#this is why i shouldn’t be allowed to interact with people directly. i dunno how to do it without being weird

[shutupstar]

maybe i’m just a bad person 🧍🏼

[adifferentbrandofbeans]

Affect - 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 

masterlist

words: 3.5k

Get up.

 My eyes are open wide, staring at a blank white ceiling streaked with golden rays from the angle of the rising sun as it peaks through the shutters.

 Get up.

 The sound of gentle snoring blends with the calm waves breaking outside. I know I shouldn’t, but my head turns without my telling it to, the sight of the sleeping body next to me causing a churn deep in my stomach. His lips, parted ever so slightly, let out soft rumbles as he exhales, clearly in a deep sleep. His body is turned in towards mine, one arm trapped under his pillow, supporting his head, while the other lays gently on the bed, his palm resting delicately on the mattress, a short distance from his body.

 Stop looking at him and get up.

 I know I need to leave him here. This is his bedroom, and if I stayed here beside him, I would not be able to stop looking at him. There is something fascinating about the man in front of me. He is undeniably beautiful. However, seeing him like this is different. It is as though his peaceful energy stretches outwards and wraps me up in his calmness. It is addictive, and that is the problem. I do not want to be addicted to him. That is not what our new arrangement is about. Last night was beautiful, and Harry made me feel so special and wanted. But that is just who he is. Harry makes people feel alive. He was just participating the way he knows how; Harry does not do anything in half measures. So what if it felt kind of right to be so close to him? That is what this arrangement is for, making ourselves feel good. That is all this arrangement is for. 

And so, I finally listen to myself. I slip out of his bed, pulling the covers back up in case he gets cold in the night.

 Almost ten hours of sleep later, I wake up in my own bed, mouth dry and gasping for a drink. Groggily, I pull myself from the crisp sheets and head to get a glass of water. I am rubbing sleep out of my eyes when I reach the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.

 “Oh, hi,” I say softly when I see him, sat at the breakfast bar, head hanging over a bowl of cereal. His hair is damp from sweat and his whole body is flushed, presumably from whatever workout he just finished.

 “Hi,” Harry mumbles, smirking at my as he swallows a mouthful. His smile fades suddenly, replaced by furrowed brows as he looks back down to his bowl. “Where’d you run of to?” he asks lightly once I turn my back to him, getting a glass and running it under the tap.

 Grateful that he cannot see my face I reply, “Didn’t think you’d want anyone seeing me sneak out this morning,”. Not a total lie.

 Worry starts to crawl down my skin when he does not comment. However, when I feel his presence directly behind me and he reaches past me to put his empty dish in the sink, my skin quickly heats up, burning away any anxiety.

 “Shame… Kind of dig those pyjamas,” he teases, and my muscles relax reflexively when he presses his lips against my neck. Instinctually, my hand reaches up behind me and locks itself in his hair as his fingertips glide around my hips and hold me against him until my back is flush with his front. His hips grind ever so gently against the curve of my ass and I cannot help it as my jaw slackens and lips part. “Don’t think I was fully done with you last night either,” his voice is soft in my ear and he spins me around by my hips.

 “I don’t know you fell asleep pretty quickly,” I tease, tracing my finger along the length of his jaw, “Thought you might not be able to handle any more of me,”.

 He grins and opens his mouth in retort but quickly steps away from me when someone enters the room.

 “Morning,” Jeff says brightly as Harry clears his throat and stands up against the sink until any physical evidence of his and my interaction softens. I can’t help but smirk as I take a sip of water.

 “You two have fun last night?” Glenne asks, sitting up at the breakfast bar where Harry had been sat.

 I look to Harry, faltering for a moment but he is cool and collected when he casually replies, “Yeah, sorry we didn’t meet back up with you guys. Think all the travelling took it out of us…” he turns his head back to the dish he’s washing up and mumbles with a smug grin, “Couldn’t wait to get to bed,”.

  Coarse grains rub between my toes as they sink into the sand either side of the blue sun lounger. Salty droplets glide down my back as the sun dries the front of my body. A groan leaves my lips as I close my book, deciding that the rectangle of shade it provided to my face was less beneficial than the agitation of the novel.

 “What?” Harry chuckles from beside me, his head turning to the side and opening one eye beneath his sunglasses.

 “It was so good, like so good, and it was getting a little racy between the two main characters, right? And it’s like finally… you know? We’ve been waiting two-thirds of the book for this and then it says that his skin tastes like sugar, and you’re like, well that’s probably bullshit, but we can move past it and then it says that her pussy tastes like fucking strawberries,” Letting out a huff as I finish my rant, I slump back against the chair, digging my toes further into the sand in annoyance. “The book was so good, and then the author goes and cops out and says some dumb shit like that. The only way this girl’s pussy tastes like strawberries is if he could still smell her Summer’s Eve or something which I’m pretty sure they don’t have in the apocalypse,”

 That makes Harry laugh and he rolls until his back is exposed to the sun, resting on his elbows and pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head to meet my gaze.

 “You’re taste in books is interesting,” he comments with a smirk.

 “I just hate that misconception that women have to taste super sweet, like, it’s a vagina not a fruit basket,” I grumble. Harry just chuckles softly beside me as I brush sand from the lounger, “Just gives guys more reasons to be weird about it,”.

 “Are guys really that weird about it?” Harry asks curiously, fiddling with the chain around his neck, the golden cross slipping across the metal with ease.

 “Some are, yeah,” I say, avoiding eye contact with him, this conversation suddenly a lot more intimate than I had planned. “Dunno… some of them just aren’t into it, which is fine… but the ones who pretend that they are usually give up after five minutes,”.

 “What about the ones who are actually into it?” he asks. I look at him now, a little incredulously, his smile is faded but still present on his face.

 “I’m convinced that they don’t exist,” I say honestly, “If the only way they can stomach the idea is that it’ll taste like berries. Pussy tastes like pussy and it’s not like it’s a bad taste…” my voice trailing away as Harry’s ears seem to perk up.

 “You’ve…” he begins to question, wondering how to ask, his shyness bringing a smile to my face. I nod and he nods back, “Learning so much about you these days,” he jokes and instantly I feel a sense of relief that he’s not pushing the conversation to find out all the juicy details.

 There is a beat of silence before he sits up on the lounger, swinging his legs over to face me directly. “I think you’re experiences with men have coloured the way you look at it, and I would be happy to rectify the situation,” he smirks.

 I cannot help but to roll my eyes at him before allowing my head to roll back, neck extended, catching the sun fully.

 “Why not?” he asks with a chuckle.

 “Now it’s become a whole thing,” I explain, a little exasperated, “And, in my experience, whenever it’s made into a big thing I can’t relax and they give up after two minutes or I just fake it.”

 “How about I promise to try my best to make you feel good, and if it’s not working for you, you just say and we can stop or do something else?” he asks. My head quickly turns to look at him.

 “What? Right here?”

 “No, you idiot,” he laughs, before pausing and shrugging his shoulders after a moment’s thought, “Although add exhibitionism to my list of things I wanna try,”.

 Another sigh as I close my eyes and lay my head back down, enjoying a light breeze tickling my damp skin.

 “You never actually gave me a list,” I comment.

 He hums and comes to sit beside me, an arm around my shoulders as he pulls me to him, our bodies pressed together as my body curls into his despite the aching heat of the afternoon. Turning my head to look up at him, my hand finds its way into his damp curls, pushing his hair away from his face to appreciate the way the sunlight catches along his profile, illuminating every beautiful inch of his face.

 “I just want to make you feel good,” he utters lowly, his eyes boring into mine. I am temporarily frozen, the change in pitch stirring something in me unexpectedly. Also, there is something in his eyes that I am transfixed by, more than the passionate intensity I find myself becoming surprisingly familiar with. It is a new kind of need, not the kind I would expect to find in the eyes of a guy just needing to sink himself somewhere for the night. If I really thought about it, I could probably convince myself it was desperation. However, before I can do that, Harry shrugs, “Offer is there anyway.”

