For the record, Sphere?

- No, I do not need an eyepatch.
- No, I do not like frills.
- No, I do not know what the point is of making me wear shorts is when my socks go all the way up to my knees anyway.
- No, I do not get why I need to wear suspender garter things for my socks anyways. Through apparently Argent does.
- No, I do not it compromises the integrity of this outfit if I skip the bodice.
- No, I do not see the point of my tiny -- though jaunty -- little hat.

I have no idea what half of the things in my closet actually do clothing-wise.  The amount of buttons, snaps, and lace-ups is kind of ridiculous.  I'm just lucky that my roommate comes from like Victorian times or whatever so that I wasn't heading out the door this morning half undressed, since I didn't know where anything went and couldn't reach half of the closure-dealie-bops on my own.

And -- a public service announcement to anybody who snickers at my hat, I will use bodily force to defend my now-threatened masculinity.  Survey says a skirt would have been so much better.  Why, why a tiny hat?


[ ooc :: as seen in the links above, Throne's wardrobe has become the young master Ciel Phantomhive's wardrobe from Kuroshitsuji -- aka Black Butler.  Victorian gothic lolita boyfashion.  Yay. ]

To the guy who landed on my shoes this afternoon, delivered via cocoon:

I'd like to apologize for the whole bubble fiasco earlier.  Given the fact that the lot of us are still test driving these mindlinked tell-alls, I hope you understand that all commentary -- inappropriate and not -- that came along with your greeting was [a long pause] very unintentional. I also hope that you'll eventually let me make it up to you, you know, once you can look me in the eye again.


To everybody else:

Beyond -- well -- the messy business above, I'm actually standing on the love side of my on-going and newfound love-hate relationship with these thought-bubbles-gone-wonky.  Granted, that is subject to change, as is the nature of love-hate relationships in the first place, but for right now, it's doing me a lot more favors than giving me problems, so let's see how long that lasts, yeah?  Hope the rest of your are holding up alright.  From what I can tell at least half of the Sphere's population is going to be going into hiding for the duration.  Awkward.

Oh, and for the record, G -- as much as I am not totally hating this, you are so enjoying this way too much for your own damn good.

I am officially so over this whole dreamtime show and tell business.  One more night of this bullshit and I am so going to take it up with the Man or the Powers that Be or whomever the fuck is running the projection booth here.  Granted, that requires me to figure out who that is and then find him.

But still.


[ ooc :: Throne has been purposefully quiet over the journals as to the dreams that he's been having, since he finds it a complete breech of privacy to talk about these things in public, especially given how uncomfortable any mention of his own dream has made him.  His dream line up has been Cross, Nova, Crow, and McQueen -- out of which, Throne has been able to figure out Nova, Crow, and McQueen, all of whom he'll be making an effort to see once the dream business dies down.  Last night, however, he dreamed Want's dream -- which he recognizes from Want's description of it -- and is now particuarly bothered by the thought that other people have had the opportunty to see it, given how strange and oddly revealing he's found it to be about certain things and the fact that he's in it -- a reference, Throne feels, has something to do with his most recently regained memory.  ]

Okay.

So given the fact that my sworn enemy and nemsis (T -- the artist formerly known as Dash) seems to have been thrust into this world with an insane preoccupation with pizza, coupled with the realization that not enough of you know what on earth that pizza is, I suggest a pizza sampling should be organized, to be put together by the nefarious rivals T-n-T (get it? ha!). 

Granted, not exactly sure where the pizza will come from.  But I figure never underestimate the human spirit, longing to triumph in the face of adversity, natural disaster, and bad dreams by way of pizza.  Consider it a public service from us to you, only with extra cheese.

What do you think, Arch?  Time to bring enlightenment to the masses?



[ ooc :: some context to the use of the letter "T" to reference Dash as a nickname, since it's much more random and out of the blue than most of Throne's letter-based nicknames.  Since "D" is already taken by Drake, Throne decided to do a tiny spin on Dash's name.  In Morse Code, "T" is represented by the use of a dash.  And thus!  The irony of having Throne -- who is already called "T" by Want -- calling Want's apparent doppleganger by his own nickname, coupled with the added irony of Dash's real name being Tommy, made this nickname too hard to resist.  Therefore. ]

To all of the people who are helping with the evacuation, be careful.

