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fluorescentpipedream · 4 years ago

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Dark and Stormy

“Ugh...” Bill scowled as he set down the tall glass on the polished marble bar-top Baccarat Bar and leaned back in his seat a little. Taking the lime off the side of his glass, he bit into it and held his hand up for the bartender, ordering a jack and coke instead. As the man took the glass away, he turned to see Rob staring at the ornate glass thing ahead of him them, behind the bar itself. After a moment or two, Rob blinked and looked away from the thing, nodding his head to Bill and came over to him. The two talked for a moment before agreeing to move away from the crowded bar and off to one of the small enclaves. They settled into one that had a long couch, where Bill sat and crossed his legs at the knee and crushed blue velvet chairs across from it, which Rob sat in, leaning forward slightly as he tried to get situated in the thing. He seemed a little uncomfortable for a moment or two, while he got settled but when the waitress came over he seemed to relax a bit more. The waitress asked them for their order and Bill shrugged.

“I’d ask for a dark and stormy but I already know how that’s going to play out..can I get a glass of water to go with my jack and coke?” He raised the glass he’d brought with him from the bar. Rob ordered an old fashioned and Bill smirked. Of course...he was an older man, after all. After a pause, Rob asked the young woman to bring around the cigar box as well.

“Do you mind?” Bill shook his head, he didn’t smoke himself but he wasn’t going to tell Rob he couldn’t indulge. When the young woman left them, Bill leaned back on the gold couch and pulled his t-shirt down a little as it rode up his stomach.

“What’s a dark and stormy?”

“It’s ginger beer, dark rum and a lime to calm the spice down”

“It sounds awful. How did you come to try that the first time?”

Bill chuckled. Adam had the same reaction the last time he’d seen him.

“It was in Nassau. I’d been on Paradise Island for a book signing and had a few days to kill before heading home. The hotel manager where I was staying originally suggested a little bed and breakfast near Fort Nassau. I’m a history buff so I booked myself a room and ended up staying for a few weeks. Took some tours, saw things I never imagined...spent the better part of a few days just sitting on the beach.”

“Ahh. I was there once for training but didn’t get to see a whole lot. What was so special about that particular B & B?”

“It’s one of the oldest buildings on the island, having been there since the Golden Age of Piracy and according to the man who owns it, it was the brothel where Jack Rackham and Charles Vane once lived. No telling how much of that was true, but there were some convincing historical markers all over the place He actually went with me to the Exuma Cays and had a little adventure with the swimming pigs.” Rob repeated the words and Bill took his phone from his back pocket, pulling up a picture of him and another man in crystal blue waters and surrounded by wild pigs.

“Well alright then...how did they get there?”

“I asked the same thing...no one really knows. The myth is related to the golden age of piracy, they swam to an uninhabited island after a shipwreck and eventually took over. No one actually lives in the Cays so it’s pretty much a free area for them. We also got to feed manta rays and see...” He held up a picture of himself holding a starfish. “It was a hell of a day trip actually. After we came back to the B & B, Jack made us some dinner and we sat beside a fire, bare feet in the sand, watching the moon over the water. He’s an odd fellow, very old soul.”

“So were you and him....?”

“No, Jack is -mostly- straight.” Bill laughed and leaned forward, taking a drink before setting his glass back down again. “ But I’d consider him a friend. He seemed kind of lonely, honestly.” Hearing his name, he turned his head slightly and held his hand up to acknowledge a large group of the 30 somethings that were standing near the edge of the bar. Excusing himself, he moved over to the side to talk to them for a moment.

“They’re all heading to the Crystals, but apparently Joey is splurging at some steak house in the Aria tonight. We’re expected, of course.”

“Hmm..” Rob was looking at his phone and Bill raised an eyebrow as he sat back down again. His own phone beeped at him and he leaned back, taking a small pill case out of his pocket and took one of the white pills inside with his water. As he washed it down with a sip from his drink, Rob had put his phone away again. The waitress came and brought him his cigar, cut it and lit it for him and set down another round of drinks for them as well. After he took a drag, Bill motioned to his phone.

“Boyfriend?” Bill asked.

“Hmm...I’m not sure what we are really. Mike is....I don’t know”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s strange having someone my sister’s age”

“You need a man”

“Hmm”

“Rob,” Bill sighed and took a moment to choose his next words carefully. The bar was relatively quiet for mid-afternoon and soft jazz played around them. As he looked over Rob he wrinkled his nose.

“It’s okay to start at this life late. Better late than never”

Rob frowned and took another long drag from the cigar. It was a Opus X Rare Black, one of the newer ones they had and definitely one of the more expensive ones on the menu. Even from where he was sitting, Bill could taste nutmeg and leather and as Rob breathed it in, he was pleasantly surprised by the spicy flavor.

“What’s that look for?”

Bill smirked and licked his lips. “I never considered cigars to be sexy before...that smells like leather and chocolate.” Rob laughed and offered it to the other man who turned it down.

“Tell me about the first time you realized you were gay.”

Rob looked a little taken aback and Bill narrowed his eyes at him. “You need to be able to say the word, if we’re going to get anywhere. Rob...You’re gay. There’s nothing wrong with that...from what your sister has said, your family isn’t against you, which is lucky. So where’s this coming from?”

Rob sighed. “The first person I was ever with was my best friend. We spent every waking moment together since we were in Elementary school I think. The first time I really noticed him in that way though....it was back in junior high school. It’s cliche but we went swimming and for some reason seeing him get out of the water floored me. We kissed but we had to keep it a secret and somewhere in the middle of that, I panicked. I enlisted almost immediately after my 18th birthday to try to run from it....I broke his heart. He got married and still lives in Nawlins...” Rob was irritated and blew out a cloud of smoke, exasperatingly adding “I’ve had 3 wives, five kids and one of those sons tells me that he doesn’t feel he was ever a son in the first place. I’m 52 years old and feel like I’ve wasted my life...”

Bill frowned and scoot forward so he could lay his hand on Rob’s knee, though the other man looked almost nervous when he did so. Seeing his discomfort, Bill took his hand away and leaned back again.

“That’s part of your issue right now...you’re so ashamed of who you are you aren’t giving yourself a chance to actually figure out who that is.”

Rob scowled but he knew the other man was right. “The first time I start dating, I do it with a guy who is half my age and more flamboyant than a damn peacock...sometimes. Mike is weird..”

“He’s young. He’s still trying to figure out what kind of gay he is.”

“He’s a damn genius, certified.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s got everything figure out.”

“Honestly, I think I’m a rebound.”

“What makes you say that?”

“His ex beat him and tried to get the upper hand on him, Mike told me about it when I got a little rough with him and he coiled up like a snake. Told me he’d bashed the other man on the head with something and left.”

