#GRABS YOU AND SHAKES YOU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

treetownconfessions · 1 year ago

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yeah get to it anon. shoves you

I guess so.

—

Five seats today. Not counting his own, then it was six.

He walked around the table, hands full and counting each chair in his head as he went. Once he stopped at his own, his fingers hooked around the handle of the teapot and poured a modest amount into his cup. He halted once it hit the level he wanted— not too much, not too little. They were nice teacups, he’d thought time and time again. Arguably one of his favorite sets. He used it exclusively when he was stumped on something.

His fingers were shaky today. Enough so that if he dwelled on the topic at hand for long, he’d slip up and whatever he had in his grasp would go speeding to the floor. Not that he could help it. He was excited. Giddy. Happy. But very, very nervous. Flippy made firm to his nerves not to let it happen again, especially holding a teapot that'd shatter at the sight of trouble.

And it would be on the carpet. Flippy made a face at the thought. Picking porcelain shards out— what a mess.

Only something to fuss about if it actually happened, he reminded, making a slow stride around the table. Whether or not the possibility would leave his head, well, that was a separate story. He would stop, cautiously leaning over his visitors to fill their cups. He wasn’t worried about zoning out for too long in front of his participants this time. They were rather understanding.

Of course, that didn’t mean he lacked manners. The sergeant murmured a sincere ‘sorry,’ upon accidentally slouching one of his guests forward, quickly adjusting them to be fixed upright. Flippy continued, finally making it back around to the start and filling the cup neighboring his. If any of his friends wanted a refill, they would tell him.

The teapot was placed back in the center of the table, making sure it lined up directly with the edges of the plate. He double checked to assure he’d gotten everyone before reaching for a different set adjacent to the tea, and promptly setting two cookies on his plate. He made his round again, and at a laborious pace, placing two cookies for each visitor and a perfect amount as he’d only made a dozen. It was a painfully lengthy process to others, he was sure, constantly rechecking the plates over his shoulder to be certain there were exact amounts each. Flippy could practically hear his alter making fun of him for taking his sweet time for something so unnecessary. Everything had to be in order.

The plate was empty. He considered making another fast visit to get extras in case it wasn’t enough. It would be terribly rude not to provide additional food if they were needed, but at the same time, leaving repeatedly for something was poor technique. He stood frozen for a second, weighing his choices before deciding it was a lose-lose, and took his seat amongst the others.

“Alright,” he said breathlessly, scooting his chair forward. A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth upon surveying the neat setup around him, pressing his hands together. “Sorry for taking so long! I wanted things to be extra right today.”

The table was, in his opinion, a meticulous organization enough to calm himself down. The centerpieces were the teapot, the previously-stacked plate of cookies, and a vase of golden flowers that his taller neighbor generously handed over when asked. He took a minute to admire it, eyeing each object for several seconds and then moving onto the next with an innocent beam.

“And sorry again for setting this up on short notice.” he slowed to take a sip of his tea: he liked chamomile. “It was kinda rude of me to call you all over so suddenly, but this is really important.”

Worries of whether this really was important enough to waste their time did not cross his mind for once, though there was a brief pause in atmosphere. Flippy took a deep breath, casting his gaze down and politely placing his cup back. “I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you what’s happened these past couple days with Fliqpy. He told me a lot of things the other day— they were good things, don’t worry, and I felt the same way, so now we’re…”

His movement slowed dramatically as he thought, the gears in his head turning by the second as he pressed his mouth into a line. He took his time, eventually fumbling with his hands into an intertwined mess. He could feel his ears getting redder by the second. “... closer.”

He took a spoon off the table, dipping it in his teacup and stirring it steadily. Something to focus on. Anything to focus on. The only sound in the room was the consistent clanking of silver against porcelain and his soft sighs as he composed himself. “And that’s kind of the problem. I don’t know how things are supposed to be between us. I don’t know how to act.”

It was an issue he couldn’t put into words if he tried, and an especially evident one now that he and Fliqpy were on good terms with each other after so long. He didn’t know what expectations and rituals were the norm and which weren’t; there was no set standard for them like others had.

Fliqpy wasn’t like anyone else he knew. They didn’t fit into any existing categories of relationship. There was no socially appropriate way to act around each other, or view each other. He was Flippy’s alter. They felt like friends sometimes, but friends weren’t stuck in each others’ consciousness. The silence they sometimes shared together could be comparable to strangers, but it was too comfortable for that. Their knowledge of one another was far too personal to define their interactions as business or convenience-only. Sometimes it was like they were unsworn enemies, trying to ruin their lives out of spite— though, that was more on Fliqpy’s end. Did he even have a concept of societal standards? It stressed him out.

