanding since the day he met Luke.
"Ahh," Luke seemed to stiffen, pulling a stray branch off the side of the tree with one hard wrench he made look so easy. "I dunno bro." He scratched the back of his hair, ruffling it, and distributing the dust and grime of his labour a little more thoroughly. "It's sorta dangerous, you know?"
Luke's eyebrows were sewn together in an unspoken apology; his down-turned mouth looking completely alien in the absence of a smile. More than anything his expression spoke to Bo of his anxiety. All this time Luke had treated him as an equal, at the very least a brother, and yet when the moment finally approached them it was as though he had only one answer prepared. It was a moment Luke had been dreading.
More than anything Bo hated that honesty- wanted to hate it. He wanted to get angry and share his disappointment as a child might, but Luke's candid features had elicited his forgiveness before he'd even had the opportunity. He looked away resignedly and nodded. Luke's sigh escaped in a whoosh of air.
"Alright!" he called, stretching languidly, "you take that end, Bo, and off to the saws we go!"
The end which Bo was directed to carry was hardly an end at all. Luke hoisted the trunk from its middle and carried it in the loop of his arms. Bo grappled with what was left behind him to seemingly little assistance. Luke was whistling brokenly as they toted it back to the shop. Bo wasn't listening. He ignored the prickling of fresh splinters against his palms and thought of those unexplored islands, the ones he would never know.
Dale and Bo saw Luke off the next morning. A rucksack large enough for Bo to crawl inside was strapped and belted across his chest and various other implements dangled from extra satchels and pockets. It would have weighed anyone down but Luke was grinning, checking his map and scratching his chin. Dale had nodded agreeably at his son's presentation and turned back into the storefront when the phone rang without any further discussion. Bo could only assume that Luke had done this many times before or that this was the moment Dale offered without qualm in order for Luke to prove himself.
It continued to remain a mystery. The map was prodded into his unsuspecting hands.
"Bro," Luke beckoned him closer, the weighty packs keeping him from getting too close. "Look after Dad for me okay? He's kinda old, and he'll need your help more than ever." He patted Bo firmly, and Bo wheezed.
"Thanks buddy! Avidazen~!" Luke saluted, moving away with a clatter.
"Bye," Bo waved, but Luke was already half way up the road- a distant shock of vibrancy amongst tired fields.
Luke had not minced words to ease Bo's ego. Dale was like a bear with a sore head the moment they were left to their own devices. Without Luke's buoyant and sometimes obnoxious noise they were like two ghosts that haunted the same house. Dale moved about his tasks with muttering and an unusual amount of inaccuracy, and Bo kept to flitting between domestic chores like a thief in the night, unsure of how to live up to Luke's directives.
When their evening meal approached Bo found him at his desk, still tirelessly at work.
"Sir?" he tugged gently at Dale's sleeve; half expecting to have his head bitten off. "It's time to eat..."
Dale turned to meet him, "Ah," he grunted, moustache twitching, "Where did the time go." He ruffled Bo's hair gently, keeping his hand where it was as he stood almost as though the boy was his prop.
The consumed their food in silence- if the noise of fork and plate scraping could be considered silence. Dale looked as though he was still sat at his desk lost in measurements and calculations; his utensils taking the place of his pencil and compass. Bo was about to sink even deeper into solitude when it occurred to him.
"Dale-sir..." he began softly, "are you worried about Luke?"
Dale's fork paused on a chunk of meat and then came to rest on the edge of his plate. He looked at Bo as though for the first time seeing him that night. "You know, I reckon I probably am, Bo." His shoulders bowed, and if the corners of his moustache were any indication he was smiling. Bo's face grew hot.
"Hasn't he done this before though?" he asked simply.
"Hmm, well," Dale wiped his mouth, "with Luke it doesn't get any easier."
They both chuckled and Dale seemed to soften even further.
"I think I understand." Bo conceded, remembering his earlier disappointment. Maybe it wouldn't have bothered him so much if it had been anyone other than Luke to turn him down.