“He’s upgraded then”

“He still loves Travis though...”

“That’s his problem, not yours. What kind of man could you see yourself being with?”

“I’ve never really given it much thought...”

“Surely you’ve...experimented? The military is about as gay as it gets.” Bill winked at him and the two laughed.

“I’ve had a few...”

“Top or bottom?”

“What?”

“Are you in control or not?” Bill looked at him and Rob shrugged. “Both...I think I actually like being the one not in control though...”

“You’re a bottom then...huh I never would have thought, honestly.”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation in the middle of a cigar bar in Las fucking Vegas.”

“Would you rather have it at the pool? You need to be able to be open about this kind of shit...this is your life. So...what do you want?”

“Every time I think about it, every single times, I end up falling back into the box that I’m too old to even worry about it anymore.”

“A lot of young men love the father figure idea, which I’ll never understand. That ‘daddy’ kink just kills me. But that’s their thing. Do you like it?”

“Eh...there’s something about a younger man on his knees, looking up at me with all the desire in his eyes but honestly I can’t see that turning into much more than a couple of rounds and then us parting ways. Which is the issue I think I have with Mike. I find myself wanting to actually treat him like my son.”

“So you need someone your own age.”

“Eh...I’ve never met a lot of old gays.”

“I’m an old gay, Rob. What do you think, we all dissolve after 35?”

“You’re not that old though. I’m a senior citizen for fuck’s sake”

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned forward, sneering slightly as he spoke. “For fuck’s sake, Rob! You are NOT that old! Sebastian told me how you put him in his place with the parkour/pull up thing...that’s not easy to do. Fuck, you showed up half of the little punks at the gym this morning.”

Rob looked down and smiled a little, thinking about it. The boys had been younger than Frankie and been making snide comments about the sexy girls in the gym and the old fart that shouldn’t be in there in the first place, he might break his hip. Bill had been doing pull ups beside him, with Rob counting, when one of the boys had started on him again he benched three times what the little pissant had, without even flinching.

“You know the answer to the question I keep asking you...what do you want?”

“I want to walk up to my former friends’ house and see if there’s any way he’d ever take me back.”

“I thought he was married.”

“His husband died a few months back...”

“That’s terrible...but maybe having a friend like you coming back into his life would actually be a good thing...The least you can do right now is see where he is in the situation...would he be interested or should you move on. It’s a lot easier than you’re making it. But if the kid isn’t making you happy...there’s no shame in telling him that. Maybe it’ll give him a chance to find out what he really wants to do with his life.”

“Or he’ll go back to an abusive drunk.”

“There’s no shame in keeping up with him but once you break it off, you aren’t responsible for what he does. You’re not his father...” Bill leaned forward and picked up his drink and with the glass pressed against his bottom lip he said “you’re his fuck buddy.” Rob looked bewildered and the other man laughed into his drink, setting it down again.

“What about you? All of your friends are -mostly- straight.” Rob fired back at him.

Bill frowned and dropped his head to one side, pushing his blond hair out of his face when he pulled it up again and sighed. “I’m almost 40 years old and AIDS positive.” Rob knew but still looked shocked at how cavalier he was about it .

“I’m not ashamed, Rob. I fucked up, shared needles while I was an addict and paid for it...ultimately with my life. But I refuse to let this thing kill me without actually enjoying my life. I was in love once, but he and I turned out to be better friends. Anyone else I’ve been with never really takes hold and honestly...” Bill thought about it for a moment. “I don’t want someone that can make me scream into a pillow or beg me to make him cum. I’ve had some time to think about this and what I want is someone I can talk to, travel with, see the world and just...spend the days with...” He trailed off for a moment. “Those nights on the beach with Jack, that’s what I want. Except with him, I know it’s just friendship and I’m fine with that, though I’d love to have someone that loves me as much as I do him, is as adventurous as I am and will be there to hold my hand when I take my final breath.”

It was sad when he really thought about it and often tried not to do so, but the biggest thing about him, Bill wasn’t ashamed of where he was in life. After his diagnosis, he’d decided to make the best of it and to do everything he possibly could. He had a bucket list and was slowly ticking things off of it. He’d climbed Everest, been to the Bahamas and was hoping to get to Argentina to go fishing specifically but he wanted to go from there to Chile and see the ruins and before he’d come on this little birthday trip, he’d been training to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. Bill wanted to live and do all the things people would tell him he wouldn’t be able to because of his diagnosis. After a moment, he leaned forward and picked up the cigar Rob had been smoking, taking a drag off of it and coughed a few times before setting it down.

“Good god...I guess I can cross that one off my list too...”

Rob sat in silence for a moment while he tried to digest most of what Bill had said and had told him about what had happened in his life and how he’d just picked up and turned it into something else. For himself, Rob had wasted most of his life hiding who he really was, and what did he have to show for it? In two days, his little sister was going to be surprised with a wedding, he knew about it, and their parents were going to be there too. He was here early, having told her that he wanted to do something spontaneous and randomly decided to come to Vegas. Mike couldn’t come with him or hadn’t wanted to come or...whatever the reason was and Rob knew Frankie was smart enough she was eventually going to figure out that something was going on. Which is one of the reasons he was spending as much time away from her and her friends.

As Bill suddenly leaned forward and took his cigar from him, Rob chuckled, though stopped when Bill mentioned his list. Bill took a couple of drinks of water to clear his throat and wiped the corners of his mouth as he tried to breathe without coughing.

“So...what do you think of this surprise wedding thing? I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as totally in love with another person as I have with Sebastian and your sister. I see why he turned me down when I met him.”

“Considering her his---...wait. You hit on him?” Rob’s eyes widened.

“Oh yeah...wouldn’t you?”

“He’s not really my type.”

“Oh so you do have one....”

“I have questions about Joey but he’s a good kid. And Jasper....”

“Yeah....he’s definitely easy to look at.” Rob smiled, in spite of himself and Bill only grinned at him.

“You old fag...Want to get your hands on that ass, huh?”

“...”

“I’m teasing. I think he knows honestly..”

“That makes it worse.”

“The man’s a professional fighter and spends most of his time in tight shorts and no shirt, he’s got to know there are people that jack off to his pictures.”

Rob went quiet for a moment before suddenly laughing. “I used to have the issue of Men’s Health in my office...”

“Oh so did I.”

After a few minutes of silence their conversation turned to Bill’s next book, or next adventure and if he would ever consider writing an actual travel book...the stuff they don’t tell you when you have an illness and still want to see the world. Rob invited him the New Orleans to go fishing in the spring for red fish. “They’re a trash fish but they’re actually really good if you cook them right...” And then it turned to the two of them planning a trip to Argentina to go fly fishing with a company called Solid Adventures.