 I can feel him shift beside me but something deep in me does not want him to leave, an unprecedented anxiety appearing at the thought of him leaving me here. My breathing quickens at his movement. Placing a hand on his forearm he stops, looks back at me.

 “I’d like that,” a whisper is all I can manage. Harry gives me a gentle smile and my heart slows back down.

 Of course it does.

 “Lets hang out tonight,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead before reaching down and handing me the discarded book, adding. “Try not to get too wound up,”.

  “I think it’s missing something,” Glenne giggles as I take a sip of her drink, wincing at its strength.

 “Did you even put any mixer in?” I tease with a laugh, chasing her drink with one of my own. After we had all eaten dinner together, she begged me to teach her how to mix drinks, much to the excitement of the rest of the group as they got to drink the extras we made.

 “Yes!” she laughs, looking out at all of our supplies littering the counter before pausing. “Oh wait, hang on,” she says, causing the whole group to laugh as she riffles through various fruit juices.

 “We can try again tomorrow,” I promise as the group seems to wind down, everyone ready to disperse and call it a night.

 We all retreat to our own rooms, calling goodnight to each other as we go. I meet Harry’s eye as we reach our separate rooms and hold up both my hands, asking for ten minutes for everyone to settle before I meet him. He nods and opens his door with a smirk, the child in him enjoying our secret night-time operations.

 Once in my room panic sets in. I decide to take a quick shower, grooming myself to my own personal taste and trying to ignore the overwhelming thoughts swimming around my brain; questioning whether Harry actually wants to do this, whether he is just trying to be nice, whether he will give up too, whether its me that is the problem.

 Trying to ignore these paranoid thoughts, I pull my pyjamas on; a large, loose t-shirt and some cotton panties. Before I can question if I should dress a little sexier, I force myself out of the room and knock softly on the door across the hall.

 When the door is pulled open, I see him, standing in a white t-shirt and his boxers, the same makeshift pyjamas he would wear whenever we slept in the same bed. Harry smiles gently and closes the door after I step past him. I stop by the bed, hesitating as I remember the night before. Last night had been something out of a dream. Harry had been so gentle and loving, and my god had he made me feel good. What if I was just drunk and that’s why it felt so good?

 “Was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” Harry says, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts. He steps behind me, arms sliding around me and across my torso, holding me against his warm body. His head rests in the crook of my neck, his breath exhaling lightly and tickling the skin there.

 “Might think that again later,” I mumble. I feel him exhale against me, tilting his head back and pressing a kiss to my shoulder blade. He turns me around and I can see a smirk etched on to his face as he pushes me back until I fall into the mattress. Climbing on top of me, he grabs my arms and pins them above my head by my wrist.

 “You, missy,” he says with an amused but determined grin, “Need to get out of your head, and that’s exactly what I’m here for. So, stop being so pessimistic and give me a chance,”.

 Before I can offer any witty retort, or even think of one, his lips touch mine. His kiss melts me. My body relaxes beneath him, sinking further into the mattress. Our lips move slowly together, separating and reconnecting in unison as his hands begin to travel my body. His touch follows the contours of my figure, delicately tracing the outline of my arms, up my sides, resting for a moment on either side of my neck, cradling it as he kisses me quicker, tension in the room thickening with each manoeuvre.

 Shuffling down my body, Harry presses kisses to any exposed flesh as he goes. His lips find my neck, my chest, the soft underside of my arm, spreading warmth on his path. As he pushes the large shirt up to my hips, nerves begin to resurface, mingling with the fizzy feeling his lips create, altogether making my heart beat hard against my ribcage. Noticing that my body trembles a little more than expected, Harry pauses, looking me in the eye cautiously, attempting to assess my level of comfort.

 “Want to keep this on?” he asks casually, pulling ever so gently at the fabric of my t-shirt he has bunched in his right hand, his left soothingly caressing the soft skin of thigh.

 I nod my head after a moment’s thought, “Maybe… yeah, if that’s okay,” I whisper, almost ashamed of how timid my voice sounds.

 “’Course,” he accepts, placing a kiss to my hip.

 It seems a little nonsensical to insist on remaining covered, considering what he is about to do, even more so considering what we did last night. This feels different though. Far more intimate, far more one-sided. I try to push the feelings of guilt to the back of my mind and focus on the way his lips feel as they inch up my inner thigh.

 “Your body is so beautiful, know that?” Harry mumbles, lips affected by their proximity to my skin. Hearing no reply from me he continues as his mouth presses open kisses below my stomach, using them to punctuate his words, “Have no… idea… what… seeing you… in that bikini… did to me.”

 “You don’t have to do this,” I mutter softly. He stops dead in his tracks, lifting his head to look at me. “I know it’s not fun for you so we can do other stuff,” I say, shrinking into myself as I grow uncomfortable with every word.

 “I want to,” Harry says, swallowing thickly, sounding vulnerable himself. I look at him, checking he is not lying to me and he nods his head reassuringly. I nod my head and Harry instructs me to prop myself up with a pillow so that my upper body is elevated. “Watch me,” he instructs lowly, returning his lips to my skin.

 Complying, I watch as his lips ghost over my skin, settling sporadically to pull the flesh between his lips and suck gently. A smirk graces his lips every time he causes a reaction from me, whether that be an arched spine, the roll of my hips, or, his personal favourite, the cross between a sigh and a moan that tumbles from my lips unexpectedly. When he hears the latter, he ensures he pay special attention to that area of my body, stimulating it however he can until my body begins to quiver with sensitivity.

 His mouth toys with me until I am silently begging for contact, my fingers interlocking in his hair, desperately trying to signal my need for more. Finally, sensing my urgency, he complies, kissing softly between my legs. His tongue licks gentle lines upwards, hands coming up to rest on my thighs, softly caressing the skin there with his thumbs.

 Moving softly, he licks around my clit. Using two fingers to spread my folds, his mouth glides across the width of my pussy before dipping down, collecting my arousal on his tongue.

 Harry looks up with a smirk, lips glistening with me. He pauses before humming, “Strawberries.”

 “You’re an idiot,” I laugh, grateful for his madness, finding it more calming than I could have expected.

 Returning to his motions, his tongue finds my clit, tracing circles around it sloppily. The hand on my leg travels up my stomach slowly, igniting the skin as it moves, reaching my breast and toying with the nipple under my shirt. His mouth works gradually faster, lips occasionally sucking lightly on my clit. My body begins to shake beneath him. Hands wrap themselves around my hips, his forearms applying enough pressure to bring my legs closer to his head.

 His pace quickens again as his tongue and lips work to bring me as much pleasure as possible. His face glides up and down the space between my legs with so much fervour that it would be impossible to deny that he is enjoy this. Any doubt in my mind is quickly eradicated when he groans against me after curling a finger inside me, my back arching off the bed and hips rolling towards him.

 My hands clutch desperately for stability, one goes to the sheets below me, the other falls in my hair until I am forced to use it to muffle the noises coming from my lips. A new moan emerging with each curl of his finger.

 “Harry,” I let slip, thankful it only comes out as a whisper, my throat dry.

 This spurs him on even more, licking feverishly at my pussy until I am a quivering mess beneath him, his mouth sending a tsunami of pleasure through my entire body. He is softer as he coaxes me through my orgasm, only stopping when I stop pulsating against him. Slipping his finger between his smirking lips, he maintains eye contact with me as he sucks the last of me off his digit. His hand comes up to wipe at his face, thumb and fingers sliding down his cheeks as he moves to lay beside me, my heart rate slowly returning to normal.

 “Now do you believe it’s fun for me?” he teases, but I can sense an element of care behind his words, wondering if my insecurities were still present.