"He's just like his mother." The photo on the mantelpiece was dimly lit at night, but the woman captured there was beautiful whatever the time of day.
-You have to set him free."
By the third day Bo and Dale were very companionable in their silences. While they'd always been adept at working together, they seemed to have gained a newfound connection in which they could communicate their meaning without explanation. Dale would measure and score, mapping out the various cuts and angles and Bo would be there to move the plank, aligning it with the blade and pulling on his safety glasses. After a few sessions of this Dale was happy to leave him with more responsibilities until the storefront got busier and he took over manning the desk.
Happiness hit Bo like a brick through a glass window; the boy that he was began to giggle, and when the image of Luke's likely messy and misshapen camp came to his mind, unbidden and ridiculous, he was pulled even deeper into the fit. He made a promise to that wildly distraught Luke to cook his favourite meal and convince Dale to let him sleep in the next morning.
But deeper thoughts of Luke and their differences in rank brought his laughter to a weak close. Further down than his happiness in his place with Dale the disappointment at being unable to accompany Luke remained. He also wanted to be set free- to be a wild force of nature the likes of which only strict responsibility and familial dependence could tie.
Something inside his perfect facade of adult-like composure snapped.
-Strict responsibility?
-Familial dependence?
...Look after Dad for me okay? He's kinda old, and he'll need your help more than ever...
Bo jolted out of his seat, the wheeled chair sent spinning out behind him. He tripped mounting the stairs two at a time and again when he descended with necessary jacket and backpack full of belongings.
Luke was seventeen and Bo was only eight; both still children in reality. They'd known each other for barely a year and in that year Bo had grown up in ways he didn't understand or even realize.
When Bo was just eight years old, he ran away.
Being set free on the island was strange. Bo was still fairly new to most areas, choosing instead to learn better what he already knew, and every path and tree and blade of grass looked unfamiliar to him. Thankfully Luke was criminally bad at hiding his tracks. Along the western path there were constant reminders of him; boot prints, wood chippings, broken branches- at one point there was even a discarded can of his favourite soda. Bo retrieved it mindfully and put it in his pack; he was worried about the ants that had collected inside but his aversion to littering was strong. Knowing Luke he probably hadn't done it on purpose.
Difficulties arose only when Bo reached the beach. At that point the trail dried up. It was his knowledge of Luke that led him to decide he would have to cross the water. The map itself wasn't much help. In the far corner there was a tiny circle of red marker- presumably the Balsa plantation- but on the map itself there was only the impeccable blue of ocean. There were no boats. Luke had either leapt in and swam or had taken the only vessel on his own, and given the weight of his luggage Bo was willing to rule out the first- even if it was Luke.
He sat on the sand, desolate and alone. Looking out over the waves it seemed too far. He wasn't much of a swimmer and he didn't even know how far he would have to go. It wasn't a concept that an eight year old could readily name but he understood that his chances for survival out there were slim; it would be suicide. He curled into a ball until his forehead touched his knees and huddled there. Something bumped pleasantly, almost melodic in sound; Bo followed it to a swell of driftwood bumping inside of copse of rocky outcropping.
He inhaled sharply and dropped his pack. Nimble fingers swept inside and claimed tool after tool. He knew that sound; tapping on the loose bits of timber with a small rounded mallet it didn't take him long to find the one he sought. Replacing the mallet for a similarly sized hatchet he swung high and split the wood. It came apart in two halves that were close enough to symmetrical for his needs. The sound he had heard did not disappoint him: the wood was still strong but hollow. He had enough supplies in his pack to lash the pieces together and form a crude raft. He smiled at it triumphantly. The raft was very small but so was he. Even if its water-worthiness was less than expected he would be able to use it to stay afloat and propel himself forward with his legs.
Bo dropped the raft into water and it bobbed, eliciting a cheer from its creator. He boarded it carefully and pushed off with a second branch of the driftwood. Maintaining his direction would be the hardest, but he trusted in Luke that he wouldn't have to struggle for long.
The balsa grove would appear before long, and then he could teach Luke a lesson only a brother would understand.