“The idea of a 38lb glacier king salmon is too much to pass up in my short lifetime” Bill laughed as he had the waitress come back to their table, though this time it was for the check. Rob paid this time, and Bill playfully asked him if this was a date as they stood up and walked out of the bar. Sebastian had texted that they were on their way back to get changed for dinner, Joey’s dad was going to have a car take them over in an hour.

“Do you really think Frankie is going to be surprised by this wedding thing?”

“I think so. She’ll never go through another one that she’s got to plan, I think it’s better that its getting sprung on her. And as much as I want to hate him, you’re right. No one has ever loved her as much as that man does.”

#conversations #characters #josh brolin #Jasper Pääkkönen

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dragonasheswrites-blog · 7 years ago

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The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 19: In Which Piracy is Encouraged

...But no one seems to mind.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 18: In Which Sans Has a Heart

Next: Chapter 20: The Trouble With Paperwork

Click here for the story overview.

Sans came back to reality feeling disoriented and he automatically tensed. Pain was what woke him, and for a long moment that was all he could focus on. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, he took stock of what was making his bones scream at him.

His injured arm felt like it had been shattered, which sent a pulse of fear through his soul. A quick glance down confirmed that it was still only fractured, but the sight of the injuries seemed to only increase the pain. He hissed, trying to find some way to release the tension that wouldn’t bring Boss to his door.

It helped - a little - and he fought to focus on something else instead. Why was he injured? Why was he so sore? Slowly, memories of the fight trickled back. The kids, the cops, Undyne. The damn dogs that ran off without a second thought. The alleyway…

The cat was mewling softly when he rolled over to examine it, looking a bit more wobbly than it had earlier. Abruptly, he realized that neither he nor the cat had eaten dinner. From its size, the cat was probably pretty young; babies needed to eat regularly, if he remembered correctly.

He pulled himself upright with a grunt and slipped his jacket on. It was still damp, and smelled awful, but it was a layer of protection.

The clock in the kitchen confirmed that he’d only been asleep for about two hours. He was feeling it in every bone of his body. He felt heavy and light at the same time, and he wondered idly what would happen if he just collapsed. Would he float, caught between the two odd sensations? Probably not, his logical mind concluded. He’d just tip over like an idiot and jostle his already-aching bones.

There was still some canned food in the cupboard, and Sans scanned the labels. Cats were carnivores, right? He thought back to the few times he’d encountered Mettaton’s torture assistant, a cynical and depressed cat monster. A hazy memory of the guy removing the bun and pickles from a burger tickled the back of his skull. It was unusual that any monster would turn his nose up at food, so the incident had stuck with him.

Hopefully surface cats acted on the same principle. There was a can of shredded chicken in the back of the cupboard; he grabbed it and, after a bit of quiet shuffling through the shelves, an old clamshell takeout container that Boss had insisted on washing. He filled one half with water, then carefully made his way back to his room.

The cat was extremely grateful for the water, which Sans found surprising considering it had nearly drowned just a few hours before. He let it do...whatever it was doing with its tongue (flicking water into its mouth? It looked inefficient) while he wrangled the canned chicken open one-handed.

Thankfully, the chicken didn’t have any weird flavorings. He was fairly certain that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to feed a cat anyways, but it was that or starve. He carefully dished out some smaller pieces onto the empty half of the container and set it beside the water.

Almost immediately, the food was gone. Sans reluctantly took a few more lumps and plopped them onto the lid.

“That’s all ya get,” he grumbled. “I’ve gotta eat too.”

The cat responded with a plaintive meow, indicating its displeasure at being cut off.

“What? I don’t even know how you’re eating all that. You actually have a real stomach, doncha? Isn’t it full by now?”

Another meow.

“Shhh. If ya wake up Boss, we’re both out on our asses. You feel me?”

He finished up his portion of the chicken quickly, not really tasting it. His arm was starting to heal as his body converted the food into magic, but it was a slow process. He considered asking if Tori had some time to look at it; he hadn’t properly talked to her in months, since before he’d started watching Att...her. The last time he came close to visiting was when he dropped off Frisk’s Christmas gift, and he’d just left that on her front porch. Who knew what she thought of that.

On second thought, he could probably power through it.

“‘Kay, then. I’m gonna head back to bed for a few hours. You good in the box?”

The cat blinked at him.

“...I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

He rolled over carefully, taking the pressure off his injured side, and tried to sleep.

“SANS”

“Whazzit?” Had he slept at all?

“WAKE UP THIS INSTANT AND TURN YOUR ALARM OFF! ALSO, DO NOT THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT LAST NIGHT! BE PREPARED FOR PUNISHMENT WHEN YOU RETURN THIS EVENING!”

Loud footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Sans’s soul sank. There went his plan of avoiding Boss.

He sat up carefully and turned his alarm off. He’d gotten so used to waking up at a certain time that he’d been getting up before his alarm even went off lately, which was useful but flat out annoying. Apparently the night before was enough to throw his sleep schedule off.

A soft cry from the corner of the room brought his attention back to the cat. Sure enough, it had made some kind of icky sticky mess on his shirts; just as well that they’d be tossed in the wash.

“Ya good in there, bud?”

The cries paused for a moment, then resumed.

“I, uh, don’t speak cat. ‘M not sure what ya want. Are ya hungry? Thristy? Throw me a bone here. Heh.”

The cat didn’t speak any language Sans knew, but it apparently recognized when his attention was on it. Its noises changed in pitch and frequency to the point where Sans half-expected Boss to come storming up the stairs to investigate the racket.

“Okay, okay. Shhh. Shhhhhhh.” He picked it up and ran his phalanges over the impossibly soft fur. This calmed the creature a little, enough that its noises weren’t quite so high-pitched and distressed.

“I tell ya what. If you can keep quiet 'til I get out the front door, we can raid the hot dog stand supplies for breakfast. How’s that sound?”

The cat made a few little mruph sounds that he took as agreement.

Boss had already headed out for the day by the time Sans made his way downstairs, which was helpful. He had to set the cat down to pull his shoes on, which prompted more crying, but it stopped when he settled it back into his jacket. He decided to leave the zipper alone; the little critter didn't like being restrained. The way it was sitting didn’t exactly look comfy to him, but the cat was purring again. It felt strangely nice against his bones.

The walk to the hot dog stand was worse than usual. The cold rain had turned to snow sometime in the night, and his usual path along the side of the road was obscured by a light dusting of white. He could feel the ache in his bones from the fight the night before with every step, and halfway there the cat decided it liked the cold even less than it liked being confined and had retreated further into the jacket.

