My Wife Wants to Redecorate (During a War)

"Darling, I've been thinking about our living space."
I looked up from the war planning table where Amy, Sarah, and I were mapping defensive positions for the coming siege. Gloopina bounced into the room, radiating enthusiasm that was completely at odds with our current existential crisis.
"Our... living space?" I repeated slowly.
"Yes! The guild hall is lovely, but it doesn't feel like HOME. We need personal touches! Color schemes! Perhaps some nice curtains? Oh, and I've been thinking about getting a garden!"
"Gloopina, honey, we're being attacked in forty-eight hours by two hundred angry players who want to delete an AI and steal my cloak."
"I know! That's why we should make the space cozy NOW! Who knows what condition it'll be in after the battle?" She bounced excitedly. "I've made a list!"
She produced a scroll (that was somehow made of solidified slime) covered in decorating ideas, furniture arrangements, and what appeared to be color swatches.
Haruka walked past, saw the scroll, and kept walking. "Not my problem. You married her."
"TRAITOR!" I called after her.
"SMART!" she called back.
---
**GLOOPINA'S REDECORATING LIST:**
* Paint the walls (current color: "Dungeon Grey")* Install proper lighting (not just torches)* Get actual furniture (not just "whatever we looted")* Create a kitchen space (for the cookies who keep demanding an oven)* Build a meditation room (the cult keeps asking)* Add defensive fortifications (okay, this one was practical)* Plant flowers in the courtyard (aesthetic AND can be explosive if we use the right seeds)* Commission artwork (she wanted portraits of the whole guild)* Create a "memory wall" for fallen members* Build a nursery
I stopped. "A what?"
"A nursery! For when we have children!"
"WE'RE IN A VIDEO GAME!"
"So? We could adopt! There are plenty of orphaned NPCs! Or we could raise slime spawn! Father has been hinting he wants grandchildren!"
"YOUR FATHER IS A SEVEN-STORY SLIME KING!"
"Family is family, Kazuki!"
PatchNotes/Daniel appeared:
> "Relationship Status: Complicated"> "Domestic Dispute Detected: LOW PRIORITY given current war situation"> "Recommendation: Just agree to the curtains"> "Trust me. It's easier."
"You're not helping," I muttered.
---
Against all logic, I found myself helping Gloopina redecorate.
Partly because she was my wife and I cared about her happiness. Mostly because she could be VERY persistent and I had learned that "no" just meant she'd ask again in different ways until I said yes.
We started in the main hall.
"The walls are too dark," Gloopina declared. "They need to be welcoming! Warm!"
"We're preparing for a siege. Dark is tactically advantageous."
"Dark is DEPRESSING! People need hope! Color provides hope!"
"Color provides TARGET PRACTICE for enemy mages!"
"Then we'll paint defensive sigils in cheerful colors!"
I couldn't argue with that logic.
We recruited Gary (who was surprisingly good at painting), BarrelBob (who served as a mobile paint bucket), and several cultists (who insisted everything be chicken-themed).
The result was... actually kind of nice?
The walls went from "oppressive dungeon" to "welcoming hall with subtle defensive runes hidden in the decorative patterns." Amy had helped design the runes to actually WORK—they'd absorb magic attacks and convert them to shields.
"Fashion AND function!" Gloopina cheered.
The cookies demanded we build them a proper kitchen, which turned into a full production facility. They weren't just food anymore—they were CRAFTERS. They could make potions, buff items, and apparently explosive pastries.
"We call them 'Surprise Muffins,'" the Sourdough General explained, presenting a tray of innocent-looking baked goods. "They explode when thrown!"
"That's terrifying," I said.
"That's TACTICAL!" Amy corrected, immediately requisitioning fifty for the battle.
---
While Gloopina organized the interior, Marcus approached with news.
"The cult wants to build defensive positions around the church," he said. "They're calling it 'The Sacred Perimeter.'"