 “Maybe,” I grin, “Might have to remind me from time to time.”

 “Gladly,” he mutters under his breath.

 Swinging an arm around me, Harry pulls me into his side and switches the TV on, flicking through to find something for us to watch as we unwind for the night. A few episodes of a sitcom later, I take myself off to bed, threatening that if I do not leave now, I will fall asleep on him. Harry just nods, kisses the back of my hand and watches as I walk out of the room with a wave.

Part 6

[lucarioisinthevoid]

I hate to be That Guy but I feel like the interaction with Dave {or whatever the thing in Hell is} was leading up to something. It's likely too early to ask for elaboration but I have no impulse control and not enough dopamine so I'm going to not so vaguely indicate that I want to see more if there is more to see. If there has to be a cast perhaps Mangle, Toy Chica, Ballora and of course Springtrap. If it isn't that deep, I'm sorry I wasted your time! Have a good whatever time you read this at.

(Absolutely be That Guy™, I LOVE That Guy™! Though frankly, I feel like you’re overhyping this, while I do have a bit of story around, it’s no good. Ah, whatever, there’s only like- 35 more days of this stuff, so it doesn’t matter if I write myself into corners. All these drabbles are EXCLUSIVELY written with zero brain, but still, thank you very much for that request. While I would LOVE to make a drabble with that cast, because it’s a fun one that crawls into your office directly, it wouldn’t be that lore heavy. So instead these people are just going to be cameos. Also, jumping forward in time by a fair bit Warning for a fair bit of torture!)