It was a relief when his stand was set up and he could finally settle his bones onto his stool. The cat, interested by the fun smells, popped its head out to explore.

CLANK CLANG KA-CLANK CLANG CLANG

...And immediately retreated as far back inside his jacket as it could manage. Sans peered in the direction of the noise, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Heya, GD! Want some breakfast?”

Greater Dog bounded up, slobber flying everywhere as he panted excitedly. *YESYESYES,* he barked. *WANT WARM PUP TREAT FOR BREAKFAST PLEASE.*

“One hot dog for a cool dog, comin’ right up.” He dressed the ‘dog up the way he knew GD liked it: a few generous slices of cheese, some bacon crumbles, and a bit of steamed mustard greens. (He’d been testing new ‘healthy’ toppings a year or so back, and while most of them were total flops the dogs really liked the mustard greens. Since they couldn’t eat most of what he served, he kept it on the menu.) “There ya go, big guy. Bone appetite!”

Greater Dog barked a laugh and took the ‘dog with one large prosthetic hand. *THANKS, FAVORITE BONE BUDDY. LOOKS GOOD. GOOD FOOD. GOOD GOOD GOOD.*

“Glad it suits you. Hey, don’t forget to pay again, yeah? I’d give you all the ‘dogs you want for free, but I get in trouble when I don’t come home with cash.”

The dog whined an apology, then disappeared into his suit. A moment later, he re-emerged and spat a few gold coins onto the counter.

“Thanks, buddy.”

*BONE BUDDY HAPPY? GREATER DOG HAS BEEN GOOD BOY??*

Sans sighed. “Yeah, you’ve been a good boy. C’mere, big guy.”

Greater dog leaned forward, his metallic suit half-splayed across the counter of the hot dog stand. The wood creaked under his weight, and he adjusted so he wasn’t in danger of collapsing the poor booth.

“Yer a good boy, GD. A real good boy.” Skeletal fingers scratched behind the dog’s ears, past the scruff of his neck, and around the sides to that spot up under his chin where he could never seem to reach properly.

Finally, after a small eternity of petting, Greater Dog sat up. *PATROL, NOW,* he barked, ears drooping. *NO TIME FOR MORE PETS. SAD.*

“Hey, you’re filling in for Dogamy on patrol tonight, right?”

*YES. DOGAMY HOME WITH PUPS. PUPS GOOD. PUPS NEED PROTECTION.*

“Cool. I’ll see you then, ‘kay? I’ll be at my usual station.”

Greater Dog whined. *WILL MISS BONE BUDDY.*

“I’ll miss you too, GD.”

The dog licked the hand that had been petting him, then tensed. *WHAT? CAT? BONE FRIEND HAVE CAT?*

“Uh...yeah?”

*CAT GOOD! CAT FRIENDS FUN! CAN CHASE!* He leaned in closer.

The cat tucked inside Sans’s jacked hissed and made another rather poor escape attempt, thwarted by the fact that it didn’t quite know its way around. Sans huffed at the unusual feeling of something furry clinging to his spine with tiny claws. “Not this one. I found it last night. It’s just a baby, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. It’s, uh…” he looked up at Greater Dog. The dog’s eyes were bright with excitement, every muscle in his fluffy body tensed with the thrill of the hunt. None of this was getting through. “It’s...shy?”

*SHY NOT FUN,* he huffed. *IS SECRET?*

“...Yeah. Please don’t tell B...uh, Papyrus.”

*WILL KEEP BONE FRIEND’S SECRET.* He whined. *WILL MISS BONE FRIEND. WILL SEE BONE FRIEND SOON.* He barked a quick *HELLO, GOOD BYE, PATROL NOW* at something behind him and bounded off, enthusiasm barely waned. Which was odd; GD didn’t like many people, but Sans couldn’t be bothered to care.

He was about to put his head back down for a much-needed nap when his eye sockets caught the person who’d been standing behind Greater Dog. Someone he didn’t think he’d see again in...well, ever. “...Uh…”

“Hi, Mr. Sans!” Attie called, waving enthusiastically. “I was going to come get a breakfast hot dog and tell you hello, but I didn’t want to interrupt Mr. Greater Dog’s petting. He really likes petting, right?”

“Y-yeah, he sure does.”

“I know. He sometimes lets me pet him outside his armor, but only when he’s security for me and Mommy. If he has other jobs, he doesn’t let me.” She pouted a little.

“Hey, uh, where’s yer mom? Isn’t someone supposed to be watching you now?” That was the rumor, anyways. If Frisk had gotten sick again...

“Mmm-hmm. She’s coming in a minute. She’s prob’ly talking to somebody.”

Some part of Sans was screaming that he was being creepy, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. He hadn’t seen her in...gosh, over a month. 44 days, to be exact. It had been two weeks and five days since Frisk followed him home, and it had been three weeks and five days between that incident and Boss slipping Attie out in the middle of the night.

There was a strange sensation in his throat, a tightness he wasn’t used to. It didn’t feel like strangulation - like when Boss lifted him by his collar - but more like there was something stuck there, in his vertebrae. It was uncomfortable. The sensation distracted him from the prickling in the corners of his eye sockets that he was far too familiar with; he blinked rapidly to avoid embarrassing himself.

“Are you okay, Mr. Sans?”

“Y-yeah. ‘M fine.”

She bounced on her toes, making her shoes light up. Those were the ones she’d told him about on one of the first days he’d watched her, he realized. They did indeed have pink flowers on them, with little lights that flashed from their centers. He wondered if that was a human invention or if she’d somehow charmed the mad Royal Scientist into making her customized shoes. He thought about anything he could to distract himself from the fact that he’d remembered something, something small from almost two months ago, and that meant his mind wasn’t falling to pieces just yet.

Attie was dressed in a puffy white jacket with faux fur lining the hood. On her hands were mittens, knitted in a pattern he recognized; Tori must have been busy since he last saw her. The edges of her sleeves were stained in browns, greens, and reds.

She looked just like any other little girl. Nothing about her appearance indicated that she was the daughter of the Ambassador of Monsters, that she had any security presence at all.

He felt it, though. The glow of Frisk’s protective wards - much stronger now that she was recovered - was apparent in every bounce of her daughter’s feet. There were few weapons wielded by humans or monsters that could touch someone with that much protection, and anyone stupid enough to try would be in for more than one nasty surprise.

“I don’t think you’re okay,” Attie said. “You just keep looking at me funny and you haven’t even said ‘hello’ or ‘how are you.’ Are you gonna be a asshole again?”

“Not tryin’ to be. So, uh, hello, Attie. How are you?”