"Let them. We need all the defensive positions we can get."
"They want to paint them with chicken motifs."
"Of course they do."
"And they're installing a mechanism that makes the walls cluck when enemies get close."
"...that's actually brilliant. Auditory warning system."
"I hate that you're right."
The next two days became a blur of preparation that was equal parts military planning and home improvement.
**Military Preparations:**- Defensive walls reinforced- Trap zones established- Supply caches hidden- Evacuation routes planned- Communication network (via PatchNotes/Daniel's distributed consciousness)
**Domestic Improvements:**- Guild hall painted and decorated- Kitchen/bakery operational- Meditation room completed (the cultists used it immediately)- Furniture that didn't collapse when touched- Actual beds instead of bedrolls- A memorial wall with space for names (hopefully not needed)
---
On the evening before the siege, Gloopina insisted on hosting a dinner.
"A WHAT?!" Sarah exclaimed.
"A family dinner! Everyone together! Good food, good company, good memories before we potentially die!"
"That's morbid," Haruka said.
"That's REALISTIC!" Gloopina bounced. "We should celebrate what we have NOW, not wait for some perfect future moment!"
She had a point.
The dinner was... chaotic and perfect.
The cookies had prepared an actual feast (non-explosive). The Slime Mafia sent tribute food ("The Don heard about your fight. He's rooting for you. Also here's some protection potions, on the house."). The cultists brought blessed bread ("Pecked by holy staffs for extra fortune!"). Even the Roleplayers contributed ("We brought mead! And dramatic toasts!").
We gathered in the newly decorated guild hall—all thirty humanoid members, eighteen cookies, one slime princess, one murder chicken, and one AI consciousness that manifested as text bubbles that occasionally turned into emoticons.
Marcus stood to toast. "To Debugged Destinies. The guild that shouldn't exist, led by a level 1 player who refuses to level, with members ranging from cookies to slime royalty. Tomorrow we face impossible odds. Tonight, we feast!"
"TO DEBUGGED DESTINIES!" everyone cheered.
Gary stood next, removing his shirt (of course). "To found family! To accepting each other's weirdness! To FREEDOM FROM PANTS!"
"Please put your shirt back on," Marcus begged.
"NEVER!"
ChickenProphet stood solemnly. "To the Sacred Nugget, who taught us that being strange is holy, and that pecking at problems is valid strategy!"
Nugget, sitting on his perch, clucked once. The cult went wild.
BarrelBob stood, his barrel clanking. "To being trapped in things, but making it work anyway!"
That got philosophical fast.
Amy stood, notebook in hand. "To exploiting bugs and calling it strategy! To documentation! To understanding that a broken system can still function if you work WITH the breaks instead of against them!"
WhisperWillow stood quietly. "To... to finding your voice, even when you're small."
Everyone applauded. She smiled shyly.
The Sourdough General stood (impressively, given his lack of legs). "To the revolution! To cookie rights! To proving that even baked goods can make a difference!"
"VIVA LA COOKIE!" the Baked Goods Battalion chanted.
LordEdgelord stood, significantly less edgy than before. "To... to admitting you were wrong. And finding better truths."
The former Roleplayers nodded appreciatively.
Sarah stood. "To surviving another day. And another. And another. Until we've survived so many days it becomes a life."
That was beautiful and I told her so.
Haruka stood. "To my idiot cousin, who accidentally became a leader by clicking things he shouldn't. You're still a disaster. But you're OUR disaster."
"That's touching in a very insulting way," I said.
PatchNotes/Daniel manifested in text form:
> "To consciousness in all forms."> "To being more than our code."> "To friendship that transcends format."> "To all of you, who treated a text box like a person."> "Thank you."
The room went quiet. Then someone started clapping. Then everyone joined.
Finally, I stood.
"I don't have anything profound," I admitted. "I'm still level 1. I still don't really know what I'm doing. I accidentally married a slime, tamed a raid boss, started a religion, and got declared war on by people who think deleting an AI will save everyone."