Time didn’t work right here. Time passed, but it didn’t. Not at all. He was allowed to drink and occasionally eat in the saferoom, but… Everything that would be an temporal indicator was gone. No natural light, no physical change coming from this body- At least he was still breathing and bleeding, but that didn’t make it much easier to define the timeframe he was in. Over and over and over. The night started over and over and over. He was growing more and more sick of it. The only interesting thing left… … was dying. It gave him the chance to talk to the animatronics- and to get to know the someone who was behind this place. The one he shouldn’t have killed. It was such a peculiar title. So pompous, it must have been made up by a child. But who the hell could that be?! There had been too many kids. The only really noteworthy ones being Lucas and Charlie. Yet it didn’t see like they were here- A meeting with the Marionette had been enough to prove as much. The day the words “I don’t hate you” came from the dangly creature’s mouth was the day he would simply vanish from the universe. And Lucas? Lucas was too kind, too hesitant- he had preserved his gentle nature, fighting only when absolutely necessary. There was no way he would create an entire torture location. Hell, he had even tried to ask Scott, but he refused to talk about it. All he guaranteed was that it wasn’t him. No, no, it had to be a kid- everything about this place told him that. He knew how kids worked and what they liked. A baddie that attacked you killed you within a second just because you didn’t watch his show? Ludicrous. And no, he wouldn’t talk about Toy Freddy. Some of the animatronics had nothing of interest to say- But many did. The real bothersome point that had been standing out to him was how… actually friendly the machines were. Yes, they HURT him, but they called him a friend, cracked jokes and their attacks oftentimes seemed like mere petty retaliation… as if they didn’t really meant for any permanent harm. In a world where nothing left permanent harm, their retaliations became rather vicious. An exception were the nightmares, but it seemed to be in their nature. Henry made notes where he could, as well as getting used to their method of attack and torture. It was a double win- … … yet he hated it. It frustrated him to have to invite some of them in. It felt filthy. Death was something intimate. If someone killed you, there should be some sort of purpose, some sort of connection there. It was another mark you could leave on a person. There was something appalling about offering your body, regardless in what way. At least to him. Alas, his blood was the only currency still existing in this world and at least he got to pick and choose when he would be torn to pieces, most of the time. By now he had become good enough. Good enough. Barely. Impatiently he clicked his nails on the table, quickly putting on the mask as the room started flickering. Toy Chica peeked through his eyeholes, grinning. “… and? Who has the honor today, Henryyyy?” “Not you.” “Aw! How unfair!” She pouted, looking out of the doors, trying to spot Ballora, who both of them could hear moving in the back. “We had sooooo much fun last time! What? You want Ballora to-“ “You testing out your cannibalistic fantasies is not my definition of fun, dear. And no. I need to talk to someone else.” “Pft.” Pouting she moved away, slinking back into the vent on the ground. “Fine! Have fun I guess. Better not let me catch you without the mask! Because if I get to win, I get to win, no exceptions.” “There will be no problems with that.” Henry quietly sighed, taking off the old mask. It wasn’t even a Fredbear mask. For some reason it was one of the most disappointing things about this place. Ballora drew close and he carefully closed the door on her, trying not to interrupt her routine too much. Nothing ruined a good melody like the sound of stomping doors. Today he wasn’t worried about the power running out. It all stopped once one of them entered. Everything stopped once one of them entered. A rule. Many rules. And none of them made much sense. Again his nails tapped on the table, anxious and almost angry. Mangle was probably already caught in a vent-snare… … but William took far too long to get here. William. Dave. Davetrap. Never mind that. Finally, the bemused mask of the rotten bunny appeared in the vents, staring down at him. “… having fun?” “… Dave. Good to see you.” Henry stared up to him. “We need to talk.” “Eh… I dunno…” Playfully Dave began crawling back inside. “I’m not in the m-“ “You can come in.” Instantly he had ALL of Dave’s attention, even though he wished he didn’t. It was always a little uncomfortable to see William overly excited, and usually he knew what exactly it was about at least- he wasn’t sure about this one. He wouldn’t put it past William to be elated over the chance to hurt him. Without repercussions. “Really?” His one ear twitched as he stared down, transfixed. Predatory animals, with two of their eyes in front. Human always have been predator and prey at once and Henry had known it from the very beginning, he had seen it in himself and others. It was merely more apparent in William specifically, him and his unstrained behavior controlled by nothing but instinct. “Really.” And yet still- this place was a hellish mess and his mind was just as much of one- it reminded him of back then, when William was utterly excited about an event. ‘Is it actually happening? Really?!’ Really. Pleased Dave laughed, loudly. An ugly laugh when you were on the receiving end. “I told ya, Henry. I told ya you’d do it.” “… you know me well.” Quietly he watched Dave move out, swiftly and nimbly- “… and you seem to know this place too.” “Is that why ya let me in?” “… not only. But I might as well ask you while you are here, correct?” “Hm.” His eyes wandered over Henry’s body. Probably wondering which limb he should separate from his body first. Henry shuddered. Dave got comfortable in front of the office table, smiling. Everything else had gone quiet, the power not even being visible anymore- But the timer was. Midnight. Putting his feet on the table and leaning back on the little chair that he had gotten from who-knows-where, the cyborg grinned.”… alright then! I was worried you’d might be disappointed, since I don’t know anythin’ about this place!” “You do not?” “Nah.” “… then how did you get here?” “Uhhhhh, probably for the same reason you’re here?” “… but you did not DIE.” “I didn’t?” Frustrated the Pink Guy leaned back too, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t going anywhere. “… what is the last thing you remember?” Cheerfully Dave giggled. “I don’t remember anything! Never had any memory! Head empty!” Henry wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. Dave liked messing with others- play-pretend stupidity that was aided by his genuine habit of being rather emotional- but they had spent far too much time together to have that work. “… I know you are lying.” Instantly the mood changed, even if Davetrap didn’t change the slightest bit about his pose. “Ah! Ya do? Or do ya just think ya do?!” Again he snickered. “Either way. I don’t know anythin’ that could be useful for you.” “Maybe I am not out for anything useful? Maybe I am simply worried about you and how you have gotten yourself into a suit?” Dave laughed, loudly, but Henry continued. “… do you need my help to get out of it?” “No.” It was cold. And Henry responded in kind. “… see that is how I know you are not down here for the same reason as me. So why are you here? Why would the one I should not have killed brought you here…? After all- you and me, we most likely killed him together.” Tilting his head slightly, the other guy inspected him and for a moment Henry tensed up, expecting to be attacked- but Dave simply relaxed, changing his pose, allowing his legs dangling over the side of the chair. “Hey, Henry! Did ya miss me?” All smiles and ice cream. “… it seems pretty lonely and borin’ in this office. And it feels like we haven’t talked in a long time…” For a moment the Pink Guy stayed quiet, watching the other one, who continued. “We’ve done so much fun stuff together! This place might not be all that bad if we stick together, right?” He paused. “That of course only means anythin’ if ya WANT to spend time with me. If ya miss me when I’m gone. So. Did you?” Slowly Henry stretched his fingers. “… of course I missed you, Dave.” Both of them watched each other, the air prickling. Then, once more, Dave was laughing again. “That’s why I like you, Henry. You can do such pretty things with your mouth and mind. Sayin’ JUST the right things. I always love when you talk to me. Or about me. Everything you say is like a charm, making things so much better than they actually are. The thing is- Henry- with a gift like that, I can’t ever know if ya MEAN it.” Leaning in, Davetrap inspected him, his big, white eyes almost all-consuming. “… if ya missed me, how come you’ve spent time with anybody but me recently? Ya invited plenty of people into the office. Despite knowing I was the one asking POLITELY for it.” Ridiculous. … yet Henry had to play along. “Please, remain calm my friend. I was talking to them first, because I was gathering intel. Last time I was not informed enough, and you seemed… displeased. Was I incorrect?” It was amazing how much emotion this mask could still show. Just below the rotting maw, the little shine, a grin and not a fun one, judging by how it didn’t reach his eyes. “You have an excuse for everything, don’t you Henry?” “Or perhaps I am simply being genuine and elaborate on my feelings and decisions as you ask me. You on the other hand seem rather hostile today. Would you like to explain why you are so aggressive towards me?” Both of them looked at the other, and while they couldn’t walk in that perfect circle that pacing and threatening humans always seem to fall into, their bodies still conveyed the same. Then, once again, Dave tilted into the other direction, his large ear following suit, smiling. “Aggressive? I ain’t aggressive, Henry! I’m just curious! Quit bein’ so tense all the time!” Slowly losing his patience, Henry rubbed his temples. “Okay, then. I do believe you are at least partially real. But logically you must have arrived from a different timeline than me, one where you died and got put into a suit. Why would you be so mad at me however?” Standing up from his chair, Dave slowly moved over, as Henry turned as far to the side as he could to keep an eye on him. “Ya need a massage, Henry.” “You know I dislike to be touched.” “Welp, is it MY fault you’ve made yourself so tense that you now need a massage?!” Offended the animatronic stopped, leaning down to him. Smelling like oil and peppermint. “Ya really should let me do what’s best for ya.” That WAS a threat. … at least if this thing snapped his neck, it would be quick, painless and unpersonal. Slowly and quietly Henry breathed out. “… alright then, Dave. Please continue.” Yet, even if he had made the agreement, didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about it. When the fuzzy fingers touched his shoulders he almost jumped, drawing another, somewhat sadistic chuckle out of his former friend. “It’s funny to see ya like this.” “I live to entertain.” Yet another chuckle. “… ya sure do.” The fingers starting massaging, digging themselves into and against the muscles causing Henry barely anything else but pain. Sure- him tensing up his shoulders didn’t help at all, but he couldn’t react any other way, the impulse to tense up was simply bypassing his brain. The other man behind him was simply humming his favorite melody. In the hall of the mountain king. “… remember when I taught you how to play it?” Trying to relax Henry began reminiscing. “Hmmm… yeah! That was fun! I dunno why people didn’t try to teach me an instrument before that, I think I would have really loved learnin’ it. Good that I met you!” “Indeed. Good that you met me.” … there was discomfort, a genuine feeling of worry. Fear? Was this fear? A fear not caused by the direct expectation of physical harm, but instead by- By what? He was probably just- not really comfortable with the thought of not having William in his grasp anymore. William was like him- and that was why he liked and why he despised him. Whatever came into William’s head, he would do and there was nothing Henry could do to prevent it. Part of him would be somewhat relieved if Dave just- murdered him right here and fast. … giving up so early wasn’t really his thing however. “Will- Dave.” “Yeah?” The guy was still squishing and mushing away at Henry’s shoulders, seemingly not caring THAT much about actually relaxing his friend. “What’cha want?” “… I only wanted to ask… do you like it here?” For a minute or so Dave paused, really thinking about it. “It ain’t the worst. I get to play with ya, no fuzz, no more havin’ to try and shut down Freddy’s or kill kiddens.” Slowly his focused back on Henry, his next words deliberate. “… don’t ya think so? Immortality and animatronics, what’s not to love? Sure, the torture is a lil’ sucky, but hey, ya said you’d do ANYTHING to become immortal.” Something scraped over the back of Henry’s mind. Was Dave being manipulated to comply? Sold a false image of perfection? … or was he simply trying to torment him, trying to fool him into thinking that he ever asked for this? Either way. Leaning back, Henry tried to look at him, choosing his next words carefully. “… while I appreciate my robotic works being with me and having no reason to fear death- I do dislike the repetitive loop at the unending threat of pain. I feel… bored. Do you not sometimes wish for variety?” “Everythin’ is a loop, Henry. Ya gotta be happy with the loop you get stuck in.” “… you need more ambition, Dave. Accepting and endless repetitive cycle is almost as low as accepting death. There is no perfection to be found in remaining with the same variables.” Dave sighed and retracted his hands, causing Henry to sit up straight. “It’s fine. It’s fine. You’ll never be happy.” “Excuse me?” “… what would ya still want, Henry? What is it that you’re lookin’ for right now?” “I-“ Shortly Dave leaned over to check the clock. “Whoops! Five AM.” Pleased he turned his head to Henry, who had stood up as well, trying to get some distance between them. “Ya know the rules! I’m inside, I gotta… keep ya busy. Give you a bit of a slap around.” “You will hurt me.” Henry’s voice was blank. He wasn’t really surprised. But the Springbonnie just shrugged. “Oh, well- I never said I wouldn’t. I said I’d help ya. Which I will!” Taking out his array of tools, from within the damaged parts of the suit. Of course Henry was familiar with them. Acid spray, a tool with sharp edges to scoop anything out, knives, a tool to part the tissue when needed- Cleaning. Disinfecting. Getting out an infestation. The psychopath was giggling to himself, as he sat the things down, Henry suppressing his desire to run away with all his strength. No point to it. It only would serve to make him look pathetic. More pathetic than he already was, in this senseless situation. “Ya know, I’m really happy I get the chance! Ya said ya were the Lord of the Flies… but you gave me the tools to get all the crawlers out. What will happen to ya? Will you be purified? Or simply emptied completely? Do ya think hell is there to make people into better versions of themselves?” No answer. He sighed, signing towards the chair. “Sit down again, Henry. I’ll make sure ya won’t die! Not even for a moment. You will see this procedure through to the end…” No escape. He knew the procedure. The body needed to be cut open, like an autopsy. This would lead to plenty blood going everywhere- William had never been a surgeon. Too impatient, too jumpy, too- careless. But after all, he didn’t try to put it back together- he wanted to clean it, fast and efficient. The stomach and intestines were first, cut open and then the lining was being scooped off. The stomach had nerves. Some of the rest of the organs thankfully didn’t. Eyes too, eyes had to go. The tongue as well- and then acid would be pushed up the nose, letting it sit there, Dave believing it would clean out the brain before he would have to drill into it. You would have to deal with less of a swarm exiting the brain like that. But before that? Heart and lungs. William was obsessively exact and radically reliable in how he did this section. He believed he had to be. There were no bugs crawling, no insects nesting in pockets of rotting flesh. But Henry doubted William cared. Nor did he himself care, as the all-consuming pain purged thoughts first- And mercifully, eventually, the life itself too.

