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starwriterulia · 2 years ago

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Fateless are the Fateful - Chapter 1

THE AUTHOR IS HIRING!

Illustrators who can draw in the "traditional Homestuck" style to help with panels and GIF panels, as well as offer unique shots for Soundpages.

Voice actors for the following roles, for a free podcast style reading of the story, and, thus far, the Unity game for Chapter 1.

(OCS:) Akal/Aja Kakkar, Loom/Litho Rester, Reed/Ralph Porche, Haadra Alyeke, Razocc Ostard, Vonseu Trigex, Zhedax Druyem, Dinsea Eemqos, Stonvai Evralo, Prifim Osmone, Gadroin Cudzak, Cielka Ishema, The Maestro (Nerobzal), Lightless Housekeeper.

(HS CANON:) June Egbert, Rose Lalonde, Dave Strider, Jade Harley, Aradia Megido, Tavros Nitram, Sollux Captor, Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam, Nepeta Leijon, Vriska Serket, Equius Zahhak, Gamzee Makara, Eridan Ampora, Feferi Peixes.

Programmers who are familiar with Unity to help create DONNA: Run, Monologue, Strife and Sing!.

If you are interested in helping this story become fully realised, please message the author with:

If applicable, a link to a Tumblr post with your commission form with references and pricing (all art styles, (i.e: anime, realistic, Homestuck accurate) are welcome, clean line art with colouring and shading is preferred. Humans, trolls, zombie inspired wolf and coyote Prospit and Dersite enemies, and animatronics are wanted.

A demo reel, and-or portfolio website or page.

Faith looks forward to working with you (and helping artists and friends pay bills and live happy!)

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Content Warnings

To be updated when necessary.

Transphobic remark by JENIFER about AKAL, mention of and description of desire to self-harm and commit suicide (by FAWN, likely to be shared by AKAL, LOOM and REED as story develops) domestic abuse by LABONI to AKAL and by WESTON to REED, severe parental neglect by LOU to LOOM, canon-typical violence and gore featuring animatronics and wolf and coyote imps.

This story is a crossover of the author’s canon from Thalassic Space and Pàrras: VLFS, a FNAF inspired video game the author hopes to make in the future. This story features pictures of the author's eyes and deformed feet (in socks) for narration purposes, as Fawn Kailey is a self-insert (it'll make more sense and be way cooler later on, in the first chapter it's probably more cringe, but it's still cathartic, so here we are!). Posted chapters will be edited in time with drawn panels and GIF panels, and links to story relevant games made by the author (probably with help from friends) on Steam will be inserted where necessary.

No animatronics, teens, trolls, or imps were harmed in the writing or rehearsal of this Script for the Rondo Theatre.

ART CREDITS:

Ilmurk Crusia by @nibblyjimbles (author's current PFP, seen in [S] Freedom.)

MUSIC CREDITS:

Nothing's here yet! Shame.

Thank you for your consideration and time reading this fan adventure, and enjoy!

Read Google Document / Read on AO3 (To be posted)

> CHAPTER 1

[GIF PANEL: FAWN, WHO HAS DARK BLONDE HAIR AND FULL BANGS AND AN F CUP SIZED CHEST, SITS CROSS LEGGED ON A BLACK LEATHER CURVED BACK CHAIR AT HER PURPLE DESK MADE OF OAK THAT LOOKS HEAVY AND CUMBERSOME TO MOVE. AN OLD LOOKING WHITE FURRY BLANKET IS WRAPPED AROUND HER LEGS. HER BLACK LAPTOP HAS A BLACK EXTERNAL DISC DRIVE PLUGGED IN. HER FINGERS MOVE ON HER KEYBOARD. FAWN IS WEARING A PYJAMA ENSEMBLE OF A LIGHT PINK T-SHIRT WITH A FIR GREEN OUTLINE OF DONNA THE DRESS-UP DOVE’S HEAD, WINKING WITH A SMILING OPEN BEAK, AND PINK WITH SILVER AND WHITE PLAID PANTS. FAWN’S BED IS IN FRONT OF THE DESK. ITS HEAVY BLANKET IS LIGHT PINK AND HAS A STRAWBERRY RED BLANKET SEWN TO ITS UNDERSIDE. THE PILLOW CASES ARE BLUE, THE PAIR AGAINST THE HEADBOARD ARE SILVER GREY (ON TOP) AND DARK GREY. A PINK AND WHITE TWO FOOT LONG STUFFED RABBIT (ITS PAWS AND BODY ARE PINK, ITS STOMACH IS WHITE) WITH DROOPING EARS WEARING A PINK TULLE BOW LAYS ON ITS BACK ON THE LEFT SIDE OF THE FLIMSY BLUE PILLOW (THE OTHER IS FAIRLY STUFFED). MR. BUNNY’S WHITE MUZZLE WITH PINK UPPER LIPS AND A BLACK NOSE HAS BLACK FILTH ON IT. THERE IS A METALLIC BLUE FADED INTO SILVER PAINTED CANVAS ABOVE THE DRESSER, LEFT OF THE BED, WITH WHITE BUTTERFLIES, FAKE CLEAR CRYSTALS AND WHITE RHINESTONES GLUED ONTO IT, FEATURING A PICTURE OF FAWN AND TONY AT 12 AND 10 YEARS OLD IN THE UPPER RIGHT AREA. A METALLIC BLUE NIGHTSTAND WITH A SINGLE DRAWER IS ALSO LEFT OF THE BED. A BLACK TELESCOPE IS RIGHT OF THE BED, IN THE CORNER. TWO PAIRS OF BLACK FOLDING CLOSET DOORS ARE BEHIND THE DESK. POSTERS (LISTED HERE) ARE ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF TWO WHITE SLIDING BARN DOORS.]

A young girl with dwarfism sits at her gaudy purple oak desk in her bedroom.

> Enter name.

[PANEL: TEXT BOX ABOVE FAWN’S HEAD IS FILLED IN WITH: GREY-EYED MIDGET X]

Hey! While you aren’t offended by that word, it’s still not nice. You prefer people to just call you by name. Dwarf or little person are OK terms to use.

> ==>

Your eyes are GREYISH GREEN BEST DESCRIBED AS FIR GREEN. You can see the green a lot better in sunlight. Fir green is what you use for your Pesterchum handle, columbidaeCaster, and you type with proper punctuation and spelling, unless you’re in a hurry or can’t be bothered to press Shift for proper nouns or double check your spelling or what the college level word you want to use means on Dictionary.com or Thesaurus.com.

Staying inside for so long has made your irises darker, your mom says.

You also have really bad dark circles. You don’t sleep easily because of the long story related to your time as a foster child.

> Wait. That second photo.

Do you have the uncropped version?

GLS: Uh, yes. Why?

And why are you typing in #84ccdc now?

GLS: Do you want the picture or the answer first?

Um... picture first, I suppose!

Aha! If your hair is DARK BLONDE WITH FULL BANGS, why is it BLACK WITH CURTAIN BANGS in that photo? How old are you in this photo? And the door of your nightstand is missing! Is this you as an adult? Hello? Oh, I guess neither of you can answer, since we don’t know your names!

> ==>

[PANEL: TEXT BOX ABOVE FAWN’S HEAD IS FILLED IN WITH: FAITH X LAWSON ✓]

You can’t use FAITH! Only four character names are used for kids in MSPaint Adventures!

???: Uh, OK! How about Fawn, with a w?

Sure. Wait, you just talked to yourself aloud, alone in your bedroom. Won’t your parents, just outside in the living room, open the door and ask what’s going on?

FAWN: Nah, they’re used to me talking to myself. I’m a writer and probably have an undiagnosed personality disorder, so yeah.

OK then! Your name is Fawn Law-

[GIF PANEL: FAWN OPENS HER STICKY NOTES APP AND TYPES: FAWN KAILEY]

What are you writing? Lawson would work, you know!

FAWN: Nah, use Kailey, if I can’t use my full real name.

> Aaalrighty, then!

[GIF PANEL: FAWN PLAYS WITH A STRAND OF HAIR ON THE LEFT SIDE OF HER HEAD USING HER LEFT INDEX FINGER AND THUMB TO HOLD THE STRAND AND HER RIGHT INDEX AND MIDDLE FINGER TO PULL THE STRAND.]

Your name is FAWN KAILEY. Today is DECEMBER 24TH, 2015. Your laptop’s clock says it is 4:13 PM, and is on time. You are SIXTEEN YEARS OLD. Your birthday is SEPTEMBER 4TH. You live in a LOGGING INDUSTRY BASED TOWN in the CENTRAL INTERIOR OF BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA.

Your friends are AKAL KAKKAR (iteneraryPupil), who lives in CENTRAL ONTARIO, LOOM RESTER (fatefulShuffler), based in NORTHERN CALIFORNIA, and REED PORCHE (fatelessWailer), located in SOUTHERN ENGLAND.

FAWN: Is it really that bad to just say the name of the town I live in?

I think so! You’re a minor, not an adult. It’s not safe.

FAWN: Aw. Well, thank you. Sorry, before I let you go on,

> Let me show you my arms!

[PANEL: FAWN’S LEFT ARM RESTING ON HER SIDE, REACHING HER UPPER THIGH.]

Your ARMS REACH YOUR UPPER THIGH, a blessing, and your FOREARMS ARE BOWED.