For the record, me and Dub are going try to be on "ball duty".  I figure between the light show and a little brute force, we can keep at least one if not two of the damn things occupied between releases.  Should buy everybody a little time to get the wounded and the cocoons out of here without impending doom or threat of being steamrolled.

[ ooc :: in response to Fugue's post, the boy heroes are going to try to keep the overgrown pinballs at bay, YA-style. ]

[ added about ten minutes later ]

Oh, and if you see a big green guy running around getting looking at bit rawr smash, I officially request that you try not to freak out.

It's just me.

I realized that perhaps I should quit with the radio silence and at least let everybody who was so helpful and concerned the other day know about what happened when we went topside.  So, I'm sorry I didn't write sooner, but I've been sort of out of it and I didn't exactly know how t

And I'm also sorry for everything else because, well, nobody likes bad news, like getting it or giving it, but that's beside the point because we found Fullmetal


but




[ ooc :: The writing on this page comes very slowly and deliberately and looks as if the pen was pressed very hard into the page while writing as if Throne is forcing himself to do it even though he doesn't want to'. Although the log is still in process, Throne and Bastet -- Sasuke and Want went to look for McQueen -- came across Fullmetal's lifeless armor and then proceeded to bring it back down into the Wilderness with them.  Anybody who stops by "base camp" will notice it sitting tucked to the side of the aisle where Throne and Want are staying.  Please do not be surprised if Throne doesn't answer anything written in response to this post.  The other members of the rescue team are welcome to chime in, but Throne has (more or less) cut himself off right now for his own reasons and would rather be alone. ]

[ ooc :: throne's handwriting is quick and sloppy with the pen pressing hard into the paper.  this post immediately follows the Saturday afternoon events of this log. ]


I AM LOOKING FOR FULLMETAL. 

HE IS A BOY THAT WALKS AROUND AS A REALLY BIG SUIT OF ARMOR AND MAY BE ASKING AROUND IF ANYBODY HAS SEEN A BLACK KITTEN RECENTLY. IF YOU COME ACROSS HIM, TELL HIM HIS NII-SAN IS LOOKING FOR HIM AND THAT HE NEEDS TO WRITE IN THE JOURNALS.


IF SOMEBODY HASN'T FOUND HIM WITHIN THE HOUR, I AM GOING BACK UP INTO THE TREE TO FIND HIM. 

don't try to stop me.

To all of you haters out there that seem to think that spandex was hell-sent by the Antichrist himself in order to torture our mortal souls-

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH SPANDEX.
SPANDEX CAN BE YOUR FRIEND.
IT TAKES A REAL MAN TO PULL OFF SPANDEX.

LET'S JUST ALL ADMIT THIS AND MOVE ON.
THE SPHERE WILL BE A BETTER PLACE FOR IT.

peace out, in love and spandex-
-t.


[ ooc :: how can throne not come to the defense of spandex when his boyfriend looks so good in it?  some of his favorite people in the world wear spandex.  granted this is all functioning on a subconcious level, but come on, meisters.  where's the love?

edit :: SCREW SUBCONSCIOUS.  I just remembered, Throne saw Want all kitted out in his dream.  HE IS ALL ABOUT THE SPANDEX, YES. ]

HEY EDENSPHERE

THE NEXT TIME YOU FEEL IT'S NECESSARY TO MAGICALLY ZAP ME OUT OF BED where I was perfectly content and cozy and warm and asleep at the time thank you very much JUST TO DROP ME OFF AT WORK of all the god forsaken places, COULD YOU BE AS SO KIND AS TO MAKE THE EFFORT TO AT LEAST PROVIDE ME WITH PROPER CLOTHES?

god i should so totally be sleeping in right now

i also should so totally be at not-work

and i so totally need a shirt right now.  screw you cold, tile floors, and screw you, wonderfully brisk breeze.  brrr

The only consolation I get is that there's this other dude here who clearly sleeps in the raw.  Granted, it's cold comfort pun so totally intended but at least i'm not nearly as screwed as that guy.