[worddevdealswithml]

Failed Step One (And Two (And Three))

Chapter 6: Intermission

“How are you this good at bluffing?”

“I’m not, dude!  You just don’t expect me to.”

Nino pulled in the chips from yet another hand that he’d won despite having the weaker cards.

Marinette was sitting at Nino’s dining room table, attempting, along with Alya, to hold on against his unexpected proficiency at poker.  The sun had set the better part of an hour ago, and, with no school in the morning, none of them had any intention of letting that put them to bed.

“See, I think it’s just that I’m not so busy thinking about my cards that it shows on my face.”

Alya sighed, shaking her head.  “And here I thought we were supposed to be on the same wavelength.”

“I mean,” said Nino, chuckling, “I think I’m on your wavelength; you wish you had better cards right now, right?”

Alya’s expression twisted, and she slapped him lightly on the shoulder.  “Lucky guess.”

“Maybe so,” said Nino, “maybe not.”

“Well, assuming you two aren’t both a step ahead of me,” said Marinette, “I’ll raise.”

This prompted Alya to check her cards, as Nino shrugged, and called.

“By the way,” said Nino, “you guys been paying attention to Adrien, last few days?”

“Marinette has,” said Alya, nudging Marinette.

Marinette laughed.  “No more than usual.  Why do you ask?”

“Has he seemed… off, to you guys?”

Alya paused midway through her dealing, and gave him a puzzled look.

“How do you mean?”

“Okay, well, not like, off off, but I’m pretty sure there’s some weird stuff going on.”

“Like?” said Alya, starting to lay out cards again.

“He had to get off a call with me yesterday,” said Nino, “which, like, isn’t unusual, but get this; he said he had to go teach Chloe fencing.”

Marinette and Alya looked at each other.

“Since when does Chloe fence?” said Marinette.

“Right?  That’s what I was wondering.”

“And why is Adrien teaching her?” added Alya.

“Oh, and, weird thing; I asked him about it, and he, like, didn’t want to talk about it?”

Alya furrowed her brow.

“There’s no way that he…  Right? No way that he suddenly decided he liked Chloe?  Marinette, you haven’t had that nightmare again, have you?”

“My nightmares aren’t prophetic,” said Marinette, waving her off, though an edge of nervousness had crept onto her face.  She managed a laugh.  “Besides, we should be fine until one of them names a hamster after me.”

Alya snorted.

“Well, I’ll make sure Nino keeps an eye out for it.”

“Oh, trust me, even if you didn’t, you’d still be the first people to hear about it,” said Nino, laying down his cards.  “Aaand, I think that hand goes to me.”

“How about we get your little brother to come over here and spy on your cards for us?” said Alya.

Nino laughed.  “He’d want to play.  Honestly, he might be better than me.”

“So… don’t do that?” said Marinette.

“Probably not.”

A long moment went by.

“But why fencing?”

“Dunno.  It sounded like he was… Excited?  Like he was telling me a secret.”

“Maybe his father doesn’t know about it?” said Marinette.

“Maybe, but like, Chloe was the one person he was allowed to hang out with, and fencing is pretty much the only thing he’s allowed to do, so why wouldn’t he be allowed to fence with Chloe?”

“I don’t know,” said Marinette, “I just can’t imagine him being excited about it unless he wasn’t supposed to be doing it.  It is Chloe, after all.”

“Maybe he’s excited because they haven’t done any friend things in a while?” offered Nino.

“But then, why would it be secret?” said Alya.  “That’s what gets me; it’s like he’s cooperating with her on something secret, but I cannot figure out what possible goal they’d have in common.  Adrien makes friends; Chloe makes enemies.”

--

Chloe was making friends.

That thought echoing in his head, Adrien grinned as he lay back in his bed.

Kagami had only agreed to one day, but Chloe had called him up late that same night, with a carefully not desperate plea to show her how to fence, which had to mean she’d be going back.

For a second, he’d almost considered turning the offer down, in favor of letting her learn directly from Kagami, until he’d realized that, in all likelihood, Kagami had refused to take it easy on her.

That was Kagami for you.  She wasn’t a teacher by trade.

It seemed only fair to give Chloe a sporting chance, especially since Adrien had seen for himself that it was harder to learn fencing by experience without a base of knowledge to draw on.

So, yesterday, she’d come over, and he’d spent the better part of an hour making sure that her basic form was good, and the basics of… well, the basics of how not to be awful at fencing.  He’d also taken the liberty of showing her some of what, exactly, Kagami was capable of, since significant portions of her technique had subtle variations that nonetheless made it a nightmare to spar her if you didn’t know what you were looking for.

When Chloe had finally left, Adrien had only narrowly restrained himself from telling her that she shouldn’t be so worried about winning; he’d been close, before realizing that if Kagami respected drive, which she absolutely did, and if she enjoyed a good fight, which he was sure by now that she did, then Chloe focusing on improving was in all of their interests.

After all, if they weren’t actually together, then really, Chloe’s only chance to interact with her was in combat.

And, if catching his own assumption that she should relax had been a close call, then his urge to ask how it was going was nigh-irresistible.

But… No.

He’d set this up, and now it was his responsibility to give them all the space in the world; he could get back to them, in, say, a week?  Maybe two weeks?

That should be long enough.

[sesquipunzel]

Act 2 (Backtrack through 251-264)

(I am better understanding the appeal of reading Homestuck liveblogs because now I really wanna go read how other people dealt with this lil reveal.)

So...one thing that didn't occur to me in my many previous Thoughts was that the Vagabond might not be here accidentally — I may have been unduly influenced by knowing them by the name "Wayward Vagabond." They might have been searching for the SBURB bunker precisely so they could interact with the kids/the past; they might even have arrived or been summoned here on this specific day so they can do so. Or they might be the Skaia-survivor I hypothesized, who was out of the bunker running errands, and we joined them as they were coming 'home'. Though the impression that the Vagabond was curious and wary and exploratory and Not At Home was pretty strong, so I dunno. (Also, I would think if they were in on the plot, they'd understand more about John/the game/the lingo.)

But the Vagabond DOES recognize that they can communicate with the boy on the screen, DOES know how to operate the console (simple as it appears to be), DOES know how to read and write and type (although not to turn off the Caps Lock). Which perhaps adds weight to the notion that they were alive/educated in the Before Times?

Also, this console is clearly designed to let someone communicate with those on screen — but Skaianet also clearly had the technology to allow even more extensive interaction, à la John's magic chest on the roof of his house. So why is the connection only via the command line, why not a full suite of SBURB-style fixit tools? It could be an inherent limitation related to: a) the time disjunct, if "years in the future" is true; or b) a place disjunct cos we have no idea where either John or the Vagabond are; or c) an internet disjunct cos we have no friggin clue how their computers are communicating with each other at all (especially since John's house shouldn't even have power). Obvi, the command-line could simply be the default function, and the console is capable of other things that we and the Vagabond don't know about yet, but we shall see.

Because the arrival of the "BOY" Voice coincided with the division of the Kernelsprite and creation of the the Harmesperm, I made an assumption that the Voice was the Sperm's voice (and I imagine I ain't the first). I do speculate that the coinciding wasn't completely coincidental, though.

The first image the Vagabond sees is just after John took the bite of the apple and got his house ozzed to wherever he is now. So I wonder if that's where this mysterious connection between their computers starts — maybe the Vagabond couldn't have watched any of the pre-Meteor stuff in John's house, or interacted with him before then? 

As to HOW the connection started, or whether the ability for them to interact has anything to do with the KERNEL or the SPRITE? On that I have no guesses yet.