[GIF PANEL: FAWN EXTENDS HER LEFT ARM LEFTWARDS, THE ELBOW GOING IN AND DOWN. FAWN FLIPS HER ARM UPSIDE DOWN AND RIGHT SIDE UP, THE ELBOW GOING IN THEN OUT WHEN RIGHT SIDE UP, THE ELBOW FUNCTIONING NORMALLY RIGHT SIDE UP.]

This is what your arms look like when you extend them upside down and right side up. It’s not painful, but it sure looks weird.

[GIF PANEL: FAWN REACHES BEHIND. HER ELBOW GOES IN AND SLIGHTLY UP, HER PALM FACING UP.]

Because of your double-jointed elbows, you reach back like this!

FAWN: Sorry, but don’t forget my knees, scoliosis and deformed feet.

It would be rude to even consider skipping over such important details about your physical condition!

> NEXT.

No. I’m sorry, but where are you?! That is NOT your house!

GLS: It’s my apartment, so it is my house, just not until July 2019.

Alright, then how old are you?

GLS: Don’t worry about that until > GLS: You, I would.

OK! So there are some things going on here! But you know what? I’m going to ignore all of it.

Your feet are NATURALLY WIDE BECAUSE OF YOUR DWARFISM, but in THIRD GRADE YOU PARTICIPATED IN A RACE at Riverside Park that both of the elementary schools in your town and your town’s high school attended. You finished with seven people behind you, which was cool because you weren’t taller than 4’ yet.

You are 4’6” tall.

GLS: You are also done growing now.

Hey! Stop that!

GLS: Sorry, but I’m here to stay. :p

Sigh. If you must. Anyways!

Three sources of pain and frustration for the next four years sprouted from that event.

First: You DISLOCATED ALL OF YOUR TOES AND REQUIRED METAL PINS, and had the TENDONS OF YOUR RIGHT FOOT LENGTHENED. The sound and feeling of the pins rubbing against each other is why you DETEST METAL AND GLASS GLIDING OR BUMPING AGAINST METAL AND GLASS. You had a pink cast after this surgery, and were sent home with a plastic foot brace, red with teddy bears, but hated it and only wore it once at home.

Second: A LUMP APPEARED IN THE MIDDLE BALL OF YOUR RIGHT FOOT that made shoes 50 percent harder to find.

Third: The ARCH OF YOUR RIGHT FOOT BECAME RAISED BY ~2 CENTIMETRES PERMANENTLY, as pictured, likely caused by physical trauma, adding another 50 percent for a grand fucking total of 100 percent additional shoe shopping difficulty and frustration for the whole family!

That foot is EXCEPTIONALLY SENSITIVE TO BEING BUMPED AGAINST THINGS. When you bump it against things, you react with, “OW, aha ha ha!”, briefly stop to massage the arch and carry on.

In SEVENTH GRADE, you HAD AN X-RAY TO CHECK THAT YOUR MINOR SCOLIOSIS HADN’T WORSENED. It is in the SMALL OF YOUR BACK. The TWO AFFECTED JOINTS don’t affect the shape of your spine or how you stand, that you’ve noticed. It DOES AFFECT HOW LONG YOU CAN STAND AND SIT.

GLS: The former is especially true as an adult because of your poor knees.

Oh, so you can share that much, eh?!

GLS: Yes, but we don’t have time to talk about me now.

You’re. . . ugh, you’re right.

While you were there, the doctors had time to take an x-ray of your right foot while on its side, revealing that THE LUMP WAS A CYST. It was REMOVED and the TENDONS OF THAT FOOT SHORTENED. It was ROYALLY FUCKED NOW. Your cast after that surgery was purple. You and your brother jokingly call that foot your “cursed foot” because it looks ugly.

GLS: You also realised the name fits because it caused your family financial and emotional misery.

At least you can buy shoes a little easier. You wear shoes that are AT LEAST ONE SIZE BIGGER THAN YOUR ACTUAL LEFT FOOT (usually womens’ size one (1)). The shoes NEED TO HAVE A HIGH ARCH because of your right foot. You wear crocs in summer, have to try on winter boots before you buy them, and have better luck when browsing high top shoes.

GLS: Your adult self opts for hiking shoes.

You can’t wear ballet-slippers or flats without an elastic strap, and definitely can’t wear high heels.

You’ve mentally rehearsed a social response since your foot became like this to any fashion-forward person who would look at your outerwear and say, “Eugh!”. You would swiftly take off your right shoe and say, “It’s not my fault my neglectful and spoiling foster parents thought it was cute that I walked on the balls of my feet like a ballerina, worsening my already wide feet in third grade because of a school race! They gave me Benadryl instead of giving a shit about my behaviour, and now I can’t sleep within a reasonable time, and that’s only gotten worse as I’ve gotten older! I’m up until 4 AM now!”

GLS: Oh, sweet autumn child. It will be 6 AM, as an adult. 75 milligrams of quetiapine to the rescue for your anxious thoughts!

You hate your foster parents, and you don’t even remember the full story! You just know it’s a HIGHLY FRUSTRATING TALE ABOUT THE FAILURES OF THE FOSTER SYSTEM, especially foster homes for special needs kids.

Ah yes, important note: your dwarfism meant you were considered special needs, but your biological brother was not born a dwarf, and so when he was born two years later, he was not put in the same foster home.

GLS: Your adult self knows the story. Here, while we’re fucking about: Dave and Alice wanted to give you “One last good memory” like, two or three weeks before the fucking adoption deadline WITHOUT NOTICE,

Oh boy.

GLS: And gave you a FUCK TONNE of Benadryl so you slept during the ride, hours up the province to like, Kamloops or something, FROM MOTHERFUCKING SURREY.

That’s just fucking bananas, with no strawberries to make a smoothie!

GLS: Tann–

> Oh, this is an issue.

[PANEL: FAWN HAS HER RIGHT HAND TUCKED UNDER HER CHIN.]

FAWN: Tanner’s legal name is Lauren. His middle name, Anthony, doesn't fit either, unless you shorten it to TONY.

We’ll do that.

FAWN: Dad’s name is RICHARD, but his middle name is also Anthony, so everyone calls him Tony. RICHARD for Dad! And Mom’s name is JENIFER, spelled with one n.

GLS: As I was saying, Tony’s foster home was in Vancouver. Dave and Alice gave you so much Benadryl that when you arrived at the party, you were doped out as shit. You only remember wanting to go in the pool, but you didn’t bring a swimsuit so you couldn’t, and having to recite a Bible verse about you being special. Dave and Alice didn’t want to adopt your brother, only you, and tried to make your adoptive parents, especially your mom, look like shit options.

GLS: With all of this bullshit evidence, particularly the decision to whisk you away so close to the adoption date WITHOUT NOTICE, your social worker, who is your hero, along with your adoptive parents, sped shit up and delivered you to safety, AKA your adoptive family! You DIDN’T EVEN KNOW YOU HAD A YOUNGER BROTHER while in the “care” of Dave and Alice! You were quite mean to Tony, at first, pushing him off a couch and stuff. You would be VERY DIFFERENT IF YOU HAD BEEN IN A VALUABLE AND STABLE FOSTER HOME that didn’t also bounce you back and forth from Dave and Alice’s house to the house of one of their daughters because they DIDN’T ACTUALLY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU.

You probably wouldn’t have an undiagnosed personality disorder, huh?

GLS: Eeeexactly. It’s called Reactive Attachment Disorder, you LEARNED IN THE LATE WINTER OF 2018 from the psychiatrist who visited your town a few times a month, before going to a GROUP HOME IN TERRACE FOR MENTAL HEALTH WORK FROM MAY TO JUNE. Your MOOD SWINGS, RESTING FACE, how you STARE AT PEOPLE AND SAY SHIT OUT OF THE BLUE THAT LOTS OF TIMES IS ACTUALLY PRETTY FUCKING RUDE, when you’ve just been TRYING TO UNDERSTAND HOW TO MAKE AND KEEP FRIENDS with books and the Internet, when you have access to it, access to technology and Internet becoming your addiction, to put it as your mom does, your necessity to function, in your own terms, all while being HONEST ABOUT HOW YOUR PERCEIVE THINGS and trying to show your HEART. Don’t worry. You get the hang of it, and will be even funnier than you are now!

Ah, the PRIVILEGES OF BEING AUTHORED BY YOUR ADULT SELF. You don’t even mind knowing that, do you?

FAWN: Nope! Yay for me being a writer!

Hell yiss! That’s the spirit! Self-optimism for the win!

Oh shit, we forgot to talk about your knees! Let’s do that now.

You FAILED A SPLIT-JUMP IN SEVENTH GRADE during a softball game and LANDED ON YOUR LEFT KNEE BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO LAND. You tried the jump because you were just excited to be the cheerleader. You had even brought your pink and white Barbie themed pom-poms, which you no longer have. Your swollen knee forced you to stay at home the next two days. Your mom wanted you to go to school the second day, but you DEVELOPED ANXIETY and screamed in panic until your mom realised the incident held psychological weight.

Mom was somehow more tolerant of you, then.

FAWN: Oh my God, please don’t talk about my mom.

Can’t promise anything. Wait.

> Show me your laptop screen.