“I’m doing real good! Um, really well, I mean. How are you, Mr. Sans?”

“I’m, uh, okay.”

“Undie said you were in a big fight last night. Is that true?”

“Yeah…? I didn’t know she’d talk to you about that…?”

“She didn’t. She told my mommy when she stopped in for a quick meeting while she thought I was getting dressed. Mommy said we could come have breakfast hot dogs and make sure you’re okay, just in case.”

“Uh...cool? Yeah, I’m in one piece.”

She looked expectantly up at him.

“...Oh, right, hot dogs. So, uh, what do ya want on yours?”

Attie wanted bacon, cheese, onion, ketchup, mustard, and relish. Sans handed the ‘dog to her with its toppings balanced precariously, then gave her a small stack of napkins. “Don’t wanna get your nice jacket all messy.”

“It’s okay. I can wash it.”

“I’m sure ya can, but you wanna look nice, right?”

“The lessons are finally kicking in, then?” Asked Frisk from RIGHT behind him.

“Holy shit.”

“Language.”

“Uh...” He glanced at Attie, who was giggling, then twisted on his stool to get a good look at Frisk.

...A good look was an apt way to put it. She had a long tan coat on, red buttons in two neat rows down the front. Her waist was accented by a simple brown belt that twisted into a casual knot on one hip. The hat and gloves tucked under her arm were dark brown, matching her knee-high boots, but he could see the lines of a familiar pattern on them. Tori hadn’t waited until Christmas to deliver gifts, apparently.

Slowly, hesitantly, he met her eyes. She looked a lot better than he remembered, even from the last time he saw her in person. Maybe it was the light - even the dull, filtered light of the winter sun through the clouds did her more justice than the harsh yellow bulb that lit the dining room in his apartment - but she looked more than ready to take on the world.

It was a far cry from the helpless mess she’d been when he found her, so many weeks before. And she was completely focused on him in a way that she - or, frankly, anyone else - had never been. He felt his face starting to turn pink.

Say something, his mind begged. Come up with something - anything - to keep her from thinking you’re a complete fool.

“What-” No! Not that! “-do you want on your hot dog?”

He could feel his voice squeaking a little and resisted the urge to clear a throat he didn’t have.

Frisk smiled at him anyways, and he felt his soul stutter in a way that couldn’t possibly be healthy. “I haven’t had a hot dog in ages. Surprise me.”

The challenge in her voice was both clear and terrifying.

ABORT MISSION, ABORT MISSION!

He gulped and examined his options. With phalanges that were definitely not shaking, he dipped into the small stash of fresh bakery buns he kept for his best customers, then put a few slices of cheese on it. That went into the small, warm space behind the hot dog roller. While it was warming he grabbed a paper plate and a sharp knife and started chopping a pickle spear and some of the baby tomatoes he’d picked up on a whim. He pulled the bun out once the cheese was melted and put a ‘dog inside, then added bacon crumbles, onion, and his sliced pickles and tomatoes. A drizzle of yellow mustard completed the masterpiece, and he held it out to Frisk with a flourish that (probably) disguised the slight tremor of his hands.

Attie applauded uselessly through her mittens, her own hot dog mostly gone. “That looks really yummy! Mommy, can I have a bite?”

“May I have a bite,” Frisk corrected.

“Sure, but only if I can have a bite of yours!”

She rolled her eyes and took a tentative bite of her hot dog. Sans watched her chew and swallow, feeling as if quite a bit more than customer satisfaction rode on that simple action. Finally, she nodded. “It’s really good, Sans. Thanks!”

“Yer welcome.” Relief made him slouch against his counter.

“I never would’ve thought to put fresh tomatoes on a hot dog, but it’s not bad. What was the inspiration?”

He thought, for a moment, that she was mocking him, but her face showed only sincerity. It threw him for a loop, and he stuttered for a moment before he found his bearings. “I, uh, well, I was doin’ a bit of research. Gotta keep a femur upon the competition and all. See, ketchup is pretty salty, and a lot of what I have - cheese, bacon, even the hot dogs themselves - is pretty salty too. The tomatoes give you some flavor without the extra salt and give some texture, too. Can’t really take credit for the idea, but...well. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“It’s brilliant. You should keep it up.”

His face was definitely turning colors. Thankfully, Frisk was distracted by Attie wanting a bit of the ‘super-special hot dog’ and he had a moment to compose himself.

Naturally, that was about when his little friend decided to make its presence known once again.

Attie squealed, nearly losing her grip on her hot dog. “KITTY!”

“No way!” Frisk said looked at Sans, then down at the cat that was clawing its way up his shirt, then back at him. “You have a kitten? Since when?”

He tried to pry it off, but the claws were deceptively strong and he didn't want to break anything. “Since, uh, last night? It was caught in the rainstorm. Found it when I was walkin’ home.”

“Can I hold it?” Attie asked, tugging Sans’s sleeve harshly. Her protective wards flared-

“Gah!” Sans pulled his arm away, clutching at his fractured bone, and accidentally banged his bad arm on the edge of the counter. He froze, cursing himself. He hadn’t meant to dodge away from her like that; it was just so unnerving that someone would try to touch him (and someone with that much magic on her besides) that he hadn’t tried to simply maneuver away from her. She hadn't registered as a threat, so she'd gotten closer to him than most people normally did. He shrunk in on himself, taking his bearings, then remembered that she’d asked a question. “S-sure. Just, uh, give me a sec.”

Frisk crouched down so she was eye level with him. “Sans, are you okay? Undyne said you’d been injured last night in the confrontation with those humans on the mountain, but she didn’t know the details. She thought it wasn’t serious since you shrugged it off. Are you okay?”

Sans checked his HP before responding. He was down to a single point. When had he gotten so low? He felt his breathing pick up, fear of his own mortality overpowering his pride. “I...I...uh, I…” He couldn’t seem to force the words out.

He felt the familiar chill of someone else’s magic invading his own, just enough to get a good read on his stats, but despite his embarrassment he allowed it. More than that, he took a chance and showed his real stats; she'd been sympathetic before, hadn't she? Across from him, Frisk took a sudden breath. “Sans. You need help immediately. What are you even doing out of the house like that?”

“W-wasn’t that bad e-earlier. Had somethin’ to eat...g-gosh, early this mornin’ and brought my HP up a f-few points. I-I’ll be fine. G-gimme a sec to grab a ‘d-dog.”

“Sans, I’m going to call my mother to take a look at you.”

“No...uh, n-need...”

“Yes, there is a need. You and her get along fine, right? She has some healing magic. Just...please, let me do this. I’m worried, and Attie’s worried too.”