The island was silent- eerily so. The balsa trees were tall and still overhead and the path between them empty. Bo was still hopelessly sodden from his journey when his raft had met with an untimely wave and capsized. His backpack still seeped seawater with every step. He'd never been so happy to see a real boat in his life, though his experiences with boating were unsurprisingly few.
"Luke?" He called, his voice seeming timid and small after so much disuse and within such a formidable forest. He tried again, this time louder and more confident. If he managed to surprise the older boy he'd probably wind up with an axe to his throat.
"-it's Bo! I've come to find you!"
A strangled sound reached him from the left. It raised the tiny hairs on the back of his neck to full attention. His soggy pack forgotten he bolted through the trees to the voice.
"N-no, this wasn't how it was supposed to be..." he wheezed when he found him.
Luke was decisively pinned under one of the biggest trees Bo had ever perceived. He dropped to his knees beside Luke; heavy tears spilling before he'd even resigned himself to crying.
" Hey hey now." Luke balked. His voice was telltale in its coarseness, "I'm okay!" Luke's free arm managed to pump in a display of his vigour but when it went unnoticed he wrapped around Bo's bowed shoulders instead.
"See?"
Bo snuffled his tears away, wiping furiously until he could see Luke clearly again. The yellow eyes that were usually as keen as a fox's had gone soft and round, squinting while his eyebrows furrowed.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked finally, as though being trapped under a giant prehistoric tree was no big thing.
Bo chuckled humourlessly, "Rescuing you, I guess."
Luke's eyebrows shot up and this time Bo really did need to stifle a giggle, "For real?"
"Not really..." he admitted at length. He explained to Luke how he'd gotten here, leaving out the part when he discovered why Luke had left and how he had done the same.
"Wow," Luke said simply, looking impressed, and then his face split into a grin, "that's completely extreme! You dog! I didn't know you had it in you!" Had it not been for the massive trunk that covered him Bo would have expected a rather fierce noogie at this point, so instead of accepting the compliment he searched the tree with a frown.
"How did this happen?"
"Don't know," Luke shrugged, at least the best he could in his situation; he winced when the prickly bark jabbed him at the movement. "Maybe it was time, maybe it was the wind... maybe I was a little bit too noisy for the old thing."
"No storms or anything?" Bo asked, perplexed- although the mention of noise was plausible in this case.
"Oh yeah, there was this pretty epic storm on the first day-"
Bo interrupted the mimicry of thunder and lightning accompanied by Luke's one-handed re-enactment of the destructive forces at work, "-So it was the storm!"
"Coulda been I guess," Luke nodded.
"Not that it matters..." Bo sighed, exhausting the short-lived satisfaction at his detective work, "How are we going to get you out of there?"
Luke wiggled, his teeth clenching intensely as he did and his free arm pressing against the log until the knuckles were white. When he relaxed Bo caught sight of how red and raw his unprotected skin had become underneath the bark. "It's no good, I think there's a branch caught." Bo leapt up, circling the tree quickly.
"-No, wait! Bo! Come back!"
On the other side Luke's booted feet stuck out just beyond the trunk. The tree had caught him at an angle, covering nearly all of his body to leave his head and shoulder thankfully clear of its deadly weight. Since it had fallen during his labour it was graciously caught amongst the many stumps Luke had already exposed earlier in his stay. The gap left for Luke was narrow but survivable; a hair's breadth from fatal.
Bo paled during his surveillance. The branch that Luke had described as caught was actually a splinter of the trunk jagged and dangerous. It'd probably been blown apart when the tree was struck and now it was embedded into Luke's pant leg. Faint daubs of red were showing through the denim. He returned to Luke's side with a grimness in his youthful face.
"That's why I didn't want you to go," Luke spoke awkwardly. Bo felt tears threatening to fall again.
"You...you big idiot..." he choked out, "if you hadn't left this wouldn't have happened... I can't replace you... how can you leave Dale all alone like that... you're a big stupid idi—"
Luke panicked, caught between watching Bo bewilderedly and wanting to comfort him. His arm reached out uselessly, grazing at the dirt beside him. "What do ya mean replace? What's wrong with Dad?"