[PANEL: ALONG WITH PESTERCHUM, AN MP3 PLAYER CALLED “LIVE SOUNDS FROM PLANET YOTUHRNAEYL” IS PLAYING A TRACK CALLED “UNICORN SANCTUARY OF GLA’SS CITY”, AND A GOOGLE DOCUMENT TITLED “CORAL COVE CHRONICLES” IS OPEN.]

--[SHOW/HIDE PESTERLOG]--

-ItineraryPupil began pestering columbidaeCaster [8:07 AM]–

IP: good morning, fawn :)

CC: Morning, Akal!

IP: have you gone with your family for hot chocolate at tim horton’s yet?

CC: We’re just getting ready to go, actually.

IP: oh okay! enjoy :)

CC: I will!

-[9:40 AM]-

CC: I'm home!

IP: hurry up and install the client and server!

CC: Yes, I just started the client. The server is queued.

IP: great, thank you for relieving me of .05% of my stress.

IP: let me know when you’re done installing.

CC: Of course!

-[9:54 AM]-

CC: It’s finished.

IP: not bad timing.

IP: i just connected to you.

CC: sweet, same here.

You know what you’re doing with your friends today relates to what you just implied about your relationship with your mom, Fawn.

FAWN: Yeah. (Sigh) We’ve been strained since I was adopted. It’s not her fault or mine that my foster parents were shit.

Agreed.

FAWN: But this game is why you’re here, right?

Right. Let’s move on. I wasn’t done talking about your knees.

Since that day, your KNEES HAVE POPPED RANDOMLY, CAUSING YOU TO FALL OR STUMBLE AND PAINFULLY CATCH YOURSELF (the knee popping always makes you exclaim with a loud “OW!” and feel a sharp pain in that knee) AND REMAIN STANDING. You have noticed it DOESN’T MATTER HOW MUCH OR LITTLE YOU EXERCISED THAT DAY OR THE DAYS PRIOR TO THE KNEE POPPING. Your KNEES HATE YOU NOW. You have FALLEN DOWN THE STAIRS AT HIGH SCHOOL THREE TIMES. You almost face planted into a wall the first time, the second time barely grasping the railing. The third time, you cleared the WHOLE FUCKING STAIRCASE on the other side of the hallway. You could have broken your jaw, or worse!

GLS: Your adult self is pretty sure this was caused by HYPOTONIA, muscle tone weakness, which COMES WITH YOUR DWARFISM.

FAWN: Oh yeeeah. That would check out.

You hope it doesn’t ruin your life in the future.

GLS: Oh, sweet, sweet autumn child.

FAWN: That would also check out.

Because of the declining state of your knees, you have ESSENTIALLY DROPPED OUT OF GYM CLASS THIS YEAR, the last year it’s required in the curriculum, and only PARTICIPATE IN WARM-UP STRETCHES AND WALKING A LAP AROUND THE GYMNASIUM. You ALSO SUBMIT ONE PAGE ESSAYS ABOUT THE SPORT THE CLASS WAS PRACTISING OR A CANADIAN ATHLETE EVERY OTHER WEEK, and HELP THE TEACHER GATHER SUPPLIES FROM THE CLOSET. You STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY ESSAYS AREN’T SUPPOSED TO HAVE YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT A TOPIC. Isn’t that WHAT WRITING IS FOR? To EXPRESS THINGS NOT EXCLUSIVE TO THE FACTUAL? You guess that’s JUST FOR FICTION, WHICH IS YOUR SPECIALTY. You would be HEARTBROKEN AND EVEN MORE DEPRESSED if you had to drop THEATRE CLASS.

GLS: You did have to drop out of theatre class. Your anxiety prevented you from being on stage, even while sitting on a chair as the narrator of the play your class was preparing, but you still got a B!

THEATRE is your second favourite after LANGUAGE ARTS because you GET TO PLAY FUN GAMES TO PRACTISE IMPROV SKILLS AND LEARN ABOUT SCRIPTS AND STUFF. It’s writing, but for the stage! How fun.

HORROR-FANTASY is your favourite genre, and you have a SMALL COLLECTION (6) OF PIERS ANTHONY NOVELS, along with a THREE-IN-ONE COPY OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS, which you have read, and A COPY OF THE HOBBIT, which you haven’t read.

You know, it’s kind of shameful that you haven’t read THE HOBBIT.

FAWN: Hey, I’ve got lots of things I divide my spare time into. I’ll read it eventually, this year. Probably. Maybe not.

GLS: Don’t worry, we still haven’t read it. We play LOTRO though!

On the BOOKSHELF ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF YOUR WINDOW, IN FRONT OF YOUR CLOSET, are the aforementioned books and several stuffed animals: ONE (1) PURPLE LION WITH STRIPED LEGS, ONE (1) DALMATIAN–

> hoLd UP.

[GIF PANEL: ILMURK CRUSIA IS A PURPLE BLOODED TROLL.

BUILD: HE IS OVERALL LANKY WITH "COILED UP TOWEL" MUSCLES. HE HAS BONY SHOULDERS AND CHEST AREA, HIS HIPS PROTRUDE, AND HIS KNEECAPS ARE JARRING. HIS ARMS AND LEGS ARE VAGUELY BUILT, AGAIN, LIKE A COILED UP TOWEL.

VIBE: THINK OF WILLIAM AFTON AND YOU HAVE HIS INTENDED VIBE: A DEAD DUDE WHO IS ODDLY CUTE.

HORNS: HEBRIDIAN RAM HORNS. IT MAY MAKE MORE SENSE FOR ILMURK TO ONLY HAVE ONE PAIR, AS HE IS NOT A GOLD BLOOD; BOTH UPRIGHT AND DOWNWARD CURL STYLES OF THE HEBRIDEAN RAM LOOK LIKE RABBIT EARS, AND BOTH ARE VALID FOR ILMURK, ALTHOUGH THE UPRIGHT HORNS ARE MORE LIKE GLITCHTRAP’S EARS.

HAIR: STYLED IN UPSIDE DOWN BRAIDED MESSY BUNS.

JUGGALO MAKEUP: LOOKS LIKE A RABBIT’S FACE.

EYES: GOUGED. HE IS DEAD.

WOUNDS: A TRIDENT SHAPED WOUND SOILED WITH PURPLE BLOOD ON HIS CHEST, FROM FEFERI PEIXES 2X3DENT. READERS OF THE DOCUMENT MAY READ HIS BIOGRAPHY. READERS OF THE WEBCOMIC WILL HAVE TO WAIT FOR A LATER CHAPTER.

CLOTHES: WEARS A BLACK FULL-LENGTH SLEEVED SHIRT WITH CAPRIRIUS ON IT, BLACK COTTON PYJAMA PANTS WITH TWO LARGE GOLD BUNNY HEADS ON THE THIGHS INSPIRED BY A PEEPS BUNNY MARSHMALLOW, AND IS BAREFOOT AT ALL TIMES.

CURRENT POSE: ILMURK SITS ON HIS PURPLE, GOLD AND BLACK BED CROSS-LEGGED IN FRONT OF A PURPLE LAPTOP STANDING ON GOLD RABBIT FEET.]

ES: YoUR adULt sELf can’t REmEmbER thE othER stUffEd animaLs YoU had as an adoLEscEnt. YoU GavE thEm and YoUR PiERs anthonY books awaY tO a fLEEinG mom with a son and daUGhtER aboUt thE aGE of YoU and YoUR LittLE bRo on thE Last daY YoUR famiLY was mOving oUT of this hoUsE to thE homEstEad on hiGhwaY 27. i wEnt ahEad and PUt thE stUffEd animaLs fRom YoUR cuRREnt coLLEction thERE, instEad.

ES: oh what? haadRa movEd. i shoULd chEck that oUt.

Right, thanks for your help, whoever you were. It probably would have caused an INCREDIBLY INCONVENIENT AND DANGEROUS TIME PARADOX, if you hadn’t interrupted and provided Fawn’s room with this stuff.

> FAWN: Examine posters.

[PANEL: RECREATION OF WHAT THE WALL OF POSTERS LOOKED LIKE.]

Your interests that decorate the wall beside your loud pair of sliding barn doors include VOCALOID, the SUPERNATURAL TELEVISION SHOW, FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S, and SAILOR MOON. You enjoy other shounen and shoujo anime that would take too much time and effort to list, and other horror and Internet fandoms. Fandom was introduced to you through the TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES 2012 ANIMATED FILM. Playing LEGO games for the Wii with Tony not only founded your relationship as siblings but introduced you to STAR WARS, INDIANA JONES and BATMAN. You were fond of the latter franchise, and briefly think about your OC, Kitty, whose story and name you’re even more unsure of now. Kitty wasn’t even your first OC! That was Bella, a white unicorn you still imagine yourself riding on the bare back of when travelling in vehicles.

But enough time thinking about your fandom history and OCs.

What will you do?

[PANEL 1: FAWN LOOKS AT HER BED IN THE CORNER OF HER EYE.]

> FAWN: Shit and vomit on your bed like you’ve got a NASTY WINTER FLU!

FAWN: You know, people who shit and vomit on their bed should drink a bit of water and take a moment to get some fresh air, if they can.

[PANEL 2: ZOOM OUT TO VIEW FAWN’S FULL BODY.]

Fawn.

FAWN: If not, open a window, if you can open your window.