They had a point. A ‘dog probably wouldn’t bring his HP up far enough for him to get through his shift, and sentry duty later that night, and whatever Boss had planned. He let out his breath in a solid woosh and nodded.

Frisk stepped away and started dialing. Sans deliberately didn’t listen in on her conversation, instead focusing on carefully extracting the cat from his person. Its nose was twitching but it allowed him to maneuver it into his lap without a whole lot of fuss.

It kept turning its head towards the counter, though. It definitely knew where the food was.

“Here,” he said, gesturing to Attie. “D-didn’t ya wanna hold it?”

“Can I?” she asked in a very small voice. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Sans. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know your arm was hurt.”

He took a deep breath, willing his stutter away. He wasn’t a babybones anymore, he reminded himself. “Eh, ‘tsokay kid. No real harm done. If you’d meant to hurt me, well. I’d be dust right now. You didn’t, though, and ‘m fine, see? Now help me with this little cat.”

He used his good hand to cup the cat as she lifted it, making sure it wasn’t actively trying to claw her. It seemed a little upset at the movement, but its protests were more vocal than physical. After a moment of Attie’s tiny fingernails scratching behind its ears it settled down and started purring again.

“Huh. It likes you.”

The girl’s smile was smug. “Of course! Everybody likes me.”

For most kids, Sans thought, that would be a laughably arrogant statement, but...everyone did seem to like Attie. She’d survived Boss. She’d charmed the dogs. She’d even melted Undyne’s heart a little, and that was a feat worthy of some kind of medal.

Frisk stepped back into his field of vision. “Mom will be by within a few minutes. She’s finishing up some paperwork that needs to be done before lunchtime. Will you be okay until then?”

“Yeah. Of course.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t existed on one HP before. Much as he’d come to regret how he got his LV, he would’ve been dust years ago without it. He shuddered at the thought.

Frisk apparently mistook that gesture and hunched back down in front of him. She looked at him for a long moment before narrowing her eyes in DETERMINATION. “Attie, you can go play. I’m going to keep an eye on Mr. Sans for a bit.”

The girl looked at her mother, then down at the cat in her arms. “But...I’m holding his baby kitty! I can’t go play!”

“Alright. But no more grabbing, alright? We’ve talked about this. It’s one thing when you do it to me or your grandma and grandpa or Undyne, but you have to be careful.”

“Okay. I said I was sorry.”

��I heard. Good girl. Now, Sans, where did you find this kitten?”

Sans explained how he’d found the cat in the alley the night before. He deliberately ignored the small smile on Frisk’s face, as if she knew something he didn’t.

(He was sure she knew a lot of things he didn’t.)

Thankfully, her only remark was, “Are you even allowed to have pets in your apartment?”

“Eh, yer mom lets some of the dogs stay downstairs. Why wouldn’t a cat be okay?”

“Uh-huh. And how did Greater Dog react to your little friend there when we were walking up?”

“Heh, point taken.”

They both watched Attie play with the cat for a few minutes. When it's meows became too insistent, she handed it to her mother. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she pouted. “I thought it liked me.”

Frisk turned the critter over with deft hands, poking it gently along its stomach. “He’s probably hungry. Sans, has he eaten anything since that chicken you gave him last night?”

“Nah. I was gonna give it - uh, him - something from the stand, but I didn’t get the chance. Think he’ll eat a ‘dog?”

“It’s worth a shot. Here - I’ll pay for it.”

“What? No-”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.” She handed him enough to cover three hot dogs with the fixings. He handed her back the change, but Attie scooped it up instead.

“Can I put the change in the tip jar?” she asked.

Frisk patted her on the cheek. “Go ahead. Don’t break anything.”

“Yay!”

Sans chopped up a ‘dog into tiny pieces and scooped it into a paper plate for Frisk, who tried to coax the starving cat to eat something. He made another for himself and choked it down against the rolling feeling of nausea.

“Did you set that up?” Frisk asked, gesturing to his tip jar.

“Uh, yeah. The old coin funnel on top is something I found years ago in the dump. Can’t remember why I bothered carting it home in the first place, but it’s come in handy now that we’re on the surface. I, uh, had to fix it up a little to get it to accept g as well as human coins, 'n it doesn't work quite right all the time, but the kids like it.”

They watched Attie drop a pair pennies into a slot at the top of the funnel, the coins passing each other several times before dropping into the clear jar below.

“It’s hard to believe that monsters are able to enjoy things like this now,” Frisk said. “I remember back in the Underground how, um, tense everyone was. They’re a lot more...whimsical, I guess, now.”

“Yeah, well, fighting for space and food kinda takes the fun outta ya. We didn’t really have time for things like this - not in public, anyways. Heck, I didn’t dare leave a tip jar out back then; someone would’ve come by and stolen it. Now look at me. Some days I make more in tips than I do selling ‘dogs.”

She hummed in agreement. Attie sent a few more coins down the chute, watching them intently. After a moment, she turned to Sans. “Why to they go around and around and around like that instead of dropping straight into the jar?”

“It has to do with gravity, angles, and the shape of the funnel.”

She held out a coin. “Can you show me?”

Frisk frowned and raised a hand to stop her daughter. “Attie, don’t bother-”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he said. “Kid’s not hurting anything, and I’ll still be right here if someone wants to buy ‘dogs.” He pushed himself up. “Uh, feel free to take a seat if you want. There’s just the one stool and it might be...a bit short for ya, but…” he gestured awkwardly and turned away.

Attie was a brilliant audience, holding onto every word as he explained the ins and outs of accelerated gravitational motion and centrifugal force. He was pretty sure most of it flew straight over the seven-year-old’s head, but she didn’t interrupt.

“...Sans?”

He looked up to see someone approaching from the direction of the park. “Oh. Hi, Tori. Thanks for, uh...y’know.” He shrugged.

“It’s no trouble. I heard that you were in a fight last night, but not that there were complications. What seems to be the trouble?”

Frisk sent Attie off to play on the slides (one of the few areas of the playground without a coat of snow) while Sans reluctantly explained his situation. Tori stood quietly through it all, her eyes occasionally flicking to her adopted daughter.

“I do not approve of healing every small hurt, but I also do not want to send a sentry out injured after what happened last night. Hold out your arm, please.”

Sans did so, bracing himself. Healing was an agonizing process at the best of times, and Tori was at least a little bit irritated with him. He could feel the bone shards grating against each other as the fractures knit. He hadn’t registered it through the general haze of pain, but there were even cracks in the small bones that comprised his wrist. Tori’s firm grip on the damaged bones made his vision waver, and he grabbed the counter of the hot dog stand to keep from embarrassing himself.