"If you're running away then... I'm coming with you!"
"Who's running away?"
"You are!"
"Whoa whoa whoa, little buddy," Luke held his hand up in pardon. "I'm just chopping trees!" Bo stared at him, a tear rolling free. He scrutinized Luke for any lies but there was only that same familiar face, unencumbered by masks and brutally honest.
"B-but," he started again, not really knowing what he meant to say.
Luke reached him, stretching further than before until both he and the tree groaned, his palm rested flat on Bo's knee. At his touch there really was nothing left to say; Luke didn't require any further rationalization.
Bo retrieved his satchel, practically dry by this time, and he helped Luke to drink from his flask of water. It was a hopeless trial, one that ended in Bo shrieking ineffectually while Luke gargled and doused most of his person.
"I'm going to dig you out." Bo announced after another scan of their surroundings and a reccy of their available tools.
"But what about the branch—
Bo had his small hatchet in hand again. He didn't swing wide. He made short precise chips away at the wound of the tree. The impact on Luke's leg was controlled and the bloodstain he'd seen earlier did not widen. When the shard of wood came free Luke breathed hoarsely; the relief of his leg being able to rest more naturally left him unable to keep from encouraging Bo.
"Keep going!" he shouted over the top of the tree.
The handle of Bo's hatchet made a crude shovel, but the soil between such quick-growing trees was loose and peat-like. Before long he had Luke's lower body free and was moving back around the other side.
"Alright bro, careful with the sharp end!"
Luke's free arm did little to help with the progress. He tried clawing at the dirt beneath his waist only to impede Bo's hatchet. Eventually he was told to back off and just be patient, a calm yet fearsome look shot from Bo that immediately zipped his lips.
He bent awkwardly as Bo cleared the last of the soil from under him, half holding himself and his bad leg up and half sagging underneath the fallen tree like the tired and hungry seventeen-year-old he was. They decided to push him under from his shoulders to avoid aggravating his injury. He squirmed out of the tunnel like a cat might back its head out of a paper bag; the excitement of being free keeping him from cursing out his discomfort. Bo caught him on the other side, not nearly tall enough to support his weight but enough to help Luke steady himself.
"We did it!" He cheered and pumped his fist, completely ignorant of the shard of wood still protruding from his pant leg.
"Careful Luke!" Bo admonished, the two of them wobbling precariously.
Luke was laughing raucously, his eyes pinched shut in delight- or was it pain? He hugged Bo around the middle until he was lifted off his feet and his breath was squeezed out.
"You did it, you did it," he repeated with no small hint of pride, until Bo surrendered to laughing with him.
"I thought that maybe that was what it was like to die." Luke admitted later. He rowed the boat even with his substantial injury. It seemed that now he was free he was back to bearing the full force of his independence once more. They'd managed to cut the shard of wood down to a mere stake but they didn't dare removed it. Neither had the best understanding of first aid but Luke had supposed it would probably feel worse if they pulled it out rather than it did now when he was used to it.
Bo watched the shore on the horizon; afraid to look at Luke who was unable to hide how ashen and drawn he appeared despite the return of his exuberance. He didn't really want to talk about the complexities of life and death, he was too tired, but Luke seemed to need him as a sounding board right then and so he stayed quiet.
"It's pretty scary," Luke continued, rowing sturdily, "I thought about you and Dad and how peeved you'd be with me."
Bo, who knew he was wise for an eight-year-old, thought that 'peeved' wasn't quite the word.
"To be honest that was probably the worst part. I was hungry and thirsty and my leg...well... but I still thought that leaving you guys alone was the worst."
Bo rubbed sea spray from his eye, "Yeah."
"And you're pretty good at this sorta stuff, so next time you can definitely come along!"
"I think..." Bo started, his smile forming lopsidedly, "I'll have to say thanks but no thanks Luke..."
Luke laughed like a sigh,
"Yeah, okay, okay."