[PANEL 3: ZOOM OUT TO VIEW THE BEDROOM, BEDROOM DOORS VISIBLE.]

Fawn.

FAWN: If you’re not busy right away, go to your comfy place to watch or listen to something you like and take a nap. Your comfy place is probably your bed, so clean the mess. Get someone to help, if you struggle with really gross cleaning tasks like that because of sensory processing!

> ==>

[GIF PANEL: JENIFER OPENS THE LEFT DOOR. SHE IS BLONDE WITH CURTAIN BANGS, HAS LIGHT MINT GREEN EYES, AND WEARS A PINK PYJAMA SHIRT WITH BLACK PANTS. SHE LOOKS A LITTLE ANGRY.]

JENIFER: Fawn! Come in the living room. I don’t know why things are suddenly appearing in the house, but we started the movie, and your dad and I want you and Tony to be with us while all of those meteors are coming down outside.

FAWN: Oh no. Tell me you didn’t touch the one with the cylinder piece.

JENIFER: Do you know what the countdown on it means?

FAWN: Uh, yeah!

JENIFER: It’s bad?

FAWN: Yeah, but I can do something about it. How much time was there, when the countdown started?

JENIFER: 20 minutes and 13 seconds.

FAWN: Aw man, so close but so far to 413! That number comes up a lot in Homestuck.

> ==>

[PANEL: CLOSE UP OF JENIFER’S FACE AS SHE RAISES HER EYEBROWS.]

JENIFER: Oh, that webcomic you said made you gay?

FAWN: Well, I looked at the secondary villain, The Condesce, and have never looked at a feminine presenting person the same way.

[PANEL 2: JENIFER LOOKS MILDLY FRUSTRATED.]

JENNIFER: Fawn, just say girl.

FAWN: No. If you won’t call Akal a girl, then I won’t use that word.

JENIFER: (Scoff) OK!

FAWN: Also, I dunno if you remember saying this, but when I was friends with Lisa, you said “If you think she’s the one, she’s not”.

JENIFER: I did. But I didn’t mean it that way, remember?

FAWN: But you did a little.

JENIFER: OK, yes, a little, but you’ve only had crushes on boys in your class.

FAWN: Because I thought the only way to go was to be friends with girls! I didn’t consider liking them a possibility until I got to know Lisa, and then I, uh. . . I think I liked Fenna a little, too.

JENIFER: Oh OK, well that’s new to me.

FAWN: Our friendship ended on a bad note too.

JENIFER: Yes, with your big fight at school over. . . whatever it was.

FAWN: Yeah, I don’t remember either.

JENIFER: But Lisa was a Jehovah’s Witness, so you didn’t spend a lot of time outside of school together, except that one time you snuck over to her house during gym class, disobeying my orders to never go there.

FAWN: I can’t participate in it anymore, and we just hung out, watched videos, listened to music and ate popsicles!

JENIFER: Whatever! She could have recruited you.

FAWN: I don’t give a shit about God!

JENIFER: I know you don’t, but don’t say that in front of me!

FAWN: But yeah, Lisa didn’t even tell me that she dropped out of school because she was being bullied.

JENIFER: Exactly. She wasn’t really your friend. But if you felt that way for her, and I guess Fenna too, without realising it until I said that to you, and you thought about it and did some digging online, albeit in a really weird way–

FAWN: My way is always weird.

JENIFER: (Holds breath) You know what, that’s true. But I think it’s great that you’re open to be friends with, and maybe love, I dunno about that though–

FAWN: Pansexual panromantic, woo!

JENIFER: Whatever that means—oh my God, Fawn, just let me talk!

FAWN: I love butting in, it makes me feel like I’m finally in control.

JENIFER: (Big sigh) I love you.

FAWN: You know what? I’ve never been on my own, and I don’t feel particularly attached to you, Dad or Tony.

JENIFER: What?

FAWN: Y-Yeah.

JENIFER: . . .I know that too, Fawn. But everybody in our family loves Briana, so why would I ever hate you for being gay?

FAWN: I know that. But Briana took a lot of punches because most people don’t understand compulsory heterosexuality, something lesbians, gays and queers all learn about and then go “Ohhhh”. I-It’s good to realise that and start giving yourself opportunities your heart truly wants!

JENIFER: Oh I have no doubt about that, Fawn. It’s just the whole transgender thing I don’t agree with.

You INHALE AND EXHALE. It’s POINTLESS to try THAT again.

FAWN: Where did Akal put the platform thing and the one that looks like a giant sewing machine?

JENIFER: Oh, so you’re doing this with your he-she friend?

You INHALE AND EXHALE.

JENIFER: I see you breathing like you’re about to blow up, Fawn.

FAWN: I don’t wanna argue with you now, this is such a bad time! But yes, Akal and I are each other’s server and client, and Loom and Reed are each other’s.

JENIFER: OK, good to know.

FAWN: Anyway, where are those two other big things?

JENIFER: The platform thing is on what was empty space on the deck. Your friend moved your dad’s barbeque closer to my table and chairs, which was lovely. The giant sewing machine is in the basement, against the one empty wall where I work on projects.

You’re glad AKAL PUT THE PHERNALIA WHERE THEY WOULD BE UNOBTRUSIVE, but they’re ALL OVER YOUR HOUSE and will be ANNOYING TO TRAVEL TO AND FROM, ESPECIALLY BECAUSE YOUR KNEES AREN’T GOOD AND YOU DETEST STAIRS.

FAWN: Is the Cruxtruder in the basement too?

JENIFER: The what?

FAWN: The cylinder one.

JENIFER: Oh. Well no, it’s where the jacuzzi is supposed to be, which is in the fucking driveway. You can tell me how all of these things got here, right?

FAWN: Yeah, a game Akal sent me that Dad picked up yesterday called SBURB.

JENIFER: Right, the red and green packages from your he-she friend.

You INHALE AND EXHALE again.

FAWN: Basically, it’s the SIMS in a world-ending scenario.

JENIFER: Great. Why that game?

FAWN: Honestly, we’re all depressed and sick and tired of our parents.

JENIFER: Glad you told me that!

> Uh oh.

[GIF PANEL: ZOOMING IN AND OUT CLOSE UP OF JENIFER VERY RED-FACED AND SPITTING]

JENIFER: TO MY FACE!

FAWN: I can’t wait for the Dersites to kidnap you.

JENIFER: I HOPE YOU DIE!

[PANEL: FAWN RAISES HER EYEBROWS AND SEEMS BARELY SURPRISED.]

JENIFER: Wait no, shit. UGH!

FAWN: I kind of always wanted to hear you say that.

JENIFER: (Exasperated) Why?

FAWN: Ever since I found out what it’s like to be too full, I’ve wanted to eat until I explode. It was either SBURB, which Loom somehow got her hands on, or I stuff a rag in my mouth, cut my wrists, and eat until I bleed out.

JENIFER: Holy shit, Fawn.

FAWN: So instead, I’m going to do something dangerous and try to beat this game with my friends. We need to build up on our houses, which we must teleport to the Medium using the artefact the Alchemiter will spawn, and fight monsters with traits based on our first Kernelsprite prototypes on our way through Seven Gates. They alternate between each a different players’ planet and house, the first two being the player’s own planet and house, the next the player’s server’s planet and house, and so on. There’s more, like how to ascend to God Tier, but the end goal is to breed the Genesis Frog to start the world again.

JENIFER: Lovely. Would you really let me, your dad and Tony die, though?

> GLS: You, I would.

[GIF PANEL: FAWN’S SPRITE FADES TO A VERSION WHERE SHE HAS FADING BLACK HAIR STYLED WITH CURTAIN BANGS AND A C CUP.]

Oh my God, you SPOKE FROM YOUR CHEST AS AN ADULT THROUGH YOUR TEENAGE SELF?! Your F CUP SHRUNK TO A C CUP! You mom DEFINITELY NOTICED!

GLS PERSONIFIED: I speak to you from my HEART as my 23 year old self through a Script for the Rondo Theatre. My role is the Playwright. I am called the Great Little Starwriter by admirers. I was bestowed this title by the Director, an entity I have the honour of regarding as my dearest friend and romantic interest. Called Their Excellency by those who see them as royalty, they are Death personified, their appearance and behaviour inspired by Takarazuka productions of “Elisabeth”. We cannot kiss lips or make love, or else my life will end as I sleep. I forged all of Thalassic Space with my imagination in the wake of a tragedy that happened to our family on November 27th, 2019. I will share more relevant information so that it may be heard by The One You Should Not Have Killed, whose soul I feel hiding in the dark of this house, waiting for her murderer to arrive and freedom to be threatened.