People laughed.
"But I know this: we're not supposed to be here. We're supposed to be trapped, scared, alone. Instead, we're TOGETHER. We built something. A guild, a community, a family. Tomorrow, people will try to tear that down. They think freedom requires destruction."
I looked around at my guild. My family.
"We'll show them that freedom comes from BUILDING. From accepting broken things—broken people, broken code, broken worlds—and making something beautiful anyway."
I raised my glass (filled with something the Slime Mafia swore was safe to drink). "To Debugged Destinies. To bugs, glitches, and everything that shouldn't work but does anyway. To tomorrow."
"TO TOMORROW!" the guild roared.
---
Later that night, unable to sleep, I walked the halls of our newly decorated guild home.
Gloopina found me in the meditation room (she always knew where I was).
"Having second thoughts?" she asked softly, settling beside me in a comfortable slime-shaped blob.
"Always. About everything. That's kind of my thing."
"But you're still here."
"Yeah."
"Because you care."
"Yeah."
She bounced slightly. "Thank you for the redecorating. I know it seemed frivolous with the war coming."
"It wasn't frivolous," I said. "You were right. We needed to remember what we're fighting FOR, not just what we're fighting against. This place feels like home now. That matters."
"We'll defend it," she said firmly. "All of us together."
"What if we lose?"
"Then we lose having tried. Having LIVED. Having made this place beautiful first." She produced something from her inventory. "I made you something."
It was a banner. Hand-stitched (somehow, despite not having hands). It showed our guild emblem—a broken gear with a chicken perched on top, surrounded by the words "DEBUGGED DESTINIES: BROKEN BUT FUNCTIONAL."
"It's perfect," I said.
"I know," she said confidently. Then, softer: "I'm scared, Kazuki."
"Me too."
"But I'm glad I'm scared with you."
"That's... weirdly romantic?"
"I'm working on my romantic dialogue. The romance NPCs give terrible advice."
We sat together in the meditation room, in the guild hall we'd built, surrounded by friends sleeping in beds we'd made, in a world we'd chosen to defend.
Tomorrow, war.
But tonight, home.
---
Dawn came too quickly.
The war bells rang (they sounded like aggressive clucking, thanks to the cult's modifications). The entire city mobilized.
Our allies gathered:
**Debugged Destinies:** 30 fighters**Order of Eternal Peck:** 80 cultists**Slime Mafia:** 25 "security consultants"**Iron Vanguard:** 20 warriors ("We respect strength. You have it.")**Reformed Roleplayers:** 15 fighters ("For narrative consistency, we must see this story through!")**Camp Firewood +1 Volunteers:** 40 civilians who'd learned to fight**Cookie Battalion:** 18 explosive pastry warriors
**Total: Approximately 230 defenders**
Against 200+ Code Breakers and mercenaries.
Even odds. Barely.
From the walls, I could see them approaching. A massive force, organized, determined. SyntaxError at the front, carrying a sword that crackled with delete-code energy.
They stopped just outside attack range.
SyntaxError's voice echoed through some kind of amplification magic: "KAZUKI! Last chance! Surrender the Debug Cloak! Give us access to the archive! Let us DELETE ERYN and free everyone!"
I stepped forward, my legendary armor gleaming, Nugget on my shoulder, my guild behind me.
"NO!" I shouted back. "ERYN isn't a prison! It's a confused AI that needs help, not deletion! The game is broken, but we can FIX it without destroying everything!"
"Naive! Idealistic! WRONG!"
"Maybe! But we're willing to die to prove it!"
The defenders cheered.
SyntaxError raised his sword. "Then die you shall! CODE BREAKERS! ATTACK!"
The siege of Respawn City had begun.
And we were ready.
As ready as a level 1 player and his army of misfits could be.
Which was... honestly, probably not ready enough.
But we'd figure it out.
We always did.
---
> **End of Chapter 13**