When they got home Dale punched them both. It was a harmless gesture in which his fists came down swiftly and his knuckles just barely knocked their skulls beneath thick and matted tresses.
"Pair of monkeys," he growled and pulled them into a bear-like embrace.
"ow,ow,ow,ow,ow" Luke chanted affectedly and Bo stood stock-still while he was squeezed; the hug being uncannily similar to Luke's back in the forest. Luke pleaded mercy and they were released.
"I can pretty much guess what you were up to Luke," Dale stated disparagingly, "But Bo, what were you thinking?"
Bo bowed his head, "I'm sorry sir..."
"Sir nothing... they next time you get such a boneheaded idea tell me first so I can talk you out of it."
Luke who was seated contentedly interjected. "But we still got the balsa."
Bo sighed, but Dale beat him to it, "Wait your turn, brat." He placed his formidable hands on Bo's shoulders, glowering as he stared deep into the boy's eyes. Bo thought his knees might buckle from the combined weight of both, but he managed to stay his ground; pushing any resoluteness left in him forward and into his matching gaze. He'd take any punishment Dale might devise.
But Dale's hard look shifted, "Thank you."
Bo blinked.
"I don't know what happened out there but it looks like you've brought the idiot home safe. We can be stubborn, so I'm glad we have you to count on."
Luke was beaming from where he sat. Dale didn't seem like he was about to shy away from the revelation either. Bo felt all this eight-year-old tears well up again. He had a place here, he had a family, and it'd been so scary. He wanted to say that he'd learned a lot from the experience; that he was happy, that he never really wanted to run away, but all that came out was a hiccup. Sensing the onslaught of emotion his guardians did stir.
Luke put a little too much weight onto his bad leg and ended up folded over and somehow giggling at the pain. In truth he did seem quite ridiculous, his fist outstretched to bump knuckles with Bo in an attempt to restore manliness. Dale harrumphed and pushed him back into the chair, setting off to fetch the first aid box and whatever other various supplies they needed.
"You'll probably need to see the doctor," Bo sniffled quietly. Luke had just about managed to subdue the hysteria.
"Oh probably," he said, "Get me some nifty stitches and then show off my scar!"
"You're so weird," Bo smiled affectionately.
"Is that a compliment?" Luke laughed again and Bo nodded.
Luke was his friend, his brother, and his idol. Bo would always love him for all the strangeness and eccentricity that he was, but he would never again emulate that. His place in the house was different; unique. He was not as loud and not as strong, he didn't have the responsibilities of the eldest son and apprentice, but he was needed for everything that Luke was not.
And maybe that was just how it was supposed to be.
A/N: This is the first of many in my mission of populate the fandom with general friendship fic and features for secondary characters. This became some strange epic of length that I wasn't expecting; after all you don't often pick up a character like Bo and guess you'll have quite so much to say! But Bo was not the only point, and I hope that came across: I really wanted to shed light on my image of Luke and his boisterousness. I think he can be severely overdone sometimes (I'm sorry, that's not going to be a popular opinion since that's half the fun of Luke, right?) and I wanted to show him for all his sweetness, extremeness, and energy in one go. He's adorkable, while on the face of things not appearing as a dork at all and I love him for it. A wood-chopping-otaku? Yes, he's very unique.
I had to do some research for this. It probably doesn't show. I don't know anything about carpentry or types of wood, or rafts, or first aid situations. Balsa wood is severely stretched to fit my design here. But the mystery of trees and crops is not so strange in-game right? But I digress; I did try a little.
So if you're reading this and you've enjoyed it...please! I urge you! Write your own gen friendship fic, or a secondary character feature! We've got pairings galore but so many wonderful residents that go unnoticed! And relationships! The island of ToT/AP is built on so many different dynamics between villagers that simply MUST be exploited! It can be just as rewarding as a romance once you get to know the character.
Please review if you share similar feelings for my plight, or if you've read! I know I'm not going to win many reviews for this but those of you who have taken the time to read are the most important. Tell me if you hated it even! Were my characterizations might have been completely outside of your expectations? A bit weak? I want to hear it all!
Thank you for reading :)