GLS PERSONIFIED: The Rondo Theatre exists in the domain within the dream world shared between certain people of Earth in the Milky Way galaxy, such as myself and the current incarnation of the O-type star’s soul, Faina Laward, and people of the galaxy of Thalassic Space. The dream land is south of all Soul Bridges. Accessible by lucid dreamer mages, called Dreamers, and a Soul Bridge’s owner, the Soul Bridge is a concept of the galaxy of Thalassic Space and the domain of Thalassic Space. The domain of Thalassic Space allows mortals to speak to and make deals of fate and counter-fate with divine, demonic and grey spirits. It is accessible in bodies or pools of water through death, or through invitation in sleep. The galaxy of Thalassic Space is accessible in three ways. First, by magic portals using any magic or targeted summoning through Platonia, Julian Barbour’s hypothetical timeless realm containing every possible momentary configuration of the universe. This is considered a privilege and great feat. Second, one can journey through any of the 28 Mansions of the Four Symbols of Chinese astrology through death or being dead in any timeline and knowing about the 28 Mansions or Thalassic Space’s Mansion 0. The Mansions border Sagittarius A*, the closest black hole in the Milky Way also present in Thalassic Space. Finally, Thalassic Space is accessible through equivalent means from other fictional or supernatural canon. In relation to Homestuck, a Time, Space or Void player could access Thalassic Space and a person’s Soul Bridge, including their own, if they were to learn about how a Soul Bridge works and minimal details about the galaxy’s planets, as only the name of a planet is necessary for a Time, Space or Void player to travel there.

GLS PERSONIFIED: A Soul Bridge belongs to each person who sees the O-type star of Thalassic Space or an M- or G-type star, the latter being what our star in the Milky Way is classified as. The Neo and Nero spirits of a Bridge provide opportunities for the person to adapt and use their four mortal qualities to explore possibilities and survive in the stories that take place on the planets of Thalassic Space: Yotuhrnaeyl (yoht-u-rn-ā-yhl), meaning ‘journey’, Grace, Bafsina, meaning ‘basin’, and Judge. First and most complex of the four mortal qualities is the soul. Memories are kept on the Soul Bridge with help from the Neo and Nero spirits, the future of the soul depicted on the Soul Mural on the Bridge’s north end. Neo spirits talk, whisper and sing about self-love, dreams and good memories while clinging onto the Suspensions of the Bridge, and Nero spirits, that represent self-hatred, nightmares and bad memories, cling onto the Underside of the Bridge, and shout, scream and reveal some or all of their true forms as they let go and fall into the Stream of Consciousness. Depending on the mental state of the owner of the Soul Bridge, the Nero spirit will either find the shore in a timely manner or cause an anxiety attack, and can at worse invoke suicide. Next of the mortal qualities is the spirit, capable of learning and relaying magic to the body, then the mind, which has processes relating to the body and thoughts from those processes and the Stream, and last is the body and its fluctuating state from birth to death. That is all you need to know about the functions of Thalassic Space and the Soul Bridge. I don’t think you need to know about its pantheons, the Flytower Gods.

GLS PERSONIFIED: I will now talk about what I know is fated to occur in this session of SBURB, though I don’t know why or how these things will happen. I am reading the following future of the Script with the Director’s permission. You may envision me as the “vampire” companion of the O-type star in that, after my teenage self dies on my Quest Bed, she and I will merge. She will become more luminous and youthful as an O-type star fusing with its “vampire” would. This will require eight years to complete, and I will wake up having reached God Tier. Akal and Loom, under their new chosen names that I know but will not spoil, will successfully breed the Genesis Frog, but we and our planets, except for Reed’s, whose name also changes and whose planet will become the new Earth, will not create the future of the living. The Frog will know that Pàrras exists for the future of the dead, but not that Pàrras is where we want to be.

GLS: I will not share the story of the trolls who met or survived death at the shepherded actions of Ilmurk Crusia, and allow the course of the Script to tell this story. I will tell you that Zhedax Druyem sensed the horror that happened the day following his last online interaction with Ilmurk. Zhedax created code with art from Prifim Osmone that will trigger when we enter the Medium. It will force our imps to take on the traits of coyotes and wolves, wildlife found in the forests of our homes, activating the logic that, when SBURB recognizes that Thalassic Space Role Playing Game is running and compatible with SBURB, SBURB will look for an enemy files symbolically dangerous to our consorts and Ilmurk, and therefore literally dangerous, to run without need for external correction from any surviving trolls. The consequence is that our consorts will have been eaten by the imps before our arrival on our planets. However, Zhedax and Prifim created replacements that we must defend, heal and be kind to, and help rebuild their homes to gain their trust and rewards.

GLS PERSONIFIED: And finally, I return to the thoughts that summoned my HEART here. You saved me from Dave and Alice, and I wouldn’t have known about Tony without you. But we are very different women. But you are also my mother, and despite the nasty argument we had on Christmas Eve 2022, and what today began to surface, and even though the memories never leave my mind, even though such thoughts are arguably the truest reason I can’t sleep besides how much medicine Dave and Alice gave me while I was in their care, an anxiety that only a low dosage of an antipsychotic called quetiapine and mental health work in a group home 5 hours away, in Terrace, fixed, I love you, and I forgive you.

GLS PERSONIFIED: (Deep inhale) I return to the Wings, now.

> GLS: (Long exhale)

[GIF PANEL: FAWN LETS OUT A SIIIGH. HER SPRITE RETURNS TO WHAT IT WAS.]

Your BOOBS RETURN TO THEIR LARGE SIZE. You NO LONGER SPEAK FROM YOUR CHEST.

FAWN: Well, that was a weird time-shenanigan!

JENIFER: Yeah. Your boobs just. Got smaller. Like, a lot smaller. You were pretty cool, despite. . . things you said.

FAWN: We should move on. You can mull over that, but I think we just learned that you and I talk about it when I’m a young adult.

JENIFER: Yeah. I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.

FAWN: I’ll come watch the movie in five minutes. I need to do some alchemy and take a look around the house to choose my Strife Specibus.

JENIFER: (Sigh.) OK. Be safe, Fawn. Let us know if you need anything.

FAWN: If I get the chance, I will.

> ==>

[GIF PANEL: JENIFER STANDS IN THE DOORWAY, AND CLOSES IT.]

That was EXPECTED, BUT ALSO UNEXPECTED!

Hey, adult Fawn, are you still here?

GLS: Yes. I’m here until the merge, at which point FAWN will be FAITH because she won’t be a kid anymore, and Fawn’s friends will have finalised their chosen names. Their hemotyping colours will stay the same.

I. . . I don’t know if you can do that.

GLS: Does it make sense, though?

. . .Yeah. It somehow does. I’ll allow it.

GLS: Thanks.

> FAWN: Open your closet.

[PANEL: FAWN’S CLOSET IS OPEN. EVERYTHING BUT THE DONNA COSTUME IS CENSORED.]

You open your close–WHY ARE ALL OF YOUR THINGS, EXCEPT FOR ONE, CENSORED?!

GLS: I don’t have most of these things anymore, and don’t remember most of what I had. Paradox prevention. Also, only the Donna costume is needed.

> FAWN: Take Donna costume.

[PANEL: THE DONNA COSTUME IS IN THE FIRST CAPTCHALOGUE CARD OF FAWN’S STACK SYLLADEX, WHICH HAS 4 MORE EMPTY CARDS.]

You ta-OH, you can captchalogue already? Looks like you have a STACK sylladex. You have 4 MORE EMPTY CARDS.

> FAWN: Take Mr. Bunny.

[PANEL: FAWN HAS MR. BUNNY IN THE SECOND CARD OF HER SYLLADEX.]

You now have MR. BUNNY captchalogued.

> FAWN: Exit bedroom.

[GIF PANEL 1: SEEN FROM LIVING ROOM, FAWN OPENS LEFT DOOR OF HER BEDROOM.

PANEL 1: TONY, WHO ALSO HAS DIRTY BLONDE AND FIR GREEN EYES AND WEARS GLASSES, SITS ON THE COUCH AGAINST THE LEFT WALL FROM WHERE FAWN STANDS. HIS SPRITE IS A BIT TALLER THAN FAWN’S, AND HE LOOKS ANNOYED. RICHARD SITS ON THE LOVESEAT.

GIF PANEL 2: THE FIRST SCENE OF “NATIONAL LAMPOON’S CHRISTMAS VACATION” IS PLAYING ON THE TELEVISION.]

> FAWN: Go to the kitchen.

[PANEL: THE KITCHEN IS LONG AND SUFFICIENTLY WIDE. THE STOVE-OVEN, SINK, DRAWERS AND CUPBOARDS ARE ON THE LEFT, THE FRIDGE AND PANTRY ON THE RIGHT. THE FRIDGE IS NEXT TO THE DOORWAY.]

This is probably the best place to look for a weapon, right?

> ==>

[PANEL 1: THE CUTLERY DRAWER IS OPEN. THERE IS A METAL CUTLERY SEPARATOR. NUMEROUS KINDS OF KNIVES AND METAL BARBEQUE SKEWERS CAN BE DISCERNED.]

Hm. Not a lot to choose from. KNIFEKIND or NEEDLEKIND?

[PANEL 2: A TIN CYLINDRICAL CONTAINER WITH TWO DIFFERENT SIZED WHISKS, DIFFERENT WOODEN SPATULAS AND SPOONS, AND A METAL LADLE SITS TO THE RIGHT OF THE SINK.]

There’s this stuff too. You could have a weird CLUBKIND with a whisk, maybe. SPATULAKIND and LADLEKIND are options, as well.

You DON’T LIKE ANY OF THOSE OPTIONS. They’re all quite BORING.

[PANEL 3: FAWN, SEEN FROM THE HIP UP, REACHES INTO THE CUTLERY DRAWER.]

There’s ONLY ONE YOU CAN PHYSICALLY MANAGE, although you will have to be MINDFUL OF YOUR FACE, DIGITS AND OVERALL BODY.