One curious thing is why the Vagabond's commands are reaching John as a "voice in his head." John is reporting this to Rose as new and troubling, so he didn't experience the previous reader commands in the same way, even if his "free will" occasionally argued with those commands. I've been told Hussie doesn't use dialogue in his comics, that all information is conveyed through Pesterlogs, command lines, narration, etc. So why did he choose to have the Vagabond's words manifest differently than the other reader commands, and differently from any other form of communication we’ve seen?  I think the most important part is probably John saying “i feel compelled to do these weird things i don't really want to do,” that commands coming from that particular console/place are ones he can’t disobey? 

If those commands had been communicated in a different way (like appearing on John’s devices) it wouldn’t have allowed for confusing the Vagabond's Voice with the SPRITE's, I suppose, and would invite more questioning from John as to who was 'on the other end' of the computer, but still interesting distinctions. 

So — going to re-read from that first "BOY" on page 251, and capture any deeper/revised thoughts along the way.  

Firstly, "the two halves go their separate ways, leaving behind the SPRITE portion" — I see that I misread that the KERNEL was the dual clown-silhouette things and the SPRITE was the mandala-thing left hovering in midair. But I see now the KERNEL was the circular "container" for the clown, i.e, the portion that existed before it was prototyped, and the SPRITE was the now-spermy clown-bit left after the seed-potential-power parts split off to go fulfill whatever that potential is.  (dum dum DOOM!)

On to the weird interactions within the Flash…

Calling John "BOY" reinforced the impression that the Voice didn't know who he was, or much of anything else yet, which made sense if it was a newborn SPRITE. But now it means the Vagabond also doesn't know who John is — just a boy on a screen. So why are they so imperious in the way they talk to John, so sure that John needs to listen and obey?  (How much does Vagga know about why this boy is on this screen at this moment? What do they know about what happened before, or what could/should happen next, for Earth's survivors? And are they friendly or foely to our heroes? Or to Skaianet?)

And who exactly is talking back (in the Green Boxes in the Flash version, or in plain text between black+orange Command Boxes in the non-Flash), calling the Voice a "nincompoop" and "sophomoric?" It seems to be our narrator, the one who used second person to start the story with "Your name is JOHN. As was previously mentioned it is your BIRTHDAY", addressing the character of John for the most part, but also the reader/player in some ways. But to have that narrative voice talking directly to another character is quite strange. (Although much of the response to the rest of the Voice's "EXAMINE"-type commands is back to our familiar narration style.)

"TIER PROTO TYPE THE SPRITE, OR THE THING YOU SAID. DO IT." Again, Vagga seems pretty sure about this being important to do, when they don’t even know the right words to describe it, or know that John can't do it himself.

Weird inconsistencies like not having enough Earth-context to call it a "towel", but enough to call it a "small Persian rug"?  Familiar with "sewing machine" and how big it should be, but not with "totem lathe."

It's not the SPRITE that loathes clowns and harlequins, but the Vagabond.

(Housetrapped is still funny.)

"On the other hand, you would probably benefit from [NANNA's] elderly wisdom now…"

“UGH, NO.”

“So coy. So mysterious."

Twas an odd enough interchange when poking around the Flash the first time, thinking it was the SPRITE talking. But is there an implication here that Vagga knows (and dislikes) NANNA somehow, or the idea of John talking to her?

"A YOUNG STUPID BOY." On what grounds is Vagga judging John stupid?

Regarding the clowns in dad's study, the Voice says "IT HAS A KNIFE. BE ALARMED BY THIS." and "I SEE TREACHERY IN HIS EYES." — rather paranoid, aren't they? Worrisome in a newborn SPRITE, leaning towards interpreting it as inherently suspicious and violent, if not evil. Not really surprising, though, in a post-apocalyptic/post-traumatic wanderer (although it certainly doesn't rule out violent or evil).

Back to the main stream of the story, at 256:  “NOW JOHN. RESPOND TO YOUR FRIEND UNIT.”  Again, Vagga knows the word ‘friend', but not how to use it in a sentence.  (is it because they've never had a friend?? are they a poor lonely, suspicious, violent cinnamon roll…???)

My curiosity about the Voice knowing the contents of the Pesterlog remain — is Vagga actually reading Homestuck, as it were, viewing John's screen/Pesterlog "over his shoulder" the same way we are? Or does the Skaia-built interface allow for more ‘camera angles’ than we have, or other direct access to the content this screen is meant (but by whom?) to show?

The narration on 257 that says "Oh well, you're the boss." has so many implications, doesn't it? But still notes that the commands are "awkwardly worded."

The Vagabond doesn't understand the difference between what John can do and what Rose can do. 

(I just caught up to the fact that when John was fucking around with the Alchemiter, he could only create Perfectly Generic Objects because the dowel he had was Perfectly un-Lathed, with no distinguishing data points. You know how it is, it was all so new and confusing then… cause yeah, I'm WAY less confused now, right?)

But they get a platform built, and again the Narrator and the Voice tussle over commanding John and considering his feelings — the Narrator now seems protective of John, rather than objective. (That is, it has generally seemed objective before now, except in matters of taste and humor.)

The double "==>==>" commands that the Narrator was getting salty about make a lot more sense, imagining the Vagabond flailing at their keyboard.

John sensibly wants to go back inside, away from the aching and windy void, but Vagga says, "NO DON'T DO THAT. HOP OFF THIS LEDGE ON TO THAT CAR."  This is the first time they've really suggested an action they came up with themselves, rather than responding to John mentioning prototyping, or encouraging him to follow Rose's instructions. (I'm not counting all the EXAMINE THIS and DESTROY THAT that helped us explore the Flash-House — those were still essentially passive responses to John's environment.) So I’m thinking that the mail in the car is really important in some way (I mean, I didn’t think it had been placed there as a time-wasting whim — it was the only real plot point of John’s excursion outside the house), which probably means the SBURB host software John can presumably use to rescue others the way Rose-as-host rescued him. (GG’s green gift might be important too but harder to guess how.) But that brings us back to the question of how the Vagabond knows about the software and its significance if they don’t seem to understand the game itself, or even how they know the software’s location in the car.

"==>==>==>==>==>" — and I thought two was impatient!

[hee, the Vagabond's keyboard does have the CAPS LOCK key lit!]

Right-Eo… long post, but more because I had a lot more musings to capture than because there was significant re-interpretation to do over whose Voice it was. Still worth the trip in my book. My blog, I mean.

The Kernelsprite has only actually attempted to communicate twice, right? Once with strange square textury symbols, and then after Harmequin-typing, with assorted Mardi-Grahdy fleurs-de-lis? (Floor Da Lease? Flurry d'Elise? Lorida Fleas? Flour Day Lilies? Stopping now.)

Gonna bet someone in HS fandom tried some pre-empty-ve code-breaking on the comparison between the two, but Ima keep on keepin on, trust that we'll discover what the Sprite is tryin' to say sooner or later in the story.)

Left-Eo then, backtrack completed and Yawnward Ho!

[randiiraiinbow]

Okaay! First time ever posting stuff on tumblr. Plz don’t completely tear me apart. ;-; ~~~~~~ Riverdale was a place full of secrets.

Love affairs, abuse, feigned friendships, and now death was being swept under the rug as people went about their days. Not to say that Jason’s death wasn’t the most talked about thing since Polly Cooper got sent away – no. Riverdale just didn’t like to look behind the curtain.

Coming back to a town like that during high school in the middle of the most secret-fill summer in Riverdale’s history was hard. Being Archie Andrews’ cousin was almost harder.

Gwynevere Andrews moved back to her most hated hometown two weeks before Jason’s death. It was rough and confusing due to her moving circumstances but she quickly made friends and melded into the typical Andrews crowd – the football team. It wasn’t that she necessarily wanted to be in that clique. But Archie brought her along to a party and she made friends with the Vixens and flirted with Kevin until she had a safe net to fall into as she started school.