It was weird. It was weird and confusing, and it wasn’t like Flippy could consult his friends for advice. They certainly wouldn’t know either.

He'd retrieved his least judgemental audience for this disastrous situation. They sat unmoving and untalking: a teddy bear in one seat, a stuffed purple penguin in the other, a floppy bunny in the third and a round-looking deer in the fourth. He smiled generously at each of them, only looking away once an acceptable amount of time passed. The fifth seat next to his was empty. He’d saved it for Fliqpy, despite knowing he obviously couldn’t show up.

Their gentle, fabricated eyes did wonders for Flippy’s nerves. He'd been shot with over his fair share of bizarre looks and they wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon. It cheered him up nicely, and while he hated picking favorites between his softer friends, it was necessary sometimes. Regardless of who he brought to this mess he would be receiving critique either way.

For bringing up Fliqpy in general, or talking to stuffed animals. But he did the latter quite often.

Maybe too often.

Flippy set down his spoon, flicking the extra drops back into the cup and wrapping his hands around both sides of it. He took an extra thoughtful sip. “So… since I don’t know what to do, or what’s right to do, I was thinking I could just start it?”

Saying it outloud set it in stone for him. They had to set the standard for themselves. They could set their own rules and their own expectations and affection for each other. In hindsight it was a breath of fresh air, and a second part of him simultaneously screamed otherwise. But he pushed that to the back of his head for now. No time for fretting when he was still in the middle of a party.

“That’s why I wanted to give him a gift. Something nice.” The tips of his fingers tapped absentmindedly against the teacup. “Something he’ll like.”

Gift-giving in the same body was hard. The most they'd done was leave notes for the other when they switched, and that had nothing to do with acts of generosity. His counterparts' interests were strewn about enough on their own— they could’ve easily changed over time without Flippy’s knowledge. His intuition screamed to just buy Fliqpy a box of chocolates and some roses: everyone else did it and it made them happy in the end. But his knowledge on these cases was a thing he’d long found unreliable when it came to Fliqpy. He didn’t obey the same morals as everyone else, much less the same perception of the world— maybe he hated chocolate and roses.

He couldn’t trust his gut, so he had to rely on his limited comprehension of Fliqpy.

“Well,” he said, “what do you think?”

He cast his attention towards the purple penguin, blinking. A beat of silence passed. Then Flippy deflated. “I did wanna knit him something, but I don’t know if he likes any of that stuff. That’s out of the question for now.” he muttered.

“Oh, and I wrote a list for it too.” he set down his cup, pushing his chair back and straining for something on top of his bed. He dragged it off the surface and presented the paper in his lap. “Except, all of them are for other people and I don’t think any of these suit him.”

He put it down on the table as well with a groan. “Most of what Fliqpy likes is really violent, or pretty specific. So I’m kind of at a blank.”

He was torn. He was torn and he couldn’t consider what everyone else did when they were torn, because 'everyone else' wouldn't be in a position like this in the first place. He racked his mind for solutions, anxiously combing his fingers through his fur. The action sickened him quickly and he resorted to pressing his palms against the sides of his ears. Before they hated each other, before they had their awful falling out, what did Fliqpy like? Had he ever said it in passing?

Unfortunately he couldn’t recognize if their beginnings together gave him good insight to the other bear. Fliqpy was a bit of a blank slate when Flippy first met him, in the sense where he was fascinated with everything. Flowers, pollution, the concept of a house, giraffes, vacuums…

His alter’s interests were morphed by his surroundings and the things that accompanied it, so it was only natural he was so… barbaric? He later told Flippy he’d been drawn to violence from the start anyway and there wasn’t anything that could’ve prevented it in the end—not that it would stop Flippy from blaming himself—or delayed the inevitable want for bloodshed.

Was it impossible to get him something without having it be so gruesome?

He wasn’t about to buy him a weapon (they had more than enough, didn’t they?). He couldn’t knit him something— not yet, anyway. Purchasing materialistic items were kindly reserved for people Flippy didn’t like. Baking him a treat seemed like the most appealing option within his playable cards.

Yet that was easy. Too easy, and Flippy found that when things felt too easy for him, they never ended up good.

“I don’t wanna ask him directly, ‘cause then he’ll know I’m trying to get him something nice.” His earlier efforts were discarded as he scratched at his head, resisting the urge to dig his fingers in and give himself a bigger headache.