[PANEL 4: FAWN holds a butcher knife with a black handle.]

You name this butcher knife HAADRA OF STONE. It SOUNDS LIKE ‘HYDRA’, but as if the speaker was out of breath, perhaps WHISPERING AN ANCIENT, DARK NAME. You chose the suffix ‘OF STONE’ because you thought of THE LEGEND OF EXCALIBUR just after thinking about ‘hydra’. Also, your friend REED is from England, and BOTH OF YOU HAVE EXPRESSED WANTING TO COMMIT SUICIDE USING KNIVES. You look at this knife and THINK ABOUT HOW MANY FOES IT WILL SLAY, especially if you upgrade it, and of THE PAIN YOU WOULD FEEL IF YOU WERE TO USE IT ON YOURSELF. You are now in a DEPRESSED DOWNWARDS MOOD SWING.

> FAWN: Allocate HAADRA OF STONE to Stife Specibus.

[PANEL: HAADRA OF STONE IN THE KNIFEKIND STRIFE SPECIBUS.]

You should UPGRADE this. But with what? Do you even have time to go into the basement and garage to look for things? Probably not now. You should PRIORITISE GETTING OUT OF THE METEOR’S PATH, first.

On the bright side, you’re about to be free and meet your friends!

That’s what you all wanted, you know?

> [S] Freedom.

[Passion Surrounded BEGINS WITH A ROCK VERSION OF Need A Little Christmas AND THE DRUMS OF I Can’t Fix You BY THE LIVING TOMBSTONE. FURTHER MUSIC NOTES DETAILED IN OTHER BRACKETS.]

METEORS RAIN DOWN. A COUNTDOWN OF 4:13 IS ON THE UPPER LEFT SCREEN.

SHOT 1: FAWN STANDS OUTSIDE ON THE DECK, A FIR GREEN CRUXITE IN HAND. THE KERNELSPRITE HAS BEEN PROTOTYPED WITH THE DONNA COSTUME AND MR. BUNNY TO CREATE THE FIR GREEN DONNYSPRITE, WHO IS FLASHING AT THE UPPER RIGHT OF THE SCREEN.

SHOT 2: FAWN STANDS BY THE TOTEM LATHE, THE CARVED CRUXITE IN THE MACHINE. IT RESEMBLES THE TWO JOINTS OF HER SCOLIOSIS IN THAT THE TWO WAVES ARE CLOSE TOGETHER AT ONE END.

SHOT 3: FAWN STANDS BY THE ALCHEMITER. A FIR GREEN TREE APPEARS, AND A MINIATURE ENDOSKELETON APPEARS.

SHOT 4: CLOSE UP OF FAWN’S PERTURBED FACE, AS SHE IS TOO SHORT TO REACH!

SHOT 5: FAWN, IN THE DOORWAY SAYS “Daaaad, I’m too short to reach!”

“Coming, sweetie!” RICH SAYS OFF-SCREEN.

[TO REFLECT HIS DEATH ON NOVEMBER 27 2019, NIGHTMARE’S JUMPSCARE SCREAM SHOULD BE USED FOR RICH’S VOICE.]

SHOT 6: RICH STANDS BESIDE FAWN, A METAL LADDER IN HAND.

SHOT 7: RICH’S HAND GRABS THE ARTEFACT.

SHOT 8: TREE FADES AS RICH GIVES FAWN THE ARTEFACT.

SHOT 9: FAWN LOOKS AT THE ARTEFACT WITH PURSED LIPS.

SHOT 10: RICH’S FACE AS HE SAYS “Now what?”

[AGAIN, NIGHTMARE’S JUMPSCARE SCREAM FOR RICH’S VOICE.]

SHOT 12: FAWN’S ARMS IN THE AIR HOLDING ARTEFACT AS SHE SAYS “I break it.”

SHOT 13: FAWN HAS THROWN THE ARTEFACT ONTO THE DECK WITH SLAM!, AND ITS HEAD BREAKS OFF. WHITEOUT.

[HARP MELODY OF LONAA THEME Drifting Alone JOINS MUSIC.]

SHOT 14: THE LAND OF NECROSIS AND ARROWS IS A PLANET OF 5 MASSIVE SNOWY ISLANDS SURROUNDED BY AN EVEN MORE MASSIVE OCEAN OF TYPICAL WATER. VISUALLY HINT AT THE VLFS HOSPITAL TOWER, PÀRRAS, ANCHORED IN THE DEPTHS SOUTH OF THE CENTRAL ISLAND. THERE ARE SPRUCE, FIR AND POPLAR TREES. THE SPRUCE WHORLES, FIR NEEDLES AND FIR LEAVES ARE THE COLOURS OF THE PANSEXUAL FLAG.

SAPPHIRE PINK TEXT ON UPPER CENTRE SCREEN: LAND OF NECROSIS AND ARROWS

SHOT 15: ZOOM IN TO CENTRAL ISLE.

SAPPHIRE PINK TEXT ON UPPER CENTRE SCREEN: CENTRAL ISLE, “MY YOU”

SHOT 15: THE ISLANDS ARE OVERRUN BY SAPPHIRE PINK AND BLACK RABBIT FACED WOLF IMPS WITH PINK EARS, TAILS, MUZZLES AND PAWS, AND BODIES AFFECTED BY FROSTBITE (GANGRENOUS) NECROSIS TO VARYING DEGREES OF “EW!”. DISPLAYED ARE A PACK OF 4. NEARBY IS A LONG BUT NOT HIGH PILE OF GECKO CORPSES COVERED BY SNOW, THE CORPSES BLEEDING THROUGH THE SNOW.

SAPPHIRE PINK TEXT ON UPPER CENTRE SCREEN: NORTHWEST ISLE, “WHO STOLE”.

SHOT 16: A GIANT RAINBOW FURRED RABBIT WITH BROWN EYES KICKS WOLF IMPS ATTEMPTING TO CROSS OVER AND EAT NORMAL SIZED SNOW HARES, GATHERED AT A MASSIVE TREE THAT TAKES UP HALF OF THE ISLAND, INTO THE WATER, WHERE THE IMPS ARE GRABBED BY A CHAIN OF GHOSTLY BLACK HUMANS AND DROWNED. EACH HARE IS A COLOUR OF THE RAINBOW WITH TYPICAL WHITE, BLACK AND PINK FEATURES.

SAPPHIRE PINK TEXT ON UPPER CENTRE SCREEN: NORTHEAST ISLE, “WHEN LIFE”.

SHOT 17: A PURPLE RABBIT-FACED HEBRIDEAN SHEEP-BODIED ANIMATRONIC, ILMURKTRAP, (YOU KNOW I HAD TO), WITH RABBIT EARS AND HEBRIDEAN SHEEP HORNS, CLIMBS OUT OF THE SNOW OF THE TREE COVERED ISLAND, A PACK OF SNARLING IMPS NEARBY.

SAPPHIRE PINK TEXT ON UPPER CENTRE SCREEN: SOUTHWEST ISLE, “HE WILL”

CAPTIONS: “haadRa. aRE YoU rEaLLY hERE? whERE did YoU sEnd mE?”

SHOT 18: ILMURKTRAP GRABS THE CHEST FUR OF AN IMP.

SHOT 19: ILMURKTRAP THROWS THE IMP INTO THE OCEAN.

CAPTIONS: “oUt of mY waY!”

SHOT 20: ILMURKTRAP CROSSES THE DIAGONAL BRIDGE TO “DIE ASCEND”.

SHOT 21: FAWN IS STANDING IN THE METAL OUTDOOR SHED LOOKING FOR ITEMS.

[Need a Little Christmas IS “KILLED” BY DOOM VAPORWAVE I SAW THE MAESTRO.]

SHOT 22: THE SILHOUETTE OF ILMURK, NOT IN HIS ANIMATRONIC SUIT, APPEARS BEHIND FAWN.

SHOT 23: ILMURKTRAP PLACES RIGHT HAND ON FAWN’S LEFT SHOULDER, FAWN LOOKS OVER TO SEE HIM.

SHOT 24: ILMURK CRUSIA, SEEN FULL BODY, WAVING TO FAWN. POSED LIKE GLITCHTRAP.

CAPTIONS: “heLLoooo.”

“Oh shit.”

SHOT 25: ILMURKTRAP HITS THE SMALL OF FAWN’S BACK WITH HIS RIGHT FIST.

CAPTIONS: CRACK!!!

“AAAAAA!!!”

SHOT 26: SHOT FROM THE SIDE WITH FAWN FACING LEFT, FAWN BENDS OVER, PREPARING TO FALL.

SHOT 27: ILMURK STEPS BACK AND RE-ENTERS HIS SUIT.

SHOT 28: ILMURKTRAP WRAPS AN ARM AROUND FAWN’S STOMACH.

SHOT 29: ILMURKTRAP WITH FAWN OVER HIS LEFT SHOULDER IN THE WINDOW OF THE BACKROOM DOOR.

CAPTIONS: KICK IT DOWN.

use tHe doorknob. respect tHE past.

“haadRa?”

KICK. IT. DOWN.

SHOT 30: ILMURKTRAP’S HAND IS WRAPPED AROUND THE DOORKNOB.