[ ooc :: Throne has fallen victim to Labor Day and has ended up at the Hall of Beginnings, one step way from being naked.  Basically he sleeps in his boxers and nothing else, so now he's stuck at work that way, having woken up there. ]

So it seems like the tree is at it again.  Borrowing people, making time strange, before thrusting them into some random memory -- whether they want to or not.  It seems like this one was kind of a doozy, so maybe I'm glad it wasn't me this time around?  But at the same time, I kind of wish it wasn't who it ended up being anyway.  Like, why couldn't it be some random stranger instead -- which, I know, isn't good of me, but still.  If this stuff is going to insist on keep happening?  I'd rather it stay away from me and mine at the end of the day.

And now there's all this talk of names, too.  D says he's wary about finding his out, which -- okay -- maybe I get.  But what about the rest of you guys?  I'd think something like that would be a pretty straightforward yes. ....right?






G -- Where are you?

Okay, so I guess Argent said it best when I came home today from the market.  Yes, as far as I'm concerned, we are literally taking in strays.  Six in fact.  One black, one grey, three kind of patchy and this...well...kind of random one that I think isn't really one of the liter, but I'm suspecting is trying its hardest to blend in and sort of failing.  That one is, well, definitely not a looker, but Argent seems to like him well enough and has already got into the habit of calling him KC (which I suspect stands for "kitty cat").  It's almost kind of cute. No, wait.  What am I saying? It's so cute I had a spasm.

Anyways, so now that I've taken on this burden of fuzzy adorable, I'm wondering if there's anybody out there who's willing to help lighten the load.  I think They say petting an animal every day lowers your blood pressure!  So you'll live longer.  Besides, who can resist the siren song of a kitten?  Especially when they're all fluffy and just a little poofball with legs.

So!  A proposition.  If you're interested, you can swing by our place, just drop a line so that you know that one of us is going to be home.  When you arrive, expected or not, a knock on the door is a requirement.  Other than that, here's to hoping these little guys find good homes.


Oh, and Fullmetal gets first dibs. the black one's taken folks.  No more ninja kitty to claim.


[  ooc :: In his search of the back alleys of the Marketplace to find a cat like he'd promised Fullmetal, Throne stumbled across a small litter, which he quickly gathered up and brought home in a cardboard box.  He's hoping to give all of the kittens away, except for the one ugly one, whom Argent seems to have taken a secret shining to. An open log will be posted momentarily for any takers. ]

Oh.  Gravity's back.  That's...disappointing. 

- No more flying around work, playing at being an air ballerina. (Yes, D, i went there again. Three words.  Deal with it.)  Which means I'll have nothing to distract me from the mind-numbing boredom anymore.
- No more floating around barefoot like I've been managing so far. I'm going to have to go back to wearing shoes again.  No fun.
- No more letting momentum do all the hard work for me.  Bah.

Also, in unrelated news, I'm starting to think this weather is murder.  Note to self: take scissors to sleeves ASAP. Or ditch the shirt alltogether.

Dear Sirs and Madams of the 'Sphere,

It has come to my most aggrieved attention that my overzealous lay-about of a roommate (♥) has taken it upon himself to single-handedly invite all of you to drop by at our house unannounced and whenever the mood strikes you.  Please accept my humble apologies when I say, PLEASE IGNORE HIM.  He is of a strange and misunderstood culture, you see, one that does not usually allow such pleasantries like the ones that are available here in Edensphere.  I would humbly request that in the future, random visits would be tailored to suitable hours of the day and with fair warning -- if for no other reason beyond the fact that our house doesn't have locks. 

As a side note, this is not meant an affront to any of the parties involved, but rather a plea for the sanity of my person.  Being the working man of the household, there are very few moments of quiet privacy I am allowed in my own abode.  I treasure them -- almost as much as my dear, poor, deluded roommate -- and I believe it would be a great tragedy to lose them to such frivolity. 

Apologies in advance, dear 'Sphere.
-Throne.

Alright, folks, so tell me now -- which of you are going to swallowing their pride and donning the disco bling-bling inferno also known as an anti-gravity suit in order to score some memory crystals or possibly monetary compensation?  As enticing the prospect is of gaining more insight to what has up until this point proven itself to be a pain-ridden past full of nothing but death and fiery explosions, I think that I'm going to have to pass.   Instead I think that P.R. and I are going to be taking a small day-trip and sight-see, all nicey-like, in order to pass our non-skatepark-filled time.  No alcoholic beverages this time.  Ah, the true test of a blossoming friendship.