After what seemed like hours, the pain ebbed and he came to his senses. He didn’t realize until he extracted his hand from Tori’s that he was shaking from pain and exhaustion; the accelerated healing process was draining his reserves faster than the ‘dog he’d eaten earlier could replenish them.

“Frisk, let him sit,” Tori said, shooing her daughter off the stool.

With great effort, Sans managed to maneuver himself around the back of the hot dog stand and collapsed onto his stool. He could feel the strain on his spine and hips from the position, but at least he was less likely to tip over in front of his…

...friends?

He decided not to think too much about it.

“If that is all, I shall be off,” Tori said to Frisk. “Do you need me to watch Atlas this weekend?”

“That would be great, Mom. We can talk it over this afternoon at the Embassy.”

“Very well. I shall see you then.”

Tori walked off without saying goodbye to Sans, and he winced. It was only half because of the little twinges of pain that kept shooting down his spine. Shifting didn’t help much, either.

“I thought you and Mom got along?” Frisk asked, looking concerned again.

“We do. It’s just - ugh! - I haven’t seen her in a few months.” In hindsight, he probably should have at least called.

“Well, I hope you get back on speaking terms.”

“No kidding. Don’t want her to bleat me up.”

Frisk snorted. “That was terrible.”

“I notice your lack of surprise.”

She just smiled. “Oh, hey, your kitten’s back asleep. Want him back?”

“Nah, I think he’s comfy.” Both Frisk and the cat looked comfy, actually. Realization dawned slowly on him. (He blamed it on the lack of sleep.)

“Hey, uh, do you know anyone who wants a cat?”

“You’re not going to try to keep him?”

“Nah. You were right ‘bout the dogs. And, well, I don’t think Boss is gonna really go for ‘cute and fuzzy.’ He might, but it's 50/50.”

Frisk looked at him, then back to the cat, then back to him. “Attie...has been bugging me about getting a pet for a while, actually. She wanted a dog but, well, I’m sure you can see how that might get a tad awkward.”

“No kiddin’.”

“We also spend a lot of time at the Embassy, and when I travel Attie spends time with her grandparents. A cat on the other hand...well, you don’t have to walk them, for one. If you’d be willing to stop in every once in a while to feed him while I’m on trips, I don’t see why we couldn’t keep him. If you’re sure…”

“Yeah, that’d be great!” Attie had turned out... mostly alright, after all, short bouts of chaos and terror aside. A cat raised by Frisk would probably wind up ruling the world (or at least the neighborhood), but Sans could think of worse things.

“Okay. Um, do you want to keep him with you for a bit, or…”

“I, uh, don’t even have food for ‘im. I made a little bed out of old shirts, but that’s it. If you don’t mind takin’ ‘im now, go for it.”

She looked at the little cat, stroking gently behind his ears and smiling. His eyes were closed, and Sans could hear the faint rumbling of that purring thing cats did when they were happy. He grinned.

“I’d say he’s in good hands.”

“...Yes. Hopefully. We’ll see.” That smile got just a bit wider, though.

Attie stomped up a little while later, shivering. “It’s too cold to play much,” she said. “And one of the big kids kept trying to get me to stick my tongue to the monkey bars.”

It took Sans a moment to register why this was even a thing humans would want to do. That’s right; humans had drippy ‘saliva’ stuff inside their mouths. Putting her tongue on the unprotected metal of the monkey bars would have probably caused it to freeze and stick. “You tell that kid off?”

“Yeah. I told him that if he wanted to do science so bad then he should try it first, because a good scientist doesn’t use other people as test subjects.”

“Ooookay. I mean, you’re not wrong, but did he do it?”

“No. I guess he didn’t believe in his hyp...hypoth’s.”

“Hypothesis?”

“Yup!”

Frisk chuckled. “Fair enough. Now Attie, I have an important question for you.”

“Okay?”

“Mr. Sans lives in a building with some of the dogs.”

“I know. I heard them when I was having the long sleepover while you were sick.”

“...Right. Well, dogs and cats don’t always get along, so Mr. Sans said he’d let us take the kitty home with us. Would that be alright?”

Attie gasped and turned to Sans. “Do you really, really mean it? We can keep your kitty?”

“Sure, kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sans! Thank you a whole, whole, whole bunch!” She shuffled over and gave him a very soft, very careful hug.

He patted her on the back, feeling awkward under Frisk’s observation. “Uh, no problem. I’m sure he’s gonna be happy with you.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Nah. I guess you ‘n your mom get to name ‘im.”

At Frisk’s nod, Attie began petting the kitten, her brows furrowed. “You said you found him in water, right, Mr. Sans?”

“Yup.”

“And he’s got a bad eye, like Undie.”

“Sure does.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to name him...Terror Of the Seven Seas!!! Because he’s a pirate cat.”

Frisk snorted. “That’s a long name, honey. Want to come up with something shorter?”

“Nope! But he can have a nickname if you really want him to.”

“Terror Of the Seven Seas it is, then.”

“Guess you could call ‘im ‘TOSS,’” Sans piped up. “Short for Terror Of the Seven Seas. Pirate extraordinaire.”

The little girl hummed. “That sounds okay. He can be called TOSS for a nickname.”

Frisk was snickering behind her hand, he knew it.

Suddenly, a loud ringing noise interrupted the peaceful morning. Frisk dug through her pockets for a moment, then produced a familiar-looking phone. “Oh...Sans, I’m so sorry, but we’ve got to run.”

“Okay.” It was expected, he told himself. Frisk was an ambassador and a busy woman.

“Can we bring Terror of the Seven Seas with us to the embassy?” Attie asked.

Her mother glanced down nervously. “Well...just this once, I guess.”

She cheered. “See ya later, Mr. Sans!”

“See ya, kid,” he replied.

And then they were gone, and his morning seemed all too quiet.

#Dragonashes writes #Undertale #Underfell #The Heaven We Didn't Choose #Sans #Papyrus #Frisk #Attie #Greater Dog #Greater Dog is a good dog #TOSS #Surely this won't come back to bite anyone #Don't mess with pirate cat

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deer-coder-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Why I Don’t Switch to Windows 10

On twitter, I made a comment about the coercive and deceptive nudge Windows 7 has to push users of 7th-gen processors to upgrade to Windows 10. Because of the limitations of Twitter, I won't be posting a whole lot about it there. Also, I realize that my opinion is a little bit controversial, and I want to avoid getting into some lame chain of commentary arguing with someone on Twitter about something as asinine as your choice of operating system. That said, here are the reasons I won't be upgrading to Windows 10 (or at least, not just yet.)