Several of the ideas he vocalized were jotted on the list hastily, but they weren't acceptable. It had to be good, because it wasn’t for himself. It had to be good, because it was for someone else— it had to be good, because it was for Fliqpy. He took another swig of tea, notably less warmed. He almost wished his own moral compass were as low as Fliqpy’s so he could bake him a corpse or something and be done with it.

Settling for the next best thing would be his greatest bet then. He glanced at the vacant seat beside him.

“... Maybe I should just make him one of everything?" he mused, and brightened afterwards. It wasn’t the worst plan in the world, and he was dying to distract himself with something ever since Fliqpy confessed. A handful of ideas crossed him and confirmed how busy he would be. He’d have to go to the grocery store to buy all the things he needed. It sounded fun. Fun, and very worth it.

Flippy took a final, cheerful drink from his cup. The cookies were left untouched. “I think that settles it, yeah… is it a good idea?”

He smiled warmly at all his fuzzy listeners, taking his time to look between all of them. They stayed still as ever. Once the confirmation settled, Flippy pushed his chair back, standing up briskly and letting out a relieved sigh.

“Okay. You’re right.” he said. The room was inanimate. He was the audience.

It was a mindless kind of affection. About keeping himself busy enough to, quite literally, not let a single thought occur.

His hands stayed busy, between counting and making and cleaning and checking. Occasionally he’d step out of the kitchen to ask his stuffed spectators for opinions, setting each newly-made craft in front of them like a fresh award. Their invisible stamp of approval was important here. Dreary light shone through his windows once he called it quits.

He fell asleep.

That automatic ignorance was replaced by its dire opposite; the kind of awareness that Flippy couldn’t help but wince at once it hit him. There was a pit in his stomach accompanying the feeling, and a dizzy lightheadedness. Not the fever kind, or the about-to-risk-your-life kind, but the flustered kind. If it were affecting him by the time he was dropping into their shared mindscape, he didn’t show it.

On the other hand, it made a pleasant surprise to guess what landform he would end up in once he arrived. Even though most of the time it was desecrated with gore from whatever Fliqpy chose to be busy with, Flippy found it funny to look past that and think about the underneath. Whether or not it was made using Fliqpy's imagination or a real area Flippy himself had unknowingly been to before was a question he liked to leave unanswered.

When Flippy opened his eyes and took one look around, he knew immediately it was home.

Not inside his actual house, he thought as he sat up, though a surprisingly close distance from it. The forest beyond his house’s reach was unforgettable. He plucked a stray leaf off the ground and turned it around in his hold. It bent stiffly towards him, blotched with the warm colors of the trees and a belated reminder that winter was right around the corner.

He shook it off, getting to his feet and glancing back and forth around him. It would be stupid getting lost in a forest Flippy considered part of his residence now, but that wasn’t the problem. Of course he knew how to get to his house from here.

He wanted to see Fliqpy.

There were enough details off to make him wonder. Not noticeable enough to have him do double-takes, but enough to slow his pace to stare at everything leisurely. The trees were shorter and there were uneven dips in the ground where there shouldn’t have been. The overgrowth hung unnaturally high enough to where Flippy was unconsciously wiping at his brow, the habit of having to brush away vines and leaves whilst walking in these woods too ingrained to forget. Somehow it was superbly fitting for who he was looking for.

As he walked, Flippy considered calling Fliqpy’s name for a minute before rapidly trashing the idea. Fliqpy was usually elusive like that— either he decided on being visible or he wasn’t. He tried not to linger on the idea of Fliqpy avoiding him on purpose, or really, any of the awful thoughts that’d been harassing him from the moment Fliqpy opened his mouth to confess: the ones that existed solely for the sake of getting under Flippy’s skin.

He’d give Fliqpy the benefit of the doubt. Flippy grimaced slightly.

His sulking was cut short once he stepped into one of many small clearings, drawing immediate attention to the only other person he shared this space with. A different kind of anxiety shot through Flippy when their eyes met and he blinked rapidly, feeling his ears and his cheeks burn in unison. “Hi.” he blurted.

Fliqpy stared at him with an unreadable expression. He looked Flippy up and down for a brief second before passively turning back to the direction he was facing prior to being interrupted, unsurprised. “Hey.”

—

I wrote more after this but. <3 It's locked behind 55 Treecoin.

#fanfic #GRABS YOU AND SHAKES YOU #WHERES THE REST

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