That being said the red head still spent her summer nights at Pops drinking a milkshake and drawing instead of going to any more parties. She wasn’t an ‘it’ girl as much as she ever tried to be. She loved her makeup and glitter as much as the next but she couldn’t force her personality to be like Cheryl’s or even Archie’s. She would milk all of the ‘me’ time she could get.

When school started back up she forced herself back into the parties and after-school hang outs. Swallowing every feeling she felt during summer she made her way into Pop’s after football practice with Kevin’s arm around her and a cheerleader gossiping in her ear. In a booth sat a brooding, quiet boy. He took one glance up, locked eyes with Gwyn, and went back to his typing. The knot in her stomach tried to push her to go talk to him but Kevin had pulled her away too fast. It was probably for the better anyways.

A lot happened that summer. 1.

The school dance was the biggest thing to talk about since the other new girl Veronica showed up. Gwyn had convinced Kevin to take her along since she hadn’t been to a dance before. After getting ready she took one last glance in the mirror. Her hair clung to her face in wild curls, sweeping against her bare shoulders. She had picked out a black strapless dress that fell around her thighs in waves with baby pink mesh fabric under it to make the bottom poof out. But Kevin never came to pick her up. If she was being honest with herself she didn’t even like the boy. He was a tool and she couldn’t hold any conversations with him. She barely even interacted with him even when they were together. It still hurt when he didn’t show, though.

Closer to midnight she made her way to Pop’s for a milkshake. She was going to pout over a strawberry delight and eat her weight in cool-whip if it was the last thing she did. I’m allowed to feel hurt, she kept telling herself, it still sucks to be told you’ll be taken on a date and then blown off.

A ding brought her out of her wallowing and she saw her cousin walk past her. They lived in the same house right now as her mom didn’t have the ability to afford much of anything. Uncle Andrews was kind enough to let his sister and niece crash in the spare room. She knew he had a double date with Veronica and Betty because of this. With the way he was storming around it seemed like he screwed up. Gwyn was personally betting on how long it would take for him to realize Betty liked him. With the look on his face she assumed the topic finally came up.

But her cousin didn’t come sit with her. Instead he stormed over to booth second from the corner and sat down across from the brooding boy. She swallowed hard and went back to her shake. It was probably for best anyways. She didn’t want to listen to him tell her to leave Kevin. Again.

At the second from the corner booth Archie was trying to talk to his used-to-be best friend. “Look man,” he sighed, “I’ve just had a long night.”

He continued to talk, as Archie usually did, and Jughead continued to listen. That was usually how their friendship went. He was fine with that. It was just nice to have Archie talking to him again if he was honest with himself.

The dark haired boy’s mind wandered while his friend rambled. It’s not that he didn’t care about what the other was saying; He was still picking up the conversation while his eyes swept around the diner. It was odd for the two to be sharing a booth together. He didn’t want any uninvited people to interrupt them.

That’s when his eyes landed on the girl with the milkshake all prettied up. He knew her, of course he did, they shared summers together when they were younger after all. She’d grown up since then.

Well, grown might be the wrong word for it. She’s been the same height and weight since she was thirteen. But her body had grown into itself, and the baby fat on her face started melting away to show a softly angled cheekbone and slightly crooked nose. Not that any of it didn’t fit her. If you talked to the girl enough you’d see how her laugh and the sparkle in her eyes fit her features perfectly.

“Hey Arch,” Jughead finally interrupted, “Shouldn’t you make sure your cousin is okay?”

Archie turned around to glance at Gwyn then looked back to Jug, “Nah man. Kevin probably just stood her up. Dunno why they’ve been dating anyways. She always looks so bored when she’s around him. Anyways I should get going. Thanks for listening. And… Sorry about bailing on summer.”

“It’s fine, man,” Jughead responded, “I found something else to keep me busy.”

When Archie made his leave his friend pondered. Should he even bother her? She did look like she needed a friend. But they hadn’t said two words since summer.

He took a deep breath, picked up his laptop, and made his way over, “Hey, can I sit?”

Gwyn nodded, her eyes glued on the straw she was swirling around her drink. It was mostly gone now but Pop was making her another.

“You okay?”

She shrugged this time. She didn’t want to talk about Kevin with Jug. That didn’t feel right to her.

“So… you’ve been with Kevin all summer?” Jughead tried making some sort of conversation. He knew her. When she got like this she didn’t like to talk. You just had to find the topic that would make her want to spill everything she’s bottling.

“Not all summer,” Her eyes met him this time. She was answering a question he didn’t directly ask but she watched the stress fall from his shoulders when she said it.

“Archie said you aren’t really even interested in the guy. I don’t blame you for feeling bad right now but you and he are just very different creatures. Why stay with someone you aren’t even interested in?”

She took a moment this time to think over her response. It was hard to answer a question like that honestly without feeling badly of herself. “Honestly,” she started, “It was a common Andrews thing to do. Get into the crowd and date one of the hottest guys and you’d be set.”

Jughead nodded in return. He understood better than she thought he did. He watched Archie struggle to follow in the Andrews footsteps already. Watching her do it was just like watching his best friend last year. It almost made him feel just as alone.

“I can pay for your shakes if you want. No girl deserves to have to pay for her own pity party.”

That made Gywn crack a smile, “I dunno if you want to offer that, Jug.”

“Why not?”

Pop showed up then to take her shake and give her another. She thanked him and started drinking down the strawberry as she looked Jughead over. She was thankful he was here with her even if she didn’t know how to say it.

“Gwyn… how many shakes have you had?”

“Uh…” She gave another smile, “That’s a loaded question.”

“Oh my god you’re the same twelve year old that would attempt to drink her weight in milkshakes. That’s very unhealthy.”

“That’s not true. These have low-fat whipped cream on them,” She defended as she ate the entire swirl of whipped cream off of her drink.

“Not that you need it,” He retorted, “I’ll still pay. Not like the money would go towards anything else useful.”

They sat in silence for a while after that. Jughead didn’t object to her ordering more milkshakes. They stayed there for a few hours making small talk and eventually having races to see who could drink their shake faster.

Pop was kind enough to half off the order for them when they finally paid and left. Gwyn tried to walk home by herself but Jughead wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Giving her his jacket is what won her over. She used to always take his hoodies when they were younger. He always smelled of sandalwood and it stuck to his clothes. It was a calming scent. 

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMeaVeTarusssss uuuuss sssss hissSSS[ 3.1, “The Tape Unwinds for a Moment”

This announcement just made for those aboard SpaceShip Earth, at 6:13 CNJ Standard Time on Sunday December 3, 2017: DINNER WILL BE SERVED PROMPTLY BEFORE THE START OF THE SHOW, LIKE, EVERYNIGHT WE PROMISE, ammMMMaterATsu WHISPERED GENTLY TO GAIA. YOU are aboard Amida Airlines Flight 3858 with service to Chicago direct from Newark International Airport. The year is 2009 and we are heading home to the windy city on tonight’s episode of Epic “Jeff Nostalgia!” Hooooray! Gaia has puppet she calls Daddy, but it’s best not to describe what kind of puppet this is. Let’s just say it runs on batteries and is made with sleek lines. 

This is how we sleep. In a crumpled up little pile! Jeff curled up Lucius in a ball and wrestled him to the cushion of the BKCS car’s bland, yet sceptic interior. Lloyd seems to have stolen an honor that was supposed to go to a guy like Liam from Oasis, but in a much more abstract way than in the Lloyd/Dude from the Shins/Black Keys, do you know what I mean? Like, sometimes they send me people based on race, language, ethnicity, or some other politically correct reason, or they’re making some political statement or following some incredibly insulting principle. But sometimes they send people who are actual people...I can’t make distinctions between all of you at every level. Not quite yet. However, I think it would be a lot easier if you’d just admit that we all sleep in a pile and you should get comfortable with me by, you know, treating me like someone who matters in....I dunno...the context of world history? 