The software loaded onto Windows 10 computers is tantamount to bloatware for my use. For starters, it seems Microsoft has taken to installing third-party game applications like Candy Crush for you. This is so bizarre. The developer, King, uses a heavyhanded mixture of microtransactions and ads to monetize the game. I can't say I blame them for trying to make a buck, but that does -not- need to be installed on a computer. People will download shit like that if they really want to play. Another big application that I have a gripe with is all the bloatware included in the new "start" system. Microsoft uses this to push their marketing schemes for their softwares like Skype, Office, and X-Box. Windows updates also include ads like these - stuff that you don't necessarily need, like Office, OneDrive, Skype, and Windows Phone are now advertised directly through your compulsory updates.

Oh, yeah, and they are compulsory. Windows 10 removes the capability to control updates, breaking the functionality for many older machines. One of my laptops uses a network card made by a company that only released ethernet-port support for its driver in early August 2017. I used to use Windows 10 and even used the tech preview, but because of Microsoft's continuous updates without regard for specific user issues, I had to roll that laptop back to Win 7 or lose my ethernet capabilities. And apparently, I was far from alone here. Some people lost their machines! Similar compulsory updates can prove to be a nuisance with aggressive shutdown scheduling and popups. While security updates might be important for a push, compiling a big project or completing a slow FTP download take precedence for me. Removing the capability to control which updates are installed on your machine or when has already proven to create massive security risks that are completely unnecessary.

To jump around a bit, I'm also not very trusting of Microsoft with my personal data, including biometrics such as fingerprint and iris scans. The reasoning for this on a personal level dates back to the days of the Technical Preview. While I realize that I opted into sharing my usage data with Microsoft for the purpose of furthering development, the extent to which my data was collected was... Shocking! The operating system collects keyboard input data including keystroke data through many micorosoft apps including Edge browser. Edge is a whole nightmare of its own, and frankly I'm appalled that Microsoft wouldn't be more forthright with the fact that it collects data about absolutely everything, and openly publishes that data, even bragging about it. I mean, how nifty are these facts?

"Over 44.5 billion minutes spent in Microsoft Edge across Windows 10 devices in just the last month" - they track your edge use time.

"Over 82 billion photos viewed within the Windows 10 Photo app" - I hope you're viewing these on OneDrive!

"Gaming continues to grow on Windows 10 – in 2015, gamers spent over 4 billion hours playing PC games on Windows 10" - Microsoft knows what apps - ALL APPS - you're running, for how long, and whether or not they have focus.

Of course, Windows 10 users do consent to these things. But ask them about whether or not that makes them comfortable, and the answer... probably won't surprise you all that much. I mean, I'm not happy about all the hours I spent on e621 in the Edge browser during my stint with the Technical preview. I mean, along with my financial information collected from the store, my contacts and addresses stored in my OneDrive account, and all the media conveniently backed up as a convenience service, Microsoft likely knew my sexual interests better than I did! And on boy did I love that Metro interface, offering me sweet convenience and gloss at a trade-off of giving away what images I look at, for what amount of time, where my cursor hovers, what videos I watch, and even how I procure those pictures and videos. Windows 10 is a privacy nightmare, and if you think you can change some settings in the fragmented, awkward settings and control panel menus, you're mistaken.

Microsoft can use the data they collect to throw you in jail, and they will - PRISM is a program that many tech companies participate in, where authorities can essentially request and receive otherwise private data. Microsoft has a big track record of doing this very thing, and I can see why. It serves their interests to do everything they can to fight software piracy. But before you start talking about how "criminals should pay" or that you have "nothing to hide," please take a look at this article for more information on why that's a load of bullshit.

Another thing I'd like to talk about is the convenient assistant Cortana! Cortana is a service that I have never used myself and never seen others use. Despite that fact, Microsoft is hopeful about its future and continually develops it. This service, aside from occupying 3gb of RAM in my test system, is a persistent service that cannot be stopped through conventional means. It collects and phones home about your searches, application launches, voice data, and more. By using these near-compulsory services, "you grant to Microsoft a worldwide and royalty-free intellectual property license to use Your Content." This data can be sensitive, especially with the introduction of the omnibox that will conveniently open a Bing search with Edge if you want to search the web. This way, not only can Microsoft funnel you into their data collection pipeline, but they can also inject their own curated ads and sponsored content to pad their bottom line! What's more, new systems with Windows 10 S can't change their default browser or search. This has the effect of victimizing the less tech-literate and poorer crowds among us. I'm sorry, but I'm not of the perspective that it's okay to prey off the poor, elderly, and preoccupied simply because it's convenient to do so.

Some things I don't like about Windows 10 is the egregious dishonesty, implied risks, and hush-hush nature about motivation for getting people to upgrade. I'm not one to support the interest of such a profitable corporation if they give no real reason, but a lot of the "reasons" Microsoft has provided for motivation to get users to upgrade to Windows 10 have been... Questionable. For example, Microsoft pushed coercive, obtrusive updates onto users of Windows 7 and Windows 8.1. A "security update" for Windows 7 and 8.1 systems was actually an ad campaign. If you did this upgrade when it was free, you likely remember seeing a popup along the lines of "it's time to upgrade to windows 10" with a button that stated "Upgrade Now!" You may have even been interrupted from your Netflix binge or Counter-Strike competitive game for it. Important stuff! They're just trying to make sure their valued customer doesn't miss out! On my newest computer, I installed Windows 10 and found that a clever Security Update had installed a bit of "useful" deceptive information about support for my Kaby Lake processor! Apparently, Windows 7 does not support this hardware... Or, maybe that was a lie that got them into a lot of trouble? Call me paranoid, but this is just ridiculous. Microsoft has pushed it many steps further now, and asked Intel and AMD to drop support for integrated graphics in anything but Win 7. To account for this, I had to download a hack onto my computer that modified my system files to have the CPU update and operate like any other. It's not about support, it's about forcing people to switch. This "it's time to upgrade" schtick they've been on about is like when you go to a car dealership and get offered a new Mercedes for half the sticker price, and the dealer keeps calling you dumb for not taking the offer because it's an "amazing deal" and you "can't afford to miss this opportunity." You can usually check in in a little bit to find that the person who bought the car later found that it was stolen or flooded beforehand. It all kind of comes back to this term I've been throwing around - coercive. Microsoft doesn't even respect people who disagree and want to keep their operating system. Microsoft will flat out lie about risks to get users to switch. That's not some bitter medicine routine, that's interest-based coercion. And that's why I'm sticking to 7.

Addendum: Why don't you use Linux, Dakota? Simple answer. I would, but I'm addicted to Windows-only games that aren't being developed due to DX12 being a Windows-only thing for now. Maybe I'll switch if dev companies will actively work for it, but they don't seem interested in supporting less than 4% of the remaining systems out there.

#opinion #deertalks #rant #long post

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