Beyond that, though, life recently has been positively normal in some respects, which is sort of kind of awesome.  If only the rest of life would get with the program and let me just coast for a while. Though, I suppose, that would be too easy, yeah? What was it Want said about straight lines?

Randomly.  Anybody know where I can find a kitten? Like, not somebody else's, but a kitten in need of a home?  I figure if this place has sheep and those crazy overgrown chicken-y things, there have got to be stray kittens running around somewhere.
Double randomly.  WANT.  Where's my mint tin?  These things are vitally important.  At least, from where I'm standing.

Sometimes, meaning only the best, we take upon ourselves burdens the size of the moon, without realizing the moon is nothing more than a reflection of the sun. And so, in our ignorance, we march forward to our deaths, looking neither left nor right, for we are blinded by what is behind.

Okay, so I have no idea who wrote this.  It only just appeared the other day in the journals but I couldn't help but sit up and take notice.  I know, I know it's totally cryptic end-of-the-world talk, the kind that just gets people riled up or -- even worse -- paranoid, but am I the only guy around these here parts that thinks that maybe this loony person's got a point?

Maybe it's because I've been thinking a lot about memories lately and the past -- about how much we let this stuff define us, obsess us.  What we know, what we don't know, how much all of this stuff can eventually come back round and bite us in the ass.  I mean, I'm not saying that the past's not a good thing, cause it's totally is.   It teaches us about who we are; without it, all of the lessons learned up until this point get unlearned.  But, in the end, that only gets you so far.

I can't help but think that maybe we're kind of missing the point of what's in front of us.  What if the past, our misplaced memories, those damn crystals -- what if they're just some big distraction?

Anyways, enough of the big thinking.  Never really suited me in the first place, so I figure, I'll quit while I'm ahead.

And here I was, just wanting to write about how life seems to be swimming along.  Literally.  Funny how things run away from you sometimes, huh?

PS.  Zero G? Officially wicked.

[ ooc :: at the top of the post, there are several starts and stops before Throne starts his post. beyond that, it appears completely harmless. ]

So I seem to have misplaced my roommate, who skulked off last night to give me some privacy for my non-date.  I'm afraid that somebody may have stolen him in the night, since he is rather charming, proper, British, and admittedly quite handsome. 

However, that being said, I would -- if you're done -- like to have him back, now.  His morning tea is getting cold.

Seriously, though, Argent's journal-less right now.  So if you see him, tell him Throne needs to talk.



[ ooc :: added around late afternoon ]

Okay, so my it seems that G has wandered himself back home.  Crisis averted.  We now return you to our regularly scheduled programming.  And yes, there will be tea.

So apparently, love is in the air.  in the fact, the Sphere is practically swimming it. 

If, course, by love you mean one of the following:

• "non-romantic" bouquets left on the doorsteps of friendly rivals who does that
  
• perfect strangers forced into strained awkward social situations over coffee
• cat fighting through the journals over Gungnir of all people
• buying your best friend of the auction block just to save his ass
• doing the stupidiest thing you've ever done in your life, like ever.  ever.
  

Pardon me, folks, it's been one of those nights days.  I kind of wish I could just stay in and build make-believe fort with my pillows and sheets, but there are cocoons waiting with my name on them, and playtime is so totally over.

[ ooc :: throne's handwriting is the same as always, though there are several pen taps on the page roughly near where his entry begins ]

Note to self:  Never lose your journal again.

Especially not when B is lounging about the house all day, raiding G's wardrobe and scrounging your food.  Otherwise, you'll have nothing to distract yourself from all of the kissy-face nursing going on.  I can't tell who I'm more jealous of, but something tells me if I had a tummy ache, nobody'd be mooning over me.  Also, this robs you of your only real method of wingeing to the Sphere about just how often that bampot makes you go out to grab milk for his tea.  Pip pip.

And apparently, when it rains it pours, and your journal isn't the only thing missing right now. So be glad it's just your journal, you thankless ass, and not someonething else.




PS.  Seriously, though.  Don't lose your journal.

PPS.  No joke.