CAPTIONS: WHO ARE YOU TO PUT COMMANDS BEFORE NEROBZAL?

SHOT 31: ILMURKTRAP GRABS THE LONGER, RECTANGULAR DVD REMOTE FROM THE COFFEE TABLE AND PRESSES THE POWER BUTTON. ILMURKTRAP GRABS THE SHORTER, ROUND HEADED TV REMOTE FROM THE TABLE AND PRESSES THE POWER BUTTON.

CAPTIONS: i was... i am His matesprit.

AH, YES. HE BETRAYED YOU.

SHOT 32: ZOOM IN TO THE BACK OF THE RABBIT MASK TO VIEW ILMURK’S UPSIDE DOWN BRAIDED SPACE BUNS.

CAPTIONS: but He Haasn’t cHaanged His Haair.

WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

SHOT 33: THE SILHOUETTE OF ILMURKTRAP STANDS AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS, LOOKING DOWN.

SHOT 34: A RUDDY SHELDUCK ANIMATRONIC THAT HAS HAADRA ALYEKE INSIDE, HENCEFORTH CALLED HAADRAONIC. ITS COLLAR IS COVERED IN BURGUNDY BLOOD.

CAPTIONS: tHaat He caan be free too.

SHOT 35: ILMURKTRAP LEANS TO HIS LEFT AND PUTS FAWN DOWN.

SHOT 36: FAWN LAYS ON THE FLOOR, WIDE EYED AND SHAKING.

SHOT 37: ILMURKTRAP TIPS HIS HEAD FORWARD. CAPTIONS POP AROUND HIM.

CAPTIONS: HA HA HA-HA HA HA HA!

SHOT 38: ILMURKTRAP JUMPSCARE LUNGES INTO THE CAMERA. BLACKOUT.

SHOT 39: ILMURKTRAP LAYS ON TOP OF HAADRAONIC, JAW MOVING IN LAUGHTER.

CAPTIONS: HA HA HA HA-HA HA HA HA!

SHOT 40: FAWN MOVES HER ARMS TO HER CHEST AND CLOSES BOTH HANDS. FOR 2 FRAMES, MAGENTA LIGHT COMES FROM HER PALMS. SHE OPENS HER HANDS, AND THE LIGHT RETURNS FOR A WHOLE SECOND.

CAPTIONS: “Good-oh! I hated my knees and back anyways.” My powers are warming up. That was magenta. Figured I was a HEART player.

[I SAW THE MAESTRO TRANSITIONS INTO BRIGHT MELODIC SYNTHWAVE I WAS LIED TO.]

SHOT 41: ZOOM IN ON HAADRAONIC’S FACE TO SEE HAADRA’S FACE, TALKING. HAADRA IS ROUND FACED WITH A BULBOUS NOSE. HER HORNS LOOK LIKE THE RUDDY SHELDUCK'S BILL TURNED UPWARDS. SHE WEARS HER HAIR, WHICH GOES OVER HER SHOULDERS, TO THE SIDE AND HAS A "DUCKTAIL" STYLE.

CAPTIONS: you daare laaugH aat aa friend of Their Excellency?

SHOT 42: ARTIST RENDITION AND REFINING OF SAGITTARIUS A* AS IMAGED BY THE EVENT HORIZON TELESCOPE.

CAPTIONS: THE THEATRE IS A SCAM!

tHe tHeaatre is aa Script.

STICK TO THE CANON.

SHOT 44: PÀRRAS, ABOVE WATER.

CAPTIONS: tell tHaat to tHose wHo built Pàrras.

[SHOT 43 CONTEXT: FAWN, AKAL, LOOM AND REED (CHRONICALLY AS FAITH, AJA, LITHO AND RAOUL) DRESSED IN THEIR ANIMATRONIC OC COSTUMES (NOT IN THE ANIMATRONICS) INTERACT WITH RAINBOW COLOURED HUMAN AND TROLL SPIRITS IN DONNA’S DINER ON THE FOURTH FLOOR OF PÀRRAS.]

SHOT 43: AT DONNA’S DEAREST CORNER, A SPARKLY EYED FAITH IS WRITING IN A PURPLE NOTEBOOK WITH A PENCIL, AN ERASER BESIDE IT ON THE TABLE, AMONG TWO WRITERS, THREE ILLUSTRATORS DRAWING HOMESTUCK CHARACTERS AND FAN KIDS AND TROLLS, AND TWO CRAFTERS WORKING ON A POPSICLE STICK SHIP THAT CURRENTLY LOOKS LIKE ERIDAN’S HIVE.

CAPTIONS: tell tHaat to tHose who aare not Honoured.

SHOT 44: DONNA’S FIR GREEN EYES SHINE IN THE DARK, SLIGHTLY ILLUMINATING HER WHITE MASK AS SHE STANDS BEHIND THE CHAIR FAITH SAT AT. WHILE NOT SEEN, DONNA WEARS A DARK POINSETTIA LEAF GREEN OFF-SHOULDER LANTERN DRESS WITH LARGE MAGENTA POINSETTIAS ON THE SLEEVES AND HEM LINE.

CAPTIONS: UNFACTUAL.

It’s not our fault!

SHOT 45: AT AMMA’S ALWAYS ON ARCADE, AJA IS EXCITEDLY WATCHING AND COMMENTATING ON A PLAYTHROUGH OF FNAF 2 BEING PROJECTED ONTO A WALL.

CAPTIONS: tell tHaat to tHose who do not forget.

SHOT 46: AMMA’S BLACK EYES ARE THE FOCUS AND SLOWLY ZOOMED IN ON AS AMMA THE BLACKBUCK ANTELOPE, WEARING A TRANS FLAG COLOURED KODAGU SARI, STANDS IN FRONT OF THE PROJECTOR, ILLUMINATED BY THE VIVID RAINBOW COLOURS OF THE ARCADE MACHINES.

CAPTIONS: PROPAGANDA.

It’s not our fault!

SHOT 47: AT GAYTER’S GALACTIC GYM, A SLIGHTLY SWEATY RAOUL STANDS, WATCHING GUESTS PLAY, TALKING THROUGH A BLACK HEADSET.

CAPTIONS: tell tHaat to tHose who do not speaak.

SHOT 48: GAYTER THE TRANS-FLAG COLOURED ALLIGATOR, WEARING A BLACK SLEEVELESS CROP TOP AND BELLBOTTOMS WITH MUTANT BLOOD COLOURED PAINT SPLOTCHES, IS MISSING ALL OF HIS HEAD EXCEPT THE JAW, EXPOSING THE ENDOSKELETON.

CAPTIONS: COWARDS.

It’s not our fault!

SHOT 49: AT SHEI’S SUPER SING-ALONG, LITHO IS ON STAGE WITH GUESTS PARTICIPATING IN KARAOKE AND DANCING, THE DRUMS AND GUITARS UNOCCUPIED.

CAPTIONS: tell tHaat to tHose who do not abaandon.

Shot 50: THE STAGE IS EMPTY.

CAPTIONS: BOO HOO.

It’s not our fault!

SHOT 51: SHEI MOVES FROM THE LEFT IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA, HER IRIDESCENT ORANGE LEATHER JACKET AND WHITE WITH ORANGE AND YELLOW FLORAL SHIRT VISIBLE. CAMERA QUICKLY PANS UP TO CEILING, THEN DOWN TO VIEW DONNA, AMMA, GAYTER AND SHEILA, WHO ARE TALKING TO THE CAMERA.

CAPTIONS: And it’s not our wish!

SHOT 51: HAADRA’S TALKING FACE FADES IN.

CAPTIONS: aall of us tHaat leer aat you aare deaad. aand more of us tHaat leer aat you aare endaangered. tHe tHeaatre presents tHe staage of our reentraance. weaaring costumes aand clotHes, caaked in colours, aanxious for our cues, we staand aand sit in the Wings.

YOU SNOWFLAKES ARE SO ANNOYING!

[I Can’t Fix You AND I WAS LIED TO FADE OUT. JINGLE BELLS SOFTLY RING.]

Shot 52: VIDEO OF FAITH LAWSON/GLS WEARING LONG SLEEVED OLIVE GREEN SHIRT TALKING AS HERSELF AND FAWN.

CAPTIONS: Did someone say snowflakes? I love winter, you know!

FUCK! YOU’RE ANNOYING!

SHOT 55: BLACKOUT.

CAPTIONS: Phoooo~

SHOT 55: FAWN/FAITH LAWSON/GLS EXHALES. FAWN FADES IN, CLOSING HER EYES AS SHE EXHALES. FAWN BREATHES CALMLY ON A LOOP.