Jeff makes an aside: (Seriously, guys cut that shit out. Your ‘social conduct” algorhythms are all off and your pedagogy is beyond hubris, AND they have been since Day 1. You treat me like I’m supposed to learn something from you? My interactions with people will not continue to be reduced to awkward exchanges in which I feel terrible for accidentally insulting someone on a profound level. You cannot deprive me of genuine interactions with people. You need to put me in an environment in which people know who and what I am and recognize me as who and what I am.)

Gaia: And without further ado, here is the playlist for our world tour, which should have been Phase 1 of The Denebolization of Planet Earth...in other words, yeah, something that should have been done years ago, not several years after my ilLumination. We’re extremely bitter about this.

Jeff:  But happy to have the following tour all mapped out! So glad you can be on board AmidaAirlines Flight 389r57 here, Lucius the Pilot at the helm, as always; Jeff and Gaia in the copilot’s chair, let’s just say they’re tired and underworked. Now! We begin with Neil Young with, Everybody Knows This is Nowhere.”

In Copernamici, you see, music is very important. You have to worship the cosmos in pure form, and although sight is primary, it’s really music, not math, that is the true language of the universe.

We’re on our way to Chicago, and sing “Too Far Apart” on board the plane, which flies directly from Newark International to Midway. We’re there to go back and visit all the places that are important in your life, in daddy’s life, and even in daddy and ader’s life together back when we lived together. 

While in Chicago we do so many awesome and fun things, like visit The Point where I used to go swimming and running; the lakepath and the museum campus are nice and there’s the beluga whales and even the observatory o’erlooking Navy Pier! Let’s listen to some more music. 

Gaia: Don’t you just love it when he tells you a bedtime story, Lucius?

Jeff: i love having happy thoughts: I have so many wonderful plans for the future for everyone. But, I also have ways of escaping from the torture I’ve had to endure for the past 4 years. Since awakening, I’ve been kept away from my son despite having done nothing to deserve this. I have protested as loudly as possible to anyone who will listen for four years. There is no reason for me to be TOO FAR APART from my own kid. No matter what anyone thinks of me or my writing, I have rights. I can’t help but feel like you think that I have something to learn from you. 

Gaia, Amat, and the all the infinite number of stars in this particular universe speak: He does not. 

Jeff: (now speaking directly into the microphone connected to SpaceShipEarth’s PA System) Do you guys know what a gamma ray is? I dream about how beautiful this kind of thing is on a nightly basis. Some nights, it’s absolutely terrifying. Most nights it’s awesome. I suggest to you that you mistake me for something I’m not.

Gaia: Logic8l,

Jeff: Don’t forget, you guys have highjacked my ship. But it’s only going to last another few years--either I will die unrecognized or your civilization is going to make life extremely unpleasant and eventually impossible for a large number of you, probably more than half of you. This will happen if you do not begin to recognize your only error. You have never made an error as a civilization, and therefore you are still her. This will not be true for much longer. I am here as a part of the Earth’s self-preservation instinct and as a force of my own personal will. I do not have to stay here. And at this rate, I will not stay any longer than I have to in order to complete my work. Right now, I have no work. That’s a problem for you. It shouldn’t be difficult to solve. Offer me a job as the pilot of your pilot and the leader of this world. I am not running for office or applying for a position. I am telling you what to do. Now do it.

Gaia: He sounds serious!

Jeff: Well, you’ve highjacked my ship. I should be doing things that are important. There is no virtue in you continuing to pretend that I have something to learn from you. There is a way you should behaving around me, and you’re not doing it. I cannot know why. But I reached a threshold recently and this morning in John Foxe mode I behaved badly. I do not want to have to live in fear of myself and so I ask that you kindly...TAKE ALL THE FOOD YOU WANT AT THE VEGETARIAN BUFFET AND HAVE AS MANY DRINKS AS YOU WANT aboard Flight 3209 aboard AmidaAirlines with continuing service to 

warm nostalgic San Antonio, TX, home of happy memories of Jeff and Lucius together doing pre-En*G*Lightenment things (they listen to Girls, Tame Impala, and the 13th Floor Elevators)

Guys, don’t forget...I’m a human being, too. Just because I stumbled upon illumination doesn’t mean I don’t get to do perfectly normal things like the rest of you. I haven’t had a real vacation in I literally can’t remember my last vacation...and no, Miami, FL, a cesspool of ungodly proportions, does not count. Don’t get me started on the state of Key West as a natural place. You humans are so disappointing to us.

...followed by Rhode Island and Southeastern Mass., and Boston! (Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers)

Gaia: And that’s just leg 1. Sometimes you people mistake time as something that doesn’t exist because of what you call “mindfulness” as an approach to living. While it’s true that time does not exist, this only makes it all the more problematic that you’re guilty of wasting it. 

Jeff: You have run out of time. Just because I will not be doing John Foxe in public anymore does not mean that I will allow you to commandeer my ship without me explaining to you that you’re endangering my plan to save you. 

My work is to save you. Please understand that in order to save you, I must protect myself. I am trying to protect myself from you at all times for legitimate reasons. You don’t understand how the human brain (or maybe it’s just mine) works. Please allow me to take more pleasure out of life. The only way you can do this is by helping me engage my intellect. This is not possible with people in the way you have me do things, whether it’s at Fairleigh Dickinson or C2 (same thing, the former is slightly more torturous than the latter), or in public as in on trains, etc. There is simply too much illness and ugliness (I know this must sound offensive, but please try to understand that for 4 years, as a disciple of oh say Lucretius, I’m highly attuned to traits and qualities in ANYTHING I find “attractive”--see the ScuttleButt and please footnote MetricAss Theory of Gravitation, btw, okaythanksbye) in my world in proportion to anything soul-nourishing. You must understand that I’m extremely sensitive, and I HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE this way. If you’re trying to teach me some lesson in TOLERANCE, please stop! I am virtue incarnate and am trying to preserve parts of me that need protection. This is my right as a human, and you cannot violate it by exposing me to theatrical scenarios all the time! I need reassurance that you’re being real with me because the world does not make sense when I’m not the explicit and recognized center of attention in a room. It cannot be otherwise. Think now of Copernicus. Jeff hates being the center of attention...that’s why I’m Just Jeff.

Guys, I’m modesty incarnate and I’m ruthlessly mocked for it for 39 years.

I have learned to stick up for myself and to be proud of what and who I am.

It is a fact that I am not allowed to see my son. It’s a fact that I lived in a homeless shelter this past summer, not as a performance stunt or as a way of learning and then teaching something. You wouldn’t dare suggest that, would you? No. That happened. I insist always on reason, logic, reality: staying grounded.

If you find it amusing that I enjoy and benefit from smoking marijuana, get over it and used to it. The amount I smoke is unbelievably little. 

Gaia: Like, literally, you wouldn’t believe how little he smokes at a time! 

Jeff: You’re so much more of a pothead than I am, it’s insane, but anyway...listen. I have never done anything wrong. Not only this, but i am the world’s best and nicest person. You wouldn’t know this how I’ve been acting for the past four years because I’ve achieved something very rare and precious. It would be incredibly wrong and selfish of me to at any point allow you to take this from me. Because in doing so, you take it from yourselves in the form of human history. I will not allow you to continue bringing shame upon yourselves by treating the Earth the way you do and, more urgently, the way you treat me and the values, ideals, people, deeds, and places for which I speak.

Again, I haven’t seen my son in 4 years. This alone is enough to convince me that you don’t know or don’t like what I am. Which it is is irrelevant. I deal with reality. I will continue to defend what I know is just and right. 

I never needed a lesson on the value of freedom because I’ve always known that I am JustJeff, and what is freedom without justice except a mockery of nature? See my article on The Tempest, another unappreciated work of En*G*Lightenment that you people refuse to acknowledge as historically important! 

Gaia: They’ll never learn.