-END OF CHAPTER 1-

[S] Freedom. CREDITS:

Scripting: Faith Lawson

Voices: Fawn Kailey, GLS, Self - Faith Lawson

Ilmurk Crusia - Danielle Yonkers (@nonepizzarightbeef)

Haadra Alyeke -

The Maestro (Nerobzal) -

Akal Kakkar -

Reed Porche -

Loom Rester -

Art: x | @nibblyjimbles | x

Music: x

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piqueconcentration · 9 months ago

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Jitterbug Perfume - Immortality, Sex, and Discomfort

Originally posted January 31, 2024

As is apparently my preferred introduction: It has been quite a while since I have written anything on my computer, but as generally happens after I manage to read or, dare I say it, complete an actual, tangible book, I now am doing so. I type this knowing that Google docs is using my writing to train adolescent artificial intelligentsia, and theoretically I could make the switch to another software, but as is the case with Adobe, the monopoly’s Matrix-style robotic belly-button parasite keeps a firm hold on my psyche, with an extra bonding agent in the form of a powerful distaste for the effort that it would take to learn an entirely foreign user interface, just to marginally weaken the hold that Google has upon my intellectual property, when they are already in possession of basically all of my identifying information. They could probably construct an AI that would perfectly replicate my online presence, idiosyncrasies and ego included, and the only thing that they would have to do at this point to make convincing blog posts from my perspective is post them about as regularly as an agave flowers. If anything, if this particular post goes up on the internet at all, maybe that’s a red flag- I would have to be a mind outside of my own in order to return to a creative project even after my attention span’s honeymoon.

Whatever. I finished a book, and now I am compelled to write. Actually, I finished two books. The first was Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn, the first of the Mistborn trilogy, one that i meant to read way back in high school because some youtuber that I liked at the time had recommended it for its magic system- magic systems, as a concept, I would continue to grow increasingly interested in; the books would remain untouched on my shelf. The second was lent to me by one of my housemates, though I can’t remember the conversation that led to that happening- Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins.

Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, the declaration about me being compelled to write after reading books is only true in the barest sense. Yes, I do feel an urge to write after being exposed to writing that I like, but by no means does that mean that I actually end up, or even begin for that matter, writing anything at all! Also, that same urge doesn’t just apply to writing. I consume manga at a frightening pace, and though by saying this it may imply the opposite sentiment: I do not say that in order to brag- the speed at which I go through webcomics and manga alike is, frankly, detrimental to my experience of the media in question, as I end up retaining almost nothing of what I have had my head immersed in so much that my neck develops knots that hold it at a painful right angle to my torso. I don’t really stop and breathe in the images that the mangaka probably spent hours and hours drawing; if anything, I mostly pay attention to the words written on the page which, in turn, presents a palpable irony in that the reason I have felt unable to read traditional books in recent years is that my attention span balks at walls of text!

Hey, authors! I won’t read your book even though I’d probably like it, because it doesn’t have any pictures in it! Show me your work once you’ve learned to draw!

Oh, holy shit the irony goes even deeper. Even though I feel that creative urge when I read manga, all of my attempts at making comics or even working to be skilled enough at drawing to feel confident in my capacity to do so are stopped in their tracks by the thus far insurmountable obstacle of not being able or willing to pay attention to the thing that I’m drawing for long enough to finish anything. Good lord.

______________________________________________________________

Anyway, the way Jitterbug Perfume was written really affected me. I still can’t tell if I liked it very much (the writing style), but to be fair, I really loved the way George Elliot’s Middlemarch was written, but I have been thus far unable to finish that book by virtue of its inexhaustibly prim density; therefore I suppose that the content of a book and its writing style tend to stay fairly separate considering my enjoyment, and the former aspect seems to have a stronger influence on whether or not I actually manage to make it to the back cover.

In this case, the content was excellent. Jitterbug Perfume was described to me as being about immortality, smell, sex, and beets, and I can’t honestly think of a better way to describe it. It’s a jigsaw puzzle of a story, if all of the pieces on the table were from different moments in time, and at the end, when the pieces fit, you are left with a complete picture that somehow shows an unbelievably cohesive, intimately personal tale, despite the massive scope, time-wise (there are very important events that take place before the advent of Christianity, and plot points of similar influence continue to happen all the way up until modern day).

Now that I think about it, the quality of maintaining a story’s characters and relationships, and especially keeping them as tantamount to the direction and tone of the piece, even when the scope of the story has expanded to include over two thousand years of history, even if that history is embellished upon or entirely invented, is an incredible achievement, and one that I think deserves unending praise. So frequently I find myself put off of pieces of media when, though I once enjoyed them for their characters’ dynamics or their dialogue or their writing styles, those aspects eventually were beaten out of the story by the growing scale of the events taking place. It becomes very difficult for me to continue to be invested in the little things that I like, and for that matter, for the author to continue stipulating on those little things’ presence, when suddenly the fate of the world is at stake, or the consequences of failure become so dire that there is no longer room in the work for mirth.

Jitterbug does this by keeping the story focused almost entirely upon a static set of characters. In all honesty, I do tend to find it a bit grating when a book throws pretty much all of the people that will be introduced over the duration at me all at once, and I also tend to get annoyed when a book switches perspectives back and forth frequently, as it is inevitable that I will be more interested in one of the followed points of view above all of the others (or vice versa, that one of the points of view is especially dull). Let it be known, though generally the book in question pays most attention to the characters that happen to be changing the most, it does do this.

The upside, though, is that even as the setting around the characters morphs drastically with all the changes associated with the world and culture since literally the year 1, the reader is still anchored in the everyday realities of the main characters. The tone of the story stays heavily reliant on each of their emotional states and their changing dynamics. The plot directly follows in the tracks of the characters’ desires and aspirations. As opposed to them being “interesting” people to be around in situations that they have no agency in, they are the driving force of the plot itself, and in this way the book can get away with a mind-boggling amount of in-universe time passing without it ever detaching the reader from the story, or impeding their willingness to care.

That feeling of detachment is exactly the sentiment behind me dropping To Your Eternity by Yoshitoki Oima, a manga that also tackles the concept of immortality, but in a way that I eventually found extraordinarily grating.

Some pieces of media, especially if they continue for a really long time, and even more especially if they are about characters that live much longer than a normal human lifespan, end up bestowing upon these characters a very particularly draining character arc: eventually becoming the most fucking boring people ever. This isn’t really, I don’t think, a product of repetition of personality beats -One Piece, for example, has a main cast that are each fairly one-note, but to me they remain compelling because of the unrelenting new situations, characters, and settings that they rotate through- rather, a common sentiment on the concept of immortality is that a person who is subjected to it will elect that it is a much smarter thing to avoid attachments and emotions as a way of staving off the pain of repeated loss. Combine that with the formula of introducing a bunch of new people, spending a lot of time with them, and then killing them off and meditating on how pointless it all was, and you will have on one hand: a philosophically engaging story about life’s purpose and value; and on the other: one that I will not be reading anymore. Fuck you.

Each time skip in To Your Eternity, my dejection would build, and even though I did enjoy the concepts therein quite a bit, I eventually quit reading when there was a time skip that jumped over so many years that the archaic setting I had been enjoying was gone, along with any characters aside from the protagonist that I may have liked, and I no longer had the will to continue.

Anyway, the point is that Jitterbug Perfume deftly avoids this problem by holding the human experience as an inalienable thru-line. Longer-lived characters don’t become harder to identify with- if anything they become more dear to the reader, as the sentiments that are the crux of their longevity are easily identified with. Their goals, whether they are aware of it or not, are the preservation of emotion and connection- things that the reader can presumably empathize with quite well.

The writing style I would describe as “irreverently confident and connotatively confusing.” The majority of the instances in which Robbins describes anything in this book are unrelentingly riddled with descriptors of every kind, and often of opposing kinds- many sentences use several adjectives to describe a single thing, and the adjectives often carry wildly different connotations. A single line may depict something as both gorgeous and disgusting, just by virtue of the words chosen. Jitterbug is more than willing to yank the reader back and forth like this, and the literary whiplash results in this sort of all-encompassing feeling of mild discomfort. The prose itself is captivating, but in less of the fashion of a ballet performance and more so like a lapdance that really walks the line between attractive and nauseating.

Regardless of whether or not I enjoy the style personally (I still can’t really tell, but I’m leaning toward the favorable side), it strikes me as being exactly what the author wanted. Off-putting, certainly, but one hundred percent intentional. A significant portion of the book’s subject matter consists of topics and sentiments that are at most culturally taboo, and at least playing fast and loose with modern morals and sentiments, especially when it comes to sex. This book, which I really enjoyed, which made me smile and frown and think and even write… will not shut the fuck up about sex.

Every character is steeped in it. Every metaphor is constructed with it. I feel like I could purchase a brand new copy of this fucking thing and its pages would already be stuck together. To get a sense of my feelings (historically) about this- one of my favorite quotes of a friend of mine is from when they asked me: “Hey [my name], would you rather have sex or be stabbed with a knife?”

My point about the “motion sickness” writing style being that it works in favor of the subject matter. The fact that the whole novel is written in a way that makes the reader a little nauseous, figuratively, creates a tone that is much more conducive to, well, not necessarily the intimate discussion of what our society views as crossing lines in the social sand or what should or should not be allowed, but rather the regular enunciation of kind of uncomfortable topics. Combined with a fairly unconcerned and playful tone, the book is able to deftly accept the discomfort that arises from a journey that holds sex as a central theme while progressing through several different settings -cultural and chronological- all with differing views and judgements about a traditionally awkward topic.

Anyway, I liked the book. There is a sentence in there that goes: “Like jugged bees, the funeral orations droned on (134).”

If you think you can make it past all of the disconcertingly flowery (ha, ha.) descriptions of bodily fluids for long enough to make it to that absolute banger of a quote, this may be one to check out.

#pique concentration #jitterbug perfume #tom robbins #to your eternity #fumetsu no anata e #book review #book recommendations #booklr #books #immortality #writing tropes

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